#He was sent on the Grammy red carpet with a push at his back and found himself surrounded by talking look-alikes

[osiiiris]

Terzo is always so awkward when he speaks publicly, and I love him for that. He moves and sounds like an alien who just landed on Earth and is trying to imitate human communication.

[honeytae]

I didn’t know you had a thing for bandanas.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIV! omg how do i even start...you’re not only one of my favorite people on this site but literally one of my favorite souls on this earth. you radiate warmth, wit, and yes...thottery :) so of course i had to write some grammys tae smut for you, right? of course i did. i love you so much, i hope you have a fabulous day and i’m sending you so so many hugs! happiest of birthdays to you @taetaespeaches, my sister wife, my twin flame, the best honey boy min enthusiast, my favorite wholesome thot! i love you i love you i love you <3

genre: smut (ofc)

warnings: GRAMMYS TAEHYUNG, suggestive texting mentions, tae’s a Tease™️, heavy petting and groping, grinding/dry humping, fingering, brief nipple play, there’s a handjob or two, unprotected sex (stay safe!), mild dirty talk and profanity, this is pretty much just filth i do apologize

word count: 2.7k

“Oh my god.” 

Huffing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter, staring back at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, lips parted in disbelief. You could not believe Taehyung, truly. He could be a tease, of course, but tonight he was on another level. 

The number of photos, that could only be described as none other than thirst traps, you’d been sent throughout the night was dizzying.

Spanning from the time he was getting ready for the Grammy’s red carpet to when he was backstage in that goddamn bandana for the Old Town Road performance, you’d already stashed them in a hidden folder, pulling them back up on your screen whenever your brain drifted to them again. Which, admittedly, had been a lot over the past few hours. 

Despite traveling overseas for the award ceremony together, you could not attend the show with him for obvious reasons. Truly, you didn’t mind. You weren’t about the glitz and glamour anyway; but fuck, he really wasn’t making it easy on you. 

In addition to the multiple professionally taken shots of your boyfriend at the show beginning to circulate, your texting conversation with him consisted of only attachment after attachment at this point, eyes practically bulging out of your head with each scroll of your thumb and hooking you in for more in his absence from your hotel room.

And that had been your only activity for the night until you decided to part from the television and get ready for bed. 

Groaning when your phone began buzzing repeatedly on the marble, you set the washcloth you’d been running over your face atop the surface, peeking at the screen and rolling your eyes when you saw your boyfriend’s name across the top of it.

Swiping your thumb across the flashing display, you lifted the phone to your ear, leaning your stomach against the counter as you mumbled a greeting. 

“Hey, why didn’t you respond?” He asked immediately, making you chuckle at his bluntness. 

“I’m still processing the information you’ve provided me with, Tae.” You responded, hearing the man’s deep chuckle reverberate through the device. 

“What information is that, love?” 

You could hear the amused teasing in his voice, smug grin prominent on his face as he awaited your reply. 

“The endless shirtless selfies, Taehyung. That is the information I’m referencing.” You said, thinking back on the several attachments you’d gotten notifications for over the course of the night, each time Taehyung was changing his outfit followed by a photo of him nearly naked in the mirror backstage.

“I thought they were tasteful.” He teased, giggling when you groaned on the other side of the call. 

“Biting your lip while gripping your bulge? Oh yeah, I’m sure Army’s would agree. Very tasteful.” You teased back, the man humming deeply.

“I don’t share those things with Army though, because those are for you only.” He smirked, you mirroring his hummed reply with a slight smile.

“When are you coming back?” You asked, tapping your fingernails against the surface beside the basin of the sink.

“We need to do one more interview, then we can leave.” He answered, a member of the staff speaking in the background followed by Hoseok’s laugh ringing out through the room.

You sighed in response, quiet enough that you thought he wouldn’t hear it. That thought was proven wrong almost immediately as he chuckled, the phone shuffling in his grip as the voices in the background turned to muffled noise. 

“What’s wrong, hm? Miss me?” He lowered his voice to presumably not be heard by others, his husky tone causing you to swallow a harsh gulp, thankful you weren’t video calling so you could play along with his little game.

“Mm, not particularly. I just wanted to play GTA with Kook.” You teased, smirking at Taehyung’s scoff, hairs raising on your arms as he chuckled into the phone and through your speaker.

“Alright. Well, you can expect Kook soon.” He said, tone smug as he heard the breath hitch in your throat. 

“Love you.” He murmured into the phone before abruptly hanging up, leaving you clutching your phone with a racing heart as you anticipated your boyfriends’ arrival. 

Trying to fight the now strengthened desire for your man, you blocked out the images from tonight along with the tone of his deep honeyed voice through the phone the best you could, reaching for your soap pump with a sigh. 

“Unbelievably rude.”

The silence of your room was awfully loud as you drew out the remaining steps of your skincare routine, hoping that if you took long enough then there would be less empty waiting time for your boyfriend. Your incredibly attractive boyfriend who you could not wait to get your hands on.

Your eyes continually darted to the timestamp on your lock screen, sighing each time as only a few minutes had passed since the last time you checked. 

If Taehyung could see how desperate you were acting right now, he’d surely have that god damn smirk on his face, one that would probably have your jeans unbutton themselves beyond your own control. 

Heaving another sigh, you distractedly stretched your neck from side to side, scrunching your face up in a grimace at the resulting snaps.

The closing of your eyes combined with the loud rush of water from the faucet seemed to drown out the sounds you’d eagerly been waiting for, nearly jumping out of your skin at the sudden addition of Taehyung next to you through the reflection of the mirror above the sink. 

His hair was still styled over that black and white patterned bandana, matching with the shirt that exposed just a touch of his bicep and a whole lot of his chest. 

Despite the immediate salivating of your tongue, you kept your shocked expression on your face, breathing out his name as you leaned a hand on the counter beside you. 

“Fuck, you scared me.” You placed your other hand over your heart, Taehyung grinning before reaching his arm out to pull you into his chest, pressing a kiss to each cheek before leaning back to smile at you.

“Sorry, love. Ended up leaving a little earlier.” He explained, smirking as your eyes glued to the bandana still tucked under the hair over his forehead. 

“Hm, I don’t mind.” You said, blowing a breath past your lips at the man’s appearance. 

“What?” Taehyung asked in reference to the action, his eyes blinking back at you as your hand traced over his long hair curled to perfection. 

“You look really fucking good right now. Not that I need to tell you that.” You mumbled distractedly, fixing the strip of fabric laying over the top of his forehead, Taehyung teasingly raising his eyebrows at you with a swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“No, please do.” He said smugly, causing you to snap out of your lust-struck daze as you tapped at his shoulder with a snort.

“What an ass.” 

“That’s what I’m saying.” He responded, smoothly trailing his fingers down a bit lower to rest on your butt and gently grope the globes, pulling you flush to his chest as his darkened eyes held contact with yours. 

“Can you ever get your head out of the gutter?” You tried to say, gasps escaping every few words as he began pushing your hips into his, effectively grinding his erection into you.

“Hm,” he pretended to ponder for a moment, “with you, no.” He said, placing his hand on your jaw to pull you into a long-awaited kiss, soft yet sensual in the way he smoothed his lips over yours. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Taehyung’s hand slipped beneath the hem of your underwear, letting his thumb glide over your clit as his tongue invaded your mouth. 

The action was needy, as was the manner his fingers gathered the slick leaking between your folds to push up to fill your hole. Taehyung swallowed your moans as his fingers played in your pussy, his deep chuckles vibrating against you while his fingers dutifully pumped into your entrance. 

“Like that, baby?” He mumbled against your bottom lip, your mouth hanging open as you whined incoherently in response. He groaned at the spasming of your walls around his appendages, leaning his forehead against yours as he backed you up against the counter to stabilize your increasingly wobbly legs.

“God, you drive me crazy.” He grunted, rutting his hips into your thigh as you moaned his name once again. 

Squealing as he suddenly withdrew his hands from your underwear and lifted you up on the counter by your hips, you watched with raised brows as the man ripped your pajama bottoms and panties down your legs, easily tossing them onto the tile floor and leaving your lower half bare on the cold marble counter beside the sink. 

“Eager, are we?” You murmured, Taehyung smirking as he shuffled out of his pants, his boxers soon to follow as you took the liberty of removing his t-shirt from your torso. 

“And you aren’t?” He posed, taking the shirt from your hands and tossing it somewhere below him in the mess of clothes piling up beside his feet. Tugging you by the thighs, he smiled as you helped him by scooting to the edge of the counter, wrapping your arms around his neck as his own hands landed on your lower back.

“I didn’t say that.” You said, fingers tousling the fluffy hair at the crown of his head as he hummed, playing around with the clasp of your bra until it released with a small sound, the cups immediately releasing your breasts as he pulled the straps down your arms. 

“I consider it a good thing that we can’t keep our hands off each other.” He shrugged, gently prying your arms from around his neck to successfully remove the bra dangling from your wrists, pressing kisses to the pulse points of your wrists before laying them down in your lap as his hands instead landed on your breasts. 

You sighed as his thumbs easily circled your nipples, his eyes glued to your chest as he watched the buds twist into peaks with a small grin. 

“So pretty.” He whispered, making you blush as you distractedly reached for his dress shirt, snapping the buttons out of the holes in a haste to see his bare chest. The task proved to be difficult with Taehyung’s increasing pressure on your nipples, a knowing smirk on the man’s face as your pleading eyes desperately darted to his own. 

“Tae, this shirt is really testing my patience.” You sighed, the man chuckling as he reluctantly removed his hands from your chest to assist you in unbuttoning the shirt that had nearly killed you while watching him perform a couple of hours ago. 

As soon as he undid the fifth or sixth button down, your hands were on the revealed skin, feeling him like a madwoman as he lovingly chuckled at your actions. Tossing the loose material to the floor, he finally stood before you completely naked, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you to his lips in yet another heated kiss.

Taehyung hummed deep in his throat as you reached down to pump his fully erect cock in your hand, taking the hint as you lined him up at your entrance with a push of your other hand on his shoulder. 

“Love you so much.” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed his hips forward to sink into you, each inch providing you with a delicious burn as you let your head rest on his shoulder, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head as he finally fit himself snugly inside of you.

Starting off slow, he only slightly moved his cock back before pushing it in again, causing you to mewl as he started teasingly circling his hips inside of you. The grinding was nice, sure, but it gave you no real relief. Which he was perfectly aware of.

“Fuck me harder, Tae.” You whimpered out as he continued sensually grinding into you, taking your bottom lip into your mouth as he stopped his actions completely.

“Hm? What was that, love?” He cockily raised his brows at you, grinning at the look of pure frustration on your face.

“Fuck me harder. Taehyung.” You practically spat out, the man tutting at your tone.

“Where are your manners, love?” 

“Tae,” you whined, “please just fuck me.” You begged, Taehyung simpering as he picked up your calves, resting your legs in the crooks of his elbows to push your knees to your chest and effectively spread you wider for him. 

Picking up the pace of his thrusts, he groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around his cock, praising you with a moan of your name as he tilted his head up toward the ceiling. 

With you leaning forward to kiss his jaw, Taehyung broke eye contact with the vent in the ceiling, instead focusing on you as he continued rolling his hips into yours. His eyes held yours with intense force, only faltering with a flutter of his eyelids when your walls began spasming around him.

“Shit, I love your pussy, baby.” He breathed, placing his lips back on yours when you responded with a wanton moan, placing his hands on your hips to glide you along his length in addition to the force he pounded into you with.

You whimpered at the sudden speed in which his hips slapped into yours along with the depths he managed to hit with the angle, clutching onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself as he groaned your name.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You cried as he sped up the pace of his hips, gradually working himself up into an almost inhumane speed as he quite literally attempted to split you open with his cock. His grunts punctuated each thrust, hot breaths fanning out onto your neck as he buried his face in your skin.  

“T-tae.” You stuttered as the tip of his cock repeatedly tapped at your cervix, Taehyung responding with a deep moan as he glanced down between your bodies, eyes glued to where you met over and over again as your walls tightened the hardest they had yet around him.

“Cum, baby.” He panted, lifting his eyes to watch your own squeeze shut with a gasp, the man himself falling over the edge at the sight. Nothing could ever get him off like watching you orgasm.

As he hastily pulled out of you, you whined at the sudden emptiness in your core, leaning your head back against the mirror in exhaustion as your droopy eyes watched him jerk his cock using your slick, only a few moments passing before translucent white liquid shot out from his tip and onto your stomach. 

Sitting up from the mirror, you fell into Taehyung’s arms, the man chuckling a bit as he rubbed his palm over your spine. 

“I love you.” He murmured, breaths finally evening out as he held you in his arms, your own loosely wrapped around his waist with your fingers caressing the skin of his hip.

“I love you too,” you leaned back to look at him, forehead pressing to his as you gave him a lazy smile, “and I’m so proud of you. You were amazing tonight.” You said, swiping his long bangs out of his eyes as he shyly grinned at you, his flustered reaction at your words causing you to giggle fondly. 

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” He admitted, misty eyes making you cup his cheeks as you pressed your lips to the plush skin on either side of his nose. 

“Of course you could have. You’re amazing Tae, don’t underestimate that.” You soothed, the man’s lips quirking up slightly as he tipped his chin to place his lips on yours. 

“Okay.” He whispered against your bottom lip, chuckling breathily when you began pressing feather-light kisses to his lips, exaggerating them with loud “muah”s making Taehyung’s eyes shut as he laughed. 

“You good?” You asked, his irises sparkling back at you as he nodded in confirmation.

“I’m great.” He said, reaching up to push his hair back off his forehead, the copious amounts of gel his stylists had put in his hair throughout the night defying the action and making it fall back onto the skin anyway.

“Good. Now clean your cum off my stomach, I wanna go to bed.”

[jjchantill]

Grammys: Harry

“Love, we’re going to be late,” he calls out.

“I know, I’m right here,” you say.

You’re standing on the bottom of the stairs when Harry turns around. His jaw almost hits the floor, you look absolutely stunning. Your dress is an A-line, princess floor length, teal ombre gown with shoulder cutouts that looks as though it was made for you.

“Haz, you’re going to get drool all over the floor if you don’t close your mouth,” you laugh.

He quickly closes his mouth before swallowing, “love, you look…”

He grabs your hand and slowly spins you around, “you’re stunning. Absolutely stunning, like an angel sent from heaven.”

You blush, “I don’t know about that.”

“I do and I am the luckiest guy in the world tonight. All eyes are going to be on you, love and they should be because you…wow,” he says.

“You’ll be even luckier when you win,” you say, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“If I win, the other artists are just as good if not better.”

“If you say so,” you say.

He shakes his head at you before leading you out the door and into the waiting car.

Later…

               Harry was right when he said all eyes were going to be on you. The second the two of you stepped out onto the red carpet, the cameras didn’t stop. All the photographers wanted a picture of you in your dress, even the other musicians wanted to see you. By the time you and Harry are seated, you’re exhausted just from taking pictures and interacting with other people. However, that exhaustion quickly leaves when Harry’s category comes up.

“This is it,” you whisper to Harry.

He gives you a small smile before grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. You both watch as Rachelle Erratchu announces the nominees and then says…

“and the Grammy goes to Watermelon Sugar, Harry Styles!”

Harry sits there for a minute in disbelief as everyone jumps up and claps before you squeeze his hand.

“Haz, you won!”

He gets up and immediately pulls you into a hug before pressing a kiss to your lips and making his way to the stage.

You clap and wipe the tears from your eyes as Harry takes the stage. He picks up the gramophone before setting it back down and stepping in front of the mike.

“Wow,” he takes a deep breath.

“To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much. This was the first song we wrote after my first album came out during a day off in Nashville, and I just want to say thank you to Tom, Tyler, Mitch, Rob Stringer, and everyone at Columbia. My manager, Jeffery, who has always nudged me to be better and never pushed me. I’m very grateful to be here and I feel very honored to be among all of you, so thank you so much. Finally, to the love of my life, my heart, my soul, my all…Lydia. Thank you for being my rock and my muse. This wouldn’t have been possible without your love and support. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side every day. Thank you for showing me what true love is. Thank you all for your love and support!”

He walks off stage and a few second later, someone shows up to show you backstage as well. The second you spot Harry, you run into his arms. He wraps his arms around you.

“You did it, Haz. You won.”

He pulls away from you and presses a kiss to your lips.

“We did it, love. We won; this award would mean nothing without you.”

You laugh, “what are you talking about, Harry? You did all the work, they’re your songs.”

“They might be my songs, love but they’re all about you. You’re my muse, my inspiration.”

“Haz…”

He presses a kiss to your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you to. Now, lets go home and find a good place to put your award.”

He laughs, “I’m right behind you, love.”

[bubbashawn]

Met Gala | vanity fair part ii

author: This is so overdue. Damn, I’m sorry.

synopsis: After meeting Shawn at Vanity Fair Oscar Party, a relationship grows and the Met Gala brings all the memories back.

warnings: 3k of fluffy “I love you” confessions and a tad of anxiety. It’s part 2 of vanity fair (I linked it here) and I highly recommend you read that again before this because I make references back. I hope you like it :)

“Shawn, I don’t know about this.”

The boy you were talking to was in the bathroom, the water from the shower turning off before he walked into your shared hotel room at The Langham, New York.

It had been almost three months since you met your boyfriend at the Vanity Fair Oscar Party. He had gotten you through that night and just about every other red carpet since during award season. But this was different.

This was the Met Gala. It wasn’t even a red carpet. It was pink.

He’d been freaking out since the morning he woke up in his hotel with your smiling face inches from his own. The idea of taking anyone other than you to the Met was out of the question once he’d taken you to breakfast that morning and everyday for the rest of the week before flying back to Toronto.

The moment he walked into his meeting back home he pulled Andrew, his manager, to the side.

“Can you reach out to the design team at Tommy Hilfiger?”

“Yes,” Andrew looked at him weirdly, “what for?”

“I’m not taking Hailey.”

“Shawn, wait since when?”

“Well, actually, just last week.”

The man was looking at the Canadian singer like he had grown a second head.

“Can, um can I know why?”

“I want to take this girl I’ve been seeing and I’m not putting up with the publicity of dating Hailey to cover up for her and Justin. Last thing I need is for dating rumors to fly around.”

“Shawn, she’s a Met Gala pro at this point. Plus the publicity would look good and everyone expects you to go together.”

“Andrew,” he was basically begging, “I really, really like her. I’ve been getting breakfast with her in New York, that’s where I’ve been sneaking off too. It’s different than when I’m with Hailey. And I don’t want to risk something real for a girl who I never had in the first place.”

“Hailey knows yet?”

“I was gonna tell her after I got an ‘okay’ from you. I wouldn’t do that, I’m not stupid.”

“Better tell her then.”

Shawn’s grin stretched across his cheeks running out of the conference room and sliding into the elevator.

“Shawn! We have a meeting!”

“Yeah well I’ve got my girl to call!”

“Hailey first! And are you even together?”

The elevator doors shut and he was calling you moments later.

Hailey wasn’t shocked to hear that Shawn wouldn’t join her on the red carpet in May. She’d seen the way his arm was resting on your waist and he’d held you close whispering words only the two of you knew. The videos of your interactions and his awe from that night was warning enough.

She couldn’t blame him.

They were friends at best and she’d selfishly asked her to cover up her relationship with Justin Bieber while they tried to mend their love story in private. Now Shawn had the opportunity to fall in love for real, he wouldn’t risk it. He apologized profusely but it’s not like Hailey could be mad, he was a far too kind gentleman.

So that’s how you found yourself being prodded at with needles as they hemmed an all too perfect gown to your body. Shawn eyed you in the mirror as the bathroom door opened. He looked angelic even though your whole ensemble was supposed to make you look like an angel. Heavenly Bodies and all.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

You couldn’t focus on his compliment, not when your heart was pounding like it was.

“I’m being serious,” your eyes wandering along the perfect chest of your boyfriend, “this is like the biggest red carpet in your career until you get nominated for a Grammy, which you will by the way, and I could barely handle the People’s Choice Awards so to even think I coul-”

“Remember the night we met?”

He looked down at you, looking into your eyes that popped with the natural smokey eye enhancing the highlights in your irises.

“When I nearly had a freak out? Yeah, thank you for reminding me.”

“Hey, no. You didn’t freak out and you looked absolutely stunning the moment I saw you step out of your car. You handled that with ease, eh? And I’m going to be there the whole time. I’m going to be with you for as long as you need me. As long as you’ll have me.”

“You won’t leave?”

“Not for a second.”

“Y’know, you were staring at me when I was at that first red carpet. Even before we met.”

He hummed not denying it.

“There’s a video of you looking back at me. Your fans have been trying to figure out where you were looking for months.”

“Looking at you, Baby. Eyes are always on you,” you kissed his lips liking the tingles his touch left you with, “I’ve got to change and then it’s you and I.”

He sent you one last smile and a kiss to your cartilage piercing he was obsessed with before heading to his stylist.

Shawn and you were heading into the black Bentley moments later. You greeted Jake, Shawn’s security guard, before slipping into the leather seats of the car your lanky boyfriend squished in after you.

The seven minute drive along fifth avenue was grueling, your pounding heart shutting Shawn’s soothing words of comfort out. His hand gripping yours once he realized he wasn’t getting into your panicked head.

Now stopped outside of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the first Monday of May it all crashed on you. The hours of preparation didn’t seem nearly enough as Jake was stepping closer to Shawn's door.

The flashes were so bright each photographer wanted to get the headlining image as Shawn’s body left your grasp before leaning down to your eye level. His hand dipped your cheek and his thumb stroked your defining features; your high cheekbones, the scar just below your bottom lip, and the mole below your eyebrow.

“Baby?” he held your gaze, “your move.”

Your heel hit the pavement just outside the car before your brain processed the movement, Shawn’s hand holding your body flush to his whispering sweet nothings. You could feel your pulse pushing into your chest and down your fingers making your limbs tingle much like his touch on your bare back.

You would think you’d learn to not wear barebacked gowns because you couldn’t focus with Shawn’s hold on your skin but the feeling of his calloused fingers was addicting making you request the design every time.

Your boyfriend guided you down the carpet helping you pose with an ease and beauty you couldn’t have done alone. He made sure no one overwhelmed you during interviews by letting you hide in his side as he spoke for you both yet keeping you the center of the conversation. He was absolutely perfect.

“Inside we go. The worst is over, honey.”

Shawn was right. The gala itself was incredible, full of surprises and you felt comfortable with a reassuring arm rubbing your sides. The hours of chatter flew by and soon enough you were trying to change into a tight minidress for the after party.

Your arms were tangled in fabric when your boyfriend finally stepped in to help. His eyes unabashedly flitting over the smooth curves of your body. Hands gripping onto the material of your gown you’d finally changed out of. He watched the silky smooth skin of your shoulders, waist and thighs disappear under your dress.

“Christ, you’re so pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” his palms were prodding and massaging under your dress, “you’re absolutely perfect. Don’t know what you're doing with me.”

“I’d be hiding away in California if I wasn’t with you. I have to say this is much better.”

He smiled down at you, his pillow soft lips wet as his tongue slipped out of his mouth. He knew what he was doing and he knew it drove you crazy. Within the privacy of Up & Down, a night club thirteen minutes from the Met where Rihanna was hosting her party, Shawn didn’t waste a second before tilting your chin so his lips could press into yours.

Your hands found his chest mentally thanking his stylist, Tiffany, for convincing him to wear the sheer button down under his maroon suit jacket he’d left in the car. You ignored the stares and the shouts of approval from the celebrities dancing in the club and just enjoyed the weight of his arm resting on your chest. His hand still on your face, tracing the scar below your lip.

He broke away while the shiteating grins bloomed over both your flushed faces. Shawn grabbed your petite hand in his large tatted one before slipping through the crowd. You tried to focus on his sculpted back as your eyes scanned the crowd around you, celebrities pushed into your sides.

“Baby,” he came to a halt pulling you in front of him, chin rested against the crown of your skull, “I’m going to go say hi to a few people,” his hand left your waist to gesture at a couple familiar faces, “wanna come?”

You just nodded your head as Shawn urged you forward, the graze of his chest never leaving your back. He’d seen a couple gazes lingering on your perfect figure and jealousy was nagging the back of his brain but he also couldn’t blame them.

You looked absolutely stunning.

Your boyfriend introduced you to a few of the A-listers in the group, celebrities names you had admired rolled off his tongue like it was nothing. You guess it kind of was for him.

Soon enough you found a couple of models who were happy to chat back and forth with you complimenting your dress and airbrushed skin, you were happy to throw the same kindness back towards them.

You were so busy giggling with your new found friends you barely missed Shawn’s presence as he wandered feet away to chat with the girl’s dates and a few of his other friends until his breath was tickling the tip of your ear, next to the golden hoop looped into the skin.

“I’m grabbing a drink with a few of the guys, want anything?”

“Remember that drink you got me a while ago? The Canadian manhattan?”

He hummed smiling, remembering the night.

You had surprised him by flying out to Toronto from your place in Los Angeles completely on a whim. It had been less than two weeks since the Oscars but you had missed seeing him up close. He took you out that night and not a week later right before you left he’d asked you out.

“Baby,” his voice was so nervous as you stood on his balcony the city lights illuminating your features, “I know it's late for me to say this and you’re leaving tomorrow, but I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfriend?”

Shawn smiled and nodded but he was lost in his head, eyes closed with a furrow in his brow.

“You can say no. Seriously, I won’t even be mad. I just want to take you out to breakfast tomorrow and be able to say ‘my girlfriend will have a mocha with three shots of vanilla’ because I can.”

“Bubba, yes. I’m all yours, Shawn, all yours. You can order my coffee and everything.”

He was smiling so much, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Oh, and Bub,” He looked down at you so fast you were worried he’d get whiplash, “your move.”

Shawn kissed you that night but it was different. He let his intuition disappear from his mind and just kissed you. He kissed you like he loved you.

“The Crown Royal one?”

He knew exactly which drink it was.

“Yes please.”

“Okay, I love you.”

Shawn was about halfway to the bar when he stopped short in his tracks. He hadn’t said those words yet.

Those three words.

Sure, he had felt it. He’d felt it since you started playing with the lapels of his suit on the red carpet that first night, big doe eyes staring up at him. He often thought about how he’d tell you and none of those ideas included a slipped out whisper at a party. But he had said then.

Those three words.

He had said them. Shawn fucking Mendes just told you he loved you so casually and it left you frozen in time. You absolutely adored the boy, you had since before you’d met him. You remember squinting at your phone in your dorm with a picture pulled up on instagram. Your feelings only grew once you’d met him and you were sure you loved him. You had felt the pull since the first morning at his hotel in California when he was sound asleep and your eyes scanned his face to memorize it until he woke up. You loved him and he had said those three words you were too scared to.

The girls you had met earlier were, obliviously, still talking but you were too far in a daze, in a shock really, to even begin processing their conversation.

Thankfully you didn’t have to.

Shawn was muttering short apologies to the models all while pulling you along behind him. His eyes were determined as he guided you threw the swarm of sweaty bodies in far too expensive clothes. He smiled greetings and farewells while keeping your figure pressed to his, your head resting between his shoulder blades like they had months ago. Your boyfriend continued his stride even after you exited Up & Down and entered the bustling streets of New York City.

“Bubba, where are we going?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“Wha-why?”

“I want to be alone with you.”

Before you could say another word, Shawn was dialing a call. Your eyes caught his screen, the contact reading ‘Jake’.

“Hey man, could you send someone to pick us up?”

There was murmuring on the line.

“You’re here? Bless Andrew”

Shawn hung up before pulling you along the alley before the familiar black vehicle was in sight. He opened the door and stepped to the side pressing a kiss to your forehead as you slid into the leather interior.

“Thanks. Sorry for the confusion.”

“No problem at all. Are you heading to the Versace after party?”

“No, um actually back to the hotel.”

“Of course.”

The ride was silent. Shawn was gazing out the window until his eyes caught your stare. His hands found the curve of your waist and gently pulled you into his chest, his pout finding your forehead again. You didn’t question his quiet affection instead basking in his warmth and his arms as they wrapped around you.

It remained peacefully silent until your boyfriend was thanking Jake and offering his grasp to help you out of the car. You smiled at the older man before taking Shawn’s hand and walking into the glass entryway of your hotel.

You both offered soft, tired smiles to the lady in the lobby before slipping into the glass elevator. Your finger pressed the fifty-ninth floor and waited for the elevator to climb the tall building to the top floor.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happening?”

“Wait,” he pulled you into his arms feeling his eyes closed against your shoulder, “let’s go to bed and then we’ll talk, Baby, I promise.”

You nodded into his warm chest not bothering to argue with the sleepy boy slumped against you. Kissing his curls that were finally growing out after he cut them too short. You remember mourning the soft curls you always liked to finger through.

You two shuffled softly into the penthouse hotel room and began your sweet intimate routine you had familiarized yourself with since the first night. Shawn lifted you up onto the bathroom counter and washed your face until every touch of makeup was off your skin. He pulled his worn shirt, preferably his favorite Tom Ford one, from his suitcase and turned back to you.

Except it was different this time.

He could see the loving emotions in your eyes. The gaze he had dreamed of seeing after that night in Los Angeles when you chose to stay with him. He was so focused on admiring your features he nearly forgot you were waiting for him.

“Bubba?”

He smiled at the pet name before pulling his shirt over your goosebump covered body. Shawn slid under the silk sheets and made grabby motions with his hands until you were curling your figure into his bare chest.

Your fingers were sliding up and down his trained chest tracing shapes against the soft chest hair hoping he’d relax against your touch and say what’s on his mind.

“I love you.”

Your head shot up to look into his honey gaze.

“I’ve loved you for so long. I was so nervous, Baby, nervous to ever say anything because I didn’t want to mess up my chance with you. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. Aaliyah and my mom were giving me a bunch of tips but I wanted it to be perfect so I kept quiet. And then I just blurted it out like an idiot. I ruined it.”

“Shawn,” he stared into your eyes, “Bubba, I love you too. And you didn’t ruin it. I don’t care how you tell me as long as you do.”

“I love you so much I forget how to breathe.”

You giggled against him and left sweet kisses to his collarbone.

“M’sorry for pulling you away so quickly earlier, I just wanted to be with you. Wanted this moment to be special.”

“It is.”

Shawn pressed his lips to your shoulder where his shirt didn’t cover.

“I love you, Baby, so so much.”

“I love you too,” you slid your fingers against the scar on his cheek.

He slowly pulled his head from the crevice in your shoulder and kissed your cartilage again. He had an obsession with the piercing.

“Baby,” he smiled, “it’s still your turn.”

You quickly pressed your body against his own not hesitating to find his soft pout and press your lips to his.

“I think,” Shawn kissed you again interrupting your voice, “it’s your turn now.”

permanent taglist: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction || Bittersweet Song [Request]

A/N: Me being a big dumb dumb didn’t know what Bittersweet was so I had to redo everything lmaooooo hope this is okay. And for anyone like me [Bittersweet - Sweet with a bitter aftertaste] 

Seokjin: - Send My Love - Adele

You were walking down the red carpet of the Grammy's, you were up for an award for your new song and you knew that the person that the song was about was going to be there which made you nervous. Every two seconds you were looking over your shoulder for him but you hadn't seen him yet,

"So, Y/n. You're up for an award for your song Send My Love, do you want to give us an exclusive on who the song is about?" You laughed at the interviewer and shook your head at him, something you would never do was tell anyone about who it was about. Your relationship with him was hidden for years because of both of your famous lifestyle.

"I can't." You giggled shaking your head at the camera,

"In the song, you mention that you aren't kids anymore...Does this mean you were together since you were young?" You ignored his question like you were told by management and you moved onto the next interviewer.

Jin stared at you the whole night, he'd heard the song. Everyone had heard the song it was all over the internet with theories about who it was about, it even had him invested although he knew the song was about him and you.

"Maybe you can just give us the initials of his name?" Another interviewer said you'd had enough of the same question over and over again and turned around to leave bumping straight into Jin. His hands held onto your arms to stop you from falling over and you both locked eyes, neither of you moving from the position. You felt your breathing stop as he stared down into your eyes and he felt his heart skip a beat as he held you in his arms again.

"Y/n, you have to be more careful." Your manager yelled but neither you or Jin were paying attention to anything happening around you, all either of you cared about was staying in that position long enough to take a final look at one another.

"We have to go." Your manager said taking your hand and walking you into the building to find out where you would be sitting for the evening.

(X)

"Jin is the owner of Y/n's heart! Send my love is about Jin?" You read through the articles the next morning, someone had taken the photos of you and Jin from the night before and placed them all over the articles. People drawing their own conclusions on the way you stared at each other, not just on the carpet but throughout the show. He was stealing glances from the row in front of you whenever you weren't looking and people put the clips of you singing on stage next to a video of Jin reacting with his head down looking at the ground.

"Why did you have to bump into him? This could have blown over easily." You stared at your manager,

"Oh, so this is somehow my fault?" You asked throwing your phone down onto the table and throwing your head back, you just wanted to go back to bed but you had an interview later that day and that was all the questions were going to be about now.

"Fuck." You cried out wanting nothing more than to ignore the world for the day but knowing you couldn't.

Yoongi: When I was Your Man - Cover by Madilyn Bailey

Your cover of the song was everywhere that Yoongi went, he couldn't go anywhere without hearing it. It was on in the car, in the studio and even in the coffee shop that he went to every lunch. Every radio stationed seemed it was a good idea to play the song that ended him, made him crumble up whenever he heard your voice singing the words that sounded as though they should have been loving but weren't.

"Should have gave me all your hours when you had the chance." He heard your voice again and turned off the radio in the car earning looks from Namjoon, everyone knew what happened between you both but no one talked about it. Yoongi didn't want to talk about it, it haunted every time he thought about you for even a second.

"She's giving an interview online later," Jungkook told him, they'd been trying to tell him all day and Jungkook was the only one brave enough to just bring it up as a casual conversation between friends, Yoongi stared at him and then to his phone. You were still his lock screen and home screen, you were his everything still but you weren't together. You weren't going to be together anymore,

(X)

You sat at the piano finishing the last chords of the song as you sang into the microphone, looking up to make eye contact with the camera, everything you'd been taught to do by your managers.

"But I just want you to know, He buys me flowers. He holds my hand...Give's me all his hours, cos he had the chance." A tear rolled down your cheek as you broke into the larger notes, thoughts of nothing but Yoongi running around your mind.

"Takes me to all the parties cause he remembers how much I love to dance, does all the things you should've done when you were my man." The studio began clapping and you sent them a fake smile, getting up from the piano and going over to the sofa to sit with the interviewer for questions.

"We all love your cover of Bruno Mars' song, even Mr Bruno Mars himself." The interviewer said clapping his hand and then leaning forward on his legs.

"But we have to know...You sing with such passion and love in that song, who are you thinking about when you sing?" Yoongi stared at you through the phone, you were sitting nervously on the sofa. Twirling the end of your hoodie string around your finger so much it looked as though it was going to fall off, something you did a lot whenever he made you nervous.

"It's just a cover, I figured there should be a female version." You laughed but no one believed you, no one would ever believe you. Not the way you played it with so much emotion in your voice,

"Okay well, who taught you how to play the piano?" The interviewer asked, going into normal questions now that you'd finished singing. You smiled at him and then looked at the floor,

"A close friend of mine actually, he was-is one of my best friends." You told the interviewer with a smile, it was true. You and Yoongi were best friends, you started dating and because he had no time for you, you both took a step back. Deciding it was easier to be without each other in that part of your life but finding it hard to be around one another anymore so you broke apart.

"I guess we don't get a name?" You shook your head and the interview was coming to an end, Yoongi stared at you through the screen and debated calling you but he knew deep down it wasn't a good idea. Neither of you could be around each other without feeling hurt by the other, some things just weren't meant to be.

Hoseok: Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Losing Hoseok was one of the worst things you'd ever had to go through...Besides how you broke up. It was one of the messiest breakups you'd ever heard of you, insults were flying to and from one another, screaming at each other as you came to the final fight. Both of you had regrets about the breakup but there was no going back to each other, not after everything you said and everything he said to you. There was no trust in the relationship and you weren't going to go back to him just because you loved him. Hoseok stared at the screen, a notification popped up on his phone alerting that there was a new music video from your company, meaning you'd released a new song and he wasn't looking forward to it. The way you ended things he was expecting to see a diss track with major productions pulled out but instead it was a video of you sitting alone in a studio,

"The smell of your skin lingers on me now, you're probably on your flight back to your home town." You started off softly and he relaxed a little staring as you sang into the microphone in your hand, he watched as your brows frowned together when you were building up to higher and longer notes.

"I hope you know, I hope you know. That this has nothing to do with you. It's personal, myself and I. We've got some straightening up to do." You locked eyes with the camera and he bit down on his lip,

"It's time to be a big girl now, and big girls don't cry." You went back into the softer singing and staring at the floor.

"Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?" You were singing but Hobi felt as though you were really speaking to him through the song and he felt his heart crush as you stood up walking to the camera and touching it as if it was someone's cheek,

"That this has nothing to do with you, it's personal, myself and I. We've got some straightening out to do. and I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket but I've got to get a move on with my life." You were singing into the camera as if he was standing right in front of you and you let a couple of tears go,

"Its time to be a big girl now, and big girls don't cry." You whispered, quickly wiping your face and ending the video. Your managers wanted raw footage and that's what they got, they were milking the breakup out of you. Hobi locked his phone and stared at the photo of you he had on his studio desk, he was happy it wasn't some kind of diss track on him but he was heartbroken that you'd released a song about him like that though he should have seen it coming. He used his personal experiences in lyrics too and it was how he taught you to write.

"Never again." You told your manager through tears, pushing the microphone into his chest and walking out of the studio. Promising yourself you would never sing that song again for as long as you lived.

Namjoon: - Why Try - Ariana Grande

Namjoon was nervous about going to the award ceremony, he knew you were debuting a new song at the opening show and since you'd only broken up last month he assumed it was going to be a diss track on him.

"You okay? You look sick." Jimin said to his leader as they sat in the front row of the audience and looked at the stage, you weren't even there yet and his heart was skipping beats.

"He's worried about seeing Y/n," Jin told Jimin who was now sitting beside Namjoon and trying to comfort him but it was too late, the lights dimmed and a spotlight was on the middle of the stage where you were sitting. Namjoon stared in awe for a couple of seconds, you were sat on a stool, wearing one of his old FG hoodies, wearing thick knitted tights, his mouth hung open as the music started softly, you looked up into the crowd and locked eyes with him instantly, your heart was in your throat and you looked away to make eye contact with the cameras,

"I've been living with devils and angels, angels, angels." You started and Namjoon was transfixed on you, he didn't look away the whole time. While other performers would come out and do a whole number you were sitting there as if you were just sat in his studio singing to him and that's how it felt to him. It felt as though you were back in his studio on a late-night, both of you singing or rapping to one another lovingly.

As the music began to pick up he still watched you, studying how you closed your eyes tightly trying not to cry as you poured every emotion into the song.

"I'm in love with the pain, I never wanna live without it!" He felt his stomach drop,

"You drive me insane, Now we're screaming just to see who's louder!" He stared down at the floor, tears falling down his cheeks as he thought about the last couple weeks of your relationship. It was full of nothing but fights, small bickering back and forth until he shouted and you shouted back.

"Through it all, you could still my heart skip, heart skip, oh yeah." You were standing up now, taking the microphone off the stand as you tried to put on the best performance through the tears.

"Even when you're yelling at me I still think you're beautiful. Through it all, you could still my heart skip." You were standing at the front of the stage singing into the camera when you stared down at Namjoon to hold eye contact, you were shaking and crying. Your microphone was shaking badly and he stared up at you,

"I'm loving the pain. I never wanna live without it. So why do I try? You drive me insane!" You were belting out the last notes,

"Now we're screaming just to see who's louder." The music ended and the venue was silent, the only thing that could be heard was your broken sobs as you walked off the stage with the microphone clinging to your hand. The crowd started clapping and Namjoon stared at the space where you'd been standing, it wasn't a diss at him it was something that you'd clearly put a lot of work into and he couldn't even knock you for it. He'd taught you to write about everything you were feeling and that was it, that was everything you'd felt over the last month of being apart from him. Your manager was waiting with open arms as you reached her backstage, you dropped into her arms and cried to her about him being there. Something you did the moment the relationship ended with him, she'd been there through everything, every fight, every small breakup that wasn't a real breakup right until the big one. The big breakup to end all breakups.

"You did great, it's okay." She assured you, rubbing your arms as you moved out of the way so the next act could go onto perform.

Jimin: Secret Love Song Part II - Little Mix

Your group was on the stage waiting for you and you walked out, staring at the fans and smiling. It was the goodbye song for the end of the show and you should have been used to singing it by then but you weren't. Every lyric brought back memories of your relationship with Jimin, every word bringing their own flashback to your love for him.

"When you hold me in the street and you kiss me on the dance floor. I wish that I could be like that. Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours." You began singing and the arena fell silent as they watched you singing into the microphone. No one knew about your relationship with Jimin, it was all kept quiet because of the press. No one wanted to know Jimin was dating, it would ruin his reputation.

"Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls, it'll never be enough. It's obvious you're meant for me, every piece of you it just fits perfectly." You trailed off and your band member took over for her verse, you looked over at the stage manager who was looking out into the crowd nervously, you followed her gaze and there was Jimin on the first row with the rest of his band members and you felt your world coming to a crashing halt. You hadn't seen him since the breakup, you were forced to break up because of people getting to close to knowing about you, you stared at him for a couple of seconds...or what you thought was a couple of seconds but your final verse was coming up. You raised the microphone to your mouth shakily and he maintained eye contact with you the entire time.

"Oh, why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that?

'Cause I'm yours." You were staring back at him now, you didn't care about anyone else in the room, you didn't care if the relationship that was now over was outted to the world, all you cared about was Jimin knowing how you truly felt.  "Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops, I wish that it could be like that Why can't we be like that? 'Cause I'm yours... Why can't we be like that? Wish we could be like that" You broke down on the last lyric and your band members all crushed you in a group hug, making you kneel down on the ground as you sobbed into their shoulders, your fans all screaming at you that it was okay but you were gone. The curtains dropped and you got up from the floor, sprinting in the direction of your changing room and not wanting to talk to anyone about what had happened, especially your manager who was screaming out your name for answers about what happened on the stage.

Taehyung: My Happy Ending - Avril Lavine

"Will you just turn it off?" Taehyung asked Jungkook as he walked into the dorms, Jungkook had been playing the radio when your song came on over the radio and Tae wanted to throw the radio out of the window. 

"He was everything, everything that I wanted. We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it," He heard your voice and he stared at the floor thinking back to the breakup that you both went through. He knew he was too harsh on you but it was the only way he could end the things between you. 

"And all of the memories, so close to me just fade away

All this time you were pretending

So much for my happy ending." He groaned turning the radio off himself and then leaving the apartment, 

(X)

"Tae what are you talking about? We just had a really nice dinner." You said as you entered your apartment, expecting Taehyung to stay over for the night but he was starting to be dry with you. Giving you dry replies, not wanting to hold your hand or be near you, 

"We're over okay! Look I don't know why I even got involved with you in the first place! I never loved you, all of this is fake." You stared at him, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he stared at you as if what he'd just said didn't bring your world down around you, as if you really didn't mean anything to him. 

"You don't mean that." You whispered your voice cracking in the middle as you broke down into tears. 

"I do. I don't like you, the company made me date you. You think I'd ever want to date someone like you?" You swallowed the lump in your throat and he walked out of the door never to be seen again. 

(X)

You stared out of the hotel window at the rain, you sat down on the window seat and opened the window up. Wanting to feel the fresh cold air but the window as slammed shut again, you were supposed to be listening to your manager telling you about the performance you had later but all you could think about was Taehyung. You thought the breakup song would have helped you moved on but it had the opposite effect, it just brought everything tumbling back to you from that night and you cried whenever you sang it. 

"You have to get over him, he's just a dumb boy who didn't know how good he had it." You nodded and looked at the plans for later that night.

Jungkook: Miss Moving On - fifth Harmony

When you agreed to perform in front of people you didn't expect that within those people would be Jeon Jungkook. Your ex-boyfriend who you'd had a nasty breakup with, only a few months previous to this show. You'd performed in front of him loads of times but none of those songs were about him, none of them were about being hurt by him and finally finding yourself again.

"I'm breaking down, gonna start from scratch. Shake it off like an Etch-A-Sketch." You started and Jungkook looked up from his phone looking up to where you were standing on the stage and you weren't looking at him. He missed the way you would stare at him but he knew he couldn't go back to that, he knew he'd hurt you too much to go back to how things used to be together.

"I'm not the way that I used to be...I took the record off repeat. You killed, but I survived and now I'm coming alive." You finished at your friend took over on her verse and you glanced to where you knew Jungkook was standing and you quickly looked away at your friend who nodded at you. You'd been dreading this performance all week because you knew he was going, he'd tweeted out that he was going to see you all because before the breakup he was a giant fan of your work.

"I broke the glass that surrounded me, I ain't the way you remember me. I was such a good girl, so fragile but no more." Jungkook felt his eyes welling up as you sang directly to him, you weren't looking in his direction but he knew what this was about and he understood why you were like this.

It was coming to the final verse and you took centre stage, taking in a deep breath trying not to be blinded by the spotlight that was now on you.

"Everything is changing and I never wanna go back to the way it was. I'm finding who I am and who I am from here on out is gonna be enough...It's gonna be enough." You took a step back and the girls took over on their final lines, once the curtain dropped you walked off stage, leaning against a speaker and smiled at your friends who were trying to see if you were okay.

Jungkook didn't know what to expect when he went, he didn't think you would come crawling back to him but he figured you would at least come and talk to him after the show but when he went backstage to meet you, your band members told him you'd already left the stadium and were going home.

"Is she okay?" He asked but your friends weren't about to give him information on you,

"She's perfect." They lied, knowing that every night you either cried yourself to sleep or would regularly sleep in his t-shirt to try and make it hurt less to be without him and you didn't know that Jungkook slept with one of your shirts every night, but it was starting to lose your smell.

[tell-me-when-ur-ready]

Missing the Grammys

author’s note (please read!): This fic means a lot to me because it embodies a struggle I feel on a daily basis (especially lately but we won’t go into that lol). I have an invisible disability—multiple chronic illnesses with many symptoms that affect my daily life in a big way.

Last February, the Grammys were the day before my 20th birthday. I was traveling with friends but felt so awful I had to cancel our plans. While I was lying in a strange bed feeling miserable (after barely feeling well enough to at least stay up and watch the Grammys with my friend), this scenario came about in my head, so I wrote it.

Posting this as a separate oneshot now while I work on the fanfic series with a chronically ill OC that’s coming soon. I think this is a hugely underrepresented area in fanfic, and books in general, so I’m excited to write some pieces based on my experiences!

warnings: none really. Just a girl with a bunch of health problems feeling like a burden and having trouble believing she’s not.

word count: ~1.6k

“Babe, will you hand me my comb?” Shawn called. He turned away from the mirror where he’d been running a hand through his hair before deciding that was just an exercise in futility. She was in the hotel bathroom with the door shut, and he stood in front of it, waiting. When she didn’t open the door, he lifted his hand and rapped lightly. The two of them were getting ready for the Grammy Awards, where Shawn was performing, and they needed to leave soon.

The door swung open and a triangle of yellow light sliced across the carpet at his feet. She held out the comb in one hand, her face turned away from him, and he took it.

“Thanks.”

As the door started to close, he glanced up and caught a glimpse of her face—red, tear-streaked, and puffy-eyed.

Shawn stuck out his arm and caught the door before it could shut. “What’s the matter, babe?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.

She shook her head, mute.

 “Tell me.” He took a step closer and she burst into fresh tears. Shawn stood with his arms at his sides, helpless.

 “Honey,” he said, and she shook her head, her hands going up to cover her face.

 “I can’t go,” she said through her sobs.

 “What?”

 “I can’t go,” she repeated, choking on the last word. “I’m so sorry. I feel so bad. But Shawn, I just can’t…”

 “Hey, come here,” he said, pushing the door open and reaching for her. He put one hand on each of her elbows and gently pulled her toward him. “You can’t go?”

 She was still shaking with sobs. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “It’s the Grammys. I hate this. But I’m in so much pain, everything hurts, and I almost fainted when I came in here to do my makeup and I’m just hitting the wall…”

 Shawn took her into his arms and she shook with sobs. This happened fairly often—she regularly had to pull out of things at the last minute, because her disease was debilitating and unpredictable—but he didn’t mind. He never minded. He’d known what he was signing up for when he first asked her out, and he knew her personality and kindness and smile (that smile) were what attracted him. She couldn’t help her disability and he never minded when it interfered with plans, not even tonight, with the Grammys. But she always did. And now that radiant smile he’d fallen so hard for was nowhere to be found.

 “Sweetheart,” he whispered against the side of her head. “Hey. It’s okay. I understand.”

 She lifted her head off of his shoulder and looked up at him. She had just started her makeup for the night, and one eye was smeared with mascara and smoky eye shadow while the other one was clean. Shawn lifted his pointer finger and gently ran it under the smudged eye.

 “It’s okay,” he repeated softly. “If you need to stay here, stay here. Please. Take care of yourself.”

 “But the Grammys,” she persisted, a tear streaking down her cheek.

 “They happen every year,” he whispered. “They’ll be recorded. There’ll be another party tomorrow night. And who even knows if I’ll win anything?”

 “You’re performing,” she murmured miserably. She pulled away from him to stand up straight but swayed, tipping dangerously, and he grabbed her elbows again.

 “And you’re staying here,” he said, gentle but firm. Over the year they’d been dating, Shawn had learned to tell when her body was giving out on her even if her face and words didn’t show it, and he could tell now—she was hitting the wall, just like she’d said. Dropping his long-forgotten comb on the floor, Shawn reached down and picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her back. She nestled her face into his chest as he carried her back into the dark hotel room.

 “Go to sleep. And don’t worry about anything,” he whispered as he laid her on the bed. “I love you.”

 ***

 When she woke up, the room was dark. She sat up slowly, assessing how she felt. She was still in pain, but not quite as much, and she didn’t feel as dizzy—although she couldn’t truly measure that until she tried to stand up, which she didn’t feel up to quite yet. Her pounding headache had lessened, too. Food would probably help erase the exhaustion that still lingered around the corners of her vision, but she was so tired, she wasn’t sure she could find the energy to search out the hotel vending machine.

 The blinking red numbers on the nightstand clock read 7:05, which meant she was officially missing the Grammy’s—definitely missing Shawn’s headlining performance and potentially missing his ensuing wins. She was missing out on rubbing elbows with celebrities and wearing the shimmery backless dress hanging on one of the wooden hangers in the hotel closet, but most importantly, she was missing supporting Shawn during one of the biggest evenings of his career.

 Leaning back on her pillow with a deep sigh, she reached for her phone from the bedside table. It lit up with a 5:00 text from Shawn’s assistant.

 If/when you wake up, look outside your door. Shawn sent me to leave something, the text read.

 Curious, she swung her feet onto the floor, waited for the expected round of dizziness to pass, and then padded unsteadily toward the door. When she opened it, there was a boxed salad, a protein bar, and a single rose waiting on the floor of the hallway.

 Tears pushed at the backs of her eyes as she picked up the food and flower and brought everything inside, clicking on the TV and changing the channel to the Grammys before sitting back down on the bed. Her disability often made her feel like a burden and Shawn was always going out of his way as if to prove that she wasn’t—but that just made her feel guiltier, because she couldn’t always reciprocate the love he showed her. Like tonight, when he was having one of the biggest nights of his career while she watched from a dark hotel room, eating the salad he’d taken the time to send her because he knew she’d be weak and hungry when she woke up. To her, the imbalance in their relationship was clear. She often struggled to believe anyone could love her as she really was, frequent hospital stays and near-constant failures to hold up her end of the bargain included.

 When the salad was gone and Shawn hadn’t won any awards, she let the exhaustion overtake her again. And if a few tears soaked the hotel pillowcase before she succumbed completely, no one knew that but her.

 ***

 It was past 2 A.M. when Shawn got back from the afterparty, and he came into the hotel room as quietly as possible, trying not to curse when he stepped on the comb he’d left on the floor. He undid his tie in the dark and dropped it on the dresser by an empty salad box—the one, he assumed, that he’d had sent over. Then he went into the bathroom, shutting the door completely before fumbling around for the light switch.

 When Shawn finally fell into bed—softly—she never even woke.

 ***

 The hotel windows were covered with heavy blackout curtains, but the sun was starting to infiltrate the room by the time they woke up. Shawn thought he’d woken first, but when he opened his eyes and rolled over, she was already smiling at him.

 “Hi,” he said, his voice a little hoarse from the night before.

 “Hi,” she whispered.

 “How are you?”

 “Better.”

 And she looked better. Her face had color in it and her eyes looked bright and awake. That didn’t mean the pain and dizziness and fatigue wouldn’t return the next day or that day or even in a few minutes when she got up, he knew. But it was a welcome reprieve.

 She reached out a hand and pushed a few wayward curls off of his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for the food. And the rose. I don’t deserve you.”

 He looked at her, lying there on the white pillowcase with her hair around her face and the morning light beginning to illuminate her face, and something tightened a little around his heart. “If anything,” he said, low, “it’s the other way around.”

 “I just feel so bad,” she whispered. “I feel terrible. I can’t believe I missed the Grammys.”

 Shawn was already shaking his head before she’d even finished. “Please, honey, don’t. Don’t feel that way. It’s okay.”

 “It’s not okay,” she pushed back. Her brow furrowed and she caught her lower lip in her teeth. “It’s not. I feel so bad.”

 “You couldn’t help it,” he said. “I know that. And I don’t care. It’s okay.” He put his hand out and touched her for the first time that morning, letting his thumb trail down her cheek.

 “I love you,” he whispered. “So much. You know that, right?”

 She nodded, but her eyes were still worried. “I still just feel bad—” she started to say. But before she could get the full sentence out, he leaned forward, closing the space between them and taking her mouth in his to catch the words before they escaped.

 “Don’t,” he breathed when he pulled back. “It’s okay. I don’t care. I love you.”

 They looked at each other for a long moment, Shawn resolute, but her face still looking decidedly unconvinced.

 “Can I show you?” he whispered. “How much I love you?”

 The corners of her mouth turned up a little and she paused, then nodded, just once. Shawn brought his lips back to hers, kissing her deep and slow, starting at her mouth and then moving down to her neck and down further still, lowering his body on top of hers.

Taglist: @alittletoomuchshawn (not sure if you’re on here right now but I know you wanted to read!)

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 3

a/n: 3.5k words. the calm before the storm. and a whole lot of fluff.

Andrew had hoped to have Phoebe on a flight to Los Angeles within twenty-four hours. This was not the case.

Ideally, Phoebe would have had her Handmaid’s Tale-induced epiphany and replied to Shawn with a simple “I’m in.” Instead, she agreed to continue thinking about it, and if all went well, there was a chance for a possible meeting.

Which she never intended on following through with.

“Yes, I know he’s hot, mom, but it’s just n-“

Phoebe sighed and chewed her lip, interrupted once again by her mother on the other end of the line. She felt as if her own self was the only one with actual morals, as everyone in her life insisted that she bite the bullet and take part in a completely dishonest and misleading attention-cry.

Her boss pointed out that he’s famous.

Her mother pointed out that he’s attractive.

Sophie pointed out that it would make for a fantastic article.

And Shawn himself was on television talking about it. Oh, my god, Phoebe thought to herself.

“I’ll call you back,” she muttered to her mother, unmuting her practically-Jurassic Sony Wega to tune into the interview.

“I’m just really happy right now,” he flashed those damn pearly whites, causing the interviewer to erupt in a giddy blush-fest. Phoebe scoffed.

“With the success of the album and tour coming up, everything seems to be coming together.”

Phoebe cursed herself for leaving the TV on. She forgot Entertainment Tonight—an even worse version of what she did for a living--existed.

“That’s great, Shawn,” the young woman grinned, uncrossing her legs to cross them again, “and I understand that love is in the air for you, too?” she asked, and Phoebe wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a question or a statement. The world seemed to be in this unsure state of limbo about Shawn Mendes’ relationship status, and she felt relieved that she wasn’t completely subjected to this so soon. No one really knew what was going on. Not even Phoebe.

Shawn tossed his head back with a chuckle, “Caught the Grammys, eh? Yeah, my girlfriend’s great.”

Fuck. There goes that, Phoebe thought. He so easily admitted it. A public confession in full confidence was her biggest nightmare. Even though she’d barely scratched the surface, she knew she was in deep.

_________________________

What the fuck she messaged, still refusing Shawn’s offer to just text him. Giving him her number would give him complete access to her any time, and she didn’t need his management on her tail. She hadn’t agreed to anything.

Phoebe hoped she hadn’t worried Shawn with her DM, reminding herself that it was his team forcing him into this mess. As far as she knew, Shawn was pretty innocent.

Sorry she added, and then, ET interview caught me off guard

Shawn was already typing.

@shawnmendes: Can we talk about it?

Phoebe huffed. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to talk about it. But he’d seen the message, and the seconds were ticking, and Phoebe’s stomach dipped when she saw he was typing again.

@shawnmendes: Andrew says you live in Toronto?

Phoebe groaned. She’d read the message, she did live in Toronto, and there was no way she could lie because he was definitely going to find out anyway.

I can call you she sent, willing to surrender her ten digits of freedom in order to avoid what was to come. But Shawn was hot on her heels.

@shawnmendes: No, can’t talk about it over the phone

Phoebe wondered if this was more serious than people were leading on. Maybe his phone was tapped, monitored by the people in charge of him. The thought made her mouth dry.

And then an address popped up. An address that was two blocks away.

@shawnmendes: Red or white?

_________________________

Phoebe chewed her lip in the mirrored elevator, questioning if she was underdressed. An oversized long-sleeve shirt and bottoms that couldn’t be described as anything other than airport pants hung off of her. She looked down at her socked feet inside of her Birkenstocks—definitely underdressed, she concluded.

“10” lit up the LED display and the doors opened, and rather than being greeted by a carpeted beige hallway, the last man she’d locked lips with stood before her. With a massive grin on his face.

“So good to see you!” he smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

Phoebe blinked, regaining feeling in her arms and bringing them up to wrap around his firm torso. Before she could get much of a grip, Shawn was releasing her and walking down the long hallway.

“Thanks for agreeing to come over,” he spoke, looking over his shoulder, “I just figured,” he paused, looking forward again, “we probably shouldn’t be seen until,” another pause. Shawn cursed himself for talking too much, especially before whatever this was had been established.

“Don’t worry,” Phoebe interjected, slowing her short legs as Shawn twisted the doorknob, “I don’t want to be seen either.”

Shawn pushed the door open and motioned for Phoebe to go inside, where she stepped out of the way and waited for him to tell her what to do or where to go. Shawn took note of her manners.

Phoebe was hesitant to look around, feeling as if it wasn’t her space. Afraid to get too close but too curious to hold back, she obliged when Shawn poured her a glass of sauvignon blanc and began showing her around.

“I signed the lease when I was nineteen,” he spoke, pausing to sip his drink. She’d seen the kitchen, admiring the dark cabinets and chocolate marble countertops. It looked nothing like the late-80’s vibe her appliances radiated.

“And since then I’ve just kept renewing it,” he added, stopping where the tile transitioned to hardwood and the kitchen became the living room, “I always thought I’d buy it out, but, I don’t know,” he chewed his lip, twinkling the rightmost keys of the upright piano as he passed, “it’s just never been home. I’m twenty-three. Who knows where I’ll be in five years.”

“Surprised you’re still here at all,” Phoebe spoke, taken aback as Shawn looked down at her with a surprised expression.

“Are you crazy?” he giggled, “I love my job, but you wouldn’t catch me dead living in LA.”

Phoebe nodded. All signs were pointing her to the realization that Shawn didn’t want this either, and the whole thing was being orchestrated by the people managing him. He didn’t want to leave Toronto. Fuck, he hadn’t even looked like he wanted to be at the Grammys.

“And then through there’s just a spare bedroom—the other one’s back there,” he said, pointing back to the kitchen, “and then my room. Bathroom attached, just so you know.”

Phoebe nodded, swirling her wine around in its glass. Shawn had a beautiful home, but she was having a hard time understanding why she was in it. Her hair fell from behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, can we,” Shawn spoke nervously, almost in broken English. He was bouncing around on the balls of his feet, but not in an excited way, “Can we talk about this? Here,” he motioned back toward the living room, adjusting one of the cushions of his stark-white couch for Phoebe to have a seat.

“I know this must be so weird for you,” he started, finding her gaze. She took the opportunity to give him a one-over, too nervous to so obviously check him out before. He was in black jeans and a Henley. She once again felt underdressed. At least he’d forgotten socks.

“We’re already in this mess, though,” he continued, and her gaze fell to his lips, and then his chin, where she noticed that he had a bit of scruff that she’d never seen before, “it’s just, they’re really pushing me to do this,” he spoke lowly, as if he was worried someone would hear him. Phoebe half-expected him to look over his shoulder, “that was a really close call, at the Grammys, and if we just swept it under the rug, they feel like there would be a lot of loose ends.”

Phoebe nodded, still not having added to the conversation.

“Plus, you’ll get some time off work. This is probably good experience for your job. You might see the world or whatever. Who knows? It could be fun,” he grinned, and she smiled back. But it wasn’t convincing.

“Look,” Shawn spoke, voice low again, “my best friend got married last year. He’s got a kid on the way. I just feel like everyone’s, you know, living, and I’m at this standstill where I’m doing the same thing I was doing when I was seventeen,” Phoebe frowned. He avoided eye contact, “it would just be nice having someone around that’s,” he paused, “normal. Not so-LA-it-hurts.”

It broke her heart.

Phoebe sighed, and Shawn looked at her once again. His eyes looked sunken in. Dark circles accented the paleness of the rest of his face, “Okay, I’m in.”

Shawn’s lips parted as he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, “You’re in?”

“For now, yes,” she nodded, stretching her legs out in front of her and wiggling her socked toes, “on the terms that the contract is nice to me.”

Shawn grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The tone was still heavy.

“Play me something,” Phoebe blurted, and Shawn’s eyes widened in response.

“What?”

“Come on, Rockstar,” she grinned, figuring the glass of wine was reaching her brain, “I’m supposed to be dating you, but I’ve never heard you play?”

Shawn grinned and shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Phoebe relaxed her shoulders and leaned a couple inches in his direction, “Please?”

Shawn sighed, but it wasn’t a disappointed one, “Alright.”

He placed his glass on the coffee table and stood from the sofa, retrieving an acoustic guitar from its stand in the corner of the living room, “Do you,” he paused in disbelief that she was making him do this, “have a preference?”

“I was actually a big fan of yours back in second year.”

“Really?” Shawn laughed with his eyebrows raised and a sly grin gracing his lips.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “SM-three days.”

“What’s your favourite?” Shawn asked with the excitement of a puppy.

Phoebe took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this, “Mutual, but it’s kind of upbeat, you can play something els-“ she spoke, but Shawn was smiling and already plucking the strings, and she knew she didn’t need to keep going because of how quickly he interrupted.

“I can do Mutual.”

_________________________

The next morning, Phoebe danced in her kitchen to the sounds of sizzling bacon and “Mutual” by Shawn Mendes.

For the very first time, she was excited about this.

“So you’re really gonna do it?” asked Sophie on their morning commute, navigating through the herds of Toronto-banker-sheep. People moved even more frantically in the winter months.

“No,” Phoebe answered, “I’m going to LA to scope it out. Then,” she emphasized, looking up a few inches to meet Sophie’s denying gaze, “I’ll decide.”

“That you’re gonna do it,” Sophie concluded flatly, sticking her hand out and motioning to an Uber that was driving far too fast.

“If I’m gonna do it,” Phoebe corrected.

They began crossing the street, Phoebe struggling to keep up with the swift movements of Sophie’s long legs.

“You won’t have any issues convincing Margaret,” Sophie sighed as they made a right, forcing Phoebe behind her for a few strides.

Phoebe wondered if what she was sensing was jealousy. She figured she’d worry about that later.

“As much as I wish it were me,” Sophie spoke, and then stopped abruptly upon reaching their building, “I think you should do it.”

Sophie smiled as she swung the door open for Phoebe, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

_________________________

It was a small plane. Andrew had been nice and placed her in business class—probably some sort of a bribe, Phoebe figured—but she wasn’t complaining. There was plenty of room for her not-very-long legs, and the drinks were complementary.

She sat on the aisle, although it didn’t make much difference because there was only one aisle and two seats on each side. The spot beside her remained vacated, and she was hoping to sneakily scoot over once the seatbelt lights went out and the plane was in the air.

Ten minutes to takeoff. Phoebe put her tattered copy of American Gods in her fraying Longchamp and closed her eyes, pressing “play” on a podcast she was sure she wasn’t going to pay attention to.

David Dobrik’s laugh was loud in her headphones when she felt a tap on her shoulder, causing her to quickly tug her earbuds out and clutch her bag a little tighter.

Of course.

The tree of limbs that was Shawn Mendes was stowing his backpack--with his sweatpants-clad thighs in front of her face.

“Make some room,” he spoke with a smile as Phoebe tucked her legs in, allowing him to crawl across her. She hadn’t been expecting this.

Her cheeks were red hot as Shawn made the most noise possible getting settled in, stopping abruptly to ask, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “just didn’t know we were travelling together. I guess you’ve gotta get to LA too,” she gave a tired, tight-lipped smile.

Shawn looked a little discouraged.

“Sorry,” he paused, breathing in, “I guess I should’ve asked you if this was okay, I wasn’t think-“

“We could’ve carpooled,” Phoebe grinned, and Shawn looked as if she’d taken the weight of a train off his shoulders. Shawn smiled with a slight tilt of his head.

“So,” Phoebe spoke, “what are we watchin’?”

“What?”

“Five and a half hours, Mendes,” she replied, “that’s a whole lot of Pheebs.”

They both giggled and began looking for a movie, determined to press “play” at the same time.

_________________________

Phoebe looked around. The lights were out and they were halfway through some alien film that neither of them cared for but were both too polite to object. Her screen had been paused for a while, allowing her to observe the white interior of the aircraft as her mind ran wild.

Shawn’s movie was a few minutes ahead, but he seemed to have caught on because his headphones were out and his right cheek was pressed against the headrest.

“What’s up,” he spoke, and it wasn’t really a question. The awkwardness of not knowing each other unfortunately called on small talk to fill silences.

Phoebe tugged the plastic from her ears, though nothing had been playing. She released a little laugh and spoke, “What am I doing?”

Shawn sighed and straightened his back a little, but kept his head tilted in her direction as he responded, “I don’t want to say anything because I don’t want to push you.”

Phoebe shook her head, “I did it to myself when I kissed you.”

Shawn turned a darker shade of pink and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Phoebe,” Shawn spoke, and she woke up a little. That was the first time she’d heard her name escape his lips. She liked it. “Come on, let’s start small. Tell me about yourself.”

“You want the whole life story?”

“No, I want to discover that stuff on my own. How about,” he paused, searching her dark blue eyes, “what’s your biggest weakness?”

Phoebe squinted a bit in his direction as she wondered if he was taking note of her weak spots for future reference.

But his curious chocolate eyes and boyish grin suggested otherwise.

“I think my greatest weakness is myself,” Phoebe started, “I expect too much because I expect everyone to think like me. I go above and beyond and they don’t, and I wind up disappointed. Every time.

“But it always results in my being used because I’d rather be taken advantage of than abandoned, I guess,” she admitted, and it was merely a whisper.

It didn’t stay so grim for long, though, because Shawn said something and then Phoebe said something, and they were both laughing louder than intended.

It took the gentleman behind them popping his head up and asking, “Do you mind?” to shut them up.

They laughed.

_________________________

Shawn must have drifted off at some point, because Phoebe noticed he was lightly snoring with his head resting between the seat and the wall of the plane.

“Attention passengers,” the pilot came on the PA, “we will be landing in ten minutes. Thank you for flying with Air Canada.”

She smoothed her ponytail, sitting up with determination. Phoebe knew what she wanted. She just had to be stealth.

She leaned toward Shawn’s limp frame, right arm outstretched, trying her best not to disturb him but desperate to see LA illuminated in the pitch black.

Shawn snapped awake, catching Phoebe off guard.

She stumbled, redirecting her hand to his thigh to catch herself, landing with her face just inches from his own. Shawn gulped.

Her gaze fell to his lips.

“Hey there,” they spoke.

“Sorry,” she apologized, pushing off his leg to get herself back into her seat, “I just really wanted to see out the window.”

“Oh!” Shawn quietly exclaimed, seemingly putting the pieces together. Effortlessly, he reached over and slid up the window cover.

It was gorgeous. Clusters of lights winked hello to Phoebe Rose for as far as she could see. If she squinted hard enough, she could just make out where they ended and the Pacific began.

“Don’t fly often?” Shawn asked, eyes on her as she admired her view.

“Rarely,” Phoebe spoke, and Shawn leaned back so she could get a better look. She instinctively responded, leaning forward.

But Shawn could feel her breath on his neck and her hand on his knee and he wasn’t sure if all of this was a blessing or a curse.

He wanted to find out.

The seatbelt light came on. The wheels came out. The plane touched down.

Phoebe grabbed Shawn’s hand.

A few minutes later, Shawn crawled across their seats to retrieve his bag. Phoebe regretted bringing a luggage big enough to check because she didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but then she quickly remembered that without her, Shawn would likely be in deep shit right about now.

Coming back to reality, she watched as he reached above his head, causing his hoodie to ride up and bring his cotton t-shirt with it. He’d developed more fuzz below his belly button since she’d last seen him shirtless—in 2019, on a larger-than-life billboard in Yonge-Dundas Square.

She wanted to touch it.

Then, she wondered what was wrong with her.

And before she knew it, Shawn was pulling her out of her seat and off of the plane toward baggage claim.

“Flight AC753” flashed on the screen above the metal conveyor belt, and Phoebe switched out of Airplane Mode as bags began emerging.

She watched the cell phone provider texts roll in before switching off roaming, and Shawn had located her bag and pulled it from the contraption before she could even tell him which one it was.

The platform for car pickup services looked busy, but before they could fully round the corner, Shawn came to a halt.

“You might want these,” he spoke, retrieving his black Ray Bans from his carry-on. Phoebe looked at him, confused, but listened as he talked, “out the doors is our Uber. I think it’s just a black Malibu. Ask if it’s for “Shawn” and he’ll let you in. I’ll be there in ten.”

Phoebe mentally questioned his methods but did what he said, and once she saw the crowd of fifty-some teenage girls with their iPhones out, she understood.

She had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

______________________________

taglist: @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @its-the-unknownspidey @everytigerisakity @harold-hugs @ccidk @particularshawnn @ssweet-empowerment @tamegray @loveat2 @heyits-claire @martinimendes @shxwnmxndess@sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren@casuallycoolcloud @sinplisticshawn@deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13 @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy @illumelilac

[motherlifesucher-archives]

Overcomplicated l Shawn Mendes Imagine.

(a/n): heyyyy! this is kinda based on the song “Why”. It was supposed to be posted earlier but here was a 6,6 mini earthquake on my country lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

summary: The more famous they became, the hardest it turned for Shawn &(Y/N) to confess their feelings, but the Grammys might the the push they needed.

The first thing Shawn did to celebrate his Grammy nominations was to dial one of his closest friends, (Y/N), who had also scored three nominations, and they were both nominated for Best Pop Vocal Album with their self-titled albums, and Song of The Year. 

They freaked out over the phone, even if they were across the world. They wanted nothing more than to just hug each other and have a Grey’s Anatomy marathon to celebrate. 

He then called Camila, who teased him saying both of her friends’ being nominated on the same category should be a sign that he should find the guts to ask (Y/N) out.

He laughed at his friend before hanging up and trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Soon enough his phone couldn’t stop vibrating from people congratulating him. Family, friends, people on the industry. He even scored a call from both James Corden and Ellen DeGeneres. 

Geoff teased his friend saying he should ask (Y/N) out before the ceremony, just in case he won and she didn’t want to see him again. They both laughed knowing she’d never do that, but it seemed like his friends were running out of ideas to make him ask her out on a date, but nothing seemed to work out.

He remembered the chills that ran down his spine when he saw her presenting in the Golden Globes next to Timothée Chalamet. She looked gorgeous. He always found it hard to keep his attention on the stage when she was next to him, and the Grammys wouldn’t be the exception. 

Should he ask Andrew to call the awards production and ask to not be seated next to her? 

No, of course it would find its way to the public and she’d be hurt. Besides, Camila had already texted him saying the three would be sitting pretty close with Taylor Swift. 

Hell, even Taylor Swift had tried to play matchmaker while she was visiting her on tour and he got to perform!

There was a part of him aching to see what her lips would feel against his. How disheveled her hair would look right after waking up in the morning. To be the inspiration behind her songs. To be the reason why her eyes shone so bright and her smile grew bigger just because she saw him.

He knew she already was his inspiration. The impotence of seeing her and not being able to declare his love was driving him crazy, and he knew the only one who could fix that was himself, but there was too much at stake.

Their friendship was precious; they understood each other in a way not many people could, and it wasn't because they both were in the public eye, but because they understood each other on a cellular level. It was like they were the same person and he knew there was a bright future for them.

He just needed to grow some balls and do the right thing. 

Everyone around him said she felt the same way, but Shawn only dismissed them with a sigh smile while shaking his head in denial. They were only doing it so that he could grow the confidence to do what his heart desired so deeply. 

He couldn’t help but torture himself with other possible scenarios. What if he had never dated Hailey and instead he had asked her out? At that point his feelings for (Y/N) were clear, yet he still went out with the model.

What if he had asked her out the moment he saw her for the first time almost six years ago?

Was he overcomplicating things? Probably. 

-

Nerves were taking over his body as he got out of the limo, only to be bombarded with flashes and screams of his name.

He politely waved before posing and paying attention to a girl with a clipboard giving him instructions. 

He then was walked to the red carpet, patiently waiting for his turn while greeting people. He started making conversation with Niall before the entire room lit up in front of him.

There she was.

Wearing the most gorgeous gown he had ever seen. Was it because she was the one wearing it? Probably. 

He noticed the way her smile grew ten times bigger when she saw him, and even with her uncomfortable dress she made her way towards him and hugged him.

“It’s so good to see you!” She tightened the embrace before letting go of him. 

“You look beautiful,” He said and noticed Niall hiding his smirk from the side. 

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself,” She smiled before quickly greeting Niall who was being ushered to the red carpet. 

“So, I heard we are sitting next to each other,” She said excitedly. 

“And next to Camila and Taylor. It’s gonna be awkward when one of us wins” He chuckled and she softly hit his arm.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m honestly not expecting to win, are you?”

“You gotta have some confidence in yourself, babe,” He said and she felt the color rush to her cheeks.

They knew that even in the small tent where they waiting, people were snapping pictures of both of them. Shawn wanted to add something when a woman in a black dress with a sign with his name interrupted, saying it was time to walk down the carpet.

“Meet me in the carpet?” He asked and she smiled.

“You can count on it, rockstar,”

it was his time to blush at her words before following the woman, and soon enough he was met with tons of flashes and people telling him to give them smiles and posing in different angles. 

He soon moved down the carpet and saw the same woman appear with a sign with her name. 

He felt his attention shift from the photographers to her, as she cautiously stepped on the red carpet and started posing like she was born to do it. 

She noticed him and sent a wink and a smile before she continued with her work. Soon enough people started screaming both their names and she carefully walked to him.

He took a couple of steps to meet her halfway and offer her a hand, making everyone go crazy. She giggled before placing her hand on his shoulder as he put his on her waist. They continued posing for a couple of minutes before they went back to solo pictures. 

The moment they were out of that part of the carpet they laughed and took a breath, now they were being pushed to different interviews and people asking for pictures. The scene was very crowded, but they were approached by an E! News producer who said they both were on the list of interviews and if they minded doing the interview together because time was running out.

They agreed and noticed Giuliana Rancic was waiting for them. Shawn again offered his hand and helped his friend with the steps while being careful to not step in her dress. 

“Well, see who we have here! Two of the biggest names in the music industry right now and multiple nominated artists tonight, Shawn Mendes and (Y/N)!” Giuliana introduced them and some people surrounding cheered while they greeted to the camera. 

“Thanks for having us,” Shawn replied with his charming smile. 

“You two look absolutely incredible. Ladies first, who are you wearing? Because I have to say that seeing you back in the Globes and tonight makes you climb to the top of the list of the best dressed during this awards season!”

“My God, you are so nice! Thank you so much! Well, tonight I'm wearing Christian Dior from head to toe,” She motioned her dress and shoes. 

“Well, you make this dress look ten times more beautiful, don’t you agree?” Giuliana asked Shawn.

“Absolutely, I think I’ve said she looks stunning like ten times since we arrived,” He said trying to play it cool, but his hands were sweating.

“Aren’t you a charmer!” Shawn smiled at the camera before Giuliana asked him which designer was responsible for his looks.

“Tonight I'm wearing Armani,” He subtly showed his watch to the camera, earning a laugh from his friend. 

“Is there any pressure or nervousness since you two are nominated on the same categories?” “I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answered. “We have been friends for a while now, even one of our best friends, Camila, is nominated tonight and I think we are just thrilled to be recognized amongst so many great artists,”

“Yeah, if you think about it we are still young and got many years to come, but the fact that I get to be here with my best friends celebrating our work is just magical,” Shawn completed her answered and smiled to the interviewer. 

“Great, you guys are spectacular! Thank you so much for joining us and good luck! Especially for Shawn since he’s performing tonight!”

They said goodbye and Shawn again helped his longtime crush out of the small stage.

“Is it time to go to our seats?” (Y/N) asked Shawn who shrugged. 

Only fifteen minutes were left when the same woman on the black dress told them it was time to head inside the venue. They waved to the photographers scattered around the red carpet for the last time before entering.

Their seats were on the first row, they could see people filling the seats and the biggest names on the industry greeting each other. 

They were reaching their seats when they spotted Camila and her boyfriend. 

“I was wondering where you guys were!” Camila said excitedly and hugging (Y/N) while Shawn shook hands with Camila’s boyfriend, Matthew. 

“It’s so crowded outside you can barely move,” (Y/N) said adjusting her dress before taking a seat. 

“When are you supposed to go backstage?” Camila asked Shawn.

“Uhm, I think I have to go during the first commercial break,” Shawn said and both Camila and (Y/N) clapped in excitement. “Please don’t embarrass me during the presentation,” Shawn teased them.

“Not a chance! We’re your biggest fans AND your best friends, of course we are going to embarrass you in front of the world!” (Y/N) said and hugged Shawn’s waist, completely ignored the look Camila gave Shawn. 

“You guys are so annoying,” Shawn wrapped his arm around (Y/N) and softly kissed the top of her hair. 

Camila almost squeaked in excitement. Why weren’t they together yet?!

-

Ariana Grande had beat both Camila and (Y/N) for the award of Best Pop Solo Performance, making them laugh and cheer loudly for the brunette in stage. 

The ceremony was coming to an end when the category where the three friends were nominated, the Best Pop Vocal Album category was up. Camila interlaced her fingers with her boyfriend when the camera was in front of her as her name got announced, closely followed by Shawn and (Y/N) that smiled at each other. 

“And the Grammy goes to,” Bruno Mars opened the envelope, “(Y/N)!” 

Everyone jumped from their seats except from the winner, who covered her mouth and slowly rose from her seat. 

Shawn engulfed her in a hug so tight while whispering congratulations on her ear. He almost let impulses get the best of him and kiss her lips, but he only kissed her cheek before letting her go. 

The entire audience cheered when Shawn helped her to the stage, carefully adjusting the back of her dress on the stairs before cheering for her. 

Her speech was shaky an emotional as she held her award. But the best part for Shawn was when he felt the camera next to his face, but nothing could erase the smile as she thanked him. 

“People say it’s hard to meet real people on this industry, but I just look here on the first row. Camila Cabello, Taylor Swift, and of course Shawn Mendes. Incredibly talented people who deserve to win just as much as I do. And a big support for me during this process has been this man standing here,” She pointed at Shawn. “Thank you for being my friend and guiding me through this process. I wouldn’t be the same without you and I love you, you are the best friend in the world,”

She continued mentioning her family, but Shawn knew there was something igniting inside of him and it was nothing like he had felt before. 

That something followed him the entire night. 

It was the courage to finally make his dreams come true and be with her. 

Love her. 

That was the reason why he didn’t let go of her during the entire night as they made appearances on the various after parties. 

They were getting drunker as the night passed by. He could feel her leaning on his shoulder, trying to find warmth since she had changed her dress into a short one and chills were covering her body. 

Her face was hidden on his neck during the majority of the night. They had lost their friends now as they stepped inside Post Malone’s after party. Paparazzi were having a field day as they walked inside with linked arms and she hiding her face and Shawn shielding her from their view. 

“Should we dance? I think we’ve had too much to drink,” She giggled and took his hand. 

Shawn smiled as she let another button on his shirt loose, exposing his chest. They were dancing, carefully trying no to bump into other people as they giggled in the dark room. 

He felt her face getting close, she even smiled at him as their noses bumped into each other, but he knew he didn’t want this to be dismissed as a drunken decision, so he delicately separated their faces and offered her a drink.

He missed the devastated look the drunk Grammy winner gave him. 

-

Two weeks had passed since the Grammy awards and Shawn was isolated in his room watching Just Jared instagram stories. 

People were confused, and to be honest, so was him. 

Multiple pictures of him and (Y/N) had resurfaced after heir drunken night. People were speculating whether or not they were officially dating, if they had started dating just now if if this had been going on for years.

But just two days after this, pictures of his girl and Timothée Chalamet appeared, making everyone, Shawn included, confused. 

He didn’t call her again. He ignored her texts. He didn’t even bother to check her Instagram.

And she noticed the lack of presence of a certain tall boy in her life. 

She was giving up on trying to reach him when he finally texted back.

“Sorry. I've been busy, you wanna talk about something? I’m leaving LA tomorrow.”

Her heart skipped a beat and told him to meet her at her house. He agreed and she started to patiently wait for him to arrive. Later, she saw his car on the camera, she tried to look her best as she opened the door as he parked his car next to hers. 

She smiled shyly, “Hi,” 

“Hey there,” Shawn gave her a quick hug.

They stepped inside and the first thing Shawn noticed was the Grammy standing proudly on top of her piano. 

“It looks nice,” Shawn pointed at the award. 

“Thanks,” She thanked quietly. “How have you been?”

“Good, you?” He asked her. 

“All good, thanks,”

They stared at each other quietly. Shawn was going to ask her what the hell was going on with the actor when she interrupted:

“Are you mad because I won?” She blurted, making Shawn’s eyes widen. 

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“You’ve been ignoring me. Is it because I won our category?” She asked while fearing the answer. 

“Are you crazy? Of course not!” He replied offended.

“Then why have you been ignoring me? What’s going on with you? We had a moment, things clicked and it felt right, but you just bailed on me!” She told him with her voice full of anger but it was soft. 

Shawn took a deep breath. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for yet fearing the outcome. He didn’t realize when his heart started to pound against his ribcage, but he calmed his breathing and started pouring his heart out. 

“I’m scared,” He confessed. “I really like you, and I have for a while now, ever since I saw you. But I'm scared because we are friends, and you mean a lot to me and I can’t help it. We are constantly in the spotlight, I don’t want them to damage what we already have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you any less, because...” 

Shawn’s ramble was suddenly interrupted by a pair of soft lips against his own.

He instantly relaxed and everything felt natural. His hands fell on her waist as he drew her closer. Everything felt familiar yet strange, but the most important thing...

It felt right. 

[kpopfanfictrash]

De-Lovely

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys , for her wonderful and amazing moodboard

Pairing: Reader / Taehyung 

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, dirty talk, slight degradation)

Word Count: 11,630

Summary:  We’re all running from something. Whether it’s a painful past, uncertain future or murky present. One of my favorite things about theatre, is that for an hour, maybe two – you can escape. You don’t have to be yourself, if you don’t want to. Better yet, you can find yourself in someone else.

“Heads up!”

I look up, eyes widening when a snowball comes flying towards my face.

Someone tackles into me from the side, knocking me breathless to the ground. I gasp, elbow hitting at an awkward angle. My limbs sprawled, entangled in someone else’s as I groan, rolling off to the side.

My books lie scattered and I reach for the nearest one, hand accidentally brushing another in the process. I look up in surprise, meeting warm, brown eyes of the guy who saved me.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, giving a sheepish smile. The guy pushes his glasses up, handing over a book. “I didn’t mean to tackle you – I just heard that guy saying he was packing his snowballs with ice. Something about an aerodynamic advantage.”

“It’s alright.” I sigh, shaking snow from the center of my book. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He grins, eyes crinkling. “That can be dangerous on this campus. I’m Jimin,” he offers, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” I shake it. “Thank you for the save.”

“No problem.” Jimin falls into step beside me, walking through the snow-covered quad. “Where are you headed?”

“Student Center,” I nod at the ivy-covered building. “I work part-time at the front store. Got to pay for that Statistics Masters somehow.”

Jimin laughs. “I understand. And wow, statistics – that’s so interesting,” he grins. “Why don’t you analyze me?”

My eyebrows lift. “Analyze you?”

Jimin nods, smile wide. “Tell me about myself – using numbers, of course.”

I glance over, taking him in. Jimin wears a long, black peacoat. Stylish, though I note with amusement that the pockets are still sewn shut. He’s wearing red mittens and a red beanie, square black frames low on his nose. Jimin’s backpack hangs by one strap, and I spot an ID badge hanging inside.

My gaze returns to his. “You just started dating someone,” I tell him. “You’re also a science teaching assistant.”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?” he gapes.

I smile, seeing that I’m right. “The pockets on your jacket,” I point out. “They’re sewn shut, which means it’s new. Since Christmas just happened, I figure it was a gift. Someone who knows your wardrobe well, knowing it would match your mittens – a girlfriend. Plus,” I add, adjusting my purse. “You have a hickey on your neck.”

Jimin blushes, adjusting his collar. “Spot on,” he laughs, coming to a stop outside the Student Union. “I just started dating my girlfriend before the holidays. How did you know I’m an assistant professor?”

“Well,” I smile. “That was more difficult. There’s an ID badge in your backpack, meaning you’re employed by the University – but you seem young. Logically, you’re more likely to be an assistant professor than a full one.”

Jimin raises both eyebrows. “True. Go on, what about science?”

I shrug. “That was lucky. Arts and Letters and Business are the biggest programs at Bangtan University. Which means you’re most likely in either those – but I don’t recognize you from Business.” I tilt my head. “That leaves Arts and Letters, which skews heavily female – aside from Professor Jeon, of course. No,” I shake my head. “You’re not Arts and Letters. Which made me guess Science.”

Jimin grins, clapping his hands. “Truly amazing. And correct,” he adds.

I offer a bow. “Yes, yes. I’m here until Thursday.”

“Glad I saved you from that snowball,” Jimin grins. “The world would have lost a valuable asset.”

“Thanks, Assistant Professor Jimin,” I call, walking up the steps. “I’ll keep that in mind, next time I feel down.”

Jimin laughs, turning away. “See you around, Y/N.”

I push open the doors to the building. The entryway is old, with mossy green carpet and high windows. Polished wood and fancy armchairs scattered about. I turn to the right, stepping through bronzed doors to enter the student bookstore. Checking the clock over the door, I see it’s 4:00 PM on the dot – just in time for my shift. I smile brightly at the manager, scooting behind the counter. “Happy Monday,” I call, swiping my time card. “How’s today treating you?”

Luis looks up, his expression bleak. “Jenny is sick, the bookstore sent a busload of tourists our way during lunch and the cappuccino machine in the staff room is broken.”

I wince, pushing hair behind one ear. “That bad, huh?”

Exhaling, Luis pushes to stand. “It will be fine, we’ll get past it. What time do you work until tonight?”

“10:00,” I answer, bending down to open the register. I check the bills against the total, nodding when the numbers match. “I have my first exam of the semester Friday. Can you image? It’s been what, two weeks?”

Luis snorts, adjusting his manager button. “Typical. This is why I hate the institution.”

“Luis, you are the institution,” I point out, barely able to stifle my grin.

“I know. I hate that, too.”

Laughing, I turn away. The store is quiet, well off the beaten path of tourists. The bookstore on Main Ave. gets the most traffic, being the first building people see upon entering. Only by getting out of their cars, walking across two quads and entering the student union can they find us.

It means our shifts aren’t taxing, just dull. I open my stats notes on the table, glancing down at them every now and again to memorize. I pause to greet those who enter, ringing them up and sending them on their way. Several hours later I’m still staring at my sheet, recalculating an equation to have a lesser p-value. The confidence interval should really be 95% and right now it’s only 90%. That leaves room for 5% error on either side and – exhaling, I study it again.

“Excuse me.”

Blinking, I realize someone is standing before me. Thankfully, Luis has stepped out to use the restroom and he doesn’t see. Doesn’t see my surprise, the stranger before me frowning, his foot tapping with impatience.

“Sorry!” I exclaim, pushing my notes to the side. “How can I help you?”

The man is wearing sunglasses. Sunglasses indoors, hair mussed as though he’s just rolled out of bed. He heaves a great sigh, looking over his lenses. “Yes,” he glances sideways. “It’s me.”

I blink back. “Uh.” I don’t know how to respond, so I wave. “Hello, you.”

The man winks, sliding his glasses up his nose. “Right.” He pulls off his leather gloves, laying them one by one on the counter. “I’d like five of the uh, what do you call them? T-shirts.”

I’m aware I’m staring when Luis re-enters the shop. Snapping to attention, I turn to the table behind me. “Right. We have the standard University logo in three different colors. Which would you prefer?” I offer, laying out one of each.

The man turns each over in his hand, then shrugs. “The green, I guess. I’ll take five.”

I nod, busying myself with wrapping. Placing them one by one in the box, then the bag. “Do you need anything else?” I ask him, keeping my smile frozen in place.

The man scans the shop. “From here? I don’t think so.”

Choosing not to reply, I ring him up. Typing in numbers with one hand as I continue to smile. “That will be 42.39,” I tell him.

“Alright.” Pulling out his credit card, he sets this down on the counter. “Here you go.”

The man glances over his shoulder, arching a brow. He’s very handsome. With a strong jaw, hands and the kind of smile capable of making girls weak. I can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses but I imagine they’re just as lovely as the rest of him. The man turns to face me, smile broad.

“Here you go,” I mutter, handing him back his card and his bag.

“Thanks,” the man waves.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves and I shrug, allowing the interaction to fall from mind. I’m rearranging my notes on the counter when I notice Luis staring. “What?” I ask, glancing up. There’s just the window to the quad, frosted with snow. “What’s wrong?”

Luis stares at me, then the door. “That was Professor Kim Taehyung.”

“Oh.” I close the register drawer. “Alright.”

Luis’ jaw drops. “Do you not know him? He starred in a Broadway musical at 18, won a Tony at 19. Composed a Grammy Award winning song, directed a Tony award-winning musical – no? None of this ringing any bells?”

I pause, then shrug. “Sorry, I don’t know much about theatre.”

Luis lets out a choked laugh. Then he looks at the counter. “Shit,” Luis groans, grabbing the thin, leather wallet. “Professor Kim left his wallet. Y/N, you have to go give it to him.”

“What?” I squeak. “Why me?”

“Because,” Luis pulls me out from behind the register. “One manager must remain in the store at all times. Now go give it back.”

Despite my grumbling, I pull on my coat. Shoving my arms through the sleeves and grabbing the wallet from the counter. I dash outside, pulling on my hat as I quint into the cold. The same guys are still throwing snowballs, so I take pointed steps around them. Spotting Taehyung at the far end of the quad, his scarf visible from here.

I break into a sprint when I hit pavement, not caring how stupid I look as I run. “Excuse me,” I mutter. “Pardon me!”

I push past students and professors, Taehyung’s head bobbing closer. He's looking down at his phone, not paying attention to his surroundings.

I skid to a stop beside him. “Professor,” I say, touching his elbow. “I just –”

Taehyung grabs my arm, dragging me sideways. “Not here,” he declares, pulling me into an overhang. “Too many people.” Taehyung whips off his sunglasses, placing them in the front pocket of his coat. “How can I help you?” he asks, smile dazzling. “Did you want an autograph? I’m sorry, I don’t usually sign on campus.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Uh, actually –”

“Fine.” Taehyung heaves a sigh. “One autograph. Who should I make it out to?”

I blink up at him. “How about this,” I say, slapping his wallet into his outstretched hand. “You take your wallet and write a note to yourself, reminding not to leave money in public places.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen with surprise – then he laughs. “I’ll do just that,” he grins, pocketing the wallet. “Huh.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

I’m already turning away, though. “Take care,” I call back, pulling my hood up around my face.

Taehyung steps before me, blocking my exit. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

I look up, meeting his gaze. “Should I?”    

Taehyung pauses mid-answer. “I don’t know,” he admits. “An interesting question. I suppose not.”

“I just don’t enjoy the fine arts,” I shrug, starting to turn away.

“Whoa, okay,” Taehyung laughs, grabbing my arm. “This is more serious than I thought.”

“What is?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at his hand. “The only problem I see, is that you’re blocking my way back to work.”

“Ah,” Taehyung exhales. His face is ridiculously handsome – expressive and open when he smiles. “A workaholic, I should have known.” Taehyung scans my body. “You’re wearing a watch, your shirt is tucked into your pants. You were running after me, but you remembered to bring your hat. You live your life by the numbers, like comfort more than risk and are alienated by the ambiguity of theatre.”

My mouth drops. “That’s not true,” I reply – although it is. I’ll be damned if I let him know that, though.

Taehyung smirks. “You looked down and you touched your face, which means you’re lying.” At my surprised expression, he smiles. “I’ve spent years reading facial expressions – it comes in handy, during auditions.”

I roll my eyes at this. “Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t recognize you – but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me.”

Taehyung lifts both hands. “Insult you? I wasn’t trying to insult, merely observe.”

I step closer, crossing my arms. “An insulting observation.”

His mouth twitches, as though trying not to laugh. “Touché. Might I ask,” Taehyung’s voice drops. “Why then, do you not like the theatre?”

Staring back, I find myself at a loss for words. The wind blows through Taehyung’s hair, dark and messy. His eyes are clear though, focused and it’s hard to think about anything else. He has the voice of a natural singer, an actor, a performer. This observation is enough to ground me. “I’m a statistics major,” I tell him, turning away. “I like math, numbers, facts that aren’t open to interpretation. Theatre is the opposite of that. Anyways,” I pause, searching his face. “I really have to go. Goodbye, Kim Taehyung.”

Before he can respond, I leave. Turning into the wind, moving across the quad. I don’t look back to see if he follows. I doubt Taehyung cares that much – he’s probably already replaced his sunglasses and walked away. I don’t know why I look back, why I turn around when I reach the doors of the Student Union.

Taehyung is still standing there. He’s watching and upon seeing me looking, he waves. Taehyung’s shoulders shake and I think that he’s laughing as he turns to walk away. Continuing across the quad until turning a corner and disappears.

I enter the Student Union, nodding at Luis when he asks if I returned the wallet. “Yep,” I nod, moving behind the counter. “Professor Kim has his wallet.”

I fall silent, staring at the register. My heart pounds, drowning out all sensible thought. I should have been nicer to him. I was rude, saying I didn’t like his profession. That I found it little more than lies and smokescreens. I do though – that much is true. But it’s not Taehyung’s fault that I feel this way.

It’s his.

My fingers slide against the countertop, trying to brush away his memories. My ex, the person I thought was the love of my life. I loved watching him perform. Loved seeing him onstage, lit by spotlight with fire in his eyes. I went to each play, recital, musical and stage. I was there for him before, during and after his performances. Unfortunately – he wasn’t there for me.

Or rather, he was there sometimes. The rest of the time, he was there for other women. Fucking them backstage, in their beds, occasionally in ours.

We’d been dating for nearly two years when I walked in on it. I remember saying his name aloud. Saying it like a question, as if he weren’t really him and I wasn’t really me. As though I were floating, somewhere far above it all. Staring, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. No sense of shame as I watched their naked bodies.

She noticed me first, she saw me and shrieked. Pushing him off while she tried to leave. I just continued to stand there, motionless as he panicked. That was the first time I saw him anything less than in control. It was also the first time I realized he was a liar. A practiced one – a performer. My ex’s life was a stage, and he so easily felt in command of that.

That was when I swore to myself – no more actors. No musicians, no singers, no performers. The theatre has held a certain nausea since, but I couldn’t tell Taehyung that. No matter how open, how earnest he was, he’s a performer as well. Kim Taehyung is just like the rest – which means he can’t be trusted.

I shake my head then, looking up from the counter. Despite my unease, I needn’t worry. This is my last semester at Bangtan University – it’s not likely I’ll ever see Kim Taehyung again.

Two weeks later, I’m walking home from class.

Mentally reviewing a test from the day, theorizing if I could have answered problem number forty-seven a different way. I’m so concentrated on the question, my potential misstep, I don’t notice him walk into place beside me.

“You’re wrong,” Taehyung grins, by way of introduction.

I jump, startled at his appearance.

Taehyung wears a long, maroon peacoat. Unbuttoned to reveal a navy blue blazer and white button-down. A crimson scarf is looped around his neck and he has on the same, leather gloves. There’s a coffee cup in one hand and upon seeing my eyes return to his, Taehyung grins.

“I wasn’t checking you out,” I mutter, facing forward.

Taehyung’s grin widens. “I wasn’t asking.”

We walk this way for several minutes, until my curiosity overwhelms me. “Why am I wrong?” I ask.

Taehyung takes a small sip from his coffee. “Statistics,” he declares. “They’re rarely observed in black and white.”

My gaze lifts. “Oh?”

Taehyung nods. “Isn’t that the whole point – interpretation? I could give you a table of numbers and tell you it’s the average temperature by month of Bangtan Univeristy. Of course, if I were mistaken and the table was actually average rainfall – that’s a completely different meaning.”

Despite myself, the corner of my mouth lifts. “True.”

“So,” Taehyung nods, his voice solemn. “I will accept your apology.”

“Funny,” I retort. “I don’t remember offering one.”

Taehyung just smiles. “I’m waiting,” he sing-songs, arching a brow.

“I – no!” I laugh. “I’m sorry that I was rude. I know theatre is your life’s work and that you’re very proud of it, but – how I feel is how I feel.”

Taehyung stops on the sidewalk. Grabbing my arm, turning me to face him. “No,” Taehyung raises a brow. “Allow me correct a very serious misunderstanding. I am not proud of my work – I adore it. I live it, breathe it, cannot be parted from the music of my soul. To hear you desecrate it so,” Taehyung winces, clasping a hand over his heart, “is nothing short of crippling. I must beg you reconsider.”

I wait until he’s done. “Is that it?” I ask, arching a brow.

Taehyung’s face rearranges to normalcy. “Okay, you’re not dramatic. That’s fine,” he nods, serious. “We can work on that.”

“We?”

“You and me. Us.” Taehyung smiles. “Together.”

It’s very irritating, how my heart flutters at his words. Taehyung’s enthusiasm is so contagious, smile so warm that it’s hard not to lean in. It’s hard to remind myself it’s an act. Taehyung said so himself – he does not know where the stage ends and he begins.

“Yeah, no.” I continue to walk. “I think I’ll just be me, and you be you.”

It surprises me then, when Taehyung follows. “Let’s try something else,” he says. “What was the last musical you saw?”

I continue to stare straight ahead. “Anything Goes.”

When I say the name, the memories come rushing back. Him, on stage. Kissing her. Kissing her and now the two of them, entangled in sheets. Our bed, his body – I shake my head. No.

“You didn’t like Anything Goes?” Taehyung groans. “No – ‘you’re the top?’ No – ‘you’re the coliseum?’ I’m sorry. I guess tap dancing, show-stopping numbers and luxurious high seas romance isn’t for everyone.”

He sounds so offended, I can’t help but laugh and the blatant hurt of that memory starts to fade. “The tap dancing was the worst part,” I object. “How unlikely is it, to be sailing across the ocean and bam! –"

“Ship hit an iceberg?” 

“No. Bam! Everyone realizes they can tap! It would never happen.”

Taehyung snorts. “Okay, how about another tactic? Forget musicals.” When I look surprised, Taehyung presses his hands to his lips. “Believe me,” he mutters. “Just saying this pains me. But forget them,” he waves his hand. “They’re forgotten, don’t exist. What about concerts? Musicians in general?”

I shrug, letting my shoulders fall. My apartment building is in view and I slow my steps, trying not to be obvious. “I don’t know,” I allow. “I suppose I like music, it’s nice background noise.”

Taehyung freezes and for a second, I think I’ve broke him. “Background… background noise? Nope,” Taehyung shakes his head, loosening his scarf from around his neck. “Unacceptable.”

I smile, coming to a stop outside my building. “Well,” my mouth lifts. “I don’t know what to say. This is my place.”

Taehyung glances over my shoulder at the door. “Right. Well.” He sighs, breath fogging in the air before us. “This isn’t over,” he warns, eyebrows raised.

I laugh, rummaging in my purse for keys. “Okay, Professor Kim. Whatever you say.”

As I turn to leave, his hand slides around my wrist. I look up, startled to see how close Taehyung is. His eyes are earnest. “Why don’t you like theatre?” he asks again. “Aside from your bullshit, ‘it’s not structured,’ excuse.”

I can’t look away. “I – I have my reasons.”

Taehyung peers back. “Usually when someone says that,” he allows, softly letting go of my arm. “It means they’ve been hurt.”

I remain silent.

Taehyung nods, almost to himself. “I understand that.” 

I almost tell him.

Almost open my mouth to explain – but then stop. Taehyung is a stranger. A very attractive one, sure, that I can’t seem to get out of my head. One whose hand on my arm sends warmth through my body, whose conversation these past minutes has been the most interesting I’ve had in a long time.

None of that matters though, because this is just a role for him. This is Taehyung, acting a potential love interest. Just him, putting on a show and so I slowly turn away. “Goodnight, Taehyung,” I say.

I hear him exhale behind me. Feel his eyes linger, as I walk inside. When I reach my apartment, I toss my bag on the counter. Collapsing onto my couch and resting my head on the pillows. I stare over at my empty television screen.

Flicking the power button, I turn it on. Then off again, not knowing what to watch.

Not knowing what to think, because all I can think of is Taehyung.

In the following weeks, I don’t see him.

It’s not surprising, I suppose. There’s no reason I would see him, given our separate professions. In his absence though, I end up looking him up on the internet.

Just the once.

Okay, twice.

And then a couple more times.

Kim Taehyung, visiting Professor from Bangtan National Opera House. It’s exactly as Luis said: Taehyung landed the lead in a Broadway musical at age eighteen, won Best Male Actor when he was nineteen. After that, he took time off and penned a Grammy winning song before reentering the Broadway scene as a Director. After his second Tony, Taehyung began conducting at the National Opera House. His first stint at Bangtan University was as visiting lecturer, but he was in such high demand Bangtan Univeristy ended up bringing him on full time.

Taehyung comes from a small town in the middle of nowhere. He was thrust into the spotlight at a young age. No real family to speak of, since they’ve never traveled to any of his performances. I read this line over and over, struggling to make sense of it. His parents have never even seen him perform.

It’s this, opposed to his many awards, which runs through my mind the rest of the week. Try as I might, I can’t seem to push this fact aside.

Other than that, I try not to think much about Kim Taehyung. I do a pretty good job of it, until I come home Thursday night and find an envelope waiting at my door. I pause, glancing up and down the hallway. My apartment is on floor seventeen – which means it’s rare for me to get pamphlets or that sort of thing.

There’s no message on the outside to explain, just my name. Scrawled in hasty cursive, elegant in its simplicity. I bend to pick it up, unlocking my door and pushing inside. Shrugging from my jacket crossing into my kitchen.

When I open up the envelope, a single ticket falls out.

I stare for a long moment, then open the envelope further. This time I see the note, scribbled on loose-leaf paper.

Dear Y/N,

We’re all running from something. Whether it’s a painful past, uncertain future or murky present. One of my favorite things about theater, is that for an hour or two – you can escape. You don’t have to be yourself if you don’t want to be. Better yet, you can find yourself in someone else.

I find myself over and over on that stage. Part of the reason I perform, is to allow others to see me as well.

I want you to see me.

Kim Taehyung

Slowly, I flip over the ticket. It’s for tomorrow night, Friday at 8:00 PM. One ticket to Bangtan University’s Fine Arts Mid-Semester Showcase. My fingers slide against paper, breath coming quick and uneven. I haven’t set foot in an auditorium since my ex.

I hate how much he hurt me. Objectively, I know it’s him that I’m mad at, not the theatre. Objectively, I know it’s his infidelity which hurt, not the stage. It’s so hard to separate, though – all mixed together with the sound of his voice, the feel of velvet seats and song. I hate avoiding the spots which once were ours, the people we once shared – all because I want to avoid the person I used to be. That naïve, foolish girl who couldn’t see she was alone.

Couldn’t see she was unloved and when I realized, when I saw - it broke me.

I turn Taehyung’s ticket over in my hand. Staring blankly at the letters on the back. Then at his letter, open before me.

My hands fist in my pockets. Fingers sliding over his note, folded into squares. It’s something I do when I’m nervous, fold things over and over. Tracing and retracing until the edges are smooth. Until I feel the creases beneath my fingers, as though the paper could tear at any moment.

I take a breath. Someone jostles my shoulder, forcing me forward. “Sorry,” I apologize, even though they’re at fault. The stairs of Wincest Performing Arts Center curve upwards, mostly bare but for the snow melting in the corners.

It’s 7:55 PM, which means most people have already entered. By now they’re already seated and the doors in the lobby are likely close to closing. In five minutes, the show will begin. In five minutes, I won’t be able to enter. Then my decision will be made for me.

For a moment, the thought brings me relief. I can just say I was late, and that will be that.

Then that relief disappears. Shame and anger unfurling in my stomach. This isn’t me, I’m no coward. I can do this, I can enter this auditorium and I sit facing the stage. I can watch this performance and not think about him.

I can turn tonight into something new.

Shoulders squared, I walk in at 7:57 PM. The lights in the lobby are already flickering – I mumble apologetically to the usher while she shows me to my seat. I’m close, sitting in seat F11. It’s six rows from the front, the exact center of the auditorium. Clutching my program tight to my chest, I slide into my seat. Apologizing to the people on either side, at I collapse into the small, velvet seat.

From the corner of my eye, I think I see the curtain move. When I look over, there’s no one there. I shake my head, pulling out my program to squint at the page. It’s the mid-semester recital, meaning every single Fine Arts student auditioned for one of the fifteen spots. All performance arts – acting, singing, musical instruments and more.

But – no. There are sixteen acts listed. Skimming the page, I move from the first song down to the bottom. I swallow, when I see performer number 16.

Kim Taehyung, Professor of Fine Arts …………….. De-Lovely, Anything Goes

My heart pounds, too loud in my chest. De-Lovely is a song from Anything Goes. My eyelids flutter, as I try to block out the memories. Struggle to keep them, and him at bay.

Then my eyes open.

Strangely, when I think of that song – I don’t think of him at all.

The first notes of a violin start. I look up, to where a violinist has entered. The woman is small, frail as she nestles her instrument into the crook of her neck. Bow gliding smoothly over the strings like water and I force myself to relax, hands tight in my pockets. I run my finger over the edge of Taehyung’s note, a nervous tic.

I want you to see me.

The next act is a monologue, a soliloquy from Act 2, Scene ii of Hamlet. A spotlight replaces the bright stage lights of the violinist. A male enters, making forlorn eye contact with the audience.

“Now, I am alone,” he says starkly.

Sometime during his recitation, I move to the edge of my seat. Staring, enraptured at his stage. I forgot how good it feels, to let go. Losing myself, finding myself in another person. I come back to myself at the end, richer than before. That’s the beauty of theatre, why I used to enjoy watching so much.

Each performance is more beautiful than the last. I lose myself in each one, vision blurring as I return over and over to my body. I travel to 1881 Paris in the audience of the Opéra Populaire. Lose myself to the strings of Mozart’s String Quintet k 593. I travel with Odysseus, visit late nineteenth century Germany. Half the time, I’m not certain if my eyes are open or shut – only that I see.

My eyes are open when he steps onstage.

Taehyung is dressed simply. Wearing an all-black, well-fitted tuxedo. He grips the microphone with one hand, exhaling as the first notes of piano sound.

Taehyung lifts his gaze.

His voice is low, stirring and I’m lost at the end of the first line. He sings the song slower than normal, with no comedic effect. He asks each phrase at the audience. To the seats. To me, I think. His gaze roams the crowd and when he sees seat F11 filled, a small smile lifts his lips. Taehyung takes the microphone in one hand, pulling it from the stand.

He moves forward, continuing the song. His voice soars along the rafters, winding through the seats. Flaming sentimentality to being and I don’t know when it was I moved to the edge of my seat.

Taehyung sings with pure joy, the presence of a man falling in love. Hesitant, unsure, excited and willing. I feel each emotion flitting across his face – which terrifies me. I see myself in him. I see Taehyung, the way he wants to be seen. I see everything, too much and it scares me.

I sit back down, sinking into my seat while I stare at my knees. I concentrate on breathing, the rise and fall of my chest. People break into applause around me, the song coming to an end. I push myself to stand along with them, clapping softly. I manage to smile – I think Taehyung’s gaze finds mine in the audience. He mouths something, though I can’t understand.

Taehyung disappears offstage, the lights of the theatre slowly rising. People are buzzing, their excitement obvious. I hear one woman say to her husband that she never thought she’d hear Kim Taehyung live. Never thought she’d hear him sing, and so – she stops talking then, and I hear the sudden sound of a handkerchief being blown.

I don’t know what to do. I want to stay and congratulate Taehyung, but standing here like this is suffocating. Claustrophobic with memories, I see my past self waiting at that stage door. I see my ex exit, see him wrap his arms around me. See me thinking it was just makeup and hairspray making him smell like that.

I warp my arms tightly about myself, convincing myself that I’m okay. This is okay.

I am not okay.

I turn, halfway to the end of the row when I see Taehyung enter the audience. He’s wearing a loose, white shirt. Tucked into black trousers, his hair slightly mussed and sweaty. He grins at the multiple people who approach him, bowing and accepting their compliments. He’s surrounded by his people, surrounded by his admirers.

Of course. This is what my ex would do – emerge from the side door, already speaking to someone else. He’d wave at me to stay put, because he’d be right back. Then he’d disappear, leaving me waiting until he was ready to leave.

Taehyung looks up.

When he sees me there, a smile breaks over his face. He mouths something and this time, I catch it.

Stay.

I’m amazed at the speed Taehyung disentangles himself. Smiling politely to those around him, pushing his way past the arms of friends, performers and strangers. When he arrives at me, he pushes his hair back from his eyes. “You came,” Taehyung smiles.

I nod. “I did. I, uh – wanted to thank you. For the ticket,” I clarify.

Taehyung arches an eyebrow. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy you came.”

I frown. “How did you know where I live?”

“I, well.” Taehyung blushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may have asked a favor from a certain member of the administration. I asked if he could give me your address, so I could mail something.”

My jaw drops. “That has to be illegal.”

“I’m sorry!” Taehyung offers a lopsided grin. “At first I was just going to drop it off at your work but – where’s the fun in that?”

Eyes narrowing, I stare back at him. Stare for longer than I mean to, because I’m suddenly unsure of what to say. There are so many things I want to tell him. My anger fades, remembering his performance. His singing was beautiful – but of course he knows that. I was moved – Taehyung doesn’t know that, but it would be inappropriate to say. It would also be inappropriate to tell him I remembered myself, watching him. Remembered the parts of myself I left behind, saw ones I wanted back.

I say none of this, thogh. Instead, I smile. “I saw you,” I say softly.

I don’t clarify, but Taehyung’s gaze darkens. He exhales, chest rising and falling as I watch. I’m caught up in my thoughts, caught up in his spell, caught in his eyes and all the words he might say.

“Taehyung!”

Someone pushes past, pulling Taehyung into a hug. It’s not someone I recognize, their nametag scrawled with Jung Hoseok. He’s with a woman, the kind of woman it’s hard not to be envious of. She holds herself regally, staring at Hoseok with pure love and adoration. Adoration echoed in his eyes, as he looks her way.

“Taehyung-ie,” Hoseok grins, ignoring Taehyung’s groan at his nickname. “You were amazing tonight! Stupendous! Superb! This is the girl I was telling you about.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, turning his smile sideways.

I take a step backwards, sensing I’m no longer needed. Or maybe I am – since I like to think that Taehyung had more to say. Like to think he’d want to say more – but I don’t give him the chance.

Instead I leave, slipping out as quietly as I came. Outside, snowflakes drift down from the sky. I scowl at the sight, since it’s currently the middle of March. Spring should be coming, not this prolonged continuation of winter. Hurrying down the steps, I walk the remaining few blocks to my apartment in silence.

Silence but – I reach into my pocket, pulling out headphones.

I slip them onto my ears and play De-Lovely.

Someone is knocking at my door.

I push back my covers, drowsy and incoherent as I stumble from bed. There’s music playing, which makes no sense. Maybe I left my iPhone on before I went to sleep. Whomever is at my door continues to knock though, the sound loud and annoying as I make my way down the hallway.

I throw open the door. “Who the f –"

Taehyung strides through the door and kisses me.

My words fade, too surprised to react. That is, until his bottom lip nudges between my own. Opening my mouth, as his hands tangle in my hair. Taehyung exhales into my lips, his breath soft. “Hi.”

I can’t think, can’t feel beyond his presence. “Hi.”

Taehyung just stares at me, his eyes darkening. When he lowers his mouth, I meet him half-way. My kiss is just as hungry, just as aching as his is. Taehyung backs me into the wall, hands skimming over my body. He’s dressed in his tuxedo from earlier, and I shove his jacket down from his shoulders.

Taehyung’s lips burn my throat, hands flat to the wall. His hips press lazily forward as I moan his name. “I want you,” I breathe. “Taehyung, I want you.”

From far away, there’s a cell phone ringing. I ignore it. Winding my hands through Taehyung’s hair, tugging at the roots to make him growl. He nips my throat, hips making lazy circles as –

RIIIIIIING. RIIIIIIING.

I bolt upright, staring wildly around my bedroom. There’s no one there. No one except for me and my alarm clock, set to go off at 2:30 AM.

Slowly, I lower myself back to my pillows. Staring up at my ceiling, unable to control my heartbeat. It was a dream. Just a dream, it wasn’t real. Still, I feel him. I feel his hands on my body, his lips at my neck. Hear his grumbled moans against my throat and I press my eyes shut. Raising my hands to rub against my temples.

It was just a dream.

Now that I’ve seen Taehyung though – I can’t seem to stop.

The next few weeks, I ban myself from thinking about him.

It’s hard though, when every impulse of mine is to like Taehyung. I like his humor, his odd mix of arrogance and humility. I like the way he looks at me, how he listens, how he genuinely seems to care. But I promised myself I wouldn’t date another actor. Not after the last one.

The only thing is – I no longer find such conviction in this thought. Memories of my ex no longer pain me the way they used to. I walk past our table in the dining hall and feel fine. I see our old friends and wave. I’m slowly returning to the person I once was – albeit a stronger, better version of myself.

I feel free.

It’s a week later I close out my shift on campus. Luis has a doctor’s appointment, so I tell him I’ll shut down the store. Shoving the register away, taking one final sweep around the place. Ensuring all merchandise is folded and placed back on the shelves.

Everything is in order though and I exhale, turning to grab my bag – and knocking a container of pencils to the floor in the process. “Shit,” I mutter, bending to pick them up. I place them onto the counter, frowning at the broken tips.

“Ahem.”

I jerk backwards, nearly knocking over the pencils once more. “Taehyung!” I exclaim, seeing him standing before me. “What are you doing here?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise, as though he’s trying not to laugh. “Hi,” he waves. “Yes, it’s me.”

I scoop up the pencils, placing them back in their box. “Can I help you?” I ask, avoiding eye contact. “Did you come to buy another t-shirt?”

Taehyung’s lip quirks. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I came to ask you a question.”

He sounds oddly serious so I stop, looking up at him. “What question?”

Taehyung steps from around the counter. Coming to a stop to stare down. “Can I have your number?” he asks. “I feel bad getting your address from Seokjin. I mean – uh, from an unnamed faculty member,” Taehyung winces.

Despite myself, I smile. “Why would you want my number?”

Taehyung exhales. “I suppose, ‘because I want to ask you out,’ is too obvious an answer?”

“Oh.” I pull on my coat, lifting my purse from the counter. When I walk past, our shoulders brush. “I can’t go out with you,” I say softly.

Taehyung just looks at me, leaning his elbows onto the counter. “Physically? Are you thinking of becoming a nun or something?”

I look back over my shoulder. “Not a nun, Taehyung. I can’t date you.” I explain, pushing open the door.

Taehyung follows me, catching the door easily. He steps outside and watches me lock it, slipping the key into my pocket. When I walk down the steps he follows, continuing to watch from the corner of his eyes.

“Stop doing that,” I insist, pushing my hand frustratedly through my hair.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, but remains silent. It hasn’t snowed since the night of the concert – making the grass on either side of us dull and faded. Buds just starting to appear in the trees, though they won’t become full flowers until a few weeks out.

“Not until you explain why you won’t go out with me,” Taehyung says pleasantly. He’s wearing dark jeans, a navy button-down paired with a dark leather bomber jacket. His sunglasses are pushed up into his hair, but his expression remains serious.

I continue to walk, as the sounds of campus encompass us both. Why won’t I go out with Taehyung? Again, I remind myself why. All my past hurt, past wrongs, past pain at the hands of an actor. I wring my hands before my body, trying to convince myself this is right. I promised myself, I never would again.

But then I look sideways, where Taehyung still looks back. Sneaking glances every so often and I realize how very different his is. My ex never looked this way at me, never saw me the way Taehyung does. He certainly never would have tried so hard to date me. I was always the one chasing, not the other way around.

He never noticed things in my life which pained me – Taehyung noticed on the very first day. Not just that, but he tried to help. Sent me tickets and gave me the courage to find myself. To let myself feel, something I can never repay him for. I glance over as I walk, realizing I haven’t spoken for more than a few minutes.

“My ex was in theatre,” I confess. Looking forward while we leave campus, continuing down the street. “He was brilliant, charismatic. Drew people in without even trying. Of course,” I sigh, not daring to look at Taehyung. “It wasn’t just me who was drawn in. Things, well – didn’t end well.”

Taehyung is silent. “And I remind you of him?”

“Sometimes,” I admit. Taehyung’s face falls. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t date another actor. I don’t want to seem rude, it’s just too much for me. Someone whose life is performance – it doesn’t just stay on the stage, you know? You’re constantly thinking of how to present yourself, how to adjust yourself. How to tell the story, convey a message. It’s hard enough,” I whisper, looking ahead. “To understand someone without the added theatrics.”

Taehyung is silent for a long while. Just the sounds of his footsteps, echoing as he contemplates. He doesn’t leave me, though. Doesn’t turn away – giving me hope. Hope for what though, I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want from him.

Well, that’s not true. I want him. I want Taehyung near me, around me, in my life and in my apartment. It’s why I’m continuing to walk this way, why I don’t stop at my door and tell him to go.

Taehyung still doesn’t speak, while I pause in my lobby. I cross my arms across my chest, looking up at him. “Well?” I demand. “Do you have something to say?”

Taehyung’s gaze flickers to the doorman behind me. He looks up at my elevators. “I’d rather tell you in your apartment,” he confesses quietly. “If you’re willing to invite me up.”

I can barely hear him, over the beating of my heart. Over the paralysis which seizes my body, giving me pause. I’m a walking contradiction because I want him, so badly – but my pride won’t give in.

The least I can do though, is hear what Taehyung has to say. I turn. “Come on,” I say, walking across the lobby.

Taehyung follows. He doesn’t stand beside me in the elevator, leaning against the wall and letting his gaze wander. The box lifts, shooting past floor after floor. His gaze is dark, unreadable. When I step out of the landing though, my pulse is racing.

I’m thankful then, that I cleaned my apartment earlier. I turn on my light, setting my purse on my counter to look over my shoulder. “Would you like some coffee, or maybe tea?” I call, shrugging from my jacket.

When I turn around, I come to a stop.

It’s odd to see Taehyung in my apartment. Odd, in a nice way. He seems to fit – I wasn’t sure that he would. He shrugs free of his jacket, draping it over his arm. Taehyung’s shirt is loose, slightly open at the collar and he gazes curiously around my apartment.

“No, thank you,” Taehyung declines my offer. “Your place is very clean,” he observes.

Looking around, I nod. “I like things orderly.”

Taehyung smiles, laying his jacket on top of my stool. He stands motionless for a second, staring at me. “Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Go for it.”

“Why did you ask me here?” Taehyung tilts his head, expression unreadable. “I understand what you said. I understand you’ve been hurt, that you don’t want to be again. But if you really don’t want to date me, why am I here?”

I fiddle with the edge of my shirt. “I – I don’t know.”

Taehyung nods, before taking a step forward. “Let me tell you what I think,” he says softly. “I think when we met, you were still healing. I think you associated your past relationship with performance, because to him – whomever that douchebag was – they were one and the same. I understand that,” Taehyung hesitates, brow lowering. “I understand why it hurt, being close to something he loved.”

I nod, taking a shallow breath. “That’s true. It was.”

Taehyung takes another step. “But,” he adds, gaze searching mine. “You’re wrong.”

My gaze lifts. “Excuse me?”

“You’re wrong,” Taehyung shakes his head. “Theatre isn’t lying. It’s the purest form of humanity,” he insists, lips white. “I hate your ex, because he dabbled in things he didn’t understand. He didn’t get that the whole point of acting, of singing, of music, of art is to find yourself. To take an unseen truth and show it to an audience.”

I stare back at him, mesmerized by his expression. Taehyung’s eyes dance, burning in his face; smoldering in their intensity.

“Each time I sing,” Taehyung breathes, his voice catching. “Each time I act – it’s me, up on that stage. It has to be, otherwise it’s not genuine. I look at the role, the words, the song and I ask what truth I’m trying to uncover. Which part of myself I need to make raw. Because that’s what the audience relates to,” Taehyung exhales. “The moment of transformation. Seeing yourself on that stage, seeing yourself in a character. That can’t happen, if the performer doesn’t know who they are.”

Taehyung runs his hands through his hair, nearly knocking his sunglasses aside. He removes these, laying them cross-wise on the counter. “God,” he laughs. “It frustrates me, hearing that someone hurt you. Hearing someone hurt you that way, since it shut you down. I don’t even care,” Taehyung insists, waving a hand. “Don’t even care if you date me. I care that you don’t close yourself off, that you stop letting him hurt you like this. I care that you live.”

Taehyung’s chest rises and falls, breaking the silence. I run my fingers over the palm of my hands, unable to look away from him. His words are everything I feel. Everything I’ve felt these past few weeks, ever since seeing him onstage. It’s not the theatre I hate, not performance which hurt me – it was my ex. His lies, his deception, the way that he did it so easily.

I was also angry at myself. For not seeing it earlier, for letting myself be taken advantage of.

It was easy to blame art. To blame the profession, to say it was corruption when truthfully, it was just him. My ex would have done the same were he a banker, a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher. The fact that he was an actor was as coincidental a thing as anything else.

I exhale. “He’s not hurting me,” I say softly. “Not anymore.”

Taehyung stares for a moment longer. “Then,” he murmurs. “Can I ask you just two more things?”

I nod.

Taehyung walks closer, hands sliding to the base of my hair. His thumb strokes over my cheek, tilting me upwards. “Are you attracted to me?” he asks.

I nod, slowly.

“Then why do you keep running away?”

I hesitate. Taehyung’s hand is warm, body close enough to fill the space between us. “Do you remember when we first met?” I swallow, watching his brow crease with confusion. “You were arrogant, so over the top. It’s hard to believe what you say,” I hesitate. “Since my first impression of you was exactly what I expected you to be.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. “And what was your expectation?” he exhales, nearly a laugh. “What did you think I would be?”

“An actor,” I admit, looking up at him. “A talented, successful actor who didn’t understand what it meant to hear the word ‘no.’ Who only wanted me, because I said it. Who only chased me, because I ran. I don’t want to give in,” I grit my teeth. “Because I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

Taehyung’s eyes glint, almost angry. “You think I don’t understand no?” he asks, low and dangerous. “Y/N. Do you realize what it means, being successful in my field? To actually make it, in the theatre?”

Slowly, I shake my head no.

“I have heard the word no,” Taehyung repeats, closing his eyes. “Ever since I can remember. ‘No one from your town has ever left.’ ‘No one with your features has ever been cast.’ ‘No one with your range can sing this song.’ No, no, no. Over and over, until it’s the only thing I hear at night.” Taehyung opens his eyes, gaze burning. “I hold myself a certain way, act a certain way because people say yes when they think there’s a reason. People say yes, if you think it as well.”

“I’ve gotten here,” Taehyung explains, “on the back of the word no. My parents said I couldn’t do it – hell, they’ve never even been to one of my performances. I was the one who hopped on a bus, who slept on friends’ couches for months as I attended audition after audition. I heard no every time I opened my mouth until – one yes.”

Taehyung stares back at me. “I’m sorry I came across as a dick, that day that we meet. I’ll admit it – people often recognize me around campus. I get a bit cocky, I assume things. Sue me, I’m human,” Taehyung laughs. His fingers sliding into my hair, lifting my chin. “But – if you think I like you just because you’re running?” Taehyung shakes his head. “I haven’t done a very good job at chasing you.”

I stare up at him, stomach sinking as I realize I may have misjudged him. I assumed Taehyung to be one thing when actually – he’s something else entirely. I look down at my feet, struggling to find words. “I’m sorry,” I confess. “Sorry I assumed, sorry I ran. Truthfully,” I say, still unable to look at him. “I’ve been falling for you since our first conversation. It’s why I tried to stay away. I could feel myself falling, and I wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for the way that you laughed, the way you lifted my spirits, the way you made me dizzy and excited all at once. I wasn’t ready, and so I pushed you away.” I look up, meeting his gaze. “I think I’m ready.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak. Then he bends, brushing his lips with mine.

Once, twice.

Catching my lower lip to back me against the wall. His body presses forward, hands sliding up my sides and tangling into my hair. Taehyung grabs my wrists, lifting them overhead. Pinning me in place as his lips graze my neck.

My breath catches, hips pushing feverishly back. “Taehyung,” I groan, arching against his body.

His mouth curves into a smile at my throat, hands wrapped tight around my waist. “Yes?” Taehyung murmurs, lips tracing my jaw. “What do you want from me?”

I shake my head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Taehyung leans back, cocking an eyebrow. “Well,” he grins, a dark glint to his eyes. “I have to know. Do you want me to just kiss you, or do you want me on my knees?”

I inhale, legs pressed tight together at the thought. When Taehyung kisses me again, his lips are hot and needy. He lets go of my wrists and my fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer. His knee nudges between my own, grinding my sex and making me groan.

Taehyung’s hands slide to my ribcage, thumb grazing my breast as his lips trail my neck. Taehyung sucks where my neck meets my shoulders, kneading the skin gently between his teeth. He breaks this up with kisses and bites and I exhale, eyes fluttering as my head hits the wall.

“Fuck,” I mutter, losing myself in his touch. Hands lowering to his ass, pressing him tight between my legs.

Taehyung chuckles. “Oh?” he murmurs, lips returning to mine. “You want me there?”

I nod, too nervous to say more. “Yes.”

Taehyung kisses me roughly, mouth opening against mine. Tongue flicking over me, hands sliding beneath my shirt. My bra is undone, straps slid from my shoulders. “I’m afraid I’ll need you to say more than that,” Taehyung smiles, pulling back to look at me. “Tell me what you want.”

My eyes widen. “What… what do you want to hear?”

Taehyung stares at me openly, brazenly. “I want to hear what will make you come.”

My mouth dries as, between my legs I feel myself grow wet. “I don’t do dirty talk,” I whisper.

“Don’t?’ Taehyung’s lips lift, becoming a smirk. “Or don’t know how?”

The air thickens between us. “Don’t know how,” I admit, nearly inaudible.

Taehyung smiles. “Then,” he murmurs, hands lifting my shirt. “How about I say what I want?” He lifts my shirt entirely, tossing it to the side. My arms are slid from the bra, as this drops to the ground as well. “I want you on your knees, ass in the air and I want to fuck you until you can’t breathe. How does that sound?”

Taehyung’s hand snakes between my legs, spreading them. “Good,” I moan, nearly breathless at the touch. “I want that, Taehyung.”

Taehyung smirks. “Mm. I knew you were fucking dirty,” he teases, bending his head as his lips find my breast. Other hand tracing the next, flicking as his tongue traces. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you,” Taehyung murmurs, kissing back up my chest. “How long I’ve wanted to spread you out on your bed and eat your pussy? I bet you’re fucking sweet.”

Taehyung’s fingers tug my jeans, unbuttoning first one button, then the other. He shoves these past the curve of my hips, then my thighs. Leaving me standing in just my underwear. Taehyung takes a step back to survey me. Lacing his hands behind his head, breath coming in uneven motions.

“Fuck,” he groans. I see his erection straining against his pants and Taehyung reaches his hands slowly down, pulling his shirt from his torso.

I can’t quite help the noise that escapes me. “Come here,” I murmur, but he shakes his head.

“No.” Taehyung’s eyes gleam.

I take a step closer. “What I want,” I murmur, dropping to my knees. “Is for you to take off these pants.”

Taehyung stares at me for a moment, slowly undoing a button. Then his zipper before letting my hands take over, pushing the material past his butt, his thighs. Dropping to the ground as he steps free. I remove his boxers the same way, watching Taehyung’s dick spring up, slapping his stomach. I smile, scooting closer. Letting my legs fall to either side.

Slowly, I lick upwards from the base of his cock. Teasing him with my mouth, hands roaming the rest of his body. Sliding behind his thighs, stroking his ass. I take his cock further, swirling my tongue. Taehyung groans loudly, the muscles of his stomach tight. My hand slides down, covering his shaft while my tongue traces over the tip.

Taehyung hisses. When I look back up, his lower lip is between his teeth. Eyes glazed while watching his cock disappear into my mouth. My hands find his balls, massaging as I let him hit the back of my throat. Taehyung exhales shakily, looking down.

“Yes, baby,” he moans, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, you look so hot with your lips wrapped around my cock. Your mouth is so tight,” he grunts, thrusting forward. “So wet.”

I allow him control, Taehyung’s hand wrapping my hair into a ponytail while he watches through slitted eyes. “Up,” he demands, his cock falling from my mouth.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, running my tongue over my finger and swallowing precum. Taehyung’s eyes widen. “Oh, so you don’t do dirty talk,” he mutters. “But you’ll lick my fucking cum off your hand? God, you’re amazing.”

Taehyung lifts me, crushing my mouth to his, pressing his hips forward. When he pulls back, his gaze travels downward. Landing on the lace panties I wear, which only just cover my ass. “Can I see your bedroom?” Taehyung sighs, biting my neck.

I grab his hand, tugging him off down the hall. As I walk, Taehyung presses into me, cupping my body to his. He kisses the back of my neck, hair, hands trailing my sides. Halfway there, he pushes me to the wall. Kissing me roughly, yanking my knee up to wrap around him. He kisses me thoroughly, tongue teasing as he bends to grab my other knee.

Taehyung pulls me upwards, wrapping both legs around his waist. He pushes me against the wall, cock hard between my thighs as I whimper, wanting him inside me. “Taehyung,” I groan, his hands gripping my ass. “I want you to taste me,” I whisper.

Taehyung shivers, as I bite down on his lobe. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I want to taste you. I want to lick your pretty little cunt until you’re trembling.”

“Fuck, Tae,” I grunt, tightening my legs.

He walks us backwards, down the hall until he finds the door to my bedroom. Taehyung steps us both inside, glancing around. “Your bed?”

I shake my head. “Bathroom.”

Taehyung doesn’t question this, walking into the adjoining room. “Now what?” he murmurs, lips pressing gently to my jaw.

I lower my legs, turning to walk towards my shower. I open the glass door, turning the knob until water streams from the faucet. Then I look back, watching Taehyung as I push my underwear past my thighs. Taehyung’s gaze follows, as they hit the floor.

“You coming?” I ask, stepping into the water. Tilting my head back, while the water cascades down my front.

I hear Taehyung’s footsteps approach, hear the door to the shower opening as his hands wrap around me. Lips finding my neck, as his hands dip between my thighs. Taehyung draws in a slow, lazy circle, tracing my sex as I exhale. Taehyung’s erection pressing into me from behind, making me moan.

Taehyung turns me, so that my back hits the wall. His body presses forward, lips fierce and wanting. His hand tangles in my hair, the other reaching sideways. My heart pounds when his hand closes around my shower head. Taehyung switches on the pressure, bringing the device close to my body.

His hand finds the wall, other moving the head between my legs. “What,” Taehyung smirks, kissing my neck. Turning the water pressure higher, as I moan. “Is this too much?”

He sucks at my neck, allowing the shower head higher and harder. I arch against it, unable to contain my swearing when the water vibrates my clit. Taehyung’s hand travels down, tweaking a breast. Teasing until my nipple is firm, hard beneath his palm and he bends his head. Pulling my breast into his mouth as the water pulses below.

I press my hips upwards, playing into Taehyung’s game. My thigh lifts to wrap easily around his leg, allowing better access. “Fuck,” I groan, grinding my hips into the water.

Taehyung drops down to his knees. Pulling the spout away, letting it fall to the floor as he opens my legs. Licking up my sex, then down. Tracing a circle, then another. I moan, eyes tightly closed so I don’t see when he grabs the shower head. Don’t see when he switches the nozzle to jet. Only feel, when he pushes this inside me.

“Taehyung!” I gasp, as his lips tug at my clit, the water pounding into me below. “Fuck,” I moan, clutching hair between my fingertips. Unable to stop from tightening in response. My muscles are shaking, out of control as I fall apart.

Taehyung licks a slow circle around my clit while I orgasm, then withdraws. He tosses the shower head to the side. Staring for a moment before bringing his hands up my legs. Kissing my lips while I exhale, wrapping my arms tight around his neck.

“Are you finished?” he asks quietly, nuzzling his face into my shoulder.

I shake my head. “No,” I murmur, pressing my hips to his. “I want you inside me. Now.”

Taehyung nods. Pulling me out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He drapes this around his neck before drying his body, the motions quick and purposeful. I watch him, cloth disappearing between his legs, around his back. His muscles strain, and then he steps forward to dry me off as well. Fluffing my hair, wiping water pooled at my breasts and thighs.

Taehyung grabs my hand to pull me into the bedroom. Walking in front of me with his perfect ass on display. When we reach my bed, Taehyung sits on the mattress. “Come here,” he demands.

I take a step forward, watching his eyes trace my body. Then I stop. “Tell me why I should.”

The corner of Taehyung’s mouth lifts. “Because,” he murmurs. “I know you want to be fucked. Know you want my cock between your legs, want that pretty pussy of yours given attention. Don’t you want me,” he smirks, “to throw you onto your back and make you scream my name?”

His eyes glint, color wicked as I swallow. “Or you can watch me,” I smile, sliding a hand down my body.

Taehyung sits up straight. “Baby,” he groans, pleading for the first time tonight. “Please come sit on my cock.”

I grin. When I walk within arm’s length, Taehyung grabs me to pull me towards him. Flipping me onto my back while kneeling between my legs. He kisses a path up my legs, one finger already sliding over my entrance.

“Mm,” Taehyung murmurs, spreading my legs further. “You’re already so wet. Your cunt looks fucking tight. So pink and pretty, I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Why don’t you?” I moan, arching against the bed. “Taehyung, I want your cock.”

Taehyung’s gaze rises to the swell of my breasts, then back down. “No,” he shakes his head. “If you’re going to moan my name in bed, I want you to fucking scream it.”

His lips bend to my sex, tracing circles. Tracing harder, as my hands find his hair. Taehyung spreads me wider, finger slowly pushing inside me. He makes a slow circle, then withdraws. Then pushing back in, driving me crazy.

“Taehyung,” I moan, shifting against him. Pushing my hips up, messily grinding against his face. “Please, just fuck me. I want your cock. I want you to pound me into the mattress.”

Taehyung continues to fuck with his finger, but he moves his mouth away. Rising to kiss my lips, letting me taste me on his mouth. “Condom?” he asks, and I nod.

I reach over to pull one from my nightstand, whimpering when his hand falls from my body. As I hand over the packet, Taehyung rolls it onto his throbbing member. He leans back to survey me, his eyes dark. “Turn around,” he demands. “Ass in the air.”

I obey, turning to lower myself onto my elbows. I shiver, when his hand traces over my butt. Taehyung pushes first one, then two fingers inside me. Stretching my opening, making me moan. “God, how long has it been since you’ve been fucked,” Taehyung murmurs. “Your pussy is so tight. So wet it’s dripping, you’re all over my hand.”

When I turn my head to look, Taehyung licks the juices clean. He bends, trailing a quick circle around my clit from behind. “Is this what you want?” Taehyung murmurs and I feel him pull away, cock sliding teasingly up and down my slit. “You want to be fucked into your mattress?’

I can barely process, when he pushes his tip inside. Stretching me further, widening me farther. Taehyung pushes himself in inch by inch and he’s right – it has been awhile since I’ve fucked. Definitely not this way, with his hands in my hair and cock at my g-spot. Slowly moving himself in and out.

Taehyung’s hands find my ass, caressing gently before he spanks me. I hiss, biting down on my lip and pushing backwards. Taehyung soothes the sting, continuing to thrust with his hips. “Did you like that?” he murmurs, bending to kiss the top of my shoulder.

I push my hips back, forcing my ass into him. “Again,” I groan.

Taehyung smacks my ass again, thrusting as he does so. “You want more?” he grunts, continuing to fuck me. “Ah, I see now. You like being treated roughly. You like not being able to walk in the morning, huh, baby? You want to be full of my dick while I fuck you like a bitch?”

Hearing him call me baby and bitch in the same sentence drives me crazy. He speaks in that low, soothing voice, one hand sliding down my front. Stroking over my sex while his hips ram into me from behind.

“Taehyung, fuck,” I moan, before he pulls out entirely.

“Flip over,” Taehyung demands. He waits until I obey before grabbing my wrists, yanking them overhead and slamming back into me. My legs lift, wrapping around him as he thrusts harder and faster. Kissing me roughly, all tongue and teeth. “I want to see you,” Taehyung groans, hips rising with every thrust. “Want to see your face when you come.”

I nod, barely able to say anything more because I’m already tight. Already on edge, while Taehyung rolls his hips against my g-spot. I’m sure my sheets are a mess beneath me, sure my bed is getting soaked but I don’t care. Taehyung is just as sweaty as I am, back straining as he pounds into my body.

“Even once you come, this isn’t the end,” he groans, biting at my neck.

“No?” I gasp, hands roaming his body. Grasping onto anything I can find.

“No,” Taehyung grunts, fucking harder. “There’s still so much I want to do to you. I want to push your legs apart and eat you out so slowly you scream. Want to fuck you against a wall, slide my thumb inside that tight little ass of yours. Want to tell you what a good slut you are, watch you swallow all the cum from my cock.”

“Oh, fuck,” I groan, as he pulls my knee higher. “Taehyung, I want all of that,” I groan, barely able to see past the pleasure. “I want you to fuck me so hard, I can’t remember my name. God.”

Taehyung shudders, pushing into me, “Come for me, baby.”

I don’t know if it’s him asking, or if I’ve finally reached my edge but I come apart. Shaking, as Taehyung continues to fuck into me. He comes after a few more thrusts, collapsing half-way onto his elbows. Taehyung exhales, kissing my nose. Then upper lip, then lower.

He pulls back to drop on his side, pulling the condom away. “So,” Taehyung says, gaze hesitant as he tosses the condom into the garbage.

I answer by scooting closer. “I figure we should date,” I murmur, brushing hair from his eyes

Taehyung’s gaze lightens. “You do? You don’t think that I’m too – what was it, again?”

“Annoying and arrogant?” I grin, moving forward. Feeling his arms wrap firmly around me. “No, I still think you’re all that. I just,” I pull back to look at him. “I see you. All of you, and I want you.”

“Good,” Taehyung murmurs, leg sliding between my own. “Because I want you too, Y/N.”

“How delightful.”

He chuckles, nuzzling my neck with his nose. “How delicious.”

“De-lovely.”

 Author’s Note: De-Lovely 

[loyolahcmass]

Homily on Eye of the Tiger by Survivor

Here is the preview of Fr. Rossi’s homily about the song Eye of the Tiger by Survivor:

“Eye of the Tiger”: The Edge

 “Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival.”

 It was 1981.

 The “Rocky” movies were at the height of their popularity.

 “Rocky III” was in development in Hollywood.

 And the legendary track “Eye of the Tiger” was about to be born.

—————

The rock group Survivor had previously released two albums, neither of which had done particularly well, and they were worried their label was going to drop them.

 One day Jim Peterik, Survivor’s keyboardist, came home, pressed play on the answering machine and heard: “Yo Jim, give me a call, it’s Sylvester Stallone.”

 I went: “Yeah, right.”

—————

Stallone had said to a friend, “I’m looking for a new sound for my Rocky III movie” and the friend had played him a couple of our songs.

 So I’m talking to Stallone on the phone.

 He said: “I want something for the kids. Something street, something with a pulse. Can you help me out?”

 I told him: “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this since I started my career in music.”

—————

The next day Frankie Sullivan, our guitarist, came over and a FedEx arrived with a giant Betamax video cassette on which was a rough cut of the first three minutes of “Rocky III”.

 Man, the energy of it – with Mr T rising up and Rocky getting soft and doing commercials.

 There was music on there already. – “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen!

 But Stallone couldn’t get the publishing rights from Freddy Mercury.

 I said: “Frankie, we got our work cut out for us. Because ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ is a perfect song.”

—————

It was a few days later in the car when I came up with the riff and the idea of timing the chord changes with the punches.

 Frankie got the ball rolling with the lyrics: “Back on the street, doing time, taking chances.”

 But we had to call Stallone and say: “You gotta send us the whole movie because we can’t get any further with the story.”

 Then we heard that phrase when Apollo says: “You had that eye of the tiger, man, the edge …. You gotta get it back.”

 That had to be the hook.

—————

We went out to Hollywood for the “Rocky III” premiere and were on the red carpet with celebrities.

 But I only really got how big the film was (It became the #1 film of 1982) about a month later, when I snuck into my local theatre in Illinois, and the place was packed.

 People were clapping and standing up, cheering.

—————

The Grammy is still sitting on my recording console.

 The money doesn’t hurt, but the best royalty is that I’ll be in the supermarket and meet random people who tell me the song has affected their lives in a positive way.

 It has helped people through cancer or a heart attack.

 I know people that have been on the operating table and asked to have “Eye of the Tiger” playing. 

 That’s the real deal!

—————

We sent Sly the song and didn’t hear back from him for a while and were wondering what was going on.

 I’m friends with his brother Frank, and so I asked him.

 He said: “I was up at Sly’s last night, he was banging and slamming his head to it so much he was sweating.”

 I thought: “Well, that’s a good sign.”

—————

Fast forward and we were about to go out to Hollywood to put the music to the film, and Jim got sick with pneumonia.

 So I ended up on my own, 23 years old, at the soundstage at Warner Brothers.

 After two days Sly said: “It doesn’t have balls. I don’t care what the hell you do, I want it to kick ass.”

—————

All I did was push the faders up a single decibel and, boom, you could feel the difference.

 It was kicking and he loved it.

 He said: “Print it!”

—————

I told him: “But that’s the demo!”

 Sly said: “I don’t give a damn what it is.” 

 That’s his attitude!

—————

A week after the film came out I was driving on the freeway and I heard “Tiger” on the radio.

 I switched over and I heard it on another station.

 I switched again and heard it on a third station.

 I had to pull over, because it was one of those moments I never want to forget.

—————

Did we know it was going to go to #1 in the US for six weeks, and to #1 in 29 other countries?

 No, course not, but I felt in my gut that people were going to relate to the song because it’s about getting your butt out of bed. 

 It’s about saying: “I’m not going to TRY to go to the gym Monday – I AM going to the gym Monday.”

—————

When we were writing “Tiger,” the guitar I played on the song had a broken headstock.

 I couldn’t afford another one so I glued it back together. 

 Now I collect vintage guitars, thanks to “Eye of the Tiger”.

 That’s the edge!

—————

“Be watchful! Be alert!”

                                                 Gospel of Mark

 That’s Jesus’ message for Advent.

 In other words, keep your SPIRITUAL edge.

—————

Advent is the season for preparing for the Lord.

 In “Rocky III,” Rocky Balboa loses his edge for a time.

 He recovers, thanks to a pep-talk from his former rival, and now trainer, “guardian angel”, Apollo Creed.

—————

We can’t take that chance spiritually, Jesus insists.

 Something more important than a boxing match is at stake here: our soul!

 That’s our “eye of the tiger”.

[lamaisongaga]

    BACK IN TIME: LADY GAGA AT THE GRAMMYS 2011

The Grammy Awards 2011 were held on February 13 at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. Not only did Lady Gaga debut her single ‘Born This Way’ with a huge performance that night, she also took home the Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Album for ‘The Fame Monster’!. 

Nicola Formichetti styled her that night. Her hair was done by Sam McNight, make-up by Val Garland and her prosthetics by Millennium FX.

Gaga “walked” the red carpet dressed head to toe in custom Mugler Fall/Winter 2011 inside the temperature controlled plexiglass vessel Chalayan custom-made for her based on the egg-shaped one-person flight capsule he designed for his “Place to Passage” movie premiered back in 2003. Gaga’s vessel took over a month to construct.

This idea was born on the tour bus in Amsterdam. Gaga was “was thinking about birth, about embryos”.

And right before the Grammy Awards, Gaga wanted no distraction. She wanted to be encapsulated for three days. And think only about her “Born This Way” performance. About her new album baby. And about the future of her fans. And that’s what she did.

As Gaga’s former Choreographer and Creative Director Laurieann Gibson told Access Hollywood, Gaga was “was incubating, in birthing the new race, she had to go through a DNA transition, so before she was born, we had to actually transfer her in a med box to keep the process going”.

The vessel represented “the incubation period. The time where you’ve got to deal with the pain, let it go… It’s a representation of what people feel every day”.

Her oversized black acetate sunglasses with gold-tone brow bar and sides are vintage Gianfranco Ferré GFF 16/S.

The black leather opera zip-through gloves are signed by Gaspar!

Custom black leather Unicorn heelless platform ankle boots by Noritaka Tatehana completed the look.

And then she was Born This Way.

All of us we were born naked. And so was she. Dressed in nude latex trench coat, triangle cut-out crop top, slit maxi skirt, soft foam hat and nude feet-illusion ankle boots, all by Mugler in collaboration with Perry Meek.

Even her hair color was a washed-out rose color… “it was meant to be a hair expression, an afterbirth”.

As Gaga explained during her interviews, her performance was “visually and thematically and lyrically about birthing a new race, birthing a race within the race of already existing cultures of humanity – that bears no prejudice and no judgment. The whole performance was a Gregorian Alvin Ailey, had Martha Graham energy to it, and that was a statement in itself”.

To create her yolk-yellow short natural nails, Gaga used the Deborah Lippmann nail lacquer in Yellow Brick Road.

Then we saw her wearing molded leather bodice (j’adooore) by Mugler that had a cosmic inspiration. “It was inspired by humanoids, alien sex humanoid hybrid women”.

The moment I saw the first photos of Gaga accepting her Grammy, I went to my Thierry Mugler files.

She made me travel back to the late early 90s when Mugler created above pictured rubber jacket (one of my most favorite jackets by Thierry) I believe inspired in psymbiotes, fembots (not sure about the first picture from the runway, the second one was captured by Markus Pritzi).

Last one was the Grammy finale outfit (same Mugler jacket from the arrival look) teamed-up with dramatic black hat, Gaga dubbed Church, by Franc Fernandez.

Franc told me he “wanted it to have the same idea as her skin. As if something was pushing up against it and creating a new shape” and sent me this photo for you to see the Church up close.

All three black Grammy looks were completed with Mugler in cooperation with Nasir Mazhar thigh-high alien boots.