LIGHTS UP

[lvghtsup]

—      ZAR .

zar had to let out a laugh at that; short as it was, it was still his first of the day. maybe his first in a few days, he wasn’t exactly keeping track. the stats could only depress him. “just stitch a pride flag onto all of your shirts like a cape, he’ll get the hint eventually.” sure, it sounded perfectly benevolent, even nice, but it was a pretty big thing to forget about your friend. maybe this man didn’t date very often but, with another quick look up and down, that didn’t seem at all likely. he was extremely good-looking. his eyes snagged on his hand for a moment, as he realized how it dwarfed the cigarette he held. zar pressed his lips together momentarily, trying not to imagine those hands pressed against him (lonely and horny) before he turned his attention back to his face. 

he gritted his teeth a tad, a little embarrassed at this snag. “it’s just- people think i spell my name like a tsar, with a t-s like a russian monarch. i’ve gotten people misspelling it all the time.” though, honestly, he wouldn’t put it past his mother to name him tsar. she’d always had such big plans for him, before she decided he wasn’t worth the effort. either way, he was glad to move on. 

zar raised his eyebrows at the name: honey, golden, sugar-sweet, languid, rolling right off the tongue. if you’re the honey i’m the bee, zar thought, and snorted at himself. yeah, no way was he saying that out loud. he let out another laugh at honey’s shameless flirtation, gaze falling to his feet. he really liked honey, he did, but… but just the concept of dating again had his stomach twisting into knots. suddenly, he was back, he was losing his temper, he was shaking in fear, he was waiting to be abandoned again and again and again. god, how pathetic was he? he had someone coming onto him, maybe even just for a one night stand, and he didn’t have the heart to accept. 

“i’d…” it took a moment for zar to find his voice, and he looked back up again, “i’d tell you to meet me after my shift, but i don’t think i’ll be upright for long after that.” especially after his shifts at luxy, zar tended to pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

as soon as zar laughed, honey wanted to hear it again; only a few minutes into their conversation, and he was already eager to be the one making him smile. that sort of thing was dangerous — having that sort of power could only spell bad news for honey. well, his life was too monotonous anyway. perhaps some drama could do him some good. “ i’ll have to take that suggestion into account, ” he replied, chuckling a little. “ it’d certainly be a little more loud and proud than what i usually wear. ” he gestured down to himself: it was date night, which meant clothes without any holes ( an incredible feat, truly ). dark t-shirt, dark jeans. pretty straightforward.

“ like a tsar, ” honey repeated slowly, as if he didn’t understand ( and, quite frankly, he didn’t ). “ gotcha. ” he was just as eager to move past it as zar was; he didn’t need to spend more time reflecting on his own shortcomings in the intelligence department. honey didn’t mean to cause them both to trip up like this, but, well. he seemed to be fairly apt at putting his foot in his mouth.

honey tried to hide his disappointment at zar’s hesitation, but his poker face had never been one to win any awards. he didn’t know what, exactly, he’d wanted from this guy ( maybe a one night stand, maybe more; he was charming, and funny, and hot ), but he couldn’t quite tell if this was a legitimate excuse for the night or if the guy was just trying to avoid someone he wasn’t interested in. “ don’t worry about it, ” he reassured him, shaking his head a little. honey wasn’t about to be that asshole who got all pissed off at someone for not immediately fucking him. “ i am hitting on you at work, after all, which is kind of a dick move anyway. ”

he pushed off the wall, tapping some ash off his cigarette before he lifted it to his lips once more. honey took a long drag, glancing over at zar once he’d breathed out the smoke, a long, curling line of it vanishing into the cool night air. “ i can let you enjoy the rest of your break in peace, ” he told him, dropping the cigarette butt to the ground. “ before you have to go back in and deal with more dudes like me. ” he offered him a smile. “ it was nice to meet you, zar. ”

[ghostsandgoblins]

Anastasia (1997) dir. Don Bluth and Gary Goldman

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

@lvghtsup

[ghostsandgoblins]

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

99 problems and leo is definitely 1 | mo & leo

[lvghtsup]

—      MO .

@lvghtsup·

When Moses transferred to Verona, he had one goal: to finish his book.

He told his father something like ‘transferring to a university will allow me to widen my breadth of study’ or ‘I’ll have more opportunities for outreach.’ Some shit like that.

Theology was his only option. He was a master’s student, after all. One didn’t just change one’s mind halfway through (even if seminary school had left him with a bad taste in his mouth). Anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to tell his family about his newfound love for putting blue ink on lined paper. Moses quite liked that weaving stories of grandeur and fantasy, mysticism, and magic was his secret and his alone. When he was in the hospital, he had written the majority of his first book. Now he was taking a break from the editing process to start the second.

Usually, he’d hide in the library. But he was inspired. And it was a beautiful day.

He was meant to be reading The Bible or the Torah or a book by some dead guy. Whatever it was, it was tossed to the side of the bench, forgotten. It was only by chance that he looked up when reaching for his coffee, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

Fuck me.

But they had already made eye contact, albeit brief. And one of the sources of Moses’ myriad of problems was making his way over. He had to think fast, stabbing out his cigarette against the arm of the bench. Did he have enough time to escape? He might have enough time to escape. He would risk it. Collecting his items in enough haste for all of his stray papers to slip from his notebook. “Fuck.” Listen, the Bible on the campus floor was one thing, but his manuscript? All it would take was one gust of wind for that shit to be spread across campus, and he’d be damned if he’d let that happen.

Mo gingerly lowered himself to the ground, pen stuck behind his ear, for now, hands scrambling for stray paper. He tried to keep focused. Maybe if he didn’t look up, Leo wouldn’t – damn it he was looking up. He didn’t mean to it just happened. “I…” He stopped his glasses from completely slipping off his face with a knuckle, before returning to his task,  “…I got it…”

he’d been walking across campus, minding his own business, when fate turned his way for a brief, shining moment. 

folio tucked under one arm, charcoal pencil tucked behind one ear, and shirt haphazardly tucked into the front of his jeans: he was, as ever, the picture of artistic, purposeful messiness. every choice was part of the image he projected on this campus, another piece of the puzzle that was leo rojas; if he presented himself as enough of a whirlwind, it’d be damn near impossible for anyone to weave together all of these little hints and uncover his marshmallow center. he had a rep to protect, after all, one that he was just barely clinging to after his ( rather spectacular ) public dumping not too long ago.

the key, the ticket, the all access pass back to his former standing was sitting on a bench not too far from leo’s usual path across the quad, cigarette in one hand and a notebook in the other. some book was tossed to the side, forgotten, and leo had already started making his way over by the time he glanced up, meeting his eyes. he being mo. moses, to be specific. what a name. 

and here, dear reader, is where we come back to fate: the scattering of mo’s papers across the ground, enough to halt him in his escape.

when an opportunity like this presented itself, leo was never one to pass. connecting with mo was hard enough on the daily, especially since he very well knew how the man saw him. that was the whole point of ava’s little challenge, though, wasn’t it ? he had damn near everyone else on this campus under his spell, and this was his chance to even out that percentage. 

approaching his target, leo knelt down next to him, abandoning his folio to one side as he helped him gather up stray papers that had escaped. “ no, no, it’s alright, ” he insisted, reaching for a piece at the same time as mo, a smile growing on his face when their hands brushed. “ you looked like you needed the help. ” he glanced down at the paper they’d both reached for, eyes scanning briefly across the page before he looked back up at mo. “ this isn’t your thesis, is it ? it sure as hell doesn’t look like one. ”

[lvghtsup]

—      ZAR .

it was probably because the guy was hot, but zar could feel him checking him out, head to toe, like a physical thing. his gaze was terribly intense, and when their eyes met, however briefly, zar couldn’t hide the smile that crossed his features. and, if he paid particularly close attention to how this man’s lips wrapped around the cigarette, how they turned up when he laughed, that was nobody’s business but his own.

zar hummed in understanding, taking a drag as he listened. he had to snort, though, when he heard that honey was gay. “wow,” zar deadpanned, “helluva friend you’ve got there.” plenty of people had tried to hook zar up at one point or another, but he’d never had anyone fuck up that badly. though, to be fair, he’d been on a blind date with a girl who did barbecue competitions all across the country. they hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye.

he glanced up at the man again, a slow smile creeping its way across his lips. “yeah?” zar asked, looking back down at his cigarette. “well, i hope that the next,” zar checked his phone, “eleven minutes will be enough to make your night. i still have a shift to finish.” it quickly occurred to zar that this might be a dickish thing to say, but being a dick wasn’t exactly foreign to him. he’d never been popular among his peers. well, he was popular to fuck, but nobody kept him around.

with that, he offered a hand, “i’m zar, by the way. and no, not like tsar nikolas the second.” he’d gotten that one too many times, better to clear the air immediately. plus, he hoped to seem somewhat charming; even if he was sure this man wasn’t going to stick around, he’d still like to sleep with him; it was hard to look at him and not think about his hands on zar’s hips.

honey let out a snort. helluva friend indeed. he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for healthy relationships in general, much less friendships. after all, that guy was one of the better friends he had, and he couldn’t even remember something as simple as his sexual orientation. “ i mean, it was a perfectly benevolent attempt. he just has the memory of a fucking goldfish. maybe i’ll just start wearing exclusively rainbow shit around him until he gets the hint. ”

at zar’s introduction, honey immediately found himself lost. “ not like... who ? ” honey’s brow furrowed, all two of his brain cells trying to puzzle through whatever zar had just said. he only just resisted the urge to actually scratch his head, trying to recover as if he hadn’t just shown his hand ( as in, how much of an idiot he was on the daily ). it was a little too late to take that aspect of himself out of the equation, but maybe if he moved past it fast enough, it wouldn’t matter. honey widened his smile once more, shaking zar’s hand and lingering for an extra moment before he dropped his hand. 

“ you can call me honey, ” he replied, brushing past his mishap. “ that is actually my name, not just a come on— but to be clear, this, ” he gestured between them, “ is absolutely a come on. since we only have eleven minutes, efficiency is key here. i’m not gonna beat around the bush. ” what did he have to lose by being brazen ? absolutely nothing. he was already on a disaster of a date, and worst case scenario, the guy wouldn’t be interested and would head back inside. honey would be disappointed, certainly, but he’d survive. 

[yassmines-deactivated20161205]

me: *puts lipstick on, kisses the page and sprays it with perfume, passes the attendance sheet*

[april-kepner]

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

@lvghtsup

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

everyone’s favorite lackey | oz & vi

[lvghtsup]

—      OZ .

@lvghtsup·

The past year (months even) had brought forth more questions than answers. Let alone many solutions or conclusions that Oz was comfortable with. For almost the entirety of the autumn, he’d felt confused and angry and afraid. Yes, afraid. Not just for himself but for the people around him. Ashmont had never been… safe for him, for a variety of reasons. In retrospect, he could not understand why he chose to stay. He was too loyal. Even to the people and places that burned (and were generally of no benefit for him to be around). Maybe it was some form of self-punishment. He’d need to consider that later. He already made two significant steps in the past month: 1) beating a pillow into submission and forgiving Daisey and Nate and 2) caving and finally committing to getting fitted for a hearing aid. Therapy would come. Give him a break.

Needless to say, if there was one thing Oz knew, without a doubt, it was that he needed to get out of Ashmont. Luckily, his core group of people – his people – had the same idea.

But as much as Oz wanted to act like he knew everything, he didn’t. For example, amongst the many things he still needed to figure out was his relationship with Vitória –  curious and different and proving to be something of a learning curve. A warm, familiar one, at least.

He was learning to enjoy being the bag carrier. “Vitoria.” it was almost a whine because Oz was a big baby, “You realize it’s no fun for when you go in there with 1000 clothing items and don’t show me any of them on.” He glanced around the little corridor in front of the dressing rooms where he was told to wait, “There’s a floor-length mirror out here for a reason.” He could see her ankles peeking from under the dressing room door. Leaning back in the cushioned chair, “I’ll fall asleep if you’re not careful. Then who’s going to carry your bags?”

for all her showmanship and love of the spotlight, vi had always been something of a coward. at the first sign of trouble, she tended to run; kinder opinions would label her as careful, perhaps, but the recklessness she displayed in other aspects of her life would paint the reality otherwise. if nothing else, though, she was consistent. as soon as the thirty of them had all voted for their own safety, she’d practically bolted from ashmont, not bothering to take a moment to look back. after all, she’d always felt more comfortable in big cities; more people to enchant, more people to steal from, the like. none of this surprising to her. she was a creature of habit.

what had surprised her, though, was how content she’d been to get out with someone by her side. in general, oz had a tendency to surprise her, if she was being honest. it was a little disorienting, but she didn’t think she minded so much anymore. 

“ if you fall asleep, i will end you, oz lamar, ” she called out, turning this way and that to admire herself in the dressing room mirror. the room was piled with all sorts of expensive things; sequins and silk and satin alike flowed toward the floor from every surface. though stealing oz’s card for her own benefit had always been all sorts of fun, it had quickly become even more diverting to have him along for the ride. for one thing, it meant an extra set of hands to carry whatever she ended up picking out. for another, it meant having an audience. 

and there were few things vi loved more than an audience. 

“ alright, prepare yourself, ” she announced, swinging the dressing room door open a moment later, ever with a flair for the dramatic. “ tell me your opinion. honest answers only, please; i can’t do anything with compliments if they aren’t real. ” she drifted toward the full length mirror, fabric rustling around her legs as she moved past him. the dress was floor-length and red, as attention-grabbing as vitória herself. “ what do you think ? ”

[lvghtsup]

—      LORRIE .

mags had warned lorrie there would be a new hire coming in today, so she was expecting to see an unfamiliar face. she wasn’t expecting to see one she knew so well. her eyes widened, and she instantly felt the need to hide, that name and face years old but still quick to be called to the forefront of her mind. frenchie waverly. when she shut her eyes she saw her at age fourteen, all blonde hair and curling glossy lips, asking her about the music she was listening to. and lorrie had talked, not used to having kids her own age listen to her for so long. 

she remembered frenchie’s voice echoing throughout the third floor girl’s restroom, talking about some weirdo girl who talked about chopin like he was justin bieber, how she probably had a crush on a long-dead composer, how her heart leapt to her throat when she realized it was her, she was the weirdo. lorrie had been in a stall at the time, but drew up her feet, so frenchie and her friends wouldn’t know she was in there. she’d missed third period avoiding them and crying in that very same stall. how every time she almost started ranting about her favorite artists or books for the next few years, she remembered frenchie’s smiling face and echoing laugh, and clammed up instantly. even now, the memory was crystal clear. 

and lorrie realized she was staring, and forced a smile. there was no way this reunion wouldn’t be awkward. she straightened up, though, and tried to make fourteen-year-old lorelei proud. “hey frenchie. long time, no see.”

@lvghtsup·

a job. god, how awful. frenchie had always much preferred the easy side of life; manicures on tuesdays, blowouts on thursdays, brunch on saturday mornings with all of her closest friends who knew not a single important thing about her. but now her mom was saying she needed to get some work ethic, actually do something with her days, and that was quite possibly the worst thing she could’ve imagined. nevertheless, her mom had refused to relent, so here she was: walking through the door of a café, going up to the counter, opening her mouth, ready to introduce herself as the new hire. and, ultimately, stopping before she could say a word, perfectly manicured brows drawing together in confusion. 

“ i’m sorry, ” she began, glittering white teeth all in a row. read: pageant-girl smile on, in hopes of charming this dark-haired barista into doing all the work for her. perhaps she’d compliment her shoes or something, which would inevitably be awful — would that do the trick ? it was always hard to tell. frenchie didn’t want to be here in the slightest, and she was already trying to work out the best way to not be here as much as she could while still allocating herself enough funds to stay clad in lilly pulitzer. “ do i know you ? ”

a stupid question. she knew her name, she’d called her frenchie. if she’d seen her during the pageant competition, she’d probably do that stupid thing that frenchie’s fans usually did; they gushed endlessly, calling her miss south carolina in place of her actual name. she welcomed the praise, but she’d always found that cheesy. this girl didn’t exactly seem like a fan, but... you never knew.

[lvghtsup]

—      SONNY .

sonny liked to think that every book, every poem, EVERYTHING he ever read stuck with him to some degree, but it was irrefutable that there were some things that only catching a glimpse of monty watching him, intently, caused to surface in his mind. like a farewell to arms by ernest hemingway, chapter thirty-nine, when frederic had said ‘hell, i love you enough now. what do you want to do? ruin me?’ and catherine had answered ‘yes. i want to ruin you.’ as much as sonny loved hemingway, he had never understood the way that frederic, in kind, had replied ‘good. that’s what i want, too.’ he hadn’t been able to understand why someone would ever WANT to be ruined— until, of course, he learned what it felt like to be the person responsible for making monty chamberlain smile all bright-eyed and beautiful, and very promptly decided that monty could ruin him whichever way he liked. 

“really. i suppose LUCKY is a pretty subjective word, but that all depends on the true nature of your visit.” it was really nothing short of a fucking MIRACLE that sonny managed to ever keep his head on straight around monty, that he could make out any form of intelligible communication while his brain was, quite literally, short-circuiting.  it didn’t exactly help that sometimes sonny would glance his way and find monty already staring, something in his eyes that sonny couldn’t quite place. if he ever allowed his hopeful, naive optimism to take the wheel, then maybe he’d be able to come up with an answer, but that was far too great of a risk to run. it sounded like the EXACT sort of thing he’d do— trick himself into thinking that beautiful, charming, perfect monty would EVER look at him like that, just to make an even bigger fool out of himself than he already did. not fucking likely, of course, but that did little to stop him from allowing himself to live in that imaginary world, sometimes. “how generous,” sonny shook his head, an almost fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he extended his hand, offering monty his drink. he only got himself to tear his gaze away after he was sure it had already been fixed upon monty’s features for a moment too long, shifting gears to busy himself with untying the apron behind his back. “you sticking around? or did you really just come for the coffee?”

“ the true nature of my visit, ” monty echoed, narrowing his eyes slightly at sonny. “ why, sonny, it sounds like you don’t trust my intentions. i promise you, i have only the purest of hearts. ” he held up a hand. “ scout’s honor. ” as if monty chamberlain had ever been a damn boy scout. he wasn’t exactly the type. nevertheless, he kept trying, leaning on the counter once more in an attempt to be closer in range to the radiance of sonny’s smile. “ i don’t just come here for the coffee, mi amor, ” he told him, shaking his head as if he was being ridiculous for even asking such a thing. “ i come for the view. ” monty leaned back slightly, giving sonny a slow once-over in an attempt to get his point across. knowing sonny, it was very unlikely that he’d get the hint; if nothing else, monty would be able to get lucas to start gagging in the background. he was the only one that ever seemed to pick up on monty’s blatant flirtation, and it was overall a very bad time for both of them when lucas had to listen to him crash and burn on the daily when he tried to pick sonny up. 

it was a good thing he wasn’t deterred easily. less determined people would’ve given up eons ago, but monty had an ego the size of the sun and way too much time on his hands. thus, it was likely that he’d never give up. not at this rate. now that he had his drink in hand, monty started to turn away from the counter, only glancing back to catch a glimpse of sonny untying his apron. “ tick tock, ” he said, turning once more to continue his journey toward a cluster of cozy chairs in one corner. this was a favorite vantage point of his; it had a perfect view of the counter, so on days where monty didn’t arrive at the perfect time to catch sonny on his break, he could still see him. he sank into one of the chairs, cradling his americano in one hand. “ how has your shift been so far ? ” he asked once sonny had moved close enough, taking a sip of his coffee. “ you don’t look ready to die yet, so i’m hoping it’s been alright, for your sake. ”

[lvghtsup]

—      ZAR .

to zar, being exhausted wasn’t a state of being, it was a fact of life. the sky was blue, the grass was green, and zar was constantly tired. the amount of legwork he had to do behind this bar was all that was keeping him awake. well, that, and having to deal with the oh so lovely patrons of the luxy nightclub. there was one woman in particular that zar had had to keep his eye on all night; she kept trying to dance on the bar. unfortunately, this job required far more observation and brainpower than he would like. 

still, if he hadn’t been keeping his eyes peeled, he would still have noticed the man with the messy hair and the square jaw. now, zar wasn’t a perfect person, he tended to take a bit of schadenfreude in the embarrassment of his customers, so he knew a bad date when he saw one. and what a pity, for such a hot guy to be on what was clearly an incredibly awkward date. it wasn’t until their eyes met, briefly, that zar’s heartbeat picked up speed, and he turned away fully; zar immediately loved his eyes, dark and intense. 

he pinched the bridge of his nose. lonely and horny, ros, he told himself, you’re just lonely and horny. 

it wasn’t much longer until his manager told zar it was time for his fifteen minutes, and he didn’t look as he tossed his towel under the bar and headed for fresh air. his cigarette was already lit by the time he got outside, even though the club had a strict no-smoking policy, but honestly? zar was running on three hours of sleep and was edging ever closer to fuck everything. so, unfortunately, his first instinct when he heard someone curse next to him was to glare. 

he blinked that away, though, when he realized who it was: the hot guy on a shitty date. fuck, his hair really was a bird’s nest, but it… worked for him, weirdly. there was a lazy intentness about him, or maybe just pure laziness, that showed in everything from the wrinkles in his shirt to the easy curve of his mouth. something about him made zar want to fall asleep, or maybe that was just the chronic fatigue. 

zar managed a smile at his request, digging around his pocket for his lighter. “yeah.” he flicked it open and on, offering it to the other man. after a beat, he asked, “having a good time in there?” 

honey put his cigarette between his lips, leaning forward to catch the end of it in the open flame offered to him. after a moment, he pulled away, blowing out an initial puff of smoke as he considered his new companion. it really was too bad that honey’d been stuck with ryan instead of someone like him; his eyes tiptoed down the man’s profile, studying everything from the slope of his nose to his obscenely long eyelashes. his mouth was even more tempting up close, and honey would’ve felt bad about hitting on him at work if he’d taken half a second to reflect on something other than how hot this guy was. 

at his relatively innocent question, honey couldn’t help but let out a snort, smoke puffing out of his mouth. he had to laugh; he didn’t know if the bartender had seen much beyond the one time they’d met each other’s gazes, but it was most likely very clear as to how bad of a date he was currently on. nevertheless, he wouldn’t leave him hanging, so he shot him a wry grin before answering. 

“ i’m on a pretty fucking awful date right now, ” he said honestly, shrugging one shoulder as he took another drag. “ it’s not her fault or anything, but, uh… we were set up by a mutual friend, and he’s constantly forgetting the fact that i’m gay. ryan turned out to be a very nice girl, but that doesn’t mean i’m gonna suddenly be into women now, you know ? ”

he took another glance over at the guy, letting his mouth settle into something of a smirk. “ if i’m being honest, though, my night’s looking a lot better right now. ” not the most subtle of attempts to flirt, but since this guy was in the middle of a shift, honey figured he didn’t have a lot of time until he had to head back inside. he had to make it count.

[mickeymouseclubhouse]

pretty boys flock together | min-jae & monty

[lvghtsup]

—      MIN-JAE .

@lvghtsup·

There was never anything exciting about charity events or banquets or balls. It was all frivolous marketing nonsense, decorated in gracious fillagree but serving more as a headache (for Min-Jae) and a jerk-off of their own dicks (for the fundraisers) than genuine altruism and especially not humanitarianism. Please. They were all blood-sucking parasites here, Min-Jae included. At least Pak wore who he was like a badge of honor: a second-generation North American Asshole. Both his parents were jerks. He was a jerk… None of this ‘I’m a good person, I’m just like you, the people, I promise just don’t look at my Corvette’ nonsense. Why was he here?

Oh right. The book.

Funny, how a PR representative would need a PR representative for himself. To be fair, Min-Jae didn’t exactly work in light public relations, did he? Like the vampire that he was, he operated far more advantageously shrouded in darkness, lurking in corners, *vague hand motion,* you know. 

But the book. Min-Jae was here because of his book. Another business ‘how-to,’ another accolade from The Times. Another book tour, another give away. Luckily he didn’t have to talk tonight – that would have been the straw that broke the camels back (and Min-Jae’s back held very little tolerance for most everything) – but it was one of those things… Where his agent had informed him that he had to attend. So. Here he was. Sipping on a glass of red wine and condensing what little energy he maintained towards keeping from ending it all with a swift stab to the jugular with his fork.

That is until he spotted a familiar, smug (very smug) face across the room. Eye contact, first, before considering his options. It wasn’t usual for Min-Jae to approach someone else (everyone MUST come to him). But in his current predicament, it was either go and greet Monty or have a brain aneurism. The latter was just barley less preferable.

“Monty Chamberlain. It’s been a while.”

another day, another party. for someone who didn’t work, monty had a rather full schedule; part of it was certainly due to his hobby of participating in art heists, but most of it was due to the never-ending cycle of galas and balls and events and whatever that he was consistently invited to. as a chamberlain, it was more about the name than anything else. monty himself was always a delight to have around, flitting from guest to guest and charming the pants off of every single one. that was, quite simply, the way he was, and his presence alone was known to elevate a party’s status.

if it weren’t for his impeccable memory, there’d be no way monty would be able to recall the names of this many guests, much less where he even was in the moment. now, he was at an event for some new book — from min-jae himself, a name monty had recognized as soon as he’d opened the invitation. not exactly the master of conversation, but, well. there was no denying his skill when it came to his career. the success of his new book was speaking for itself, after all.

speak of the devil, and he shall appear; monty locked eyes with the author-slash-PR representative-slash-rumored demon from across the room almost as soon as he’d called up thoughts of him in his mind. it wasn’t long until the man himself had made his way across the room, appearing in front of monty like he’d been summoned from some dark netherworld. monty was half-surprised he didn’t pop in directly from a poof of dark smoke. it would’ve felt appropriate, considering his reputation.

“ min-jae. a pleasure, as always, to see you, ” he greeted in kind, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips and taking a sip. “ congratulations on the book. this is quite the party you’ve put on. ” he gestured to their surroundings, the rich people slowly imbibing everything in sight ( and, undoubtedly, becoming drunker by the moment ). “ how does it feel to be the guest of honor ? ”

[lvghtsup]

@alyswrites​ — throughout the course of the date, honey’s eyes had followed him. his movements were graceful and quick, his hair fell over his forehead in perfect curls, and his mouth looked fucking sinful, even in the low lights of the club. he was so his type that it was almost outrageous, and even though their eyes had only met once, it had made honey’s heart skip a beat.

he was also the fucking bartender.

honey’s date, by contrast, was a pretty, willowy blonde named ryan. she was, most notably, not a man, as honey had been led to believe. his idiot of a friend couldn’t seem to get it through his head that honey was gay, as in attracted to men, and also did not seem to understand that ryan, as a woman, was distinctly not his type. he felt bad, but he kept getting distracted by the pretty-boy bartender, and ryan knew it. he knew that ryan knew it. it was a whole thing.

after an hour or so had passed by ( and it was a miracle they made it that long in the first place ), honey informed ryan that he was headed outside for a smoke. the subtext said alone, and she almost looked relieved as she gave him a smile and pulled out her phone. no doubt to text some friend to say something like oh my god this date is atrocious, but, well, honey couldn’t blame her. she’d been set up with a gay man, after all.

a gay man who was oh-so-conveniently taking a smoke break at the same time as the bartender he’d been eyeing for the better part of an hour.

“ shit, ” he muttered as soon as he was outside ( and, most importantly, in hearing range of Hot Bartender ), patting his pockets with his cigarette in hand. he raised his gaze toward the guy, taking a couple of steps closer. “ you got a light, by any chance ? ”

[brandon-crawford]

sports fan self care is just,,,,, turning the tv off

[nflstreet-deactivated20180710]

[bidoctor]

[lvghtsup]

—      SONNY .

sonny’s gaze wavered from monty’s own for a fleeting moment when he mirrored his expression, lifting an eyebrow right back at him in a way that made sonny’s stomach do a swift nosedive. which, like. maybe it was just a little bit too true to sit comfortably in his chest. maybe he wasn’t CONCEITED for thinking it, no, but maybe he was trying to fool himself into believing in something that didn’t exist — like the possibility that someone like him could EVER stand a chance when it came to someone like monty. and he wasn’t that stupid, he knew that he didn’t. he wouldn’t. and that was fine, he was fine. 

still, monty made it all-but impossible to think of anything BUT him, especially when he was leaning against the counter and grinning at him like THAT. “no, not all of them. guess YOU’RE just that lucky,” he lifted one shoulder in a flimsy shrug, crooked smile on his lips growing a fraction wider, pretending like the rhythm of his breathing hadn’t shifted when the pet name fell from his lips, like it was EASY for him to say. it wasn’t as easy for him to hear— or, rather, to process. “nobody knows how to make an americano… unbelievable, isn’t it?” the trick was to pour the espresso over the water, because doing it the other way around disrupted the espresso. he wasn’t QUITE convinced that it was actually noticeable, but would he ever say as much? and risk the possibility of having monty come into the shop to have anyone BUT him make his drinks? absolutely not. “you’re just in time,” he added, starting the espresso machine with a quiet whir. “i’m about to take my break.” 

monty didn’t know how he did it — how sonny floated through life so unaware, so casually beautiful that it damn near made his heart stop. his hair was, as always, a fucking mess perched atop his head, but it somehow suited him. while monty spent an endless amount of time each morning perfecting his appearance, every hair and thread in place, sonny was effortlessly beautiful. he was jealous and enamored all at once. it was a testament to his self-control, really, that he had yet to pull sonny across the counter to kiss him. since, apparently, sonny either hadn’t caught onto his flirting yet… or he was trying to avoid it entirely. monty hoped it was the former, even if it meant that sonny was an idiot. 

he watched him with interest, gaze flitting back and forth between sonny and the espresso machine. “ oh, really ? ” monty asked, feigning casual interest, as if he hadn’t come into the shop in the first place with the exact goal of badgering sonny into taking his break. “ what great timing. i guess i really am lucky. ” he straightened up once more, drumming an idle pattern on the countertop. “ how much do i owe you ? no, never mind, i don’t want to know. ” he pulled out his wallet, slipping a ten across the counter. “ put the change in the tip jar. for impeccable service, even if i got harassed in the process. ”