#seriously i got my cold and started feeling bad on wednesday and my immediate response was to binge even tho i awsn't hungry or feeling it

[obeymeoasis]

The First Time They Say “I Love You”

Lucifer

At first you just did small things, like cleaning up the used coffee cups on his desk. Things that you wanted to do for him because he was so tired all the time. But after you pointed out a calculation error in a R.A.D organization’s monthly expense sheet, Lucifer started relying on you more. He often asked you to do a final scan over documents before he submitted them to Diavolo just in case he missed anything.

You found that your work styles were very similar: extremely organized, detail-oriented, and meticulous. You enjoyed spending time in Lucifer’s office. And helping him with his work meant that he got done more quickly and had more time to spend with you. 

Right now he was at his desk, furiously scanning through a stack of papers. You could tell he hadn’t slept in a while. The buttons at his throat were undone and he had dark smudges underneath his eyes. Somebody had apparently mixed up the schedule for an upcoming series of lectures and Lucifer was left to solve the problem.

You shut the door behind you slowly and carefully made your way over, trying your best to balance the tea tray and multiple folders you were holding. "Here, Luci. I brought you peppermint tea and shortbread. You should have some while you work, you look absolutely exhausted.” He looked up at you and smiled gratefully, a private smile that only you got to see. “Thank you MC, I appreciate it.”

You then handed him the thick folders. “Also, these are all of the invoices from last week’s alumni dinner party. I thought they were a bit messy to look at so I organized them into different categories based on the business and then sorted the purchases sequentially. Also, I calculated the total expenses and thankfully we were able to stay under budget.”

Lucifer's mouth was slightly ajar and his eyes widened, looking at you as if you'd done something incredibly strange. You asked self-consciously, "Is... is something on my face?"

With the same bewildered expression on his face he said "MC... I love you."

You laughed, a little startled. "Why, because I organized some files for you?"

"Well, yes. No. I mean yes and no. It's not just the files, it's everything. The way you're always thinking of me and taking care of me. The way we work well together. The way I can trust you with anything. I love you, MC. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to say so."

You felt your cheeks flush with happiness. "Well... I love you too, you know. A lot. Now hurry up and finish your work so that we can spend some actual time together."

Lucifer laughed gently and then reached to take your hand in his, pressing a delicate kiss against your fingers. "Anything for you."

Mammon

You were at the casino with Mammon on a Wednesday night. On school nights he usually went alone because you were busy with homework. But tonight he looked so lonely as he headed for the door that something spurred you to put on a jacket and run after him.

When you took his hand in yours, he turned to look at you in surprise and the most radiant smile lit his face. “You’re coming with me, baby?”

The first couple of hours weren’t bad. Mammon brought you small plates of food and you were content to just watch as he flourished in his natural environment. You smiled amusedly at his antics, the way he bantered with the dealer, how he yelled in delight when he won and how pouty he became when he lost.

But pretty soon the long day of classes caught up to you and you could feel your eyelids growing heavy. You were tucked into a small table in the corner, away from the other guests but still visible to Mammon out of the corner of his eye. You figured no one would mind so you laid your arm on the table and rested your head in the crook of your arm. Within a couple of seconds, you were deep asleep.

Meanwhile, Mammon was having some of the best luck he’d had recently at the blackjack table. He turned to where you were sitting to give you a smile and boast about his winnings a little, only to have his heart clench tightly at the sight of you. 

You looked absolutely adorable, sleeping with a little smile on your face. It must have been a little cold for you in the casino because you were curled up tightly against yourself. Mammon flushed at how cute you looked and then felt a sudden rush of emotion. 

Even though you were tired, you still took the time to come out with him tonight. He knew these places weren’t really your thing but you never complained, you genuinely just wanted to be with him. And that was something Mammon wasn’t really used to.

You stirred at the sensation of Mammon draping his jacket across your shoulders. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you looked up to ask: “Hey Mams, how’s your luck been tonight?”

He stood silently for a moment before enveloping you into a sudden, crushing hug. “I-I love you, MC. I really love you.” You were startled and tried to move back to get a look at his face but Mammon wouldn’t budge. “No, don’t look at me. I’m probably super red. But I need to tell you how much I love you. I kinda realized it just now that there’s no one like you. No one who cares for me, who accepts all of me like you do. Thank you for always being here.”

You could feel tears forming in your eyes and buried your face against Mammon’s chest. “Oh, Mams. I love you too. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt, especially the way your brothers treat you sometimes. But I’m here now, okay? I’ll always be on your side.”

You heard Mammon’s breath hitch a little before he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Leviathan

You came to discover that there were a lot of little holidays in the Devildom, an occasional day or two when you didn’t have to go to classes. Sometimes you took the opportunity to travel to the human world, often to pick up small necessities or bring back foods you missed.

Today you were here to pick up something specific: strawberry preserves. You had brought back a jar from the human world recently and after having a bite, Levi had practically eaten the whole jar by himself. The preserves were the specialty of a local farm close to your house and Levi absolutely loved them.

Since you were there, you decided to pick up some different jars as well. An employee carefully packaged the jars of strawberry, peach, blueberry, and cherry preserves so that they wouldn't accidentally break on the journey. What he didn't know was that you would actually be travelling between completely different worlds.

As soon as you were back in the Devildom, you quickly made your way to Levi's room with your purchases. He was in the middle of playing a game but when he heard you come in, he turned around to welcome you back. "Hey, MC. How was your trip? What are all those boxes for?"

You opened the topmost one and showed him the little glass jar with the floral pattern on the lid. "I picked more of these up for you today, along with some other flavors I thought it would be nice to try."

Upon recognizing what it was, Levi immediately set down his controller. "MC, this is awesome! I love you!" You froze in shock at his words and it took Levi a couple of seconds before he realized what he had said. He too froze so that the two of you stood there, Levi bright red, neither moving or speaking.

Levi was the one to eventually break the silence. "I-I didn't mean that! Ignore me just now! I don't know what I'm saying." Your heart sank in disappointment. You had merely been shocked that Levi felt the same way about you as you did him. But now he was saying he didn't mean it?

Your disappointment must have been evident on your face because Levi stammered out, "I-I mean, I do mean it! It's just- aargh, this isn't how I wanted to say- Ugh, I don't know what to-" You decided it was best to just be upfront with him. "Listen Levi, I love you a lot. Have for a while now. Can I ask you how you feel about me?"

If he was bright red before, Levi's face looked almost neon red now. He stared at you open mouthed, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You- You love me? Really? You aren't making fun of me or something?" You couldn't help but huff in response. "Levi, am I seriously the type of person who would make fun of you about this?"

It seemed to finally sink in for him then. "No, no you're not. MC, I- I love you too. Ah, I can't believe I said it out loud!" He clapped his hands over his mouth and you giggled at how adorably flustered he looked.

"Hey Levi, now that we know how we feel about each other, is it okay if I give you a kiss?" Levi practically fainted then, and you had to run down to the kitchens to get him a glass of water.

Satan

Satan was used to being alone. None of his brothers or classmates really shared any of his interests and he found that he much preferred being by himself. He was always too engrossed with his books and research that he never considered himself to be lonely.

That is, until he met you. You were somehow able to slowly inch yourself into his heart and without realizing it had become the most important person to him.

The other day, he found a funny quote in one of the novels he was reading and made a note of it to show you later. Then he started thinking about how much his daily routine included you in some way. You had classes together, ate meals together, talked and laughed together, and read late into the night together, enjoying each other’s company.

He realized that he was a lot happier now. Not that he was exactly unhappy before, but it was different with you. He was a lot more relaxed, more prone to smile and laugh. And a lot of it had to do with your influence and the time you spent together.

You were both reading in his room. There was a comfortable, relaxing silence and the atmosphere was especially cozy because of all the lit candles. You had prepared a tray for Satan: a plate of rosemary biscuits and a pot of black tea to wash them down with. This was another thing he appreciated about you; you were always taking care of him.

Both of you were engrossed in your books for a while, until suddenly you could feel Satan staring at you. You marked the page you were on and turned to him, a smile playing on your lips. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He looked at you for a few moments, unsmiling. You frowned, thinking there was something wrong, but before you could say anything Satan said “I just wanted to let you know that I love you dearly.”

You were surprised to say the least. Satan wasn’t really the type to talk about his feelings this explicitly. But after the initial shock, you realized how happy you were that the person you loved felt the same way about you. Satan didn’t let people into his life and into his heart that easily.

It was only when you heard Satan say “Oh love, I didn’t mean to make you cry” that you realized tears were streaming down your cheeks. You put down your book and practically flung yourself into his arms. He hugged you back tightly and waited until you were calm enough to speak. “I love you too Satan, so much. You mean the absolute world to me.”

You laughed wetly, thinking it funny that you were crying during one of the happiest moments of your life. Satan smiled at you fondly before handing you a handkerchief so that you could dry your eyes. 

You spent the rest of the night in his lap, smiling and giggling as he attempted to read you a story out loud.

Asmodeus

These kinds of days rarely happened, but they happened nonetheless. Mean, ugly days when no matter what outfit he tried on, it didn’t look right. No matter how much time he put into styling his hair, it just looked flat and dull. And his makeup seemed to refuse to cooperate with what he had in mind.

On these kinds of days Asmo locked himself in his room under the pretense of “needing self-care”. He hated having to speak with others because their usual compliments just sounded mocking and fake to his ears.

Asmo remembered an incident when one of his admirers had complimented his hairstyle and he had snapped at her furiously: “Shut up! Don’t make fun of me!” before storming away. He was incredibly embarrassed about it and apologized profusely to her. Since then, he figured it was safer to just hide out in his room.

But it was hard to be alone in his room when you were already there. You knew something was up with Asmo when you texted him saying "Hey, could you help me pick out a new coat?" and he replied with "Maybe another time, sorry darling!" He would have never refused an opportunity to go shopping with you.

So you raced to his room after classes and thankfully managed to slip in while Asmo was in the kitchen gathering some snacks. When he saw you standing in his room you could see he struggled to act nonchalant. "Darling! I didn't know you'd be here. I'm sorry, but I'm feeling a bit under the weather today. I wouldn't want you to catch anything so it'd probably be best if you went to your room."

Your heart clenched at the blatant lie. "Oh Asmo, I'll leave if you really want to be alone. But just know that I'm here for you. Whatever it is, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I want to be your strength."

You could see the conflict in Asmo's eyes as he stood quietly for a couple of minutes. You were about to turn around and leave, giving him some alone time, but he suddenly blurted out "I feel ugly today. I feel disgusting and horrible and hideous."

Asmo closed his eyes, embarrassed at his outburst and also dreading what inevitably came next: empty compliments and false flattery. He didn't want to be told he was beautiful when he didn't believe it.

But instead, you surprised him by enveloping him in a strong embrace. You alternated between gently patting his back and smoothing his hair and were rewarded with feeling the tension leave his body. You didn’t say anything, just continued to hold Asmo and wipe away the few stray tears on his cheeks.

Eventually you moved him to his bed, Asmo’s head lying on your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. You weren’t sure how much time had passed but he seemed to be much calmer. He tilted his head up to look at you, his eyes searching your face, before almost whispering “I love you”. Your eyes widened in surprise. “You seem to always know what to do, MC, how to put me back together again. You’re honest with me and you actually listen to what I’m saying. I love you. Please stay with me forever.”

The two of you fell asleep like that, Asmo’s head on your chest and your hands intertwined. 

Beelzebub

Beel was a bit nervous, considering this was one of the most important Fangol games he had ever played in. Not only was it against their rival school, but also Beel’s coach had let him know that there would be scouters from the professional league coming to watch for potential talent.

It was too bad that you wouldn’t be able to watch him play. He considered you a very important part of his game-day routine. In the morning, you always made him a hearty breakfast and at the pre-game warmup, he frequently went to you for kisses and headpats. He considered you to be his good luck charm.

Unfortunately, you weren’t feeling well. You kept having bad stomach pain and the doctor had said it was probably your body reacting to some unfamiliar Devildom food. You were currently lying down in your room with a heating pad on and some warm green tea.

Beel missed you terribly. It had only been a few hours since he had last seen you but he couldn’t help but feel lonely. You were always there shouting and cheering for him on game days which made your absence feel that much larger.

His teammates and coaches could tell that something was off with him. They kept coming by to ruffle his hair or pat him on the shoulder and ask, “Is everything okay?” and “Don’t worry, you’ll do great!” 

Beel knew he was being silly. He would go see you right after the game! And yet his heart wasn’t in it during the pre-game stretches. He kept spacing out and staring at the wall instead of actually getting ready.

Suddenly, one of the assistant coaches came into the room. “Beel! MC is here! Now hurry up and stop moping around!” He saw you behind the coach looking a bit uncomfortable, your stomach must have still been bothering you. But you were also smiling at your little surprise.

Beel ran up to you and hugged you gently. “MC! What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed? Are you okay? Are you feeling better?” You laughed at his barrage of questions before reaching up on your tip-toes to give him a pat on his head. “I’m still in a bit of pain but I wanted to be here. I couldn’t miss such an important game! Now what’s this about you moping around?”

Beel blushed and ducked his head before mumbling, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” You laughed again and Beel’s heart soared at the sound. He was suddenly struck with the realization of how much he loved you. You, who always had his back, who was always there to support him and motivate him. 

He wrapped his arms around you and whispered in your ear, “Thanks for being here, MC. I love you so much, you know. Sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst.” Your arms tightened around him in response. “I feel the same way Beel, I love you so much. Now go and win this game, okay? Show them how amazing you are.”

After the game, Beel was surrounded by his coaches excitedly telling him about how many scouters were interested in seeing him play again. But all Beel could think about was having you in his arms again.

Belphegor

It occurred to Belphie one day after class as he was walking down the hallway. There was a couple leaning against the locker, engaged in a full display of public affection. They kept giggling and yelling “I love you!” at each other. Belphie fake gagged a little before moving past them.

But then it occurred to him. Is that kind of thing something... you wanted? Your relationship was relatively new both in terms of time and in that this was something Belphie wasn’t really experienced with. You were one of the people that knew him best though, apart from his brothers, and Belphie had just assumed that it would be okay to continue acting as he had always had around you.

What if secretly this was something you wanted as well? All of the endearments and displays of affection. Belphie hadn’t even- hadn’t even said the “L” word to you yet. This continued to trouble him even as he lied down for his afternoon nap. In his dreams he kept seeing visions of you crying while looking on enviously at other couples and asking, “Why can’t we be like that?”

By the time he sat down at dinner, Belphie was exhausted. And you of course noticed, especially since he was eating a lot less than he normally did. After dinner the two of you made your way to his room, where you were getting out some textbooks to study and he lied back down on his bed. “Hey Belphie, is everything okay? You seem a lot more listless than usual.

Belphie stared at you, contemplating whether to tell you what was going on. But in the end he decided against it. “It’s nothing, MC. Don’t worry about it.” His voice definitely didn’t sound like it was nothing. “Okay, Belphie. But let me know if you want to talk about anything, okay? I’m always here.”

For the next hour or so, you studied for your classes while Belphie tormented himself. He did love you. But he wasn’t good at expressing his feelings, especially in the way the couple in the hall had. What if that now you were dating, you expected him to change? Would he even be able to? Frustrated at the swirling questions in his mind, Belphie ended up blurting out “I love you!” to your back.

You turned around in your chair slowly, surprised at his sudden intensity. “I... love you too. Belphie, is everything okay? You’ve been acting strange all day.” He sighed. “MC, you know what kind of demon I am. I’m not good at all the... lovey-dovey stuff that other couples do. But if that’s what you want, I can at least try to be different.”

You shook your head. “I... honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I know how you feel about me, Belphie. I don’t need you to be like “the other couples” because I fell in love with you and who you are. I don’t expect you to be someone you’re not. Where are you even getting the idea that I want something other than what we have?”

Ah, Belphie really did love you. There was no one else in the world that knew him so completely and still loved and accepted all parts of him. And... he just realized that he had said “I love you” for the first time by practically shouting it while your back was turned.

He got up and stood next to his desk. You were sitting and looking up at him, concern evident on your face. He smiled and leaned down to kiss you gently before mouthing against your lips, “I love you, MC.”

You could feel how hot your cheeks were as he moved away and went to lie back down on his bed. You pretended to be unbothered, flipping randomly through your textbook, but none of the words made any sense. You mumbled under your breath, “”You’re pretty good at lovey-dovey stuff.”

#obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me texts #om! hcs #om! imagines #om! headcanons

[our-time-is-now]

May 22, 2019: Some kind of potion

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Wednesday, 5:23 pm:

Laura: *is standing in the kitchen with quiet music in the background and is just about to make herself some hot chocolate when the front door opens and Matteo and David come in* *has to smile to herself a little because she rarely sees David alone anymore - if he is at their place Matteo is usually with him, otherwise he spends most of his time with Matteo at the flatshare* *is happy for her brother that it worked out with Matteo, after all, and that he can be himself with Matteo* *calls out into the hallway* Hey, I'm making hot chocolate! Do you want some? *turns around toward them and has to smile again when she sees them standing there arm in arm* *sees her brother shake his head: "I'd love some later! But first I have to shower"!* *looks at Matteo questioningly* And what about you?

Matteo: *laughs when they hear Laura's voice and shakes his head* *had just teased David with what they could do if Laura wasn't at home* *David looks at him with his "I told you so" look and Matteo grins* *then grins at Laura and nods* Hot chocolate sounds good... *he says and takes off his jacket when David disappears into the bathroom* Warm or cold? *he asks, while following Laura into the kitchen*

Laura: *sees Matteo and David exchange looks and communicate without words and tilts her head in amusement* *would love to know what it's about but then thinks that it's none of her business* *sees Matteo following her into the kitchen and goes back to the stove* It's still cold... I was just about to heat it, but if you prefer it could then I'll just fill you some in a mug *turns around with a questioning look and smiles briefly*

Matteo: *sits down on the same stool he sat at after his first night here* No, no... warm is good... *watches as she starts to heat the hot chocolate on the stove* Do you like doing that? Cooking and the apartment and so on? The apartment’s kind of a dump, and yet it's still really cozy...

Laura: *nods when he also wants it warm and turns on the stove* *gets three mugs and puts them next to it* *laughs at Matteo's question* I wouldn't say I like it...?! I do like it cozy... and something good to eat and drink is part of that. And as I don't have anyone who cooks or cleans for me... *shrugs* ...gotta do it myself, right? *briefly looks around the kitchen and then back at Matteo* David does help. He's great at decorating. But tidying up is another thing... I didn't have much to do with his room - he did all of that himself. And the rest of the apartment we mostly decorated together. We didn't have much money - so you have to get creative. *winks at him and then stirs the hot chocolate*

Matteo: *nods and laughs* Yes, gotta do it yourself. *laughs slightly when she mentions David* *thinks about the drawings in David's room, about David's creativity and nods* Seems like creativity is in the Schreibner-genes... *looks around the kitchen and then back at Laura* *hesitates* *wants to thank her but doesn't really know how* *turns the words around in his head for a while* By the way, thanks for... our talk, I mean that you didn't kick me out again and told me where he was...

Laura: *tilts her head* I'll gladly draw you stick figures - let's see if you still think creativity runs in the Schreibner genes... *laughs and then notices that the hot chocolate is already steaming* *lowers the heat on the stove and fills two mugs* *hears Matteo's words and looks up surprised* *smiles and points toward the table with her head* *puts the mugs down and sits down* *waits for Matteo to sit down as well and pushes a mug toward him* *hesitates and eventually says* You know... David doesn't tell me much... but at some point your name was mentioned more and more and he seemed somehow... *shrugs and searches for the right word* ...livelier? *takes a sip from her mug but realizes that it's still too hot and puts it down again* When he told me that you wanted to pick him up from his exam he was so full of hope, and then this outing... *grimaces* *doesn't even want to imagine how bad that must have been for David* *therefore quickly continues* And when you were here, I somehow knew that you were worrying about him just like me. I mean, why else would you have come if he weren't important to you?! *smiles and shrugs* Therefore: you're welcome! *picks the mug back up and blows on it* *smiles again and then winks at him* And thank YOU that you found him and brought him back! *takes another sip of her hot chocolate*

Matteo: *quickly follows her and sits down across from her* *gets a little embarrassed when she tells him that David mentioned him several times and doesn't really know what to say* *only nods slightly and blows at his hot chocolate* *bites down on his lip slightly* I should have reached out sooner... then... *but then shrugs because there is no use in racking his about that anymore* *nods slowly* Yes, I was worried... *he says quietly and turns the mug around in his hands* *grins slightly* Ha, I mostly did that for selfish reasons... *knows that this isn't completely true* *would have done pretty much anything to make David feel better but he also wanted and still wants to have him for himself* But you're also welcome.

Laura: *listens to Matteo and also shrugs when he says that he should have reached out sooner* *doesn't know if it would have changed anything but thinks that it doesn't matter anymore because now everything's ok between the two of them* *nods at everything else he says and laughs quietly when he says that he went looking for David almost exclusively for selfish reasons* *leans back and ironically says* Right... only for selfish reasons... *nods exaggeratingly* *gets serious again* It is important for him to see that there are people who accept and love him exactly the way he is. And props to you that you managed to make him trust you so quickly. *laughs quietly* There really are moments where I wonder how you did that. How you managed to make my self-doubting brother, who constantly thinks about running away, jump over his shadow and open up to someone... *leans forward and grins slightly to take the tragedy out of her words* Admit it - you secretly give him some kind of potion!

Matteo: *nods to everything Laura says and murmurs* I do... *gets a little embarrassed again and laughs quietly* To be honest, I yelled at him... *shrugs and puts his hands around his mug* *gets serious* I think I simply showed him that there is an alternative to running away... *shrugs* All of my friends think he's the coolest... none of them even hesitated to take him just the way he is... I think he only had to understand that, you know? *immediately gets quiet again because he said so much so openly*

Laura: *is astonished when Matteo says he yelled at him* *laughs* Seriously?! *presses her lips together with a grin and shakes her head* I'm sorry I can't really imagine that! You know how to yell!? *so far only ever took him for the quiet type* *gets serious again when Matteo does and nods* That was probably the exact right thing to do... an alternative to running away... *thinks about how often David has run away but thinks that it's David's responsibility to tell Matteo about it and therefore doesn't mention it* *smiles when he talks about his friends and nods* Yes, probably... *is really happy that David made such good friends and would love to know more about these people* *is really curious and boldly asks* You have to introduce me to them at the next party at your flatshare... *basically invites herself*

Matteo: *nods and has to laugh a little again* Yes, seriously... *shrugs* Obviously... I was... well, frustrated? *laughs and takes his first tiny sip from his hot chocolate* I'll do that, I'll introduce you to everyone... they’re a colorful bunch...

Laura: *smiles a little sadly when Matteo says that he was frustrated* *knows the feeling and in the beginning she used to be quite mad at David when he hid somewhere and she didn't know where he was, but as he usually turned up again after some time, at some point her anger simply turned into worry* *was just about to ask if the next party at the flatshare is already planned when David comes back into the kitchen*

David: *showered and afterward put on comfortable clothes and left his binder off because he had already been wearing it long enough today and by now it was already a habit to not wear it when he and Matteo got comfortable* *sees Matteo and Laura sitting at the table and has to smile* *thinks it's really nice that Matteo is here and that it's normal that he's here and somehow, with Matteo, he now feels even more at home here* Hey... na? *sees the empty mug standing next to the still steaming pot on the stove and fills his mug with hot chocolate before he turns the stove off* *goes over to the table and strokes over Matteo's shoulder in passing before he puts his mug on the table and sits down next to Matteo* *looks at both of them alternately and grins slightly* Did I miss something!?

Laura: *takes another sip of hot chocolate while looking between her brother and Matteo* *thinks it's really fascinating to watch the two of them and sometimes would love to be a fly on the wall when they’re alone* *grins mischievously at David's question and leans back* Ooh, not much... I was trying to find out what kind of potion Matteo used to make your flight-instinct disappear... but he won't share his secrets with me... *winks at Matteo*

Matteo: *immediately smiles when David comes into the kitchen* Hey... *automatically scoots closer to him and also has the urge to put his head on his shoulder but doesn't do that, after all* *then simply puts his hand on his leg because no contact at all is impossible* *laughs at Laura's deliberations of what he missed* No, no, a good magician never shares his tricks... and I invited her to the next party at the flatshare, she said she wants to meet the chaos-group...

David: *immediately and almost automatically grabs Matteo's hand when he puts it on his leg and entangles their fingers* *looks between the two of them and amusedly lifts one eyebrow* Oh, so you were talking about me!? Should I be honored or offended?! *laughs about the chaos-group that Laura wants to meet* Chaos-group is pretty accurate for these people... but they really are a loveable chaos-group... *takes a sip of hot chocolate and strokes the thumb of his mug-free hand slowly over the back of Matteo's hand* *feels somehow tired but freshly showered, clean, content and simply happy with the two of them here in the kitchen*

Laura: *empties her hot chocolate and puts her mug on the table* *grins in David's direction* Honored, of course! We only said nice things about you! *gets up and puts her mug in the sink* I'll leave you to it. I've got a good book waiting for me. *turns to Matteo* Let me know when the next party is. *gets a glass of water and disappears into her room* Have a nice evening!

(next play)

#druck #og druck #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi #davenzi plays #play 31

[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 12

I sat drumming my fingers against my mouth in my Wednesday art history class. I was once again in the aisle seat near the back.

Since the party, when Harry walked in on us as Zayn was leaving I hadn't talked to either Zayn or Harry. To be fair, it has only been a few days, but I usually talk to them regularly within a few days.

Zayn hasn't said anything because he was giving me my space—I know him enough to know that. I wasn't saying anything to him because I'm giving him his space.

I haven't spoken to Harry because I needed some time away from him too. But Harry usually sees me more than Zayn does, because he has no concept of boundaries and personal space. It's been four days since I've last heard anything from Harry. He hasn't texted me, he hasn't said anything to Julia about me and he hasn't stopped by. To not hear from him the first two days was normal, but now it's been four fucking days.This type of behaviour coming from someone who I had to get a new job for to stay away from, was quite concerning.

At first I thought he wasn't feeling well, but if that was true then he would have stayed over at our apartment. Harry loves being babied and given attention to, things he doesn't get in a house full of boys but gets plenty of from me and his girlfriend.

Then I thought he was having issues with Julia, maybe they were going through a rough patch? But I inconspicuously asked Julia about it and she said they're fine.

Which left me with terrifying conclusion: he found out.

I don't know if it's true, but as embarrassing as it sounds, I quite literally broke down in tears at the thought that he found out I loved him and is now avoiding me.

There was an empty hole in my heart these past few days with his absence. I felt like I couldn't function. Who was I going to make silly jokes with? Who was I going to save the planet with? Who was I going to have lunch with on Wednesdays? Who was going to make sure I studied for art history?

The only reason I ever tried to stay away from Harry was because I didn't want to get too attached from him. It seems like when I chose to stay away, the distance was tolerable. But when it was his choice to stay away, the mystery behind it mixed with my paranoia was unbearable.

I began fidgeting with my phone, debating whether or not I should send him a text.

hey, where are you?

No, that's too demanding. I erase the the text and type out another one.

i saved you a seat at the same spot we sat at last time :)

That should be fine, right? But what if he doesn't want to sit next to me? What if he truly is avoiding me and I'm forcing him to sit next to me? So I draft another text.

are you coming to class?

My thumb hovers over the blue arrow to send it right when I see him making his way up the steps.

I throw my phone in my purse, sit up and smooth my hair. My shirt got a little lopsided so I adjust it just in time before he glances up and his eyes meet mine. I hold my breath for what feels like a century, waiting to see his reaction. When he gives me a small smile I can feel my entire body collapse in relief.

"Hey," he says, squeezing past my knees again to take the seat beside mine. I should sit in that one next time if I come earlier so he doesn't have to.

"Hey," I squeak back in response. I watch him as he shrugs off his jacket, dropping it in the empty seat next to him and begins unpacking what he needs for the class. When he's settled he glances at me with a slightly questioning gaze. I give him a shaky smile and force myself to look away.

Don't say it, Aria. Don't say it, don't say it, don't say—

"Have you been avoiding me?" I blurt out unintentionally. Fuck.

"I-I what? No?" he croaks.

"You have," I frown. His answer and the guilty look he possesses tells me everything I need. Quietly, I ask, "Why?"

He bites his lips and doesn't meet my gaze, he really doesn't want to answer.

"I..." Harry starts and I feel awful for putting him in such an uncomfortable position but I'm also very curious. It was definitely about what happened at the party. Did I make him uncomfortable then too?

"Is it about what happened at the party?"

He nods. I conceal my shaky breath.

"I just," he starts again. "I felt bad... So I thought maybe I'd stay away for a bit."

He felt bad?

"Felt bad? Harry, what do you have to feel bad for?" I think I know what he feels bad for and had he not been avoiding me, I would have chewed him out for talking to Zayn the way he had that night. But because he avoided me and I got a taste of what it's like to not have Harry in my life anymore, I was trying to do anything I can to prevent that.

"I... you know... I shouldn't—"

"Look, I forgive you."

He looks up at me in confusion, meeting my eyes for the first time.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I know how much you don't like Zayn and I know you feel very protective of me when he's around and I hate that you do that... but I can understand how seeing me in that... situation, could make you angry. So I forgive you. I'm sure Zayn does too."

Harry continues staring at me the nods in relief. "O-okay. But, um, Aria? Why were you crying—"

"Let's just never talk about that night again, okay?" I say interrupting what he was saying. He nods solemnly and we both look to the front as the professor starts the presentation.

Slowly, Harry and I fall back into the comfortable atmosphere we had built around each other. As the minutes tick by it gets easier and easier to be ourselves again without a cloud of awkwardness hanging over us. I've never had this happen so quickly with anyone else and I'm thanking my lucky stars that it happens with Harry. I almost don't even notice how close we get to one another when we lean to ask a question or whisper a joke.

Harry leans again but this time to look at my laptop screen so he can copy down something he missed. His curls tickle my temple so I turn a bit to avoid it when I realize how close his face is to mine. He's looking at my screen so he doesn't notice me—at least he won't unless I keep staring. I take in the soft hairs that curl around his ears, his thick eyelashes and the slope of his perfect nose. His eyes blink a bit before he glances down at his notes and jots something down quickly. When he looks back up he's chewing his bottom lip. I slowly turn my head back around so he doesn't notice it. Harry finishes copying down everything he needed and straightens back up in his seat, his warmth leaving my side.

"Thanks," he mutters.

"No problem," I whisper.

We happily chatter on our way to The Red Spoon. Harry and I go over some pieces we saw in art history and what our favourite ones were. At the cafe, we take a seat at our previous booth and immediately I pull up my menu. Scanning the items listed, my eyes briefly flick up to see Harry browsing his with pinched eyebrows.

After a couple minutes there are three things I know I definitely want to try.

"Have you decided?" Harry asks.

"Uh... yeah," I answer, not sure which one I should say I want.

"What were you thinking?"

"Um... the Tuscan Grilled Chicken sandwich?"

"Sounds amazing. So we'll split that and how do you feel about splitting the Mac and Cheese?"

A relieved smile spreads across my face. "Great," I answer, happy that I'll get to try two of the three things I wanted and that Harry is still comfortable splitting our meals.

A waitress comes over and we tell her our orders, Harry makes sure to ask for an extra plate and an extra bowl again for us. While we wait for the food, I open up my laptop and start skimming through my notes to refresh our memories and make sure Harry didn't miss anything. Turns out, I was the one who missed a couple important things so I quickly added those in and took out some other notes we thought were irrelevant.

Something was bothering Harry. Not during the three hours we talked and did some work. It's when we're on our way back to campus that I noticed something was really on his mind.

"Something bothering you?" I ask him a few seconds after his smile fades from something I said and he gets somber.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. It's nothing," he tries to brush it off. I smile lightly, and bump his shoulder with my own.

"Come on, you can tell me," I say softly. He chuckles before he gets serious again and shakes his head.

"No, I shouldn't. You shouldn't have to worry about my problems."

"Why? We're friends now. I care about your problems."

I feel like his eyes are staring into my soul as he contemplates what to say to me. I'm not used to Harry being so serious, the only times we've seriously been serious around each other was when at least one of us cried. Or nearly cried.

"I know," he says eventually. "I know you do, and I'm grateful to have a friend like you who I can talk to when things bother me. And who I know can help me."

"So what's the problem?"

"Um, well... you see..." Harry stumbles across his words and for a frightening moment my gut seizes and I think he's going to tell me he knows I love him and we can't be friends.

I gulp and patiently wait for him to gather the courage and speak out, "My father wants to have dinner again."

"Oh," I startle. "Um, that's a good thing, right?"

Having never had issues like this with my parents, I never know how Julia or Harry feel when their parents want to do something ordinary. See for me, my parents wanting to have dinner with me was not a big deal. But for Harry and Julia it is and I never know if it's the good kind or the bad kind.

"Sort of..." Harry shuffles. We're standing outside the building my next lecture is in and it's getting pretty chilly but I don't dare suggest we go inside where people could hear Harry talk about this. If the freezing cold is where he is comfortable, it's where I will make myself comfortable too. "He wants to meet my girlfriend."

Oh.

His girlfriend.

"Um, ha-have you spoken to Julia?" I stutter.

"I don't know how to bring it up," he mumbles staring at his shoes. "She didn't want to see her own father, much less mine. Who even I don't like seeing."

I pause to think, and then ask, "When is this dinner happening?"

Harry meets my eyes then looks away in guilt. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Jesus, Harry!"

"I know, I know!" He runs his hand through his hair in frustration. "There isn't a lot of time to convince her to come with me..."

Feeling the pressure he's under, I begin sweating. "Can you postpone the dinner?"

"I don't think so. My father is very busy—it took us days of going back and forth to set up dinner for tomorrow. I don't think he'll be free for a while. And... I don't really want to make it seem like I'm not, you know, trying?" he mumbles unsurely.

"Why didn't you ask Julia right away? Why did you wait until the very last day?" I ask in frustration. Julia is going to freak out. Harry is the longest boyfriend she's ever had which means she's never had to meet a boyfriend's parents before. She's already pretty detached from her own family, so meeting Harry's is literally going to freak her the fuck out. Maybe I can speak with her and—

"I-I guess I was kind of hoping... that, um, you'd, um pretend to be my girlfriend?" Harry's voice got so high pitched near the end but I didn't notice due to my eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. Harry is nervously biting his lip and rubbing the back of his neck, actively not making eye contact with me.

"I'm sorry, what?" I ask.

"Aria," he says with a dragged out sigh.

"No, I'm serious. I don't think I heard you correctly because to me it sounded like—"

"I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner tomorrow with my father," he repeats gruffly.

"Oh, so I did hear right..." I stare at him in shock, trying to process this. Literally what is happening? "Why—um, why are you asking me to do that?"

Harry's face turns bright red, probably redder than mine. He scans the area around us before carefully meeting my gaze.

"It's just that, um..." He sighs deeply and frowns at his shoes. "I know it's bad to say this but I'm going to be a nervous wreck tomorrow and you're better at helping me relax and calm down than Julia is..."

I gulp. This is such shit. For fuck's sake! I know how much this means to Harry and I would drop everything to be there for him tomorrow. I could pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, no matter how sad that would make me after but the only thing is: I can't. Not when his real girlfriend is my best friend! That's like cheating. We'd be going behind her back and she would be livid if she found out I pretended to be Harry's girlfriend in front of his father.

"Aria?" Harry questions. I snap out of my thoughts.

"I don't think that's a good idea, I'm sorry, Harry," I whisper.

He blinks rapidly before looking away in hurt.

"I'm sorry but it's not right. You have to take Julia, she's your girlfriend," I say. When he doesn't move and I still can't see his face, I gently place my hand on his shoulder. "Harry—"

"Don't Aria, I get it. You're right, I know you are. It was a stupid thing to say," he grumbles.

"It's just that your father is going to see you again and one day he'll see you with Julia, we wouldn't be able to keep lying. And it's not a good idea to start mending your relationship with your father over lies. I'm sure that if..." I falter. The more I talk the more Harry cringes and begins to look angry. Not angry at me but angry at himself. "Harry, you don't have to feel embarrassed or anything with me—" I try to comfort him again but he pulls away almost aggressively. It seems like that wasn't the right thing.

"Aria, please! Let's just stop talking about it, okay! I clearly didn't think it through. It was a stupid fucking thing to say, so let's just forget it!" he shouts. He's taking the rejection horribly. My mind races, trying to figure out how to fix this. "God, I'm so fucking stupid. I can't believe I even suggested it... I'm so sorry," he apologizes softer. His voice cracks and just as I see his eyes water he spins around and begins walking away.

"Harry, no!" I grab his arm, forcing him to stay put. He tries to shake me off and I know it's because he's mortified and I am too, but I just can't let him leave so hurt. "I won't say anything about it, don't worry. I'll forget this ever happened," I soothe. His breathing evens out slightly. "Just... let me help you still?"

He's still for a moment then glances back at me in confusion. The whole point was he wanted my help and even though his idea was not the best, it didn't mean I couldn't help him, right?

"Look that's all I want. I just want to help you. Had you still been single, I'd happily agree, but you're not so we have to think of something else," I reason as calmly as I can.

Harry sniffs and then rubs his nose with his index finger. "What do you suggest?"

"It's not the best idea, I'll admit..." I drift off realizing how stupid my idea actually sounds. It can work, I know, but it still sounds ridiculous. "You could, uh, you could text me?"

Harry shoulder's drop and he looks at me in disbelief.

"What?" I laugh to ease the tension. "Okay, I know it sounds absolutely lame, but it's the safest thing."

"So I should just pull out my phone and text you when he asks me a difficult question?" he deadpans.

"No, you use your clever thinking skills and come up with a witty response. If you feel like you're about to do something stupid, then you text me and I make sure you don't."

"Is there nothing else?" he asks desperately. "I need you to, like, physically be there."

My heart swells but I ignore my heart at this time, choosing instead to reply with sarcasm to bring us out of this awkward tension.

"Oh of course there is," I say. Harry's eyes light up. "I'll drop my resume off at the restaurant you guys are going to." Harry rolls his eyes but I see a smile tug on his lips. "Keep in mind this is probably a high end restaurant seeing as your father is fucking rich but that's okay."

"Okay, I get it—" he says.

"I'm sure they'll hire me on the spot even though I have no waitressing experience and I'll—"

"Stop, stop, alright, I understand!" Harry chuckles as I continue.

"I'll complete orientation and training by tonight so that tomorrow they'll let me wait on your table. And then I'll refill all of your drinks about seventy-six times to make sure I'm there—"

"Stop it," he giggles covering my mouth with his hand. I continue to mumble nonsense through it until he covers his hand with his other hand. I stop and look at him with wide eyes then we both start giggling childishly.

"I really think it could work you know?" I say after we calm down.

"Go to class, you goofball," he smiles, pushing me towards the doors of the building.

***

Sooooo what do we think? Please let me know, and thanks for reading! I will be updating every Saturday now.

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#mastermind

[thesoftsoobin]

➳ part: 3/?

➳ pairing: taehyung x yoongi

➳ genre: angst (with a happy ending), hanahaki au

➳ warnings: mention of death, non-kinky choking

➳ word count: 8.2k

Read on AO3 or below the cut.  

yoongi was letting sunflowers overtake his lungs, and taehyung had a hard enough time watching him slowly die instead of telling hoseok his true feelings. but taehyung’s own crush was getting the best of him, and life managed to complicate itself even further when he began coughing up flowers, too. and not just any flowers, either. they had to be cherry blossoms, yoongi’s favorite.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung gasped. Jeongguk unlocked the door, and the dorm swirled around Taehyung as he stumbled in after him. With his hands on his frozen cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut and repeated, “Oh my god.”

He felt numb, partially from the cold air they just spent fifteen minutes running in, but mostly from the panic stabbing its way through him. His chest was tightening by the second, and the flowers weren’t helping any.

“Hey,” Jeongguk turned to face him, placing a hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze through his winter coat. But all Taehyung could focus on was the gym bag hanging off of Jeongguk’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We did a good thing, right? It’ll help him.”

Taehyung nodded and looked away from him, down at his own gloved hands. He tried to hold them still, but they wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Uh…Gguk?” Jimin asked. Jeongguk spun around and immediately turned sheepish.

Jeongguk and Jimin had pushed both of their beds together to make one full-sized bed, fairy lights strung around the headboard, and Jimin was sitting with his legs crossed in the middle of it. He sat up straight as soon as they burst in and was watching them closely.

“I thought you went to the dance studio on Wednesdays.”

“I do,” Jimin said. “But I had to study for the math final. It’s tomorrow, remember?”

The words of Jeongguk’s response blended together, and Taehyung’s heart was still hammering in his chest. He used the opportunity to try to even his breathing while the attention was off of him, tapping his fingers on his thigh and counting back from 20.

Everything was fine, they didn’t get caught, and he was going to help Yoongi live longer.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” he thought he heard Jimin whisper, and he opened his eyes. Jimin was tiptoeing over to them, his concerned eyes set on Taehyung before they flitted back to Jeongguk. “You stole the oxygen tank, didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s heart rate picked back up. It was that obvious?  

“No, of course not,” Jeongguk said.

“So, if I looked in that gym bag, I wouldn’t find an oxygen tank?”

“Okay, fine. Listen, babe,” Jeongguk said, and Jimin lifted his eyebrows, “you guys said doing the surgery would be a bad idea, which, you know, fair. But Tae said he was down for this, so,” he slipped his hands into his coat pockets and shrugged, “yeah, there’s a stolen oxygen tank in my bag, along with a regulator and a few cannulas.”

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Jimin said, reaching behind Taehyung to slam the door shut. The sound made Taehyung jump, and he sucked in another breath and covered his face with his hands again as if breathing into his gloves would make it easier. “You might want to stop talking so loud.”

“Park Jimin,” Jeongguk said. “You said it first.”

Their voices still sounded like faint echoes, and Jimin’s arm wrapping around Taehyung’s shoulders only made him startle again.

“I whispered it,” he said. “Also, you’re an idiot. Tae, everything’s okay. Alright? You’re safe.”

Taehyung nodded into his hands, but the panic was disrupting the cherry blossoms in his lungs, and he had to lift his head to start coughing. At the very least, the room was beginning to stop swirling as he alternated between the gasps of a panic attack and the coughs of yet another episode of his disease.

“I’ll get him water,” Jeongguk said, dropping the gym bag onto the bed before slipping out into the hallway. Jimin led Taehyung to sit down at his desk chair and gave him a garbage can to start spitting blood-stained pink petals into.

“Were you really down for it?” Jimin asked. “Or did he talk you into it like he usually does?”

“It was—” Taehyung cleared his throat, coughing once more and producing three more petals. He shook his head. “I wa-wanted to do it. I had the idea before he even brought it up.”

He sighed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He was starting to sweat through his jacket, but he hardly had the time to talk before he started coughing again, let alone unzip and shrug off his winter coat.

“I just didn’t—I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Did an alarm go off or anything?” Taehyung shook his head. “Try not to worry, then. Everything you got can’t cost more than thirty thousand won.”

“Mm,” Taehyung mumbled with his head in the trash can. “I guess.”

He felt Jimin poke him in his shoulder, “And at least invite me next time, especially if the next step is grand theft auto.”

Taehyung lifted his head to see Jimin giving him a playful grin, the one he always used to try to make Taehyung laugh. And he tried to laugh, he really did, but it ended up sounding more like another sigh.

“I just want Yoongi—” More coughs, more petals. “I want him to be okay. Why doesn’t he get to be happy? Why don’t I—”    

And he was cut off yet again by the floral arrangement in his lungs. There was the click of the door opening and closing and Jeongguk tossed a water bottle over to Jimin, who placed it delicately on the desk beside Taehyung.

“Have you thought any more about telling him?” Jimin asked, and Taehyung couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

He understood now why Yoongi got so annoyed with him. It really was pointless to let yourself get rejected when you knew that’s what the outcome would be, and having others try to get your hopes up about it only made it worse.

Maybe resigning himself to death without doing anything about it seemed stupid or pessimistic from the outside, but if that was the only possible end to all of this, why would he even bother?

He let himself be sent into another fit of coughs, rough and tortured enough to hopefully make Jimin forget his question.

Once his lungs finally stopped seizing some 20 minutes later, he uncapped the water bottle and let the cold water burn the back of its throat on its way down. It was best he got back to his dorm before, well, before the whole theft was rendered pointless.

The thought made him choke again, and another flower petal found its way into his lap. He tried to stand but found himself falling right into Jimin, who hadn’t left his side. Jimin gripped his shoulders tightly as he staggered backward.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Taehyung nodded with his eyes closed. Even so, he felt Jimin’s worried gaze on him. “You should stay a while and relax. We could catch up on One Piece since we’re like five seasons behind.”

“No, I…I should get going,” Taehyung opened his eyes and tried to stand up straight. “Yoongi’s been really depressed since everything with Hoseok. I don’t want to leave him much longer.”

Jimin watched him for another moment before letting out a sigh. “I’ll walk you, then.”

He bundled up in his bomber jacket and sat beside Jeongguk on their bed to pull his boots on, and Jeongguk leaned back on his hands to frown at Taehyung. “If anything happens, I’ll take the blame. We don’t want you dying in prison.”

He let out an ‘oof’ as Jimin smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand, but Taehyung cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Gguk,” he said, holding out his palm. Jeongguk glanced at it and up at Taehyung before, for the first time in a year, they did their secret handshake.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back,” Jimin pulled the gym bag up on his shoulder and gave Jeongguk a quick kiss on the cheek. Jeongguk leaned into it and looked up at Jimin with a soft fondness that Taehyung couldn’t help but feel bitter about. Even with his feelings for Jimin gone forever, his longing for love remained, and it was a wish that was going to die with him. “Be ready to be quizzed on statistics formulas.”

“Aye aye,” Jeongguk saluted playfully, but even he had worry in his eyes as he watched them leave.

The walk to Taehyung and Yoongi’s dorm was quiet, save for Taehyung clearing his throat every so often. It was perpetually sore at this point, but he mostly did it as an awkward way of filling the silence.

As he leaned against Jimin, arm hooked in his, he knew Jimin wanted to press the matter further. Tell Yoongi, he could hear him thinking. You never know what could happen.

But he didn’t say a word until they stopped outside of the dorm and he passed the bag to Taehyung, who bowed under its weight. Jimin brought his hands up to warm Taehyung’s cheeks, his own cheeks flushed under his fluffy white hat, and Taehyung looked down at his feet.

“You’re my best friend, Tae,” he said, and everything Taehyung knew he was thinking was behind those five words. Do something. Don’t make me miss you, was among them most of all.

The light was on when Taehyung unlocked the door to his dorm, and Yoongi was surprisingly awake. He sat up in his bed with a comic book in his lap, and his tired eyes followed Taehyung as he shook his boots off in the doorway.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, voice hoarse. It was dark out, and the twenty minutes Taehyung was coughing up flowers may have been more like 45, now that he’s looking at the clock.

“Art studio,” he lied. “My portrait for painting and drawing is due Friday.”

He didn’t know why he said it. He was about to pull out the very oxygen tank he and Jeongguk stole and present it to Yoongi like a gift, anyway. But he looked at Yoongi, at his pale skin and dark circles, at his thin frame beneath the sheets, and he wondered if maybe he could pass it off as something they got by more honest means. He didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was.

“Did, um,” he started, setting the bag down gently on his bed. His entire body, still weak from before, sighed in relief once the weight was lifted. “Has Hobi talked to you yet?”

“Not since I told him,” Yoongi said, and he groaned a bit as he shifted in his bed. “Joonie said Hoseok thinks if he keeps his distance, I have more of a chance of getting better.”

“Is he right?”

“Does it look like it?”

In the past couple of weeks, Yoongi had only gotten worse. He’d longed for Hoseok to break the distance and talk to him again, the sudden radio silence from his best friend keeping him awake at night. He choked up whole sunflower after whole sunflower into the trash, and his throat was too raw to eat much more than beef broth. Some days, it was a wonder how he was still alive.

Taehyung averted his eyes, and Yoongi quickly changed the subject.

“Since when do you go to the gym, Taehyungie?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s,” Taehyung glanced at the bag on the bed behind him, “it’s Jeongguk’s. He let me borrow it.”

“You’re only starting to make sense,” Yoongi said, a small playful grin on his face despite his condition, despite the entire situation at large.

Taehyung met his expectant gaze and was out of time to come up with a lie. The question about Hoseok was a way to gauge Yoongi’s mood and to see how he might react to more stress, but the difference in the way he responded to that and the way he was teasing Taehyung now only made it harder for Taehyung to think. He had no clue where else he could have gotten an oxygen tank without going to the doctor.

So, he stammered, “I got you something,” and turned around to unzip the bag. The zipper snagged, and he let out a heavy sigh, tapping his foot on the tile floor. It was stupid to break the law to get this, especially when he had no clue how to use it. Yoongi was going to think he was so stupid.

“You…got me something?”  

When Taehyung faced Yoongi again, he was sitting up at the edge of his bed and leaning forward to look. “It’s, ah, well,” Taehyung rung his hands and decided to just bite the bullet. Maybe Yoongi wouldn’t ask how he got it. He slid the tank from the bag and set it at his feet. “Since you refuse to go to the doctor.”

He had to physically force himself to look at Yoongi, and when he did, Yoongi was giving the oxygen tank a once-over with that playful grin still on his face.

“Did you steal this?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to deny it but was rendered absolutely speechless. “Wh—Why would you—”

“First of all, I know you, Taehyungie. Better than you think,” Yoongi said, and Taehyung shut his mouth. He did? “Every time we finish arguing about the doctor, you have this look on your face like you’re determined to find alternatives.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Second, I know Jeongguk,” he said. “And he tweeted ‘007 time baby, do do dodo, do do dodo,’ two hours ago. I’m just connecting the dots.”

Taehyung blinked. He should have known Jeongguk would tweet that, with the way he was singing it the entire walk to the nursing building.

“I know it was stupid, but—“ he started, just so he could say it before Yoongi.

Yoongi cut him off, though, voice still light and teasing. “You know you can buy them on Amazon, right? For like 50 thousand won.”

“What?”

“They ship empty, but if Jeongguk is friends with those nursing majors, they’d probably find a way to fill it for him.”

“Okay Detective Min,” Taehyung started to relax. Yoongi wasn’t mad or stressed; he was more resigned if anything, as if this wasn’t actually happening and was one big joke. Taehyung would have liked it to be, so he played along. “If you’re so smart, help me connect the dots on how this thing works.”

“Suddenly the sunflowers have eaten my brain matter,” Yoongi gave a wide, gummy smile this time. He fell backwards into his bed with his legs still hanging off the edge, and he let out a groan that was somewhere in between real and exaggerated.

Taehyung watched the way Yoongi’s shirt rode up and revealed just an inch of his torso, but Yoongi pulled his hand away from his face too quickly. Panicked, Taehyung took the regulator and a cannula from the bag and knelt on the ground beside the oxygen tank.

He did all he knew to do, pulling up YouTube and searching ‘how to use an oxygen tank.’ Somewhere within the course of the 6-minute video, Yoongi ended up on the floor too, hunched over with his chin in his palm, watching Taehyung try to figure it out.

“So, he says this goes--” Taehyung mumbled, sliding the regulator onto the tank. “Wait.” He leaned back over his phone and restarted the video, biting down on his bottom lip and trying to put all his focus into what he was doing and not on the way Yoongi was watching him.

“At this rate,” Yoongi said, shifting his chin into his other hand, “I’m going to die before you get it set up.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung breathed out, but Yoongi was laughing at him. “You know random facts about everything. Don’t you know anything about this?”

“Oh, I do,” Yoongi said. “It’s just fun watching you try to figure it out.”

Taehyung cleared his throat, his cheeks burning, and he forced a grin as he shook his head. Yoongi did end up helping him eventually, once he spent ten minutes trying to figure out how to unscrew the tank’s valve. But he mostly did it himself, and as he took the nasal cannula out of its packaging, he made a hasty decision to keep doing it all for Yoongi.

He hooked the tubing up to the tank and fumbled with it, turning it over in his hands. And there, on the tile floor of their tiny dorm room, he scooted over and reached out to put it on Yoongi.

“Ah, so if it’s--um, if it’s anything like the dramas…” he said, pulling his arms back for just a second. “I think it just…”

Yoongi’s shoulders sagged, and he let out an awkward chuckle.  “I can--I mean, you don’t have to--”

He put a light hand on Taehyung’s arm but immediately went still as Taehyung pressed the cannula into his nose. Taehyung brushed his hands over Yoongi’s cheeks and hooked the tubing over his ears, holding his breath the whole way through.

The thing was, Yoongi wasn’t the touching type. He and Taehyung had never hugged or even been this close to each other in the year and a half that they’d known each other. With each second that passed, he fully expected Yoongi to push away and finish putting it on himself.

But he didn’t. He let Taehyung touch him, and for the briefest of moments, Taehyung thought he saw a glimmer of what wasn’t there. They looked at eachother, Yoongi’s eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion and Taehyung’s hands still on either side of his face, and he thought he saw a glimmer of hope.

But as soon as it was there, it was gone. So fast that Taehyung knew it was his own illness clouding his vision.

He pulled his hands back and jumped up before he could give himself away. He could practically feel the flowers growing in his lungs, his chest getting heavy.

“So, that should be good!” He said, his voice a pitch higher than it should be. “I hope it’s okay. The guy in the video said too much oxygen could be really bad, so I set it on one of the lower flow rates. But, uh, I don’t know. You really should see a doc—“

“It’s fine, Tae,” Yoongi said, gazing up at him from the floor. Even now, with the cannula draping his face and the sickness taking over every inch of his body, he looked so handsome. So cool, like the first day they met. “If I have to die, it’d be kind of cool to die at the hands of the thing meant to keep me alive.”

“Would you stop talking like that?” Taehyung whined. Yoongi held out his hand for him to help him up, and although he winced the entire time it took him to stand, he still chuckled.

“I’m just joking.”

“Well, it’s not funny.”

Yoongi’s smile fell and what looked like confusion overcame his features. He started to pout, and they met eyes, his searching Taehyung’s for some reason. Taehyung could feel him getting ready to ask why it upset him so damn much, and he instantly thought of what Jimin said.

He could easily lean in and kiss Yoongi right then, explain all of the times he had seemingly overreacted or cared far too much. He could take his chances before it was too late, and see if the odds of Yoongi reciprocating before he inevitably died were in his favor.

He just had to work up the nerve.

Before he could make any decision at all, though, Yoongi’s features softened. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat, wincing again. “Agh, sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, um...you don’t usually go home for winter break, do you?”

Taehyung snapped himself back to reality. “No,” he said. His family had stopped celebrating Christmas after his grandma died, and his parents started taking a long vacation during the holidays when he went to college. “No, I stay here. It’s kind of nice.”

Yoongi glanced down at the oxygen tank and then back up at Taehyung, taking a deep breath. It sent him into another fit of coughs before he could speak again.

“Would you, ah,” he started, voice rough now, “would you mind coming home with me? To Daegu?”

“Oh,” Taehyung let out involuntarily, taking a step back. He was so distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t even consider where Yoongi was going with that.

“It’s just that, well,” Yoongi sighed before he began to stammer, “I have to tell my parents, and it’s stressing me out. Joonie usually stays here too, but he’s going home with Seokjin this year, since they’re apparently dating now. And I’m not even sure I can make it to the train station by myself, if I’m being honest.”

“They’re dating?” Taehyung asked. He could have seen that outcome to Namjoon and Jin’s 7-year-long friendship from a mile away. When he first met them, he thought they were already dating. The question was only to give him more time to process Yoongi’s request.

Jimin asked him to come home with him for Christmas a few days ago, just like he did last year. And just like last year, Taehyung insisted that he’d be fine on campus by himself. He didn’t want to impose, and he needed time alone to process everything that was happening.

But this was...this was Yoongi. And the last time he declined the offer from the person he was growing flowers for, Jimin came back to their dorm with the news that he had a crush on Jeongguk. That they spent the entirety of winter break texting and he thought Jeongguk might have been flirting with him and Wasn’t he just so cute, Taehyungie? He shouldn’t make that mistake again, no matter how slim his chances are.

“Yeah. Namjoon coughed up like two daisy petals before Jin hyung found out and kissed him or whatever,” Yoongi said, and he laughed humorlessly to himself. “I guess I’m the one who drew the short straw in this friend group.”

His weak smile fell again, quickly, before Taehyung could even say anything.

“Well, I guess you did too...with Jimin and everything,” Yoongi shifted again. He plopped down onto his bed and shook his head. “You have a second chance though, you know? A guy in your one of your art classes or something. I’m happy that you get that at least.”

“Hyung…” Taehyung started. This was his opening, as clear as day, to just say it and see what happened. It couldn’t be any worse than what was bound to happen anyway.

Hyung, you are my second chance.

But he couldn’t get himself to speak, not before Yoongi continued, and the opening that was there disappeared in an instant.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I know. I’m being depressing again. Uh...so, will you? Come to Daegu with me?”

Taehyung took a breath, shaking the possibilities out of his mind, and he felt the petals of another cherry blossom creeping their way up his throat.

His own interests aside, this was the only time throughout this whole thing that Yoongi had asked anything of him. He’d been so stubborn, so himself, and now here he was stumbling over his words, asking Taehyung for the support he’d already been trying to give him. So what was he supposed to do, say no?

“Of course, Yoongi hyung,” Taehyung choked out. There was a petal in his mouth now, accompanied by the metallic taste of blood, and he bit down and tried to swallow it back down. “Anything you need. Of course I will.”

“Thanks, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung gave a curt nod and side-stepped toward the door. His chest was getting more and more congested, and if he waited any longer, he’d cough a flower up onto Yoongi’s feet.

“I have to pee,” he said. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”

-

For the rest of finals week, Yoongi continued to crack jokes from his bed, some hilarious but most of them tasteless, while Taehyung studied or worked on projects. Despite being too out of it to take any of his own exams, Yoongi kept a brave face.

The vulnerability that made itself known on his face when asking about Daegu didn’t show up again until the day they were supposed to leave.

Yoongi tapped his foot on their dorm floor, his suitcase and oxygen tank on either side of him. “I have to sit down,” he said, taking a few steps to fall onto his mattress. His breathing was loud and heavy as the oxygen flowed through the cannula.

He spent all of his limited energy on making his bed, protesting every time Taehyung offered to do it for him, and spent a whole twenty minutes straightening his comforter. Now that the guys were on their way over, he could barely stand.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s--I’m fine,” Yoongi waved him off, but he was struggling to catch his breath. “Everyone is--” he swallowed, before letting out a few dry coughs. “Everyone is still coming over?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell them I’m practically on my deathbed, right? Namjoonie is the only one who knows?”

Taehyung hesitated. “Yes, but hyung, I think it’s pretty obvio--”

“This is going to be like any other goodbye before break, okay?” Yoongi said, voice rising. It was still quiet, his throat too destroyed to even speak normally, but he was getting as loud as he could. “I’m not attending my own fucking funeral, Tae.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded and pulled out his phone. “I said, and I quote. ‘Me and Yoongi hyung are leaving for Daegu soon, please come by the dorm if you can! We want to see all your pretty faces before break.’ And everyone said they’d be on their way soon like a half hour ago.”

Well, everyone except Hoseok. But Taehyung wasn’t going to say it unless Yoongi asked.

While he had his phone out, Taehyung opened up his group chat with Jeongguk and Jimin.

From: Taehyung

In: two soulmates and their child

Sent: 14:34, Dec. 13

please please please please act like you don’t know Yoongi hyung is dying please I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone

He never got a reply, and a light tapping on their dorm door less than a minute later told him exactly why. His eyes fluttered closed as he pulled it open. Great. He was going to upset Yoongi even more.

“Hyung-ah!” Jimin’s voice rang through their room as he bounced inside, Jeongguk trailing in after him.

“Jiminie,” Yoongi pressed his lips into a smile, and Taehyung could tell he was trying not to wince. “How did your finals go?”

“Good, good,” Jimin said. “I think I failed statistics, but that’s for future Jimin to worry about. Did your Ethics exam go okay?”

Jimin sat down beside Yoongi, and when he and Taehyung met eyes, Taehyung was able to let out a breath of relief. He read his text after all.

“I, uh, I think I failed that too,” Yoongi lied, chuckling lowly. “But who needs ethics? Everyone knows anarchy would be superior.”  

“That’s a debate we’ll save for another time, hyung,” Jimin patted Yoongi’s leg, and damn, he was good at this. He paid no mind to the oxygen tank on the floor or the tubing snaking its way up and around Yoongi’s face. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t there.

Jeongguk, however, was the complete opposite. He pushed his long hair out of his face to reveal bloodshot eyes, hopefully only to Taehyung. His gaze kept flitting to the oxygen tank he stole, and he wasn’t saying a word.

“Gguk,” Taehyung said, and it only served to startle him.

“Huh?”

“Did Namjoon hyung tell you if they were--”

Another knock at their door cut him off before he could finish his question, this one heavy and rhythmic. Taehyung opened it again, hoping Hoseok was accompanying them, but it was just Jin and Namjoon in their winter coats.

Yoongi seemed to have been thinking the same thing, face brightening at the knocking only to darken when he counted two instead of three.

“Is Hobi coming?” he asked, which to be fair, would have been a normal question a few months ago.

“He, uh,” Namjoon was in the middle of taking his coat off, and he looked to Seokjin for help, eyes wide.

“He had to say goodbye to...someone else first,” Jin supplied, and Taehyung could see him squeeze Namjoon’s arm from behind. “But he should be here soon.”

The hush that fell over the room was proof enough that everyone knew what Yoongi desperately didn’t want them to, and they knew enough to guess what it all meant. Hoseok had stopped growing cherry blossoms, while sunflowers continued to take over Yoongi’s lungs.

Namjoon took his phone out and sent a text, hopefully to Hoseok.

“I can’t believe you got Taehyung-ah to come home with you for Christmas!” Jimin was the first to break the silence. “He always tells me he’d rather stay here. Alone. Instead of coming with me. It’s so annoying.”

Yoongi shook off whatever thoughts he had running through his head, and he looked at Taehyung. His expression turned foolish, the way it had been all week every time he’d tease him.

“Yeah, I had to practically beg him,” he said. “He’s so stubborn.”

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung whined. “I said yes right away.”

“Oh,” Jimin leaned back, mocking disdain. “So you’ll say yes right away to him but not me, your platonic soulmate? Okay.”

“I thought I was your platonic soulmate,” Yoongi said, despite Jimin never having said that to him in his life.

“You know what, Yoongi?” Jimin said. “At this point, you just might be.”

“As long as the word platonic is in front of it, I’m cool with whoever,” Jeongguk added despite the frown he was still wearing.

“You guys are so mean.”

Everything started to fall back into normalcy, or at least as normal as it could get with everyone but Hoseok there and the hint of death lingering over them like a shadow.

Jin ended up beside Yoongi, telling him about some American recipe he found on Naver the day before, and how Yoongi will ‘have to help him make it when they get back from break.’ Meanwhile, Namjoon was showing Taehyung photos from a Surrealist art exhibit he went to for his Humanities class and expressively telling him the stories behind each painting and its artist.

Every so often, Yoongi would butt in to say Namjoon was ruining the post-finals vibe with his academic art history talk, which made it easier for Taehyung to focus on Namjoon’s words. If Yoongi was still teasing, that meant he wasn’t folding into himself, and Taehyung didn’t have to keep checking on him.

Jeongguk had his face buried in Jimin’s shoulder, leaning forward so much that they both wavered and stumbled around. Taehyung could hear him sniffling and mumbling sad words, but every third sentence, he’d lift his head and kiss Jimin’s neck or jaw. Jimin was rubbing Jeongguk’s back under his shirt, and to the untrained eye, it would appear to be the same type of PDA they always did when Jeongguk was stressed about grades or petty family drama.

It was normal. As normal as it could be. Until there was another knock at the door.

Hoseok was flushed, with swollen cherry-red lips and a fleece headband over his ears. Yoongi instantly brightened upon seeing him, as though all of his energy was replenished by the mere sight, and Taehyung realized he didn’t stand a chance.

“Sorry I’m so late,” he said, pulling his headband off as he took a step through the door. He managed to look everywhere but Yoongi, from Jimin and Jeongguk’s connected bodies, to Namjoon’s phone, to Taehyung’s heavily rising and falling chest.

“You’re here!” Jimin exclaimed, still playing the nothing-is-wrong part well. He was now hanging off of Jeongguk, who kept his hair in his face and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

But the greeting came a moment too late, just as Hoseok let himself look at Yoongi. He took everything in, seeing what Taehyung saw every day for the first time, and it was like something shattered in him. All brightness left him upon seeing the oxygen tank and Yoongi’s frail body slumped over.

“Hobi,” Yoongi whispered, starting to cough, “I’m--Thanks for--”

“You told me you thought he was getting better,” Hoseok broke his distraught gaze to snap at Namjoon. The thin cloak of normalcy was now gone. “What the hell, Joon-ah? He’s fucking dying.”

“I’m right here,” Yoongi bit out. “I told him to say that. I didn’t want you to--I didn’t want you to w--”

His coughing became more violent, and Hoseok took a step back. As Hoseok’s eyes filled with tears, Yoongi spit out three yellow petals onto his bedspread.

“I-I can’t,” Hoseok took another step back, widened eyes set on the petals. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

The coughs turned into choking, and Hoseok escaped out the door. With four boys rushing to help Yoongi, Taehyung took after him. He was quick, nearly out of Taehyung’s sight already, and it wasn’t until they reached the stairwell that Taehyung caught up to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Their footsteps echoed over the walls as he took two steps at a time to keep up.

“My best friend is dying because of me, Taehyung,” Hoseok finally stopped when they reached the ground floor. “I can’t just watch that happen and pretend like it’s not my fault, or-or like it’s not happening. He’s dying because of me.”

“So you’re just going to leave?” he asked. “You’re just going to keep avoiding him like a coward? Like you’ve been doing for the last week and a half, and let him die without doing anything?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Hoseok asked. “If I could force myself to see him that way, I would. He’s like a brother to me, and I’d do anything for him, but there’s nothing I can do to stop any of this. I can’t handle it.”

A group of girls came cascading down the stairs, talking loudly amongst themselves in their peacoats and earmuffs. Taehyung was getting so frustrated that he hardly noticed the odd looks they gave him as he side-stepped out of their way.

“So you pretend,” Taehyung desperately spat out. “The disease thrives off of your perception. If he thought you loved him like that, it would at least slow the growth, wouldn’t it? You have to do something.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Taehyung, and you know it.”

“You could at least try.”

“I can’t lie to him, and as soon as he realized the flowers weren’t clearing up, he’d know it wasn’t real.” Everything he said made sense, but Taehyung couldn’t help but see it as one excuse after the other. “It would just hurt him more. And besides, I...I’m dating Jackson now.”

Taehyung clenched his fists, and red hot anger started swelling in his gut. His head was spinning.

He had a million feelings: anger toward Hoseok, love for Yoongi, worry for Yoongi, and fear for his own life. Usually, they all swirled around inside of him and he couldn’t pick one out to focus on if he tried.

But now, he threw himself into his anger. It was the one thing that his love and worry and fear came together to be, so he raised his voice and used it as a catharsis.  

“Jackson? Like Jackson Wang?” he asked. “So you’ve been right across the hall this whole time? All week? While he was dying behind our door and waiting for you to text him back.”

Hoseok pulled his head back, eyebrows coming together.

“He could have heard you! He probably did!” The back of Taehyung’s throat began to tickle, but he went on, unable to stop himself. “No wonder he’s been getting so much worse. You care more about getting laid than doing anything to help him.”

“Wh--no, Taehyung. No, I wouldn’t do that.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and his breathing started to get heavier as he seethed. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past you at this point.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Hoseok asked. “I know you and him are close, but I’m your friend too, and you’re doing nothing but make me feel worse for something completely out of my control.”

Hoseok’s question and the flower petals coming up Taehyung’s throat brought him back down to Earth. He covered his mouth with his arm and tried to hold back, but he started coughing before he got the chance to give Hoseok an excuse for his outburst. And while he turned away from Hobi, so many petals spilled into his hands that he couldn’t possibly hide them.

“Wait,” Hoseok said with caution while Taehyung gagged. “Tae, do you…”

Taehyung shook his head and pushed past him into the dorm lobby to find a trash can. Multiple petals fell out of his cupped hands and onto the carpet behind him, and Hoseok trailed after him.

If he could breathe, he’d be panicking about someone that wasn’t Jimin or Jeongguk knowing about this. But all he could focus on was getting all of the petals out of his lungs before he fainted.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how he looked at it, he’d already spit up flowers just a few hours earlier. Most of what he had left in him came up in the first few coughs, and he was standing up straight with a clear esophagus in mere minutes.

“Taehyung-ah, were those cherry blossoms?” Hoseok asked. When Taehyung didn’t answer, trying to catch his breath with his eyes squeezed shut, Hoseok reworded his question. “Taehyung-ah, are you...are you in love with Yoongi hyung?”

Taehyung opened his eyes, a blush surely dusting his cheeks and his stomach turning. His secret was exposed, and it was going to be passed along to Namjoon and Seokjin, and eventually to Yoongi himself. He felt like he may actually throw up.

“Just leave it, hyung,” his voice cracked as he muttered. He tried to push past Hoseok again to get back to the stairwell, but he stumbled and Hoseok grabbed his arm. Against his wishes, Taehyung’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Tae, I’m really sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taehyung said. He pulled his arm from Hoseok’s grip, but lost his balance again and Hoseok placed his hands on either of Taehyung’s shoulders to steady him. “You can’t do anything to stop any of this, remember? So just go invite Jackson to your apartment or whatever you’ve been doing.”

He finally successfully removed himself and took sweeping steps toward the stairs, but Hoseok stayed on his tail.

“I stopped talking to Yoongi because I thought it was the only way to fix it,” Hoseok said. “I thought not seeing me or hearing from me would, I don’t know, help him get over me.”

Taehyung’s feet dragged with each step he took, throat burning from the strain of coughing up petals and holding back his tears, and he squeezed his hand around the railing to start climbing the stairs.

“Ghosting my best friend was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You have to understand.”

Taehyung sighed, stopping with one foot on the first step. He needed someone to blame, but he knew, even still, that none of this was really Hoseok’s fault. That if put in the same position, he’d probably do the same.

So he turned halfway to face him and said, “So talk to him.”

When they returned to the dorm after Hoseok’s reluctant agreement, the pre-break farewell had turned into exactly what Yoongi didn’t want it to be. The room was overwhelmed with a depressing aroma cocktail of pungent blood, sweet sunflowers, and the stale heat coming from their radiator, and Yoongi lay in his bed with everyone surrounding him.

Jin was propping up his head with another pillow, while Namjoon held his hand and begged him in a high-pitched whisper to make it back for spring semester so that they could write that song they always talked about.

“No shit, Joonie,” Yoongi rasped. “You think I’d die before we wrote the biggest rap song in Korea?”

Jeongguk was completely open with his crying now, and Jimin being the sympathy cryer that he was, was right alongside him. Namjoon forced out a laugh, and his eyes were welling up too.

“Right,” he said. “That was the goal, wasn’t it?”

“You could do it without me, though,” Yoongi said. “I hope--I hope you know that.”

“Don’t say that,” Namjoon said, and tears started to streak his face. “Please.”

Taehyung stayed in the doorway with Hoseok, who watched the whole scene with a faraway expression. He crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders tense, and looked like he was ready to bolt again any second.

“Stop crying,” Yoongi whined at him, then glanced between Jimin and Jeongguk. “All of you. You’ll all be fine...you’ll all be fine.”

“Hyung--” Jeongguk started, but Yoongi cut him off.

“Don’t you all have trains to catch? Have you finished packing?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Hyung will be--I’ll be back, okay? So stop crying unless you want to look--look foolish in January.”

Seokjin frowned and put a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We do need to get going, Joon-ah. My parents are meeting us at the station.”

“Right. Um, right.” Namjoon said, and he gave Yoongi’s hand a squeeze, using his free arm to wipe under his nose. “I’ll see you in January, then?”

“Of course.”

But he, Namjoon, and everyone else knew that wasn’t true.

Seokjin ruffled Yoongi’s hair, and at least he still groaned like always. “Have a good Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Nnnh, yeah, you too.”

On their way out the door, Namjoon took slow steps, and Seokjin stopped in front of Taehyung. “Will you let us know when you guys get to Daegu?”

“Sure,” Taehyung said, but Yoongi groaned again.

“I’ll let you know,” he said. “My fingers still work.”

“Okay, Yoon-ah,” Jin laughed, staring down at his feet. “Have a safe trip, then.”

Jeongguk and Jimin were saying goodbye shortly after, Jimin mumbling something about still having to pack and Jeongguk nodding solemnly in agreement.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk said, pulling an Iron Man comic book from the shelf over Yoongi’s desk. “Can I take this to Busan to read over break?”

“Anything you want, Gguk,” Yoongi said, which only made Jeongguk start sniffling again. He nodded, shoving the book inside his coat to protect it from the snow.

Taehyung didn’t know what he would have done had this been the last time he was going to see Yoongi. There was comfort, at least, in the knowledge that he got him all to himself for a month, and he wouldn’t have to say his goodbyes for a while.

And any thought of how painful that would be was pushed from his mind.

Jimin crawled onto the bed and gave Yoongi the gentlest of hugs, as though worried he might break him. “I love you, hyung-ah.”

Yoongi hesitated. He was never a fan of displays of affection, much less such an open one. But his face softened as he looked at Jimin, and he pulled his lips into a tiny smile.

“Love you too, Jiminie,” he said. “Try not to eat so much at the buffet this year. I don’t need to see another selfie of you and your food baby.”

It made Jimin giggle as he stood back up, blotchy face brightening. “Well, I need more pictures of Holly. So do try to cuddle him as much as last year.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s rough voice teased. “I’ll have Taehyung to cuddle this year.”

Taehyung’s stomach plummeted, and immediately he felt Jimin and Hoseok’s eyes on him. Jimin laughed it off, his eyebrows coming together in some kind of concern that Taehyung could only begin to unravel.

It may have been easier to understand if his brain wasn’t now stuck on the thoughts of spooning Yoongi, their legs intertwined under the thick comforter of his bed that he’d only seen in photos up until this point.

“Photos of Taehyung are good too,” Jimin said.

As he and Jeongguk left, Jimin stopped in front of Taehyung just as Seokjin had. But instead of asking to be informed of when they got to Daegu, he took Taehyung’s face in his hands and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re my best friend,” he repeated his words from the other day.

“I know,” Taehyung said, and again he knew what Jimin was asking of him. He was going to have to tell Yoongi how he felt before break ended. Even though it was so obviously pointless, he’d try to have hope for Jimin’s sake. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then it was just Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok. Taehyung shut the door before Hoseok could bolt again, and Yoongi did his best to sit up. He seemed to jump at the sight of Hoseok in front of him, too caught up in everyone’s goodbyes to have seen him return.

“Oh,” he said. “You--you came back.”

Hoseok nodded, gesturing to the spot beside Yoongi. “Can I?”

“Sure,” Yoongi said. “I won’t die just from sitting near you.”

“Oh, um,” Hoseok said, and he left a few inches between him and Yoongi when he sat, “I know.”

Yoongi looked at him, watching his expression change from discomfort to grief to a mix of the two, and he looked as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. He clasped his hands in his lap and broke his gaze to stare down at them.

Taehyung knew that he should leave them alone, but Yoongi could start choking again any second, and he knew Hoseok would panic again. He had to be there, just in case. So he resigned himself to being a fly on the wall, to letting himself see this and get hurt.

“Sorry,” Yoongi sighed. “I think I’m using humor as a coping mechanism, but most of what I say is just stupid. I’ve...I’ve missed you, Hobi.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Hoseok said, mostly to the ground. “You must hate me.”

“Are you kidding?” Yoongi said. “The whole reason this is happening is because I’m in fucking love with you. I love you, Jung Hoseok, and if that’s going to kill me, then so fucking be it.”

Taehyung took a step back and thanked his lucky stars that he just coughed up what was in his lungs.

Hoseok finally met Yoongi’s eyes. “I wish I could--”

“So you don’t love me,” Yoongi said. “I wouldn’t either.”

Taehyung and Hoseok both frowned in time with each other.

“I do love you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Hoseok’s voice broke, and tears spilled from his eyes like a dam suddenly burst.

From that point on, that was all he knew how to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling Yoongi into a tight hug that looked like it could break him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

#taegi #taegi au #taegi angst #taehyung x yoongi #yoongi x taehyung #bts fic #bts yoongi #bts taehyung #bts au #bts au fic #jimin x jungkook #jikook #park jimin #min yoongi #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #my feelings are fatal #unrequited love #hanahaki au #bts

[marlahey]

we stumbled in the dark; I knew we’d be alright (part eleven)

a shawn mendes rpf fic rating/warnings: frank references to the attack at Ariana Grande’s show in Manchester last year. I was living in London when it happened and Shawn was touring Europe and both fictional he and I wanted to commemorate it, because I still think about it and I know Shawn will actually be there in the spring, and it’s also straight up inspiration for Youth.  notes: ignore my disregard for how people are employed because I care more about there being a very clearly equitable relationship here with as little potential for imbalances of power as possible. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAWN. I love you. I was hoping to finish this part for today and I’m super happy I did.  (previously; start at part one here; find all parts here)

dublin; now You make rules. No one says you have to, per se, but something in you needs this, this modicum of control in a situation that feels like it could spin out at any moment. 

One: Nothing but casual friends in front of the crew, extended team, Ava, and especially Andrew. Two: Don’t be any more weird than Kristin and Parker are when the just the gang's together. (“Weird?” Shawn asks, raising an eyebrow. You wave, slightly nonsensically, at him. “You know what I mean. Like, not–” “Not all over each other?” “Right.” “Even though Park is really bad at hiding his I’m undressing you with my eyes face?” Your cheeks heat. You’re torn between two responses – are you saying you’ve ever undressed me with your eyes? and besides that, obviously – but before you can choose, Shawn laughs, though not exactly at you. “Sorry, yes I know what you mean. Go on.”) Three: No extended physical contact unless you’re completely alone and will be for at least ten minutes. Four: No accidental eye contact lasting longer than three seconds during shows. Five: Unless completely unavoidable, absolutely no interaction in front of fans. Six (unofficial): Pretend you don’t know that everyone is pretending they don’t know. To his credit, Shawn, while not at all aloof about the affair, is easily accommodating to your pacing and fretting, catching you mid-turn without leaving his seat at the foot of his bed. “Easy El,” he says, his eyes still laughing just a little. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.” You huff at him, but you don’t resist when he pulls you closer, pushing your hair back before you can lift your own hand. You should curse Shawn’s long limbs that bracket you without effort, his relaxed expression, but the truth is that you need it, his calm, his certainty. “I’m not going to tell you that you’re being irrational,” he continues. A press of both anxiety and affection duke it out inside your chest. “Because I agree that we should be careful.” “But?” you prompt. Your own hands land on his shoulders, fiddling restlessly with the collar of his jean jacket. Shawn shakes his head. “No buts.” In your boots you have just enough height that you’re barely taller while he’s sitting down, which is a nice change of pace. (Though he might be slouching a little for you.) “I just know that we have twenty minutes before anyone’s expecting us for our dinner reservation.” Your stomach flutters. There’s nothing especially lewd in his face, no expectation, just a gently raised eyebrow and an almost polite, silent invitation. If you want to. The last rule is an invisible asterisk tacked to the end of number three, one that you’d never say aloud: don’t spend too much time alone in Shawn’s hotel room. The problem of course, is that you obviously want to. Of course you want to kiss him. (And while you’re being honest, of course you want to do all manner of other things with him, beginning with curling up in a comfortable tangle of limbs and ending somewhere involving significantly less clothing.) It’s not so much a matter of wanting as it is a matter of whether you should, if you can really temper all these desires rolling around inside you with the cold arm of rationality and logic – especially when that arm is tattooed with a cruel reminder: I’m probably the only one who could out you as a fucking groupie on Shawn’s tour. You know, deep down, that if you ever admitted this insecurity to Shawn, this nagging fear that everyone who knows now looks at you differently because they assume– you know he’d understand. You know he’d immediately drop his hands from your waist and pull his legs back without so much as a questioning glance (he’d probably apologize) which only makes you want to crowd yourself as close to Shawn as you can and drag that probable calm acquiescence from his mouth with yours. “What is it?” he asks, so gently that you almost can’t speak. There’s no use in lying, because Shawn’s tilted his head with that soft knowing expression; you wonder what your tell is. “Does everyone think that we’re–” It comes out in a rush – like tearing off a bandaid – but you cower at the edge of the question. Shawn raises his eyebrows. “Think that we’re…” This is an all consuming kind of embarrassment, that makes your stomach riot, your face heat, and your heart race. All you can manage in the end is a vague gesture between both of you and at the bed. When you drag your eyes back up to Shawn’s you can see a kaleidoscope of emotion flicker over his face: confusion, dawning understanding, surprise, mirrored embarrassment, and then, in a flash almost too fast to see: desire. That last one nearly undoes you. “Oh.” You feel very much like crawling into a dark hole. “Oh my god…” “Hey, El.” Shawn ducks his chin and anchors your roving, mortified eyes with a warm hand. “Hey. No, okay? No one thinks that.” “How do you know?” It’s a slightly childish and probably unfair question, but to your great surprise it’s Shawn’s turn to flush red. “Shawn,” you start, not meaning to sound quite so alarmed. “Don’t freak out.” You gape at him, as if that’s supposed to help you not freak out. “But Geoff–” “What about Geoff?” It comes out like a squeak. Shawn looks torn, briefly, like he wants to cover his own nerves and comfort you but can’t manage both. So he slides his hands down to your own and squeezes, as if that will have to do. “We talked, okay?” He tightens his grip before your squirm of mortification can drag you away from him. “Before– before all of this. Before this tour started. He wanted to make sure that I…” When Shawn lifts his chin again, his eyes are that particular dark shade of seriousness. “That if we ever, you know, that I got what it might mean. For you. For people to–” A shadow twists his mouth. Your heart is racing again, though with a deeper kind of panic. “El.” Before this tour started. Your mind spins. You force yourself to meet his eye, to keep it, even though you’re already bending under the weight of what he means – what Geoff foresaw enough to say aloud before either you had the courage to face it. How long has he– “Shawn, I–” “I could never take advantage of you. I would never pressure you to–” Shawn stops like the idea literally chokes him. “I need you to know that, okay? Not here,” He motions with his head at the empty room, at the bed, and out the door. “Not out there. Not ever.” “I know,” you say, and your voice only trembles a little. “I know you wouldn’t.” “This isn’t because you’re…” Shawn’s eyes tighten, like he has so many protests but can’t get them all out fast enough. “Shawn–” “The tour isn’t why I–” “Shawn.” It’s your turn to be the magnet, the sure one, and it’s a strange feeling, to have his eyes snap to yours and see his uncertainty, his urgency, his fear. There are too many words to sort through and you’re not sure you can get through any of them without either shouting or possibly crying, so you pull your arms up and slide them around Shawn’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss instead. You wish you could press your words into him like that, but you can’t. You lean back; he chases your lips blindly and your stomach flips. “Sorry,” he murmurs, sounding chastised. When Shawn lifts his eyes, you smile gently at him, thumbing at the lingering frown around his mouth. “I know, okay?” Nerves squeezes as you continue, but you force the words out anyway. “I know what this looks like. I know what people will probably say when they find out. But none of that is your fault.” Shawn’s face screws up in (adorable) objection, but you leap over it. “They’re gonna find out, Shawn. We’re kidding ourselves thinking we can hide this forever– London is one of your biggest stops and we’re doing two nights, after Manchester on Wednesday.” It moves you, the look on his face whenever that city comes up. The setlist has already been adjusted for the night, and even though you’re a good month shy of the two year anniversary, Shawn broke a string on the instrumental intro into Youth at soundcheck this morning. Just thinking about it makes your stomach clench painfully. You’ve seen him look serious before – he’s perfectly serious now – but this is more. Part of you is strangely worried. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it El,” Shawn says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I never want you to feel–to feel judged. It’s why I didn’t…” I should have kissed you. You take a deep, steadying breath. “I need you to listen to me, kay?” You lift your hands to his shoulders, drawing your thumb over the sharp jut of his collarbone until he looks up. It’s oddly intimidating sometimes, to be the singular focus of Shawn’s attention, but you swallow back the urge to look away. “I would be lying if I told you that I wasn’t nervous about what might happen when this gets out. What people might say or think.” His dismayed frown makes your heart stumble. “But I’m not nervous about this.” You gesture again between you, less of a frazzled, anxious motion this time than something that warms you all over. “You don’t make me nervous, Shawn, or at least–” His eyes widen. You smile tentatively. “Not in a bad way.” Shawn blinks, then raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that makes your insides twist, oddly pleasantly. “Are you saying I make you nervous in a good way?” You make a face and pretend to consider his question, stepping deliberately further into the open V of his legs. “I mean...yeah.” You recall your conversation with Ava. Just means you care. Shawn’s smile blooms and his arms find your waist again, wrapping you even closer. You’re really caged in by him now, but you’re the furthest thing from bothered by it. “In a cool way.” Shawn rolls his eyes. “Should I be worried that you’ve seen Harry’s Carpool Karaoke at least twice as many times as mine?” You shrug. “Jealous?” He snorts a laugh, but when Shawn trails his fingers up your side, making you jump, his eyes are a just a shade darker than caramel. That flash from earlier simmers now: desire. A thrill lurches your in your gut; his fingers make their way all the way up to your chin, and keep you still. He’s not quite smiling. You’re frozen in a delicious anticipation. Shawn looks with firm intent from your eyes to your mouth. “Not unless Harry Styles gets to do this.” It’s a kiss you feel all the way down to your toes. You’re almost late for dinner. * @Shawn Mendes Updates: Shawn outside his hotel in Dublin! [Vertical video of Shawn holding the front door open for his band and several crew members. “Hi Shawn!” says a breathless voice off camera. “Hi guys!” He smiles brightly, pulling his hand from the pocket of his jacket. “Can I get a picture?” He looks from the other girl into the camera of the person filming, and then over his shoulder at the group that has started down the sidewalk. A few heads glance back but they keep walking, albeit a little slower. “I can do a quick picture guys, but we have a reservation so I can’t stay long, I’m sorry!” “That’s okay!” Shawn leans in for the selfie with the first girl, who manages to contain herself until he smiles at the girl still filming, and a frantic “ohmygod!” offscreen is followed by a burst of giggles. The girl filming twists her phone and Shawn leans down so their heads touch. “Oh!” he laughs, “Are you filming?” “Yes, sorry!” “Do you want a–” “Oh no, don’t worry this is great. Thank you!” “Are you guys coming to the show tonight?” he asks, and the phone bobs as Shawn’s met with nods and enthusiastic ‘Yes!’es. “Great, see you there!” “Bye Shawn!” camera girl shouts, still trained on him as he waves and jogs to catch up with the group, who have stopped at a crossing. Parker and Geoff part so Shawn can slide up behind two of the girls, a redhead and a brunette, who both smile at him. The group crosses together and disappear around the corner. likes: 214; retweets: 84]

birmingham; now For some reason Shawn’s been trying to catch you alone all night, but the usual flurry of pre-show activity draws you both apart. The closest you get, in fact, is a shot from behind Charlie on stage during Mutual. “Thank you so much guys!” Andrew shouts ten minutes into take down. “Could I just really quickly grab everyone’s attention?” You look at Kelsey, who raises her eyebrows with a shrug. You put your camera back into the kit and close the equipment box with a firm snap before you both wander over to mainstage, where the band is pulling away from their instruments and Shawn has reappeared in a fresh t shirt, his hair damp. Everyone stops what they’re doing to convene on the floor; you feel distinctly like you’re sitting in a school assembly. “As you all know, we’re headed back to North America after our London dates. Our New York show isn’t until the end of the month, so everyone should take this time to take a well-deserved break.” There’s a murmur of appreciative laughter from the crew. You can tell Shawn is looking at you, staring really, but you keep your eyes on Andrew. “But I just wanted to let you all know that Shawn, myself, and Ava will actually be spending that week leading up to Madison Square Garden in New York doing a bunch of promo, so if you need to get in touch that’s where we’ll be, and I apologize in advance if I’m not on top of my emails.” Your stomach plummets. Shawn’s eyes are searing into the side of your head. You don’t dare look. You think of all the conversations you’d been planning to have, at home, in the relative safety of Toronto where people with cameras didn’t make it their life’s mission to be as obnoxious as possible, where you can come over to mine, where we can finally have that date. You get it now, that look on his face after dinner, all these meetings Andrew’s been hauling him into with furtive, secret glances. The magnet pulls. The apology you didn’t want to see in Ireland stings. Takedown takes hours. You refuse to leave until both Kristin and Kelsey are done, so of course by the time you hitch a ride back to the hotel, barely keeping your eyes open, Shawn has long gone. shawnmendes: Can we talk about this? Tomorrow, maybe? lennysinclair17: Yes. Absolutely. shawnmendes: You’re not mad are you? lennysinclair17: Never. Promise. Go to sleep Shawn. I’ll see you in the morning. shawnmendes: Sweet dreams El. 

manchester; now You land before the sun, blinking blearily awake from Ava’s shoulder to see Shawn just across from you, staring pensively out the window. He doesn’t say anything when he catches you looking, just smiles softly in a way that, for some reason, breaks your heart a little. All you want to do is talk to him, and not even about New York. But something tells you that you won’t get the chance today. Even though you’re still exhausted when you make it to the hotel and drop your bags at the foot of the bed, you lay there awake till there’s a knock at the door. Ava is sound asleep in her bed. You’re unsurprised to find him, the band, and the girls in the hall. Paul though, is a welcome addition. “We’re gonna go down to the square,” Shawn says quietly. “If you want to come.” You’re already shoving your feet back into your boots. All of you manage to fit into the elevator at once; you watch the doors close over Charlie’s shoulder and realize you only have about a minute if you want any actual contact with Shawn this morning. He must have the same thought, because his fingers slide between yours and pull your palms flush together. You want to look at him but you can’t quite work up the nerve. You squeeze instead, until the doors ping open on the main floor. Shawn doesn’t let go till you’re both all the way out. Dawn is still yawning across the sky when Geoff pulls out his phone to navigate, which makes you glad that you never took off your sweater from the plane. St. Ann’s Square is maybe a fifteen minute walk from your hotel, and most of that is spent in comfortable silence with your arm looped through Kelsey’s. Some stores are just beginning to open when you arrive, including the Starbucks, which seems – like many Starbucks in Europe – oddly modern encased in stone that’s been there longer than coffee shops as a concept. Paul disappears up the steps of St. Ann’s Church with a gruff, “Don’t have to wait for me.” To the left of the statue of Richard Cobden in the centre of the square, a florist is pulling enormous buckets of flowers into her doorway. Parker and Kristin exchange a look and jog across the street to help her. Minutes later, as you’re trying not to stare at Shawn’s hand flipping a tour pic restlessly between his fingers, they reappear. Kristin is carrying three single white roses. She hands one to Shawn. “You,” she says, then to Geoff, “the band,” and to you. “And the crew.” You’re grateful that it’s early in the morning in the middle of the week. The square is largely deserted, save for an elderly woman on a bench across the street, sitting with her dog and watching you with polite curiosity. “I’m not really religious,” Shawn says, his left hand sliding back and forth across Saint Christopher’s chain. His eyes flick up to the top of the statue and back down again. “But I feel like we should…” He trails off. “Say something?” “How bout this.” Geoff leans down and places his rose at the base of the statue. “We’ve all been thinking about the people who lost their lives, were injured, or were changed by what happened here. I think we all were.” He looks at each of you gathered there in turn. “And I think the best way we can honour them is by giving it our all tonight. Hopefully we can make every person in that audience feel safe and happy, and give them a good memory to help deal with the bad one.” Geoff looks at Shawn the longest. “Good?” The younger man nods. He looks as moved as you feel, and the desire to touch him is like a sparking current beneath your skin. But you lay your rose down instead, closing your eyes just a moment before you stand back up. Shawn lingers close to the ground for a long time. It seems impossible that he can fold himself down that small, to the height of a child. Charlie lays a warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. Everyone seems to be watching you more closely than normal, you and Shawn, and you realize with a lurch in your stomach that while it could have been anyone at Ariana’s show two years ago, you’re the youngest in the group by at least seven years. Shawn looks up at you then, and your breath catches in your throat. He looks lost. So you do the only thing you can think of: you hold out your hand. Shawn lets you pull him to his feet, lets you hang onto a touch longer than strictly necessary, and doesn’t speak when you have to brush your wrist over your face. In fact, no one speaks, until Brian steps forward and pulls both of you in by the shoulders. “How much will you two pay me to eat blood pudding at breakfast today?” You snort. “Only if you don’t make a single vampire joke the rest of the trip.” The bassist sighs. “Always killing the vibe, Sinclair.” * @oneloveshawn: GUYS I WAS WALKING HOME FROM SCHOOL AND GUESS WHAT I SAW. @ShawnMendes you are absolutely wonderful and I can’t wait to see you tonight and guess what I’m crying. #OneLoveManchester #SM3Manchester [Photos: at the foot of the Robert Cobden statue is three white roses, an SM World Tour pick, and a piece of paper kept safe beneath a small, smooth rock. It reads: We love you – Shawn followed by seven signatures. likes: 625; retweets: 381] Replies: @mutualinmyblood: excuse me while I sob @mendesstyles1: HIS HANDWRITING THOUGH??? @eeveelove: Thank you @ShawnMendes. We love you too. You are everything. Shawn takes Taylor’s advice about making every show unique, so the setlist for each tour stop varies just a little from night to night. Tonight, however, is the biggest changed. You’re at the edge of the stage just behind the stairs when he pretends to leave before the encore to thunderous applause. His fans aren’t stupid of course; they know what hasn’t been sung yet.   Sam hands over a water bottle and takes the electric; Shawn downs half of it in one breath while the crowd cheers and shouts and chants. In the semi-darkness you can see him swallow, the adrenaline pulsing still in the too-quick way he drops the bottle at the foot of the stairs and has to bend to pick it up again. You busy yourself pretending to check a level. “You can do this.” You’re worried, briefly, that he can’t hear you over the din, but Shawn lifts his head. You break the eye contact rule because you must. “You can. I’ll be right here.” He holds your eyes; the white of them is striking and feeling stirs in the pit of your stomach. Ninety seconds is up; the roar is getting louder. Parker is unnervingly good at sneaking back on stage without being noticed. At the first drum beat, you definitely owe Sam a beer for handing you earplugs at the beginning of the show. Shawn nods, just once, takes his electric back with a grateful “Thanks,” and the first notes of TNHMB reverberate in your chest.   Three songs later, in the extended musical interlude at the end of In My Blood, Shawn acknowledges his bandmates one at a time to the loudest screams of the night. As the last notes crash down, so do the lights; how Sam manages to cross the stage in the black, holding Shawn’s acoustic and without colliding with Geoff or Charlie who scamper down the stairs, will always be a mystery to you. The lights fade up a few moments later to reveal Shawn, alone on stage with his guitar in a single spotlight. “I’ve got one more for you guys,” he says. Despite the plugs, your hearing will definitely never be the same after tonight. This, apparently, is what everyone’s been waiting for; you can feel the building’s clapped rhythm as Shawn ramps up the guitar intro for Youth all the way through the floor. He steps up to the mic while the opening notes of the song float out; you can’t see his face but you can imagine Shawn’s expression when he looks out to a sea of pink lights. There’s an equipment box tucked beneath the stage. You drag it out carefully, flashing a grateful smile at Geoff who steadies you with a solid grip on your elbow. Once on top, you’re finally level with the men several heads taller than you, and when you lift your camera you can see the hundreds of outstretched arms on the arena floor, all holding pink roses and white signs, that read in huge black font THANK YOU FOR HELPING US KEEP OUR YOUTH. You can barely hear Shawn over the crowd’s singular unified voice. He doesn’t sing the bridge, yanking out one of his ear pieces, but extends the guitar riff as he does every night, leaning into the mic. “I say this a lot,” he begins, “and I know a lot of you know this, that this song was never about just one event, and that I’ve always thought that the idea of youth was more than just age. Every time something terrible shakes us, more of what makes us good and innocent and free gets pulled away.” A row of four girls at the very front of the barricade are lifting a One Love Manchester flag with joined hands, tears streaming down all of their faces. You have to wipe at your own eyes before you can see through the viewfinder, but your hands shake. You don’t dare move from your spot; you can only hope Kelsey has it more together than you. “The world can be a really scary place,” Shawn continues. “But I really, truly believe that if we stick together, if we hang onto our love for each other and all the things that give us joy and make us feel alive, if we refuse to let go of our youth, that we’ll be okay.” You can’t pull your eyes away from the back of Shawn’s head, the tension across his shoulders. He looks otherworldly, standing there alone. “And no one has shown me that more than you guys, here tonight.” His voice wavers, just for a second, beneath the roar. “And I just want to thank you for that, Manchester. It has been a true honour to play for you here, and I will never forget tonight as long as I live.” You couldn’t even join in on the screaming if you wanted to. Shawn ducks his chin. “If this room were smaller I’d step away from the mic and sing for you, but you guys have been so amazing all night, you don’t even need me for this last chorus.” His head turns to every section of the crowd. His eyes are so bright. “I know this isn’t really a normal closing song, but this what I want to leave you with. I want everyone in this room to sing these words and really feel them, really believe them. Because I believe in you, and in us, and I always will.” Shawn plucks at the opening of the chorus, breathes “You can’t,” into the mic, and steps back. You feel goosebumps all the way down your legs as Manchester Arena sings without him. You can’t take my youth away Soul of mine will never break As long as I wake up today You can’t take my youth away. “One more time, Manchester.” He lets go of the strings. When the last note fades away only to be replaced by screams, Shawn lifts both of his hands to his mouth and throws his gratitude to the crowd. “I love you so much. Good night.” He leans one hand against his heart and you know, without being able to really see or hear, what he’s saying as he takes his bows. Thank you. I love you. I love you. Thank you. Thank you. You can also feel, somehow, that when Shawn finally reaches the edge of the stage, that tonight is different. He hits the bottom of the stairs and hands off his guitar. When Shawn’s eyes find yours, you know. Before you can speak, Geoff has plucked your camera from your grip; Shawn’s face crumples and everything narrows and goes silent except for him. His shoulders shake; the back of your t shirt bunches up in his grip, revealing your skin to the overwarm air; something deep inside your chest trembles at the feeling of tears skidding over your collarbone.  It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen backwards over the box, bearing the weight of him collapsed into you so carefully your knees almost buckle. You’re both covered in sweat but you don’t care. “I’m here,” you murmur, sliding your hand into the damp curls at the nape of Shawn’s neck. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Shh, it’s okay.” Around you, lights are coming up all over the arena as the crowd files out. The sudden appearance of the rolling guitar rack blocks your view of the stage and the floor, hiding you from prying eyes; you cast Sam an indebted and silent thank you over Shawn’s shoulder and the crewman just nods. Something bangs against the floor, making you jump. “I’m sorry,” Shawn chokes out. When the shiver is gone you manage to look at him, and your heart sinks at his frantic expression. He reels back. “I’m–” Shawn’s eyes flit around the emptying arena; noises reaches your ears again like someone has cranked the volume dial. You’re reaching for him before you even realize what you’re doing. “Shawn–” He disappears behind the stage. You almost shout after him, the syllable of his name clawing at the inside of your throat, but you catch yourself at the last moment. You also nearly fall off the equipment box, but by the time you’ve scrambled past a bewildered Geoff and Charlie and returned your camera to Kelsey’s kit, you practically run straight into Cam. “Hey, Cam.” You skid to a stop and fail miserably at playing casual. “Did you see–” “Oh yeah,” the guard says, but your relief is short lived. “The kid grabbed Paul, said he felt really sick. Asked if he could go straight back to the hotel.” The cold shock leaves you breathless. “Did you need him for something?” “No,” you manage, rocking back on your heels. “No that’s okay. I uh,” You force yourself to shake your head. Cam smiles briefly. “I’ll just catch up with him later.” “Hey Ellie!” Mike is waving you down. “Can I get your help with something?” Your heart feels like it’s beating unevenly in your chest. “Yeah,” you reply, scraping your falling ponytail off your neck to hide your shaking hands. “Yeah of course you can.” Kelsey insists you go back with her, halfway through takedown. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” Paul I got him. But I think he needs you.  * @liketobeyouth: CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW SHAWN CRIED AT THE END OF THE SHOW TONIGHT BECAUSE I’M HYSTERICAL AND HERE’S A VIDEO. Replies: @shawnfan2: I also want to hug him I’m so fucking jealous of that girl @lostallinshawn: Do we know who that is because that was just ??? not platonic??? WHO IS SHE SHAWN?? @rosesforyouth: does anyone else feel kind of bad for watching this cause like...let him have this moment in privacy how bout? @nervousaroundyou: Umm she needs to get her hands off my man k thx It’s past one when you drag yourself out of the shower, resigning yourself to sleeping with damp hair for fear of waking Ava with the blow dryer. Your Instagram pings, a silent wash of brightness in the dark room. shawnmendes: I’m so sorry. A flash of – you’re not sure, exactly what –  incredulity or maybe even frustration sears your chest hot. lennysinclair17: I have no idea what you’re sorry for. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the emotion of the night, but as the tiny bubble blips on your screen, some small, visceral part of you wants to fight. You’ve never fought with Shawn before; you haven’t so much as gotten into an argument with him, but in a strange irrationality you also can’t imagine a greater cause for an argument than how not mad at him you are. (alternatively, you might also really need a proper night’s sleep.) shawnmendes: Come over. shawnmendes: I hate texting you from the other side of a wall. You probably shouldn’t, of course. The asterisked rule is like a neon sign behind your eyes. But you’re tired. And you want to see him. lennysinclair17: Only if you let me blow dry my hair in your bathroom. He replies before you even pull the towel from your head. shawnmendes: Done. You pull the tiny travel dryer from your suitcase and are twisting the adjoining door knob before you can talk yourself out of it. The carpet is soft beneath your bare feet. You don’t have the energy to consider what Shawn thinks of you from his bed, padding into his room with damp hair in shorts and the Lost In Japan single tee, only available in large by the time Ava thought to bring you one home, so it never sees the outside of your bedroom. He doesn’t say anything, just points at the doorway to his bathroom, and while he’s not quite smiling, that knot of tension in the pit of your stomach finally loosens. You leave the door open a crack; you can see Shawn watching you in the mirror from the closest side of the bed. It’s a thing, maybe, you and him and bedrooms and these silent intimacies you’ve never really given a real name. They’re possibly something different now, not quite ten minutes later when you’re finished and your arms ache a little from the combined exertions of the night. Because Shawn’s held the softest part of your waist. He’s curled his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, and quite memorably once, laid his mouth on the nebulous space between your jaw and your ear. But it’s the look that does you in. You don’t know what to do when he looks at you like that – your thoughts from Paris last week reflected back as though Shawn himself is a mirror –  as if you’re the most interesting thing in every city and country you’ve stopped in, more inspiring than all the history, more impressive than any monument, more comforting perhaps, than the medal he wears constantly around his neck. Shawn’s expression closes the semi-darkness of the room even tighter around you, and as you approach you see something new: something in the depth of his eyes that makes you think, you could break my heart and I’d probably ask you to sign your name over the fault lines. You might see the thought in him, too, if you were brave enough. But you’re not that brave tonight. Shawn draws you into the safe space of him with one long arm, though you go willingly. It’s a familiar spot, the V of his legs; ghostly edges of other hotel rooms whisper, but as you wrap your arms around Shawn’s neck and his elbows press firmly into your hips in an answering grip, he sighs. Shawn leans his forehead into your shoulder and beneath your somewhat stunned hands, his whole body relaxes into yours. It’s so unlike the moment offstage that you almost wonder if that really happened. “I’m sorry,” he says again (a reminder) like he’s looking for something in your skin, an answer or an absolution for something you’re not even sure you understand enough to forgive. You have to swallow before you can speak. “If you tell me you’re sorry for crying, you’re gonna have to go look for someone else because I’m just not going to accept that apology.” He huffs a laugh over the too-big collar of your shirt. “Otherwise you’re gonna need to explain yourself a little more.” When Shawn pulls back you cup his face in your hands, vaguely afraid that he’s going to leave you again. But he just wraps his long fingers around your wrists as though he has the same fear. “Tell me,” you say softly, going for commanding but it really comes out more like a plea. “The rules, El.” You nearly choke on your indignation. “God, I don’t care about the rules. They were stupid anyway.” His jaw sets. “They weren’t. They were smart and I–” “Hey.” It’s still a strange sensation, this role reversal. “Stop. What was I gonna do, Shawn, push you away?” You’re the one ducking your chin now, which is funny because he’s still infuriatingly taller than you. “I’m never going to push you away.” Shawn looks, just for a second, like he had early this morning in St. Ann’s Square, a bit lost. You step closer, leaning your forehead against his, threading both of your hands up into his hair just to make your point; it’s so soft that you want to be mad at him. He closes his eyes briefly, some of the tension easing from his face, and that rush of feeling from before almost swallows you whole. “There’s video,” he says. You tense without meaning to and you know he notices. Shawn laughs humourlessly. “Someone’s camera had a really great fucking zoom.” His arms keep you standing. “Is that why you’re really sorry?” you ask. His eyes give you the answer. It’s your turn to sigh, a horrible dread twisting in your stomach no matter how hard you want to ignore it. “God, I’m glad I never got a twitter. I don’t need to see myself sweaty and crying.” You also don’t need to see yourself and Shawn from the outside, in a moment that wasn’t meant to be seen at all. You don’t want to know what people are labeling and deciding is between you, before you’ve even had a chance to decide for yourselves. Most of all, you want to tear down anyone who might show Shawn unkindness when all he felt was love. “You’re calm about this,” he remarks. You shrug. Best not to tell him you wanna fight his fans. “We knew it was coming. It’s not like a video of us hugging tells them who I am, right?” Shawn bites his lip. You draw your thumb over the concerned furrow between his eyebrows. “It’s not your fault. I’d do it again.” He looks up at you then, and you wish you were still in Paris, in that moment. “Please believe me.” When he nods you smile at him, only teasing a little. “Gotta say it, Shawn.” He swallows. You’re as transfixed as ever by the bob of his throat. “I believe you.” He averts his eyes for just a second. “Sorry I freaked out and ditched you.” You lean forward and plant an impulsive kiss on Shawn’s forehead. “S’ok. We can’t change it now,” you reason, as much for yourself as it is for him. “And you need sleep.” He honest to god pouts. “What if I don’t wanna sleep?” You roll your eyes. “At least lie down a bit. It’s late.” You go to push him back with a hand on his chest, but a glimmer of mischief hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you forward with him. It’s Spain all over again, but not: your heart still races, but the bedspread is soft, the room dim in hazy light, and Shawn only holds your shocked eyes for a moment before pulling your head down with one warm hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you until you melt into him, until you’re jolted back to the reality of laying on top of Shawn, half on and half off the bed. He has a handful of his own merch gripped in his fist; you’re thrown back to earlier in the night and wonder what the cooler air of this room would feel like against your skin. A slumbering desire almost ignites in the pit of your belly. “That’s what you want to do instead of sleeping?” You shouldn’t be this out of breath. He blinks up at you, sleepy and smiling faintly. “Maybe.” You attempt disapproval, but he just laughs at your frown. In a move that should be neither possible nor quite so thrilling, Shawn wraps one strong arm around your waist, supporting himself with the other and twisting deftly  so you land on your back in the centre of the bed. You stop bouncing after a moment, but your stomach doesn’t stop flipping, especially when he leans over you. “Okay?” he asks, and you nod mutely. “I’m not...This isn’t–” Shawn shakes his head, and when he finds your eyes again, the vulnerability in his expression snuffs out that ember of want. “I don’t want to have sex. I mean–” You shouldn’t smile at his incoherence, but it’s a strangely inadvertent reaction. His frustration at himself is oddly endearing. “I do, want that.” He swallows again. Shawn’s eyes are so dark, suddenly; you shiver. “I want to.” “Me too.” You don’t mean to sound so breathless. “Someday.” There’s probably another, longer conversation to be had here, but you shelve the reminder for another time. “Can we just…” Shawn exhales. He lifts one hand and twists your hair around his fingers and off your neck. His palm is so warm against your cheek. “Can we just be here, a minute?” You nod, and it’s your turn to pull him down. Definitely longer than a minute later, when Shawn’s nose dips beneath the huge collar of your shirt, you can’t help the hitch of your breath. He pauses, his breath still close and warm. Your heart is beating a little too fast. “Sorry,” he murmurs against your skin. Goosebumps ripple and you hate your body for betraying you. “S’fine.” You swallow carefully. “We should probably…” “Right.” Shawn leans up and away from you; you watch him blink away that deepened caramel shade of his eyes. “So I wanted to ask you something.” “Hmm?” He looks oddly nervous, which only serves to make you much of the same. “How would you feel about coming to New York with me?” Shawn’s gaze flicks away and back again. “If I asked you to?” You feel your jaw go slack. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?” He shrugs. “You’d come back anyway, right? For the show.” Fair point. “I wanted to ask you before Andrew announced it to literally everyone, but I didn’t get the chance. And I know it’s not home, but…” There’s something earnest and open in his expression, and you’re reminded of a simple, still breathtaking truth. He likes you. “I want to spend time with you.” “And the video?” you ask. What looks like resignation clouds his gaze, but when it clears, the certainty in Shawn’s eyes is undeniable. “You were right,” he says. “We can’t change it now. And they’re gonna think what they’re gonna think, so we may as well choose what they see next, right? If everyone probably thinks we’re dating…” Your heart does a sharp twist in your chest. “Shouldn’t we at least get a real date?” He makes a convincing argument. Or maybe you just want it, more than you know how to reason yourself out of. Shawn can see your hesitation; you wish you had a better poker face. “If you’re worried about Andrew,” he says, “Technically Kelsey is independently contracted to me and he has no say in you working for her. And I have no control over your pay.” “She’s not paying me,” you remind him. “We’re pretending this is a slightly unethical internship.” Shawn snorts. “There you go, then.” You’re running out of objections. “How long are you in New York for?” “Five days. On and off promo, and then the show.” Shawn’s eyes go soft, and some part of you is frustrated at being so afraid. “How ‘bout we just take it one day at a time? If it gets too much, I’ll drop you off at JFK myself. You don’t–” And here, he looks vulnerable again. “You don’t have to come back, if you don’t want to.” The thought actually causes you pain. You reach up and catch Saint Christopher, who dangles down silently from Shawn’s neck, curling your hand around the medal tight enough that you can feel the shape of the man against your fingers. He comforts Shawn, you know, so far away from home. You hope he can do the same for you. “Okay.” He looks so happy you can almost forget how tired you are. “Okay.” Before you can decide what else to say or do, Shawn leans down to kiss you softly on the mouth before dropping all the way down onto the bed beside you on his stomach, pressing his face into the slope of your neck and pulling you closer with one arm flung over your waist. “Hi,” you breathe around a laugh. “Alright?” he asks, sounding smaller than you’ve ever heard. You hum a yes. Shawn’s knee brushes yours and that’s strangely all you can think about. When it turns out you aren’t in fact, dreaming, you lift the arm that’s half cushioning Shawn’s head, threading your fingers up against the back of his scalp. He shivers. As your brain catalogues the reaction as that’s a thing, Shawn breathes deeply, relaxing into you a second time. The weight of him should be overbearing, but there’s something comforting about the pressure. It feels good, to keep carding your fingers through his hair, to soothe and be soothed at the same time. “Do you want to go back to your room?” he asks, sounding sleepy and hoarse.  You wonder what time it is. You think about his request, to just be here. “Do you want me to go?” You can feel him breathing, slow and steady. “No.” Beneath the hotel soap and shampoo you both used tonight, you can pick out the warm, familiar smell of his skin. Despite everything, you feel safe. So you say, “Okay,” and you put your hand on the back of Shawn’s neck. He tightens his grip, and you consider the very strong likelihood that your arm will go numb at some point. You also consider asking about getting under the blanket. You fall asleep before either of those things happen.   (part twelve)

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes angst #wsitd #mine: fic #SURPRISE GUYS #HAVE A NEW PART FOR SHAWN'S BIRTHDAY

[obsessedwithereri-nz]

Stone Cold Chapter 4 (FULL)

Levi x Eren

Summary:  Ever since Levi was a pre-teen, he knew he’d have to marry her, otherwise he’d have to answer to his abusive uncle which never turned out well for Levi’s wellbeing. But after meeting a certain singer at his favorite bar, he knew he was in deep, deep shit.

Warnings: None

Follow the #stonecoldfic to find previous chapters. Enjoy!

Goddamnit. If Levi knew he was about to run two and a half miles in the snow, he would’ve worn better fucking shoes. It’s only been a couple of minutes since abandoning Baby in the driveway and he’s almost eaten the pavement five times.

But did he care? Not in the slightest. He would much rather have his front teeth violently ripped out than lose the one thing that has brought him true happiness. No matter what it takes, Levi is going to find him. He’s going to tell him how much he fucked up and how much he means to him.

Of course, he didn’t expect to be forgiven or even spoken to because, honestly, he doesn’t deserve his forgiveness. But he needs it.

All he can do is try. If he doesn’t try, he’ll live the rest of his life depressed, alone and filled with regret. Not that he’ll have much longer to live anyway when he gets a hold of him. When that asshole finds out what happened, and he will, he’s as good as dead.

“Stop it, Levi,” he mutters to himself. If he starts thinking that way, then he will definitely lose him for good. He is the reason Levi’s fought so fucking hard, he is his reason for living.

There’s no way in hell he’s dying before he can tell him that to his face.

-----

“Hey there, stranger.”

There’s no doubt about it. It’s him. Even though they only spoke for a few minutes, he knows that voice. Levi tries to respond, knowing exactly what he wants to say, but he physically can’t form the words.

“Um… You still there?” His sweet voice floods Levi’s ear. The words don’t register in Levi’s mind at first, he just enjoys the sound for a moment. Then when his brain does process the fact that he hasn’t said a word, or even made a single noise since EJ answered his call, he immediately blurts out a response.

“Yes, yup, I’m here.” Levi mentally and physically facepalms himself for being so weird and embarrassing.

“Oh, good. I was worried this was a butt dial.” The brat laughs through the phone. A butt dial… Yeah, as if Levi hadn’t just spent the last 12 hours debating whether or not to call this damn number.

“Uh, nope. Not- not a butt dial.”

“Well, I’m glad. It would be pretty weird if the cute guy you gave your number to miraculously butt dialed your exact phone number.”

Cheeky shit, calling Levi cute. No one except Petra had ever called him cute, and he’s fucking glad. A grown ass man who works for a premium furniture company is not cute. But why on Earth is he blushing like a 13-year-old girl when he says it!?

After a moment of silence, the singer speaks again.

“Ah, sorry. That was, uh, a little much. I’m sorry.”

“N-no, you’re fine,” Levi stands from his spot on the bed and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “How, um, how did you know it was me calling you?”

“Well, I haven’t given my number out to anybody else recently, and when I saw it wasn’t a private number I assumed it wasn’t someone trying to sell me something. Call it an educated guess.” He could practically hear this brat’s smile through the phone.

“Right. That makes sense, I guess.”

“Hey, um, I’m actually really glad you called me.”

“Oh yeah? A-and why’s that?” Levi feels his stomach sink, suddenly very nervous.

“Yeah,” EJ drags the word out as if thinking of what to say next. “What are you doing on Thursday?” He blurts out.

Levi freezes mid-pace. Shit , he knew it. This was a bad fucking idea.

“I’m working.”

“Okay,” he drags the word out again. “What about after work?” Goddamnit, kid.

“I, um, I-I have plans.”

“Look, I know this may be a little forward of me,” Oh no. “And I don’t normally do this kinda thing, but I really enjoyed talking to you last night and wanted to, y’know, hang out. I understand if you don’t want to though, I can be pretty annoying somet-”

“No-”

Levi. He thinks to himself.

“You’re not annoying.”

Levi, stop.

“In all honesty,”

Hang up the phone.

“This has never happened before so-”

Seriously. Stop. Talking.

“I-I was just caught a little off guard, I suppose.”

Hang up the damn phone, Ackerman!

“I just don’t really know what to say right now.”

“Well,” the singer speaks up. “The only advice I can give you is to say what you want to say. Whatever your heart is telling you, just say that.” And just like that, the booming voice inside Levi’s head goes silent.

His heart… You mean his cold, dead one? Yeah, it’s saying nothing, hasn’t for years.

“Nothing.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not doing anything after work on Thursday.” Woah, where did that coming from?

“Oh, really? I thought you had ‘plans’” the singer’s voice is oozing with sarcasm and Levi lets a small laugh slip.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Can’t say I’m upset by that. So, I’m performing at The Library again on Thursday night at seven, if you want to have a drink with me before then? Let’s say at six?”

“Tsk, are you even old enough to drink, brat?” Levi’s eyes widen at what just came out of his mouth. Well done, Levi. There goes your one chance to have an actual friend. Laughing sounds through the phone, and his cheeks warm at the sound. How can a laugh sound so adorable to somebody whose heart is supposed to be stone cold?

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” EJ says coming down from his fit of laughter. “And I’m taking that as a yes you’ll have a drink with me?”

“I’ll see you at six, you damn brat.” With that, Levi hangs up.

Without realizing it, Levi has a smile on his face. It’s not as big as Hanji’s; no one's smile could ever compete with her creepy ass smile, but it’s big nonetheless. He even bites his lower lip to try to contain how elated he’s feeling.

However, when he does realize what his heart is making his mouth do, he snaps himself out of it by slapping his cheeks a few times.

This is a bad fucking idea. Levi thinks to himself. Getting drinks with… With…

“Shit!” he says under his breath when he realizes he never got the damn brat’s name. He goes to call him again but stops right before selecting his number. Levi doesn’t want to seem clingy like he can’t wait a couple more days before finding out his name.

Thinking about saving his number as a contact in his phone, he goes against it since his number is technically saved under his recent calls and, on that note, scrunches up the piece of paper with EJ’s number on it one final time, and throws it in the trash.

Over the next two days, everything happened the way it always did. When he returned to work on Wednesday morning, the Ral’s didn’t even give him a passing glance, despite being told he had a vomiting bug the day before; so, the usual. He got on with his job, being doubly careful not to ‘mess up’ any orders for these prestigious fucks ordering ridiculously expensive furniture that is truly not worth the investment.

Although, he normally didn’t care an awful lot if he fucked up an order because he is a mindless machine at the office. He didn’t need to give his work his 100% because he’s done it for so many years, it’s actually become extremely difficult for him to fuck up.

However, there was something that was happening to Levi that’d he’d never experienced before. There was only one thing his mind would focus on; seeing EJ again. Whenever he thinks about seeing those eyes or hearing his voice again, butterflies erupt inside his stomach almost making him feel physically sick from nervousness, meaning Levi actually has to try while at work.

Nobody can find out about the brat, people will start asking questions and get him involved… He’s probably shooting himself in the foot, but he can’t help but feel a little excited to have his own little secret, while also feeling absolutely terrified.

He had spoken with Petra Thursday morning telling her he’d be going to the bar after work to have some alone time, which wasn’t unusual for him. So, instead of driving in together which they normally do most days, she took her car and Levi took his.

Levi also decided to wear his favorite suit, knowing it highlighted his musculature in all the best ways. The only downside, it’s Petra favorite also. The only excuse he could come up with for wearing it to the office was that he was in a good mood and felt like dressing up, which wasn’t entirely a lie.

The day goes by without any noticeable incidents and at four o’clock, Petra comes by Levi’s office. They both usually finish work together, but when Levi goes to the bar after work, he stays for an extra hour or so to get shit done and out of the way, then goes to drown his sorrows.

“Hey,” she says as she knocks on his door.

“Hey,” he sighs as he looks up towards her. “You heading off?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know my parents are still giving you a hard time.”

“It’s fine, Petra,” Levi purposefully returns his gaze down towards his desk. “You’re mother actually came and apologized to me today.” No she didn’t. He’s only saying that to get her to calm down and drop the topic.

“She did? Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad they realized they were acting horribly.” She has a large smile on her face. Good. Now he hopes she doesn’t go thanking her mother for something she didn’t actually do.

“Yeah, everything’s fine now.” Yet another lie.

“Good.” She sighs in relief as she walks over to give him a hug from behind, wrapping her arms lightly around his neck and shoulders. “What time do you think you will be home?”

“I’m not too sure,” Levi answers honestly, for once. He turns his head to face her. “I’ll let you know, okay?” Petra raises her eyebrows and smirks.

“Will you really?”

“I’ll have my phone in hand the whole time. I promise.” He hates using that word, but he knows if he didn’t, she’d be calling and texting like she did on Monday night.

“Okay,” the couple share a kiss. A pair of green eyes flashes into Levi’s mind. Of course he starts thinking about that brat while he’s kissing his girlfriend, but he can’t help it. He begins to kiss Petra back with a little more passion than he usually does as he continues to think about EJ. After a moment, Levi snaps back to reality and pulls away, clearing his throat.

“I’ll, uh, let you know if I’ll be later than eight, okay?” She nods in agreement and plants one last kiss on Levi’s lips.

“You really do look good in that suit, y’know.” She flirtatiously winks and waves to her boyfriend as she leaves his office.

Once out of eyesight, Levi groans and lets his head drop into his hands. He doesn’t even know the brat’s fucking name yet and this is what he’s doing to him? Maybe this really is a bad idea. He should call him and tell him he has to cancel.

Say what you want to say. Whatever your heart is telling you, just say that.

His hand that was reaching for his phone immediately freezes in place as he hears a familiar voice in his head. Right, his heart. Levi keeps forgetting about his heart. It’s always either been silent or completely drowned out by his mind convincing him what the right move is to avoid trouble.

Damn it, this was so much easier for Levi when he didn’t feel anything at all.

Five o’clock finally rolls around and it’s almost time for Levi to leave the office to meet with EJ. Heart racing and butterflies reeking havoc, he finishes up the last of his paperwork for the day. He decided he was going to meet up with EJ, but only for the hour before his performance, that’s it. He’ll go, have a drink, find out that what he’s feeling is all in his head and a load of bullshit, then go home to his girlfriend.

“Oi, Levi.” A feminine voice sounds from the doorway to his office just as Levi stands up to leave for The Library. He looks up to see Mrs. Ral approaching his desk, holding a large stack of papers in her hands. “It’s good you’re working late because you’re going to redo all this paperwork.”

The stack of papers smack down onto his desk, some coming away from the pile and slowly drifting onto the floor.

“What?” Levi asks, irritated because he knows exactly what she’s doing.

Even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with his paperwork, she still gets him to do it all over from scratch because his handwriting is too ‘messy’, or he spelled a customer’s name ‘wrong’, or one of the papers has a bent corner. No one cares about a bent corner. He can’t use white out because it looks ‘messy’ and ‘unprofessional’. And his handwriting must be in cursive because it shows ‘elegance’.

What. A load. Of bullshit. Levi wishes he could give this vile woman a piece of his mind but, once again, he knows what will happen to him if he does. Sometimes he thinks it’d be totally worth it; realistically, however, it wouldn’t be in the long run.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You know exactly what’s wrong with these.” Levi doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response, so he stays quiet and stares at her. “For the love of God, you really are as stupid as you look, insolent child. Look,” she snatches a piece of paper from the pile and slams it down in front of Levi.

“I don’t see anything wrong with this, madam,” Levi spits out that final word without looking down at the form.

“You are asking for a smack, boy. You used black ink when you’re supposed to use blue. We’ve made it very clear that all paperwork must be filled out using blue ink.”

You have got to be kidding me. That’s what this senile old hag is upset about this time? The fucking color of ink!?

“Mmm, so it is,” Levi responds through his teeth, still having not looked at the form in front of him. “My apologies, madam. I’ll get right on it.”

“What my daughter sees in you, I’ll never understand.” Her vulgar tone could be picked up by even the most anti-social and oblivious individual. “ Street rat .” How the two of them haven’t ripped out each other’s throats yet, most people have no clue.

Shooting daggers directly into the back of her head, as if playing a fun game of darts, Levi angrily begins to re-write all 56 pages worth of bullshit paperwork. He meticulously gets through about 10 pages before checking the time.

5:39 pm. Knowing it takes at least 20 minutes to get to The Library from the headquarters, he bolts up out of his office chair, shoves the ‘poorly’ filled out paperwork and his laptop into his briefcase, and sprints out the door.

#stonecoldfic #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #rivaille heichou #levi rivaille #corporal levi #levi #aot levi #snk levi #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #aot eren #snk eren #my writing #ereri fanfic #ereri #riren #riren fanfic #eren jaeger x levi ackerman #eren x levi #levi x eren #levi ackerman fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren yaeger fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #aot

[just-come-baek]

Chills, Scares, and Cold Sweat

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. a pinch of platonic Yoonmin and implied Kryber

Themes: smut | angst | haunted house!au

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Ghosts and demons don’t exist, so how bad can it really get? In the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies. Taehyung’s words, not mine.

Warnings: late BTS Halloween special! Scary! (Not really) Backseat smut!

Masterlist

Okay, chill, you got this, I delivered myself a mental pep talk, as I stood in front of the house, my grip tightened around the suitcase handle, head high. The sun had already descended behind the horizon, grey skies casting a spine-chilling aura, the thick fog only intensifying the effect, putting everyone into long-awaited Halloween's mood.

The last days of October are just like that; everyone is hyped about Halloween, preparing slutty costumes, throwing amazing, unforgettable parties, trick-or-treating, and, obviously, scaring the shit out of friends, sometimes even posting the horrendous pranks online.

This year, though, my Halloween was going to be different. Not necessarily better, but definitely not like all the previous ones. I mean... it's not an everyday occurrence to participate in a paranormal experiment. Or in other words, being locked up in a supposedly haunted house for a couple of days. Thankfully, they pay quite handsomely, and I seriously need this money.

What's the worst that could happen?

It's not like demons or ghosts or other spooky creations exist.

That’s what I call; easy money.

With lips pressed together in a thin line, back straightened, I made a confident step toward the house; only to shriek a second later when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Instantly, I turned around, my hands raised in a defensive manner, ready to attack whoever dared to touch and frighten me out of wits.

“Your backpack is so cute,” stated the man around my age, beaming, his boxy smile making everything brighter. “It has those cute kitten ears,” he added, his hands stretched, as if he wanted to touch it, “utterly cute.”

“Don’t sneak up on people like that,” I preached, my palm firmly pressed against my rib cage, my heart beating rapidly, as he almost put me through a severe heart attack. “Anyway,” I started dismissively, “are you participating in the, hmm... project as well?”

Smiling down at me from under his hood, he nodded, “of course, I’m Taehyung, and you are?” he introduced himself, his arm outstretched, so I could shake hands with him. Quickly, I greeted him and gave him my name, his wide beam never fading. “It’s gonna be so much fun, isn’t it?”

“It depends on what you’re into,” I promptly replied, giving him a faint smile, “if you like being conned and pranked, since this ‘experiment‘,” I didn’t hesitate to draw a quotation marks in the air with my fingers, “is obviously some kind of a sick hoax taken to a completely different level then yes, it’s gonna be a blast,” I grinned innocently, studying his expression.

“Oh,” he pouted slightly, “so you’re a disbeliever. Interesting,” Taehyung spoke, and I could feel his glance on me, as he looked at me from head to toe.

“What about you? Do you seriously believe in all of that crap?” I asked, my eyebrow cocked upwards, as I impatiently anticipated his reply. He’s something; if he really thinks that horror monsters are real, it’ll surely be interesting. “I mean... whatever is gonna pop out of nowhere must be staged.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen; in the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies.” Taehyung replied, shooting me another smile, as he rubbed his hands in excitement. “We probably should get inside, I think we’re late.”

“Right,” I agreed, and Taehyung quickly grabbed my suitcase, “thanks.”

The porch squeaked the moment we stepped on it; from the outside the house looked terrible, only still in one piece due to a magical spell cast upon it; maybe even a curse, given the particular time of a year and sinister atmosphere around. From the inside, it didn't present any better.

“Finally,” a voice said as Taehyung grabbed the knob and pushed the doors wide open, a loud creak announcing our arrival. Slowly, he looked from above his tablet, his lips arched into a polite smile, his dimples on full display. “I started to think that you guys ditched,” he added, clearly glad that he was mistaken.

“Are you kidding me? Pass on such a sweet deal? Never,” I quickly assured him, as I accepted his hand shake when he greeted us, “nice to meet you, too, Namjoon.”

“Okay, before we start anything, you both have to sign this up,” Namjoon announced, showing us the terms of the agreement which were roughly thirty pages long, “basically, it states that we can record anything that happens here, and use it for further research. Also, we do not take any responsibility for any damage caused during your stay.”

Taehyung scrolled through the pages, his eyes moving quickly from left to right as he quickly skimmed the text, reading one every five words.

“Sounds legit,” he commented, as he looked at Namjoon, “where do I sign?”

“Just draw your signature with your finger at the bottom of the page,” Namjoon instructed Taehyung, the latter leaving an illegible squiggle under the date.

“Are you for real?” I asked, still unable to process what Taehyung just did. Did he seriously endorse the contract without thoroughly reading it first? Is he that reckless and irresponsible? For all we know, they could have a permit to legally harvest his organs, or worse.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t anything funny, it’s a routine procedure.” Namjoon reassured me, his arm outstretched toward me, the blank space at the bottom of the page waiting to be signed.

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” I replied casually before I left my signature in the right place. Right now, I seriously needed this money, even if the contract consisted of something I was against, it’s not like Namjoon had time to renegotiate the terms with me; it’s either all or nothing, and I really didn't want to leave empty-handed.

“Okay,” Namjoon locked his tablet, “since we got this covered, you guys must want a short tour around the house,” he simply stated, mentioning for us to follow him and carefully listen to him. Taehyung and I looked at each other, and he let me go first, as he slowly trailed behind me.

The reconnaissance was quite short; Namjoon showed us round the house and introduced us to the four fellow housemates. At the very end of the tour, he led us down the corridor, telling which room was whose. Mine happened to be across from Taehyung’s, squeezed between Jimin’s and Amber’s.

“I should get going,” Namjoon stated, as he glimpsed at his smart-watch, “shit, I’m late,” he added, his eyes roaming around the house as if he was in a panic. “Anyway, see you all on Wednesday.”

"What took you so long?" Taehyung asked as I walked downstairs to the living room. "And here I thought a ghost already ate your disbelieving ass," he snickered, and I immediately stuck out my tongue at him before I politely bowed at the rest and sat on the couch beside Taehyung since he's the one I was the most familiar with; Namjoon had introduced them to me, yet their names slipped my mind almost as soon as I heard them.

"Yeah, totally," I deadpanned, slightly jabbing Taehyung's side; that boy had it coming, why did he look so astonished? "Anyway, I have a treat for all of you," I started, as I placed a plastic bag filled with Chinese fortune cookies.

"Did you rob a Chinese restaurant on your way here?" A man with golden, fluffy hair smiled and reached for the ziplock bag, taking a cookie.

"No, but it's a funny story, actually." I started, obtaining his attention before he managed to crack the cookie and read whatever wisdom was inked inside. "I used to write quotes for the fortune cookies; the manager wanted them to be original and I kind of got carried away. In the end, I got fired."

"What does it say?" Taehyung asked, wondering what could be written there, as he couldn't imagine what kind of sentence could anger the manager to the point of wanting to sack me. "Come on, Jimin, read it out loud!" He encouraged, when the man scanned the piece of paper, his eyes squinted, trying to decipher the message in a tiny font.

"Oh my God, this is gold," Jimin declared, as he strived to refrain himself from ugly-laughing. "You will die alone and poorly dressed," Jimin read, and Taehyung almost choked when he heard the fortune. "Geez, thanks, that's exactly what I wanted to get."

"She must really possess some kind of power, I mean... what are those?" Taehyung asked angrily, as he pointed at Jimin's hideous sneakers. Everyone laughed at Taehyung's remark, and Jimin stuck his tongue out, acting calm and collected, although he couldn't understand the criticism; they were incredibly comfortable, who really cared that they were last season?

"I want one, too." A woman in boyish clothing interjected Taehyung before he got to diss Jimin more, and reached for the bag, eager to read her fortune. "Life is a symphony, and you are playing the kazoo," she read out loud, "why would anyone fire you for that? This is ridiculous; if anything, you should get a raise!"

Later that night, we're still chilling in the living room; demonic presence never making oneself known. It was just a simple get-together; six people in their twenties, a bag of delicious unfortunate cookies and a bottle of rum passed among them.

"Okay, let's lay our cards on the table," Taehyung started casually, wriggling on the couch beside me, brushing his thighs against mine all the time. "What made you guys take part in this? You go first Jimin," he asked with curiosity, his body leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, waiting for the reply patiently, his eyes fixated on Jimin.

"The girl I have a crush on just got together with my friend, and I didn't feel like third-wheeling them, especially when they're in that honeymoon phase," Jimin stated, gladly accepting the bottle of alcohol Yoongi offered him. It wasn't easy for him, but hopefully participating in this experiment would take it off his mind. "Fuck couples," he added, and raised the bottle, taking another gulp.

"Salute to that!" I cheered, smiling at Jimin, completely supporting his views on relationships. It was solely envy speaking, but yeah, fuck couples!

"What about you Amber?" Taehyung inquired, as he looked at the girl, the bottle of alcohol in her hands.

"Actually, I'm just tagging along. Krystal wanted to go, because she thought her Instagram followers would love it, and I'm just accompanying her."

"That's true," Krystal suddenly interjected, tearing her eyes off the screen, "and they just love it," she added, every word just beautifully rolling off her tongue, "by the end of the experiment, the number of my followers will at least double."

Taehyung nodded his head, registering all the new information about other participants. "Yoongi?"

"Boredom, I guess." Yoongi answered dismissively, drinking alcohol as if it was water. "Also, I've been told I am dead inside, so hopefully, this near-death experience will stir some emotions within me." He added, placing an empty bottle on the carpet, "have any of you brought booze?" He asked, looking at fellow participants, hoping he wasn't the only one who had thought about getting wasted.

"I have," I quickly replied, unconsciously raising my hand as if I was still in high school, "but it's clear vodka, and I don't think we should drink it straight from the bottle," I added, and everyone except Yoongi agreed with me with a simple nod.

"I'll grab the cups and some juice, and you go get the alcohol," Taehyung proposed, and quickly, we stood up and went our separate ways to get what all of us needed. Within two minutes, we got back to the living room; swiftly pouring the drinks, each different with accordance to one's request.

"What about you, kitten?" Taehyung carried on, his gaze fixated on me, our cups clinking in a simple toast. Refraining myself from cringing at the nickname he had given me, I smiled at him and cleared my throat.

"I want to throw an amazing birthday party, and invite all of my friends, but I don't have money, so I signed up for this." I sincerely confessed, all of them staring at me, since mine reason must've been the most trivial one. "What about you, huh?" I boldly asked Taehyung, alcohol in my system giving me confidence and courage.

"What about me?" Taehyung questioned stupidly, grinning at me like an idiot, "Aww, look at your blush, is it me, or the alcohol?"

"Alcohol, definitely alcohol," I answered immediately, being perfectly aware that my cheeks turned scarlet red whenever I was drinking. I was attracted to Taehyung, but it didn't have anything to do with my blush at the moment; it was solely alcohol. "What about you? Are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not, I just like teasing you," Taehyung stated, leaning forward, and I automatically lay back a little. He surprised me with all the attention he gave me, but I just didn't want to openly flirt with Taehyung in front of everyone. I hated PDA, and even Taehyung's handsome being wouldn't change that. "But to answer your question, I guess I joined the experiment because I felt like it?" Taehyung said, yet his statement came out as a question, almost as if he didn't know how to explain his decision. "I mean... I thought it'd be cool to try something new."

"Okay, since we've already established why we're here, why don't we get drunk?" Jimin spoke, trying to change the subject for which I was much than simply glad, considering the way Taehyung stared at me, waiting for a perfect moment to strike again with his playful remarks.

"Finally!" Yoongi cheered, as he reached for his cup and a fortune cookie. "You are all going to die here," Yoongi read the sentence with furrowed eyebrows, and I almost choked on my drink in horror; I didn't particularly memorise all the quotes, but I was certain that I hadn't written that. "Spooky."

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asked in concern, as he hit my back gently, evidently worried about me, yet intrigued by my reaction. "What's the matter?"

"It wasn't funny, Yoongi," I reprimanded the man, obviously not amused by his prank.

"I don't understand," Yoongi replied, his eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner, as he had no clue what made me act the way I did. "What wasn't funny?"

"The note," I quickly said, pointing my finger at the piece of paper lying on the coffee table, "I didn't write that."

"Who did, then?" He challenged, and I immediately reached for the note, eager to see what was written there. Yoongi's prank wasn't humorous, not even the tiniest bit. Quickly, I flipped the note in my hands, squinting my eyes as I tried to read it in my tipsy state. What threw me off first was the font; the one I held in my hands was hand-written, whereas the ones I had written were not. Someone was messing with me, yet I couldn't really tell who. It had to be one of the fellow participants, it couldn't be a ghost, obviously.

"You guys are the worst," I whined, crumpling the note in my hands, not giving them the satisfaction; they tried to prank me, but it failed.

Around two a.m. we called it a night. Unfortunately, when I got to my room, I didn't feel the tiniest bit tired, my eyes were wide open, not even a single yawn leaving my mouth. Perhaps, it was alcohol that they had poured me, or the cruel prank that affected me much more than I originally thought; either way, I wasn't feeling exhausted, anticipated dream way beyond my reach.

Having kicked off my shoes, I jumped on the bed, sitting up, my back pressed against the headboard. Quickly, I unlocked my phone, keen on reading whatever I had missed during the day. Slowly, I scrolled down the content, either liking or reblogging everything that caught my attention, or made me smile. It didn't keep me busy for long, though.

"Eh," I murmured to myself, as I rolled down, lying on the sheets. The brightness of my phone was blinding me, although it was set the darkest as it was possible. Thankfully, there was a working lamp on the nightstand, which engulfed the room with tangerine, weak light.

Suddenly, I felt cold; it lasted for not longer than ten seconds, yet it was enough for goose bumps to rise in my arms. Shivering, I turned my head toward the window, the curtain fluttering in the chilly breeze. It was strange, especially when I didn't leave it open. Sighing, I jumped off the bed and walked to the window to close it, only to furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I realised it was closed. There had to be a scientific explanation; the draft just didn't emerge from nothingness.

Before I got a chance to ponder the occurrence, I heard a faint knock on the doors, interrupting my train of thought. My head immediately turned, Taehyung's head picked inside my room.

"You're not asleep, thank God," he spoke casually, a sheepish smile decorating his face. Slowly, he pushed the doors open, gingerly entering my room, his pillow in his grip. "Would it be a problem if I slept here tonight?" He asked boldly, his gaze drilling holes in my eyes. "My room stinks as if someone has died in there," he clarified honestly, and I just nodded my head in comprehension.

"You can stay, I guess," I replied nonchalantly, as I wondered if I was his first choice. Didn't he prefer to stay with one of the guys? Or Krystal? Or whoever else? 

"Thanks, you're the best," Taehyung beamed at me, quickly plopping on the right side of the bed, "you're my life saver."

"No problem," I muttered and gave him a faint smile, before I turned my head around, examining the window again. It bothered me that I couldn't come up with a logical explanation, even when I knew one existed; surely it wasn't Casper the ghost, playing with the curtains for crying out loud!

"What are you doing over there?" Taehyung asked, his deep, worried voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "Have you seen a ghost? You look unhealthily pale."

"What...?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I didn't register what exactly he asked me about. "Oh, it's really nothing. I thought I saw something, but it must be nothing. It's just the house, everybody says it's haunted, and even if I don't believe in that, it still makes me feel a bit edgy." I explained, smiling sheepishly throughout my whole reply, as I analysed his concerned expression.

"Don't worry, it's a natural reaction in these circumstances, everyone a bit scared even though they may not outwardly admit that." Taehyung assured, trying to provide me with comfort of some sort. "Hell, even I'm a little frightened." He confessed, and I let out a faint chuckle. The thing was, I wasn't scared, what I felt was confusion without any sort of fear.

I knew better than to believe in that lies Namjoon had fed us with; the supernatural beings don't exist. Period. He might've fooled the rest of them, but I had never been easy to convince.

"It's not I'm scared. Maybe a little uneasy, but that's all." I replied, striving to look as confident as I possibly could. "Anyway," I started, rubbing my hands eagerly, "do you want to check out your room?"

"Not really," quickly, he brushed me off, his body comfortably lying on my bed, his arms tightly wrapped around the pillow, his lips puckered, "when I said that it stank, I meant it. Actually, I'm pretty much surprised you can't smell it from here."

"Okay, let's just stay here." I gave in, not really trying to force him to leave. I truly liked his company, and if he wanted to stay the night, I'd let him even if nothing was going to happen. "But if you hear me talking in my sleep just ignore it, I am not being possessed." I warned him, but Taehyung just beamed at me.

"And if you feel as if a boa snake is trying to kill you, don't panic, you're not being attacked. It's just me." Taehyung announced, holding his pillow tightly between his arms.

"Sure..." I replied, sounding not convinced, "I'll remember that."

"Aren't you tired?" He asked, his head propped on his elbow, as he stared at me. I was still standing next to the window, almost as if I was too shy to lie down beside him. "It's like seriously late," he yawned loudly, not even covering his mouth.

"I was, but sometimes one moment I'm super exhausted, only to be hyper when I should go to bed." I explained, slowly approaching him, the eerie curtain occurrence almost forgotten.

"Yeah, I get it." Taehyung nodded his head, as he closed his eyes, and snuggled tightly around the sheets, making himself absolutely comfortable. "Amber must be suffering like you right now. When I was standing in front of your doors, I could swear I heard moans coming from her room. And if I'm not mistaken, they were Krystal's."

"Whoa," I said, unable to disguise my perplexed reaction. They hadn't made it obvious that they had any romantic strings between them. Moreover, if I had to tip who were in a relationship, I'd nominate Yoongi and Jimin; Krystal hadn't held Amber’s hand when rain started to hit the windows, it was Jimin who had got scared, seeking safety in Yoongi's tight grip.

"At least someone's getting some," I added absent-mindedly, the depressing thoughts of my painfully long singlehood resurfaced.

"I'm very sorry that we're not having sex right now. If I knew sooner that you're down to fuck, I'd save my energy. Not today, kitten." Taehyung teased me, his mind almost in dreamland.

"That's not what I meant!" I replied defensively, shooting him a disapproving glance, which much to my dismay, got unnoticed. "I'm thinking long-term here," I added, although I knew he wasn't listening.

"Good night, Taehyung." I whispered, as I sat on the bed beside him, ready to return to reading on my phone.

When I woke up, Taehyung was gone. Lazily rubbing my eyes, I reached for my phone to check the time and other notifications; it was past noon, and I must've been the only person still in bed. Despite a hot affair between Krystal and Amber, I doubted anyone had stayed awake to 4 o'clock to finish reading.

A loud growl of my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts, demanding food. However, no matter how hungry I was, I had to shower first.

Swiftly, I got out of bed and approached the suitcase, fishing out everything I needed: a clean set of clothes, a bathrobe, and shower necessities.

The bathroom down the hall, thankfully, wasn't occupied, so I quickly sneaked in, locking the doors from the inside.

Instantly, I noticed a camera attached to the ceiling; everybody knows that in horror movies, ghosts just love scaring the shit out of people in the bathrooms, so I can't say that I am surprised. God bless the shower curtain and toilet stall!

Once under the hot steam of water, body coated in a bath foam, I spoke in confusion, "what the fuck?" It was weird, at night, when I had gone to bed, I didn't have any bruises, yet right now, my hips and thighs were covered in a handful of dark marks. How did that happen? These weren't hickeys, obviously. I hadn't knocked into anything, either.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stared at the marks, still unable to recall how the hell I got them. Once again, something odd happened, and I didn't have an explanation for it; perhaps I am not as smart as I thought I was.

Having pushed the bothersome thoughts aside, I swiftly finished the shower and put on my outfit which consisted of black, ripped jeans and a simple band T-shirt.

​​​"Look who we have here, the Sleeping Beauty finally came downstairs." Taehyung snickered, as soon as I entered the kitchen. Taehyung was alone, doing the dishes, while the rest lounged around the living room, either sipping coffee, or looking at their screens. "How was your sleep?" He asked, looking at me over his shoulder, sending me a simple smile.

"Short," I retorted, as I sat on the stool by the table, looking at the remains of their breakfast. "What about you?"

"I slept like a log," Taehyung admitted, as he turned off the tap and threw the sponge into the sink before he took a seat beside me.

"Taehyung, did we... you know... do anything yesterday? I have these... weird bruises, and I have no idea how I got them. We didn't sleep together, did we?" I mumbled, playing with my fingers. I realised I must've sounded crazy and confused, and thankfully, he didn't laugh at me. "It's really strange, but I seriously don't know how to explain that. I wasn't that drunk, and I was conscious the whole time." I tried to formulate a reasonable explanation, and Taehyung, despite me sounding batshit crazy, he just grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Trust me, kitten, I'd remember that." Taehyung answered playfully, rubbing his thumb against my skin in a soothing manner. "And are you sure you haven't knocked into anything?" He asked, and I shook my head confidently. "Then, it must be the house. It's haunted, remember?"

"I'm being serious here," I whined, and Taehyung tightened his grip around my fingers.

"Don't look at me like that, something's wrong about this house. At breakfast, Yoongi told me that during the night, he felt the draft in his room, although the windows and the doors were closed." Taehyung started, and I looked at him with my eyes wide open; Yoongi had experienced the same thing, and it seemed a bit too coincidental for my liking. It was strange, but it didn't mean that the house was actually haunted.

"It doesn't mean the ghost assaulted me."

"You're right, but tell me when you come up with a better explanation."

"Does anyone know the history of this house?" Amber asked out of the blue, obtaining everyone's attention. "I googled it, and it's pretty messed up."

"Better keep it to yourself, she's already paranoid," Taehyung interjected, pointing his finger at me, earning a jab between his ribs. I wasn't paranoid, I was just puzzled. "What?" He asked loudly, his grip on my wrist, protecting him from me.

"Shut up, you're not better yourself. Who came to my room yesterday? You're the scaredy-cat, just admit it." I fought back, wriggling my arms from his grasp.

"Okay, we get it, you're both chickens," Yoongi commented, as he gave us a judging look. "What does it say?"

"Basically, whoever moves in dies." Amber summed up, as everyone stared at her, eagerly waiting for more details. "The legend says that the family who built this house was brutally murdered by robbers. It is believed the man, right before his death, swore to take vengeance on anybody who comes inside."

"That story's lame," Krystal criticized, shaking her head in disappointment, "I can't believe that's what you came up with, pathetic."

"I didn't come up with anything!" Amber defended herself, but Krystal didn't seem the tiniest bit convinced. "I found this article from a couple of years ago, and it says that over twenty people died in here; adults and kids, everyone cruelly butchered, no survivors. Just read it yourself." She sat up and stretched her hand, passing her phone to Krystal.

"Still lame."

In the evening, when Yoongi found a stash of alcohol, the atmosphere loosened up; no one was thinking about the urban legend, our minds hazy.

"Do you guys wanna play? Krystal and I deserve a break," Amber asked, as she pointed at the table where Yoongi and Jimin were refilling cups for another round of beer pong.

"Sure," Taehyung replied for the both of us, as he smiled at Amber and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch. "Come on, kitten, we're gonna fucking destroy them," he added, and I shook my head at Taehyung's confidence. I didn't doubt his skills, mine, however, left a lot to be desired. Especially, when I was already after a couple of drinks.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tae," Jimin warned, as he smirked at us, "we crushed them, and we're most definitely gonna crush you."

"I probably should tell you that I, Kim Taehyung, have never lost, not even once, at beer pong." With a hand pressed against his heart, Taehyung admitted, while I tried to fight the urge to start laughing at his serious approach. He wasn't going to play to have fun, he was going to beat them out.

"What about you, kitten?" Yoongi asked in a mocking tone, infuriating me even more with that annoying nickname he had caught on from Taehyung.

"What about me? You better worry about yourself because Taehyung and I will beat the crap out of you." I exclaimed and high-fived Taehyung before we cheered together, being confident about our victory. Hopefully, Taehyung had his self-proclaimed skills, otherwise, we're pretty much screwed.

"Feisty." Yoongi hissed under his breath, a lopsided smirk decorating his face. "In that case, we should arrange a bet; what do you think?"

"Bring it on," Taehyung replied confidently, as he sent a determined glare at Yoongi and Jimin, "what's the punishment gonna be?"

"We'll have that figured out by the end of the match, okay?"

Having cracked my knuckles, and heaved a sigh, the game started, me being the first one to throw the ball, as the boys insisted that ladies first. Surprisingly, I managed to score for our team; unfortunately, it was the first and also last point I notched up. Amongst the four of us, Taehyung was definitely the best player, yet with my awful contribution, it wasn't enough to win against them.

"In your face!"

"There's a first time for everything, Tae!" Jimin mocked, as he approached our side of the table, and patted Taehyung's shoulder with artificial care. "What are we gonna make them do, Yoongs?"

"Don't worry, shit happens." Taehyung spoke, trying to cheer me up when Yoongi and Jimin were conferring our punishment. "It's not a big deal."

"Sorry, Tae. It's all my fault. If you want I can do the punishment alone. It's fine with me."

With everlasting smile upon his face, he shook his head. Of course, he'd do that, given how much of a sweetheart I knew he was.

"Don't be ridiculous," Taehyung spoke, as he spared me a short glance before he focused on Jimin and Yoongi who're bending their backs backward, desperate to come up with a sinister punishment.

"Today's Halloween, maybe we should send them to the basement. If the ghosts don't hunt them down, we'll know that Namjoon has been bullshitting the whole time." Jimin announced, and Yoongi enthusiastically clapped his hands and nodded his head, agreeing with Jimin's idea.

"Oh my God," Krystal whined and rolled her eyes, as she took a short break from her Instagram profile, "you guys are so lame! Unbelievably uncreative. A sponge would generate a better punishment."

Krystal was right; the guys didn't possess even a whit of creativity. They were also dicks, picking a dull cliché from every horror movie ever. Going to the basement with Taehyung wasn't a problem to me, yet when Jimin and Yoongi opted for clichés, I'd rather make out with my game partner. Their idea was neutral, and I didn't really mind spicing things up.

Hopefully, Taehyung didn't either.

"Just let them, they tried their best," Taehyung replied casually, yet I didn't miss the sly, subtle smirk that he sent me. He was up to something; it was obvious, and although I didn't know anything about his revenge plan, I could only assume that Yoongi and Jimin would regret messing with us. Or at least, making fun of us. "It's really nothing, we'll crush them in the next round. It was just a warm-up."

"Yeah... sure....," Yoongi hissed, sounding unconvinced, as he knew we didn't stand a chance to win against them. Not in the next round. Not ever.

"Finish your drink, Tae." Jimin said casually, as he looked at Taehyung's cup which was half full.

As soon as Taehyung emptied his cup with only three gulps, Yoongi and Jimin walked us to the basement doors, eloquently calling our mission 'Seven Minutes in Hell'. Frankly, despite all the alcohol in my blood, it still made me cringe.

"Okay, what was about that look?" I asked straightforwardly when the doors closed behind us, Taehyung and I in the embrace of darkness, occasional squeaks of the floor above us heard whenever someone moved.

"What look?" Taehyung asked, as he batted his eyelashes at me, trying to trick me into believing in his innocence. I had caught his smirk, he couldn't deny it, and I wouldn't fall for that. He was definitely up to something.

"Don't act like an idiot, Tae. That look, I know you have some sort of a revenge plan." I explained, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smirking. We're going to bite back at Jimin and Yoongi, and if he really thought I'd step back, he was awfully mistaken. We didn't know each other very well, but the playful competitiveness that had surrounded us fueled me even more, not really wanting to stop the battle now. It was fun, and I couldn't stop. Taehyung had to feel the same way.

"Well... I can't say I have a particular idea in my mind, but it would be funny if we managed to pull a prank on them, don't you think?" He started, and I nodded my head, agreeing with him. It was harmless. Moreover, the house was obviously a ghost-free zone, they deserved to experience something exciting. If the ghost didn't want to scare them, Taehyung and I would take care of it instead. "Do you have an idea? Hopefully, you don't lack creativity as much as Yoongi and Jimin do."

"I don't know, we don't have much time left," I spoke, as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans to pull my phone, getting blinded by its brightness. "We have like six minutes, I doubt we manage to pull out an epic prank. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

This time, I was the one who had a lopsided smirk upon my face, "let's see," I spoke casually, as I grabbed Taehyung's hand and led him downstairs, trying to omit random objects which were scattered all over the place.

"Do think that's where all these people died?" Taehyung asked, as he followed behind me, his warm hand resting in mine, his gaze focused on the back of my head.

"No, of course, not. If anything, I'd bet they were killed in our beds." I replied casually, and Taehyung tightened his grip, as he heard my statement. I'm not surprised, it came much darker than I originally intended.

"That's really messed up," Taehyung muttered under his breath, obviously crept out by my bold remark. Damn it, I really should've known when to bite my tongue and just shut up. Even if I had the slightest chance to get it on with Taehyung, I just botched it up. The prospect of any form of intimacy just sank like a stone. "Why would you even say that?"

"Sorry, sometimes I forget it's not the Internet, and that I just can't say whatever comes to my mind." I replied, smiling at him sheepishly, knowing the situation I put myself in was miserable, and it couldn't get any worse. At this point, Satan himself could crack the surface of the Earth and set my dumb ass on fire, and I'd probably thank him for saving me from this embarrassment.

And since I was already a lost cause, I could play a little prank on him.

Abruptly, I turned off the flashlight on my phone, yanked my hand out of Taehyung's grip, and screamed, sounding quite naturally. No wonder, given how many times I had popped out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of my brother. Just as I expected, the second the light went out, Taehyung let out a shriek, which was followed by a fit of my laughter. Taehyung and the guys upstairs must've just lost their minds, some of them maybe even convinced that a vengeful spirit just finished us off.

"Holy shit, it wasn't funny." Taehyung gasped with a hand pressed against his chest when I switched on the flashlight. He looked utterly terrified, and I seriously felt like the worst person in the world. Maybe I really was the worst person in the world, yet the temptation was way too strong to fight. I couldn't waste this chance. "You almost got me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," I apologised, trying to refrain from giggling, even though it was truly difficult; his voice normally is really deep and raspy, yet just a while ago he didn't sound like himself. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys thought that high-pitched wail belonged to me. "You have to understand me, though. You'd do the same, you wouldn't be able to fight that sort of whim."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Taehyung agreed, scratching the back of his head, as he admitted his playful intentions. "I'm still angry, though. I almost pissed my pants, you know..."

"Sorry, but look at the bright side; you're gonna be prepared when the real ghost conjures up in front of you." I expounded, yet Taehyung didn't buy it. I just knew it, and the skeptical look he was giving me only validated my point. "Ugh, fine, let's make a deal. If anything supernatural happens, I'll shield you with my very own chest. Let's say, it's my token of atonement, okay?"

"Not okay," Taehyung crossed his hands across his chest, as he flat out rejected my proposition. That was unexpected. Who normal would pass on such a sweet deal? "First of all, it'd really hurt my ego if a girl jumped between me and a fucking ghost. That's highly unnecessary, kitten. It'd much rather you kissed it better." Taehyung asserted, as he poked his cheek with his long, slender forefinger.

I couldn't believe he actually said that; I thought he hated me.

Because of me we had lost the beer pong game. Moreover, I was the one who had made him scream like a little girl. Was he attracted to me the way I was attracted to him? Was he so interested in me that he actually was capable of turning a blind eye to me basically doing a one-eighty to his image?

"You're serious?" I asked, my eyebrows raised, as I still couldn't process that he, I'll be jiggered, requested a kiss.

Immediately, his gaze met mine, and I just couldn't look away. I was irrationally fascinated by him, and he, surprise, surprise, reciprocated my attraction.

"What? You don't want to?" Taehyung inquired, heaving a sigh.

Normally, I'd panic and lie, fleeing from the basement as soon as I could. Right now, however, I didn't even think about escaping. I just stood there, gawking at him, digesting his words. It still felt surreal; my cheeks probably scarlet red by now, his eyebrows furrowed in anticipation.

What the hell was I thinking? I had to be an idiot; why, on Earth, was I pondering over his statement? I ought to have smashed my lips against his the second he prodded his cheek. The guys could call us any minute; we didn't have much time, why the fuck was I wasting it?

Having come to my senses, I eagerly took a step forward, his arms wrapping around my waist the second I was within his reach. Nothing really happened yet, but my heart was already beating abnormally in excitement. Taehyung had amazing influence on me, or was it the consumed alcohol? Either way, I wanted him, and Good Lord, I should not have been satiated with just a peck!

"You know what to do, kitten," Taehyung urged, and I rolled my eyes at the nickname which I heard like the hundredth time tonight. It was really irritating, yet I just couldn't formulate a witty remark, as my mind completely shut off once I found myself in Taehyung's embrace. Almost as if we were in our personal bubble where nothing mattered, the sinister surroundings long forgotten.

Gently, I placed my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his cheek.

"That's not even a kiss, do it properly," he whined, his fingers delicately digging into my skin, as he pulled me closer. Immediately, I replied with a smirk, trailing innocent pecks across his cheek, only to hover my lips over his, enjoying teasing him. If we went any further, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. For a short while, Taehyung and I looked into each other's eyes, as we breathed the same air, tinges of lust racing between our bodies.

"Kitten," he started, as he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against my lips.

"Hmm?"

Slowly, I closed my eyes and leaned in; Taehyung's lips were incredibly soft when he moved against me. It wasn't anything extraordinary, yet it felt just heavenly; no tongue, no biting, no sucking—it was just a kiss in the simplest of forms. Why did he taste so marvelous, then?

It must've been his natural charm, as no other explanation came to my mind.

Gradually, I started to trace the outline of his lips with my tongue, and Taehyung responded by slightly opening his mouth, welcoming my tongue with his. Taehyung's hands roamed around my body, squeezing my hips and drawing small circles with his fingers on my skin. I, on the other hand, was pressed against his frame, my breasts rubbing against his chest, his thigh between my legs.

"Mmn..." I purred quietly, when I pulled away for a second to catch a breath. "You're an amazing kisser, Tae," I confessed and immediately captured his lips in a heated kiss, slipping my tongue inside his mouth. Taehyung instantly replied with a grunt, as he grabbed my bottom and gripped it, excitingly yanking me toward him, the outline of his semi-hard cock poking against my stomach.

No matter how long we made out; lust only amplified with each passing second. Taehyung tasted so addicting, it completely shut off my brain. I could only focus on the kiss and ways how to prolong it; the revenge plan the last thing on our minds.

My excuses went down the drain at once, as Jimin's worried voice echoed, his head stuck through the doors.

"You dead?"

Ever since we left the basement, Taehyung and I kept stealing glances at each other; the kiss had been amazing, and neither of us wished to pull away. However, we both felt quite uncomfortable making out in front of the rest. (Or was it just me, and Taehyung just didn't want to force me into anything. Especially when I confessed it was me who had shrieked at the top of my voice when I had thought I saw a ghost.)

Taehyung owes me.

Big time.

The tension between us was driving me crazy. It was utterly ridiculous how much I craved to return to Taehyung's embrace to score every base with him. Shamelessly, I needed his arms on me, bending me to his will as he wished.

"God, I'm so bored," Yoongi whined, as he locked his phone and rubbed his eyes. "I'll just go to sleep. Wake me up when a ghost decides to show up."

"Maybe, it's not that bad of an idea," Amber commented, yawning ostentatiously.

"That's official, this is definitely the worst Halloween party ever," Krystal criticized, looking around the room, everyone either exhausted or drunk. (In Yoongi's case, both.) "At least, I am being paid to be here."

​​​​​"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Taehyung asked, sounding confused and disappointed at the same time. True, we hadn't witnessed any paranormal activity, yet it didn't necessarily mean that the party was horrible.

It was fun.

Especially my time alone with Taehyung.

​​​​​"We're all tired, Tae." Jimin said casually, smiling at the latter, as he didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't know what about you, but I couldn't fall asleep; I didn't blink an eye yesterday."​​​​

"Fine," Taehyung groaned, plopping down onto the couch beside Krystal, "it's just that Namjoon will come get us in the morning, and we will probably never meet each other again. I thought it'd be fun if we used the time we have to the fullest. You're like seriously an awesome entourage."

Taehyung's words stung. The really stung, and although I didn't get to know them as thoroughly as I wanted to, I knew I'd miss them. Everyone was different in many ways, and we, as a group, complemented perfectly.

Also, I didn't particularly delude myself; I knew that Taehyung would be a very short chapter of my life, and despite that, I still felt bitter that tomorrow we would go our separate ways and never see each other again.

When everyone went to their rooms, Taehyung let out a heavy sign, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "are you going to go, too?" he asked, as he changed his position, leaning in, his elbows pressed against his thighs, his eyes seeking mine, almost begging me to stay.

"No," I firmly replied, sending him a faint smile. I wasn't going anywhere; Taehyung was right, we didn't have much time left, and I didn't want to leave him. "I'm not even the tiniest bit tired," I stated, as I stood up, and approached him, sitting down beside him. Our little moment in the basement was more than just energizing; it was so refreshing I couldn't remember when I felt this good.

"Thank you, kitten," he spoke softly, and grabbed my hand, placing a gentle peck on my knuckles, "so what do you want to do?" he inquired, turning to me, resting his head in his hand, as he propped his shoulder on the backrest. "I believe we were interrupted just a while ago," he remembered, and with a lopsided smirk upon his face, he leaned slowly forward.

"Yeah, we were," I agreed, yet just when he was about to kiss me, I pressed my forefinger against his lips, stopping him. Quickly, Taehyung arched his back and looked at me in confusion; I had to be out of my character to push him away. "You have no idea how much I want us to continue wherever we left off, but look around, Tae, cameras are all over the place. Namjoon pays quite handsomely, but it's not enough for my sex tape."

Taehyung laughed.

Loudly.

"Oh, kitten, you amuse me so much," he added, and I sulked. Was my assumption really that far-fetched? That hurt — a lot. "Hey, hey, hey, it's not what I meant, please, don't brood. It's just that I don't sleep around, kitten."

"I don't either," quickly, I replied, making him smile again, yet at this point, I couldn't tell what it meant. "I really want to fuck you right now, though."

His smile disappeared only to be replaced with lustful glance, his eyes slowly undressing me.

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked me with him, "my car's in the driveway."

The second we entered the car, I slammed my lips against his in a fervent, needy kiss; our disappointingly short make out session had only ignited fire with me, and I immediately had to share it with Taehyung before I completely burned out.

"I'm not really that kind of a guy," Taehyung defended himself when he managed to pull away. I had my hands on his broad shoulders, my fingers slowly roaming around his neck, giving him the best massage I was capable of.

"I know, you've already said that," I simply stated and smiled at him before reconnecting our mouth again in another passionate lock. "I'm not that kind of a girl, either, but I really want you, so why the hell not?"

Taehyung didn't need another assurance. I just gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to do, and he couldn't be more ecstatic about it. His mouth could be shut, but his eyes were pure sin, glancing at me with utter lust.

"Oh, kitten," Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back against the headrest. He was enjoying it, although I barely touched him. "I don't deserve you," he added before he formed a pleased smirk.

He was wrong, though.

I didn't deserve him.

However, it didn't stop either of whom to take what we really wanted. We desired each other, itching to reach that high together, even though we knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

"Shut up, Tae," I reprimanded him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Are we doing this or not?" I challenged him and before I managed to take a breath, Taehyung kissed me quite desperately. His hands stretched and landed on my sides, as he pulled me onto him, his cock poking against my stomach.

"I'd never forgive myself if I rejected you," Taehyung stated in a serious tone, his eyes fixated on me as if he was going to eat me alive. His stare was of a starved predator, and I was about to devote myself to him, willing to obey his every, even the kinkiest one, command.

"I'd never forgive myself if I let you reject me," I snickered and rocked my hips against him, earning a throaty moan from him. His cock, still restrained in his jeans, was throbbing for more friction, yet he'd have to wait for the main course a bit more.

I loved foreplay and I wasn't going to give up on that, even when I ridiculously wanted to feel him inside of me. My patience was going to be rewarded, it always is.

"Not even once it struck me you're such a bad girl," he spoke with a smirk, as he kneaded my ass cheeks when I was busy raking my finger across his chest and peppering his jaw and neck with damp kisses, nipping on his skin in an urge to mark him.

"Because I am not. I just met a guy who brings the worst out of me," I teased, and Taehyung tightened his grip on my sides, giving me a slight spank.

"I wouldn't say the worst... I kinda like that new image of you," Taehyung confessed, and I smiled shyly, quickly hiding my face in the crook of his neck, leaving stamps of my plum lipstick on his skin.

"Oh, Taehyung," I breathed out, as I unbuckled his jeans and put my hands in his pants.

Taehyung hissed the second I touched him, "damn, your hands are fucking cold!"

He was right, yet I was certain they would warm up quickly with a few strokes on his rock-hard cock. "Better?" I asked when his lips turned into a pleased smirk.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his eyes close shut, as he completely focused on my gentle touch, caressing his sensitive skin. Right now, I felt so powerful, straddling him; his body was reacting to even the slightest movement of my hand. "Kitten," Taehyung murmured on the exhale, as he grabbed my bottom and forced me onto him, so I fell on his chest, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

Uncontrollably, I giggled, and Taehyung stretched his arm, turning on the radio, and although I didn't mind the current mood, the soft ballad that filled the vehicle created a semi-romantic setting.

Without any comment, Taehyung looked me in the eyes, as he unzipped my jeans and forced his hand in my panties. "You're so wet, kitten," he snickered, and I rolled my eyes at his obvious statement. If only he knew I had been this excited for him ever since our kiss in the basement.

"Don't blame me, I really want to feel that cock inside of me," I stated nonchalantly, pulling him into another round of lustful and wanton kisses. Grunting, I slammed my lips against his, and he responded in an instant, poking his tongue against my teeth, demanding entrance.

"I'd never think you're into dirty talk," Taehyung spoke casually, as he played with my clit, flicking it between his fingers, making all my muscles tense, my hips grinding against his hand. Slowly, he ran his forefinger across my fold, smearing my juices all over my pussy; God, even the gentle caress of his digits got me trembling for more. At this point, I couldn't wait to feel what his cock was going to do to me.

"Because I am not, but with you it just seems suited," I confessed, and Taehyung reattached our lips together, pushing his middle finger inside of me, making me almost bite my tongue. His hands were perfectly sculpted and his fingers were just right, filling me just the way I need him to. "Fuck, Tae, keep doing that," I moaned, my voice louder than the radio in the background. Taehyung added another finger, and began to rub my clit with his thumb.

"I really do bring the worst out of you," Taehyung sneered playfully, pumping his fingers within me, making me squirt on his hand. He really had no mercy when it came to pleasuring me; if he kept the pace, I'd come before the song ended. "Shit," Taehyung spat, as I started to shamelessly ride his hand in desperation for more.

"I seriously need your cock right now."

"Fuck," Taehyung pulled out his fingers, and his hands quickly landed back on my hips, squeezing my flesh roughly. "Get your cute ass on the back seat," he ordered sternly and pushed me upwards, helping me get off of him. With the grace and elegance of a noddle-legged zebra, I followed Taehyung's command, almost falling face-first on the seat in my tipsy state when he spanked my ass cheekily.

"Hey," I whined as I sat on the cold seat, waiting for Taehyung to join me, "it wasn't nice, what would you do if I spanked you?"

"I'd ask you to do it again," he replied wittily, and I roared with laughter, as I watched him crumble in the seat beside me, his movement almost as clumsy as mine. "Spread those pretty legs for me kitten," he whispered, a devilish smirk decorating his handsome face.

I didn't have to be told twice, I obeyed his order in an instant, whereas Taehyung hooked his fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and pulled them off my legs agonizingly slowly, and at this point, I didn't know whether he was torturing me, or himself.

Quickly, I pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his naked chest and broad shoulders; maybe he wasn't ripped like a hockey player, but I liked his proportional frame. Without any hesitation, I could admit that he was ridiculously attractive despite anything.

"Take off your shirt, kitten," Taehyung cooed, and as if compelled, I got out of my jacket and band T-shirt, not leaving much to the imagination, since I was only in my panties and a violet bra that beautifully shaped my breasts. His eyes were focused on my cleavage, while his general expression was actually blank. "Wow," that's all he managed to voice before he grabbed me by my thighs abruptly and pulled me toward him, so in the process, I lay down on my back on the back seat, Taehyung already positioned between my legs.

"Taehyung," I purred when I felt his lips on the inner side of my right thigh. He was taking his time teasing me, and although it was nice, I couldn't wait for him to slam his cock inside of me until I come around him. Slowly, his kisses wandered upwards; gentle pecks all across my stomach, cleavage, and neck before he captured my mouth.

"Please," I mewled when he pulled away to catch a breath.

"Please what?" Taehyung smiled at me, rubbing his hard cock against my folds. Fuck, why do we still have so many clothes on?

"Pull out that cock and fuck me," I spoke rather tenaciously, as I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him closer, and he almost fell over on top of me. Didn't he understand how much I desired him?

"I really wanted to eat you out, though," Taehyung announced and licked his lips, as if trying to seduce me.

Didn't he realise I was already allured?

Twice.

"Oh my God," Taehyung tugged my panties to the side and tongue flicked his tongue against my clit, and I immediately buckled my hips upward against his face and clenched my fists, grabbing his fluffy hair. Every muscle of my body was tensed, my eyes tightly shut, and I only concentrated on Taehyung's tongue lapping and delving inside of me.

"What the fuck? Did you hear that?" We both instantly pulled away from each other and glanced at the radio which a second ago roared with deafening white noise. Strangely enough, it only lasted a few seconds, and I could swear I heard Jimin's scream.

"I did," Taehyung admitted, as he looked at the radio, and then at me, his frame supported on his arms, his hands pressed against the seat. "It must be nothing," he shrugged, and leaned in, kissing my abdomen, slowly pulling my panties down my legs. "The radio program must want to scare its listeners, that's all."

Taehyung's reasoning didn't convince me, yet I decided to follow his example and just shake it off; I had to be actually possessed to stop right now, put on my clothes back and check if Jimin's safe. Besides, he's a grown-up and he's not alone; he ought to be fine.

"Where were we?"

Quickly, a smile appeared on my face and the occurrence from a moment ago was the last thing on my mind.

"You were going to fuck me," I replied quickly, smirking at him. Obediently, Taehyung pulled down his pants to his knees, giving his thick cock a few strokes, "do you have a condom?"

"Shit, you're right," Taehyung cursed, but quickly reached into the car compartment where thankfully was a pack of condoms.

"You ready?" he asked the second he rolled the condom on his cock and positioned himself in front of my entrance.

"Fuck me, Taehyung."

Without any trouble, Taehyung eased himself in, and although I was soaking wet, he grunted as my walls wrapped around him tightly. Slowly at first, gradually increasing his pace, Taehyung snapped his hips, making me moan with every thrust. My breasts, although still in the bra, rocked in Taehyung's rhythm.

"Fuck, you're tight," Taehyung grunted under his breath, as he slammed his cock inside of me, his balls hitting against my body. His forehead was covered in sweat, and I was panting in exhaustion even we just began; his performance was amazing, short waves of pleasure running to every inch of my body.

"Just like that," I moaned, almost melting in front of him. He fucked me so good that it made me wonder how could he know my body better than I did. No one had ever made me feel this heavenly so soon; even myself. "Damn, Taehyung, you're killing me," his cock felt so amazing that it almost hurt. "I want to ride you, Tae."

"Fuck, come here." He hissed, as he pulled out of me, and I whined already missing his cock. It felt so empty that I almost felt bad for asking him for a change of position. Raggedly, Taehyung sat on the seat and placed his hands on my hips, helping me to sit down on his lap. "Ah, kitten," Taehyung purred when my sex brushed against his twitching cock, "I already miss that tight pussy."

Running my fingers through his fluffy hair, I raised my hips, and Taehyung positioned his dick against my entrance. Slowly, I sat down on him, my walls once again stretching around him. "Fuck, it makes me so full," I moaned, my eyes closed, my breath hitched.

Sensually, I rocked my hips back and fro, while Taehyung was decorating my cleavage with damp kisses, his large hands under my bra, fondling my breast. His touch wasn't too gentle, nor too rough; he knew what he was doing to make me feel desired and striving for more.

"Let me see them," Taehyung grunted, as he reached behind my back, unhooking my purple bra, tossing it onto the dashboard. "Beautiful, just as I imagined them," he confessed and before I got to give him a questioning look, his lips landed on my nipple. Hungrily, he sucked on my sensitive bud, his left hand kneading the other breast, making me slow my moves, as I savored the feeling of his tongue.

"Oh God," I moaned, digging my fingernails into the skin of his broad shoulders. "Taehyung," his name rolled off my tongue, and Taehyung immediately grasped my chin and tilted it down, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, haste kiss. His tongue swirled around mine, as he swallowed each moan that left my mouth.

"I hope you're close because I'm fucking coming," Taehyung warned me before he placed his hands on my sides, helping me increase my pace. The sound of our bodies, the skin slapping almost got me loose my balance. His fingertips dug into my hips, and I threw my head back, nearing my orgasm.

It was our first time, and although we both wanted to last as long as we could, I'd gladly reach my high now. I didn't really mind it as long as he was down for another round. Maybe not today, but generally. On my side, it was too fantastic to settle on a one night stand.

Hopefully, Taehyung thought the same.

"Just come, Tae," I breathed out, almost unable to speak, "I'm coming, too."

With a final thrust, Taehyung growled in ecstasy, releasing himself into a condom, while I fluttered my eyes when the shattering sensation nearly ripped me apart. For a brief moment, the orgasm overwhelmed me; my vision faded to black, and I was lying on my back, desperately trying to catch a breath, listening to Taehyung's irregular breathing.

God, how much I wished we could stay in his car a bit longer.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Taehyung gasped the second we entered the house, "what the fuck are you doing Jimin? It's not funny, bro." He added, and I looked over his shoulder to see what frightened him so much. Apparently, Jimin thought it'd be a good idea to stay up all night, sitting in a chair in front of the entrance with his hands entwined on his laps, just to catch us sneaking inside.

"Not cool, Jimin. Not cool." I added and shook my head disapprovingly.

"Are you gonna answer us?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while I was just staring at Jimin, crept out by him as he not even once blinked since we had entered the house.

Hesitantly, I raised my hand and waved in front of Jimin's eyes, but he didn't move an inch. "That's creepy—" I spoke and shrieked in astonishment when the doors behind us slammed spontaneously with a loud bang. "Okay, Jimin, that's not funny anymore," I urged him, snapping my fingers before his face, yet Jimin remained unresponsive.

"Hey," Taehyung shouted, as he placed his large hands on Jimin's shoulders, trying to shake him awake. Unfortunately, his method also failed.

"Taehyung, look," I said, lightly elbowing Taehyung's side, wanting to obtain his attention, "there's blood," I added, pointing at Jimin's hands.

The second we examined his palms, Jimin shot a sinister glare at us, curving his lips into a creepy smirk. "Look who's finally here," Jimin started, his voice oddly different, as if an octave lower and raspier. He didn't sound like himself, and I was completely alerted. "I hope you liked your stay," Jimin continued and raised from his seat, turning his head in a very uncomfortable angle, as his eyes was drilling in our faces.

"Ha, ha, ha," Taehyung laughed awkwardly, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Taehyung," I whispered, as I tugged at his sleeve.

"What's the matter, kitten?" He asked, as he stared back at Jimin who licked the blood off of his hands, "that's nasty, bro."

"I don't want to break your moment over there, but I'm pretty sure it's Yoongi who lies on the floor over there in a puddle of blood." Taehyung's eyes immediately followed the direction I pointed at, and the second he spotted Yoongi, he pushed Jimin backwards. Jimin chortled as we tried to run away.

Oddly, the kitchen doors shut close almost in front of our faces, and this time, I doubted it was caused by the aeration.

"Okay, plan B?"

"Not really," Taehyung shook his head, his mouth wide open as he stared at Jimin in panic. "I must admit I counted on you in that area, kitten."

"Fuck," I cursed, as I tried to come up with a solution. I like working under pressure, but this case was quite extreme, as Jimin behaved like someone else, and Yoongi was lying on the floor, blood slowly seeping out of his head. "Stay back," I told Taehyung as I took a step forward, so he could hide behind me. I wouldn't generate a better idea if I knew that Taehyung was directly exposed to danger.

"What are we gonna do?" Taehyung asked, and I shook my head, as I didn't come with anything yet.

I was silent, observing Jimin. However, as soon as Jimin started to levitate a foot above the ground, my eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Like how I previously thought that all of this was a staged prank, I began doubting myself. Like before I knew a logical explanation existed, right now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Run!" I screamed and pushed Taehyung in front of me, so if Jimin wanted to dash after us, Taehyung had more chances of getting away.

"Over here!" Amber's voice echoed through the corridor, and we immediately followed the sound, running into the last bedroom on the right. "Krystal and I thought that Jimin finished you off like he did Yoongi. Thankfully, we were wrong." She spoke, and Krystal barricaded the doors.

"What happened to Jimin?" Taehyung asked, as he managed to catch a breath.

"I wish we knew," Krystal started, as she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in her tight grip. "One moment we were going to rest in our rooms, and another, we heard Yoongi's scream."

"Quickly, we ran to see what the hell was going on. We saw Yoongi flying across the room, knocking his head against the wall." Amber finished, and Taehyung and I were equally crept out.

"That's messed up," Taehyung commented, and everyone nodded, agreeing with him. "What are we gonna do?"

Everyone was in deep thought; without a plan, we'd end up like Yoongi. It was three o'clock at night, and Namjoon was going to come get us at dawn. Right now, we had to be smart to last until then.

"Where are you hiding?" Jimin's sneer echoed behind the doors, as he strolled slowly, looking for us. He was taking his time chasing us, yet I suspected that he already knew where we were; he just played with us, making us think we stood a chance.

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud. Almost as if someone fell onto the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Amber asked in a raised voice, as she pointed at the doors. "I didn't like that sound."

"We should open the doors and see," Krystal spoke, and everyone looked at her, not knowing whether she was ridiculously brave or simply stupid. In our circumstances, the attack wasn't the best option; we would have to be batshit crazy to face the opponent, especially when we didn't have the foggiest idea what the fuck we were battling against.

"Nah, we're not gonna do that," I replied, trying my best not to offend her. I might've come a bit mean, yet Krystal's proposition wasn't the smartest option. No one in a right state of mind wouldn't willingly leave the sanctuary we were currently in. They might think I am a bitch, but at least, we would be safe. "Let's just stay here."

"What if Jimin's hurt?" Taehyung asked in concern, taking Krystal's side. It wasn't the place, not time for choosing sides, yet it happened. Taehyung was like me, no matter how stupid he was, he was worried about the rest. Without any doubt, he'd sacrifice himself if the group would make it without him. "We can't leave him like that."

Of course, we couldn't! Did he seriously think I didn't know that?

"Let's just go," Krystal added and smirked, and I immediately caught the difference in her voice. Amber realised it, too. Whatever possessed Jimin took over Krystal right now—that's why it was oddly quiet on the other side of the doors.

"Run!" Amber shouted, as she threw herself on Krystal, tackling her down on the floor. The second Amber's voice rang in my ears, I pushed the barricade as quickly as I could, and Taehyung and I escaped the room.

"We can't just leave her," Taehyung said when he looked over his shoulder, looking at Krystal, who was lying on the floor beneath Amber, chortling evilly.

"You're not gonna leave this house alive," Krystal threatened, as she laughed in Amber's face, effortlessly pushing her off of her. Taehyung and I gawked at Krystal whose eyes changed its colour to a very eerie shade of white.

With great dexterity, Krystal threw Amber across the room, smashing the old wardrobe with Amber's unconscious body.

"Run!" I shouted at Taehyung, pulling him with me, as we ran downstairs.

"What's your plan?"

"To get the fuck out of here!" I quickly screamed back at him, my hands instantly fidgeting with the knob. The doors just wouldn't open.

"Let me try," Taehyung proposed, and I took a step back, allowing him to try to break the doors down. Everything in vain, though. We were locked in. "Do you have a plan B?" Taehyung asked, as he hit the doors with his clenched fist in irritation.

"Tools? We need some tools," I said the first that came to my mind. I knew it wasn't the smartest solution, yet that's all I could postulate.

"Okay, just stay here, and I look for something," Taehyung stated and kissed my forehead before he ran off. It was very irresponsible to split up, yet I didn't even get to scold him, since he was already out of my sight. How could he leave me like that? I understood that he didn't want to put me in danger, but as a duo, we were stronger. I had watched way too many horror movies to know that splitting up was the worst thing that we could do.

Trying my best not to panic, I paced around the hall, playing with my fingers. I was left alone, and I didn't like that feeling; that monster that was terrorizing us could come at me anytime.

"Holy shit," I shrieked when I heard a loud thud. Thankfully, it was just Taehyung, and he had found a crowbar. "What took you so long?" I asked, relief washing over me, seeing him safe and sound. I had a bad feeling about it, yet it was only my paranoid suspicion.

"I returned in a speed of light, babe." Taehyung snickered, sending shivers down my spine.

Babe?

Oh, no. Taehyung exclusively called me kitten. He knew how much it annoyed me, he'd not change the pet name; at least, not until it grew on me.

It wasn't him anymore.

Taehyung was gone, and I was, now, face to face with a parasite that lived off him. I was scared beyond common sense, and I had no idea what to do. However, I had to figure something out real quick unless I wanted to be discovered.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, I'm just really scared, you know," I spoke, trying to sound natural. My hands were trembling, all covered in sweat, yet thankfully, my voice didn't break. "Are you ready to get the hell out of here?" I asked, smiling, as I reached for the crowbar.

"Are we really going to leave them behind?" Taehyung asked, as I turned on my heels, facing the doors. With my eyes tightly closed, I bit on my bottom lip, feeling the copper on my tongue. I had to be cautious with my words. I couldn't get busted.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. Namjoon will pick them up at dawn, and we wait for him outside," I explained, tightening my grip on the crowbar.

"I guess that's reasonable—" Taehyung replied, but before he managed to finish his sentence, I swung the crowbar, and hit him in the head. The blow wasn't powerful enough to kill Taehyung, yet it was sufficient to knock him down. A thin stream of blood seeped from his head, but I didn't worry that much about him, being sure he was going to be alright.

"Shit," I cursed the second lights started flickering.

Using all my strength, I tried to break the doors down with the crowbar, but they didn't even budge. Desperately, I looked around, thinking of another escape way. A broken window had to suffice right now. Even if I was about to break my leg, I wouldn't stand another minute in this fucked up house.

Quickly, I swung my hand, shattering the glass into a million pieces. While clearing the sharp pieces from the frame, I heard a quiet groan. Immediately, I turned around and saw Taehyung who tried to raise his head.

"Careful," I warned him, as I approached him and crouched by his side.

"What the hell happened?" He asked, when he touched his head, wiping the blood off his forehead. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"I'll explain later," I announced, helping Taehyung to stand up. "We have no time, Tae. I smashed the window, we're getting out of here." He nodded his head before I helped him walk to the window. "You go first."

Taehyung wanted to argue with me, but he couldn't do anything to change my mind. He was wounded, and although it wasn't anything serious, I was still going to force him out of the window if he wouldn't jump out willingly. Nothing would convince me, so he better complied with me.

"Quickly," I urged him, when Taehyung swung his legs over the frame.

"Come on, kitten," Taehyung spoke, waiting for me to join him outside. Shooting one last glance at the interior, I heaved a sigh, and squeezed through the window, landing on my feet beside Taehyung.

Naturally, he entwined his hands with mine, and we jogged away from the house, pressing our backs against the side of his car, slowly sliding down onto the ground. We were both panting, our breaths slowly evening.

"It's 4 o'clock," I stated, as I looked at my phone, "I should probably call Namjoon, but given that the house is packed with cameras, he's already on his way over here."

"Yeah, with a fucking exorcist," Taehyung added and laughed loudly in relief. "What are you doing next weekend?"

I giggled before I turned to look at his face, "I was going to throw an amazing birthday party, but right now, I think I'm gonna treat myself. I fucking deserve it." I uttered, and Taehyung nodded his head, comprehending my words. "Why?"

"I'm gonna intrude that little celebration." Taehyung announced, and I smiled at his bold words.

"Please do."

#taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #taehyung x reader #v x reader #bts fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #v fanfiction #v fanfic #v scenario #taehyung angst #v angst #bts angst #bangtan angst #bts halloween #bts halloween special

[kaiaalexanderblog]

We Need to Stop Calling Women Crazy

There it was, the C-word. Coming out of my mouth, before I had a chance to stop myself. “I’m so crazy.” I’d dropped an orange from my shopping bag that had rolled under the car, and had slunk down onto my belly and wedged myself into the dirt between the wheels to try and reach it with my fingers. I was late to get my son from school. I was now filthy, greasy. I was, well… what else could I be but “crazy”?

I stopped reaching. I listened to myself. Really listened as I put my forehead down on the cold asphalt under my car. Had I just called myself “crazy” for trying to capture a runaway orange? For feeling frazzled that the day had gotten away from me? For losing control of… my groceries?

A few days went by and I noticed the word came up a lot in my mind, and even as a standard in conversations with a few of my friends. “Oh yeah, the crazy girl.” Or often, “She’s nuts.” Or, “Oh her. She went crazy on me.” (Insert eye roll.) 

This word seems to define… almost every woman I know. And suddenly, I’m just not cool with that. And you shouldn’t be either. It’s not funny, it’s misogyny.

Somehow “crazy” seeped into my own self-defining lexicon, which was even more disturbing. But I’m also not alone in that. I’ve heard various female members of my family also self-describe as crazy. Did we just pick this up through cultural osmosis? How is it possible that I’ve been sharing my sense of self with this word for decades and I didn’t even realize it until I lost an orange under my car?

“Crazy” has got to stop.

We live in a culture where any so-called negative emotion in the near vicinity of a woman means she’s nuts. As I watched my week unfold, I noticed I felt “crazy” for trying to finish a work project on deadline while rushing to make dinner for myself and my child. I felt “crazy” for feeling sad while folding the laundry. I felt “crazy” for being awake at midnight, when I should be tired but wasn’t. And yes, I felt “crazy” for expecting the man I was dating to treat my vulnerability with respect.

Truth is, the symbolic annihilation of women’s emotions from the fabric of what’s okay or considered normal in our society is what’s crazy. We have one word that abolishes the feelings, needs, requests and existence of a woman. She’s “crazy.” Now she no longer exists, except as an abstraction of in-elegance. As a sub-standard species, a mere chit on the landscape of normality. Hurry up and flick her away.

It was especially hard realizing that even I, a feminist, side with my own sexist culture, and regularly employ this word against… myself. For having a normal range of human feelings, including rage, pain, ecstasy, fear and excitement.

The other implied feature of being labeled as “crazy” is it means you need to be controlled, or brought under control.

The word, hysterectomy is related to the word hysteria, and there was a time in our culture not so very long ago, when an unhappy woman was quickly labeled as a “hysteric” and locked away for electro-shock therapy treatments in icy institutions. Thousands of women on multiple continents. Cary Grant’s mother. Probably some women from your own family. This was the in-thing to do with difficult women. Label them. Then deal with them. Lock them away. Zelda Fitzgerald died in a fire in one of these facilities.

Now, I’m not addressing personality disorders here. I’m not talking about individuals suffering with bipolar disorder, or borderline personality disorder. I’m not talking about depression. I’m talking about a woman like myself, a single mother who is juggling a lot of responsibilities at work and for her family, an insomniac and yes workaholic, who crawls under her car to collect a stray orange at 3:30pm on a Wednesday, and ends up calling herself “crazy” under her breath.

Many of us have come from families and histories of abuse, but does that give us any right to then eradicate our own right to feel our fullest feelings? No, no, no. If anything we need empathy. (Please see the book and work of Non-Violent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg.)

Sometimes those feelings are large and frightening. Sometimes those feelings are related to hormones, or excess responsibility, or a sense of feeling lost in a world that doesn’t support us because we’re women, and the world is statistically a dangerous place for females to live. Often, those feelings are related to unmet needs. A need for love, for belonging, for peace.

Does that make us “crazy”? Hell no.

I have a few friends (parents) who would prefer to keep their young sons away from dating who have told them, “Stay away from the girls. They’re all crazy.” In what culture is it okay to educate boys that girls are crazy? Or to educate girls that women are crazy? For any reason?

Please remember the danger of this label is that it not only trivializes, but invalidates everything a woman is thinking and/or feeling. Her entire experience now is irrelevant because she’s just “crazy”. All those feelings? She’s “nuts”.

I recall a very important job interview I had a few years ago, where the celebrity (a well known comedian) I had started working for called my reference and asked, “So is Kaia good crazy or bad crazy?” And the person who referred me, also a woman, said, “Don’t worry, she’s good crazy.”

The very idea that all women, ALL WOMEN, can be lumped into 2 categories: good crazy, or bad crazy, is at the very cold, dead heart of the patriarchy. Why? Because it is the ultimate estrangement from life.

And it is not funny. It is not a joke. And it is not something to toss around about women. It is an extremely toxic label that hurts people and needs to stop.

If you haven’t seen a storm lately, or a hurricane, or a winter sea pounding the shore, or a brush fire, please take a look at Mother Nature for a moment. We live on a planet that occasionally spews fire and erases numerous lives with wind and rain and flood. That we feel uncomfortable with these facts is inevitable, because it’s dangerous to be alive. But that we would then diminish the beauty, the glory and the majesty of being alive into a summary that invalidates the essence of another human being is a travesty.

I can tell you for certain, that even as recently as last week, I’ve experienced my entire spiritual existence as a human being questioned because I acted out of emotion. I can pretty much guarantee that if you’re a woman, you’ve been abandoned by at least one person in your life who put this one label on you and used it as an excuse to avoid taking self-responsibility for learning the wisdom of an action which hurt you.

Read that last sentence again.

Women are not crazy. I am not crazy. Neither are you. In fact, having a natural flow of emotions in your body is one of the ways you stay healthy and vibrant and connected to the flow of life that is inside you, for as long as you’re a breathing member of the human race.

Day by day, I’ve begun to collect my feelings, like little adorable lost baby dragons, and put them back into the basket of my body with the appropriate language for them. I’m learning to say instead to myself, I’m feeling “frustrated” or “tired” or “irritated” or “flustered”. I’m not “having a tizzy fit”. Neither am I “losing my marbles” or “going nuts”. And neither are you.

There are whole, complete, gorgeous words for the full spectrum of emotions we feel, even when we experience more than one of them at once. That’s also part of the experience of living in a female body. And it’s glorious.

In fact, anyone who seeks to invalidate your authentic feelings by labeling you as a problem, with any kind of label including “crazy”, is gaslighting you. That’s what gaslighters do. They convince you that you’re crazy, when they’ve done something to legitimately upset you. (This term has entered the cultural narrative by way of the 1944 film Gaslight, starring Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer, where Boyer’s character successfully convinces his sane wife that she’s out of her mind.)

And so many of us take the bait; I know I do. There have been numerous times in my life when I found myself apologizing for something I didn’t even do. Or for something I did do, like stand up for myself when I had every right to, and this didn’t go over so well for the egomaniac I was confronting. So we as women often apologize, and internalize, “What if they’re right? Maybe I was too emotional. Too erratic. Too… crazy.”

We must stop calling women “crazy”.

We must stop calling ourselves “crazy” for being women and having and expressing the full range of our feelings in our hearts and spirits and flesh.

We must stop using this word on our female relatives. We must stop using this word for our female friends or women we are dating. “She’s great, but she’s a little crazy.” No, she’s not, thank you.

If you hear this word come out of the mouth of someone you love, referring to another woman, please take one step further forward and ask them to improve their vocabulary and rethink this subtle misogyny.

Women are human beings. Full stop.

We have feelings, needs, desires, challenges and hopes and dreams. The last time I checked, very few of us are out there claiming to be enlightened. In fact, among the women I love and call friends, many of us are out there self-policing our own emotions so that we can be taken more seriously in a world that doesn’t give us the parity in our careers that it gives to men.

Let’s also take a moment to acknowledge how much more frequently our culture refers to women of color as “crazy” than it does to white women. It’s so easy to label a Latina, or a black woman “crazy”. It’s so easy to whip out that term on any woman of color who shows even the slightest disapproval at how she’s being treated. In fact, even worse, I’ve heard the term “bat shit crazy” thrown around for women of color. Excuse me? Bat shit? This is the most racist, bitter, misogynistic slur, and it must stop immediately. THIS IS NOT OKAY.

So, please, let us all as mature adults make this agreement now, together, to stop calling women “crazy”. We must now as women, come together in solidarity for our own parity, and stop calling ourselves “crazy”. We must reject anyone from our lives who uses this word to cage us, control us, diminish us or eradicate the validity of our experience, emotions or existence.

Let’s also stop using the word “crazy” to describe ourselves, internally, or to anyone else.

Have you ever, under your breath, muttered the words, “I’m just crazy”, when facing an uncomfortable feeling or situation?

When I asked some of my female friends under what circumstances they’ve used this word to describe themselves, it seems for most of us, we think of ourselves as crazy multiple times per day. For dropping a cell phone, for falling off the bottom rung of a ladder, for being late to the airport, for forgetting to call back our mothers, for leaving the ice cream out on the counter… the list goes on and on!

The biggest one, of course, is we are crazy for crying. Crying in movies, and at weddings, and in the car, and over coffee, and when we’re pregnant and when we’re ovulating, and when we’re, basically anytime we’re awake and crying, we’re definitely “cray-cray”.

Ladies, you are not crazy.

Full stop.

Women. We are women. We are feeling, breathing, dancing, opening, closing, crying, laughing, feeling it all.

Because the option to feeling is numbing. And if you one day feel so “crazy”, that you choose numbing over feeling, the world will lose you and your gifts along with you. And that is a loss that none of us can afford.

So let’s side with Mother Nature here. Let’s side with sunny days, and days that pour rain. Nights that let us sleep sweet, and nights that torment us with howling winds. We are her children, and we are the full spectrum of experience.

We are human beings, and we are part of the fabric of this world, with all its beauty and complexity.

Please, take the pledge with me. 

We need to stop calling women “crazy”.

#women #Empowerment #leadership #female #writer #Author #personal development #crazy #popular #confusion #women of color #misogyny #racism #empathy #love #feelings #needs #emotion

[unspoken-realities]

Anxiety attacks

April 27, 2020: An email to my counsellor, which seemed like a reasonable response to a nonchalant question: “How are you?”

Honestly things are…… ….idk …..They’re fine, I’m good, taking my meds, getting exercise, exploring Vancouver by bike (I have fallen in love with biking!), finding stuff to keep myself busy. I’m hoping soon to get some art supplies and start drawing/painting again because that’s a good release. I’ve made a list of fun things to do/learn if I’m bored, including baking bread and building myself a bookshelf, which is cool. Although finally in my life I have massive amounts of time to do those things I’ve always wanted, I’m struggling with the feeling that I SHOULD be doing SOMETHING, although I’m not sure what the something is. Generally I just have this sense of unease because I’m not ”being productive”’ or I’m ”wasting time”. But like, fuck that!!! Like I said, I FINALLY have a bunch of time to relax and bike and bake and do art and build and learn languages and songs and stuff and I’m hoping that I can just let myself do that. I’m trying to remind myself that “I have commitments to no one but myself.” My mom wants me to find a job, even though Trudeau is giving students $1250 a MONTH (SOO much money!!!) because of COVID. I don’t really want to find a job because, again, I have ALL this time to relax and dick around, money’s not an issue, and I have aspirations!!! Also, my mom is with-holding my backpacking gear (which I so greatly covet right now), because I accidentally let slip the wild and probably-not-going-to-ever-come-to-fruition idea that I was going to walk to Calgary. So that’s cool.

Okay, here’s where shit gets tough. A couple weeks ago I bought some edibles so that I could just use them recreationally once my exams were done. Last Monday was the first time I took some, and I was high off of my fucking mind. BTW, PLEASE do NOT tell my mother this. She will literally kill me. So anyways, last Monday I was in a parallel dimension for probably 6-10 hours, just absolutely vibing. Um, I love weed. I love getting high. It’s like finally I can tap into Creative, Fun Jill; I see the world so vibrantly and closely and everything becomes interesting and incredible. I love the high. It’s incredible to just waste so many hours in another world and ALL YOU NEED is yourself and your thoughts because, guess what? Your brain (MY BRAIN) is an entirely different universe. It’s crazy. Since last Monday I’ve gotten high like that … 4 times? Monday by myself, Wednesday (+ alcohol because I was done my exams), Friday with my roommate, then yesterday. On Wednesday as the high was ramping up it hit me that I am probably destroying my brain from the inside out. Since Wednesday, I have this same crushing revelation every time the high starts to kick in. Of course when I’m high though, I’m too fucking stoned to move so I tend to forget about the damage. But yesterday was different. I promised myself that this would be a weed-free weekend; I wasn’t going to take any edibles until to today, or maybe even wait longer. Around noon, something inside of me just said ‘fuck it, I need this. I don’t need to be awake and lucid and really living right now, why WOULDNT I get high? What the hell is stopping me? It will be so much fun.” And I listened and I took just a tiny bit more than I have in the past and I was bonked within an hour. I only wanted the high to last 6 hours, like it normally does. Instead, I went to bed still loopy as hell at midnight, 12 hours later. At 1:30 PM I lost my sense of touch. My roommate didnt believe me, but I seriously could not feel anything. Water wasn’t wet, nothing was hot/cold, it was all just the same. At 2 PM I started journalling (I usually do when I’m high to record my thought patterns). At 2:30 I had an anxiety attack. I physically could not feel, and I began to sense that the right side of my face had gone numb. Somehow some rational part of my brain woke up and rang the alarm bells and I said to myself, “holy shit, I think I might be having a stroke.” I was crying and terrified and I still couldn’t feel and I could barely talk and my face felt numb but my roommate assured me that everything was alright. I was hyperventilating, couldn’t breath (when I’m high I have trouble breathing anyway), lying on the floor, when I started to feel like I was seizing (again I wasn’t, it was just the anxiety attack apparently. However I distinctly remember violently shaking/shivering). I felt like I was dying. Every so often I would break through the surface of the high and ask my roommate how long this had lasted, before slipping under again. When I ‘woke up’ out of it around 3:00 I immediately assumed that the edibles I had (supposedly THC) were laced with something, because I felt like I was fucking crazy and dying for over an hour. It wasn’t just a high, it was like layers of high and anxiety and animalistic behaviour, I don’t even know. Brad, my roommate, helped me through it. I’m so fucking lucky to have Brad. His only sister has bipolar disorder (really bad case, apparently), and so thankfully he knew exactly how to get someone off the edge of an anxiety attack. He told me to lay down, open my chest, think about mac and cheese! He asked me what my favourite plant was and I was sobbing as I began to understand how he knew this would work. I was crying for my dad. My favourite plant is moss, specifically the moss forest that my family would go camping nearby. I cried for my dad, and Michael, and my mom and Eric and just everything. I just fucking broke. After the anxiety attack I was still stoned out of my mind for another 6+ hours. Brad got smashed. I took care of him and we laughed together and he said ” I love you” as we were saying goodnight. I think my heart broke, because I finally have confirmation that I’m not just a nuisance in his life, I’m his friend.

I already feel like my brain is rotting, but a part of me just does not care. Better to live a happy short life, than a long boring one.

The worst part is, I want it again Today Even though I know how destroyed I was just 24 hours ago, I want to feel numb and high and light and unbothered and curious and observant yet asleep. Sleeping is my favourite part of my day because I get to dream; with weed, I can dream awake, all day long. I love it.

#cannabis #anxiety #weed #dope #edibles #pot #gettinghigh #addiction #love #confusion #adulthood #grief #stoned

[canadas-googlesearchhistory]

YJS- I will not be silenced- by Grace o(aka nightmaretyrantvantas)

YJS- I will not be silenced

By Grace O.

chapter 1

  ‘ I don’t want to go back…’ Was my only thought as I aimlessly walked the dirty streets of my little, backwater town, letting the night’s harsh rainstorm drench me and chill me to the bone. I was sick of this town, sick of the people, sick of the void left by my only friend moving to Happy Harbor. I kept walking the through town, past all the shops closed early from the storm and the lit up and darkened windows of small townhouses and regular houses. the streetlights couldn’t even shine on me with how strong the rain was, leaving me to walk and brood in darkness. I eventually came the big park near the edge of stony road, the road that led to the highway, walking up to the metal swingset and sitting down, glaring up at the storm.

“ Is this some sort of punishment? Well?! Or do you up there, whoever you are, just seriously fucking hate me?!?” I shouted up to the sky, not even expecting a real answer.

I got one in the form of a thunder crash and the rain pouring stronger, if that was even possible.

“ WELL THANKS FOR THAT FUCKING CLARIFICATION UNIVERSE!!!” I panted slightly, shivering from the cold. I began to swing and kick the mud puddle forming under the swing I was on, listening to the splash sound trying to penetrate the rain. Thunder clapped loudly above me again, almost as if laughing at me. I wouldnt blame it if I was honestly. I sat there for a long time staring off into the rain, swinging back and forth slightly and ignoring the cold tightly gripping my body like a vicegrip. I had so many memories in this park and now seeing it as empty and lonely as I was put a bad taste in my mouth. Eventually I got off the swing and started the long trek home, dreading every step closer I came to that house. ‘I don’t want to go back I don’t want to go back I don’t want to go back Dave save me come back and take me with you I don’t want to go back….’  

It felt like hours passed by the time I came to my doorstep, drenched to the bone and freezing and the alive feeling of the cold rain draining fast as I unlocked the door as quietly as I could. There was a light on in the kitchen but if I was quiet enough I could make it into the entry hall and up the stairs to my room without whoever was up noticing. I slipped inside and immediately took off my ratty old sneakers so they wouldn’t squeak and silently shut and relocked the door, quickly making my way up the stairs while trying to drip as little as possible. I scurried past my two sisters’ rooms and past my parents bedroom and down to the very end of the hall and into my room, holding my breath even after I shut the door. I stayed there for a few long moments, listening for any movement that signalled I was caught, but when I heard none I breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at my alarm clock

3:49 A.M.

I blinked in surprise then bit the inside of my cheek to keep down the bitter laugh burning in my throat. I’d left my phone, right next to my clock, and the only message alert on it was from before I left, from Dave saying goodnight because we had a couple hours time difference and he had to get up early tomorrow. No new messages. None from my parents asking where I was at all.

My mom was probably the one in the kitchen, getting drunk before going to bed.

I didn’t want to come back. I want to leave this disgusting place.

It took my at least an hour to get dried enough that I wouldn’t get sick and to get rid of the blessed chill of the cold, though some of it lingered as if to comfort me. ‘ a comfort indeed…’ I thought sadly, turning off my alarm before it could go off and simply began brushing my damp hair out of my face and into a semi-decent messy little ponytail, or at least as much of a ponytail as my shoulder length hair could manage. I dried off a bit more and let my hair down again, letting my bangs fall into my face, needing some kind of cover over the bags under my eyes. Then I got dressed in a simple black and red t-shirt of Dave’s he loaned me and “forgot” to take back. I buried my nose into it for a moment, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath. ‘ It still has his scent….’

My body relaxed at the soothing familiar scent of blade polish, peach body wash, hot summer breezes, greasy foods, and men’s supposedly unscented deodorant, and Snuggy’s linen fabric softener that surrounded me as I slipped on the oversized t-shirt over my own black camisole undershirt. Then I slipped on my thread bare black jeans with holes in them and tied a makeshift belt out of a fabric scarf. I slipped on a fresh dry pair of ankle socks and pulled on my GoodWill/thrift shop discounted bargain bin brown rainboots, wrapping a towel around my sneakers and shoving them into my backpack. Then I grabbed all my school work, blank music sheets, and sketchbook and art pencils and shoved those more carefully into my backpack, making sure they were covered by my only raincoat to keep them from getting wet. Finally I pulled on my all grey hoodie and zipped it up, slipping my phone and MP3 player into the pocket and slung on my backpack, leaving my room and heading downstairs to hell.

When I got there my father was already awake, sitting at the table with a cigarette in his mouth and the newspaper in his hand, reading with his coffee.

“ Linnet.” I bowed my head and quietly prepared breakfast.

“ Good morning sir, I hope your sleep was plentiful.” He grunted in response, meaning I’d said the right thing.

Seems he was in a good mood this morning. Let’s hope it stayed that way….

Once I finished preparing breakfast and set it out for the rest of the family, today was Wednesday so it was pancakes, bacon, and breakfast sausages with toast and apple juice. I prepared my sister’s lunches and set them out while leaving out the drinks to be put in, so mother drunkest could put the drinks in when my sisters finish breakfast and fake having made their entire lunches herself and drive them to school. When my father wasn’t looking I quickly and quietly scrounged out a handful of dimes and quarters and slipped them into my hoodie pocket, making sure I wrapped them in a napkin so they wouldn’t make noise and alert my father. I left plenty for laundry though, to avoid suspicion. Once he looked back at me I was cleaning all the dishes and pans I used to cook, glancing at the clock to time my escape right. Once I finished I picked up my things and bowed my head again.

“ I’m going to school now sir, I hope you enjoy breakfast and that you have another great and productive day at work.” I said softly and robotically, my gaze on his feet. I heard the shuffle of the newspaper as he folded it up and braced myself for anything really.

“ Did you take a shower this morning? I don’t recall hearing the water running and the hot water was working with no delay.” He was almost subtly baiting me to fuck up, but for once I was prepared.

But goddammit I shouldve dried my hair more, of COURSE he noticed it.

“ Yes I did take a short shower this morning sir, but I didn’t want to disturb your well deserved rest so I took a very short, quiet, cold shower and made sure to not use any hot water so there would be plenty for you, mother, Margret, and Mariah.” I heard him grunt again, a sign of begrudging acceptance of my answer. I turned to leave and was almost out of the kitchen when he spoke up again.

“ Linnet, why don’t you grab a plate and join us for a proper family breakfast? You’re always so…studiously and eagerly hurrying off every morning to school to continue your education, a very respectable and admirable but rare sight in this youth, but it leaves us with an incomplete morning gathering each day. Please, come sit.” I stiffened but obediently nodded and made myself a plate and sat down at my seat, the only one on the left side of the table. Then I set my backpack between my feet and waited in silence beside my father, listening to the sounds of Mother and my sister’s getting up. I heard one of them slam the bathroom door shut after loudly shuffling out of their room, probably Margret if I had to guess. She had a heavier footed step for such a skinny twig. I didn’t dare touch anything on the plate until the rest of the family came down.

“ Would you like toast or a muffin Linnet?” Father asked as he finished folding his newspaper. I silently gulped and kept my head down.

“ I don’t want to trouble you…so I don’t need any…this is already so generously plenty.” I replied meekly, my eyes on my lap and my clenched fists. ‘ Oh just let this hell end already so I can get my couple minutes of escape at school…’ He let out a “hn.” at my response but didn’t say anything else to me, which meant I just barely got by with my answer. After a few moments of silence my mother half sauntered half stumbled into the kitchen, hungover.

“ Good morning darli–Linnet….you’re supposed to have already left for school! Who told you you could dare–” My father cleared his throat with a almost disapproving growl, probably at my mother’s lack of subtlety.

“ Dear, I told Linnet to stay and eat breakfast with us, so we could eat together this morning like a proper family.” She immediately straightened and pulled herself together, sober enough not to argue with her husband.

“ Oh of course honey! I’m so sorry for yelling like that.” She went over to him and kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder affectionately. Then she got herself some coffee and sat down at her seat on the other end of the table, opposite of him. There was another, more suffocating silence before my sisters came into the kitchen, chattering like noisy pigeons to each other. They both stopped short when they saw me though, matching disgusted looks on their painted faces as they began spouting insults and disbelief at Father.

“ Silence!”

A very still quiet settled over us all, such a picture perfect family we were….

Father’s glare was piercing and cold as he stared down his preferred daughters.

“ Quiet both of you. This morning we are having a PLEASANT breakfast together, and you will behave as so.” They meekly replied that they understood and sat at their spots, and we all started eating. I ate just fast enough to look normal, pushing my plate away and scooting my chair back.

“ I’m finished, I’ll be heading to school now.” I washed my dishes and grabbed my stuff in a hurry. MY father finished his coffee and stood up.

“ I can drive you to school.” I froze.

No no no no no.

“ That is….so incredibly generous of you sir, but I could never ask you to waste gas and possibly drive time on me.” I managed to get out without puking. We had a three second silent before he grunted.

“ Be home on time for once then Linnet.”

“ Yes sir.”

And then I was out and practically sprinting to school to get away from one hell and into another.

  I didn’t think school could get any worse without Dave, but I turned out to be very very wrong…

I avoided most everyone I could heading up the two steps and into the building. I kept my head down low and my pace quick, weaving my way through the crowd of kids with a practiced ease Dave had taught me.

‘ Left right left right side side left right pause right left back step side step left right left right….’ I spoke in my head, falling into the painfully familiar pattern of Dave’s steps when he walked through the crowd, me beside him as he guided me without issue.

I managed to make it to class, skipping my locker completely, and sat in my usual seat, internally cringing at that fact Dave couldn’t sit next to me anymore, which meant dealing with bitches, brats,bullies, and….him. I pulled out everything I needed for class and kept my backpack in my lap protectively. I tapped my foot quietly as i waited for class to start, praying class would just drag on uneventfully.

Someone high up there really DOES hate me apparently.

             “Well well well look who’s all alone? Too cool shithead finally dump you?” I gritted my teeth and ignored the taller boy lingering in the aisle between my desk and Dave’s former desk. The prick had a smug smirk on his face as he looked down at me. To everyone else, he was extraordinarily handsome and unfairly attractive, sun blonde hair cropped at his chin that curls around his ears and falls into his face occasionally, deep, inviting lush green eyes like a healthy summer meadow, sun kissed tan skin, tall at 6’2”, strong broad shoulders, well built figure, charming spotless white smile, dimples, baseball AND soccer captain, student body vice president, clean grades and a blindingly clean record and reputation to match. I didn’t look at him, at the guy that every girl in the whole damn school pined after, and tried to keep my focus on the front of the room and the clock.

I ignored that he was wearing a form fitting white tank top partially covered by a short sleeved jade green and white plaid flannel and well fitting smoky grey jeans that were rolled up at the bottom and showing off his spotless running shoes. He chuckled a bit at my lack of response.

Then he sat right in Dave’s old seat and set his notebook and textbook on the familiar surface, throwing me a smug little grin that to anyone else wouldve been nothing but friendly. I gripped my pencil tighter.

          “…Caleb thats Dave’s seat. Yours is on the other side of the room.” I ground out without looking at him, feeling every other student’s eyes on us, girls glaring and his crowd either confused or disapproving. Like i give a damn.

           “ well Davey boy is long gone from school and town by now. The whole school knows he moved away to Happy Harbor. So, now its MY seat Linn.” I tensed at the nickname and turned my head enough to shoot a glare at him.

             “ Don’t call me that. My name is Linnet.” I snapped quietly. There was a small moment of silence between us, the drone of the other students seeming to fade away as they slowly and reluctantly lost interest in us and looked away to talk amongst themselves. His grin fell and he brought his hand up and touched my cheek, a serious gleam appearing in his eyes.

              “ Linn are you not sleeping again?” He asked quietly and for a second the world seemed to tilt and start to slide out from under me.

Then i jolted back to reality and jerked away from him as the bell blared loudly. He faced front just like i did but i felt his eyes lingering on me, burning into me like a brand.

His stare was so much worse than the others in the room.

Chapter 2

  I had my stuff packed back into my backpack five minutes before class ended, and bolted out of there as soon as the bell sounded, dodging as many people as i could and sprinting to second period.

        “Hey! Wait!”

I ignored Caleb’s shout and forced my way through the crowds and quickly made my way to my seat. I kept my bag in my lap and rested my head down on my desk, forcing myself to calm down. I gripped my bag tighter so my fingers wouldn’t tremble. “ why the hell wont he just forget i exist…?” I mumbled out loud to myself.

“ Thats what we want to know! Hes obviously too good for the likes of someone like you. And yet he associates himself with your…filth.” I rolled my eyes at the familiar obnoxious female voice and the two ear grating agreements from my sisters. After a moment of me not responding the first voice cleared her throat annoyed.

“ Hello! Hey brat girl I’m talking to you!” I heaved a sigh and lifted my head and fixed a blank and unamused stare at her, a vague satisfaction of seeing her flinch slightly.

“ And I dont give a fuck Amber. Go pester someone else. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” I said in a soft, bored voice as I set my head back down and ignored her. I didn’t even have to be looking at her to know my dead response made her so called “perfect” tan face redden and pinch up unattractively, her overly glossed bright pink lips curling in a hateful snarl as her big baby blue eyes glared harshly into the back of my head.

But I didn’t care, i needed to calm down.

I grunted when I felt one of her manicured hands grab a fistful of my hair and yank my head up that spiked sharp pain down my scalp, her expression livid. I glared back at her and without thinking snarled at her, baring my teeth just enough for her to let out a startled and disgusted shriek and let go of me.

“ WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU FREAK?!” I sneered at her screech before smoothing my expression into one of pain and hurt.

“ F-freak? W-why would you call me that…a-and why would you attack me like that out of nowhere! I was o-only looking over my notes for class! W-what is wrong with you Amber!?” She opened her mouth to yell at me more when someone cleared their throat and hurried towards us.

“ Ms. Jameson! What is the matter with you today?! How dare you attack another student like that! Go up to the office now I’ll deal with you with the assistant principal!” I sniffled as I looked up at Mr. Grimm. He hurried to me and wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders and looked down at me worriedly over his black spectacles, his icy jade eyes concerned. Then he looked at Amber and those eyes froze over and narrowed in a disappointed glare.

“ Jameson. Office. Now. and Margret, Mariah. Go to your seats NOW. Not even a word out of you two. I’ll take you up to the office personally after class for allowing your sister to be harassed like that.” They flinched and sulked to their seats, shooting me glares when Mr. Grimm wasn’t looking. Once he sent Amber to the office he came back to me and looked me over as the bell rang.

“ Are you alright Linnet? Do you need to go to the infirmary?” I smiled shyly and shook my head.

“ M-my head kinda hurts from her yanking so hard on my hair…but other than that I think im ok Ro–Mr. Grimm.” He smiled at me, his pale face brightening like the sun breaking through the clouds. A few locks of chestnut hair fell into his face and he brushed it away absently.

“ I’m glad to hear it Linnet. Now class, lets get out our notebooks! We’ve got a biiiiig lecture today!” He gave me a small knowing wink before walking back to the front of the room and beginning his lecture on our new english unit. I sat down immediately and took as many notes as I could attentively.

Mr. Grimm was my favorite teacher, and was honestly like a father to me. He was tall and lithe, with enthused and gleaming pale jade eyes behind black rimmed glasses. He was pale and always dressed nice, no matter what the occasion and his old fashioned steampunk boots clicked against the tile floors. I ignored the feeling of my sisters glaring at me and paid extra close attention, his baritone voice soothing my frazzled nerves.

Unfortunately the class ended faster than I wanted, and i was the last one to leave, reluctantly packing my things. He looked at me from the door where he stood a few feet away from my sisters. He raised an eyebrow at me and I grimaced and blew a lock of hair from my face. He returned my silent response with another one of his own, giving me a sad and sympathetic look with his eyebrows furrowed while he smiled bitterly. He glanced back around the room then at me and I nodded, managing a smile.

Eat lunch in here with me today.

I waited until he walked away escorting my sisters to the office and slipped out of his classroom and hurried to my third period, just barely managing to make it to my seat by the bell. I kept my bag in my lap as I was finally able to get out my sketchbook and art pencils as I sat in my more secluded corner table for two near the back corner of the large art room, right behind a fairly small awkwardly designed part of the room that has a small wall, and a corner then led into the small alcove with the table next to and mostly hidden behind the big double bookshelf of art books and how-to-draw instruction books. I sat in the seat directly next to the bookshelf, leaning against its sturdy oak with a sigh. I tried to not look longingly at the chair next to me, Dave’s empty seat. I bit my lip before burying my nose into the shirt and nuzzling it briefly, taking in his comforting scent and relaxing. I flipped open my sketchbook and looked up as the art teacher walked over and checked to make sure I was in class, attendance sheet in hand. She gave me her eccentric little grin, her amethyst purple eyes almost glowing with their usual passion.

“ I knew I could always count on you to be present little bird!” Her gaze drifted to Dave’s seat and her smile softened to a motherly one.

“ Ah…right…big crow isnt with us in this city anymore….in that case little bird…you can work on whatever you wish, the art haven is at your disposal! I know I can trust you with the responsibility.” I smiled bigger and nodded to her, receiving a nod back as she marked me present and sauntered back to the front of the room, energetically explaining today’s activities.

If Mr. Grimm was a father to me then the art teacher, Ms. Sara was the mother I always wanted. With her short and wildly mussed up soot colored hair and bright amethyst eyes, her paint flecked and splattered pale skin, her wardrobe of stylized stockings, ripped and paint stained jean shorts, corsets and old fashioned short sleeved shirts, and knee high combat boots, she was considered eccentric but she was also too great of a teacher to even consider replacing her. She was always so kind and motherly to me…especially letting me and Dave sit in this secluded corner of the room to be ourselves and get away from everyone else. I shook away the memories and was tapping my pencil against my blank page when my phone buzzed quietly in my pocket. I pulled out my phone and smiled when I saw Dave’s name on my screen, everything in me relaxing and this morning’s troubles fading away as I unlocked my phone and tapped on the message.

‘ Hey Linn. Sorry I didn’t text earlier. Stupid teachers threatened to take my phone and sell it for parts. I finally got a chill teacher who’s letting me only have my phone out. You doing ok without me shorty?’ I wiped my eyes and began typing back immediately, giggling softly.

‘ Its hard….but im surviving without you. Just barely though. Glad you finally found a nice teacher that lets you use your phone in class.  I got Amber and my sisters sent up to the office. I think they’ll get suspended this time. Robert fully backs my story.’ there was a few long moments before his response popped back up.

‘ its about fucking time those bitches got what they deserve. And if Robbie backs your story you’re safe from your parents too(thank fucking god). Just keep hanging on shorty, you can make it. Thanksgiving break will be here before you know it and I’ll be back there with you for the entire week, your parents cant stop me.’ I smiled wider, all my stress easing away completely. Just as I was about to respond another message popped up.

‘ I miss you Shorty.’

‘ I miss you too Crow…like…fuck i miss you so much…’ there were another few long moments before he responded again.

‘ Remember, once senior year spring semester hits im packing you up and moving you here with me and my brothers. Dad wont care, he likes you. Just keep survivin Birdie. I’ll get you soon.’

‘ i know Davey….its what keeps me going. Cant wait.’

He texted that he had to go and we reluctantly said our goodbyes and I put my phone away, starting a random sketch. I didn’t really focus on what I was drawing, getting lost in thought.

“ Finally found you Linn.”

I snapped out of my thoughts immediately and glared up at Caleb through my bangs, praying to the hateful jerks up there that something will distract him and make him leave.

Wow whoever is up there seriously has to DESPISE me.

Instead of taking the hint from the glare and leaving me alone he sat down in Dave’s seat, setting down his stuff and his sketchbook on the table. I internally panicked a bit, to get out of my seat and out of class I’d have to go either past him or over him. He has me cornered against the bookshelf.

“ What do you want Caleb. Leave me alone.” He grunted and narrowed his eyes at me in an annoyed glare, turning his chair and body to face me and block me from any chance of escape unless I wanted to make a scene and climb over the table. I glared back from behind my bangs, tightening my grip on my pencil in order to hide the fact that my fingers were starting to tremble. There were a few seconds of tense silence between the two of us before he reached his hand out towards my face. I flinched away, leaning away from him and against the bookshelf. He glared a bit more as a stubborn gleam shone in his eyes, and he scooted his chair close enough that our knees touched and he leaned forward again, his hands tucking my bangs behind my ears. I felt….vulnerable, especially to him.

“ I knew it. You havent been sleeping again have you.” It was more of a confirming statement than any question. I huffed and looked away from him.

“ So what if I haven’t. It isn’t your concern or business Jackson.” He raised an eyebrow, giving me a wry smile.

“ Oh so we’re using last names now are we?” I didn’t answer him, not looking at him. I heard him snort and I felt his fingers gently but firmly grip my chin and turn my head to face him. I blinked once at the fact his face was much closer than before, only a little ways apart. His eyes were narrowed and serious again, and his mouth was tugged firmly into a stern line. His bangs fell and hung in front of his left eye as he looked at me.

“ It is my damn concern Linn. Now tell me why the hell you haven’t been sleeping again.” He planted his free hand next to my head to keep himself steady. I felt a cold sweat go down my back and I gulped slightly at his low, dead serious “do not argue with me” tone. I was silent and if possible he narrowed his eyes more.

“ Is it your family again? Or is it about that damn punk Strik–”

“ Shut up about dave!” I hissed between my teeth, forcing myself not to yell. He blinked once then scoffed, but didn’t repeat the last part of his question.

“ Are you getting bullied again? Is it your family again?” I couldnt stop myself from glancing away, my silence confirming his suspicions. He almost growled.

“ Goddammit Linn why haven’t you told me–”

“ Because its none of your business!” I snapped back, glaring at him. Our eyes locked, lush green glaring into equally glaring redwood brown eyes. We were practically nose to nose trying to make the other back down, but we were both too stubborn. A thick tense silence settled over us like a too heavy blanket, the noises from the rest of class seeming to fade away. Neither of us looked away, silently battling against each other

 ( And this is all I have so far. I know its long but I’ve been working really hard on it so bare with me here) (nightmaretyrantvantas)

#read later #submission

[faiteach]

A Wild Love Interest Has Appeared

[I can almost guarantee that everything I’m about to speculate on is nothing more than a sparkling conspiracy dreamt up in the loneliest spaces of my mind.]

Have you ever met someone and the timing just feels like Fate? And of course, that rational half of your brain starts firing the klaxons to warn you not to fall too far into the Fantasy because when has anything that felt like Fate ever turned out the way you expected? 

While I was on vacation in April, my coworkers hired someone new. His initials are the same as another person I write about, so I’m going to call him Aegis. He’s 5 years my junior, tall, dominican, rocks the bald look, fit, warm dark eyes, and a megawatt smile. In fact, he’s so attractive that I’m not even nervous around him because it’s so undeniably obvious that he’s out of my league. I have no reason to worry, there’s no possible way he could find me attractive so I don’t have to try. Plus, we work together. When they first hired AG (tall, also bald, blue eyes, average white guy but sweet and intelligent [later turned out he’s an unsympathetic, judgmental dick when it comes to mental illness booo]) I developed an unfortunate crush which, in the process of seeking absolution for my guilt about feeling that way, I confessed to my boss and my coworker JA during a night when we were drunk. JA, being practical and also having zero faith in my ability to handle romance, dissuaded me from pursuing anything so close to home. “Don’t shit where you sit”, the old adage goes. I never intended to pursue it. I just felt bad about it. She helped me feel so bad about it, that I definitely let it go. 

And then along comes Aegis. 

Well, you can bet I felt JA’s eyes on me during those first few days. Watching like a bitter old crone to ensure there was no whiff of hanky-panky between me and the new guy. She needn’t have worried. Certainly I found him attractive, but the fires of infatuation remained dormant. My expectations were clear and reasonable. He was my new, objectively handsome but virtually unknown, coworker. 

About 4 weeks go by. We’ve all bonded a bit during office hours by now. We joke around as a group, we drink a bit on Fridays, we all smoke weed (except BVK) so we bond over shows we like to watch while we’re high. One Wednesday night, JA and I are supposed to attend an event for a separate organization we’re both part of. I meet up with her, our boss and Aegis at a bar after they wrap up a client photoshoot. I knew right then that JA and I were not going to make it to the event. I was dressed to the 9′s in high heels, hair perfectly curled, makeup perfectly done. Aegis moves from his place at one end of the table to sit beside me on the other end. He gets me a beer. While the boss & JA chat with their videographer, Aegis and I talk relatively alone for the first time. 

You ever have a conversation with somebody that flows so easy you forget that time is even a thing? 

It’s like we were teammates, partners, comrades, I can’t describe it but it’s a chemistry I almost never feel. Synergy. Talking to him was, and is, so easy. Every time I made him laugh he seemed delighted and surprised. At one point, in response to something I said, he held my arm and put his head on my shoulder. For that brief moment, I was frozen in place. JA was watching, most likely she saw the look that flickered across my face. I wonder if it looked more like shock, or fear? 

That Friday, Aegis and I end up alone together at the end of the day. We’d already opened some beers for Beer Friday (the weekly thing we do as an office), so we were just hanging out, presumably until we each finished. I mentioned wanting to walk Jamie in dog parks closer to work and, since he’s native to the area, he mentions a place he knows about that he’d be willing to take me to. I ask him (expecting a “no”) if he wants to go right then. To my surprise he says sure. We stop by his house to grab some weed, drive over to the park and smoke before heading out down the path. I figured it would be a short walk, but we end up a little lost in the woods for a while. We hardly notice because we’re talking, getting to know each other the whole time. I’m surprised and confused that we never seem to run out of things to say.

The following Wednesday is just me, Aegis and BVK in the office. We end up staying late watching The Thirteenth Amendment on Netflix and having a very thoughtful discussion about race in America. When our boss and JA return from the meetings of the day, JA & BVK head home but our boss stays behind with his wife to jump into the discussion with us. The boss’s wife is already drunk and ends up going into a confusing drunk rant about JFK conspiracies. At a certain point, I make an effort to wrangle the conversation and demand a moment of uninterrupted speech to make my point. When she inevitably interrupts me, I don’t even think about shushing her with a finger. I’m so assertive about it, she stops talking immediately. (You should understand that our boss’s wife is a terrifying, but very cool woman. She’s in her 20s too, but very confident and aggressive, so me shushing her surprised everyone). This was also the day my dad disappeared for several hours so I ended up leaving shortly after to deal with that. 

This past Thursday, myself, our boss, JA and Aegis attended a very classy corporate event for a client where the Governor would be speaking. I’ve been sick and had considered not going but then I realized Aegis would be by himself in a new environment with our boss and JA who can be a little cliquey. When I got there, he greeted me with a relieved “Heyyy you!” 

We had time for a drink and a stroll through the outdoor patio before they started seating everyone for dinner. I mentioned that I may or may not have an entire box of tissues in my purse (on account of my lingering cold) and Aegis was reduced to giggles saying “You say the most random things Jess, its one of the things I love about you.” Color me shocked, of course. No one ever says such things to me. I took it as a general expression from someone who is open with his feelings but logged it away later, so that I could obsess over the slight hesitation in his voice before he said love--as if he was afraid I would take it too seriously, or because he was afraid I would realize he meant it? HAHA. Yes. 

Our boss and JA decided to go out for a cigarette and left me and Aegis to wait for them. 

“You thought I was kidding,” I said, slyly producing a full kleenex box from my huge purse. 

He practically fell down laughing, saying “Oh man, see I need more people like you in my life.” 

I probed for more detail---what did he mean? He tried to explain how his current friends lacked spontaneity and humor. Then he said something that, and I wish I could remember the words, sounded like “I try but they always say no,” or something similar. To which I replied, 

“Ah yes, I hear that often as well, especially at the end of the date.” 

He laughed, then turned to me with a sudden dubious expression and said, “Really??” 

“Well no, but only because I’m so persuasive,” I said jokingly, tossing my hair.

We eventually got to dinner, and sat through the speech. At the end, we went as a group to get a drink at the bar. Our boss and JA had to leave---he was helping her build a website for her wedding this October, so once again, Aegis and I were left alone together. 

I would normally expect someone in his position to say “Well, that’s it for me too, have a good night and drive safe.” 

But he didn’t. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, and I agreed. We went to my car and rolled a blunt. We got incredibly high. I told him the story of how I dated three of my friends in a row because it came up and he asked for more detail. It’s been a long time since I discussed my past with anyone, having finally learned to simply let sleeping dogs lie, but the confession came anyways. He told me about his past as a PCA, and the experience with a patient that drove him to quit. Shit got real deep. I think I fucked it up when I tried to lighten to mood--he seemed embarrassed to cry in front of me, no matter how much I assured him it was ok. 

If I did fuck it up he was quick to forgive me, because the conversation returned to more jovial things. He mentioned how much he admires me when I do things like shush our boss’s wife (like, we were laughing about it and he said I’m a badass essentially). He has no concept of me as an insecure person. To him, I’m as confident as they come. He said that I’m very persuasive, almost clairvoyant, that I “see what wants to happen and find a way to make it happen.” I didn’t understand what he meant at first, until I realized he was talking about a part of myself that I had always assumed was a fallacy of my own arrogance---my innate ability to read people and to act according to their needs. I was stunned and pleased by the observation, but I didn’t show it. We ended up talking until 11:30pm. When we said good-bye it was like neither of us really knew how, we hurried away from each other, shouting “BYE” over our shoulders. 

Yesterday was another Friday. We were all very tired from the night before. By the end of the day it was just me, Boss and Aegis. I think he felt bad about using my weed to roll the blunt the night before because Aegis brought his own and offered it to me and the Boss after 4pm. Since it was raining, we went up to the abandoned storage room with a door to the roof and stood by the open door to smoke. Boss went over to the far side of the room with his laptop to finish some projects while Aegis and I stood by the doorway and just talked, like we have become accustomed to doing. I forgot Boss was there until he came over an hour or so later and said, 

“I’m heading back downstairs, I don’t mind if you guys stay up here and hang out just....ya know.”

When I say Boss was acting weird as he said it, I mean he was acting very weird. You could assume “Just....ya know.” meant “Please remember to close the roof door when you come down” but the weird, snide look on his face said “Use a condom.” 

I hated it. 

You see, the night I confessed to liking AG, nearly two years ago, JA reacted by dissuading me. Boss reacted by hooking up with me as soon as I was drunk enough. Boss has been the only cock in the hen house for a few years now (AG is still on part-time but doesn’t work in office with us) and if I didn’t know any better I would say he was feeling latent jealousy over the way Aegis and I were bonding so easily. 

At this point, I’ve spent more time with the new guy outside of work than anyone else in the office. Not only that, but Aegis has a weird superpower when it comes to me. When I’m around him, I feel comfortable in a way that I don’t feel anywhere else in my life---except maybe when I’m completely alone. For some reason, around him I always know what to do and I always know what to say. The other day I tripped in front of him, fell to the floor, barrel-rolled, landed in a super chill pose like I meant to do it all and he couldn’t stop laughing saying, “Wow that was a whole lot of smooth that just came out of that.” 

I don’t know how or why exactly, but he always gets the best of me. 

We ended up going downstairs with Boss and heading home immediately after that. I didn’t wait to say goodbye to Aegis, I ran to the bathroom to blow my nose cause I was dying (I think I have a sinus infection) but Boss relayed his goodbye with a smirk on his face. I worry now that he and JA will be whispering to each other soon “Hm they have been spending an awful lot of time together, what do you think?” 

I have made no assumptions abut romance. I still believe Aegis is out of my league and that he’s self-aware enough to know it. But, from what he’s told me, it sounds like he’s in a similar situation to me. Gradually losing touch with old friends, growing apart from past relationships and finding yourself alone in your childhood home with no one left to turn to in any meaningful way. That, in and of itself, is probably why we get along so well. We’re both exhilarated to find someone we can talk to. Someone interesting who cares. Someone who isn’t distracted by hundreds of other, more fulfilling relationships. 

It really would be too complicated to date someone in an office so small. I have no intention of pursuing anything of the kind. But I had to reflect and record what I think has been a very special meeting of two souls who maybe needed each other, just a little bit. Mostly what I take from all of this is that, I really like who I am when I’m with Aegis. He really does bring out the best in me. His thoughtfulness and kindness revitalizes my faith in humanity and somehow enables me to be my wittiest, most confident, most relaxed self. If I get nothing else from this experience, it will be to ability to recognize the traits that I like about me and to cultivate them with lasting consistency. 

#journal #reflections on romance pt 2

[onlycags]

Movie Night 4 | Çağlar Söyüncü

March: Vardy Alternate Title: Suit & Tie (courtesy of @chilly-me-softly)

Enjoy! xx

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You spent the next few weeks fighting with James via text. Well, it wasn’t so much ‘fighting’ as it was ‘him telling you one thing and you telling him another.’

It had all started the morning after movie night in February. You texted James asking if he would return Çağlar’s hoodie, which had launched a slew of questions from your best mate.

Madders: HOLD ON

Madders: HOW DO YOU HAVE CAGS’S HOODIE?!?!?

Madders: DID SOMETHING HAPPEN LAST NIGHT THAT I WASN’T AWARE OF

Madders: DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM

Madders: I AM THE MATCHMAKING KING - ALL HAIL ME

Madders: SORRY NOT SORRY I AM TYPING IN ALL CAPS I *clap emoji* AM *clap emoji* SO *clap emoji* EXCITED *clap emoji*

You laughed and shook your head, preparing to type out a response when another text came through.

Madders: I have calmed down now and am available for rational conversation…I think

You: I have Cags’s hoodie because he gave it to me as we were leaving last night. I got cold and he practically put it on me. I forgot about it until I got home - ALONE - and then I fell asleep in it and I am just now waking up and I would like to get it to him somehow

You: No you are not yet the matchmaking king and I will not nail you

You: *HAIL I MEANT HAIL OMFG

You: ANYWAY, hold your excited horses until I can reign in my own! *horse emoji*

Before you could wait for a response, your phone was vibrating with a call from Mads.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO RETURN HIS HOODIE?!” He shouted in lieu of a greeting.

“Mate, it is way too early in the morning for you to be shouting at me. Calm down.” You grimaced, bringing the phone back to your ear.

“Sorry, my bad,” you could practically see him waving his hand dismissively and part of you wondered why he wasn’t FaceTiming you. “But seriously, why on earth do you want to return Cags’s hoodie?”

You rolled your eyes at his seemingly idiotic question. “Because it belongs to him and he should have it back,” you huffed out, annoyed.

“Are you daft?!”

“Apparently I am, Madders!” You growled, trying to figure out what his problem was.

“If you give him his hoodie back, it could send him the wrong message.”

“What’s the wrong message? That I care about his things and I want him to have them?”

“No! That you don’t like wearing his clothes and by proxy don’t like him.”

“OH. My. God. That is utterly ridiculous! You give me your clothes to wear all the time and I return them freshly laundered and you don’t care!”

“Yes, but I’m not trying to get into your pants, am I?” Madders shot back snarkily.

You paused, thinking over his logic. “I’m going to give it some thought and get back to you. If I do decide to give him back his hoodie before March, will you give it to him for me?”

“Absolutely not,” James stated matter-of-factly. “I will not play a part in breaking my teammate’s heart.” He paused and giggled to himself. “Ooh, that rhymed.”

“Yes, yes, you’re a poet and you didn’t know it, blah blah blah. Why won’t you give him his hoodie back for me?”

“Did you not just hear me rhyme?” James protested. “Let me repeat: I will not play a part in breaking my teammate’s heart. We have some very important matches coming up in the next few weeks and I can’t have him all up in his feelings over some bird.”

“Some bird - are you fucking serious, James Daniel Maddison?!” You shouted, losing your temper. In your fury, you hung up on him, throwing your phone on your bed and walking into your kitchen to bake and relieve stress.

***

Over the next few weeks, you exchanged a few texts with Madders. You made him grovel for a few days, ultimately forgiving him when he told you he had secured you tickets to the next five home matches - you would normally have forgiven him without him giving you anything, but his words had cut you up inside and you gleefully accepted the tickets as his penance.

The matches came and went, but the first one had been memorable for you. You left the house wearing Çağlar’s hoodie over the jersey he had given you. The secret thrilled you, knowing you were the only one who knew what was underneath the hoodie - and who said hoodie belonged to - turned you on more than you cared to admit.

Unfortunately, the first of the home matches you attended was the first loss at home for the Foxes that season. The atmosphere was somber as you made your way to the pitch to hug your lads. Madders’s hug held no joy - he had missed a crucial free kick that would have put the Foxes in the lead - and you could see tears in his eyes as he pulled away. Ben was the same, sniffling a little as you hugged him.

Finally, you made your way to Çağlar, your heart breaking at the tortured expression on his face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him. You clung to him longer than the others, hoping to comfort him somehow.

“You are wearing my hoodie,” he commented as he released you, fingering the sleeves that were a little too big for you.

You nodded, silently thanking James for convincing you not to give it back to him. “Yeah. Do you want to know a secret?” You whispered conspiratorially, leaning in to him.

“Yes, please.”

You looked him in the eye as you said, “I’m also wearing your jersey,” shivering as heat flooded his gaze turning his deep blue eyes darker with desire.

He murmured something in Turkish that gave you goosebumps. This man - he was so irresistible it was hard to refrain from kissing him right there on the pitch.

Once again, Madders saved you from doing something so utterly stupid - you wanted your first kiss with Çağlar to be between the two of you, not in front of a bunch of people - calling the Turk’s name. “See you at movie night,” Çağlar promised. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear again, whispering, “Keep the hoodie - it looks better on you than on me, anyway.”

That night, you slept in his jersey, screaming his name as a powerful orgasm ripped through you as you touched yourself.

***

A week later, it was finally time for movie night at the Vardys. Earlier in the week, Jamie had posted to the chat that he and Rebekah had been able to send the kids to Rebekah’s parents’ for the night so that they could host ‘a proper movie night’.

You arrived with your usual six-pack, this time with Madders and Chilly in tow. The mood was significantly lighter, the lads having won their away match on Wednesday against the Wolves.  Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to watch it, as you were working, but you caught the highlights the next morning, excitedly texting Madders a ‘congrats on the assist!’ while waiting for the bus to take you to work.

“Are we missing anyone?” You asked, looking around the room for the third time to confirm that you didn’t see Çağlar.

“No. Cags is almost here,” Madders confirmed, not making eye contact with you. You felt like there was more to it but you didn’t want to press in front of everyone.

“Something about a dinner date he couldn’t get out of, right?” Evans supplied, unaware of how those words affected you.

As if on cue, the man in question entered, looking unbelievably delicious in his dress pants and pressed white shirt, the top two buttons undone to show a hint of the tattoo you were desperate to see. His eyes immediately found yours, but he didn’t make his way over to you just yet. Instead, he placed the bottle of champagne he was carrying on the countertop and greeted the lads.

“How was it?” Schmeichel asked. You waited for an answer, holding your breath.

Çağlar shrugged. When he answered Schmeichel, he looked directly at you. “The reporter just wanted to know more about me. I answered everything, but my brain hurts.”

Plates were made and drinks were poured, everyone settling in as Vardy readied the telly. Once again, you found yourself next to Çağlar, his arm around you. You really wanted to ask him about the interview and press for details but the movie was starting and you were intrigued. You hadn’t seen Grown Ups since it had first come out and you forgot how funny it was.

The lads were in stitches; Barnes had taken it upon himself to assign characters to everyone once the movie was over, which made everyone start laughing all over again.

The movie ended and the goodbyes ensued. You and Çağlar made the now-routine walk to your closest bus stop, as you tried to figure out how to ask him about the interview. “I forgot to tell you - you look nice.” You chose to open with, cringing at how lame you sounded.

The smile he gave you warmed you from the inside out. “Thank you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a tie. “I took this off before I walked in because I did not want to be too formal.”

Seeing the tie in his hands, your brain flipped through a series of naughty thoughts. Apparently, you brain especially liked the one where you grabbed him by the tie and kissed him senseless. His hand on your cheek brought you back to reality. “What are you thinking about?” He asked, eyes searching yours.

Kissing you. “Nothing,” you lied, licking your suddenly-dry lips. His gaze fell from your eyes to your mouth.

“Sikme,” he cursed, the heat in his eyes making you want to do something dumb, like beg him to take you back to his place and let him do whatever he wanted to do to you.

The bus screeched to a stop, making the two of you jump and separate. You hugged him before you got on the bus, savouring the feeling of his hands on your body.

It was going to be a long month of sleepless nights until the next movie night.

#cags series #movie night series

[ithinkimsoberyeah]

I don’t know what it is about being consumed by the feeling of wanting to be selfless that seems to overwhelm my mind to an ironic level of selfishness. all day i ran around huffing and puffing angrily, desperately trying get out of my head. it lead to going to two sober meetings, where i utterly embarrassed myself during my only share for the day, next to a movie star no less, where she and others did that thing where they fake cough like some bullshit detector through my entire share. do you ever notice that? i am hyper aware of that behavior. going to so many meetings over the past year, when the share veers into self centered drivel, unaware nonsense or prideful boasting, people in the room start to grumble cough, like clearing their throat or their whole body has just gone dry from succubus-like energy that they suddenly react.

it just made me spiral out further. not sharing my truth and instead trying to equate what is happening to me to Kevin Spacey in American Beauty making a six figure income to working at a burger joint, and how I’m currently working at a fast food place, mostly closing shifts till 1am washing dishes and how i am broke and struggling. it came off as entitled, unaware and self-serving that i instantly tensed up and ended my share and closed up the rest of the meeting. i went directly to another meeting, almost fuming for the need to share ‘correctly’ -- how ridiculous i was being. i hated the speaker’s share, it went on too long and he refused to stop. the entire share was an excruciating laundry list of everyone that died in his life, mostly from drugs and suicide.. just on and on. but with a hint of smugness i felt, like proud warrior wounds over humility and peaceful outcome for his experience. so there i was, an angry jackass in my mind, hating myself, hating everyone in the room, and hating the speaker just jonesing to share that i hated myself and someone please fucking hurry up and acknowledged me and come over here now and nurse my goddamn ego and milk my sorrow and pet me like a good little self-centered idiot alcoholic self for wanting to express myself in such a way that will make me look oh so fucking put together for all you other quaking mess drunks can approve of me.. yeah, utter fucking nonsense.

i didn’t even know why i was mad all morning and then realized i was in great denial of my roommate. the ex was just 34 hours from a month, and went out and relapsed. he went to some fake excuse of a bbq while i was washing those dishes at that wonderful fast food joint last night, and didn’t come home. i put it in my cute little head that he just drank and passed out and would come home.

he did come home this morning. i couldn’t talk to him. or look at him. all this buddha, quiet mind time and meetings and sponsor talk, and i’m still nowhere to be found in the adult world of taking care of shit. standing up for myself or my life.

i went into the kitchen and squeezed him orange juice and made eggs while calling my parents. i went into oblivious mode. the family talk was wonderful actually. but the ex used this time to change, take a cock ring from the bathroom (i later discovered when i went looking for a clean pair of socks) and leave before i could get off the phone fully to confront him.

i got a sheepish text hours later that he’s sorry again.

so the two meetings i thought after calling my sponsor right when he left the apartment, only to discuss Step One, and not admit to my sponsor what had happened, I went along with my morning like I was still in self recovery mode. Home made breakfast, family phone call, big book reading, sponsor call for step work, and then off to meetings. But after leaving the apartment, I just started fuming. I was angry at everything. My subconscious began to boil up to attack my ‘everything is fine’ denial state. The first meeting presented facade just made it all worse. I wouldn’t recognize what was happening.

I wondered around the park across the street for the next hour just in a stressed daze. I finally had come to terms with what had happened.

My ex had used meth after 28 days of sobriety. After I had told him in a stone cold state of mind that I would not take another relapse from him. I have been honest with my sponsor up to now about what has been going on at home, but my sponsor and grand sponsor have both strongly urged that if he relapses he must go or I must go, that we cannot continue cohabiting. My ex knew this, and was in the best mind set and sober streak in a long time. 28 days, he was his normal self to his best abilities. Better days were coming.

This Wednesday, I am due for a $1000 payment in my Eviction settlement. I have been dealing honestly and upfront to the property lawyer about my situation, they have kindly decided to work with me. I pushed myself into going into humbling work as a fast food jockey for the whole neighborhood to see (in my vast egotistical mind, yeah right) and we were really both working hard and honestly for the first time this year.

Now I don’t know if we’ll have the thousand cash Wednesday. And the legal document I signed says the property company can now evict us immediately without recourse within a day or two from non-payment and forgo all further legal action. So I can be plainly homeless by this Friday. Today is Monday.

Now, my ex will probably not work much this week as he has disappeared and then try to recover for a day or two. My fast food job isn’t enough to cover these eviction payments on my own.

Now I would have to call back my parents after our happiest, fullest conversation in months, to say that I guess that was all for show I guess, and I’m desperate to come home. That or push myself to live in sober housing.

Now I will have to tell my sponsor or lie to him. If I tell him and don’t push my ex out, I’m pretty sure my sponsor will drop me.

If I finally do push my ex out, I’m his last bastion of hope, as we’ve made it out to be. His father and brother refuse to speak with him anymore. He has nowhere to live, he can’t seem to get a real job other than background acting and audience work.

My gut feeling says he would be apartment to apartment of junkies and sex scenes so unbearable he’ll be on the street and dead within weeks.

My heart says I can’t fucking bear that lifelong scar. Carry yet another burden of failure so enormous I’d want to quickly kill myself as well.

So here I am, his selfish addiction, my self addiction, both proverbial guns pointed at my own head, taking life way too fucking seriously, stuck in my selfish head, fuming about a shitty day, looking bad in aa of all stupid things to be upset about, and exhausted from the anguish in my head about what to do.

My brain says to just leave, go in the morning, leave to Denver and see my family, and stay there for the rest of my life. Recover, disappear. become a person of integrity with my family -- FINALLY.

some other voices are screaming at me. some are crying in pain. some are so cynical and despondent. the whole of me is just lost, once again.

the only thing i’m doing right is staying sober.

i’m only at 37 days. my sponsor is out of town on holiday for a full week. and this just all dropped on me, like it was perfectly timed for me to handle this while i’m feeling utterly alone.

i need to reach out to those in aa, but am embarrassed and ashamed.

i need to be honest with healthy, wise people and take their advice, and ACT on it.

i’m scared to waste another day enabling anyone. another day wasted on pain, on addiction, on fear, on giving in to my past bad habits, to giving in to my ex’s impulses just one more time out of a million.

if i just leave, and he dies..

there’s just a part of me that says, i completely failed at this life, and nothing i ever do going forward. even if it was to become successful in my career, secure in my maturity, build a foundation of relationships, become a mentor or a distant dream of being a good father to a child.. that it won’t matter. i let someone i love die. i gave up on them.i told them this time is finally the last, and they are on their own.

on my sobriety vision board i have created since started up the program again. i cut out a quote that says - “ Every time you enable someone else’s drug abuse or alcoholism by cleaning up their mess, you help them avoid the consequences that might just motivate them to change.”

i put it on my board for me, to remind myself no one should be responsible for my alcoholism but me, especially its consequences. now it is directly speaking to my situation with my ex right now.

if i scrounge and sell and barter for enough money to squeak by the $1000 payment, that gives him just another excuse to use again. he will say he is sorry, like we both have been hundreds of times over 12 1/2 years, and will mean it, and will try his best to stay on course for as long as possible.

but i guess i don’t believe him anymore. he’s never been to a meeting, he doesn’t respect our home, doesn’t clean up after himself, barely works enough to get by with the little we have between us to keep up life as it is. the work i do is miserable and humiliating, but i’ve told myself it is temporary till we get through this eviction contract.. which by the way will take until the end of September.

so -- thankfully-- by mentally digesting my day, and getting to journal my thoughts -- which is a true blessing right now. i’ve got it down to this.

when the ex returns --

Option 1: He goes to meetings now. I need proof of going to meetings and seeking outside help. Go with him for therapy intake at lgbt center. Make sure he goes. If he refuses this, then I am to leave this week from the apartment.

Option A: I will leave within the week and we’ll divide up the money, so he can have at least some money to try and secure housing, tell him about all the sober living places phone info.

Option B: I stay till July when I have a flight home to Denver scheduled anyway. We will use the time to pay towards what we can, and that gives him yet another month, his last month with me, to secure full time work, where he will be better equipped to take care of himself.

right now this all sounds like alcoholic nonsense to me. i feel alone, betrayed, embarrassed and almost too paralyzed to act.

I am just fucking exhausted for these high stake, high emotion, live or die moments. I’ve been living them everyday for almost a decade now. This week, is actually par for the course of every other week I’ve lived in and around alcohol and addiction. So in a way I’m not that shocked, just chronically tired that I’m still this stuck, this spiritually unevolved, and that I keep letting my life be lived in enveloping chaos because -- I tell myself I’m too weak to do anything else. especially to be responsible for the life of my ex. which is just ridiculous and such a bullshit prison i’ve built myself, and he’s gladly taken up as his home.

i want a life of peace and love.. right?

better go get it before i change my mind again and become a victim of my own idiocy once again.

i see all my trappings, and the freedom from them now.

i just have to make the sober choice now.

no excuses left for me.

except the ones trying to lull me into oblivion.