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multi-kpop-fanfics · 2 years

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Ice, Ice Baby

boyfriend!Mingyu x fem!pale!reader

genre: smut, fluff, slight crack

warnings: swearing, ice play, soft dom Gyu, slight fingering (f rec), unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), mentions of sunburn (pls use sunscreen, it’s good for you), cocky af Mingyu

word count: ~2,4k

Summary: Y/N and Mingyu go to the beach on a hot summer day and Y/N gets a sunburn. Luckily, sweet boyfie Gyu knows exactly how to soothe her burning skin ;)

repost from my old account!

Author’s note: I literally got inspiration for this fic bcs I got a mf sunburn and I wished I had someone to apply ice or after sun balm on my skin :”)

It was a usual hot summer day outside, the air-con in your apartment was working since early in the morning and you were beyond thankful for the cool atmosphere in the living room - otherwise you would be sleeping in the fridge with the water bottles. Thanks to that, you were able to wear a light tee and a pair of shorts rather comfortably.

Your boyfriend, however, had apparently forgotten the existence of shirts and was roaming around the house shirtless. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, because you got free eye-candy - although Mingyu would relentlessly tease you whenever he caught you checking him out, and you would end up looking like a damn tomato.

“The last time I checked, I did the laundry two days ago and most of your t-shirts were in there”, you state, hands resting on your waist as you watch your once again shirtless boyfriend plop on the couch.

“Aw come on, Y/N! It’s so hot in here, what do you expect me to do?!”, Mingyu whines, “Besides, it’s not like you hate seeing me shirtless 24/7”, he wiggles his eyebrows and you scoff.

“One, the air-con has been working non-stop for three days. Two, I don’t mind seeing your torso, but you sweat buckets and you leave stains everywhere!”, you throw the kitchen towel to Mingyu and he hits him on the face spot-on.

“What do you suggest we do then, my dear stingy girlfriend?”, Mingyu asks.

You stand there, thinking for a few seconds and a light bulb lights up in your brain.

“How about we go to the beach? It’s just a fifteen minute walk from here and I have the day off today, so why not take a dive? Might as well get a tan”, you chirp as you look at your pale-as-a-sheet skintone.

Mingyu perks to your suggestion. “That sounds like a really good idea, actually. I haven’t gotten the chance to go to the beach in a very long time. This golden body has been kept away for too long”, he shows off and skips to the room. “Aren’t you coming, babe? You can’t go to the beach without a swimsuit”, “Shut up, Kim Mingyu”, you whine.

Approximately thirty minutes later….

“Whew, you were 100% right, Y/N, the sea is amazing!”, Mingyu dries his body, the stray droplets cascading on his golden, toned body. You try your best to not stare at him, as you keep yourself busy with applying your tanning oil. Mingyu glances at you with a slightly worried look in his eyes.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Gyu?”, you ask. “Babe, are you sure it’s a good idea to use this oil? I mean, you’re still pale and you might get a sunburn”, he rubs his neck and you gulp slightly. “O-Oh! Don’t worry Gyu, I’ll be fine! I may look pale, but I tan very easily! C-Can you put some oil on my back now, please?”, you stutter and ask him with puppy eyes to help you. “I can’t say no to my pretty baby now, can I?”, Mingyu smiles and sits behind you, taking the bottle in his hands.

You feel his hands slowly apply the oil on your back with very soft motions and you bite your lip. Damn, why do his hands always feel so fucking good, you think and suddenly, a series of not so innocent mental images start forming in your brain, your cheeks starting to heat up (not because of the burning sun).

Coincidentally, Mingyu was in a similar situation just behind you. He could feel his fingertips slide down your smooth skin, which was now glistening under the hot sun, thanks to the tanning oil. Not to mention the heavenly scent of coconut and chocolate - it was driving him crazy. Fuck, I could eat her alive right now, he thinks and it takes all of his self-control to stop his blood from flowing all the way south. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner in his thin swimming pants.

“U-Uh, Y/N, I think I will go dive again into the sea, you c-can stay here and sunbathe, babe”, he stutters and rushes to the sea once again. “Mingyu, you just- ugh, this dumbass”, you mutter as you watch your boyfriend dive into the sea. You decide to give up to his antics and lay back to sunbathe. Little did you know the reason Mingyu went back to the sea was none other than you.

The day passed in a blur, the occasional dives into the sea, chatting with Mingyu, flirty remarks, a lot of sunbathing and a few glares from other girls towards you because “Where the fuck did she find a hot ass guy like him?!”, you heard one of them say and you couldn’t help but smirk to her direction. “Y/N, you are lowkey scary right now”, Mingyu stares at you and you pull him for a kiss, catching him off-guard. “No need to worry, babe, I’m just lucky to have you”, you smile sweetly and he smirks, kissing you again, with a hint of tongue. “Me too, babe”.

Everything was fine - until you returned home with a stinging pain on your entire body. You were lucky your t-shirt and shorts covered the parts of your body that were seriously burned, or else you would most likely get lectured by Mingyu. And honestly, that was the last thing you wanted now - because you absolutely hated not how cocky he would get every time he was right about something.

You were only in your bathing suit, hissing every time you touched even a sliver of your skin and you instantly stepped into the shower, in an attempt to wash off the remaining sea salt and somehow soothe your skin under the cold water. You only used a bit of shampoo to clean your hair, because using shower gel and a sponge to rub your skin at this moment would be absolute hell.

You finish your shower and wrap a towel around your naked body, slowly opening the bathroom door, checking whether Mingyu was present or not. You release a breath you were holding and tip-toe your way towards the bedroom. “Oh my God, Y/N, what the fuck is THAT?!”, you hear the familiar voice of your boyfriend behind you and you nearly scream. “Mingyu, what the hell! You scared me, you idiot!”, you whine and Mingyu glares at you. “That’s ironic, coming from you, young lady”, he raises his eyebrow.

“How bad is it?”, “I-It’s just my back, n-nothing serious-”, you stutter. “Bullshit, let me see”, he insists. “Gyu, you don’t have to, it’s o-”

“Y/N, take off the damn towel and let me see”, he demands in a lower octave and you gulp audibly, intimidated by Mingyu’s tone. You slowly peel off the towel from your body and you stand naked in front of him, his eyes wide from your damaged skin. He flicks your forehead and you whine in pain, but you don’t get the chance to bite back, as he lifts you in bridal style and he takes you to the bedroom, placing you carefully on the bed. “Stay here, I’m bringing ice”, he says and you nod silently.

A few minutes pass and Mingyu is back with a bowl full of ice cubes and he sits next to you. “Do me a favor and lay with your back facing me”, he orders and you comply, your muscles screaming in the meantime. “Care to explain, Y/N?”, he asks while taking an ice cube in his hand and placing it carefully on your burned skin, the cold feeling making you hiss. “I…”, “Yes..?”, “ I just wanted to get tanned skin fast, so I thought using this oil would help..” you mumble. “Sweetheart, you know very well that working on a tan takes time”, he states. “I know, but still! Why do you get to have such beautiful golden skin and I’m stuck being a fucking ghost? It’s unfair- Ah!”, you moan faintly and Mingyu chuckles while dragging the ice cube down your spine. ”Aw, is my little baby jealous of her boyfriend? So cute”, and you hit him sideways with your leg, making him drop the ice cube, which cascaded down to your lower back.

You had to bite your lip and suppress a moan, because deep down, you were embarrassingly turned on by the whole situation. And Mingyu being shirtless next to you was making everything way worse for the pooling heat between your legs.

As if on cue, you feel a brand new ice cube being dragged on your skin excruciatingly slowly and Mingyu’s lips following the trail of water it left. “Turn around for me, sweetheart”, he purrs and you oblige, as you lay flat on your back, Mingyu is hovering over you, eyeing you like a starved man. “You know, Y/N, back on the beach”, he trails the ice cube from your neck to the valley of your chest and you breathe shakily, “Your skin was glistening under the sun thanks to that goddamn oil. And don’t even get me on the scent, because fuck, I could have eaten you alive right there and then”, he growls and softly bites the skin on your collarbone, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“G-Gyu..”, you mewl, “Yes, sweetheart?”, “M-More ice…”, you breathe and Mingyu grins like a Cheshire cat, a dangerous glint flashing through his eyes momentarily. “Yes, my lady”, he complies and picks two more ice cubes from the bowl. He holds one in his mouth and the other in his right hand. “Gyu, please- Mmhh!”, you moan as you feel his left hand and mouth touch your breasts, the ice cubes circling your sensitive nipples. The combination of your red hot skin and the water droplets from the ice cubes is a mix of whiplash and pure bliss, and Mingyu’s experienced lips and hands are definitely working their magic.

Despite the attention your breasts are receiving, you realize that your aching core is still neglected and the arousal between your legs is getting worse by the second. You try to rub your thighs together and get some friction, but Mingyu is fast enough to catch onto your motions and separate your legs with his knee. “No!”, you whine helplessly and Mingyu stares into your eyes, the ice cube in his mouth now half-melted, water making his pretty lips glossy. He smirks knowingly and you are taken by surprise, as you feel the familiar cool sensation trailing your inner thighs, closer and closer to the spot you need it the most.

Your silent prayers are answered once you feel the cube touch your aching clit, the sharper edge dipping between your lower lips and circling back to the clit. “Fuck, oh fuck, right there”, you moan and Mingyu groans. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so fucking hard, babe, you’re doing so good”, he coos as he slips the cube into your hole and you nearly scream from the brand new wave of pleasure. Mingyu brings his mouth back to yours and nearly devours your tongue. The kiss is beyond messy, teeth occasionally clashing and the temperature difference making it even sexier, all while he was playing with the ice cube in your pussy.

You were so close to cum, only for Mingyu to slip the cube out last minute and your orgasm to evaporate in thin air. “W-What was that for?!”, you chastise him and he shushes you with a finger on your lips. “Patience baby, relax and I promise to give you an orgasm you’ll remember for the rest of your life”, he purrs and you are certain he’s dead serious from the way he has been eyeing your naked body. He peels his shorts and boxers off in one go, his fully hard cock hitting his taut stomach. Even though you’ve taken Mingyu before, you can’t help but marvel at his impressive size.

“My eyes are up here, babe”, he laughs and he lines himself with your entrance and pushes with one powerful thrust, the sudden stretch bringing you pain, but more on the pleasurable side, stealing your breath away. Mingyu stops at his tracks, worry written all over his handsome features. “Y/N, are you okay? Did I hurt you-” “Move”, you croak. “What?”, “I said move, you big ass idiot, ram my insides!”, you yell at Mingyu’s face and he’s left stunned, but quickly recovers once your words sink in. “Your wish is my command, princess”, he growls.

You don’t know whether you should congratulate or curse your brain, because the pace Mingyu sets is indeed ramming your insides. You’re grasping his shoulders tight enough to leave nail marks and you feel the sheets stick on the skin of your back. It’s stinging you, but you don’t care - all you can think of is Mingyu fucking you so good you could cry. He lifts your thighs and puts them around his waist and then holds your hips as leverage. He then sits on his knees and he continues fucking you and the new angle has you seeing stars. His cock repeatedly grazes that one spot inside you that brings you closer to the orgasm you were denied earlier. “M-Mingyu, I-I’m close, wanna c-cum..”, you stutter and his hips start faltering as well. “Y-Yeah? Wanna cum on my cock, baby?”, and you nod feverishly, your inner thighs starting to tremble.

“Gyu!”, you scream, as you let your orgasm wash over your body and Mingyu braces himself on top of you, thrusting into your core in a sloppy manner, helping you ride out your high. He groans loudly as his cock throbs inside your pussy, his warm seed filling you to the brim. He still has some strength left in him and he manages to not crash on your limp body, a thin layer of sweat covering his sculpted body. He slowly pulls out and you wince at the emptiness between your thighs.

“Oh my, you were serious earlier”, you pant and Mingyu laughs, kissing your cheek softly. “Damn right I was! What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t take care of my precious girl?”, he smiles. “Speaking of which, I’m not done with you yet”, and you look at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”, you say while Mingyu stands up and wears his boxers. “Hello? You have a raging sunburn! I’m going to get more ice and a bit of aloe”, he states and you smile. “Aye aye, sir. But no funny business this time!”, you point your finger to him and a smirk spreads on his plush lips.

“No promises on that, baby”

#really loved this fic🤧🤧#mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #svt mingyu #kim mingyu #svt smut #svt fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfics #seventeen

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thepictureofsdr · 3 years

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If someone sends a long ask/an ask and you don’t answer them are there usually specific reasons?

This isn’t about any particular ask I just get worried when I send long asks, or asks about characters that accounts don’t talk about much in case I’m bothering them

Is there a general rule that if you haven’t answered an ask in _____ you probably won’t? I know after I send asks I usually spend the next 4-5 days anxious as to whether someone will respond or if I’ve annoyed them (because I really care about the things I send but I obviously don’t want to bother anybody!!)

Again, feel free to ignore this message if it is annoying or anything and if it is I’m sorry I hope this doesn’t come off as rude because that’s not my intention at all

anon we are CONNECTED i saw this literally because i opened my phone to explain this WE ARE CONNECTED OUR MINDS ARE ONE YOU READ ME

yes!!! i actually wanted to apologize to anyone who’s sent me a longer ask for how long it takes me to respond sometimes, i have a few in my inbox rn. im a freshman in college and it’s taking some adjustment, and im mentally worn out more often than not.

but i really genuinely do love getting longer or more complicated asks, im honestly honoured that people choose ME of all people to share thoughts with. but because of that, i refuse to answer anything unless i can give a genuine thought out response from my undivided attention, i don’t want to half ass a response and treat someone’s thoughts like they mean nothing and deserve only a few words.

i used to answer asks whenever i got them but now i tend to mass answer them on days im feeling energetic and mentally present if that makes any sense, i want to give each sentence the attention it deserves and answer it with the respect it warrants. i remember how happy i was when people started reading my posts and interacting, i’d never want to treat longer asks like they don’t mean anything, bc your thoughts and opinions are so wonderful and i really do value them. a common phrase for me is “anon i’m sorry if you didn’t want an essay” bc i tend to respond with a lot of thoughts if the ask warrants it

there are some asks i don’t answer, like ask games that i accidentally left for a week and the og post is buried and everyone’s forgotten it (IM SORRY 😭) but if it’s anything to do with thoughts on the books or a question or something engaging, i WILL get to it i swear i’m not ignoring anyone. it’s just some asks i can answer quickly with opinions i have straight off the bat or simple info i don’t have think about, but if i haven’t responded it means i’m gonna properly read through and think

i’ll take literally anything, it doesn’t matter if it’s long or about a character i don’t always talk about, no one should ever underestimate the value of interpretation or opinions (unless it’s bigoted then we mass block) and if someone just gets annoyed y’all deserve better. no ones a bother to me, if anything i’m the bother for not responding fast enough lmao m

am i taking tumblr asks way too seriously??? probably. but also i was that kid in honours english who didn’t shut up and wanted to talk about all kinds of theories and weird analysis and i know how important these thoughts can be SO I WILL BE TREATING EVERY LONG ASK WITH THE SNOBBY AIR OF ACADEMIA WE ARE ALL PROFESSORS HYPER ANALYZING THESE BOOKS AND I AM ENCOURAGING IT

tldr i love you all i’m just annoying and tired and i’m gonna read your long asks like a fucking professor bc yall have interesting thoughts 🤝

also if there are any reoccurring long askers, yall should start identifying yourselves if you want to! i remember seeing someone have conversations with their “egg anon” it’s funny

#tysm for the ask!!! <3 #answered ask

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mythical-ross · 4 years

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This is a little extract from the next chapter of Bonds Of Friendship, just so y’all know I haven’t forgotten about it (and for a bit of accountability). I’m semi back to work and I’m hoping a bit of routine will help me focus on stuff a little better, but who knows. Things are weird.

Link closed his eyes and moaned as Rhett’s lips moved down his jaw to his neck. “You’re so fucking hot,” Rhett muttered against Link’s skin. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Don’t,” Link managed to say. He wasn’t sure what he meant - don’t keep your hands off me or don’t say such things.

“Your body is so perfect,” Rhett went on. “I’m so lucky.”

Link felt his cheeks burn. If either of them was lucky, surely it wasn’t Rhett. Link was neurotic and bony, graying and needy; he was lucky Rhett was willing to be friends, never mind… whatever he was now.

“Your neck is so perfect,” Rhett murmured, peppering kisses along Link’s skin to punctuate the words. “Your jawline, your chin…”

Link’s tears that had mostly dried up, started flowing once more. “Stop,” he whispered. He was already feeling so vulnerable, he didn’t need to hear Rhett trying to bolster him.

“And your mouth,” Rhett said, paying him no heed. He lifted his head to bring their lips millimeters away from each other. “I love seeing my cock between your lips.” To emphasise his point, Rhett gave Link’s dick one long stroke from root to tip, fisting at the head to spread his precome.

(More to come, I swear)

#hey look at this distraction #rhink drabble #right??#Bonds Of Friendship #rossini’s adventures in writing

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 5 years

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Don’t Surrender-- Roger Taylor x Reader

Prompt; I’m in a bit of a mood and was listening to Surrender and this came about

Warnings; abuse, bit of language

Word Count; 2k

Notes; as someone who has been in an abusive situation, please know that if any of y’all need to talk, I'm always here for you

Your family was built on a rocky foundation. Your mother settled for your father, believing that she wasn’t going to get anything better in life. He wasn’t a great man. He tended to spend most of his time in bars or ‘at work.’ You never spent much time with him, choosing to stay close to your mother. Whenever your father would throw one of his fits, shouting and throwing things at the wall, she was your source of safety and stability. Your mother would whisk you away, murmuring comforts in your ear. She had a little flower garden planted in the backyard, and you spent a lot of time out there, reading or playing with your toys.

If there was one good thing you could say about your father, it’s that he never hit you or your mother. Sure, there had been moments where he would roughly grab your arm or throw an empty beer bottle near your mother’s feet, but he never actually struck either one of you. Many times he would cuss and shout about how the two of you were tying him down and draining his bank accounts. You tried to remind yourself of the positive.

As you got older, you started asking your mother why she didn’t just leave him. She would quickly change the topic and cast worried glances over her shoulder. It didn’t take you long to realize that she was scared of how his reaction would be if she filed for a divorce. The years were tough on your mother, and the constant battle-zone that was your home started to wear her down. She became bitter and resentful, bottling up her emotions. In moments where she would normally be calm and reassuring, your mother would snap and yell at you. Then that evening, she would return in tears, apologizing for her behavior. You eventually became numb towards life at home and would retreat into a shell before setting foot inside.

You didn’t have the money to move out as quickly as you wanted to, but going to university was a godsend. It gave you an excuse to stay out as long as you wanted. There were times where your parents would interrogate you on where you had been all day, but you were used to their shouts and threats by then.

You were spacing out again. You had leaned over to take a look through the microscope in order to see the cells of an onion root and was, apparently, just staring at it for quite some time. Your mind had wandered elsewhere, and you had honestly forgotten all about your current situation until you felt someone nudge your shoulder. Blinking rapidly, you pulled yourself away from the microscope and gave your lab partner a sheepish smile. He knit his brows together. “You alright?” Clearing your throat, you sat back down, jotting down a few notes.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m fine!” He gave you a disbelieving look. “Seriously, Roger, I’m alright.” Roger sighed, deciding not to press the subject any further. Even though you said you were okay, your expressions said otherwise. You were doing a good job, hiding behind a smile, but Roger was far too familiar with the faraway look in your eyes.

Staring at your reflection, you rolled your shoulders in an attempt to remove some of your anxieties. Roger had invited you to come and watch one of his band’s performances. You initially declined the offer, but he practically begged you. Roger gave you the biggest puppy eyes, and you just couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure if it would be your scene. Roger, being ever the gentleman, reminded you that he would beat the shit out of anyone who made you uncomfortable. He was being a little too extreme for your taste, but it was the thought that counts.

You got to the pub a little earlier than Roger had anticipated, but he didn’t mind. He ushered you to the van and introduced you to Brian and Tim. You seemed nervous but once more hid behind a soft smile. When you noticed Roger staring at your hands, which were slightly shaking, you stuffed them inside your pockets. Roger didn’t want to push you into talking about something you were uncomfortable with sharing, but it hurt his heart to see you suffering.

While they set up their gear, you stayed near the little stage. You chewed your lip, mentally cursing yourself for agreeing to come. There were dozens of other students in the pub, all drinking and cutting up. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as the smell of alcohol almost felt suffocating. Roger eyed you carefully from behind his drum kit. Your chest was heaving, and a thin layer of sweat had collected above your brows. Roger was about to approach you when someone accidentally dropped a shot glass. Your body went rigid, and your eyes widened ever so slightly. Next thing he knew, you were out the back door. Roger swore under his breath, running after you.

He found you pacing around the back of the pub. You had one hand running through your hair, while the other was propped on your hip. You were having a debate with yourself-- stay and support your friend or run away, like you always did? That was something that your father always yelled at you about. Whenever things started to get rough at home, you would slip out and stay away until things had calmed down again. “You’re weak if you can’t stand a little yelling,” he would spit venomously

“(Y/N), what’s wrong, love?” Roger’s soft voice cut through your thoughts, grounding you back into reality. You stopped pacing when you noticed he was standing in front of you.

“Nothing. I just... I’m just not feeling too well. I think I’m gonna go back home,” you stuttered out, wringing your hands. Roger pursed his lips. It was getting late, and he didn’t like the thought of you walking home alone.

“I’ll walk you home, then.” Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head.

“No! I’ll be fine. I don’t live too far from here.”

“All the more reason for me to walk you home.” Your mind scrambled for an excuse.

“What about your band?” He shrugged.

“What about them? They can wait a little longer, it’s not like we haven’t performed the same songs over and over again.” You swallowed thickly, nodding.

The two of you fell into a steady pace. There was an uneasy silence. Roger was desperate to know what was bothering you so much, and you were trying to come up with a plan to prevent him from seeing your home. No, it wasn’t the sight of your home that you were worried about. You were worried about the possibility of bumping into your parents.

You let out a breath of relief. It looked like the house was empty, for all the lights were off. Roger gently placed a hand on your shoulder. His doe-eyes searched yours. “You know that you can talk to me, right? You’re more than just my lab partner.” You nodded and thanked him for walking you home.

Roger stood on the curb, watching you hesitantly open the front door to your home. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to close the door behind yourself when your father started yelling at you for coming home so late at night. He was sitting in the living room with a beer in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth. Your mother had apparently gone to stay at a relative’s for the weekend, leaving you alone with your father. He needed to vent his anger, so he waited for you to get home. Roger clenched his fists, stepping closer to the house. He couldn’t make out what your father was saying to you, but he could catch a glimpse of the two of you through one of the windows. Your father was waving his hands, sloshing his drink around. You kept your head down and flinched every time one of his hands got too close for comfort.

You stood there, unmoving. You couldn’t bring yourself to look outside. You didn’t want to know if Roger had seen or heard anything that was going on inside your home. When your father knocked over a lamp, you decided that enough was enough. You slipped out of the room and out of the back door as fast as your legs could carry you. The flower garden had always been your safe haven. Even after your mother gave up on it, you continued to care for each and every little blossom. There was one barren spot in the middle of the flowerbed where you would always try to hide when you were little. You laid down in the small patch of earth, choking back a sob.

Roger watched you disappear from the room and go somewhere towards the back of the house. He dashed around the side of the house and eyed the picket fence that surrounded the small backyard. That’s when he heard your quiet cries. Without a moment’s hesitation, Roger climbed over the fence.

You froze when you heard a bucket tumble over. Your father had never pursued you whenever you ran away, surely he wouldn’t have done so now? It wasn’t until you heard a couple of quiet swears that you realized who was in your garden. Sitting up, you spied Roger trying to set everything back up to its original place. You sniffled, rubbing your hands over your hair and face in order to make yourself look more presentable.”Rog, what’re you doing here?” Roger spun on his heel, and his heart broke into a million pieces at the sight of you.

“I came to check up on you. Sorry about your... uh...” he trailed off, motioning towards your gardening supplies. You shook your head and waved him off. Roger picked his way through the patches of flowers and sat beside you.

“How much did you see?” You avoided his gaze, and Roger pressed his lips into a thin line.

“All of it.” Your lip quivered, so you bit your knuckle to keep yourself from crying. Humiliation washed over your body. Roger placed a gentle hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. You leaned into his touch. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

“You wouldn’t understand.” You were making excuses again. In truth, you just didn’t want to burden him with your problems. Like your mother always said, things could be a lot worse. You kept reminding yourself that, but a voice in the back of your mind screamed that she was wrong. It begged you to confide in Roger. You needed someone in your life that you could trust.

“You’d be surprised.” Your brows knit together as you finally met his gaze. His eyes were glossy, much like your own.

Roger told you about his family and how he knew what it was like to be so afraid in a place that’s supposed to be for happy memories. It didn’t take long before the two of you were in each other's arms, crying. You apologized multiple times for making him miss his performance, but he just whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

The two of you laid in the garden for who knows how long. The moon was high in the sky, and Roger pointed out various constellations that he had picked up from conversations with Brian. He took your hand and held it over his chest. You kept staring at the sky, but Roger was focusing on you. “You don’t have to stay here and surrender to them, you know. I don’t have a big place, but I could make room. If you wanted to.” You turned your head to get a good look at him. He had a soft smile, despite the fact that his eyes were still puffy from crying. You never had too much to look forward to, but you were looking forward to this-- the possibilities with Roger.

If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know!

Tag List; @mothermercuryy

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy!roger x reader #queen #queen x reader #queen imagines #queen one shot #angst #angsty fic #fluff #fluff imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader

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pinkchannies · 6 years

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cheesier than cheesecake

i got inspired to write this on my 5 hours flight to hong kong bcz i ate cake on my way to the airport and miraculously wrote this on my flight in one go

also heading to hong kong eh wink wink nudge nudge @ agust d //slapped

well here's a jin oneshot because kim seokjin is my number one man and bias in bts and we need some shoulder man love in our lives amirite

laksndowxjoe i couldn't post this earlier bECAUSE WIFI AND MY COM WASN'T COOPERATING :(( sob well ok here i am posting it now LMAO bless wifi pls live

genre: fluff , is this considered comedy, crack has slipped into this fic again

requested: no

pairing: seokjin x reader

author notes: reader is a baking/walking disaster bcz mood, jin screaming and being a mama hen, idk how i wrote this in just one flight, chiru probably needs creative writing classes at this point, how do you come up with good titles

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the clock read, 2.09am. i groaned. it was one of those days again. or rather, one of those nights. of grueling hunger and cravings. and there was one way to solve it(or make it worse) without actually eating. though it may not be the best way. do u kno da wae-chiru get out i snatched my phone from my bedside table and loaded instagram, heading straight to the buzzfeedtasty instagram account. yes, tasty. the number one guilty pleasure where their food looks so good even with the simplest ingrediants, and when you recreate it it somehow looks like shit. or maybe i'm just a shitty cook. or maybe plating food to make it look aesthetically pleasing is just that difficult. or maybe both. to "satisfy" this sudden craving for sweets, i started watching videos of their deserts. god help me they look so good. the way the cream cheese blends with sugar and turns into a smooth white paste under the electric mixer, with heavy cream added to that mix and that generous teaspoon of vanilla essence that you can literally smell (jin: mMMMm sMELL) through your phone, those cheesecakes and oreos and cream and just all that fattening goodness- y'all this whole instagram account is straight up porn. i already feel fat just by watching these videos. but i'm still hungry af. the struggle is hella real who else can relate "ughhhhhh i wanna bake these godlike creations but i'm scared that i'll accidentally blow up my kitchen..." i groaned into my pillow. yeah, i’m a bit of a walking disaster, luckily i haven't reached namjoon's level. i think. one time my cookies almost turned out spicy because i was cooking spicy noodles at the same time. please don't ask. someone please just buy me a huge cheesecake to binge eat whilst i cry over my bad life decisions, one of which would be eating a whole 1542 calorie cheesecake at the asscrack of dawn. an imaginary or rather, imajinary-chiru stob light bulb went off from my head. there was one man made for this situation. one shoulder man, to be exact. i clicked on the contact "worldwide shoulders" and started typing.

(y/n) 2.30am

shoulder man take me by the hand lead me to the land that u understand

worldwide shoulders 2.35am

ya, its like 2.30am, shouldn't you be asleep? don't make me confiscate your phone

(y/n) 2.35am

sorry mom

worldwide shoulders 2.36am

yA tHIs chILd what's up, u usually don't text this late

(y/n) 2.37am

r u free tmr i wanna bake cheesecake pretty please

worldwide shoulders 2.38am

what a *cheesy* date if i do say so myself

(y/n) 2.38am

jIN its too early for puns :(

worldwide shoulders 2.39am

excuse you my puns are jinius

(y/n) 2.39am

SO cAN U BAKE WITH ME TMR :((( well actually it’ll be later today pls i owe u one

worldwide shoulders 2.40am

fine make sure u have the stuff ready, i'll come over at 10 go sleep its late

(y/n) 2.41am

yAY THANKS JINNIE

worldwide shoulders 2.41am

EXCUSE ME I AM OLDER THAN U (y/n) 2.42am :p see u tmr!! gnite shoulder man *finger heartu* worldwide shoulders 2.43am the disrespect i swear ----- "jin this is too tiring..." i groaned, my arms aching. "just a little bit more... just beat it harder." "look, must i really use my hands for this?" i whined. jin deadpanned. "(y/n) it's becoming white already, just continue. you wanted me to teach you right?" "why the hell can't i just use the electric mixer for the egg whites? its much faster than hand beating it..." i grumbled. "this is as good as doing 240 push-ups like jungkook," i whined. "my child there will be no shortcuts in this house when it comes to baking or cooking," i snorted at that. says the one who uses seasoning in his food. i mean, who doesn't? "i guess we can say that the cake will be eggcellent." he let out a windshield-wiper laugh at his own joke while i groaned at the terrible pun. "jin pls." ----- "DON'T CHOP THE BUTTER LIKE THAT OHMY GOD (Y/N) YOU'RE GOING TO CHOP YOUR HAND OFF LIKE THAT NO YOU'RE WORSE THAN NAMJOON SLICING ONIONS." jin shrieked at my horrible attempt to slice the frozen solid butter. i had forgotten to take the butter out to thaw, so now i had to face the consequences. of slicing, no, chopping, through rock solid butter that is stubborn about becoming smaller pieces. go me

he sighed and went behind me, his larger frame engulfing mine as he positioned my hand to hold the knife properly. "rest your index on top of the blade and your thumb and middle on its sides. this way, you'll have a better grip on the knife. and it reduces the chances of the knife slipping and chopping your finger off." he guides my fingers to hold the knife, while rambling on the precautions to take-which entered one ear and left the other. how am i supposed to concentrate when i've never been in this close proximity with the man until this moment? gosh he was warm and it feels real cozy, his chin gently resting on my shoulder to oversee the process, his larger hand on my smaller one guiding me to chop the butter. how domestic, i chuckled at the thought. i wonder how his hand would look like with his fingers entwined with mine- -which is what i did with the hand unoccupied by the knife. without me even registering it, i grabbed his free hand. our hands were clasped together and our fingers were tangled with each other. “omg (y/n) what are you doing” i screamed in my brain. do y’all ever just get intrusive thoughts like this and regret everything leading up to this moment. jin gave me a quizzical look that screamed "what are you doing." ok but same jin, same. well this turned awkward. in my panic, i let go of his hand. and the knife. good job, (y/n). "OH MY GOD LOOK OUT" jin yelled for what must be the 182297318th time today at my screw up and pulled me away from the knife which fell to the floor with a clang. i was pressed flushed against his chest as he pulled my body closer to his, almost as if we were snuggling. except that now is not really the time to snuggle with the situation at hand. thankfully the knife didn’t hurt any of us, but i knew, i was in deep shit with jin. i mentally braced myself for the lecture i was going to get. oh boy this is going to be ugly. "look (y/n), i dont care if you cant cook for shit." his face was starting to turn red from the incoming rant, and i had to stifle a giggle at that. there was always something amusing about jin scolding-maybe it comes from the fact that even if the mood is serious, he still wants to make everyone laugh and doesn’t want an atmosphere too damp. so his scolding just somehow turns comical. i bit down on my bottom lip harshly to stop the giggles, lest the lecture becomes longer. "but you are handling something sharp, please be careful." "i understand." i sighed. "look if i'm not here, you could have been seriously injured, you can't just play while handling knives. luckily i was around and could pull you away before it landed on your feet and cause you to internally bleed in your toe. do you even know how nasty it looks to have that black blood clot under your nail?" i nodded sheepishly. "loOK, WHAT IF YOU WERE ALONE? YOU COULD HAVE BLED TO DEATH AND THEN I WOULD NEED TO HAUL YOUR ASS TO THE HOSPITAL WHICH WOULD NOT END WELL MAJOR BLOOD LOSS IS NOT A FUN THING OK YOU NEED BLOOD TRANSFUSION SO PLEASE BE CAREFUL WITH THE KNIFE DONT BE A SECOND NAMJOON." "yes mom." "excuse you i am not your mother." "alright you're excused mr worldwide handsome... mom." "YA THIS BRAT." ----- thankfully, that was the only major incident-or as the drama queen puts it, life threatening incident-that happened while baking the cheesecake. after 2 hours of screaming together and jin telling me how to carry out baking procedures properly, we finally put the cake together. "jin, she's beautiful." i shed a fake tear at our finished product. fake tear-fake love tear-chiru why are you so lame "yeah, but im more beautiful amirite." ".....you're inedible so obviously the cheesecake is prettier than you." he looked at me with a mock look of offense and i giggled at that. "well at least my face doesn't need to be caked with makeup to look good." "jin, why are you so lame." just like me "hey at least i'm still walking." "oh my god." "i mean that's not my name, but god's also a good name for someone as handsome as me." "........i give up." there was a tense moment of pregnant silence that settled between us. suddenly, we both burst out laughing at our ridiculous banter filled with bad puns, courtesy of jin. "let's eat the cheesecake, shall we?"

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts oneshots #fluff #kim seokjin #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jinnie #fanfic #oneshot #bulletproof boyscouts #i was watching too many food vids and this happened HAHAHAH #seokjin fluff #reader insert #seokjinnie #p cliche but i try #how does one tag

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wandaspetal · 2 years

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y’all I swear I haven’t forgotten about this account, this new semester has just had me in a choke hold…so I’m writing a college AU to cope

#thanks for all the support <333 #it’s gonna be great #I already finished the first chapter #also I need to figure out what I want my master list format to be

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izzyisamachine · 7 years

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A Scathing Review of Descendants 2

Confession: It’s not like I hated this movie, I was just kinda frustrated and had to rant about it? No hate if you really loved this movie. Also this review has Swears™ and is completely 100% Unedited™. Sorry. Also, spoilers are here so that’s fun.

To preface this review, I don’t think I’m this film’s target audience. That is to say, I’m old enough to be embarrassed by current affairs and the state of my bank account. But I’ve always been into that good good fairy tale shit, so when I heard Disney was making a kids movie about some of their most popular (and profitable) characters, I went, “seems legit,” ignored the similarities to Mattel’s “Ever After High” franchise (I’m a sucker for fairy tale shit okay and this stuff’s free on Youtube) and hunkered down to watch. Descendants The First was… not what I’d call good per se, but it was good enough. It was a little dull, the costumes oozed kitsch that made my eyes really want to cry, and every supposedly “well known” character from Disney’s pantheon seemed a little “off” (which wasn’t really anyone’s fault, since I was expecting everyone to look like a cartoon), but ultimately it was competent. There was a plot, the pacing was decent, and there were a couple bops thrown in, since the director of Descendants also did High School Musical. This is an assessment of the first Descendants movie that I think is valid, mainly because I’ve watched a couple of reviews on film theory on Youtube, meaning that I’m a fucking expert now I guess.

But we ain’t here to talk about Descendants the first. We’re here to talk about it’s sequel, Descendants 2. Oh ho ho. Descendants 2.

Lemme start with some good stuff: the outfits definitely got a lot better, the new characters introduced are pretty cool (Uma, daughter of Ursula, and Harry Hook, self explanatory. I don't really fuck with Gil though? He’s okay I just don’t really care about him), and there are still some mf’ing bops (mainly, Uma’s intro number “What’s My Name”, and that other one where the kids try to teach Ben how to stop being so fucking white I forgot what it’s called but whatever). I understand also why a lot of people are saying this movie is the better of the two Descendants films. It’s got some good character development, and, according to some review I saw online, it’s “darker” than the first film. I don’t really remember the first film all that well so I guess I have to go along with that. But I still have major beef with the second film so here we fucking go:

DESCENDANTS 2 MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE.

Not as a standalone movie, not in the context of the movie’s universe, not in like, any scenario ever.

So like first of all: the whole point of the first movie was that Prince Ben, aka generic blonde love interest (GBLI), decides that the villain kids, or VKs, as they call themselves (I know, cringe barf), deserve a chance. So, despite the advice of like, everyone, he invites the kids of Maleficent, Jafar, the Evil Queen, and Cruella de Vil (??? Why the fuck is she here she doesn’t even have any magical powers that need to be contained??? They could have let her kid get adopted by someone instead of leaving him to rot on Evil McEvil Islandsville???) to come to his high school (another thing: is he the prince of the school, or the prince of the whole country?? Because we literally never see anything not within walking distance of this fucking prep school. Is there an Auradon public school where the kids of like… side characters go?) to go hang at his school. And surprisingly (to no one in the audience), they turn out to be Productive Members of Society™ who were just Misunderstood™ (after an adjustment period where they fuck everything up for a while). At the beginning of the movie, Prince GBLI turns into King GBLI. Why? I don’t fucking know. His parents are still alive AND his dad is only like… 50? At most? Why the fuck is he retiring so early??? In this economy? My dad’s like pushing 60 and still working??? What kinda bourgeoisie fuckery is this?

So. Anyway.

What is King GBLI doing with his time?

Is he improving infrastructure? Attending to foreign affairs? Or maybe, I dunno, extending his villain kid outreach program past 4 fucking people?

No. This bitch plans a party. Specifically, he plans fairy tale character prom, or “Cotillion.” Whatever.

So of course, some villain kids are (understandably) pissed about being forgotten. Specifically, one kid named Uma, played by China Anne McClain. Uma is a fucking queen. She’s cool. I like her and her pal Harry. Not Gil though. He’s the son of Gaston and I don’t really get why he’s there. But he’s okay I guess. But anyway, like a muthafucking communist boss, she’s like “Imma overthrow the bourgeoisie!” So she plans to get the fairy godmother’s magic McGuffin wand so she can reverse the social hierarchy and bring justice to the oppressed. I fuck with that. It’s understandable. Basically, King GBLI decided to pick a bunch of random villains to bring to the prep school that he's somehow king of, and forgot about literally everyone else. What a dick.

But meanwhile, King GBLI’s girlfriend Mal, the “hero” of our story (jk, it’s Uma. I love Uma) decides that she’s had ENOUGH of playing perfect girlfriend and wants to go back to being villainous Maleficent’s daughter again. So she packs up her shit, including her own personal McGuffin, her magic spell book that she somehow can’t perform magic without (did she not think to memorize the spells she uses really often or is that book the source of all her power? Whatever, the movie never fucking explains this so I won’t even try), and fucks on off to Evil McEvilsville (or the “Isle of the Lost”. Whatever.) Here, she gets a dramatic dye job and basically does whatever the fuck she wants while her friends worry about her.

Her friends find out she’s missing and follow her to the isle, taking the most inconspicuous vehicle they can find: a magic barrier breaking limousine. Sorry, did I say most inconspicuous? I meant least inconspicuous. Then, Uma kidnaps GBLI and is like, “hey. You forgot about us and thats not cool.” To which he’s like, “well I remember you now so that’s like, totally enough to make you good now, right?” To which she, understandably, is like, Bitch No. SO THEN, she tell Mal that if she ever wants to see GBLI again, she has to bring her fairy godmother’s Magic McGuffin™. The Gang™ tricks her with a 3D printed wand (what fucking century does this movie take place in I’m confused), and fucks off back to their super cool party. BUT WAIT! MAL HAS LEFT HER MCGUFFIN SPELL BOOK ON THE ISLAND! WHAT HAPPENS NOOOOOOWWW????

This is where the movie really starts to piss me the fuck off. You see, in film theory, there’s a little thing called “planting and payoff.” Basically, when the camera focusses on a specific object in detail, you expect to see that shit pop up later on. Example: if you see some guy holding a suitcase and then the camera pans to the suitcase, you expect it to be germane to the plot later on. So the assumption with Descendants 2 is: Uma finds Mal’s spell book and confronts her at the party thing. She then uses Mal’s only source of power against her. Since Mal has never been seen doing any magic without her spell book, she would now be powerless and have to find a way to do magic without it through an 11th hour power up or else use her wits and the help of her friends to retrieve her spell book and save the day. Instead, Uma seduces (I know it’s a kid’s movie so there’s no actual seducing but I dunno what else to call it) GBLI through a spell that she did NOT get from the spell book. Which Mal breaks easily with true love’s kiss, because this is a fairy tale movie. Then, Uma kinda uses her magic necklace (that’s here now) to grow huge and splash the prom boat. Lame. My prom was also on a boat. Double lame. And everyone on the boat acts super scared because now there’s water in it!… but no like holes, so the deck’s just a little wet and maybe the boat tilts a little. Everyone just kinda stands on the deck instead of getting below deck like a group of normal people and acts surprised that it’s tilting back and forth. No shit buddy! There’s a giant tentacle lady who’s angry at you in the water! What did you think was going to happen? Then Mal fucking TURNS INTO A DRAGON for some reason. And she fights Uma by blowing fire at her. In the middle of the ocean. Which has like, no effect because Mal just really really likes aiming like, three feet in front of Uma into the water. And water kinda does this thing where it puts out fire? I dunno maybe she should work on aiming better or something or find something more useful to transform into. Anyway, GBLI jumps into the water like an IDIOT and is like “Why can’t we be friends?” To which Uma is like, “what the fuck man.” Understandable. But then she just, like

GOES AWAY?

My girl just decides to fucking leave for some reason what the fuck she could have easily won whatever the fuck that battle was and 5 minutes in she just WALKS AWAY??? This whole battle scene just savors of anti-climax. Kinda like a faked orgasm. And then they FIND MAL’S SPELL BOOK BELOW THE DECK??? AFTER EVERYTHING IS OVER??? WHAT THE FUCK??? Y’all lead me to believe it’s a salient plot point and now this shit? And then Mal decides to give her book to a museum because it’s “too dangerous.” What the fuck? No one in this movie did anything remotely dangerous with that fucking book? And then GBLI has obviously learned his lesson. Because he decides to admit one (1, uno, yi, une) more villain kid to the prep school. Because one of the other villain kids, Evie (who I kinda overlook in this review even though I kinda like her), literally asks him point blank. And then everyone dances in the rain like they haven’t learned an important lesson about social class and what the lack of opportunities to underprivileged youths can mean for society.

Fuck.

#descendants 2 #descendants #uma #i'm sorry if you liked this movie?#i know a lot of people did #i just #have a lot of feelings about it #spoilers

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sauvmyproblems-blog · 7 years

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FIFTEEN | LOCKED IN

HI! REMEMBER ME?! HOW ARE YOU??? Can you believe that Donald Trump is going to be our president??? UGH.

I’m so sorry that I haven’t posted in one million days. Seriously. It’s unacceptable and I’m ashamed of myself. For the record, I have 4 stories started but I’ve been suffering from severe writer’s block. Apparently, it really is a thing that can happen to even the most mediocre of bloggers!

In addition to my official/medical writer’s block diagnosis, I have other excuses to offer up. I’ve conclusively become two things: busy and lazy. I recognize that these two adjectives shouldn’t traditionally go together…yet I am living and breathing proof that this oxymoron is possible.

I strangely find myself having plans almost every single night of the workweek. Trust me, I’m not bragging; it’s not easy being this popular and socially relevant. Instead of staying in to write / exercise my "creativity", I’ve been hitting up ALL of the bars. And ALL of the restaurants. And ALL of the work outings. And ALL of the J. Crews. And ALL of the friends’ apartments where alcohol is served. Thus, demonstrating the busy component.

The later I stay out, the greater the likelihood is that I will take a cab home. And of course the chances of me being hungover in the morning grows exponentially. Like you guys, I’ve discovered that my new baseline is just my old self except 20% more nauseous and bloated than I used to be. Since I’m staying out passed my bedtime, I get little-to-no sleep and thus have a challenging time waking up in the morning. Which also means I’ve been wearing Leggings As Pants (LAP) which is NOT A PRETTY SIGHT for someone who has been doing nothing but consuming calories 24 hours a day. That’s the lazy part.

Also, since I have your attention, I’d also like issue one more formal complaint: this newfound lifestyle has made me broke as shit. I swear on your life, my eyes filled with tears the other morning when I realized I had $34 in my bank account. LITERALLY THIRTY-FOUR DOLLARS. WHO HAVE I BECOME? I HATE MYSELF.

Hold on a sec. I’M ACTUALLY STRESS-SWEATING. I need a minute to regain my composure.

K. Back.

Anyway… a few weeks ago, I decided my life needed to change. No more bullshit. It’s time to be a responsible human being. I promised myself that I was going to wake up early that Saturday morning and really adult. I was going to do laundry and exercise my disgusting body and clean my disgusting apartment. I was going to put my shoes in my closet and hang up all of the coats that were draped over my couch.

Since I still don’t have blinds in my apartment, I woke up with the ~sunrise~ around 7:00AM, which sounds kind of ~romantic~ until I inform you that I’m not wearing pants in this flashback. And I’m alone watching said sunrise. Yep. Just me, myself and the teardrops on my guitar.

I did what any other 28-year old adult would do: put on the Spotify playlist “The Best of Kelly Clarkson” and ate 3 bowls of Special K while standing over my sink. I made a couple cups of Starbucks coffee in my ghetto-ass Keurig machine. I moved all of my shoes from my hallway to shoe rack that is literally just a mangled piece of Bed, Bath and Beyond plastic – but hey, we can’t win them all. I Swiffered the living hell out of my 452-square foot apartment. I EVEN USED PLEDGE ON MY RAYMOUR & FLANAGAN MEDIA WALL UNIT. I am trying to use a lot of product placement in this paragraph, but now I’m not sure if it’s funny. I digress.

You get it. So far so good with this whole adulting thing. I pat myself on the back, which is a lie because I HATE BEING PATTED ON THE BACK. Seriously. If you ever pat me on the back when we’re hugging, I’m going to be offended and consider unfollowing you on social media.

Next up comes the laundry.

Laundry is something that I don’t mind doing, but there are a few quick things I need to tell you to help you get a visual:

1. I always, 100% of the time, have 25 OR MORE pounds of clothing to wash on Laundry Day. And I take reusable tote bags that you get from TJ Maxx to bring said clothing down to the basement of my building, where the laundry room lives. 2. I usually need to use 4 of these bags to lug my laundry downstairs. 3. I always, 100% of the time, have enough black clothing to do a “blacks only” load, which sounds really questionable but is meant with the upmost respect. New Yorkers wear a TON OF BLACK. I love black. And the new black heart emoji.

Now that we are aligned, let’s get back to the story.

After all my clothes are done in the dryer, I shove them back in my $0.99 tote bags and drag them back up to my apartment. Since my arms are full of clean garments, I body-check my door open and then karate-kick it closed behind me. I am oftentimes unaware of my strength -- and the door literally SLAMS SO INCREDIBLY HARD. It makes an abnormally loud noise.

I dump all 94 lbs of clothing on my bed and go back to the door to lock it behind me, because murderers.

But…I notice that the metal around the doorknob has become lose, probably from my Power Ranger-style kick.

And now the door won’t re-open. Chuckling, I give myself a minute to regain my composure, and pull on it again.

The door does not open.

Hmmm. This can’t ACTUALLY be happening, can it? There is no way I’m trapped in my own apartment.

I take a deep breath and reposition my stance. I pull as hard as I possibly can on this god damn door.

It does not open.

I look around to see if Ashton Kutcher snuck into my apartment while I wasn’t looking – I’m definitely being Punked. THERE IS NO WAY THAT I’M TRAPPED IN MY OWN HOME.

I’m now doing that thing from the movies where my foot is on the wall to brace myself, and I am literally PULLING with all of my being on this fucking door.

It does not open.

Maybe my hands are just sweaty? Yeah, that’s gotta be it. I put on oven mitts because of the grippy part. And I pull as hard as I can.

It does not open.

As the terror slowly begins to sink in, I do what any other person would do in this situation – call their doorman for back-up. I tell him that I can’t seem to open my door, and ask him to bring up the spare key to see if he can open it from the outside.

The following video is actual evidence taken from the moment that my dear Tony comes to assess the situation. [Director’s note: please observe the shoe marks to the right of the doorknob from where my foot was.]

youtube

You heard it with your own two ears, people; Tony confirmed it.

I’m fucking locked INSIDE my studio apartment.

“This can’t be happening”, I say aloud. “On the ONE day that I actually was going to get shit done.”

While Tony is calling the locksmith, I begin to wonder what life would be like if the door just never opened again. “Maybe I can make a ladder out of sheets and lower myself the 9 stories to the street,” I think in my brain. I then remember that I broke my pelvis from running up a HILL, so the chances of me surviving the descent are slim-to-none. I wonder how long it would take me to build up enough body mass to knock down the door. I dig through my junk drawer to look for any secret tools I may have forgotten about. What if the fire department has to come and scoop me out of my window like a cat stuck in a tree? I can see it now… “FDNY RESCUES SLIGHTLY OVERWEIGHT MILLENNIAL FROM 9th FLOOR MANHATTAN APARTMENT DUE TO STUCK DOOR.” Oh my god. THAT WOULD BE SOCIAL SUICIDE. Actually, maybe I could finally fulfill my dream of being on Ellen.

I can barely get deep in this stress-fantasy before there is a knock on my broken door; Joe, the locksmith, has come to rescue me.

Within the first 10 minutes, he pops out the doorknob and somehow, magically, is able to get the door open. THIS IS SO GREAT. All he has to do now is pop the doorknob back in and he can get on his merry way. And I can continue on with the promise I made to myself for being productive on this Saturday. I CAN STILL SAVE THE DAY. CARPE GOD DAMN DIEM, Y’ALL.

But of course, this is me we’re talking about. Shit can never be that easy.

Joe comes into my apartment wearing gym clothes and lets me know that this emergency totally interrupted his workout. At the very second I start to feel guilty for ruining this guy’s weekend, I realize that he is a GUM SNAPPER. He is smacking on that piece of Trident like it’s his last day on earth. Like he was trying to win the World’s Loudest Gum Chewer contest. I start to feel less bad for him and more sorry for my eardrums.

Anyway, Chompy Joe makes a full assessment of my door, muttering to himself about the various parts that he’ll need to back to “the truck” and get. He starts to ask me a lot questions about the innards of my door’s lock system – do I know which way the bolt was installed, have I ever replaced the trigger, etc. I want to scream YOU ARE TALKING TO A PERSON WHO LOCKED HERSELF IN HER ACTUAL APARTMENT but instead I politely shrug and tell him I’ll be no help.

Joe and his gum go back to “The Truck” and reappear a half hour later – he begins drilling and hammering and screwing and chewing boisterously. I don’t want to seem like a helicopter parent, so I begin folding the skyscraper of clothing that’s atop my bed. After 15 or so minutes, Joe calls out to me that he’s fixed the door. WOW. THAT WAS FAST. WHAT A PRODIGY.

I run over to him, which is a lie because you can’t run in my apartment because it is so small. He confidently attempts to walk me through the steps he took to replace the lock. Except when it comes time for him to demonstrate his success, we discover that he DID NOT FIX the lock. And thus begins the real emotional turmoil / the below hellacious cycle:

1. Joe mutters to himself while futzing around with my locks. That sounds sexual. It is not sexual. 2. Joe lets me know that he finally has discovered what the problem is, and heads back out to “The Truck” to get more necessary parts. 3. After 30 minutes or so of truck rummaging, Joe returns to the scene of the crime and begins playing around with the door. 4. After 10 more minutes, Joe calls back out to me that the locks are repaired. 5. Joe tries to show me that my door is fixed. 6. The door is still not fixed. 6.5 The locks are still broken. 7. See step 1. 8. Repeat.

THIS PROCESS RECURS A TOTAL OF FOUR TIMES. Since I know nothing about locksmith-ery so I TRY give Joe the benefit of the doubt. Luckily, I had no formal plans that day so I had time to devote to this stupid circumstance.

Since it doesn’t take 3 hours to fold laundry, I begin to struggle to pass the time while Joe is pretending to know what he’s doing working very diligently. I organize my dresser. I clean out my refrigerator. I put all my dishes away. I cure the common cold.

Finally, I hear a familiar sound - a CLICK in the door in tandem with a positive cheer come from Joe. “I really fixed it this time, Sara. Come look.” Joe closes the door. He tests both locks. Pulls on the door when it’s locked. IT’S FIXED. IT’S REALLY FIXED, ISN’T IT?!

Clearly pleased with himself, Joe begins to pack up his tools in his little locksmith bag. He hands me the bill and lets me know that I can call to tell him my credit card number over the phone so I don’t need to go with him to The Truck. I sign some forms, give Joe a heart-felt thank you, and wave as he turns towards the door leave. He turns both locks to free himself from my apartment.

But the door doesn’t open.

Joe pulls as hard as he can on the doorknob, clearly shaking it with all of his might.

I burst into laughter – OH JOE! My little trickster! It’s so funny that we’re on the level where you feel so comfortable playing such a silly joke on me. You devil!

Then, there is a long pause.

Joe slowly turns back and looks at me square in the eyes. He stares into the depths of my soul. I watch the energy literally drain out of his body, as his shoulders slump over.

He doesn’t even need to say a word. I already know that he’s not joking.

We are now BOTH stuck inside my apartment.

The panic really starts to set in. How THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN. HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET OUT. Are there any other Joes out there that can come rescue us? God, I hope they aren't chompers. WAIT. I DON’T KNOW IF I HAVE ENOUGH CANNED GOODS FOR TWO HUMANS TO SURVIVE. I only have 4 boxes of cereal which is DEFINITELY only enough for me. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO. Do I need to marry Joe now? He's not really my type. Ugh, okay fine. I’ll do it if he closes his mouth.

Luckily, that doesn’t need to happen because Joe still had the DRILL with him. He proceeds to SHAVE DOWN the top of my door in order to free us. So creative. He busts the top lock out and as the minutes turned to more minutes – we were finally free.

Given the extensive injuries that my poor door and lock endured, and the emotional scarring that Joe will now have, I am handed an updated $275 bill…

…which I immediately send to the owner of my apartment to deal with for having the world’s crappiest door of all time. I COULD HAVE DIED IN THERE.

Needless to say, I opened a bottle of Sauv before the sun even thought about setting that day. It made everything better.

Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I wonder what Joe and his gum are up to. Has he changed up his flavors? Did he ever finish that workout? Did someone teach him that society prefers that humans chew with their mouths closed?

And I wonder if he ever thinks of me.

Joe, if you’re reading this – thanks for the memories. LYLAL (Luv Ya Like A Locksmith.)

#SauvMyProblems

#newyorkcity #whitewine #funnystories #lockedin #millenial #adulting #sauvmyproblems

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