popstr

[popstr]

IF ASKED, SIMEON WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO EXPLAIN WHY HE FELT SO NERVOUS ABOUT SHOWING AARON HIS PLACE. after all, it's not like he's unaware how nice the penthouse is, all things considered, and far from a place of which anyone would be ashamed. and he doesn't feel shame, not remotely, that's certainly not what has him bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. it's something else, not at all negative but certainly vulnerable in a strange way to which he finds himself unaccustomed. for what aaron knows of him so far, he doubts the man would expect anything but this nest sim's curated for so many years of his life, with its clean and open floor plan, its pristine furniture, its tasteful decor and cascading wall of plant life. aaron is a man of beauty and simplicity, who looks like he belongs among heavy wooden bookshelves and plush leather armchairs, something classy and cozy and intellectual. the question manifesting all sim's worries only fully forms in his mind directly before they make their way out to the patio : what if this isn't somewhere he can see himself spending a lot of time? living, even?

as the other man vocally admires the view from the patio, simeon realizes with some embarrassment that he must be blushing, based on the heat he feels has risen to his cheeks throughout the tour. given the course of his life, the amount of attention he's grown used to, it's far from an easy feat to coax him to blush, let alone this pink. he only manages to keep from lifting his hand to nibble at the edge of his thumb by flexing his fingers - but even then, he knows he would have lost the battle if aaron hadn't chosen that second to pull him in. the tension releases from sim's shoulders almost instantly the moment he's pressed against his lover's chest, and his breath escapes him in a stuttered exhale.

" you mean it? " nothing about his tone implies doubt, of course, but rather conveys somehow the depth of his relief. a bit belatedly, his arms lift around aaron, grasping at the fabric of his shirt at his back as he presses his face against him just as eagerly as the other man inhales at the crown of his head. he has no doubt that the insecurities will sneak up on him again - they're impossible to avoid, always have been, despite his shimmering veneer of confidence - but for now they melt away like sugar in the rain as he leans into the affection gratefully, almost desperately. for now, at least, it is easy to avoid the glaring reality that this isn't the way he typically handles his relationships. for the past decade, he's ensured he always has the upper hand, refusing to feel enough that losing anything would affect him. it's simpler to ignore the fact that, for the first time since his teens, losing aaron would devastate him. to acknowledge it would be to accept that fear, and to accept that fear might mean sabotaging everything. he can't afford that, not now, not when he's in this deep already.

finally, he pulls back only an inch to lift his chin so he can look aaron properly in the face. it takes but an instant for the pop star's expression to melt into a grin as he leans up to brush a kiss against the man's chin. " really good with a knife sounds vaguely like a threat, but fuck it, I'm in. have I cooked for you yet? I don't think I've cooked for you yet! " by now, he's already snatched his hand to pull him eagerly back into the penthouse toward his kitchen - which is, he must admit, one of his favorite places in the world. " would you be shocked and amazed to hear that the spoiled celebrity is actually quite the chef? so many people don't believe I can cook! which really only means they haven't met my mother, who would never let a child of hers get away with not knowing how to cook for themselves. "

" holy shit." he's still trying to process the sheer size of the apartment just from the entryway. open, clean and modern in a way that feels so tailored to its owner it's like he can feel simeon in the walls. he's lead through walk-in closets, a guest bathroom bigger than his whole apartment and a living room that looks straight out of an ai generated catalogue. breathtakingly beautiful but with this aura of surrealness cloaking the whole thing in a thin veil. it doesn't feel much unlike observing the pop star himself. OTHERWORLDLY - untouchable. so far removed from everything he'd deem as normal or ordinary that aaron always half expects to be woken from a dream at any given moment. and yet the man himself seems almost bashful about the whole thing. presents each room not like he's gloating but rather like he fears his judgement ... which of course is ridiculous. nothing would be further from his mind than judging someone for what they spend their hard-earned money on. and given that simeon sommerfeld had to remove himself from the public for a little while, it's well within his right to have done so in style. they stand on the patio and aaron can not close his mouth, is quite honestly too stunned to form a coherent sentence for an embarrassing amount of time. the view knocks the wind out of him - the city lights like stars splayed out in front of them, an endless see of white and warm yellow, splashes of colors from neon-signs and tail ends. his hands curled around the balustrade, he glances over at simeon who, by this point, has turned a lovely, near intoxicating shade of pink looking at his feet. he barely manages to bite back the grin at the sight. perhaps it is his luck that the man doesn't seem to fully comprehend how impossibly endearing he is. he may use his looks and his charm to his advantage, he may be cocky at times but in moments like that it becomes shockingly apparent that the celebrity is clueless to his true powers - aaron does not want to dwell on the question of if he were, would he be here with a criminal right now.

hand reaches to gently grasp the shorter man's wrist, pulling him in slow enough that he could wiggle out of the grip if he were to reject the intimacy of it. he doesn't (rarely does he ever) and aaron finds himself smiling after all. " this place is absolutely insane. " he only speaks when he has simeon close enough to bury his face in the gorgeous curls, breathing in his scent like an addict who's gone way too long without a fix (doesn't like how that thought crossing his mind is followed by a pang of guilt and a wave of affection that makes him hold on tighter). words muffled into his hair, aaron briefly presses his lips against the crown of his head. " thank you for inviting me over and showing me all this. i'm still processing but i love it, i promise i do. wanna make some good use of that kitchen? i'm really good with a knife and i spotted some delicious veggies in that fridge. "

STARTER : ( @popstr SIMEON / AARON )

[popstr]

espresso by s.abrina c.arpenter is sooooo simeon sommerfeld coded it’s not even funny

[popstr]

Logan Lerman

Create's a modern Passover feast for We Were The Lucky Ones

[popstr]

i can do it with a broken heart is sooooo simeon sommerfeld coded down to the fact that the production clearly incorporates the audio of the in-ear monitors musicians wear on stage in this essay i will—

[popstr]

+

[popstr]

[popstr]

IT’S BEEN OVER A DECADE SINCE THE INCIDENT BY WHICH MOST PEOPLE THE WORLD OVER CHOSE TO DEFINE SIMEON SOMMERFELD. admittedly, it would be a lie to say that it doesn’t still bother him to some extent, that he isn’t to some point irritated that the same points continue to be belabored about him in the papers after this long. and yet, another part of him is undecided about it. on one hand, it is his greatest shame, something that to this day causes many of those close to him to treat him with kid gloves, as though he needs to be handled with so much more care than anything else. on the other hand, from his perspective, it proves that he can survive, that he will survive, that despite his apparent delicacy, an unbreakable spirit lives within him that rises like a phoenix from the ashes of many people’s worst nightmare.

of course, that doesn’t exactly mean he’s ever been eager to tempt that phoenix to prove itself again.

of all of the people in his life, paige has understood that remarkably well throughout the duration of their friendship. he is durable, he is strong, and nobody is quicker to remind him of his capabilities than she is. there is also nobody quicker to defend his self-preservation ; whether or not he can potentially survive another brush with heartbreak doesn’t mean he ought to poke the bear, so to speak. she’s never coddled him, not like others might, but something tells him instinctively that the thought has crossed her mind that another might successfully kill him, that it worries her.

the look in her eyes in this moment confirms his suspicions for him. moments before, he’d been waxing poetic about his sojourn abroad, describing in some detail his time with the beautiful, funny, smart, fascinating museum curator in florence — and for once, that detail included less about what happened behind closed doors and far more about the day-to-day. he’d talked animatedly about the explorations, the walks, the markets and the restaurants and the day trips, the evening on the coast, illustrating it all with eager hand gestures, perfectly aware that his face must be utterly alight with an excited glow which radiates from a place in his chest that’s remained perpetually warm since that first day in the museum.

simeon hesitates when he recognizes that fear behind paige’s eyes, feeling his own gaze flicker and his brows twitch in the slightest furrow. his hands freeze before him before creeping back down to his lap, setting them folded there. absently, without realizing it, he begins to pick at the cuticle of his left pointer finger as he worries his bottom lip. when she says his name, cautious, gentle, something close enough to pity creeps into her tone for his shoulders to slouch, interrupting his typically flawless dancer’s posture. despite himself, he seeks her gaze, but she’s turned it away from him, almost as though she’s embarrassed — and he wonders if it arises from the way she’s speaking to him or from simeon’s actions themselves. a flush creeps into the tips of his ears, and finally, he glances hurriedly down to the bar top, still working at that damned cuticle with his fingernails.

“ yeah, I … ” he trails off for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip again, briefly recalling the phone conversation he had this very moment with the boy in question. they’d discussed a possible visit in two weeks’ time, assuming nothing cropped up in aaron’s work to interrupt it. ( simeon, of course, doesn’t trust his boss one iota, and he’s already been gripped with the nervousness that the entire plan will fall through at least twice today alone. ) now, the memory of his excitement roils in his gut a bit like nausea, which he chases away with a tentative sip of his soda water, muttering a curse under his breath when a bit of the condensation from his glass drips onto his pant leg. “ no, I … I know I haven’t known him long, it was only a few weeks, I just … ”

what did you just, simeon sommerfeld? says a voice in the back of his head. what did you think?

“ I’m your clever boy, ” sim agrees, resigned, almost in a whisper, wincing a little when he feels the cuticle rip a little too far. that’ll bleed, he thinks. even so, he keeps on, unable to simply stop as his mind flickers through the situation at hand and the shame closes in his chest like a chill. “ I … he’s just really— I-I-I know. I know. we don’t— I know we don’t do that. ” this time, he’s unable to look her directly in the eye ; instead, he glances at her sidelong, blue eyes wide and uncertain as he mentally scrambles for the right thing to say. “ I just … thought— he was so— d-do you think I got played? he … called just this morning. ” cuticle’s definitely bleeding, he notes as his nail slips against his finger. “ when I talk to him again … what do I say? I’m usually good at this, I’m usually— like, so good at running away from people. but with him, I … how do you do something like that when you don’t actually want to? I’ve always wanted to. it’s … weird. fuck. did I fuck up? ”

INBOX OPEN.

@popstr : ❝ i think i might have fallen in love .   ❞ // simeon

WHEN SIMEON SOMMERFELD TRAGICALLY, AND VERY PUBLICLY, HAD HIS HEART BROKEN, SHE READ ALL ABOUT IT AT WORK IN A PAPER ONE OF THE GUESTS LEFT BEHIND. back then, she recalls, she felt so utterly devastated for this man that it almost made her tear up right there behind the counter, towel in hand just polishing some glasses. she remembers john's frown ( poor kid, he'd said ) and the offhanded comment from a guy sitting on one of the stools about how it's always the same with those - honestly? who's surprised ? got fucking lucky he made it if you ask me - only nobody truly did ask him. the picture they'd chosen had shown an absolutely high out of his mind simeon sommerfeld on the streets of berlin mere hours before the incident and she felt the crack in her heart deepen further the longer she stared at it. POOR KID indeed ... she recalls her ride home on the train that night, how fucking cold it had been in the city and how she tried to imagine what it must be like to be so broken by another person that you do not even really care what happens to you. she understood, of course, what heartbreak felt like - she had hers broken when she was basically still a toddler, but her survival instincts never got overwhelmed by the aching pain of being the same way it must have happened for simeon sommerfeld. THAT BOY - she remembers how the train stopped and there was a poster, illuminated like the angels above had a superb sense for irony, of simeon smiling down with the rest of the band promoting an upcoming DVD - that boy deserved love.

she sits now, a decade later, in the very same chair that the bitter patron had occupied back then and swings her leg watching her best friend rant about a guy he met abroad. there's a light in his eyes that would make any illuminated billboard seem dull in comparison, a warmth in his voice that wraps around her like a blanket and she gets lost in just listening to him. with one hand, she's swinging her whiskey glass back and forth slightly, occasionally dropping her gaze to the liquid and frowning cause while he never made her feel that way, she suddenly feels insensitive for having a drink. her other hand is in simeon's who keeps absentmindedly playing with her rings like he needs to keep his fingers busy during his retelling of his vacation or he'll simply SHAKE with the excitement of it. now, it must be said that of course meeting someone is not in itself strange for simeon sommerfeld. absolutely gorgeous boy, too curious for his own good and so far on the other end of shy that she would be more surprised if he hadn't met anyone in italy. so for the most part she just basks in his happiness, however fleeting, and lets his absolutely infectious joy take her over, too. a delighted little giggle escapes her when he mentions how he almost got it on in a nightclub in florence, an eye roll when he moves on to say they went home together that night. TOO MUCH, TOO FAST - then again she knows him to be perfectly in control when it comes to such things, surprising as tat may seem for some. but then there it is, almost off-handedly squished between talks about getting breakfast together and how they spend the rest of his stay exploring cities and fucking.

I THINK I MIGHT HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE.

her whole body tenses and she looks up from her whiskey with wide eyes, unable to mask the shock. there are a few people in her life who an admission like that would earn a thrilled little shriek, a smile, even congratulations. when simeon says it, eyes filled with something absolutely overpowering and a look on his face that makes her very own heart ache, she feels blank FEAR . no, paige was not around last time, their very weird friendship having only blossomed a few years back but ever since, simeon has become nothing short of family to her and of course she knows in great detail everything about the ammon situation - MOST of it from simeon himself but some details, things he might have left out on purpose whenever they addressed it, which was rarely to begin with, some details she learned from miriam ... and it's why every hair on her body stands up at the way simeon seems almost gone on that new guy. TOO MUCH. TOO FAST. paige was there for a lot of the repair work. not in the beginning of course but over the years, she's watched simeon put himself back together and grow strong. she's witnessed him work so hard on himself, on healing and she knows that putting his heart back together must have been harder than surviving that night in berlin. just the mere thought of all of it crumbling, of someone hurting him again, of someone breaking his heart ...

" SIMEON - " she almost flinches at how she sounds like a mother talking to a five year old about a pet bunny that suddenly passed. with so much sympathy bordering on pity in her voice, she has to look away from him to not blush. " you don't know the guy - that was not enough time to get to know someone and you... you said he's involved in something? baby - come on. you're clever, you're my clever boy you know better. he sounds like great fun, honestly, thrilling summer romance but don't ... don't let it- i mean come on, simmy. hey, we don't do that, remember? we promised. only fun. "

[popstr]

[popstr]

simeon and shoshana MAXIMUM ENERGY. “ ohhhhh I never fight with my sisters. I’LL USE A STEEL FUCKING CHAIR. ohhhhh my sister’s my best friend. SO IS MINE THAT’S WHY SHE’S NOT DEAD. ”

[popstr]

Logan Lerman

We Were The Lucky Ones

[popstr]

give me ur hoodies and shirts and i'll ride u in them

[popstr]

FRANKLY, SIMEON HADN’T EXACTLY EXPECTED HIM TO SIMPLY LET HIM WALK AWAY. if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s looking for a bit of a fight, looking for a reason to lose himself in anger, in some kind of manufactured conflict with somebody who probably doesn’t deserve it in order to alleviate his feelings about … well. everything else, to be quite frank. when the idea had first cropped up, when ammon had first approached the entire band to pitch a reunion tour, it had seemed like a much better plan, as though it would somehow be easy, perhaps even healing in its own strange way. simeon has a tendency to be optimistic at the worst possible times, when such optimism is almost certainly doomed from the start, and he supposes anybody could have told him that this was one of those times. he recalls the way his family had exchanged looks when he announced it at dinner, the forced expressions of happiness between carefully worded concerns about whether he was really sure about this. at the time, he’d shrugged such concerns off ; now he sees plainly their purpose. here he is, halfway miserable, homesick, and trapped, picking fights whenever he can to channel whatever existential bullshit he’s stumbling over.

and like the irresponsible little she he’s always been, he refuses to make apologies for it.

fortunately, catching his bodyguard’s slightly amused expression, even as he tries to conceal it, makes it easier for sim not to be sorry for his own petulance. it deepens the frown on his own face, narrows his eyes, tilts his chin. for all the seriousness of his moods, for all of the damage he has been proven to be capable of over the years, he knows perfectly well that his stature does not lend itself well to intimidation. there’s no doubt in his mind that swanson must think him almost funny at times, given that it’s hardly difficult to cross his thick arms and look down his nose at the pop star, given their deficit in height. typically, sim uses other’s underestimation of him as a disarmament tactic, often to great effect. the issue here is that not only do his moods in this instance not exactly lend themselves well that kind of control, but he’s never entirely sure that the guard doesn’t take him seriously, at least occasionally. in prague, he’d even complimented him on his right hook, despite having been actively dragged into a fight that simeon himself absolutely started. ( he probably would have been detained by authorities, had aaron not intervened. ) somehow, the idea that swanson might not entirely dismiss him complicates things in ways that sim can’t quite wrap his mind around - and that he doesn’t quite want to.

his eyes flicker to the palm on the door, then back to the bodyguard’s face, molars grinding together in frustration at being foiled, despite having fully expected to be. he puts himself in these situations willfully, knowing the result will not be to his pleasure, knowing it will give him further fuel for his fire, no matter how petty. oh, how he loves his excuses, after all, which couldn’t be clearer in his fired blue eyes, crystalline and cold as ice like tempered glass. he can feel the heat of rage rising on his cheeks, on the skin of his neck - not something he’d wanted, too vulnerable, but an acceptable sacrifice for the confrontation he’d craved after his brief encounter with ammon in the lobby. by now, they’re nearly chest to chest, and even though simeon knows perfectly well there’s almost no way he’s making it through that door, he stands his ground. he won’t be able to convince swanson to take a swing, he suspects, which seems a disappointment, but perhaps he can get him to raise his voice.

“ no, I haven’t forgotten prague, ” he snarls, crossing his arms over his chest, unyielding. “ the guy was a prick. I stood up for myself. ” an exaggeration, but they don’t have to go into that. “ nothing wrong with that. ” maybe, if that’s what he had been doing, although he suspects they both know otherwise. he intends to continue, intends perhaps to attempt to tread the thin line between argument and nonchalance given the opportunity - but swanson turns position and simeon, on instinct, turns with him until he finds his back to the door and his bodyguard’s arms caging him on either side.

he blinks. once. twice.

“ it’s— nobody would want to be spoken to like a child! ” he somehow recovers, after a moment’s hesitation, trying to ignore the additional heat rising into his cheeks the more he focuses on their proximity. it would have been impossible for him to miss the path of that green gaze as it sweeps down over the length of sim’s figure in a way that makes him press further against the door, makes him that much more painfully aware of the position of the other man’s substantial hands on either side of him. he’s a bodyguard and he’s hot, simeon scolds himself as he resumes his stubborn expression, that’s no reason to crumble and lose your nerve.

maybe what that hot bodyguard says next, however, is.

“ I … what ?! who ?! ” the pop star begins defensively, nostrils flaring as he puffs his chest out just slightly. but there’s no point in denying it ; the knowing gaze on the other man makes crystal clear to simeon that he has every awareness of the strange and uncomfortable dynamic between himself and ammon al-busiri. a silence hangs heavily between them for a moment, throughout which sim manages to hold impressive eye contact until, finally, he’s forced by his own instinct to glance away. he’s given up ground, he knows, and the hatred of that weakness burns in his chest like fire. his hands curl into fists at his sides, his manicured nails digging into his palms painfully enough to pull him back into his body even as he feels himself moving toward dissociation. finally, he manages, “ of course he did. since when does he ever miss a fucking opportunity. ” the bitterness in his tone chills, even though it clearly isn’t directed at the man in front of him this time - a man whose eyes he still won’t quite meet, now that the direction of the conversation has changed. “ but it’s no big deal. I don’t care what he thinks. and I already know he thinks I’m embarrassing. can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him tell me I’m not funny in my life. listen, he’s a dick, he’s always going to be a dick, I’m … used to it trust me, I don’t care, I just … ” he sighs, running one hand through his thick hair, certainly making a bit more of a mess of it, ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat. I’ve said too much, he thinks. “ I just need a coffee. it’s vienna. they serve them with … with the little tray and the, uh … l-little treats on the side. I just need a coffee. ”

PART OF HIM ADMIRES THE RELENTLESS EFFORT. it takes a special kind of dedication to keep trying something despite knowing it is fruitless ( though of course he is partially aware it is also the very definition of insanity - somehow even more endearing, then, that he keeps trying ) and the young singer has proven time and time again that he will not be deterred by something as simple as consistent failure to achieve his goal. which aaron still has not figured out yet. if it is simply to GET AWAY it would make sense. flee that world entirely, go into hiding, something like that. but simeon sommerfeld likes to perform, is good at it, doesn't really strike him as the type who wants to escape his life. in fact, he mostly seems rather comfortable in it. and he, despite the fresh face, is too old to simply rebel . and against what? aaron is hardly holding him hostage. hell, it was supposed to be an easy job - keep an eye on him during the tour, keep any kind of trouble away from him. only he was not briefed that the issue is less keeping trouble away from simeon but rather keeping simeon away from flinging himself head first into any kind of trouble he can sniff out. like a goddamn hunting dog, that boy. quick like a ferret, angry like one too and aaron just doesn't get it. most nights, he really does stay in the background - doesn't even interfere with whatever it is simeon's got going on. nearly destroyed his damn eardrum only a few nights ago standing too close to a huge speaker in a club he otherwise would not have set foot in but he remained in his goddamn corner and did his goddamn job. yet simeon regarded him with a FURY in his eyes when they finally made their way home way past midnight that suggested somehow aaron had ruined his night ... and it's beginning to get under his skin.

he's good at his job. discreet enough to basically be but a shadow, trustworthy enough that he'd absolutely take a bullet for the man ( though as it stands and given his attitude, at the current time the person most likely wanting to shoot him is aaron himself ). most of all, though, he is quietly observant. it's what made him so efficient, sought after, even ( and simeon's management is paying a generous amount. at first aaron assumed it was because of some stalker but every day spent with the pop star he begins to grasp what it was actually for ). and because he is keeping on top of things and, by nature of his work, keeps an extra close eye on simeon, it has of course not gone unnoticed that his moods seem to change rather frequently and closely linked to the general behavior of one ammon al-busiri. he was briefed on their relationship - previous relationship and current one. the former lovers perhaps the main cause for concern amongst the management team and the thread by which the whole tour is balanced. and it seems more and more like a pendulum. at least it makes it somewhat predictable.

INSANE, as far as aaron is concerned, to put them into one room for an extended period of time. wilder, still, that aaron has so far managed not to punch the obnoxious producer in the face. it takes a special kind of person to carry yourself with such an arrogance when you caused someone you were meant to care about this amount of grief. what aaron knows about it all, about the relationship, the break up, the fallout, berlin, is limited to a rather hefty manila folder but it is enough to make the bones of his fingers crack when he has to stand like a good little guard dog, just right by the door, listening to the two of them bicker over choreography. something he won't tell simeon, mostly cause he doubts the man would care, but he finds it quietly impressive the way he manages to walk away from it every single time with a grace he himself would not possess in the same situation. he would've made sure ammon's face was unrecognizable to the general public if he had put him through ----

( DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE I'M A CHILD ) he can only do so much to hide a grin. simeon, with his chin tilted up and his arms crossed, could not possibly look more like a petulant child and aaron is so drawn in by it, he leans against the nearest wall with his shoulder almost like he's sinking against it, his own arms crossed in front of his chest. it is not that he does not take him seriously. he knows he is not just clever in his ways of sneaking out but also rather capable of defending himself. has had the pleasure of witnessing a fight simeon got himself - and then aaron - involved in back in prague. nearly tore the guys ear off with his teeth. aaron knows he's packing a decent punch ( though he would love to teach him how to utilize his height more to his advantage ) and he's not afraid - to an alarming degree, actually. but he also can not help it, with his tussled hair and the heat in his cheeks he makes for the perhaps most endearing picture one can imagine. PRETTY - that's the word that comes to mind. he's just very pretty.

he doesn't speak, watches instead with increasing curiosity how simeon seemingly gets himself ready for a night out and the more generous part of him, the part that wants to cut him some slack, understands it must've been a rather stressful day with the upcoming show, almost wants to just step aside and let him leave. but the boy just keeps going on and it is a last second impulse decision when he sighs, heavily, and moves quicker than a man with his built usually tends to, a large hand pressing firmly against the door the pop star just tried to open. " it is. " he speaks with a low voice, almost a rumble, the slightest edge of anger to it. keeps his gaze firmly glued on the man who looks like he is about to explode himself. he can see red splotches up that pretty neck of his, can see his hand trembling just a bit - not unlike aaron's own. " my goddamn JOB to look after you. to make sure you stay safe and out of trouble and that trouble does not find you either. i don't know if you've forgotten prague but you seem to be a bit of a magnet for it, simeon. " catalyst, rather, but he feels like throwing blame won't help his cause here. instead, he moves until he has them both turning ( he did offer a dance, this isn't unlike one ) and ends up half trapping him against the closed door. a position he did not even consider initially and now finds to have a rather unpleasant effect on his focus. but it's the sharp blue eyes that fuel him. " i talk to you the way you act suggest you would like to be spoken to. why do you insist on making this difficult for me? i am doing what i can to give you room. " a line more effective if he wasn't literally currently invading the pop stars personal space. his gaze flickers briefly along simeon's body before it lands on his face again and the truly foul mood the man is in makes aaron press his hand even firmer against the door, knuckles white but the trembling stops. " did he say something to you during check in? "

[popstr]

details about ocs!

send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about a writer's oc! many of these are taken from my munday asks meme, because i thought it would be fun to make a version for characters too! the prompts are categorized by emoji type and given descriptions in case anyone can't see the symbols. can be used for roleplayers and any general writers alike! for roleplayers, these can also be used for your interpretations of canon characters if you so desire as well!

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒. 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)? 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? ✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? 🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies? 💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)? 🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)? 🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities? 🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒. 🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits? 🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming? 🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? 🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise? 🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use? 🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday? 🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets? 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? 🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal? 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school? 🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening? 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒. ❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits? 💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them? 🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends? 💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any? 💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside? 💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world? 💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? 🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒. 🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? 🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)? 🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🍦 SOFT ICE CREAM — what is/are your oc's favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer? 🥯 BAGEL — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast? 🥪 SANDWICH — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch? 🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner? 🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? 😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved? 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? 🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? 🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy? 🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions? 😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool? 😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

[popstr]

the sommerfeld siblings definitely at one point did one of those cringe jc penney photoshoots for momma sommerfeld for her birthday. the kids hammed it up so well, even ezra, and the pictures are so bad and to this day they are miriam’s favorite pictures of her children.

[popstr]

Till death do us part? Yea no you’re not getting out of this that easily

[popstr]

IT CERTAINLY ISN'T THE FIRST TIME SIMEON HAS HAD A SECURITY DETAIL, BUT IT MIGHT BE THE MOST ANNOYING. that, of course, has everything to do with the fact that this particular bodyguard is better at his job than the others have been. in the past, ducking them has proven remarkably easy. to begin with, most of them don't expect him to want to, believing that he actually wants this detail like ( he assumes ) most artists do, rather than it being shoved on him by his management. then, they do not expect him to run - probably because he's supposedly an adult who has theoretically outgrown such behaviors. finally, they certainly do not expect him to be clever about it, to outthink them relentlessly - and yet he does. in the past, he's been able to manage it, drifting in and out at his leisure, unable to be found once he's made his escape. aaron swanson, to his dismay and irritation, not only does not allow such behavior from him, but has managed to catch him out every time. every time he slips away from supervision, there he is within minutes around some corner, arms crossed and jaw set with a look of disapproval, intent upon following him from afar and observing regardless of what simeon wishes. sim tries to change the rhythm, swanson changes with him like a seamless dance partner - only this isn't a dance and his effectiveness proves only to drive the singer half mad.

the european leg of the fx-5 reunion tour has begun in force and they've just arrived in vienna, where performances will continue the following night. throughout its entirety, which hasn't been more than about a month so far, simeon has swung back and forth between whether or not he regrets agreeing to all this in the first place. today, he has decided he regrets it, deeply. he's already tired of performing the old stuff, no matter how nostalgic it is for him at times. he's tired of having to cope with making nice with his fucking ex-boyfriend, who he'd been perfectly happy not to speak a word to for nigh on a decade before all of this, arrogant prick music producer ammon al-busiri who keeps trying to chat to him like they're old friends and like he hadn't emptied the life out of simeon for three years in his prime. he's tired of missing shabbat dinner at his parents' and he misses lunches with his mom so much already that he feels it in his chest. and maybe most of all, he's tired of being monitored every waking hour, as though he's a bigger target than he really is.

" don't talk to me like I'm a child, " he snarls, arms crossed and staring coldly with his chin tilted upward in a clear show of defiance as he stands in the middle of the hotel suite. there's nothing about him that's passive in this moment ; despite his modest height, he appears utterly immovable, feet planted and shoulders squared, undeterred even in the face of someone who might as well be twice his size. " doesn't make me feel much like being civilized. "

by now, he's learned that swanson isn't fooled by his charms, the innocent demeanor he can conjure out of nowhere, the bright smiles and wide eyes and earnest words, not like so many others. it's a waste of time to try - so he defaults to defensiveness, that feral spark of him that he can only ever push down for so long. usually, he channels it into his work, into rehearsals and performances, and when that fails, into outbursts and heartbreaks and creating ridiculous public scenes bound to make it into the tabloids. now, in addition, he terrorizes his bodyguard, which he would feel worse about if he didn't insist on continuing to be so good at his job. it seems excessive. more importantly, it keeps simeon from his impulses which, at the moment, he finds especially annoying.

" I'm leaving, " he decides in half a hiss, knowing perfectly well exactly what kind of fight he's picking, knowing perfectly well that the other man won't let him simply walk out the door. even so, he pockets his wallet and grabs his jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of the couch. " I need a coffee. you can check the fucking rooms without me and find me after if you're really so horny to keep tabs on me. at this point, I'm sure you've got a tracker installed in my shoes or some shit, so I'm sure it won't be any trouble. " with that, he moves almost doggedly toward the door, making an effort to duck his shoulder around aaron to get there.

INBOX OPEN.

@popstr : ❝  i have a better idea. i will do as i please.  ❞ // simeon.

IT IS ENDLESSLY FRUSTRATING BEING TASKED WITH LOOKING AFTER SOMEONE WHO DOES NOT WANT TO BE LOOKED AFTER. a line of work aaron entered out of convenience to begin with - decent pay, minimal risk ( at least compared to where he started ) and all in all not the worst working hours. basically like babysitting, only with a gun strapped to your hip. so he initially thought. turns out simeon sommerfeld has more in common with a toddler than just his general height. the pop star is so infuriatingly stubborn that aaron finds himself tiptoeing the line of sanity in such unsettling frequency he is, at this point, sincerely worried about his health. he drives him mad. the amount of times he slipped out under the radar of not just him but the whole crew? basically needing to be dragged back to a hotel room, his home, a concert hall ... he'd think he had a death wish hadn't he heard first hand how hard the kid fought his way back from death's very doorstep. perhaps the main reason why aaron stays, endures and goes through the very same procedures in steady frequency. how could he blame a fighter for fighting? he gets it. more than he has admitted out loud to anyone, especially simeon sommerfeld. the urge to flee, the urge to escape watchful eyes, the way it evokes rage to be chained by people claiming they know what is best for you when they care so little to hear what you want... a cage, most would call it. home is how aaron remembers it.

so he dances the dance with the pop star dutifully and with as little complains as possible. he knows the steps and matches the beat and the pair finds a rhythm that is almost comfortable in it's regularity. " i need you to let us check the other rooms first. there's a protocol we're following here and you have to - " words barely came out and aaron instantly notices his mistake, inhales sharply and closes his eyes, preparing for what he knows will follow. " oh. have to ?! " and there it is. when he opens his eyes again, he's met with the icy blue stare of the pretty singer and if he were a little less frustrated, he'd undoubtedly be amused. not because simeon sommerfeld's anger isn't a dangerous and sharp thing, but the opposite. the man looks almost feral in his rage, like a ferret poked with a stick, like he's about to scratch and bite if necessary and something about that is so utterly delightful that a part of aaron wants to keep pushing just to see what will happen. just to see if he'll bite. " right, my apologies. this could've used better phrasing. if we can just stick to the protocol, you can explore the city in no time. i'll keep a far enough distance, you'll barely notice i'm there. reason with me here? " he keeps his gaze locked with his. while the icy wall stands unshaken and impressively intimidating, aaron's own eyes soften into something dangerously close to affection for the man.

keeping him safe might be a job but needing him safe? that's not tied to a paycheck. a realization made not too long ago when someone reported a shot via comms. turned out to be a false alarm but the panic in aaron's chest, the way he froze and then sprinted up six flights of stairs in record time only to find simeon happily chewing a tangerine in his hotel room making a quip about him seeming really out of shape ...

" simeon - " but he doesn't get the chance to approach this from a different angle, to calm the storm in the perfectly blue eyes. " - i have a better idea. i will do as i please. " his hand curls into a fist in frustration, squeezing hard enough his rings leave marks. this goddamn stubborn force of a man. " no. you won't. you will try to do so, undoubtedly, but i will not let you out of my sight. hate me for it as long as it means i do my job right. " as long as it keeps him safe. " go ahead. let's dance then. you want to run or are we going to be civilized about this? "

[popstr]