#malachy.

[inkbloomed]

@malachy-o-laughlin

      Adversely loud rollings of Placebo vibrated her walls. It took a moment for her to realize somebody was at the door. She flipped over her desk, turning off the music with a click. Her hand still grazed around a glass of red wine. She opened the door, figure draped against it as she peaked out. “You know, it’s probably better to text that you’re here.” Arizona said casually.

[ofmyriads-blog]

@makeyoubleeds

         “yeah-- and i just moved into this condo right at the city limits. fucking beautiful place, and my dad’s paying for it.”

        malachy‘s sitting on the couch in the great room at the mansion. there are a couple of other kids sitting around, fiddling with the christmas decorations (what little there are-- really, the adults don’t care much for holidays, if the kids choose to decorate the mansion then so be it). it’s a nonchalant statement, and he’s just carrying on a conversation he was having with a blonde-haired girl named bennie-- not that she cares either. he knows other kids in enmity have to work for everything they have even though their parents’ funds are endless, but that’s not his problem. his parents know he doesn’t care for the family business, and honestly, he’d just be in the way if they tried to make him partake.

[ofmyriads-blog]

        “i don’t celebrate christmas.” he’s a real live grinch, i’ll tell you that. “and besides, nobody fucking asked you to decorate my house. take all this shit back.” he doesn’t take too kindly to surprises either.

[ofmyriads-blog]

text; aspen

malachy: i need a favor

[ofmyriads-blog]

 “why are you looking at him like that? if you like him you should ask him out.”

[ofmyriads-blog]

9. things you said when i was crying

          The number of times Malachy’s seen Aspen cry is probably something like, maybe twice? If that. This very well might be time number three, and it very well might be the very thing that breaks him. When Aspen’s in any type of an emotional state (angry, moody, sad), he doesn’t want to be touched, but this time is probably the exception. He’s (for once!) not the reason for Aspen’s tears, for Aspen’s highly emotional and fragile state. “Babe–” he can barely understand the babbling that’s tumbling from his fiance’s lips. “Babe…” Mal actually can’t stand Aspen’s mother; she’s always breaking her son down, always condemning him for decisions he makes with her in mind! How do you continuously break someone who thinks about you and what you’d say or do before they do anything, even something as trivial as smiling. Mother said, mother said, mother said. Mal’s very tired of it all. He’s tired of coming home to an exhausted Aspen, tired of coming home to a broody Aspen, tired of coming home to a sad Aspen. He just wants the love of his life to be happy for once– and while Aspen says he’s happy with him, he can’t imagine that’s true, not as long as his mother continues to wear him out. But he won’t say anything. The one thing that will probably upset Aspen more than his mother does, is actually saying something about it (and let’s face it, that’s never a good idea, in any universe).

          Even now, as Aspen curls up in a ball and sobs because of something his mother has said or done to him, all Mal can do is bite his tongue and drag his fiancé into his lap, sighing as Aspen unfolds on him and wraps himself ever so tightly around him. And when Aspen finally pulls away to look at him, he catches him, cradling his wet face in his hands and looking him right in the eye, voice silky smooth as he tries to calm his hysterical fiancé. “It probably isn’t enough… but I love you. More than anything. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and don’t you ever forget that. Darling, you are my world, my love, my life. I love you,” a kiss to the wet cheek, “I love you,” a kiss to both puffy eyelids, “I love you,” a kiss to the forehead– and then Aspen’s back to burying his face in Mal’s neck. “I love you so much, baby,” he mutters over and over until he can’t tell where Aspen’s face and his sighs begin, until his voice goes hoarse, and until Aspen’s finally laying on his chest, fast asleep.

[ofmyriads-blog]

text; babe

Mal: remember the time you sucked my dick for a pair of shoes.