#edit: her face barely looks aged i did mean to add more Lines. Um. I’m a little embarrassed

[nostraightgloops]

[beerecordings]

Um, if that was a prompt for us to send things in, "Go on. Try to run." with whoever you choose?

okay..... i’m real proud of this one... thanks for the prompt, sid :) can you feel the American patriotism????? (because our nature scenes are the only thing we have going for us anymore???) anyway someone take a road trip with me

also sorry again i can’t get the read-more to work.... I know this post is long af. please tag it “long post” if you reblog, ty ty

Edit: not tumblr fucked up the spaces too, so there’s these *** instead of spaces. i am confusion.

tws for vomit mention, blood, implied character death, and car crash

                                                          ***

He moves through the shadows of the mountains at his brother's side, curled up against the window of the shitty 2002 Dodge Neon they stole from a rancher's backyard at three in the morning, trying not to nightmare.

He dozes instead of sleeping, suspended in awakeness by the rapid thud-thud-thud of the vibrating window against his skull.

“Turn the radio on?” he asks drowsily, readjusting and putting his jacket against his head.

JJ pushes the power button on the radio and flicks through the channels, bypassing Mexican music complete with a joyful grito, hypermasculine country trash, the top 40s station, and an orchestral piece featuring an celloist going absolutely ham on Shostakovich's Symphony Number One before landing on a talk show about the declining white rhino population in Southern Africa.

Not what Chase would have picked, but he'll forgive his little brother's eccentrism for the relief of a voice to listen to.

“Two female Northern white rhinos live at the Pejeta Conservatory in Kenya, and today, they and the rest of the world are grieving a terrible loss – the death of the last male Northern white rhino, Sudan, who passed away last Monday at the ripe old age of forty-five.”

“That's sad,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his face. Fuck, he's hungry. Maybe he'll wake up after all. Sitting up in his chair, he heaves out a deep sigh and glances over at JJ, who doesn't even bother to nod, his exhausted eyes fixed on the road.

“You should let me drive next.”

Jameson shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably. His fingers are gripped very tight on the steering wheel.

“The loss of the Northern white rhino species has been sudden and devastating. In 2015, five rhinos lived in captivity, and there were hopes of babies being born to help save the species. But now, only two of the rhinos remain, and it seems their death warrant has been signed by the loss of Sudan.”

Chase glances out the window, where proud tall trees rise towards a fervently blue sky, heavy with spring greenery. Their car curves down a winding road through a rocky mountainside, spitting gravel off the side of the cliff as they speed along towards their destination.

What destination? Chase wonders, watching the light of the sun play along the surface of a quiet blue lake miles below them. Where can we go that he will not find us?

“Hey, any beef jerky left?”

Jamie shakes his head again, glancing over at his brother. A flicker of his old warmth wakes up in his eyes as he meets Chase's gaze, his twin in tiredness.

He takes his hands off the wheel long enough to sign, “Stop soon.”

“Okay.”

Chase reaches into the back and grabs Jackie's blood-stained backpack off the floor, taking out his journal one more time. He doesn't expect to find anything that will help them anymore.

He just misses his brother's handwriting.

“I think I'm getting paranoid,” reads the soft, scrawling script their brother left behind. “I can tell that he's coming. I can always tell. The glitches, Jack's condition. Sometimes I think Marvin can sense it too, because I hear him awake late at night, coughing on too much magic, full up on restless energy. I know I'm being overbearing, telling them all to stay close, trying to stop Schneep from going to work. I can't get him to stay home. I'm just scared Anti will take him away first. He works regular hours now and it's not safe. Anti could find him. Anti could find Jack. I don't want to be an ass. I just want to keep them safe.”

Chase swallows back tears – he's getting used to that burn at the back of his throat – and flips dully through the rest of the journal. Here are Jackie's notes on Anti's powers, signs of his oncoming appearances, what he's done in videos, what he seems to want. None of it was enough to save them.

If only he had been a little more overbearing.

“There used to be many Northern white rhinos, living happily throughout Northern Africa in large numbers. But the reason for their decline, and now, near extinction, is all too clear – poaching has led these innocent creatures to their end. Even now, the two remaining Northern white rhinos must be protected around the clock, wary of hunters at all time.”

“Can we listen to something else?” asks Chase.

“Today, we grieve the loss of this magnificent species, once a proud and numerous symbol of their homeland. With only two remaining, how can they expect to survive?”

JJ turns the radio off.

                                                              ***

Chase peers up at the dawn sky from beneath the windshield, his eyes flickering between the dead highway before them and the breathing morning stars above him, glittering in the faraway satin of a bright pink sunrise.

“Some parts of America are really so pretty,” he says, wistful. Brown and black horses move past their car, watching from the hills and nudging their colts around with their noses. “I wish we were just on a roadtrip instead of on the run, you know? We could go somewhere nice. Camp out or something. No, never mind. Camping sounds miserable. We'll get a hotel and wander all the cities we like. Schneep always talked about traveling.”

He takes a sip from the caffeinated gas station soda in the cup holder beside him and then glances over to grin sadly at his brother, but JJ isn't looking. He sits with his head in his hand, frowning out the window, pale in the wan yellow light of the morning.

“Hey, you okay?”

No answer, but it's hard to have a conversation when Chase is supposed to be watching the road. And Jamie hasn't talked much lately anyway. Hardly at all, really. He just clings to Chase's side and glares at passersby in silence, his hand shoved into his pocket at all times. Chase is pretty sure he's always holding a knife these days. He never looks happy. He never looks safe.

Fuck, he'd just about kill to see him smile again.

Chase takes a deep breath and swallows down a burning at the back of his throat, reaching out to rub the back of JJ's neck roughly.

“Look, bud,” he sighs. “I know how hard you're trying to protect me, but I wish you'd look after yourself a little better. It's just you and me now, you know? And that – that isn't easy, but if we're going to survive... we both need to survive, right, man?”

JJ doesn't turn to him. The sunrise makes him pastel in blue and pink.

“I love you,” Chase adds. “I'm really glad you're here, J. What would I do without you, huh?”

He smiles and gives his brother another affectionate clap on the shoulder, adding a playful tug on his ear, trying to get him to look at him.

And Jameson turns and he is weeping.

“You'd be much better off without me,” he signs, and then he breaks down completely, slumped against the dashboard with gasping sobs trembling their way out of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Chase can't help but spit out, reaching out to leave a hand on his brother's back as he slams the brakes hard and drags their exhausted little car onto a quiet gravel shoulder, where only fence posts and sparsely forested grasslands stare back at them.

Chase unbuckles and gets out of the car, moving to Jameson's side and pulling open the door. After that, all he knows to do is reach out, gentle, and grab JJ's hand, ferocious.

He hasn't seen Jameson cry in weeks. He has been steel and defense, gritted teeth and deadened eyes, since what happened.

“Tell me what's going on,” he says.

“What's going on?” JJ demands, yanking his hand away. A magpie calls a reprimand to the trees, her black head shining with the golden light of the oncoming day. “Let's stop pretending there's any relief to be found in this, Chase. In escaping. In running. In fucking off to another country and wearing baseball caps low over our eyes and pretending the internet doesn't exist. In driving all day and all night, in grieving from the front seat of a stolen car, in never seeing home again.”

“Fine,” snaps Chase, gripping his hand and leaning closer. “Fine, there's nothing good about this. Does that make you feel better? There's nothing good about this situation.

Except you.”

Jameson stills, sniffling sadly and wiping harsh at the salt on his cheeks.

“You're all I got left, man,” Chase murmurs, putting his other hand on his shoulder. “You're everything. And I'm tired of seeing you so... quiet. Listen, I'm in grief too. You've heard me crying often enough to know. But if we're going to survive, we have to survive together. I need you healthy. Or as healthy as you can be. Capeesh?”

JJ looks up, his mouth trembling, and gives Chase the smallest nod.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

Jameson is pale and exhausted, thin with bad eating and long nights of running, hollowed and hopeless and lovely, lovely as he has ever been, a blue-eyed boy with a softness in his face and power in the lines of his hands. Chase brushes a curl of hair from his brother's eyes, his fingers drifting over the curves of his face.

“It's my fault,” says JJ.

“Oh, buddy – ”

“No, it is, I mean it, it's all my – it's all my fault.”

“Don't say that, Jays. It's not true.”

“I was supposed to be watching Schneep.”

“You did everything you could.”

“Jackie and Marvin went to protect Jack, and I was supposed to watch Schneep, I was supposed to save Schneep, I was supposed to – ”

JJ collapses onto Chase's shoulder, weeping so hard he can barely breathe. All Chase can do is hold him, hold him close and cry out, “You did everything you could. You did everything you could. It's not your fault you were the last line of defense.”

And this is the truth, but it makes nothing better.

Jameson Jackson did his best. Fought his best. Loved his hardest.

It was only enough to save one.

And he's afraid – afraid to the core of his being, afraid down to his trembling heart – that, soon enough, it will no longer be enough to save Chase either.

“I love you,” says Chase. “And you and I? We're going to find some happiness again, someday, okay? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. You deserve that much.”

Jameson stares back at him, reaching out to clutch his hands. Slowly, wearily, he lets his watching eyes slip shut, and rests his head on Chase's shoulder.

They sit by the side of the road for a long time. The cicadas are singing in the trees.

                                                             ***

The stars watch over them.

Or maybe they're just watching.

Chase can never tell anymore. Everything feels like a threat these days.

"On the road again," he hums, bouncing his leg and trying to entertain himself by tapping his fingers against his knee. "Oh, I can't wait to get on the road again!"

He pauses, glancing over at JJ.

"That's not true," he admits, and Jameson looks back at him warmly, giving his fine blue eyes a quick roll made visible by the ugly yellow overhead light they flickered on for comfort in the dark.

There's no one else out here. They take back roads when they can.

"What state are we in?"

Jameson frowns, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully before offering Chase a guilty look of surrender.

"You don't know?"

"Maybe P-E-N - "

"Penis, my favorite state, perfect."

Chase gets a punch in the arm for that one. Worth it.

There's a little more fire in JJ tonight, he thinks. He hopes. Maybe it's because they spent more than they should have on dinner to get little ice cream cones for dessert, or maybe there's just been enough time passed that Jameson's paranoia is settling down, but one way or another, he's hoping to see some joy on his face soon. If he keeps cracking enough dumbass jokes, he can get him to smile, can't he? Surely there's some happiness coming their way at some point, considering that the universe has been well and truly fucking them over for the past four weeks. Surely.

Chase glances around for wood to knock on, but he can't reach the trunks of the heavy forest zipping along past their window. The headlights illuminate a warning sign on the side of the road before them, neon yellow with the black form of a deer printed on its surface, and Chase jerks back as he accidentally meets the gaze of the enormous grey owl sitting atop it.

"These woods are creepy," he complains.

"Sleep," suggests JJ authoritatively, pushing Chase's shoulder.

"Hey, you sleep," Chase grumbles back, pushing his shoulder back. "Maybe we could - oh, shit! Is that a CD case?"

His enthusiasm makes Jamie flinch, but a second later he is watching with interest as his brother rifles hurriedly through the pages of the CD holder, laughing louder with each disc he lays eyes on.

"Al Green - Frank Sinatra - holy shit, both discs for the Order of the Phoenix audiobook. You want to listen to some fucking Harry Potter?"

"No."

"Aw, come on."

"Those were Marvin's favorites!"

There's a pause. Chase stares over at his brother. Jameson stares over at the road, pale with distress.

"Yeah," says Chase eventually. "He was a real nerd for this shit."

He gets punched in the shoulder again, but Jameson's eyes are affectionate. Chase grins and adjusts in his seat, crossing his legs in front of him.

"You remember that time he set the kitchen on fire?" he asks.

Jameson blinks, his mouth twitching. "Which time?"

"Ha ha! The time I was cooking a whole goddamn turkey in the oven and he sent everything up in smoke? Schneep stepped into the house, took one look at all of us screaming and trying to put the fire out, and walked right back out."

Jameson snorts, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. Yeah, he remembers. He remembers laughing.

"But that was also the day Jackie came home so badly hurt," Jameson reminds, drawing his hands away from the wheel just for a second.

"Yeah, well, that one was his fault. He never could resist a fight with a guy twice his size. I don't know if you ever heard this - it was before you were created - but he once got his skull busted open by some asshole with a whole mob of lackeys, woke up in the hospital after four days of being comatose, and went out that same time to get his revenge."

"He did not!"

"Oh, he so did. I think that was the only time Schneep ever followed through on his threat to lock him in his room."

Jameson's mouth twitches. He glances over at Chase with an eyebrow raised and then looks back to the road, sighing a content sigh.

Warmth blooms in Chase's chest like the sunflowers along the side of the road. Then the silence drags on for too long and he decides to take drastic action.

"I'm putting one of these CDs in."

"Don't put one of those CDs in!"

"I'm doing it, you can't stop me, I'm - " Chase yanks Sinatra's top hits out of its case and moves for the CD player. Jameson intercepts, shoving his hand out of the way.

"Those all look terrible! I don't want to listen to any of that!"

"Sinatra!" cries Chase, laughing almost too hard to fight back.

"No!"

"Yes!" With a final, determined gesture, Chase slams the CD into the player and turns the volume up.

Jameson shakes his head at him with faux irritation, his eyes shining warm in the ugly light of the car.

"Some day," sings Sinatra, low and wavering, and Chase lets out a whoop of delight. "When I'm awfully low... when the world is cold... I will feel a glow... "

"Just thinking of you!" Chase sings along at the top of his lungs. Jameson shakes his head, trying not to smile, the corners of his mouth edging upwards. "And the way you look tonight!"

"You're so cheesy," says JJ, glancing to the side as a deer leaps through the trees, startled by the headlights. "Such a dork."

"Hey, you're the dork, dapper man."

"Yes, you're lovely!" cries Sinatra, with passion. "With your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft! There is nothing for me but to love you."

"And the way you look tonight!" Chase finishes, breaking down into giggles.

It's one am in Eastern time and this abandoned back road is taking them towards whatever state it feels like. They're in the middle of nowhere, hiding but together, tired but alive.

That's all that matters.

A smile spreads like a sunrise across Jameson's mouth. Chase hollers his delight, only making Jameson laugh harder, leaving them both shaking in their seats, overwhelmed and full of warmth, loving and united, brothers and- there is a man in the middle of the road -

"Jameson!" screams Chase, and his little brother's hands grab the steering wheel and pull -

                                                             ***

“Fuck,” whispers Chase, awakening.

Copper-taste sits in his mouth like poison and he coughs, pain racing through his chest and blood dripping down his lip. Confused, he lets out a soft whimper and tries to sit up, but his seatbelt, crushed tight against his chest, does not allow it.

He's grateful for it, too. Without it, he'd be dead for sure.

There is an arm in front of him too.

His little brother's arm, shattered.

“Jameson,” calls Chase, blinking warm blood from his eyes, trying to see in the darkness.

Jamie is a black silhouette beside him, unmoving.

“Jameson!” he cries again, struggling to breathe.

This can't be happening. They can't have survived this much only for a freak accident to take his last brother from him. Please, God, this can't be happening.

He unclips his seatbelt and shifts in his seat, crumpling against the dashboard and splitting blood onto its grey plastic surface. Through the shadows, he makes out the figure of the ancient tree currenly mashing faces with their stolen car.

They swerved off the road, into the forest. They are miles from civilization. They have no phones. Phones are unsafe. Anti, after all, utilizes internet signals and electricity the same way cowboys utilized horses.

Chase reaches out to touch Jameson's shoulder. Fumbling beside the steering wheel, his fingers find the light switch, yanking it up, and, to his enormous relief, one of the headlights resumes its duties, illuminating the creaking forest all around them. Something scurries away through the bushes.

Jameson is slicked in blood. He rests against the red glass-stained window of the driver's seat, as still and as white as the bones of a deer.

No, this wasn't an accident.

This was someone's fault.

“Hey, asshole,” howls Chase, tumbling out of the side of the car. His fingers dig into earth and twig and worm in the damp floor of the forest. “You've hurt my little brother! Come down here and help us! Why the fuck were you standing in the middle of the road?”

He remembers vaguely the dark shadow of the man, a cold form dressed all in black, with a hood drawn over its head, but he cannot see it now, cannot even make his eyes focus on the road.

“With each word, your tenderness grows...”

Chase startles, staring back at the car. He realizes, at the intersection of confusion and abject terror, that the CD player has just turned itself back on again.

He is a stiffened stag on the side of the road, unable to move, unable to breathe.

“Jameson,” he whispers, and turns away from the figure on the road. He takes it all back. He does not want the man to come down here. He does not want his help.

He crawls to Jameson's side, vomiting blood and his last meal as he drags himself towards his little brother and staggers to his feet, grabbing at the seatbelt that holds him in place.

“Tearing my fear apart,” sings Sinatra, growing louder. “And that laugh wrinkles your foolish heart... Lovely, never ever change...”

And then Chase sees the black-hooded figure of the man, standing close, beside the tree that connected with their car. His jeans are ripped and there, on his breast, a mockery – the letters “PMA” scrawled out in angular font.

“Jameson,” begs Chase, yanking desperately at the seatbelt, unable to get it loose. He scrambles to find a pulse in his neck instead, but his shaking fingers give him no hopeful reply.

“Keep that breathless charm! Won't you please arrange it?”

The CD display glitches.

Chase screams aloud, biting at the seatbelt, choking on the outcry of his broken ribs, hunted down at last, found at last, discovered and destroyed, alone. Finally, he manages to yank loose the seatbelt, but it means nothing. Reaching out to drag him away, he sees that Jameson's legs are crushed by the indent in the car, trapping him better than if he were chained.

Whimpering and gripping at his hair, Chase falls back. Anti is closer now, close enough to touch him, standing still by the engine of the car. His blue and brown eyes are like those of a cat's in the darkness, and Jameson is the rabbit he has caught.

And Chase understands that he cannot save his little brother.

But he could save himself.

“Go on, Chase Brody,” whispers Anti. “Try to run.”

His voice does not glitch. His body does not spasm. This is his victory, and in it not a single flaw is visible or spoken aloud. He has the perfect corpse to contain him.

“Please,” whispers Chase, touching Jameson's hand. “Please.”

“Don't beg after you've put up a fight for the first time in your life,” purrs Anti. His brown eye brightens slowly to green, glowing through the darkness. His hands are stuffed in Jack's hoodie pockets. “The two of you actually managed to evade me for quite some time. Don't you want to get away, Chase?”

He intones the name with a deep sarcasm, grinning around the ironic sound of it.

“I'll even let you run,” he promises. “I've started to enjoy this most dangerous game, hunting the two of you down across the country. You even slipped my vision once or twice. If you run now, I'll give you a two-day headstart, how does that sound? You might even be able to escape me.”

Chase's ribs are broken, but with adrenaline coursing through him, he thinks he could run, or at least stagger back to the highway and wait for help to come. He's got two hundred and forty dollars worth of cash shoved into his pockets, enough to keep him eating for a few days. He could hot wire another car. Escape the hospital before they could bill him. He could live.

“No. No. Not without him.”

Lost and desperate, terrified and resigned, he gives up the idea of escape and does the only thing he can think of – he crawls into the seat beside Jameson, wraps his body around him, and tries to protect his body from Anti.

Jameson is motionless beneath his hands. His face is split into sections of blood and protruding bone. Chase looks down at him and begins to howl, despair exploding through the cheap dam of optimism that has kept him alive for the past four months. Jameson only bleeds in reply.

“If you're going to kill us,” whispers Chase. “Then kill us.”

The stars are watching. Deer creep through the trees, wary and glorious, their eyes shining in the dying glow of the headlight. Here under the trees of the forest, Chase has found his ending.

He's ready to see his brothers. Ready to see Jameson happy and the others unharmed.

He closes his eyes and pictures their smiles, warmer than sunlight, lovely and golden, filling the land of salvation like milk and honey.

They are beautiful and wonderful and joyous, and he sees them now before him.

“Cause I love you!” sings Sinatra, and Anti strides forward, pulling the hood back from Jack's face. “Just the way you look tonight.”

[hamimagines]

Girls Like You (Philip Hamilton x Reader)

(A/N: So this is a repost of sorts because I accidentally deleted this fic....whoops. But that’s okay because I got to edit a bunch of little bits and add an extra scene to make it better! I don't remember much from the original author’s note except that when I wrote this fic I had Jordan Fisher as Philip in mind rather than Anthony Ramos, so do what you will with that info. Enjoy!)

Song - Guys My Age // Hey Violet

TW: smut, age difference

You rang the tiny bell on the counter and served yet another red-eyed college student. You were only two hours into your shift at The Brewhouse -- the campus’ very own student-run coffeehouse -- but you’d guess that upwards of fifty cups of caffeine paradise had passed from your hands already. At least it wasn’t exam week. Quite the opposite, it was the first day of classes for the majority of students, including you.

“Hey, Y/N?” Your coworker Tyler tapped you on the shoulder. You tilted your head towards him but kept your eye on the latte you were making. First rule of being a barista: always keep your eye on the latte. “Can we switch, and you take over register for a bit?” Tyler continued. ”There’s a line now. You know how they make me anxious,” he said softly.

You smiled and handed him the finished drink. “Sure thing, buddy.”  You turned around and wiped your hands on your apron quickly before greeting the next customer.  Several students behind her, a younger man caught your eye. He was staring at his phone with his other hand tucked into his pocket. It was a stance most people took when waiting in line. This boy had dark skin and even darker hair. In the suit he was wearing, he looked incredibly attractive. The fact that he was even wearing a suit while at college probably meant he was on his way to an internship of some kind, meaning he was successful, meaning triple the attractiveness points.

You watched him casually while ringing up other customers until finally, he was to the front of your line. He smiled at you with a healthy dose of charm and slid his phone back into the pocket of his dark dress pants. “Hi there!” you said in your perky work voice, “What can I get you?”

“Uh, just get me a black coffee in your largest size.”

“Sure thing.” You picked up a large cup. “I like it black too,” you added, trying to make conversation with this Grecian god. He pushed his square glasses up and smiled like he wasn’t quite sure of you. “Can I get a name for the order?”

He looked down for a moment like he had to think seriously about what his name actually was. Maybe he wasn’t as smart as his suit. “Um, Philip.”

You nodded and scribbled his name down next to his order. As Philip stepped to the side, you quickly wrote your number down as well. You’d never been shy when it came to flirting with boys, and Philip was incredibly fine.

Tyler gave you a look when he picked up Philip’s cup and turned it over to read the order. You were busy with another customer when Philip got his drink so you didn’t get to see his reaction.

Once the line had disappeared, you turned to Tyler. “So…” you prompted. Tyler stared at you blankly. “Did he see the number?”

“Oh, he saw it,” Tyler laughed.

Your face dropped. “Oh no, what did he do?”

“I’m not telling you.” Tyler grabbed a rag and pretended to wipe the counter down.

“Oh come on. Please?” you begged.

“Nope. You’re just gonna have to wait and see if he texts you.”

You didn’t have to wait long though because later that day you saw Philip again. He was in your evening calculus class, the one you happened to be late to on the first day.  

Philip was leaning against the professor’s desk at the front of the classroom. You smiled at him as you walked past to sit by the only person in that class who you already knew. Jenna smiled and patted the spot next to her.

“Late on the first day? Really Y/N?” she teased.

You shrugged and pulled out the book that you were told to buy for the class. You were trying to act casual despite feeling the entire classroom watching you because you walked in late. “I’m barely late. Besides, the professor isn’t even here yet.”

Jenna furrowed her brow. “Uh, yes he is. Who do you think you just walked past? You interrupted him introducing himself to the class.”

You turned wide-eyed to the front of the classroom. Philip glanced at you briefly, but he didn’t glare or even stare. He started to address the class. “Anyway, as I was saying. I’m Professor Hamilton and welcome to Calculus BC. This can be a tough course so I’m proud of you all for signing up for it. I hope at least some of you stick around,” he joked. His gaze traveled to you, and you quickly looked down. You could be pretty awkward sometimes, but this was one situation you never expected to find yourself in.

“Now, before you ask,” he continued, “am I too young to be a professor? The answer is: probably. But like you guys, and anyone interested in higher levels of math, I’m ambitious. I graduated from college when I was 19. I taught in public high school for four years, and a private school for two before I took the job here. You can do the math on that one. I hope.” He winked at the class, and you were reminded why you’d given him your number as your skin started to feel hot. You could definitely mark this down as the first time a math joke turned you on. 

The class continued on like any would. Professor Hamilton wasn’t the type to actually try and teach on the first day, which meant you had plenty of time to consider your sins. Giving your number to one of your professors had to be breaking some rule, but he was only 25. That was record young for a professor, especially a math professor. You considered talking to him about it after class, but that could be even more awkward. 

Although, you didn’t mind the idea of spending a little extra time with the professor. Your new knowledge of his status did nothing to smash the crush you’d already developed on him. Of course, it would go nowhere, but there was no shame in looking. Your eyes traveled from his face down to his chest and arms. He had just the right amount of muscle. Not so much that you felt uncomfortable looking at him, but there was definitely more than nothing there. It didn’t help that halfway through the syllabus he took his blazer off, making it ten times easier to see his biceps through his thin dress shirt. Sometimes he crossed his arms, and you had to remind yourself how to breathe. He almost caught you staring at him several times, but you always looked away. 

By the time the class ended, you decided that you should stay behind. Whether it was to clear the air or stare a little longer, you still weren’t sure. You told Jenna to go ahead of you, and once everyone had left, you turned to your new teacher.

“Phi- I mean, Professor Hamilton?”

He looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Oh! Hey, stranger.”

“Look, I’m really sorry.” You pulled your bookbag higher on your shoulder. “If I had known you were a professor, I never would have…”

“Flirted with me?” he supplied. A smile was still on his face. He was enjoying your embarrassment too much.

“Yes, but to my defense, you look like a student.” 

Philip laughed and leaned back in his chair. “I know.” 

“You said your name was Philip instead of Professor Hamilton!” you defended again, but you were smiling now.

He threw his hands up. “I know! This is my first time teaching at a college! I didn’t know if professors always called themselves professors. It seemed a little pretentious.”

You were broken up with laughter now. “It is,” you choked out.

 “I have to admit, though, I admire the boldness.” 

You shrugged. “It was just writing my number down.” 

Philip scoffed. “Yeah. And the things you said.”

“What things?”

“You ‘like it black’?” He made air quotes and then gestured to himself.

Your mouth dropped. “Did you- oh god no! No, I was really talking about the coffee! I like black coffee just like you do!”

Philip gave you a disbelieving look. “Sure, Y/N.”

You tilted your head to one side. “You know my name?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s on the roster.” He fumbled to pick the piece of paper up from his desk. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” You tried to laugh, but couldn’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. Duh. You were his student. 

Philip smiled. “It was also on the cup next to your number.”

You lifted your head up and met his eyes. For a moment, you forgot about the lines between the two of you. The lines you shouldn’t, couldn’t cross. “So, you did look at it.” You smirked and crossed your arms. “Were you going to text me?”

“That would be...really unprofessional,” he said slowly.

“Right.” You bit your lip, turning away from him. “See you later, Professor.”

When you were a fair distance away from the classroom, you started to giggle and happy-dance. You had limits and you knew that you would never actually be with Philip, but there was never shame in joking around and having fun.

A few weeks of harmless crushing went by fast. You hadn’t had a one-on-one conversation with Professor Hamilton since the first day, but that didn’t stop you from checking him out during class on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays. You’d already learned most of the material, and you were doing well in the class so daydreaming a little wasn’t hurting your grade.

Sometimes he came by The Brewhouse during your shifts, and you’d always write ‘Philip’ on his cup even though you’d finally gotten into the habit of calling him Professor Hamilton. He always acted disappointed that Tyler never wrote his number on the cups. 

It was almost like a routine that the two of you worked through: always trying to stray from flirting, but never quite being successful. That routine broke when he asked you to stay after class one day.

“Whatcha need?” You hopped onto the table of the front row. Your legs swung back and forth.

Philip cleared his throat and looked at you. “I need a UTA,” he said surprisingly seriously. Most of the time, Philip kept things light-hearted with you. 

“A what?”

“An undergraduate teaching assistant. I think you’re the girl for the job.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Isn’t that usually a job for senior students?”

“Juniors do it all the time, so I’m told.”

“Why me?” you asked cautiously.

Professor Hamilton blinked like he wasn’t expecting the question. “You’re a good student, we get along well, and I believe that you could handle it.”

You stepped closer and searched his dark eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Philip.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

You started to move around the classroom. “It’s a classic move. The hot young teacher meets an even hotter young student.” You gestured to yourself and winked at him. “This teacher proceeds to get close with the student, make them feel comfortable with them, and offers reasons to spend more time with the student. Once the student is seduced, they sleep together. Then the teacher always, always, turns out to be some psycho who’s obsessed and kidnaps the student.”

Philip raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” You nodded confidently. “And I’m guessing I play the role of the hot young teacher?”

“Some would say.” You turned around and walked to the top of the auditorium-style seating.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N.”

You faced him again. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’m asking you to be my TA as some big ploy to get closer to you. I’m just gonna choose to ignore what you’re accusing me of.” You looked down, slightly ashamed. You had been joking, but the conversation took a serious turn. Philip walked up the steps to meet you. “I asked you because you’re a hard worker, and one of my smartest students.”

You avoided his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. I only know this stuff because I took the class in high school. I just decided not to take the AP test. It’s not like I’m a genius or something.”

“Give yourself some credit,” he refuted. “This material would have been difficult for a high schooler.”

You considered for a moment. “What would I do as a teaching assistant?”

Philip simpered and took a step back. “You would answer students’ questions when I’m busy, help me grade papers, and any other things I need you to do.” Your mind pictured some of the ‘other things’ before you could stop yourself. “Basically, just take some of my workload off.”

You bit your lip and looked at Philip seriously. He stared back. Several moments of silence passed between you, but eventually, you relented. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Philip held his hands up defensively. “That’s all I’m asking.”  He walked down the stairs, and you followed after him.

“Do I need to fill out an application or something?”

The professor was putting his laptop into his briefcase. “Nope, just let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

“Okay.” You watched him pack up his things for a moment, not wanting to leave but not knowing what else to say. “I’ll be leaving then.”

Philip slung his briefcase over his shoulder. “Want me to walk you back?”

You were taken aback by his offer. “That’s okay, you don’t need to,” you said awkwardly.

Philip chuckled, “Relax, Y/N. I’m still not trying to seduce and kidnap you. I have to stop by my office and junior housing is on the way to the main building.”

You let out a steady breath. “I’d love that. Thank you.” Philip nodded and opened the door for you. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m accusing you. You seem nice, but a girl can never be too careful, right?”

“I totally understand, and I’d never take advantage of you.” He followed you out the door.

You nodded thoughtfully. “I believe you.”

“Besides,” Philip smirked, “If I wanted to get into your pants, I’d have succeeded by now.” He walked ahead of you casually. You stood in the hallway, too shocked to move at first, but quickly laughed and followed him down the hallway  

“A teaching assistant? Since when did you want to be a teaching assistant?” Jenna asked. She had come over to your apartment to watch TV, as if she didn’t have her own flat screen. 

“Yeah, you don’t even like math. You literally told me two weeks ago that you’re only taking it because your biochemistry degree requires it,” your roommate Emily added.

“I know.” You pulled a glass out of the cupboard and took the water pitcher out fo the fridge.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the incredibly fuckable Mr. Hamilton, would it?” You could hear the smirk in Jenna’s voice.

You poured water into your cup. They were in the other room, so they couldn’t see the coy smile that appeared on your face. “No. I just think it would be a good opportunity,” you contested. Your defense was weaker than Wendy in Kubrick’s Shining, and Emily and Jenna saw right through it.

“Yeah,” Emily laughed, “Sounds like a bangin’ opportunity.”

You grabbed the bowl of popcorn sitting on the counter and your drink and walked into the living room. “You guys are ridiculous,” you said, sitting between them on the couch you and Emily had picked up off the street last year.

“Oh c’mon, at least show me a picture of Professor Fuck Me.” Emily raised her eyebrows suggestively and you groaned.

“I have a picture of him on my phone!” Jenna chimed in excitedly.

“What the fuck? Why?” You asked her, but she just shrugged and handed her phone to Emily. Her eyes widened when she saw the screen.

“My god, Y/N. Please have sex with your teacher.”

You peeked at the picture. It was a good shot. He was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed and a Prince Charming smile on his face. “You don’t think that be weird? Or wrong?” 

Jenna rolled her eyes. “He’s 25, Y/N. Only a little more than years older than you. No, it would not be weird.”

You shrugged. “I guess, when you say it like that, it doesn’t seem strange.”

“Sleep with him! Sleep with him!” Emily started to chant with Jenna joining in not long after. You rolled your eyes at your friends and turned up the volume on the TV. However, being Professor Hamilton’s TA was looking more and more appealing.

You walked into Philip’s office and slung your coat over the back of one of his chairs. It was 8 at night on a Thursday in October. You had just gotten out of Philip’s class, and you were in for a long night. “What’s on the agenda for tonight, sir? 

“I told you not to call me that.” Philip turned around with two mugs of black coffee in his hand. He set one down on your side of the desk.

You picked it up gratefully. “Aye aye, Captain.” You gave him a mock salute and sat down in the large armchair that he kept in his office.

The professor rolled his eyes and set a large stack of papers down on his desk. “Calc 1 just had a midterm.”

“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned at the sight of all the work you two had. Philip raised his eyes at you. “I mean...like, uh-” You didn’t have to finish explaining yourself because he burst out laughing.

“Y/N, you know you can swear in front of me, and you can call me Philip.”

“Sure thing, Mister Captain Professor Sir.” You winked at him, and he started smirked again, shaking his head. Philip opened one of the drawers on his desk and handed you a red pen and half of the tests.

“What are we in the mood for tonight?” he asked, opening up his laptop. 

You tapped the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. “R&B.”

Philip grinned, “Perfect.”

Music started to fill the room. You took a sip of coffee and flipped over the first of the dreaded tests.

“Hey, Philip?” you asked about one hour later.

He looked up from his work, smiling at your use of his first name. “Yeah?”

“Can you come look at this?” He nodded and walked behind your chair, leaning over to look at the paper. You felt the warmth of his breath on your shoulder and forgot what you needed to tell him for a moment. “What is it?”

“Oh!” You shook yourself out of the daze. “Look at this problem.” You pointed to the paper with your pen. “They got the right answer, but they didn’t use the method you did in the answer sheet. I’m pretty sure it all checks out though.”

Philip furrowed his brow. “Can I?”

You gave him a confused look. He gestured to the paper. “Oh yeah. Sure.” You handed it to him, and he pulled it closer to his face, squinting his eyes. You watched as those dark brown orbs scanned the page. He stuck his tongue out, and you found yourself staring at in a way that was creepier than you were willing to admit. 

Philip scratched his neck. “I don’t think I get what you mean.”

You sat up straighter so that you could see the paper as well. “See, normally you’d use the Washer Method to find the volume, right?” You looked up and realized how close your face had gotten to Philip’s. Your mouth went dry. “Well...they’re still using, um, integrals, but they sort of separated the figure instead of doing it all in one, ya know, antiderivative. It still works though. That is the volume.”

“Are you okay?” Philip asked. 

You swallowed hard. “Mhm,” was all you could manage. He was close enough for you to smell the mixture of cologne and coffee. The scent caused an ache to start in between your legs.

Philip sighed and nodded. “But the point of the lesson was to learn the Washer Method.”

 “True,” you agreed, “But don’t you think you should give the student credit for using other knowledge to find the answer anyway?”

“Someone found a bit of passion.” Philip smiled at you with pride. You looked down and blushed. “No, it’s not a bad thing! You’re right. Give her full credit, but make a note about the simpler way so she doesn’t have to do all this work again. Good catch, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” You went to take the paper back from him and your hands touched in one of those romance novel moments you always wished would happen to you. Your heart stopped. You knew you should probably move away from Philip before this got awkward, but the way he was staring back at you had you hooked. You moved forward slightly, testing the limits. Your lips just barely grazed against his.

Philip took a shaky breath, ”I’m...I’m sorry, I-” You pushed yourself up and kissed him.

Philip reacted almost instantly, coiling his fingers into your hair and pulling you closer. You felt a month of sexual tension fading away. You moved to sit on your knees so your were more level with Philip and put your hands on his face.

“Wait,” He pulled away suddenly. “We can’t do this, Y/N.”

You took a small moment to catch your breath. “Why not?”

Philip walked around the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s not right. I’m your teacher.” He turned away from you, took his glasses off, and set them on his mostly empty desk

You remembered what Emily and Jenna had said. “You’re only five years older than me. Not even that much. It’s not that weird.”

He turned around and faced you. You got up and walked over to him, taking his shaking hands in yours. “It wouldn’t be professional,” he stammered.

You leaned close to his face. “I won’t tell,” you whispered. Philip’s eyes poured deep into yours. You reached your hands up to his collar and started to undo the buttons of his dark shirt.

“This is wrong,” he said, but his fingers pressed into your hips anyway.

You grabbed onto his now open shirt and pulled him closer. “Please, Philip?” you pleaded.

He looked down at you and smoothed his hand over your hair. His eyes searched yours for any signs of hesitance, but there was none. “Come here,” he whispered roughly.

You crashed your lips against his, molding your body to his. Philip’s hands pressed into your back, and his tongue slipped into your mouth. Without breaking contact, he flipped you two around so that the back of your thighs were pressing into his desk. You pulled away for air and lifted your shirt over your head before connecting with him again. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, and you pushed his shirt down. It was so nice to feel the muscles that you’d been staring at for weeks under your hands. You let them roam all over his chest and arms.

Philip’s hands ran up your thighs to your bare sides. His lips moved to your jaw until his mouth was right by your ear. One of his hands took your hair and pulled your head back while the other slipped underneath your bra. “Do you know how hard it’s been having a student like you?” he whispered. Your breathing was shallow and clipped, and you leaned on your hands to support yourself. “You’re gorgeous and funny and you have this amazing smile. Every time you walk in my classroom it’s like you’re teasing me.”

You laughed airily. “Do you know how hard it is having a teacher like you and not being a tease?”

Philip smiled. “You’re a jerk,” he whispered before kissing you again. Your hands moved down to his pants. You started to undo the buckle while you took his bottom lip between your teeth lightly.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked again. It was pointless to ask. You’d already decided the moment you met him.

You nodded vigorously. “There’s a condom in my bag.”  Philip stepped away and walked over to your bookbag and started to rummage through it. While he was busy, you stood up off of the desk. It was difficult to stay standing with this light-headed feeling. You unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down. Deciding to leave your underwear on, for now, you sat back on the desk. Philip turned around with a condom in his hand. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you.

Philip walked over to you with determination. He grabbed your knees and pushed your legs apart. You bit your lip and watched as he pulled his erection out. Philip opened the condom and rolled it on. He hooked two fingers underneath your panties and pulled them to the side. He positioned himself at your entrance and teased you with his tip.

You rolled your eyes and dug your nails into the edge of the desk. Philip smirked and slid into you. You hooked your leg around his waist, letting him push deeper. You draped one arm across his shoulders and let your head fall forward onto him.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Great,” you breathed. “Keep going.” Philip rocked his hips gently as you adjusted to feeling him inside you, a feeling you’d needed for a long time. He gripped your thighs, letting his thumbs rest between them. He pushed you back and pulled you forward on the desk to meet his motions. You pushed your mouth against his chest to quiet your moans. It was late so you doubted anyone was nearby, but it was good to be careful. Your nails scratched the skin on his back. Philip groaned and moved faster. He brought his thumb up to his mouth and licked it before pressing it against your clit and moving it back and forth.

You threw your head back. “Oh fuck, oh Jesus, fuck yes. Jesus fucking Christ, right there.” Philip raised his eyebrows at you. You pushed sweaty hair out of your face. “You said I could swear in front of you.”

Philip smiled and ducked his head into the crook of your neck. Your hands splayed against his lower back. He bit into the skin on your shoulder. You moaned loudly. He was inside of you, on top of you, and all around you. All you could focus on was Philip as a fire burned deep in your abdomen. Your thighs started to quake uncontrollably.  Philip lifted his head up and pressed his forehead against yours. You stared at him, your teeth gritting against the sensations you were feeling. You gripped his hips tightly, desperate to ground yourself. Philip pressed his thumb into your clit just a little harder, and it was enough for you to dissolve into pleasure.

Your body instantly became overly sensitive. Every movement and every caress doubled in intensity. Philip stilled inside you, giving you a break and opting to kiss your neck and chest instead. When your breathing was normal again and you’d come down from your high, he started to move inside you again, slowly at first but quickly building speed. You smiled and wrapped both of your legs around his waist. It wasn’t long before you felt pressure building in your abdomen again, and you could tell by his firm but quivering grip on you that Philip was feeling it too. You pulled him in for a kiss that caused shockwaves to course through you again. Philip moaned against your lips, and seconds later you felt him twitching inside of you, his warm cum spilling in. 

You both lay there for a moment, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes. The weight of what had just happened crashed around the both of you.

You had just slept with your professor.

[flightykickback]

LAWD! This took forever to write!

I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What’s crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give.  Why am I overthinking the details? LOL!

But, it’s finally here for your reading pleasure:  our crash and dash to see BTS Speak Yourself Tour in Chicago!

WARNING: This post is long and hardly edited.  I’m tired of looking at it.

When I say this was a crash and dash, I truly mean it.  My friend and I drove early morning from Cleveland, stopped by the Hello Kitty Café Truck in Westlake, then made it to Sleep Inn near Midway Airport by 2 PM on concert day.  We were on our way downtown to the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop shortly after.  Before we knew it, we were on our way home the next day.  Did we breathe? I don’t think so.

The weather in Chicago was *insert Alaska Thunderfuck voice* TERRIBLE! This wasn’t normal rain and cold, this was a cut through your bones kinda chill.  I was woefully underprepared, no thanks to checking weather reports! Sunny, they said.  ZERO chance of rain, then it rained on our way and was misty all day in Chicago.  Swear, I wanted to pack light, so I didn’t bring anything other than a thin jacket and my ballet flats.  Not only was I freezing, but I also kept stepping in puddles and mud at Soldier Field.  By the end of the night, my hands and feet could’ve been amputated.

Regardless, I had only one chance to complete my mission:

Visit the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop

Find Disequil Merch

Buy Tour Merch

Die at the Concert

I couldn’t lose!

Originally, my friend and I were to take the transit to the Pop-Up Shop, but she was gracious enough to get us a Lyft since we were an hour away by transit.  The driver was real chill and indulged my hyperactivity enough to withstand me asking if his earlobe gauges hurt (to which we learned he just increased the size today! (☉｡☉)), complaining that Blueface is throwing all rappers off-beat, and asking him to cut-off a FL plated minivan trying to jump ahead of us.

Um, excuse me, this Chicago, baby! You can’t just barge in.  Fend for yourself! *Doesn’t really mean any of this since there’s hardly any traffic in Cleveland and traffic in Chicago sucks* But we had somewhere important to be! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

We get to the Pop-Up Shop and the line was hundreds of people deep, from the shop door and around an entire city block.  The only consolation was the representation of all ages, ethnicities, sizes, and gender was admirable, and they all desired to buy these overpriced designs by Live Nation.  I just wanted the free slap bracelet =P

My friend and I were getting out of the Lyft (I’m sure our driver misses us T.T) and I tell her, maybe we can ask for bracelets and get the hell outta here.  She told me, she’ll watch me ask LOL!

I set off to find an employee in what was an embarrassingly long amount of circling in one spot, looking confused while mumbling to myself, “I don’t see any employees! Where’s the door?! Why are there no employees?! Will people think I’m cutting the line? How can people walk into a building with only one way in and one way out, without any employees outside?! Even a club has bouncers!” Literally, the door would swing open and a select few would walk in before the door slammed shut. Did the door even have a handle?? Meanwhile, my friend is waiting against something, looking comfortable.

Then I spot him, THE ONLY representative that appeared to be working outside, complete in a personal jacket and regular looking jeans.  The walkie-talkie and him opening the exit door set my sensors off.  LOL!

“Excuse me, how long is the wait?” I was on a whole. ‘Notha. Level. My introvertedness was nowhere to be seen.

“Three hours.” THREE M-FING HOURS?! Oh hell no, we ain’t got time for that!

“Oh no! My friend and I drove all the way from Cleveland to see the concert tonight.  It starts at 7.” Pure defeatism in my body language and disappointment all over my face.

Aaaaaaaand LIFTOFF! My strange hyperactive charm engaged the employee in a conversation about the wait time, how most ARMY are finagling it, how he got the job (he knows people?!), and eventually I tell him, “I just want a slap bracelet.”

His movements were “say no more” quick.  I barely finished my sentence before he opened the door and reemerged with ONE slap bracelet.  I thanked him profusely, then asked for another one for my friend.  “NOPE! Should’ve asked then.  They gave me a hard time with this one!”  Needless to say, I apologized profusely to my friend -_-; (Sorry!).

  DISSSSEEEQUILLLL MERCH! Ya’ll! I’ve been aching to add their glow-in-the-dark Speak Yourself Tour pin to my collection and it just so happened the merchant was going to be a Soldier Field.  I couldn’t miss this opportunity.  The anxiety set in when I learned I had to find Disequil by Twitter stalking.

I’ve wrote how my friend and I ran into Big Hit Staff before.  They ab-so-lutely DO NOT want anyone except them selling any merch on tour grounds.

Ooooooo, they want their money! They were looking to bust merch and fan sites like it’s their only mission.  There were also a few scares circulating online that cops were busting fan sites, giving them court orders and throwing their merch away O-O! So you can imagine Disequil wasn’t playing any games.

One moment, Disequil was on the outskirts of Soldier Field Campus, then they were someplace else.  Suddenly, they were traveling to a donut shop and announced they’d only be there briefly.  I legit @ them like DO NOT MOVE! I’M COMING! T_T! So, in the frigid, misty air, by bus, we finally caught up with the merchant.  I not only get the SY tour pin, but also prints of their MONO series pin collection!

By now, everyone should know RM is my bias and his album, MONO, had me deep in reflection after its release.  I collect so many pins to show my love of RM and his intellect that it’s ridiculous.  It’s no surprise that I needed to have the MONO prints too.  The details in the design and the embodiment of each song within the artwork of the pins are overwhelming.  Dissu even explains each design because they’re that incredible!  Not only did I buy the prints, but I also bought the pins when Dissu reopened their shop.

Last, but not least, we had to hook my friend up with tour merch!

At Love Yourself in Chicago, there was only one place to buy merch, in the desolate asphalt lot across from United Center at the giant white circus tent.  This time, there were DOZENS of merch sites: outdoor trailers and kiosks and storefronts inside Soldier Field.  By the time we got there around 6 pm, there were no ridiculous wait times and almost everything was in stock.  The downside was not all merch spots had the same inventory.  This meant, not all the same size tees were in stock at every location – which tees were exactly what my friend was on the hunt for.

We’d go to a trailer and they’d have the tee, but not in the wanted size; then, we’d go to another site and they wouldn’t have the tee.  In hopes the next site would have the tee, we’d walk up to the counter and find they had a completely different set of tees or completely different inventory! Eventually, my friend had enough, got what she could with the promise to search again after the concert, and we headed to security to be seated.

Why didn’t we check the giant white circus tent you might ask? The mecca for all merch? Because they were ON THE GRASS! It was swamp muddy.  Like, devour your ballet flats muddy.  The worst part is the lonely UNO Experience tent was waaaaaaay across the sloppy wet field with no one paying it any attention. T_T

  Security was QUICK! I was shivering with cold and excitement knowing I wouldn’t have long before I’d be seated. I double-checked my clear, stadium approved bag: no liquids ✔, ARMY bomb ✔, Umbrella ✔ – when the security personnel caught my eye, “They won’t let you bring in an umbrella.” Ya’ll, when it was our turn, they wanted me to discard a premium umbrella, gifted to me by my manager, that folds outwards to trap any wetness from the rain AND has a flashlight on the handle.  The guard offers directions to the locker area.  Thanks!

We trek to find the lockers that were supposed to be on a simple pathway around the corner.  It was around the building and through a tunnel, on the side of a road.  These were portable gym lockers for $10! After gawking at the price, I made sure to put as much as I could in there LOL!

There was a bit of a panic on my end because there were at least 20 people working the registers and locking up peoples’ things, but it appeared the line wasn’t moving quick enough to catch the show on time.  Luckily, we got a locker, raced back to Soldier Field, practically flew through the security line and made it to our seats in time with 30 minutes to spare.  We didn’t miss a thing!

If you’ve never been to a k-pop concert, there’s a pregame after doors open for seating.  Music videos play and fans turn on their lightsticks for a sing-a-long.  It’s no different at Speak Yourself.  ARMY were singing to various music videos with their ARMY Bombs on.  I could feel the energy in the air from everyone’s anticipation.  The girl next to me was so excited about her first BTS concert that she immediately started talking to me about it.

  Finally, without prompting, the first VCR came on, and then…Dionysus.

Note:  Pairing the ARMY Bomb was a bih! I must’ve paired it with the Big Hit app at least five times with horrible cell phone reception until I realized I just had to move the switch from Bluetooth to on after paring LOL!

I did not watch a single recording of Dionysus before the concert.  At first, in all honesty, I was burnt out.  BTS releases so much media that I just needed a break, but this was the perfect opportunity for a surprise while being engulfed in so much sensation.  From that point on, I purposefully refrained from watching Dionysus so I could be murdered in the Soldier Field stands…and the impact did not disappoint!

The background lit up across huge LCD panels, giant silver tigers inflated across the stage, pillars began to appear, fire burst forth and BTS materialized from beneath the stage.  It was hardcore! Each member had a look of royalty and disregard. BTS, the song itself, the stage production, the choreo and surplus of dancers…was murrrddeeer.

The rest of the experience was personal.  I tried to live in the moment as much as possible; although I did get some footage, the rest of the experience turned into amazing memories.  Of course, I do have other highlights I want to share!

1.  THEY’S RICH! Somebody on their team said eff this budget! We straight flexin’! There were lasers, pyrotechnics, lights, beautiful LCD backgrounds, special effects for video feeds to the monitors, twice the amount of back-up dancers than at Love Yourself, inflatables and intricate light oceans (one that formed a galaxy!) throughout the concert. I’ve never seen nor heard of a concert like this.

Plus, every stage got a glow-up:  a conveyor belt on Suga’s stage, Jin’s intergalactic piano, Jay’s sleeker dance platform, RM’s Disney Magic wand, JK flying around the stadium, Jimin popping the bubble he appeared in, and V’s massive, sexy bed.  The medley portion was even standardized so every tour stop could see Baepsae hip thrusts.

I was blown away by how Big Hit could take the same setlist, add a few songs from Persona and still outdo themselves.  And at the very end, with ARMY singing to Mikrokosmos, the BTS logo ascended towards the stars as a year’s worth of fireworks erupted behind it.  It was the most picturesque ending to a concert and incredibly heartfelt.

  2.  The light ocean was phenomenal. We were in space y’all! Soooooooo many colors and each light ocean matched the set.  I frequently took time to look around the stadium and we’d be surrounded by rhythms of pulsing, colorful lights.  Sometimes, clusters of lights would form circles or gradients.  We were floating in a galaxy during Epiphany.  It was beautiful and really whisked me away to somewhere magical.

  3.  Jimin was genuinely concerned for our health. He told us to stay warm and to not catch a cold.  There were plenty of ARMY that had to look cute without a thin jacket, and Jimin gestured to one fan by rubbing his arms like aren’t you cold?! If memory serves correctly, he even posted for ARMY to take a bath when they got home (or was that Day 2?).

I haven’t put as much emphasis on the horrible weather as I should have, but it was hella cold!  So much so that BTS looked overwhelmed.  My hands and feet were numb FOR HOURS, during and after the concert! I really couldn’t fumble anymore for my phone when RM asked us to turn on our “technology,” for the third time that night.  By the time my friend and I got back to the hotel, my feet were so cold, not even laying in a warm bed, with the heat cranked up, could warm them up.

3.  JK said “It’s been a while,” like he’s been living in The States for years without ARMY knowing. His English improved greatly and I was so proud.

4.  V’s massive sexy bed could fit eight people, but instead, only he teased us from it. And the special effects! Singularity is about how someone could live opposite their true feelings, under an acceptable guise.  The monitor would focus on V, then split his image into two colors and have one move to the left and the right.  It made him look as if his person was being pulled in different directions, perhaps his true feelings and his guise, with his physical body, the one that has to live with this internal conflict at the center. It was overpowering and very slick.

5.  BTS and Big Hit fully invested in ARMY. The show was tied up so nicely that it really felt like ARMY was loved and appreciated.  It’s a double whammy when BTS goes live on VLive or posts to Twitter afterward.  This is why post-concert depression (PCD) is real.  It’s also why ARMY buy tickets for both concert dates at multiple tour stops.  The interaction and affection are second to none.  No other artists do it better.

6.  People love to interrupt me during Tear. This isn’t a highlight, but I think I’m cursed to have someone tap me on the shoulder, or walk in front of me to get to their seats during one of my most favorite sets, during my favorite part where Jay just goes in and owns the thang like the rest of the rap line ain’t there. Will I ever see it all the way through? LOL!

I could talk about the usual things like Flying Jungkook, singing along to Epiphany, all the shenanigans during the Anpanman obstacle course, or chanting J-Hope during Just Dance, but those things have already completed the social media circuit.  These highlights are my best experiences and impressions during the show.  There are definitely takeaways that I learned that may be helpful in the future:

 1.  Don’t trust weather forecasts! They can change. Just pack in case of crummy weather, especially transitioning seasons.

2.  If Big Hit keeps accommodating shorter merch lines, there may no longer be obscene waits unless ARMY wills it so.

3.  So what if you don’t get floor seats? Sitting in the stands is still excellent! My friend and I were able to snag seats on the third level, center stage.  It was perfect.  We could see the stage and monitors head-on.  Any antics from the boys were clearly visible.  Most people will tell you that sitting on the floor level is overrated.  You can see everything clearly from the upper levels without people hogging your view!

4.  Staying close to the concert decreases commuter time when leaving the show. I didn’t mention it before, but it took us 2-3 hours to get back to the hotel because 60,000 fans were all leaving at the same time (and because of the Stadium’s poor direction of pedestrian traffic and Lyft drivers being a-holes ( ͒˃⌂˂ ͒)).  On the other hand, we had a cheaper stay at a nice hotel, with a full breakfast included, by staying further from the city center.

5.  Immerse yourself into the concert! You catch more visually and can feel more of the experience. Granted, you won’t have videos and pictures, but as I fumbled with my phone, I lamented not capturing a moment on time and missed out on the full sensation of being present.  To up the ante, bring an ARMY Bomb since the show is an interactive experience.

6.  Lastly, don’t crash and dash! Due to a tight-TIGHT schedule, my friend and I couldn’t catch up with our ARMY friends. Don’t do this! The stress was horrid. Please take your time.  There’s more to see, plenty of people to connect with and lots of good food downtown.  Stay a bit and relax.

All in all, Speak Yourself in Chicago was bomb, from the insane opening to the ethereal ARMY send-off at the end.  This laser light space show in an ARMY Bomb galaxy was completely and utterly magical.  All ARMY should have a chance to experience it and if BTS continues their reign as artists and Big Hit keeps a bottomless budget, the next tour will be the most spectacular yet!

~PHOTO AND VIDEO BOMB!~

              Experience: #SpeakYourselfInChicago LAWD! This took forever to write! I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What's crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give.