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queenbeean · 3 years

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busy morning / chris evans

author’s note: this one is for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork thank you for helping me and giving me the idea💕

warnings: fluff, smut undertones (whoops), bad writing, not edited, i got carried away with this one and i apologise if i went from she/her to you/your

Y/F/B-S means your favorite band or singer

It was a little before 7am when Chris turned around to bury his face against her chest and all he felt were cold sheets. He huffed and instead buried his face against her pillow just to get something of her. Already he knew that he wasn’t going to be seeing or touching much of her that day. He tried making her scent lull him back to sleep but he knew it was futile. He needed to feel her skin against his, to feel her heartbeat match his, to hear her breathing and occasional snoring.

No matter how good he had slept, he was restless now. She was his addiction and he didn’t know what to do with himself. It wasn’t because he needed her to be attached to his hip all the time. He respected her life and independence and would never take anything like that away from her.

He was just feeling selfish that morning. It was Saturday, her day off, and he was expecting to spend the day with her, starting by waking up next to her.

Chris groaned and decided to stop being a crybaby. He had to remind himself that if it was up to her, she would be in his arms. So he got up from the bed, went to brush his teeth, wash his face and finally onto searching his babygirl.

Chris sighed softly at the sight of her. Y/N was busy clicking and typing on her computer at their home office. He thought she had said that she had finished her big presentation and project so she must have been editing for final approval.

His bare feet padded to the corner where they have a turntable and a wooden box full with vinyls. She must’ve been awake for at least an hour. The needle was on the middle, not touching her favorite record but it was still spinning so he knew how into her work she was that she didn’t even realise her music stopped. He searched through the vinyls and picked another one from Y/F/B-S, one that mostly had love songs. Since he wouldn’t be able to hear much of her, at least she would be able to listen to his feelings through both of her favorite songs.

Chris chuckled when Y/N started mouthing the lyrics.

“What the- Oh, I’m sorry, babe, did I wake you?” Y/N had a remorseful expression on her face and Chris sighed. He still couldn’t believe he had the most selfless woman as his girlfriend. Here she was thinking of him when she barely slept the night before.

“Yes and no, doll.” He walked to where she was and helped her up from her chair.

“Chris, I’m sorry but I need to finish this.” She winced at her words. She was choosing work before Chris when she promised herself she would never get to that point. Good thing she didn’t promise that to Chris or she knew he would give her an earful for even thinking that she didn’t give him his place when she always has.

Chris didn’t say anything. He just sat on the chair and brought her back down to his lap. “Just give me ten minutes with you and I’ll leave. You continue working, I just need to have you in my arms.” He murmured against her naked shoulder as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, so close to him that she could feel his steady heartbeat.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” She whispered in his ear.

Y/N could feel the hairs of his beard rubbing against her skin as he spoke. “Don’t be sorry, princess. You are in my arms now.” He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent from her neck.

She couldn’t help but shiver, her skin breaking into goosebumps. “I love you.” He responded by kissing her neck.

Y/N willed herself to get back to work. If she was lucky, she would finish it way before dinner, giving her enough time to make it up to Chris. She worked for around twenty minutes when she felt Chris’ grip on her waist loosen. She didn’t think too much of it for another ten minutes. But then she heard soft snores coming from him and she felt so incredibly bad. He should be in bed, resting. Not on her chair, with the possibility of his neck getting sore.

“Chris, babe?” She called softly as she intertwined their fingers. “Love?”

Her man awoke abruptly. “Shit, sorry. I’m distracting you and not helping you.”

“Chris, you are always distracting.” She giggled at his smirk. “But that’s not it. You are going to get sore muscles by sitting here. You should get back to bed.” She suggested.

“I can’t sleep without you.” He admitted. “I’ll get a start on breakfast. I was thinking cinnamon rolls?” Her stomach roared, making Chris laugh. “Cinnamon rolls it is. I’ll try to make them fast so my baby doesn’t die of hunger.” Chris teased.

“Thank you, baby.”

Chris kissed her for a few seconds before untangling himself from her, something he didn’t want to do at all. With one final kiss on the top of her head, he left her to work and prayed she didn’t overdo it.

First thing he did was set up the coffee machine. He had been so comfortable with Y/N on his lap that his body completely relaxed. Then he took out all ingredients he needed and got them in the oven around half an hour later. He was in the middle of preparing breakfast for Dodger when the pup walked in the kitchen. Dodger let out a big yawn and nuzzled his head on Chris’ leg before asking to be let out to the bathroom.

“Bubba, breakfast.” He called out to his pup and then an idea struck on his head. He was out on the patio as his head ran free with thoughts of what he could do for her and he knew it was the time.

Dodger ran inside and started eating eagerly. Chris took out the rolls and felt pride at the golden state of the sweet treats Y/N loves. He put two on a plate and filled her cup with the still warm coffee and added a bit of sugar and a bit of milk, just the way she likes it. After putting the plate and the cup on a tray, he took a sticky note and a pen and started scribbling.

‘Enjoy your breakfast, beautiful.

I want to remind you that you are amazing and you are going to kick ass on your project and everything you put your mind into.

I love you always

With all the love in the world, your dork and your bubba, Chris and Dodger x´

Before taking it to her, he went outside, hoping one of the flowers both of them have planted might have fallen. He knew she didn’t like to cut flowers. She liked seeing them grow and look beautiful in their natural state. God, how he loves that girl!

Luckily, there were two daisies laying next to the bushes. He took the pair and put them in a glass with a bit of water. He took the tray and walked to the office, followed by his shadow. As he got closer, he heard her voice on a conference.

“We got to be quiet, bubba.” He whispered to the pup. He peeked inside and frowned when he saw that it was a video conference. He had wanted to kiss her again, maybe even make out a little bit if she wanted to let out some steam. He instantly regretted the idea. He would only want more of her and he couldn’t be selfish with her.

Dodger stopped caring about his dad’s words and went to her side, nuzzling his snout on her thigh. Y/N immediately rubbed his fur, the place only she can rub as she continued talking. Chris made sure to be out of shot and put the tray on the far corner of the desk where there were no important papers or electronics. Dodger noticing that there was more food and she always snuck a piece for him, started playfully growling. Y/N didn’t seem to hear or wasn’t worried at least. But Chris still ducked and carefully dragged Dodger away from her.

Y/N felt so bad that she had been busy when Chris had been his usual sweetheart self. She didn’t even get the chance to greet Dodger properly. When she had woken up, the pup had been peacefully snoring away.

It took another ten long, long minutes of conference before it ended and she could start eating. And even then it took her almost an hour to finish the deliciousness Chris had prepared and she couldn’t even savour them properly. When she got a small break, she dashed to the kitchen where she heard noises.

“I know you want to be with momma right now, bubba but she is busy and we don’t want her getting mad at us now, do we?” Chris was sitting on the floor with Dodger sitting in front of him. The sight was adorable.

“You are going to make Dodger fear me if you keep threatening him like this.” Y/N teased and Chris stood up.

“Shit, baby, were we too loud?” Chris was concerned. Last thing he wanted was she getting called out for the noise.

Y/N didn’t answer and instead threw her arms around Chris and kissed him deeply. The man was shocked and stiff for a millisecond before moving his lips against hers, wrapping an arm around her waist while the other hand went to cup the back of her neck.

A rather loud bark made them pull apart from each other and laugh. “Sorry, bubba. You know you are still my number one boy.” Y/N promised him, having a tail wagging as an answer.

“Hey!” Chris lowly growled in her ear. “How come he is number one?”

Y/N glared at the man hugging her. “You want Dodger to sit on your face when you go to sleep for complaining?”

Chris chuckled, the deep sound resonating against her lips. “The only one I want sitting on my-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Christopher. There’s a child present.” Y/N hissed but the man still noticed how she shivered at her words.

“Well the child has cock-blocked me plenty of times, Y/N.” Chris mocked childishly.

“I think somebody else is the child.” Y/N scoffed.

“Baby, I’m all man and you know it.” He whispered huskily in her ear. “By the way, I love how bossy you get when you are working.” He nipped at her earlobe as one hand wandered past the waistband of her pants.

“Christopher.” Y/N warned as she tried prying his hand away.

“That’s the tone.” A pinch on her butt had her yelping.

Y/N stepped away from Chris and rubbed the stinging spot. “I hate you.”

“I love you too.” Chris closed the gap between them again and rubbed where her hand had. “Can I kiss it better?”

“Absolutely no.” She groaned when her phone pinged with an email. “I need to get back to work though.”

“Save those sounds for when we are alone later.” Chris whispered. “By the way, what time do you think you’ll get off work?"

Y/N sighed. "I expect by three or four. I promise I’ll make it up to you."

"Don’t worry about it but if you do, know that I won’t complain.” He winked.

“Is that all you think about?” Y/N asked as she stepped away from him again, readying herself to get back to work.

“You? Naked? Underneath me?”

“Christopher.”

“On top?”

“Christopher.”

“Against the-”

“Christopher!”

“Yes, baby, that’s all you say in my head.”

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #mine

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drarryruinedme7 · 5 years

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Don't air your dirty laundry in public

This is completely wild @rockmarina 😂I wrote it for you, inspired by real-life event (?? ahahah I hope you’ll like it! ❤️

Betad by amazing @keyflight790 !!! ❤️

Rating: Explicit | Word count: 1.8K | Tags: Domestic Drarry, Draco Malfoy is Clueless about Muggle Things, a lil bit of angsty feelings flavoured with smut and fluffiness | READ IT ON AO3.

Harry went back home to a unique sight.

Draco Malfoy was crouched in front of a… was that a washing machine?

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, sliding his glasses up his head, in the mess of his hair. He exhaled slowly. “Dray, love, what exactly are you doing?”

Draco replied without moving his eyes from the porthole of the washing machine. “I…don’t know. This seems evil to me.”

Harry drew in a breath and closed his eyes. Not again.

“Draco, we’ve discussed this. Muggle things are not evil, they work through electricity and–”

“I know! I know! You’ve told me many times and I’ve bought possibly every single electronic Muggle device by now. Enough to know how they work. It’s just…” Draco pushed the ON button and the washing machine started vibrating, the basket rotating.

He resumed. “I’ve lost the last two hours trying to understand how this works. It seems harder than other devices.” He clutched the information leaflet in his hands, knuckles turning white.

Harry reached him and crouched down. Draco still didn’t move his eyes from the porthole. Harry raised a hand and slowly tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He lingered a moment on his earlobe, stroking it lightly.

“Dray, I’m proud of you. It’s not easy to understand how these things work if you never grew up with them.”

Two tears broke free from Draco’s lashes to fall down his cheeks. His voice came out broken. “You shouldn’t be p-proud of me. I’m – I’m only doing this to ease my feeling of guilt. I c-can’t understand, Harry.” He angrily wiped the tears with the back of his hand.

Harry placed a kiss on his temple. “What can’t you understand, love?”

“Why! Why my parents hated M-Muggles so much! I – I was an idiot! And believed everything they told me. I was convinced, Harry, I was so convinced Muggles deserved to be hated! Because I couldn’t understand a fucking thing about their world.” Draco’s eyes snapped now towards Harry’s, bloodshot and shiny.

Harry smiled. “Is this why our house is packed with Muggle devices lately? Do you want to understand them?”

Draco blushed a delicate rose and bit his bottom lip. “Y-yes? Am I crazy, Harry?”

Harry snorted and pulled Draco close, claiming his lips in a sweet kiss. “Merlin, you’re the craziest, Dray. But still, I love you and I think it’s cute you want to understand them. Don’t be harsh with yourself, you’ve made some mistakes, but you’ve changed now.”

Draco looked crossed at Harry and pouted. “Hey, you’re supposed to say things like, No honey you’re not crazy.”

Harry brought the back of his right hand in front of Draco’s face. “But I can’t lie, honey. You see, it’s written right here.”

Draco batted off Harry’s hand, rolling his eyes. “Always a show-off. How can you love me, Harry?”

Harry stood up, bringing Draco with him. He didn’t know how to answer to that, so he silently brought him in their bedroom, positioned him on their bed and started wandering through their stuff.

He took out a photo album, a shirt, two identical jumpers, one with a D, the other with an H, a snitch. He placed them on the bed, next to Draco and started talking. “Dray, I love you because you always care for me, you are affectionate and sweet, you remember every anniversary, every birthday, everything I say. The day after I told you I liked this shirt, you bought it for me. It wasn’t even a special occasion. You just did it and you do it all the time.”

Harry sat next to Draco and took the photo album. He opened it, searching for… “Ah! Here! It was Teddy’s birthday and he was so upset because he had a fight with his best friend and didn’t want to celebrate anymore. You just went to pick his friend up at his house and took the two of them to a day trip in the woods. You built a wooden playhouse that day and Teddy was so happy, he kept saying he was the luckiest kid in the world, having an uncle like you. And you know what I thought? That the truly lucky one was me, having you as a husband. You look stunning in this pic with them, the sun makes your hair shine.”

Draco smiled fondly at the memory, brushing his fingers on the pic. “I do look stunning.”

Harry winked and then pointed to the jumpers. Draco giggled and closed his eyes, whispering, “Oh no, please.”

Harry laughed and with a jump, he reached for Draco and put the jumper on top of his head. “Oh yes, please! You hate this jumper, but still, every Christmas you wear it to make Molly happy and I know you do it for me too. You are the cutest with it.”

Draco came out of the head hole with his hair tousled and a frown on his face. “I’m not cute!”

Harry raised an eyebrow and grabbed the snitch. He threw it at Draco, who caught it easily. He was a Seeker, after all. “Objection, Your Honor! The snitch is our last smoking gun!”

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re an idiot, Potter.”

Harry’s cheeks burnt and he felt his blood rushing instantly to his cock. His throat was suddenly dry. “D-Draco – c’mon, you know that – don’t call me that! It’s not the right moment.” He scooped a hand in his pants and readjusted his stiffening cock. After all these years, Draco’s tone when he said “Potter” could still drive him totally crazy.

Draco smirked and he brushed his lips over Harry’s neck. He purred, “It’s always the right moment, Potter.”

Harry closed his eyes and his hands flew to Draco’s head, clutching his hair. Draco pushed him down into the mattress and Harry opened his legs, to make room for him between them. He rocked his hips and hissed at the sensation: Draco was already hard as much as himself. He trailed his fingers through Draco’s hair, kissing his chin.

“At least, make me finish.” His voice was low and husky.

Grinding against Harry, Draco replied, “I’ll give you five minutes.” He licked Harry’s ear and then trailed down, nudging the soft spot under his earlobe, kissing Harry’s collarbone, grazing his fingers on Harry’s sides.

Harry’s breath hitched and he slipped his hands under Draco’s jumper, stroking his back. “This is unfair. I’ll never be able to concentrate like this.”

Draco lifted Harry’s jersey and placed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his left hip-bone. He breathed, “Three minutes.”

That sent shivers running through Harry’s body, but he managed to swallow around the lump in his throat to answer, “Okay, okay, so. That day, four years ago. That day we played one of our Seeker-to-Seeker games and you won. All three sets. And I was so upset because I’m not used to losing three times in a row. You see, I’m silly too. And, aaah, fuck, damn Draco, aaah, let me finish.”

Draco had unbuttoned his trousers and was leaving hot kisses all along Harry’s shaft through the fabric of his pants. It was arousing. It was distracting.

Draco flicked his eyes up. “One minute, Potter.” He grasped Harry’s waistband and freed his cock that popped out, red and leaking. Draco licked his lips and brushed them on the tip of Harry’s cock, moaning and kissing off the wetness gathered there.

Harry gasped and searched for his last strand of self-control. “Damn, Malfoy. That d-day, when we went back home, you gave me the snitch you f-fucking won, telling me you didn’t need it because…because…”

Draco was now sucking gently Harry’s balls. He gave one last lick. Looked up. “Because I already won the most important thing in my life. Your love. And then I asked you to marry me.” He smiled, that warm smile that made dimples appear in his cheeks and his eyes crinkle with joy.

Harry smiled back. “Told you, you’re the cutest shit. Now, care to take my cock in your mouth?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but grinned. “If you ask like that…”

He finally slid the tip of Harry’s cock inside his mouth and Harry groaned, a low guttural sound coming straight from his groin. Draco’s teasing always made him achingly hard and he already felt close.

Draco started bobbing his head up and down on his shaft; two strokes and he angled himself to swallow the entire length until the tip of Harry’s cock hit his throat, and his nose nudged Harry’s groin hairs, gagging a little. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, coming back up.

Harry’s hand grasped Draco’s hair and pushed his head down again. With a violent shudder, Harry jerked his hips off the mattress, and he coated Draco’s tongue with his hot semen, crying, “Fuck, yes, Dray, yes.”

Draco swallowed around his cock and swirled his tongue around its sensitive head, making Harry’s toes curl and his stomach clench.

“Aah-ah, Dray, umh, stop please.” Harry was half laughing, the tranquillity of the after orgasm sweeping through him.

Draco sighed and sat back on his heels, pouting. “Mmh, but I want more. I could blow you for eternity, you know. You taste so sweet.”

Harry propped up on his elbows, a cheeky smile on his lips, eyelids half-closed. He was about to reply when they heard a loud bang coming from the bathroom.

Alarmed, they ran to it, to find a disaster. The porthole of the washing machine was wide open, water mixed with detergent spilled everywhere, an indefinite mass falling down from it, soaking in the mess on the floor.

Harry quickly tucked his cock in his trousers and looked sideways at Draco. “If you ruined one of my jumpers, I swear – ”

“Ah, is this for clothes?” Draco was scratching the back of his neck. “I thought… it is a washing machine and I washed… I thought it could wash everything, you know.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “What did you put in it, Draco?”

He reached the bathroom and crouched to see scattered wooden pieces all over, sponges half destroyed, something that were probably leather gloves completely ruined. Cold sweats formed on Harry’s forehead. “Draco, did you put our broomsticks and our polishing kits in the washing machine?” He turned, glaring at him.

Draco stuttered. “I – um, I could have shrunk our broomsticks and put them to wash with our polishing kits. I m-mean, erm, the kit is for cleaning but, but then, who clean the polishing kit? So, I…”

Harry had thought he would be angry by now, but he could only laugh, tears at his eyes. “You’re amazingly idiot, Dray. How could you think detergent would be good with leather gloves or wood, I don’t know. You’re a special kind.”

Draco blushed deeply, muttering, “You’re not angry with me?”

Harry got up and hugged him tight, soothing him. “I would never. You’re trying, that’s what matters. I love you, Draco.”

Draco looked into his eyes and kissed Harry. “I love you too, Harry.”

#drarry squad #drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #draco X harry #domestic drarry #mywriting #draco malfoy is clueless about muggle things

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obvidalous · 5 years

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Self Promo Meme

Rules: Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people.

Thanks for the tag, @natsora !! Most of these comes from my f!reyder fic Wake Up, with the occasional smutty one-shots... ;)

And I tag @ripley95things @vorchagirl @wickedwitchofthewilds @pikapeppa @ladyinthebluebox @alyssalenko

10. Blue moon

“Mm, something’s not right…” Gil takes a step back. “I can’t get this piece to fit properly. Move your arm, would you?”

Reyes complies with an irritated sigh. “I thought Initiative armors were supposed to be of the finest quality in the whole galaxy? Hurry up, damnit. It’s fucking heavy, and it’s freaking hot inside this thing.”

9. It's all in the genes

As the heat and excitement triggered by the battle fade away, Reyes feels a sudden exhaustion gaining his whole body and mind. An excruciating pain awakes in his right shoulder, and he winces as he takes an unsteady step back.

8. Perfect pretexts

“I’m coming with you.” Reyes makes a stubborn step forward, disturbing the oppressive quietness of the room at last. “You promised we’d spent 2 months together… but then you left Kadara, and everything went wrong ever since. You have no idea… how bad things are...” His voice breaks. “Sara, I need you. Don’t leave me.”

7. Meet the villains

“Hey.” Sara collapses on the couch next to Reyes and runs a gentle hand on the back of his neck. “Kallo told me we’re about to enter the Zaubray system. Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?”

Startled, Reyes raises his head and looks at her with weary eyes. He blinks a few times, then only acknowledges what she just said and curses out loud. “Shit.” He gets up, still holding the datapad he was studying. He rubs a hand across his forehead and grumbles sourly, “He promised he would tell me. I guess he forgot about that…”

6. Disease

Sara looks around her, repressing a sigh of frustrated boredom. The bar is crowded at this hour, though she suspects that the hustle never stops in this place. Drinking and howling krogan occupy all tables and chairs, bargaining with the same vigor they put in downing their beverage as quickly as possible. On top of all the noise and animation, a loud and electronic beat runs over the metal walls of the room and drowns all attempts to eavesdrop on the conversations nearby. She can’t even hear what Drack is saying, and he’s sitting right next to her.

5. Every day

Sara stops on her way to the bridge. From the upper corridor, she watches Reyes as he hesitates for a while in front of the med bay entrance. An odd apprehension fills her heart and a shiver runs down her spine to see him in such distress, despite all his efforts to hide it. And it pains her, greatly. Because the truth is, she’s blaming herself.

4. You need a haircut (NSFW)

The room is quiet when Sara comes in, its silence only interrupted by the clickety-clicks of Reyes’ swift typing on the keyboard. He’s sitting at the desk, deeply absorbed in some datapads laid in front of him and probably too concentrated on his task to notice her arrival.

3. A fine morning (NSFW)

Sara yawns and rolls on her back on the bed, covering her eyes with one hand to protect them from the blinding light. The morning sunshine entering through the open window brings a lazy heat into the apartment, the air thick and heavy on her skin. She parts two fingers and glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s not even noon yet, and it’s too hot already.

2. Close encounter

Sara pushes a lock of hair away from her forehead with a loud sigh of relief and leans back on her seat. She just finished filing the last report documenting her every mission since the victory on Meridian, and she wearily looks at the pile of datapads towering over her desk.

1. Never had a complaint (NSFW)

“What do you want, Reyes?”

He raises a pleasantly surprised eyebrow as a familiar, svelte silhouette appears on the threshold of his private room in Tartarus. The Pathfinder’s ship docked at the port only half an hour ago, and that means she came immediately to see him. Reyes secretly hoped she would. For too long they haven’t seen each other… and damn he missed her, the sight of her, the feeling of her. More than he’d ever openly admit, but he did miss her.

#meme #my writing #my fic #my fics #f!reyder #long post

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octoberdecemberwrites-blog · 6 years

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“I thought you said this was an 80's party…”

Alec grimaced, as he looked around Magnus’ now suspiciously-spacious loft. “Why are people dressed up like that?”

Alec was specifically referring to the several partygoers who danced in wild, wide circles, all dressed up in elegant corsets and powder-white wigs.

Although, the pulsing electronic music didn’t suit their conservative wear, with the dignified visual clashing with the unrefined aural. Alec quietly watched as sophisticated dresses and expensive three-piece suits were tested to their limits, as partiers spun in impossible time with the throbbing beat.

“It is an 80's party. I just left it up to the people to decide which century they liked best.” Magnus smiled up at Alec, before offering him a swift kiss on the cheek. “Unsurprisingly, it appears that immortal beings prefer the past to the present.”

“Yeah, but the 1980's was like a million years ago.” Isabelle tossed back her dyed blonde hair, while adjusting her over-sized men’s suit. “How could the 80's still be the present?”

“Izzy, my love, when you’ve lived a thousand years, the decades start to run together.” Magnus suddenly gave Isabelle a slight curtsy. “And my apologies for not greeting you properly, Ms. Madonna, my queen.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem, darling.” Isabelle grinned, as she put on an awful, British accent. “Now, where’s your alcohol? You know, vodka really helps me express myself.”

“It’s all laid out on the kitchen table. Catarina will help you find it.”

“Thank you, darling.” Isabelle eagerly made her way to the loft’s kitchen, seemingly stepping in time with the loud music’s rhythm.

“And what are you supposed to be, Alexander? You look like you’re still wearing your clothes from work…” Magnus frowned, as he scanned Alec’s outfit up and down.

“I’m the guy who’s letting his boyfriend throw a themed party in this loft on a weekday.” Alec grinned, as he bent down towards Magnus. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Magnus beamed up at Alec, before leaning forward into a soft kiss. “I’ll be sure that you know how truly thankful I am later tonight.”

“Or…we could just go to bed now…” Alec’s suggestion was followed by wrapping his arms around Magnus’ waist. “Just kick everybody out. They’ve been here for at least an hour, right? They’ve partied enough.”

“Alexander.” Magnus’ answer came out like a warning, even though he couldn’t stop a smirk from appearing on his face. “Come on. Don’t be so rude. Go say hello to Catarina for me. I believe Ragnor may be somewhere around here, too, probably reading a bland book in one of these corners…”

Alec wanted to respond to Magnus, but his thoughts were cut short by a rough pat on his back.

“Alec! Magnus! Party!” Jace’s words were slightly slurred, as he winked over at Magnus. “But I bet you two are gonna’ party in private, yeah?”

“Jaceeee. You can’t just…you can’t just ask…” Maia stumbled over her phrasing, while soon appearing at Jace’s side. “Holy shit. I’m so drunk. Oh my God.”

“What the hell? You two just got here? How are you already—”

“PREGAMING BITCH!” Jace screamed right in Alec’s face, before carelessly waving his arms back and forth. “Hunter’s Moon! $1 Tequila shots!”

“Tequila! Tequila! Tequila!” Maia noisily chanted, as she leaned towards Jace’s chest—

And instinctively, Jace held her close, close enough to press a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“You two are made for each other.” Alec’s voice was thoroughly stoic.

“Thank youuuuu.” Maia’s reply was warm and sweet…

And Magnus reached out to tenderly pat Maia’s shoulder. “Would you like to lie down? There’s plenty of room on the sofa.”

“Yes. Yeah. We’ll take that deal. Fuck yeah.” Jace began to move towards the sofa on the other side of the room, with Maia holding onto his side. “Come on, princess.”

“Don’t…don’t call me princess…that’s so lame…” Maia groaned, as she fully put her weight onto Jace, now letting him carry her in his arms.

Alec watched as his drunken parabatai somehow carried Maia as if it was the easiest thing in the world, managing to not trip over his feet even once—

But Alec’s attention was soon drawn to Simon, who now stood in front of Magnus.

Alec was a little taken aback by Simon’s outfit, not used to seeing him all dressed up in an open beige vest, with a perfectly matching beige hat atop his head and a faux whip thrown over his shoulder.

“You remind of the babe…” Simon’s smile went wide, as he excitedly clapped. “You’re supposed to be Bowie from Labyrinth, right? I freakin’ love that movie, dude!”

Magnus spun around a few times, happy to show off his costume. “I met Bowie in London back in the 70s, wearing this exact outfit. Imagine my surprise seeing it on film! I think he wore it pretty well, though...but I’m still not sure he wore it quite as well as me.”

“No one could wear anything quite as well as you, Magnus Bane.” Clary smirked, while pulling Magnus into a tight embrace. “Awesome party, by the way.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lauper.” Magnus idly ran his fingers through Clary’s cotton candy pink wig. “I’m happy you made it! Alexander told me that you’d been locked up in your room, working on a new rune or two.”

“Hey, I would never miss one of your parties, Magnus.” Clary stepped away from their hug, as she reached for Simon’s hand. “Besides, girls just wanna’ have fun.”

“G-irls! Just w-anna’ h-av-e f-un!” Simon sung the next line of the song, as he nodded along to music that wasn’t actually playing. “Okay. I’m gonna’ go whip us up a drink or something. Awesome party, Magnus!”

Once Simon and Clary were out of earshot, Alec moved closer to Magnus’ side. “Magnus, what’s Labyrinth? I thought you were just wearing something from your closet.”

“Alexander, weren’t you listening? I am wearing something from my closet! Bowie stole that look from me!” Magnus whined, before taking in a deep breath. “But no matter. I have the film, somewhere. We can watch it on one of your days off.”

“Honestly, Magnus, I could just watch it right now...just sneak to the back and let you enjoy your party. You know this isn’t really my scene—”

“KARAOKE TIME!” Jace was shouting again, but Alec couldn’t place where his voice was even coming from. “First up! Magnussssss Baneeeee!”

“Fun!” Magnus clasped his hands together, as he looked up at Alec. “Sing a song with me, Alexander? Please?”

Alec blanched at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of what seemed like the entirety of the New York Downworld.

He wanted to say no, and the more seconds that passed, the more sure he was of his answer—

But then he looked back down at Magnus…

The warlock’s eyes were all adorable and pleading, with obvious hesitation etched into his expression—

Because Magnus was worried that Alec wouldn’t say yes—

And Alec’s heart twisted at the thought of letting Magnus down, especially when it came to such a harmless request. “Yes. I’ll sing with you, but just one song, okay?”

“Okay.” Magnus snapped his fingers, calling for blue sparks to appear in his palms. “Just one song.”

Another snap of his magic, and two mics appeared, one in each of Magnus’ hands. He gave one of the mics to Alec, as blue sparks swirled upward towards the loft’s ceiling—

And the song immediately shifted into something that sounded incredibly loud—

And incredibly cheesy.

“I don’t know this song—” Before Alec could even finish his sentence, a lyric sheet appeared between his fingers. He scrunched up his face as he tried to read the words in time with the grossly upbeat rhythm. “Uh… ♪ Lookin' in your eyes, I see a paradise ♪ This world that I've found is too good to be true ♪ Standin' here beside ya, want so much to give you ♪ This love in my heart that I'm feelin' for you…”

Magnus calmly cleared his throat, before moving his mic towards his mouth. “♪ Let 'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that ♪ Put your hand in my hand, baby, don't ever look back ♪ Let the world around us just fall apart ♪ Baby, we can make it if we're heart-to-heart…”

Magnus then suddenly grabbed onto Alec’s mic, and offered it to a passerby on the dance-floor. They excitedly took the mic and began to belt out the chorus—

And soon, Magnus gave his own mic away to another passing partier.

He then turned back towards Alec, barely able to contain his growing smirk. “Oh, Alexander. You sang for me.”

“Well, I tried to sing for you. I’m not really that great—”

Magnus stopped Alec’s self-critique with a lingering kiss on his lips. “Shh. You did beautifully…although, your pitch could use a little work.”

“I thought you just said I did beautifully—”

“You did! You have the voice of an angel, Alexander…” Magnus nuzzled his face into Alec’s chest. “But you have the pitch of a Shax demon.”

Alec laughed as he held Magnus even closer, letting his hands rest on Magnus’ sides. “You’re completely ridiculous.”

“And yet, you still find a way to love me.”

“Always and forever—” Alec’s declaration of love was broken off by a mic directly hitting him in the neck. “What the fuck? Ow! What the fuck?”

“Alec! You’re on verse 3!” Jace screamed from across the room, as he now stood on top of the living room table. “Simon! Verse 2!”

Simon held up a glass of what looked like wine, but what was probably blood, as he nodded over towards Jace.

“Magnus! Can you do your…thing?” Jace proceeded to enthusiastically wave his hands around, obviously imitating Magnus’ magical moves. “I’m not a big fan of the 80s. You ever heard of Migos?”

“Of course. Just because I’m ancient, doesn’t mean I live under a rock.” Magnus’ magic swirled once again towards the ceiling—

And soon, a strangely catchy beat that was emphasized by whistles and…a human making dog sounds?

Carried through the air.

“♪ Dance with my dogs in the nighttime! ♪” Jace confidently yelled into his microphone. “♪ Trap n—”

“Oh my God, Jace, if you say the N word, if you fucking say the N word—” Maia was already shaking her head in disappointment, as she sat up on the sofa behind him.

“What? I wasn’t gonna’ say it! I was gonna’ say Nephilim.” Jace scoffed, as he held the mic to his chest. “Do you really think I’d do something like that, babe?”

“Yes.”

“Maia, no. I would never disrespect you like that! I like…love you, my little wolf baby.”

“Jace. You’re drunk.”

“Yes! I’m very fucking drunk!” Jace brought the mic back to his lips. “And I’m very fucking in love with you!”

“Shut up! Stop screaming!” Maia wobbled as she rose to her feet, and she eventually stood on the table in front of Jace. “I love you, too…even though you’re the most annoying man in the world.”

“Not as annoying as Simon.” Jace casually suggested, before chuckling directly into the mic.

“What the fuck, Jace?! I thought we were cool.” Simon gave Jace a pained expression—

And Jace then looked down at the mic in his hands. “Oh. Sorry, man. I…uh…I thought the mic was off.” Jace nonchalantly shrugged, as he placed the mic down by his feet.

Clary then reached for the mic, as she pulled Isabelle closer to her side. “Ooh! Izzy! Let’s do a Madonna song!”

“Magnus, do you know ‘Dress You Up’?” Isabelle politely asked, as she leaned into Clary’s mic.

“Do I know it? I co-wrote it! Of course, I was only given ghostwriter credits, so you won’t see my name anywhere on the album, but the lyrics? All mine.” Magnus smiled, as he soon sent the opening notes of Madonna’s hit song through the loft.

“♪ You've got style ♪ That's what all the girls say ♪ Satin sheets And luxuries so fine… ♪” Clary perfectly belted out the line, keeping her eyes on Simon as she sang. “♪ All your suits are custom made in London ♪ I've got something that you'll really like… ♪”

“♪ Gonna’ dress you up in my love ♪ All over, all over…♪” Isabelle joined Clary in the chorus, taking the mic into her hands. “♪ Gonna’ dress you up in my love ♪ All over your body! ♪ ”

“Are they…are they both singing to Simon?” Magnus whispered his question up at Alec. “What’s that all about?”

Alec shook his head in confusion, before letting out a shallow sigh. “Don’t know. Don’t care. My main focuses are The New York Institute and the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Everything else is just background noise.”

“Your sister is either in an unfortunate love triangle or a loving, trusting poly-amorous relationship…and you consider that background noise?” Magnus lightly laughed, letting his fingers splay across his chest. “I hope I’m truly not that distracting.”

“Not distracting. Just more deserving of my attention.” Alec smiled—

And Magnus happily smiled right back. He then reached for Alec’s hand, as he shuffled towards the middle of the living room. “Dance with me, Alexander.”

“I don’t really…uh…” Alec hemmed and hawed, as Clary and Isabelle harmonized through another verse. “Maybe I could just watch?”

“Okay.” Magnus subtly nodded, as he twirled in front of Alec. “You can just watch.”

Every swing of Magnus’ steps were both effortless and so very thoughtful. His moves matched the pace of the music, and as he expertly, ecstatically rolled his hips, Alec felt like he caught a glimpse of a different side of Magnus, one entirely unconcerned with the affairs of the Downworld, completely removed from the day to day of his warlock responsibilities—

And Magnus, in all of his fitted freedom, had never been quite so beautiful.

“I love you…” The words came out as a murmur, as Alec’s eyes were still transfixed by Magnus dancing in his line of sight.

“I love you, too.” Magnus returned the sentiment without a second thought, still focused on staying in the groove. “Ooh. After this, I’ll try to get Ragnor to sing ‘Wang Chung Tonight’. He hates that song. But he loves it when he’s drunk—”

Alec’s sudden kiss cut off Magnus’ thoughts, as Alec rested his hands on Magnus’ waist. He chose to deepen the kiss even more, letting his tongue momentarily explore Magnus’ mouth.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Alec broke away from Magnus, just long enough to catch his breath.

“Alexander…” There was a blush creeping across Magnus’ expression. “Are you feeling alright? You’re being a bit more…publicly amorous…than usual.”

“You’re just…so incredible…when you’re…happy.” Alec nearly stuttered, before he let out a shallow sigh. “And I just love you. I love seeing you so…happy.”

Magnus leaned forward, as he let his palms softly find their place on Alec’s shoulders. “Then you should know that nothing in the world makes me happier than being with you.”

In that moment, Alec could feel an invisible weight threatening to press down on his shoulders—

Threatening to bring him to his knees—

Something in him suddenly and desperately wanted to propose to Magnus Bane.

Right here. Right now.

And it wasn’t as if Alec was totally unprepared. He’d been waiting for the perfect time for weeks, already having purchased the ring and currently carrying it in his jacket pocket.

“Magnus…” Alec’s knees felt so strange and unbalanced, as he slightly began to move towards the ground. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

“Wang Chung!” Ragnor came up behind Magnus, playfully nudging his friend in the back. “Play ‘Wang Chung’ next!”

“Ah, old friend! I thought you would never ask.” Magnus spun towards Ragnor, his blue magic already shining in his hands—

But Magnus then quickly turned back towards Alec, with a puzzled look on his face. “Wait. Alexander. Didn’t you want to ask me something, as well?”

“It can wait.”

“Are you certain—”

“It can wait, Magnus. I promise.” Alec bent to give Magnus a hasty kiss on the cheek. “Go. Sing drunk karaoke with your friends. Have fun.”

“I’ll be right back in a few minutes.” Magnus beamed up at Alec—

Before he intertwined his arm with Ragnor’s, soon magicking a mic in each of their respective hands. “Come on, Ragnor. It’s time to show these people what one and ½ inebriated warlocks can do.”

Alec smiled to himself, as he watched his boyfriend confidently climb on top of the living room table, with Ragnor still in tow.

The resultant song that soon blared from the loft’s ceiling made Alec’s skin absolutely crawl—

And he inwardly decided that he’d had enough of the party for now.

He wordlessly headed for his bedroom—

And made sure that the door was locked, tight.

**********************************************

Alec woke up with Magnus curled against his chest…

He’d felt his warlock slip into their bed, sometime around 5AM or so.

The clock near the bedside dresser blinked out 8AM—

And Alec turned away from it, instead choosing to tenderly runs his fingers alongside Magnus’ spine.

Magnus grunted at the touch, burying his face even further into Alec’s skin. “Alexander. Stop. I’m barely awake. I’m barely alive.”

“I have to go into work soon. I just wanted to say goodbye before I—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Magnus groaned through his statement with finality. “You have to stay. What if I need to throw up?”

“Magnus, you’re a warlock. Can’t you just…magic your way through a hangover?”

“I couldddd.” Magnus groaned again. “But what if I wanted my boyfriend to take care of me?”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I guess I would have to stay, wouldn’t I?”

“Mmhmm.” Magnus nodded against Alec’s warm skin. “You would have to stay the whole day…and then…stay for the rest of your life…and we were already halfway there…last night…”

“Already halfway there?” Alec prodded, as he slightly shifted under Magnus’ frame. “What are you talking about?”

“You…you were going to ask me to marry you…Weren’t you?” Magnus stayed in the exact same position, his voice not wavering for a moment. “Before Ragnor and I sang that wondrous duet…or maybe I was already drunk…maybe you have no intention of marrying me at all—”

“Yes, Magnus. I was going to ask you to marry me.”

“Askkkkk. Ask. Ask.” Magnus pleaded, now raising his face so he could look Alec in the eye. “Please?”

“Okay…” Alec steadied his breathing, as he stared down at Magnus. “Magnus Bane, will you marry—”

“No! Not like that!” Magnus firmly shook his head, before resting it once again on Alec’s chest. “Ask when I’m…sober. And maybe not in the middle of a party. Maybe something nice and sweet. Like at dinner with your family.”

“Are you trying to give me instructions on when I can ask you to marry me?”

“Yes. No. Be spontaneous! But also, not so spontaneous. Whatever you decide will be perfect.” Magnus nodded into Alec’s chest.

“This seems like the karaoke thing all over again.” Alec softly chuckled under his breath. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”

By the time Alec finished his sentence, Magnus had already fallen back asleep…

And so, Alec reached for his phone, swiftly dialing Isabelle’s cell number.

She picked up on the third ring, as she groggily sighed right into the phone. “Hello? Alec? What the fuck? It’s so early.”

“It’s not that early. You’re just hungover.” Alec shook his head, even though Isabelle couldn’t see the movement. “But I do have a question…uh…How do I pop the question?”

“To who? Magnus?”

“Yes, Izzy, oh my God. Who else would I even be—” Alec stopped his own words, realizing that his sister’s response was most likely due to her just waking up. “Yes. Magnus. My boyfriend. Yes.”

“Uh…you should just….brrrrrgoooooooo…”

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Alec. You just…um…pffbttttt. And then, congrats! You just made a baby.” Isabelle’s tone was self-assured—

And Alec brought a hand to his face in frustration. “Did you drink Seelie liquor last night?”

“Maybeeee.” Isabelle giggled into the line, before snorting with a laugh. “Hey, can you put Magnus on the phone? I wanna’ ask him about Bowie.”

“Bowie was amazing.” Magnus somehow replied to Isabelle’s question, even though Alec’s phone wasn’t on speaker. “And Izzy, if you got into the Seelie liquor, you’ll need to sleep it off for about three days, my love.”

“Freetooppppppp! Freevornnnnn.” Isabelle wistfully sighed, before suddenly clicking her teeth. “Okay. I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you on Mars, big bro.”

“See you on Mars, Izzy.” Alec hung up the phone, as he peered back down at Magnus. “And I thought you were asleep—”

Magnus was once again already deeply asleep, with his back quietly rising and falling…

“You are the oddest, most magical creature in the entire universe.” Alec’s voice was lined with awe, while he kept his eyes on Magnus’ frame. “And one day, you’ll be all mine.”

“Already yours. You just need to sign the receipt.” Magnus’ reply was low, before he was seemingly knocked out for good.

“Mmhmm. Just need to sign the receipt…” Alec smirked, as his own eyes came to a gentle close. “Can’t wait.”

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petersvibes · 6 years

Text

meeting for the first time - p.p. headcanon

thatonesoftgrungegirl asked: Headcannon! Peter and how you would meet! Thx AJ!

warnings: swears

i’m just saying, peter would double take

like seriously, it would take one glance and then he’d practically BREAK HIS NECK to see you again

it would be a casual afternoon, and you’re probably just be chilling in the library, headphones in

you’re sitting alone, studying science or something

but your beauty makes shy guys like pete deem you unapproachable

ned and peter walk in because despite their inevitable obnoxiousness, the librarian loves them and lets them stay anyway

they’re sitting only two tables away from you discussing how they (ned insists that their spider-man/guy in the chair duo is a team) are going to foil a bank heist that weekend

it’s literally one moment. that’s all it takes to change both of your lives forever

peter just happens to look up as you’re scanning the room from boredom, because learning about quantum mechanical models is not very exciting

and it’s mid afternoon, so the light just happens to stream through the window at an angle that just happens to illuminate all your features

not that you need sunlight to reveal your beauty or anything

his jaw drops and his eyes go real wide and his heart stops

*cue the stereotypical everything-else-fades-away-and-it’s-just-you trope, complete with you in slow motion*

peter literally drops out in the MIDDLE of conversation with ned

he’s so out of it that ned physically has to jab him in the ribs

“OW”

“you’re STARING, idiot

you obviously have no idea what’s happening and you go back to electron configurations

although he only planned to be in the library for about an hour, to him you show no indication of leaving so he has to beg ned to stay

“but peter! it’s friday night and justice league is out and we’re going to be late-”

“do you see what i’m seeing right now? do you have eyes ned leeds. tell me”

“i agree she’s very pretty but-”

“pretty? she’s gorgeous-”

“which means you can watch her like a creep and i can watch wonder woman beat steppenwolf’s ass!”

“you can’t just leave me here alone so i can look like an idiot-”

“YOU ARE AN IDIOT-”

“shh.”

both peter and ned look up looking like deer in headlights to see you, slight annoyance on your face at their increasingly loud bickering

in a millisecond peter prays to a higher power that you didn’t just hear the bulk of their conversation

fortunately for him, you haven’t, but unfortunately for him, you soon get a text from your guardian saying to hurry home

as you gather your things, headphones still in, peter’s rushing and his heart is beating out of his chest

“she’s leaving! what do i do?”

“talk to her you dumbass!”

“i-i can’t do that!”

and in the middle of ned whisper-yelling “yes you can,” he happens to shove peter a bit and you happen to be walking past them

ergo peter falls into you. like straight up FALLS

you topple to the ground and peter’s on top of you and you scream

because what the hell is this dude, this cute dude doing on top of you

like this shit only happens in movies, but here you are like you’re julia fuckin’ roberts

he’s stuttering out apologies and his brain literally shatters into discombobulated pieces

“i-i i’m so fuckign-fuck fuck i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry”

he practically back flips off of you and scrambles to get you up, ignoring the fact that your hands literally fit in his like MAGIC

you take your headphones out, but you’re not mad

because HOLY SHIT he’s so cute and perfect and your teen hormone monster just went iNSANE

it takes one sweep of his shocked face to notice his perfect chocolatey eyes and his crooked nose and his GALAXY of freckles, your weakness might i add

so now you’re staring and blushing like a lovesick fool

“it’s... fine, don’t worry about it.”

you don’t even realize it but you’re smiling and he doesn’t realize it but he is too

time slows down and that cliche thing? yeah that happens

“i’m parker peter- pETER parker.”

“(Y/L/N) (Y/F/N).

and you giggle because he’s an idiot

“you just fell on me peter”

“whaaat? pft, no i didn’t”

you’re breathless and you don’t even know why

peter thinks he might pass out because this is just growing to be tOo MUCH

and without thinking, he blurts out the most stupid thing he could have POSSIBLY said in the moment

“and i totally wasn’t just staring at you this whole time either”

you’re silent

he’s silent

ned’s silent

somewhere in space, THANOS is fucking silent

only his spider-man enhancements save him from dying on the spot

but you break out into a full out smile, like a genuinely happy, elated smile

the type of smile, in fact, that would then go on to light up peter’s day for the rest of his life

“you were staring at me?”

“....no.”

“and you didn’t just fall on me either.”

“of course not.”

suddenly you get this burst of confidence like no other

“for such a cute guy you sure suck at lying”

peter resembles a joyful tomato

“you think i’m cute?”

you wink, “of course not.”

that’s it. that’s all it takes for him to know deep in his heart that you are PERFECT.

you leave after you say it, and it’s only when you’re completely out of his vicinity that he exhales and puts his hand over his racing heart

he looks at ned and silently asks him if THAT REALLY JUST HAPPENED

and ned nods, secretly thanking god that his best friend’s awkwardness will not leave him forever alone

that following monday, after three days of intensely etching your face in his memory, he finds you immediately

he’s shocked that you’re even more beautiful than he remembered

“hi (y/n)”

“hi peter”

“do you want to maybe... hang out? sometime? with me? in the future? like near future? but if you’re busy or you don’t want to or something like that i don’t mind at all-”

“-yes. i would love to maybe hang out. sometime. with you. in the near future.”

peter’s relieved that he didn’t royally fuck up his first interaction with you

(because after he reflects on it later in your relationship, he’s sure it was love at first sight)

#peter parker headcanons #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagines #peter parker reader insert #peter parker headcanon

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theliterateape · 3 years

Text

A Troubling Hare

by Paul Teodo

I have a lot of problems. Let me restate that. A lot of problems have me. Having a problem is an illusion. It implies I have control over that problem. I don’t. The problem has control over me. When the problem has me it makes sense to get some help, indicating that this problem must receive more help than I alone can muster up. If a medical problem has me I go to a guy who went to school and has a license to cut me open without getting into too much trouble. If a mental problem has me I go see a shrink, or at least a good friend with a ton of patience for my whining or who can look stuff up on the internet and help me feel better. If my car starts jacking me around I go to a mechanic and spend a lotta dough, especially if I have an Italian or German model.

Let me tell you about a few problems that have me.

BPH. Benign Prostate Hyperplasia. It’s got me big time. Some days I piss 20 times. I know, I’m closing in on seventy and it’s normal for stuff to be going on down there. But damn, it’s a nuisance.

What is BPH? It’s got to do with a guy’s prostate gland. The prostate gland plays a major role in male reproduction and ejaculation. A normal prostate is about the size of a walnut, mine’s about the size of a fucking cantaloupe.

An enlarged prostate blocks the flow of pee from the bladder to the urethra and when that happens a man becomes obsessed with locating places to piss because he always has to piss. And the problem with pissing a lot is you begin to lose your inhibition about to where to go. Bushes, trees, dark alleys, well lit alleys, Starbucks, libraries, building lobbies, bottles strategically stashed in automobiles, lamp posts, anyplace a dog lets loose, all are fair game.

So what do you do if this problem has you? Talk to the guy who went to school and do what he says. And he’ll say No COFFEE, and a few other things. I love coffee. But since I quit I’m down to pissing about 10 times a day, and only once or twice at night.

Well done, Doc.

I got more.

Technofuckingphobia Yes, that’s a real word, except for the F-part, and more importantly it’s a very serious condition, especially in the 21st century, and it’s got me bad, real bad. Ask me to copy and paste, download an app, stream, or how much RAM I have, and my bowels turn to foam, my knees wobble, and my teeth chatter like a naked man perched upon an iceberg.

And having a cell phone has made it worse. I’ve become dependent on the damn thing; emails, texts, photos, weather, music, directions, how many steps I take going from one stupid place to the next, all have become obsessions. I read a study a few months ago that said the average American, while awake, checks his cell phone every 72 seconds (less frequently when not awake). So most of you have already checked your phone since starting this little piece, or worse yet, are reading it on the damn thing now.

C’mon!

Was I leading a miserable existence before I spent nearly a grand on a hand held computer that scares the shit outa me? I think not. And my techie friends tell me it needs to be encapsulated in a protective cover,(the difficulty of installation akin to stuffing an offensive lineman into a gymnast’s leotard), in case I drop it, or more likely throw it against a fucking wall when I can’t figure out how to use it, with a special ring tone for special people, which I have no idea how to set, with alerts for everything I’m supposed to do that I would prefer not to. And now I receive texts from people standing right next to me, which for the life of me, despite my protestations, I can’t ignore.

And to highlight my total lack of control, if I misplace this electronic demon, I panic like a junkie jonesing for his next fix.

And then there’s the Tinnitus. Remember I’m almost seventy. What? 70…Tinnitus. What? Catch my drift?

I am condemned to a constant ringing in my right ear that varies in decibels depending on where I’m at and who I’m with. Put me in a reverberating room with a few people talking all at once (meaning anyone who has a speck of DNA that identifies them as having a trace of Italian or Jewish ancestry dog-paddling around in their cells) and I feel like I’m struggling to awaken from the depths of a coma. I’m foggy, befuddled, helpless, and morose. I lean forward with a twisted look of confusion splattered across my face feeling like I’m in a therapy group facilitated by Nurse Ratchett with Jack Nicholson at my side.

A few years ago I read that bananas helped tinnitus, so I began to consume 4, 5, 6 a day. The only change was the massive wads of hair that began to sprout from my back and the uncontrollable desire to scamper up a tree and swing from its branches.

OK I overplayed it with the tree.

And now, pray tell, I have been stricken with Leporiphobia. This malady is exhibited by a deathly and uncontrollable fear of rabbits. I shudder and become dizzy when I think of or encounter the tiniest of bunnies or a full grown big eared Jack. This condition is a rarity in the medical journals.

However, a point of note; in a 2012 survey the Journal of American Psychology polled 100 professional athletes concerning their fears or phobias. Hands down Andy Roddick, player on the men’s Pro Tennis Tour and winner of over 30M$ took the grand prize for weirdness. Leporiphobia has him! He admitshe is terrified of rabbits. All he has to do is think of one and he panics. Seeing just a tiny bunny brings him to his knees. He’s actually withdrawn from matches where he was heading for the winner’s circle and then regressed into “rabittual” thinking (OK I made that word up but it’s a great fucking word.)

Allow me to digress.

I met Lydia in a coffee shop; my kind of coffee shop. No internet. People were talking. I was not sure if they were Jewish or Italian. I couldn’t hear. She leaned closer. I still couldn’t hear. We stepped outside. A truck rumbled by. I couldn’t hear. Finally, she stood on her toes, cupped her hands, and hollered.

“I’m Lydia.” I could hear…fairly well. We talked about the theatre and I asked her to a play. We went. We sat in the front. I could hear. It was great.

We went to dinner, a very quiet place. I gazed across the table into her gray-blue eyes. That was greater.

Afterwards she came to my place. It was very quiet. That was the greatest!

After a few of those datey kinds of experiences we wanted to do normal stuff; stuff we were interested in day to day._

She asked, “What do you like to do that is somewhat normal?”

“Bike,” I responded, enjoying her directness.

“I don’t own a bike.” she replied.

“I’ll buy you one,” I said thinking I was gallant.

She said, pursing her lips, her hands perched on very shapely hips, “I can buy my own.”

She did. I liked that.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “But it’s so hot.”

“We won’t go far,” I said once again, trying to be gallant.

“We’ll go as far as I want,” she said.

“OK,” I said knowing that attempting to be gallant was no longer a good idea.

So I put air in my tires and waited to see if she wanted any.

“Could you put some in mine?”

“I’d love to,” I said.

“Thank you.”

Off we went down a dusty path of crunchy gray limestone; thick bushes bordering each side of the trail.

We came to a clearing in a small town. The bank sign read 97 degrees-1pm. The sun broiled my back, sweat puddled in my navel, and my hands slid from the rubber grips of my silver Trek.

“It’s so hot.” Her voice rose over the noisy limestone. “Are you hot?”

“What?” I couldn’t hear her.

“Hot!” she screamed.

I was near death, my head ready to explode. “I’m fine,” yelling over my shoulder.

“Wait!” I heard her voice. It must have been very loud.

I jammed the brakes, my bike twisting sideways.

We skidded to a dusty stop. She was huffing and puffing.

“Are you OK?” Salty sweat stung my eyes.

“This is your idea of fun? How can you stand it? This is normal?”

“What?” This time I pretended I couldn’t hear.

“Hot!”She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

“I try to stay cool: water, and stuff.”

“What stuff?” Her indignant voice rose.

I had to pee.

“Sometimes I take off my shirt.”

“Go ahead. But I can’t take off mine.”

I had to pee more.

“Go ahead,” she repeated.

I removed my shirt.

“Let’s go,” she said. “It’s too hot to stand here and talk.”

We started once again, crunching along the shimmering trail.

And that’s when it happened.

Two dark blurs darted from the brush directly in front of my bike; the one in front larger than the one who trailed. The larger one turned and glared with his devil-red eyes, into mine. And without any notice, he leapt off the ground, a full four feet, and went for my throat. My legs froze. I gasped and choked on my own spit. He was on me screeching a high pitched hideous rodent like noise; fangs gnawing at my flesh, his bristly fur scraping my chin. I yanked my right hand away from the brake and threw him off, his pin-like nails scratching my sun burnt skin. His body thumped to the ground. I jammed on my brakes. My wheel turned cock-eyed and my torso flew over the handlebars.

I landed next to him; so close I could see his whiskers and his pinkish nose twitching with a sense of evil.

He wriggled his nose again, paused, and scampered into the brush.

“It was a rabbit!”I think Lydia screamed. While I was aware of that, tinnitus is accentuated in a panic situation, and I needed to pee even more.

“I can’t believe it!”

I could. I lay on the limestone gazing up at her.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You wanted normal.”

She stepped off her new bike, whose tires I had just put air into, trying not to be gallant.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

I wasn’t. I could be extra gallant and say fine. “I’m…” I paused, “hurt. Severely.”Trying to gain some sympathy.

“Oh my God,” she said.

Shards of gravel were imbedded in my tender skin. Bloody chunks of flesh dangled from elbows and knees. My left shoulder was locked tight, conspicuously off-kilter to its twin; pounding with a sledgehammer heartbeat.

“What can I do?” she asked tears welling in her eyes.

I lay there, my fears, problems, and pain running away with me.

My cell phone was shattered. How would I text myself a reminder to buy a new one?

I needed to pee.

But there was Lydia standing over me, offering to help. We met in a coffee shop, my kinda shop. No internet.

My ear ringing like the 3 o’clock dismissal school bell at St. Frances.

“How can I help?” she repeated.

I thought I saw the rabbit peek out from the brush. Leporiphobia had stricken me.

“Kill the fucking rabbit.”

She smiled a deep warm smile. She made me feel better.

She touched my cheek. “I will.”

I believed her.

#aging #rabbits

0 notes

evilpjm · 7 years

Text

Love Me Right [F]

Warning: Mentions of relative death, fluff

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 2,926

Based on this request :)

The day began just like any other.

The warm sun rays poured in through the small gaps the broken blinds held, something Yoongi was supposed to fix a month before. The loud alarm rang throughout the small apartments bedroom causing the man to grumble against your neck, his sweet aroma seeping into your skin causing your tired eyes to close for a mere five minutes more. It was a routine event after all this time, which is why you knowingly set your alarm for earlier than usual.

Those five minutes passed by too quickly for your liking as the loud music rang once more. Reluctantly, Yoongi let you out of his grip in order to silence the sound and begin your morning routine, which frankly wasn’t much of a routine at all. More or less it consisted of shimmying into some jeans and one of his hoodies and running to class just to make it just in time.

Without sparing a second to even open his heavy eyelids, Yoongi made grabby motions into the air with his hands, causing a small giggle to part your lips. Scooting over to his side of the bed, he puckered his lips for an innocent morning kiss. Usually, that kiss would turn into something a little. . . less innocent with his large wandering hands and curious mind. But today he was simply too exhausted from staying up late working on his newest song to present to yet another company.

“This is it!” He had exclaimed. “I swear, this one will be the one. I’ll get us out of this crummy old apartment. I’ll treat you to the most extravagant dinner in town. I promise you, I have a good feeling.”

It was something he had said numerous times before. He always had that feeling. But nothing good ever came out of them despite his songs being borderline genius. He was trying his best to give you a good future together despite you telling him neither of you needed money to be happy. He knew that of course, he had survived on his own for so long with so little, but being by your side for the past three years now he didn’t want to continue on with his old lifestyle. His biggest reason being a ring. Yoongi had proposed a few months prior, but without a velvet box or shiny diamond ring. Instead, he grabbed your hand and whispered sweet nothings into your ear to declare his love since the moment he met you in the old electronics store. You were completely lost and didn’t know what speaker to even begin looking at. He had pretended to be a worker just to chat with the pretty girl, but it became obvious he was just another customer the moment he tried to ring you up and ultimately got kicked out of the store for invading private employee areas.

“You deserve the biggest, brightest diamond ring. I want others to be amazed from across the room at the shine it displays.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, soft eyes melting your own as he leaned above you, still a bit out of breath from kissing the life out of you after the sweet, small ‘yes’ escaped your mouth.

Even though you said time again and again you didn’t want or need a ring, especially not one as extravagant as he imagined, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

After slipping on your clothing you went to spray a bit of perfume, but decided against it to instead let the cologne lingering on his hoodie you wore to comfort you throughout the day. This evil Monday morning marked day one of your exams this week, and even though you had been studying for weeks upon end, you didn’t feel prepared at all. There was an underlying feeling gnawing at the back of your throat threatening to come out with the amount of nerves swirling inside.

“Mm, have a good day baby. I’ll meet you for lunch.” Yoongi spoke in a raspy tone as he turned himself onto his stomach, clutching your pillow in his arms to make up for the lack of your warmth. He had graduated college two years prior leaving you to face school on your own. That didn’t stop him from meeting you every day at 1 to bring you a coffee and your favorite soup or sandwich from the old shop down the road.

Making your way across campus, which was only a few blocks from your apartment, the professor was already handing out the papers, tossing one in front of you as soon as you sat down, bag placed at your feet.

“Two hours. Get going.” He spoke in a gruff tone, leaving the students to either seep into their seats with intimidation, or simply scoff at the lack of care he held for this class. When looking down at the small paper, the terms seemed to be a foreign language with only a few formulas making sense. For being in the easiest math class, this still seemed a bit advanced to your lack of knowledge.

While scrambling through the numerous numbers and may I say it l e t t e r s, your phone kept vibrating within your bag, causing a small noise to be heard in the silent room beyond the creaky chairs and pen clicks. Peeking at the professor, you hoped his old ears would tune out the sound or else your test would surely be confiscated.

Darn you for forgetting to put it on complete silence.

You didn’t talk to many people, which is why confusion and a bit of an anxious feeling spread through your veins as the vibrations kept going on and on. It wouldn’t be Yoongi, he knew better than to spam your messages and calls like that.

Well, unless he was feeling a bit needy. In that case he wouldn’t rest until he had you running home to be placed beneath his grabby hands.

But he was tired this morning, surely not in the mood to do anything let alone even sit up by himself until at least noon, which of course he still considered early but he got up just to bring you lunch.

Ignoring the seemingly growing sound coming from the black bag, you furiously wrote down the answer to the open ended question on the front page, sweating nervously even more now due to the fact the kid next to you just flipped to page three.

“Mrs. Y/L/N!”

shit.

Slowly looking up, it became evident the professor was fuming over the idea of someone bringing a phone into his classroom. He’d probably prefer students to use a messenger bird or rock and chalk instead of wasting money on metal scraps.

Walking over with heavy footsteps, other students turned to gawk in the thrilling idea of some drama happening during their boring exam. Surely you’d always be down for some drama as well, but not in this moment when it was directed towards you.

“A phone? In my classroom? Especially in the middle of an exam?” He scoffed, grabbing the unfinished test from off your desk and ripping it into two right before your eyes. With a small gasp, he threw the pieces over his shoulder and slammed a hand on the desk.

“I’ll see you again next semester; with that zero on this exam you’ve failed. Now take that bothersome thing and exit my classroom.”

Tears threatened to prick your eyes as you grabbed your bag off the floor, swinging it over your shoulder and scrambling down the steps and past the staring students to slam open the door.

Great, just great.

You didn’t have time to stress about the class when you pulled out your phone to see what the ruckus was about.

*3 Missed Calls*

Mom: Honey, call me back.

Mom: This is important, it’s about your grandmother.

*7 Missed Calls*

Mom: You’re not answering, please get back to me. She’s been rushed to the hospital, she’s having complications with her heart. I will update you as I can, but I think it’s best to get down here as soon as you can.

Mom: We just arrived. She’s hooked up and doctors are assisting her now.

Mom: They said she’s not doing well. Please honey, I hope you can get down here soon. If you need I can book you a flight!

*12 Missed Calls*

Mom: I’m so sorry

Mom: Honey, she’s gone.

You didn’t even read the messages after that. At a glance, they all seemed to explain what happened in depth, along with lots of blubbering through text and voice messages. Sliding down the wall, you felt the tears escaping one by one until you were left sobbing into your knees, not a care in the world for who saw you.

Yoongi had received a text from your mother asking if you were with him or not. She explained she couldn’t get in touch, and informed him of the heartbreaking news to which he flew out of bed faster that he could ever recall, throwing on a fresh shirt and flying out the doors to your class.

When slamming through the door, keys jingling in his pocket, he spotted you still on the hallway ground and jogged over, falling to his knees only to wrap you in his cold embrace making you cry more. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know it was Yoongi. The familiar touch of his usually chilly skin and that specific scent he carried filled your senses.

He ran his slender fingers up and down your back with one hand, the other entangled into your hair. He of all people knew how incredibly close you were to your grandmother, and you rarely got to visit seeing as you moved overseas to be with him a while prior. You both knew she was borderline ill, but she seemingly got much better in the recent months, however these results show that her battle was overpowered.

He held you without a complaint, ignoring the shuffling footsteps that paused alongside him before continuing along their way due to his added glares. He would do anything to protect you, and it broke his heart to know he couldn't fix anything right now.

You sat against the headboard, wrapped in a warm blanket that still did nothing to block the goosebumps appearing on every inch of skin. Your stare was fixated on the noodles placed in front of you on the bed, Yoongi sitting next to them staring at you, just waiting for a simple movement.

He managed to help you stand long enough to make it home before your weak legs collapsed at the front door. You were emotionally drained from the stress, and now the heartbreak. He carried you into your shared room, wrapped you in the quilts, and ran off to make you something to eat. Unfortunately tonight was grocery night, so the house held nothing but some rotten vegetables and microwavable noodles.

You had no appetite. You were beyond freezing cold, yet avoided the inviting warm broth, and worst of all you avoided the touches of Yoongi who ached to comfort you. He tried to reach out his hands to grab yours, but you scooted into the headboard, head hung low. He didn’t take anything to heart, despite it making him a bit sorrowful. You always did this when you were beyond sad. It was a stupid reason, but you simply hated the comfort of Yoongi only because you loved it so much.

Makes no sense

The feeling of his heart beating off sync with yours, calloused fingertips running over your sides, his hot breath against your cheek, rough legs entangled, it was all perfectly imperfect and your favorite thing in the world was to be as close as possible to him, yet when upset, it only made you cry more. The feeling of love radiating off the seemingly cold man set you off. He was incredibly soft even with those hard eyes, and you couldn’t handle that emotion.

To put it simply; you were too in love with him to handle his presence.

“Y/N, please, eat something. Just one bite.” He pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“M’not hungry.” You replied in your native language, causing him to sigh. He understood despite his lack of knowledge, he tried his best to learn words over the years for you, especially when it came to meeting your family.

“Please.” He replied cutely in your language once more, but the word slipped in one ear and out the other.

How could she be gone? Just like that? Why didn’t you answer the phone-calls. What if you could have hear her voice just once more? One more ‘I love you’ to seal the deal. Just one more intake of breathe to linger in your mind for days upon end. Something to hold onto.

Worst of all, the funeral was scheduled in just a few days. You still had exams booked each day of the week, meaning you were unable to attend. You couldn’t afford to fail anymore classes as money was already tight, and even Yoongi would be unable to pitch in much when you both struggled to even manage dinner every-night, both bodies too thin for one anothers liking due to skipping meals just for the sake of keeping the electricity and water turned on.

Grabbing the soup, Yoongi placed it on the bedside table before crawling up to sit beside you. Your eyes shifted towards him for a split second, but even the sight of him made tears prick your eyes to the point where you quickly shut them and turned away.

“Jagi. . .” He whispered, shifting a little closer causing you to shake more.

“You don’t have to speak, just . . . listen, okay?” His soft voice rumbled out. Your eyes remained shut but you could feel him shift off the bed to grab something before returning.

“I was waiting to give you good news, but my baby needs some cheering up right now.” He sighed. Your heavy mind throbbed but still perked up to the idea of something good happening in the midst of this mess.

“The company called me shortly after you left today.” He said quietly. You sniffled, keeping back the emotion a bit better at this point. You hated to cry, and you finally managed to get to a point where it was all sucked back in for the time being.

“They. . . gave me an offer.”

Your heart nearly skipped a beat. Yoongi was never given an offer. He was trying day after day to send his songs in, to offer his work ethic, but all the big companies denied an underground producer and rapper. They didn’t want the unknown boy from Daegu. But an offer? This was a first.

Slowly opening your eyes, you continued to stare at your lap but he knew he peaked your interest now.

“They loved the song, truly. They offered to make it an official track for someone, but not just anyone. . . they. Invited me to train with them.” Your eyes managed to widen more, head slowly lifting.

“I know, I know. I said I would never become a trainee, but. The opportunity is great, and I can finally provide for us soon enough. There are 6 other guys I’ll train with, help make music for, and the best news of all is they felt for our circumstances and invested into my song. Not just one, but multiples. Meaning, baby, we are going to be alright.” He whispered the last part as your heart began to race.

Finally, you shifted over to look into his eyes for the first time, only to see he was placed beside you with a velvet box.

“Y-Yoongi-” You began, voice raspy from previous crying.

He simply smiled his small half smile, opening it up to reveal a beautiful cut ring.

“I promised you I’d make sure it would sparkle.” He mumbled, causing you to instantly burst into the emotion you were prolonging. You threw your arms around him, falling into his lap as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

He chuckled, placing the box beside him as he held you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry Y/N, for everything. But I promise I will forever remain by your side. I can’t take away your pain, but I will help you get through it. You’re my world and everything more, I love you.”

A simple ‘I love you most’ parted your lips as you clutched onto him like your life depended on it, and it did.

Your heart was broken, but he was there to mend it, and help you every step of the way.

As time moved forwards, the checks rolled in from the quick success of the new band. Yoongi saved up for you both to fly back to your home to visit family, and most importantly visit your Grandmothers grave. He held your hand every step of the way and kissed your knuckles until the very last tear drop fell.

You planned the most beautiful, simple wedding together. As soon as you graduated college, mind that extra semester for the failed math course, you officially became a Min and the partner to a successful international star. But despite his title, you were the star in his eyes, and he was your moon.

Together, hand in hand, you could conquer the world.

Masterlist

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sansloii-a · 7 years

Note

May I make a special request to see how Mukah would react if Zenitsu died? You made me write those feels. Now please....Do it for me. Please.

special request!: how would my muse react if yours died || @wclfy

The thief could hear Penelope speaking but they’re notreally listening to her, their attention solely focused on their phone. Everynow and then they’d turn it on and stare idly at the lit up screen, looking atthe time and date displayed before shutting it off a few moments afterwards.They do it once… twice… three times before their phone is rippedplucked out of their hand and set down on a table out of their reach. A hand isthen waved back and forth in front of their face with Penny’s slightly concerned expression slidinginto their line of sight.

“Are you done spacing out or….?” She trails off at the end ofher question, slowly withdrawing her hand to place it on her knee. “Tell me youweren’t spacing out again. Do I haveto repeat everything I just explained to you?”

The thief responds by leaning back, lips drawn into a thin,unmoving line as they sink into their seat. The action prompts Penelope togroan and stand up straight again, running a hand over her face as she takes afew tiny steps back.

“C’mon, Mikah. This is getting ridiculous. What’s the pointof coming over here if you’re going to sit here and tune me out every single time. It’sjust as bad as you actively ignoring me, you know?” she tells them, the concernin her demeanor slowly trickling away, “It’s like you want me to get mad at youand give you shit for whatever you’re doing right now.”

She might as well. It’d fill up the rest of the time she’dso “gracefully” set aside for them. If she yelled and got angry—got under theirskin with her insults and combative nature—perhaps the resulting argument wouldtake their mind off the events of the past few weeks. Mikah folds their armsacross their chest and sinks down into their seat, staring the hacker down asher brows furrow. When she opens her mouth to talk again, their attentiongradually migrates to where their phone is placed. A small part of them ishoping that it goes off or vibrates, waiting for the screen to light up with anotification. Penelope’s hand is in front of them once more and she snaps her fingers in front of their face, an irritated “Mikah.” following her call forthe thief’s attention.

“You’re starting to piss me off with this inattentiveness.What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Mikah, again, doesn’t answer. Penelope follows their gaze totheir phone and, after her eyes flick between them and the electronic a fewtimes, she huffs angrily. They don’t move when she grabs the phone but they do sit up a little straighter when sheproceeds to open it up.

“Is this why you’restill moping? Hoping to get a callor text message?” The back of thephone pops off with a series of little snaps, the white backing of the devicefalling to the floor as Penny shows them the battery. “Shall I remind you ofwhat happened because you persisted with that stupidrelationship you put yourself in with the man you started fucking?”

“First of all, your little trysts didn’t go unnoticed by thepeople he worked for—people that Iwarned you against multiple times—and you were forced to lay low for a monthor so. Following that, you stayed incontact with him and kept sleeping with him even though you knew that it was dangerous and you knew that it wouldn’t end well.” As sherants, she removes the battery, the SIM card, and the SD card. “Surprise,surprise—you were discovered again. This time, this organization ( as we’vecome to learn ) wised up and sought to rectify the mistake they’d made byletting you two go unpunished. Do you remember what they did, Mikah?”

At this point, the redhead is visibly upset. Their lips havesince formed a frown and their own brows are now furrowed. Their fingers aredigging into their sweater, the thin layers of fabric underneath not being enoughto stop their nails from creating indents in their arm. An uncomfortable lumpforms in their throat and try as they might, they can’t swallow it. Blue eyes dartaway from the other for a little bit, trying to find another spot to focus on frantically.They listen to the battery fall to the tiled floor, soon followed by the aforementionedSIM and SD card. The thief flinches in response, hating how loud that had sounded to them just now. It wouldn’t hurt for her to be a little gentler…

“They killed him like I said they would. They killed him andthey so nearly killed you too because yourefused to leave him. Do you remember that? If not for Wynn, you would’ve joinedhim soon after.”

If Wynn hadn’t intervened and pulled them out of harm’s way,Mikah would’ve gladly joined him. It had been just the two of them ( or so theythought ) and they both had been far too wrapped up in the other. Something hadbeen eerily wrong and that silence—thatstillness—had cost Zenitsu his life.He had been whispering sweet nothings into their ear no more than a few momentsprior, kissing them and making them feel legitimatelysafe. In his arms, they had felt comfortable and loved. The hands that had loved them—the mouth that adored them—stopped all at once. Thewords that streamed readily from his lips had ceased abruptly. He had crumpledagainst them, his dead weight slowly pulling them both down to the floor. Zen’s eyes had been wide, unfocused and immobile,as if he had seen something before he was shot. That little fact was somethingthey had disregarded almost immediately, instead choosing to sink to the floorwith their arms securely wrapped around Zen’s limp body. They cried but theydidn’t sob, remembering the quiet, little hiccups and shuddering breaths they’dtaken. At the time, they didn’t hear the gunshots that had followed the firstor the shouting that had followed that,only registering that others had enter the medium sized apartment when their “friend”( Wynn ) had hauled them to their feet and practically carried them out.

“He died becauseyou both were reckless and, quite frankly, very fucking stupid. You broughtthat on yourself.”

Mikah could taste their tears even though they aren’t cryingnow, blinking and lifting a hand to their face. They rub at their eyes, seemingto sink down even further into the couch as they go out of their way to avoidlooking at her. The lump stuck in their throat grows and no matter how muchthey try to swallow it, it doesn’t budge.

“Come to terms withthat and get over it, okay?” Penelope drops the remaining piece of the phone, waitinga couple minutes ( maybe two or three ) before adding “—and do it quickly.”

With that, she leaves them alone. Mikah listens to her leavebut their eyes don’t rise from their spot on the ground until they hear thedoor close behind her.

Perhaps they’d feel better if they had gotten injured then.If it had been bloodier, maybe the memory would have repulsed them enough tostay in the recesses of their mind. If they were tortured, maybe they’d be ableto repress said memory and allthoughts associated with it. The thief didn’t want to forget Zen, just theemotions that washed over them whenever they thought about him. They didn’twant to feel like shit, like it should’ve been them, but that’s all they toldthemselves these days.

At the very least, they should’ve died there too.

#wclfy #::ѕнιp; playing with fire // mikah ♥ zenitsu #::you all are some chatty cathys! ||asks||#✖ ┊ ⧼ 🇦🇲🇧🇮🇹🇮🇴🇳 🇮🇸 🇳🇴🇹 🇦 🇩🇮🇷🇹🇾 🇼🇴🇷🇩 ⧽ ⇹ ( m. )#.it's under a read more 'cause it got super super long #.but here ya go friendo #.fresh angst for ya

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idolizerp · 5 years

Photo

LOADING INFORMATION ON OLYMPUS’ MAIN DANCE, LEAD RAP KYO SEOKYUNG...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 19 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 14 COMPANY: Midas ETC: This member is a vocal or performance soloist

IDOL IMAGE

who is kyo seokyung? that is an excellent question. ever since his first day as a trainee, midas knew two things about him: he was smart and well-spoken. maybe it had a lot to do with his family, but that didn’t matter, what mattered is that they had someone who could deliver the ‘diplomatic’ answers, someone who could answer ‘risky’ questions, if at all, and give rather ‘decent’ answers. During interviews, seokyung isn’t loud or obnoxious, he’s mostly calm and collected, flashing a smile here and there, running his fingers through his hair, “looking pretty” if you will, just being the “company” boy midas wants him to be, just as they expected since he was a teenager. but he’s funny and he’s witty when the occasion asks for it; he will show his talents and smile, or laugh it off if he’s too embarrassed. he has charm and he always puts it to good use.

he has poise, he has grace, he’s elegant and he’s kind. despite him being humble about it and often mentioning he “is not perfect”, midas most definitely wants everyone to believe so. but he’s right, he isn’t. in reality, seokyung is quite different than the person the fans think he is. while yes, said poise and grace still lives within him, he’s far from being kind, often feeling annoyed by various life frustrations, snapping when things don’t go his way. he’s serious, he’s quiet, he barely wants to talk and act fake in front of the cameras, but he must.

the thing is, he’s just really good at pretending, like any other idol in the industry. and with the family he has, how could he not be?

the company has often pushed him to be the one to give the ‘corporate’ answers most people want to hear. his fans are sure he truly is incapable of doing something wrong, of doing something problematic, something that could get him in trouble because he’s just /that/ good at what he does, he’s great when it comes down to wearing that mask.

most people think seokyung is being one hundred percent authentic during his videos and actually? he is most of the time. but everything is also being controlled and monitored by his company. if a video is slightly controversial, he gets asked to do it all over again. If he says something that could be deemed as scandalous, he immediately gets asked to tone it down or twist it around. he’s a master of manipulation, a tactic he learned from his family. he just knows how to become a person he just isn’t in any kind of occasion.

and yet, he still makes sure to show a bit of who he truly is during his videos. the relaxed guy who has no problem in being bare-faced, who sits outside of his apartment and allows to be sunkissed while he talks about anything that comes to mind. he encourages others to follow their dreams, fight for what they believe in and to believe in themselves. things he sometimes can’t do for himself. but everyone eats it up and no one will complain about it.

but the pressure to be this ‘perfect individual’ does get to him at times. he has to be extremely careful with his steps, because at the end of the day, when the cameras aren’t rolling? he knows he’s not the person people want him to be and if he were to ever do something bad? he’d lose his fans’ trust and that would hurt him deeply, also taking away from him the one thing he’s worked so hard for for years; a career of his own. being perfect is clearly impossible, but seokyung pressures himself so much to ‘be perfect’ that his most loyal fans actually believe it and it’s good. it’s perfect, even.

making videos and showing a more ‘human’ side of himself might be cute, but it’s not exactly what he dedicates himself to. it’s merely just a step, a step to a path where he doesn’t have to carry the burden of dealing with his group mates, a path where it’s just him, solo. the company, of course, does everything in their power to push him into keeping that narrative of the sweet, humble guy who adores his fans. they just know how convenient that is.

there is just one thing that is actually real, honest and sincere and that’s his love for his fans. seokyung makes sure to cater to them in any way possible, because the love he gets from them is actually something he appreciates. this shows, of course, and while the company might think this is all an act, it is for sure, the only honest thing about him. when it comes down to his group mates, he protects and takes care of them when the cameras are and aren’t rolling; yet just another little thing the fans love about him.

pretending perfection, however, will cost him a lot in the long run. he’s aware of it, but he will keep riding on that for as long as he can.

IDOL HISTORY

born with a silver spoon in his mouth could be deemed by something positive for most, but he would beg to differ. his grandfather is the founder of an important electronics company in south korea, a company that his father obviously inherited. in a sense, you could say seokyung was supposed to be the next in line to take over the company and follow his family’s steps.

his mother? a gentle-looking-stay-at-home mom, or as many called her: a trophy wife. up to this day, he’s not entirely sure his sister and him were conceived because their parents loved each other, instead, because there was a contract between them. this, though, is something he cannot confirm and are just mere speculations he came up with.

him? a good kid with an artistic soul, someone who spent most of his time studying to make his parents proud and giving his little sister the attention they were clearly not giving her. he put his entire heart and soul into giving her the best kind of life he could, into making her laugh, entertaining her with whatever jokes, doing his best to be someone she could look up to. his parents, however, were more busy attending parties, always putting themselves, their name and their reputation first. the rest was simply secondary.

an important husband, a beautiful wife, two lovely children. it was truly the picture perfect family for every magazine out there. the wealth was real, but the happiness wasn’t. there’s plenty of people and factors that come into play when it comes to the kyo’s and why they can’t reach true happiness.

with that said, let’s talk about seokyung’s uncle.

up to this day, he still wonders if his uncle’s motives had anything to do with the fact he wasn’t the next in line to inherit the company or if he’s simply just a piece of shit. due to his father’s job, he was barely around to ever give his children a second glance. his brother “promised” to be the fatherly figure seokyung and his little sister sunhee needed, often spending time at the kyo’s and pretending to be a good person. but he wasn’t. his uncle never missed an opportunity to verbally and physically hurt seokyung, however, he never messed with sunhee and not because he didn’t want to, but because seokyung never allowed it; taking the punishment she was “supposed” to receive instead. of course, that man always played innocent, like he was the perfect father both kids deserved. this of course, also included berating seokyung’s dreams of becoming a writer, his talent and his creativity. he was only a kid with dreams, who was getting forced to grow up way too soon.

when doing something bad to seokyung, he always excused himself by saying; “this is what happens to badly behaved kids.”

then there’s his father.

when seokyung was only eight years old, he approached his father and revealed the truth about his uncle. about how terrible and how evil he actually was towards him and his sister. his father believed him, but didn’t do a thing about it. why, you wonder? because speaking up about it would result in a big scandal, because publicly accusing his brother of hurting his children would put their reputation in danger and… he couldn’t allow that.

instead, he gave his son some advice; “man up.”

his mother wasn’t any better.

his father didn’t help, so seokyung approached his mother. he knew it would be useless, because his own mother was often home, so she surely had an idea of what was happening. but she never interfered, she never defended him, she never defended his sister. she remained silent and looked into her child’s eyes, as he cried and explained how terrifying it was to live that way. he knew that the only reason why she never did anything about it was because she was terrified of losing the fortune she had thanks to his father.

she could only say one thing; “i’m so sorry i can’t do anything.”

his grandfather was probably the worst.

both his parents refused to help, so he approached the only man that could possibly do something against his son. however, when presented with the facts, his grandfather categorically denied it, claiming his son would never mistreat his nephew and niece, claiming he was a good and kind man who wouldn’t ever dare do something like that.

he ended the pointless conversation with a sentence; “…and even if it was true, it is none of my business.”

but he’s convinced he’s the bad guy of the story.

because he didn’t leave. because he didn’t stand up to any of them, becase he simply sulked and let people step on him and his sister. because he didn’t feel strong enough to fight, because he didn’t do anything to change the situation. because he simply let it be. there was no other way to solve it, so he simply let it be.

until he had enough. when seokyung turned ten, he decided it was time to confront his family, that it was time to speak up, that it was time to let the entire world know the kind of people they were and all the things and damage they had caused to him and sunhee. but the problem about the young seokyung was very clear: he underestimated his father and his power. to avoid the young boy from speaking up (and of course, to punish him for almost ruining their reputation), his father shipped him off to a private school in spain.

and then, there he was, alone, in another continent, another country, unfamiliar with the language and the culture shock hitting him like a bunch of rocks stuffed in a bag. so he cried every night, he wrote letters to sunhee, letting her know he would be back someday and that he’d make sure to get her out of there. he promised to give her the life both of them deserved, and he was confident in his promise.

overall, the teachers were good and kind people who did their best to teach him spanish and help him adapt, but even then, they noticed how hard it was for him to socialize, how hard it was for him to approach others. there was only one thing seokyung liked about being away from home and that was a girl in his class. she was pretty, smart and funny (or so he assumed because everyone laughed at her jokes). but he never dared to approach her, because every time he thought about it, he felt like passing out.

but there was one thing he did know about that girl: she loved dancing. he knew because that was the extracurricular she took everyday. of course, when his teachers approached him and suggested he should look into extracurricular activities so he could distract himself more and adapt to others? he didn’t think about it twice and signed up for the dance club.

he’s awkward at first, he feels like he moves terribly and has two left feet, but also because he’s the only boy in the club. the girls find it fascinating, but the rest of the kids never miss an opportunity to bully him about it. it’s fine, he always told himself, he had gone through worse. this time, at least, he can dance in the back and admire the girl, the way she moves, so graciously, so perfectly, and he wants to be at her level. so he didn’t half-ass it, he practiced and practiced a lot.

there’s one side, the one who has him learning spanish, sometimes messing up, sometimes doing really well, and it’s just enough to push him by through school life. there’s the kids hiding his things, the kids pushing him around, the kids calling him derogatory names, giving him a taste of another form of cruelty towards him. but it’s fine, he told himself, because one day he’d be old enough to leave this place.

then there’s the other side, the one where he shuts everyone out at night and he writes. he wrote stories, he wrote poems, he wrote music. sometimes inspired by melancholy, sometimes inspired by his feelings for the girl. there’s him getting good grades, there’s him excelling and looking his best at every dance class, there’s him triumphing everyday, and he was loving the rhythm. it had been slow at first, but he started to progress.

but as usual, his family won’t let him have that.

his father decided spending three years in a foreign country should be enough to learn your lesson, so he takes him back home and seokyung had to say goodbye to school, to his progress, to dancing and to her. but at least he’ll be able to see sunhee, and hopefully now, things at home will be way better than how they were when he left.

but he’s wrong.

the version of sunhee that he met was a different one. the smile on his sister’s face is no longer there and his jokes didn’t work anymore. his sister is haunted and there’s no feeling in the world that can explain how he felt, how angry it made him. that was when he decided he had to do something, he had to get him, but mostly her, out of that place. although seokyung doesn’t deem himself as a very talented kid, he thinks his moves are average and that could possibly give him a ticket to the freedom he was looking for.

getting permission from his parents to audition wasn’t a hard task whatsoever. if anything? they were glad because keeping him away would take a lot of weight off their shoulders. his dad, with his fake-interest and all, even took the young teen to the audition. it was convenient for him to stay, it was convenient for everyone. maybe if he got what he wanted? seokyung would stop nagging them about his problems.

and then there he was, at midas media. getting a spot there wasn’t easy at all, especially when you’re up against a bunch of kids he thought were extremely talented. but he gets signed because as usually, he didn’t half-ass his audition, he went in, did his best and got the opportunity.

this allowed him to stay away from his family. he preferred spending hours upon hours training to perfect his craft than be at home and be berated for whatever reason. he was having the time of his life despite his exhaustion and despite his frustration when something didn’t go well during practice.

so okay, he can dance, but what else could he do? this was the first time he was being encouraged to learn something new, the first time he was encouraged to work on his abilities, to just get better. his parents never did, they couldn’t care less about him getting better at anything. sure, he knew what it entailed to be here and that was why he was training. but nevertheless, he had to put on a lot of effort, not only physical, but emotional as well.

when they found out he could speak spanish, they absolutely loved it. he loved bragging about it to the other trainees and to ‘demonstrate’ how good he was, he would speak long, quick sentences. if he could do that in a foreign language, could he do the same thing in his native tongue? to test that out, they soon had him putting special focus on his rapping. clumsy at first, because there’s a big difference between one and the other, but if they wanted him to try and put this special “talent” of his to work? then, he had no choice but to make it work.

so he spent years working hard on his skills, getting better at each thing as much as he could. not only that, but the fact he was so smart and so well-spoken was clearly something the executives just loved about him. they knew there was still a lot of work to do, but so far? so good. they felt very confident on his abilities and knew that, if he kept up his hard work, he could be a big star.

it was still not easy, no matter the amount of talent he had and certainly lacked in other areas, trying to be ‘perfect’ wasn’t possible and he knew. he was, only human, after all. he wasn’t the best singer and he sometimes had trouble coordinating an ability with another. but he always told himself that his best had to be his best or else, he’d never be able to provide himself and sunhee of the life they truly deserved.

the tears, the exhaustion, the constant battles in his head worked in his favor eventually, because everything lead him to olympus, finally earning the ticket him and his sister needed to move on from their parents. he knew, though, that she would have to wait, that she would have to be patient, just a bit more. if she waited all those years, then she surely would be able to wait a few more.

he presents seokyung to the world, a different version to the real kyo seokyung, but everyone believes the fantasy he’s created of himself because he’s good at pretending. and how could he not be when all his life he had to pretend? when his family taught him that pretending was the best way you could do something in life?

when asked about his family, seokyung simply smiled and let everyone know his schedule barely allows him to see them, but wishes they are doing well.

this is a lie.

eventually, sunhee stops answering his letters, stops talking to him but before that, she tells him ‘you abandoned me’. he didn’t, he explains himself, but she doesn’t believe it. there’s nothing more he wants than to speak up, than to tell the entire world about his family, about his past. but he can’t, and he won’t. he has an image to uphold, his collected and poised one. he’s the one who likes answering questions, he’s the one who uses his poise and looks to almost-look-perfect. he can’t speak up because he would lose all of that.

especially not when midas is eventually giving him what he wants. a blessed opportunity named ‘solo’. he thinks he’s deserving, after all, why wouldn’t he be? he works hard everyday, puts his entire heart into everything he does, it’s the least that he deserves. however, every opportunity comes with a price, and the price of not being able to have much input in his work is what he has to pay. it is midas media after all, and he IS a member of olympus. the single idea of thinking the company would allow him to have much say was ridiculously laughable.

midas never takes a step before looking at both sides of the road, everything has to be meticulously supervised and seokyung being the only boy in olympus to release solo music is already a big step for them. unfortunately, the first try doesn’t go as well as they expected and yet, the only one who freaked out was seokyung. but it’s a “step” they say. “something different later”, they insist. and he has no choice but to sit tight and trust their words.

and that is why he can’t speak up about his past because people would realize that behind that face, there’s a life filled with torment, with pain, with lies, with mistreatment. he can’t allow anyone to see the scars beyond his smile. he can’t let anyone see the real him, not as long as he can help it. so he keeps being olympus’ seokyung, the boy who loves his group mates (a lie), the boy who loves and appreciates their fans, because they love him unconditionally. the boy who doesn’t take it easy, who works hard, who tries his best for his image to be close to impeccable. the boy who trains harder everyday, who will protect his friends from harm.

but he can’t show the real him to the world, the off-camera one, the one who’s not as warm as he shows himself to be, the one who’s quiet, the one who’s reserved, who barely cracks a joke. the one who reads, who writes sad poetry, who pours his heart out using pen and paper. he can’t let them see the hate, the one he feels for his family, and himself. the one with the sharp tongue, who will fight anyone who messes with him but who will also use his voice to stand up for others.

it’s too bad, too bad he can’t stand up for himself.

so he keeps writing to sunhee, even if he never receives anything back but he hopes she’ll be able to forgive him one of these days. that she’ll be able to forgive him for finding a way to escape, for finding a way out. it wasn’t easy and maybe, just maybe, she will see that someday.

#id.bio #id.midas #id.olympus #id.lee taeyong

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