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willyoubemycherryy · 10 hours

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“But if it’s forever, it’s even better” (M. Sturniolo)♡︎❤︎︎♡︎

Order➬ 𝑩𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒓𝒖𝒎 @wh0resstuff

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕? 𝑮𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕!“ “𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏.“

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐 𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, ‘𝑩𝒊𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’ 𝒃𝒚 𝑩𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒃𝒄 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒙𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒕�� 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝑼𝑷 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒆𝒙𝒑1𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 ^^

.༒.

Was it a default setting in guys that they were automatically good at games because this was ridiculous.

It started off peaceful enough, playing Mario kart at your place with Matt against Chris, Nick, who were online at their own place.

Y’all decided against teams to avoid descending into chaos so it was every man for themselves which ended up being even worse.

“Whoever threw that blue turtle shell your mom’s a hoe.” Petty, but you were tired of bullshit stopping you from getting first place.

“Insane to say, we all have the same mom and she never did anything to you”, Nick says, laughing incredulously.

“And Matt was the one who threw it so any Marylou slander should be in his name”, Chris adds, making you spin to look at Matt, stunned by his betrayal while he calls Chris a fucking snitch.

“Wooowww pause. That’s how you feel? This what we doing now??” You’re grilling him off the bat, ignoring Chris and Nick instigating and tripping each other in the background.

Matt laughs, pleading his case, “Baby it’s fair game because it’s just a game!” So basically, he wanted smoke? Okay.

“IRRELEVANT! I was so close too! Would I throw a blue turtle shell at y’all so I could get first?!”

“YES!”

“YES!!”

“YES!!!” They all shout in unison and you suck your teeth as the race ends but you guys keep arguing with Nick who ended up being first place.

“This was a race and none of y’all got first place!!” He laughs and Chris giggles telling him to shut the fuck up because he’d “dog walk” him in the next round.

The next round that was gonna have to happen without you and Matt because…

“To think my own man would assassinate me like that!!”

Matt shrugs, chuckling even harder because you’re getting pissy over a stupid shell. “Sweetheart, it’s a game. Here if you want, you can hit me with one in the next round.” You scoff and throw your arms up in the air because it wouldn’t be as satisfying if he was expecting it.

“Fuck you! Matter fact, you can go kiss it!” Matt’s eyebrows jump up as he slowly brings a hand to his chest.

It gets quiet, you and Matt looking at each other before someone clears their throat.

“Well, that’s my cue…please don’t kill each other!” Nick says before disconnecting and Chris is right behind him.

“Yeah, um, I gotta teach Trevor how to make me pop tarts from scratch. On that Nara smith grind y’know? Toodles to the happy couple!” and then he’s gone too.

Matt beckons you over with a finger, yanking you down in his lap as soon as you get in range. Your heart is beating like crazy from how fast the atmosphere has shifted and the way he’s smirking at you isn’t helping.

“You want me to kiss it? Open your legs so I can.”

Now it was your turn to look like a Victorian lady hearing the word “britches” in public for the first time. You tilt your chin down in question and Matt just nods, gesturing you to the bed behind him.

“Go lay down.”

You’re only mildly shocked when you get up and feel that you’re already wet before you fall back on soft bedding, watching Matt make his way over to you.

He’s standing when he grabs your legs and kisses the inside of your ankle then puts your calves on his shoulders before lowering himself to his knees. The eye contact he holds with you the whole time has you panting and he hasn’t even started yet.

He pulls your body further down as he moves your shirt up and you moan desperately as he kisses wetly down your stomach, his hands busy massaging your thighs before sliding your shorts down.

“No panties?,” Matt huffs in amusement, looking up at you, “aren’t you sweet..” and that does it for you.

“Yeah…but if you wanna make sure you can- ah!”

Your voice breaks from his kiss, mouth open, right against your pussy, followed by a long, slow lick from bottom to top. You gasp and reaches down with both hands to clutch Matt’s hair and, without thinking, spread your legs even more.

Matt chuckles softly and drags his lower lip up the same path before spreading your slick lips with his thumbs. You’re so swollen already and you taste so good - he uses just the tip of his tongue to flick against your clit, then wets his tongue again and continues on with wet, circular motions.

Panting and gasping above him, you try to keep your eyes open to watch but god- he’s determined to be the death of you huh? Every flick of his tongue sends a spark through you and every dip down into your opening makes you reel up and raise your hips as if begging him to do more.

“More,” you whine and he makes a soft noise, shifting on his elbow and holding you open with his index and middle fingers of his left hand. His right takes a new path, stroking up and down the wet slit before two digits enter you suddenly. You cry out in shock and looks down, met with his lidded blue eyes, his pupils blown, lips shiny, cheeks pink and hair mused.

He whispers, “Okay?” and you nod quickly before he continues, slowly pushing in and pulling out with a slight upward angle to his fingers. When your legs start trembling again he leans down to your clit and sucks, the third finger following.

You might as well be submerged in lava with how hot your body feels, pleasure short-circuiting every coherent thought while you cry out for him. Hiccuping moans fall from your mouth as your hips stutter up into his face.

Your heart almost pounds out of your chest when your orgasm finally does hit, squealing, you cry for him.

“M-Matt-! M’ cummin-“ you cut yourself off with a gasp, followed by a long, breathless moan as you orgasm, shaking, pulsing, clinging to Matt’s head with your legs and fingers so he won’t move as he allows you to ride it out against his face.

When you comes back to yourself you realize that you have your thighs clamped down hard on either side of Matt’s head and you relax them, shaking as they fall to the bed. He lifts his face and gazes up at you, smirking softly, his lips wet even before he licks them clean (followed by his fingers disappearing between them - you shudder as you watch).

With a few tender kisses to your thighs, he lifts himself up over you again, gently pushing his lips against yours and you open for him, tasting yourself.

After a few moments you pull on his hair a little, earning a groan from low in his chest. You whisper to him as your lips part, “Please marry me .”

Matt shakes his head with a smile, suddenly bashful as he pecks you again.

“I love you too.”

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #Christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader

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xonavia · 23 hours

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✮ - Thinking about Kuroo, who has no clue how to flirt with you, so he instead tries to use science pickup lines (which ends horribly)

You had first met him through Kenma, which was surprising, but you formed a mutual connection when he saw you playing a video game at lunch. It wasn't long after when you met his best friend, but the first time that the dark haired captain ever laid eyes on you he knew that he wanted to be with you, it also helped that you were already friends with his best friend (Which probably contributed to him liking you in the first place). You soon learned that Kuroo was quite a bit of a science nerd, especially after hearing him say things like "docosahexaenoic acid", you always question on what he was talking about but never actually said anything, mostly because it wasn't directed at you, well until one day. It seemed to start off normal, in the morning you had a quick conversation with Kenma, maybe asking him about something in a game, or asking him about what he did that night, only to be interrupted when Kuroo came over, which was a little weird as he normally didn't say anything to the two of you until lunch. "Let’s be lab partners, I would love to try some experiments with you, especially in the biology department~." Kenma could only roll his eyes, and look over towards you, who was quite confused, before realizing what he said. "Oh sure! I mean I wasn't the best in Bio when I took it so it couldn't help to get more practice on it, especially since you're really good at science! Or so I've heard from Kenma!" Well.. He thought you understood, sadly you just thought he was trying to get your grade up, but before Kuroo could go back and try to explain what he meant the bell rang and you grabbed your bag from beside Kenma and hurried off to your first period. Kenma could only offer him a small pat on the back when his friend sighed. It wasn't until later during lunch that you saw the duo again. This time Kuroo was so sure that you were gonna get his pickup line, and Kenma was already placing a bet with Yaku that you were gonna be confused by it, once again. He shook off his nerves before walking up to you with his signature smirk. "Hey (Name), Is it just disproportionate gravitational force or are your eyes just a Great Attractor~?" You looked at him for a second, the words trying to process in your head before you looked deep in thought for a second before smiling and turning towards him. "I think that was a compliment so thanks! But I have no clue what you just said!" Kenma could only chuckle in the background knowing he was gonna be 10 dollars richer by the end of the day, all while Kuroo could only let out a groan. Well at least he was one step closer by finally getting you to understand that he was trying to compliment you. Though maybe science puns weren't the way to go about it..

OMG This is my first fic for the Haikyuu fandom, and all because I almost started crying at the end of the dumpster battle movie yesterday (The only reason I didn't was because I had to drive myself home, and I wanted to make sure I could see the road 😭) Also as I science nerd myself I loved this more than I can say and science nerd Kuroo is one of my favorite things on the entire planet<33 (Also the movie was so so so great, and the best part was the fact there was only me and my two friends in the whole theater, we love that for us!! Totally making them go see Episode Nagi when it comes out though-)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #xonavia's writings!

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ivystoryweaver · 1 day

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Hello Ivy! Could I please get some headcanons for marital bliss with the Moon Knight system? Congratulations on 1000! 🌹

Moon Boys Marital Bliss

.✧ ˚ Being married is getting to hang out with your best friend all the time˚ · .✧

Heyyy, thank you so much, I love this prompt!

fluff, domestic life, romance, slightly suggestive, gn Word Count: 625

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Steven loves having someone to come home to - someone who made vows to him. It's very grounding for him after a quite confusing existence previously.

Sometimes he gets distracted during his work day just imagining you walking in the door - your scent drifting down the hallway, the timbre of your voice - the allure of your eyes

The cool weight of his wedding band anchors him when he is apart from you and often so easily dismissed by others.

He’ll smile to himself and rub his thumb across it, imagining the way your eyes will sparkle with excitement to see him.

He can’t wait for chance to pull you into his arms and bury his nose in the spot just behind your ear. “Missed you, love.”

Steven is your menu-planning, vegan-shopping, bumping-elbows-while-washing dishes buddy. Dinner is always an adventure (and a mess) with this one.

You’ve never flirted so much while doing chores.

Steven makes life interesting, like an exploration. He's always seeking something - wanting to know more about the world around him, the history before him, and everything that makes you tick, that makes you happy, that makes you fall apart in his bed.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Marc is so so neat. His past taught him to blend in, fade away, disappear into the background

You hear a groan if your jacket hits the chair when you get home. You gladly pick it up because you hate cleaning the bathroom and Marc keeps it spotless

Showers with Marc are sweet or spicy. He always washes your back, caresses your skin and kisses you senseless. It's your favorite place to have his undivided attention.

You love bumping shoulders with him while you brush your teeth. He is a nonverbal communicator, so you relish the chance to watch him the mirror. Those smoldering brown eyes will rake over your form, whether you're in an oversized t-shirt or your best outfit. (or nothing at all)

It's lovely having someone organized and clean - it takes some pressure off, and it's a relief to not have to pick up after someone sloppy.

Marc is intense and devoted - you're the center of his universe and you know it. You could go an entire day without him speaking a word, and you still know. Long fingers brush your arm, heated kisses fall on your neck, longing gazes set you on fire.

And nothing shows you his intensity and devotion more than when you spend all night in his arms.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Ever since you moved into a house with a garage, Jake is in his own little heaven.

You never took your husband for a "man cave" kind of guy, but he loves to tinker with his car, have a drink, watch baseball and get into all sorts of projects

Sometimes you catch him with grease smudged on his forehead - somehow Jake makes any look sexy

He teaches you how to take care of your car - change a tire, stuff like that

Sometimes you bring him a beer and hang on to him. He secretly waits for you to do this - for you to seek him out, to cling to him, to need him

And you do need him. Jake loves to take care of you but he fully understands you can take care of yourself. The trust you give him means everything to him. No one has ever trusted him before now, or even really known him.

He loves the privacy the garage affords him - it helps him recharge his personal battery. But before too long, he'll always conveniently want to show you a thing or two - before he does a thing or two to you in the back seat of his car

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

1000 Follower/Holiday Celebration Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#ivy replies #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight headcanons #thanks for the ask!#📥 inbox #asks #📤 answered #1000 follower celebration #1k celebration #holiday celebration

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myargalargan · 5 hours

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Polin's theme - a musical Polinalysis

Alright...I am very rusty with this stuff (I studied music theory ohhh 15 years ago or so) but I couldn't resist delving deeper into the subject of this post. Anyone else with more expertise in this area, I'd love to know your thoughts!

So, we hear a lovely soaring orchestral theme in the background when Colin and Penelope kiss for the first time, yes? To remind ourselves, here's the theme in full.

The actual theme starts at about the 18s mark, but I included those initial 18 seconds because what's going on in the strings at that point helps orient us in the proper key. There's a resolution to a D-flat Major chord around the 5s mark as Colin's starting to lean in. Given that, and the rest of the notes in the theme and how they relate to each other, I'm assuming we're in the key of D-flat Major. (And I'll get into why it's meaningful to know this throughout the analysis.)

The theme we hear in this scene is made up of two main musical phrases. The first goes like this:

The second starts the same but takes a slightly different path at the end. It sounds like this:

What I think is interesting about both of these phrases is that we neither start nor end on the tonic (aka the first) note of a D-flat Major scale (which is D-flat). The phrases start on A-flat and end on E-flat. Why is this interesting?

Think of the tonic note of a scale as "home." If you start a musical phrase on the tonic note, that gives you a good sense of where you are harmonically right off the bat. The phrase will always take you away from that tonic note, but what creates tension and movement in the music is that ever-present desire to return home.

The phrases in Polin's theme neither start us at home nor return us there. In fact, the last part of the first phrase descends within a D-flat Major scale from A-flat to G-flat to E-flat and then hangs there. E-flat is one note in the scale above the tonic. Musically, we desperately want to resolve from E-flat to D-flat, but the phrase suspends us in that desire. The next line, instead of giving us a nice solid D-flat, drops us back to A-flat and starts the phrase over again.

I think this is a beautiful bit of musical storytelling. Just like the music dances around the tonic note without ever grounding us there, Colin and Penelope's relationship at this point is heading into uncertain territory. And just as the tension in the melodic line builds and never quite resolves, we are left at the end of the kiss scene with a dramatic transformation having occurred in Colin and Penelope's relationship and no clarity as to what's next. (Except that we would desperately love for them to keep kissing. 😉)

Then we have Colin's dream. And in the dream, the moment his and Penelope's lips meet, we hear that theme again. But hark! Something's different...

It's subtle, but this repetition of the theme is a half-step higher than the previous iteration. Instead of being in D-flat Major, we're in D Major. I think this is cool for two reasons.

First, it sets the dream scene apart from the real kiss scene in a psychological way—by giving it a slightly higher musical tonality, it has a slightly higher emotional tone. There's a little less uncertainty, a little more freedom.

Which brings me to the second cool thing, which is that, historically, D Major was regarded as the key of triumph and victory. Composers liked to set marches in D Major. The "Hallelujah" chorus from Handel's Messiah is in D Major.

And what could be more triumphant than marching into your crush's firelit garden, brazenly confessing your feelings, and having those feelings returned in a passionate kiss? You can even hear in this variation of the Polin theme that the tempo is a bit more expansive. It feels more like a confident stride with your head held high than the previous iteration, which is just a touch more frantic.

Then Colin wakes up. His world has been rocked. The next time he and Penelope see each other is in the willow scene, and just before they duck under the willow tree's cover, we hear a third variant of the Polin theme (thank you to @i-know-the-endss for pointing this out!!)...

Two things that I think are interesting about this return of the theme are 1) we're still in D Major, and 2) the end of this variation, unlike the previous variations, actually resolves down to the tonic of the key (which in this instance is a D)!

What does this mean? Personally, I think it's a fun little tease. We're hearing the tune the same way it appeared in Colin's dream... Will this first real-life meeting between Colin and Penelope since the dream play out the same way? The phrase grounds us on a D at the end rather than leaving us suspended on the note above with a desperate need to resolve that tension. Does that mean we'll see a resolution to the tension in Colin and Penelope's relationship?

And of course we do not, which is why it's a tease, but I love that the music builds the excitement at seeing Colin and Penelope interact for the first time since their kiss—for the first time since Colin's newfound emotional conflict—in this way. Like dangling a little carrot for us and then yanking it away.

Finally, later in that same episode, we hear the theme one more time at the first party Penelope attends since her self-flagellation in Whistledown.

This time, however, we're back in D-flat Major. Back to the reality of the first kiss, where things were uncertain and unsteady, instead of in the hopeful triumph of Colin's dream.

This is also the shortest iteration of the theme we hear. It abruptly ends partway through the first phrase. In this case, we are left dangling on an F, which is the third note of a D-flat Major scale. Because we are not yet "home" on the third, we still feel a lack of resolution here. However, unlike the very first iteration of this phrase, where we traveled down to the second note of the D-flat Major scale and were left with a desperate feeling of wanting to resolve just one more note down to the tonic, the third note of the scale lacks the same urgency and sense of direction. We are unresolved, but without knowing exactly where we want or need to go in order to achieve that resolution.

I think this is a great bit of musical storytelling, as well. At this point in Penelope's arc, she just wants to move on and find a suitor, and she still does not believe Colin could ever fill that role. Later in that party scene, she makes a connection with Lord Debling, and her objective for a husband is renewed. Colin, on the other hand, is starting to pine for Penelope something fierce, but he's still battling with himself about who he is and what he really wants. The outcome that will bring them both happiness, while obvious to us viewers, is not clear to either Colin or Penelope. Thus, a dangling F in a D-flat Major key without a clear path home.

A couple more notes (ba-dum-tss) about this theme... I speculate in the musical transcription at the top that the first occurrence of this theme is in 12/8 time. This is because the strings that are running underneath the main theme have a dance-y triplet-like quality to them which made me feel like each beat of the theme is actually a quick three-count. I bring this up because the first movement of Beethoven's Appassionata, which Francesca indicates is a particular favorite of hers in her conversation with Lord Petri in ep2, is also in 12/8 time. Not only that, but the second movement of the Appassionata is in D-flat Major, the same key I postulate we're in for the first occurrence of Polin's theme. Nothing profound here...I just think it's neat.

And to anyone who read all this, know that I appreciate you deeply!! And I'd love to know what you think. <3

#bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #polin's theme #bridgerton spoilers #long post #bridgerton analysis #meta #i knew I got that bachelor's in music for something...

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miyazakira623 · 1 day

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CAN WE ALSO PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS SCENE?!?!?!

IT WAS NOT A KISS SCENE BUT IT WAS AS POWERFUL AS ONE!!!

Their THE KISS scene on season 3 episode 5 (yes i remember exactly dont ask why) it was REALLY powerful because it literally showed us the development between the two characters from them trying to kill one another (mostly rayla) to saving each other and Callum expressing it such a beautiful way by his speech with "Because she's Rayla" Playing in the background was just TO DIE FOR!!!! it was emotional, romantic, strong! It was everything! It wasnt forced it was just there in the perfect time. I can never stop praising the shows writers enough istg. Even rn im listening to that ost in the background.

I cant lie bc it was adorable seeing these two being all lovey dovey with each other by kissing and hugging etc. But when season 4 begins, their relationship is just not there anymore. Yes there are bits and pieces but they're scattered everywhere. Callum reminiscing about her and their time together gives us half of the answer. Something happened that pulled them apart but what is it?

When he was looking out in the balcony to the sky, their theme was also playing at the background but so soft and so weak that you felt the pain of Callum. It was a sad track, it was a tragic track. Raylas' memories are still there but not herself. And it made him so sad that the dude said it was NOT his BIRTHDAY but the ANNIVERSARY OF RAYLAS' LEAVING!!!! THIS BOY CARES ABOUT RAYLA MORE THAN HE CARES ABOUT HIMSELF!!!

From then on the relationship starts to have a second build up. Its like strangers to friends to lovers to strangers to ??? . The only difference of this build up compared to first three seasons is that there is already an established relationship, its just broken. So in a way they start again. Going on adventures, being there for each other in case either of them needs help. Callum doesnt let his feelings for her suppress his hurt which was also caused by her but little by little it starts to heal. It starts to fix.

Here we see Rayla admit to her mistake of going after revenge and leaving the most important thing she has behind (aka callum obv) . Her admitting this out loud is so great to hear. Because she know she made a mistake and that mistake hurt Callum and she intends to FIX that mistake. She gives him the space he needs while also staying close enough in case he would need her. Just like Soren said "sometimes you need time to work through the weird, and then it'll work out or dont. The heart do what it do or dont what it dont"

And thats exactly what happens! With time the awkwardness becomes less and less and their hearts do the job. Their feelings for each other were never gone in the first place, and when they both finally realise that it just keeps getting better. In the form of saving friends (zym and soren) they remember how it felt working together which helps them get closer.

But even tho they act close their words are still apart. They dont admit it. They dont talk about it. They just go along with it. But then rayla gets caught sneaking runaans' bow. When callum orders them to release her even without knowing the reason why, rayla picks up what he's putting down. He trusts her, he doesnt push her to explain him anything becauss he knows that she will when she is ready. She sees that there is still a chance to make things just like before maybe even better.

(Also in this scene when they're going to the grand bookery and they cross this path, she says "its an old wound that's healing" I cant help but feel like its a parallel to their relationship. The wound of leaving for two years but now finally working through it. Its just perfect)

So yep after everything she admits it, which is also perfect because she was the one that made a mistake so she does fix it and she does it right.

"Im glad we could be here together, looking at the stars..." She says.

And callum feeling the same way rests his head on hers. ITS JUST PERFECT AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! THE WAY THAT THEY STILL KEEP TALKING ABOUT STARS AND THIS WHOLE SCENE HAVING AS MUCH POWER AS THEIR KISS SCENE AND DARE I SAY EVEN MORE (i dont know which wins bc i was jumping around screaming when they kissed after callums poetic speech LOL it was ROMANTIC ALRIGHT?! 😭😭😭😭 SAME GOES FOR THIS ONE)

And the thing is it is so easy to mess it up. They could've gone for route like "hey im back after two years of absence" "Oh hi its great to see you again" And its not just the characters and their relationships but also the world that you're telling to the audience. It is so easy to get it wrong ESPECIALLY if you are writing Fantasy. With so many kingdoms, dragons, elves and other species and also magic its very very simple to mess up. Im glad that they went this way with the story telling. Its more natural, more enjoyable and it just works perfectly.

ANYWAY IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR WAY TOO LONG BUT IF YOU MANAGED TO FINISH READING IT TILL THE END OMG YOU'RE A FUCKING ROCKSTAR IDK I LOVE YOU THANK YOU!!! 😫😫😫💕💕💕💕

#tdp #tdp season 5 #tdp season 4 #rayllum #the dragon prince #thoughts #commentary

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farfromstrange · 1 day

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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 27: A Greater Woman Wouldn't Beg

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: You fight for your life as the paramedics take you to the hospital. The first time, you wake up without Michael but in the presence of your best friend. The second time, Sarah has accepted defeat.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of injury, blood, mentions of violence, medical setting, flashback, descriptions of child abuse & abuse in general, fight or flight response, trauma triggers

Word Count: 5.5k

A/n: I was hoping to get this done sooner, but then I got sick and swamped by uni work, so I only now got it done. The next chapter will be Michael's POV of this. I wanted to make that a separate part, so I focused on Reader's POV for this one, and then you guys will figure out what Michael was really up when he didn't pick up.

Your hands are wet. Slippery. They smell like citrus and rosemary, a mixture of scents you have never quite enjoyed. Why would your blood smell like chicken seasoning, anyway? And why would it foam clearly in your hands, almost as though it was mostly water?

You look up with your eyebrows furrowed. The walls are anything but dark. Ivory wallpaper without accents; you swore you would never paint the walls of your home the same color. It is utterly tryst and boring for a house that has harbored many horrors in your lifetime.

You’re standing before the sink, the dishes running through your hands like quicksand. And they’re so much smaller. Bruises litter your skin like a mosaic masterpiece. Purple and blue blend into green, which doesn’t make any sense; blue and green should not make purple, but the skin is somehow wired that way.

All you remember is the creaking of your floorboards, Dublin eerily quiet outside as your heart beat up to your throat, and then the light went out and someone—a stranger who had not anticipated your arrival—attacked you. The shards from your favorite vase were a weapon of opportunity. It felt like someone was draining the air from your lungs with a rough cut. He sliced you open without a care. You tried calling Michael and screaming for him, but it was all a gurgle. And then, you remember, the world went dark.

The streets of London’s suburbs are quiet. You’re not supposed to be here.

“This is wrong,” you murmur. “This is all wrong.”

Maybe you died and went to hell? Looking down at yourself, you don’t find any evidence of blood. Your skin remains undisturbed. The radio is playing an early 2000s ballad. You don’t remember hearing it in a while. A chill runs down your spine.

The volume is just loud enough to tune out the screaming from the room across the hall. The snapping of leather that cuts through the air like a lightning bolt and does not care about the sound barrier has always been so deafening. Your bruises sting when you listen closely, and the music moves into the background as it had too many times back then. You could still hear everything. Every cry for help, every one of his disgusting words against her because she never did the dishes right.

You should be washing the, going over it a million times until you can see your reflection in the porcelain, or you will be next. It’s then that the screaming stops. Your pulse spikes. The air in your lungs gets trapped by a thin rubber band. It’s straining, and your heart feels like it’s bleeding out. You can’t breathe.

He calls your name. Your hands are still wet. Slippery. You can’t turn to the sink fast enough.

Ever since you can remember, you have been looking for someone to blame other than yourself for the way he treated you. Your mother never even tried to protect you when he laid his hands on you, but you would hear her cries every night when he let whatever frustrations he had left out on her. Maya and Ellie were never planned, and it makes you sick to your stomach to think about it. There is a certain amount of guilt that comes with blaming someone who can’t be blamed because she, too, is only a victim. But she has never felt like a mother to you, to begin with; she has always resented you because, in a way, you will always remind her of him. She’s so deep in it, you could never pull her out. And maybe that is why, in your mind, you blame her for all the times he hurt you and she wasn’t there. But it wasn’t her fault.

Part of you wonders if she would be able to get better once he’s gone, but she has always refused to believe in him as the devil. Stockholm syndrome. He looks so innocent, but he holds a power your mother’s fragile mind has never been able to withstand, and unless she wants to leave him, you won’t be able to help her.

But oh, it is so easy to blame someone other than your father—to blame everyone around you who only stood by and watched and continues to trust him blindly even now.

You were never good enough because you dared to disagree, never living up to expectations. Maya hit the spot better than you ever could, and Ellie was just collateral damage. God, your heart burns. Everything about you is on fire. It has always been a game to him. If he can’t control and manipulate someone else, he will fall apart. And in trying to break the cycle, you inevitably put a target on everyone else’s back.

The echo of the belt whipping through the air is forever tattooed on your brain. He calls your name from the hallway, and the floorboards creak like they did in your apartment. His steps are heavy, always landing with the back first to make the most noise. And he’s wearing those steel boots again he was issued for work. They hurt the most when they fracture your ribs.

You grab the plate just as his face appears in the doorway. He’s distorted. Your mind refuses to let him in, knowing it will break you. The pictures caught him so clearly, but nothing does your memory justice. The way he used to look at you, as though he was dead inside.

Your hands are so slippery though. The porcelain falls, and before you can catch it, it shatters. The pain tears through your side. Your lungs are sucking in air, but it isn’t to sustain them; they are falling apart.

The soap turns crimson. Black holes start to dance in your vision. The air gets trapped in your skin, and soon enough, you’re falling again, through the wood and into the atmosphere.

“She’s comin’ back,” a strange voice sounds through the endless void.

You blink your eyes open against the harsh light trying to blind you. Blue and yellow and white. Hell looks a lot different than you expected. It doesn’t hurt though, it’s just heavy. A cloud settles over you, and this constant obnoxious beeping next to your ear pulls you out of the thick syrup you landed in.

The smell of antiseptic fills your nose next, harsh and unforgiving. It’s not citrus and rosemary. You can’t hear his voice anymore, but you didn’t dry your hands. They’re still wet, not slippery but sticky now. And they’re so heavy, you can’t move them. The world around you morphs into a pit of oil instead.

You try to move again, but your limbs feel like they’re encased in cement. Something is covering your face. Plastic. So much oxygen in your lungs, and they keep burning. Why is no one helping you? You’re breathing, and the air is so clear you might go into shock because no human is supposed to breathe air this clean, right? You don’t understand, and you don’t remember...

“Easy, easy,” the same voice says softly. You can’t make out her face. “You gave us quite a scare. Your lung collapsed, but you’re gonna be okay.”

You try to lift the mask from your face, but a gentle hand stops you. “You’ve gotta keep that on, dear,” she tells you. And then the light gets brighter as she shines it directly into your eyes. “It’s best if you don’t try to talk. We’re almost at the hospital. Can you give me a nod yes if you remember what happened to ya?”

It’s your responsibility, you think. You try to nod your head, but it’s so heavy.

“Alright, good girl. Do you remember your name?”

Again, you nod.

“That’s good. Perfect. Pupils equal and reactive. Breath sounds equal. And the patient is responsive,” she says toward you, but you know it’s not directed at you. Right now, she’s just a blotch of light in a world full of darkness.

You still lift the mask from your mouth because if you’re responsive, you have to respond. “Mi—” you cut yourself off. Your tongue hurts. He didn’t pick up when you called. Why do you want to say his name when he seems to be done with you?

Your lung collapsed and the first person you think of is him, but you don’t seem to be on his mind. And you can’t count on him. Not right now. Maybe not ever again, but that isn’t his fault. You walked out. If you die, at least he can’t blame himself. Or is it more of a question of when?

“Sarah,” you slur instead. Whatever pain medication they gave you, it’s working wonderfully; you’re as high as a kite.

The strange voice asks, “Sarah?”

She must think you’re not as lucid as she suspected. You shake your head, or maybe you’re nodding. “Call… Sarah,” you finally manage to say. And two words are better than none.

“Sarah,” the paramedic repeats, nodding as if to assure you she understands. You can see the halo moving. “Okay. We’ll call Sarah for ya. Just try to relax.”

You let the mask fall back into place, too exhausted to protest further. They’re calling Sarah. Because you don’t have anyone else. A pain spreads through your chest, but it is nowhere physical. It spreads through your soul like wildfire, and even through the fog, you can feel the tear slipping from your eye and down your cheek. The salt burns in the cut on your lip.

The angel is right there with you. As your vision becomes clearer, your body seems to thaw. You grunt. “Looks like you’re in pain,” she says. “I’ll give two more milligrams of morphine.”

Morphine. That’s what it is. Before the pain in your side can come back with a vengeance, it is stopped by the delicious liquid she administers to your infusion. The world grows instantly fuzzier again.

The ambulance rocks gently as it speeds towards the hospital, at least that is where you are starting to suspect you are, and the world outside the windows blurs into streaks of light. Hypnotizing streaks of light. Your eyes roll back into your skull.

The darkness engulfs you. You’re floating in a black sea full of nothing. The tide carries you for miles and miles and then some. You flail around helplessly until you eventually decide to give up. It’s of no use anyway. You float for a while, carried for an eternity more until the rushing of the ocean turns into the unmistakable sound of your own heart.

The first real thing you feel is a dull ache in your skull. Your nerve endings are desperately tearing at each other. The beeping gets louder, accompanied by a throbbing in your ribcage. It’s not your heart; the pain tears through your skin and the muscles below, and every time you try to take a conscious breath, you’re inhaling toxic smoke.

You open your eyes. The light is less bright here. It’s blurry, at first, but the world slowly comes to life again. You’re sore all over, but as far as you can tell, you’re alive and no longer high on opioids. How long have you been out? It must have been hours.

And then it hits you again—what happened. The intruder, the missing file, the broken vase, and his hands all over you. Your neck still aches. You can feel his fingers trying to squeeze the life out of you, but you wouldn’t budge. You remember contemplating how to take your life when you were just a child, but tonight, you chose to fight back. And it landed you here.

You have been in worse pain. The feeling of waking up alone has therefore become more than familiar over the years. Just you and the beeping monitors. You wonder if they can show a broken heart.

Lifting your tired arm, you reach for the cannulas in your nose. You can breathe fine; you don’t need them. You don’t even need to be here.

“Hey, don’t…” The blur turns into a person. You can’t quite believe your eyes.

Sarah crosses the room and stops your eager fingers in their tracks, and upon looking at her worry-stricken face you realize that you did not just wake up alone; they called her, after all. Like you asked them to. And you’re not alone.

The monitor picks up speed. “Sarah,” you whisper.

“It’s me,” she says. “You’re okay. You’re at the hospital, but you’re okay.” From the sound of her voice, you can tell she’s been crying. Sarah never cries.

You smack your lips. “Uh, what… what happened?”

You know what happened, but you can’t see it. You can’t close your eyes and pull up a visual of the events because every time you do, you see nothing but darkness. Your memory isn’t working the way it should—nothing is.

She wipes her cheeks. Vulnerability seeps out of her pores like body odor. The pity in her eyes turns into knives to your chest. “Someone broke into your flat and… they attacked you,” she says. Her voice still has a certain edge to it. “Your lung collapsed, but they managed to put a needle in there and now you’re all better. You didn’t even need surgery, just a blood transfusion. I actually donated while I was waiting ‘cause it was killin’ me that it took them so long to fix you up.”

The needle would explain the pain in your lungs. You reach for her hand.

“When they called, I thought… God, I thought you were dead. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“What were you thinking?” There it is, the anger. “You should’ve called the police.”

“I know, but I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking.”

Sarah raises her voice, “I almost lost you tonight!”

The echo drills into your ears. You flinch. The guilt hadn’t already been eating you alive, it certainly would start now. The burning behind your eyes returns, and this time, you don’t stand a chance. You try to blink them away, but it’s futile.

“I know, and I’m… I didn’t mean to do this to you.” You swallow.

“Does this have anything to do with Michael? Did he get you into this? ‘Cause if he did, I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

“No!” You try to sit up, but the sudden movement tears at the stitches in your side. Every nerve under your skin protests. You stretch, and it burns. With a grunt, you fall back against the mattress. “No,” you repeat. “He didn’t…”

This is what you were worried about. It crossed your mind before it happened that the person in your apartment might have been hired by the Kinsellas to steal the valuable information you collected; it was the only thing you had to fuel your agenda, and someone took it. You didn’t tell anyone but Michael, so it would make sense that his family had something to do with it, but after talking to Jimmy, you seriously doubt it. You almost died. If they wanted you dead, you would be dead. It’s a terrifyingly sober thought, but it’s the truth.

But if the Kinsellas aren’t behind it, someone else must have found out. Someone from your past, perhaps. And how do you tell the police that someone broke into your apartment not to steal money but to steal a mere paper file?

Sarah sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The police are going to want to talk to you,” she says, expertly changing the subject. “They said nothing seems to have been stolen, but they need your confirmation, and they’re hoping you can identify the man who did this to you.”

Again, you shake your head. “I didn’t see his face,” you admit.

“I figured, but I think they need to know who you’ve been associating yourself with.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who I’ve been–” you grunt again when you move against the clear protest of your wound. “Who’s side are you on?” you ask her.

She looks so guilty, afraid to even meet your eyes.

“Michael’s family has nothing to do with this. Don’t ask me how I know, I just… I just know.”

“Then where is he, huh?” Her voice takes on a slightly accusatory tone. You’re not sure if it’s directed at you or Michael, but you’re not in the mood to have this conversation.

You shake your head. The lump in your throat is stuck. You can’t speak.

Sarah utters your name, but it only sets fire to the gasoline. “You almost died and Michael isn’t here,” she says. “Who knows, maybe it was him? You can’t know if you didn’t see his face! I mean, why are you protecting him and his family when he couldn’t even be bothered to be here?”

It hurts to hear her say that. It hurts to even imagine that scenario to be true. You know it isn’t, but she believes it, and that breaks your already shattered heart beyond repair.

“I’m not,” you choke out. “He has nothing to do with this. I…” You find yourself unable to speak, too caught up in the pain that spreads through your body and your soul.

You can see his face when you close your eyes, and God, you miss him.

“Then where is he?” she asks again. It’s almost as though she believes she has the whole thing figured out just because she was so worried about you. But she doesn’t.

You grit your teeth. A tear makes its salty path south. “We broke up!” you snap, your voice echoing across the room like a sharp arrow penetrating the sound barrier. “We had a fight and then I left, and that’s probably why he didn’t pick up because he was just as hurt as me, but–” You have to cut yourself off to catch a strangled breath. Your lungs barely have the same capacity they had before.

Sarah’s jaw slacks at the revelation. The words take a second to sink in, but when they do, it dawns on her like a gigantic shadow. Instead of an ‘I told you so’, she exhales shakily, “Oh.” Nothing else seems to come to her mind at that moment.

Your heart drums against your ribcage. You inhale, sitting further up to ease the pressure on your wound and calm your racing pulse that is starting to upset the monitor beside your bed.

Another pained groan passes your lips. “My gut is telling me his family isn’t behind this because whoever broke into my apartment was an idiot, and the Kinsellas are not,” you tell her. “You want to blame Michael for not being here? Fine! But he would never hurt me. Don’t… don’t say that.”

You begin to see it again; the blood on the dark floorboards transferring to your phone as you tried to dial his number with the last of your strength, but he didn’t pick up. He was the only person you could think of when you thought you were going to die, and he wasn’t there. He didn’t even come.

Finally, the lump lodges free in a devastating sob, landing like a burning meteor from the depth of your chest.

Sarah wraps her arm around your shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

You don’t fight it; you bury your face in her chest, clinging to her instead of letting go. Pieces of drywall start coming off the borders around your heart. The sobs wreck your body with an intensity that could match the force of a landmine.

When you woke up, you were hoping, even if just for a second, Michael would be there to hold your hand. You would have given up your belief that the two of you were meant to be dysfunctional for a taste of the comfort you know only he can provide you. But it’s all just a fever dream, and he isn’t here.

You beg yourself to breathe through the inferno spreading from your wound to the remaining space of your chest cavity. This pain can’t easily be fixed by morphine or a high flow of oxygen. It’s a deep-rooted and emotional pain; everything around you becomes secondary.

The sobs wrack your body, but you can’t stop. You can't fight back against the avalanche heading for your town. You’ve lost everything. Trying to keep your head above water only pulled you further under. You can still feel the stranger's hands on your body, the sound of porcelain crashing to the floor. You were trying to steer off the inevitable like a fool, and in the process, you have made things a million times worse. Admitting defeat would lead to the demise of what you love, but what else can you do when the danger is no longer trying to hide, lying in wait?

The door swings open. A nurse steps in, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Heart rate and pulse ox are climbing,” you faintly hear her say. “She’s having a panic attack.”

You want to protest. You’re okay; you’re just crying, and they should take care of the ticking bomb next to your ear first. It beeps and beeps and beeps even louder. It takes you forever to notice that the bomb you’re hearing is actually your heart about to explode.

“Well, do something!” Sarah shrieks, her chest shaking under you. “She’s going to hurt herself.”

Someone calls your name, and they tell you something about a sedative, but your ears are under a thick stream of water. The sterile walls start to close in around you. You can feel your heart racing in your throat like you’re going to throw it up on a silver platter and everyone will see how damaged you truly are.

You thrash weakly, your lips moving without your mind’s approval. “No,” you sob. You don't want them to sedate you. “Please…” Your pleas meet an empty void.

The nurse swiftly prepares a syringe that, out of the corner of your eye looks almost like a loaded gun. You don't want to sleep. You can’t. You deserve this. “This will help you relax,” she says. “Just breathe, okay? We don't want your lung collapsing again.”

The needle doesn’t pierce your skin, but it might as well have. A sudden cool rush spreads through your veins. The world blurs at the edges, colors bleeding into each other until they turn black. Your sobs slow down. You try to scream, but every muscle in your body slacks against your will. The clock stops ticking. The wave catches up to you as you’re swimming away, and with jaws made of glass, the depths of the ocean finally take you under, eating you alive.

Someone whispers, “You’re going to be okay,” into the darkness, but the angel doesn’t have a face. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to hold on or keep floating. There is no beginning or end where you are. The ground is gone. It’s never going to end, you fear, drowning in your tears until you’re sucked into another black hole for the rest of your life.

You succumb to it. You let the current drag you down, and then, you drown.

You drown for the longest time, closing your eyes and accepting your fate. Until a hand dives into the water, searching for you. You blink, and you reach for it, not knowing who it belongs to but someone is trying to save you, so why not allow them to? An eerily familiar feeling fills you with warmth.

The closer you inch to the surface, the louder the real world around you gets. You hear the beeping again, steadier this time. Someone must have defused the bomb. And there is a soft touch against your forehead, fingertips grazing your burning skin. Your eyes flutter.

A soft baritone calls for you. It’s familiar, but the sensations around you are dulled to an extent you can barely feel your legs. You adjust to the light in the room, and the heaviness of your eyelids that seems to want to drag you back down. His silhouette is a blur, at first, but once you find those comforting brown eyes staring down at you with a river of tears inside, you recognize him, and you’re suddenly wide awake.

“Michael?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart contracts. Instead of conflict, all you feel is the sheer pleasure of relief when you see his face. His tired, beautiful face. And he’s real. He’s not a dream. You may not feel your body, but your mind is coming back to you, and you see him so clearly next to you, a sight for sore eyes and a balm for your broken heart.

He came.

A tear slides down his cheek, but he wipes it before you can comment on it. Your throat is dry. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bopping with the silence that engulfs you. The air crackles. You’re not sure how to react. Your entire body vibrates with a need you have never felt before, but how can you get over what happened? It’s right there between you; you can feel the tension that has spun a net between you, and it’s almost like your lungs are collapsing all over again.

But then Michael reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing your tear-stained cheek. “Yeah. I’m here,” he says. “I’m here, my love.”

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck with a broken exhale. He has never engulfed you faster, building a secure cocoon around you where nothing and no one can touch you. Your breaths are strangled. He wasn’t there before, but now he is, and it’s like you were never apart in the first place. Because you needed him like air, and he is the only one who knows how to make the pain go away because he knows you.

“You didn’t pick up,” you mutter against his sweater. I thought we were over, you want to say.

He nods, squeezing you tighter. Your stitches protest, but you ignore them. He can tear them open one by one if he pleases, as long as he just holds you. “I know,” he says, barely keeping it together. “I’m so sorry. I was… I was meetin’ with Jimmy, and… I turned it off. I turned it off.” His voice cracks. So much guilt can’t possibly fit into one person.

Your nails dig into his back. “It’s okay,” now you’re the one comforting him.

“No. If I’d known… Fuck! I thought… I thought I lost ya.”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael pulls away, eyes boring into yours. He cups your face. “Don’t do tha’,” he growls. “Don’t do this to yerself. It wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

You close your eyes. His gaze is so intense. He nudges you back to look at him. “Who did this to ya, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “I didn’t… I didn’t see his face. But he, uh… he stole the… the file. On my sister. And when I tried to stop him, he… he…”

“Wha’?” The look on his face is nothing short of terrifying, even as it blurs through your tears. “Did he touch you?” When he gets angry, his eyes tend to black out. It usually sends a chill down your spine, but tonight, you need him to look at you like that. You need him to be angry because anger is the strongest motivator, and you are too weak to display the true intensity of your feelings.

You motion to your throat with shaky fingers. “He ch–” The word refuses to come out. “Mhh–” You try to regulate your breathing. “He ch–choked me.”

You have not yet looked into a mirror, but the soreness suggests quite a bit of bruising. Sarah didn’t say anything. You went through hell and the most obvious injury, the wound on your side, seems bad enough to think about. They probably swabbed under your fingernails already to get what little DNA evidence you tried to gather by fighting back, but you have little hope that the assailant is to be found in any database. And he wore gloves, that much you know. You can still taste the leather. Talking about it makes you eerily sick to your stomach.

Another sob bubbles up in your chest; you choke on it. “And then he stabbed me,” you cry. “He stabbed me, and my lung collapsed, and… I thought I was going to die.”

Michael growls, physically forcing your face back into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t leave me.”

You were the first to leave, and it was a mistake. You regret it with your entire bruised being to have ever let him go. You’re not entitled to his love, but if he left you now, you know you wouldn’t survive—because losing him is worse than dying.

He presses your face further into the crook of his neck. “I’m not leavin’,” he says. “You’re safe now. No one’s gonna lay a hand on ya again.”

The words break the dam. “Please,” you beg, not knowing what for.

“Shhh,” he shushes you.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you ramble. “I was just sad and angry, and… we were both going through something. Hell, you told me about Anna and all I thought of doing was leave. I’m so fucking sorry, Michael. I don’t know how to make this up to you. I don’t…”

Michael tugs you back, seeing it as the only way you will listen to him. “Hey!” His fingers dig into your scalp. “It doesn’t matter, alright? I’m not angry. I… I thought I lost ya, and it almost killed me. I don’t care ‘bout one stupid fight. I don’t.” He chuckles softly, his eyes stained with tears again. “I care about you. I’m gonna fix this, you hear? Even if I have to kill the fuckin’ bastard who did this. God knows I want to. And I’m gonna get Anna back, too,” he says. “‘cause I’m still her father and I won’t let them take her from me. What I’m not gonna do is let you leave again without reason, so we’re gonna talk and we’re gonna find a way through this, alright? I promise you, so you have to promise me. Let me love you better. Please.”

Please. He breaks in your hand like wet sand struck by lightning. Though this time, you can’t pick up his broken pieces and glue him back together for it is his turn now to fix you. To love you better, as he said.

You wipe your cheek on the palm of his hand, and his thumb instantly darts out to take over. It’s so rough yet so gentle against your sensitive skin. “I promise,” you whisper then, only honesty on your cracked lips.

He lets go of your scalp to pull you back in. “That’s my girl,” Michael murmurs.

There is nothing quite as toxic as guilt, but you are each other’s antidote. You cling to him like a lifeline, and he clings to you. Where Sarah has gone, you’re not sure, but you also don’t care. She called him. She said horrible things about him, then saw your reaction, the sincere belief in his innocence and the love that is still very much there, and then she called him because there is no other way he could have found out. She called him because you didn’t need her; you needed Michael, and no drugs in the world could have changed that.

“C’mon, lie back.” You comply almost instantly with his demand, scooting aside to make space for him. The frame of the bed creaks in protest, but he seems to neither care about the hospital’s property nor his comfort as he urges you to rest against his chest. “The police are gonna ask questions,” he tells you, tugging the blanket further around your body. You only now realize that you’re freezing. “I told them you had to rest, so they’re gonna come by in the mornin’, but I assure ya, I’m gonna be there. And then Jimmy’s gonna take us home.”

You blink up at him. “Jimmy?” you ask. It’s the only thing that strikes you as odd. You suspected the police would come by, Sarah already told you the same thing, but Michael conspiring with his brother to get you out of here is a new development.

“Yeah. No one takes a shot at a Kinsella and gets away with it.”

“But I’m not–”

He cuts you off, “You are now.”

Your heart stops a beat in your chest before it starts racing a million miles per hour, so fast you can barely catch up.

It’s odd, all of it. His family expressed their disdain for you at great lengths just to retaliate back when your blood is shed, but instead of dread and overwhelming suspicion, you only feel terrifyingly content.

You’re a Kinsella now, Michael said, and what else can you do but embrace it?

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @ebathory997

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #kin rte #kin amc #x reader #charlie cox #chaos theory #tw: abuse

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standfucker · 2 days

Text

"My Boy"

Characters: Jinbe

Reader: trans male

Word Count: 4k

CW: explicit N.SFW content, monsterfucking vibes, size difference, vaginal penetration, double penetration in one hole, creampie, exhibitionism/risk of getting caught, oral (giving)

Summary: Polite interactions with your newest crewmate turn a little less polite when you catch each other ogling during a shared bath.

Ao3 Link

@jinbeioyabun

🎉🎉 Happy Birthday El! 🎉🎉

For most of the crew, the best part of getting swept up into yet another conflict is the post-battle celebration. You tend to be more like Zoro–you enjoy the fight itself more than anything, a chance to really cut loose and prove your worth. But when the town you’d inadvertently saved offered the crew their private hot springs to use, it wasn’t something you were going to pass up on, either.

The other men had already finished their soak and gone ahead to the feast. You lag behind purposefully to have the springs to yourself, wanting some peace and quiet to relax properly. As much as you love to fight, it takes you a while to wind down from all the chaos, needing a few hours to really calm your body and mind. You care for the others, but you’d prefer to bathe without the background noise of Zoro and Sanji bickering, or Brook and Franky’s general silliness.

Warm, humid air wafts into your nose and hugs your skin as you step out into the men’s private springs, the warm humidity a comforting promise of the steamy bath you’re about to enjoy. There’s several natural pools in the hot springs, the biggest sporting a cluster of rocks in the middle that men liked to jump off of. You’re about to step into the biggest one when you notice someone off to the far side of the spring. Only his head is sticking out of the water, but the color of his skin makes him stand out against the gray of the rocks. A twinge of disappointment quickly dissipates–it’s just Jinbe, his eyes closed and a serene look on his face. The placid, honorable helmsman is the most favorable of your crew to run into here; you can look forward to a calm soak if it’s just him around.

Jinbe opens one eye upon hearing your footsteps, then closes it again after seeing it’s you. Sliding off your towel and folding it up, you step into the springs. The hot water around your legs is a stark difference to the air around you, almost a little too warm, but you don’t wait to adjust, walking down the scarped steps cut into the rock.

An involuntary sigh escapes you as you’re immersed up to your shoulders, the heat wrapped around your body pleasant and soothing. It’s a little more intense around your healing cuts, close to a sting, but your tired muscles are so relaxed by the therapeutic heat that it well makes up for it. You hear a gruff chuckle come from the other end of the pool.

“It’s really nice, isn’t it?” Jinbe says, smiling warmly. “I never got to experience hot springs until long after I became a pirate. Such a luxury is exquisite…”

“Mhm,” you agree, feeling the bottom with your foot to get an idea of how deep the pool goes. It’s deep enough that the bottom slopes away from your feet, and at least deep enough that Jinbe can soak his entire body. That’s saying something, given that he’s almost ten feet tall. “Makes sense. They don’t exactly form under the sea.”

“No. A shame–the hot water feels great going through your gills.” Jinbe dips his mouth into the water, taking a gulp, and you watch with some fascination as the water flows out of his gills and trickles down his neck. He lets out a sigh of contentment. Your eyes widen slightly as he rises, his massive upper body breaking the surface so he can hook his elbows onto the bank and lean back. “The contrast is nice, too. I enjoy how cool the air feels on my skin.”

“Mm,” you reply, the sight of his broad, broad pecs erasing proper words from your vocabulary. They’re hefty and thick, a layer of fat that you know hides powerful muscle underneath. His upper arms are the same, deceptively soft looking until he flexes and shows the bulging of huge muscles. You’ve always had a thing for big guys, and even more so for Fish-men. Finding Jinbe attractive was a given, but you didn’t really anticipate the effect seeing him naked would have on you.

That’s probably why he catches you staring. You realize it too late, your eyes meeting before you rip your gaze away. At least he’s too polite to say anything about it. He scratches the back of his neck while you look anywhere else.

“You fought well today,” he says awkwardly, but sincerely. “Given my brief time in the Straw Hats, I haven’t had the chance to see how everyone fares in combat.”

“What, did I surprise you?” you ask, grinning at him.

“Yes and no. I knew you’d be strong, but I didn’t expect you to tank hits as well as you did. I’m always impressed by the resilience of humans. Especially the smaller ones.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you shrug. “But I’m alright. Look, this is the worst that I got today.” You stand on the tips of your toes so your shoulders come out of the water and point to your clavicle. There’s a long cut across the middle, and while it bled a lot initially, it was just shallow enough to not need stitches.

“You were injured?” Jinbe says, pushing himself off the wall before you can respond. Dipping low again, he moves through the water toward you swiftly and gracefully. Even on land, he moves elegantly, surprising considering his size, but it doesn’t compare to how he swims. The water seems to part around him, barely disturbed like a swan gliding across the surface.

“Just a little,” you say, taking a step back despite yourself as he reaches you, rising up out of the water. He’s even bigger up close, looming over you. The proximity makes your heart pick up its pace. You can’t help it–he’s just so big, and he’s looking at you with such concern.

“Has Chopper seen it?”

“No. It seemed minor. I didn’t want to bother him while he was helping people who really needed him.” You have to crane your neck back to look up at Jinbe.

“As a former captain, I’d admonish you…but truthfully, I would have done the same.” He chuckles. “I’m no doctor, but I have treated my fair share of injuries. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh. Uh…” You hesitate, caught between flattery at his concern and bashfulness. “No, I don’t mind.”

Jinbe lowers himself in the water so he’s at eye level with you again, inching closer to get a better view of your cut. You turn your head as he leans in, unable to meet his eye at such a close distance. You can feel his breath on your skin, the soft warmth making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Despite the warmth of the hot springs, you still feel a heat creeping into your cheeks.

“It’s not bad,” he says after a minute. “You made a good call this time. Did you disinfect it?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good! It should heal up nicely.” He smiles big, making your heart leap, and then he perks as he notices something else. “That’s a nasty bruise there.” He gently rests his fingers on your arm, right below the deep purple bruise on your shoulder.

“It’s, uh, it’s no big deal,” you shrug. Jinbe’s lifted your arm slightly to inspect your shoulder better, and you swallow at the touch. His webbed hand is so large it wraps entirely around your arm. “J-Jinbe…”

“Ah!” he lets go, seeming to notice your unease. “Am I making you uncomfortable? My apologies.”

You laugh nervously, trying to play it off. “Come on. Being doted on by a big, handsome guy would make anyone tense.”

Jinbe’s completely taken by surprise, mouth slightly open as he goes quiet. He clears his throat, and a slow, adorably shy smile stretches across his mouth. “I must say, it’s not often you get that sentiment from humans.”

“I’ve always found fish-men attractive,” you say without thinking. Immediately you realize what you said and start stammering. “I mean, um, you know. You guys are often pretty big, and, uh, really strong, and, I look up to that, and…”

His smile grows as you talk yourself into a corner. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “it’s not unheard of for fish-men to be interested in humans, either.”

Your stomach does a funny little flip. “Do you…do you know any fish-man like that?”

“You could say that.”

You finally meet his eye. His sheepish grin makes you smile, too, even as your heart pounds. He doesn't move away, and up close, you notice the darkened, violet mottling above his left gills.

“You're bruised, too,” you say, reaching for his neck. Jinbe lets you, angling himself to give you easier access. You brush your fingers lightly over the spot, careful not to press down, and hear his breath catch. Glancing at him, you see the skin of his face tinged violet as well, something you somehow missed earlier. You touch his cheeks gently. “Oh–you also got hit in the face, huh? That's never fun.”

Jinbe clears his throat. “Actually, er, that's just a blush,” he admits, gaze averted.

“Oh!” You yank your hands away. “Sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable this time?”

“Naturally,” he grins cheekily, “being doted on by an attractive young man would make anyone nervous.” Your cheeks flare even hotter at the revelation, more so when Jinbe takes your hand, enveloping it in his large one. “I don't mind. It's nice.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “I think so, too.”

He puts your hand back where it was on his cheek, glancing aside shyly for a second before looking at you again. He steels his resolve, taking a breath, before he says your name so gently it makes a shiver run down your spine. “Y/n…”

“Yeah?” Entranced, you lean in until there's only a few inches of space between you, and Jinbe answers you by closing the distance, pressing his lips to yours hesitantly.

The contact is fleeting, a brief testing of the waters, but it feels like little fireworks setting off beneath your skin. You two blink at each other, and then you place your other hand on his cheek and pull him back in for another. Like the first, it’s soft and uncertain. The next kiss is more sure, and by the next one, he’s placed his hands around your hips, squeezing when you gently lick along his lower lip.

It’s a little different from kissing a human; his mouth is so wide, for one thing, that he can’t really close it over yours properly; instead he lets you do most of the work, your tongue probing and tracing patterns across the expanse of his. Bringing his hands up your sides to support you, he tilts you back, pressing heated, messy kisses against your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck, just able to dig your fingers into his hair at the base, and kiss along his lower lip, nipping by one of his large lower fangs. You can’t resist a little chomp on his fang, either.

Jinbe growls, a sound that goes straight to your dick. “Careful,” he rumbles as you press your cheek to his fang. “They’re sharper than they look.”

“I guess you biting me is off the table?”

He chuckles. “I won’t bite you, no. But if you hold very, very still,” he warns and promises at once, “I can do this.” With the utmost delicateness, he drags the points of his upper row of teeth down your neck and over your shoulder, leaving faint, ashy lines. The sensation tickles and teases, the razor’s edge of danger, drawing a soft whimper out of you. His control is so good it doesn’t even sting.

“Jinbe,” you breathe, running your hands down his broad chest and scraping your nails against his skin–comparatively dull, but he groans appreciatively all the same. “Would you think less of me if I told you I really, really liked that?”

“Of course not,” he chuckles and pecks your lips fondly. “I find it attractive.”

“Okay,” you say, “‘cause for the record, this is my first time kissing a Fish-man, and it’s better than I imagined.”

“Than you imagined?” Holding onto you, Jinbe rolls over so you’re propped up on his chest, both your lower halves beneath the water as he swims backward easily. “You imagine yourself with Fish-men often, do you? What else do you imagine?”

He’s confident now, shining eyes fixed on you, and you meet his challenge. “Why don’t I show you?”

Jinbe pulls you in for another kiss, the two of you making out until his back hits the opposite wall. Now in only about three feet of water, you slide down between his legs while Jinbe leans back on the sloped bank.

Through the water, you can see the faint outline of his cocks–there’s two–each one at least as thick as your forearm and just as long. Arranged vertically, they’re slightly darker than the rest of him, with a purplish flush beneath the skin. The top one is erect and rigid, the other one halfway there. You try to act nonchalant at the sight, as he’s currently watching you with some amusement. Rather than make a comment, you reach for the lower one, and Jinbe sucks in a breath as you wrap your hands around it.

The skin is silky and warm even under the hot springs. You stroke him from base to tip, thumbs pressing into his frenum, making him gasp. The lower member quickly swells from the attention, stiffening until it’s as big and rigid as the upper one.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Jinbe comments.

“Didn’t want to be rude.” you respond, making him grin. “You’re, um…you’re impressive, to say the least.”

Jinbe’s about to reply when you take one cock in each hand and start stroking firmly, pressing them against your stomach, his balls resting on your lap. Whatever he was going to say turns into a soft gasp. Like a human, he seems to be more sensitive toward the tip, so you focus your attention there. Though you can’t see it, you can feel a sticky, mucousy fluid coating the heads of his cocks, spreading down his shaft by the movement of your hands.

“Ah…you… you’re certainly eager to please, aren’t you?” he praises, one hand cupping your cheek.

“You have no idea.” Taking a deep breath, you plunge your head into the water, shutting your eyes tight, and take one of his cocks into your mouth. His pre-cum is thicker and saltier than a human’s, but otherwise doesn’t have a strong taste. You stuff as much of the head of him that will fit and suck. His groan cuts through the water, cocks twitching in your hands.

As a non devil-fruit user, you’ve gotten plenty of swimming practice rescuing the other members of the crew, so you can hold your breath for some time. You easily spend a while sucking him off, stroking the opposite cock in the meantime, and when you finally surface to take a breath, you switch to the other.

Jinbe pants and groans above you, fingers digging into the pool’s rocky edge, doing everything he can to resist thrusting up into your mouth. Even for him, it proves to be a challenge; you feel his hips shift forward as he squirms just a little. The filthy act already has your cock engorged, but knowing you’re putting cracks in his iron willpower just riles you up worse. To have someone as powerful as Jinbe writhing beneath you is a thrill like nothing else.

You surface, gasping, just a bit light-headed from holding your breath repeatedly for so long. Without hesitating, you start to mount him, but Jinbe stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hold on,” he says. “Is it safe?”

“I don’t have those parts anymore,” you say. Jinbe looks down at your stomach, and the lack of scarring there. “Law removed those for me the last time he sailed with us from Zou,” you explain. “I told him I’d owe him a favor if he would do it for me. Afterward, he told me I didn’t owe him anything as long as I didn’t tell anyone he did it for free.”

“A soft side, hm?” Jinbe chuckles. “Rare for a warlord.”

“I could say the same about you.” You move over his lower cock, lining him up while he holds your hips steady. “For all your strength, Jinbe, you’d never hurt me. Even if I wanted you to.”

Jinbe pauses for a moment, then leans in close. “Don’t misunderstand, Y/n. I’m still a Fish-man,” there’s a low, gravel to his voice now, “I still have my urges. Now,” he starts pulling you down onto his cock, and you gasp as the broad head spreads you open wide, “Shark fish-men don’t bite our romantic partners by nature. Our teeth are too sharp. However…” He doesn’t slow down or give you time to pause, and your fingers dig into his stomach at how easy it is for him to manipulate your body, how his cock spears in deep and bottoms out only halfway down, how his thickness forces your walls wide. “Stuffing you full–” Jinbe presses your back against the pool wall, ”–taking you for myself–” he starts to thrust up into you, “filling you up–” he growls by your ear as you whimper, “all are things I crave doing to you.”

“Jinbe!” you cry, trying to brace yourself against the rocky wall. It’s smooth enough to not cut, but you think he might bruise you if he gets too excited. But he’s currently fucking you so good that you don’t have it in you to care, especially not when his upper cock rubs against your own with every thrust.

“That’s it, my boy, just take it,” he purrs, “you wanna know what it’s like to fuck a Fish-man, I’ll show you.”

There’s so much pre-cum he slides in and out of you with only a slight resistance, and it sticks to your sensitive skin, something you realize must be an adaptation for sex underwater. The upper cock is painting it along your stomach as he fucks you. Your eyes roll back at the dual onslaught.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Already?” he teases, “I don’t know if to be flattered, or scold you for your endurance.”

“But it feels–ha–so fucking good,” you moan. “Can’t–help it!”

“Cute.” Jinbe chuckles. “Then go ahead–let go for me.”

A few more thrusts, and you’re forced over the peak, your eyes shutting tight as orgasm overwhelms you.

“Ahh–mmf!” Your cry is cut off as Jinbe’s hands wrap around your mouth. He holds you there for a second as you ride it out, shushing you.

“Someone’s coming,” he hisses, pulling you away from the pool’s edge and rapidly swimming backwards. He takes you around the other side of the cluster of boulders in the middle of the springs, hiding behind them. You go still, listening; a moment later the sound of voices reaches your ears–Franky and Usopp.

Jinbe pulls out of you, only to turn you around, facing you away from him and lining up his upper cock with your center. You look over your shoulder at him in shock. “Jinbe?” you whisper harshly.

“Just be quiet,” he whispers back. “No one will hear with our bodies underwater, so long as you don’t make a sound.”

“But–!” you bite your lip as he starts to penetrate you, his lower cock now positioned to glide over your own.

“Shh.”

The water in the center of the pool is too deep for you to reach the bottom; all you can do is brace your hands against the boulder and take what Jinbe gives you. Every thrust pushes your body up a little, but as you remain submerged up to your shoulders, there's no sound. However, the pleasure proves to be too much of a challenge as you stifle back a whimper.

“Mind your noises, boy,” Jinbe whispers. “You don't want them to hear, do you?”

You're caught off guard by this boldness coming from him–you'd never have thought he was the type. It seemed you had a lot to learn still about your new crewmate.

Franky and Usopp's voices get a little louder as Jinbe presses kisses to your shoulder. You bite your lip in pleasure and nervousness, now able to hear their conversation. The sound of splashing water reaches you both, and upon realizing the other men have entered the hot springs, you tighten up despite yourself.

Jinbe grins against your back, licking up the back of your neck to the shell of your ear. He doesn't need to say it out loud; you already know he's delighted to find out you like the risk. Unable to speak, you're entirely at his mercy in the water, helpless to the pleasure he commands all through your body.

Jinbe shifts, and you feel the head of his second cock nudging up at your entrance next to the first. You give him a shocked look over your shoulder, he tilts his head and raises a brow in question. You can practically hear him ask: Do you want it, boy? Can you take me?

The other men’s conversation grows louder, something about collaborating on a project. They have to be less than 30 feet away now.

You make your decision on a whim, nodding your consent, and Jinbe grins.

The push of his second cockhead is an immediate, challenging stretch, your insides gradually pushed apart to accommodate him. He doesn't stop until he physically can't fit another inch, stretching you taught around him. Like this, there's a constant, firm pressure against your g-spot no matter how he moves, something that makes your legs go weak. You're only held up in the water now by his cocks stuck inside you.

There's no way Jinbe can thrust like this–you're too full. Instead he rolls his hips against yours, humping into you so that his cocks grind up inside you. Your eyes roll back at how good it feels, his hushed panting warm against the back of your neck. One of his hands reaches around to cover your mouth, the other goes between your legs to jerk off your cock, instantly making you twitch and squirm. You keen into his hand, prompting him to squeeze tighter.

Jinbe leans in to growl lowly into your ear. “I was wrong about your endurance. Look how well you're doing…want me to fill you up, right here?” You nod fervently. “That's a good boy…”

He pins you to the boulder, rubbing faster circles on your cock, grinding himself so hard into you there's a slight, sweet ache. It lasts for another secret, filthy minute, until suddenly Jinbe's pace stutters and he breathes out harshly as he hits his peak. Both his cocks spurt into you at intervals, hot stickiness filling you and forcing your walls to swell even further. The sensation pushes you over the edge, your moan muffled into his hand. The orgasm rocks through you, walls spasming around him as you ejaculate into the water.

He holds you there for a minute while you both silently ride out your highs, catching your breath. Then he gently pulls out one cock at a time, only uncovering your mouth afterward. Jinbe presses your legs closed as he whispers into your ear.

“Better not let any spill out, my boy. You'll contaminate the spring even more.”

“Who's fault would that really be?” you mutter.

He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Come on. You'd better get back to the showers. Want help?”

“I'll be okay,” you smile wryly. “The real challenge is to climb out of the spring without spreading my legs.”

“I can take care of that.” He hooks an arm around your middle and swims you to the far edge of the pool, where he lifts you up easily and places you out on land.

You have to shuffle awkwardly to keep everything in as you walk around the perimeter toward the showers. Your towel was on the shore by Franky and Usopp, but they've seen you naked before during group baths, so that's not an issue. They call out to you as you come into view, mentioning their surprise that you were there at all.

“Yeah, Jinbe and I were soaking around the corner,” you say, keeping your face as straight as possible.

“Oh, he's here too? I didn't hear you guys.”

“We weren't talking.”

As you waddle off toward the showers, deftly avoiding eye contact, you figure you're technically telling the truth.

#jinbe x reader #jimbei x reader #x reader #trans male reader #one piece imagines #reader insert #zen writes

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betweenbreaths · 11 hours

Note

So, can I request number 14 or number 17 with Rafayel? Whichever sparks your interest. I'm not asking for both, btw! 😭 Just can't choose between them. Thank you :)

A/N: Hi Anon! I went with number 17 ("Suck on my fingers") for this one. Gotta love 'em fish sticks~ Hope you enjoy!

Rating: M

Prompt list

++++++++

You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

Rafayel's hands have always been attractive to you. Not that the rest of him isn't already drop-dead gorgeous (you can already hear his dramatic complaints in your head), but his hands are particularly beautiful somehow. It could be that you've spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at him while he paints (while on duty as his bodyguard, of course), eyes zooming in onto his long, slender fingers wrapped around his paintbrushes. You'll trace the contours of his knuckles, the veins in protruding from his skin, wondering how it would feel like to the touch.

Despite disliking physical contact, every now and then you'll have the chance to hold his hand, whether it's to forcibly drag him out of his studio to attend an event or to pull him aside to safety when you sense that he's in danger. Then there are instances when Rafayel just asks to hold your hand because "it's cold" when it's really not, and you get to feel the warmth of his palm seeping into yours and spreading to your cheeks.

Soooo yes. You might have a little crush on your employer.

It wasn't at all part of the plan originally. You had gotten closer to him only because you needed him to cooperate and give you the name of the suppliers that sold him that peculiar red coral stone; it was purely for work; for the safety of Linkon City.

Which meant that accompanying him on day trips to various scenic locations in search of inspiration for his next masterpiece, fetching him late-night snacks for his sudden cravings and accompanying him as his bodyguard to the many events he'd attend, was all for the greater good.

But now, you're not so sure that even this can be justified as part of your job.

"Suck on my fingers."

Yeah, there's no way you're including this in your work report.

Rafayel has you cornered on the edge of the couch in his studio, one hand on your lower back while you lean as far back as you can against the soft cushions, and his other hand raised so that his index and middle fingers are pressed to your lips.

You're not sure what to make of this. Just five minutes ago you had been celebrating your win at arm wrestling and Rafayel had complained about his fingers hurting. As always, he rejected your offer to take him to the hospital, and insisted that you administer emergency first-aid before his hand became unusable and he was forced to retire from his job.

And apparently, Rafayel's idea of first-aid measures is sucking on his fingers.

You push his hand away, freeing your lips to speak.

"That's not how first-aid works," you tell him with a pointed glare to mask how flustered you're getting, but he's quick to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger, trapping you in place before you can run.

"But when children get hurt, don't you humans always 'kiss it better'?" There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks at you.

"That's not the same as sucking, is it?"

"And the injury to my fingers is far graver than a typical knee-scrape for a human child."

"The grip you have on my chin suggests your hand is perfectly fine, Rafayel."

The veteran actor's grip on you loosens right on cue, and he feigns a pained expression.

"What a barbaric city we live in. I guess deepspace hunters are in the habit of wounding innocent civilians and leaving them to die."

Rafayel continues to ramble on, and his words fade into the background as you consider your next move here. There's really no winning this man-child, and your only way out of this is to beat him at his own game.

"Fine."

"—Thomas will never let you hear the end of— Wait, what?"

"I said, 'fine'," you repeat, before removing Rafayel's hand on your chin and uncurling his fingers, much to his visible bewilderment. He starts to panic when you open your mouth, bringing his hand closer and closer. He watches without uttering a word as your tongue darts out, licking up the length of his index finger before enveloping it with your lips, teeth grazing his skin.

Your eyes don't leave his face, and you watch with some satisfaction as his eyes seem to darken and his ears begin to turn bright red.

Without warning, Rafayel withdraws his hand.

"H-Hey, I was just kidding. Since when did you take me so seriously?"

"Since you claimed you were gravely injured, I figured I should take you seriously."

Rafayel is momentarily at a loss for words, and he pauses to search your eyes, perhaps to see if you're actually mad at him for taking his joke too far.

"Besides," you add, "you seemed to like it."

You're not sure where the courage to utter such provocative words are coming from, but the expression on the usually chatty artist's face is priceless.

Rafayel's lips are parted, but no sound is coming out. His dumbfounded state continues for a few more seconds that feel longer than they should, until he finally asks a question in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"And you... Did you like that too?"

He already knows the answer; it's not like you're making much of an effort to hide how turned on you are at this point, not with his body pressed against yours and your breaths growing shallower by the second.

Your hand finds his, and raise his fingers to your lips once more. His fingers are long, slender, beautiful...

And they taste so good.

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to try again to be sure."

#Anonymous #asks #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #lds #lds rafayel #rafayel fanfiction #rafayel fanfic #my writing

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yooglefics · 1 day

Text

Intentions don’t mean much.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!partner Wordcount: 670 words Genre: Angst. Hurt / comfort. Established relationship. Song drabble. Summary: Yoongi is having some bad days and, in the end, deciding to keep it to himself to not worry his partner is not the best idea. More info under read more.

Includes: Mentions of bad mental health, implied depression. Nothing too dark but Yoongi overthinks a lot. Lack of communication. Author's note: A little drable inspired by The Craving ( Jenna's version ) because I just had to write something after listening to it. Is pretty short but I kind of like it as is, because it can be read with the song in the background uwu. Hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a reblog, like, follow, comment or send an ask, donate on ko-fi and what not. As always, thank you for reading <3

He is scared of putting too much weight on her shoulders, of driving her crazy because of his thoughts, and fears; the problems in his head, the ones that don't even have anything to do with her.

On bad days he tries to be reassuring. Holding her hand while sharing a cup of coffee and cuddling with her on the couch. Yes, it’s a bit selfish because it does good to him too, knowing she is with him even when his psyche reminds him of the possibility that they, too, are part of something temporary. That it could end sooner than expected, which is not much to say since he doesn't want it to end at all.

Is not that he doesn't believe she loves him, of course not. He believes everything she says, even the little conspiracy theories she rambles about at night in their bedroom. But, his brain tells him, life is unpredictable and the world goes around and around and around and…

When it gets too bad he spends most hours of the day in his studio. Even sleeps (or at least tries to) there. She brings him lunch and he kisses her cheek or forehead, sweetly and full of love. An attempt to not worry her.

Some nights, as he lays on the leather couch, he hopes she will knock on the door, looking for him and asking him to come to bed. He would say yes, even if that meant just playing with her hair as she fell asleep on his chest while he lays with his eyes open and his mind never shooting down.

But it doesn’t happen.

Is still dark outside when he hears her socket steps against the wooden floors, the beeps and trumps of the coffee machine following close behind, and he decides to join.

“Isn't it too early for coffee?” he asks, leaning in the doorway.

“Is six, just one hour early.”

“Oh.”

“How did you sleep?”

He keeps quiet, a bit confused with himself as to how he didn't realize so much time passed.

“Did you sleep?” She asks instead, tone different this time and he doesn't like something in it.

“Don't worry about it.” He tries to dismiss, coming closer and wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder while they wait for the melancholy sounds announcing their beverage is ready.

But a sniff comes instead.

It takes a second for his tired brain to register it, yet is quick to react when she tries to move away, hugging her firmly against his chest. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Is silly.” she murmurs back.

“Tell me anyway?”

“Is just… after so long, I don’t know a lot about you still. And I wish I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry about it. I don’t know what just—”

“Hey,” he softly calls out, turning her around as he looks for her gaze, “don’t apologize for it. Is on me, I’m going through some shit but I’m okay.”

She worries her lip between her teeth before asking, “Have you slept at all in the last few days?”

“A little bit.” Pretty vague, not wanting to bring concern around his insomia. But her eyes get glossy again and his open in surprise. In realization that doing that is what is upsetting her. He hates that. “I slept a couple hours yesterday after lunch, maybe that’s why I’m still awake.”

“You aren't tired then?”

A different kind, he thinks. And considers answering that while she fixes his head, but he still isn't sure. “Maybe you just need to do that for a while so I don't wake up until tomorrow.”

That makes her smile and her eyes fall to his again. But is hard to ignore the bags under them and the bigger issues. “I'm going to the store later, I'll bring you that tea we saw the other day. We can drink that before going to bed and see if it helps. Deal?”

“Deal.”

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle .

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starfxkr · 2 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/starfxkr/751491327267667968/i-think-it-was-you-that-had-th-hc-that-pope-and

So I went to listen to this song because I’ve never heard it before and now I’m begging you to write a little blurb about it

🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡

it was just nice to hear his voice, with pope going to college on the mainland, and you relegated to community college on the island, you felt lonelier than ever. even with your alternating weekend visits it just wasn't the same.

so when he proposed discord calls during the week you were ecstatic. now you could see and talk to him whenever the night was right.

and the night couldn't have been better.

"shit...you're so fuckin hot, i can't wait to come back home just so i can touch you again." thank god pope had his own room, if his roommates could see him now he wouldn't hear the end of it--he was gripping the base of his dick in efforts not to cum, doing his best to focus on the distant waves crashing in the background as he watched you circle the vibrator around your clit.

you hated getting like this, you'd been looking forward to your call all day and you'd been walling around hot and bothered, snapping at any and everyone, "i can't keep doing this, i need you home." and uncharacteristic whimper leaves your lips but you don't care.

pope starts stroking himself again, groaning when you spread your lips so he can see your hole twitching in need.

"it's almost over, one more semester and i'm yours for good i promise." he brings a hand down to cup his balls and you know he doesn't have much in him left to hold on.

letting your head fall back against the pillow you hold the broad head of the toy press right where you want it until you're panting his name, "pope...oh fuck, please come home--fuck--imissyouimissyou." your back arches and your toes curl as you cum and all you hears in a soft "oh shit." as you raise your head to watch him.

pope's eyes are clenched shut, his stomach trembling as cum shoots out of him like a high pressure jet--splattering across his chest and face until he's wrung dry.

"damn, look at that." he lifts his hand to show you the mess he's covered in and pope's smiling when you let out a sharp cackle.

"good thing you got that out before you came back, you not gonna shoot my club up with all that."

he rolls his eyes and reaches for some tissue and cleans himself off, "shut up dude, you just do that to me."

you make no moves to get dressed, just watching him as he hums some song you don't know, "i really do miss you."

"i miss you too, like i said just one more semester and i'm yours."

in reply, you let out a yawn setting up your computer next to your pillow as he sets his up too, "wanna play our game?"

"you always fall asleep first."

"no i don't!"

pope rolls his eyes, picking the category and starting, "whatever. constellations: andromeda."

"boötes."

"cassiopeia."

you don't make it to "f" before you're asleep.

#✨.txt #pope heyward prompt #fox!reader

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lieslab · 4 hours

Text

Idle town

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: Being quiet and a little ditsy is all fun and games until your boyfriend either accepts you or has something to say about it.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: This is something I've never done before. I've taken two different requests and combined them. If you'd like to know why, I've got to be real, the wheels weren't spinning in my head. I couldn't come up with sixteen different drabbles in total without them being repetitive and I don't like doing that. I don't think anyone wants to read repetitive stuff.

So in saying that, some of these are geared towards the reader being more quiet. Others are more where the reader is kinda out of it and not paying much attention. So to the two of you that requested these, I hope this works <3

_ _ _

Chan:

So many thoughts were running through your head. A cognitive wheel of clusterfuck that never seemed to stop turning. Over and over again, the hum of your brain churned out thoughts like a never ending robotic machine.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hmm?” You blinked, suddenly snapped out of your thoughts.

“I’ve been talking for the past five minutes. Did you hear what I just said?” His eyebrows furrowed and his head tipped to the side. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Sorry, I’ve just been stuck in my thoughts lately. So what were you saying again?”

“I was talking about the new song that I was working on.”

“What about it?”

“I’m stuck on a certain part.”

“Can I listen to it? Maybe a fresh set of eyes and ears will help you. Have you had the guys listen to it yet?”

“Not yet, but yeah. Maybe you can help me figure it out. There’s a specific part that I feel like I’m missing, but I don’t know what it is.”

You watched as he pulled out his laptop and opened the file. A melodic beat floated from the laptop speakers and drifted into your ears. You had to fight to stay concentrated on the song and not drift back into your thoughts.

When it stopped where Chan had stopped producing it, it turned off. He glanced over at you, almost sheepishly. “So what do you think?”

“I think it would do really well with some added drums in the background. Drums are the baseline of a lot of songs. The steady beat helps keep pace for other instruments. Sometimes, it’s almost like the foundation. What do you think?”

“I think,” he smiled, “I’m dating a genius.”

“You could say that again.”

“I’m glad you’re listening this time and you haven’t floated away in the clouds.”

All you could do was send him your own sheepish smile.

_ _ _

Minho:

Crash!

You jerked your head up with wide eyes. Around you, shards of glass glistened along the ceramic floor. You shut your eyes and forced yourself to remain calm. This was the third time this week that this had happened.

Heavy thuds slapped the floor as Minho burst from his room and came rushing. He was breathless as he reached the edge of the sunlit kitchen. “Are you okay, I heard-” He paused when he saw the glass around your feet. “Are you injured?”

“No, I’m just annoyed, I guess. I’ll clean it up, just let m-”

“No!” His hands went up with a face full of worry. “Just stay there and don’t move. You don’t have socks or shoes on. You don’t need to get glass in your feet. Don’t move, I’ve got it.”

Too many times you had found yourself feeling absent-minded. It started with a quietness that enveloped you and then it slipped into a full daydream. Usually, you’d catch yourself and stop it, but sometimes you forgot about your surroundings.

You mumbled apology after apology as Minho swept up the shards. Humiliation filtered straight into your core. “I really didn’t mean to,” you continued.

“I know you didn’t mean to. However, I think we should ban you from glass cups. No more glass cups, plates, or bowls. I’m going to get you an entire plastic set, so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“The next time you apologize, I’m throwing a glass at your head.”

You blinked in shock, caught off guard by the sudden threat. Minho grinned and kissed your forehead. “I’m just kidding, I love you. Do you love me? Of course, you do.”

Before you could respond, he disappeared to the other side of the room to dispose of the glass, so nobody else got hurt.

_ _ _

Changbin:

The groan from Changbin caused you to glance over at him. The familiar hum of the car’s engine beneath you cut off. His lips stuck out in a pout and he side-eyed you. With a loud hmph, he spun away from you and glanced out the window.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“You’re not paying attention to me. I tried to ask if you wanted to go have dinner somewhere, but you’re not listening to me. You don’t love me anymore.”

“That’s not true, I just-”

“How much aegyo do I have to do to get your attention?”

“Now, hold on, don’t you da-”

His body flopped back, laying along the center console, the back of his head greeted your thigh. You glanced down at him with wide eyes as he called your name in a baby voice.

The familiar feeling of disgust crept up in your stomach. Your face scrunched up in disapproval. “Why do you have t-”

“Why don’t you love me? Hmm?” His lips stuck out in a dramatic pout and he poked his cheek. “How about now? Binnie is just the cutest.”

“Are you done now?”

He was not done, unfortunately. On and on he went with his complaints. When he didn’t get the reaction he wanted, he reached up while cooing and tugged at your cheeks.

You smacked his hand away and leaned back. “Get your dirty paws off of me!”

“I don’t have paws!”

He shoved his fingers into your face and wiggled them. “Can you count? There’s ten! Should we count together?”

“Should we stop hanging out with Hyunjin so much, so you don’t pick up on his theatrics?”

“Meanie! Meanie!” He cried louder with a finger pointed at your face. “You don’t really love me!”

“You have three seconds to start running, before I start t-”

With a loud yowl, he scrambled off your lap, jerked the car door open, and took off. You didn’t waste time getting out of the passenger’s seat and chasing him around your yard. No matter how much you seemed annoyed, you loved him with your entire heart.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Hmmh.” Hyunjin hummed softly as he took in your appearance.

You were sitting criss-cross applesauce on the couch. Your hands were folded in your lap. For quite a while now, you have been zoned out.

“Can you hear me?” He asked, but received no response. “What if I raise my voice?” His tone grew louder by a few octaves. When you didn’t respond, he frowned. “How peculiar.”

He stepped closer, but you were still in your own world. Wrapped around in your own pleasant daydream, you had no idea what was coming. Hyunjin’s hand outstretched and he gently waved it in front of your face, but no response.

He stepped closer and bent down towards you. With narrowed eyes, he pushed his head towards yours. “If I told you I knew all your secrets, would that snap you out of this?” He whispered.

When you didn’t respond, he stuck his tongue out with a scowl. With no response, he sat back on his legs with a sigh. His eyes narrowed while he tried to figure out how to snap you out of your daze. It wasn’t new for you, it was something you did a lot. He usually didn’t mind it, but he wanted to talk to you.

His face lit up once he realized what he could do. With a small giggle, he pushed himself up and took off to the bedroom. When he came back, he stepped halfway into the living room and stared down at you.

“I’m giving you one more chance to snap out of it.”

With no response, he shrugged. “I suppose I’ll have to resort to more drastic measures.” He raised the nerf gun and then he-

Ping!

A cry escaped your lips as the styrofoam bullet slammed directly into your eye socket. The stinging pain caused your eye to water. He gasped and came rushing towards you, the plastic gun hit the floor in the process.

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry! I was aiming for your forehead!”

As you rubbed your eye, he dropped to his knees and cupped your face. You blinked rapidly, trying to get over the faint current of pain. His hand cupped your cheek as he gently pulled your hands away. “Here, let me see it.”

Your eye was bright red from irritation and watery. Other than that, it seemed to be fine. “Can you see?” He gently turned your head from side to side. His hand reached into the air. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“A few,” you mumbled as you rubbed your eyes again. “What was that for?”

“You zoned out and I wanted your attention.”

“You could have just shaken me.”

“Well, yeah, but…” He trailed off with a frown. “I’ll remember that for next time. Are you alright? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? I can call an ambulance if we need to.”

“I’ll be fine, I just think I need to flush it with cold water. I think dirt got into it or maybe it’s just my eyelashes.”

“Do you want me t-”

“Not really, I’ve got it.”

He felt awful as he leaned back. You got up and started to walk back to the hallway. He frowned and turned back to go after you, but to his surprise, you were holding the nerf gun at his head.

“Baby?” His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”

“Payback.”

“Wait!” He cried as he curled into himself. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to nearly take out your eye! Don’t do this to me, you’re better than this! This isn’t you!”

“You did this to me!”

“Nuh-uh! I-”

Ping!

Hyunjin shrieked as you pulled the trigger. The neon green bullet flashed through the air and before you knew it, there was a soft pop. The rubber section on the end had attached itself to the center of his forehead.

He groaned and placed a hand to his heart. Without another word, he slumped back against the couch with wide open eyes. His tongue fell out of the corner of his mouth and you snorted.

His own snort fell out before he clamped a hand over his mouth. “Baby, don’t make me laugh. Corpses aren’t supposed to giggle. I’m trying to commit to the bit!”

“You’ve already failed.”

“I was doing so good until you made me laugh.” He reached up, pulled the bullet off, and dropped it to the ground. “Really though, let me help you.”

“I’m banning nerf guns.”

“You know what? I’m not mad about it. You should because next time, I might accidentally kill you somehow.”

_ _ _

Han:

“Honey?” Han’s voice came from behind you. The two of you were curled up on the couch together.

“Hmm?”

“Do you feel like talking today?”

“Not really. What about you? Do you feel like talking today?”

“Meh, not much. It’s just one of those days, you know?”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

A soft sigh came from Han. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you tighter to his chest. You didn’t fight it as your legs tangled together.

He shifted and gently placed his face in the crook of your neck. With a deep inhale, he got a whiff of your scent. The sweetened smell of your shampoo and conditioner sent soothing waves of bliss through his body.

Your hands reached up and gently laid on his own hands. A faint blush came across your cheeks as he gently pressed a soft kiss to your neck. The simple gesture sent electric shocks along your spine.

Both of you had days where you weren’t up for much talking. Talking required energy and sometimes, you just didn’t feel like it. Sometimes, you had days where you wanted to live in your head.

It was nice to be in a relationship with someone who understood it. The two of you didn’t have to do anything because you understood one another. Sometimes, you both just wanted to relax without the desire to talk.

It was so nice to have a connection with someone where the two of you just got it. It wasn’t often that people like this existed, but the ones that were out there, they were special. The comfortable silence where actions spoke louder than words, you wouldn’t change it for anything.

For the rest of your life, you’d cherish it.

_ _ _

Felix:

“So lately, I have been thinking about what you told me the other day and your quietness. I used to think that maybe I was doing something wrong, so I did some research on it. I learned that sometimes people that are quiet tend to be more introverted and self-sufficient.”

You hummed softly in agreement with his words. The two of you were sprawled out on a blanket in a park. With the bright yellow sun radiating warmth from above, you soaked up the bliss of the day.

The warmth of the sun, the chirping birds, the feeling of Felix playing with your hair, and the scent of wildflowers. For the past twenty minutes, your head had been laying on his lap.

Intrigued by the small patch of flowers nearby, he asked if he could put them in your hair. You didn’t fight it and that’s when his fingers started to weave the stems in.

The eye-catching yellow of buttercups, the pollinated dandelions that stained the tips of his fingers a matching brilliant color. The milky white yarrow that he weaved between the two shades of yellow. You didn’t mind any of it.

“I think that can be such a beautiful thing, you know? How cool is it to function inside your own head? Some people think that’s a weakness, but I don’t think that it is.”

“I wish I could do that sometimes, but I tend to cling onto people. I like to have my voice heard and I want to be praised. I’m sure you want that too, so I’m here to tell you that I think that’s an amazing ability to have.”

“I know you talk sometimes and every time you do, I feel like it’s such a privilege for me. I don’t get to see everything inside your mind all the time. I know it must be pretty scary to be vulnerable and open up to people. Google says that sometimes people are afraid to be more loud.”

“I don’t know if that’s true for you and you don’t have to respond to that. You don’t have to respond to any of this, I’m just…” He smiled and continued to braid strands of your hair. “You see? I’m just venting and rambling again.”

“If you ever need anything, I hope you come to me. If I’m talking too much, just let me know. Google also said that sometimes people prefer listening rather than talking. Despite my constant stream of conversation, I hope that you know you can talk to me too.”

“Whatever is going on in that brain of yours, it’s fascinating. I love you so much and even if there’s days where you rarely speak, I’ll love you anyway.”

He bent down over your head and pressed a warm kiss to your head. “So thank you for being you and thank you for being mine.”

“Thank you for understanding,” you softly got out as your eyes met his. “So many people can be cruel about it. Sometimes I just…I don’t know, I just feel better being quiet.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. If you ever have any issues for anyone, just let me know, sweetheart. I’ll put those taekwondo lessons to good use.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

There was a silent tension between the two of you that you didn’t know how to break. In the distance, people quietly talked among themselves. The two of you were dressed up and in some well-known Italian restaurant.

Seungmin’s fork scraped across his glass plate and you winced at the harsh sound. You twirled your fork around your own pasta. The scent of fresh basil and acidic tomato reached your nostrils.

“Are you okay?” You finally got out.

“Am I okay? Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like I brought my significant other out to dinner and have been ignored half the night. I’m totally fine, don’t worry.”

You pressed your lips together in a frown. This wasn’t going how you intended it to go at all. Seungmin had been looking forward to this night for quite a while now and you were destroying it with your hesitation to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you finally got out. “I haven’t meant to come off that way. I’ve had a long day and sometimes I get overwhelmed and I mentally shut down. I didn’t mean for you to think I was ignoring you.”

Seungmin’s head perked up at your voice. “Rough day at work?” He threw out the suggestion as a hail mary.

“You have no idea. My boss has been up my ass and down my throat at the same time and-”

“I hope they haven’t because that’s my job.”

You blinked, entirely taken back by his words. The confusion laced in your face made him chuckle. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, so what’s the big issue? Why is your boss being the big bad wolf?”

“Because he’s a dick,” you grumbled. “He’s constantly telling us to work faster and that our work isn’t good enough. Yet at the exact same time, earlier he told us that we should be proud of ourselves and then offered us an ice cream day.”

“How can a person be hot and cold at the same time? I don’t understand it and I’ve been silently thinking about it. It’s annoying and I just-” You shut your eyes and sighed. “Sorry for ruining dinner, I’m just trying to process everything.”

“You didn’t ruin dinner, I’m just annoyed and taking it out on you. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I feel like it’s been a while since we’ve done something like this. I just want to enjoy it, you know? Not to be a sap, but I’ve missed you lately.”

“You see me every day.”

“I can see you every day and still miss you. You can be sitting at the bar while I make breakfast and I’ll still miss you. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I’ve got a soft spot for you.”

Your face softened at his words and a teasing grin grew across his face. “While I’m at it, I should point out that you got sauce on your face.”

Your face fell instantly. “What?” Your eyes widened in shock. “Where?”

He bent down, dipped his finger in his pasta sauce, and smeared it across the tip of your nose. Your face scrunched, you grabbed your napkin, and quickly wiped it away.

“Seungmin! We’re in a public restaurant!”

“So? Who cares? They should be thankful for dinner and a show.”

“You are unbelievable,” you mumbled while still wiping your nose off. The scent of tomato still lingered in your nostrils.

“I love you too.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

“And then I wrecked my car.”

“Mmhm.”

“And I flipped it.”

You hummed again.

“With me inside it.”

“And then?”

“It blew up and I died.”

“Wow,” your voice came out flat.

Jeongin knew you weren’t listening and that was proof of it. He leaned back in his chair with a deep-seeded sigh. Usually, you were pretty good at listening, but once your hands were full, you tended to zone out.

There you were in the kitchen with an apron. Ingredients were scattered throughout. There was a pile of flour here and there. The front of your black apron was smeared in it.

You dumped a bag of chocolate chips into the messy dough that you created. Struggling to stir the sticky batter, you sighed and wiped your hand along your forehead. In the process, a mixture of butter and vanilla smeared along your skin. When you felt the greasy texture, you groaned.

Jeongin couldn’t help, but laugh. You shot him a glare, stomped your foot, and huffed. “It’s not funny!”

“Sometimes, I think it’s ironic that you were born a blonde.”

“Do you have a death wish?” You flung the wooden spoon up with annoyance. Both of your eyes widened in shock at the soft splat behind you. A hand cupped your mouth as you whipped around.

Dough stuck to the peach wallpaper. You cursed and rushed over, wetting a rag in the process, to wipe it away before you ruined the wallpaper. Jeongin couldn’t help, but laugh again.

“You’re such a klutz sometimes.”

“It’s not my fault I was born blonde! That’s not even a nice assumption! Do you know how many blondes are smart?”

“What a shame that one of them isn’t you.”

With a whim of anger, you stuck your hand into the sticky cookie batter and whipped a ball of it at him. He yelped as the heavy batter stuck to his white shirt. “Hey!” He cried out. “What was that for?”

“Do you want another one?”

“No!”

“Take it back!”

“No!”

With a fierce determination, you picked up that bowl and began to march towards him. He screeched and got up to run away. The two of you bickered while you ran.

“Stay away from me, you demon!”

“Get back here!”

“Run faster!”

“I’m trying!”

Unfortunately, you forgot about the flour that had begun to coat the bottom of your bare feet. White footprints of yours began to circle around the middle of the kitchen island. Jeongin’s socked feet were causing the same issue.

Before you knew it, you squeaked as your feet slipped in a spot of melted butter. Down you went and Jeongin spun around with wide eyes. The hollow thunk sent both of you into sudden shock.

The wet and warm texture of the batter coated your scalp. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip. You squeezed your eyes shut and then-

“Hey, babe, I think you’ve got something on your head.” He reached out with a fist and knocked on the metal bowl. “Anyone home in that head of yours?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, helmet head.”

You opened your mouth, but the feeling of batter sliding down your forehead stopped you. You sucked in a deep breath and let out an annoyed sigh. A glob of greasy batter slipped down the curve of your nose.

Deep-belly laughter came from Jeongin as he collapsed to his knees in front of you. You pressed your lips together, but soon you found yourself laughing too. You reached up and pulled the bowl off your head. You already knew it was going to take a lot of shampooing and warm water to get everything out.

“I wish you could see your face right now. You look so silly. Oh god, I love you so much.”

“It’s not,” you sucked in a breath, “funny.”

“You’re right.” He whipped around and pulled out his phone. You glared as he pressed a few buttons. “It’s hilarious, so say hi to the guys for me.”

“Wha-”

With a loud click of his phone, he snapped a photo. “This will look so good in the group chat. They’ve been asking about you lately, I think this will be sufficient.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What are you going to do? Stop me?”

“You’re so lucky there’s a ton of batter weighing me down and holding me back.”

“Sure, blame the batter and not yourself. Not like you want to risk tripping and falling again, hmm?” You stuck your tongue out at him and he mirrored your expression.

His hand stuck out to help you up. “Come on, butterfingers. Let’s go get you out of this mess. In the meantime, I think I’ll just ask Felix if he can bake us some cookies instead.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi

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