#Like they might as well be shooting everything in Green Screen Sound Stages with an Insane amount of lights

[curiousorigins]

Man, I just really miss when they bothered lighting things on TV Shows and in Movies. Like the shadows were beautiful and everything had more depth.

Now they just brighten up everything use fills and like add shadows after.

It looks cruddy. Maybe because with all the post-darkening it's too much work to make them move when things move? Like they're doing their best, but nothing beats a scene that was lit properly in the first place.

I'm watching a no-name B-Horror Movie from 2005 (This was right before they started lighting everything cruddy and doing it in post.) And I'm 3 minutes in and it's just so much more beautiful than what's on TV and what's in Movies today. Like I can think of one movie that had particularly good lighting, and that's "Ready or Not". Probably because it was an Indie Movie and the people were filming in a historical place and were required to light it very carefully. (Similar to what happened with Woman on Fire which was also quite beautiful and an indie film.)

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[maybedefinitely404]

For You Became My Lighthouse

Genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort

Pairing: romantic Prinxiety

Content: food/wine, Patton and Logan offscreen, anxiety attacks, argument, crying, fear of breakup.

Word count: 4k

Note: Not proofread. We die like men. Also part two is coming soon~

5:24

It definitely wasn’t every day that Virgil spent the early evening dancing around the kitchen while making dinner. But today was no ordinary day, and he was just too damn excited to stay still.

Figaro sat on the floor in the bedroom doorway, licking his paws and glaring disdainfully at the speaker system that had disrupted his nap. Virgil spotted the dark cat and grinned, dancing over to scoop him up. He hummed along to the music, bopping the disgruntled cat to the beat (much to his chagrin). Once upon a dream, Figaro might have fought tooth and nail at being used as a dance partner, but living with Roman for years had worn down his resolve. And after Virgil had entered their lives, he’d completely given up fighting their excuses for attention. Instead, the cat just yawned and went limp.

“Aw, did I wake you up, Figgy?”

The cat did not answer. 

Virgil let him hop from his arms onto his scratching tower and went back to slicing spinach on the counter, humming along to the music. He wanted it louder, loud enough that it numbed the excited tremble in his hands and drowned out his internal butterflies, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with noise complaints. Again. 

Instead, he opened the drawer in front of him and ran his fingers over the small box he’d placed in there hours ago. As he’d done countless times since, he opened the lid to make sure that the ring inside was still there, still perfectly centered and shining as brightly as it had been when he’d picked it up earlier that morning. 

Roman would never expect him to propose. Ask anyone who knew them and they’d agree that the romantic, outgoing, type-to-propose in their relationship wasn’t Virgil. Plus, he’d dropped no hints. Any time he met with Logan to plan, or went to the jewelers, and the million other things he’d had to do before this, he’d chalked it up to ‘having a bad day’ or ‘needing time alone’. 

He felt… a little bad, knowing in the recent months many of Roman’s attempts at dates had been turned down, only half the time due to actual bad days. But it would all be worth it in the end. The plan was to start with dinner; the meal they’d had on their first real date, followed by Virgil suggesting a walk. As they put on their jackets, he’d sneak the ring box into his pocket, and innocently lead them past a cafe for dessert, “coincidentally” the spot where Roman had asked Virgil to move in with him. Finally, the park, strung up with fairy lights and electric candles Logan and Patton had set up just before. It was their perfect mix of solitude and ‘extra’. Virgil would propose, and Roman would hopefully say yes, and everything would be perfect and amazing and-    

The oven timer beeped. There was fifteen minutes left for the dough to set; time to make the filling for the ravioli. But he’d barely started cooking the spinach when his phone chimed, alerting him of a text.

Hey V, dinner and a movie tonight? You can choose.

Virgil bit his lip and sighed, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a second. As old as the excuse was getting, he needed to side step Roman’s plans one more time. Just one last time.

not feeling well. anxietys been all over the place. sry. 

He laid the phone back on the counter and returned his attention to the frying pan, flipping the greens and watching them wilt slowly. One eye on that, he pulled out his other ingredients from the fridge. He’d rather be ahead of schedule than behind. 

Ding ding.

Yeah, shocker. What else is new.

Virgil felt his heart drop. That wasn’t… at all in character for his boyfriend. Yeah, he’d used the excuse more often lately, but was it that much? He stared at his phone, hardly breathing, trying to think of some way to answer that, when a burnt smell reached his nose. 

“Shit,” He hissed, trading his phone for a spatula and turning the spinach once more. It was just on the brink of being overdone, just the edges turning a tad too dark, but nothing he couldn’t save. He scraped the pan’s contents into a bowl to cool and dumped it in the sink. The hiss and steam of the hot pan in water made him wince (he’d been told a million times it was bad, but he couldn’t recall why), but he left it on the bottom of the sink to fill and soak. Scrubbing dried spinach off it tomorrow would really put a damper on the ‘recently engaged’ mood.

“Mrow?”

Virgil shut off the water and turned to the trill, cursing when he realized Figaro had abandoned his tower in favor of sniffing the food on the counter.

“Figgy, no! Get down!” He plucked him away from the bowl just as he looked ready to pounce inside, much to the cat’s annoyance. “You would just spit it out, you big baby. Don’t look at me like that.” It probably wasn’t safe to keep cooking with the cat around anyways, so he went to their room and left him on their bed with a soft order to behave. Figaro blinked once at him with indignation before the door was closed, and Virgil hurriedly pulled out his phone.

Real mature, not answering. 

Virgil took a deep breath to push down the rising anxiety. He’s… probably just playing around, right? It’s probably meant in a lighthearted way but he was just misinterpreting the text harshly. It’s not malicious. Right?

sry, put figgy away

He paused for a moment, before shooting another quick text.

ur not actually mad right?

The typing bubble appeared.

And went away.

And popped up again.

And vanished.

That was enough confirmation to get Virgil’s heart pounding, all hope that Roman was just fooling around out the window. He was typing again, and this bubble was staying for longer, but now it was too long to be a simple affirmation.

I don’t know, Virgil. You used to actually contribute to this relationship, and now I’m the only one really trying. We barely ever go out, for like a couple months now. You always dodge my plans. I miss the old you, because right now I feel like I barely know you. I’m getting sick of it. 

Now Virgil properly couldn’t breathe. That sounded like the beginning, if not the entirety, of a breakup if he ever heard one. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck his stupid ideas, his stupid plans, fuck all of it. This is his fault, and Roman’s about to dump him, because he took his overdramatic proposal too far and it was about to end their relationship.

I’ll be home late. 

Okay, that wasn’t… a breakup? Unless, of course, he was going to do it in person, and needed time to plan how it was going to go. 

Cognitive distortions, is that what Logan had called them? Magnifying? Is that what was happening right now? There was a solid chance that Logan would agree with him, say that he wasn’t actually sure what Roman planned, and it would probably be okay, but it was very hard to be objective when he was in the middle of it.

how late?

Another deep breath. He placed the phone next to his mixing bowl, screen up so he would be sure to see the notification, and absentmindedly added in the ingredients he’d pulled from the fridge earlier. Shit, did they have thyme? 

Of course they did, he’d gone shopping for all the ingredients like two days ago. He needed to get out of his own head. 

The final timer went off, signaling the dough was ready to be used. Before he unwrapped the ball and got his hands covered in the stuff, he checked the lock screen on his phone. Nothing. 

It was fine, it was fine. 

Rolling out the pasta into one thin sheet took far more effort than he would have thought, and it took embarrassingly long before he was able to lay it out on the big ice cube tray he was using in place of an actual ravioli mold. He checked his phone. Nothing. 

Once he got the hang of filling the molds without making a huge mess, it was actually an easy process. He finished three and a half trays-worth before running out of dough and filling simultaneously, but that’s more than enough for the two of them. No answer yet. 

ro?

He set a pot on the stove full of water but didn’t turn it on; it would just be one less thing to do when he was ready to cook the ravioli. For now, he placed the pasta in the fridge so it didn’t dry up. Roman generally got home from work at six, which he had prepared for, except on late rehearsal days when he was held back an extra hour. That’s what Virgil consciously chose to believe; he meant he’d be home late because it was a longer day. He wasn’t answering now because he was on stage. Technically it all made sense, but it wasn’t enough to relieve the icy grip around Virgil’s lungs. 

romans gonna be late. push back an hour?

Logan sent back a thumbs up followed by his ‘-Logan’ sign off. Virgil sent a quick apology but didn’t bother to check the response when his phone lit up, focusing back on his plate of raw ravioli.

So, at five to seven, he’d boil the pasta and warm up the tomato sauce. It had been finished that morning and had been waiting in the fridge all day, because Virgil was a firm believer that it would taste better having had time to sit. Plus, he’d been excited, and had needed something to do with his hands. 

But now he needs something to do with his hands again, but instead of excitement, it’s a tingling discomfort spreading through his limbs and curling in his stomach. Convinced that there was nothing else in the kitchen he could do, he untied the apron and pulled it over his head, pleased at the stark black button up he’d successfully kept flour-free. The satisfaction doesn’t last for long.

Now that he’d acknowledged his shirt, it was impossible to ignore the way it wrapped far too tight around his neck. It’s fine, he thought as he unbuttoned the top button, I still look okay.

He may as well set the table. Patton, similar to Roman in regards to going above and beyond, had insisted Virgil go all out for the dinner. Stark white table cloth, silverware set perfectly next to the plates, and a tall, white candle as the centrepiece. Virgil had cringed a bit at the idea, but after being assured that Roman would love it, he’d reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t his style but, well, the night wasn’t supposed to be about him, no really. 

Watching TV did nothing to relieve the knot of uneasiness in his stomach, even when he unrolled his weighted blanket from the side basket and huddled into it. It brought a calm familiarity with it, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could pretend that someone was holding him. Patton’s soothing words, or Logan’s gravity, or Roman’s warmth or Roman’s safety or Roman’s gentleness or Roman-

6:53

Time to throw in the ravioli. He shut off the television, he hadn’t been watching it anyways, and turned the water on to boil. As it heated, he scuttled back to the table, some of his excitement returning. Sure, things had been tense on the phone, but Roman would be home any minute, and the rest of the night could go as planned. He pulls a small crinkle out of the white fabric and recenters the candle, stepping back to admire his work. It’s okay. If Roman had done it, it would probably look better, but who cared. It was fine. 

7:01

Virgil sighed, looking over his final creation once again. A part of him was cringing with the cheesiness of it all; the lit candle, food already plated, a bottle of wine fresh from the fridge. Getting a new wine may have been too much of a giveaway, so the feature was a half finished bottle from their last date… a few months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if it would pair well. He didn’t even like wine. But it was Roman’s favorite, so it would have to do. 

He’d bitten three nails down to the nub by the time he figured he could add the tomato sauce over top. Roman was never later than seven, so the pasta wouldn’t even have the time to get soggy. 

In a combination of unfortunate events unlike any Virgil had experienced before, the tomato sauce bubbled the moment he grabbed the handle, dozens of pinpricks of heat burning his hands. He yelped and dropped the saucepan in favor of grabbing his scalded hand, jumping back as the pot hit the side of the counter and sent tomato sauce flying directly into the open drawer next to it. In his search for a match to light the candle, he’d left open the drawer containing the ring box, and in moments, the velvety exterior was coated in a fresh layer of marinara. 

“Fuck!” Virgil shouted. 

Heat be damned, he grabbed the box from the steaming puddle around it and rushed it to the sink. Running it under water would just be asking for the situation to be worse so he tried to scrape off the mess with a dishcloth. Was this even salvageable? 

No, it turned out. The white velvet had stained a shitty orange in a way he definitely couldn’t play off as the original color, and even though the interior (or god forbid the ring) hadn’t been touched, he found himself trying to fight off tears. This wasn’t fucking going well, and now… 

7:28

Roman was never this late, not without telling him. Virgil checked his phone and, nope, only the previous message from Logan and a newer one, asking if they could set up yet. He sent a quick:

no, hes not home yet

Panicking was not a move he wanted to make right now, despite how his brain was trying to convince him otherwise. Roman was probably stuck in traffic, right? And Virgil was always getting on him for texting and driving, so that could be why he hadn’t said anything. Sure, the route from the theatre to their house was barely ever busy, and yeah, it was way too late for there to be real holdups, but there was a first time for everything.  

He made quick work of cleaning up the disaster of marinara sauce, surprised that a decent amount was salvageable. Apparently in his panic he’d righted the pot before it had all spilled, so there was maybe just enough for the meals. The inside of the drawer was a stained, orange, mess, and the area under the burners was caked in dried sauce, and that was just too much work for right now. He slammed the drawer shut and threw a towel over the element. Out of sight, out of… well, not out of mind, but maybe it would take a backseat on ‘worries for the night’.

Might as well get a head start on dishes, he thought, since the thought of texting Roman is daunting and his whole body is aching for something to do. One second more of standing still and he may very well have combusted. He couldn’t even summon up the will to turn on music, the mood from before totally vanquished. If he could just get that burnt pan done, perhaps the tension in his chest would ease up a bit. 

But he cleaned the pan, and the rest of the dishes, and scrubbed the sink, and Roman still wasn’t home. At some point when he’d decided to just finish all of the dirty cookware he’d rolled up his sleeves, which he quickly lowered and rebuttoned around his wrists. The dishes were drying; nothing left to do there. 

He swallowed thickly. How was the shirt still too tight around his throat?

Virgil unbuttoned the next one down, hoping to ease the ball of fear in his throat. It didn’t help.

The food was lukewarm, at that point. It was still edible. It was microwaveable. It was fine. Again, the thought crossed his mind to text Roman, but what if he was driving? He might check it and get pulled over, and that would not help the uneasiness in their relationship right now. What if the phone’s light distracted him and he got into a car accident? He couldn’t lose Roman, not when their last words had been so strained, and it would be his fault on top? Not a chance. He’d be home any second now. He had to be. 

Virgil quickly found himself under his weighted blanket once more, watching whatever sitcom was on with dissociated interest, arms wrapped around his waist in a vice grip and feet bouncing under the covers. This time, though, the television worked less as a distraction and more as grating noise in his skull and he muted it, but that didn't stop the sudden stream of noise. Water was running through the pipes under him, some of his neighbors were shouting, and the fridge was humming and the lights overhead were buzzing and it’s all so loud-

His sound blocking headphones were also in the basket next to the couch and he shoved them over his ears. The world went quiet except for the sounds of his shaky breathing; breathe in, and out, and in, and out…

8:07

With the thick padding over his ears, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. It was somewhat reminiscent of Darth Vader’s, seeming far too loud, but also a steady foundation for him to ground on. Without the outside distraction, it was far easier to focus on his breaths, to slow them down, to get into a rhythm of long inhales and longer exhales. Bit by bit, the swarm of butterflies that had clasped around his heart gave way, allowing the anxiety to morph into numb sadness.

If Roman had come home on time, would they be in the park already? Would they be engaged? Maybe they’d already be back home, sharing the news to their families. Roman would probably already be gushing about wedding ideas as Virgil nodded along in amusement. They probably could have convinced Patton and Logan to come home too, and they could have had a great rest of the evening, finishing the bottle of wine and reliving the past and…

Were they even going to get engaged at this point?

He fumbled for his phone and sent a text to Logan.

plans off. sry

The headphones were overly effective in silencing the world, now amplifying his thoughts too much, so he slid them off. He took a deep breath, the sound now camouflaged in the rest of the apartment’s noise. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the arrangement of the dining room, and the more he pushed it down, the harder it was to stem the tears that were steadily filling his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was all he felt at that moment.

Fuck.

Without forethought, he rubbed at his eyes, and instantly froze.

He drooped his head with a sigh that bordered on a groan, reluctantly lowering his hands from his face. Mixed in with his intercepted tears were the smudged remains of his makeup smeared across the web of his hands. 

Might as well; everything else went to shit anyways.

Usually, Virgil didn’t spend more than a minute removing his makeup. But that day, he spent an inordinate amount of time scraping off every streak of color until his face felt raw, watching his hard work be erased. He’d spent forever getting it perfect.

Even after he finished, he couldn’t get himself to move. That familiar weight of anxiety was settling again into the pit of his stomach as rushes of adrenaline, but he found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the mirror. As he stared into his own eyes, he vaguely remembered reading somewhere that looking at yourself in low lighting could trick one’s brain, causing the face to morph into something totally different, oftentimes not human; monstrous. Something about the brain trying to find faces everywhere, and creating them where it can’t see one properly. 

This didn’t happen to Virgil.

All he saw in the mirror was someone who had messed up his hope for a future. 

Huh. So maybe a ‘monster’ wasn’t too far off.

He laughed humorlessly and finally flicked off the bathroom switch, reentering the living room. The candle was still burning strong on the table, a good half way down. Virgil blew it out.

9:12

The state of apathy Virgil had sunken into was violently replaced with sharp anxiety when he finally bothered to check his phone, realizing it was past nine o’clock. Once more he considered asking Roman if everything was okay (heh, as if anything was okay) but he was quickly reminded why he hadn’t in the first place. Light distracts a driving Roman, bad things happen, it’s all his fault… 

Instead, he replied to Logan’s response.

Why? Virgil, what happened?

-Logan

we had a fight

His feet led him by their own will, pulling him to the wall so he could flip off the lights, dousing the apartment in darkness. Using the light from his phone screen, he stumbled to their room- or was it just Roman’s now? Would he have to move out? Oh god… where was he going to live?- ignoring Figaro’s mewls for pets. 

What did this fight regard? 

-Logan

idk. a bunch of stuff.

He stripped out of his formal shirt, hands shaking so bad he could barely undo the buttons, and exchanged it for his favorite hoodie. It may be too hot to sleep in, but he felt the need for comfort more than he was concerned about heat. 

Virgil dropped onto the bed next to the clothes, finally relenting to Figaro’s complaining and stroking down his back. In the stillness of a silent apartment, it was suddenly harder than ever to not completely break down. At least he wiped off his makeup.

This was over dinner?

-Logan

no. over text. he never came home.

He allowed the first tears to fall.

Maybe this had all been building up for a while and Virgil had just been too dumb to see the signs. Was this the night he lost everything? Would the one person he never grew tired of, the only person he had truly loved, leave him? He didn’t know what he’d do without Roman and somehow, he didn’t think he’d have a hope of ever finding someone like him again.

The tremors and blurry vision made it difficult to type.

i think romans going to break up with me

It took barely half a second after it sent for his phone to start ringing, Logan’s name showing up on the caller ID. 

Later, Virgil wouldn’t even remember pressing the answer button. The moment he heard Logan’s voice over the phone, his unusually concerned voice overlapping with Patton’s questions, the dam broke. He sobbed his way through an explanation the night, the text messages they’d swapped, and his snowball of anxiety.

To no surprise, the two on the other line immediately offered to come over, but Virgil declined. There was still the tiniest part of him, the littlest hope, that Roman was still going to walk through that door any second. If (when, when, when) he came home, they would need to talk, and it would complicate matters if Logan and Patton were there. 

When he eventually yawned in the middle of a sentence, he was encouraged to go to bed. He really didn’t need to be convinced; he was more than ready for this evening to be over. After promises that he’ll update them first thing in the morning, and multiple reminders that Patton loved him, he was left alone in the apartment once again. 

He curled into a ball on his side of the bed and cried himself to sleep.

Part two HERE!

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Inflated Egos” (Rated G)

Summary: When Kurt takes one of his students to compete in their first competition after landing their Axel, Kurt is confronted with the conundrum of choosing good sportsmanship or doing anything you can to win...

And Sebastian and Blaine are of no help whatsoever. (2080 words)

Part 69 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3. 

“I wanna add the Axel!”

"I know you do, Kevin. It's exciting to land your Axel. But we can't add it to your routine last minute."

"Why not!? I know the perfect place for it!"

Kurt sighs, steering his precocious pupil down the corridor that leads to the ice, rehashing this conversation they've had close to a hundred times over the past three hours.

“You can't add the Axel because you're competing at a level that doesn't include Axel."

"But this isn't a technical competition!" Kevin argues, the words tumbling around his mouth as if they don't belong. "I'm skating spotlight artistic! I can have an Axel in my program. They just won't score it!"

"Wow. You have such a firm grasp of the rules and qualifiers for a ten-year-old. Almost as if someone fed them to you... " Kurt shoots his boyfriend a dirty look. Sebastian shrugs, but he doesn't look the least bit guilty.

"It might be considered bad sportsmanship, and that could lower your score,” Blaine adds, inching in on Kurt's side of the argument. He has nothing against Kevin adding the jump. It would add pizzazz to his program. But judging at the ISI level can be ambiguous, to put it nicely. Not like in higher levels where it's required to put real-time scores on a readily available screen throughout the performance for transparency. If a judge doesn't like your music or your costume or your coach or you in general for whatever reason, a skater can lose fractions of a point. 

And those add up.

Most ISI judges coach competitors, and they tend to favor skaters in their own skating clubs. Scratches magically disappear if a coach happens to know the performer, knows that they've done better in the past, and cuts them some slack. 

It happens more often than the casual onlooker may think.

Kevin is a talented up-and-comer who hasn't ruffled anyone's feathers (that Blaine knows of), so he doesn't see how one little Axel could sully his reputation. And Kevin is correct - it's not technically against the rules for his event class. 

It's just frowned upon.

But if Blaine joins the Kevin-Sebastian tag team, that would be three against one, and that wouldn't be fair to Kurt. Kurt is looking out for his skater like any good coach would. Bad scoring won't tank a judge, but bad sportsmanship can kill a skater's career before it starts.

“I know the kids at the rink love this event, but I've never competed in spotlight artistic," Kurt admits. "Only technical. So I don’t really know what to expect.”

"I didn't either," Blaine chimes in. "My coach was adamant that it was a waste of time for serious skaters."

“I did a few," Sebastian says, "when I was part of Elite."

Kurt peeks over at his boyfriend, lips twisted behind his mask in an amused grin. "Why? That doesn't seem like Elite's cup of tea."

"Because coach wanted our names on the board for every event possible - technical, spotlight, shoot-the-duck, spirals... "

"What sort of routines did you do?"

"Nothing too impressive. Not like my technical programs. I was a big Avengers fan, so I stuck with that. I was Thor one year. Had a Mjölnir with lightning coming out of it and everything."

"Oh, please tell me there's a video of this somewhere!" Blaine begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest. "I would pay good money to see it!" 

"You can't afford it," Sebastian says, blowing him off without a glance. "You had to have a prop for spotlight, but coach always said it was about the skating, like every other event. Or it was." He raises an eyebrow at a tractor prop covered in LED lights, quietly questioning, "What the hell song is that for?" as it drives by. "Something tells me that may have changed a tad.”

“Ya think?” Blaine chuckles, pointing to three skaters dressed in inflatable T-Rex costumes pulling an animatronic Indominus Rex the size of a VW bus behind them.

Kevin gasping diverts their attention to a podium covered in holographic wrap, a giant "diamond" mounted on top spinning slowly, throwing colored beams across the floor, pushed by a young lady dressed as a one-eyed spy. "These props are awesome!" he says, his own small prop clutched in his right fist.

"Maybe next time, we can wrap you up in Christmas lights and glue drones to your shoulders to make you fly," Sebastian suggests. "Eh, Kevin?"

"Can we?" Kevin asks, bouncing on his blockers, excited at the prospect of taking his hand-made Elvis costume to the next level.

"No! Kevin doesn't need any bells or whistles," Kurt declares, unsure what Christmas lights and drones have to do with Elvis. "His routine is about his skating. Props are just gravy. We don't need more. One is enough."

"Yeah. Right. Okay," Sebastian and Kevin grump. Even Blaine looks disappointed. 

So when Kurt hears a chuckle, his ears prick up, and his head turns.

Everyone he sees around them seems focused on their warmups. No one is paying attention to them. But off to his right, he spots a brown-haired woman, her smiling green eyes darting their way, then back to the ice. When she looks back and notices Kurt watching her, she knows she's been caught and waves their way.

"I'm sorry," she says, trundling over. "I didn't mean to overhear, but I was wonderin'... are you fellas new?"

It's not often that Kurt walks into a rink in Ohio and isn't immediately recognized. But unlike Sebastian, he enjoys the anonymity.

"Let's just say I am," Kurt says. "What am I missing?"

"A lot." She laughs again so hard, she snorts. "I'm sorry. Saying it's about the skating is admirable. That's what it should be about. But it's not. Not in this category. It's about the props. The bigger the prop, the better. You have to use every advantage you have if you want your skater to come close to winning a medal."

"Not everybody thinks that way," Kurt argues.

"Oh no? Do you see that boy over there in the gold crown?" She motions with her head past the crowd to where a boy slightly older than Kevin, dressed in pale blue and gold brocade, warms up. "That's Michael. He's skating as Tommen from Game of Thrones. His dragon prop is programmed to roll around the ice on its own. It even breathes fire! And at the end, he's going to jump out a tower window."

"Wow," Sebastian says when he catches sight of said tower. It has to be made of styrofoam. The skaters are responsible for getting their props on and off the ice by themselves. There is no way this kid would be able to push his tower around unless it was constructed out of foam. But it looks like stone. It stands at least six feet tall with a platform roughly three feet up and outfitted with a cushion for Michael to land on, painted to look like a cloud that will blend in with the ice. "Kurt, you're super dramatic and stuff. This sounds right up your alley! How about we sign you up for the next go-'round? You can do an excerpt from Wicked. Or Phantom of the Opera! We just need to find you a cape, a mask, and about seven dozen candles! Whaddya say?"

"I say it depends on which testicle you want to lose," Kurt mutters, hoping the bubbly stage-mom dressed in head-to-toe flair doesn't hear.

"Look, it may not be my place to say," she starts. "You are his coach and all, but... uh... " Her eyelids narrow. "What event is your skater in?"

"Thirty-seven," Kurt says.

She sighs, looks strangely relieved. "Okay. My Maggie's in twenty-three."

Kurt's brow furrows. Then he rolls his eyes, realizing she asked to make sure Kurt's skater wouldn't be competing against her daughter after she imparts this valuable nugget of information.

"If you want some advice, let him add the Axel. His prop is a little... well, it's a little... " She glances down at the object Kevin is strangling in his grip, searching for a polite word to describe it "... puny. He'll need a little oomph. Ooo!" She yelps so suddenly, all four boys jump. "I almost forgot! I have a boom box in my trailer from Maggie's last spotlight! It's got a detachable disco ball and flashing strobe lights! It would go great with his costume!"

"Is it big?" Sebastian asks, infuriating Kurt by getting caught up in this woman's prop propaganda. 

"It's the size of an Irish Wolfhound!" 

"And they're big," Blaine concurs, sharing a nod with Kevin, then Sebastian.

"Oh, I couldn't put you out..." Kurt tries, but she shakes her head, refusing to let him turn down her offer.

"Nonsense! I'm parked right outside the loading doors! It'll take five minutes to get!"

"It couldn't hurt," Blaine says, having the good sense to move away after.

Kurt can't reach him, but he fixes him with a glare that could melt glass.

"You can't honestly believe the skating doesn't matter?" he says, not directed at any one person.

"Of course, I believe the skating matters," Maggie's mom says. "But in this event, you have to have some sort of edge. Especially when you're up against stuff like that." She points past them, her eyes traveling up, way up, and Kurt's heart sinks into his stomach before he even turns around.

”Jesus Christmas,” Sebastian moans, staring at the monstrosity traveling their way - the biggest, gaudiest, parade-style float he has ever seen indoors, decorated to look like a six-year-old girl's dream: the base wrapped in tons of fluffy pink tuille intertwined with hundreds of white twinkle lights, crystal baubles and gold balls hanging from fishing line so they look like they're suspended in air, no less than three machines spewing bubbles straight up, a hidden fog machine obscuring the view slightly with pink mist, and in the center, a whole family of inflatable rainbow unicorns on an elevated platform, each one rotating independently, all surrounding a cocoon of pink satin pillows where a skater sits, carried onto the ice by this cotton candy throne. “I’m not even skating, and I’m suffering from some serious prop envy.”

Kurt stares at the thing as it passes by, its smug passenger waving at them like they're peasants waiting for crumbs of stale bread, until the image is burned into his retinas. He looks at Kevin and his pathetic prop - a lime-green inflatable guitar his mother bought for five dollars at the last county fair. There's something wrong with it. It keeps deflating at the neck. Kurt brought a hand pump with him, one he uses to put air in his yoga ball. One of Kurt's jobs as Kevin's coach is to fortify the thing before Kevin takes to the ice. He tosses it about three seconds in to his routine anyway. 

Because it's not the star of the show. 

Kevin is.

Kevin could probably skate circles around half these kids, but if what Maggie's mom says is true, he doesn't have a chance simply because they didn't think to look for anything larger for him to hold than this defective pool toy. Kurt finds it horrible that Kevin has lost before he even begins because his prop is less in-your-face than everyone else’s.

Excuse him for thinking that a skating competition would be judged on skating!

Kurt isn't necessarily proud of his next few decisions since they play into the "anything to win" mentality. But later, Sebastian will convince him he wasn't elevating Kevin so he could win. It was leveling the playing field so he had a chance.

And Kurt can live with that.

"Sebastian? Blaine?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Blaine debates calling Kurt babe, too, if for no other reason than to rankle Sebastian, but now might not be the best time. "Yeah?"

"Could you please escort this kind woman to her trailer and retrieve the enormous boom box she has graciously offered to lend us?"

"On it," Blaine replies.

"Yessir." Sebastian gives Kurt a playful salute, then hurries away, led by the now effervescent woman who couldn't be more thrilled than if they were outfitting her daughter. 

“And Kevin?”

“Yeah, coach?”

Kurt puts his hands on Kevin's shoulders and gives him a reassuring squeeze as they watch that grotesque, bubble-spitting giant take the ice. “Add the Axel.”

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 4 | Ripped Trousers & Giving In | 8.5K

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Masterlist

A/N: these videos from HSLOT18 inspired me a LOT to write this chapter sooooo x x x x (let me tell you... these videos... whewwww) 

“I didn’t get a chance to bet against you…. so I still get to keep my job yeah?” Aurora asks waving a folded piece of paper as she walks towards Harry. Harry laughs before pulling her into a hug. 

“Only get to keep it cause I need ya to tie to those damn bows on my shirts. Remind me why we chose so many shirts like that?” He gives her a cheeky smile when he leans back to look at her, his hands clasping at her lower back. Her laugh fills the space of the empty coffee shop and Harry’s smile grows bigger. Aurora pushes the lone curl that has fallen onto his forehead back up to fit in with the rest of his curls. 

Harry’s clad in his favourite slim fit black gucci trousers and a worn in white t shirt. All Harry’s note had lead on was that they’d be walking a bit, noting to wear“comfortable shoes” and then the name of the coffee shop he’d meet her at. 

“So what kind of plans do you have up your sleeves?”

“How do you feel about museums?” He laughs when he sees her face light up. “Guess you like them?” 

“Is it that obvious?” She giggles as her hands fly up to cover her face. 

“Yes.” She groans at his eager response. “But it’s kinda cute, if I’m honest.” 

“Come on, you’ve got like a 30 second window before I get so embarrassed about my excitement to go to a museum in Barcelona that I bail on you and spend the rest of the day watching my entire iTunes movie collection.” 

“You will have plenty of time to watch ‘This Is Us’ later.” Aurora rolls her eyes at him as he grabs their coffees from the barista and leads them out of the shop. 

They spend the majority of the afternoon walking through Fundación Joan Miró. Harry’s hand rarely leaves the small of Aurora’s back the entire time through the museum. During those rare times, he’s towing her along with her hand in his. Harry is thankful for the time they get to spend together on a free day, a day neither of them have to work. He tells her this repeatedly as they admire the art. 

| | | | |

They’re tucked away in the corner table on the patio seating at a local restaurant harry picked out as the sun is setting that evening. Aurora can’t help but admire the way the lighter green flecks in Harry’s eyes sparkly from the reflection of the fairy lights that line the trellises of the patio. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asks before sipping his wine. Aurora fiddles with the stem of her wine glass for a moment. 

“Hm?” She shakes her head. “Nothing really.” Harry raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Seems like something,” he says softly, leaning forward. 

Aurora scrunches her nose with a small smirk trying to maneuver her thoughts. “Today was just really nice.” She sips her wine so she doesn’t say more. 

Dinner is full of small glances and sweet smiles. Harry, like the gentleman he is, walks Aurora to her hotel room door and gives her a kiss on the cheek when they finally say goodnight. 

| | | | |

Aurora is sitting on the counter of the sink while Harry finishes getting ready for the show tonight. She’s admiring the way his hair is sitting perfectly and the way that his suit sparkles even in the fluorescent lights of the arena bathroom. 

“Hand me the Tom Ford bottle there, love?” Harry’s question pulls her out of her daze. She hands him the bottle after taking a look at it. 

Helene gives Aurora a look. Aurora spilled everything to her on the flight to Spain and she’s been teasing and shooting her cheeky looks relentlessly all day. While Aurora was steaming Harry’s suit earlier and Harry was going on and on about the museum they went to yesterday as Ayae messed about with his hair Helene couldn’t help but giggle along with the two of them. Harry was exaggerating Aurora’s excitement about the museum and she was  fighting him about it. “Thought she might faint from excitement” he told Ayae like Helene and Aurora weren’t right there with them. The 4 of them were comfortable and carefree together before shows. Harry liked to keep a light mood while he gets ready. Once he starts brushing his teeth though, he gets all serious. Aurora finds it quite entertaining to see the stark difference. 

Harry continuously jokes with the girls and picks fun at Aurora. He just HAS to bring up Aurora’s movie collection too. When he starts listing off the movie titles in her collection Helene and Ayae burst into a fit of laughter. Aurora rolls her eyes, something that has become a normal occurrence in any conversation with Harry. 

Now, here in the bathroom the conversation has settled down and Harry is generally silent. He’s already brushed his teeth and is now just taking the time to focus and calm down his recurring nerves that pop up every night. Besides Harry’s question, the only other sound that echoes in the empty bathroom is the click of Helene’s camera. Harry’s spraying his cologne on his neck when Helene’s shutter goes off again. “I’m gonna go grab a different lens for the show. Good luck tonight, H!” and at that Aurora and Harry are left alone in the echoey bathroom. 

Aurora draws her attention back to Harry who is setting the Tom Ford bottle back on the counter. He runs his hands lightly through his hair, turning his head slightly so the strong line of his jaw is emphasised. Aurora reaches out towards him, tugging on the bottom hem of his jacket. Harry turns towards her and raises his eyebrows at her. A small smirk appears on his face as he sees the smile on Aurora’s face. He takes one step closer to her and fits himself between her legs. Her legs that were once swinging freely off the counter now completely still as his hands land on her thighs near her knees. Harry reaches his head down to her level and a lock of curls fall out of place and catch on his eyelashes. Aurora first reaches for the curls, swiping them away from his eye but they fall right back. Then, she uses her pointer finger on the side of his chin to turn his head back to the angle that showcases his jawline so well. She places a soft kiss at the hinge of his jaw. Harry giggles lowly at the light touch. When Aurora pulls away to get a good look at him Harry opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a single sound out Harry’s named is getting called repeatedly from the hallway. Most likely Jeff looking for him. Harry’s head drops back on his shoulders and a light groan comes from the back of his throat. 

“Always thinks I’m gonna be late,” he comments. “Gonna watch from the audience tonight?” Harry asks. Aurora nods. 

“Absolutely. Gotta see how this suit sparkles under the stage lighting,” she says, pulling the edges of the jacket together. She buttons it closed for him. 

“All you care about is seeing my suits on stage…” 

“Quite like to see the person wearing them too,” she mumbles. That earns a kiss to her cheek and both of his hands squeeze at her knees. Harry’s name is called again but much louder now. “Good luck,” she presses a kiss close to his mouth, only being able to reach her neck up so high. Even with sitting on a high counter, he’s still much taller than she is. 

| | | | |

Aurora finds her favourite spot in the audience, the back of the pit but still close enough to the crowd of fans that she can feed off their energy and hide her dancing if she needs too. From here she also gets an amazing view of the stage but her absolute favourite part of standing here is when the show starts and the screen rises up. Harry’s comment earlier was partially right. She does love seeing how his suits look on stage but what she loves most about it is the crowd’s reaction. She loves hearing their speculations before the show starts, she loves how the screams heighten when they get a little glimpse of him and she really loves seeing friends turn to each other, smiles covering their entire face, yelling some sort of comment to each other. Tonight she makes out a few screaming comments along the lines of sequins, glitter, and sparkly. Someone standing nearby comments about his hair and Aurora nods to herself with a laugh. His hair becomes somewhat of a thing throughout the entire performance. The stray curl she repeatedly pushed away from his face throughout yesterday and today fell into his eyes repeatedly throughout the show. Helene found Aurora once Harry launched into ‘Anna’. Harry’s adorn in a rainbow flower lei and one of the many pride flags draped around his shoulders. Harry’s incredibly carefree on stage and Aurora admires that about him so much. He’s goofy, and playful, and giggly but still puts on the best show he possibly can. Helene and Aurora sing along to ‘Anna’ and laugh at Harry’s dance moves during ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. They see Harry turn to Mitch and say something on stage, all while reaching down to the inside seam of his pants. 

“Did he just rip his trousers?” Helene asks Aurora in disbelief. 

“Oh god. He did, didn’t he?” Aurora rolls her eyes and her head falls back on her neck, a short chuckle leaving her mouth. “Well… guess I gotta go handle that. He’s got one more before he walks off yeah?” 

Helene nods. “Good luck.” 

Aurora shows her pass to the security at the edge of the pit, then again to another guard at the curtain that leads backstage. Aurora can hear Harry finishing the final chorus of ‘Sign Of The Times’ when she gets to the mini makeshift dressing room that’s located underneath the stage. Aurora is sure to stand out of the way of the entrance and gets her needle, thread and scissors ready. Harry’s laugh fills the small room before he’s even there. 

“Ror!” he exclaims when he sees her. 

“Ripped your pants huh?” 

“Don’t need to fix ‘em now, love. Only got 3 more songs, I’ll be fine.” He’s all smiles and still in the midst of his concert high. He’s also not logical when he’s like this. 

“Yeah, 2 of which are Chain and Kiwi. Your pants will not last through 10 seconds of either of those songs.” Aurora laughs at the look on his face then juts her empty hand out. “Come on, just give me your pants, they’ll be fixed in a second.” Harry rolls his eyes but starts to unbutton his pants anyways. 

The sight of Harry running to the bathroom in his suit jacket, boxers, tall black socks and boots was even funnier than the fact that he ripped a damn hole in his insanely expensive pants. She laughs as she starts to stitch up the hole. Harry’s back in less than 30 seconds and he’s chugging down his 2nd water bottle since he left the stage. He leans down and presses a kiss to Aurora’s cheek. Then another. With the 3rd kiss he wraps his arms around her shoulders. 

“Harry, I can’t fix your damn pants with you like this,” she whines. 

“Sorry,” he whispers lowly in her ear before stepping away from her. 

Aurora knots the thread as best as she can so hopefully he doesn’t rip them again in the next 30 

minutes. Harry slides the trousers on carefully and Aurora goes to leave so she can see the rest of the show. 

“Thank you, love,” Harry says grabbing onto her hand. When she turns around he’s much closer than she thought he would be. That one curl has fallen in front of his eyes again. Aurora reaches up to move it back into place. She can feel the weight of his hands at her waist and for a brief moment both of them are able to block out the deafening screams and the chanting of his name coming from a few feet above them. Harry presses his forehead to Aurora’s and she feels slightly dizzy. He smiles at her lightly and she remembers the smile he gave her while he was singing “Ever Since New York.” He’s started to give her the same smile during the exact part every show. That one smile makes her feel like she does right now in this tiny room. Somehow in a room of thousands and thousands of people he can make it feel like it’s just her and Harry. Without a doubt, goosebumps arise on her skin. 

Harry’s name is called by the stage manager and they’re both brought back to the reality in front of them. Harry presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead before thanking her again and running up the stairs. She peeks through the curtain at the bottom of the stairs. The single spotlight casts a shadow down the stairs as Harry stands at the mic, center stage. Harry’s voice matches the simplicity of the guitar that opens ‘From The Dining Table.’ Aurora’s heart drops every time she listens to him perform this song. The exclusive view she has right now adds to the experience and she catches herself choking back a few tears. His music is the first thing she fell for and she’s constantly reminded why. Before she knows it, the beginning of ‘The Chain’ echoes through the entire arena and Aurora makes her way to the side of the stage to watch the rest of the show.

| | | | |

“Wish you would’ve come out with us last night,” Harry comments as he walks with Aurora down the hall of the arena in Madrid. He has his arm swung around her shoulder and is telling her about how Mitch was telling this outrageous story and even got up and reenacted it all for the group. Aurora laughs along with Harry’s story.

“Maybe next time, Harry,” she offers, hoping one day she’ll actually get the courage to say yes to 

going with. 

“I’ve gotta meet with my trainer, but I’ll find ya later okay?” He offers her a lopsided smile, “could watch a movie or something before we have to get to work.” Aurora nods at him with a smile before he’s off down the hall. 

| | | | |

Helene is going through some of the photos she’s taken the past few days on the couch with Aurora. They’ve been the only ones in their green room all afternoon. A lot of the crew took the chance to sight see or sleep in so the arena isn’t too busy yet. 

“Aurora!” Helene squeals, “Look at this one of you and Harry.” Aurora looks up from her phone to Helene’s computer screen. 

“Of me and Harry?” She questions. and to her disbelief, on the screen is a photo of Harry and Aurora from last night. It’s nearly identical to the photo Helene choose for Harry’s social channels, but instead of seeing Harry’s reflection in the mirror, the photo was taken from a slightly different angle and you can see Aurora’s frame seated on top of the counter. Aurora face is soft and Harry has a slight smile on his face. 

“Imagine if we posted this photo on accident?”

“Helene!” Aurora yells. “That would be an absolute mess and I would have to change my name and leave the country. Hard pass.” Then their both in laughing fits. 

“That would stir some shit up,” Helene comments when she can finally catch her breath. 

“Ror!!!” Harry’s voice booms through the nearly empty room. “What’re you two up to?” He questions when he sees them trying to suppress their giggles

Helene and Aurora look at each other and burst into laughter again, Aurora can’t stop soon enough to stop Helene from showing Harry the photo of the 2 of them. She has the urge to stop him from seeing the photo, from seeing the way she was truly looking at him in awe while he was getting ready. She doesn’t ever remember making eye contact with him in that moment and Helene must have snapped the photo so fast that she caught the perfect moment. 

“Oh,” is all that comes out of Harry’s mouth the second he sees it. Aurora doesn’t know what to do in the moment and she just waits to see how Harry reacts. A smile starts to tear at his lips and within the same second he pulls his lips in by his teeth, doing his best to hide the smile that threatens to cover his entire face. The dimple that still shows up regardless tells all. He huffs after a moment. “Would ya send that one to me, Tiny?” 

‘Tiny’, what Harry’s nicknamed Helene, nods and quickly sends it over, Harry’s phone dinging in his pocket. Harry ignores it but thanks Helene before asking her if she wants to grab snacks and watch a movie with Aurora and him. She kindly declines and when Harry isn’t looking at her she winks at Aurora. Aurora thinks she might get a headache from all the eye rolls she has to do on a day to day basis. 

| | | | |

Aurora is having trouble keeping her eyes open when Reese Witherspoon as Elle Woods pops up on her computer screen dressed in a hot pink suit. She told Harry when they pressed play on the movie that she was pretty tired and honestly didn’t think she would last an entire movie. She suggested they watch an episode of ‘friends’ instead but he insisted on playing Legally Blonde. He pulled Aurora by the waist and situated her in front of him on the couch, pulling her shoulders back so she could lay her head back on his chest. 

“Don’t mind if ya fall asleep on me,” he had whispered into her hair when the opening titles came up. 

Now, Aurora’s eyes are fluttering shut, not able to fight the tiredness off any longer. She lets go of the last bit of her weight she was supporting herself and is limp against Harry’s chest. Harry only tightens his arm around her waist when he smiles, noticing she’s finally given in to the sleep her body needed so badly. Harry can’t pay attention to the rest of the movie and he’s a bit sad that they didn’t get to watch and quote along to both of their favourite part. Instead, as Elle Woods repeatedly makes note that the daughter took a shower, he presses a kiss to her hair, breathing in the so uniquely Aurora scent. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s something floral and coconutty with a hint of woodsy-ness to it. Harry tries to focus on the ending of the movie, his eyes start to well up at the end, without a doubt, a good distraction from Aurora’s sleeping body on top of him. He focuses on the small huffs of air that she lets out and rubs his thumb into her forearm, leaving behind goosebumps. He slumps down the couch a bit further, still holding her tight against him. He lets the end credits roll and once the room is silent, Aurora starts to stir. She mumbles an apology and he’s shushing her while she rolls her over so she’s facing him. Harry’s lips graze over her exposed ear and he presses light kisses down her jaw. 

Aurora’s still groggy from her mini nap and his lips on her skin is a feeling she can’t describe. Harry takes over all of her senses so quickly. His chest pressed against hers and his lips roaming her face is a bit overwhelming.

“Hey,” Harry says with a short giggle, his nose scrunching up when he meets his eyes with hers. His nose brushes against Aurora’s, earning a short giggle from her as well. 

“Should probably start getting everything ready…” Aurora whispers. She’s peeling her body away from his, as much as she just wants to stay right where she is. Sitting up on the couch is like pulling away 2 magnets, with Harry’s hands pulling on her waist and the added warmth quickly leaving her body, it feels wrong pulling away. She taps her computer, as the screen has gone dark now, it’s much later than she thought. “Harry, I really gotta go get everyone's clothing ready.” Harry’s sitting up beside her now. He lets out a loud sigh, knowing Aurora is right. 

“Jeeze,” he agrees when he sees the time, “but just like 2 more minutes,” he says as he wraps his arms around her waist and wiggles his face into her neck, his breath hot on her collarbone. 

“Harry,” Aurora whines, trying to pull out of his grip. 

“Rory,” he whines back. 

“Seriously Harry, we both have jobs to do…” she reminds him.

“Ugg,” he groans, “why must you be such a hard worker? Never forgetting anything, always 10 steps ahead of everyone…” 

“Hired me for a reason, didn’t ya?” Harry raises his eyebrows up in agreement, loosening his grip around her waist. “Come on, you’ve got sound check.” Aurora offers her hand out to him, pulling him off the couch. 

Later on, after Harry has finished soundcheck and eaten, he finds Aurora back in his dressing room, but instead of being sprawled out on the couch like earlier, she was working on getting his suit ready for the show. Harry pauses in the doorway, not making a noise and simply just watching her, she’s bopping around a bit to the music she’s got playing on her computer. A smile erupts on his face when he really pays attention to the music that’s playing. Aurora whips her head around, after setting the steamer down of course. Harry didn’t realise he let out a loud chuckle, making his presence known. 

“Whatcha listening to there, love?” Aurora’s heart sinks for a moment then a nervous, embarrassed laugh come out of her mouth. She hadn’t noticed that an old One Direction song came on shuffle. 

“Wait,” she starts to defend herself, “I just had my music on shuffle! Didn’t even notice it was playing!” 

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Ror.” He shakes his head at her. “Your dancing proves otherwise.” 

“You’re an absolute menace, ya know that right?” She rolls her eyes and turns back to the suit to finish what she was doing before being interrupted. 

Harry smirks at her before sitting down on the couch. “Quite excited for this suit, if I’m honest,” Harry offers, changing the subject. 

“Me too,” she agrees, smiling to herself. She can recall the first fitting of this specific suit and remember loving it. Not just the style or design but the way it fit Harry perfectly. He’s done frills and glitter, the whole nine yards, but this look was different. High waisted trousers, cropped jacket and his TPWK tank. Aurora remembers it fitting so perfectly she was antsy to see him perform in it. 

Before she knows it, it’s time for him to slip in to the suit. Ayae leaves the room after Claire requested that she needed some help cause she messed up her hair since Ayae had done it earlier. Aurora’s grabbing his boots from the crate and when she turns around she freezes. 

“Uhm,” she stutters out, “Uh, uhm, here-here’s your boots.” 

“Everything alright, Ror?” Harry questions as he finished tucking in the white tank to his pants. 

Aurora shakes her head, “Uh, yeah,” she pauses, “guess I just forgot how good this suit looks.” Harry raises his eyebrows at her, surprised at her confession. 

“Oh,” is all he lets out. She swears she can see a blush colour the tops of his cheeks. 

“I mean, they all-they all look good,” Aurora tries to back track, she’s cursing in her head, but gives up. “But, like, this one…” she trails off. She likes the surprised look on Harry’s face from her confession. “This one is just so… I don’t know,” she trails off shaking her head. “Anyways… put your boots on.” 

Harry makes his way to the large bathroom to brush his teeth and Aurora follows along. She plops on the counter again, her new favourite place to observe him as he finishes getting ready. Aurora is admiring the way the high waisted trousers fit perfectly and then her eyes catch his arm full of tattoos that are still on full display. The black ink in contrast to his light skin is mesmerizing and she doesn’t think she’s really ever paid as much attention to them as she would like to. The ones that scatter his forearms and lower bicep are familiar but the ones at his shoulder and chest are almost brand new to Aurora. She lets herself study them in detail while Harry brushes his teeth. The A and G on either of his shoulders are delicate and she wants, in the worst way to trace over them, all of them, with the pads of her fingers. The swallows that peak out from the top of the white tank top he’s wearing are driving her insane, she thinks. The white tank not only displays his tattoos but also shows of the ridges of his muscles. Harry’s not absurdly muscular or buff, but the definition that is there is obvious. Aurora doesn’t get it, she’s never seen someone’s muscles look so hard and strong but soft at the same time. His bare skin draws her in more and all she can think about is how his bare skin would feel wrapped around her. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Aurora. Slow the fuck down. 

She’s starting to lose her mind a bit over the view in front of her. She doesn’t know what’s going on with her. Aurora forces herself to peel her eyes away from him and it’s harder than threading the smallest needle in the world. She takes the time to look down at her hands and reground herself. Her mind is running a mile a minute and if she were to voice anything going on in her head nobody would understand because it would come out as gibberish. Aurora is finally able to focus on something besides Harry standing barely a foot away from her. She notices her nails could really use a fresh manicure and she thinks she’ll have to get a fresh one in the next city she finds herself in. 

Harry’s hand squeezes at her knee and she looks up to him. 

“Y’alright?” he questions. When she meets his eyes she offers him a small smile and his eyes quirk up in a question. 

“Mhm,” she hums, “lost in thought, I guess,” she answers, surprising herself. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” 

“Nothing important enough to bother you with,” she lets out with a laugh. 

“Never a both to me, love.” The nickname rings in her ears and her brain is no longer consumed by anything else. She nods at him silently. 

He sprays his cologne, the last step of his routine. Aurora appreciates his consistency and thoughtfulness when he gets ready for a show. Everything he does is done just so. She shakes herself out of her thoughts and pushes herself off of the counter. Before she can even say her good lucks and make her way out of the door he’s got a strong grip on her hip. 

“Hey,’ he barely whispers. Aurora avoids making eye contact. “Saw ya wandering eyes this entire time,” he teases. His free hand comes in contact with Aurora’s chin and tilts it up so she has no choice but to look at him. Sometimes she hates how forward he is. She’s nothing like him. She shakes her head at him lightly once both hands are on her waist. She lets her hands fall on to his chest in fist and her head hangs low. She voices an apology, quietly, but speaks nonetheless. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t mind it one bit.” Harry places a soft kiss on the top of her cheekbone. Aurora lets one of her hands reach for the ‘G’ inked on his shoulder and trace over it like she had wanted to minutes ago. 

“Was admiring your tattoos,” she whispers, her eyes trained on the ink. 

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just lets her delicate fingers graze his skin. Aurora can feel her heart beating and it sends electric like shocks through her entire body. Her hands feel like their on fire and she can’t figure out if it’s because of the nerves or the heat radiating from Harry’s skin. Aurora’s brain turns off she thinks because before she knows she’s reaching her neck up and kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw softly. When her lips leave his skin she can actually hear Harry swallow. 

“I know we agreed to take it slow, but I’m having a real hard time trying not to kiss you right now.” Harry’s voice is deep and Aurora can feel his hot breath fan out across her face. She sucks in a breath, her hands reaching to the waistband of Harry’s high waisted pants that she’s been fawning over silently since he put them on a half hour ago. She breathes out his name as she shakes her head. Harry presses her into the wall, his hips square on hers. Aurora busies her hands at the belt loops before she realises what she’s actually doing. Harry’s lips land on her cheek and then again at the soft spot behind her ear. 

“Harry,” she voices again, trying her hardest to stop his movements. It’s not that she doesn’t like it or anything like that. It’s that she likes it too much. That it feels so unbelievably good. That she doesn’t want him to stop. But she has to stop him, she’s still not ready to take whatever this is, further. “You’ve got a show to do,” she whispers. This is a can of worms she cannot tackle right now. 

“They can wait,” he whispers into her neck. 

“Harry, please,” she almost begs, but she doesn’t know what for, “please,” she’s trying her best here, but his hot breath and his soft lips grazing over her skin repeatedly makes it hard and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to say no to his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes when he brings his face into her line of sight. “Slow, we said slow,” she finally says, using her hands to push him away barely an inch. “And-and, and the way these trousers look on you right now are really not helping,” she says quickly. She shakes her head at herself when she realises what she had just said aloud. A half chuckle, half huff leaves his mouth and she can tell he’s fighting a smile without even looking at her. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, right,” he says the second he locks eyes with her. “Sorry, don’t know what it is about you,” he shakes his head, “driving me crazy.” He smiles softly at her. A slight feeling of relief washes over her now knowing that they’re on the same page with all of this. He sighs. “Got a show to do, I guess.” 

Aurora laughs at him and he thinks his heart swells to double its size, just as it does every time she laughs. He shakes his head again, trying to get her out of his mind for just a short moment so he can get himself stage ready. Aurora slides herself out of the way of the door to grab his jacket. She instantly feels like she’s missing something now that he’s not consuming all of her senses. When she turns around Harry’s already halfway out the door. 

“Babe,” she’s walking towards him, “need your jacket.” Harry nods and he’s in a trance when she helps him slide it onto his shoulders. “Good luck, even though you never really need it.” 

He thanks her and smiles at her. The entire walk from his dressing room to the last set of doors to the stage, all he can think about is Aurora calling him ‘babe’. Normally before a show he can focus and get his mind in check but his brain is full of Aurora right now and he’s doing nothing to stop it. Using her as a flame to ignite his energy and drive this show he’s about to put on. He’s in deep and he knows it right in this moment. He knows that he’ll do anything she says, anything to put a smile on her face, to hear her breathe his name against his neck just as she had a few minutes ago. Harry’s willing to go as slow as humanly possible if it means that tomorrow, or the next day or 3 months from now or whenever, that he gets to call her his.

| | | | |

The first glimpse Harry gets of Aurora while he’s on stage is only seconds into “Only Angel.” Aurora had taken a moment to collect herself before making her way into the audience to watch the show. Harry sees Aurora walking from the side of the stage into the audience and an instant smile grazes his face as he sways from side to side to his music. The lyrics that come out of his mouth, he thinks, are so perfect for this moment - “She’s an angel” - an angel is what she is to him. He shakes his head, hoping that he could shake Aurora out of his head. 

Everyone in the arena is feeding off the energy that Harry is exuding on stage, like a how a flame thrives on extra oxygen. Harry is nothing but smiles and cheeky smirks, dimples on full display the entire time. Aurora doesn’t stay in her normal spot, nor does she seek out Helene. She finds herself on the outskirts of the pit on stage left. Her mind drifts while Harry moves swiftly across the stage. From the angle she’s looking at the stage from, she’s got a perfect profile view of him. She curses to herself when she realises she’s fawning over how he looks in those high waisted pinstripe trousers. At first she thought she was gushing over the trousers themselves, the construction, the styling, the way the fabric drapes at the hem, but she catches her mind drifting towards how Harry looks in them. His legs look like they go on forever, the white trouser stripe accentuating the fit of the leg. Aurora’s eyes trail up to his torso and all she wants to do is wrap her arms around his waist. She wants to run her hands along the smooth, shiny fabric and the more she thinks about it, the more her mind wanders. Shit. Aurora is overwhelmed by the thoughts traveling through her brain. The thoughts of her hands roaming his torso, sliding lower when they reach his back. She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. He’s technically my boss. But he’s also, just Harry. This is a fight she has in her head about a million times a day now. 

Aurora is surprised when the intro to “The Chain” begins. She enjoyed the show, that’s for sure, but she feels like she blinked, daydreamed about those damn high waisted trousers, and then he was starting his encore. Aurora can’t help but gaze up to him on the stage, she’s in the midst of admiring his confidence and power in his voice as he rocks back onto his heels and his shoulders follow suit, only accenting the way the suit fits. 

Harry hoists his shoulders up to his ears, both hands on the mic as he belts out. He lets his head fall back, eyes closed, a look a pure bliss falls across his face. Aurora sighs to herself and basques in the idea of bliss falling across his face when he’s with her. She’s fucked at this point and she knows it. She’s in too deep to go back now. Curses fill her head as the song ends and “Kiwi” starts. Harry’s jacket is unbuttoned and he’s fiddling with the waistband of his pants on the side closest to where Aurora is standing. One sly look from Harry to Aurora tells it all. She’s in for it. 

Aurora is bewildered by the fact that Harry is able to communicate with her in the audience. It’s escalated as each show has gone on and every single time he’s on stage he can find her in the crowd at any given moment. 

Reckless is the best word to describe Harry performing ‘Kiwi’. He’s let just about all of his guards down, his hair is no longer in the perfect place that Ayae had done earlier, and there’s a light layer of sweat that covers his exposed skin. Harry’s stealing glances at Aurora no matter where he is on stage. When he makes his way closer to where she is standing he lets himself dance a bit in front of her before he regrets doing so. Harry is instantly reminded how tight his pants truly are and that he’s gotten himself in a tight spot now. Anyone paying attention to Harry can see him pull at the crotch of his pants quickly as he walks towards his mic stand. He laughs to himself as he clicks his mic back into its stand. He takes a glance down to his trousers again, reaching down he goes to pull at the fabric that is sitting much too tight against his bits. All while pulling at his trousers, he searches for Aurora quickly and gives her a look that he hopes relays everything that is going through his head. He hasn’t broken eye contact with her and she can feel the heat rise up to her cheeks. Aurora’s thankful that Harry can’t see the colour her face right now. Her jaw drops at his actions. She wasn’t prepared for him to be so bold and obvious up on stage. He seals the moment with a slow motion swipe of his tongue across his lips. Aurora is left dumbfounded. Before she thinks he’s through with the act he’s putting on for her, he runs a hand through his hair. Though he’s not looking at Aurora, she knows every single action he does in the next few minutes is for her and she can feel the tips of her ears heat up now. 

It’s New York baby always jacked up,

Holland tunnel for a nose, it’s always backed up,

When she’s alone she goes home to a cactus, 

In a black dress, she’s such an actress. 

Harry runs his hands from his hips down to his thighs and then brings his hands up to his head, bringing all his focus to his hips moving side to side. Aurora drops her head back on her shoulders with an eye roll. She doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. 

I’m gonna pay for this. 

He looks directly at her and the look on his face is best described as helpless. Aurora is frozen for a moment before she lets all of her guards down and loses herself in the music. 

| | | | |

Harry’s taking a sip from his new bottle of beer when he hears the light chime of the bar door. He thinks it might be his 3rd or 4th but hasn’t been keeping count. He’s out with the Adam and Mitch again and some crew members tagged along as well. Harry’s reaches for his phone for the millionth time in the past 30 minutes to see if Aurora’s texted him back. She hasn’t. He’s been pouting about it all night. After the show, Aurora was quiet, but much more hands on than normal. They both were pretty quiet in Harry’s dressing room. When Aurora hugged Harry once he got back to his dressing room she let her hands wander his torso like she thought about the entire show She also pressed a handful of kisses to the underside of his jaw before giggling and breaking away. She apologized, mumbling about not being sure why she was acting like this. Harry responded with a squeeze at her hip and then mirrored her mumbling and spoke about him hoping she would get like this. Aurora takes a step away whispering “slow” as a reminder but she doesn’t know if it’s just to remind herself what they agreed on or to remind Harry. Probably both. 

Harry’s too busy checking his phone to notice that the bell at the door was the result of Aurora walking into the bar. Harry wishes he could bring himself to enjoy the time with his friends but he can’t stop thinking about her. When he asked Aurora if she wanted to come out with them she kindly declined, again. He texted her once he got to the bar hoping to get her to change her mind or try to convince her to meet up with him later. 

Aurora and Helene walk into the bar, arms linked and smiles on their faces. Once Harry left the arena, Helene found Aurora and after a few glasses of wine, Helene convinced Aurora to go to the bar and surprise Harry.  

“What if he doesn’t care that I’m here?” Aurora whispers to Helene. 

“Doesn’t care?” Helene questions in disbelief. “Was I the only one who saw him on stage tonight or?” 

“Oh stop,” Aurora hushes. They’re both giggling again. They’ve giggled a lot tonight as a result of a bottle of wine shared between them.

Harry recognizes Aurora’s laugh and his head shoots up, hair falling in his face from the quick movement. He can’t help the smile that covers his entire face when he sees her leaning against the bar. Harry slides out of the booth nodding his head towards Aurora at the bar when Mitch questions where he’s going. 

“Add their drinks to my tab, Rob,” Harry tells the bartender. Helene lets out a laugh, shoots Aurora an all knowing look, and thanks Harry before walking away to find Adam and Mitch. “What changed your mind?” Harry asks as he takes a step closer to Aurora. She shrugs her shoulders, suddenly nervous, the confidence from the wine already gone. She reaches for her Whisky Soda the second Rob slides it to her. She takes a hearty sip before she shrugs her shoulders, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Well,” Harry continues, “thanks for coming,” he offers shyly. 

“Show was pretty great tonight, thought I should celebrate with you,” she finally answers. Harry quirks up an eyebrow. She can see the smirk that compliments his raised eyebrows from the corner of her eye. She focuses on the drink in front of her, watching a drop of condensation rolling down the side of the glass and hit the bar counter. Harry steps closer to her, not even close to touching her still but her hair stands on end across her arms and a shiver rolls down her spine. 

Harry dips his head into the crook of Aurora’s shoulder and he pauses before letting his lips fall to the sliver of bareskin between the trim of her tshirt and the base of her neck.  Another shiver runs down her spine and Harry lets a chuckle vibrate against her skin. 

“You know, we should probably take a look at some of my trousers, they seem to fit a bit tighter than before,” he says casually when he pulls away. He takes a swig from Aurora’s drink nonchalantly. His calm demeanor and confidence frustrates Aurora and she shakes her head lightly. “Why’re you shaking your head?” Harry asks through a light laugh, setting the glass back down, now substantially less full.

Aurora sighs and purses her lips in thought. She finishes off what’s left of her drink before speaking, needing all the courage she can get to say what she really wants to say out loud. “I could give you a list of reasons why your pants fit differently, babe.” Making eye contact with Rob she signals she needs another drink. Harry’s mind draws completely blank when Aurora reaches over and hooks her finger in one of his belt loops, her fingers grazing along the fabric and stitches. “But, it seemed like your dancing was the culprit tonight…” Aurora adds, continuing to mindlessly run her fingertips lightly of the stitches on the waistband of his trousers. Harry huffs at her, finally focusing on her face instead of her hands. 

“Think it was more than the dancing,” Aurora’s eyebrow raises at the sound of Harry’s voice. It was deeper than normal, it sunk to her bones and she’s now consumed by the mixture of his voice and the look in his eyes. His pupils have expanded and even in the dark light Aurora could tell that his bright green irises are only a small ring around his dark pupils. One of Harry’s hands lands on her thigh, “I think I have you to blame for tonight.” Aurora’s entire body stills, her hands loosely grip the belt loop and she lets out a shaky breath. She wasn’t expecting him to be so bold but then she remembers the events from earlier that night. Memories of Harry on stage flash across the inside of her eyelids as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She shakes her head before reaching both of her hands up to Harry’s neck. He complies with her movements and leans down closer to her. 

“Ror.” Harry’s breath fans across Aurora’s face. Aurora voice is stuck at the bottom of her throat and she hopes that she’s relaying what she’s feeling and thinking through her eyes. Before she can think any longer she lets her lips press against Harry’s. They’re both hesitant, relishing in the moment. Aurora grips at the shorter hair at the back of Harry’s neck when his lips press a little harder into hers. She can feel Harry’s shoulders relax as he continues to kiss her. His hands find grip at her waist as his hot breath fans over her face when they break apart for barely a second. Their noses bump slightly before Aurora connects their lips again. The various sounds of the bar are drowned out completely and they don’t know how long they stay kissing at the bar counter. 

Harry pulls away first and Aurora finds herself chasing his lips. Harry chuckles at her actions, endeared by her confidence in the moment. “Hey,” he whispers when she opens her eyes. 

“Hey,” she whispers back, her lips almost close enough to brush against his again. Harry grabs their drinks from the counter after taking a moment between them. 

“Come on,” he says motioning his head towards their group sitting at a large corner booth. Aurora is taken off guard by Harry’s casual transition. When Aurora doesn’t move Harry reaches down and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Come on, love.” Aurora huffs and jumps off of the stool she was sitting on and reaches for the crook of his elbow. Harry smiles down at her as they walk towards their friends. 

It’s as if nothing had changed. They slide into the booth and fit into the conversations that were already happening. Harry’s complementing a story Adam is telling with a quick witty joke when he moves his beer bottle to his other hand and places his now free arm around Aurora’s shoulder. Harry can feel Aurora’s chest rattle when she gives a good laugh at his jokes. He smiles as he watches her join into the conversation. She even lets a hand rest on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it every so often. Harry presses constant kisses to her hair or behind her ear.

Aurora’s got her 3rd Whiskey Soda in front of her and she turns to look at Harry as he finishes a story. Mitch takes over the story for Harry, going on about one of their crazy times in Jamaica and Harry takes the opportunity that is presented in front of him. With all the attention on Mitch and Aurora still gazing up at him, he connects their lips. They’re both smiling into the kiss. It doesn’t last long, a quick peck, before they’re both engrossed in the story being told. 

The night escalates and somehow Harry gets everyone to stand up and dance around the bar. They’re the only group left and they’ve taken control over the sound system. As “Girls on Film” by Duran Duran blast through the speakers, Harry grabs for Aurora’s hands and is dancing her around, twisting her this way and that, throwing in a few spins, and pressing their lips together whenever he can. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the wide grin that’s been on show majority of the night. She throws her head back while singing along to the song and Harry can’t think he’s been much happier than he is right now. He thanks the alcohol that’s running through both of their systems but also acknowledges that it’s pushed both of their guards down. 

Harry asks Aurora to come back to his hotel room when they leave the bar. She kindly declines, even after Harry drunkenly clarifies that he just wants to sleep but doesn’t want to say goodnight. He never wants to say goodnight. Harry walks Aurora to her own hotel room instead. He’s said something that neither of them can remember but has put both of them into an absolute laughing mess outside Aurora’s door. 

Harry takes Aurora’s face in his hands, gently once they’ve both taken a breath and stopped laughing. Looking at her eyes then her mouth, then her eyes again, he finally closes the small gap between them. The kiss is kind of messy, but neither mind in that moment. Harry furthers the kiss taking Aurora’s bottom lip in between his and sucks lightly, a small whine coming from Aurora. He likes her reaction and does the same action with her top lip. Another whine. Aurora’s hands roam Harry’s broad shoulders and Harry’s hands move down to her waist, leaning her against the hotel room door. When the door rattles slightly their both reminded that they are standing in the hallway of the hotel. Harry pulls away with regret. 

“I’ve got an early flight to Italy,” he says because he actually cannot think of anything good to say that will compare to this moment. He shakes his head in an apology knowing he broke the moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, okay?” 

Aurora nods, dizzy from the whiskey and Harry’s lips. Before she closes her hotel room door behind her Harry kisses her cheek and gives her an eye wrinkling smile. It’s safe to say that Harry and Aurora both fall asleep with grins etched into their faces. There are no traces of regret or worry in Aurora’s thoughts from the events that happened tonight and she finally feels at ease. 

I hope you enjoyed !!!! Comments & feedback ALWAYS extremely welcome !!!! Share it with your friendsssssss :)))) love you mean it. 

[damnnjoon]

100 reasons to love Jeno

he’s allergic to cats but his family has 3 (bongsik, seol, lal) and he loves them dearly

he’s obsessed with cars like the little nerd he is 

hates math dearly 

he did enjoy both history and the sciences, though

even then, his favorite subject was phys ed, as expected

he can lie face down flat on the ground and raise himself up with bending his arms that is INSANE

can also get up onto just one foot without touching the ground

he cleans meticulously when he’s drunk

he also tries to get the other members to sleep early or sleep when they don’t want to,,, he essentially becomes dream parental figure no. 1

jenshow!!!! mc of the year!!!! king of mc-ing!!!!!!!

he’s grown up well throughout the years (from smrookies to chewing gum to now (boom)) but his smile has stayed exactly the same since when he was that kid from that commercial

speaking of: the milk commercial he was in

his and doyoung’s couple costume for 2018 halloween it was just so Valid

also him and renjun couples smurf costume it really went down in history i feel

i legally can’t go further without mentioning that one JSMR ep where he had the bathbombs and he saw the train bathbomb and went “choo choo!” that was so Good 

he named his airpods “Jeno’s showerhead” boy WHAT

his trademark confusion noise (”huH?”)

the mole near his right eye…

...and the one on his left cheek 

the fact that he’s awkward at aegyo in front of cameras but, according to jaemin, he has the most aegyo out of any of the dream members

he slaps his toner on so hard that it wakes renjun up every morning 

can and will eat most things with mayo (ex. celery)

all of his contact names for the dreamies are puns based off of their names 

current official hardest puncher of the dreamies 

jaemin got champagne for his birthday and jeno finessed it within like… a minute

the sound he makes when he’s trying to hold his laughter in is EXQUISITE

that’s another thing: he laughs soooo easily it’s so good

his dancing is so mf powerful i feel like not enough people appreciate how talented jeno is at dancing

exact same height, shoe size, and joining day as jaemin, his ‘destined best friend’

lets his members play games in his room into the morning even though he has work at the show

calls himself “no jam” (not funny) even though he’s a whole circus

his automatic wince that he holds for a few seconds when anything is too loud during JSMR

high pitched noise of annoyance

exceedingly gentle and has a self-proclaimed weakness for cute things

cries when he’s angry 

has gotten more and more confident as the eras pass by i am LIVING for it

says that he hopes to have another comeback with the original dream members someday (after they’ve all graduated… because SM is a Fuck and won’t make ot7 dream a fixed unit)

plays the guitar

composes songs! he’s so talented and musically inclined i am so proud of him

him, hyuck, jaemin, and jisung were forced to drop out of school to pursue being idols BUT before that he majored/focused in practical dance at SOPA (where his seatmate was jaemin!)

known for being bad at taking selfies (even though anything and everything with him is iconic, immediately,)

when filming for “go” hyuck fake kissed him and jeno started chasing him and that actually made it into the mv which is so funny

can eat half an apple in 2-3 bites

tied in arm wrestling with jaemin, who’s his lifting partner 

has never gotten blackout drunk even though renhyuck allegedly have 

really likes playing mobile games!! 

likes puppies and old dogs just the same he’s so good with animals

he can play the violin!

he’s the baby of his family and that really shows sometimes

his handwriting is very aesthetically pleasing in both english and korean

he still has “the tastebuds of a child” and eats like garbage but works out super hard to maintain his body (i hope he’s being healthy!!!!)

his assigned character trait (ex. renjun’s is “pureness/innocence” because SM can’t their artists seem more than 1 dimensional, apparently) is “boring” and he just runs with it and it gets funnier and funnier whenever he or the others call him boring because they all know he’s a whole clown

listens to music loudly 

his rapping improves with every song he’s really finding his flow!! it’s especially obvious in the we boom album in 119 and stronger imo

has a terrible sense of direction

he’s been wearing a lot of sleeveless tees onstage and offstage recently and you can tell he’s been working out which is rad because he’s mentioned how much he enjoys exercising so it’s good that he’s been doing what he loves!!

had a cameo on the drama a-teen... king of being an all around performer!!

resembles a samoyed (self-proclaimed) because of his eye-smile

loves cherry blossoms

he’s watched a lot of disney films but his favorite is the original Lion King

resembles (and loves!) donghae of suju

constantly compliments his members and has a tendency to compliment them even right after he clowns them

loves dark chocolate and can eat a lot of it

he really likes the sound of pencils against paper

his duality is insane he’ll go ham onstage and then be quieter and all smiles backstage like... true prince

his facial expressions are PEAK he is so expressive especially when he squawks at stuff

he genuinely liked studying (more or less) when he was a student and would like to go to university

has always wanted to and still wants to major in architecture!

that time he lit a candle and then accidentally blew it out directly after

when he shhhhed a lemon on JSMR

would love to go to Europe someday

his specialty is acting and I really hope to see actor!jeno some time in the future if he’s up for it

the way he says “oh my gosh!”

his soft vibrato when he sings where you can tell he’s not quite sure of his vocal capability (even though he should be because he’s iconic) but he still likes to sing

i know i’ve mentioned it but his dancing is so smooth and stylistic and powerful and tbh i feel it in my chest

boom shooting when he neglected to remind jaemin that he had his phone and pretended to take jaemin’s calls

that time renjun said live that jeno games til 4 am and jeno was like “don’t say that!!my mom might be watching”

boy can EAT

says he hates skinship but seems to enjoy initiating it

wears his watch everywhere because he’s the king of fashionable functionality

this (shoutout @iriiidescence )

i hate to focus on his physical attributes because I feel like he gets boxed in as just “pretty” way too often, but, with that being said, his hands are gorgeous and you can tell how much he respects the world around him by how gently and daintily he holds things

read and enjoyed Jonathan Livingston Seagull

is incredibly artistic but never talks about it

his eyes and gaze are visibly and obviously different on and off stage

he gets so flustered talking about his own duality it is the cutest thing

early days esp during mfal his smile was like :3 and it isn’t as pronounced nowadays but sometimes it’s still like that and that is very good

when dream got reflectors for their selfmade movie shoot thing (was it for the boy videos or something similar? I can’t remember) and he put it behind mark and was like “halo!” and hyuck almost beat his ass then and there

jaemin said “we’ve known each other for 7 years” and jeno was like “let’s stop meeting”

that nct life moment when him and jisung were “sparring” and jeno won but when he went to shake jisung’s hand he straight up pulled jisung’s mitten off but kept on shaking the empty mitten anyways to save face

the smrookies age vid where jaemin asks “am i cute?” in Thai and jeno straight up says “no”

ran DIRECTLY into a green screen during go mv filming and had the misfortune of it getting caught on camera

when jaemin said “i love you” and jeno (he was over the phone) panicked and stuttered out “no thanks”

when he sticks his tongue out in pics he is the CUTEST mofo

when he centered in black on black

when he was dressed up all hardcore in all black with a fake gun and still managed to look soft because of how his eyes shone with all the stars in the night sky

he always looks at his members like they each hung the moon

is always honest (even when it comes to shading SM 👌)

is always striving to become a better version of himself no matter what he is doing

spreads love in any way he knows how, whether it be verbally or through his actions or through the way his gaze lingers when reading comments or how focused he is on specific dance moves or how attentive he is to his friends... jeno always does what he can to brighten the world of those he loves and those who love him and he deserves the sun moon and stars because of this

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 15

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU. Declan and Bella finally find personal and professional satisfaction together.

Warnings/Tags: Mild Language.Drinking. Date Night. Flirting. Music. Sexual Content.  

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

The week between their date and the first night of the music shows at the bar goes by quicker than either expected. Bella worked, then went to the bar after to help set up her end of this whole endeavor. The construction didn’t help matters when it came to testing a sound system, but they had the day to work out any kinks, and she suspected there would be a fair share. The rest of her time was dedicated to getting the word out about the show. She’d texted, called and messaged everyone she knew that might be interested. She put out ads online and in hard paper publishing’s, on the radio and hung flyers. She put in the footwork and the thumb work, putting blood and sweat into the success of the idea. Bella helped with building, cleaning, ordering and planning. Anything she could. They spent a lot of time together that week, but it was in a strictly professional capacity. Too tired, stressed and distracted at the end of the night to even think about moving their physical relationship closer. They were both thankful for the mutual understanding between one another. They’d both been exhausted by the time the crews left, sharing a kiss only after they were alone, which she appreciated greatly. They both had too much on their minds to think about much else except the bar and the show.

So the night of finally comes for the tired but excited entrepreneurs. A lovely sunny Saturday was quickly turning into a hot night in the newly renovated bar. Declan might’ve let Bella talk him into a bit much. Between his excitability about the idea and wanting to impress her, he’d made more changes in the past week to the bar than it’d seem in over a decade. He hoped this would be a success before, for both of their sakes but now covering the costs was another reason to worry. He did have to admit standing in thecleam and more modernized wooden dive , it looked good.

A new point of sales, the register now one touch and fast, the touch screen and metal out of place among the rest of the aged wooden bar. New temperature controlled taps finished bringing them into this century, everything cleaned and dusted and polished and up to code. She even talked him into buying snack food to sell. Small menus they’d curated and she designed were sat out on tables, a few new booths, black faux leather and new metal bar stools mixed with the old wooden ones gave it a touch of modernity but it still kept the vintage and dive feel. He’d appreciated her attention to detail during the process, not wanting to change what it was, just make things easier on him in the long run with technology and durability.

Bella trots about in heels and a tight dress, the same dress as she’d worn on her date. But this time in black, her comfort color. A sheer and flowing kimono covered with roses over a black background masked her curves and kept her flirty but professional. There was wiggle room when working in the music industry with what was considered professional and not, and Bella liked riding that line. She had a pen in her hair and a clipboard in her arms as she directed bands and their crews, turning what used to be the kitchen into a temporary green room.

Besides the physical bar, Declan hadn't had to worry about much else. He’d loved watching Bella work. Seeing her with her no nonsense expression, scolding men who weren’t performing up to her standards was really doing it for him, he admitted. He mused and polished the bar top, a nervous habit, and watched her with fondness in his hazel eyes. He felt his nerves for the night pass, replaced with a school boy like fascination as she moved around his space as if it was hers.

The stage was set, the boys tended to in the green room, some friends of hers from way back in her days of performing, and Declan’s part of the work was caught up.

“Bella! Can you come here when you get a second?” He calls out from the back room with the same casual tone he’d yelled it at her so many times over the past few days.

“Yeah just a sec!” She answers absentmindedly, checking off tasks on her thorough list. She sashays into the back to find him waiting, a smile on his face without anything in hand for her to address.

“C’mere.” He calls softly, taking her hand and pulling her behind the door to the stairs to his apartment. It was a brief moment of sanctuary he’d been craving. The hustle of the bar quieted by the door, a moment without prying eyes to decompress. “I didn’t think I’d get another chance to talk to you alone.” He took the clipboard from her hands and placed it on a stair gingerly.

“Is something wrong?” She asks with curious eyes.

“I hadn’t gotten a chance to thank you.” He answers in a warm, deep tone, leaning in to wrap his arms around her. She understood his intention with the way his mouth turned up in the corner. A soft smile she’d only seen on him with thru we’re alone. She let her guard down, having to slip out of boss mode to return the affection.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She shook her head as he leaned in for a soft kiss. “Still have to see who shows up.” She murmurs against his lips.

He could tell she was nervous, and granted, so was he. But he had total faith in her abilities after watching her all week. “Even if just a handful do I still need to thank you. For everything this week. You didn’t have to step up like you did.” A calm and reassuring tone matches his expression as she finds herself much more pliable and soft than had been since the last time she was in his arms.

“Of course I did.” She insists with a nod of her chin his way. “Not gonna let you look bad now am I?” She grins and kisses his cheek.

“I look bad standing next to you... lookin like this.” A brief but strong enough squeeze of her hips was enough to get his point across.

“Never.” The shake of her head sold her dramatic enthusiasm. ”You do look good though.” She smirks and looks him over, fingers trailing over the strong arms he was showing off with his deep side cut old Sabbath shirt and jeans that fit him suspiciously well.

“So do you.” A brief muzzle of nose to nose. “Very… sexy Stevie Nicks.” He praised.

“Just so happens to be exactly what I was going for.” She smiled proudly.

“I know there’s a lot going on tonight, but I had one more thing to ask you.” His eyes turn a bit soft and he fussed with a wild curl of her hair.

“Shoot.” She invites.

“Even if it’s super late… and we’re both too fucking tired to do anything… I’d like you to stay with me tonight.” He suggests with a sweet whisper, his posture almost sheepish.

“Like, sleep here you mean?” She clarifies.

“Yeah.” He pauses with a brief moment of questioned judgement. “Is that-?”

“No! That’s… fine that’s… that’s good. I’d like that.” She reassured him so casually he exhaled loudly in relief. “It’ll give me something else to look forward to tonight.” She beamed a killer smile, a genuinely affectionate one that makes him hum happily.

“Before I let you go… do you wanna make out?” He asked childishly, making her chuckle and wrap her arms around his neck. “I haven’t got to really kiss you all week.” He adds with more sentimental inflection.

“And I wanna thank you for not doing this or anything else in front of anyone else.” Her voice is deeper, her face relaxed. “Not that I’m like, ashamed or something I just prefer keeping work and play separate you know.”

“I assumed.”

“And I’ve went and mixed the two as much as possible haven’t I?” She grins and grazes his nose to hers.

“Fraid So.” He hums back with content, a small kiss to start and it grows hungry as it always does for them. A small moment to melt into each other, hands in hair and over needy bodies to hold off the hunger for another evening.

“Missed that.” She whispers when they part, his forehead to hers.

“So did I.” He gives her a less romantic, more playful smooch to make her smile.

“Hopefully we won’t be too exhausted to continue that after we close up tonight.” Her words were suggestive but her tone wasn’t convinced.

“One can hope.” He nods with high brows.

“Either way. We’ve got all day tomorrow together.” She happily adds with a kiss to his cheek.

“Mmm. That we do.” A few quick kisses to her cheek, jaw and neck make her give up that giggle for him. He gave her a squeeze before they parted, one last time before they were professional again. “Let’s go get em baby.” He mutters with a cheerful face before they break the seal on another little love bubble they’d created.

———

Declan, Mike and Bella Knick back celebratory shots for making it this far and to ease the pre show jitters. They all stand and look at each other, anxious glances and blinking eyes before facing the truth.

“Let’s fuckin do this.” Declan booms loudly and slaps his hands on the bar top sudden to cut the tension.

Bella smiles at his enthusiasm. “Don’t scar em off before they even get in the door ya lion. Roarin and carryin on.” She teases as she walks to the half stained glass and barred door. “Here we go.” She whispers to herself to pass from her true self to hostess before opening the door.

The bar wasn’t small by any measure, but the amount of people that showed up made it seem like it might’ve been. The speakers covering the music before the bands started cutting any awkward silence, the drinks and conversation going all mingle to create a good atmosphere. Bella stepped in to help take out orders when she could, focusing on Directing people and handling hospitality while Mike and Declan were swamped at the bar.

Among the bumping of shoulders, the dull roar of music and voices, she realizes She’d missed this. The rumble and buzz of a crowded club felt Nostalgic and comforting. The vibration of the music through her body while she moved about made her feel younger, more alive. She felt a moment of pride for her work and gratitude for having found the gem of a bar. She even felt Fond for the bad day that sent her there, and the drunken night that lead to all this.

It doesn’t take long for the tension to build between Declan and Bella. It was effortless on their part. As She was hovering and helping them, he kept getting sight of her and meeting eyes. They’d pass chest to chest, back to back behind the bar and she’d give him a wink no one could see while her tits dragged across his torso. He’d shoot her a look, and she knew exactly what it meant. An almost threat she felt like antagonizing. Both moving about the space they would pass each other, he’d give her a deep “hey baby.” In her ear when he could.

The crowd gets rowdy, as crowds do, and she ends up getting pushed around a bit and into him a few times. He was keeping work in mind but also, maybe staying near her unconsciously. He’s thankful when she gets shoved right into him so he can comfort her. “Hey, careful baby girl.” He warns with warm and sure hands to her body that make it react. Another low purr in her ear adds weight in her chest as she tried to focus on work and not the huge, sexy bartender that was trying to get in her panties. Not that he had to try very hard. His swoon inducing genuine smiles and his flexing bare arms were cause enough to distract her. She kept it together as she always did, but it certainly did add a bit of spice to the evening she was more than excited about.

“Boys are taking a break after this song Bella!” An old friend who was helping with sound and stage yells at her and she felt the butterflies arrive. They break her steamy day dreams to give her another sort of tingle and rush. She hadn’t performed for a crowd in years. She’d always loved it, but there was more money in being the person running the machines for people who were on stage. It hadn’t stopped her from fantasizing about doing it from time to time. It was a high she had yet to find a way to replicate.

The boys announce their break and give her an introduction. An old friend and very talented woman who was nice enough to do a set and let them take a breather she was generously called. The crowd is fairly disinterested, as was standard, but there were certainly a lot of them.

“I’ll be filling in the down time for you guys, with my friends tonight. We’re gonna start slow, let you get your drinks and snacks, go take a piss, all that.” her on stage presence demanding and confident she fell right back into it with a calm Demeanor. “Be sure to try to the Ale special. It’s my favorite and The Trading Post is one of the few places you can get it in the city. So go hit up that hot bartender and he’ll give ya what ya want.” She laughs with a charm that all women react to. A few ‘woos’ and Declan grins broadly, waving his distractingly thick arms.

“Nice and easy, take a break yourselves, gonna start with some Kacey Musgraves.” She says with a bow, starting with an acoustic guitar first. Slow Burn fades into Golden Hour and Declan is bewitched. He wished he could just sit and watch her, her voice was sweet but raspy, it melted him like butter with the sentimental words she sang. Every time she’d sing she’d surprise him somehow, and every time he was smitten.

“We’re going with the legend, the legs, Miss Tina Turner now. Kick it up a notch, wake the blood back up. Proud Mary.” She speaks the intro, “...gonna start this song out easy. Then we’re gonna end it rough.” And she delivers. A song most everyone knew, enjoying the soulfulness of her voice and then being taken into a double time, loud performance with her moving and dancing and singing, swinging her head and getting everyone’s attention again.

“And to wake you the fuck up the rest of the way!” She calls out, hair a mess and a sheen of sweat on her she roars right into Ace of Spades and the crowd eats it up. Her growling out and her rasp giving her the means to deliver the fast and hard song. She plays her guitar like a dream and Declan stops and stares. He’s never seen her do THAT.

“Holy shit.” He mouths with a slack jaw.

“Ya girls fuckin got it dunnit she lad?” Mike laughs with a slap to his back.

“Yes she fuckin does. God damn.” He answers in awe. “I’m gonna take a break, gotta ask her where the fuck this came from.” He mutters with open arms as her head hangs with her hair wild and waving, fingers picking and playing in a flash.

It ends with a hard note and the crowd now fully invested again gives her applause she happily takes. She hears a familiar loud voice by the front by the stairs.

“FUCK YEAH BELLAAAAA!” Declan’s large lungs scream out and she whips her hair to one side and gives him a disarming smile. She didn’t mind the support at all. She steps off stage after the other band returns and Declan is there to squeeze her so hard her feet leave the ground. “I’m buying you a drink! That was amazing! I didn’t know you could do that!”

“I haven’t in a very long time.” She responds with a beaming smile her self fulfillment clear in her eyes.

“Let’s get you sat down.” He offers over the noise of the crowd and uses his big frame to carve a way to a small booth you couldn’t see the stage from. To her surprise he sits first and pulls her in on his lap and she happily accepts. With the crowd now absorbed back into the showroom and their conversations of praise to her from strangers cease and they’re left with one another again. He motions to Mike to bring over drinks. “You were so fuckin good baby. Seriously. I mean it. Fuckin amazing.”

“Shots and an ale.” Mike says proudly. “Ya fuckin killed it out there, lass. Good on ya.” He gives her a happy nod she thanks him for.

Declan gives her a toast to the glass shot glasses that clink as they nod and throw them back. With an exaggerated exhale he wraps his arms around her, one on her hip to keep her in place, pulling her close so she puts an arm around him, face still content from the performance. The other hand rests on her bare thigh, his lap big enough for her to crawl into and bend her legs over his own. “You were so fuckin good up there baby.” he speaks in a deeper, slow tone that makes a more suggestive smile flare across her lips.

“Thank you.” she gives him a brief up and down glance. “You’d get a good uptick in sales from my little shout out?” she gives him a cheeky grin, her hand moving to push back a strand of hair that’d fallen from where he’d tied it back.

“Yes you sneaky little thing.” he gives her a happy low rumbling laugh, a tiny little pat to her ass that makes her nose wrinkle, giving in to her laugh. “What about not mixing business and personal? Huh?” he teases with his nose coming close to grazing hers.

“Eh. Me playing isn’t business.” she dismisses with a shrug. “That’s just fun. Plus it got everyone's attention didn’t it?”

“I think that was you that had all that. They were loving it.” he adds supportively, both speaking soft and low and only to each other. “I know I did. You sing like a...horny angel.” he chuckles.

The explanation makes her shoulders shake in a laugh and gently touch the side of his face. “I like that description.” she nods. “Except for that angel part…” she shrugs. “Pretty spot on actually.” she gives him a sly smile that turns into a flirtatious one that covers her whole face.

“I disagree but I am VERY intrigued.” he wiggles his eyebrows and he hears that little giggle from her that makes his chest flutter.

“I don’t think you’ll be calling me an angel after tonight.” she speaks quietly and peeks her tongue out from between her lips.

“Mmm that so?” his voice swings low, she can feel a distinct rumble in his body under hers.

“Mmm Hmm.” she nods, her hand now tracing the outlines of his sleeves as she looks him over with a hunger in her eyes. “Keep these shots in me and it’ll be especially true.” she tilts her head in support of her statement and smirks. “Or hell…” she shrugs, “Who am I kidding? With you? Stone cold sober I’d be inclined to behave sinfully.” her voice is just loud enough for him to hear when he leans close, getting a wiff of her sweet perfume and the tickle of her hair against his skin.

“I”m hearing nothing I don’t fully support.” he coos at her, eyes gazing over her face and lingering at her lips set in a seductive pose.

She lets out a sigh that surprises him, her hand moving to his chest, running back up to his shoulder and neck and back again as she bites her lip. “Maybe it’s the performance high. Or that shot on an empty stomach but…” her eyes return to meet his that are deep and dark and only make the fire in the pit of her stomach burn more intensely. “I weirdly don’t feel at all shy to admit that watching you tonight has done nothing but distract and make me realize just how fucking sexy you are.” her lip snarls ever so slightly with her delivery, her fingertips light on his bare skin as he feels a tensing between his legs. “Or how every night since our date I’ve thought about how it felt with you on me on that couch.” Her voice is so soft and demanding of him.

“Everytime I look at you I think about that couch.” He admits with a quirked brow. “Everytime you get close I have to touch you.” They share lingering glances between them, his mouth slack and taking in her soft expression for him, her biting her lip and wanting to sink her teeth into him. The sexual chemistry between them was undeniable and they didn’t have to wait long. “God I wanna kiss you so bad right now.” He whispers and she reaches up to touch his cheek.

“Then do it.” She leans in and whispers.

“But there’s people, I didn’t know if-“

“I don’t care.” She shakes her head and gives him an approving smile. “I want you too.” A breathy confession from her as her thumb rubs over his cheek bone. “Fuck what they think.” She nods her head back towards the crowd. “They don’t matter.” Her lips ghost over his as she gives him permission and an alternative sweetness he was growing to really love.

It doesn’t take him a second longer before leaning in to take her mouth against his. His arms instinctually move around her tighter, a hand on her under her shawl feeling the soft jersey stretch of the fabric of her dress. The other on her bare thigh, the heat between them searing.

She doesn’t pull away, only deepens it as his eyes roll behind their lids for the public display of affection from her. Deep rounds with teasing tongues and tense hands that roam ever so slightly they give in and forget anyone else is around them. It does eventually end but not without their foreheads together, two aroused expressions shared that told them that no matter what they would be taking this further tonight.

—————-

Counting the money in the till, still sober enough to do so after celebratory shots on the raving success the night had been. Bella, who’s seen him shut down the bar so many times does it for him. Locking up, Turning off signs, sweeping and wiping down as he counts and figures out the new POS system he’d installed. He uses his personal laptop for now to do his spreadsheets, saying they’ll get a company one soon. It looks as if they would be able to afford it with how things went. Between easily remembered amounts, he watches her. In just her dress now, shawl forgotten, laid over her purse in the back on a counter he sees her body stretch and jiggle and finds himself quickly forgetting about the money in his hands and the numbers on the screen.

Bella only had a quick conclusion on her mind. Getting everything done as fast as she could to get back to being close with Declan. An excitement in her muscles, a tension in them that was exhilarating. Finishing, she moves to the bar top, lifting herself up and plopping down on it as he finished his part of the rituals.

“Does Mike usually stay to help you with all this?” she asks, feet swinging off the edge of the bar.

“Yeah. But I told him to get lost.” he grins, laying another stack onto the counter.

“Good.” she gives the same smile back, even though they don’t look at each other. “Looks like you did pretty well tonight.” she remarks, a supportive nod of her head his way.

“WE did VERY well actually.” he lets out a soft chuckle. He puts everything with the receipts and notes into the money bag, concluding the count.

“It’s not easy moving around behind this bar.” she keeps her eyes to the ground, letting him concentrate, not knowing if he was finished or not. “Especially with more than one person. Since you’re so ...big and all.” a grin with her clear intentions spreads across her face.

He stands with his head tilted slightly, looking her up and down, an expression that was dark, giving way to a subtle smile as he moved forward. His hand drug across the bar surface, not lifting when he meets the skin of her thigh. A rather cocky smirk on his face as he moves chest to chest, both hands now on her legs, a slow rub up to her hips and back, easily slipping into a more sensual mindset.

“Am I?” he gives a sarcastic remark that makes her beam up at him, a closed mouth smile and eyes that now had the same intention as his.

“Mmm Hmm.” she nods slowly, hands moving up his arms, feeling the flex of them under her fingers. “Must be really… hard. Doing this by yourself.” her voice has dropped a few octaves, same as his. Hands now to her backside, hers in his hair as he yanked her closer, now held on the edge of the counter.

“So fuckin’ hard.” he leans in and almost groans as he watches her chest rise, any innocent intention in her eyes now gone.

“Are you?” the same cheeky response as he had earlier.

He only nods, hand moving to her face before closing the space between them, his body wasn’t going to let him waste any more time.

The kisses grow at a feverish pace, deep and indulgent. Desperate to be as close as possible, her hips even out with his, feeling the friction they craved. Her legs swinging back before wrapping around his waist, her heels hits the control panel for the speakers and music begins to play. He makes no acknowledgement, kisses traveling to her jaw and neck as she lets out a small chuckle.

“Oops.” she shrugs and he grunts in response, pulling her closer.

He shushes her, taking her mind back to where he wants it with a biting kiss, and she eagerly responds with her own noises.

“We’ve even got mood music now babe, you gonna make me wait much longer?” she whispers in his ear before taking his lobe into her mouth.

“Ungf. No.” he responded in an almost animalistic way, hands sliding under her quickly, adjusting his grip.

“You gonna fuck me on this counter or are we gonna make it upstairs?” her voice a breathy exhale against his neck as she placed little sucking kisses, feeling him tense beneath her.

“Upstairs.” he grunts again, picking her up, her letting out a tiny noise of surprise at being lifted and carried.

“Mmm. What a gentleman.” she grins between kisses, a hefty bounce as he carries her, his boot opening the door as he stomps up the stairs. She was extremely impressed with him physically already and he wasn’t even naked. The sounds of Trampled Under Foot certainly didn’t hurt the rush of feelings they were both experiencing. Her suggestive words turn quickly to eager sounds between rounds of kisses as he kicks open his door, something that made her body tense with pleasure at the witnessing of it. With another boot to the metal door, slamming it shut, anything besides the raw sexual need they both felt for each other was forgotten behind it.

They had built the emotional chemistry, then came the sexual, and that they had in spades, and now they had the time. His apartment was all exposed brick walls, the only light outside the bedroom coming from the street lamp through a window in the kitchen. Once they passed the barrier to his bedroom, she found only a single neon sign on that cast the room in a mood setting red glow. The decor was minimum, his sheets black and soft, bed unmade and clothes strewn over an old worn chair in the corner by a closet with no door. It screamed bachelor pad but she rather liked the casual, rustic, industrial aesthetic.

She takes in the red glow, the faint buzz of a vintage restored sign above his bed as he wastes no time and lays her back, feet just dangling over the sides. He moves fast and yanks his shirt over his head, eyes hungry as they watched her sit up on her knees and peel off her dress. A low rumble from his rapidly rising and falling chest as he gets his first good look at her. Almost bare except for the black bra and panties, the low light still held plenty to see as her curves were backlit in a silhouette that made him reach down and readjust himself in his tight jeans.

She reaches out and gets her hands flat on his torso to run down his belt, practically drooling at the sight and feel of him. Before she can go further he takes her by surprise and knocks her onto her back, feet kicking up in the air as he returns to the greedy kisses they’d paused before. He had to feel her before she touched him, he hoped he would last and not disappoint after the painful build up to their first time together. He gets to feel her warm olive skin give under his harsh grip she only responds in favor to. But soon she gets impatient for him.

“Mmph Declan.” A panted out and needful voice makes his eyes roll behind their shut lids.

An “Mmph?” Of his own in response, giving her room to speak as his lips move to her chest.

Her hands return to his belt and begin the metallic noises that signal something good to come. “I just want you tonight. There’ll be time for slow later...” she whines and shifts her hips under him, “no waiting just… fuck me.” Every part of his body responds to her breathy and surprisingly polite request of him.

“You sure?” A deep groan that makes her muscles deeply twitch inside her. Fingers on her bra clasp as she nods quickly and gets her hands into his undone jeans. “Whatever you want Bella.” He coos as he raises and she finishes the job, quickly but not bashfully tossing her bra across the room, watching him toe off his boots and lose the jeans.

With a bitten lip and hungry eyes she shimmy’s out of her panties, also wildly abandoned to the depths of his room. He palms himself over his tight boxer briefs and hums at the sight laid out beneath him. Every part of her was soft and silky and thick. Two muscular and hefty thighs framed a soft and chubby pair of pussy lips that her fingers disappeared into as she looked up at him.

“God baby you’re… fuck… look at you.” After the bra was tossed, and although it was a very sexy one, he was happy to admit, it’s disappearance revealed two natural and weighted breasts, even and bouncing, silver bars catching the light he thought the rest of her couldn’t also be as perfect. He was never more happy to be wrong. “You sure you don’t want any foreplay? Because FUCK I just want to bury my face between those thighs.” He rasps, hand now wrapped around himself through his boxers.

She gives him a seductive smile that makes his balls tighten, fingers in small circles, mostly hidden but he could see the light on the slick of her. “I’m sure.” She purrs, lifting the two previously hidden fingers and showing him the sticky remnants left. “I’m so fucking wet for you babe...” her long lashes bat up at him and he wants to eat her alive. He couldn’t have been happier she wasn’t being reserved or even remotely shy. She then put the fingers on display into her mouth, sucking them dry and he involuntarily releases a growl through a tight jaw. “Just fuck me already.” A playful nod of her head before sitting up and batting his hands away to finally have her eyes on him. And she was not let down.

“Fuck me…” She whispers, revealing a cock she would have written a song about. She takes both her hands to hold the heavy, uncut girth of him. Everything framed by dark thick hair. He was well over 6 inches, she could tell that much, possibly nearing 7, but what was even more impressive was how thick he was. She wanted to wrap her mouth around him and taste him, but she’d already proclaimed there’d be time later. She gets distracted, and who could blame her with a cock like his in her hands. Running over it before going to his balls which makes him emit a deep sigh.

Her silence and awe on her face clear he feels his ego rise. He’s never been insecure, for good reason, but seeing the lust burn clearly on her face filled him with a deep satisfaction. Taking himself into his hand and slowly pumping, a low and entirely confident voice purrs down at her. “Like what you see baby?” A smirk that made her want to smother him between her thighs rests on his face as she looks up at him.

“You know I fucking do.” She challenges him with snarled lips before reaching to yank his boxers off the rest of the way, scooting up the bed as he slips them off, seeing the animalistic prowl towards her before taking control of her mouth with his. His hands find her center quickly, and even though she’d proclaimed no foreplay, she didn’t fight him as his fingers explored how she was put together. Mapping out her clit and making her toes twitch before he sinks one, then two fingers into her. With a steady push behind them and an easy curve he gets to watch the first waves of pleasure pass over her face. She didn’t melt and sigh like he was used to seeing women do. Her eyes do roll back, but her lips snarl, teeth clenched as she moans for him with a tilted back head, legs splayed wide and welcoming. She was soaked, there was no denying the fact but he continues a few strokes before a third finger joins to test how she’d be able to take him. With a tiny whine, eyes returning to his with a more submissive cast to them he eats up her small moans as she adjusts. “Shit.” She swears out of nowhere fully grabbing his attention as he quickly removes his fingers and his eyes already full of apologies for her. “No, I’m fine. I forget the condoms in my bag downstairs.” She rubs her face with one hand, voice exasperated.

“Oh.” He lets out a snort of relief. “I’ve got us covered, don’t worry.” He shakes his head and she gets to see the great expanse of him reach into the bedside table and stretch above her. As it always went, he rolls it down over his length and she once again gets to marvel at him and how he can fill the tight cover.

It had been years since Bella had slept with anyone. She had plenty of toys and was no stranger to them, which helped in this particular situation, but her toys were not him. Even though not monstrous, and thank goodness for that, he would be the biggest guy she’d ever been with, and she knew there would be pain before pleasure. Luckily for both of them, she was a fan of both sensations.

“Ready baby?” He asks with a gentler turn to his low roar.

“Fuck yes.” She gives him a lusty glance that makes his heart react in a funny way, pressing forward with the winning attention his cock was demanding where it stood hard and proud and eager.

Settled between her legs, he raises to his knees to guide himself. An up and down over her thick pussy lips, glistening with wet for him she lays on her elbows to watch him, hand lowering to be helpful to spread her lips apart for him, his heavy head rubbing against her hard clit and revealing her soft pink center. As soon as he presses into her, he feels the resistance and knows he’s mentally going to have to prepare to go slow. He leans over her, still pressing as he can sense the discomfort she’s feeling. “If it hurts you-“

“Keep going.” She shushes him, fingers to his lips before pulling him flush against her, head notching in as her knees spread and fall back for him. With slow, deep kisses of intertwining tongue and moans it helps distract them for a moment, a slow push and in and out of himself.

With a few inches of progress she’s starting to relax, and is so appreciative of his patience. But she lacks that trait. “Fuck you’re so tight babe.” An almost defeated hoarse whisper escapes him as he hangs his head into her neck.

“And you’re so big.” She replies with a still happy sounding exhale. “Keeping goin, I want it all.” Her fingers dig into his back, no nails yet as she feels the pain and let it melt into pleasure as he sucks away at her breast. He fills her up so completely she feels as if he’s in her stomach when their hips finally meet again. A louder moan now, an exhale let out they didn’t know they were holding in. A slow drag out causes her to shudder beneath him. A moan that starts low and ends with a needy pitch makes his eyes roll back.

He’d imagined these sounds, and now he had them. more importantly he had her, skin to skin and nothing else between them, he had her all to himself and he felt a deep need to keep her that way. “You okay?” He asks against the bend of her neck, feeling her nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, fuck, more.” She whines, turning her head before crashing her mouth into his, hands in his hair as she gives over completely. With a masculine moan he pushes back in and causes her to interrupt the passionate kisses with an arch of her back and an open mouth. ”Oh my...fuck.” A guttural prayer from her lifted chin as her eyes fully roll back and he gets to soak up every bit of her animated reactions. He pauses again and she whines for more, her hand sliding between them to rub her clit. “Don’t stop anymore, just fuck me Declan, you feel so fucking good.” Her voice is hoarse and direct, her kisses much the same they follow, his hands now on her thigh to hold her steady, feeling them tense and shake with every pump. She was starving for his kisses, teeth tugging on his lips and growling in retort when he’d part from her. She was writhing under him, back arching and hips pushing back on him, there was nothing subtle about her like this. He felt bare with her in more than the physical way.

He met every buck of her hips and kiss of her mouth as she sought him out with growing desperation. She’d never felt so full before, physically or emotionally from sex. He was meeting her passion with his own matched, both arching and bowing against the other as the growing tension between them is fueled by their friction. With his hand gripped into the covers by her head, she raises her free hand to push the hair back from his face. She knew she wasn’t ending the night dissatisfied and found her mind wanting to focus on things besides her own pleasure for once. With guys before they were mostly there for themselves, but not Declan. He’d been there for her in every capacity thus far and she knew in bed he’d be no different. She uncovers his ruggedly handsome face. His pinked lips swollen from her assault on them, that heavy brow over shut eyes as he panted and kept the pace up with her needs and requests for more, faster, please harder. With every exhale they moaned and heaved together.

She feels a familiar build in her center. “Holy shit. I’m close already.” An almost laugh escapes her, a fully abandoned smile on her face as he opens his eyes to take in the view beneath him as he finds she’d been doing to him. She was caught off guard by him, hadn’t built up her expectations on purpose so she wouldn’t be disappointed but he was just...awesome. In the true sense of the word. Awe inspiring. With thickness she’d never had before, the pain she’d feel tomorrow was a world away, there was only right now for both of them, nothing else mattered.

Soon she couldn’t focus on anything but the growing tension between her thighs. He’s diving into his hips as she bucked up to meet him, elbow firmly planted into the mattress for traction as her fingers work quickly around her hard clit. “Yes. Just like that.” She praises through a bitten lip as she pulls her legs apart and back as far as she can, his hand moving from his hold on her thigh as he holds one of her knees back towards the bed and feels himself bottoming out inside her. He was determined to last through this, feeling her wave after wave tightening around him. “Fuck…” A groan that ends in a squeak, her mouth open and eyes not met with his. “Just like that.” She nods and her eyes stare fearlessly Into his. ”Yeah. Make me come baby. Make me fuckin’ come.” a challenging chin up at him and he feels a raw need to give her what she wants. A growl from his chest builds and she tightens at the sound alone. “That’s it Declan.” Another wicked smile and nod, her nose wrinkled in challenge to his low brow and tight jaw, hitting into her deep, causing her eyes to flutter back between rounds of her talking. “Make me come all over that big cock.” She moans, losing her composure.

“Fuck Bells.” An almost overwhelmed moan from him washes over her. He hadn’t expected her to have a mouth on her in bed but he’s wondering why he hadn’t now.

Her words give way to moans, then a more helpless voice that makes him want to end it all far too quickly begging him, “Fuck. Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me, baby.” She chants as it takes over her entire body bit by bit. Rapidly spreading from her center everything spreads like fire into her thighs and up her spine. Her stomach tenses and she draws up, shaking helplessly as it comes wave after delicious wave. Her thighs clamp around him and he’s aware of how strong she really is.

She looked him boldly in the eyes as long as she could, giving over and head tilted up and pushed into the bed as her back arched and her hips and thighs trembled. With big gulping breaths, a forced moan each exhale that followed the waves, watched her underneath him with a ravenous fascination. He was used to women going limp, to showy porn-like displays to acting meek after orgasms, but that was not his Bella.

She comes back with dark eyes and a roar. Feeling full of blood and energy pulls her mouth to his by the back of his neck before demanding, ”On your back. I wanna fucking ride you.”

He was left with no room but to obey, and he really couldn’t have been happier to switch roles for once. Women before her were submissive and delicate, but Bella was quickly making him forget any existed before her.

With a quick exchange, she leans in and kisses him with teeth and tongue, a noisy and messy exchange. She wastes no time, taking him in with a satisfying exhale and hum, a smile that told him she had only good things planned for him.

He lays in awe for a moment, feeling the weight of her grind and hit against him, an involuntary moan coming from him and sounding almost weak.

“Touch me Declan.” She commands softly, grinding down on him, putting one of his hands to her ass and the other on her chest. “I want those big hands all over me.” She shakes her head and snarls her lip, taking his fingers that rest on her chest into his mouth for a captivating moment. She grabs ahold of his headboard, hands gripped tight for traction as she really goes to work on him. That loud and satisfying skin to skin slap as she threw her wide hips and hefty ass against him. He felt himself giving over quickly. She was so tight around him, now totally soaked to her inner thighs and hot in every sense of the word. He got to watch her curvaceous body move fluidly over his, hands tracing the outline of bouncing tits to her waist to tease her hips before she demanded. “Fucking grab me.” And he sinks his calloused fingers into the soft meaty hips that had been teasing him for months. “That’s it.” She gives a wicked smile and a satisfied hum. “I wanted to make you cum but you might make me again, big boy.” She confesses, flipping her wild hair to one aide, revealing her face giving him a wink he wasn’t prepared for.

“God…” He exhales. “You keep this up and I’m gonna cum soon.” He admits with downturned brows, licking his lips.

“Good.” Is her bossy response. She moves her fingers back to her clit, that still intoxicating skin to skin slap as he grabs her ass and directs her pace as she rides him. “Fuck you feel so good. So fuckin...big.” She moans, feeling it build again as she gives direct attention to the still throbbing bud. “Fuck I’ve wanted to come on this cock for so long.” She shakes her head, eyes shut as she speaks in rolling moans and whines. She opens her eyes and leans closer, more attention grabbing eye contact he gazed up into as he felt himself getting so close. “I wanna feel you.” Words close to a whisper. “Want to feel you throbbing inside this tight little pussy.” She sneers and issues in an almost polite tone for the words being said. “Fuck me Declan.” An almost whine from her swollen lips. “I want it so fucking bad.” She groans and clenches her teeth.

He makes a decision, and luckily it’s the right one. He pulls her by the back of the neck to his lips and growls. “Fucking come for me.” Into her mouth, forehead to forehead as he plants his feet into the bed and pounds into her. Her hand trapped between them and the other pushing on the headboard she bounces on him as she pounds upward and he sends her over the edge again. “Fuuuuck.” He growls. “Fucking feel you baby girl.” He moans and sees her mouth hanging open, small gasps as she shakes above him.

“Shiiiit.” She moans as both hands clamp onto her hips and he gives her exactly what she asked for. “Yes. Yes.” She nods and takes him like she was made for him.

“You fucking want it baby girl?”

A helpless and desperate “uh huh.” From her in response.

“Fucking take it.” He growls before her hands smack to either side of his face as she kisses him hard. Through moans and roars she keeps her lips on him. She wanted to eat him whole, to sink her teeth into him and taste blood. Just wanted everything from him in the moment of hearing him curse and say her name, watching his face go from lion to lamb.

They come down together, both trembling and bodies heaving as they tried to remember how to function normally again. He moves his hands gently, up her back and her hair to hold her and kiss her properly. Deep and slow, the sounds of wet lips together becomes louder than the moans eventually. The kisses are soft and dare she admit it, sweet. The love hormones were reaping havoc on their brains as they stayed suspended, him inside her and nose to nose. She tries and loses her nerve to speak her mind, resting herself on top of him, head to his chest. He lovingly rests a hand on her head and another on her back, holding her there.

“I don’t know if I can’t move.” She lets out a soft laugh against him.

“Lemme…” He grunts, moving them both to their side, her legs still wrapped around him and now on her chest partially, her almost on her back.

“Much better.” She sighs out, feeling her hips shift back into place.

“It was.” He lets put a deep hum and she finally meets his eyes after the deed.

She nods and finds herself brave enough to give him a smile that says more than her words would let her. “Yeah. It was.” He leans in for more of her lips. He couldn’t help himself. She looked so soft after being so hard for so long. With hands in each other’s wild hair, the kisses take longer and longer pauses until they both feel sleep coming for them.

She apologizes and says she gotta get up to pee. Always pee after sex. Those are the rules. So they finally part, even though neither want to. He throws away the very full condom after watching her waddle to the bathroom with a grin.

“Don’t like it when you leave but love to watch you go.” A deep sleepy voice teases as she crawls back into bed, him on his back and holding up the covers.

“Cornball.” She snorts, But cuddles right up to him anyway. “We gonna sleep in?”

“We earned it.” He says leaning down to kiss her forehead as he speaks against it.

“I’d say we most certainly have.” She agrees and lets out a yawn, followed by a fully satisfied sigh.

“Night baby Belle.” He gives another kiss after wrapping his arms around her.

“Night Declan.” She mumbled against his chest. “You were great tonight.” She adds sleepily, lips smacking as she snuggles into him again.

“So you were you baby girl.” With it all said and done, they both felt tired down into their bones, but how could they not feel fully relaxed after the week they had, and add the night and the sex on top of it. It was the deepest and best sleep either had had in as long as they could remember. Bella felt safe and satisfied. Declan felt whole and accomplished. And both felt far more than they bargained for for the other.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking@jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag

[dafukdidiwatch]

REDLINE (2013)

I can’t believe this movie is rated R

This movie sucks.

This movie Fucking Suuuuuuucks.

I can’t believe it was rated R. I didn’t even know it was rated R until I was looking up the movie for the review. It stinks!

Apparently this was made by College Interns, or like 70% of the crew was College Interns and Students who had limited resources and wanted to see how far they can make this movie. But it still doesn’t keep it free from criticism! So criticism I shall! 

Here’s how the movie sets it’s stage: US FBI TERRORISM HAPPENING AFTER 9/11! IT ALSO HAPPENED ON THE TRAIN STATION! HERE’S THE UGLY GREEN FILTER OVER THE MOVIE BECAUSE WE ARE SERIOUS!

And then after like 3 minutes of seeing people just sitting on subway, EXPLOSION! And scenario starts.

The point of the film is supposed to be this locked room scenario where people are slowing getting to each other’s throats as they try to figure out “who the evil one is.” But the problem with that is I DON’T KNOW THEM! At least give me like, a line or two of them talking (HELL, INTERACTING) before everything turns to shit.

Hey also, this movie just hates couples I guess. Not to say you can’t have couples being torn apart by accident. That is a good source of drama. But there are at least 2 Couples here in the movie, both have a partner get super injured in the crash. And wanna know who dies immediately? The black guy. Yeah, the black couple gets killed off first. Like, I get it’s a mix of people with different backgrounds because that’s the point, but honestly I’m getting tired of that shit.

It also sucks because there was an interesting scene early on. The only known medical person is a Hispanic woman who only speaks Spanish. So the two uninjured partners are fighting over her to try and save their lovers. It is touching and desperate. But this ties back into the I DON’T KNOW THEM. My heart doesn’t LEAP because of the specific person being hurt. It is leaping because of the situation they are in. There was no moment given to figure out who these people are outside a minute. Honestly I think the most screen time was for the couples before the explosion JUST for this scene. Because everyone else I couldn’t give a shit about. And the movie didn’t let me give a shit about anyone else.

I wrote in my notes “Rescue Snuff Porn” which I think fits this movie well. 

We didn’t really know anyone’s name until like 20 minutes in where we get one guys backstory as an actor. And OOPS! He dies. Moral of the story: keep that backstory shit a secret.

This movie is, I guess also into showing off people’s prejudices here. Like the “Better rethink your racist views” kind of way. The medical person they have? Yeah she was a nurse, but now...Cleans Houses! Oh Le Gasp! Like the dude’s face looks affronted and I can’t tell if this was supposed to be “don’t judge housekeepers” moment but all I can think about is that I didn’t give a shit if she lost her license by killing someone, if she’s the only one with medical knowledge then let her do her damn job.

Then we get the Big Show of showing prejudices by having one guy Mason The Army dude who served in Iraq target another guy Al because stereotypical terrorist look here. He was also saying bs about how statistically terrorism is middle eastern and had other nonsense to make him look like an ass. Basically what happened is that they found another Bomb and now everyone is on the hunt for the bomber. And the first thought is Al because racism. Though it did leave for an actual Deez Nuts moment.

“What’s your name?”

“Al”

“Al What?”

“Al-Qaeda“

Then he rapid explains that he is my boy from Michigan. Is an engineering student from UoM. Roots for the Pistons. Like, My Boy!

Then they fucking torture my boy by beating him and moving his broken arm. That, is the ONLY reason I can accept this is was Rated R because everything else was just tame as hell.

Fuck Mason I literally didn’t give a shit he died. He died. Oops. Army vet got beamed with a rock. Alexa play Taps.

Oh and I guess Tori is the only one that can actually think and get epiphanies on “oh shit this isn’t right.” She thought “what if the bomber is here” She thought “oh wait where is the gun” She thought “wait let’s have a plan to out the bomber!” Like, I get shes the “lead lead” but still at least let other people get some other thoughts here.

And throughout all of this, the makeup sucks. The students spent all their budget for the blood death of the one guy because literally NO ONE ELSE has blood on them! Barely a scratch. HELL! The women’s make up was intact! They just smeared soot blush on and called it good. The clothes weren’t even stained or torn. This might just be me nitpicking but if you were in a tunnel for hours on end the makeup isn’t going to be perfect throughout. And if the movie didn’t want me to notice the makeup they should have made a better plot.

BS BS Found the original Bomber BS BS Wants to punish America for being bad and not prepared I guess? I literally zoned out as he tried to explain his stance of terrorist to a 10 year old girl because it only made him sound crazier by explaining it as training a dog. How I guess America is selfish and needs to be knocked down a peg.

Oh! And after they got rescued and Tori the Psuedo-Lead convinces the girl to NOT shoot the bomber when they win at the end, the Bomber had the fucking audacity of being “lol I’m a good teacher, I taught virtue.” With Tori going “No, fuck off, I would have been like this without you.” And Bomber-Man just says “You sure about that?” Dun Dun Movie End.

Like, Bro. Broooooooo what kind of bullshit is that?

First off: No. He didn’t teach shit. There was no learning moment here. The people learned things internally through themselves and their actions. He might have caused the situation in hand, but that is not the same as actively teaching. Virtue would only reveal itself in events like that because it isn’t something that people can prepare for and go to survival-mode, whether protecting yourself or others. He can just take his bomb and shove it straight up in his ass.

With that kind of logic, you’re saying JIGSAW from Saw has the moral high ground too. And that, my friend, is also bullshit.

Second off: How dare the movie end with giving the villain justification like this. What, is it supposed to be a thinker? Let the audience stew in this and ponder if the bad guy was indeed right in all of this?

No. Fuck off. He bomb people. There is no moral justification in that. Bye Bye. See you later.

Yeah this movie sucks. Do not recommend. At All. Only watch it if you are drunk and with friends so you can make fun of it, and even then don’t. There are other better options here.

[madwomanpro]

The Day Before Your Show

{MAD PERFORMER}

by @themadamez​

Everything you eat, drink, inhale, and feel emotionally affects your skin, your body, and your face on stage and on camera. It’s a lot of things to consider consistently throughout your performance career, but here’s a list of things you can just do the very day before your film shoot, photoshoot, or stage performance that will greatly enhance your energy and beauty, and give you the confidence you need to perform your best performances.

This first one might be the hardest one off all, but once you’ve done this, you can do anything... 

1. SKIP COFFEE THAT DAY What?! No coffee! I’d rather jump off a building! I know, I know… it sounds impossible. But it’s not the end of the world, I promise. You might be tired at meetings, you might feel sluggish during your workout, but trust me – it’s worth it! And besides, it’s only one day. If you absolutely need caffeine, go with a green tea. (Not matcha though, that shit is basically crack). Why coffee? Caffeine stays in your bloodstream, and has active effects on your heart, for up to 13 hours after your last sip. So if you finish coffee at 12pm, it’s raging in your system until 1am. Even if you go to bed before 1am, your body will be incapable of entering a deep sleep/ REM until after the caffeine wears off. Another issue is that even if you have caffeine early in the morning and finish your cup by say 9am, and you’re not worried about it interrupting your sleep, the caffeine will still enable you to do things that your body doesn’t have energy for naturally, thus draining your general energy and making you more tired on the day of your performance. Ideally, you’d want to skip caffeine the day before, and then have caffeine the day of. This would also allow the caffeine the day of to be a bit more effective versus just getting you back up to a consistently caffeinated state of almost-normal. What are the benefits of skipping it? You’ll notice that at the end of the day, you will be tired. Oh so very tired. Oh so very incredibly tired! This is a good thing. Tiredness is absolute gold the night before a performance or film shoot. Because sleep is the number one factor in a successful performance. If you are well-rested, you are more likely to give an on-point, energetic, and passionate performance, and you’ll enjoy the experience much more! Also… you will be able to get back to life as normal after the performance is over. This is something many people never talk about – feeling completely drained after a performance. If you’ve experienced this, like I have, chances are that you were not well-rested enough before your performance, and that the adrenalin of being on stage or on screen was the only thing that got you through it! Leaving your body completely depleted of all of its resources and energy reserve immediately after the performance was over. I love espresso as much as the next Italian, but this makes a huge difference in my performance. My trick is - skip caffeine the day before, have caffeine the day of. Then the caffeine will be more effective, and you’ll get the sleep you need before the show.

2. TAKE VITAMINS Granny knows what she’s talking about - vitamins are the shit! I personally have a vitamin calendar. It’s like a physical grid where I put different vitamins for all the days of the week. That’s how serious I am about vitamins, and that’s how I’m able to handle huge amounts of pressure and stress in a graceful and collected way. That’s how I’m able to lead a 9-person band with multiple dancers and conduct a cohesive performance without having an anxiety attack. It’s a lot to do. Vitamins give my body the nutrients it needs to manage my heart, my adrenals, my immune system, and any inflammation from dancing or playing violin. Firstly, take all the essentials: Vit C, Vit E, Vit A, B-6, B-12, Magnesium, Calcium, (or just one multi-vitamin with all of that in it). Secondly, take the anti-inflammatory ones: Glucosamine, MSM, Chondroitin (or just a joint complex). Thirdly, take the immune-building ones: Elderberry, Turmeric, Ginger, Echinacea (or just an immunity supplement or drink an immunity tea). Lastly, take an adrenal health vitamin complex. This will help lessen your current stress-levels and nervousness about your show, repair your adrenals from past stresses of the week, and greatly ease your nerves the day of your performance. Make sure to only take this in the mornings though! The gentle effects of revitalizing your adrenal glands can actually keep you up. But considering that you are skipping coffee today, if you take this in the morning you won’t feel that different. If anything, it will give you that little spark of energy that you usually get from coffee, but in a way that is actually useful to your body and not just constricting blood flow and raising your blood pressure (which is all that coffee does, essentially). Why vitamins? Your body needs hella vitamins just to avoid being malnourished. And it needs even more to be able to combat all of the toxins in our air and GMO foods etc. So unless you’re eating the rainbow and all 6 flavors every single day, which is incredibly difficult to keep up and keep track of, chances are you’re not getting them all. Taking vitamins regularly, or at the very least – just the day before your show – will give your body that extra boost of immune and well-rounded nutrient batch it needs to thrive on stage. It will help you avoid mishaps and miscommunications. It will help you cope with unexpected issues that can arise during a performance, and gracefully solve them without the audience ever knowing. Performance is an experience of heightened awareness, the chemistry of your body onstage is very similar to that of a rabbit being chased by a fox. It’s a high-stress environment, and also for that same reason, it’s extremely fun and challenging and pushes us to discover what we’re capable of in all the best ways. It’s like… an extreme sport, without any of the sportiness. Musicians and performers are mental athletes. Do what athletes do - take your vitamins. Coach’s orders ;)

3. AVOID INFLAMMATORY FOODS Inflammatory foods will make your face puffy, your gut bloated, your feet swollen, and your skin saggy. Give up these foods for even one day and you’ll look and feel 10 times better: Watch out, here comes the list of foods to avoid (and it isn’t a short one!) Certain Nuts: Peanuts, walnuts, pecans, cashews. Dairy: Milk, cheese, yogurt. Meat: Any meat at all, red or white. Rockfish & river fish are ok, but shellfish is a no-no. Nightshades: Tomatoes, potatoes, bell peppers, and eggplant. Gluten: Wheat, barley, farro. So what can I eat? Rice, beans, green veggies, salad, fish, avocado, olive oil, almonds, pistachios, sesame seeds, etc. You can also find gluten-free pasta, bread, cereal, and dairy free cheese, milk, and yogurt. My personal favorites are oat milk, almond yogurt, and tapioca cheese. And what the hell do I make with all those random ingredients? Sushi, vegan tacos, gluten free pasta, salmon caesar salad, curry, stir-fry, reach out and message me for more ideas! Why no peanuts? You’ll notice that after a full 24 hours of avoiding all the inflammatory foods, your mind will be sharper, your skin will be clearer, your face will look less puffy, your belly will be flatter, your joints will ache less, your digestion will be smoother…. Whatever ails you will improve and the inflammation throughout your body will subside. Whenever you’re performing, there are a lot of components to pay attention to, both on and off-screen/ on and off-stage. This 1-day-diet will allow you to be in your best physical and mental shape, enabling a better performance and a better mood throughout the process.

4. EAT AMINO ACIDS You can find amino acids in soy-sauce form – sprinkle them on your salads, rice bowls, tacos, stir-fries, or mix with wasabi to accompany your sushi. Why aminos? Amino acids are most commonly known for their effects on your muscles - rebuilding and replenishing tissues and fibers in your body, making you stronger and feel more stable on your feet. This is definitely important for performing, but it’s not the only good thing about aminos. Aminos are actually incredibly reparative for your skin! If you eat amino acids daily for even one week, you will notice your skin becoming healthier, more taught, and less wrinkly or saggy.

5. UNPLUG 3 HOURS BEFORE BEDTIME Do not. Fall asleep. In front. Of your screen. Why no screens? Three things. One: The blue light of your screen suppresses melatonin, the chemical created in our bodies naturally to induce sleep hormones. Two: Even with a blue-blocker on (like Flux), or using the night-mode on your iphone, the mere brightness of your device can keep you up, the same way overhead lights in your house do versus lamps and low lighting. Three: Screens are addictive! Ask a doctor. It’s the same psychology as the moth being drawn to a light, even if it doesn’t give off any heat. Do not be that moth! Turn your shit off and go to sleep, you’re an artist, you have important work to do in the morning. If you are Netflixing until you fall asleep, you are pushing your eyes, your mind, and your body to the extreme outer limits of what is healthy. Why 3 hours? You’ll notice that once you disconnect from your screens that your brain will return to your present, and it is in your present that all of the things you forgot to do to prepare for your big day tomorrow – will arise. There were so many times that I was checking my phone or insta or watching netflix or whatever up until the moment I went to bed the night before a performance or film shoot, and each time my next day would be a huge jumble of stress and chaos. Each time, I would wake up realizing a bunch of things I meant to do to prepare – print out lead sheets, practice certain songs, pack certain elements of my costume – all of those little things that hang out in the back of your mind until it’s too late to do anything about them. And then, something fascinating happened – just for completely unrelated reasons, I started turning my phone, computer, everything off at 8 or 9pm, and it felt like… I had awoken from a dream. I had my mind back! Suddenly, after being unplugged about 20 minutes, all of these little details started popping up in my mind - little things that I wanted to do before my performance day, and now… I magically still had some time to do them! I could spend an hour catching up on little things, or packing my gear for the next day, and still have one hour for self-care, and maybe even one hour for winding down ~ like reading in bed or journaling over a cup of tea.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 12/17

Summary: Keanu and Lilah meet at the set of John Wick. Rom-com shenanigans ensues

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Wordcount: 3151

Warnings: lots of fluff, some sexy teasing, but still a very tame chapter. More smut to come next chapter.

Keanu wasn’t sure how he knew, but as soon as he stepped inside Lilah’s apartment, he could tell something was wrong. There was a lingering tension hanging between the three friends and he thought he saw Lilah shooting looks at both Isaac and Jean once she pulled away from the welcome hug and kiss she gave him.

“Everything ok?” he asked, carefully watching her expression. She nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How was brunch?”

“It was fine. Dr. Williams introduced me to the visiting professor who’s teaching a few seminars at NYU this month.”

“That’s good, right?” he asked, shrugging his coat and kicking his shoes off. She had been so excited about these seminars because they would be about cultural practices and media, her research theme. This time, when Lilah smiled and nodded it was a little more real and soft as if she was pleasantly surprised that he remembered.

“Where do I put this?” he asked showing his backpack and her smile shifted to a wide grin.

“My room,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck again. “You’re spending the night then?”

“If that’s ok.”

“It’s very ok,” Lilah replied meeting his lips for a kiss. She pulled away at the sound of fake retching coming from behind them.

“Stop being so sweet,” Jean complained grimacing. “It’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s not!” Isaac said with a big grin, bumping his shoulder against hers. “It’s adorable.”

Keanu just laughed awkwardly as Lilah rolled her eyes and let go of him, taking his backpack and disappearing into her room, leaving him alone with Isaac and Jean, who just watched him. Jean with narrowed eyes, her piercing green gaze seemed to be sizing him up and cataloging his sins. While Isaac’s chocolate eyes were warmer and friendly, but Keanu had seen him around set when he was a runner. The younger man might look fragile, but he was wirily strong.

Keanu knew it would take some getting used to being around her friends, feeling like he was being constantly evaluated. Something told him that if Keanu even as so much put a toe out of line with Lilah, hurt her in any way, they were gonna make him regret it. It was comforting to know that Lilah had that kind of support in her life.

“So, what are you up to tonight?” he asked when Lilah returned.

“It’s slasher Sunday!” she declared leading him to the couch and he noticed a stack of DVDs on the coffee table along with shot glasses, lime wedges, and an open bottle of tequila.

“Basically, we watch slasher movies and take a shot whenever someone breaks one of the slasher movies rules,” Jean added with a smirk.

“That’s a quick way to get drunk.” Keanu snorted.

“It’s silly. You don’t have to do it,” Lilah assured him with a frown.

“No, no. Let’s do this!” he said, rubbing his palms together and grinning at her. It had been a while since Keanu got drunk for no reason other than because he could. He would probably regret it in the morning, but that was a problem for tomorrow. “What are we watching?”

“Well, we have Wrong Turn 4 and Bloody, Bloody Bible Camp.” Lilah’s tone was way too cheerful, and Keanu winced. All of those sounded horrible. “And The Conjuring, which isn’t a slasher, but it’s an actual good movie!”

“Let’s start with Bible Camp,” Isaac suggested, phone in hand. “I’m gonna order pizza. Lih, you’re gonna wanna that pineapple atrocity as usual?”

“Not my fault if you can’t appreciate the deliciousness of sweet and savory food,” she replied sticking her tongue out at him and Keanu chuckled.

He liked seeing Lilah like this, playful and lighthearted. Keanu could see how her eyes shone with mirth and affection for her friends. How some of the weight of responsibility she always seemed to carry lifted off her shoulders. Sure, Keanu saw some of that whenever Lilah was with him but sometimes it still felt like holding back.

They managed to squeeze themselves on the couch, Lilah practically on Keanu’s lap, which he wasn’t about to complain, as they started the movie. It was a horrible as Keanu expected to be but it was funny to watch as Lilah shouted at the screen, between taking shots. He always knew horror was her favorite genre but he didn’t expect her to be this fanatic about it. it was cute.

To his surprise, Jean who looked so tough and mean jumped and squealed at every jump scare, no matter how obvious they were. Keanu did his best not to laugh since the last thing he wanted was to get on her bad side. Isaac obviously wasn’t worried about that because he cackled gleefully every time it happened.

Halfway through it, their pizzas arrived, and they paused the movie to eat. Keanu waited until Lilah had the slice of Hawaiian in her hand to grab her wrist and bring it closer so he could take a bite.

“I thought you didn’t like Hawaiian,” she smirked.

“I do when you feed it to me,” he smirked back, taking another bite.

Lilah indulged him and once the slice was over, Keanu sucked the excess of sauce from her fingers, keeping eye contact with Lilah as he did it.

“You guys do remember you’re not alone, right?” Jean asked with an arched eyebrow, cutting through the mood. Keanu just laughed already a little too tipsy to care, but Lilah blushed bright red and buried her face on his shoulder, giggling.

“Sorry!”

They all decided the movie was way too bad to actually watch it and o they just left it playing while they talked and laughed and drank. It was a chance for Keanu to know a little bit more about these people Lilah loved so much.

He learned that Jean had an MBA and she was fighting to revert the dreadful financial situation her bookstore found itself in. While Isaac was a truly amazing musician and their band was pretty good, still on the early stages of getting itself together and it made Keanu miss Dogstar a little bit.

In the end, they skipped Wrong Turn 4 and went straight to The Conjuring, which was surprisingly good. Keanu rarely liked horror movies, but this one was fine. It got a couple of starts from him. Jean watched with her hands over her eyes and he was pretty sure Isaac was mumbling prayers. Lilah, on the other hand, would randomly bust out laughing at scary scenes, but at the same time, her grip on Keanu’s arm would tighten a little so he knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she would like to seem.

“This was fun,” Lilah said once the door of her bedroom was closed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I really needed this.” So, he was right. She wasn’t ok when he arrived, but he was glad to see that shadow has passed, at least for the moment.

“I’m glad.” He kissed her nose, making her giggle, scrunching it up in the most adorable way. “And you know I’m here, right? If you want to talk about whatever is bothering you.”

“I know,” Lilah sighed pulling away from him and Keanu immediately regretted bringing it up. “And I really appreciate that, but I’m fine.”

Part of him wanted to press it, to ask why she couldn’t open up to him on this. They were doing so well but in less than a day everything changed and he hated it.

“Ok,” he said instead of pushing it and they busied themselves in getting ready for bed, curling up together to sleep.

“Goodnight, Keanu.”

“Goodnight, Lil,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her head and feeling her smile against his chest at the nickname.

Keanu didn’t get to see Lilah for a week after that Sunday since his schedule went a little hectic. With the quick approach of 47 Ronin premiere in Tokyo, Chad and David decided to cram as much shooting time they could in the days before Keanu had to take off, especially if they wanted to avoid snow.

They were filming 10 to 12 hours a day; when Keanu finally got home, he was exhausted and feeling every second of his 49 years of age, but he made an effort to call Lilah every night. It was nice, but not nearly enough. Not when he missed the feel of her skin and taste of her mouth.

He was relieved to see that she was very understanding of the entire thing, but it still made him feel bad for canceling on her or going hours without replying to her messages. Lilah just waved off his apologies, assuring him that she understood, even if she did miss him. It made Keanu fall in love even more. Especially the way Lilah wanted to hear every detail about what he did that day on set.

In turn, Lilah would share about her own day and for a week Keanu had to hear all about Arthur Pierce, how great his seminars were or how he was helping with her data analysis and everything in between. To make matters worse, since it was Arthur’s first visit to New York, Lilah’s advisor had asked her to show him the city, which meant Lilah was spending most of her day with the other man.

Keanu prided himself on being rational and reasonable. He recognized that Lilah was just thrilled to have another behavior scientist in the social psychology department. Someone that could speak the same language as she did. Still, it was hard for him not to grit his teeth whenever her tone went a little high pitched with excitement as Lilah mentioned something Arthur did or said.

He managed three days before he succumbed to his curiosity and googled the man. Keanu wasn’t proud of it, but he needed to know. He regretted instantly because Arthur looked straight out of a Disney fairytale movie.

And even though he knew the burning on his stomach had less to do with Arthur and more to do with the fact that the man got to be around Lilah when Keanu himself couldn’t, he still couldn’t avoid it and it was driving him crazy.

Keanu was never one to eagerly wait for the weekend and time off, but he was anxious to finish rehearsing that Saturday because, after six days, he would finally get to see Lilah in person.

He took her in his arms as soon as she stepped inside the apartment, pressing her against the closed front door and claiming her mouth. He missed how she always seemed to taste and smell of cinnamon. As he licked into her mouth, chasing her taste, Lilah combed her fingers through his hair, scratching his nape. Keanu purred in pleasure. He missed the feel of her hands in his scalp and her body against his and he didn’t know where to touch first. If her thighs, the soft flesh of her ass, her hips that fit so perfectly in his hands… Keanu just really missed her.

He let go of her lips to pepper kisses down her jaw and neck, enjoying the gasps and soft little moans escaping Lilah’s lips as she held onto his arms. As he shoved her coat off so he could sneak his hands under her shirt, the print finally registered in his mind making him take a step back and grin. Lilah blinked at him dazedly, before looking down and grimacing.

“It was a gift from one of my students,” she replied, crossing her arms, but it did very little to cover the words take the red pill. “I was gonna change before coming over but didn’t have time.”

“Why?” he asked, digging through his pockets for his cell.

“I don’t know. Don’t want you to think I’m a crazy fan or something,” Lilah said, fidgeting with the hem.

“Lil, I like that you like my movies,” Keanu replied, aiming the camera at her.

“Hey! No! I look awful!” she complained, covering her face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, gently prying her hands away. “Just one, please? So, I have something to look at when I’m in Japan.” Keanu was playing dirty, he knew. He had several selfies of Lilah that she sent him over the last month but he always wanted more.

“Fine!” Lilah huffed, turning to the mirror by the entry wall to check herself.

Keanu walked up behind her and he wasn’t one for selfies, especially not in front of the mirror, but as he hugged her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head, Lilah grinning wide and glancing up at him, he couldn’t resist snapping a picture.

“Ok, that one looks really good,” she commented as peeked over his arm to see the picture.

Keanu nodded before setting it as his background and turning his attention back to her. He pulled her back into his arms, still too starved from her touch to control himself. Fortunately, Lilah didn’t seem to mind, hugging him back and peppering his jaw and neck with kisses.

“Dinner?” he asked, breathing into her hair. “We can order in or I can cook…”

“Oh. I, uh, already ate…” she said with a hesitant tone and Keanu sighed because he caught the unvoiced end of that sentence: with Arthur.

“That’s fine,” he assured with a smile, hoping the tightening of his jaw wasn’t too obvious. “So, what you wanna do?”  

“Movie?” Lilah suggested, her hands coming up his chest. “Or we could just… get to bed earlier?” she wiggled her eyebrows and Keanu let out a dramatic sigh.

“I knew it. You only want me for my body,” he teased, making Lilah laugh and how he missed that sound. “That’s fine. I accept my fate”

“You’re such a dork, oh my God!” she said between giggles, burying her face on his chest and he hugged her close, overwhelming affection making his chest warm.

“You love it,” he said grinning.

“I do,” Lilah said, looking up at him.

There was something on her eyes, in the way they were soft and bright and vulnerable, and Keanu realized she was baring her heart to him in that exact moment and his own skipped a beat.

Keanu kissed her, trying to convey his own feelings, the ones he couldn’t quite put in words yet because he was still scared how deep he fell for Lilah in such a short time. He just hoped she get it.  

“Maybe let’s just stay in the balcony for a bit?” Lilah asked once they broke away. Her eyes were still closed and there was a soft little smile on her lips.

“Anything you want.”

They cuddled together on the lounge under the blanket, much like that first time, just talking about their day. Keanu talked a bit about rehearsal and the action sequence he was practicing for. This week he got to shoot some car scenes, which was so fun and Lilah grinned wide all the while he shared his thrill about driving such an amazing car.

In turn, Lilah told him about spending the day at the Metropolitan museum with Arthur and Keanu did his best not to react, but he knew his smile was just a little too tense and frozen for Lilah to really buy it. She twisted around in his lap so she could look at him, eyes narrowed for a second and to Keanu’s surprise, her expression turned almost gleeful, brown eyes alight under the city lights.

“Oh! You’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” he retorted, avoiding her gaze. “It’s just…”

Lilah straddled his lap fully, her smile amused and teasing, and Keanu knew he was flustered and he hated being like this.

“Keanu, I don’t see Arthur that way. You know that, right?” She assured, caressing his face and he sighed.

“I know.” His voice was low, barely a whisper because he was a little terrified of his next words. “But I also know that I won’t be able to talk about some of the things you’re interested as well as he can and… I can’t help but notice he’s way closer in age to you and I know how you feel about couples with too big age gaps.”

He watched as Lilah hesitated, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, a dead giveaway that she was nervous.

“I guess we just gonna have to be careful,” she said at last, brow furrowing in concentration in that way he found adorable. “We know what we have to avoid, so I’ll do my best not to be too insecure.”

“And I try not to be paternalist and controlling,” Keanu replied with a relieved sigh.

“Well… I mean, you can be a little controlling,” she started with a small smile and dragged her nails down his stomach, over his scar. “I don’t mind you bossing me in bed.”

“I’ve noticed,” Keanu smirked, hand coming to her nape to pull her face closer to his. “You know what else I noticed?” he asked against her lips and she shook her head.

He shifted his hand from her nape to around her throat, holding it loosely, but it was enough for Lilah’s breath to hitch, her eyes fluttering close, and she squirmed in his lap.

“My girl wants to be choked?” he asked almost in a growl and just the sight of her like this, flushed with arousal, rooting against his hardening cock was driving him crazy.

“Yes,” Lilah gasped and he brushed his thumb over her pouty lips. She pulled it into her mouth, making him groan and thrust up. “Please.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

Lilah paused for a moment before her lips drew into a smirk and she let go of his thumb with a small, obscene pop sound.

“Neo.”

“No,” Keanu laughed, shaking his head and letting go of her neck.

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll shout that during sex. Unless…”

“Absolutely not!” he declared, guessing where she was going with that train of thought. “Pick something else, please.”

Lilah thought, eyes darting around until it landed on his chest and she smiled.

“Bike?” Keanu smiled too and nodded.

“That works.” He brought her down for a kiss that turned very dirty very fast. “Bed?”

“Yes, please.”

Lilah tightened her legs around his waist and arms around his neck and Keanu just stood up with her in his arms, bringing her inside and lying her in bed.

“We’re ok, right?” he asked as he rested on top of her holding his weight on his elbows.

“Yeah,” Lilah replied with a nod, tracing his face. “We’re perfect.”

And before Keanu could really wonder why there seemed to be a hint of sadness in her eyes, Lilah kissed him again and made him forget everything else.

 x(tbc)x

Go to part 13

Tag list (give me a shout if you want to added or removed)

@theolsdalova @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @futuristic-imbecile @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @a-really-bi-girl @fanficsrusz @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery @soarocks @kindainlovewithkeanu​

[accidentalharrie]

Harry Styles: A Crush for the Zeitgeist

At Harry Styles’s “SOLD OUT ONE NIGHT ONLY” celebration in Los Angeles for his new album, Fine Line, a black Lab puppy with a big soft face and chubby paws is the official security dog. As I wait in line and stare at him, he’s staring at his chaperone, pure love in his eyes. The puppy’s training kicks in when the well-manicured probable model ahead of me drops a bag of gourmet cupcakes. The puppy tries to run toward the cupcakes and is eventually taken on a walk to cool off. He could be a mascot here. The demographic of the Harry Styles’s tour kickoff is urgent, excitable sweet tooth.

At the Forum, approximately 17,000 chirpy fans, mostly femme and seemingly circa Styles’s age (25), prance into the stadium with birthday-girl energy and new shirts. The shirt with an impressive plurality here is sold at the merch table outside. (“Where are your regular shirts?” I ask two friends who’ve been on tour with Harry and they laugh and tell me, “In a bag under our seat.” Obviously.) Fifteen minutes before his set time, the merch booths have been picked almost clean. Another probable model is wearing eight gold rings across her fingers that spell F I N E L I N E like brass knuckles.

Instead of wearing Styles concert T-shirts, some of his fans are just dressed like him. If you were wondering where all the bright, high-waisted trousers disappeared to on Friday night, they were with me at the Forum. Like the most consuming of crushes, there is a dual impulse to both be and be with. I count at least five imitations of his Gucci huge-leg sailor-pants look from his album cover. A leopard suit from his last tour; the “Sex” shirt he wore on SNL. For the life of me I can’t keep a Styles song in my head, but the outfits are emblazoned on my cortex. I was at that SNL taping actually, a fact I forgot until I wrote that down. I am a receptive sieve when it comes to this handsome scamp.

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To decode Harry Styles to my date (their cultural interests run more to Björk, 1997–2004, plus 2015), I tell them Styles describes Fine Line as “all about having sex and feeling sad.” My date looks at sea for a second and then asks: “At the same time?”

I can’t wait to know the answer. I’ve heard that Fine Line is testing: Can Styles make soulful and patient ’70s psych-rock and still make fan hearts’ skip a beat in 2019? Styles’s fans have flocked tightly around him since his days in confection-pop band One Direction and they stuck close through his eponymous first solo album two years ago: a moody work in the genre of “nonthreatening bad boy.” This year, things got freakier. In a Rolling Stone profile, he told a story about biting his tongue while recording and high on mushrooms, so blood came out of his mouth as he sang. Intense, animal, and daring. In honor of Styles’s new artistic voyage, my date and I split a mushroom.

The lights shoot up, Styles emerges onto the stage, and there’s a collective intake of breath. Actually, the person next to me gasp-shouts “HIS CHEST!” the millisecond before the screams avalanche.

Styles frisks around the stage singing about sex and candy, “Watermelon Sugar,” and a mandate of radical softness and euphoria. He moves like a tickle: intended to make you feel giddy and impulsive. And it’s felt. Being inside the stadium is like being inside the radiating pink heat of a crush feeling. There’s no hesitancy. Fans have come from Brazil and North Carolina. I meet a coven of teens sneaking vodka out of a water bottle in the bathroom, and they tell me they saw him in 2013 with One Direction: “It’s full circle.” Someone at the front of the pit keeps hoisting flowers up toward Styles, little white, sad carnations. The devotion here is as uncomplicated as I have ever seen devotion. I envy that. The Forum, the entire venue, changes its Instagram bio to “Harry Styles stan account [multiple stars emoji]” in an instant.

The metabolism is also immeasurably fast. As my date put it: “Everyone knows everything in here.” His fans know every song in their bones, from an album that was released that day. They shout the words to prove it. On Instagram, I saw a clip of a fan outside saying she hadn’t listened yet [AUDIBLE GASPS], and then she explains this will be a special opportunity to hear the album for the first time live [DIFFERENT GASPS, ADMIRING GASPS]. It’s a sentimentalist’s scene.

People scream the whole time, in addition to bobbling on command and filming. Until Styles, I tacitly agreed that it was a confusing irony that fans screamed over music they wanted to hear. I realize now that he’s made music to scream over. This is a universe of their mutual creation, the soundtrack is just the mood cue.

It can be alienating: This is the music that launched a million zillion hearts? But I realize that a crush should not be judged on talent. And Styles is a perfect crush. Slinking around in the drama of big pants and a Mick Jagger femme blouse. He looks like a rascal androgyne, he acts like a romantic, he’s all chin scruff and nonthreatening sex appeal.

Because of the pants, he dances in a way that Katharine Hepburn might. There’s a feline backward skip that seems to accentuate the knee caps. And other times, in louche-adjacent but ultimately weightless seduction, it seems as if there are string held to the stop of his hip bones. I was thrilled when I read an interview with one of Styles’s favored designers, Harris Reed, who said some clothes were specifically flared so Styles could “dance and do his pelvic thrusting, which he loves to do.” The creature is a perfect crush.

There’s a photo opportunity to stand in Styles’s place: a dark-green screen that will become the Tim Walker–photographed Fine Line album cover (floating hand included). People try to imitate Styles’s stance, but it’s surprisingly tough. I think most people don’t put their hips forward enough. No one quite achieves the lightness of the hand on his waist. And the casual point is rendered as finger gun. Styles is a master craftsman of the fluid choreography.

Can you forgive me for waiting until now to tell you that Stevie Nicks descended onto the stage like an archangel? They Landslid together. (Brief history: Harry Styles paid official tribute to Nicks at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Ceremony by saying, “She’s always there for you. She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl”; Nicks mistakenly referred to Styles’s former band as “’N Sync.”) Nicks — dusky voice even duskier, in high beige boots — sways in front of a mic stand with a thousand sparkling scarves on it. Styles approaches his half of the duet with clarity and practice and he does a worshipful dance at her. This whole place is a devotional practice. I remember that I’m on mushrooms and feel religious about it. When they sing, “I’ve been afraid of changing because I’ve built my life around you,” I think about Styles and the fans and their adoring fealty.

So the night’s heating up. Glitter drops from the ceiling (metaphorically “snow” as Styles is singing “Wonderful Christmas Time”). This is nice. Styles says, “The album is yours; I am yours,” so I think it’s a Christmas present. I should write a thank-you note.

The Fine Line’s tour comes with a take-home message: “Treat People With Kindness,” which is incidentally the name of a bombastic choral-influenced song on Fine Line. It’s inscribed on shirts and on handwritten signs, helpfully summarized as “TPWK,” which is incidentally the sound of someone being punched in the stomach.

With three minutes left of the night, Styles launches into “Kiwi,” a song from his first solo album that’s famous for making big floors shake. Before the song breaks, I see a pack of girls in sneakers and skirts and jumpsuits carefully clear a wide circle in the pit and then hurtle into it. Will they be able to thrash with kindness and consideration? Of course, they’ve been studying Fine Line and how to walk it. And when Styles asks them, “Will you dance with me like you’ve never danced before?” I’ve never seen such obedience.

[jj-lynn21]

Santa’s favorite Elf: part 1 Bill Skarsgard & X Reader

This is my attempt at using some Christmas prompts. It is a fantasy based  on being an extra in a fictional film film that stars Bill Skarsgard. This, first chapter is mostly fluff with a bit a flightiness. But It will get smutty in the chapters to come.

Santa’s fav elf ch 1

Santa’s fav elf ch 2

Santa’s fav elf ch 3

Santa’s fav elf ch 4

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You are so excited to be an extra in the Holiday Movie *The Darkest of Christmases*.  Your acting is just a hobby to supplement your income as a writer which is fairly non-existent, but some how you get by. You are especially excited about the current role you have been chosen for because Bill Skarsgard is playing Santa.

You love Christmas so when the casting agent asked for a video of you saying, ““Yes! Yes, I like Christmas! I love Christmas!” you dressed in your cutest Christmas leggings, light up Christmas shirt and Santa hat to make a great video. They must have loved it because you got the part. Joy to the World you got the part. When you go for your costume fitting they have you try on multiple looks, but the one they like best is the green not quite mid-thigh dress with a black belt and white fur around the cuffs, skirt hem and top where it lays below your shoulders. The ankle boots match the green dress with little white fur puff on the tops of them. It’s a cute look. Maybe slightly shorter than you would wear in front of Santa. You think, maybe I’d wear this for Bill Santa. Then Bill walks through the room heading for you guess his costume fitting. Your cheeks get hot, so you take in a breath and let it out slowly.

Bill smiled, “Good morning everyone.”

It seems everyone in the room’s voices hit a higher pitch as they replied. “Good morning Bill.” This includes your voice. You all sound like giddy teenagers saying hi to their greatest crush. You feel quite ridiculous. You go to hair and makeup next, to see what they want to do to complete your look. As you are walking you casually glance around for Bill. He must be in a completely different part of the building for his fitting and makeup. You start wondering what he will look like as Santa. They couldn’t possibly make Santa slim and perfect. But you don’t know much about this production yet so maybe.

As you sit in the make-up chair the artist make chit chat. “I’m Tom. I’ll be doing your make-up for this production. You look so adorable in that outfit, honey.”

You smile politely. “Thank you Tom.”

 Tom plays with your hair. “Oh, I think we will put little ringlets around your face. It will go really well the hat. Don’t you think that Bill Skarsgard is just yummy?”

You blush, “I guess.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry honey all your secret crushes are safe with me.”

You laugh. You are not going to share your thoughts you have about Bill with a total stranger. You don’t know if thinking Bill’s super hot could jeopardize this job, so you keep your thoughts to yourself.

You change the subject. “Wow, you do amazing magic with my look.”

Tom looks satisfied. “Thank you. I have been doing this about twenty years.”

When he finishes you are taken in front of a green screen, handed a placard to hold with the date and movie title, and a photographer takes multiple pictures with you in different poses. You love all the attention as people in the room tell you how great you look. After pictures you take everything off. They show you where it is hung-up with your name on for the first day of filming in two days. You are floating as you walk out to your car to head home. Its one of those drives that seemed to take forever to get there and no time to get home.

You get an email the afternoon before your filming day with the time and place where you need to be. You have a five in the morning call time for costume and makeup before you need to be ready for set at six in the morning. Its is a little over an hour to get there so the next morning you get up at two thirty to throw on some jeans and a t-shirt after you wash up. You showered the night before to save time. You slept about six hours, but with your excited mind racing it might have been more like two hours of sleep which might hit you latter in the day. For now, you are a fireball of energy hurling towards the costume and make up department.  You are all smiles and happiness as you greeted, “Good morning” to everyone while getting ready for the filming day. Tom makes you look even better than he did on the fitting day. Then its time for the waiting game in the holding room with the other extras in various Christmas attire waiting for your scenes to be ready to be shot.

After about three hours you and a few others are called for Santa with kids, scene. There are five kids lined up in what looks like a Mall Santa throne area on a sound stage. Other than the brightly decorated Christmas area there is all kinds of equipment surrounding the setup. You are told to stand by the throne and will be leading one child at a time to see Santa. Some other extras play parents with the children. Others are supposed to walk by the scene as if they are busy shopping. There is another extra on the other side of the throne to take the kids out to their parents. In theory it is supposed to flow naturally.

The Assistant director yells, “Get excited when the Director yells action everyone. Santa is come out shortly. First, we will film him come out. Then he will be meeting with the kids. Last, we will get the smoke machine going and everyone will run orderly in the direction you will be told. When ever the director is ready it’s a go.”

The director yells, “Action.”

You start cheering for Santa along with everyone else that is in line to see him. As you see the Santa you have always known walking into the scene with his huge belly shaking like a bowel full of jelly, his apple cheeks and white beard you are blown away that Bill is under there somewhere because this is surely Santa Clause standing in front of you.

Before he sits on his throne the Director yelled, “Cut.”

Each time you film this scene you get a little more excited. The third time Santa winks at you with those piercing green eyes. You giggle. But now that you did that once you have to giggle each time for continuity since you really think the giggle works in the moment as Santa’s Elf. Santa kept with the wink also which is really…wait you can’t possibly be turned on by Santa. Its so wrong, right? 

They film about ten or fifteen more takes from various direction. A few takes from Santa’s point of view where they move you a few inches towards the throne and the camera seems to be pointing your direction through the whole scene. A few shots where the camera is right in front of Santa as he walks towards everyone waiving and doing that wink once he is right in front of you. You are already memorized by his performance and all he has done is walk on to set.

All the extras are taken back to holding while they reset a few things for the next scene. You have a cup of coffee and a bagel from the elaborate snack table setup with Dunkin Donuts breakfast goodies. In a half hour you and the others are called upon to shoot the next scene. Once everyone is back Santa comes out with a most jolly look on his chubby face. He goes over to say hi to the kids first, bending down to their level. He gives them all high fives. Your smile widens seeing how good he is with the kids on set. He chats with the adults playing the parents for a second. Then he sits down on the throne and you try to just keep smiling and looking aimless around the room. You let your breath out in a relaxing puff or maybe a louder than it should have been puff.

Santa chuckled looking over at you. “How’s my nervous little elf?”

You figet trying to keep your composure, “I’m fine Santa.”

Santa nodded “Good, Santa wouldn’t want you passing out while helping the children.”

You giggled. “I wouldn’t think of letting you down Santa.

Santa smiled. “What’s your name little elf?”

You come up with a character name on the spot. “Candy Winterblows”

Santa grinned. “Well Miss Winter (he pauses a second or two) Blows, it is nice to meet you. I think we’ll have a real good time today.”

You are beet red with embarrassment by the name you just chose for your character and how he repeated it. “Sure Santa.”

He turns to introduce himself to the elf on his other side next. You think, the only way you could even talk to him coherently was to keep in the confines of a character, but did you have to choose such sexually charged name? What the Hell were you thinking when you said Candy Winterblows? You don’t have time to berate yourself long. The assistant director explained that Santa will be saying his line to you and you will say your line before letting the children sit on his lap one by one.

The director yelled, “Action.”

Santa began, with a loud “Ho, Ho, Ho, “So, little Elf are you ready for Christmas season to begin?”

You say, ““Yes! Yes, I like Christmas! I love Christmas!”

The director yelled, “Cut.”

The assistant director gives a critique. “Good job for a first take everyone. Let’s be really excited and animated as we can. This is a very whimsical moment.”

Tom rushes over to fix Bill’s Santa hat. He brushes power on his face and yours and rushes back behind the other crew members.

The director yells, “Action.”

Santa began, with a loud “Ho, Ho, Ho, “So, little Elf are you ready for Christmas season to begin?”

You exclaim, ““Yes! Yes, I like Christmas! I love Christmas!”

Santa chuckled, “Then let them come see me, Ho Ho Ho.”

His fake belly really shakes as he laughs like it should. His voice is sweet and kind. A different tone than any other character you have seen him play but still distinctly him. You start letting one child see Santa at a time until the director yells cut. After one of the takes when they have to rearrange some camera angles

Santa leans over to you. “You are doing great Candy.”

You blushed, “Thank you. My name’s not really candy.”

Santa raised his brow. “I’ll have to find that real name out later. You ready for more?”

You nod yes as the director yelled, “Action.”

You shoot the scene from multiple angle for another hour or two or maybe three. Bill goes to chat with the director between takes a handful of times. Bill adlibs some lines with the kids to get them a little more comfortable as the director keeps rolling. He is truly adorable with all the kids that range in age from two to six years old.

Director yelled, “Cut.”

He talks to the assistant director. You really have to pee, so you go ask the closest production-assistant if you have a few minutes to do so. She shows you where to go. When you return the director is still chatting and Bill is with him. You take your place back where you were. Santa soon comes back to sit on his throne. He looks to you and winks. You giggle. Its more of a nervous giggle really.

The assistant director tells everyone what to do next.  “Ok, I need my extras to follow Richard back to the holding room. Lunch will be right after the cast and crew eat.” Walking closer to you and Santa he added “Candy I need you and Santa to stay and do a few more takes of close-up shots.”

Fuck, did he just use the character name you told Bill?

You try to sound relaxed. “That’s cool.”

 “Fine with me.” Bill  looks to you, “Are you going to tell me your real name now that we have a few minutes?”

You say, “My name is, (your name), but you can keep calling me Candy or Miss Winterblows if you want Bill or do you rather me call you Santa?”

You laugh nervously. He obviously was talking about your name to others so you might as well go with it.

Bill chuckled. “Call me which ever you are comfortable with Candy. I do like Candy.” He licks his lips. “Of course, I might just be ready for lunch.”

You asked curiously, “Are you going to be able to eat with that thing on Bill Santa.”

He cracked up. “Bill Santa, I love it. I’m going to try to Candy. You want to have lunch with me to make sure I don’t make to much of a mess of myself?”

You were surprised at the invite. But excited.  “Sure Bill Santa.”

Bill grinned. “That is just fucking adorable.”

The assistant director comes back over to you to tell you they are setting up some close-up shots of when you do your lines. It is a little unnerving and even feels intrusive with the camera practically right in your face as you are still trying to be animated while you say, “Yes! Yes, I like Christmas! I love Christmas!”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Chaos Theory

Part Ten

(Finale. I scheduled this whole series so the final part would go up on Halloween. This fic is my spooky special! Hope you guys have enjoyed reading as much as I’ve had fun writing <3)

"I hate this guy so much,” Marvin muttered. “He gives us no information, then makes us climb stairs.”

He also tried to kill us, JJ added.

“Well, that’s a given.”

Chase didn’t participate in the banter. He was too busy making sure Schneep was getting up the staircase well enough. A difficult job, when his friend kept stumbling and tripping over the steps. Chase was going to make sure nothing happened to him. Because god, he’d spent the last few hours terrified and grieving and he wasn’t going to let that repeat ever again.

“Huh. There’s a door. The last staircase didn’t have a door.” Marvin stepped aside so the others could see the metal door blocking their way to the third floor.

Chase frowned. “That looks...ominous. But, well, we have to open it, so do it already.”

Marvin nodded, grabbed the handle, and with a heave he pushed the door open. The four staggered into the room beyond.

A voice rang out. “Welcome, everyone, to the final challenge!”

The room was brightly-lit, studio lights shining into every shadowy corner. Cameras were set up around the walls, and the walls themselves were lined with screens. A few were linked to the cameras in the room, but many showed areas around the city, including the exteriors and interiors of all the buildings that the group had visited during the course of this twisted game.

“Guys!” A voice shouted, followed by a clattering rattle.

Part of the room was blocked off, a wire mesh reaching from floor-to-ceiling, caging off a corner. Inside the blocked-off section was Jackie, fingers poking through the mesh holes as he shook it.

“Jackie!” Marvin shouted, distressed.

What happened? JJ asked.

“What happened was this fucking coward decided to shoot me with a dart and I passed out,” Jackie said, scowling. “But nevermind about that. Are you okay? Wait...wait, Henrik?!”

“Surprise, he’s alive!” Chase said, smiling despite the situation. Schneep managed to focus on Jackie and give a small wave.

“Oh my god.” Jackie shook his head, grabbing his hair with his hands. “Oh my god,” he repeated with a breathy laugh and a smile. But that relief faded to confusion. “How, though? I-I saw—”

“What you saw was no more than a clever—and expensive—ruse,” a voice said. “Believe it or not, finding really good fake bodies is pretty difficult. Especially if you’re not going to explain what you’re using them for.”

Everyone’s attention turned towards the source of the voice. On the opposite wall, an especially large screen was mounted on the wall, displaying a blank red image. Underneath the screen was what looked like a makeshift control panel, a desk with all sorts of electronic, technical devices, wires running from consoles of buttons and disappearing into the walls. In front of the control station was a simple swivel desk chair. And sitting in the chair was a man wearing a mask.

“Oh my god, it’s him,” Chase gaped, unconsciously shifting his body so he was in between the man—the gamemaster—and Schneep.

“Oh great! I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Marvin’s eyes flared bright green.

“Whoa, hey, before you go any further, let me explain why you’re not going to want to do that.” The gamemaster picked up a device from the table, one resembling a remote control. “Now, you should notice how you four are standing on tile, but the floor beneath your friend Jackieboy’s feet is made of metal. Do you see that small box near the ceiling? That’s wired up to deliver 6 amps of electricity through that area. Which may not sound like a lot, but—” He laughed. “—is actually definitely enough to kill a human being. And that’s going to go off in, oh...let’s see, how long is it until your time’s up for the game?” A timer popped up on the screen behind him, showing 22 minutes, counting downward. “Oh yeah, that long! Unless I deactivate it with the code that I keep stored inside my head and nowhere else.”

Marvin’s eyes dimmed back to their normal blue. He looked the gamemaster over. He didn’t look like anything special. Wasn’t taller or heavier than average. His hair was ordinary brown, and wild like someone had messed it up in a fit of rage. He wore a black jacket, blue jeans, and a black t-shirt with that symbol—red skull inside a circle divided in four parts—on the chest. But then there was that mask. That red mask with that white smile, and black eyes that you could feel staring at you. Not to mention how this guy apparently planned out everything. “Fuck you,” Marvin growled, but he made no further move.

But there has to be a way to get Jackie out of here! JJ signed. Is there some way to get that code?

“There has to be,” Chase said. He looked at the gamemaster. “Look, there’s gotta be a way for us to win this, right? You wouldn’t put us in an impossible situation! That would kinda defeat the purpose of this being a game.”

“You’re right!” The gamemaster twirled the remote like a baton. “You guys have gotten farther than anyone’s gotten in a long time, but can you go all the way? Why don’t you all take a seat? I bet you’re getting tired of carrying your doctor friend around, and I can tell you that’s not going to wear off for a while.”

Schneep had the presence of mind to flip the gamemaster off.

“Second time tonight, that’s a new record.” The gamemaster leaned back in his chair. “Alright. Here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to ask you four riddles. You can work together to solve them. If you get them all right before time runs out, then you win! If you don’t get them all before the time limit, then that current’s going to set off. And if you give me a wrong answer at any point, you get a warning shock. Alright?”

Chase had never before wanted to shoot anyone so badly. He looked around at the others.

“Guys, we’re not really in a position to negotiate,” Jackie said. He was surprisingly calm, for being told his life depended on getting the right answers on a riddle quiz.

“Negotiate with my flaming—ugh, fine,” Marvin grumbled. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs. “Might as well get comfortable.”

I suppose we have to, JJ sighed.

“Yeah.” Chase looked back at the gamemaster. “Okay, we’re ready for your riddles.”

“Great!” The gamemaster clapped his hands once, then stopped halfway before clapping again. “Here, first one’s a freebie. What walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?”

Oh that one! JJ signed. I know that one.

“It’s like, the stages of life, isn’t it?” Jackie asked, biting his thumbnail. “Baby, then adult, then an old person with a cane.”

“Technically kids walk on two legs, too,” Marvin pointed out. “And teenagers.”

“It’s simplified,” the gamemaster said. “But anyway, you got that one right! Good job, point for you.” He pressed a button on the control station, and a green checkmark appeared on the screen beneath the timer. “Now, second riddle. Listen carefully to the words: Can you answer this? If there’s a room with seven people, then you walk in and murder four, how many people are in the room?”

There was silence for a moment. Then Marvin spoke, “Five, right? Cause you’ll stay in the room, the four dead bodies will stay in there too, but the three people would probably run away.”

“Are we counting dead bodies as people?” Chase asked.

I think we would, that would make the riddle more difficult at first glance, JJ added.

“Yeah, so five?” Jackie asked.

“Five. The answer is five,” Chase said.

“Oh, I’m sorry ‘bout that.” The gamemaster pressed a button on the remote.

Jackie suddenly shrieked, jumping and stumbling back. “Sh-shit,” he stammered. “That—that—I wasn’t expecting—”

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Chase asked, half-reaching towards the mesh wall before realizing it might shock him too.

“I-I-I’m fine,” Jackie said, shaking his head. “I just...that felt...weird.”

“Do we not count the bodies, then?” Marvin asked, pulling his fingers nervously.

“I mean, I guess we don’t?” Chase guessed. “But I don’t want to get it wrong agai—ow! Schneep, did you poke me?”

Schneep had. “Words...” he said. “Listen...listen to the...word...ing.” Even that small phrase had taken a lot of effort to push through whatever haze of drug was in his system, and his head immediately fell forward. Chase staggered a bit as Schneep leaned more weight on him.

“Listen to the wording?” Marvin frowned. “The riddle was ‘if there’s a room with seven people, then you walk in and murder four, how many people are in the room?’ What could you hear in the wording there?”

JJ’s eyes widened. No, that wasn’t all! he signed hurriedly. There was a first question. He asked, ‘can you answer this?’ It’s a yes or no question!

Chase’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you bitch. Alright, then. Yes, we can answer that question.”

“There you go!” Another checkmark appeared on the screen behind the gamemaster.. “Doing pretty good for time. Now, this one’s a simple format of a riddle, pretty standard. Now...what belongs to you, but other people use it more than you?”

“My fucking...YouTube videos, I dunno,” Chase mumbled. He laughed suddenly. “What about ‘my life’!? That’s totally the answer, guys.”

“Chase, please, don’t fall apart now,” Jackie said softly. “We can do this. We have plenty of time left.”

“My...breath when I’m giving CPR,” Marvin mumbled, rubbing his head.

JJ frowned. I don’t think it’s anything that specific.

“Well, obviously, we’re just throwing things out there right now,” Jackie said. “Gets you warmed up.”

“What, you weren’t warmed up by my last four sets of puzzles?” The gamemaster sounded slightly offended. He shook his head.” Well, that was three wrong answers in a row.”

Chase’s eyes widened. “Wait, no, those don’t—”

Jackie screamed, falling to the floor. A few loose blue sparks danced around the mesh. Once it was over, he lay on the floor, panting. JJ dropped to the floor beside him and started asking if he was alright. Chase would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t concerned he’d drop Schneep. Marvin, meanwhile, shot to his feet. “Those clearly weren’t serious attempts, you fuckwad!” he shouted.

“But they were attempts!” The gamemaster laughed. “And any attempt is a good one. Unless, of course, it’s wrong.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’m seriously going to kill you once this is over,” Marvin said in a low voice. “You better hope you can run fast enough.”

“Kill the body all you want, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” The gamemaster’s tone shifted suddenly, becoming dangerously serious. Then it returned to normal. “But hey, you still don’t have the answer. How much time do you have left again?”

JJ suddenly looked up, and made a simple sign. It was like a flick; he touched his index and middle finger to his forehead, then twisted his wrist until his fingers were facing in front of his face.

“‘Name’?” Marvin repeated, confused.

“Oh, wait, that’s the answer!” Chase said excitedly. “Your name! It’s yours, but you don’t really use it except to sign papers, other people use it for you all the time.”

“Oh, very good.” The gamemaster sounded impressed. Another check mark appeared on screen. “And now...your final challenge.” He stood up, and recited:

“Only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet I easily fly. Present in sun, but not in rain. Doing no harm, and feeling no pain. What am I?”

“Ah fuck, it’s a multiple clue one, I hate these,” Marvin mumbled. “What’s present in the sun but not in rain? Like a—”

“Don’t say anything!” Chase shrieked. “Any answer counts!”

Well, he can’t understand sign, JJ said, suddenly grinning. What if we talked so he couldn’t know if we were guessing or not?

Marvin’s eyes widened, and he smiled as well. I like the way you think, he signed. His hands were slower than JJ’s, but somehow elegant. I was thinking some kind of insect or animal.

Jackie slowly stood up, shaking off the effects of the shock and processing the conversation. No, that wouldn’t make sense for the color and size clues, he signed. His movements were slower and bigger, but they got the point across. What animal comes in different sizes but just one color?

Besides, animals feel pain, JJ added.

So now we know it’s an inanimate object! Marvin argued. That’s a start.

“...You know, I feel like you’re plotting,” the gamemaster suddenly said. “Maybe I should...stop that.” He took out the remote again.

Marvin’s head whipped toward him. “No—!”

Too late. Jackie screamed again, falling against the mesh wall this time, muscles spasming. For a moment, his mouth opened and closed silently, and then his breathing resumed.

“Okay, we’re gonna have to...figure this out on our own,” Marvin said, stunned.

They all fell silent. JJ knelt by Jackie, checking on him again. Marvin scrunched his eyes closed, pushing his hands against them and swaying as he thought. Chase, for his part, sank to the floor. Schneep leaned against his side, a few mumbled words escaping as he tried to figure out the riddle too. But Chase could only watch the timer count down.

Was it going to end here? There were worse places for it. But still, if it was going to end, he didn’t want it to be here. There were cameras recording, this sick gamemaster would probably get some amusement from it, and everything was brightly lit. There wasn’t even a shadow to hide in—

Chase stopped. Wait a minute...he glanced over to Jackie, who didn’t look too good, still slightly trembling from the last shock. If he was wrong, then...he looked back at the timer. And he took a deep breath. “It’s a shadow,” he said.

The others looked at him.

“The answer, it’s a shadow,” Chase repeated. “It’s always black, but it changes shape depending on what’s making it. It’s stuck on the ground. You need the sun to make one. And it’s not alive, so it can’t do harm or feel pain.”

Silence. And then, the gamemaster began laughing. “Well, done, Mr. Chase Brody!” He began clapping. “Well, guess you’re better at this than your name would have you think.”

“Gee, thanks,” Chase said dryly.

“You’re welcome!” The gamemaster typed something out on the remote’s keypad. The timer on the screen stopped, three and a half minutes left. There was a slight buzz, and a previously unnoticeable door in the mesh wall swung open. Instantly JJ darted inside, lifting Jackie up and half-dragging him out.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.” The gamemaster dropped the remote. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t finish this game. A lot of people watch just because they want them to fail, but I think it’s a lot more interesting when someone wins. I applaud you. All of you.”

“I’m sorry, ‘people watch’?” Chase repeated. He looked at the cameras around the room.

“Of course. You don’t think I go to all this effort and then just don’t show off?” The gamemaster chuckled. “Besides, I need funds for this. And the easiest way to do that is to make people pay to see it.”

Jackie suddenly burst into laughter. “You’re a Dark Web vlogger,” he giggled. “I-I’m not surprised.”

“I am not a vlogger, I just make games for people to enjoy. There’s a difference.”

“Can we shut up about this?!” Marvin turned to the gamemaster, approaching him before stopping halfway. “What’s going to save you now, huh?!” His eyes turned green.

“Nothing, really.” The gamemaster shrugged. “But you won’t. Not because you’re a good person, but because...do you really want the others to see you do something like that?”

Marvin stiffened, looking over his shoulder at the others. They were all staring at him. “Fuck,” he muttered. He turned back to the gamemaster. “You, sir, are an absolute dickface of a DM. You stalk us for two years at least, and you expect to just get away with it! You may walk out of here now, but will you in the future?”

“That’s a good question. I mean, some people are always up for a sequel, aren’t they?” The gamemaster tilted his head. “And for the record, I’ve been following you for three years.”

“Why?!” Jackie suddenly blurted out.

“Well...I was actually originally interested in your friend Jack.” He laughed at the shock on their faces. “Oh yeah. Those interesting little moments in his videos, October three years ago? I thought that was his own little ARG he was setting up, and I’m not one to turn that down. But then I realized, it’s no augmented reality...for you it’s just reality.” He paused. “It’s...interesting, how many people attached to YouTube find themselves staring into an evil that wears their own face. Whether that’s a pair of demon twins hunting the souls of your listeners, a rogue virus that’s copied your face—or mask, in that case—or a twisted entity made out of the dark twisted souls of a pair of siblings you wronged in your past life. It’s almost like something about the platform attracts the supernatural and unexplained...” He shrugged. “But that’s just a theory.”

Jackie got to his feet. “So...you expect us to just let you walk out of here?”

“Actually, I expect you to walk out of here and leave me alone. And, well, if you won’t, I do have this.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. “Can’t hurt to be safe.”

JJ shook his head. You’re mad.

“Oh hey! I know that one!” He imitated the sign. “I should really learn more of that, or maybe ASL. That could be useful. But that’s for the future.”

Chase narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to leave us alone after this?”

The mask’s smile seemed to widen. “What do you think?”

Silence.

“Well, now.” The gamemaster sat back down in his chair once again, taking the safety off the gun. “I think you know the way out, don’t you?”

And with nothing else to do, and a feeling of unsatisfaction, they left.

— — — — —

“We can’t seriously just let that guy go!” Marvin said the moment they were out of the building. “He could come after us at any moment!”

“Marvin, yes, I agree,” Jackie said tiredly. “He’s a danger to us and to other innocents. But it’s nearly 6:30 in the morning. None of us have slept. Schneep’s still fucking...I dunno, half-unconscious, and I’m feeling pretty shitty myself. We can’t do anything right now.”

Marvin actually stomped his foot. “Fine. Yes. But it sucks!”

It does, JJ agreed. Honestly, as soon as we are able, we should go after him. 

Jackie bit his lip. “That’s gonna be tough...I’ll bet you anything this guy’s good at covering his tracks. Maybe I could do some hacking, try to find whatever Dark Web website he’s posting these...games on. But I don’t know.”

“Guys, please, not now,” Chase said dully. “I...I want to go home.”

Jackie sighed, then gave a small, exhausted smile. “Yeah, me too. We should also maybe return the stolen car.”

“We can do that tomorrow, now let’s go the fuck to sleep,” Marvin said, climbing into the passenger seat of said stolen car.

Jackie laughed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

JJ, Jackie, and Schneep ended up in the back of the car, with Jackie sandwiched in the middle. Chase was still driving, turning on the car and setting off through roads that were starting to fill up with early morning traffic. The sky overhead was a dark blue, no longer black.

Jackie wrapped an arm around Schneep in a one-handed hug, pulling him close. He was really here. He saw him die, but he was really here. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he muttered, blinking back hot tears. Schneep laughed under his breath, mumbling something about how he would try not to.

They had no way of knowing if this was over. Jackie was tired, burnt out from a night of adrenaline.

But they were all here. They were all okay. His friends were going to be okay.

Jackie sighed, closed his eyes, and it only took a few seconds for him to drift off.

[carmenlire]

Off the Record Chapter IV

read chapter one

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Looking up at the knock on his office door, Alec raises a brow at this floor’s administrative assistant.

“What’s up?”

Maia steps into his office and it’s then that he notices the garment bag slung over her shoulder. “Special delivery from a courtier downstairs. I was told to give this to you immediately.”

Taking the bag, she hangs it up on a hook on the back of his door. Looking over her shoulder, she adds, “Are you ready for tonight?”

Alec looks back at his computer at his half-finished email to CNN’s publicist informing him of his next assignment that will start in two days. Most of his mind’s still on that whenever he replies, “Of course. It’s a press dinner. I’ve been to a million of these things. It’s a few hours of reviewing the biggest stories of the past year while waiters in white tie serve lukewarm chicken and undercooked carrots.”

He’s rewarded with Maia cracking a smile that’s more of a grin as she dryly offers, “No need to sound so excited, Lightwood. Aren’t you up for an award?”

Leaning back in his chair, Alec nods. “Yeah,” he confirms. “There are a lot of other great journalists covering a lot of important topics too, though. Competition is stiff.” He flashes a self-deprecating grin. “Better to keep my expectations low.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” She jerks her head to the nondescript garment bag. “A Magnus Bane original, though? That’s something worth celebrating.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, merely sends her a blank look. Maia rolls her eyes before shrugging defensively.

“What,” she asks. “I might’ve taken a peak inside. It's very classic for Bane.”

“Iz made an appointment with him. I liked him. He was very professional,” Alec says, almost to himself.

Taking a step or two back until she can lean her shoulder against the door jamb, Maia crosses her arms over her front as she replies, “I’ve heard that he’s pretty no nonsense. Everyone respects him and most fear him, at least a little. Did you know he started his company in high school? He was a millionaire by the time he graduated fashion design school.”

“I didn’t peg you as someone who kept up with that kind of thing.”

Maia shrugs. “What can I say? Bane’s cute and he’s built his empire from nothing. It’s attractive, all that passion and drive. So, I might skim the occasional article about him in People Magazine.”

“We all have our guilty pleasures.”

Glaring at him--though with little heat-- Maia turns on her heel and leaves Alec’s office. Thankful that the interruption is over, Alec turns back to his computer and looks over his proposed itinerary. He’ll be going to China for a few weeks. Part of his assignment is a character profile on the President, Xi Jinping, but he’ll also be reporting about a variety of problems coming out of China, including the Hong Kong protests and their increasing tensions with Russia.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary and Alec feels a familiar tension seep into his shoulders. He loves what he does but goddamn if it isn’t stressful. No matter how many times he puts himself in untenable positions, there’s always a little voice in his head that whispers that this is the last time, this is his last chance.

Still, Alec finds himself preoccupied this afternoon. He has to start getting ready for the awards ceremony in a couple of hours and he’d wanted to get as much work done as possible before then. Instead, he finds his eyes drawn to the garment back hanging on his door.

Telling himself that he’ll just take a peak at the finished product-- make sure that Magnus delivered what he ordered-- Alec stands and tosses the pen he’d been holding in a negligent grip onto his crowded desk. Taking the few steps over to the suit, Alec unzips the bag and takes a cursory look at the clothing.

It’s a lot of black.

Alec laughs a little as he shuts the door and takes the suit out. He sweeps a thumb over the front of the black linen jacket, along the silk stripe down the pant leg. Deciding to make sure it fits alright now instead of fifteen minutes before he’s set to leave, Alec quickly undresses and puts on the suit.

He doesn’t have a mirror in his office but even he can tell that it fits like a dream and must look the same. Extending his arms out, he doesn’t feel the tightness in the shoulders he had during the fitting last week and he’s gratified by his range of motion when he leans over his desk and reaches for the top drawer where he’d stashed his cuff links this morning when he’d first came in to the office.

Sliding the understated gold and silver cuff links into his sleeves, Alec shoots the cuffs, readjusts the jacket.

It’s a wonderful suit, he thinks, and makes a mental note to tell Magnus.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do that but it’s on his to-do list. As Alec snags the belt he’d also brought from home earlier, he replays over the fitting from a week ago.

What a mess he’d been, Alec chides himself. Never hearing about the man before, Alec had pictured a middle-aged designer whose excesses had started to betray him. Instead, he’d been treated to the sight of the most beautiful man he’d ever met. He’d been awestruck and unpardonably rude for it.

Magnus had introduced himself and Alec had reciprocated his easy friendliness for a heartbeat. For two or three seconds, Alec had forgotten himself.

He’d seen an attractive man and been enthralled. It had been just a moment, though, before he’d remembered who he was and what was at stake.

Alec didn’t have the luxury of guileless interest.

Still, Magnus had been everything magnanimous and Alec likes to think that he’d fixed the foot he’d stuffed into his mouth.

Damn but it had been hard to concentrate on the conversation. While he appreciated quality, Alec was mostly unfussy about his wardrobe. Magnus just kept asking questions, though, about formality and bow tie versus open throat and when the designer had thrown his little notebook to the ground in a careless gesture and gone to his knees to fiddle with his pants, Alec had grown alarmingly lightheaded.

Looking over Magnus to see his sister positively grinning hadn’t helped matters.

Lost in thought, Alec’s mouth tips up in a small smile as he thinks about how their fitting had ended. While Alec has no doubt that Magnus was just being polite, ever the friendly businessman, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to get to know him more.

And not with a business deal hanging over their heads but as acquaintances, maybe even friends.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Alec takes out a business card with edges soft from wear. It’s sturdy white cardstock and with elegant script engraved in bold black font. It’s simple for all its finery and Alec has an insatiable urge to learn more about the man behind the card.

Alec sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He’s too damn busy to let himself become preoccupied with a man who is certainly not thinking twice about him.

Looking over at a clock, Alec sees he has an hour before he needs to leave for the venue. Deciding not to change, Alec goes back behind his desk. Instead of working, however, he pulls a book from his shelf. It’s an ARC and a promising one at that-- he respected the author and the premise he’d been given sounded intriguing.

It’s the work of a few minutes to put final touches on his look before Maia is buzzing him to let him know his driver is waiting downstairs.

The drive to the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium is bumper to bumper and he passes the time scrolling through half a dozen news sites.

He’s always on the cutting edge. There’s never really a down moment.

Stepping out of the town car, it’s onto a red carpet that’s been rolled out. There are a few press publications taking pictures and Alec strolls down the carpet, up the handful of stairs. There’s a spot to pose for photos, which he does with grace even if he really rather wouldn’t. Distantly, he recalls Magnus’s coy, “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

His cheeks heat and he desperately hopes the cameras don’t pick up on it.

The evening progresses much as he’d known it would. The dinner is atrocious, mediocre and not filling in the slightest. It's a little weird to be here without a date, without Lydia in his ear making snide remarks, but Alec powers through and thankfully no one asks about it.

The night is saved, though, when he and his team wins Investigation of the Year for his look into the Assassination of fellow journalist, Jamal Khashoggi. He’s brought up to the stage and talks for a few minutes about freedom of speech and the duty of journalism and how Kashoggi paid the ultimate price for his criticism against Saudi leaders.

As Alec takes his seat again and his eyes catch morosely on a half dozen wilted green beans, he can’t help but wonder if that’s his fate, too.

He plays with fire so often that he wouldn’t know what to do without the heat always licking at his heels.

His thoughts break off from that morbid line of thought when he feels his phone vibrate. Taking it out, unlocking it, Alec opens his texts to see a message from a contact simply labelled J.

Our usual place? I’ve booked room 1406.

Alec stares down at the dim screen of his phone and feels the expression shift on his face, into something anticipatory. Well, he supposes, that settles his plans for the rest of the night.

He’d thought he’d go home to an empty apartment and pour a glass of whiskey while he worked for a few hours. A bit of an insomniac, Alec rarely fell straight to sleep unless travel had exhausted him.

I’m at a work function tonight. I’ll be there at 11?

Alec barely waits half a minute before his phone is vibrating with a reply.

See you then, Lightwood.

Anticipation is a heady mix. While Alec had a strict policy against relationships-- that was a powder keg waiting to happen-- he didn’t have the same issue with casual hookups. There were a few men in a few cities he could rely on for their discretion. Jeremy, in New York, wasn’t out either and last Alec had seen him, had no plans to any time soon. His family was very Catholic-- two of his uncles were priests-- and his mother went to Mass three times a week without fail.

A restaurateur in the East Village, they’d met one night when Alec had joined work friends at his establishment for a retirement party. Now, almost a year later, they met up once or twice a month whenever Alec was in town at the St. Regis.

The rest of the awards pass in dull monotony, though Alec takes note of the Emerging Journalist of the year-- a sophomore at UC Berkeley-- and a few other categories. It’s closer to midnight when his cab pulls up to St. Regis and Alec keeps his head low as he walks past the doorman, not relaxing until he’s in the elevator. Alone, he slouches against the back, raises a hand to tug his tie undone.

He’s unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt and breathes easier for it. Keeping his eye trained on room numbers, Alec finally comes to a stop down the long corridor when he sees 1406 in gold.

Mouth tipping up in an easy grin, Alec leans against the door jamb as he raises an arm, using his knuckles for a careless knock against the door.

He waits just a moment before it’s swinging open. Raising his head, Alec meets Jeremy’s eyes and straightens, stepping into the hotel room without a backwards glance, determined to enjoy these few hours he allows himself.

And later, when Jeremy tentatively offers to take him out some time-- his pick, whenever he’s free-- Alec shuts that down with barely a thought.

“No,” he replies shortly. They’re still breathing harshly from their latest round, staring up at the ceiling and not at each other. “That’s not what we are, Jeremy. What we are is convenience. I’m sure as hell not cut out for a relationship.”

He turns, spares a glance at a man he barely knows but knows just enough. “Are you okay with that? Tell me if you’re not now because I can’t pretend this is something it isn’t. I meet you at a hotel, we fuck, and one of us leaves before the other wakes up. It’s a good system and one I’m not willing to break. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Alec doesn’t much care one way or another. While it’d be an inconvenience, Alec is firm that he won’t pretend that this is something it’s not.

He’s gratified when Jeremy just sighs and tells him, “You’re a cold son of a bitch, Lightwood. You know that, right,” before he leans over Alec and they both forget about anything as obscene as attachment.

---

Alec wakes up the next morning feeling decidedly gross. His partner is nowhere to be found and when he manages to wake up, he sees all evidence of another person has vanished.

Blowing out a breath, he stays in bed for just a moment more before throwing the sheet away from his body and climbing out of bed.

He makes it home unscathed, heading directly to his shower as soon as he enters his apartment. Scrubbing the night from his skin, Alec feels a hollow sense of satisfaction.

He takes these pieces, sweeps them up into a little pile until he has something resembling enough. It’s far from perfect; the polar opposite from ideal. He couldn’t give a fuck about Jeremy or his other friends. He wasn’t lying.

They really were convenient hookups, ways to blow off steam, release the geyser of stress that’s always roiling just under the surface.

As he reaches for his body wash, Alec’s eyes cool as his mouth downturns. Christ, sometimes he wishes he had more-- that he could have more.

He doesn’t let himself think that too often but once in a while, a thought catches him off guard. Having a relationship, a proper partner.

It’s the antithesis to his life, that much he knows without a doubt.

Still. Alec’s always been more of a romantic than he likes to let on and it’s hard sometimes to see Izzy flirt unabashedly with anyone who catches her eye, with Jace flirting badly with Meliorn whenever the two cross paths at Taki’s.

Resolutely pushing those thoughts away, Alec finishes getting ready. Sliding his watch on, Alec sees he’s just on time to meet his siblings for brunch.

It’s Wednesday morning but both Jace and Izzy had insisted they could go in late. Isabelle, as the senior chemist at Idris Labs, had a pretty flexible schedule. Jace, for his part, owned a food truck and he’d been more than okay with pushing his hours back to see Alec.

Walking into their favorite brunch spot since they were teenagers, Alec sees his siblings already at a table. They perk up when he slides into the booth opposite them.

“Hey, bro,” Jace greets with a grin. “I caught the highlights of that press dinner. Congratulations!”

“Jace says that as if we didn’t watch them live. But, yes, congrats, hermano. We’re so proud of you.”

Shrugging, Alec merely offers, “I only did what was necessary. Koshoggi deserved to be more than front page news for a few weeks and the Saudi regime deserved the microscope I put them under.”

Thankfully, the waitress comes over and grabs their orders, all of which they know by heart so that they don’t even reach for the menus anymore.

Thankful for a breath, Alec looks up, first at Jace and then Isabelle. “So, what’s new with everyone? I feel like I haven’t seen you two in forever.”

“It’s been a week,” Isabelle says with a wry grin.

Nonetheless, they catch each other up on their lives. While they weren’t as close as they’d been before Alec had started travelling for work-- first as a freelance journalist and then signing on full time for CNN-- they liked to keep in touch. As long as Alec was within reach of a phone or laptop, they rarely went more than a few days without talking.

The next hour is a different kind of stress relief for Alec. He listens to Jace talk about his food truck and the cute guy that’s become a regular and listens as Isabelle shares her excitement for her upcoming date. The two of them make plans for dinner and Alec winces as they both look at him expectantly, as though knowing what he’s about to say.

“Actually,” he interjects when both of them have agreed they’re free Sunday night. “I’m leaving tomorrow for three weeks.”

Jace’s mouth tilts up but it’s barely a smile. “What a surprise.”

Stung, Alec snaps, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isabelle holds out a hand, staving off any argument. “Not today. I’m enjoying my meal and I don’t need you two ruining things. Alec, Jace didn’t mean anything. Jace, you didn’t mean anything by that. Okay?”

Neither Alec nor Jace say anything. They’re staring at each other and Alec’s a little taken aback by Jace’s glare.

A part of him wants to know what the fuck his brother’s problem is but he’s tired and most of his day will be spent with work. Letting it go for now, there’s still an undertone of tension when the bill comes after the three of them have finished their milkshakes.

Jace is the first to leave, citing needing to get to work, and Alec watches him leave, Izzy standing next to him.

“Wanna fill me in on what crawled up his ass since we last saw each other?”

Sighing, Isabelle loops her arm through his and they turn toward uptown where her lab is located. “Not my place,” she says simply.

Her response leaves him more irritated than before he’d asked but Alec bites his tongue, not completely sure that he even wants to open that can of worms.

They walk a few blocks before Isabelle needs to turn and Alec’s path to CNN headquarters takes him straight. She pulls him into a hug before stepping back and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Be safe and don’t be a hero.” She smiles, just a little, and it’s equal parts resigned and chiding. “I love you, Alec.”

“Love you too, Iz.” Pulling her in for another hug, Alec holds on for a beat or two before finally releasing her and turning his own way.

Afternoon passes into night and Alec catches up on work. He has a dozen balls in the air at any given moment and keeping up with everything is a struggle. He signs off on reports and a few contracts that need final signatures. He makes a guest appearance on all three evening news hours, speaking as a special political commentator and doesn’t get back to his apartment until after midnight.

His flight is slated for five in the morning and Alec has just enough time to pack and make sure everything is in order before he’s being notified that the hired driver is waiting to take him to the airport.

Waiting to board his flight, Alec stops by Starbucks and orders a red eye. It’s strong as hell and exactly what he needs. Finding a seat at his gate, he fucks around on his phone for awhile. He sees a notification in his mentions and when he swipes over, he can’t stop his automatic grin.

It’s a picture from Tuesday’s press gala that a popular tabloid has tweeted. He’s at the photograph station and he knows he looks good. Magnus, however, has quoted that with the addition, “Alec’s wearing a custom Magnus Bane. Doesn’t he look like a million bucks?”

There are a few facetious emojis tagged on at the end and Alec huffs out a laugh as he likes the tweet. Going to Magnus’s profile, his eyes scan over the profile picture that shows him in low light. Scrolling a little, Alec sees Magnus is much more engaged on Twitter than he is and in a moment of weakness, he scrolls back up to the top and taps the follow button.

A little to his surprise, he gets the notification that Magnus has followed him back just a few minutes later. He didn’t think Magnus would be such an early riser, especially considering it’s not even light outside yet.

Alec doesn’t let his mind wander long, though, before he’s turning back to work. He spends what little remaining time he has before boarding begins to read over his notes. He continues that during most of his flight. Managing a few hours sleep, Alec still feels like death warmed over whenever he lands in China.

He has his credentials and passes ready and most of that first day is spent filling out forms with the Chinese government.

This assignment isn’t the longest he’s been on by far. Still, the three weeks seem to fly and drag by at the same time. He meets dozens of officials and uses what little free time he’s allowed to get a feel for the city and interview people on the fringes of his interest piece.

Every night he comes back to his hotel and types up his notes. Still, not all of his time is spent on China. He still has articles due for different newspapers back in the States and he spends a few hours every day keeping on top of things back home.

By the time his assignment is over-- he has all the information he’s going to get, his televised interview with Xi Jinping has been filmed-- Alec’s exhausted.

It’s an exhaustion that runs bone deep and when his car takes him back to the Hong Kong airport, Alec wants nothing more than a shower and his own goddamn bed.

The flight is uneventful and Alec surprises himself by choosing to read a book-- for pleasure even. The flight is uncomfortable no matter that he’s in business class and the first thing he does when he lands back in New York is call headquarters and get updated on what he’s missed and expectations for the next few days.

Thankfully, Jia tells him in no uncertain terms to take a day or two before he shows his face at work and Alec laughs and agrees. She usually insists that he take a bit of a break with longer assignments and luckily, it’s never more than two days.

She doesn’t know he always has work at home and Alec has no intention of telling her.

Most of the first day is spent faceplanted in his bed after the world’s most efficient shower.

The second day, though, Alec decides to pack up his laptop and notes for the book he’s been working on for the past six months. The publisher wanted a tentative first draft by the end of summer and with only four or five months left, Alec was woefully short.

It was a a treatise about America’s current political climate with personal anecdotes thrown in. Alec was slogging through it but it was dense as hell and he had enough research to make a Ph.D candidate wince.

Walking into his favorite little coffee shop in Brooklyn-- he’d discovered it during college and had been a regular ever since-- Alec settles in. Spreading his notes out, he focuses on work.

He works steadily, wrapping up the current chapter he’d been working on when he suddenly feels eyes on him. Sighing a little-- it happened from time to time even at the most inopportune times-- Alec looks up and freezes.

His chest squeezes a little as his gaze meets warm brown eyes.

“Magnus,” he says under his breath, too low for anyone to hear.

Magnus’s mouth kicks up like he heard Alec after all and then he’s grabbing his drink from the barista and making his way over to him.

“Alexander. Fancy meeting you here.”

Nodding toward his sprawled out pile of work, Alec replies, “I just flew back into the city last night. I thought I’d get some work done in a setting that’s a little more casual than the office.”

Blowing across the top of his drink to cool it, Magnus eyes the pile. “What are you working on?”

“A book, if you can believe that. Something political and dire as befitting the current administration.”

Magnus rolls his eyes before grinning. “I can’t wait to read it. I’m sure you’ll do justice to the topic.”

“I’m trying,” Alec says as he jerks a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “What are you doing here?”

Magnus’s expression is amused as he nods outside the shop. “This is the closest coffee shop to my apartment. I come in here almost every day. I’ve never seen you here before, though.”

“I found this place in college and have been coming ever since. I don’t come here as often as I might like but when I’m in the city, it’s at least once a week.”

“What a coincidence,” Magnus murmurs before perking up. “You mentioned you just flew back in last night. Were you somewhere devastatingly exotic?”

“China,” Alec replies dryly. “It was painfully mundane.”

Looking intrigued, Alec watches as Magnus hesitates for a bare moment before he gestures toward the chair across from him. Before he can ask, Alec is already waving him toward the empty seat. “Please, sit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you stand forever.”

“Thank you, darling.” Magnus shoots him a smile before taking a seat. It’s oddly graceful, elegant for such an everyday gesture.

“Now,” Magnus says briskly, crossing one leg over the other and staring at Alec with something indefinable in his eye. “How was China, as you put it, painfully mundane?”

Relaxing in his seat, Alec’s look is wry as he says, “It was work, Magnus. I spent an overwhelming majority of my time trying to get the truth from people determined not to give me any. It was exhausting. I have some great content that will start to drop in a few days but these trips are hardly ever pleasure for me.”

“Don’t say you’re a workaholic now. That ruins a fair bit of the image I had of you in my head-- you know what they say about all work and no play, Alexander.”

“My job is demanding,” Alec replies with a short laugh. “Sorry to spoil things, but any image you have of me is probably categorically false. As Isabelle’s always telling me, I’m a bit of a dud.”

Raising a brow, Magnus repeats, “A dud? Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m focused on my career. As it happens, that career is more high-octane than most. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else.”

“More’s the pity,” Magnus says softly and Alec’s suddenly uncomfortably when he turns sharp eyes to him.

It’s like he sees everything Alec tries to hide, everything he doesn’t say.

And then Magnus is brightening. “Are you one of those people who become horribly distracted if anyone so much breathes in their direction while working?”

Alec sets a deadpan look over Magnus. “I’m a journalist. I can pretty much work through anything. Why?”

“Well,” Magnus draws out and Alec mostly thinks he imagines the tentative look in his eye. “I have a few hours before I have to be in my office but I have some work I could get done before going in. I was thinking a change of scenery might help me too, if you’re willing.”

It takes Alec a moment to understand what he’s trying to say but then he grins when he does, a small, pleased little thing. “Feel free,” he says and shoves some of his stuff away from what’s officially Magnus’s side of the table.

Magnus returns that smile before reaching down to his bag and pulling out a sheaf of papers.

And no matter what Alec might’ve said just a few moments before, he’s definitely distracted as he also pulls out a pair of black framed glasses, slipping them on absently while organizing his little pile of paper.

When he looks up and catches his eye, Magnus is sheepish. “I hate the things,” he says, pointing to the glasses. “But I need them, so. I know it doesn’t exactly fit my own dashing reputation.”

“I like them.” Alec’s reply is out of his mouth before he can think and while he feels heat climb into his cheeks, he’s rewarded by a pleased if surprised smile from Magnus. Swallowing hard, he adds, “They suit you.”

“Thank you, darling.” A teasing light comes into Magnus’s eyes as he continues, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that without getting embarrassingly tongue tied, so he just looks down at his laptop and reads the same sentence seven times without comprehending it.

It’s absurd but Alec is quickly growing familiar with the way Magnus is proving the exception to his most ironclad rules. He’s met people all of the world from all different backgrounds and he rarely has a problem engaging them in conversation. It’s part of his job and one that he’s good at even if those closest to him would be a little surprised to learn just how competent he is at socializing.

In his line of work, that particular skill set is crucial to forming ties and establishing trust.

With Magnus, however, that all goes out the window. The man makes an innocuous enough comment and Alec finds himself tongue-tied. A part of him wishes desperately that he could flirt back but he can’t-- that wouldn’t be fair to either of them-- not to mention that it would be just a little presumptuous.

Alec has a sinking suspicion that Magnus is friendly with everyone. What a faux pas would if be if Alec read more into things.

He shudders at just the thought.

Magnus doesn’t say anything else and Alec manages to turn his focus back to his work. To his surprise, Magnus is an acceptable work partner. He doesn’t click his pen, doesn’t have a need too fill the silence that’s fallen over their little corner of the coffee shop. He scans through documents, signing every so often, and every time Alec looks up, Magnus appears deep in thought. He has the endearing habit of bringing his pen up to his mouth to chew absently on the cap and it’s a little tick that Alec wouldn’t have suspected but enjoys nonetheless.

He’s startled, then, when he’s ass deep in research for a particular law he wants to use-- he needs to get a deep understanding of it before he can even begin explaining what it means and why it’s important-- when Magnus bites back a curse.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s incredulous gaze.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like I’m running late for my afternoon meeting. I hadn’t even realized so much time had passed.”

Looking down at the corner of his laptop, Alec’s brows raise as he sees they’ve been sitting together for over four hours.

“We should’ve set an alarm,” he says with a stunned smile.

Gathering his work, Magnus packs up his things as he returns Alec’s expression. “Yes, that would’ve been good thinking. I didn’t anticipate getting so distracted,” he admits.

“You’re easy to share a table with.”

“Thank you, Alexander. I’m glad I wasn’t a nuisance.” Magnus laughs and a part of Alec leans into the sound, no matter that he stays in place.

Magnus stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He takes a single step backward, toward the front door. “How long are you in town for this time around?”

Pausing to think, Alec finally offers, “As long as nothing crops up, I’m in New York for at least a few months. Most of my time needs to be spent working on this damned thing,” he says, nodding toward the evidence of his writing.

“Maybe I’ll see you around then. Bye, darling.”

Alec nods in acknowledgement and watches as Magnus turns on his heel and strides out of the little coffee shop, looking too big for the place, his presence too striking for a regular little coffee shop.

Blowing out a breath, Alec wonders if he’ll see Magnus again and if so, when. Most of him hopes he does and soon.

There’s a little piece, though, that he tries to tamp down on that whispers maybe it’s best if they don’t see each other again.

Something tells him that Magnus is different to everyone else, even if it's in ways he can't quite definite yet.

Shaking his head impatiently, Alec pushes any and all thoughts of Magnus Bane out of his head. The truth is, they probably won’t see each other again for months, if that.

He has bigger things to worry about than an interesting fashion designer who pulls off glasses like he was born for them.

---

Except the next morning, Alec comes back to the little Brooklyn coffee shop and almost immediately, his gaze lands on Magnus.

Magnus, who looks up with a smile that only grows when he sees the book bag over Alec’s shoulder.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, just like he had yesterday and Alec laughs, a quick burst, while he tries to recover.

“What are you doing here?” It could come off as rude, short, but Alec’s already nearing the table and bringing his bag down to rest on the floor against the chair that sits across from Magnus.

Magnus shrugs. “I have work to get through and I can do that just as easily here as I can in my office. My office doesn’t have such a view, after all,” he says with a little grin that reads just as coy as it is hesitant.

Alec doesn’t linger over the words. Peering at the table, Alec nods toward the half that has stuff on it; the other half of the table is perfectly cleared off. “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes, by you, darling.” Magnus beams at him and gestures grandly for Alec to take the seat opposite him.

Getting settled in, Alec pops up a few minutes later to order a coffee for himself as well as a refill for Magnus. The morning passes much like the past afternoon had. They both work on their own things but together and it’s odd but it fills Alec with a buzzing energy that itches just under his skin.

He likes the quiet and while he’s loathe to admit something so whimsical-- even to himself-- he likes the quiet with Magnus even more.

They don’t talk much that day, both focused on their work. Alec’s the one that has to leave first that day, off to the studio to shoot a debate between two political leaders of different parties. Magnus nods in acknowledgement, wishes him a productive afternoon, but nothing else.

So it’s pure coincidence when Alec goes right back to the little coffee shop the next morning and sees Magnus for the third day in a row.

It becomes a thing after that-- or really, Alec thinks, since the very beginning. And while the first week or so is filled with comfortable silence and the sounds of typing, the dull thrum of everyone else in the coffee shop nice in the background, Magnus and Alec rarely talk.

They both seem to want to preserve the spell that’s fallen over them but then one day Magnus is obviously distracted. He fidgets with his papers and Alec feels his eyes on him every four seconds it seems until finally, exasperated and fond-- too fond for the duration of their acquaintance, that’s for sure-- Alec looks up and meets Magnus’s eyes.

“What’s with you today?”

Magnus stills and then launches into a rambling rant about best friends who think they know best but really don’t know jack shit. Alec surprises himself when he bursts out laughing when he learns that Magnus’s best friend, Ragnor, has been surprising him with a different treat every day in the hopes that he’ll take the hint and take a break from things.

“He’s gotten me a gift card to a bookstore, a wine box subscription, and he’s started leaving little hints all over the office for me to take a vacation. There are little palm trees on the kitchen counter and Clary has started talking about the weather in a different tropical locale every day for the past two weeks. The man is driving me insane, Alexander.”

Shaking his head a little, the mood lightens considerably over their table as they both abandon any semblance of work. Instead, they order more coffee and talk.

They get to know each other a little better, piece by piece. Alec learns about Ragnor and Raphael and Catarina and he takes his own turn to talk about his siblings and how they drive him crazy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

After that day, something shifts in their budding friendship. They spend a few minutes every day catching up with the other and it often devolves entirely into meandering conversations that poke and prod at what seems to be laying just under the surface.

There are some topics Alec doesn’t broach and Magnus gently hints before backing away entirely once he realizes the off-limit subjects-- the confidential aspects of his job, his dating history. Though Alec talks a little bit about Lydia-- by all accounts they were together since college-- he’s strangely reticent to share as much as he might’ve with anyone else.

He doesn’t want to lie to Magnus. Not about Lydia and not about what Lydia helped hide.

It’s a month later and Magnus and Alec have seen each other almost every day since that first afternoon at the coffee shop. Alec is dreadfully behind in his projected timeline to complete his book but he finds that he can’t care overmuch, not when he’s having so much fun getting to know Magnus.

He doesn’t look the man up, doesn’t want to learn about the famous designer before either of them are ready. He takes what Magnus shares and becomes just a little more infatuated every day.

He can’t tell if Magnus feels the same, one iota of what Alec’s feeling. It’s all a moot point anyway, he tells himself but. Still. He wonders if it’s as one sided as it seems or if-- in another world, another life-- there could be something more there.

Everything is going well until Alec gets the call from CNN’s headquarters that he’ll be leaving the next afternoon for his next assignment.

He takes the call and as he listens to the proposal, a part of him feels the familiar rush of adrenaline. There’s another part, though, that’s full of the tiniest bit of disappointment.

Four months.

It’s still not the longest assignment he’s been on. Not by far. But his mind skips to Magnus and their routine and even as he agrees immediately to his assignment, he’s dreading telling Magnus.

Magnus, who’s become an unwitting friend over the past month.

When they meet at the coffee shop just a couple of hours later, Magnus takes one look at him and immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

Alec smiles, just a little, at Magnus reading him so well. It dies on his lips though as he opens his mouth to reply before getting out, “I got my next assignment. I leave tomorrow.”

He watches as Magnus’s smile dims, as he settles back in his seat as he absorbs the news. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s silent for a minute before Magnus looks up and smiles wanly. “How long?”

Wincing, Alec replies, “Four months. Depending on how it all unfolds, though, it could be extended.”

“Well,” Magnus says and it’s clear that it’s trying to be bright but fails spectacularly, “Do you have plans for tonight?”

Alec blinks. “Plans? Tonight?”

Something thaws in Magnus’s expression as he watches Alec’s confusion. “Yes, darling, tonight. If you’re going to be away for half a year, I’d like to see you one more time before you go. If you’re amenable, we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great, Magnus.” Alec’s voice is soft, just above a whisper.

Magnus’s gaze warms even further at Alec’s easy acquiescence. “Wonderful. I’ll make the arrangements and text you the address-- Oh, we would need to exchange numbers for that, I suppose.”

It takes Alec a spare second to realize that the two of them haven’t even exchanged numbers yet. By tacit agreement, they both had just shown up to the coffee shop ever morning, letting the other know they day before if there would be a change.

“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “Let’s do that.”

The two of them exchange numbers and it’s such a small gesture but it lights Alec up. Though, he tries his damnedest to hide just how effected he is by having Magnus’s cell number.

The two of them don’t even try to turn back to their work after that. They spend the rest of the morning talking and there’s a new energy lingering in the undertones of their conversation. It’s almost frenetic, an impending knowledge that they only have this last day before they’ll be apart for the foreseeable future.

Magnus leaves in the early afternoon after half a dozen progressively more annoyed texts from Ragnor. He leaves with a promise to make the arrangements-- something private, away from prying eyes-- and leaves with his customary flourish.

Alec watches him leave and wonders how he’ll survive dinner with the growing acknowledgement that he’s falling for Magnus and the knowledge that there’s not a damn thing he can do about it.

[yohanes-magic-circle]

Idol Distractions

(This is also on AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there. Hope you enjoy this light and fluffy YohaMaru one-shot!)

“Wow, there’s so many… I don’t know how you go finishin’ all of these.”

“I haven’t finished them all. Honestly, I haven't even played them all. I used to get through everything, but now I have practice after school, I’m falling behind.”

Hanamaru continued looking through the games on Yoshiko’s shelf, occasionally picking out one that she liked the sound of and looking at the cover art. “Ain’t that a problem?”

“I don’t mind,” Yoshiko replied. “I used to play so much because I didn’t have anything else to do. Back in middle school, I didn’t really… I wasn’t popular.”

“Oh…”

“It’s okay. I mean, sometimes I’ve got people to play with now!”

“Yeah. I won’t be any good, though,” Hanamaru fretted.

“You’ve got as much chance as any mortal when faced with the unholy gaming powers of Yohane!”

Hanamaru briefly turned to stick her tongue out at the fallen angel, before going back to browsing the shelves. “This is weird, zura. When I normally look at someone else’s shelves they’re full of books, and I can get talkin’ about the ones I know. But I don’t really know any games…”

“It doesn’t really matter what you pick – I can show you how to play it. Just go for whatever you like.”

At that point, Hanamaru picked up something that caught her eye – a largely white box, with colourful shapes and lots of English text, and a cute blue animal on the front. “Can we play this one?”

Trust you, Zuramaru, thought Yoshiko. She wasn’t going to refuse her, of course. “Sure, I’ll just have to set up the machine.” Yoshiko went over to the cupboard and came back with a dusty box, from which she pulled out a black machine and a couple of black controllers. She struggled to get it to work with her TV briefly, and was about to give up when she saw the screen fade to black, then turn white.

“Se~ga!” rang out the sound from the TV.

“Wooooow! Mirai zura!”

“It’s not the future, Zuramaru,” laughed Yoshiko. “This thing was my dad’s. It’s older than we are, they stopped making them before we were born.” Still, Yoshiko couldn’t help but smile as she saw the sparkle in Hanamaru’s eyes. She kind of wished she had the same sense of constant wonder at the modern world – to be totally fascinated by things most people found mundane.

“Yoshiko, what were we studyin’ in history class earlier?”

“Ancient Egypt,” replied Yoshiko.

“And how long ago did Ramesses rule?”

“About 3,000 years ago. What’s your point?”

“How old is that games machine?”

“Uh, I think it’s about 30 years old.”

“So people have been around for thousands of years without this, and we’re lucky enough to live in a time when it exists? Mirai, zura.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Yoshiko conceded, considering that perhaps their outlooks on the world were both strange. “So this one’s really easy to play – that little guy is Sonic, and he’s got to run along to the right. If you press any of the buttons, he’ll jump.”

“Okay! So I press this one an’… oh hey, is that a friend?”

“Zuramaru, no–!”

“Aaaah! What happened?”

“Sorry, I really should have explained that better. You ran into a bad guy.”

“So that’s it?” asked Hanamaru, sadly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get another try. Just try to grab those spinning rings you see, they’ll protect you if you get hit. And when you see any of those robots, just jump on top of them.”

“Okay! So I run this way… zura?! Was that an animal in there?”

Hanamaru guided Sonic through the dangers of Green Hill Zone’s first act safely, albeit considerably slower than it could have been done. Yoshiko spent more time watching Maru’s face than the screen – she was so cute when she scrunched her face up in concentration, and even cuter when she panicked at Sonic’s speed through the tunnels.

“Hey, pass me the controller,” said Yoshiko as the second stage began. “I’m gonna show you a secret.” Within seconds, Sonic was smashing through a wall. Hanamaru asked how to do a roll on the ground, and then spent the rest of the stage rolling into every single wall she could find to see if it would break. She kept doing it in the third stage and was thrilled when she finally found one, even if it took a couple of attempts to break all the way through. It was a performance befitting an amateur gamer, but she was having a good time. Finally, she reached the last part of Green Hill Zone.

“Yoshiko! Who’s that?!” asked Hanamaru anxiously, as a man in a flying machine entered the screen with a huge wrecking ball.

“That’s Eggman, he’s the villain who put all the animals in the robots.”

“He’s scarin’ me. You fight him!”

Yoshiko had no choice as the pad was thrust into her hands before she could so much as utter a word of encouragement, she made quick work of the simple boss. “Hey, do you wanna play a game together? I’ve got Sonic 2, it’s just like this but we can both play.”

“Okay! But how do we both be Sonic?”

“No, he’s got a little friend called Tails in this game. We can play together, or race against each other.”

“Oooh, can we race? Let’s race!” Hanamaru practically bounced up and down on the spot with excitement.

“Very well. But know that when you challenge Yohane, your fate is determined before you even press the start button!”

Hanamaru brushed off Yoshiko’s theatrics, instead focusing on the orange fox on screen. “Cute, zura! Can I play as him?”

“You’ll be Tails, yeah. He’s on the bottom bit of the screen. Oh yeah, so you should know, it’s not just finishing first that counts here. If you smash bad guys and TVs, and collect rings, they’ll help you win too.”

“I see…”

The stage started, and Tails started to walk away, only for Sonic to roll right past at a terrifying speed. “Are you cheatin’, Yoshiko?” said Hanamaru, putting on a pout. “Oh yeah, you can do that in this game,” Yoshiko said, only half apologetically. “If you hold down and press jump, you can charge up a spin and shoot off. You’ve gotta go fast, Zuramaru.”

Although Yoshiko wasn’t particularly familiar with the game, years of practice allowed her to tackle the stage with ease. Hanamaru hung back as Yoshiko sped through, knowing that she couldn’t compete in that way – instead she made sure to collect rings and break item boxes, hoping to win on those fronts. Yoshiko saw that she was doing this and tried to break a monitor herself, but everything suddenly went white…

“Z-zura? I won?!”

Yohane’s curse had struck again. The random item in the box was a teleport, placing Hanamaru right next to the finish line and Yoshiko right back near the start of the stage. Suddenly, she had seconds to make it back through the stage and grab as much as she could along the way. But she’d largely ignored rings and items in her earlier haste – could she pull it back?

Nope. There it was, plain as day.

“2P WINS”

“Wow, I’ve never won at one of these before! I thought you said you played these games a lot, Yoshiko?” Hanamaru couldn’t resist poking a little bit of fun at her friend, though in truth she didn’t quite understand how everything had just happened. “Do not be mistaken! Your victory was a matter of divine intervention,” Yoshiko responded, trying to save face. “Shall we play another round?” Hanamaru shook her head. “I think I’m retirin’ while I’m still undefeated. Besides, I was startin’ to wonder if we could get a drink.”

The two girls headed to the kitchen, and Yoshiko began to pick through the cupboard. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I never got why everyone’s drinkin’ it all the time. It’s so bitter. I’d be happy with a glass of water, please.”

“Fancy, but I’ll push the boat out just for you,” Yoshiko confirmed with a wink, as she started boiling the kettle for her own coffee.

“You know, I’m really glad we could hang out like this.”

“Yeah, I’m having fun too,” said Yoshiko as she put down Hanamaru’s glass.

“No, I mean – what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m pleased I could visit your home.”

“Oh, and why would that be?”

“Well, the temple… we don’t have video games or nothin’ like that at my place,” said Hanamaru. She let out a big sigh. “You’d be bored if you visited me.”

“Hanamaru, are you kidding me?” Yoshiko asked with unusual gravitas. “Do you really think I mind where he hang out?”

“Zura?”

Yoshiko decided it was time to use one of Hanamaru’s own tricks. “Where did we meet up before we come here today?”

“In the library,” she responded.”

“And how often have we hung out there?”

“I don’t know… I think I’d have lost count even if I was tryin’ to remember.”

“Now,” said Yoshiko with complete confidence, “how many times have you just walked in and found me there?”

“That never happ– oh…”

“Right. It doesn’t matter so much where we are, because what I’m interested in doing is spending time with you. And you’re not so into games, right?”

Hanamaru took a long sip from her glass. “Yeah. I know you love ’em though, so I like to make an effort.”

“Do you want to stop playing for the night, then? I’m happy to just chat like this.”

“No, just… is there an easy game we could try? One with a lotta story, where you don't have to do too much?”

“That’s a movie, Zuramaru,” Yoshiko joked. She was definitely an action gamer at heart, particularly racing games. “But now I think of it, there might be something…”

As the girls headed back to Yoshiko’s room, Yoshiko tried to think of a suitable game to put on. She didn’t have many visual novels. Well, there was that one she'd been playing that Riko had recommended… No! Yoshiko didn’t want to come across as weird. Honestly, Mari had never hidden her thirst, but Riko was a surprise. Who’d have thought that Yohane would be the purest member of Guilty Kiss?

“Whatcha thinkin’, Yoshiko?”

“A-ahhh haha… nothing!” Yoshiko had gotten wrapped up and totally missed the development of that awkward silence. “Hey, I haven’t started this one yet. Shall we try it? It’s a bit sci-fi but it’s more or less the sort of game you wanted.”

“Looks good, zura,” Hanamaru confirmed. “Hey, would you mind if I rested my head on your shoulder while we read it? I’m not used to stayin’ up so late.”

“S-sure,” said Yoshiko, turning her rapidly reddening face towards the wall as the game loaded.

The game began, and the player character started ranting about being a mad scientist chased by some organisation. “Hey, this guy’s funny,” said Hanamaru, giving Yoshiko a little nudge. “He kind of reminds me of you.” Hanamaru meant it affectionately, so it was fortunate that she didn’t turn her head – or else she’d have seen Yoshiko’s accusatory glare. Yohane was nothing like Hououin Kyouma! “The girl’s cute, though.”

“Right? She’s sweet and innocent… Really, I quite like characters like that.”

Hanamaru just gave a contented little “Mm” as the story continued apace. The characters went to get capsule toys on the way to some scientific press conference, then argued with a teenage genius, only to find her dead minutes later. “Hey, Zuramaru, let me know if you get scared, alright?” No response.

Yoshiko looked down to see Hanamaru softly sleeping, still propped up against her for comfort. Clearly, she hadn’t been kidding about not being used to late nights. But they’d had a fun night together, and besides, she looked so cute that Yoshiko could hardly be mad. She turned the console off and switched over to the TV, then carefully shifted to a more comfortable position.

This, she thought to herself, was something she could get used to.

[cosmicflowchart]

Stefan Butler/Reader - Do Something New

Summary: You remember Stefan Butler so clearly. You have to know if he remembers you too. Warnings: multiple pathways of reality, unreality, mentions of manipulation, helplessness, paranoia, loss of control, mentions of homicide Word Count: 2694 [it’s a doozy folks, strap yourselves in]

You know who he is before he comes into sight. Instinctively you’ve only got one ear of your headphones on—you don’t want Thakur invading your space again. You can tell from the footsteps that it’s almost time for your first conversation.

Of course, you play it cool. It’s what your predecessor did. You type in another line, hoping that resolves the error, knowing you’re a fool because it’s not going to work. It’s out of your hands.

You don’t get a chance to fix it as the walking slows to a stop and a voice drags you into the moment. 

“Right over here, programmer of the century!”

Thakur’s boosting you up for your guest. A useless gesture, really. You know the young man he’s talking to, and you know how he thinks about you. Namely, he can’t stop thinking about you. But what the hell, you’ll let Thakur think this is going to be a coincidence.

“This is our greatest asset,” he continues, and you look over to the young man, who you ‘haven’t met.’ Thakur moves in on your other side, trying to catch a glimpse of your game. The premise is a bit on the nose (or Nohs, if you will), but the only ones who’ll get it are you and whoever’s causing the restarts.

The young man’s hands tangle together, his darting, green eyes betraying his mounting anxiety, mixed with excitement at getting to see you, the “great” (y/n) (l/n). His shoulders are up slightly and tensed but you know he’s not going to notice, he’s too caught up in his own head right now. For a moment you admire the jacket he’s got on, you’ve never really noticed it but it’s this brown, almost tan leather. He’s wrapped himself in layers despite the heat, but you understand; in a way it’s like armor against an otherwise cruel world. His hair’s up a bit, curly black and soft, like a turbulent stormcloud settled itself on his head. You realize this is kind of appropriate, given his eventual mental state. You resist the urge to frown when you can’t recall ever getting to put your hands through it.

Whatever spirit’s out there controlling him won’t let him be soft. Even if it’s not soft with you, he needs a hug, if nothing else. For that matter, so do you. But you know that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’ve got to see how much he knows. You hope deep down that he’s become aware of the reality (or realities) you both are stuck in. But you haven’t proven anything for sure.

“(y/n), this is Stefan...er…”

“Butler,” you finish before Stefan can. He looks down at you, flustered.

“How-how do you know that?”

You shoot him a cheeky grin. “We’ve met before,” you chirp back with certainty. It’s so corny, you can’t help the dumb face you’re making.

“Have we? I don’t, I feel like I’d remember that. I mean, I-I’ve played all your games, but I’ve never met you until now,” he stammers. “It’s not every day you get to meet (y/n) (l/n).”

For me, it is, you think to yourself. But you hold out a hand and he shakes it, you can feel his hand shake, and your heart goes out to him. This is what hurts: remembering how sweet he is, before everything goes wrong.

“Just (y/n) is fine,” you assure him. “Wanna see what I’m working on?” His eyes go wider and he nods. You hit ‘run’ and the game starts on the main screen.

Beside you, Thakur folds his arms. Fuck him, you’re going to milk this meeting for all the cuteness you can get. You don’t get to see much cute in this forsaken reality.

“Nohsdyve,” Stefan reads the title as if he already knows what it is.

You glance up at him. “That’s right.” You start the game and play a few moments before, surprise surprise, the game freezes and ends. “Fuck me,” you declare dramatically, as if this hasn’t happened.

“What’s happened?” Thakur breaks his silence and leans down.

“Buffer error,” you and Stefan respond at the same time. You exchange a surprised glance as Thakur rolls his eyes.

“Alright, no need to rub it in. You aren’t even in yet,” he gestures at Stefan.

“You’ve got a game to pitch, don’t you?” you spin to face Stefan, stopping your boss from putting his foot in his mouth.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah,” he nods, remembering that that’s why he’s here.

“Why don’t I take this,” you offer quickly as you stand up, covering your keyboard so no one fucks with it, “and you, Mr. T, can take on that reporter who’s sitting in your office.”

“The one who asked for you?” Thakur clarifies, but he’s really saying, This is your mess, not mine.

“You know what happens when I talk to reporters. They make me look like an asshole and then you have to defend Tuckersoft, saying all that shit about how my opinions don’t necessarily reflect the company’s. Cut the middleman, and there’s no story. It’s right up your alley, boss.”

He exhales through his nose. “Take notes, and meet me straight after you’re done,” he orders before walking to his office. Normally Thakur’s supposed to take longer, but you want to cut to the good shit.

You turn to Stefan, who’s relaxed a little now that it’s just the two of you. “He’s normally more shouty, but I’m not complaining.” He nods, and you see his eyes flicker around in doubt. “Come on, then. Show me your game,” you request with a small smile.

A few minutes later, you’re sat on a table with Stefan in a chair on the opposite side. You watch him demo Bandersnatch as he crawls through the dungeon, talking you through the game and answering your questions. You don’t have any way to take notes—you don’t need to. You’ve memorized all this dialogue.

“I haven’t programmed this pathway yet,” he explains when the Out of Range screen appears. You know this, but you like hearing him talk. “It’s getting a little complex at this stage, but...well, I’ll-I’ll get to it.”

“You’ll figure it out once we hire you, right?” you ask him.

When he looks at you in surprise, it hits you what you just implied. Whatever, it’s a plot point, it’ll happen anyway. “Wait, you, you like it?”

“Yeah. This is exactly the kind of hip new game Thakur wants. Not only that, I will say that offhand, this is really impressive. It’s innovative, it’s fresh, and it looks quite good, considering you did this all on your own.” He looks at the screen as you say this. His smile’s so wide you’re afraid his face might split open.

“Thank you,” he remembers his manners for a moment, but even the tips of his ears are bright pink. You’ve got the benefit of too many versions of this conversation, but if it works, it works.

“I mean, taking the behemoth that is Davies’ masterpiece and turning it into this, that can’t be easy. Not just from a programming perspective, but from an intellectual, planning perspective. So many pathways and winding routes...could be enough work to drive someone mad.” By the end you’re musing, but it’s worth pointing out.

“It was.”

You look at him in surprise. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at the game. “But you haven’t programmed all of it,” you clarify, wondering if he just said what you think he said.

“No, not...not in this time, but...no, it’s silly. Sorry.”

“Go on.” This doesn’t feel familiar at all, and it’s grabbed you.

“It’s just that, I think I’m here again because every time I try and finish this, I do something wrong. I’m not in control of myself anymore, I just...I don’t know, I’m just, just...stressy.”

That’s new. “You don’t say.”

“And you’re not supposed to be sat there,” he meets your eyes. “Usually, you’re sort of behind me just kind of watching. But it’s different this time. It’s different than my dream, I mean,” his eyes clench closed for a moment as he tries to make this make sense.

“What’s different?”

“You always leave me alone with him. I don’t know what happens now.” That settles it. He knows. 

You perk up, and suddenly this whole thing doesn’t feel so hopeless.

“Sorry, I, I don’t know where that came from.” He’s scared to look at you now, thinking he’s offended you. “This is going to sound weird, but I keep dreaming this exact scenario, like we’ve already met before, several times. And then you said my last name, and I don’t know if you’re stalking me or, I don’t know, but we already know more than we’re supposed to.”

“This is new, isn’t it.” He still doesn’t look. “New pathway. You haven’t explored all possibilities, because this one’s not familiar.” He looks confused. “You’re right, Stefan. This is different. We’re in just one of many, many branching pathways, but every time you do what they,” you gesture with disdain to the sky, “don’t want you to do, it all starts over.”

“Then...we’ve done this before. It’s not just a dream?”

“No. It’s too real to be a dream.” You hope to God (or whatever’s out there) it isn’t. For his sake, you insist it’s certain.

Stefan nods. “How much do you remember?”

“I know about you resetting when something goes wrong. I know about Netflix, about the therapist and your dad…about me dying in a bunch of them. I remember those endings. Kinda bites, don’t you think?” He nods after a moment. “Well. Didn’t expect you to remember this part. I mean, I do, but you’re doomed to forget. But if you haven’t...” You watch him. “There’s more to you than I thought.”

“I remember...I remember you. I remember hurting you. I remember hating that feeling, the, the impulse to make something happen. Sometimes it wouldn’t come and I’d let you live.”

“For which I was grateful.” 

“But not always.”

From this angle, he’s so precious. You want so badly to just hit pause and keep him looking this cute forever. But you’re not in control. Not right now.

Stefan suddenly puts down the controller and leaps up. You contemplate where the impulse ends and he begins. “Do something,” he urges you.

You laugh breathlessly at this, intrigued. “Alright. Any suggestions?”

“Some-something you haven’t done before.”

“I already did, right? I mean, I got Thakur out of this room so we could talk.”

“No, besides that. Do something new. It’s got to be massive, in the grand scheme of things.”

Instinctively, you glance at the door and head over to it. You stick your head out to make sure no one’s on their way to bother you. You close it again, and this time, you lock it. You’re not sure why, maybe it’s an ending you don’t fully remember. But you’re not gonna risk you-know-who ruining this.

“I thought I was crazy,” he laughs softly from behind you. When you turn to him again, his hands are tangled again. Normally, you’d just kind of nod and agree nervously, if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Stefan. ‘Crazy’ doesn’t really apply when the world is so fucked. “All those dreams, all that...that imagining scenarios and all that. I knew that I knew you.”

“Of course you know me.” You walk over to him and take his hands in yours. “We can’t stay away from each other. Almost every ending has you and me together in some way.”

“But it’s not, it doesn’t always end well, you die so frequently,” his hands tremble, and you bring his knuckles to your lips and kiss them. He stops short and stares at you.

“There you go. I did something,” you grin at him. “If this ends soon, at least I got to do that.”

His face melts to pure joy. “I like this path a lot,” he tells you sweetly. Your heart melts instantly. You’re surprised the two of you haven’t just become part of the floor by now.

“I can’t keep being cool like this,” you hear yourself saying before you can stop it. “I’m in love with you.” He practically gasps. But you’re far from done. “I’m so in love, I’m surprised I didn’t say this sooner. I don’t care what happens to me in this time. If we have to be stuck in a loop for all of fucking eternity, I’ll find every way I can to let you know how wonderful you are. In spite of it all, in spite of everything the alternate versions of you have done, I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? I’m gonna make that spirit that’s making your life miserable work overtime. We decide this ending.”

“(y/n)?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I…” He stops himself, but you see his eyes flicker to your lips and back up, and you know what he wants to ask.

“Quick, before they make you do something bad,” you tease. He giggles at this.

His lips crash onto yours, and it’s like you’ve broken open the universe, and you feel the joy that must’ve been stolen from all your other lifetimes, all released at once. The two of you intertwine, clumsily at first--you’ve never gotten this close without him killing you in some fashion, so this is new. But as you get used to him, especially the way he almost shakes with joy as you break to breathe and then kiss again, there’s barely an atom of air separating you from him.

You pull back a moment to ask what’s wrong, he seems to be shaking more than before. But before you can get the words out, you see two fat tears stream down his cheeks, and you cup his face and swipe them away. He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp and he throws his arms around you. You realize, as you two hold each other, that your eyes have decided to follow suit.

“No matter what changes,” you swallow as you try to get the words out, you’re suddenly afraid this is all going to go away, “no matter what’s different, I fucking love you.”

“I love you, (y/n),” he’s having trouble speaking too, but he’s trying. “I’m sorry for all the terrible things I did to you.” He sniffles and you hug him even tighter.

“Those are all different timelines, Stefan,” you remind him. “You haven’t stabbed me in this one, so I think we’re fine.” This earns a choked-up laugh.

You step back a little. His hands are still in contact with your arms, not holding you but just resting there. Your eyes well up again as you look at him. “What do we do now?” he asks softly. You think for a moment. “Do we keep going down the path?”

“Fuck the paths,” you say suddenly. His eyes go wide. “Seriously. Every time we do anything related to this, or the fucking game, shit goes wrong. Look, I know this thing is your life’s work, but let’s just...let’s get out of here. If Thakur tries to stop us, I’ll remind him you’re not an employee. Not yet, anyway. Before you lose your mind trying to program more of that, or you kill me for trying to help you, let’s just enjoy this. But not here.”

“You mean…” His eyes light up.

You wipe your eyes and smile at him excitedly. “Get your coat, let’s go back to my place.”

The two of you leave the room, leaving the game stuck on an ‘Out of Range’ error screen. To your knowledge it’s still stuck there. For now, he’s not going to program that pathway. No one is. You two are going to enjoy being together, and knowing more than you’re supposed to, in the privacy of your own home. No drugs, no paths, no paranoia, nothing. There’s a comfy couch at home, and it’s got yours and Stefan’s names on it.

A/N: More fluff! I’m glad a bunch of you liked the previous Stefan/reader so much. I hope you liked this one! Be sure to like it if you did (and reblog it if you feel so inclined, but no pressure!). I’m currently open to requests [https://cosmicflowchart.tumblr.com/ask]. I also do Colin/readers but as you may have guessed by now, I enjoy writing for Stefan. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a good day! You belong on this earth and you deserve joy <3 -Cosmic