#yknow. trying to solve something from life so she can move on and. stop living this life etc

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[aboardthehavocmarauder]

Beautiful Mischief [Pt. 9]

Bad Batch x Reader • Angst/Fluff/NSFW (yknow the whole deal) • Mechanic [hidden Jedi] ! Reader • Female reader

“You’re leaving soon?”

“I need to go on Kamino, and find the answers myself if Obi Wan hasn’t yet”

“Y/N I...I can’t have you kill yourself”

“Rey, I promise I won’t” Y/N reassures her vod without the blood as Reylen brought her into her embrace.

“Remember what we planned when we were kids?”

“Yes”

“You’ll meet me there...when it’s finally over”

Y/N squeezed Reylen in her embrace feeling her grip onto her cloak.

“I promise”

•

“You modified this rust bucket a lot” Crosshair comments as he helps Tech get ready to launch.

“I do what I can” Y/N replies sitting at her station checking on the diagnostics before prepping along with the two.

Hunter stares at Y/N from his seat sensing her tension, already making him worry as Echo caught on immediately.

“I have easy contact with Fives from the 501st, do you think we’ll need the back up?”

“The Bad Batch is the strongest out of the clones. I have faith we can handle this on our own. But you tell him if we need it, we’d give him the word” Y/N looked at Echo when she told him all of that, getting up and checking on a few things before launching.

“Wait for my call” Hunter informs Tech receiving a nod before following after Y/N seeing her simply take a minute to herself in the storage compartment.

“I know you’re there Hunt”

“Hmm. Thought I was stealthier than that”

“Not with me” Y/N watches him step in standing in front of her. “I’m okay”

“You’re not”

“I promise you that I am”

“Okay, well I’m not” Hunter admits taking Y/N’s face into his hands taking a deep breath giving her the second to do it herself as she carefully held his wrists. “We may face a lot more than just the Kaminoans. Could face the republic head on”

“Or Odious...”

“Or all of them. The republic was meant to protect you, but they failed to do their job and you’ve fallen. Yet that’s all they see. Ignoring all the recovery you’ve been through.”

“Hunter...”

“We risked our lives already, and are willing to do it again for your sake.”

“I won’t let anything happen to any of you...I won’t allow it” Y/N frowns looking him in the eye as Hunter slots himself closer feeling her hands move to his torso.

“I know cyar’ika” He says before pressing his lips against hers moving his hands to her waist keeping her close.

When the war is over

I want a life with you

And I don’t want to lose you before I can get that chance

Y/N leans into Hunter’s embrace in the comfort of his quarters as she hasn’t stopped thinking about the possibility of everything going wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“No”

“You can tell me what’s on your mind”

“...I’m afraid to”

Hunter frowns squeezing her a bit as Y/N held onto his arms pressing her back against his chest. He rests his head on her shoulder holding her until she started to calm down in his embrace.

“I’m fine with dying, Hunter. This isn’t just my fight but for now it should be. I don’t want any of you getting hurt because of my actions. Not anymore...”

“Like we’re going to allow that cray’ika” Crosshair interrupts the two’s private moment by eavesdropping and barging in.

“Cross”

“Okay since he decided to actually come in” Echo adds following the sharpshooter and sitting on the edge of the bed as Cross propped himself against the wall. “We won’t let you die”

“And before you start to argue. The first attack wasn’t just meant for Odious to capture you. Darth Maul had his own agenda. We would’ve had to stop him if we didn’t give a single fuck about you”

Y/N sighs leaning into Hunter more as she took Echo’s hand once it was extended to her.

“I can’t lose any of you”

“And we can’t lose you” Wrecker adds finally joining but staying out since him entering the room would make it claustrophobic.

“So we’ll fight until we win. And we won’t lose anyone” Hunter states.

Loves of my life

I will lay down my life for you

And you would do the same for me

But I can’t let that happen

Stepping onto Kamino felt like a mistake, but Y/N needed her answers.

“Something doesn’t feel right” Tech states following Y/N close behind her as she felt it. Something was off.

FIRE

Y/N ignited one of her sabers blocking a plethora of shots fired directly at her as Crosshair uses Tech’s shoulder to give him leverage with his rifle and took down the gatling gun firing resulting in a minor explosion causing the trooper manning it to fall. But Y/N caught them with the force giving Cross a look.

“We aren’t killing any body. Especially any of your brothers.”

“Y/N—-“

“They don’t know better. Good soldiers follow orders. Once the chip is revealed, with its flaws.” Y/N states. “The war will be over. Obi Wan failed to figure it out or he simply followed orders instead of caring about those in his life. I will fight my battle another day. But for now. I’m finishing this”

As the batch kept close to Y/N as she took lead walking over to the trooper that was orders to fire. She helped him up taking a step back before he could try anything.

“Who’s orders?”

“I have orders to not talk to you”

“Well then. Wrecker” Hunter calls watching Wrecker grab the trooper by the chest plate slamming him into the wall.

“Now. Who’s orders, reg?” Crosshair glares watching him struggle in Wrecker’s grasp.

“Chancellor Palpatine and General Obi Wan Kenobi” He continues to struggle before finally being dropped and before he could call it in. Echo grabbed his communicator tossing it to Tech to dismantle.

“You think the General is here?” Echo asks getting a tense look from Y/N as she retracts her sabers when the sound of hanger doors open.

Y/N stepped through the batch staring at the transporter ship making themselves visible. The doors close and the ship lands before the 501st and 212th poured out from the sides along General Skywalker and Kenobi.

“If you think you’re going to do anything to her—-“

“Shut up” Hardcase blurts getting smacked by Jesse for blurting that out loud.

“Excuse Hardcase, we’re not going to do anything to Y/N except bring her in under orders of the chancellor”

“Now what does the chancellor want, when the council has more a problem with me?” Y/N glares bringing one hand behind her and signaling Tech as he got to work with his visor. “Obi Wan. Qui Gon taught you better than this”

“Don’t you dare—“ Anakin stops when Obi Wan stepped forward.

“He did. But I believed in the order”

“Believed” Y/N frowns. “What’s stopping you from killing me like what many Jedi did to the sith and anyone that turned against the order?”

“Y/N but you didn’t—“ Echo frowns stopping himself when Hunter looked at him to.

“You, Y/N.” Kenobi frowns taking his cloak off causing an unnoticeable eye roll from Cody, his commander. “You were tortured. Under a control that you had no say in. I had to report it since you were once under our care and then not. You were controlled by sith. Everything had to be documented. Including the scans and labs we took. The chancellor wants us to take you in for questioning”

“Instead of solving the chip and who controls it. You care more about my factor in this? What a weird way of showing it. But I’m not going with you and I’m not hurting any of you to get away”

“So turn yourself in scum”

“Okay I will hurt him but the others I won’t” Y/N glares at Anakin keeping her hands away from her lightsabers knowing if she touched one, she’s a goner. “Hm”

“Y/N—“

“This is gonna take the hard way I guess” Y/N forced Anakin and Kenobi’s sabers into her hands before getting a head start into the building and before the batch could react, Tech had already deployed her BD unit to release a grenade that put an electric shock through the two battalions and generals.

“Let’s get going”

“How the fuck do you plan that?!”

“Tech is an analyst, Cross” Hunter laughs following Y/N as Wrecker grabbed Crosshair and Tech unexpectedly to hurry their pace.

Echo stayed behind for just a second staring at the battalions before quickly following. He hacked the door with his socket to make sure it stayed closed to give them enough time.

“You got a plan?”

“I know what I’m doing Hunt”

“Hm. Love this already” Crosshair laughs being set down when they reached the lab as Tech opens the camera on the BD unit with the datapad available seeing a few troopers coming through.

“They’re coming. What you have planned. Better hurry”

“And make it quick. I can’t always handle the hacking mechanisms in Kamino” Echo states already shutting down door by door as Tech kept them posted on the closer they got.

“HOW COULD YOU TRUST THIS—THIS TRAITOR”

“ANAKIN, SHE WAS MY PADAWAN. SHE WANTED THE LIFE YOU HAVE WITH PADMÉ AND GOT IT RIPPED AWAY FROM HER THE SECOND SHE LEFT THE ORDER. IMAGINE THE LOSE YOUVE EXPERIENCED TIMES A MILLION. SHE GAVE US ALL THE INFORMATION FROM HER ABUSER AND SO ON. EVERYTHING WE NEEDED TO KNOW AND I DIDN’T LISTEN TO HER. NOW SHES AN ENEMY OF THE STATE AND I CANT FIX THAT WITH MY INSTRUCTIONS TO KILL HER”

Tech froze hearing that last bit from Obi Wan from the cameras and seeing Anakin grow hesitant but a job is a job.

A job is a job

Taglist:

@xxeiraxx @meli-that-girl @Spp2011 @fennign

[hebescus]

remember this ship ask? yeah, i wanna do them all with lawlight bcs they control my brain. but it's a happy no death note au bcs it's me. oh and this shit is long plus it's 3 am rn so my words are very messy. but enjoy.

(i skip some numbers that i answered and the ones that i can't think of btw)

pre relationship :

How did they first meet?

L's investigation hq. he was a suspect of L, still, but this time he told soichiro to bring this 18 yo boy to the hq to test him, asking light to work with all of them. he ends up not guilty ofc, but L still wants to keep him…around.

What was their first impression of each other?

ah, the good old 'what the fuck dude???' from light and the 'oooh he got a big brain' from L. it's hard to get out of canon in this one.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

L. But it's more like thoughts, rather than feelings. It's just these random thoughts that pop out in his head like 'i don't mind kissing this guy, if he asks' but not like 'i want to kiss him' yknow what i mean? idk this is just something i experience a lot lmao. it develops to feelings once light falls for him and L can see that. So in terms of ideas, it's L, but in terms of feelings, it's Light.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh our favorite light denial yagami. Of course he's cursing himself for having feelings like this but once L calls it out he's over. 

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Light would laugh it off, and be like "i don't like him that way you know". L would shrugs be like "well yes that's possible, i don't think i mind". 

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

boring, lonely, empty, you name it

(more under the cut)

general :

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

hmm, they both initiated the relationship? ykwim? They both notices they had feelings for each other and just...go from there. they never have like a relationship talk, they just go with the flow until at some point they starts to get comfortable to refer the other as partners. They basically can read each other's mind, after all.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Yes, sort of. A tennis game! And a coffee sesh after, just like canon. They plan this to be just "let's just relax, this case has been really exhausting, take a one day break, L" but when Light got home, sayu asked "how's the date going?!" He immediately said "it's not a date, you watch too many dramas it's rotting your brain" And sachiko gave him a smile while shaking her head at this statement and when he's back to his room he immediately calls L and was like "hey does that count as a date?" and L answers with "depends, do you want it to be?" with a smirk that light can hear.

What was their first kiss like?

it was late at night, light was helping L with the case when everybody went home. they were sharing their view about this certain criminal when light notices L staring at his lips, first he ignored it but it happens again and again to a point where their face just got real close and then...kiss, somehow. idk lmao.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First person who can understand each other and are equals, the only ones who can tear the other's wall down, and just practically soulmates in any form that even their sun & moon signs mirroring each other's? YES. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

i hc L as just a little bit taller than light, but it's not like you can see it through the hunch anyway. ofc we all know the 6 years and 4 months age gap

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sayu likes L, Sachiko is kinda surprise Light doesn't date a typical pretty person, but it only makes her heart fonder. L doesn't mind them, he thinks they're nice, light grew up in a good place. Soichiro? Well, he might me a bit reluctant but he loosen up slowly, his son is happier than he ever was, after all.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Light, obviously. Because he's a charmer and if L takes control, the person they speak to would run immediately the first 2 minutes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

it is a universal knowledge that L does this. like, come on, count the fics, you can't, there's just so many. he loves to break that perfect wall and make light feel 🥴😳. it's entertaining. But he knows when to stop. too much of that will be embarrassing in light's part, and he respects his boy's dignity.

love :

Who said “I love you” first?

Light!! The thing is it was said over the phone. He gets more and more comfortable talking with L through calls, since every now and then L travel frok countries to countries. One time he just like "yeah, safe flight. love you, bye" he expected L to say goodnight to him as a response as usual but L was silent and he realised what he just said and realised that he fucking mean it. L seems to still be able to read his mind even thousands miles away so he replies with "i love you too, goodnight". they never missed seeing each other more than that night.

What are their primary love languages?

we had a discussion for this! but as we see in canon, they're both very acts of service with a little hint of physical touch here and there. quality time is also important. words and gift aren't really needed for them.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

L. Only to annoy light. It's terrible that he almost cringed to himself, but it does bring a good laugh for light.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is a not their preference, they just love being in private more. They might hold hands sometimes, butmost times they won't. Altho they always stand or sit reaaaaally glued to each other even though there are so many space. 

Who initiates kisses?

both. they want it, they got it. but light gives light kisses (ha) more, not necessarily on the lips, usually when L was really busy working, keeping his feet on the ground.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They don't spoon a lot, they prefer not touching at all or cufdling face to face, but when they do, Light is the little spoon because being a big spoon makes his sleeping position kinda uncomfy, he feels awkward with his legs, it's just not. thankfully L thinks cuddling light this way is very calming.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Tennis and solving cases, duh. Or sometimes they play video games fighting each other. Anything competitive and/or challenging that make their brain grow 10 times bigger. But sometimes, a comfortingly peaceful and quiet dinner with hushed words thrown here and there about random things feels like the best thing ever.

Who’s more protective?

L. For identity reasons, ofc.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical. They can read each other's mind, they knew it by gesture, touches, and glances. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE. venus by sleeping at last fits them so well, that song is in the background of multiple cozy couch smooches sessions or even when they're slow dancing (please listen to this tho song it's so good). also i think they would like persephone by the tragic thrills too, L would be like "this song reminds me of you" and Light answers with "i'm persephone?" "Yeah" "i'm a fucking badass then" "yes you are". oh and first day of my life? lover of mine? pink in the night? sweet creature? the lakes? oh god i have too much answers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't do nicknames, really. although, L sometimes called light with some snarky tony stark styled nicknames when he feels particularly playful but annoyed at the same time.

Who remembers the little things?

They both do. Big brained assholes they are.

domestic life :

If they get married, who proposes?

It's not really a proposal, they didn't  even remember who said it first. But one sleepy night after a hard case, someone said "hey you wanna get married" and the other was like "sure, why not" "really?" "yeah, i think i'm ready, you?" "me too" "great" and then they go to sleep. at breakfast the next morning L called watari from across the room and said "wammy i need you to prepare [enter marriage stuff here], and light, you must call your family after this". poor old watari chokes on his tea.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding is in a secluded little place near the wammy's house, L used to go there a lot as a kid. With just light's parents, sayu, and watari. Well, not until Light caught Mello, Matt, Near, and Linda peeping from the bushes

Do they have any pets?

A chunky cat the wammy's kids feed daily but never try to keep them in, because no animals are allowed inside the orphanage. L saw it and was like "light let's bring this bitch home" she is, indeed a little bitch, but light and L loves her dearly. her fur has light brown and black colors, like both of their hairs, so she becomes their daughter, L gave him a weird ass name but i can't think about it rn.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Light because he's the one who's actually bothers to. They ofc annoyed L but he cpuldnt care less to actually get rid of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

L. He rarely sleeps and once he did, he wakes up very fucking late and will pull light back to the bed if he's woken up by the empty space beside him.

Who’s the better cook?

Light. L is a spoiled brat. But Light can't bale for shit, that's Watari's job. Light grow up learning and helping his mom making meals for the family. He's not the best, but it's good enough to make L craves them in between his sweets.

Who likes to dance?

None of them. But they would slow dance on rare, sentimental occasions. And it's like so fucking romantic bcs all the lights are off except for a candle or a table lamp or a cabinet lamp whatever that has yellow-y dim light. And they don't speak, they just casually move against each other, but heart ready to combust like i do when i the mental image came into my head.

[pudding-head-kenma]

bruh pls lemme know some good movies to watch :-: like what're your favs bby??

 IJASKGNBINHSOKGLASKMGAS OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED YES :D THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRUSTING ME W THAT I’LL RECOMMEND SOME GOOD ONES + GIVE THEIR GENRE/SYNOPSIS . PROBABLY LONG LIST BELOW THE CUT !!: 

1. LET’S START WITH MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE MOVIE: mulholland drive - a drama, a mystery and lowkey a thriller - after a car crash, a woman loses her memory. she finds help from a young actress that just recently came to hollywood and together they try to get her memory back, and find out why the amnesiac woman has so much money on her. as they get involved in mysteries, schemes and the hidden parts of hollywood, they fall deeper into a world that they aren’t even sure is real.

2. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind - i would call this a romantic drama! - basically it’s about a couple whose relationship turns sour, and they decide to get a procedure that will delete their memories of each other. it’s honestly such an interesting movie and it’s really tense as you watch strangers, once lovers, dance around each other and systematically forget they have done it

3. magnolia - i would call this a drama - it’s basically a bunch of stories complied into a movie, with characters SEEMINGLY unrelated trying to learn about love, forgiveness, and the meaning of life, lives separated but much closer than they know

4. the music never stopped - drama! - it’s basically the story of a father trying to bond with his estranged son, who recently discovered he has a brain tumour that prevents him from forming new memories. his dad, left without a choice, tries to connect with him through music

5. american beauty - drama - it’s really hard to give this a synopsis, and the ones i see aren’t all that accurate. it’s true that a suburban dad has a lot of sexual frustration, but that’s not necessarily the essence of a movie - it’s a family with a lot of pent up feelings, frustrations, and others

6. gisaengchung (parasite) - drama, thriller(?) - i think everyone might know this movie already but it’s definitely worth mentioning! it’s hard to describe, but try to think of the differences between a high class family and a lower class one. what if hte lower class starts trying to profit from the others? that’s when greed comes into play

7. byōsoku go senchimētoru (5 centimeters per second) - i’d call this a romantic drama, but not with all the focus on romance. romance is the undertone for the drama - this is an animated movie told in 3 instances of someone’s life, when he fell in love as a child, when he lost that love as a teen, and when he’s trying to get over that love, surrounded by the cold world and adult obligations.

8. lost in translation - drama, comedy (i say comedy not bc it’s a comedy just because it’s light hearted yknow) - a washed out actor travels to tokyo for a commercial, where he meets a young woman. they form a bond and start an unlikely friendship. 

9. the night of the hunter - it’s a noir film, i’d say a bit more than thriller but not exactly HORROR, crime - a religious fanatic marries into the family of a gullible widow and her two kids. only the kids know their father hid $10,000 from a bank robbery, and there’s something strange about their step dad.

10. beasts of the southern wild - adventure, drama, fantasy (?) - this is a really good take on environmental issues in my opinion. a six year old has to learn courage and love as she deals with her father's fading health and melting ice-caps that are flooding her ramshackle bayou community

11. green room - horror, thriller - a punk rock band is forced to fight for survival after witnessing a murder at a bar. this movie is so nice to watch because it flows really well and you feel really tense

12.  inglourious basterds - war, drama, adventure - in france, during the second world war, a group of jewish u.s soldiers come up with a plan to take down nazi leaders, not knowing the owner of a theatre is planning something with the same objective

13. amour - drama, romance -  an octogenarian couple’s love is tested when the wife has a stroke, and the husband sees himself forced to change his whole life to take care of her. 

14. rosemary’s baby - thriller, horror(?) - a young couple trying to have a baby moves into a fancy apartment, surrounded by peculiar neighbours. once the wife gets pregnant, she becomes convinced that the neighbours are trying to steal her baby for a satantic cult

15. moonlight - drama - the struggles of childhood, adolescence and adulthood, as told by an african american man struggling with his identity and sexuality. 

16. el laberinto del fauno (pan’s labyrinth) - drama, war, i’d say thriller sometimes -  in the falangist spain in 1944, a bookish young stepdaughter of a sadistic army officer escapes into an eerie but captivating fantasy world

17. oldeuboi - action, mystery - a man is kidnapped and kept prisoner for 15 years. once he’s finally out, he discovers he has to find his captor in 5 days so he can find out why he was kidnapped. in the meantime, he starts a peculiar involvement with a much younger woman, and uncovers secrets he didn’t know he had kept

18. låt den rätte komma in (let the right one in) - crime, drama, fantasy(?) - an overlooked and peculiar boy finds love and revenge in an even more peculiar girl

19. birdman (or the unexpected virtue of ignorance) -  a washed-up superhero actor attempts to revive his fading career by writing, directing, and starring in a broadway production. this movie’s synopsis doesn’t give it the proper emphasis but it’s so good. it’s also all shot in the sequence of a day (obviously there’s cuts, but you can’t see them so it looks like only 1 shot and it becomes an amazing experience)

20. the blair witch project - horror -  three film students vanish after traveling into a Maryland forest to film a documentary on the local Blair Witch legend, leaving only their footage behind. this movie was one of the first ‘found footage’ films that really sent the genre flying, i would highly recommend

21. for the same reasons above, i recommend [REC] (the spanish one), as it also brought found footage films to the public in the beginning. it’s about a journalist who finds herself stuck on a building with the infected, since the police decided to sacrifice everyone inside for the sake of the virus not getting out.

22. salinui chueok (memories of murder) [trigger: mention of r*pe]  - action, crime, drama - in a small Korean province in 1986, two detectives struggle with the case of multiple young women being found raped and murdered by an unknown culprit

23. once - music, drama - a story about a pianist and a guitarist coming together and trying to live out their struggles through music. 

24. gokseong (the wailing) - mystery, horror, thriller - soon after a stranger arrives in a little village, a mysterious sickness starts spreading. a policeman, drawn into the incident, is forced to solve the mystery in order to save his daughter.

[og-danny-dorito]

Some Really Bad Michael Myers Headcanons, Mainly Done Because I Just Felt Like It

- where do I start with this bitch

- he's a big, angry, no-fucks-given sortof dude with a knife and many mental illnesses, but he's still a person, so he's got some personal preferences deep down under that creepy exterior as The Shape of Haddonfield

- for instance, he generally likes to sleep in his spare time, or listen to people reading to him. he's not sure why he likes it so much, but the sound of someone's speaking to him without depth or meaning in their word was put him to sleep faster than anything

- he can fall asleep in complete silence, but ironically enough it feels...empty without someone or something making noise. although he personally is very quiet, he grew up in the asylum where there was almost always some sort of noise in the room, whether it be distant murmurings of an inmate next door or a nurse walking down the halls, so he's used to falling asleep to whatever noise is going on during the day

- oh yeah, he also sleeps like a rock

- seriously, its a struggle to get him up. he barely wants to move in the first place, so getting him out of bed will have to be with some bribing or very gentle pleading, although he gets annoyed of begging out of the bedroom very quickly. your best shot is to promise making dinner all week (even though you probably already do) and to make sure he gets treated very generously for his fear or getting out of bed

- a good method of giving him praise is to actually give him a kiss. you may be thinking to yourself, ‘but Danny (that's my internet name, or call me Dann), he's a big scary man with basically no emotions and doesn't speak like at all, how can you make him like soft things that imply a domestic and somewhat healthy relationship?’ well dear reader because I said so, and also it basically makes sense. he obviously wouldn't remember much from his childhood before killing his sister, so what he does remember are snippets of his family and household he grew up in

- and to be honest, pretty much all of them are bland and leave a tight frown and sour taste on and in his mouth (respectively)

- the most evident one is of his mother, who he remembers as tired and snappy, hitting him over the head and yelling some slurred words at him for a reason he doesn't remember. he remembers the hatred, the sadness that came with the childhood he had learned to forget, which fuel his desire for blood more than anything after he's had the first taste of what it's like to take a life. he wants to be treated well, but in his mind he believes all he needs is to keep himself satisfied with blood until he's at his end

- but the truth is that he's really just a man, and he needs a bit of affirmation of how he slowly cared about from time to time. he needs someone to take care of him, to wash his hair or even do something's small like curl up in bed with him when he's asleep for warmth. I know that sounds likes he's not a desperate bitch, but he really won't admit how touch starved he is at all, so yknow there's will be pushing you away when you want to juggle him or smthn like that

- sex however?

- he highkey can and will fuck whoever, he doesn't even like have a gender preference. but when he's in a relationship with someone it makes him feel,,,bad? is that the right word? it's not the issue of hurting their feelings though, it's the feeling of it not being really neccissary to fuck someone else when you have someone's waiting at home, if that makes sense. it's saving him time and trouble to just push you against a wall and do whatever he wants

- it's usually just to fulfill urges that are more than just murderous though, like animalistic ones that can only be satisfied by contact that isn't entirely violent, but there's are times when he genuinely, seriously needs physical contact

- Michael on a whole isn't an affectionate guy, obviously, and so he won't outright ask for affection if he feels needy, and that's few and far between. if you catch him in one of those moods though, he'll usually end up standing behind you menacingly until you turn to face him. this usually resorts to him just wrapping his arms around you, holding you to his chest and just,,,standing still for a few minutes

- it's kindof a personal thing to him, validation of sorts. he may not show it, but he loves you, and know she damn well he's not who you deserve. he knows that you're stable, can function, don't have to suffering the burden of animalistic urges on a daily basis, etc. it feels wrong sometimes, wrong in a sense that he doesn't belong, even with whom he should feel the best confidant

- he needs physical affection, even though he doesn't initiate it and avoids it due to not wanting to feel a specific way in your presence. I mean, you're the first person he's felt anything with besides hatred since he can remember, so as a guy who literally kills people he doesn't always feel correct touching you, like you're a holy object or something

- coaxing him eventually gets him out of it, you just need to show him you want to touch him, to be around him

- on that note, I believe he would best be matched with a particularly needy partner. yes, he'd get agitated very quickly if you were too clingy like hanging on his arm or constantly hugging him, but he doesn't mind having his face held or being told that you missed him

- it also gives him a massive hard on when you look him directly in the eyes and say “I missed you today.” or “I’ve been waiting all day for you, you know. You kept me waiting for too long.”

- while all this may seem great, he's not exactly the best at showing his own affection and devotion for you. well, better phrased, he just shows it in different ways

- someone's been bothering you at work or giving you a hard time? expect their head to be on the table as soon as he gets home as proof they won't  be bothering you anymore. some creep keeps hitting on you? ok, no head thing this time, yes he understands it's nasty but this time he'll just scare the person to death. usually he solves things with violence, so anything you complain to him about will be taken care of quite quickly

- you can imagine how easily possessive he gets. he knows that he's not the best, but that doesn't stop him from recognizing that no one else is better for you, at all. just smiling or laughing at a person’s joke when they're obviously trying to lay down something more beneath the veil of politeness is enough to get his blood boiling

- he keeps following you even after you two are confirmed as living together Andy being significant others, meaning you have to rub your temples slightly when you see a pale, emotionless mask emerge from the darkness in a fashion that would scare the shit out of anyone if they hadn't seen it and what was underneath 1,000 times

- when you finally come home, he's already waiting in front of the door and staring you down as if you've done something wrong

- you almost roll your eyes

- “Michael, don't tell me you were jealous.”

- “...”

- “Don't look at me like that! I don't even like them like that, only you.”

- he's borderline kindof a yandere, so expect to feel a little smothered by him if he's not feeling particularly mad about one of your friends but is hesitating to kill the, because you care about them. he's not the most considerate slasher, but he's not a dumbass so he won't hesitate to make sure you haven't been tipped off by a friend

- really random, but in all honesty it would crush him if you grew scared of him for this. he wouldn't recognize it first as rebellion, but after a while he would start to actually become a bit scared you didn't love him anymore. he wants to ask why you're acting like this, what he has to do to be better, but he can't get to words across so you both sit in silence, and he feels more like a monster as the minutes pass, making him more violent

- chances are if you become scared and want to leave you won't leave at all, you'll just end up being chained down to a bed in an empty room with no windows and being constantly given food by Michael as he attempts to get you back, train you like an animal to love him again

- but that probably won't happen, if you decide to see the part of him that truly is human

- he's not scared of anything really, but he does have a fear of being watched without his knowing, like a stalker. he's only ever told this to you, and it was mainly just blank ramblings as a product of his own fatigue in the middle of the night

- although he does sleep like a rock, that doesn't mean he wakes up in cold sweat sometimes, breathing and gasping for air while staring at the ceiling. he doesn't say anything for hours, merely staring and breathing heavily, reminiscing over whatever he's just dreamed of. most dreams are just black, blank canvases with nothing on them, deep and empty

- others are detailed, too realistic to be just dreams, abstract telling of a story that's familiar like a distant, unpleasant thought in the back of his head fleshed out to appear like reality. you scream at him, claw at the air a small he chokes you to death, say his name s on your lips before you turn to dust beforehand his eyes, and then silence. silence as he runs through the house, only door won't open to where they should, like a trick maze as his name through your labored breath echoes in directions he can’t follow. then the house catches on fire, and he wakes up immediately feeling shaken and disoriented as you slowly move from your place next to him to he placing a hand on his back, trying Tommy reassure him of your presence

- he blames you for this, since he never had nightmares so violently Andy so often before he met you, but he's refused to talk about them openly or try to work through them. it doesn't affect his life directly, so he pays it no mind

- and that's pretty much how it work for you two. to be honest you do most of the providing, the work, and the care, but the small moments that he finds himself confiding in you as your lover or feelings intimately close just Fromm looking at you can prove his love, although due to preconceived ideas he may not be the best at being conventional

- but who likes conventional anyway?

[deepdaleducks]

Spark (Slow Burn 4/Fire Series) - Dele

make sure you’ve read Slow Burn, Flicker and Embers before you read this (or don’t i don’t think it matters here)

-Three years ago-

The room was bustling with people. Everyone dressed in long dress and black suit and ties. Knifes and forks clinking against fine china as everyone dines on their food, light conversation coming from every corner of the room. Your colleagues surround you, everyone abiding by your bosses “no work talk” rule. Stories of childhoods and friends are passed around the table, laughter echoing over the noise of the room. When the meal is finished, your boss thanks everyone for coming to the event, rattling off about how important it is for the company to show its charitable side, not only at functions such as this, but all year round. Everyone lifts their glasses in a toast, and you drain what’s left of your wine. Your phone vibrates in your clutch and you reach to check the text; a reply to the mirror selfie of your outfit you’d sent earlier.

              Tom: Looking good, babe! Have a good night x

You type back a quick thank you, wishing him a good weekend. Your best friend from work leans over, spying on your phone.

“Is that Tom, hmm?” She asks as you slip your phone back into your purse. “How’s that going?”

“It’s going okay yeah, nothing too serious yet, but he’s nice,” You reply, mind drifting onto thoughts of the guy you’d been seeing. A month of dating and things had been going well. The two of you had met through a mutual friend and had hit it off really well. You worked in similar industries and had similar interests. Your only disagreements being over the fact that he was an Arsenal fan, and although you didn’t follow football much anymore, your dad had raised you to hate Arsenal. You gossip with your colleague about your love lives, discussing your best and worst dates, every comparison coming back to Tom.

Once the plates had been cleared, people began to move around the room, squeezing in between tables and chairs. The people on your table, mainly your colleagues and their guests began to disperse around the room to greet old friends and network with other attendees. Bidding a quick goodbye, talk to you later to the few remaining people at your table, you stand at head towards the bar in search of a new drink. Your heels now aching under your feet, you’re thankful when you arrive at the bar and have a support to lean on to alleviate some of the pressure from the balls of your feet. The space is cramped, a large group of guys congregating next to you loudly discussing their training sessions this week and how their next game should go. Footballers. There were always footballers at events like these; their team sponsoring the event to show they were “giving back to the community”.

You haven’t even had a chance to order when it happens. In a split second, he’s turning around, two pints of beer in his hands, and bumping into you. Beer flowing out of the glasses and down your dress. Black fabric now covered in liquid, you step back in shock.

“Jesus Christ watch where you’re going,” You yell, grabbing at the cloth that’s immediately being held out in front of you. You begin dabbing at your dress, attempting to soak up some of the moisture, a whole spiel of apologies coming from the figure stood opposite you.

“Shit. Fuck. I am so sorry.” He says, his tone panicked. His hands move about in any attempt to help, but you bat him away. All chances of solving the mess already out of the window, you throw the cloth back on the bar, shaking your head in annoyance. “Is there anything I can do to fix this?” He asks, causing you to look up at him, taking in his perfectly clean suit and tie, eyes looking at you apologetically.

“It’s, ah. It’s fine.” You breathe, “I’m going to go try wash this out in the bathroom.” You say, turning away from the bar and stalking down the corridor, frustration and annoyance flowing through your veins. You hear footsteps following you, dress shoes on wooden tiles. A series of hold on, wait a minutes echoing behind you. Rather than turn back, you push through the door to ladies’ room and lean against the sinks, taking a breath to calm yourself. Dabbing at your dress with a wet cloth, you consider your options. The idea of spending the rest of the night in a beer coated dress seems unpleasant, so you settle for calling it an early night and heading home on the tube, the three glasses of wine you’d consumed making your brain feel a little hazy, far too hazy too drive. Having come straight from work, you had your clothes from earlier in the day in your car parked across the street, so you make a mental note to run across and change back into them before heading for a train home. Pushing back through the door of the bathroom, you almost run into a familiar figure once more.

“Did you sort it?” He asks, stopping you in your tracks on your journey back to your car. You shake your head, noticing his expression sadden.

“No, it’s pretty unsalvageable…” You trail off, “I’m just gonna head back to my car and then go home.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night. Where’s your car?”

“In the multi-story across the street. Not all of us can afford the valet service.” You joke, trying to crack a smile.

“Excuse me?” He questions, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re a footballer, right? Those guys you were with at the bar, you were all discussing your training and the game next week.” You say, happy to have stumped him a little.

“Oh right, yeah… At least let me walk you back to your car, I can’t have you going in a multi-story car park alone at this time of night,” He pleads, eyes showing a desperation to make this up to you. You smile lightly in agreement, too tired to argue. The two of you walk together side by side, not bothering to make conversation. When you exit the building, the air is a lot colder than it was earlier causing you to shiver slightly and combined with the alcohol in your body, the motion makes you stumble a little; your heels giving way under your feet.

“You sure you’re safe to drive like that?” He asks teasing, an arm reaching out to help steady you and dropping immediately once you’ve regained your balance.

“I’m not. I’m getting the tube.” He looks confused at your response, so you continue not allowing him to ask any more questions. “I have clothes in my car, so I’m going to change and then I’m going to get the tube home.” He just nods, taking in your rambling. You reach your car and grab your clothes out of the boot – jeans and a white t-shirt from a dress down Friday, with an old pair of converse that you always keep in your car. He stands there quietly, only attempting to protest when head into the sketchy bathroom of the parking garage to change. And he’s still there when you return, standing by your car, waiting. Waiting whilst your put the dress out on the backseat, ready to be taken to the dry cleaners in the morning. Waiting whilst you grab your purse and lock up your car. And then he follows you when you head towards the exit in search of the tube, silent all the while.  

“Okay so where’s the tube station?” He asks as you descend into the street.

“It’s just down the road,” You say factually, turning to look at him quickly. “You don’t have to come with me, I can do it alone.”

“Look, it’s the least I could do, given the hell I caused.” He jokes slightly in attempt to get you to warm up to him. Once again, rather than protest or agree, you just smile and nod ever so slightly.

The city is still alive, neon lights hanging from the buildings and traffic flying past in a constant stream. Together, you push your way through the small crowds on the street towards the tube station, no attempts to make conversation of the bustle of the crowds.

“Dele.” He yells over the noise of a bus passing by.

“What?” You question, turning to look at him.

“My name. Dele. That’s my name.”

“Oh,” is all you say, before introducing yourself in return, swivelling on your feet to continue your journey.

“Do you wanna maybe go for a drink?” He proposes, walking slightly faster to catch up with you. You hesitate in your response, mind questioning if this was a sensible decision. He speaks again before you can think any further, “It’s not even that late, and I kinda turned your night to shit, so I kinda owe you.” He smiles. “Just one drink, it’s on me.” Before your mind can even begin to object, you’re nodding slowly in confirmation, following him into a pub off the street.

He buys as promised, a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for you. It’s awkward and silent at first until he asks about your job and why you were attending the gala. A conversation begins to form naturally, him sharing what he knows of your industry, and you discussing your brief knowledge of football. He tells you about his childhood and how he got into playing, how much of a dream it is to play for Spurs.

“You’re a spurs player?” You ask, and he nods and grins like a child in response. “My dad would have loved you…”

“He’s a fan?” He says proudly.

“He was, yeah.” His eyes deepen slightly at your use of the past tense, but you continue anyway. “My mum was born in Manchester, so she’s United for life. I was kinda raised on a dual allegiance though. But I haven’t really followed the football in a while…”

“Was?” He asks, ignoring the latter half of your sentence. His word stops your heart for a minute, the panic of this conversation getting way too serious way too quickly.

“He, um, he passed away a few years ago…” You trail off, “it’s why I don’t really follow football anymore. It was always something we did together, yknow.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this anymore, if you don’t want.” He mutters, apologetically and you smile at him weakly in response. The people at the pool table next to you finish their game so you eye up the free table. Desperate to get your mind on to something other than its current thought track, you suggest playing a game, causing him to give you a competitive smirk.

The game goes by quickly, him breaking and instantly potting a ball, gaining himself a healthy lead. You catch up easily and it comes down to both of you having a single ball left on the table. You line up your shot, taking a breath to steady your hand. Years of practice in your local pub back home paying off when you hit the white at the perfect angle and power to pot your ball and position it perfectly for your final shot. Aligning your queue ready to hit the black, you smirk at him in victory and he looks at you in disbelief. The ball rolls easily into the hole, white sitting just on the edge of the pocket, and you grin at him in triumph.

“I can’t believe you made a comeback like that.” He says in shock, half joking, half amazed.

“I worked in a really small country pub for a few years and we hardly had any customers, so I got to spent most my time playing pool,” You reply, matter-of-factly. “And I’m like really competitive, so I usually win,”

“Being competitive doesn’t mean you just instantly win. It means that you just brag when you do or get annoyed when you don’t.” He states.

“No, I’m serious. I win at like everything, I just do.”

“Care to prove it?” His lips smirk at you as he asks, pointing towards the all-night arcade across the street. Electricity runs through the air between you as you stand on opposite sides of the table. It’s on, is all you say in response, finishing your drink quickly and following him across the street.

You beat him at air hockey and a shoot ‘em up game, but he wins on the basketball machine and table football, a ‘it’s what I do for a living, babe, I was bound to win’ thrown in when he does so. Upon noticing the “mini golf this way sign” you grab his hand in excitement, dragging him in the direction of the arrows, insisting that you were about to thrash him. You wind your way through the arcade machines, grinning like a child. You face only falling when you notice the lack of lighting in the room and a no entry barrier across the door way.

“I can’t believe it’s closed” You say in annoyance. His thumb rubs your hand in comfort and you suddenly become aware that your fingers were still laced together.

“Well maybe I’ll just have to take you another time?” He poses, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah maybe, but who says there will be another time?” You mirror his actions.

“Promise there will be.” Is all he responds before he pulls you closer and dips his head slowly. He breath ghosts your lips before they connect slightly. Your brain instantly sober as you push away, uttering a no, I can’t do this. His hand drops yours, leaving your palm cold and empty.

“What? You got a boyfriend or something?” He says, no bitterness in his voice, only a hint of surprise.

“No boyfriend.” You reply, causing him to look at you confusingly. “I’m sort of seeing someone. It’s still new and there’s no real labels on it yet. But I don’t do the two people at once thing and I don’t wanna be that girl.” You spiel out quickly, hardly pausing to take a breath.

“Oh,” He responds, his eyes disappointed and low.

“But we can be friends, though? I mean you did just promise to take me mini golfing, and you’re one for one on keeping your promises, so you wouldn’t wanna ruin that now, would you?” You say lightly, attempting to regain the happy atmosphere you had established earlier.

He takes your number, insisting that he is a man of his word, also calling you a taxi to take you home, rather than allowing you to take the tube alone. You walk out into the street together, his suit jacket now slung around your shoulders to protect you from the cold night air. He opens the door to the taxi, bidding you a final farewell with a “see you at mini golf.”

  Instead, he invites you to the cinema the next Wednesday and brunch the following Sunday. You never even make it to mini golf, a date with your boyfriend getting in the way of the plans you had originally made. He takes the cancellation lightly, saying he’s proud of you for “locking down a man with such a good jaw” but you know it’s a joke, based on something he’d previously overheard your friend saying on the phone. Despite the failed plans and your new relationship, your friendship manages to grow, brunch on Sunday mornings becoming a tradition, Wednesday night movies after work at his house an integral part of your weekly schedule. He reignites your love for football, getting you tickets to his games and even offering to provide one for Tom, which he declines due to his loyalty to Arsenal. You give him advice on his love life, offering to set him up on dates with girls from your work, and you’re happy for him when he says he’s met someone. And you’re happy for him when he calls you at 9:59 on a Sunday morning, cancelling your 10am brunch date because he’s tied up. And even though you eat alone, you’re happy for him.

  They’re six weeks in when you finally meet her, in the stands at one of his games, Spurs shirt on your back, Gucci on hers. It’s Eric’s girlfriend who introduces you, the two of them having already met on a double date. It’s awkward and tense and you feel oddly second class. Her lips spend most their time pursed together, hands holding her phone and fingers scrolling through Instagram, your hands in the air, yelling about an incorrectly called foul. He scores a second goal in the 82nd minute, securing spurs the 4-0 win, yourself and Eric’s girlfriend jumping of your seats in celebration. Afterwards, he greets you in the tunnel, running into your arms and spinning your round like a little child, a rambling a chorus of “did you my goals? How insane was that second one though?”

“Yeah, I’m really glad I taught you how to cartwheel,” You reply, referencing his celebration. You congratulate him like always, and it feels normal until her eyes fall on yours from down the corridor, a sour look on her face. Muttering a quiet “You should go say hello to your girlfriend”, you move onto Eric, who’s wrapped up in his girlfriend’s arms.

  The months go by and your relationships and friendships all grow. Double dates on weekends, attending fancy dinner parties together. Everything going wonderfully. And it’s not until one and a half years into your relationship that you’re coming home early for a week-long business trip and heading straight to your boyfriend’s house in search of comfort. Except what you find isn’t comfort, it’s an unfamiliar car parked in his drive way and your spare key opening his door to a pair of women’s heels in the hallway. It’s two plates abandoned on the table and a “shit that might be my girlfriend” from upstairs.

You stumble out of the door, fingers fumbling for your phone to find the only contact you want right now, dialling immediately. When he picks up you barely let out a breath, words coming out as stream of “TherewassomeoneelsethereIthinkhe’scheatingthereweretwoplatesandapairofheelsand-” before he stops you, asking you to slow down and explain what was going on. He tells you to get your car off the drive and go to the car park down the road, that he’ll meet you there as soon as he can. Behind the wheel your hands shake, tears already falling down your face, but you try you best to compose yourself, slowing lifting your foot off the clutch and reversing out into the street. Pulling into the car park you turn on the radio loudly in an attempt to drown out your thoughts and its not long before a black car is pulling up and he’s bundling out of it. He opens the driver’s side door and pulls you from your seat, immediately folding you into his arms, a series of hushes whispered into your ear.

He drives you back to his place, tears in your eyes making all the street lights a blur. When you get inside, he leads you into the kitchen before running upstairs to get you a pair of sweats to change into. The way he moves around you signifies how much you’ve learned about each other in the many months of your friendship. Giving you your favourite style of sweats and a pair of long socks to keep your feet warm, making a cup of tea just the way you like it, turning on the classical music your mother raised you on to help calm you down. And he knows that you don’t want to talk about it just yet, so he tells you about training and Eric, about the new coaches at the club, anything to get your mind to run onto a different thought track. His heart aches at the sight of your red eyes and teared stained cheeks.

It’s working – his attempt at distracting you - one of his stories almost causing you to crack a smile. But then you spy the dinner table over his shoulder, two plates full of food now gone cold, two glasses of wine, one untouched, one half empty. The scene confuses you. Why would he have two plates of food set out if he wasn’t doing anything? Surely, he hadn’t been doing anything if he was able to come pick you up? Unless –

“Was she here?” You ask before your brain can even tell you to stop. “Is she still here? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your evening.” You ramble, rushing out of your seat at the breakfast bar, scurrying to grab your things in preparation to leave.

“No, it’s okay. I told her I had to cancel.” He pauses as you look at him inquisitively. “She was here, yes. But you called and I told her we’d have to take a rain check. So she left.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say in disbelief. In return he protests that he did have to do that. That you’re his best friend, and the he cares about you. That he wasn’t going to leave you crying in a car park. That he loves you.

And the last thing he says sends your heart into overdrive. You know he doesn’t mean it like that. But hearing him say it causes you to think of a life where things had been different. A life where you had kissed him that first night you met. A life that you stopped from happening because of Tom. Tom the boyfriend you thought you loved, Tom the boyfriend you heard in bed with someone else, Tom the boyfriend who had shattered your heart.

But even after you rejected him, Dele is still here in front of you, your best friend. Taking care of you and picking up your broken pieces to help you put yourself back together. Making cream crackers with butter just in case you manage to eat, putting on your favourite tv show, knowing you.

He carries you up to bed after you fall asleep on the couch, careful not to wake you as he places you in the spare bed, a kiss on your forehead as he bids you goodnight.

When you wake in the morning, he’s left a note on the kitchen counter.

I’ve called your work to say you’re too sick to go in. There’s food in the fridge if you manage to eat anything. You’re welcome to stay here all day – movie marathon later? I hope you’re okay, love. Dele x

His hand writing a scribbled mess, you smile at the note. You make breakfast from the items in his fridge, moving around his house easily and comfortably. The day passes by effortlessly, watching tv in his living room and reading in the sun room, taking up any task possible to distract you from the thought of your inevitable break up. The idea of staying here all day comforts you, knowing that his presence later will put you at ease. And you’re passing through the hallway aimlessly when you see it and it stops you for a minute. Her photo on the sideboard. A reminder that he has a girlfriend, and as much as you wanted to spend all your time clinging to him for comfort, his time was not yours to take. So you force yourself to grab your belongings and drive home, leaving him a simple reply to his note, your phone still off in your bag, untouched from last night.

Going home, gonna go talk to him and say my piece while I know what I want to say. Thanks for everything Dele, will call you this weekend x

  “So did Ruby tell you we ran into each other in the mall this week?”

“Oh yeah, um, she kinda mentioned she’d seen you,” he says from across the table, your regular brunch orders in front of you in your regular restaurant. Avoiding your eye contact, he concentrates on cutting up his avocado on toast.

“What are you not telling me?” you ask, knowing his tells.

“Nothing. Nothing. She said she saw you and that you still looked like crap from your break up.” His eyes meet yours to see you in shock. “Sorry.” Pause. “And then you know we got on to talking about it…”

“And?” you pry further.

“And then, I don’t know. We sort of got in an argument about it. I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to make you feel bad.” He confesses, shifting his eyes again to avoid looking at you.

“Why would you be arguing about me?” You ask, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“She thinks we’re spending too much time together. Maybe she’s jealous, I don’t know. But I explained to her that I’m just helping you out, because you know, you were cheated on and you’re going through a break up. You need people, and I’m your person.” He stops for a second. “I told her she has nothing to worry about. It’s not like you’re in love with me or anything…” He trails off without a light chuckle.

“Yeah. Right. Exactly. But if she has a problem with it, we don’t have to spend as much time together,” your tone is low and sadden. “I like spending time with you and I’m really thankful for all you’ve done lately, but I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship. I don’t want to do anything that could make you sad.”

  And so you don’t see him for a few weeks, ignoring his calls and replying to his texts in short, blunt sentences. Forcing yourself to spend all your time with your friends, cocktails after work and shopping trips on Sundays. You even miss Sunday brunch three weeks in a row, throwing out a casual excuse in apology, causing your heart to ache at the thought of purposefully pushing him away. From what you see on Instagram, it appears that his relationship is doing better than ever, and you’re happy for him. The distances seems to be good for the both of you, your heart now slowly feeling from your break up, work going better than ever.  That is until he turns up on your door step at 3am one night, eyes red from crying. You let him in without questioning it, knowing something seriously up for him to come here like this, unannounced. He walks himself into the kitchen, head hanging low.

“We got in another fight. About you. Which is so fucking dumb because you’ve been ignoring me for weeks.” He rants, quickly. You try to interject but he continues. “And I come home in a bad mood and she’s also in a pissy mood and she goes ‘well why don’t you go talk to your wife about it’” He mimics in a high-pitched voice.

“Your wife?” You question, asking him to confirm what you were assuming.

“You. She means you.” He pauses to look at you, stopping his head from whirling round the kitchen as he paces. “And I so I said that I haven’t even seen you in ages, she asks why I’m so upset about it so then yet again, we end up having the same stupid fight that we always end up having.”

You take in his words slowly. Brain wracked with thoughts of why was he here? How did the fighting lead him to your door step? If you were in his position, the first place you’d drive after having an argument over a third party would not be directly to that third party’s house.

“Why are you- Why are you here?” You mumble, forcing yourself to get the words out. Forcing yourself to confront what was happening. Forcing yourself to stop everything that could happen.

“I just.” He pauses to breathe, steadying himself. “I just need to know so I can go home and be with her and not having all these thoughts that she keeps putting in my mind.”

“Need to know what?”

“I just need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not in love with me.” Eyes pleading, he makes no attempt to move closer to you. His words form a canyon between the two of you across the kitchen.

“I’m not.” You reply, quietly, hand brushing your hair away from your face so your eyes can look into his fully. “I’m not in love with you.” You lie.

Author’s Note - okay so I switched it up a little and this is basically a prequel showing some snippets from the night they met and as their relationship develops. Idk if you guys are gonna like this so let me know if you did. We’ll be back to our regular scheduled programming very soon, hoping to get SB5 to you within the weekend if I dont put off uni work too much. I didn’t proof read so if you notice and errors/inconsistencies please let me know im lazy and go blind to my own mistakes LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING X

[emaguire]

Case Notes: The Theft of the Great Green Jewel

The COVID-19 pandemic has changed a lot for all of us, but especially those who spend time in creative industries. For the time being, theatre work has dried up, and digital work has pivoted exclusively to the self-filmed and self-taped variety. So I made some more of that. Here’s a sorta... discussion?? of my process.

We went into lockdown on the 27th of March 2020, with at least four weeks, but potentially more, enforced. In total, proper lockdown lasted five weeks, with another two weeks at ‘level 3′ - with slightly looser rules, but the same focus on minimising crowd movement. I personally had been in lockdown since the 25th, as my places of work both closed on that day.

I also decided to write. I write a lot, I write an approximate ton of fanfiction every single week (no judgment, it’s a legitimate hobby), but I wanted to do something bigger.

It’s no secret that I like cozy mysteries. Generally, a cozy mystery is a mystery narrative that’s got very minimal stakes. It might be a murder plot, or it could just be a theft, but in general, the whole thing takes place in a quaint country town, there’s often a quiche competition, and there isn’t much in the way of peril. They’re mostly made for old people, so obviously I love them. Think Midsomer Murders, Rosemary and Thyme, Agatha Raisin...

I personally had just gotten into Agatha Raisin, which is a UK show set around a marking exec that moves to the country and starts solving murders - though a lot of the narrative is about the love triangle the titular character has with Sir Charles Fraith - a flirty dude who lives in an estate, and James Lacey - a more sarcastic, take-no-shit kinda guy, who’s Agatha’s neighbour. It’s a fun show, with very minimal stakes, and a lot of comedy. It’s also the first cozy mystery show I’ve seen that’s actually said the word ‘bisexual’, and meant it - which is significantly better than a lot of mainstream shows these days, but I digress.

(It does fall into its stereotypes, but it’s mostly harmless. Pictured, Roy Silver and Agatha Raisin from one episode of the show.)

I loved Knives Out last year, and I’m a big fan of mysteries. So, I decided to write one.

The Premise

First, a crime. I chose a theft, because honestly, murder is depressing, and during a global pandemic I wanted to steer away from the idea of ‘obvious death’. Plus, ‘be gay, steal jewels from monarchists’ is a fun premise, while ‘be gay, murder innocent people’ is not. 

Second, a location. A big country estate. They’re stereotypical, they’re self-contained, and most importantly, they allow for a multitude of rooms and backgrounds, which is what I was expecting for a self-filmed work.

Third, a time period. The 1920s is a fun time, full of intrigued and very specific costuming. I had just come out of Fringe, where I’d written a short noir sketch called Eat Your Heart Out Raymond Chandler - which was noir, but with mad libs cobbled together from the audience. That was set in the 50s, but it had some neat characterisation and ideas that I liked, as well as a detective named Fairleigh Goode...

The Characters

Detective fiction has a ton of trope characters. You can easily name them. There’s the detective, the blushing ingenue, an older ‘wise’ person, maybe a groundskeeper or member of staff... the list goes on. I wanted ten characters in total, because it’s a pleasing number, and it allowed for multiple threads of action and dialogue, alongside character interaction. I also didn’t want to rely too specifically on stereotypes from the genre, which are often very blatant, and often fairly sexist.

The Detective - Fairleigh Goode already existed as a character in my head, so I just gave him a little more of an existence to play with. In this script, he’s retired - after a Serious Incident at the age of 26. He’s a little fed up, a little exhausted, but stuck on a case that fascinates him. He’s also very into using overlarge metaphors and general wordplay nonsense. I took some inspiration from Benoit Blanc, from Knives Out, who’s an immensely Southern detective with a tinge of insanity, and I just... elevated that. Fairleigh’s a good detective, he just doesn’t quite get idioms, okay - and there’s nothing wrong with that.

The Victim/Lord - Lord Arnold Ruxley is a detective fiction cornerstone character. In cozy mysteries, there’s always a lord of some sort, whether they’re chaotic good or generally a bastard. Wealth brings another level to a mystery script, and thus, I wanted a jewel of his to be stolen. However, I wanted to create a character that was multi-layered. Generally a party animal, but with a touch of mystery to him, Ruxley’s life is one of spending large and spending wildly. Overexcess, one might say. Hubris. A metaphor for capitalists. Yknow. Inspiration - Jay Gatsby, Charles Fraith.

The Governess - I personally wanted to play a role that was a little quieter, a little less orchestral to the story. There’s always members of serving staff in these kinds of narratives - people tend to overlook their servants, which allows for secrets and gossip to run wild. Servants notice things that other people might not. Thus, Daisy was born. Good at her job, but cutthroat. A little cruel. Inspiration - just... people from Downton Abbey, yknow.

The Porter - As above. I wanted a little more of a foil to Daisy’s ruthlessness - someone who wasn’t afraid to call out the double standards of the time, but also had a heart and a kindness underneath. Observational, quick to anger. In hindsight, I really would have liked to have done more with this character. When an audience’s first impression of a character is them in anger, it’s often not a great look and can cast them in a negative light despite their motives. Only time will tell.

The Femme Fatale - obvious. A trope character. However, my femme fatale has a brain. She’s not just there to be looked at. She pays attention, she notices  and understands things, and she looks good while doing it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying literature and also wearing makeup. Fuck your standards.

The Scholar - So, SO often in detective fiction is there an older scholar. Usually a white guy, usually quite poised and status quo - I wanted to turn that on its head. Athena is a scholar who will go above and beyond for what’s right, even if that leads to her being struck off. She’s alienating, a little, but will say what’s on her mind. Inspiration - Indiana Jones, but like... the opposite.

The Bastard - Just an absolute dick. No redeeming features. An absolute tool. In this case, someone comically over bad who didn’t commit the theft. He’s just a dick regardless. Plus, there’s something funny in his existence - he’s a bit of a red herring. It’s very easy to expect him to be bad, and he is. He’s just bad in a narratively-irrelevant sense.

The Romantic - A flirt. Obvious, really. Someone to break up the characterisation a little, allow for sneakiness and secrets and excitement and sex. There’s always one of these in detective fiction as well, a dapper young man who often has an eye on the femme fatale, or other such ingenues, but is generally harmless.

The Gossip - A character who notices things and doesn’t keep them to herself. She’s harmless, really, if you’ve got nothing to hide. Characters like this can be quite jarring, quite intruding into the text, but I think I managed to soften her to the point where she’s likeable, and fairly performative.

The Artist - We all know this person. We’re all artists, we’ve all been at shows or exhibitions where there’s one person who knows too much about the subject, who name-drops other creatives for the sake of doing so, who perhaps doesn’t know when to stop talking. For the most part, he’s not hurting anyone, he’s just a little bit grating sometimes.

One other note, about these characters - I was trying to create characters that were... chaotic, of a sort. People with real motives, real existences, who weren’t afraid to push towards their own goals. My initial thinking was, “What happens if I put nine mildly-terrible people in a room, and a detective has to sort their shit out?”

The World

I’m a bit of a surrealist. I write very few pieces complete ‘straight’ - that’s in all senses, for the record. There’s usually an element of the eldritch, or the bizarre, to my pieces. I think it’s funnier, I think it allows for expansion, and I just don’t like writing jokes about normal shit. There’s enough comics that write about the mundanities of life, I’d rather write about a lord who’s wife almost definitely came into contact with an eldritch being at the bottom of a sinkhole and fell in love with it. Why? It’s fun.

My world? 1920s Europe, but it’s not the Europe we know. It’s a Europe with a lot more scope, a lot more wide-ranging characters. Perhaps international travel began to happen a little earlier, perhaps the combustion engine was invented earlier than 1876, perhaps everything is powered by magic and nonsense, rather than reality. A world with a degree of the mystical to it, but a world where people just get on with living instead of actively trying to fight against that.

Prejudice. Obviously it’s a remnant of the time. When I was writing this piece I knew I wanted to queer it, knew that if I didn’t it’d feel insincere - and really rather status quo. Most of my mates are queer, most of the actors I was writing these roles in mind of are queer - I wanted a piece that reflects the world we live in and the people I know. However, I didn’t want homophobia.

Someone I quite appreciate as an academia has coined this term - “homo-utopia”. It’s not technically a ‘real’ word, but it serves its purpose as a binary opposition to the slightly more common ‘hetero-utopia’, which is used in this case as “a world where heterosexuality is normalised, is the status quo, effects policy and the fundamental makeup of the world. (So, essentially our real world, y’know). In said academic’s eyes, a ‘homo-utopia’ is one where the same is true for the reverse, in that - it’s not a world where queer relationships are the dominant, but they are recognised in policy, in worldbuilding, they’re factored in to the fundamental makeup of existence, rather than tacked on when straight policymakers want to curry favor.

In this work, the scandal isn’t that there’s two men in the 1920s gettin’ together, it’s that it’s slightly crossing class boundaries and one of the dudes is a lord. The characters don’t care about the queering, they care about the fact that the thing is happening. The same scandal would erupt between any of the characters that aren’t the status quo, really. I think there’s scandal in the Daisy/Tom relationship too, for the sake of - they’re two people that you wouldn’t expect to get together, but they do.

Also, I’m just tired as fuck of homophobia. So many narratives featuring queer characters go straight to homophobia for a crisis point, and there’s absolutely a reason for that. It’s pivotal in our worlds. However, it’s upsetting, it’s exhausting, it’s bigotry that we see constantly, and I’d rather not write about it. I don’t need to throw out slurs or write obvious bigotry to give queer characters a reason to exist. Queerness for queerness’ sake, you know?

Re: classism - yeah, I know I’m hypocritical. Classism is a pretty big problem, and it is especially so in this narrative. It still exists in this ‘utopia’. Look at it this way. Capitalism is a flawed system. If big capitalists exist, so do the underclass. Wealth is entrenched in a narrative set on an estate, featuring a theft. I couldn’t just remove it. (also capitalism SUCKS SO I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT IT.)

Re: colonialism - I make mention of the Empire a few times in this work. If there’s Lords, there’s a monarchy. Colonialism SUCKS SO I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT IT. Could it have been a smidge more subtle? Yes. Did I get to write about a scholar uncomfortable with the current system stealing artifacts and returning them to the people they were stolen from? Also yes.

The Script

This is a... hefty script. It’s thicc. There’s a lot of facets to it, because it’s interactive. I was considering giving it more angles, but honestly - two turning points was enough for me by the time I finished writing it.

I wrote the thing in about four days. It wouldn’t work as a stage play or anything, because the entire thing works to guide the audience towards a specific conclusion, and it’s also very heavy on the exposition.

It’s a story that has a very open ending, because of the interactivity. There’s technically three main culprits, but the story is written in a way to guide the audience towards picking a specific one. The question is, do they go for the moral choice, or the logical choice? Or, alternatively, the wildcard? Only time will tell. I definitely wrote one specific dominant pathway though.

In the first act, we’re introduced to our characters. Each of them attended the party at Lord Arnold Ruxley’s manner, though most were hardly at the table the entire night. Lucinda and Paul were there for the longest time, with Raphael the least. We learn that Ruxley’s definitely hiding something, Athena disappeared for many moments, and Daisy and Tom weren’t there at all.

Then, there’s what I like to call a ‘choke point’. A place where the audience must make a decision. In this case, it’s - which character couldn’t have done the crime? This choke point was to narrow the scope for the next act, to take some players off the court, to slim the investigation down a little.

Lucinda, as she was at the table almost all night, Paul as he was too, or Raphael, as he was thoroughly pissed on Ruxley’s wine by the end of the night?

I’m writing this just before I release episode 2 tonight, and it’s a pretty even tie between Lucinda and Paul for innocence. Raphael’s just a bitch of a character so I’m not surprised that very few people think he’s innocent, considering the choices given.

In act 2, we respond to the innocent party, whoever that may be, and delve into the bulk of the main case. On a whole, whoever was deemed ‘innocent’ by the audience doesn’t really matter, as the narrative essentially deems all three innocent and they’re discounted from the case.

During this act, we learn that Ruxley is in debt - too many lavish parties and spending, as such Daisy and Tom are about to be fired and need to do something drastic, and Athena has a sordid past as a thief, stealing to right wrongs.

This is the second choke point, where the narrative starts to draw the audiences to a conclusion. On a whole, Ruxley is the character who has done the worst. He’s an overspender, a bit of an egoist, and he stole the jewel in the first place. It is, genuinely, the most moral choice to convict him.

However, given the facts, it’s most likely that Daisy and Tom actually did it. They weren’t present at the party, they had the most time to steal it, and they have the motive.

Athena is a wildcard, a choice I threw in to give the audience something else to think about. I’m not sure how many will pick her, though she does have the opportunity.

Act three is a summing up of the case. All the characters get the opportunity to showcase their feelings towards the crime, and then Fairleigh talks a little more nonsense. It’s a conclusion to the piece.

In the end, it’s a bit of a moral decision. Do you convict the person who’s genuinely a bad guy, or do you convict those who fit the facts?

We will just have to see.

...

(Also now I really want to write this into a proper radio drama with actual fully fleshed characters and foley. Any takers?)

[perpetually-jungshook]

Goldilocks || 04

Rated M (language and smut)

Warnings: dry humping, breast play

Summary: After getting evicted, your two best friends Jimin and Taehyung offer you a place to stay until you get back on your feet. Needless to say, with a part time job and a mountain of student debt, that’s not happening any time soon. Eventually, they DO become really fond of having you around, helping with chores and even splitting rent. So when you come home one day to find someone has been sleeping in your couch-bed, well… it’s something you won’t take lightly.

Word Count: 3.9k

Out of context Goldilocks quote: “If you guys are done making butt jokes I’d really like to watch this movie.”

Link to: Goldilocks Masterlist || Previous Part || Next Part

not my gif, credit to owner

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A/N: OH LOOK THE RATING CHANGED. Yeah so imma just leave this here and run. No EOPQ, but feedback is appreciated and depending on the reaction, I might be a hoe and drop 05 tomorrow. If you’re someone who doesn’t like smut, asterisk* is where it starts, skip until the *asterisk where it ends. You won’t be missing plot stuff. I made sure of that. NOW I’M GONNA RUN BYE~~

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Taehyung has always loved boobs.

It has become apparent over the past few years of your close friendship that it isn’t even a sexual thing sometimes. He simply loves boobs. Perky, droopy, big, small, even man-boobs. He’s explained several times that “they’re just like, really comfy, okay?”

The sad thing is, you can completely believe him, and this is one of the main reasons why you choose to cross your arms when he begins pleading, unabashed as Jungkook and Jimin look on.

“Baby, just come cuddle with me,” Taehyung laughs, gesturing in a pitiful attempt to persuade you to join him, speaking loudly to be heard above both the pouring rain outside and the dialogue of the movie.

“Go take care of your boner first,” you retort.

Taehyung’s lips slip into an easy, suggestive smile, “Wanna help me with that? Or should I say… give me a hand?”

You stifle a laugh, “The only hand I’ll be giving you is my entire fist up your ass.”

“Damn baby, that’s a bit much. Can’t we just start with a finger?”

With that, you, Taehyung, and Jungkook loose it, all sense of composure forgotten. Jimin, on the other hand, suddenly contorts his face in an unreadable, tight frown, clearing his throat, “If you guys are done making butt jokes I’d really like to watch this movie.”

“C’mon Chim,” you offer a wicked smile. “Don’t be a tight ass.”

As a flash of lightning floods the room, you can see that his cheeks have dusted pink, which makes the whole situation even funnier.

“But really,” to speak, Taehyung has to take a few deep breaths to calm his giggles. “Baby please? It’ll get me off a lot faster.”

You simply point to the bathroom, “Your problem, not mine.”

“Then just show me your boobs?”

“My boobs?”

“Yeah, yknow, your tiddies, tatas, boobaloos-”

“I am trying to watch the movie,” Jimin squeaks, voice cracking as he pulls the massive blanket up over his nose.

“Alright! Aish,” Taehyung rolls off of the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

While Tae shuffles awkwardly down the hall, Jungkook leans forward, for whatever reason choosing to lock gazes with you as you climb back into the spot next to Jimin. He whispers, “Two minutes, max.”

It takes a second to reply as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to not show any outward signs of your irrational irritation. Thankfully, your voice eventually comes out steady, “Nah, Tae can last a good five minutes.”

The maknae arches an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips, “You know this… from personal experience?”

It’s disgusting, the amount of defensiveness that seeps through your tone, “No. Definitely not. I wouldn’t voluntarily touch his dick if someone paid me.”

“Sure, noona,” Jungkook whispers and the honorific sends another shot of hot anger to your stomach. Frustrated, you shift around to bury yourself in the blanket with Jimin, seeking warmth but also a place to hide from the gaze of that infuriating kid with the stupid golden fringe. But he’s not done with you yet. “I can last for ten.”

Oddly, it’s Jimin’s body that stiffens first, but before you can react, a series of loud bangs drags your collective attention down the hall, especially as it’s accompanied by a high pitched scream of, “Holy shit a spider!”

The bathroom door flies open and Taehyung scrambles clumsily into the hallway as he desperately attempts to finish shoving his manhood in his pants.

“Seriously?” You embrace the distraction wholeheartedly, getting off the couch to leave the awkward situation behind. “Do you want me to kill it? Or are you done?”

“Don’t kill it,” Taehyung begs as you approach the bathroom door. “All life is precious. But I kind of…went soft after getting scared.”

“Too much information.”

“Sorry.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance, but you vaguely register the fact that the rain seems to be getting lighter.

“Where is it?” you ask, taking a cursory glance across the sink and tiles in the shower.

Taehyung approaches slowly and peers over your shoulder, “It was on-”

“Don’t touch me with your penis hands.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, releasing his grip on your arm. “It was on Jimin’s toothbrush.”

You approach the sink cautiously, gaze pinned on the toothbrush holder that is shaped like a giraffe. You’re pretty sure it’s meant for children, but Taehyung wanted it and when it comes to you and Jimin… what Tae wants, Tae usually gets no matter how annoying he is.

Sadly, you can’t seem to find his little arachnid buddy until you’ve got your face all nice and close. With your nose almost pressing into the bristles of Jimin’s brush, you finally see it.

“Tae, this is the smallest fucking spider I’ve seen in my entire- oh my god it jumps.”

Unfortunately for both of you, amidst the screaming you lose track of the intruder and the bathroom becomes momentarily off limits. As if that wasn’t bad enough, by the time you get back to the couch, the movie is half over and you have no idea what’s going on.

“Maybe if you’d been paying attention instead of screwing around in the first place I wouldn’t have to explain it,” Jimin huffs after you assure him that he doesn’t need to pause the film.

It’s a little bit strange. While it’s nothing new for Jimin to be a tad uptight about weird things, as he stops the movie to catch you up on the plot he suddenly seems particularly stiff. Chalking it up to random man-hormones, you brush the odd feeling aside and try to pay attention, but fail. You’re still lost as the movie finishes, leaving you with so many questions- and not the good kind.

“Wait, why didn’t they just throw the girl in the portal? Wouldn’t that have solved the problem?” you muse, staring at the scrolling credits.

“Because they didn’t want an eight year old to die?” Taehyung suggests.

“So they let the demons kill everyone else?”

“Pretty much,” he confirms.

Jimin sighs, dragging his hands down his face, “Were you not listening at all to what I said? They didn’t throw the girl in the portal because if they did, she would become the sacrifice for the coven…”

His voice fades to the back of your attention as you begin piling up the empty pizza boxes. After years of friendship, you’ve learned that despite your lazy nature, neither of the boys is usually willing to clean up after eating. This meant that if you didn’t do it, the apartment would begin to smell.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook leans forward and begins collecting the used napkins and stray playing cards. While he’d gotten up to answer the door earlier, you hadn’t really thought of him as the helpful type. So when he takes it a step further and offers to take out the trash, you’re more than willing to let someone else do the work for once.

But this frees you up to take care of another chore while Taehyung changes his sheets, preparing for your sleepover, and Jimin bravely claims the shower, missing spider aside.

You get to empty the pesky plastic rain bucket.

By the time you check on it at the end of the hall, the big container has filled almost to the top. Someone should really tell the upstairs neighbors to fix that leak. A deep soreness already permeating into your back and legs, you painstakingly drag the bucket inch by inch, pulling it toward the front door.

You get it halfway through the living room before Jungkook comes back.

“Let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” you grumble, fixing your stare on the sloshing water that’s been slowly spilling all over the fake hardwood floor.

He sighs heavily, walking to stand beside you and attempting to grab the bucket, “It’s heavy.”

“So? I’ve got it,” you insist, angry that he thinks you need his help. At this point, you’ve pushed aside your inherently lazy nature, fueled by your hatred of his arrogance.

Without another word, Jungkook tugs on the container, causing some of the water to splash onto his Timberlands. You tug right back, soaking your socks, plastic scraping loudly against the floor.

You can see his thick arm muscles flex, ready to pull and try to assert his fucking dominance, but you are determined to put him in his place. So you pull first.

Tipped bucket. Water everywhere.

You glare at him from where you land on the floor, now soaked from the waist down and not in a good way. Jungkook’s eyes are so huge they look like they’re about to pop out of his head. Can you blame him though? You must look ready to skin him alive.

“Did someone die out there?” Taehyung’s deep voice floats out of his room.

“No, but someone’s about to,” is what you want to say; yet Jungkook beats you to a response.

“Everything’s fine, hyung,” he is abruptly uncannily calm, expression settling into one of complete emotional control.

“‘Fine’ my left ass cheek,” you spit quietly, getting to your feet.

The maknae glares at you, upper lip twitching slightly as he says, “It IS fine. I’ll clean it up.”

“Oh, you’ve done enough,” you retort, picking up the empty bucket, trying to move around him to get to the hallway. “Just go sit down and stay out of my way.”

“Make me.”

The two words settle like a hot stone in the pit of your stomach, immediately stopping you in your tracks- well that, and the fact that a wall of muscle steps between you and your destination. A dim flash of distant lightning illuminates the room slightly, reflecting in the gold of his hair.

This insufferable, arrogant, child has the guts to get in your way? He may be bigger than you, but Jungkook has another thing coming.

You throw the bucket at his feet, letting it bounce once with an awful, hollow “whump.” He winces almost imperceptibly at the noise, but maintains your gaze with a hard stare of his own.

Well, if he insists on cleaning the mess, you don’t want to waste the energy trying to stop him- but 1) he will do it on your terms 2) you will not let him stare you down and 3) you will accomplish both of these things by asserting your dominance and showing him who wears the pants in this house.

Or rather, who doesn’t.

“Towels are in the closet at the end of the hall,” you inform him, reaching down to undo the button of your jeans. Obviously trying very hard to maintain eye contact, the maknae’s left eye twitches as you peel the pants from your body. Unabashed, you wad up the soaked piece of clothing and throw it at his chest. He catches the projectile easily, though one of the legs comes loose from the ball and wetly slaps his neck. “And while you’re there, put that in the hamper.”

He has every right to refuse. If he does, he’s inherently challenging your authority. If he doesn’t…

Only breaking eye contact as he turns around, Jungkook picks up the bucket and heads to the other end of the apartment.

As Jimin exits the bathroom, Jungkook throws the soiled jeans inside before placing the plastic container under the leak and opening the hall closet. No matter how much you hate him, you have to admire his self control. He didn’t look down at your partially exposed body for even a second.

Crossing your line of sight, you note that Jimin doesn’t look up from his phone, intent on reading something while traversing the expansive few steps to his bedroom. Is no one going to pay attention to the fact that you’re pant-less?

“I call the shower next!” Taehyung abruptly bounds into the crowded hallway, but stops and slowly turns to look at you. His gaze flicks down only for a second while he shoots you a wink and a lopsided smirk, subsequently continuing on his way.

“Yah, Tae,” you shout, a little disappointed that you couldn’t scold at least one of them for looking. “You can’t even stop and admire the art?”

“Nah baby, the shower is calling my name. Besides I can always admire it later when we’re alone in my r-”

As he talks, you walk to the entertainment center to grab some clothes from the lower drawers, smiling to yourself and cutting him off, “Are you forgetting the spider?”

He lets out a deep, thoughtful hum, then with exaggerated cheerfulness asks, “Does anyone else wanna go in first?”

You stand, pajama’s tucked neatly underneath your arm, only to make eye contact with Jungkook. While he’s just innocently laying out towels to clean up the spilled water, all you can do is think about the fact that the only other person who can shower before Taehyung besides you is HIM. And if he does, you’ll theoretically have to be in the same place this irritating little shit stood while he was naked.

“I’ll go!” you scramble past both boys, closing the bathroom door behind you.

“You’ll find the spider, right?” Taehyung asks through the barrier.

“Sure thing,” you assure, but it’s probably a known fact that you’re not even going to look.

Taehyung’s room is practically the opposite of Jimin’s. Various band posters line the wall in a haphazard collage, a mountain of clothes has congregated around a hamper in the corner, and- when did he get a lava lamp? It always smells the same too, like that ruggedly musky pine cologne he has to have a hundred bottles of stashed somewhere because he’s been wearing it for at least five years.

“No,” you glare at him as Taehyung drops his shirt on the floor, now dressed in nothing but his boxers. If this wasn’t a sight you’d seen ridiculously frequently for almost a decade, you might have spent a few more seconds admiring his healthily full frame, lean muscles, and honey colored skin- but it really wasn’t anything new.

You’ve had plenty of sleepovers with your two best friends. Some your parents knew about, others they didn’t. It became an even more common occurrence when you were kicked out three years ago. And both of the boys like to sleep shirtless.

“Please?” Taehyung pouts, climbing onto the bed to flop into the space beside you, stomach down.

“No. I already had to touch your dick earlier.”

He giggles, giving you a boxy smile, “Yeah, you had to touch my dick. So the only fitting punishment is clearly to make me touch your boobs.”

“Seriously? Again with the boobs?” you turn onto your side to stare at him, eyebrow arched humorously. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“Thirteen, actually.”

“Tae,” you smack his wandering hand, causing him to flip onto his back, laughing.

“Just once?”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes please.”

With an only partially irritated groan, you roll your eyes and turn around to face the opposite wall, pulling the sheets along with you. Probably due to the sudden chill, Taehyung gives a needy mewl, shyly tugging at the blankets, which you spontaneously decide he won’t have. It takes a solid few seconds, but he eventually sighs, gives up, and turns out the overhead light, leaving you in the soft purple glow of the lava lamp.

“That’s fucking right,” you whisper just to spite him, thinking the sound of the rain outside would mostly drown it out, but apparently he hears it and your comment backfires immediately.

You feel the mattress shift and before you can move, his arm is around you, snaring your stomach and dragging you to his chest. You struggle halfheartedly, already resigned to letting exhaustion weigh down your limbs.

Taehyung doesn’t move for a few seconds, likely attempting to lulling you into a false sense of security. You know he’s not done yet. He’ll be a whiny asshole for at least ten more minutes. He always is. But the darkness coupled with his body heat is a combination that drags you mercilessly toward the sweet release of sleep. A few minutes of silence pass… and then:

“Just once?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Baby…” he nuzzles into the back of your neck.

“Hot damn, Tae if I say yes will you shut up?”

He perks up immediately, “Absolutely.”

“Fine, over my shirt.”

Taehyung lets out a joyful squeal and his big hands find your breasts immediately, like the damn homing pigeons they are. He gives a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck,” he draws out the word, “Why are they so soft?”

“Because they’re made of fat cells,” you reply sleepily.

He laughs, squeezing again, this time a little bit harder, “Way to just kill the mood.”

“There was no mood to kill, pabo.”

Taehyung suddenly stills, a sensation that plunges you into full alertness. What is he…? In a single swift motion, he pulls himself on top of you, wedging one leg between yours.

In the dim purple light, you can’t really see Taehyung lean forward so much as feel him do it, warm breath tickling your ear. His next words are whispered, raspy, “Wanna bet?”

A challenge.

Something ignites inside you, a smirk tugging at your lips. You lightly run your hands up his arms, a tease of a touch, until you find his shoulders, then his neck. Fingers lacing through the hair at the back of his head, you pull him closer.

“First one to beg loses.”

He lets out a humored hum, “You’re on.”

With that, you prop yourself up to connect your lips to his.

This isn’t the first time you’ve kissed Taehyung, even if the others were sort of drunk birthday party accidents he loves to bring up to embarrass you or the results of rather cruel rounds of truth or dare that no one is mean enough to reference. But you never fail to be surprised at how soft his lips are… and how quickly he likes to add tongue to the equation.*

He immediately presses more of his weight down on top of you, trapping your body between his and the mattress, causing your pulse to beat noticeably, excitedly in your throat.

Having initiated the kiss mere seconds ago, you’re shocked to feel his tongue against the seam of your lips. Amused at his forwardness, you deny him access with a quick nip and sharp tug on his hair. Taehyung groans, a low sound that sends heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

Did he really think you’d let him in so easily?

Not put off in the slightest, he changes his method of attack and moves his attention to your throat.

Taehyung’s teeth graze the sensitive skin as he sucks and tongues a warm wet trail down your jugular, impatiently traveling lower. This is when his free hand begins to wander. He’s using one of his arms to support his upper body, giving you room to breathe, but the other easily finds the hem of your shirt, pushing it up, bunching the cloth above your breasts.

He doesn’t give you much time to process the chill that rakes through your chest in the form of a shiver as he shifts his body down, kicking the blankets off the bed, to press an open mouthed kiss against your navel. Your next breath is inadvertently shaky and you can feel the smile on his lips as he dips his warm tongue inside.

Damn it. You really liked this pair of panties too.

“Still no mood to kill?” he asks, blowing lightly against the skin on your stomach, further chilling those places he’d left slick with his saliva.

“F-fuck you.”

“Is that an invitation or insult this time?”

“Both.”

Taehyung lets out a humored ‘tsch,’ tracing the tip of his nose across your stomach as he begins to travel back up toward his favorite piece of human anatomy.

You know you should at least try to touch him because that’s the only way you’re going to win, but for some reason, you just can’t. Your body won’t let you.

Your skin tingles in anticipation as he roughly palms your chest, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. A plea hangs on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. You won’t let him win- but again your body has other ideas.

Fingers tightening in his hair, guiding his head the rest of the way until his lips close around the peak of your right breast, you can’t help but let out an unsteady, “Fuck, Tae…”

He hums in approval against your skin, tongue circling the rosy bud relentlessly.

You want to moan as another thread of heat knots in your stomach, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you tug again at his hair, trying to breathe deep.

“Say my name again,” Taehyung whispers, licking a stripe up the valley of your breasts, shifting his other leg between yours, slowly pushing your knees apart. As he lifts himself to briefly reconnect his lips to yours, you can feel his hard arousal purposefully brush against your core.

Not wanting to show how much a simple swivel of his hips affects you, you force a laugh, breaking the kiss and dragging your nails across his bare back. He lets out another appreciative hum and buries his nose in the crook of your neck to suck at a spot behind your ear that leaves you shaky as you retort, “You wish.”

Likely just to spite you, harder this time, Taehyung rolls his hips against yours, a movement that causes your legs to wrap around his waist. Taking this as the “go” signal, he begins rhythmically pushing against you, running his hard length up and down your still clothed folds.

While the friction of the three layers between you is an interesting change of pace, you can’t help but crave skin to skin contact, lusting after the thought of him inside you.

*As if he can read your thoughts, Taehyung’s hand- the one that isn’t supporting his weight- travels to the hem of your pajama pants, his cold finger tips dip beneath the cloth, and the door opens.

“Well, this isn’t the bathroom,” Jungkook clears his throat and you snap into alertness, wrenched from what was nothing more than a disturbingly vivid wet dream. No wonder it had been so damn trite.

“Door on the other side of the hall,” Taehyung grumbles sleepily from his position half on top of you, face buried between your fully clothed breasts, right where you knew it would be.

Lord, what this asshole probably wouldn’t give to know you’d been dreaming about fucking him.

“Thanks.”

Even in the dim purple light of the lava lamp, you can see Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he turns on heel and closes the door behind him.

“How the hell does someone confuse your room with the bathroom?” you want to scoff, but the derisive noise won’t leave your throat.

“I dunno.” Taehyung lifts himself up a little, bedraggled hair sticking up at an angle that almost makes you laugh. Almost, but not quite- because his voice is deep and hoarse in a way that makes you aware of the sticky state of your underwear, even if he only says, “I should really get a handle that locks.”

Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance.

You push Taehyung away, turning to face the opposite wall and clamping your thighs together in frustration. Maybe sleeping in Taehyung’s bed would not be as great of an idea you originally thought.

Too hot.

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

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[jess-oh]

Reflection

hey,

i feel mixed things. i went to the good friday service and a part of me is happy that it wasnt awkward and i wasnt the only one that decided to go but another part of me is sad that i didnt get to spend that one-on-one time with jason. but i am glad that eunice and angela were there too. during the service, i took notes diligently and after the practical time, i did my best to distance myself from everyone else so as to not feel judged or pressured. and it did go well for a while and i was good at not speaking until we got into the small chapel and started writing our new commitments. my heart did break when i saw the whip and crown of thorns and touched it and i cant even imagine the physical, mental, and emotional torment that Jesus went through leading up to His death. And I kind of wish I had spent more time there instead of moving faster so that other people wouldn’t have to wait. But after writing my commitments, I decided to pray on my knees and I was aware when people started leaving and I knew that the room was either totally or nearly empty by the time that I was done but I just felt like I really needed that time to be with God and confess what was on my heart. I know that I’ve been struggling with what it means to rest in Christ and that’s something that I’ve never been very good at and really trying to understand my value in God’s eyes. I think I am still struggling with my identity in God but I did carry out my commitment. I am a lot more proud and bold in my faith. I’ve been able to more openly talk about my faith in my dorm, on the first floor, at work, at the train station, anywhere. And I am really proud of myself and how far I’ve grown since last year. And initially, I wasn’t really in the mood to have fun and games and laugh and fellowship but i pushed myself to learn to receive and relax so i laughed alongside them. and i did actually have a good time. i got a lot closer with chelsea and angela, jason, chelsea, and i decided to eat kbbq together afterwards and it was really fun! joyce and jiham later joined us and we all talked in between conversations. and i accidentally slipped and said, “i dont drink anymore” when jason jokingly offered me some and everyone immediately exclaimed, “WHAT?” to me in disbelief. And to my surprise, Jason asked if I had a problem with it before but stopped and I confirmed his suspicions. But looking back on it, I’m kinda surprised he got that from what I said? It could just be that I drank a bit but decided not to anymore? But anyway, I was half expecting them to press further into it but they didn’t and I’m partly sad that I couldn’t share and relieved that I didn’t have to share. I think I could have but it did make me feel kind of bad when they reacted so strongly. But throughout the day, honestly, I was forcing myself to put on a smile and pretend that I was okay. And it didn’t seem like the mood or the moment to share my struggles and I really do thin I define myself by how much I serve and give bc it is such a huge part of my identity. And I think my intentions are usually pure but there is always a part me that needs to give in order to feel like I’m worth something. And that’s definitely something that I need to seriously pray about. I think a lot of the times, I wait until I’m at church to pray instead of just doing it when I need to and because of that, it feels fake sometimes at church. It feels like I don’t really mean what I’m saying. And I definitely do think I need to spend more time with God to get over it. I do want an honest and pure relationship with Him and I know a lot of the times, my feeling like I need to be a leader gets in the way of that. And I pretended like I was fine and kept saying that I was okay but I also couldn’t stop thinking about how I literally didn’t want to live anymore on Saturday. That was less than a week ago and I just felt like I was in so much pain and suffering and misery that I couldn’t take it anymore and I just wanted to die and kill myself so that I could be happy and with God and just be in pure joy and bliss. But I’m afraid if I say anything, P. Josh will think I’m not yet ready to serve and take MAST away from me and I would honestly be so upset because of that. It would feel like EIC and yearbook all over again. But, not becoming EIC gave me the opportunity to build a much more intimate relationship with God and come back to Him and maybe this is a sign that I shouldn’t be serving in MAST bc it’ll just stand in the way of me being able to rest and receive and learn who God is through that. 

Oh, I also saw Chaeweon earlier and we sat together and it was gr9. BUT, she left early and I didn’t have time to say bye! :( But we are still going to hangout tomorrow so I’m excited for that! 

And my suspicions were confirmed, Jason and Angela are going out! And I want to ask more about it but I think I am a little more understanding of their relationship now. On the one hand, I’m a bit upset just bc I don’t want it to be like my freshman year where everyone in leadership was dating each other and that just made a lot of people feel left out and uncomfortable. But I am happy for them and I hope they grow strong in their faith together. I think they both have their own issues and I think Angela could easily take advantage of Jason on accident just bc she’s so strong and he’s so kind. But they’re both my friends and I do really hope things work out.

My day today—

it was pretty good. honestly. i started my day by getting my dishes done and out of the way, chatted with Emily for a bit in the morning, and headed to school. I revised the pamphlet for A^2 with the updated fonts and printed my leaflet for graphic design. There, I ran into Andrew Shike and helped him out with cutting and checked items out for the both of us. And then I hurriedly tried to take pictures on the 10th floor but it was a STRUGGLE. And my pictures came out okay but I didn’t have enough time to take better pictures and upload them before work and the media lab closed when I got off my shift, soooo. I just decided to take my time to get good pictures for class and my portfolio tomorrow. i think i’ll try to do it after hanging out with chaeweon for lunch! hopefully we dont take too long. well, idk. i would love to chat for hours with her and it not be awkward but i also do have some work to do. i guess she can accompany me and then we can just spend the day together from there? but, we’ll just have to see how things turn out tomorrow.

and honestly, im in a constant state of being on the verge of tears. true joy is something that i have not felt in a while and i can feel myself getting numb and afraid and anxiety-ridden and im just upset bc i worked so hard to get away from that but i feel like im just reverting back into my old habits.

i drank at the beginning of the school year bc i wasn’t in a mentally good stable. im still not in a mentally good place, lol. but i am better. kind of. i just felt very alone and like i couldnt trust anyone last semester and i was the most concerned with my grandma’s health at the time bc it didnt look like she would be making it by the time i returned for winter break. and i sought refuge and mulan and dana. and bc they were there for me, i was desperate to be accepted and so, i started casually drinking with them. marlena too. she respected my choice to not drink before but the temptation was there and i went for it. and granted, i didnt drink a ton but i was definitely on my way to becoming an alcoholic. i drank nearly daily for two weeks and since then, there have been moments when i was tempted to just drink to avoid my problems and ease the pain. and thank goodness im not 21 yet or else i would’ve bought so many bottles already. it’s bc i dont have easy access that im still sober and not an alcoholic but looking at everything that im going through, sometimes i just want to give up and solve my problems by not thinking at all. 

i dont know if i feel alone bc i know that i have people around me that care about me. but i do feel like theres this wall thats dividing us and keeping me from really being raw and vulnerable and just facing my fears and anxieties and worries head on. and im wondering if the only way to get over this is to confess it to God. And while I think that will help in part, I do think I also just need to be okay with trusting others with my life and weaknesses and vulnerabilities and thriving in where I fail. Because none of us are perfect. I feel like before, people were jealous of me bc of how perfect I seemed. But now that I’ve let people see my weaknesses, I feel like they judge me and deem me unfit to lead and serve. But if this is how I can better develop my relationship with God, then why not do it, yknow? Idk. I’m just. conflicted. struggling. theres a lot on my plate and i just want to throw myself at my work so that i dont have to think about it.