Can you do shinee in a haunted house attraction?? I love your blog. It always makes smile
OH YEAH also let it be known that i have never EVER willingly stepped inside a haunted house though i was, very much against my will, bodily carried inside between my two friends by my arms and feet :))))))))))))))))))))
loling at his members
cold dubu face the entire time otherwise
v calm commentary like “oh no, blood” and “that is a ghost nope don’t touch me”
stumbled a few times but honestly that’s not even onew condition it’s just dark af in here and key’s rolled up in a ball
that wasn’t that bad
ming: “wait a minute hyung what’s in your ears……….”
actually had earplugs in the entire time (onew: WELL I KNEW THEY WERE GOING TO BE NECESSARY)
ot4 made him go back in by himself as punishment
taemin secretly follows him in
v loud screaming
he streaked out in like 3 mins flat and just kept running (ot3: HYUNG WAIT also where’s taeminnie?? / taemin: *in bloody makeup* heh heh / key: *immediately tries to fight him* / minho&jong: *holds him back*)
attempts to see how long he could last without screaming
and honestly trying to be quiet when ghosts and demons are popping up just heightens terror
ps. he loses immediately bc minho went like AHHH and they all went like AHHHHHHHHH! except taemin bc he has no soul and onew bc he was cheating so it was really just him and key, yelling
his eyes go SO ROUND and his mouth is SO WIDE when he’s scared srsly looks like either his tongue or eyeballs will fall out of his skull
yelled UMMA more than once (”did nOT!!!!!!!! ok i did, i came into this world saying umma i will probably die saying it too”)
keeps yelling “oh my god” in english
his face is red af outside
and he’s trying to laugh it off but they all heard jong
they heard your screams
ha you guys are funny, i’m absolutely not going in there
hell to the hell no
no no nO NO NO PUT ME DOWN
at the entrance, has a flashback of his ENTIRE life
he’s a good person, what did he do to deserve this
went boneless in protest but taemin and onew gleefully picked him up (”let me go you traitors”)
eyes glued firmly to the floor and he can’t seem to sHUT THEM and has a death grip on jonghyun’s arm (jong: kibummie my arm is not getting blood / key: pls don’t say words like blood rn)
repeatedly trying to kick taemin’s legs in front of him (taemin: mehrong)
screaming so loudly that the “ghosts” are trying hard not to laugh
tries to fight them and now it’s a little less scary until a demon thing pops out and he stopped breathing and possibly needs medical attention
is ok after a croissant and an ice cream cone
i hate you aLL
key keeps hitting him bc omg who laughs like that in a haunted house he needs to be exorcised or something bc he is NOT trying to live with a possessed minho (key: taemin you have holy water in your room right *sprinkles on both 2min just to be sure*)
honestly having the time of his life between the adrenaline rush and observing jonghyun’s and key’s pure panic and obvious rush to gtfo
keeps bowing and saying anyonghasaeyo to the people who pop up and some of them confusedly bow back
wants to catch one of the ghost people and they’re running away from him
it’s like a scene out of scooby doo (onew: i am not going to say jinkies)
grinning v widely at the ghosts and like… not reacting when they scream and that unnerVES them
starts poking them and asking them questions and they’re like “sir no you can’T DO THAT”
brought a granola bar to nom on
randomly turning around to scare key by pretending to be a zombie and srsly he’s like 2 seconds away from getting suplexed
by the time he reaches the end he’s friends with all the ghosts and they don’t want him to leave (”STAYYYYYY”)
also got the whole thing on video with bonus screaming onew edition so he has, as they say, leverage
i'm a bisexual woman and i'm not going to pretend i don't have privilege when i date a man, it doesn't matter how you want to play it at the end of the day if i date a man all my problems go away while with my girlfriend is the opposite, so NO, representation of our characters is not the same if they are with the same sex or the opposite sex, specially if the gay pairing is a stepping stone to the ultimate straight ship
I am also a bisexual woman. I am also not pretending that I don’t have some privilege when dating a man. We would, in most scenarios, pass for a straight couple even if, by definition, we weren’t—and society wouldn’t give us shit for that.
But all our problems don’t go away just because we might date a man, and that’s exactly my point. Society still gives bisexuals shit for being bisexual, whether we’re in “opposite”-gender relationships or not. The LGBT+ community still gives bisexuals shit for being bisexual. Just because we aren’t being marginalized because of our relationship doesn’t mean we aren’t being marginalized because of who we are.
Bisexual characters will always be representation, whether they are depicted with someone of the same gender, the opposite gender, or with no one at all because bisexual people exist in the same variations.
Back to The 100—the way L.exa was killed off was shitty. I understand why the writers chose to kill her given ADC’s circumstances, but it was done in a horribly insensitive way that should never have been written. But what you’re saying is really very hypocritical.
You’re (I’m assuming) mourning a gay character. Okay. You (again, I’m assuming here) want the bisexual character she was with, however briefly, to be given time to grieve before moving on. That’s fair. But then you’re saying that when that bisexual character moves on, she can’t be with a man. Wait… what? Why? Bisexuals enter and exit from f/f or m/m relationships and move on to m/f relationships all the time (and vice versa). So… why, exactly, would Clarke moving into a m/f relationship be bad representation? Because from where I’m standing it looks a lot like you’re saying she should only be in f/f relationships from now on, which lends itself very easily to claiming she’s “a lesbian now” which would be the very definition of bi erasure.
On to your “stepping stone” comment—Bellarke existed before C/exa. That’s not an attack, that’s a fact. Clarke knew Bellamy before she met L.exa. Again, not an attack. Fact. If anything, there was a path made of stepping stones which branched into two separate paths, only to converge back into each other and continue on, as does life—and, coincidentally, Clarke’s story, romantic or not. But I digress.
I have a huge problem with calling m/f pairings “straight ships” when at least one character in that pairing is demonstrably not straight—reason being that doing so erases the queer characters’ sexuality. It gets even worse when people try and pretend that m/f relationships are never LGBT+ representation.
I know you were referring to Bellarke when sending this, which is made up of a bisexual woman and an assumed straight man, but it goes beyond that. What if there is a relationship between a pansexual woman and a bisexual man? A male-passing gender fluid person using he/him pronouns and a bisexual woman? A trans woman and a trans man?
Would you consider those to be non-representative simply because they’re m/f relationships? No, you wouldn’t. Because the individual(s) who make up the relationship are, themselves, representation.
Which brings me back to my original point. In the end, relationships don’t create the representation, people do. So, as a bisexual woman, Clarke is the bisexual representation, not her relationship. Any relationship Clarke is in is representation, whether it be f/f or m/f. And alternatively, even if Clarke is in no relationship, she remains representation simply because she exists. That representation does not change simply because she dates one gender or another.
I wear clothing from the men’s section of the clothing store. My leg hairs are longer than most of the hair in my head. I never wear any makeup, no matter if I’m going out to buy bread in the morning or if I’m going to a party. People often call me “sir”. Others hurl slurs at me, sometimes calling me a “dyke”, sometimes calling me a “faggot”, both showing their disapproval of my physical presentation. I see little kids asking their mothers, in whispers, if I am a boy or a girl. And people ask me all the time, why do I want to look like a man?
The answer is simple. I don’t.
And I do not look like a man.
I look like a woman who refuses to perform femininity.
My unshaven legs do not make me like a man, they’re MY legs, and MY hair, and I am a woman. My “boy’s” clothes are worn on my body, the body of a woman. My naked, unpainted face is the face of a woman. I am a woman, and this is not defined by a haircut or a choice of attire, or by lipstick or high heels, or boxer briefs and men’s deodorant worn over fuzzy unshaven armpits. There’s nothing manly about me.
I am a woman, not by choice, but by fact. Because “woman” is a reality imposed to me, from the day I was born and given a woman’s name, to the day I was six and I was told I couldn’t take off my shirt in a blazing hot summer day because one day I would have breasts, to last night when I walked home in a state of hyper-awareness, my house keys tightly clutched between my fingers, tracking the movements of every man in the dark streets.
I am a woman because, since before my own birth, when an ultrasonography picture informed my parents that I would be born with a vulva, I have been groomed to be a member of the woman class, the breeding stock class, the sex class, the lower class. I was taught to be accomodating and speak softly, to not bring attention to myself and to spare men’s feelings. I was taught that the boy who pulled my hair and threw his toy train at me, aiming for my head, probably did it because he liked me, and boys will be boys anyway. I learned that, if I did the same to him, I was a troublemaker. That my assertiveness is unladylike. That one day I would bear some man’s children, and this was pretty much destiny. That my worth was in my looks, more than in my brain. I am a woman because I was taught all these things, and I am a woman because people expect me to know these lessons by heart, and follow every one of them.
When people ask me why do I want to look like a man, what they’re actually asking is why am I not marking myself as a woman. They’re asking why do I fail to perform the role of femininity, to make myself pleasing and unthreatening to the eyes of the upper class, the man class. My mother once voiced her concerns to me, that my looks would make me a target for male violence, and she is right to be concerned. I am perceived as a member of the lower class who refuses to bear the marks and play the role imposed to me. I refuse to shave my legs to look like a pre-pubescent girl, innocent and vulnerable, or to wear shoes that force me to walk on the tips of my toes, slow and precariously balanced, and this makes men angry, because this is a counscious act of rebellion. This is me saying I am not theirs. I will not please them. I do not desire their approval or their attention. And men often get violent when we refuse to cater to them.
My choices of visual presentation make me a cautionary tale. I am the hairy, ugly, lesbian feminist, the one they warn other women about. “Don’t be like her”, they say, “or no man will ever want you”. But I don’t want them either, and I do not want to look like them, or be like them, or have anything to do with them. I want to be free from men and their bullshit standards. I want to strut around proudly, shamelessly unladylike, looking like a woman looks when she’s not covered in face paint and restrictive clothing, when she doesn’t care about pleasing men.
I do not look like a man, and nothing will ever make me look like one. I am pure, unadulterated woman. I choose myself over them, I choose women over them. If that makes them hate me, so be it. Because I am a woman, they would hate me no matter what I did.
You managed to get your first job at a prestigious and famous marketing firm. Nothing was going to stop you from working there. A few distractions may be problematic but.. there was a man that stood out unconventionally well. Despite being the CEO’s only son, his face alone is enough to win over the nation’s heart 10x over. An interesting romance that’s sure to get you screaming.
Fluff & Angst: Jungkook x Reader
A/N: Hey! I’ve been MIA but I’m back with something for you :)
“Yes Ma’am I understand.” You lowered your head politely and stuck on a smile that tortured your face muscles. You were lucky enough to land a job straight out of university and you knew it was going to be tough but.. the extent as to which you were being used and bullied by higher ups was unbearable.
“If you understand then don’t make this mistake again! You ruined my morning.” The head of department of advertising scolded you over a small mistake of pouring too little milk into her coffee.
After she left, you lifted your head up and rolled your eyes at the amount of bullshit you dealt with on a daily basis. It was kind of getting tiring.
“Should you really be pulling that face right now?” An unfamiliar and cool-toned whisper sent shivers down your spine.
“No sir! My mistake, my apologies.” You immediately brought the radiant smile back to your face, not knowing who it was but it didn’t matter because everyone here was basically of much higher power than yourself. You had to show respect even if it killed your hidden inflated ego.
You heard the heavy clacks of his Armani shoes as his strides led him closer to you. He carefully examined your petite frame in comparison to his tall, dark and handsome nature.
“Are you new here?” His low tone sounded velvety and smooth as dark chocolate. It felt like eerie music to your ears.
“Yes sir.. It’s only been a few months since my arrival.” You bowed your head to this unknown yet alluring man. His presence was overwhelming and the entire office was silent- all eyes and ears on the two of you.
“Enjoy your stay, Y/N-sshi.” His husky voice trailed off behind him before he disappeared into the elevator with another unfamiliar man behind him.
How’d he know my name..?
You face-palmed after noticing the shiny golden name tag attached to your crisp white blouse.
“You should really stop drinking.” Your friend tightly gripped onto the soju bottle in which you refused to let go of.
“Let me relieve my stress! Work has been so much hell for me.” You managed to pour yourself another shot glass that was quickly downed, the stinging sensation brought tears to your eyes.
“…Don’t you have work again tomorrow? You’re going to get such a terrible hangover Y/N.. You should probably stop.” She quickly picked up the soju bottle that was almost empty and chucked it into the bin.
“I don’t care.. I don’t even want to work there anymore.” You managed to growl out, the alcohol taking it’s toll on your body.
“Hey! You should feel so privileged that you get to work in such a fine company. Look at me! I’m still working 3 different part time jobs because I can’t find a job. Do you want to be like me?” Your friend lectured you, peeling you off the desk and chair to take you home.
“Oh wait..” You slurred out, vision blurry and body-coordination out of reach.
“I think I left my house-keys in the office. I might need to go get them..” It was hard to articulate let alone walk straight.
“My god Y/N. Please get your life together.” Your friend buckled you up in her car and drove you to your work place that was still surprisingly operating.
“Tell me where your office is. I’ll go find it.” You just giggled to yourself, completely unaware of your actions. “It’s okay.. I’ll go get it myself. They’ll think you’re a bad bad intruder.” You slurred your words and sounded like a 4 year old. You shot her winks in her direction.
She just laughed and nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”
“I got this! I work here!” You giggled, completely out of your mind.
Miraculously, you managed to make your way to the elevator. You pressed on the button and tried your hardest to not collapse from the alcohol intake. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t hold your body still. You steadied yourself by resting your head on your palm and walked into the elevator as soon as it ‘dinged’ with no further precaution.
That was when you smashed into an unknown figure once again, despite your pride in keeping yourself steady for some time, the balance was taken right out of your body and you landed- bottom first on the shiny tiled floor. You were ticked. You had no control over your mouth and lord knows what kind of mess you were about to get yourself into.
You groaned in pain and massaged your scalp, hoping the loud thumping in your head would somehow disappear.
His eyes lowered down onto the ground to find you mumbling curses. He was surprised at what you were doing at the office so late at night. But being the gentleman he was, he gently reached out his hand to pull you up with ease.
His skin was surprisingly cold and you were picked up with such little effort, it felt refreshing to feel something so cool as your body felt like it was boiling. You started unbuttoning your white blouse and unzipped the bottom of your pencil skirt from your knee up to your lower thigh and continued to casually strip in-front of the unknown man.
His cold fingers put your actions to a complete halt followed by his cold tone that sounded familiar.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He raised an eyebrow, a somewhat surprised and confused expression spread upon his flawless face.
“Let go. It’s hot.” You mumbled, weakly pushing away his cool hand and continued to take off your shirt, struggling to do so, you wobbled back and forth before almost falling again- he had caught you by the waist and looked down to see you: flustered and abnormally drunk.
“Ugh.. don’t touch me. I don’t need your help.” You weakly pushed him away again, this time a little more audible than before. He was surprised at the way you were treating him.
“Suit yourself.” He let go of his gentle grip on your waist and continued to watch you struggle to walk and read the buttons on the elevator.
“What are you doing here so late.” His question sounded more like a demand as his curiosity was slowly starting to eat up his mind. “It doesn’t matter.” You missed the buttons and started to get irritated at your lack of body coordination.
A cold smirk spread upon his face and he chuckled at you.
“What are you laughing at? Do you think you’re some kind of powerful being? Are you another one of those annoying bosses that won’t stop yelling at me for making their coffee wrong. God people here are so…”
He stopped chuckling and raised a single eyebrow. He calmly slid his hand into his pocket and continued to scan you from head to toe.
He examined your messed up bun that consisted of hairs sticking out and bobby pins falling out. He looked at your peachy red face and smelt the very noticeable stench of alcohol that leaked from your body. He noticed the beads of sweat that formed around your forehead and the heat of your breath that also smelt of alcohol. You were a mess.
“Y/N return home. I may not know of your intentions here but you’re not in any condition to do whatever you’re planning to do.”
“Blah blah blah. Stop nagging with you?” You retorted like a 4 year old, closing the gap between his face and yours. You were just a few millimetres from his face and he could feel your warm breath on his cold lips. It sent shivers down his spine and he was caught off-guard for the first time in years. He noticed your collarbone clearly visible and cleavage from your unbuttoned blouse but refused to look at it despite his obvious chances.
“Would you like me to call a driver?” He offered, somehow sounding half-assed so you took it as an insult. What really were his intentions?
“Listen here you.” You poked his toned chest and spoke with a slurred and drunken accent.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but I’m just trying to get back home and go to sleep so I can come back to this hell tomorrow morning and cry over how dumb this shitty company is.”
Once again, he was hit with things he thought he would never hear coming from a very new employee. Amused, he chuckled once again unable to hide his interest in her.
“Would you stop laughing? What do I need to do to stop you?” You smiled weakly at him, completely drunken with stress and alcohol, you had no control over what was about to happen.
You closed the gap between your lips and kissed him softly, the taste of alcohol spread to him as your tongue intertwined his and turned into something a little more passionate. He didn’t stop you so you assumed this meant a green light to continue. His lips tasted kind of addictive and cooling. You ran your hand up his smooth cheeks, through his perfectly combed hair and ruffled it before fiddling with his thin black tie and blacking out completely.
SUMMARY: You and Taehyung (V) have been best friends since you two were children up to now. He’s become famous and you barely seen eachother. Then one day, he comes to visit you and things you never thought would never happen, happened.
Summary: With every relationship comes the hardships. Relationships with idols are no different. Just like any other average person, idols tend to have situations were their relationships hits a rocky road. Its up to them to figure out if they can overcome that problem, or if that problem will result in the end of their relationship.
Don’t forget to vote for the player in my next story! I will be wrapping up this AM imagine in the next week or so, with over 60,000 words I think I am ready to start on a new project! Hopefully none of you unfollow me because you were only here for Auston… Thank you so much for all the support, this has been so much fun to write and I hope you all will be satisfied with the ending coming soon!
The next few weeks is much of the same, I start at school going three times a week Tuesday through Thursday and use my free time for research that I do at home. Much to my surprise I not only become friends with Auston’s teammates and their wives/girlfriends but I actually make a few friends at school, which is a first.
I pull into my drive way to see every cars already parked in my yard along the curb on the road. Walking in the front door I see that it must be another COD night because there’s eight boys scattered around my living room, none of them Auston. “Hello people who do not live here,” I call out, dropping my school bag onto the floor and throwing my coat onto the rack. “Hey Y/N,” several people call out and my two pups bound up to me, flipping over onto their backs for a good belly rub. “Where’s Auston?” I ask, still not seeing him anywhere. “Picking up food,” Mitch answers, his eye’s glued to the T.V even though he’s not playing right now and speaking through a mouthful of carrots. I snatch the bag of carrots out of his hand much to his dismay. “Hey!” He yelps, trying to get the bag back. “You owe me two bags of carrots now,” I snap at him. “But I only ate half!” Mitch complains. “I know, but you were pissing me off earlier this week so it’s two bags or you give me the copy of my house key you had made!” We stare at each other in defiance until Mitch sighs. “Fine! Two bags,” he grumbles and pouts at the T.V as I stick my hand into the bag and grab a carrot, munching on it as I put the rest back in the fridge. “This is why I have to hide the good food upstairs because I have nine man children raiding my house every day,” I complain as I look at the messy shelves in my fridge which had been nice and organized when I left for school this morning. “Yeah, Auston told us where it was. Can you ask your mom to send more of those mint things from Michigan?” Morgan calls from his spot in the living room. I snap the fridge door closed and whirl around to face them all. “You ate my candy?” I almost yell. “Not all of it, we left at least half,” Mitch calls over his shoulder. “It was in my closet! How could you have possibly found it?” I cross my arms over my chest as I step into the living room and in front of the T.V. “There’s eight of us, didn’t take long,” Mitch replies trying to see around me at the T.V. I open my mouth to retort but the front door opens and in walks Auston laden with takeout bags. “You told them where I kept my good food?” I round on him and he freezes in his tracks, opening and closing his mouth several times before stammering out a response. “They saw me eating one when they got here, they made me tell them!” He tries to defend himself. “You ate some of it too?” I say in disbelief. “I can’t believe you would do that to me!” At this Auston realizes I’m not actually entirely mad and visibly relaxes. “Now I have to find a whole new spot!” I groan and smack his arm. “And you are not allowed to eat anything else of mine upstairs!” I hear snickering behind me and Auston’s cheeks turn a faint pink. Mitch’s face is almost turning purple from trying not to laugh when I turn around and scowl at him. “What now?” I snap, rethinking the words I’ve said in the last few minutes, which I frequently have to do with all of them around me. I roll my eyes and throw a pillow at Mitch when I realize what he’s about to choke over. “Oh shut up,” I grumble and walk back into the kitchen muttering to myself. I spend the rest of the evening cleaning up my kitchen and making sure the trash talking is kept to a minimum in the living room. Eventually I find myself snuggled into the corner of my sectional, two warm bodies on either side of me and I almost immediately fall asleep, my head on someone’s shoulder, I don’t know who because Auston is sitting on the floor in front of me with his back against my legs. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when the person I’m leaning on shifts below me and I snap awake. “Didn’t drool on me, did ya?” Morgan’s voice says to my side as I rub the sleep from my eyes, ignoring him. I look around the room and see a few of the guys have already left, Zach is asleep on the chair and Auston is now sitting on the other side of me. “What time is it?” I try to focus on the clock. “Almost midnight, we didn’t want to wake you to leave,” Auston says and touches my leg. “Ready for bed?” He asks, standing and taking my hand to pull me to my feet. “Night Morgan,” I call over my shoulder and he gives me a wink, settling down onto the couch and I know he doesn’t plan on moving until morning. Auston gets me upstairs and waits while I change my clothes in my closet, he may have seen me naked a few times in the last few weeks but we have yet to do the big thing and I’m too shy to change in front of him. When I emerge he helps me into bed and kisses me goodnight. “I’ll see you tomorrow after the game?” He whispers and I grab his hand, tugging him back to me as he makes to stand. “Stay, please,” I say softly and wiggle over to the middle of the bed. “I didn’t bring my bag this time, Y/N,” he whispers and I don’t let him take his hand back. “Then sleep naked, but stay,” I whine and when he sighs at me I know I have him. “I don’t think it’s very fair that I’m being held against my will and have to be naked…” “Held against your will?” I scoff. “I didn’t have to try very hard to get you to agree. But if it makes you feel better…” I shimmy out of my shorts, and shirt, leaving my undies and bra still intact. I throw them to the side and snuggle back down into my sheets and pat the bed next to me. Auston eyes me a moment before taking a step back from the bed and dragging his shirt over his head. He doesn’t tell me to look the other way like I always ask him to, so I don’t. I watch him in the near darkness, the only light coming from the light in the backyard which glances off his skin like moonlight. My cheeks heat on their own accord, as Auston meets my gaze before turning his attention to his pants. Once those and his socks are off, he quirks an eyebrow at me. “You said naked,” he says reaching for the waist band of his briefs and I squeal. “No no no!” I choke out and throw my hands onto my face, covering my eyes. Auston erupts into laughter and I feel his weight on the bed. “You’re safe,” he teases, his arm goes across my stomach and pulls me closer. I gladly move against him and marvel at the feel of his skin against mine, a shiver going through my body. “Thank you,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his shoulder. “For giving you a strip tease?” I giggle and pinch his arm. “I guess that too.” Auston turns onto his side and trails his hand from my stomach to my chin, tilts my head back and brushes my lips with a featherlike kiss. I breathe into him, thinking that it’s not fair that such a simple kiss does more to me than I could ever do to him. Laughing softly at that revelation Auston pulls back. “What?” He asks, the room is too dark to see his face now that he’s in bed. “Remember when I told you that I didn’t use to like kissing?” I ask. I think he nods but I can’t tell and he soon says. “Yes.” “I just think about it when you kiss me. I like it,” I say lamely, pushing my head into the crook of his neck even though I know he can’t see my face. “I would hope you like it, I do it pretty often,” Auston laughs, his whole body vibrating. “There’s more to it, I just can’t focus,” I say, and it’s true my senses are overloaded by his smell and touch, if I could see him I would probably be incapable of functioning. ‘Why’s that,” Auston breathes, his hand slipping down my bare side, his nail just scratching my skin. “Don’t you do that, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I mutter, trying to focus on anything else than his hand that has now hooked behind my knee, pulling my leg up to Auston’s waist. Auston leans his head down to my neck, his lips just barely grazing my skin. “I really don’t, you should probably explain it to me,” he murmurs, continuing along my throat to my jaw just below my ear and I make a noise in the back of my throat, shaking my head slightly, the only body movement I’m capable of right now. “Why not?” He asks, the tip of his nose against my collar bone before his lips touch the swell of my breast, I’m grateful that I didn’t get over confident and take my bra off earlier. “Please stop talking,” I manage to get out while my breathing makes it nearly impossible to talk. “But don’t you want to know,” Auston whispers against my skin, “that you have the exact same effect on me.” “I doubt that,” I mutter, arching my back slightly when he pulls his lips away from my chest, I can feel his eyes on my face even though I can’t see him. “You don’t think that you drive me insane? Y/N, you don’t even have to touch me for me to go insane with need for you, whereas the only way I can get you like this is to actually touch you. Every time you raise your temper at me,” he says, his mouth brushing mine with every word he says. “Every touch, every whisper, every look…” he continues this time kissing me in between words. “I want nothing more than to make you feel exactly how I feel.” I tremble underneath him, his words doing more to me than I ever thought words could do. Overly aware of his thumb making slow circles on my thigh, I make another small noise and find myself unable to form words. So instead I snap to life and pull his head down to mine, kissing him so deeply that it takes us both by surprise. Auston rolls so he’s completely over top of me, pressing my body down into the mattress, trapped against his every move. We spend the rest of night trying to one up one another, never taking it too far. In the morning I wake before he does, which never happens. I glance at the clock to see he has to go to practice soon and slip out of bed. Dressing myself first, I gently prod him awake. Auston groans and rolls away from me. “Auston,” I say, grabbing his arm and rolling him back to me. “You gotta go, don’t make me get Morgan or Zach up here. They would be emotionally scarred for life seeing you like this,” I tease, although I refuse to sleep without some sort of clothing on, Auston seems to have no problem with it. Auston groans again, his hand wrapping my waist before slipping down to my ass. “Nuh uh,” I scold. “You have to get to your morning skate, I can hear Morgan and Zach moving around downstairs so you better get up.” I pull out of his reach and he finally cracks his eyes open to scowl at me. “It’s your fault, you kept me up half the night,” he grumbles, rubbing his face with his hands. “Excuse me? I never woke you up,” I remind him. “Didn’t you? Must have been a dream then,” he smirks at me and I smack his chest. The sound echoes in the room due to his bare skin. “You have four minutes to get downstairs,” I huff at him and turn on my heel, wandering downstairs and letting my dogs outside. Morgan and Zach say their good mornings to me and help themselves to my orange juice, waiting for Auston. “Coming to the game tonight?” Zach asks me, his disheveled hair sticking all over. Although he is already dressed in a suit, he must have brought one last night. “I actually don’t know if I’ll make it,” I say over my shoulder, getting a smoothie made up. “I have a group project that my partner wants to work on tonight. Riley asked me to work on it last night but I got a little distracted at the eight thieves in my living room.” Morgan and Zach give me devilish grins as Auston makes it down the stairs finally, also dressed in a suit already. We figured out my first week living here that he should probably have clothes on hand for game days. “You’re not coming? Is that what you said?” Auston asks and I’m surprised at his tone, disappointment seeping into it. “I was just telling them, I want to, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it there in person tonight. I’ll be watching though, even if it’s from here,” I give him a small smile. Auston nods and gives me a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing the smoothie I just finished making him out of my hands. “Guess I should be going to,” Morgan says, making a kissy face at me and I roll my eyes, putting my hand on his face as he leans into me and makes a face at me before winking at me and joining Auston at the front door. Zach eyes me a moment. “Should I even ask…” he starts and I point to the door. “Get out,” I say and he laughs, ducking out the front door after his teammates. I get settled on making my own breakfast and my phone buzzes on the counter. I see it’s my lab partner and accept the call. “Hey,” I say cheerfully into the phone. “Hey, how’s it going?” Riley asks. “Project wise or general wondering?” “Both,” he laughs, I can hear pen clicking in the background and know he must be anxious, he always gets fidgety when he’s worked up about something. “I’m going well on both of those. What were your plans for the project tonight?” “We should work on it someplace together tonight. I would say we can use my place but my roommates are a bit loud, could we work on it at your place? I know you said that you live alone,” he asks and I hesitate just a moment before answering. “You can come here, that’s fine. Plenty of space and its quiet,” I say, though I’m not sure Auston will like it too much because now I really won’t be able to go to his game. “Cool, can I come around six?” “Yeah, I’ll text you the address,” I reply, an anxious feeling pitting its way into my stomach though I don’t understand why. “Great, I’ll bring something to eat as well. See you then,” he says a little too eagerly, hanging up before I can say anything back. I frown at the counter where I just set my phone, something not sitting right with me. However, I shake my head and turn my attention back to my eggs in the frying pan. Overthinking was one of the ‘negative’ qualities I got from my father and my mother was always quick to remind me of it.