#MY SKIN HAS MELDED TO MY RIBCAGE

[jrueships]

my pretty pretty hot girl

and his excitable sticky iPad kid son who cries and throws his incredibly bulky and padded ipad whenever he dies in roblox

[dhampling]

warming 18+ fem!reader, 1.2k

Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill. - early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so. inspired by this anon!!! wc: 1.2k cw: 18+, cockwarming, fondling, breeding if you squint so hard, fingering, afab reader, if there are errors no there aren't

You sincerely know you don’t hear him before he approaches, and yet the dip in the bed doesn’t startle you. Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill.

He has to know. 

Your heart has to have given you away, no matter how unaware you are of the thrum nor how you try to temper it. It’s a gentle awakening as the birds begin their early song from rag-woven nests on their roofs outside the window, despite the world still being a few dark hours away from the burgeoning break of a new sun. 

You quietly wriggle back, closer to the backboard of your tavern bed; and lift the covers by the far corner for your cool-chested lover to slide in under at your side with his usual thieves’ ease. 

Astarion settles swiftly. Captures you in a few silent smiley.

A few moments of a still embrace before he takes the quilt and lifts it over the both of your heads, only to hold your face in one deep sleepy kiss whilst he melds himself to your sleep-warmed figure. His head rests on your inner arm, your other wrapped around his ribcage, while his own both capture your torso in a reverent grasp.

He’s tried to warm himself, you can tell. 

He’s been under his own quilt. Your heart warms at it, so he can try and ensure his stony embrace isn’t quite so shocking to your system - but there’s little he can do to give himself heat that doesn’t involve you, and it’s something he knows as well as you.

You bow to kiss his curls and he shuffles in closer with a yawning sigh.

“Hungry?” 

“Famished, my love.”

Rumble tones. You offer your inner arm from under his head and he smiles dopily against the soft skin, planting languid kisses along the flesh as he sounds out the basilic vein and rouses it to stirring.

You wish you could see him in the early din. Watch as he worships your simple flesh. He’s divine, face of the gods; beautiful and sincere at your heel. 

When he has a secure lock on the vein and dips with little warning into a razor bite, it’s not as jarring as it otherwise can be. As when you offer him your neck after a long day of adventuring. It’s almost balmy to succumb to him like this, to know you have a few hours to rest after providing for him to feed with your beloved newly-warmed like a lamb in your arms.

The pain is still searing, of course; a wincing burn enough to cause strong discomfort. He reaches up under your half-gone sleepshirt and palms gently at your breast whilst he feeds in a familiar calming motion. The skin there is soft and heavy, pleasurable to the both of you when he grabs gently and holds you; thumb seeking a nipple to rub at, to pebble at his touch. 

You can hear his suckling above anything the world has to offer, the deep numb in the blood rushing to your head. The precision of his latch. The slightest wiggle of incisors in your butter-soft flesh; the swallowing of spit and the thick metal of your blood, the quiet whimper growling of his groans against skin. 

There are a few pained moments offset by his touches to your breast, where the intensity of his bite gives way to the delirious haze of bloodloss and you’re ecstatic in the hot thrum of your heartbeat. 

To give him his morning blessing. To allow his stomach the freedom of hunger for few precious hours. 

When he mounts your thigh you know he’s nearing the end of his feed, cock hard under his sleeping linens which loosen with each sleepy rut of his hips on you. By the time he’s finished his length is wholly worked free and beginning to leak his own nectar against your own sleepclothes. 

His arousal instinctively gives way to your own. You feel yourself growing pliable under his kisses whilst his fangs leave your flesh.

“You feel good, sweet one?” You murmur into his hair, and he nods slowly in response whilst slowly humping your thigh; erratic movements as he instinctively searches for the warmth of your cunt. 

“Thank you, perfect thing. Turn for me?”

He palms at the soft flesh of your ass under your sleepclothes as you give way to him. 

The moment you turn to face the wall he has you locked in his arms, one hand groping still at your breasts whilst the other works its way to your trousers and aids you in wriggling free of them by holding them open.

When his now-warm hand reaches round your front to finger lazily at the apex of your slit, the low groan of laughter in him gives way to small trembles. You can feel the nectar he coaxes free with ease, wet in wait of him.

“Warm me while we rest?” 

His voice is little more than a lusty whisper in your ear as he fiddles with the pebbling bud at your breast, hand at your honeyed cunt held still as you gently hump it in search of friction.

“Gods yes. Please.”

Your left leg gives way to him easily as he takes his newly-wet hand and lifts your inner thigh, lifting his burning cock from where it drips down onto the bedlinens and nestling it in the gap just where your sex ends.

He humps at your slit for a few moments in a fevered search of relief, the bulbous head of his cock delicious in the slick friction it offers. You want nothing more than for him to sink deep inside you and to keep him there forever with your violent spasms. 

When he does give you your deepest desire, you feel yourself melting. Fingers losing their tension as you curl into yourself, his tip breaching your hole in the most sinful of delights; dipping in a few shallow thrusts as he hitches your leg at his hip before sinking in one deep push to the hilt.

He’s big. Angry in sheer lust. His cock settles deep and he lets a delirious groan before you tap his arm in silent laughter. A room full of sleeping bodies and you’re indulging like this, as you have been for the past tenday. It feels beyond sinful. He bites at your shoulder with a huge smile and a deep breath.

You could die happy, you reckon. Him inside you, shuffling to ensure the comfort of your limbs without being held by him. He’ll remain hard for a good while yet with no friction and the reassuring weight of him inside you is fast becoming your favourite feeling in the realms. 

“I love you.”

It’s a quiet announcement to your shoulder, and the satisfied groan that follows is anything but. 

“I love you, too. More than you know.”

His lips leave your neck as you angle your head in search of a kiss, and he’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging. 

When he pulses inside you as your lips meet, tip filling your womb with prespill at the deepest part of your core; you can’t recall ever being happier.

“Sleep now, sweet thing. I’ve got you.”

And wrapped in his arms, buried inside you; you believe him.

Gods, you believe him.

[everythingheard]

@legaciestold said: "You will always be my brother." (Celine to Klaus)

Blood. It drips from the tavern walls, soaks into the floorboards underfoot, fills the air with its pronounced metallic scent — and stains Klaus' skin as yet another body drops from his arms to the ground with a thud. He has transformed the room into a canvas of his own design, painted it in crimson, yet it's not enough. Despite its potency, the ichor still fails to drown Aurora's words dredged up again and again in his own mind:

' I do not love you. I thought I did, but it's as if I see you clearly for the first time, and I find you a cruel, wretched thing. Pathetic, really, and unworthy of anyone's love, let alone mine. I could never love you. '

Blighted pain claws at Klaus' ribcage and threatens to punch straight through his chest; he's possessed by it, as he is by nearly every emotion since that night beneath the full moon, when he learned what he truly is. Elijah, Finn, Rebekah, all of them — how do they stand this intensity that not only threatens to consume him, but so often does? However, even as the query rises in his thoughts, he's already aware of the answer.

They're not beasts.

Evocations of his mother's lips forming the phrase that always echoes endlessly in his ears ( ' You're an abomination of nature ' ) seem to meld with that of Aurora's eyes, once so full of adoration, gazing at him with a hollow apathy until Klaus shoves his scarlet-smeared hands in his hair, his fingertips digging into his scalp. This torture feels enough to end him — only he knows it never will. There's no respite when you cannot die, when you cannot be killed, when you're afflicted with eternity.

He hears Celine in the doorway, her familiar cadence joining the cacophony of others screaming in his head. "Stop it!" Klaus' voice garners the decibels necessary to grow louder than the discord only he is privy to. As he turns on his heel to face her, he almost wishes he hadn't. "Your ties to me are mere threads, you are not bound to me by blood. And you should be glad of it!" When his boot connects to one of the few chairs not toppled over on the floor, it flies across the room and splinters to pieces as it hits the wall.

"My mother may have tried to suppress what I am, yet not a day goes by that I don't feel it, and it's destroying me!" Klaus' steps leave footprints of blood in his wake as he paces back and forth. "I'm going to destroy all of you along with me, surely you must understand that. I know you do." Now, the space between them disappears as he crosses the room to stand before her. "Even Elijah cannot look at me the same, I've seen it every day since — " Since they fled Castle de Martel and the approach of Mikael, since Aurora turned away from him in revulsion.

Klaus' eyes flicker to the ceiling, then back to Celine's face. "You'll say you wish to stand by me now, but every one of you will change your minds. So, when you claim that I'll always be your brother, I do not believe you."

[emeren]

ring me when you’re alone - levi ackerman

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader 

word count: 2k

content warnings: +18, smut, breeding, unprotected sex

notes: first time writing levi!!! huge shout out to @luvmegumi​ @oblxvion​ and @aotwrites​ for beta reading! 

SUMMARY: levi’s been gone on business for nearly a week, and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, he has a surprise up his sleeve. 

“i just,” you lifted your leg from the bubble bath, examining the way the droplets slid towards the crease of your knee. the sun was setting outside of the window, fingers tightly gripping your cellphone. “miss you.”

there was a brief silence on the other line; you knew levi had a difficult time articulating his feelings, so you were fine to wait. “miss you too, business has just been hectic recently.” 

a satisfactory smirk carved itself into your cheeks at levi’s strained words. it was funny hearing him get all flustered like this. you lightly blew at the bubbles in front of your face, free hand tracing a wet circle on the rim of the porcelain tub.

“you’ve almost been gone a week,” you sighed, thinking back to the last time you’d seen your abhorrently serious boyfriend. when he’d kissed your cheek in a parting gesture and disappeared into the security line at the airport. “our room’s a mess at this point, i’m afraid.” 

“is that so?” levi asked incredulously, his breathing uneven. it sounded like he was walking somewhere, but the way his lungs were expelling in a jagged manner had your mind wandering where it shouldn’t. you placed your leg back in the water, face no longer the only part of your body that was burning. “what’re you doing?” 

“taking a bath,” you spoke smoothly, hand leaving the rim of the tub to dip beneath the hot water. your first two fingers hesitantly tapped against your pelvis, hopeful that levi would be willing to entertain you for a moment. “levi, do you miss my body?” 

“pardon?” he choked in a leveled out surprise, voice merely tinted with the emotion. that was enough evidence for you; a light laugh slipping past your lips. 

“do you wish you could fuck me on the rim of our tub?” you questioned innocently. it was no secret that your blatancy was one of his turn ons, despite how he swore up and down that your foul wording had the opposite effect. levi was quiet for a moment; so quiet you worried you’d failed your plan. 

“such filthy thoughts you’re having, hm? teasing me like that,” he responded quickly, the conviction in his tone catching you off guard. your clit throbbed at his implication, fingers eagerly rubbing against the sensitive nerves. 

your hand was no match for the desperate and needy manner that levi touched you in, but it would have to do the job, considering he was on the other side of the country. 

“just miss you, so much,” you panted, the temperature of the water making your face break out in a light sweat. levi scoffed on the other end of the phone, clearly unimpressed by your whining. 

“do you even hear yourself right now?” his words were icy, but they clearly held no malicious intent. levi knew you were getting off to the sound of his voice, the harshness of his vocabulary, and the thought of you sitting on his lap and bouncing up and down on his dick. he knew. there wasn’t much that got past levi in the way of your emotions. “shamelessly asking me that, when you know i’m in public. just wait till i get home.” 

“can’t,” you lulled, your head rolling back onto the tub. you could just picture levi’s pale, bruisable flesh or the way he gritted his teeth when you sucked him off exactly how he liked. your fingers picked up their pace, the humidity of the bathroom amplifying the pressure that was building in your core. “need you now, ‘n you won’t be home till friday.” 

just then, your bathroom door flew open. the sound was startling enough, shooting up out of the water as your fingers nearly dropped your phone from their grasp. you couldn’t help the shriek that ripped through your chest, heart hammering against your ribcage. 

there stood levi in a white dress shirt and black slacks. his eyes were squinted in a mix of ridicule and amusement, thumb making a show of clicking the end call button. “tch, how pitiful. embarrassed about touching yourself in the bathtub, hm?” 

“you asshole,” you grinned, heart coming down from its startled high. levi had a small smile of his own, walking over and crouching down so the two of you were eye level. 

you knew that placing your wet hand against his face would scratch at his inner germaphobe, but frankly, you didn’t care. your fingers traced his fragile jaw, dull blue eyes staring you down in the best way possible as you slowly guided his lips to your own.

levi wasn’t one for kissing. he tended to be monotonous and stiff, but after nearly a week of no contact, his mouth melded to yours with ease. his hands remained rested against his knees as you invited your tongue inside his mouth, shifting in the porcelain tub so that you were sitting on your legs. 

you hadn’t meant for the kiss to be more than an excited greeting, but as he pressed his mouth harder against your own and your breathing grew staggered, you were lost in the taste of him. kissing him always felt fresh; liking waking up to a soft summer breeze in the curtains. 

your hand trailed from his jaw to tightly grip his neatly ironed shirt, both of his own hands coming up to caress your face. it was getting hard to breathe - wrapped up in his taste and smell and unwavering comfort. he shifted his head to the side for better leverage, tongue swiping against your own. that was levi’s way of saying that this was going to be much more than just a passionate kiss. 

“levi,” you mumbled against his lips, attempting to pull away, but levi had other plans. he engulfed your words in his mouth, kiss becoming frantic and needy in all the best ways. you loved how he came off as uncaring and cold, but was constantly so desperate for you and you alone. you were like a drug that he could only remain so composed in front of. 

you pulled back with a soft smirk on your lips, levi’s brows raised in annoyance. “sorry, i got a little carried away there.” he muttered, eyes hazy with ecstasy. 

“take your clothes off for me?” you asked quietly, your voice a hot whisper on his face. you didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated slightly; red, swollen lips parting just barely and the ghost of a hitch dragging from his chest. 

“eager, are we?” he asked seriously, lips just daring to upturn. you could only smile in response, pulling back to fully sit in the water. he stood from his crouched position, fingers coming to unbutton his dress shirt. your eyes followed his motions with arousal, your own hands lifting to squeeze your soapy breasts. 

you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened at the motion, fingers slowing the smallest amount. he was nearing the end of his shirt. 

“i missed you so bad,” you drawled, your cunt aching as levi finished getting undressed. the heat of the bathwater must’ve been getting to you - your eyes were cloudy and your forehead sweaty. 

“shit,” levi cursed, stepping in the water and coming to sit in front of you. his eyes were slitted in discomfort. “what’re you doing bathing in water this hot? it’s not good for you.” 

“better this way,” you mumbled, leaning forward so that your faces were inches apart. you moved slowly, carefully crawling onto his lap so that you were straddling his waist, exposed cock sliding easily against your center. levi swore at the sensation. 

levi’s fingers suddenly gripped your jaw, roughly pulling your face down to meet his. the kiss was frantic - a week of built up sexual frustration igniting the side of him that you didn’t usually see. his lack of composure, mouth wet and tongue sloppy against your own. the way his hands gripped your thighs under the warm water. 

you could feel the swollen tip of his dick against your clit, grinding down on it. you didn’t miss the small whimper that clawed its way from his chest, swallowed by your lips. 

once again, you pulled back from the kiss, looking at his face. 

levi’s cheeks were flushed, grip on your legs ridiculously tight. he wanted you so badly; wanted you to sit on him all pretty and make all his stress melt away. 

you brought your hand between your bodies, circling around his hard cock. your thumb swiped across his sensitive tip, levi nearly feral at the simplest of touches. he was so needy for you, eyes silently begging for you to ride him out. and you would. 

his eyes scrunched closed as you slid down on top of his dick, your cunt stretching with ease as you wrapped yourself around him. you were like a menace, kissing his pale skin and sucking on his jaw. there’d most definitely be a hickey there tomorrow, but for once in his life, levi couldn’t seem to care. 

“fuck,” he groaned out, head rolling back against the tub. the only time he’d let you take control, riding him and grinding yourself into his dick. “just- shit, just like that.” 

you placed a chaste kiss to his bruised neck, hands on his shoulders as you bounced your hips up and down, taking in the sight in front of you. his eyes closed, mouth parted and face flushed. his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead, chest glistening from the water. fuck, if levi wasn’t one of the most unknowingly attractive people you’d ever seen. 

you clenched around him as he bucked his hips upwards into you, a moan leaving your mouth in surprise. the bathwater was haphazardly sloshing over the rim, levi’s fingernails creating divots in your skin. it hurt, but in a way that had your brain doing flips. 

and levi couldn’t ignore the way your tits were bouncing up and down in front of his face, your body wet and hot as you took him within you. it’d been a long week without you, his cock twitching as you fucked each other. 

“gonna let me cum?” you asked breathlessly, the ghost of a smile on your lips. it felt ironic, asking such a question when you were clearly the one in control. your words had a certain effect on him; the thought of your pretty pussy throbbing around him and milking his seed driving him to insanity. his teeth were gritted, trying so hard to last as he let go of your hips to squeeze your soapy breasts. 

“only if you’re a good girl and clean this up when we’re done,” he seethed through his teeth as you brought your ass down, grinding a circle on his cock. it had you tossing your head back, the pressure in the pit of your stomach beginning to rear its head. 

you would give anything to remember how fucked-out levi’s face got. his fair complexion did little to hide his impending orgasm; face red and sweaty. 

the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, your arousal holding you in a steamy, wet chokehold. you would be a good girl for him, you would.  

“of course, anything for you,” you whimper, smiling as you watch your words wrap themselves around his head, brows furrowing as he allows himself to succumb. 

despite being in the hot bathwater, you can feel him come undone, your own orgasm quick to follow as he fills you up. your hips stutter against his, trying to contain your sounds by resting your head in the crook of his neck. 

levi groaned out as you run him dry. his hands leave your chest to grip your ass, squeezing lovingly as you panted out the rush of dopamine. 

“missed this,” levi breathed against your head. your tight cunt was still enveloping his dick, but neither of you moved. your heart swelled at his words, placing a soft kiss to his collarbone. “but why’d you have to mark me up like that?” 

“what ever do you mean?” you drawled out, trying to suppress your smile. you didn’t see the way he rolled his blue eyes, annoyance tracing his face. “your skin is just so pretty, i had to.” 

“tch,” he complained, lightly shoving your shoulder back. “you promised you’d clean all this water up.” 

“i know,” another kiss to his chest. “and i will, for you.” 

<3 <3 <3 

[eddieeatsass]

how about richie's birthday and he blows out his candles making a wish that eddie would kiss him

(Send me birthday themed prompts; smut and fluff welcome.)

What sweethearts, awe! Since you didn’t specify if you wanted fluff or smut this one will be purely fluff, hope you enjoy. :’)

---------

Richie Tozier had been on this earth for seventeen years, and he had made the same birthday wish for the last ten of them. It doesn’t matter that he was too young to fully understand what it meant to be in love at the ripe age of seven, he knew deep in his heart that he wanted to kiss his best friend.

Some things have changed, however. Kissing didn’t mean the same thing now than it did when he was seven. While his thoughts had started out with images of cheek kisses and long hugs on the playground, the years had matured his pining appropriately.

So as he took in a deep breath, steeling himself to blow out the candles on the shoddy cake-attempt his friends had lugged to his house on this Saturday afternoon, only one face flashed in his mind.

I wish Eddie would kiss me.

He opened his eyes and they locked with the same face sitting across the table, a cheery smile staring back at Richie’s dumbfounded one.

“Did you forget the next step, dumbass?” Beverly’s voice broke through Richie’s bubble, sending the world back into regular orbit.

“I was just building up the anticipation before performing my blow job, Beverly.” Richie recovered. He pursed his lips and blew the candles out in one breath. Half hearted cheers rung out around him and he couldn’t help but notice the way Eddie’s face flushed even as he rolled his eyes.

“Who wants the f-f-first piece?” Bill asked, leaning forward and cutting into the cake with the dull side of a spatula. The icing crumbled apart in chunks and scattered across the table.

“Not it.” Stan quipped, shooting his hand up to touch a finger to his nose.

“Stan, you made the cake.” Beverly retorted.

“Yes, and that is why I can confidently say it is not edible.”

“You made me a non-edible cake for my birthday?” Richie cocked his eyebrow, staring down at it as if it had offended him.

“You’re welcome.” Stan nodded.

“Well... if it’s not edible...” Richie didn’t think twice before shoving his hand down into the cake and grabbing a handful of its filling. The world moved in slow motion for the next second; Richie could hear his friends yelling, saw as Ben grabbed Beverly and moved her out of the range of impact and Mike dove on to his stomach, but his mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Richie’s palm made impact with Eddie’s face as it smeared cake across his skin, frosting and filling melding together to coat freckled features in muck. Richie only had a second to recover before short limbs were attacking him, knocking him to the ground and using their surprising force to climb atop Richie and pin him down like a starfish. Eddie barked out orders and the other Losers complied, grabbing the cake and shuffling over to help Eddie exact his revenge. By the time they were done, Richie was covered in cake from the top of his head to his collarbones. He was pleading for mercy, bucking his hips like he was a bull trying to throw Eddie off (which was half-way true). Finally, small hands detached from Richie’s wrists and he was able to properly buck Eddie to the ground.

“You got icing in my hair.” Eddie pouted once everyone’s laughter died down. “Sorry spaghetti man, but if it’s any consolation I probably have icing in my pubic hair after the beating I just got.”

“No one would ever willingly go near your pubic hair, Richie.” Stan deadpanned.

“Speak for yourself, Staniel. Mrs. Kaspbrak happens to love my pubic hair, says it makes me look like a man of the 70s.”

“Fucking gross, Rich.” Eddie slapped his arm lightly and pushed himself up off the ground. “I need to shower. Please tell me you own something other than two in one shampoo and conditioner.”

“So you want me to lie to you?”

“Dear god someone help this man.” Mike mumbled, helping Stan up off the floor.

“My mom might have something up to your standards.” Richie offered, standing up and brushing the stray crumbs off of his shirt. “Follow me.” They left the rest of the Losers downstairs as they wandered down the hall to Richie’s bathroom.

It was a small room consisting of only a toilet, a shower bath, and the tiniest sliver of sink they could fit into such a tight space. As it were, having two people in the room was a tight squeeze, but Richie never minded when it was Eddie.

Eddie sat on the sink as Richie pushed the shower curtain aside, searching the array of bottles for something Eddie could use to wash up. He whistled absently, some tune too unfamiliar to place but just familiar enough to warm the atmosphere until Richie finally found what he was looking for. “Ah-ha! Here we go.” Richie turned on his heels and handed the pink bottle to Eddie, whose eyebrows raised as he read the label.

“This is bubble bath.”

“It’s strawberry scented.” Richie offered.

“It’s bubble bath.” Eddie repeated slowly, as if Richie hadn’t quite understood him the first time. “Isn’t all soap the same?”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love.” “What-” “WHAT.”

Richie’s stared at Eddie in horror as he realized what he’d said. It had been a joke, or at least, it had meant to be one, but the truth was too palpable and it cut right through any humor that tried to soften it.

“THAT WAS A JOKE, RELAX EDS.”

“You’re yelling-”

“NO I’M NOT, YOU’RE YELLING.”

Silence stretched out between them as Richie’s heart threatened to break through his ribcage and pull an Alien. It took everything in him not to physically run out of the room, but something in Eddie’s gaze glued him in place.

“You’ve got a dumb way of professing your feelings for people.” “Wha-”

“You’ve told all of our friends about it, how did you not expect it to get back to me?” A smirked played across Eddie’s lips, triumphant, almost.

“Those sons of bitches.” Richie muttered, deflating slightly.

“Richie, you know you’re an idiot right?”

“Yeah yeah, I get it.”

“No, you don’t.”

Richie looked up from the spot he’d been focusing on on the floor, meeting wide brown eyes and an unwavering smile. Eddie reached forward and pulled Richie in between his knees.

“You don’t get it.” Eddie repeated, hushed.

He leaned up and closed the distance between them, slotting plush lips against Richie’s own slightly chapped ones. The kiss was chaste, quick to come and quick to go, but electrifying nonetheless.

Richie blinked down at Eddie in an absolute haze, his brain stuttering to keep up with the changes happening.

“Do you get it now?” Eddie asked, a bit of a shyer tone accompanying his question. “I’m not sure, let me just-” Richie swooped in then, grabbing Eddie’s face and pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed the life out of him. This time things were drawn out, slower and more heated. Eddie’s arms came to clutch at Richie’s, holding on to him tightly as Richie nearly pulled him off the small section of sink he was sat on.

When they finally pulled away they were both breathing heavy, silent as they let the weight of everything settle. Richie was the first one to speak.

“That was kinda gross, huh?”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

“We probably should have washed the cake off first.”

“What did Stanley even use to make it taste like that?”

“Our first kiss will forever be tinged with the flavor of dog shit.”

“I’m going to leave an angry yelp review.”

[calif0rnia-lovers]

tap out.

Request: soft kiss + wrestling with Ez and actually pinning him and he’s like wtf?????

A/N: I threw in some babies because Ez as a dad 😍😍😍😍😍 Also, trying to write more for Ez. Here’s some flirty domestic life for you. Hope you like it.

Summary: The way Ez tells it, you never pinned him. 

Words: 1.7k

The living room of the Reyes household is full of screams and giggles. And growls?

"Grab him, Sol!" 

Despite the request of her older brother, Marisol is scooped up by a passing Ez. Her giggles bounce off the walls as her father's lips cover her cheeks and neck with kisses. Seizing the window of opportunity, Iván tugs against his father's shirt and hoists himself onto Ez's back. 

When you round the corner, you find Ez overpowered. On hands and knees, he has a two-year-old Marisol clinging to his front. Her arms are wrapped around his neck as she hangs from to his chest koala style.

Your three-year-old son is on his back giggling as he narrowly avoids the playful swipe sent his way. Ez lowers Marisol to the ground. Reaching back, he grabs Iván, who groans in defeat as he is lowered to the ground. But the second one is down the other is climbing again. It is a cycle that has been on repeat for the last thirty minutes.

The three are full of giggles.

"Ezekiel-" you groan.

Ez freezes. He knows he’s caught. He was supposed to be putting the two to bed, not keeping them up. Your husband glances up at you with a sheepish grin on his face. Both children climb onto his back in his moment of relapse. Despite the stern look on your face, Ez refuses to break character. 

"Ahhhh--nooo," he groans, his body slowly sinking to the ground under the unbearable weight. “Y/N.....Help me....” Ez’s movements slow, his voice comes out strangled as he crawls towards you. "They’re....tooo....strong....”

As he reaches your feet, Ez collapses to the ground. His body stills, his tragic downfall earning him a compilation of excited giggles and claps.

After a moment passes, he peeks up at you.

"Aren’t you going to avenge me?" He whispers.

“No, that’s what you get.” Lowering the hamper from your hip to the ground. You step over your husband, bending down to take your daughter into your arms.

“I can’t believe I married a woman so cold-hearted,” Ez huffs, his hand finding his heart as you pick up Iván.

"You should’ve thought of that before you kept them up well past their bedtime." You smile as he sends a wink your way. 

After putting them both to bed, you find Ez still on the floor. Only he’s folded nearly all the contents of the entire hamper. The smile on his face causes your eyes to roll as you sit down across from him.

"Don’t try that smile on me," you giggle. Taking the T-shirt from his hands, you focus on folding it. As you glance up, you find him watching you with a soft smile on his lips. "I can’t believe you let two little kids beat you."

“Two against one,” Ez laughs. "Since when is that a fair fight?"

"Against you?" You lightly roll your eyes. "Please don’t tell me those muscles are for just show. Then I married you for all the wrong reasons."

Ez's brow arches. His smile brings the usual butterflies. His head tips to the side. "That’s what you married me for?" 

"What else?" You giggle. Your playful eyes meet his. Your nose scrunches in disgust. "For your brain? Ugh. Who finds that sexy?”

Ez shifts the hamper out the way. "So...I'm just a piece of meat?"

You nod "pretty much" as he leans forward, softly shaking his head. 

"I mean, with arms like those I thought you’d at least be able to protect me from two little pint-sized kids."

Ez's hand finds your ankle as you drop the folded t-shirt into a nearby pile.

"Zeke." You warn. "Don’t."

"Don’t what?" He asks, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.

"Start a fight you obviously can't finish,” you tease. "I mean, you couldn’t even take Marisol and Iván. I, on the other hand, will have no trouble bruising your ego when I win."

You catch sight of his mischievous smile before he tugs. You squeal as he pulls you forward. Your giggles meld with his chuckles as he climbs over you. You squirm as you attempt to stop him, and you almost do. You're quicker than he remembers, but Ez makes up for it in strength. He settles his entire weight against your body, pressing you into the floor until he's able to catch your wrists. 

"Where’s all that talk? Hmmm," he chuckles, his hands pinning yours alongside your head as he shifts his position. "I thought you were actually going to do something."

"You cheated," you giggle, trying your best to roll on your side. The escape attempt is useless, Ez's weight has you pinned. His hips keep you right where he wants you. "It doesn't count."  

"Making excuses, querida?" Ez ducks down to press a kiss against your neck. A chuckle slips from his lips as you squirm beneath him. "Can't make up rules as you go, that's not how this works."

"I can't believe you play dirty." You giggle as Ez shoots you a look of pure innocence. "You literally laid on top of me!"

Ez's grip tightens around your wrists as you attempt to free your hands. The smile on his lips morphs into a grin as your legs wrap around his waist. 

You shift your hips, the action barely swaying his stature. You try a second time and get the same result. Ez raises his eyebrow, a smirk on finding his lips.

"Are you trying to get me off?" He snickers.

"Yes." You huff as you give up. 

"I guess that's one way." 

Guiding your hands to rest above your head, Ez pins them both beneath the grip of his left hand.

"Here, I'll make it easy on you." He grins. His right hand drifts beneath your t-shirt to rest against your ribcage. "Got you with one hand."

He catches sight of your rolling eyes before he nuzzles into your neck. A kiss comes soft against your skin, a chuckle following, as he lifts his pinky.

"Still can't get out?" He taunts, lifting his ring finger. Another kiss brushes against your skin, his lips sucking against your sweet spot. "How 'bout now?"

Releasing your hand, Ez allows his hands to run over your hips before drifting beneath your shirt. His fingers tease your ribcage, your hips shifting beneath him in response. A mixture of giggles and squeals fill the room as Ez tickles. His attack is ruthless. He dismisses your pleas for him to stop with a series of kisses that press against your neck and cheek. 

"Please, stop-" You giggle breathlessly. "Zeke-Okay!"

His attack instantly halts. You struggle to catch your breath as he smirks.

"Ready to admit I won?" Sparkling brown eyes meet yours as his hands squeeze your hips in a warning. "Choose your words carefully, sweetheart." 

The boyish grin is a sight that halts your response. Suddenly denying Ez's claim is an afterthought. You smile in return, Ez's gaze dropping to your lips. His touch digs into your hips as you bite your lip.

"No." The soft shake of your head causes Ez to blink. 

He doesn't have enough time to recover. You leverage your hips, pushing up against his. The shift of your hips allows you to tip him off balance.  

"Shit-" 

You're on top of him before he can even fully process how fast you've moved. Your hand presses firmly against his chest as your weight settles against his torso.

“Gotcha,” you giggle as his head falls back. 

You make a point of pinning down his wrists for good measure. Ez tilts his head to gauge your grip.

"Where’s all that talk, Ezekiel?" You echo softly. Lowering your lips to his, you lightly brush a kiss against his smile. "Hmmm?"

"That was lucky," he notes. "I got distracted."

"Oh? And that's my fault?" You tease. "Sounds to me like someone is making excuses...I got you fair and square."

"Did you?" He challenges. His hips shift beneath you, your gasp filling the air as you tip forward. Your palms press against the floor to maintain your balance.

Ez's smile doubles in size as you meet his gaze. The heat of his palms drags along the back of your thighs.

"Come on, Zeke. Didn’t expect you to stoop to such low levels," you giggle as his hand finds your ass kneading the soft skin. "Trying to distract me?"

"I'll take what I can get." He chuckles, his hands firmly guiding your hips down to rest against his. "Sometimes you gotta fight dirty."

"Level the playing field?"

He nods, a groan slipping out as your hips gently grind against his. The soft rocking of your hips catches Ez's breath. 

“How’s that working out for you?” You smile as his fingers knead your skin encouraging your movements. 

"Fucking great," he grunts. He tightens his hold on you as if you could pull yourself from his lap.

His nose brushes against yours as his eyes drift shut. His chin tilts so that he can kiss you.

"Sorry, Mr. Reyes," you smile as you move your lips out of his reach. Your palm pressed against his chest, pushing him back to the ground. His eyes open to find your playful ones watching him. "I think you owe me something first."

Ez’s grin is back as your eyes linger on his lips before lifting to meet his gaze. He knows you're not going to make the same mistake as him. 

"Shit...” he groans, as your hand remains firm against his chest. The soft rolling of your hips against his bulge a stark contrast. "I tap out."

The tap out comes softly against your thigh, Ez’s left hand instantly finding the back of your neck as you smile.

His lips are soft against the corner of your mouth as your hands run down his chest. Your nose brushes his before your lips meet his. Your hand cradles his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin. The soft circles he massages into the base of your spine pulls a soft moan from your lips. The kiss is soft and slow. Neither of you rushes towards the end, your bodies relaxing into the comfort of one another. The kisses make up for the chaste and stolen kisses from the busy day. 

[sundaysundaes]

Iridescent

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

An epilogue to Monochrome. Contains HEAVY SPOILERS, so please read Monochrome and Spectra before you read this.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

Broken bones can be mended and bruises may vanish over time, but what befell Lee Donghyuck after the accident was deeper than fractures and scars. It took him five days to wake up from his comatose sleep, eight months for his body to fully recuperate, and another ten months in rehabilitation to overcome his trauma and mental state. But even then, he was never the same. He would never be the same.

As he could never be able to see the light again.

“Vision loss may strike as a devastating injury that could change your life,” his doctor once said during his regular check-up, “But it doesn’t mean that your life has ended, nor should you stop living. There’s still a beautiful world out there waiting for you. It may feel hard today or tomorrow, but you will get through this. You will get better.”

But to Donghyuck, they sounded like a string of murmurs as if the older man was drowning but still trying to mouth the words to him. Or maybe he was the one who was drowning instead, with no chance to resurface. And he didn’t mind, not at all. He wasn’t sure he had the will to do it anyway.

A gentle caress of warm fingertips and a voice as smooth as a lullaby to a child’s ears were the only ones who kept him sane. She was there, from the very first day he’d opened his eyes and seen nothing, and she continued to stay, no matter how much he’d cried in agony or screamed from bottled-up anger. She would hug him when the thought of hurting himself became too much to bear, and she would tell him over and over again, how lucky she was to have him alive and breathing in her arms. And she would still call him in the same way—Haechannie, Haechannie—between loving words that were filled with nothing but honesty, even if he no longer shone as bright as the sun.

She was the sole reason why he continued living, though not truly alive. The only one who gave comfort to his shattered heart and soul. To him, there would be no life without her.

On the day he was discharged from the hospital, dressed in his favorite white tee and a knitted navy-blue sweater she often borrowed to wear around her figure, his chocolate brown hair was long and untrimmed, nearly brushing against his collar. His skin was starting to lose its beautiful tan, and his collar bones were protruding from how much he had lost weight during his recovery. His matching dark eyes were  slightly opened and they shone in a soft glow under the sun, but they were as lifeless as the waves before the storm.

But to her, he was still a sight to behold.

Pushing his bangs out of his eyes with her fingertips, she smiled. “I haven’t seen you standing under the sun for a long time,” she said, mesmerized by the way his hair was fluttering under the wind. “My Haechannie is so pretty.”

He responded by kissing her inner palm and they hugged once before she accompanied him walking down the stairs.

“One step at a time, okay, Haechannie?” 

Her voice was always warm, always filled with the passion of life, as if she was trying hard to be happy for his sake as well. And it made him feel various emotions at once, from the elation of having someone as patient and loving as her nurture him back to health, from agony for being the one who always caused her trouble, and from fear of losing her if one day she woke up and decided to not love him again.

“Don’t let go of my hand. I’m here with you, Haechannie. I always will be.” 

Her promise found its way to his heart, and instead of making him feel drowned like anybody else, she was the one who pulled him out of the water.

“I won’t,” Donghyuck said, tattered voice escaping chapped lips. “As long as you’d let me.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could somehow sense it in the way she let out her breath, in the way she squeezed his hand, in every time she spoke his name.

“I got permission from your parents to take you somewhere today before we head back home,” she mentioned before a small, excited giggle tumbled down her lips. He was sitting in what he supposed to be his father’s car by the smell of it, and he let himself stay in silence as she dragged a seatbelt forward and tied it around his body with a click. “I hope you don’t mind taking a walk because I’ve been dying to go on a date with my boyfriend.” He could hear her placing her seatbelt and the sound of dangling keys. The car engine soon started with a stutter and Donghyuck’s fingers immediately tried to find reassurance by sinking their nails into the edge of his seat, his heart ramming against his ribcages.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She hastily laced their fingers together, stealing his shivers away with how firm she held on to his hand. “Breathe, Haechannie. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”

It reminded him of their old days when she tried to protect him with a plastic sword from the monster that hid under his bed. She still had the same effects on him as to how she did back then, clouding his entire mind with the feeling of safety and assurance.

He followed her guidance and tried to smile even when his throat felt like burning and his heart trying to find its way to leap out of his chest. “I’ll—” he swallowed when an inevitable crack appeared in his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

There was a pause and he desperately wanted to see what kind of expression she had on her face, but the thought went away when he felt a pair of lips meeting his in a soft, chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding somewhat shy when she parted away but close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. “I know you’re shaking in fear and a kiss would probably be the last thing you wanted right now, but…” She brushed her thumb along his lower lip, yearning for him. “I really miss you.” 

 Given the situation, perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do but to him, it was exactly what he needed. She made him feel wanted, made him feel like his existence did matter to her more than just as a burden. So Donghyuck blindly reached out to her, searching for her hands, her face, her everything, and she met him halfway, lips melding into his as naturally as breathing.

To her, he still felt the same—just as warm, just as pleasant, just as passionate although his touch felt frail on her skin. Donghyuck was still Donghyuck she remembered, the one who reminded her of the sun, and how his entire presence made her feel joy in the way no one had ever given to her before.

She was devastated when she nearly lost her sun. Countless nights were spent with her crying with her face sinking at the sheet of his hospital bed, just a few moments after he fell into his slumber with lines of tears smearing his cheeks. She had always tried to be strong in front of him and his family, but when she was alone in the dark, listening to his soft breathing as he slept, she would allow herself to break apart, just for a few moments.

Those five days when he was in his comatose state was the  loneliest, most painful time she had to endure in all her years of living. Her fingers were desperately squeezing his just to feel a slight movement and she had called and called and called but he never answered. Her life was suddenly as dark as the night, where the moon had crumbled to dust with stars transforming into black holes.

So when he finally opened his eyes, her name escaping his lips, she felt like she was being reborn, finding back her purpose in life and there would be no way, no matter how hard it would be for them, for her to let go of her sun again.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, finding her way back to his lips with a sense of urgency every time, “I love you, Haechannie.” Fingers curling against his soft locks, lips moving from his mouth, nose, temple, cheek, before they went back to the start with shy tongues darting only to take a hint of how they other tasted. “Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

It was he who should’ve spoken those words. It was he who should’ve begged her to stay. So knowing that she felt the same way, Donghyuck whimpered against her mouth, lifeless eyes began to spark in the way they used to.

***

He didn’t know where she was taking him away but by the briny scent that traveled the air, he muttered his guess, “Are we going to the beach?”

“Correct. Any idea which one?”

“The… The one where we spent our summer vacation?”

“Try being more specific.”

He curled his fingers, flush bloomed on his cheeks. “The one where I confessed my feelings for you for the first time?”

A soft chuckle. “That’s right. The one where you made my heart flutter, as promised.”

“I didn’t know I succeeded at that time.”

“You’ve always won against me, Haechannie. Even if I did win at something, it was only because you’d let me.”

The trip was a three-hour drive from the hospital, and they filled the silence by recalling their memories or humming songs to whatever the radio was playing. She begged him to sing, but he was only brave enough to do it after the fifth time she’d tried, and although he hated the croaky sound he made from his throat, she squeezed his thigh, saying, “Thank you for making me so happy.” He wasn’t sure what she was referring to—was it his voice or his entire existence?—but he realized he didn’t care, as long as he could fulfill his sole purpose of living.

The evening sun was warm on his face when she opened the car door and guided him to step forward into the sand, his sneakers sinking slightly into it under his weight. “Careful,” she reminded, circling one hand around his waist as he shakily wrapped his around her shoulder. “Can you smell the air?”

He could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Yeah. Salty.”

She quietly laughed. “Do you want to get closer to the water?”

“I’m…” The thought of him not wanting to trouble her was heavier than his desire. “I’m fine here.”

There was a pause, which made him ponder whether he said something wrong but then she huffed loudly. “You’re no fun. Well, we’re going to get, at least, our feet wet, whether you like it or not. So come on, keep up with me, slowpoke.”

Hearing that coming from a girl who didn’t even want to get sand on her shorts was something that made his entire body feel warm, and the sun had no part in it.

She helped him untie his sneakers, rolled up his jeans to his knees before she pushed him slowly into the water. He could feel the waves meeting his skin, could imagine how it would look like—the sand being carried away by the pressure of the water, his feet sinking a little deeper into the ground, perhaps a strand of seaweed catching around his bare toe.

“The sun is setting,” she said and he could somehow hear the grin in her voice. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“I guess.” He felt her wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna take you dancing.” Her smile was sheepish, her cheeks reddening almost the same color as the glow that illuminated her features. “Oh, wait. I forgot the music.”

“Noona—”

“Just a sec.” She held up a finger to his lips as she fiddled with her phone with her other hand. “Where’s that song you—oh, here it is.”

Donghyuck could hear the song—the exact same song he’d played back then when he’d asked her to do the same thing under the starry sky. “You’re right,” he murmured with a weak smile, as she tucked her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “I should’ve picked a better song. Thinking Out Loud is way too overrated.”

“It’s okay, it’s been growing on me these days. Been using it as my alarm even.” 

Her giggle was adorable and gleeful while his was soft, almost inaudible. “Is that so…”

She caressed his face, eyes becoming tender when she noticed him leaning more to her touch. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched a little so he stayed in reticence. The sound of the wind and the crashing waves were louder than her speaker, so she urged him to sing, knowing that he already remembered the song by heart. He disinclined at first but he grew soft at her pleading.

As he began to hum along the first chorus, she stroke the skin on his nape soothingly with her fingertips. “Have I told you about the day when I realized I loved you?”

He smiled, another flashback hitting him like the soft waves around his feet. “Enlighten me, please.”

“There were two different times, actually.” She leaned closer, swaying their bodies side-to-side ever so slightly. “The first time I realized I felt something for you was back when we were still in junior high. An asshole in my class stole my sketchbook and you got into a fight to retrieve it back—even though you said you got your bruises from tripping down the stairs. I felt so happy knowing that there was someone out there who cared a lot about me.”

“I did trip down the stairs, actually.”

“Of course, you did.” But like the old days, she saw right through his lies. “The second time was when we were celebrating your birthday. I wore this yellow dress that looked way too tacky for the occasion and people were looking at me weird. And you stayed by my side, ignoring everybody in the house even though it was your birthday, and you told me that I was the prettiest girl in the room.”

He hummed in agreement. “Prettier than me even.” 

“That’s right.” She snickered but her tone gradually turned into something more sincere. “So when I told you that you were my first love, I wasn’t lying nor was I exaggerating. I’ve loved you just as long as you have, I just wasn’t brave enough to admit it unlike you. And I still regret that, even to this day. We wasted so many days, and I hurt you so many times—”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, his closed eyes somehow began to feel hot. “It’s in the past.”

She broke down into another smile, fingers reaching out to swat his bangs away from his face. “You’re right. We still have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

When he suddenly became mute, it made her heart thump faster in anxiety. But Donghyuck soon tugged her closer into his chest, his arms enveloping her entire figure and she sighed in relief as he laid his chin on top of her head.

“What are you wearing?” He asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Only in my skimpy bra and g-string, lover.”

“No, I’m serious.” He could feel his laugh reverberating from his chest and it still felt unfamiliar after all this time. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to imagine the scenery.”

She was smiling but her eyes grew softer. “I’m wearing that red dress you said you loved.”

“O-oh…” He wetted his lips. “I didn’t realize that since you’re wearing—what is it, a coat?—“ She confirmed with a nod. “Right. What else?”

“My hair is untied, but I’ve cut it short since it became a nuisance whenever I have to go to work early and don’t have time to style my hair.”

“How short?”

“Short enough to show the necklace you gave me.”

His heart was loud in his ears, almost deafening. “You’re still wearing that?”

“Yes.” He could sense her moving away, sliding her hand down his arm in a silky-smooth touch before she intertwined their fingers. “Along with something else.”

“Wha—” He felt her guiding his fingers to trace hers and the second he touched it, it felt like his world was turning upside-down. “You’re wearing… a ring…” whether it was a question or a statement, he wasn’t clear himself.

“Yes,” she gently replied, moving even closer. “Want to guess what ring it is?”

His heart was in his throat. “Please don’t…” he shook his head, taking a step back. “Please don’t say it’s the engagement ring I was about to give you.”

But she didn’t need to answer, because what else could it be?

She reached out for him but he slapped her hand away when it reached his sleeve. “Haechannie—”

Donghyuck tripped on his feet, falling to his knees and felt the ocean swallowing him inch-by-inch, seawater seeping into his clothes. His face was nowhere near the water and yet he was gasping frantically for air, his chest suffocating and sending jolts of pain to his entire body. 

He could hear her shouting his name in concern, could tell the panic in her voice, but how could he comfort her when he couldn’t even help himself?

The world was swirling in his head even when he could only perceive the darkness with his eyes. His stomach lurched as he coughed multiple times, throat burning in flames.

“Oh God, okay, you’re having a panic attack,” she sounded breathy, afraid, as she clutched her hands around his shoulders. “Breathe with me. Haechannie, focus, I need you to breathe.”

He had a hand on his chest while his other one was sinking deep in the sand. The memory of the accident—how it ruined everything he had planned for her, for himself, and the future they were about to face together—and knowing how useless he had become, to simply reduce himself into nothing but a burden who couldn’t even pass through a door without help, made him feel like his world was ending.

She pulled him into an embrace, sinking his face into the crook of her neck—a habit he once grew fond of—and whispered his name over and over again until it sounded like a prayer, steadying his heartbeat little by little with every second passing by. She only hugged him even tighter when he managed to calm his breathing. “You’re okay,” she exhaled in relief, “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

He brought his hand to the back of her head, feeling her strands under his fingers and finally noticing how short it was. “You should let me go,” he whispered, voice quivering.

Whether he was talking about her embrace or letting him out of her life, she didn’t care. The answer was the same for both. “No.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to stay like this.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his sweater. “Let me stay like this.”

He kept still but he no longer answered her hug, letting his arms fell loose on the side of his body. “Why did you wear the ring?”

“Because I want to.” 

It soothed him a little that she answered with those words and not “Because it’s something you wanted to give me and I know how much you want me to wear it.”

He noticed her body shivering as their knees were still buried in the sand, engulfed in seawater. “We should move. It’s getting colder.”

She eventually nodded, helping him up to his feet and went back to their car, immediately turning the heater on before she carried him to the back seat where they settled close next to each other. 

“Are you cold?” She asked, her voice quivering as she took her half-drenched coat off. “Guess it wasn’t a smart idea going back to the beach in autumn, huh?” He didn’t answer, too busy maintaining his composure so he wouldn’t freak out again. “Your clothes are soaked, we should get you changed. I brought some spare with me. Oh, and a blanket too.”

She was doing enough talking for both of them to fill the silence so Donghyuck kept his lips pressed tightly shut and followed her order, lifting his hands so she could pull his sweater over his head. She unbuttoned his shirt, blushing a little when his chest and stomach came into view, reminding her of the times where they spent their days raking nails down each other’s skin, exchanging wanton moans between wet kisses.

When he was left only in his jeans, she unzipped her dress, the clothing falling off her shoulders before she slipped it off her body entirely. Grabbing a blanket from the trunk, she scooted over to his place, wrapping the fabric around both of their bodies. She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cold one with hers over and over until he stopped shivering. “You really are sensitive to cold,” she mumbled to herself, “Warm enough?”

“You should’ve just thrown it away.”

She abruptly stopped moving, hands freezing as they were holding him mid-air. “What?”

“The ring,” he murmured, sliding his hand away from hers and bringing it down to his lap. “It doesn’t have any meaning now, so…”

She took her time to reply, begging herself to stay calm even when the pain was tearing her apart. Her tone was expressively hurt when she finally spoke, “You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

He could feel his jaw tightening. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, just as much as I did on the day you proposed to me for the first time. If not more.”

She answered him fast and firm, without a trace of  hesitation or doubts. But the fear that his thoughts screamed at him echoed louder in his head, reducing her promise to sound nothing more than a whisper being carried by the wind. To him, she seemed like she was about to cry, and perhaps she was, but not because she had doubts about marrying him. She was heartbroken because he appeared like he was forcing her to do something she disgusts, when marrying him had been her wish all along.

If he could see her, he would’ve seen the hurtful look that painted her face. She became mute, averting her focus to her hands that laid frozen on her lap. “Haechannie,” she eventually called, “When I think of you, what do you think comes into my mind?”

A liability. A deadweight. Someone you should abandon to make your life bearable. But he stayed as soundless as the night.

“Do you think I’m doing all of this because I’m forced to do it?” Her voice was soft, but he could sense a hidden rage between her words. “Because I’m obliged to take care of you as your girlfriend—your fiancee?”

“It’s not that, it’s—” He spluttered, turning to look at her although his eyes could only see the darkness. “I just wasn’t sure it’s still the future you want us to have.“ He hesitated, his voice became quiet. “And I’m not sure whether you still want me in this condition—”

“Why are you saying that?” Her voice grew frantic. “That’s really—That’s not—“ She buried her face in her hands, her chest tightening. “I want you—of course, I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Somehow, her affection felt like a stabbing pain from all the self-loathe that bubbled in his chest. “But I’m not the same now.”

“Doesn’t mean that I’ll stop loving—God, Haechannie, why can’t you see that we—”

“That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? I can’t see!” His voice was resonating loudly, colored with dismay and agony, muting the sound of waves crashing behind them. “I’m fucking blind! I don’t know what kind of face you wear around me these days. I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not when you say these words—”

“I will never lie to you—”

“Yes, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m afraid!” He broke apart, voice filled with quivers as it nearly reduced into short gasps. “I’m afraid of having you look at me like I’m a liability. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I can be some kind of help to you when I can’t even button my fucking shirt properly. I want to marry you—God, I want to marry you so bad—but what do I have to offer? I can’t function like a normal person, I’ve lost my job, I’m going insane, and I can’t see a damn thing!”

The second he stopped speaking, only the sound of their surroundings could be heard, along with their ragged breathing. Donghyuck brought his face to the side, hiding half of his face behind his shaky fingers, inhaling a few times to control his breathing but failing on each try. 

Her eyes began to water as well but she erased the tears before they could stroll down her face. “I’m not sure if you know this already but,” she said, forcing herself to smile between hot tears. “I know how you’d prepared everything that day. I was shocked when my mother told me that you’d asked for their permission to marry me. I didn’t know you were so serious about this. I was so happy, but even then, I wasn’t as happy as the day you finally woke up, five days after the accident. I was just so relieved that I could see you alive and breathing again—to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice saying my name. I know how devastating this feels to you, losing your vision so suddenly like this, and I know how insensitive I will sound to you but let me just say this.” 

She reached out to him, cupping his cheek with one hand so he could turn his face around. His eyes were tightly shut, but his eyelashes were wet as they rested against his cheeks.  “I don’t care that you’re blind,” she said, rubbing her thumb gently along his cheekbone. “And I don’t care if you can’t walk without hitting walls, or if you can’t make your own coffee or wear your own clothes—what I care about is that we’re both here, together, alive and well, and there is nothing in the world that could change my mind.” When he was about to turn away again, to be swallowed by his emotions, she held his face with both hands, forcing him to bare his soul in front of her eyes. “I’d rather have you in this state or worse, rather than losing you entirely, Haechannie. I need you just as much, if not more. So, if you could just trust me, please.”

Donghyuck laid his palm against the back of her hand. “You’re better off without me, Noona. And it’s not just because of how I am now. Bad things do happen when you ignore the signs and deny your soulmate—you should’ve been with Mark—”

“I don’t care about soulmates.” She was frustrated, he could tell, by the way he was so adamant about this. “Isn’t that what you said to me too back then?”

“I know, but seeing how this happened to me, I—”

“Haechannie,” she called, gripping his hand tightly until his knuckles turned white. “What happened to you is an accident. It has nothing to do with soulmates or fate—people get into accidents, these things happen—”

“Yes, I get that, but what if it’s not? I don’t care if anything happens to me, but I can’t—” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I can’t afford anything happening to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then do you want to spend your days alone instead of being with me?” Her tone was inscrutable, almost impersonal to his ears. “Be honest.”

Donghyuck bit his lip. “It doesn’t matter what I want—“

“Stop listening to your own thoughts. Listen to mine. Listen to what I’m saying.” Her temple was pressed against his, her breath fanning against his lips. “I need you, Hyuck. And if you’re too afraid to be with me, just like how I used to in the past, then let me fight for this. Let me fight for us the way you used to.” Her lips were so close to him that he could almost feel every syllable with his own. “And before you regret everything as much as I did about us, accept me.”

And just like a twig cracking under pressure, Donghyuck snapped.

He rushed to close the gap between them, his lips meeting another pair in a searing kiss and she gasped against his mouth, body tumbling backward to the seat with him pressing hotly against her. He finally let himself go, finally caved into his desires, finally devoted himself back to her like how he did in the past.

He was rushing everything, hands desperately clawing against every part of her skin that he could reach, his kiss frenzied. But all of that was a mere distraction so she wouldn’t be able to hear him whimpering against her mouth, lips quivering as he tried to contain his sobs. 

“I love you,” he hastily said, holding her face with one hand as he kissed her fervently. “I’m sorry for hurting you over and over again—” The way he smashed his lips against hers was both bruising and comforting. “I just—I want you to be happy,” he groaned at the back of his throat when she tugged his lower lip between her teeth, “With or without me, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy, I—”

“With you,” she immediately confirmed, yanking against the strands of his hair as she peppered kisses down the column of his neck. “I’m only happy when I’m with you, Haechannie, so—” And she melded their lips together again, tongues sliding against one another, drowning in passion.

It was a mystery to her when Donghyuck said he wasn’t the same. He still felt like flames, burning her skin with his every touch, igniting sparks of fire in her heart with whispers of her name. But even if he was transforming into an entirely different person, she knew she would still dedicate herself to him either way.

There’s no life without you.

What started as a rush of a moment gradually turned into something slow where they began to savor each touch with more affection and less uncontrollable lust. As he needed her guidance, she switched their positions, letting Donghyuck sat with his spine pressed against the seat, the skin on his back sticking uncomfortably against the leather. 

She noticed how he flinched more under her fingertips, sensitive to even a small graze of skin meeting skin. “Are you okay?” She asked, settling on his lap, straps of her bra falling off her shoulders.

He nodded anxiously, tilting his face so she could take the sign and kiss him again and she did, but her touch was paper-thin. “You seem nervous,” she commented, caressing his cheek in concern as he circled his arms around her waist.

“I am,” he admitted, cheeks turning rosy. “I’m going crazy because I can’t see you. I’m afraid that I’d do something wrong and make you feel—”

“Then I’ll let you know,” she assured him, thumb tracing his lower lip. “I’ll say everything if that’s what you want to know, so stop thinking too much.” She leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before she brushed the tip of her nose against his. “And just… feel me more.”

Donghyuck let her take his hand and exhaled softly when she pressed it against her cheek, shaky fingertips began to trace her jawline, the shape of her lips, her chin, her neck. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows were furrowed deep in concentration, and she would’ve smiled at the sight if his touches weren’t scorching on her skin, enveloping her with sensations she had been longing for months.

His other senses were heightened, noticing her scent better, listening to every gasp, every moan of his name, feeling her veins, her small scars from her childhood days—everything.

“So beautiful,” he praised under his breath but she caught it, sending goosebumps all over her body. “A-are you okay?” He asked, noticing how she fidgeted and shifted her weight. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s just—“ She bit her lip when his fingers ran along the valley of her breasts, stopping when he reached her bra. “It’s been a while since we last—” a moan escaped her lips when he slipped his thumb behind the fabric, calloused skin meeting her sensitive nub. “Haechannie…”

Donghyuck gulped, his ears turning scarlet. Not being able to see the whole thing yet hearing the sounds she made really drove him to the brink of his sanity. “God, I wish I could see you,” he nearly whimpered. “I want to see your face.”

“Do you— ” She shuddered, as he brought his lips to trace every line he made with his fingertips before. “Do you still see me in your dreams?”

He nodded once, cupping her breast and sighing in content when it fit his palm perfectly.

She flinched, pressing her hips down to meet him more, urging him to move even closer. “Present ones?”

“N-not these days,” he moaned against her neck at the needed friction. “I see your past memories more often.”

She had to stop him and push him away for a moment because she couldn’t concentrate with his lips shyly sucking bruises on her sensitive parts. “Then let’s make as many memories as we can,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Maybe you can’t see me now, but you’ll see me in your dreams. Maybe then you’ll realize just how happy I am these days, because of you.”

He parted his lips in realization. He was too consumed by his depressing thoughts that he never tried to look through a new perspective. Even when he had lost his vision, she still managed to paint a spectrum of colors in his mind, in one way or another. As long as he’s with her, his life would never be monochromatic.

So this time, he could truly smile.

“Then…” He brought his hand down, whispering against her ear, “I can see you when we’re doing this too?” He suddenly slipped behind the fabric of her underwear, sliding his finger along her folds and she almost leaped out to her feet, yelping in surprise.

“Haechannie!” Her face was flushed, even going down to her neck and for the first time in what felt like forever, Donghyuck laughed, so airy and so him, making her eyes widen when she realized just how much she’d missed seeing him like this. “Ah, you’re really just—“ but she never finished, already moving her hips against him again, lips meeting in a heated kiss as it became a necessity for both of them to fulfill.

“Marry me,” he said, breathless and desperate as he kissed her shoulder, almost sinking his nails on the sides of her hips from how tight he was holding her. “Please marry me. I want—I need you to be my wife.”

Her eyes were unfocused, just like his were. Hooking her fingers around his silver necklace, she tugged him closer before she mouthed against the mole on his neck, making him moan her name.

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” She giggled, grabbing him by the chin in preparation for another kiss. “Idiot.”

***

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Sweets’ Scars

Based on S4E21

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: You and Sweets have been in a relationship for a year now, but it isn’t until a case involving a certain metal band that you realize there might be something he’s not telling you. Something about his past. You don’t want to press, but you can’t help but worry.

Words: 3331

Warnings: Scars, and very short mention of abuse

---

As soon as you step foot into the venue, the blaring metal music floods in around you. You wince and quickly cover your ears to dull the screaming voices and screeching guitars. The music reverberates through your ribcage, pounding and ragged. Why do people listen to this kind of stuff? You can barely make out the mass of moving bodies ahead of you because of the flashing lights and flickering fires that practically blind you. It’s all so much, too much. You’ve never liked crowds, but this is a whole different level, and the urge to escape grips your chest.

You jump when a hand rests against your shoulder and you whip around only to see Doctor Brennan peering at you worriedly. “We won’t be here long,” she assures you, though she has to scream for you to hear her.

You nod, eyes darting back to the crowd of people, all covered in leather and heavy makeup. The two of you stick out like sore thumbs in your normal clothes, which was never something you thought would be possible. You huddle closer to your mentor, swallowing your nerves and twisting your fingers into your sweater.

“I’m going to call Booth!” She shouts out again.

You don’t respond this time, not that it really matters in the situation. You doubt you could get loud enough to overcome the noise.

Why did you have to come on this excursion? Why couldn’t Clark come? He was your senior after all. You had just recently started working at the Jeffersonian, and you were currently the youngest intern on the team. You figured it would be a calm job, just working with your people and maybe a few witnesses every once and a while. This...This was not what you were thinking of.

“I’m disturbed that despite my extensive training as an anthropologist, all these bands sound alike and appear to share identical belief systems and morals.” You hear Doctor Brennan shouting into her phone, to who is most likely Booth. She pauses, listening to his response before speaking up again, “I have no idea what you’re saying.”

You bite your lip nervously, eyes scanning the dark crowd again before landing on the stage, where the band ‘Zorch’ was performing. That’s why you were there, to question them about the remains.

“Are you guys ready?”

You shy away when a man comes into your space, pressing a hand to your back. With wide eyes, you look to Doctor Brennan, begging silently for help. She stares at the man with her brow furrowed, and then recognition floods her eyes.

“Sweets?”

What? You look back up at the man’s painted face, eyes narrowing as you take in his features. Then it hits you, just as quickly as it hit the anthropologist. It is Sweets! You couldn’t recognize him with the makeup and slicked back hair.

“Wait, is that really you?” You question, stepping closer to him. He casts a look down at you, lips pulling into a small smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Yeah, I had to meld to get information. What do you think?” Sweets holds his arms up, looking mighty pleased with his metal getup.

Your eyes slowly trace over his figure, and you can’t help but notice how well his sleeveless black shirt fits him, or how it shows off his arms. Heat comes rushing to your face, turning your cheeks rosy. Thank goodness the venue is so poorly lit, or else he’d probably notice. Your eyes lingers on the choker strapped around his neck. Part of you wants to grab the ring on it and drag him close for a kiss, which only serves to darken your blush.

“You look good,” you manage to squeak out before quickly turning to Doctor Brennan, completely missing the small smirk that replaces Sweet’s smile (he definitely noticed your flushed face).

“What information have you gathered?” The anthropologist asks him, completely oblivious to how flustered you just grew.

“Zorch’s lead singer is Murderbreath,” Sweets begins, gesturing to the stage just as the man blows out a puff of fire, “Look at that. Who does he think he is, the guy with the tongue from KISS?”

You laugh at the jest. You used to listen to that band, back in your rebellious teen phase that everyone goes through.

Sweets explains how the feud of the two bands has progressed, though your eyes stay focused on the band, looking for anything that might help with the case somehow. That when you notice the lead singer pull out a large knife, thrusting into the air for all to see and drawing chants from the crowd.

“Guys, he has a knife,” you worry aloud to your colleagues.

Sweets gently draws you closer to him in a somewhat subconscious way, “No, don’t worry, it’s totally fake.”

A shudder passes through you when the singer drags the blade along his throat, blood immediately dripping down his painted skin. He thrusts the crimson knife back into the air victoriously, before gripping his neck with his other hand. Blood seeps out from between his fingers, coating his gloves. You gasp when the man convulses and drops to his knees, fingers still wrapped around his throat.

“That’s...not fake,” Bones murmurs, “Murderbreath slit his own throat!”

Before you have time to even process what’s happening, you’re dashing forward, easily weaving through the throngs of fans. The screeching music fades into the background, overcome by the pounding of your pulse in your ears. The flashing lights blur together and all you can focus on is the man crumpled on the ground. The people part around you as you jump onto the stage, quickly followed by Doctor Brennan and Sweets.

You dive down next to the singer, pressing two fingers to his pulsepoint and covering his hand with your own.

“We need something to stop the bleeding,” you urge, panic swelling in your chest.

Brennan looks around quickly, “A compress, we need a compress!” Her eyes lock on Sweets before she darts up, ripping his shirt right off of him despite his complaints.

She drops back down, pressing the wadded fabric to the man’s neck. It’s only then that the music comes to a halting stop. The band goes silent, glancing between each other and towards their lead. You shake your head, lips pursed in irritation. Now they take it seriously.

“Hold this against the wound,” Brennan directs Lance before shouting into her phone, “Booth, can you call it in?” You assume his answer isn’t what she wants, because she shuts the phone with an irritated huff and begins dialing a new number.

Glancing around, you feel anger rise to replace your panic when you see how many people have their phones out to film the spectacle. Without hesitation, you jump up in front of the group, shoving some people back and blocking their cameras. Who, in their right mind, would record something like this?

“Stand back, please!” you cry out, taking a step back as the crowd pushes forward in retaliation, “Please! Get back, we need space to work! Move back!” Do these people have no respect? Or just basic decency?!

You take a glance back at your colleagues to check on what’s happening, but your eyes land on something that knocks the very breath from your lungs. Your chest tightens painfully at the sight of the scars running along Lance’s shoulders. The dancing lights glaze over them, catching on the raised skin like little criss-crossing lightning bolts. A burning sensation fills your throat, spreading to your eyes, but you blink rapidly, determined to not let it get the best of you right now. There are more important things to focus on! You turn back to the crowd, arms spread wide to keep the stage clear.

Soon enough, paramedics and police come rushing into the venue. Everything else comes as a blur. The sirens, the gurney, rushing out to the ambulance, it all swirls together in your mind like a chaotic storm. It leaves you dizzy when things calm down and Murderbreath is on his way to the hospital. You, Sweets, and Doctor Brennan are left standing outside the venue, and it’s then you notice Sweets is still shirtless.

“We need to get you a coat before you catch a cold,” you murmur worriedly, trying your hardest to shove the images of his scarred shoulders out of your mind.

“I have one in my car,” he tells you with that familiar gentle smile, but now it carries a different weight to it. Is that just you, though? Could you be overthinking this all?

You let out a heavy sigh and aggressively rub at your eyes as Sweets walks away. Why hadn’t he told you about it? You could guess the cause, not many wounds left marks like those, plus, in your field of work you are exposed to all kinds of scars. Did he not want you to know? Why wouldn’t he want you to know?

“Are you okay?”

You look over to Doctor Brennan, the heavy weight in your chest growing almost impossible as you blurt out, “Lance has scars on his back.”

“Scars? What kind of scars?” She peers at you with that perplexed expression of hers.

“Almost like he’d been…” You pause and flex your fingers to keep your nails from digging into your palms, “Like he’d been whipped. They were old.”

“Has he not talked to you about it before?”

“No, do you think that means something?”

She tilts her head, almost like a dog, not that you’d ever say that out loud, “I am not sure what you mean.”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been dating for a year now, don’t you think, I don’t know, don’t you think he would have told me something like that?” You bite down harshly on your lip, “Does he not trust me with his past?”

“It is best to not assume what Sweets might be thinking,” Doctor Brennan murmurs in that ever present, logical tone.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to placate you a little. She’s right after all. You have to gather the evidence before making any inferences. It’s possible Lance just wants to forget whatever happened to him, which you can understand. Horrible things are sometimes best left in the past. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders and give your hands a good shake.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak and turn back around to face Lance, who at some point snuck up behind you, “Peachy! Just fine! Is everything- Is everything okay with you? Not cold anymore?”

“I’m warming up,” he replies with a lecherous grin, “Though I could use some help.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks when Sweets spreads his arms wide for a hug. The slight twinge of self consciousness doesn’t stop you from tucking in close though, fingers linking together at the small of his back.

He rests his chin on top of your head gently, “Is everything really okay?”

Of course he’d notice. You weren’t being the most subtle you guess.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” You promise quietly and hide your face in his coat.

“Okay.”

“I suppose we should head back now. Booth will want to question Murderbreath if he’s well enough,” Brennan calls out to you as she heads to her car, “Will you be driving back with Sweets, (Y/n)?”

“Sure! If he’s okay with it!” You turn your eyes up to him questioningly.

“Of course.”

And just like the gentleman he is, Lance takes you back to the lab, leaving you with the promise to talk after work. You do your job with as much attention as usual, but in the back of your head, you can’t stop thinking about how on earth you're going to broach the subject.

How do you ask someone about something you probably weren’t meant to see? You know he probably won’t get angry, Lance has always been patient and oh so sweet (his name really did fit him). You just don’t want to cross any boundaries. Should you wait? Should you ask Booth about it first? No, no that’s a terrible idea, he would just get all awkward. You groan and set down the tibia you're currently looking at. It’s all so frustrating!

You’ll just have to do it. Lance always says communication is the most important part of any relationship. Even if you don’t know how to start it, you're sure he’ll know how to direct the conversation!

With that in mind, you wrap up quickly and wish Doctor Saroyan goodbye as you head out of the lab. Lance is waiting just outside for you, leaning back against his car’s hood. All the makeup from before has been cleaned off and his hair is back to its normal fluffiness.

“Well hello there handsome,” you chirp, leaning up to peck to his cheek, “Good to see you back to normal.”

Lance laughs softly, “Was it really that bad?”

You purse your lips for a second, glancing away when you think back to his outfit. The makeup was a bit much, but the rest of it…

“Oh, maybe not, huh?”

Oh gosh, are you blushing again? You quickly bury your face in his chest, which is rumbling with his laughter. How embarrassing! Could your face go just a minute without lighting up today? It felt like every second, there was something that made your cheeks flush. It’s a wonder how you haven’t just turned into a tomato yet.

“Shut up,” is all you end up grumbling, “Will you take me home now?”

“Sure.” He gives you a small squeeze, “Hop in.”

You practically dive into the passenger seat to avoid anymore discussion of your embarrassment. Knowing Lance, he’d use this to tease you for quite a while. You just hope he’ll go easy on you, especially around your colleagues. You’d probably die if he brought this up around Doctor Brennan or Doctor Saroyan. Or even Hodgins, because goodness knows how he’d make fun of you for the rest of time.

During the drive back to your apartment, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours and rests them in his lap, thumb tracing over your knuckles. It’s enough to calm the jitters vibrating in your chest. It’s like the embarrassment and anxiety over your upcoming conversation have swirled together in a chaotic rush.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you now?” Lance breaks the silence of the car, though he keeps his voice soft.

You take a deep breath. Everything in your head has led up to this, you can do it.

“I...I saw the scars...on your back…”

His hand stiffens in yours, not much, but just enough for you to notice.

Things fall quiet for a few seconds. You watch Lance’s face nervously. His eyebrows synch down just the slightest bit and his lips press into a thin line. You can practically see him thinking the whole thing out in his head. The gears turning, the conflict, the small flash of pain. It makes your heart ache.

“We don’t have to talk about it, Lance,” you reassure him softly, “It’s okay.”

Those honey orbs glance at you before locking back on the road. You really wish you weren’t in the car right now, so that he didn’t have to split his focus like this. Whatever this is, it can’t be a light topic.

“I’m okay,” Lance finally says, “It’s okay. This is something I’ve worked through, we can, we can talk about it.”

Good, that’s good. You weren’t going to push it if he didn’t want to talk about it, but it lifts the weight in your chest to know he’s open to it.

“Can we wait until we get to your place though?”

“Of course, of course!”

You settle back into your seat, though your hand stays firmly in Sweets’. It’s a comfort to you both. The rest of the drive goes by fast, thankfully, and before you know it, you’re right outside your apartment building. Even as you walk up to your place, Lance trailing behind you, your fingers stay linked.

“Want anything to drink?” You ask as you toss your jacket on a hook and slip off your shoes.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles and slips into the living space.

You pace about your small kitchen in an attempt to keep yourself busy, but find nothing to do, so you slip onto the couch next to the psychologist. You sit close enough for your knee to brush his, but hopefully not close enough to crowd him.

Lance scratches the back of his neck with a sigh and starts, “So, you know how I grew up in the foster system for a bit?”

“We’ve talked about it, yeah.”

“Well,” his voice comes out a little shaky so he pauses. You scoot closer to rest a hand on his knee, to ground him. His hand covers yours and he sends you a grateful smile before starting again, “Well, when I was young, I ended up in a bad foster home, and um, and the foster dad-” another heavy pause, “-he would beat me.”

Your heart absolutely sinks at those words, at how meek he sounds now, compared to your usually self-assured, outspoken boyfriend. How could this happen to someone like him? Someone so wonderful and gentle, someone who does everything he can to help others? No wonder he never told you about it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lance,” you murmur in a gentle tone.

He draws his shoulders back a bit with a deep breath. It’s like he’s letting the weight slowly slip from them as he leans back into the couch. You watch his face as it subtly shifts through several emotions, someone bad, some good, some just thoughtful. Eventually, he raises an arm, a silent signal for you, to which you curl into his side. His fingers trace along your arm before settling on your elbow and giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry. I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t go through that,” he reminisces, voice still quiet, “I might not have joined the FBI, might not have...met you.”

You look up at him, touched yet worried at the same time.

“I might not have had the best childhood, but I’m living a good life now. If I can stop it from happening to someone else, then it’s all been worth it,” he says, the brightest, most genuine smile lighting up his lips.

The awe that hits you almost sucks the breath from your lungs. You can’t help but just sit there and stare up at Sweets adoringly. It’s like his heart is made of pure gold, something that can’t be touched or soiled by the hardships of his past. He’s your greatest treasure, holding more value to you than anything you could ever hold, touch, even be near. He’s...absolutely amazing.

“I love you, Lance.” You can’t help it when the words slip off your tongue.

Those eyes are once again set on you, swimming with unbridled content, peace. They sweep you away into their depths, and all you can do is to wrap your arms around him to keep yourself anchored. He pulls you close, lips pressing oh so softly against your forehead.

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

*Bonus*

“You want me to wear it again?”

“Maybe…”

“Really?” His tone comes out teasing, eyebrow perched high as he gazes down at you.

“You’re so mean,” you huff, not even bothering to hide your blush this time.

Lance only laughs and bows down to press his lips to yours briefly, though it’s enough to set your heart racing.

“I’ll go change now, if you’d like,” he hums, throwing you a little wink as he steps out of the room.

“Jerk,” you grumble under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

I hope you enjoyed this story! It was a tad longer than usual, but it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a while! This is one of my favorite episodes :)

As always, if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to ask! I’ll write for Sweets, Aubrey, and most of the interns! Love y’all!

[ahkaahshi]

2:09 AM [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gn reader

genre: angst with a fluffy ending; comfort

warning(s): mild swearing

word count: 1.8k

overview: sakusa makes an uncharacteristically late night call that finds him right back in the arms of one of the few people he’s learned to trust

It’s 2:09 AM when Sakusa finally accepts that he seems to have difficulties sleeping without you. He’s spent the entire evening tossing and turning, his mind too restless to allow him more than a few minutes of peace. There’s a lingering discomfort in the pit of his stomach that swells each time he glances over at one of his team sweaters resting atop the desk at the other end of the room. It’s still neatly folded, as it had been by your careful hands, left undisturbed since the arrangement in which you’d returned to him.

He feels sick at the situation he’s gotten himself into. At how he’s sleeping by himself instead of at your side. At how he pushed you away. At how he made a decision for you that you might not have made yourself—and how wrong he was.

It had been a week since he’d broken up with you, and he’d spent a week regretting it.

He often told himself as consolation that the concept of right or wrong decisions in gray areas such as this was ridiculous. That they were only choices that lead would lead down different paths, neither more correct than the other. But this… this felt wrong. The error of his ways seeped into his gut, clouded his mind, and pounded against his head on nights like these when sleep evaded him. But he wasn’t quite sure how to remedy the situation.

How could he be sure you wanted him back when his words had shattered the calmness of your expression like a storm does the glassy reflection of an otherwise still lake? When you’d come to his apartment to drop off his sweater and a few stray items he’d left behind with just a “Here you go,” and nothing more? When he was the one who had broken your heart?

He was sure you’d never want to see him again, so he hadn’t tried to see you again, in spite of his need to fix the mistake he’d deemed selfish.

There’s a haunting, smothering quietude to his room. No sheets whisper against your skin as you shift beside him to readjust your body in your sleep. No gentle sighs pour onto his shoulder from your drift into a deeper slumber. No quiet murmurs escape between your lips while you respond to your dreams. Just his heartbeat thrumming against his ribcage and his shaky breaths, then the heavy dragging of his phone against the wood of his bedside table when he picks it up.

Your name is on his screen in an instant, and he wonders if you’ve changed his name in your contacts yet. Before he can even process what he’s doing, the gentle buzzing of the dial tone pierces the silence. Fuck. Is he even ready to have this conversation now?

The phone you feel to have been staring at all night lights up on your own nightstand, breaking the darkness and brings you to alertness with its quiet but shrill chimes. Upon picking up the device, you’re met with your ex’s name and face, making your eyebrows furrow both in anger and confusion.

What the hell’s he thinking, calling me at two in the morning? You let it ring once.

Why’s he calling me at all? What does he want? You let it ring twice.

Maybe something’s wrong. What if something’s wrong? You pick up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Your greeting isn’t met with a response. “Kiyoomi…?”

“Hey.”

His voice sounds as heavy as your heart feels. “Uh…” you mumble, unoccupied hand moving to grip your other wrist in an attempt to ground yourself, “Is… everything okay?”

“No. It’s not.” He could never lie to you, even if he wanted to—but the desire never crossed his mind. “(F/n), I…” he drifts off, his jaw clenching as he breathes out a quick sigh of irritation with himself. He clearly wasn’t prepared to make this call, and he hates that he’s disturbed you at such an early hour out of his own selfishness.

In the silence that follows, three, distinct words plaster themselves at the forefronts of both of your minds. They’re those each of you wants to speak but they’re not the same ones. With each second that ticks by filled with anticipation, marked by lips parted as they wait to voice your desires, you find yourself growing more desperate to tell him your three words.

But he speaks his first.

“I fucked up,” he whispers, the soft timbre of his tone a far cry from that of the commands you’ve heard him shout across the court.

Raking his fingers through his dark curls, he continues, “I self-destructed, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to save you by speaking for you, telling you that you were better off without me. But I shouldn’t’ve done that.” You take your lower lip between your teeth as tired eyes sting with tears. “You’re strong; you can speak for yourself. You don’t need or want me to do it for you, especially not when I’m wrong.”

“Kiyoomi…”

“I’m sorry.” A nearly inaudible, shaky breath falls from his lips. “If I could take that moment back so you never had to feel that kind of pain and doubt, I would. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t expect anything, not with the way I pushed you away even after you’d shown you’re the person I can always trust the most.”

The truth behind his words makes your fingers curl tighter around your phone. 

He’s right. 

Earning Sakusa’s trust hadn’t been easy, initially, but over time, he’d let down his guard. Laid his head on your chest to let your heartbeat lull him to sleep rather than turn away from you. Spoken to you about what was really bothering him rather than giving you a superficial overview or dismissive response. Let your shoulder be the harbor and safe havens for his emotions when he couldn’t hold them in anymore. All because you’d accepted him each time he chose to step under the blinding light of vulnerability, where all his most intimate thoughts and feelings were exposed without any darkness in which they could hide. Because you’d loved him for who he was, because you love him for who he is, because you will love him for who he becomes in the future.

Sadness brings tremors to your lips and beckons your fingers to your eyes to brush away a few stray tears. Him turning his back on you in a time of need, choosing to fall deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself rather than into your outstretched arms ready to catch him had hurt you the most. The suddenness of his cold behavior had shocked you, and the moment he’d walked away from you had replayed itself in your mind on an endless loop the entire week. But his honesty with you now, admitting to his mistake rather than moving on and away from you, shows you he still loves you—that he never stopped, rather.

After swallowing thickly, the ball of emotion in your throat making it hard to do so, you let your three words be known.

“I miss you.”

His response is almost instantaneous this time: “I miss you too.”

Your lips form a relieved smile though they carry a subtle taste of salt.

An invitation extended to him to come over finds him at your door no more than a half an hour later. The fatigue and stress he’s been experiencing is evident in the darkness beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, but he has no qualms with standing in the entryway for a few minutes longer while the two of you hold one another in a tight embrace. His warmth and the faint but ever-present scent of his favorite laundry detergent lingering on his clothes lifts the fog that has been clouding your mind, and you can feel his body melt into your arms as his head comes to rest beside yours.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, “I won’t let my thoughts get the better of me like that again, okay? I’ll talk to you, and I’ll be here for you.”

You reply, “I love you too,” and feel his grip around you tighten when you add, “You’re safe with me.”

When the two of you pull away, he follows you along the familiar path to your bedroom and sets his backpack down in the same spot as always—right by his side of your bed, next to the nightstand. It’s only been a week, but things have felt so different without him around that watching him follow the same routines, such as the way he methodically adjusts your pillows to just the right angle and height before peeling back the comforter and sheets, gives you immense comfort. Crawling into bed beside him brings your bodies close once more, and your fingertips find his face out of habit, tracing over his handsome features and moving stray curls away from his weary eyes.

His nose brushes against yours moments before your lips meet in a tentative kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. Your fingers pressing into the nape of his neck to keep your mouths connected pulls him beneath the surface, and he allows himself to get lost in the depths with you for a bit instead of questioning where you’re going. He doesn't feel the need to.

It’s both lazy and fervent, the way your lips meld together, and your kisses reflect a yearning for each other that eclipses your exhaustion—for a few, blissful minutes, at least. You hum gently when your mouths part for the last time as sleep takes its hold on you. “You need to rest,” you suggest, “Can we talk sometime after you get back from training tomorrow?”

He nods slowly, head heavy with a week’s worth of fatigue, and answers, “Of course.” Beneath his dark fan of eyelashes, Sakusa’s gaze follows yours while you turn on your side away from him, glancing over your shoulder as a silent request for him to take up his usual spot behind you. His arms snake around your torso and the bed dips, bringing your back flush against his chest. Your fingers interlace with a set of his that you naturally hold close to your chest, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, planting a gentle peck against your exposed skin.

With you, there’s a peaceful, weightless quietude. He hears your legs shuffle beneath the covers as they readjust and the gentle sigh that leaves your mouth as you drift off to sleep. Feels your heartbeat against the back of his hand while he basks in the familiar warmth emanating from your body that fits against his so seamlessly.

His warm breath cascades over your skin when he exhales deeply once more, and finally finds solace in the slumber that comes to him almost instantly.

when night falls masterlist

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[casifer-is-king]

Crest and Trough

Part Three of PI!Frankie (Part One) (Part Two)

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rated: M

Warnings: It's smut. Literally all smut and fluff. P in V Sex, Oral (female receiving), Frankie taking control (this is a warning, you can't tell me differently) Idk, if there's something I missed call me out.

A/N: There is no more plot, only smut. My first ever posted smut. Be kind 🥺 but also give me all the feedback lol. This is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

The drive from Benny's fight back to your condo is filled with the sound of the radio playing. There's a tension in the cab of the truck; not so much nervousness as anticipation. A sexual tension that both of you had previously locked behind friendly banter and fleeting glances had now been released between the two of you. Frankie's fingers are flexing and regripping the leather of his steering wheel over and over again the whole way, only letting up once he is finally parked in your driveway. He's helping you out of the truck within moments of parking, and you lead the way straight into your house from there.

Frankie grabs your face in both of his large hands as he kisses you. You barely have time to close your front door behind you when he pounces on you, melding his mouth to yours like a man starved.

He's leading you into your living room, walking you backwards toward the couch with expert skill considering he had only been in your new home a handful of times.

Frankie's lips leave yours, but he is still only a breath away so you try to follow him with a little whimper. The action pulls a smile from the taller man, and he looks down at you with fondness pooling in his deep, dark eyes.

“This isn't too fast, is it?” he asks you, eyes turning serious and searching.

“I've been waiting a month for this. It is definitely not too fast, Morales.” And it was too true. Though maybe some of it was your fault - you could have always made the first move, been the one to grab him and beg him to kiss you or touch you or anything - but it was always so hard to get a read on the man in front of you. He's taciturn, never giving anything away and never being too forward. Always just a little bit shy and a lot respectful.

But now, with your consent, Frankie dominates your mouth with renewed fervor. His arms hold you tighter and you can feel his muscles rippling from under his shirt, which you instantly push over his head and throw behind you. His newly exposed skin becomes the subject of your exploration. He's still firmly muscled, but his abs have been covered by the barest hint of softness that you can't wait to get your mouth on.

Before you can carry on that train of thought, one smooth movement later and Frankie has your back pressed into your couch. A few slight adjustments and you are sprawled across the cushions with his body hovering over yours.

He continues to kiss you, long lingering swipes of his tongue against every inch of your mouth, as his broad hands begin an exploration of your body. He's pushing aside and discarding articles of your clothing as he goes along. Your shirt and bra come off and your nipples harden in the chilled air. Frankie finally releases your mouth to focus on the buds, which sends bolts of electricity straight to your sex.

Frankie is working on ridding you of your pants next, but he's so distracted by lavishing your breasts with equal attention that his usually steady fingers are fumbling. Helping him speeds up the process and in moments you are completely naked with Frankie kneeling between your legs.

His deft hands are no longer stumbling as he reaches down to collect your slick on one finger, dragging it up to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. The moan he pulls from you spurs him on and he rewards you with a few more rotations of that finger around your clit before he drags it back down through your folds, dipping into your slit.

Obsessing over Frankie's hands and fingers is one thing, but it's something else completely to feel even one of those thick digits as it sinks into your heat, followed immediately by a second one. You can feel the stretch as he pumps his fingers into your body a few times, then suddenly twists them toward that sweet spot inside you. He finds it immediately and you drop one of your hands over your mouth to muffle the loud noise you emit.

“Don't do that, cariño. I want to hear you,” Frankie says, pressing into that delicious spot again. When you don't respond, lost in the waves of pleasure washing over you, he stops all movement and shifts to tower over you. “I said move your hand and let me hear you, dulzura.”

His voice is soft, but the command behind it is clear. You clench around his fingers at the sound and promptly move your hand to your side.

Once Frankie is assured that you have complied, he moves back to his spot between your spread thighs, this time dipping lower and lower. Open mouth kissed against your belly, hip bones, your thigh, and finally directly on your clit.

“Let me hear you, now, mi amor,” he reminds you one last time before his tongue is flicking over you.

He drapes one firm forearm across your hips to hold you down, then re-inserts two fingers into your heat. With his mouth and fingers working in tandem, he has your orgasm building quickly.

You faintly wonder if anyone has ever been able to build you up so fast, but before you can give too much thought to it you feel the pressure give and you're gushing your climax all over Frankie's fingers and tongue.

“Maybe we should test the bed, now,” you smirk once Frankie has worked you through your peak and allowed you to collect yourself. He is currently pressing kisses to any skin he can reach, but you can feel his mouth curve into a smile at your suggestion, mustache tickling you and causing you to twitch.

His arms wrap around your body in the next moment and he lifts you off the couch, your legs wrapping around his waist as your mouths meet again. The kiss is deep and slow, and can still faintly taste yourself on his lips as he carries you down the hall and straight into your bedroom. He drops you onto your bed with a tiny bounce, then stands up straight and looks down at you, eyes melting dark chocolate.

You feel shy under the scrutiny, reaching up to cover yourself.

“No, hermosa. I want to see you,” Frankie directs.

You bite your lip and open your legs for him, hands dragging down your body, and Frankie watches with lustful eyes as he undoes his pants. He pushes his jeans and underwear down his thick thighs at the same time, causing his hard cock to spring out and stand at attention.

Your mouth waters at the sight and you find yourself clambering onto your knees so you can kiss him again, hands exploring the soft skin of his torso. Your fingers find the top of a scar and follow the long, thin line downward toward his hip bone. You lean down to kiss the scar and his hand drops to rest on your head. He doesn't command your motions, simply lets his fingers caress over your loose hair, so you carry on your downward trail, following his patch of curls to the root of his manhood.

You want to go down on him, but he stops you, using the hand in your hair to gently lead you away and back onto the bed. "Next time, hermosa." His fingers are caressing your still dripping core, barely pressing inside of you at each swipe. "You're so wet for me. Right now I just want to be wrapped in this pussy."

There's a moment of readjustment as he crowds you farther up the bed and you reach over into your nightstand to pull out a condom. You roll the rubber over his hard length, giving it a few firm strokes as you note the girth of it in your palm, fingers not quite meeting around him. Then he's impatiently pushing you back and caging your body under his.

His mouth hovers over yours as his this cock presses slowly into you, stretching you deliciously. Once he has fully seated himself deep inside of you, he latches his mouth to yours, tongue invading your mouth roughly to fight with yours. And then he's moving his hips again, pulling out slowly, then pushing forward with a smooth snap of his hips. He starts a rhythm that instantly has you gasping into his mouth.

Frankie leans up, straightening his back so that he is looking down at your full body and spreads your legs further apart. One of his hands spans across your ribcage as he ruts into your core. It continues over your stomach, up your sternum and comes to rest on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He bites his lip and his eyes slide down to watch where your bodies are connected as he snaps his hips into yours again. The new angle hits a spot inside you that has you seeing stars and the overwhelming sensation pulls a gasp from you.

Frankie's warm hand moves to cup your jaw, his thick thumb slipping into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around the digit and suck, pulling a haggard moan from deep in his chest. His strokes become hurried as he pulls the thumb from your mouth and moves it to your clit. The added sensation causes your eyes to roll back and your peak comes quick and blinding.

Frankie pumps into your clenching cunt three more times before he follows you over the edge, cock twitching deep inside of you.

You're boneless on the bed as Frankie carefully slips out of you with a few sweet kisses on your lips. He leaves your line of vision, but you let him do his thing while you attempt to put yourself back together after being so thoroughly taken apart. Moments after you hear the sink run in the ensuite, you feel the bed dip again and Frankie gently presses a warm cloth to your skin. Once you are sufficiently clean, you grab him by the wrist and drag him back to your side.

He follows easily, settling beside you and engulfing you in his strong arms as you roll into his side. You are stroking your fingers over Frankie's right hand, basking in afterglow when your fingers come into contact with raised scar tissue in the space between his thumb and index finger. Two thick lines about an inch apart.

You drag your finger over that spot several times, documenting the way his soft skin suddenly jumps to rough scar tissue.

"Slide bite," comes Frankie's whisper, like sandpaper in the smooth darkness.

You're not sure what he means, so you settle for a soft “Hm?”

"It's from pistols. The slide comes back and cuts the skin when I fire because my hand is too fat.” the former special ops soldier elaborates.

You gently raise his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to the spot. “I love these hands,” you murmur into warm skin as you drift off. “I'm pretty sure I loved these hands the moment I saw you stirring your coffee in that café.”

In the cloudy verge of sleep, you feel Frankie's nose burrow into your hair, feel him intake a large breath. “You're everything I wanted from the moment I saw you,” is the last thing you hear before darkness overtakes and you fall into one of the most content night's sleep you've had in months.

[ranaiki]

Split Apart | Chapter 1 - Meeting

wc: 1.4k

warnings: swearing (reader is called a bitch), fighting/assault. Reader is not good at fighting sorry.

a/n: this took me a little while to write because I was very unsure of how to introduce the characters. Once again, this is not beta-read since I’m a fairly new writer and have no writer friends, so I apologize if it isn't up to standard. If there are any spelling errors or grammatical errors, I’ll probably notice later on and fix it? Anyways, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

s.masterlist | prev | next

Silence blanketed the Hyogo prefecture.

The air was thick with smoke, a grey haze hanging heavy over the cracked and collapsed buildings that lined the streets. The smog scratched at your throat and burned your eyes, the scarf that covered your mouth and nose providing little protection.

How long has it been now? A day? I’m so hungry...

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly, sending sharp pains up through your ribcage. You gave a soft groan, breath puffing into the damp cloth wrapped around your face.

I gotta find something to eat, somewhere to rest.

Your whole body ached, feet sore from the non-stop walking and climbing you had done since last afternoon.

Dirt, blood, and oil were caked onto your clothes and skin, though at this point, you hardly minded. All you could focus on were your exhaustion, hunger pains, and the constant dull throbbing in your left arm where a deep gash had been made.

Most of the buildings around you were in tatters. Few had completely collapsed, but many had the roof caved in, or had been burnt in the fires that had followed the earthquake to the point where nothing inside would be salvageable.

Your hometown was almost unrecognizable.

Maneuvering through the streets was a difficult task, with rubble blocking the path every several meters, forcing you to climb over it.

More than once you had lost your footing and smacked against the broken pieces of tile and concrete, scratching up your legs and arms, and leaving your school uniform in tatters. It only added to the litany of things that were wrong at the moment.

As you continued on, you lifted your head, and the sight you were met with felt much like a miracle.

The convenience store that resided near your school was almost completely undamaged - scorch marks licked near the base of the cement structure, one of the walls was broken and crumbling, and the windows had all shattered - but it was still standing.

The idea of finding food put an extra spring in your step as you walked, helping you navigate the ruins around you and reach the front doors in record time.

Your feet crunched over the layers of broken glass as you entered the little shop, the bell that hung above the door giving a broken ring. You were amazed it was still intact.

Excitement burst through you as you spotted the shelves of food, all there for the taking. While it looked like it had already been sifted though, you didn’t linger on the thought for long. You lurched forward, snatching cans of meat and other foods, bags of chips, some of the bentos and pre-made meals resting in non-functional freezers, several bottles of water, and medical supplies.

It was like a shopping spree.

Everything that you deemed could be useful went into your once empty school backpack, filling the unused pockets to the brim. You went as far as to grab mini sewing kits and firestarters, lighters and utensils.

You filled your bag till it could be filled no more, before letting yourself collapse to the floor, with your backpack coming to a rest at your side.

The exhaustion that had been hanging onto you all day finally tore in, and you let out a breath of relief as your legs and feet got their much needed break.

Gingerly, you grabbed medical supplies you hadn't managed to fit into your bag, and cleaned and dressed all of your scratches, taking special care with the large wound on your arm and wrapping it up rather sloppily. It would do for now.

You let one of the bottles of fresh water run down your throat, quenching your unbearable thirst and soothing the painful scratchiness that had been caused by the smoke. You tore into packages of melonpan and onigiri of questionable freshness, but with the pangs of hunger that rushed through you, you didn't have the mind to complain.

You spent several long minutes refreshing yourself, filling your stomach with food and water, and making sure all of your wounds were patched up to the best of your ability.

As you were finishing, the broken sound of the bell in the doorway rang through the store. You paused in your ministrations, turning towards the front, and listening to the sound of heavy footsteps as they slowly approached.

A man stepped out into the end of the aisle you rested in, bulky and large, with soot covering him from head to toe and a ravenous look glimmering in his eyes.

You gave him a timid smile, wary of the way he held himself and looked at you.

He was still, not making a sound nor moving, and you gently pushed yourself to your feet, turning to face him with your bag still sitting on the floor next to you.

“I was just leaving.” You began, eyeing the stranger, still cautious and unsure of how to proceed. “Feel free to help-”

“You bitch!”

The man’s angry cry rang out. You had no time to react before he was in front of you, his body slamming you to the ground with brutal force.

You hit the cold tile of the convenience store floor, pain shooting up your spine. You coughed, eyes watering slightly as sharp aches blossomed through you. The shock that washed over you was only momentary, before the adrenaline kicked in, and you began struggling against him.

“Get off of me!” The man’s fingernails dug into your skin, scratching across the surface and reopening the wounds that littered your arms and body. You kicked your legs upwards, using your hands and feet to try and push him away. Sticky blood trickled down your arms as the gashes you had so meticulously wrapped and cleaned were torn open once more.

Anger rolled off of the stranger in waves, permeating the air around you. Fear crept up your throat like a sickening bile, making it hard to breathe.

You managed to land a knee into his gut, the hit solid and hard. He spluttered, breath knocked from his lungs, and scrambled off of you to regain his bearings.

You used the opportunity to get back to your feet, snatching your bag and sprinting past him.

His hand darted out, encircling your ankle, and dragging you back to the ground with another painful thud, the impact sending dull aches up your already battered and bruised frame.

Your lack of knowledge in self defense was suddenly painfully apparent.

Kick after kick and punch after punch were dealt to you as you tried to dodge and fight back, each of your own blows easily blocked. New bruises blossomed across unmarred expanses of flesh, soreness setting into your bones from each hit.

He was screaming at you in fury, his words slurred nonsense as his anger took over.

“This was supposed to feed my family for the next two months!” He screeched, split flying from his mouth in a disgusting spray.

The two minutes the man had been attacking you had felt like an eternity, time dragging on as pain seared through you.

A flash of silver just behind the stranger’s head caught your eye. There was the sound of two objects colliding - a solid thunk - before the man’s barrage of words came to a stop.

He froze above you, still for a second before his eyes closed, and he fell forward. His body landed in a limp pile just at your side, a tangle of limbs pinning you to the floor.

You cried out, pushing his arms off of you and scrambling away, breath heaving in your chest and eyes blown wide. The man was passed out cold on the convenience store’s floor.

Whoever had knocked him out was standing a few feet away, silently watching.

“Thank.. thank you.” You mumbled softly, breaking the stillness that had followed. Your knees were tucked up against your chest, gaze fixated on your attacker. You hardly even noticed the person standing a few feet away, hardly acknowledged him besides your meek expression of gratitude.

“Y/n?”

You blinked. Who knew your name? The way the person spoke, their voice, was oddly familiar, like a word sitting at the tip of your tongue.

Your head lifted, turning slowly towards your savior.

You were met with a young face and blond hair. Recognition melted over you, melded with confusion and relief.

“Atsumu?”

Taglist:

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Taglist is open! Send an ask or message me to be added <3

[shijiujun]

I LOVE your chuyao fics. I was wondering if you can write something about them being soulmates with soul marks. Another prompt is chuyao being soulmates but was never able to be together for different reasons, but in this lifetime, this is their chance. Time after Time. Life after Life. Their souls yearning to be together. LOVE you for sharing your fics.

Heya! Oh my god, this took FOREVER, I think about 3 months plus, but here it is, it’s a shorter one but ooof it’s my first soulmate/soulmark/reincarnation fic!

Summary: Lu Yao dies at the grand old age of 72 seated in his rocking chair, his hand clutching onto a photo of him and Chusheng, a man who died nearly 40 years ago without even saying goodbye to him. A man who had his soul mark, but didn’t tell him.

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Warnings: Major character deaths (temporary!!!) 

⬇⬇⬇

1965

An almost faded photo of him and Chusheng - the only one Lu Yao has - sits on the table next to a cup of steaming tea. Leaning into his rocking chair which is lined with thick fur to keep him warm in the dead of winter, Lu Yao reaches out with shaking hands to slide it over to him.

They were so young then, Chusheng in that lovely, gorgeous navy blue three-piece suit and himself in that red corduroy jacket and pants, a photo Youning took when they were not looking. Lu Yao can hardly remember what it was they were talking about that sunny afternoon, but as he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still feel the warm sunlight on his skin, the fresh scent of flowers and grass in the air as he stood right next to Chusheng.

And the smile in Chusheng's voice as he spoke to him.

One would think that at the ripe old age of 72, Lu Yao would have learnt to let things go, but the regret sits heavy in his chest — an unchanging weight that has lodged itself permanently between his heart and his ribcage, throbbing painfully with every breath he has taken in the last forty years.

Forty years, Lu Yao thinks.

Forty years since he laid eyes on the man he loved for the very last time. A man he never got to spend his life with, for which Lu Yao has regretted since.

As he aged, as the wrinkles sank deeper and sun spots emerged on his once-smooth and unblemished skin, Lu Yao can barely see his own soul mark anymore. The image of it however has been seared into his brain — a full moon right over his heart, just like the one he saw that night with Chusheng on the bridge, when they were both naive and hoping life was just that bit simpler, that time would pass just a little slower.

A full moon that was printed right over Chusheng’s heart, identical to Lu Yao’s.

Qiao Chusheng, Lu Yao blinks languidly, how dare you?

When Lu Yao finally saw it, when he finally realized that he had lost so much time he could have had with Chusheng because the man truly was his soulmate all along, Chusheng was no longer breathing.

I’m sorry, Liu Zi had said to him, his face ashen.

Lu Yao stood in the morgue, a place he had spent so much time with Chusheng in as the man watched him conduct multiple brief autopsies on their latest victims. Instead of an unknown face and body lying there this time, however, it was Chusheng.

By then, Lu Yao hadn’t seen Chusheng in three years, having fled to Paris to escape his family and a love that he thought would never be reciprocated.

He told us not to let you know, Youning said, her eyes swollen from a few hours of continuous tears, he wanted something better for you.

Well, Lu Yao thinks bitterly, Chusheng eliminated that 'better' option the moment he died, leaving him alone with regrets of all the things they never said to each other. And forty years later, he is old, dying and alone. No wife, no children, no family in sight.

If Youning didn’t force him to come live with her and her huge family a few years ago, Lu Yao might have died even sooner perhaps.

As it is, Youning and her husband are still alive. If Chusheng did not leave them so early, he would have been uncle to three lovely children and their children too. The manor is never quiet, the silence constantly punctuated with high-pitched giggles, raucous laughter and heavy footsteps. Hands, both big and small, patting or shaking at him to get his attention, asking him to tell them exciting stories of his days way back as a consulting detective.

Those days were his happiest. And after his soulmate left him, the most painful.

If only he had said something, if only he did not leave like a coward, if only Lu Yao had opened his fucking mouth and taken a leap of faith, he could have had a few more years with Chusheng, if not a lifetime.

Lu Yao has lived four, excruciating and long decades after as punishment, even though he’d thought about following after Chusheng too many times. Every glance at the soul mark on his chest makes the skin burn as his throat tightens, unable to breathe as the memory of Chusheng’s every word, his every smile and touch, assaults his senses.

The afternoon today is unnaturally lovely for this season, sunlight peeking through the dense clouds and casting a golden glow against the thick sheets of snow outside. Lu Yao is afraid of the cold and has dreaded every winter since Chusheng was buried, because the only person who loved him enough to ensure that he was always warmed up died forty years ago, taking along with him Lu Yao’s beating heart.

On this day, however, the biting winds don’t seem to bother him all that much. He left the door open earlier, and from where he’s seated, he can see the grand manor that is Youning and her soulmate’s home. Outside in the courtyard, Li Chuyu, Youning’s eldest daughter, is watching her two children and their three cousins tumble in the snow with Li Minsheng, Chuyu’s younger brother and Youning’s third child.

They grew up calling him San Tu shushu, and Lu Yao wonders what kind of an uncle Chusheng would have been. If Chusheng knew that Lu Yao spent most of his time buying expensive gifts for the children and agreeing to all their requests, including when Chuyu and her younger sister, Chuwen, begged him to bring them to a crime scene, Lu Yao knows Chusheng might have scolded him for it.

I wouldn’t have, Chusheng’s voice sounds in the back of his head.

Lu Yao smiles. Chusheng is standing right there next to him as he says that, dressed in the same navy blue suit from the photo in his hands.

“You wouldn’t have?” Lu Yao croaks before huffing in laughter, “You’re such a liar, Lao Qiao.”

How would I have had the heart to scold you, Chusheng points out, I would have scolded the children instead.

“Even I can’t bear to scold them,” Lu Yao says, sighing as he looks out again. “Minsheng reminds me of you. And the way Chuwen nags at me sometimes, it’s as if you were around when they were growing up.”

They grew up well, Chusheng agrees.

Lu Yao feels the slightest of pressure on his shoulder, but he no longer has any energy to turn and look at Chusheng.

San Tu ah, Chusheng says softly, you did well.

“Did I?” asks Lu Yao, shuddering as he takes in another breath. “I lost you.”

Stupid, and there it is, that exasperated but immensely fond tone that Lu Yao has not heard in so long, you’ll never lose me.

Lu Yao chuckles, and for the first time since he saw Chusheng’s lifeless body, that weight in his chest eases.

Much later, when little Ruoyun runs into the little hut that serves as San Tu yeye’s private study, she sees the old man asleep on his rocking chair. Her baba and gugu are there, their eyes puffy and red, and Youning nainai is there as well, seated on a stool right next to San Tu yeye.

“Nainai! I want to ask yeye about something,” Ruoyun says quietly, coming inside. “Is yeye sleeping?”

She goes to Youning when the old woman opens her arms, wondering why everyone is crying.

“Ruoyun ah,” Youning nainai says, “Your San Tu yeye went to find your Chusheng yeye.”

“Chusheng yeye? The one who has San Tu yeye’s mark?”

Clutched tight in his right hand is the photo she took so many years ago of Chusheng and Lu Yao, his fingers curled around it as he left.

===

2019

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Lu Yao stands frozen in the doorway for a good few seconds, his eyes trained on his new roommate as everything clicks in his head, all the missing pieces sliding together perfectly in his head as images of a different looking Qiao Chusheng melds together with the one before him.

For as long as Lu Yao could remember, he has dreamt of himself and his soulmate, but differently. Snippets and snatches of moments that belonged to a different time, and when he was younger, his mother would bring him to doctors and psychologists to see what exactly was ailing him but Lu Yao continued having the dreams. He learnt instead to hide them from his family and friends.

He did wonder if he was going insane, or if there was something wrong with him, but while the dreams were frequent when he was much younger, once he entered high school, they only turned up occasionally. In university, Lu Yao could almost pretend he was normal and that everything he dreamt of and saw was simply a figment of his imagination.

A man in an old police uniform, driving an old, vintage car. The same man putting a watch on his wrist. The man in a long, black cape on one occasion, in a leather jacket on a few other occasions, and the one that surfaced frequently was him in a three-piece navy blue suit. Lu Yao never heard any sort of dialogue, but he remembers the man’s gentle eyes, full of fondness for him and the smile tugging at his lips whenever he looks at Lu Yao.

Looking at him like he loves him. The same soul mark on the man’s chest, right where Lu Yao’s is.

A full moon, like the one he and Qiao Chusheng, in their past life, was looking at that night. Lu Yao remembers that night as clearly as if it was a recurring dream.

And right here, right now, Lu Yao’s breath catches, because his new roommate’s soul mark is there for everyone to see, fresh from his shower.

It matches the soul mark on Lu Yao’s chest, and for a moment, he feels nauseous and sick.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chusheng frowns, stepping forward. “You look a little sick, are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Lu Yao bends over, and empties his stomach right on the man’s doorstep.

—

When his mind is clearer and the urge to throw up has abated somewhat, Lu Yao feels like throwing himself into the river and be done with it.

His soulmate, his one and only true love, and Lu Yao just made him clean up his mess. Most people would be happy to find their soulmates, he knows, but right now, Lu Yao is petrified. His cheeks are scalding hot with embarrassment as he lies there unmoving on the couch after Chusheng helped him there.

“Lu Yao, isn’t it?” Chusheng’s voice sounds right next to him then, and Lu Yao jolts. “Man-jie said you were coming over today.”

“I’m Qiao Chusheng. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

Ah, Lu Yao thinks, even his name is the same.

Lu Yao suspects that he’s truly gone off the bend, because what are the fucking odds? Soulmates and soul marks are the order of the natural world, but reincarnation, prophetic dreams, fate and what not? That’s something you only see out of movies.

Shaking his head in mortification, Lu Yao croaks, “I was feeling a little under the weather from the long train ride. I’m a doctor, I’m fine.”

Then, “I’m really sorry about the door.”

“No worries. You’re a doctor at Jiahui International? That’s four streets away from here,” Chusheng smiles.

Lu Yao feels his dumb, traitorous heart leap at the sight of those curved lips.

“Yeah, this is the closest place I could find,” Lu Yao swallows. “You… What do you do?”

“I work at the precinct, it’s seven blocks away in the other direction,” Chusheng answers.

A police officer, Lu Yao thinks, just like…

Just like before.

“It’s almost time for dinner and I’ve got some ingredients in the fridge,” Chusheng says suddenly, getting to his feet. “Are you allergic to anything? I’ll do some seafood porridge and two light dishes.”

“Ah, you don’t have to go to the trouble-“

Lu Yao tries to get to his feet, but Chusheng pats at his shoulder, signalling for him to just lie down and take a good rest.

“Consider it a welcome dinner,” he winks. “I haven’t had many roommates that throw up right on the door the first time we meet.”

Lu Yao’s cheeks flame immediately and the nausea recedes momentarily. He’s not sure if he can manage without throwing up again, so he obeys and lies there, almost drifting off to the sound of Chusheng in the kitchen.

It feels as if he’s split into two - one part of him remembers another Qiao Chusheng from a long, long time ago, and the other part of him has met his own Qiao Chusheng now. Are they one and the same? If they are, it doesn’t seem as if this Qiao Chusheng suffers from the same dreams as he does, because the man didn’t even pause one bit at the sight of him earlier.

Smiling to himself a little, Lu Yao knows all he has is time. If the dreams are from a past life, a past life of love unfulfilled and soulmates who were doomed to part, then in this one, in this life…

Lu Yao will never let him go again.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts when a steaming hot bowl of porridge appears in front of him, and the scent has his stomach growling loudly.

“You’re too skinny,” Chusheng says, sitting down on the coffee table as he moves the bowl closer to Lu Yao. “Are all doctors as skinny as you are?”

“Have you seen a lot of doctors?”

Lu Yao asks, then grabs for the bowl thankfully as he sits up. His hand touches Chusheng’s unintentionally right at that moment, and Lu Yao draws in a sharp breath and jerks, as if the contact burnt him.

Chusheng is staring at him with an indescribable expression on his face.

Damn it, Lu Yao did not think so far earlier, how he would tell Qiao Chusheng that he has a matching mark on his own chest. He didn’t think the connection would be this strong either — in his dreams, he doesn’t recall this ever happening, otherwise maybe Lu Yao in the past would have gotten a clue, considering how often Qiao Chusheng touched him.

Quietly, as if entranced, Chusheng reaches out. His fingers lightly trail over the spot where Lu Yao’s soul mark should be, hidden underneath his shirt.

“… here?” he asks, eyes wide. “The same?”

Setting the bowl on the table next to Chusheng, Lu Yao unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt, his fingers hesitant and a little clumsy. His cheeks are tinged slightly in red and even though he knows this is his soulmate, the man he's destined to spend the rest of his life with, this Qiao Chusheng is new to him.

“You didn’t say anything earlier when you saw mine,” Chusheng swallows, Lu Yao’s soul mark visible to him now.

“I was busy throwing up at your door,” reminds Lu Yao, and then because it’s a little ticklish, he grasps at Chusheng’s straying hand.

The grip brings Chusheng back to the present, but nothing can prepare Lu Yao for the wide, gorgeous smile that emerges on Chusheng’s face.

"You mean... our door," Chusheng replies cheekily.

It takes Lu Yao's breath away.

“Here, eat up, and we should… we should talk,” Chusheng says, already sounding like a naggy motherhen as he picks up the bowl again.

He watches a little reverently, so quiet as he watches Lu Yao eat, not forgetting to pick up some vegetables and meat from the two other dishes he cooked and place them in Lu Yao’s bowl whenever it looks a little empty.

Perhaps this Chusheng will never remember, Lu Yao wonders, it’s too soon to tell.

One thing is for certain — the way this Chusheng looks at him, and the way the past Qiao Chusheng looked at Lu Yao… it is exactly the same.

“What do you like to eat? I’ll do some grocery shopping later,” Chusheng suggests.

Lu Yao smiles then, remembering all the times this man bought breakfast and meals for him in a lifetime that is not his own.

“We can go together,” he says.

They have the rest of this life to figure it out.

[modestlyabsurd]

Just a Dance (Loki x Reader)

"Let's hear it for the gride and broom!"

The formal crowd of green and red erupts into applause, and your glass of green punch fogs up from a sudden laugh after seeing a tipsy Tony Stark on the stagefront - using the microphone stand as a cane.

Having never been fond of line dancing but finding it very entertaining to watch, you nestled yourself away from the commotion by the food bar, lined with tables under black cloths and stacked high with elegant dishes, to observe the dance floor. The cha-cha slide never disappoints; the look of concentration on Peter's face as he tried (and failed) to hit the poses was enough, but add that to the honest yet terrible attempts from the "gride and broom" and you've got a beautifully orchestrated shit show.

Tony's drunken voice continues to blubber incoherent sounds of happiness over the crowd. "Where are you guys anyway? Get up here - blurgh - it's sappy mushy speech time, come on!" With that, everyone encourages the newlyweds up to the stage.

Even from your nook, the brightness of the couple's smiles are blinding, nevermind the spotlights following them along. You feel your cheeks getting tighter as an unconscious smile spreads across them, marvelling at how Bruce lovingly carries Natasha's long, white train up the steps. Her red lips and braided hair contrast gorgeously against her dreamy wedding gown, and Bruce can't take his eyes away - nor can either of them help the huge, toothy grins on their faces.

A hopeful phenomenon. Two tortured souls who found peace and love in one another. You knew no one deserved it more.

Natasha urges Bruce to speak first. He makes a face, but happily obliges nonetheless. "I guess this thing's on then?" he says, eliciting modest laughs from the people. "Ah, thank you all again for being here, hope you're having as good a time as we are. Thanks again to Tony for providing us with pretty much everything, from the venue, to the decorations, to the food, to the music, to gifts, to our honeymoon - this could go on for another forty-five minutes,"

"Hey," says a deep voice; you turn to find a sharp-dressed man-bunned Thor standing next to you. "Missed you on the dance floor."

You offer a smile. "Not exactly my cup of tea. Neither is this, though," you swirl your punch around.

"The red one is far superior," says Thor, stepping around you to ladle himself another glass. "Have you tried it?"

"Yeah, that's the spiked one. No wonder you like it more." You hear Bruce speaking of how trapped he felt for so long, until Natasha swindled her way into his life and somehow made him feel worthy of living.

"Really? Hm, I couldn't tell. But you have a point, it's at least a bit better than that," says Thor, though you barely hear him - and when he meets your eyes, you don't really see him either. "Everything alright?"

"Hm?" you chirp. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Why you ask?"

"You just seem ... elsewhere, I suppose. But perhaps it's my own longing disguising itself as someone else's." he says nonchalantly, looking to the floor and downing his glass of red punch in one go.

You open your mouth for a humorous response before you see a wave of sadness wash over Thor. Instead, you nudge his tree trunk of an arm, "C'mon. I give it two weeks before Jane comes back."

He scoffs dismissively and draws a pattern on the floor with his shoe. "Sure. She, erm ... has she, mentioned anything about it, to you?"

"Actually, make it one week."

It was indicated that Bruce's speech had ended when the crowd started cheering and the lights dimmed. With the spotlights still on Natasha and Bruce, they hold each other intimately close and dance to another slow song below the stage. The band's soft guitar and bass vibrates from the soles of your feet up through your bones, all the way to the condensating glass in your hand. It was both a riveting and soothing sensation all at once.

A few feet away, you spot a familiar dark figure weaving through the dancing couples toward you and Thor. As his confident strides bring him into clearer view, your mouth suddenly feels like it's full of cotton and the room gets warmer. Wishing to just become invisible, you attempt to busy yourself with one of the vast cheese platters nearby - haphazardly, having no idea which cracker goes with goat's milk brie or which fruit goes with English Stilton.

He emerges and taps the shoulder of his oblivious brother's maroon blazer. "Don't blame the messenger, but a drunken game of truth or dare has resulted in your friends attempting to lift Mjolnir."

"Gah, not again!" Thor slams his glass on the table, causing some of the cake and hors d'oeuvres to rattle, before running away and disappearing in the sea of people. You're left alone with Loki, and your invisibility attempt has resulted in a not so nice bite of smoked gouda and white grapes.

Next thing you know, your punch glass is empty and your mouth is still dry.

Loki makes a point to look into your eyes rather than gawk at your formal wear as others have already done. It's a breath of fresh air, yet at the same time, his small, polite smile makes you forget how to breathe altogether. You force a smile of your own despite your growing nerves.

"How can you be enjoying yourself tucked away from the fun like this?" says Loki. His voice reminds you of melted chocolate, which draws your attention to the gloriously flowing chocolate fountain across the room. Enticing as it was, looking at the confection was a futile effort to avoid staring at Loki's dark green suit and black bowtie, or his new short curly hair that worked so well.

"You're one to talk. Haven't seen you having much fun either," the words flow smoothly. A nice surprise.

"I never said I was enjoying myself."

You laugh and shrug in concurrence. "I dunno, it's better than it seems. I'm here with all the food and drinks, everyone else is busy, and I have a bird's eye view of the dance floor."

Loki reaches an arm around you and grabs a finger sandwich; the brief closeness sends pleasant goosebumps over your neck. "I suppose. But wouldn't it be nice to see it up close?" he asks. The way he deftly held and nibbled the tiny food ... Jeez. How in the world can someone make eating a sandwich attractive?

In desperate need of a distraction, you turn to the three tier display of sandwiches and take one at random. From your side vision you see Loki anticipating your answer, so you reply with a mouthful of cucumber and cream cheese, "I don't dance."

"Oh, come on. Will you dance for me?"

You stop chewing to stare at him wordlessly.

"Ahem, bad choice of words," he clears his throat and says with a grimace. "I do beg your pardon. Rather," he extends a chivalrous hand toward you, "will you dance with me?"

The disbelief that Loki wants to dance with you, out of all the single people around - most of whom aren't chipmunking all the snacks - it almost leaves you dumbfounded. Almost being the keyword, being as how you took his hand so quickly. The coldness of it shocked you a bit, but the lightness and warmth of his hold made you feel safe. As if you could hold on, or even let go if you wanted, and he wouldn't mind.

He lead you to the center of the floor. The two of you were engulfed by the sea of people dressed in dark shades of red and green, dancing closely to the music. Just as the anxiety began to set in, Loki lifted your interlocked hands up to shoulder level and held you just beneath your ribcage with his other hand. Your mind is whirring, you can't decide if your shivers stem from anxiety, the temperature of Loki's skin, or the mere fact that you can smell him and it's driving you a little crazy.

He squeezed your hand, and patiently placed your free arm around his shoulder. Breathe, you remind yourself. Relax. It's just a dance. It's nothing. The vibrations from the music soothed you, slowly swept you away from your worries. When you dared to reopen your eyes, you found that it was not only the band, but Loki's gentle swaying that carried away your fears.

"See? It's not so bad."

You shake your head. "Just wait until I step on your feet."

He looked at you and you looked at him. You, a clumsy bag of bones, and he, a skillful puppeteer, gracefully carrying your bodies' movements. You both smiled. Like pots of water, overflowing with nervousness and happiness alike.

As he found you relaxing and absorbing the moment, Loki finds himself gazing at the way your hair is framing your face. It hangs and accentuates the softness of your features, but somehow reflects a distinct royalty in you, despite there being none. He can't bring himself to look away. You hadn't seemed to notice that the song had ended and a new slow song had begun to play, and Loki didn't bring it to your attention.

Rather, he brought your warm hand in his grasp up around his shoulder, matching the other, and placed his own hand to match the one at your side. He was testing the waters, really, and was relieved that you offered no protests to his actions. In fact, you seemed to meld into him further by laying your head on his chest, making his heart jump miles into the air.

He was good at concealing his emotions. Or he thought he was. Before you.

The light vibration of your voice against his sternum pulls him from his thoughts. "Pardon?" he asks.

"What are you wearing?"

He glances at himself. "A suit."

"I can see that, dipshit," you chide. "I meant what Asgardian fragrance are you wearing?"

"Oh," Loki croaks, biting away a sting of embarrassment. "I dunno. Must be my natural scent. Pheromones, as your human science says."

"Liar," you playfully squint your eyes at him.

He raises a hand with three fingers, "Scout's honor."

If you could facepalm without breaking away from Loki, you'd punch yourself in the face. "That's, that's not how it works - "

"Shhhhh ... we don't speak of the Scout's rules," he presses your head back into his chest with an open hand, subsequently silencing your laughs and concealing his own blushed cheeks from your view.

"I just realized something."

"What?" he says cheerfully.

You pull your head up to look at Loki. "Everyone in this room is staring at us."

Discreetly, Loki looks around and sure enough is met with many prying eyes. It made you want to crouch behind his legs to hide, but since that's not socially acceptable, you study Loki's dark green Victorian jacket. Is there food on you or something?

But he, on the other hand, lapped up every bit of the attention of the wedding guests. He flexes his fingers a bit, pinching your hips; a gentle reminder of his closeness to you. "Mm, perhaps they're jealous."

"Jealous of what?" you wonder. People are whispering under their breath in a way that instantly made your palms sweat. You try to decipher what they're saying, but all that's clear is that you're the topic.

"Of me."

"Psh. Yeah, you're probably right." You allow your eyes to drift over to his slightly crooked bowtie. It accentuates his boyishness; it sends butterflies through your chest and down to your belly.

"Do you know why they're jealous of me?"

"I mean, I can think of a few reasons."

His cheekbones round out as he smiles. "Well there's one reason in particular that is driving them all mad at the moment. Aside from my mere existence, of course."

A laugh puffs from your throat. "What is it?"

"It's the fact that I'm dancing with the one person that everyone in this room wishes to dance with."

You blink, as his bowtie seems to become a blobby rectangle shape. Me? you think. The room was already too warm, and now your face is uncontrollably heating up. You notice the scuffs on his shiny black dress shoes.

"You're crazy."

Loki looks up momentarily, feeling warmed from the inside out by you. The damp hands placed around his neck are all that's holding him on the ground. "Call me what you will - I know envy when I see it."

You miss a beat and step on his toes, but he doesn't react; in the same moment, the lights brighten, as the crowd began to applaud and mindlessly you did too. The dance was over.

When you turn back, you find that the lights have enhanced Loki's vivid green eyes. They were happy. They captivated you entirely, drew you in to him. You felt drunk; Loki was your liquor and you'd drank more than you ever had before. Someone's speaking on stage but you don't hear them. It's just you and Loki.

Cold, fingers sweep behind your neck and effortlessly bring your mouth to his. Drunk, without inhibitions, you allow for the kiss to deepen and Loki obliges, but only modestly, mindful of the ever prying eyes. You couldn't have been further from them. His hands held you in place, kept you tamed. He pulled away ever so slightly to let you breathe - and indeed you needed to, for you were breathless completely.

It took all you had not to kiss him again and never stop.

"YAAAAAS!" someone shouted.

You and Loki both turn and find Peter cheering like an idiot. And if for some reason you were imagining everyone staring earlier, though somewhat preoccupied, they're definitely staring now. Mentally you were screaming at Loki to poof you two away from it all as you hid your face in his lapels. The scent of him encased you in a fleeting blanket of safety.

"Please," Loki assures - still holding your hand, "there's nothing to see here. Do return to the party."

And they did. They listened to Loki without another glance. As they dispersed to mingle, you caught sight of Natasha and Bruce across the room; you mouth an apology to Natasha, but she shrugs it off with a smile and a knowing wink. Which didn't help the the fact that your face might as well be melting from embarrassment.

An icy breath in your ear takes the wind out of you.

"What did I tell you? They're all envious of me. Because of you."

~

🎶they come runnin bustin down all the doors

cuz EVERY girl's crazy bout a sharp-dressed Thor 🎶

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @triggeredpossum @tarynkauai @sadwaywardkid

[gisachi]

OMG! No.19 with my Shinran babies please! Love you!

Thank you for this number, Anons! I have a particular idea stuck in my mind for this one when I first came across the prompts list. So I’m excited to finally write it down.😆 Hope you like it! Fluffy ShinRan ahead! 💞

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss. (1,937 words)

.

.

.

Among the multitudes of traits Ran admires from Shinichi, it’s his confidence that always gets her.

Ran loves the way his lips tug to an accomplished smirk whenever he completes all puzzle pieces of a baffling mystery, or the way his bright eyes glint when he quotes his most favorite lines from Holmes’ cases. She loves how easily he captivates big crowds with his proud, gallant voice, streamlining facts that would put any expert to shame. She loves how he, despite his energy, turns cool and collected when facing a crisis, because as young as he is he knows how to make judgments better than any adult ever can.

She loves him like that. And she loves him even more when he’s like that, to her.

She remembers the first time he held her hand as his girlfriend during their walk home from school — he was all smiles and charm with no hint of reluctance in his eyes. The same way whenever he presses his forehead against hers to check her temperature, or when he tucks her loose locks behind her ear on her stead. He doesn’t hesitate stroking his fingers on the corner of her lips to remove grains of rice stuck on them whenever they dine out, only to eat them afterwards and laughing at how red she’ll be from that.

In those gestures, it’s like he’s teaching her how to be physically comfortable with him. Which she does learn so easily. She likes it. It makes her feel the legitimacy of their relationship. They’re not only best friends but two human beings who love each other and find comfort in each other’s physical closeness.

But as much as she feels his confidence translating through these gestures, there’s one thing he hasn’t done.

He has never kissed her.

This dawned on her when she notices how his face only goes as far as touching her nose when he presses their foreheads together, though her lips are out in the open. That, and when he drops her home after a date, he’ll get really close and it’s ridiculous how her eyes flutter in anticipation for a kiss but he won’t; instead he’ll just squeeze her hand and say his goodbye.

He’s never kissed her.

Not even an attempt.

She doesn’t know what to feel about it.

“Is there something wrong?”

Shinichi slumps beside her on the bed, body nestling comfortably albeit the worried expression he wears. She remembers they’re in her room doing homework, a routine they have after class, which they do alternately between his house and hers.

Earlier, she told Shinichi she’ll lie down for a moment, and judging by how he follows her five minutes after she said that, she figures her somber tone must’ve bugged him.

“Are you sick?”

Ran vigorously shakes her head, and it looks like she’s answering him but in truth she’s veering her brain away from her silly thoughts, embarrassed by where it has drifted to.

Notwithstanding that, he presses his forehead against hers like how he usually does. Even if he’s done this a thousand times, she still can’t help but blush.

“Weird. You aren’t.” Shinichi remarks, voice evident of concern.

“Like I said.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

He observes her for a little longer, caressing her cheek with slow strokes of his thumb, handsome blue eyes serious, unyielding.

This is embarrassing.

His face is only inches away and her breath hitches, unsure of where she must look but in the end settles for his eyes, which stare right at her like he’s seeing through her soul, reading her thoughts.

Then, Shinichi closes in and goes for it.

On the lips.

Ran releases a surprised ‘mpfh’ right when he presses on her, and her temperature begins to rise like she’s truly in a fever.

Even with the littlest movement of his mouth over hers, she feels like she’s going to pass out from the drastic temperature change in her body.

His lips are so red, so warm.

She can’t breathe. She can’t move. She can’t—!

He pulls back.

Ran dumbly looks at him, shaken by the entire feeling of them lying on her bed and him suddenly giving her a kiss. A kiss which, though abrupt, is enough to unleash all the butterflies trapped in her belly.

Shinichi just kissed her.

On her lips!

But...

“I-...” he withholds his words, eyes wide, as if startled by his own actions. The hand framing her cheek quivers.

Something isn’t right.

Something‘s bothering him.

Unsure of what she’s done wrong, she touches his cheek, only for him to flinch beneath her fingertips.

“Shinichi…?” Her voice quivers, too.

The look in his eyes before he captured her lips was so sure. Now, he gazes at her like he’s having second thoughts; eyes lidded with delicate love and affection but behind them lie badges of uncertainty.

She doesn’t like it.

All his life he’s been so confident of his choices, but why, now, does he seem to doubt giving what she secretly anticipates from him for the longest time?

“I uh… I’m sorry I-...I might’ve been rushing, I just...crap,” he hides his reddened cheeks with his back hand, averting his gaze away.

Wait.

No.

If she pays close attention to the stillness of the room, she can hear his erratic heartbeat thumping mercilessly against his ribcage.

If she observes his face carefully, she can count each drop of sweat dotting his forehead.

The more he speaks the more he jumbles up his consonants.

All of these he desperately tries to conceal with his hands but it isn’t working because they, too, shiver like it’s winter.

It’s not that he’s doubting.

He’s…

“Do you want to...do this?”

Ran blinks her doe-like eyes at his question, and in that instant he flits his nervous eyes back at her.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, voice muffled by his hand.

“I mean we can…not, like, if you’re not read-”

Silly boy.

Removing his hand from his face, she silences him with a press of her lips on his.

What do you mean I’m not ready?

Torrents of emotion brew inside her as she recreates his kiss from earlier, though instead of making it brief, she does it longer.

You’ve prepared me enough—it’s about time.

She doesn’t expect him to get flustered at this. After all, he’s Shinichi. But like all other guys whose knees get weak when they receive a heartfelt kiss from their love, his whole resolve collapses, dissolves through his fingertips, as though she’s absorbing all of that from him and he’s letting it.

Wow. The power her kiss has over him.

Nothing can get any better than this.

However.

It is one thing to kiss, but another to be good at it. Though she surges on him with so much passion, she finds herself...stuck.

Does she move? Where does she place her hands?

She plants awkward kisses along his mouth, and with every passing second the confidence she mustered begins to wane.

She’s horrible. Pathetic.

He must be hating this.

“Ran.”

Shinichi breaks away, stares at her for what seems like forever.

She waits for him to laugh, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he guides her hand to his nape, cradles her jaw and smiles, “May I?”, before pulling her to meet her mouth and kiss her again.

It might be his confidence regained or a natural talent, but the way he delivers is magical. Heavenly. “Like this,” his voice comes out breathy, as he leads her mouth to a specific motion over his. Oh god. She feels as though she ascends the skies, floats above the clouds, flies with the birds with every brush of lips. It doesn’t take long until their mouths dance in perfect rhythm, lips melding comfortably like melting iron.

This is...surreal.

The bed shifts and suddenly she’s facing the ceiling instead of sideways, his upper body hovering above her. His tentative kisses become more decisive, more characteristic of him, and they fill her body with outrageous warmth as he punctuates every kiss with a soft, wet sound, and she cannot filter her next actions so she hums in his mouth, silently.

His lips are like strong armors, clashing against hers so powerfully and she’s willing to lose. The way he grazes his tongue over her inner lip makes every fine hair on her skin tingle, and she sighs in bliss as he delicately tilts her head in an angle more comfortable to them and albeit faintly, he moans.

Everything around her disappears, it’s just him and her, being intimate like this. Being more intimate than ever.

A sudden bite on her lower lip however jolts her and she opens her dazed eyes to see him with his shut tight, brows creased in concentration, his full undivided attention to her, kissing her with an intensity greater than the heat of a thousand suns and it’s...ridiculous. Ridiculous how mad her heart beats at how frustratingly handsome he looks. How her ears flush and cheeks flare up at how foreign they sound. How her vision blurs and blurs until she can no longer keep her eyes open and just fall, deep into his embrace, into his lips, surrendering her will slowly, sweetly…

His mouth leaves her with a quiet pop, weight above her lessening a little.

She cannot open her eyes, but she finds herself lifting her head, wanting to feel his lips again. At this point, it’s already a crime to stop.

“Ran?” He sounds croaky, and she doesn’t realize how dry her throat has become until she replies with an equally hoarse ‘Hn?’

Why are you stopping? Don’t!

“...Your father might kill me if he sees us like this on your bed.”

Her eyes open, reality kicking in.

She’s not in the clouds. They’re still in her room.

“Ah... you-you’re right!”

Shock and embarrassment pass over her face, realizing how much her body reacted to him like it had never reacted to anything before. Her heart rate refuses to slow down.

Oh my god. We just...

He chuckles lightly, pulls her up until she’s sitting Japanese-style on her bed.

They share a minute-long silence, allowing themselves to absorb what just happened, before he starts.

“Hey, Ran.”

“Yes?!” she squeaks, a complete opposite from Shinichi’s tone. She wants to slap herself for sounding too hyper from still being so hung up on the intense kiss they just shared.

“We’ll um, take it slow, okay?”

He soothes her with a cold but steady hand, and she feels herself gradually calming down.

“We’ll take it slow if we’re going to do more of, um... that, from now on.” He mumbles the last part of the sentence, scratching his cheek shyly, averting his gaze again like a bashful boy that he apparently is.

Shinichi stuttering, blushing, being a shy mess.

A sight she doesn’t know she needs.

“...Yes,” her lips tilt with her head, “Yes, of course,” before they widen into an adorable beam. “Then, please take care of me, Shinichi!”

His face flushes once again, more crimson than he’s ever been.

Shinichi may not know it, but Ran will always admire Shinichi for his confidence.

But seeing him like this - being a vulnerable, nervous, mess of a man - is a different story, as she realizes how she wants to see more of this, too.

Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe the day after that.

Maybe, for the rest of their lives.

After a little moment of sharing shy giggles, he stands up, extending his hand to her. “Let’s finish homework?”

She nods, takes his hand. “Okay.”

.

.

.

[realllllfangirllllll]

Beyond Lovers || Chp. 23

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

Warning: soft soft fluff

Masterlist

{Previous / Next }

Credits to rightful owner for this cute pic

———

You peeled your eyes open to the sight of the bright sun. A heavy weight lay on your upper stomach and you moved your gaze downwards. A smile crept towards your face as the man you love laid on top of your stomach. Your hand went to brush aside the stray hair that dangled above his forehead. From your point of view, the sun hit perfectly upon his gentle, resting face which gave a soft glow to his features.

Jaehyun stirred from his sleep as your hand rest on his cheek. You saw a smile creep upon his face and he spoke softly with sleep laced to his voice, “Morning boss.”

Your cheeks immediately heat up and you playfully smacked him in the arm. Feigning hurt, Jaehyun clutched onto his arm, “What? You told me to call you that.”

Too embarrassed by last night’s escapade, you hid your face with the palm of your hands. Mumbling into them, you asked, “How is it that you fell into my submission for the first time but you’re still just as smug?”

You heard him chuckle deeply as his hand gently pulled yours away from your face, “That’s because now I know how much you love me.”

Before you could retort, his hands went to your neck and pulled you down to meet his lips. No matter how many times you’ve kissed him, he has never failed to make you feel even more loved. As your lips melded together in harmonic rhythm, you somehow felt what he wanted to express. He kissed you with such care showing how secure he felt when he was with you. No more drama. No more fights. He was himself when he was with you.

He pulled apart from the kiss but never fully letting his lips leave yours. You felt his sleepy eyes gaze into yours as his sweet breath tickled your lips, “I love you so much y/n.”

You gave him a school girl’s smile and replied with a soft whisper, “And I love you.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn to smile like an idiot. He was still in awe that the two of you were together in this bedroom again, happily cuddled up. He wanted this moment to last forever but he knew he had important plans to finish. You read his mind and tore the sheets off the both of you.

“Ok Mr. Jung, you have unfinished business to attend to. We can’t stay in this bed forever.”

For the first time ever, you heard him whine as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You giggled as his breath ticked your skin. You heard him mumble, “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here.”

You then felt him sniff you, causing you to double over with laughter, “Jung Yoonoh, what do you think you’re doing?” He ignored you as he continued his ministrations that made you laugh uncontrollably. Through giggles, you managed to say, “Stop babe! You’re so weird!”

You felt his hair tickle the side of your face and his nose poking your collarbone. “I want to remember your scent before I have to go,” he told you in a gentle voice.

Just then, you felt your heart flutter. It was a rare sight to see your boyfriend so affectionate. He has always kept his feelings to himself, bottling it all up until he exploded one day. Something about him has changed and you can’t help but think that you played some part in it. A big smile stretched across your face and you told him cheekily, “Continue.”

He stopped attacking your collarbone and met your eyes, “I want to hold you close.” He followed his statement with a kiss on your cheek and continued, “So you will never leave me.” You then felt his arms pull you closer to him as if you weren’t close enough already. “I want to cuddle with you all day.” This time he placed a kiss on your forehead and held his lips to your skin, smiling. “I want to show you just how much I love you.” He moved his lips down and pecked your nose, “I want the whole world to wonder just where the heck the two of us are.” He pulled away from your face to gaze into your loving eyes, “But at the same time, I want the rest of the world to forget about us… So it is just the two of us… Existing in our own little world… We wouldn’t have to worry about what anyone thinks of us,” He then brought his lips to yours, bringing you into a deep, passionate kiss. He pulled apart after what felt like hours and whispered, “Just Jaehyun and y/n, nobody else.” You felt entranced by his gaze as he confessed, “Because you are the only thing in this world that matters to me.”

You were speechless. This was a whole new side to him and you were flustered. You felt your heart jump out of your ribcage and your throat betrayed you as you were left speechless. Jaehyun chuckled at your flabbergasted state. He pulled you in for another quick kiss and got up the bed. “Ok now I really got to get going. You may continue your beauty sleep,” you looked up at him to see a smirk rise on his cheeks, “...boss.”

You let out a groan and used the sheets to cover your beet red face. You heard the deep chuckle of your boyfriend’s voice as you drifted back to sleep.

~~~

Your morning slumber was interrupted by the constant buzzing of your phone. Shifting from your bed to the bedside table, you turned on your phone to check the commotion.

———

[neohighwayv]

WayV as kisses

Characters: WayV x fem reader

Genre: fluff, romance, suggestive

Word count: 4.9k

WARNING! Suggestive elements for some members

Soundtrack: Face to Face, Love Talk

Description: What kisses with WayV would be like!

Author’s note: I know it’s mainly supposed to be about kisses with WayV but I got carried away with some of the members and wrote more than that so they’re longer! Nonetheless, I hope you still enjoy reading them ^^

------

Kun. Kisses with Kun are sweet.

Each one is purposeful, and it's hard to not feel the sincerity, love and pure adoration that he has for you behind each one. He gives you one whenever he gets the chance to, to make sure that you don't forget how loved you are. He presses a kiss right below your ear each morning that he gets to wake up next to you. It's the easiest spot for him to reach and it's also the spot that tickles, so he does it just to see your sleepy smile & soft puffs of laughter. He presses a few more to the same spot until you're whining for him to stop, to which he finally relents. Tightening his hold around your frame, he presses one last kiss to your shoulder before he reluctantly detaches himself from your side to get ready; the idol duties still call, as much as he wants to stay by your side.

With what little time he has with you, Kun works in more kisses in the morning. You're grabbing sugar from the top shelf when he wraps an arm around you from behind to press a kiss to your cheeks. He comes back with his own mug, sets it down beside your hand before he moves your hair to the side to press kisses along your neck and shoulder, inter spacing each kiss with an update; either his schedule for the day or the group's latest activities. He thinks it's important to keep you updated on his activities so that you don't worry about him. An effort that you greatly appreciate even if it's such a simple thing. Kun is all too sad when the coffee machine finishes dispensing your coffee, because that's when you detach yourself from his side to let him have the space. At the dining table, Kun holds your hand in his as you continue talking about your days; it's a little hard to eat with one hand only but you don't complain because you know it's his way of having you close for as long as he can before he has to leave again for a few hours. Maybe a few days. Sometimes a few weeks. The ring of the doorbell tells him that his time with you is up but Kun still doesn't let you go. Instead he pulls you closer to press more kisses on your face; the forehead, nose, cheeks and lips before he's finally willing to let you go. He lingers after each kiss because one, he's reluctant to leave and he's trying to buy more time and two, he wants you to know that you're loved and appreciated. Kun usually doesn't leave until the members and managers are banging and yelling through the solid door to ask Kun to hurry up as his phone bursts with multiple missed calls from them – all in an effort to get him to leave your side. "I love you" is the last thing you hear from him before the door shuts, leaving you all alone again. Your face burns where his lips have touched before, the only reminder that he was ever once in the same space with you.

You love receiving kisses from Kun – they're the sweetest thing in the world. But your favourite kiss with Kun? The ones that you give him. He's always giving so much of himself: to the team, to his work, to the fans – but – who's there to take care of him when he needs it? The eyebags and lines around his eyes don’t lie – sometimes work does take its toll. So, when he’s finally back in the humble shared apartment, you don’t ever deny him hugs. You’re by his side before he can even free up his arms to hug you and you’re in them the moment he opens his arms. Kun gives you a tight squeeze before he lets you go to look at your face but before he can open his mouth to ask about your day, you’re dragging him to the sofa, pulling him down beside you as you cradle him in your arms. Well, as much of him as you can anyways. He’s still bigger than you. Kun melts instantly into your touch, letting him be held without fuss. You press a kiss to his hairline, the tips of his pink hair tickling your nose.

“How’s your day?”

“Good because we got to see all the fans. But it’s tiring simply because… well… it’s been a long day away from home. And you.”

As Kun recites what happened at the fanmeet to you, you help him relax by pressing kisses over his face, hands kneading his tired muscles subtlety. When he’s finally done, his eyelids are threatening to flutter close and that’s when you press a kiss to his lips before whispering against them: “Well done today Kun, rest now love.” Your sweet lover complies as he nestles his face into your neck and you rest your cheek lightly against his hair, pulling him closer as both of you drift into dreamland in each other’s arms. He feels safe in your embrace, and you make a silent promise to protect this sweet angel for the rest of your life.

---

Ten. Kisses with Ten are passionate and sensual.

They start in the most unexpected moments. Your body picks up on the shuffling beside you, slowly rousing you from the sleepy haze of sleep. Hands rubbing your eyes lazily, you turn to face the source of movement, expecting to meet your lover’s face. Except that expectation doesn’t correspond with reality and instead of his face, you’re met by the lenses of his camera instead. The shutter of his camera goes off before you can react, the soft click reaching your ears. You groan in response, shielding your face from his eyes as you roll over to the other side of the bed, burying your face into his pillow; still warm from his residual heat, the smell of his perfume reaching your olfactory senses. There is no way that you’re going to let Ten take photos of your face in the morning, it’s too ugly to be captured. You hear more shuffling come from behind you, before you track the sound of footsteps rounding the bed to reach your side. Settling himself in front of your face, Ten’s soft pleas reach your ear as he begs you to show your face.

“Come on kitten, just one more! You look so pretty in the morning; I just want to document it down to make the moment last forever!”

“No Ten, I do not look pretty in the morning. My hair is a mess, my eyes are puffy and my face in bloated. That’s hardly beautiful.”

“But it is to me…” You open an eye to give him a pointed look, and Ten is giving you his best pout, hoping to gain your favour.

“No.” You close your eyes and promptly go back to “sleep” but it is made impossible by what Ten does next.

“Come on… just one more…” Ten props himself up on his elbows to whisper into your ear, teeth softly biting onto your ear lobe to get you to relent. It feels good, so ridiculously good – but you won’t give in because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing the power he has over you – so – you bury your face deeper into his pillow, hoping that it will muffle the soft moan that just left your lips. Ten continues his ministrations – biting, sucking and licking – he’s so sure that you will relent eventually. But when you take too long to respond, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Climbing onto the bed and over your body, Ten straddles your hips, the movement righting your body so that you have no choice but to face him. The shock on your face is evident and Ten takes advantage of the moment to click the shutter once more, throwing his head back in laughter after he inspects the shot as you writhe in frustration beneath him.

“Li Yongqin!” You hardly use his Chinese name so when you do, Ten knows you mean business. He sets the camera down quickly on the bedstand before turning his attention back to you. He apologises sincerely, but it hardly sounds sincere when he’s also trying to stifle his laughter.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you just look too cute love.”

Ten cups your face with his warm palms, squishing your cheeks slightly before he places a quick peck to your lips to appease you. But when he pulls back, you still don’t look happy – narrowed eyes looking right into his bright ones. Ten, however, remains unfazed – he knows just what to do to make your anger dissipate. The ends of your shirt – his shirt – had ridden up slightly just now when you writhed, and Ten starts working from there. He whispers apologies against the skin of your tummy, lips ghosting over the warm skin as he deeply inhales your intoxicating scent and presses lingering kisses against the soft skin, fingers softly gripping the sides of your waist. Ten moves further, and further up your body, his cute nose pushing the shirt higher, and higher. Your resolve crumbles with each kiss that he presses against your body, and you bite down harshly on your lips to stop your breathy whines; Ten will get too cocky if you let him know how well he’s pleasing you now. He stops when he reaches your ribcage, right below the bone that rests in the middle. Ten is still waiting for a response from you – you haven’t moved an inch since he started his little game, but he wants to get a sign from you, something to let him know that he’s been forgiven. Ten doesn’t know what else to do, so he drags his blunt nails down the side of your ribcage, marking you slightly but careful enough to not hurt. The harsh contact finally breaks your resolve, and you let out a moan at the new sensation. Ten giggles, happy that he finally got a response but his happiness is short-lived when you pull his face upwards towards yours, melding your lips onto his. It’s an intense French kiss, you plunge your tongue directly into his mouth, swiping over the walls of his mouth. Not one to lose, Ten fights back. Both of you battle for dominance, marking one another slightly. Ten continues to run his blunt nails down your body; the sides of your ribcage, the front of your stomach as you press curved crescents into the planes of his back. The need for air forces both of you apart and finally, Ten sees you smile for the first time that morning.

“Am I forgiven yet?”

“Only if you give me another kiss.”

Ten doesn’t need to be told twice before he jumps back into action, pressing kisses along every inch of your body. Even if you hadn’t asked, he would have still done it all the same.

---

Winwin. Kisses with Winwin are...shy.

You have to pay attention; else you'll miss it. The sensation goes as quickly as it comes. Most days, you see something flash past the periphery of your eye, feel something soft land on the apple of your cheeks and by the time you react to it, Sicheng is long gone from your personal space, and he's not even looking at you. His eyes are glued to the phone as you stare at him, but the red slowly tinging his ears and the bite on his bottom lip to suppress his smile gives him away. You know he feels the intensity of your stare when he buries his neck deeper into the collar of his jacket, but otherwise, he doesn't do anything else to acknowledge your new attention on him. He looks adorable, like a baby chick wrapped up in layers of blanket and you can't help the sudden surge of affection of that you have for him. Not that you don't love him on a daily basis – of course you do – every hour, every minute, every second – whether he's with or away from you. But today, just in this moment, you love him a tad bit more. Surging forward, you press an identical kiss to the apple of his cheeks and you watch with amusement as your stoic, cool prince loses his poker face; he's still got his lower lip tugged between his teeth but this time, you can see the obvious smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his smile getting wider and wider by the second. He's cute, he's so adorably cute. Moving forward again this time, you capture his face in both your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, before moving down to leave kisses along his eyes, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, his philtrum and finally, finally, finally – his lips. You press a firm yet quick kiss to his lips, knowing he will combust if you do anything else. You pull back to admire your work with a soft smile on your face, watching as his face burns a shade redder as he struggles to meet your eye. You giggle at the shy boy in front of you – years of being together and he still can't get used to giving kisses or receiving kisses – how adorable. You let your guard down for a moment and boy, what a mistake. Sicheng has the roles reversed within seconds, your back now pinned between the worn leather of the couch and his chest. His lips are yours instantly, moving softly and tentatively against your own. He detaches his rosy lips from yours, only to whisper a very soft "I love you", the skin on your lips barely brushing each other’s. There is so much sincerity in those 3 simple words and you don't hesitate to reply with an equally soft "Love you too Sicheng"

It's alright if you have to be the one giving more kisses in this relationship – Sicheng might not be big with his actions but in these rare moments, you know he loves you just as much, and for that, you are grateful to have this sincere albeit shy boy to call yours.

---

Lucas. Kisses with Lucas are always messy.

Both of you never know how the kiss is going to go. He's got an elbow against the kitchen counter, resting his head on his knuckles as he watches you work around the kitchen, admiration for you softly glowing through his doe eyes. You decide to surprise him with a small peck on his lips, taking advantage of the fact that he's not fully awake yet. The poor boy shoots up too fast at the sudden soft contact, knocking his head on the cabinet right above his head – he's too tall for his own good. Your tinkling laughter echoes through the quiet apartment, and in a moment, Lucas is onto you, swinging you around. Albeit a little too harshly. The loud sound of the back of your head making contact with the same cabinet reaches his ears and then his huge hands are flying to cradle your head, hurried apologies spilling forth from his lips. You, on the other hand, still can't stop laughing at how silly this whole encounter is, shaking your head and telling him that it's alright, that it doesn't hurt at all. Hands on his wrist, you place a soft kiss to his palms and then he realises. Gosh. He's so terribly in love with you. He dives in for a kiss this time, wanting to make it proper. But still, he can never seem to get it right. Your teeth clash, and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He can't decide if he wants to cup your face, hold your waist or press them against your hips. So, he lets them roam in a haphazard manner, a few fingers slipping under your loose shirt to press against your warm skin, the other gripping the supple flesh of your thigh. You don't really care if he can't get his kisses right for the rest of his life – and yours. That's what you love about him anyways – raw, eager and always just a tad bit clumsy.

---

Xiaojun. Kisses with Xiaojun are spontaneous.

There is no planning or build-up before it happens, it just happens. You look up from your laptop, eyes needing a break from the harsh blue light emitting from the screen and they focus on the person right in front of you – Xiaojun. You watch him for a short while, observing the way his perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow in concentration at the one thing he’s scribbling furiously away on his notebook for. His lips are soon pursed, making him look mildly angry although you know it’s more likely that he’s just slightly annoyed. Probably because he can’t get something right. But a second later, you see the corner of his lips lift up as he laughs at himself – or rather – at something that he’s written in his notebook. You wonder what’s gotten him so frustrated and amused at the same time, so you walk over in hopes of being slightly useful in the situation. You snuggle against his side, placing your chin on his shoulder as you press your lips to his sunken cheeks. The sudden contact draws his attention to you and he turns to face you, your lovely face right beside his, pink lips looking so kissable. Xiaojun doesn’t think twice before pressing his lips against yours, it just feels like the most natural thing to do in that moment – see, no planning required. You smile in appreciation when he pulls back slightly, chasing after him to press one back in return to his lips as well. You turn back to face his notebook before he can work in another kiss, leaving him to settle for one on your cheeks instead.

“What are you working on? Need help?”

“Babe, tell me what this looks like.”

Xiaojun hands you his notebook, his arms coming to wrap around your waist once his hands are free. Now, it’s his turn to place his chin on your shoulder, watching as your eyebrows furrow. The cogs in your mind work fast to decipher his drawing and yet, the best answer you can come up with isn’t one you think he will be pleased with.

“So… what do you think it looks like?” He mumbles against the skin of your cheek lazily, letting his sentence drawl on.

“You want me to be honest?”

“Yea.”

“It looks like a cemetery atop of a hill…” You feel Xiaojun pull back from your side in shock and you quickly drop the notebook onto your lap and turn to face your boyfriend, rushing to comfort him and hold onto him before he can pull away fully,

“I’m sorry love! I know that’s probably not the idea you had in mind but – ”  You’re silenced by Xiaojun’s lips, his peck swallowing the last bits of your apology.

“Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s my drawing that’s atrocious. I pulled back because I was shocked that it was this atrocious.”

“It’s a good effort though, I can –” Again, silenced by his kiss.

“You don’t have to comfort me babe, I know I really don’t have a talent for drawing. But if I told you that I was actually trying to draw a city skyline for my upcoming shoot with Kun-ge, can you see it from the drawing?”

“Oh yea. Yea. Now that you mentioned it, I can!”

You tilt your head to the side as you bring the drawing closer to your face for inspection, fingers pointing out the various details in the drawing to yourself, including the two small figures of Kun and Xiaojun. Your head tilt exposes more of your cheek to Xiaojun, and again, he gives it another quick peck.

“How many more times do you intend to kiss me today, Jun?”

“Hmm… an infinite amount more?”

Your jaw drops at his statement, an incredulous expression on your face as your boyfriend scrunches his nose, eyes turning into crescents as he giggles, thin lips pulling back to reveal his cute little teeth. You slap his arm playfully, cheeks burning at the thought of more PDA in public – what if a member suddenly walks in?

“You’re just too adorable, it can’t be helped babe.”

“No Xiao Dejun, get away.” The words sound harsh, but there is no bite in your tone. He pecks your lips once again before he flashes you his sweetest smile, a decisive “No.” coming from him.

“Bye Jun~”

“Not letting you go so easily!” Before you can even move, Xiaojun has got his arms around your waist, leaning dangerously close to you to pepper more kisses against your face, your arms growing limp against his chest as you stop resisting your boyfriend.

You really don’t know how you ended up here, being locked in Xiaojun’s arms as he peppers more kisses to your face between giggles – it just happened because it felt like the most natural thing to do. Like how loving Xiaojun came naturally to you.

---

Hendery. Kisses with Hendery are... unpredictable.

He’s a complete softie in public, but at home, he’s going to be all over you. You truly never know what to expect – because they cover the whole range from cute to downright hot. In public, he’s shy – and you figure it’s just because it’s the start of your relationship. He mostly just holds your hands; in the cold winter, he especially likes stuffing your intertwined hands into his pockets. He gives them a small squeeze every now and then, just to let you know that he’s there. Kisses to the back of your hand are also a thing; he’ll just casually brings them to his lips, leave a quick kiss before putting them down again. This is alright for him; he thinks – nothing more than that in public. He might just collapse from embarrassment if anyone caught him doing anything more than that. After all, he’s a shy boy. But in private – it’s a completely different story. If both of you have a whole day to spare at home, his lips are never going to leave your skin at all.

In the morning, Hendery often likes taking your hands from under the pillow, holding them lightly in his hand before pressing kissing to all 10 of your fingertips. You’re usually awake by the time he’s pressing kisses against your knuckles – it’s a good way to start the day. Within the privacy of the 4 walls at home, Hendery gives you all the kisses he wants. A kiss to your forehead, temple, cheeks, lips and so many more places that you’ve lost count by the time noon rolls around. As the afternoon movie plays on the big screen, Hendery has you seated between his legs, exposing the entire column of your neck to him because of the messy bun that you’ve done your hair up in. His slow kisses start from the tip on your neck, lips tracing the knobs along your backbone, reaching as far as he can by craning his neck. When he can no longer reach any further, he moves either left or right, leaving kisses along your shoulder blades as he travels up to reach your shoulder. His kisses are distracting, very distracting – so you pat the back of his hand; one that’s currently wrapped around your hips to get him to stop. He does, but you can still feel his lips against your shoulder, feel his warm breath fan across your collarbones. These types of kisses make your head spin, leaving you tethering close to the edge of euphoria. But they’re not the worst yet – the worst ones are the intoxicating ones, the ones where his presence just floods your entire body, leaving your senses completely inhibited, your mind a mess of incoherent thoughts. The kinds you never see coming.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?” You look up from the book in your hand – only to find Hendery staring down at you, a silent flame burning in his eyes. He wants something from you, you’re just not sure what exactly it is.

“Can I kiss you?” You raise an eyebrow at his odd question – of course he can. He knows he can, so why is he asking?

“Yea.”

“Great.”

Hands on the sofa behind you to brace himself, Hendery lowers his face towards yours, tongue immediately darting past your lips and teeth, tongue doing a clean sweep on your mouth as he sucks on your lips. Oh. Now you know why he asked. Because it wasn’t the typical kind of kiss he usually gives. This one is completely different, running on pure adrenaline and feral instinct. Hendery doesn’t slow down at all, giving you no chance to dominate the kiss. His lips continue moving against yours firmly, leaving no inch untouched as he presses his body closer to yours. Your head is getting slightly dizzy, both from the fast pace of the kiss and lack of oxygen. Yet you cannot resist him, his presence already flooding your system too much. The inviting warmth of his body, his intoxicating scent, the crazy pleasure from his lips. Sliding your hands up his chest, your twist the straps of his tank top in your hands before pulling him down to the couch with you. Hendery hovers above you carefully as he settles himself between your legs, careful to not crush you with his weight. Yet, you yank him down further, not liking the empty feeling when he gets too far from you. Taking your eagerness as a sign to carry on, Hendery gets bolder, and moves his hips against yours. You whine into the kiss at the new sensation and Hendery immediately pulls away, worried that he had hurt you, the emptiness hitting you like a blast of cold air.

“Hendery… what’s wrong?”

“I hurt you, didn’t I?” You then register the shock in his wide doe eyes and you throw your head back in laughter, having to wipe tears from the corners of your eyes from the intense laugh.

“No… that was… I was… I was just shocked at the sudden contact. But don’t worry, it didn’t hurt.”

“Phew.” His entire body sags as he breathes out a sigh of relief, gently connecting your forehead together. Your breaths mix together in silence for a short while, giving one another time to come down from the previous high. You break the silence first.

“So… are you going to finish what you started?”

“Oh, eager, aren’t we?” He opens his eyes to raise an eyebrow at you, clearly teasing you.

“If I say yes?”

“Then your wish in my command.” You catch a glimpse of the smirk lifting the corners of his lips before he crashes his lips into yours again, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Hendery is never predictable – he can be sweet at times, like the sweetest candy or hot at times, like the blazing fire that threatens to burn if you get too close. But you don’t mind – the unpredictability makes life exciting, after all. Kind of like now.

---

Yangyang. Kisses with Yangyang are silly and goofy.

You never know when they're coming, or where they'll land. They usually come with some snide remark on the side – something like – "Gosh your hair stinks today. Someone didn't wash" as he walks past you in the kitchen to place a kiss on your temple that's covered by your hair, only to do a double take and take the chance to tease. Cues you giving him the stink eye as he grins at you innocently; you know your hair doesn't smell bad, you washed just an hour before he got up.

On other days, his kisses usually come in surprise attacks. You're reading with your legs laid across his lap, both sitting on opposite ends on the couch. Taking advantage of the fact that you're too engrossed in your book to notice him, Yangyang launches himself at you and decides to blow air against your clothed stomach - the kind where he places his lips against your skin before blowing air through his lips – causing you to burst into fits of laughter at the ticklish feeling. Think of it as blowing a kiss. He moves further up to blow a kiss against your neck, eliciting another fit of laughter from you. He continues doing it without ceasing; he'll blow a kiss, watch you with adoration as your features scrunch up and laughter leaves your lips but just before you calm down fully, he blows another one, causing the entire cycle to repeat again. Yangyang could do this all day if he had all the time in world; he'll never admit it but your laughter is his favourite sound in the whole wide world. He loves it more than anything else in the world. More than the sound of the bass in his favourite songs. More than the sound of revving engines that he grew up loving. The playful fights usually end when you finally turn to meet his eyes, eyelids softly drooping as you look at him with love. Hands reaching up to cup his jaw, you crane your neck up to press a kiss against his lips. It was meant to be sweet, but as always, leave it to Yangyang to ruin the mood.

"Oh, someone's eager for my lips. Just now wasn't enough for you?" Your eyes would widen as you glare at him, immediately releasing his face to smack his shoulders harshly. His jaw would drop in shock, feeling incredulous at your sudden attack.

"Oh honey, it's on." Diving for your jaw, he blows another kiss there just to rile you up, knowing that you're ticklish there as well. You land another smack on his wide back as you unsuccessfully try to stifle your laughter, not wanting to lose to him. You feel him smile against your jaw, and now you've truly lost it, opening your mouth wide to let laughter spill forth again. You may never get a proper kiss from Yangyang for the rest of your life but it's alright – at least he makes you happy – and maybe that's all that matters.