Riley had never been shy of a little rain. As a kid she embraced the rainy days, she would always slip on her rubber boots and raincoat and out she’d go; splashing, jumping, twirling around in the downpour with her mouth wide open. It was almost too perfect that the boy she ended up falling in love with, loved getting caught in the rain just as much as she did.
So when the wind picked up on their afternoon walk through the park after school, she glanced up at the black cloud that consumed the sky above and felt a rush of excitement. They were only a few blocks from Lucas’ apartment complex but there was no way they’d make it there before the storm started.
Lucas furrowed his eyebrows as he looked to the now dark sky, clutching Riley’s hand in his as if he was preparing to run. “Is this why you wanted to walk to mine?” His mouth curled into a small smirk as he gazed knowingly at the brunette before him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as they continued their trek to his house.
The scent of rain is heavy and a stillness falls over the street, and in the silence comes a low crackle of thunder. For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind holds its breath. A streak of lightning splits the sky, and the downpour begins.
“Run!” Riley shrieked, as they ran across the slippery sidewalk, weakened by the weight of their now soaked clothes. Neither of them could stop the smiles from forming on their faces as they leaped across puddles while Lucas hovered his jacket over their heads to shield their eyes from the rainfall.
Flying around the corner of a back road he almost missed her. She was wearing tight, dark ripped up jeans a plain white v-neck tee and a black leather jacket with black boots laced up to her mid calves. She had a black pack slung over her shoulder and her dark chestnut hair waved around the length of her arm as she held it out with her thumb in the air.
Slowing down he stopped just a head of the direction her thumb had pointed. As she jogged up to him he pulled a spare helmet from the compartment below his seat. “Thanks.” She said reaching him and accepting the helmet. She clipped it on as he re-mounted his bike and started it back up.
“Where to?” He yelled over the engine as she straddled the bike behind him. She pulled herself in close her thighs squeezing his hips and one arm wrapped low on his waist.
“Just drive really fast baby.” She purred on the shell of his ear. That’s when he felt it the barrel of a hand gun pressed into his side along his ribs.
Happy smirked and revved the throttle taking off.
Slowing around a corner he was met with a road block. Cops were everywhere. Feeling her grip him impossibly tighter Happy revved up and pulled down on the throttle. She held her grip on him as he weaved through the barricade and off down the highway.
Once they were free and clear he drove them long into the night. Pulling up to an abandoned motel he drove around back and hid his bike under an awning. He said nothing as he walked to the nearest room and broke into the door.
She watched with suspension, gun still firm in her grasp. She eyed him as he held the door open for her. “Get in.” He growled she kept her eyes on him and gun pointed as she stepped forward and backed into the room.
He turned and locked the door then moved to close the blinds. Turning around she still held the gun on him.
The moon was full and bright bleeding through the slats of the broken window coverings. “Put it down little girl.”
She watched as he removed his kutte and set it on the back of a chair near by. Noticing his guns in his holster she decided to maintain her hold on the weapon in her hand.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He grumbled removing the weapons and placing them on the side table as a show of no ill will.
Tilting her chin to seem taller she asked “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” He stared into her crystal blue eyes. As he stepped forward and placed his hand over her gun.
She searched his dark eyes for what she wasn’t sure. “I guess not.” She conceded finally lowering her weapon and allowing him to take it.
He tossed it to the side. Moving closer to her than before.
No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be. He wrapped his hand in her windblown locks and pulled her in kissing her with a brusing force.
Moaning she parted her lips and bit harshly on on his lower one. He growled ripping the jacket from her shoulders and ducking to wrap his large hands around the back of her thighs and lift her to his level.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed the empty holster off his shoulders before pulling at his shirt. Feeling her trying to rip the shirt off he tossed her onto the old motel bed. He reached behind his head with one hand and pulled it off in one smooth motion.
He watched as her eyes went wide. Crawling on her knees to the edge where he stood. Slowly she reached out an adrenalin shook hand and ran it up his cut torso admiring the colorfully sculpted display before her. When her hand reached his chest he grabbed it causing her to look up into his eyes. Using the hold on her wrist he pulled her closer his other hand wrapping around her throat pulling her in for another crushing heated kiss. Lifting her chin with the thumb of the hand on her neck he trailed his mouth down her neck biting and sucking on his way. Reaching the top of her v-neck tee he pulled his hands away and took a firm grasp on the collar of her shirt and tugged effectively ripping the thin shirt in half.
With his mouth now on her chest she reached forward tugging at his belt and pushing down his pants. Moving his mouth back to hers he reached around to unclasp her bra. Pulling it away he layed her down and reached between them to pull off her jeans.
Sitting up he slid his fingers under her waistband and pulled them down her thighs with her underwear. Tossing them behind his head he looked down and saw something he just had to try. Once again taking a firm hold of her legs he lifted them over his shoulders as he ducked his head and took a long stroke up her folds with his toung. “FUCK” she screamed above him.
Bringing one hand around the underside of her ass he reached up and slipped two fingers in and curled them as he lapped harder at her clit. It wasn’t long before she was trapping his head between her thighs and screaming out. She tried to push him away but he kept on relentless watching her writhe under his touch. Finally he lifted his head and watched her try and catch her breath. Looking up she saw him watching and climbed up to her knees to meet him in the middle of the bed.
Reaching down between the she slipped her hand inside of his boxers and took hold of him. She stroked up and down with a twist in her wrist as she trailed kisses down his chest. When she took a harsh bite to his peck he growled and grabbed her upper arms with a bruising force. Turning her around he pushed her down and fisted her hair pulling her back up to arch her back. Using the other hand he pulled down the boxers then smacked her hard on the ass for the bite.
Taking a hold of himself he ran his tip over her folds before slamming hard into her. He started up a brusing pace with his hand tangled in her hair he smacked her ass once more the twice more before reaching around and drawing circles on her clit. He moans became more and more high pitched as she came closer and closer to the edge.
With a few more hard thrust Happy felt her clench around him. And rode her through her orgasm before quickly pulling out and releasing his own all over her lower back and ass. “FUCK, shit” He growled as his body began to go numb.
Watching her fall to the bed he shakily grabbed her tattered shirt and wiped off her back and threw in on the floor before collapsing next to her.
The next morning they were back on the read when he came around another corner and blue lights awaited them. Turning the throttle she gripped him tight.
Shots rang out and fire ripped through his chest, Happy lost control. Sliding along side her and his bike he looked at her blue eyes cold next to him before his world too went black.
Waking with a start he looked around the mess that was the motel room. Turning she was still there wrapped into his side sound asleep and still breathing.
She was defiantly his match. But she’d be the death of him.
She woke up to the sound of a bike and reached out. Feeling cold sheets she realised the bike must have been his.
Sitting up opening her eyes she noticed a piece of paper folded on the nightstand. Opening it she read
‘Until next time Baby.’
It was simply signed with a happy face like the ones she had seen on his stomach lastnight.
She closed the note with a smirk. Some how it seemed like they both just knew….
HENDERSONVILLE, Tenn. — There were more than 200 radio programmers milling around the back of Kelly Clarkson’s stately lakeside home on a recent Thursday evening here, sipping drinks named after songs from her forthcoming album and snapping selfies near the twin winding staircases leading to her pool. Ms. Clarkson and her husband, Brandon Blackstock, who is also her manager, were introducing the record, titled “Meaning of Life,” to the people who could either help make it a blockbuster or bury it.
After the giddy crowd filed into a tent, Ms. Clarkson made a low-key entrance in a black dress and a full face of glam, gripping a glass of red wine. She greeted the crowd warmly, then started announcing songs with an uproarious, profanity-laced monologue that covered her voluminous hair extensions, Spanx and admiration for the pop star Pink (“If I did want to like a girl, it would be her”). In a corner, members of Ms. Clarkson’s label team weren’t huddled together, cringing — they were grinning and applauding.
“Kelly doesn’t try to be anything she isn’t,” Julie Greenwald, the chairwoman and chief operating officer of Ms. Clarkson’s record label, Atlantic, said later.
There are pop stars with no filter, and then there is Ms. Clarkson, a music-industry unicorn. After winning the first season of “American Idol” in 2002 when it was just an untested reality-singing curiosity, she became one of the show’s few discoveries with staying power. She has collected three Grammy Awards, notched 11 Top 10 singles and sold nearly 18 million copies of the seven albums she released on RCA Records, her previous label, according to Nielsen Music. It is impossible to make it through a night of karaoke without hearing someone grasp for the high notes of her quintessential kiss-off anthem, “Since U Been Gone.”
But perhaps more remarkable, Ms. Clarkson, 35, has remained a major pop player for a decade and a half without checking the usual pop-star boxes. She’s not an enigmatic, larger-than-life figure like Beyoncé, or a social-media chess master like Taylor Swift; she’s not an outsize persona like Lady Gaga or a style icon like Gwen Stefani. She’s not known for dancing, splashy tabloid drama or sparring with other stars — though she’ll shut down body shamers and anyone who spews negativity at her on Twitter. Like Adele, she is known for her tremendous voice, the vulnerability and relatability of her songs and her fearlessness when it comes to speaking her mind.
“I don’t want to be trained to talk,” Ms. Clarkson said in an unsurprisingly blunt interview the day after her radio soiree. “I’m not a puppet, I have a brain.” Soon she will bring her frankness back to television, as a coach on “The Voice” in 2018.
Ms. Clarkson is hoping “Meaning of Life,” out Oct. 27, speaks loudly, too. After finishing her RCA contract, which came with her “Idol” victory and was an unhappy partnership she refers to as her “arranged marriage,” she is making what she considers her first real artistic statement. Leaving behind the pop-rock that became her signature sound in favor of the soul that has captivated her since her youth in Texas, she is asking her audience to leap with her into more mature, nuanced sonic and emotional territory. The album’s first single, “Love So Soft,” sets the tone — it’s a swaggering track packed with girl-gang backup vocals and horn blasts that climaxes with a blistering high note. It sends a clear message: The Diva Is Present. For the first time in 15 years, Ms. Clarkson feels as if she is driving her own career. If she fails — and she recognizes the risks — at least she crashes on her own terms.
While contemporary soul singers have penetrated the pop market in recent years, “It definitely is still a harder sell than ‘Since U Been Gone 2.0.’ It’s not the easiest route,” she said. “But it’s the only option.”
MS. CLARKSON’S AIRY house is filled with reminders of her family’s devotion to both music and Southern lifestyle. The living room is adorned with an upright bass and a taxidermied bear. A Doberman pinscher barked behind a baby gate in the kitchen, and the couple’s two toddlers — River, 3, and Remington, 1 — napped upstairs. (Savannah, 16, and Seth, 10, Mr. Blackstock’s children from a previous relationship, politely wove their way around party guests the night before.)
In the 15 hours since the event, Ms. Clarkson had undergone a drastic de-glammification process. Gone were the cascades of blond extensions; her hair was messily tucked into a Gucci baseball cap with a bee on the front. She wore blue patterned workout leggings, white New Balance sneakers and a maroon V-neck tee that she tugged at as she talked. When she apologized for her makeup-free face — she said she’s allergic to cosmetics and wears them only when she has to — she waved her hand, showing her party manicure was already gone.
Chatting in a library just off the front parlor, Ms. Clarkson said she appreciated the hard work that went into her career at RCA (“We were successful and you’ve got to give credit to where it’s due”). But she knew almost immediately that it wasn’t a good fit.
“I did call my mom at some point, and I was just like, you know what, this is just not fun,” she said. “I had fun waitressing. I had fun being a promo girl for Red Bull. I had fun working at Papa John’s. And this is my dream, and this is not fun.” This was in 2003.
She felt like nobody listened to her or respected her creative input, and she had a well-publicized disagreement with Clive Davis, then the head of the RCA Music Group, over the direction of her 2007 album, “My December,” which flared up again upon the release of his memoir in 2013. She compromised repeatedly, she said, but pushed back when she needed to and stands behind her work. “I gave it my best on every record that I had to put out because I’m singing these songs for the rest of my life,” she said. RCA declined to comment.
While on vacation in Ireland years before her contract was up, Ms. Clarkson made a connection with John Esposito, the head of Warner Music Nashville, and was struck by his passion when he sang Bruce Springsteen songs at a group dinner. (“I was like, oh my God, a record executive loves music! I had never experienced that,” she said dryly.) When she was ready to make a move, Mr. Esposito, who works with Blake Shelton — one of her husband’s management clients — suggested she meet with Ms. Greenwald and her husband, Craig Kallman, who run Atlantic, the home of Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. Ms. Clarkson was smitten after just one meeting.
“I’m not that person that feels you need to date a lot — if you find someone you love, go with it,” she said. The feeling is mutual.
“She is arguably one of the best female vocalists out there, period,” Ms. Greenwald said in a phone interview. “And if you look at the charts right now and the stuff that’s on radio, there aren’t that many women out there with big voices. You can count on one hand.”
Showcasing that voice in its full glory was one of Ms. Clarkson’s primary objectives for “Meaning of Life.” “I wanted to make a record that I could really sing the [expletive] out of,” she said. Writing songs wasn’t as big of a priority; she wanted to spend time with her children, and “I don’t write well when I’m happy.”
Her starting point was her favorite artist: Aretha Franklin. She and Mr. Kallman, who was an executive producer of “Meaning of Life” with Ms. Clarkson, asked, “What if Aretha was born now and made a record today?”
They didn’t want the album to sound old. “So it’s just not nostalgic, it’s not a retro experience,” Mr. Kallman said in a phone interview, “but it’s really a modern experience infused with the best of those records we call standards.”
Ms. Clarkson teamed with familiar faces including Greg Kurstin (Adele) and Maureen “Mozella” McDonald (Miley Cyrus), as well as newcomers Jessica Ashley Karpov (Britney Spears) and the duo Nova Wav (Kehlani), in search of songs that capture her current state of mind: dealing with the rewards and complications that come with connecting with someone “emotionally, mentally, physically” in a marriage; and as a mature woman feeling completely comfortable in her own skin after years of withering, sexist criticism about her appearance. The results are sassy up-tempo numbers like “Heat” and “Didn’t I,” and slinky slow-jams like “Move You.”
“Obviously when you’re writing in your 20s — I’m not demeaning it, in any way — but it’s a different, juvenile kind of approach,” Ms. Clarkson said. Referring to an intimate ballad about foreplay, she added, “If I had sung ‘Slow Dance’ at 20, what the hell do I know about that?”
Jesse Shatkin, a producer and songwriter who worked with Sia on “Chandelier,” collaborated on half of the songs on “Meaning of Life,” including “Love So Soft.” He said Ms. Clarkson delighted in having her backup singers in the studio, filling the room with a gleeful feminine energy. “There was this really fun women-singing-all-over-the-studio, laughing-so-much, joking-all-the-time vibe,” he said.
But so far, “Love So Soft” has yet to rise past No. 62 on the Billboard Hot 100 after five weeks. Ms. Greenwald said that the first-week streaming numbers for the single indicated the listenership was over 50 percent male. “I would have bet you a million dollars it was going to be 85 percent women,” she said. “I was blown away.”
Sharon Dastur, a senior vice president at the radio company iHeartMedia, said Ms. Clarkson’s music has always been playable on multiple formats. “Is it still pop music? Absolutely,” she said in a phone interview, noting that the song is performing on both pop and Hot AC (adult contemporary) stations. Ms. Dastur, who attended Ms. Clarkson’s premiere event, said she’s been following her career from its start.
“I’ve never seen her so fully happy with herself, personally, professionally, her music,” she said. “I think people have always not only just loved her voice, her music, but her. I think that goes a long way with fans, that she’s been the same genuine, super-talented person she’s been from the beginning.”
MS. CLARKSON IS so disarming that when she returned from a bathroom break proclaiming, “Wow, I really had to pee! That was a lot!,” I nearly high-fived her. She calls herself “a tool” and “a nerd.” She loves “Game of Thrones,” but has never watched a reality show (and yes, she gets the irony). When she wants to be sure you catch her disdain, she quickly says “sarcasm, sarcasm.” On Twitter, she alternates between posting goofy GIFs, relentlessly positive shout-outs to artists she loves and rebukes to people who scold her for speaking out about issues like the violence in Charlottesville, Va., and N.F.L. players protesting. (She announced her support for Hillary Clinton in January 2016, and tweeted “Yaaaasssss!” upon learning that Mrs. Clinton cited her — and Nietzsche — in her book “What Happened.”)
She understands why fans feel an extra sense of ownership over her. We witnessed her “Idol” journey in real time. We heard the personal stories she shared in songs like “Because of You” and “Piece by Piece,” which describe feeling abandoned by her father following her parents’ divorce. We’ve seen her transparency and graciousness in an ecosystem that encourages the opposite.
“I actually don’t mind that,” she said, “because I feel a certain level of pride that people even feel like my journey is that important in their life. That’s cool, for someone from Nowhereville. I just mind when people all of a sudden feel like I’m one thing.”
Over the summer, Ms. Clarkson shined a light on the routine harassment women endure online by responding to a “You’re fat” tweet with “…and still [expletive] awesome.” (She added a winking-tongue-out emoji, perhaps because, as a therapist told her during one of the two sessions she’s ever had, “You don’t want to wreck someone’s day.”) And she has no patience for being instructed to “shut up and sing.”
“It’s weird, but I actually came with a brain, not just vocal cords, and it would be silly to not have an opinion,” she said, growing heated. “It would be a disgrace if I didn’t have an opinion. It would be a cruel irony to all these people who live in different countries who don’t have an opinion, and don’t count, for me not to take full advantage of all the opportunities that are laid before us here in this nation.”
The centerpiece of “Meaning of Life” is a feisty throwdown called “Whole Lotta Woman,” which alludes to the size of her waistline, her attitude, her self-worth and her mouth using references to Southern cooking. Ms. Clarkson said its inspiration came from the challenges of being a financially secure woman looking for a man after internalizing the paradoxes of growing up in the South, where women are told, “We want to educate you and we want you to be intelligent, but not too intelligent to where you’re intimidating; we want you to be beautiful, but not too sexy to where you’re a slut; we want you to be successful but not so successful that you make someone feel uncomfortable.”
Debuting the track for the radio promoters at her home, Ms. Clarkson couldn’t hold back. She sung along and bounced to its outro’s bass-heavy groove.
“I don’t want to hide the fact that I am a successful, strong-minded, opinionated —” she said the next day, cutting herself off to make another point. “Sometimes I get it wrong, but I learn — but I have a voice.”
If you want to slowly transition your wardrobe to get Archie’s style, try these tips!
* Find yourself a cardigan that can be paired easily with any top. Archie can be seen wearing his signature navy cardigan throughout multiple episodes and it pairs well with each top he wears. These cardigans can range from the material cotton to wool.
* Some of your tops are likely to fit in with Archie’s style as long as they are aren’t graphic tees (keep them simple). Archie seems to steer away from dark colors when it comes to this article of clothing and can be seen in colors like grey, green, white, red/blue. He hasn’t appeared in black and I don’t think he will unless it’s a suit/tux. On the occasion, a navy shirt is acceptable as long as you don’t pair it with another dark item (e.g. don’t wear a navy shirt with a black cardigan/jacket or black/dark blue jeans)
* If you’re buying more shoes - less is more. Converse shoes are popular among Archie (more specifically grey ones). Color wise, I would select neutral tones; browns and greys.
* When it comes to book-bags or an everyday carry along bag, go for a vintage style. Archie is seen carrying around a grey/brown vintage bag .
* Every time you pick something off the rack/shelf, ask yourself: Is it something you can see Archie wear?
Where can you find brands/stores selling Archie-inspired clothing?
* Request: Can you do something with Anthony maybe like you are in the cast too idk
* Modern rpf
A/N: So uh…I suck at real person fiction so please keep that in mind while reading this. I hope I kept people’s personalities as believable as possible. And a crappy ending because I couldn’t think of a good one…
Word Count: 2,013
You scrambled through your house when a knock sounded. You flung the door open. Anthony Ramos stood there and raised an eyebrow at your appearance. You were donned in sweatpants and a tee shirt. Not to mention a little breathless from scrambling to the door.
“You ok?” He asked. You took in his appearance. He had taken an effort to put on jeans and a white v-neck tee shirt. His curls hung limply around his freckled face. He had a backpack hanging off of one shoulder.
“Define ok.” You huffed and stepped aside to let Anthony in. He was holding two to-go cups if coffee, one of which was yours. You headed back to your room and emerged with a duffle bag. “Ready?” You asked with a nervous grin.
“If you are.” He responded with a much more relaxed smile. He handed you your coffee and the two of you left together. Opening night. At the Richard Rogers Theater on Broadway. You and Anthony rode in a cab and you nervously tapped your foot.
Genre: A/U, Angst, Violence, Fluff, Romance, more in the future.
Pairing: Yixing x Reader
Word Count: 4K
Summary: Inhumans are people born with powers, feared by most all over the world. Inhumans are often killed before the age of three or kept locked up and tested on. EXO is a rogue group of Inhumans who broke free and are now looking to free fellow Inhumans as well as get justice for their kind. However, with their powers come limitations. With these limitations, they sometimes need a helping hand.
“What the fuck are you doing with a human girl Jimin? And why does she smell like that?”
The frustration in his voice was evident. Yoongi had an intense gaze set upon the poorly dressed young woman, devouring every single part of her with his mesmerizing eclipsed violet eyes. This caused a feeling of consternation to course through her body like electricity forcing her to stay frozen in her tracks. The tantalizing male, who looked as if he were some type of nobility, was capable of creating a completely contradicting feeling within Sky to stir. She was udderly terrified by him, although she couldn’t place her finger on why considering she wasn’t nearly as intimidated by Jimin or his protégés—even after almost being consumed by Taehyung. However, even with the fear that Yoongi invoked, she was incredibly drawn to him and couldn’t help but ogle at the sight.
what kind of style do each of them like, as in clothing? who's more casual, who's more down to earth, etc?
-Virgil’s style is the most casual. he always wears baggy sweatpants, oversized hoodies & sweatshirts (mainly ones he “borrowed” from Logan & Roman), band tees, Disney tees (he may or may not have “borrowed” one or two from Roman), beanies, and different colors of vans sneakers. he occasionally wears black skinny jeans with ripped knees, and combat boots. he also very very occasionally wears flower crowns & oversized pastel sweaters (with the skinny jeans & vans)
-Patton’s style is vibrant & childlike. he wears a lot of sky blues, sunshine yellows, pastel pinks, and mint greens. he wears polos, cardigans, silly graphic tee shirts, ugly sweaters, sweatpants, dad jeans, khakis, pastel/bright vans, converse, and of course his glasses.
-Logan is the most professional/down to earth. when he’s teaching or volunteering at the library he wears his usual glasses/polo/tie/dark jeans/black dress shoes. when he’s at home or out with the others he’ll wear something a little more laid back. glasses of course, polos, nerdy graphic tee shirts, sweatshirts, dark skinny jeans, sweatpants sometimes, and slip on sneakers.
-Roman’s style is extra af. he wears sunglasses sometimes, colorful bomber jackets (his red one & rose gold one are his favorites), white & black v neck tee shirts, Disney tee shirts & sweatshirts, skinny jeans of every color you can think of, sweatpants sometimes, vans sneakers of every color you can think of, and red converse.
((this is gonna be their styles in my high school au too))
Author’s Note: When Chris Argent saves the Hale pack from a house fire, he inadvertently changes all of their destinies.
DRAWING THE LINE
When Alpha Talia Hale sent a personal invitation to attend a pack meeting, one did not refuse, especially if one was a “retired” werewolf hunter living on the Alpha’s territory.
The Argents were long time residents of Beacon Hills and up until a few years ago, the family of hunters had co-existed with the family of werewolves for two generations. They were not allies, but respected each other to give one another a wide berth. Chris’s father, Gerard, was the principal of BeaconHillsHigh School at the time, happily enjoying his new life as an educator and protector of young adults. When he was diagnosed with an untreatable cancer, Gerard had petitioned to Alpha Hale for the bite in the hopes to cure his disease – but she had politely refused, as was her right.
SU JELIORN HEADCANONS WHERE MELIORN COMES TO THE INSTITUTE AND CONFIDENT JACE™ IS STUTTERING AND BLUSHING AND ALEC TEASES HIM
ok ok OK WOW OK
so meliorn suddenly appears at the institute all of the sudden at 9 am
and unfortunately jace woke up just at that time and he goes downstairs to get breakfast and he sees meliorn and alec talking
meliorns in a white semi transparent tshirt and dark navy jeans. he has a bunch of wooden and leather bracelets on, hes wearing dark brown boots just under his knee and his hair is in a messy ponytail and he looks really domestic, like he just got out of the house with whatever he had on
jace is SHOOK and stares at meliorn like a cow watching a train but then he realizes that hes legit in his navy sweatpants and white v neck tee he wore to bed and his hair ,s messy af and he decides itd be best if he ran back to his room to not look like a caveman
but then they lock eyes with meliorn from across the room and meliorn beams up so hes like fuck it he already saw me. he tries to do his best at taming his hair and walks up next to them
apparently theyre discussing something about seelie diplomants coming to the institute next week (or something like that he doesnt actually listen to alecs answer hes just to busy checking meliorn out bc he looks adorable)
alec looks in between them and says “looks like you two match…” while pointing at their outfits bc theyre wearing the same colors “… me and magnus should do this too, don’t you think so brother?”
jace is bEET RED AND SIDE EYEING ALEC AS HE GETS UP AND LEAVES THE ROOM BC HES DEAD TO HIM
jace cant help it and blurts out “y- your look hotnice with your hair up”
just as jace turns around to leave meliorn grabs him by his ankle and says “you havent had breakfast yet, right?”
jace goes “????????????” inside and outside
then meliorn lets go of his arm and says “well I neither have I. and I know the best breakfast place in all brooklyn.”
after a good 7 seconds of pure silence he continues with saying “thats queue for you to understand that im asking you out on breakfast, shadowhunter..”
jace is stunned so meliorn just gives up and says “isabelle really is the smart one isnt she” as he hooks his arm around jaces and leads them to the exit
and when jace tells him that hes still in his pajamas, all he answers with is that the best breakfast place in Brooklyn is his place.