#iris is beginning to have feelings

[moth-mart]

Outlaw status reachieveeed 🎉🎉🎉

[aria0fgold]

I feel like I'm reaching... But! BUT! What if... Mayumi is the killer? I think it aint her too cuz Ota is her son but I'm still thinking bout that moment where Date told her bout the rainy weather and she was unsure with her answer, and that thing bout her store having a lot customers too when the area close by is restricted. I'm waiting on getting more suspects in the list but Mayumi acted strange at the beginning.

Am also wondering why did the killer livestreamed Iris' murder but not Shoko and Renju's? What's different? The way she was killed is strange too, on the two previous murders, they were killed elsewhere and moved but Iris was killed on the spot without being moved at all. It's like a copycat of a copycat.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

flowers 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Summary: y/n gets flowers for lando after every podium and win he's had in 2024.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ln x reader ִ ࣪𖤐

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ fluff ִ ࣪𖤐

masterlist ☾☼

"what's your favourite flower?"

"hm?"

"what's your favourite flower?"

"don't have one,"

"why not?"

"never got any flowers,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

australia p3 - daffodils [new beginnings]

the start of the season was decent, according to lando. getting his first podium of the season was good. he was proud of it, of course he was. and to celebrate with one of his closest friends on the top step was even more special.

the car was getting better, but he knew there was a lot more still left to do. his mechanics had told him, had explained to him that it's difficult, and it's all theoretical. lando understood that. it wasn't necessary that the car that would be faster in theory would work practically as well. but, lando tried his best to give as much feedback as he could.

he was sticky with champagne, and after all the media duties and celebrations, he just wanted to escape. he wanted to escape to his driver room, and call his girlfriend and maybe his mum as well.

"good race, man," one of his mechanics congratulated him as he walked to his driver's room.

"thanks, mate," lando responded, smiling, and clapping his hand against the others in a bro handshake thing.

it didn't have a name.

finally reaching his driver room, lando opened the door and stopped short.

on the table in the corner had a bouquet of flowers. flowers he had never seen before in person. flowers he hadn't ordered, and knew jon wouldn't order for him.

slowly, he walked closer to the bouquet, and picked up the card hidden in the flowers.

"for your first podium of 2024, it's a new beginning. i love you. y/n <3"

lando smiled, a bright, shining smile. he'd just received flowers. for possibly the first time ever. immediately finding his phone, he video called his girlfriend.

"hi, baby! congratulations!" she said immediately as she answered the call.

"thank you for the flowers, my love," lando said softly, still admiring the flowers.

"they're daffodils! do you like them?"

"they're absolutely beautiful,"

she smiled, and it filled lando with a warm feeling. "i'm glad,"

lando sat on the little bench, craddling the bouquet against his chest like it was the podium trophy, and the two lost themselves in conversations and laughter and love.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

china p2 - iris [hope]

his second podium of the season. lando wasn't feeling particularly confident. with himself or the car. he knew that there was still a long way to go. the car felt a little alive, but nearly not enough for winning races.

he finished almost 14 seconds behind max, and that didn't make him feel very good from the team perspective. sure, it was important points he got for the wcc, but again, not nearly enough especially with checo coming in third, five or seconds behind him.

lando hoped that he could get mclaren in top 3 again at the very least, but he was already losing hope, and the season had just begun.

trudging back to his drivers room, lando opened the door, entering and quickly shutting it behind him. he needed some time to think, some time to himself.

as he sat down on the little bench thing, he noticed something purple and fragile peeking from his packed bag. he didn't have the energy to move, really. but something about it forced him to move.

slowly unzipping the bag, he pulled out the flowers. irises. he knew these. how? he didn't know.

his face broke into a smile again. taking the card attached, he read, "p2, baby! lfg! don't lose hope. your time will come! i love you. y/n <3"

he quickly snapped a picture, and sent it to his sleeping girlfriend, thanking her, and telling her that he would call her first thing once she was awake.

a knock on the door told him that it was time to leave, to go back to the hotel to pack, before their flight. zipping his bag up again, but keeping the flowers in his hand, lando picked up his stuff, and exited the room, still delicately holding the irises.

his beautiful, hopeful irises.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

miami p1 - lilac [first love]

oh, lando wished this feeling would never go away. it was a mix of relief and feeling proud of himself.

he was sticky with champagne, but for once, he didn't care, because, fuck, he was a race winner. he was a fucking race winner.

seven years he'd been with mclaren, and five years driving. his sixth year, he'd finally won. fucking finally won a race.

he couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop laughing, he was so happy. so fucking happy. he was proud of himself, and he was so thankful for everyone who had stuck by him throughout his career, before f1 and during.

the celebrations were long, as they should be. his team was so happy for him, he'd spoken to his family on call in a few quiet moments, and he'd had max on a video call for most part of the celebration, desperately wishing he was there as well. aarav, niran, ria were there, but honestly, they weren't max. no one could ever be max.

this was also the race that his girlfriend had attended. he'd wanted her there, told her specifically to fly out because he had a good feeling in his gut.

and what a good feeling it was.

throughout the celebrations, lando kept her somewhere in his line of sight, needing to make sure that she was comfortable. someone had gotten her a bottle of champagne too, and every time the team sprayed him with it, she joined in on the fun, laughing with him and his team.

later, both of them sticky and smelling of champagne, they walked back to his driver room. his arm was across her shoulder, and hers was wrapped around his waist.

as soon as he opened the door, his eyes widened, "oh my god,"

y/n was looking at his expectantly, biting her lip to gauge his reaction. he slowly removed his arm from her shoulder as he walked in the two steps of space the room had left.

"oh my fucking god," he muttered, still taking it all in.

"do you like it?" she whispered.

the room was full of bouquets of lilacs, each one bright and blooming. there wasn't much space left in the room, but god, it looked so beautiful.

lando immediately turned around, wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his head in her neck and picked her up. "i love it so much,"

her fingers were in his curls as she said, "they're lilacs. to remind you of your first love: racing."

lando pulled back from the hug, settling her down, "thank you so much. i love it. i love you. fuck, i love you," grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her, long and slow, wanting to cherish the moment.

later on, when the two of them had changed, they slowly picked up all the bouquets, and lando handed out three stems to each of his mechanics and his engineers, and anyone who was in lando norris' team, and then gave two stems each to the rest of them. he gave four to zak, and the man had laughed and wrapped lando in another hug.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

emilia-romagna p2 - gladiolus [believing in yourself]

he was so close. fuck, he was so goddamn close to winning again. 0.752 seconds behind, he was so close.

he was happy for max v, of course he was. he was happy with p2 as well. there was no doubt in that. but, when p1 was so close, and lando knows he could've pushed just a little harder, it does settle a sense of disappointment in his gut.

with a p2 and a p4, it was a lot of points for mclaren, and as much as that excited lando, he was also afraid. he wasn't sure if he could really continue to keep performing so well, or as well as he wanted to. he wanted to go out and win, and he wanted to make his team proud, but fuck, was he good enough for it? would he ever be good enough for it?

his head was swimming with self-doubt, and it was slowly overshadowing his happiness of p2. it was annoying, and he was frustrated. he wanted to be happy about the podium, and the points, and all of that. he so desperately wanted to. but the questions, the what ifs just never stopped in his head.

opening the door to his driver room, he stopped. slowly he remembered. the flowers. his girlfriend. there was a bouquet of flowers he didn't know kept neatly in a vase. he assumed jon had done that.

removing his race suit, and quickly changing into fresher clothes, he picked up the bouquet, finding the note attached, "these are gladiolus. they're a reminder that you need to believe in your yourself. i love you. y/n <3"

lando laughed. how his girlfriend knew what was going on in his brain, he didn't know, but he was forever grateful that she was some sort of mind reader.

quickly snapping a picture and sending it to her, he hugged the flowers against his chest, wishing that she was there to hug him.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

canada p2 - poppy [strength]

lando walked into his driving room with his back still heavy from the intense race he had. the rain made it a battle to stay on the track; the visibility wasn't good, and the grip could be anywhere; the race felt like having a war with nature. still, he held steady enough to finish in p2, an impressive result if he said so himself.

as he shut the door, his eyes alighted on something that immediately threw a smile to his face. on the little table in the middle of the room was an exquisite bouquet of red poppies. the striking flowers stood out starkly against the antiseptic ambiance of the room, their radiant petals glowing brightly under the subdued lighting. alongside them rested a note.

lando stepped closer, picking up the card, and his heart gave a slight lurch when he saw her familiar handwriting.

"for your strength, my love. you showed it today, just like I know you always will. i'm so proud of you. you've got this, no matter what the track throws at you. i love you. y/n <3"

he let the words sink in, the weight of the race lightening for a moment as the warmth of her support surrounded him. the poppy—symbolizing strength, resilience, and overcoming adversity—was the perfect gesture for a race like this. the rain-soaked chaos of canada had tested him, yet here he was, with a podium finish in his grasp.

lando swept a hand back through his drenched hair, letting out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back into the wall. it wasn't just the soggy track, or the keen competition that had made the race so hard today—it was always the pressure; the little things that crept in with each lap. yet now, his hands wrapped about the bouquet before him, with her words going round in his head, gave him a deep quiet strength.

he placed the flowers gently on the windowsill, then took a minute to absorb the comfort in that gesture. she wasn't there, but somehow in that little room, she was. she was with him and reminded him of when he would go through some really tough days; he would know he was capable of holding it together.

the poppies, resplendent even in the rain, were the perfect symbol of how far he'd come—and how far he would still go.

"thanks, lovie," he whispered to the empty room, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he stared out the window at the distant lights of the circuit.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

spain p2 - orchids [remain positive]

p2 in spain. what a wonderful day. and he had managed to get the fastest lap. that, he liked the most for some reason.

he was desperate for another win. well, actually, no. he wasn't desperate for it. he wanted to win, yes, and he knew that he would have to be patient for it, and work on it himself.

the bottom line was, he wanted to win.

he trusted the car, and he trusted his team. he would get opportunities in the future, and he will be able to win, he knows that. somewhere in his brain, he knows that.

yet, sometimes, there's a little crack in that knowing. that little fear of the unknown, that what if he doesn't win again till next season? or the season after that?

no. no. that wasn't true. lando was a good driver. he was adapting to being in a fast car, but he was a good driver, and he would get another win soon. yes. that's what he needed to believe, that's what he needed to tell himself over and over again.

jon did a good job of reminding him of that too. he somehow always knew when lando's thoughts were beginning to spiral, and pulled him out before it happened. thank god for jon, really.

when he stepped off the podium, his trophy in hand, jon stood there with a bouquet of orchids. lando smiled instantly, despite the exhaustion.

lando handed the trophy to jon, and took the bouquet from him, as he was escorted to the conference room for the interviews.

he stared at his flowers, as the interview began.

"we wanted to start with max, but lando, you've captured our attention," ted kravitz started.

lando immediately looked up. "huh?"

"we see you've got some flowers. any idea who they're from or is it a secret admirer?"

lando laughed, "no, they're from my girlfriend. she gets me flowers for every podium i get,"

"kelly's never got me flowers," max added from beside him.

"yeah? she's got to step up her game, mate," lando joked.

"definitely, man. kelly, if you're watching this, i want flowers,"

the room laughed.

"they're orchids, aren't they?" lewis asked.

lando nodded, "yeah. my girlfriend said it's so that i remain positive because there's a lot more races to come,"

"that's sweet, man," lewis said, as he leaned back.

lando bit his lip, as he nodded. cause, yeah. that is sweet. his girlfriend is sweet.

"anything you want to say to your girlfriend, lando? while we're here," ted asked.

"um, just wanna thank her, really. i get more excited about the flowers now, than the trophy,"

the crowd laughed again, and the interviews shifted to max.

lando continued to stare at his orchids.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

silverstone p3 - periwinkle [home]

it was his home race. he wanted to do well in his home race. and he did. p3 was not bad. he was proud of himself, and a little disappointed for not winning, but he was much happier for lewis.

lewis had driven amazingly, and despite the fact that he was lando's competitor, lando couldn't help but applaud for him.

at the parc ferme, he met with his team, hugging them, and then hugged his girlfriend for a little longer. she had pressed a kiss to his helmet, and he winked at her.

max and he were talking when lewis came, and the two immediately congratulated the brit on his drive. lewis looked like he was about to cry, and lando wondered if he would ever feel like that, that emotion of winning at a home race.

after the podium celebrations, lando went for media duties, feeling sticky and in a desperate need of a shower. when he returned, he quickly found his girlfriend, giving her a little kiss, before promising her to be back in a few.

opening the door to his driver's room, he smiled at the bouquet kept beside his trophy. picking them up, he smiled at the periwinkles.

"periwinkles for your home race," y/n's voice was heard from behind him, and he turned around to see her leaning against the door frame.

he smiled, walking towards her, as he wrapped her in a loose hug, and said, "home is where you are, baby,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

hungary p2 - lotus [righteousness]

the team had fucked him over. the team had fucked him over so bad.

he didn't blame oscar. it wasn't oscar's fault. their strategy had been wrong, and they made a mistake. he was angry. he was angry at will for putting him in a position where either options felt wrong and right at the same time. he would never burst out on will, of course, and he knew he needed to control himself, but fuck fuck fuck, his team had fucked up.

lando reminded himself that he was the older driver now, the veteran. that meant it was upto him to make sure that oscar knew that the two of them were okay. and he did just that. he told oscar, showed him that there was no bad blood between the two of them, and lando wasn't mad at him.

he knew he was going to have to talk to andrea about the team orders later, but the exhaustion of the race was settling on his shoulders and he didn't want to do anything except go back home and cuddle with y/n.

that would fix everything.

after the celebrations, and the interviews, all lando wanted to do was go back to the hotel room and call y/n or max, and just rant. but, as soon as he walked in, a sort of disappointment added to the weight of his feelings already.

there was no bouquet. he'd gotten a podium. wasn't that the pattern that y/n was following? every time he got on the podium, she sent him flowers, right?

but, this time, there was nothing but one lone flower that wasn't even blooming. a deep hurt settled in his gut as he realised that maybe even his girlfriend was mad at him about the race and the way he responded with not giving oscar the position back immediately.

that somehow felt worse than the hate comments he'd been receiving on social media.

picking up the flower, he turned the card attached to it and read, "a lotus to represent the righteousness you showed on track. you did the right thing. i'm proud of you. would have been proud of you, regardless. i love you. y/n <3"

lando breathed a little easier. he let himself smile a little. she was proud of him. she thought he did the right thing. she was on his side.

how silly of him to think otherwise.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

netherlands p1 - amaryllis [to sparkle]

he did it. he did it again. yes, he lost the lead, but he got it back, and he created a 22 second gap, and he won. again.

finally.

he was happy, of course he was. though, what excited him more were the inevitable bouquet of flowers that would be in his drivers room. he couldn't wait to see what his girlfriend had chosen this time.

the trophy was huge, and it was heavy, but it was easily his favourite. the words written were all things he could relate to, and he was sure that every other driver could relate to it as well. it made him happy that there was someone out there, recognising the things they went through as sportsmen, or as a sportsperson.

excitedly, after the team celebrations, he ran to his drivers room, finding it full of flowers again, and he couldn't help but smile bigger than he already was.

it was just like miami, but this time, his girlfriend wasn't there with him. god, he missed her.

he video called her while he looked for the note, and just as he found it, her face filled his screen.

"lan!" she exclaimed, "you were so goddamn good! i'm so proud of you!"

"thank you, my lovie. hold on, i gotta read the card,"

"did you just get to the drivers room?"

lando nodded, as he flipped open the card.

it said, "hot damn, you were shining out there. some amaryllis for you to keep sparkling. i love you. y/n <3"

"y'know, this is my favourite part of getting on podiums now," lando said, as he pocketed the note.

"what? getting the flowers?" y/n joked.

"yes. getting the flowers from you." lando stared at her face on the screen, wishing he could kiss her in that moment.

"you're just saying that,"

"i'm really not," he settled on the floor, exhausted from the race, but he had a new found energy as he talked with his girlfriend. she was too excited to contain her reactions or yapping, and lando loved her more than anything to listen to every bit of it.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

italy p3 - lavender [calmness]

he didn't know what to feel. he was feeling a lot of things at the same time, and he didn't know which one to focus on first.

on one hand, he didn't blame oscar for wanting to prove himself to the world. he knew what it was like to enter the world of formula one with expectations on your shoulders that had no real reason being there. he knew that some of the fan comments had gotten to oscar, about how hungary was a gifted win and not earned on his own merit. he understood, really.

but that didn't mean that he was okay with the move he pulled on lando going into turn one. he had gotten way too close to lando's car, and if lando hadn't backed out even a little bit, the two would've crashed.

there was a championship fight on his shoulders, one that he didn't expect and didn't want. while he didn't want to win by his teammate letting him pass, he also did not expect his own teammate to pull a risky move like that.

the plan was a 1-2. they got a 2-3. it was a lot of points, but nearly not as much a 1-2 would have been.

really, lando would have been okay with only oscar had overtaken him. he would have been fine with that. what he wasn't okay with, was the fact that the move led to their competitor also overtaking them both.

that pissed him off a little bit.

he remained respectful in all the post race interviews, he praised his teammate, he did what was expected of him. he always did.

later, when he had a moment to himself in the drivers room, a knock interrupted him, and lando almost told the person to go away. he didn't want to deal with humans right now.

"lando? got something for you here," jon's voice rang.

sighing, lando stood up and opened the door. jon stood at the door, with a bouquet of lavenders in his hand.

"this got delivered for you. the delivery guy said that there was too much traffic on the way, so he couldn't get it on time, but here," jon gave the bouquet to lando before walking off.

lando stared at the flowers, as he closed the door and went back to his seat.

finding the folded note, it said, "lavenders for how calm you've been about it. good thing i wasn't there. i love oscar, i love you more. y/n <3"

lando smiled, and felt a little better. maybe a little more than just a little.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

singapore p1 - orange lilies [confidence]

lando was dizzy. singapore was always a difficult race physically, but it was always so fulfilling.

he led all 62 laps, created a 20 second gap. yes, he made some mistakes at a few places, but he was learning. lando was learning and he was proud of himself. he was so fucking proud of himself.

lando was thankful that max was here to watch him race. he needed that support. unfortunately, y/n couldn't be there, and as much as she tried to change her schedule to fit the race weekend, it just didn't work.

nevertheless, he'd spoken to her as soon as he got off the top step with his trophy in hand. how could he not?

later, when he found max, he laughed upon seeing his best friend. max fewtrell stood there with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands, looking annoyed and endeared.

"mate, someone got me flowers but i have no idea who! pietra said it wasn't her!" max said, as soon as lando was close enough.

lando laughed, feeling a little bad as he was about break his best friend's heart, "max, they're not for you,"

"yes, they are! a random dude found me, asked if i was max fewtrell, and i said, yes, and he handed me this and walked off!"

"right. i love you, man, but did you see if there was a note by chance?"

max paused, before he checked the bouquet and found a folded note hidden.

lando wanted to tell him to hand it over. he didn't want anyone else to read what y/n had written for him, but he also knew that max wouldn't believe him unless he saw it with his own eyes.

"orange lilies because my god, you were so confident on track, im gonna jump you as soon as youre back. i love you. y/n." max read.

the two men paused, lando trying not to laugh as max stared at nothing for a few seconds.

and then, he pushed the bouquet against lando's chest and said, "i think these might be for you."

lando burst out laughing, as he accepted the bouquet.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

mexico p2 - yellow roses [friendship]

lando was so proud of carlos. his heart was bursting from the happiness he had for his friend.

it had been a shock at the start of the year when his friends had told him that carlos was no longer signed with ferrari. he hadn't been expecting it.

now, though, watching his friend win for what might be the last time for a while, because even though carlos fucking sainz is going to williams, their car isn't going to magically be one of the best next season. it's going to take time. but, williams now has carlos fucking sainz, so it might just happen sooner than they think.

the plan was that in the evening, the sainz family, and lando and luigi would go out for dinner, and then maybe hit a club after the older-older members of the family had gone back to the hotel.

for lando, all of them were old.

smiling wide, he stepped into his drivers room, ready to take a shower, and get ready for the evening dinner, when he saw the bouquet on the table.

yellow roses.

opening the card, it said, "for your carlando love. it might just be greater than landoy/n but i'm okay with that ;) give him a few of these from me, would you? i love you. y/n."

keeping the bouquet back carefully, he quickly got ready and removed a few of the flowers from the bouquet for carlos, before handing the actual bouquet to jon to keep at his hotel room safely.

later, carlos sent a picture to y/n, a selfie of carlos and lando, and the yellow roses between them.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

abu dhabi p1 - nasturtium [victory]

she stood near the paddock, patiently waiting for lando, with a bouquet of nasturtiums in her hands. this one, she wanted to give in person.

she had taken a chance when ordering the flowers. sure, there was a chance that mclaren wouldn't have won the constructors, and while it was a small chance, she didn't want to jinx anything accidentally.

but lando had been confident, and y/n knew that if lando was feeling confident while being under so much pressure, there was nothing that could stop him from achieving his dream today.

y/n chatted with his mum and sister, all of three of them smiling so widely. the three women recounted specific parts of the races, every thought process that was going on during the race, the adrenaline, the anxiety, everything.

when lando finally found the three of them together, he hugged his mum first, and y/n smiled. she watched the sweet interaction between them, before he moved on to his sister, who joked with him but told him how proud she was.

finally, he turned to her, smiling so wide, eyes shining, and a relief in his shoulders. she pushed the flowers towards him, and said, "they're called nasturtium. for your victory, for your team's victory."

lando accepted the flowers, smiling softly as he looked at the bouquet. he took a step towards his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist, as she wrapped hers around his neck. she could feel the bouquet against her back, and the two of them just seemed to just move side to side a little.

"thank you for being here," he whispered in her ear.

"where else would i be?" she whispered back.

he pressed a kiss against her neck, before he pulled back and kissed her once. just a little peck of i love you.

smiling, she slid her hand down to his heart, and said, "you did it."

he smiled, "we did it."

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

"what are these?"

"petals,"

"i see that, lando. where are they from?"

"a petal from every flower you've gifted me this year,"

"you saved them?"

"of course."

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

fun fact: the spain gp on 2024 was on my birthday! anyways, i feel like this got a little repetitive, but like, if kando was real, i'd buy him flowers all the time! i probably have messed up somewhere with the details, but i'm too far gone to make edits. sorry 🤷‍♀️ lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[luveline]

would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve. 

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you. 

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple. 

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.” 

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling. 

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you. 

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?” 

“No. They gave me tramadol.” 

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper. 

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why. 

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod. 

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.” 

“I’m your Unit Chief.” 

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.” 

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you. 

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.” 

“I wish I did something that sensible.” 

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle. 

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.” 

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.” 

“Not enough.” 

“No, I guess not.” 

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder. 

“It wasn’t purposeful.” 

“No? That’s good.” 

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.” 

“Morgan’s a big boy.” 

“As opposed to me.” 

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.” 

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.” 

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess. 

“I don’t like him,” you say. 

“As opposed to me.” 

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek. 

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say. 

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.” 

It’s an obvious lie. 

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested. 

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully. 

“You can finally get some rest.” 

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours. 

[goddamnitmahtin]

Welcome to the Family

(a dc x dp prompt)

Someone please write this. Give me adult Danny sitting on that sweet Fenton family money. Give me Danny with that Ghost King money. Give me Danny with a deaged Dan and Dani as teens. Give me vigilante Phantom who needs to feed his protection ghost obsession by protecting the people of his city. Give me Danny Phantom with an empire of vigilantes who work with him in his name who are also his family. Give me Danny being Bruce Wayne.

Except, he’s significantly better at it than Bruce.

The Pham keeps growing and the lineup of vigilantes that all share the same symbol on their chest keeps getting better. Every member of the team is loved and cared for. And no one who isn’t already dead dies because you better bet your ass they have a plan for EVERY scenario. If someone gets hurt? Phantom will avenge them. The Ghost King can and will collect any souls that are overdo. He can and will allow those who have killed may be ripped apart by the ghosts of their own victims.

The lineup of vigilantes may have started out small, just Phantom and Red Huntress. But then it grew. Tucker joined behind his computer, providing technical support as Firewall. Sam stood beside him with her ever growing plant magic as Iris. Jazz offered her ability for psychoanalysis, giving her ability to use Tucker’s research and her own brain for profiling as Mandela. Dani joined her father as Spector and Dan wasn’t far behind as Wraith.

That was only the beginning. After Phantom was officially asked to join the Justice League, the Pham only grew. Much to the dismay of the others.

Superboy was no more after Danny watched Superman speak in such a horrid way about the boy. Kon was doing just fine now in the Pham. He was much happier as Spright. After Danny adopt him, he never had to feel like he had to be ashamed of who he was as a clone. Dani was a clone too and Danny loved her all the same.

The second Robin? Haha…. yeah the moment that boy died, Danny adopted him. Jason was heartbroken and betrayed by Batman but he knew he would never have to feel that way again. He could spend the rest of his half life with the magic Robin once gave him as Lucky Charm. Except now? He knew the magic came from inside him. Not from his title.

Danny may or may not have stolen the fourth Robin as well. All Danny needed was to watch him yell at her during a meeting one time. Once she joined the Pham, she was always respected and no one yelled at her. Her more unpredictable tendencies? Completely welcome and very effective when the team around you is just as wild and creative. Stephanie liked her life as Violet.

After working with the Titans, Danny may or may not have also picked up Raven on the way. She really needed a father figure and Danny was more than willing to provide. Rachel was invited to every movie night, family dinner and party the Pham had and of course, she had her own room in the Pham household if she ever needed a place to crash.

Give me Danny pulling a Bruce Wayne so hard that he outBruces the Wayne. Give me Danny being the best dad on the planet. Give me Danny also funding the JL just so Bruce can’t. Give me Danny casually knowing all the dirt on all the other JL members because he stole their kids and they aren’t afraid to tell him what they did.

[whosscruffylooking]

Militiae Species Amor Est II

Militiae species amor est - "Love is a kind of war."

Re-read Part I Now!

a/n: if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know in the comments!

warnings: // a small threat of violence is made between Iris and her partner, but no physical contact is made. canon typical violence.

word count: 4.2k

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You step cautiously into the grand halls of the estate, the place you once roamed as a little servant girl, where your bare feet had once echoed softly against the cold marble. The air is thick with the weight of memories, each one pressing heavily against your chest. This was the house where you had grown up, where you had once been invisible, and where your life had irrevocably intertwined with his.

A voice pulls you from your thoughts. It rings out, familiar and poised, yet carrying a tension you haven’t heard before.

“Iris. It has been quite some time.”

You turn sharply, your breath catching as you face Lucilla, the mistress of this house—and the mother of the man you’ve spent a lifetime aching for. She stands before you, as elegant and commanding as you remember, her beauty untouched by the years. For a moment, you falter, caught between the awe she still inspires and the fury simmering just beneath your surface. But there’s no time to linger on reverence. Not now.

“We need to help Lucius escape,” you say, your voice steady despite the fire raging in your chest.

Lucilla’s expression hardens, her posture as composed as ever. “You are in no position to plot something like this. An engaged woman. A woman of low birth who has risen to a place of promise.” She steps closer, her gaze piercing, as if to drive the point deeper. “It isn’t safe for you.”

Her words land like a blow. You bristle, your hands curling into fists at your sides as anger floods through you. “You mean to insult me? When you know—when you must know—that I have loved your son since childhood?” Your voice rises, trembling with the weight of years left unspoken. “Do you truly believe that I could ever forget him? Forget the way we laughed, the way we cried, the way you sent him away as if he were nothing but an inconvenience? I have not had a single night of peaceful rest since that day! Not one!”

Lucilla’s carefully composed mask cracks, but you don’t stop. The words pour out, sharp and unrelenting. “And you? As his mother, do you feel nothing? No anguish, no torment? Or do you simply find it easier to look away, to let him suffer alone? Now he’s here—he’s here, Lucilla—and you expect me to sit back, to watch him fight the same fight that took his father from him? With no attempt to save him, no attempt to shield him from even more pain?”

The silence that follows feels deafening. For a moment, Lucilla looks at you as though she’s been struck. Her lips part, trembling with words that won’t come. Then, to your shock, her face crumples, and tears begin to spill down her cheeks.

She crosses the space between you in an instant, wrapping you in an embrace that is both unexpected and suffocating. Her voice shakes as she speaks. “I subjected one child to a life of pain. I—I couldn’t bear to see you suffer the same. Don’t you see? I’ve only ever wanted you to find peace, Iris. Contentment. That’s why—” She pulls back, her hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “That’s why when Caius’ father approached me, I agreed. I thought he could give you the life you deserved, one free of sorrow. I never meant to make you feel betrayed.”

You push her hands away, stepping back as the weight of her confession settles over you like a leaden cloak. “Peace?” Your voice is bitter, sharp as broken glass. “Do you truly believe I could ever find peace without him? All I ever wanted was your son. Not your pity. Not a life designed to ease your guilt.”

Tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You straighten your spine, your voice unwavering. “If you truly cared about me, you would have sent me with him. Instead, you left us both to live lives filled with nothing but longing and regret. So save your excuses, Lucilla. If you truly care now, then tell me—” Your voice hardens, each word a command. “Tell me the plan to rescue Lucius.”

And she does. Through trembling breaths and tear-filled eyes, Lucilla tells you the plan—how her husband, Acacius, will orchestrate Lucius’s escape from the prison. She explains the carefully laid steps, each one steeped in risk, each one reliant on precision. But there’s one missing piece.

“Someone needs to warn him,” she says, her voice wavering as she meets your gaze. “He has to know what’s coming, or he’ll resist. He won’t trust it.”

The moment hangs heavy between you, her words an unspoken plea. You don’t hesitate.

“I’ll do it,” you say firmly, the fire in your chest burning brighter now. “I’ll warn him.”

Lucilla’s eyes widen, her lips parting as if to protest, but you shake your head, cutting her off before she can speak.

“No one else knows him like I do,” you continue. “He’ll listen to me. He’ll trust me.”

For a moment, Lucilla studies you, her expression a war between doubt and something that almost looks like hope. Then, finally, she nods, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her choice.

“Be careful,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. But you’re already turning away, your mind focused on one thing: reaching Lucius.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The corridors of the barracks stretch before you like an endless void, every shadow a whisper of your guilt, every creak of the stone beneath your feet a reminder of what you stand to lose. Wrapped in a dark cloak, the cool air bites at your skin, but the ache in your chest burns hotter. You cling to the cover of night as you make your way toward Ravi, a gladiator-turned-medic who once saved soldiers from the edge of death. Tonight, you hope he’ll save you in a different way.

When you reach his room, you knock softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Ravi.”

The door creaks open, his wary eyes scanning the hall before they settle on you. “What are you doing here?” he hisses. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this place.”

“I won’t tell you the details,” you reply quickly, your voice trembling. “If anyone questions you, I don’t want you to lie on my behalf. All I ask is that you point me toward Hanno—let me speak with him privately.”

Ravi’s expression hardens, torn between caution and compassion. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he nods. “You shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs, but he leads you through the labyrinthine halls. When he stops outside a cell, his voice is heavy with warning. “He’s in here. Be quick.”

Ravi pushes the door open slightly, just enough for the man inside to hear. “Someone is here to see you, Hanno,” he announces.

Lucius turns at the sound of his name, his face hardening the moment he sees you. His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing before he looks away sharply. “I have nothing to say to her,” he bites out, his voice rough, almost broken.

Your heart twists painfully at his words, but you nod at Ravi, signaling for him to let you in anyway. He hesitates, but when he sees the determination in your eyes, he steps back, locking the door behind you as you slip into the dimly lit cell.

Lucius stands with his back to you, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His silence is deafening, but you don’t let it deter you. You step closer, the ache in your chest swelling with every step. Tears sting your eyes as you finally find the words you’ve been rehearsing in your mind since the moment you decided to come here.

“I cannot begin to express how sorry I am,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “For how I treated you. For what I said.”

He doesn’t move, but you can see the slight tension in his shoulders. You press on, desperate to reach him.

“I never should have assumed you would return to this place—to the pain, to the life you’ve fought so hard to escape—and risk everything for the very place that destroyed your family. It was selfish of me to ask, selfish to think I had that right. I suppose these emotions, these feelings I’ve tried so hard to bury, have clouded my judgment.”

His breathing slows, the air between you thick with words left unsaid. You take another step, your voice breaking now.

“But know this, Lucius: you are far more than just a gladiator. Even before I saw you in those cursed games, you were so much more to me. You always have been. You were the boy who gave me his last piece of bread when I had nothing. The boy who made me laugh when the world felt too heavy. The boy whose soul captured mine long before I knew what love even was.”

His shoulders slump slightly, and though he doesn’t turn, you see his hand tremble. The silence stretches, heavy with everything you’re too afraid to ask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, raw with pain.

“And yet you stood there, questioning who I was,” he murmurs. “Doubting the choices I made to survive. Do you know what it’s like to have someone you love look at you as though you’re a stranger?”

The words cut deep, sharp as any blade, and tears spill down your cheeks. You move closer, desperate to bridge the distance, to close the chasm that has grown between you.

“I was wrong,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I was so wrong. But I swear to you, Lucius, I have never stopped seeing the boy you were. And I will never stop loving the man you’ve become.”

Lucius stares at you, his eyes swimming with emotions too tangled to name. The air between you crackles, heavy with unspoken words and the years of longing that have built into this single, fraught moment. You search his face for a sign that your words have reached him, that the wall he’s built is beginning to crumble.

Lucius's gaze burns into yours, his expression a tempest of anguish and desire, before he moves. His hands are on you in an instant, rough but careful, as though he's afraid you'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight enough. He presses you against the cold, damp wall of the cell, the chill of the stone seeping through your cloak and biting into your skin. It's grounding, sharp against the heat that erupts between you as his lips claim yours.

The kiss is everything you've imagined and nothing like it all at once-wild, desperate, and unrelenting. His hands frame your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to memorize the feel of you. His lips are firm, demanding, pouring years of suppressed longing into the kiss. You can feel his ragged breaths mingling with yours, and the faint taste of salt from your shared tears lingers between you.

Your hands find his chest, trembling as they trace over the worn fabric of his tunic and the hard planes of his body. His heart is pounding beneath your palms, as wild and erratic as your own. When your fingers curl into the fabric to pull him closer, he growls low in his throat—a sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine.

The cold wall presses unyieldingly against your back as he leans into you, his body a solid, unmovable force. The contrast of cold stone and his scorching heat sets your senses ablaze. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if he could somehow fuse the two of you together, and the pressure of his touch ignites a fire that consumes you whole.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you both struggle to catch your breath. His lips hover near yours, as though the distance is too much to bear, and his voice, rough and low, brushes over your skin.

 "Do you understand now?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. "Do you see what you've done to me? You've been the only thing keeping me alive, Iris. Even when I hated the world, I still loved you."

Your tears spill freely as you clutch at his tunic, your voice trembling. "I see it, Lucius. I see it, and I feel it, because l've loved you just as fiercely.”

He tilts your chin up, his dark eyes softening, and his thumb brushes tenderly across your jaw. "Then let there be no more fear," he whispers before capturing your lips again.

This kiss is softer but no less consuming, filled with a desperate hope that perhaps the two of you, against all odds, can still claim the love that's been waiting for so long.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sun blazes mercilessly as the crowd fills the arena, their cheers deafening and bloodthirsty. Your seat offers a clear view of the sand-covered pit, where the fighters enter with stoic faces and heavy chains. Among them is Lucius. Even in the sea of bodies, your eyes find him instantly.

He walks with his head held high, his shoulders squared. You can see the fire burning in him now—a determination that wasn’t there before, knowing that people are ready to rescue him. The weight of hope, of knowing freedom waits just beyond the reach of this hellish stage, has reignited something in him. Yet, the sight of him under the watchful eyes of guards and the jeering crowd still twists your stomach with dread.

Your fiancé, Caius, sits beside you, oblivious to the storm raging within you. His hand rests possessively on your arm as if to remind everyone—and perhaps himself—of who you belong to.

When the fight begins, Lucius is relentless. His movements are sharper, faster, more focused than ever before. You watch in awe as he disarms one opponent and dodges another’s blade with a grace that feels almost otherworldly. But it’s not enough to calm your nerves. Every strike, every blow he lands only tightens the knot in your chest.

And then it happens. A spear slices across his shoulder, leaving a vivid trail of crimson in its wake. He stumbles, his hand instinctively going to the wound, and for a moment, your world stops.

You stand without thinking, your breath catching in your throat. “Lucius,” you whisper, though the name escapes like a prayer rather than a call.

Caius turns sharply to you, his grip on your arm tightening. “What are you doing?” he hisses, his voice low but sharp. “Sit down, Iris.”

But you can’t. Your heart is pounding too loudly, drowning out his words. All you can see is the blood staining Lucius’s tunic, the grimace of pain that briefly flashes across his face before he forces himself back into the fight.

“Iris!” Caius snaps, his voice rising now. “This is unseemly. People are watching!”

You don’t care. The moment the fight ends and Lucius is escorted out, you wrench free from Caius’s grasp and run. His angry protests fade behind you as your sandals slap against the stone corridors leading to the medic chambers.

When you burst through the door, Ravi looks up in surprise. Lucius sits on a stool, blood dripping from his shoulder as Ravi prepares to clean the wound. His gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he freezes, the stoic mask slipping to reveal something raw and unguarded.

“What are you doing here?” Ravi asks, his tone filled with warning.

But Lucius speaks first, his voice low and strained. “Iris.” Your name on his lips feels like both a question and an anchor.

You cross the room in a rush, ignoring Ravi’s protests and Lucius’s raised brow. “Let me,” you say softly, reaching for the cloth in Ravi’s hand. Your fingers tremble as you press it against the wound, but you don’t flinch.

Lucius watches you, his gaze piercing. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, but there’s no anger in his voice—only concern.

“And you shouldn’t be out there,” you reply, your voice breaking. “But here we are.”

His hand rises, hesitating for a moment before it brushes against yours, smearing your skin with his blood. “I’ll be fine,” he says, though his eyes betray him.

“No, you won’t,” you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Not if I lose you.”

Ravi clears his throat awkwardly, stepping back. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he mutters, leaving the room.

Lucius exhales shakily, his gaze never leaving yours. “Iris, you have to be careful. If Caius��”

“Let Caius think what he will,” you interrupt, your voice trembling with conviction. “I won’t sit by and do nothing while you suffer.”

In the space of a breath, his restraint snaps. "Damn Caius," he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, just before his lips capture yours.

The kiss is wild and desperate, like a clash of wills—a battle neither of you is willing to lose.

His hands tighten around your waist as yours tangle in his hair, the metallic taste of blood faint on his lips, a reminder of the wounds he's endured. He kisses you with the fervor of a man who's fought too long to deny what he feels, each movement urgent and unyielding.

He lifts you onto the nearby table, the rough wood cold beneath your legs as papers and tools clatter to the ground, forgotten. You gasp against his mouth, but he doesn't falter, his body pressing into yours as if to prove something-to you, to himself, to the world that's tried to keep you apart.

Outside, the sound of footsteps halts, followed by a frustrated sigh. Ravi's voice mutters something inaudible, and you know he's standing there, trying to give you privacy while also likely cursing your recklessness.

Lucius pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the narrow space between. "This is madness," he whispers, his voice rough and thick with emotion.

"Then let it be madness," you reply, your voice just as unsteady. Your hands trail down to his face, cupping his jaw as your thumbs brush over his cheekbones. "Because l'd rather have this moment than a lifetime of silence."

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss even fiercer than before, as though he's pouring all the words he can't say into the connection. His hands linger around your thighs, gradually pushing the hem of your dress higher and higher up your leg.

“Lucius, I—” Ravi’s voice cuts through the haze, and you pull back abruptly, your chest heaving.

Lucius turns toward the door, his body instinctively shifting to shield you from Ravi’s view, though it’s already too late. Ravi stands in the doorway, his face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

“I left you alone for mere minutes,” Ravi mutters, crossing his arms as his eyes dart between the two of you.

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you hold your ground, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze. “I was helping,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

“And clearly you’ve been very thorough in your assistance,” Ravi replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Lucius steps forward, his voice low but firm. “Enough, Ravi. You’ve said your piece.”

Ravi exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If anyone finds out about this, it’s not just you two who’ll pay the price. Keep that in mind.” He turns on his heel, muttering something under his breath as he leaves.

The door clicks shut, and silence settles over the room once more. Lucius looks at you, his eyes clouded with both regret and longing. “I’ll deal with him,” he says softly, though his hand lingers at your side, as if reluctant to let you go.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The door slams shut behind you as you step into the quiet of your home, the night air still clinging to your skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the events that transpired just moments ago. You barely have a chance to steady your breath before Caius appears in the hallway, his sharp gaze locking onto you as he takes in the sight of you—disheveled, hair slightly tousled, your dress still crinkled from the tension of the night.

“Where have you been?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an edge to it, an undeniable undertone of suspicion that you cannot ignore.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his eyes, a familiar lie already forming on your lips. “I was just out for a walk,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a slight quiver in your voice that betrays you.

Caius takes a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing, scanning you with unsettling precision. He glances down at your dress, and for a split second, his gaze lingers on a small stain of blood near the hem. His face hardens.

“That doesn’t look like the mark of a walk,” he says, voice tight with suspicion. “Where did you get this from?”

You freeze. The blood—it wasn’t from you, but from the hurried touch you had shared with Lucius. His words echo in your mind, Damn Caius. You can feel the weight of that kiss, the dangerous closeness, and the desperation in his touch. It lingers in your skin, like a brand that you can’t erase.

“Nothing happened,” you lie again, your heart racing in your chest. You want to scream, to tell him the truth, but fear clamps down on your throat. “I helped Ravi again, like I used to.”

Caius isn’t fooled. His eyes flicker with recognition, and before you can take another breath, he’s stepping toward you, his hand gripping your wrist tightly. “Tell me the truth,” he demands, his voice low and threatening. “You’ve been with him, haven’t you? The Eagle of Rome.”

The mention of Lucius sends a shock of panic through you, freezing you in place. No—you try to deny it, but the truth is already written across your face. “I haven’t—” you start, but the words falter. You try to pull your wrist free, but his grip tightens, pulling you closer.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls, his voice a razor’s edge, the anger seeping through each word. His fingers are like iron, digging into your skin as he pulls you toward him. “I saw the way you looked at him in the stadium.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as the weight of his accusation hits. Lucius—the name lingers like a forbidden prayer. “I was helping all of the warriors today. I promise you, I didn’t even touch him,” you snap, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and guilt, but the words feel hollow, like a lie you want to believe but can’t.

“Stop!” Caius interrupts, his voice rising now, each word thick with rising fury. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? That I haven’t seen how you’ve been sneaking around? How you’ve been lying to me?”

His words hit you like a slap. In an instant, his frustration boils over, his anger flaring in his eyes. He moves toward you, forceful and sharp, and you stumble back into the wall, trying to escape his grasp. You gasp, your heart pounding as you try to steady yourself.

But before you can recover, Caius is right there, his face inches from yours, his breath ragged with fury. “You have no idea what kind of reproach you’re bringing against our family,” he spits, his voice dangerously quiet now. “Your actions make us a mockery. The choices you���ve made—make us look like fools.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart aching in your chest. His words cut deeper than you expected, and guilt rises in your throat. He’s right—this has always been the choice, between him and Lucius. Between duty and love. But you couldn’t let go—not when Lucius needed you, not when you were the only one who could do something for him.

“Let me go, Caius,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if asking for the smallest mercy. “Please.”

But there’s no mercy in his eyes now. Only betrayal, and the realization that whatever it is that’s come between you, whatever feelings you’ve tried to bury, are on the cusp of release. He stares at you, and for a moment, you think you see something softer in his gaze—but it’s fleeting. He lets out a jagged breath, his grip still tight on your wrist.

“I never wanted this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that, because you feel the same way. Every word from his lips is a weight pressing you into the wall, and yet, you can’t escape it.

“Clean yourself up,” Caius says, stepping back. His eyes linger on you, raw and unrelenting. “And can’t stand the sight of you right now.”

Caius turns away, his shoulders tense with unresolved anger, and the silence between you stretches, thick with unspoken truths. As he walks out, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit room, you feel the weight of the choice you’ve made—and the painful certainty that nothing will ever be the same again.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tag list: @willowpains

[lecliss]

Wait I just saw info saying Weiss does in fact have a BT!!!! I need to see it!!! I need his kit video to be posted already!!! Im dying to know what it is!!!! And Reno is getting an FR/BT too in the following banner, so October is gonna be busy for me!!!

[heechwe]

higher than heaven | 𝐜𝐬𝐛

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 10.3k ୨୧ genre: fluff, angst, smut ୨୧ tags: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining, sexual tension, dirty talking, nipple play, chest worship, fingering, unprotected sex ୨୧ synopsis: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? ♬ playlist: iris | nightly, dizzy | yueku, unbreakable | jamie scott, monsters | joan, feel every bit | the ivy, infinitely falling | fly by midnight, kiss my scars | august royals, next to me | peter fenn, hideaway | jacob collier, salvation | gabrielle aplin, magic island | tomorrow x together ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you�� to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree. 

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before. 

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further. 

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion. 

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight. 

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration. 

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths. 

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.”

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy. 

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst.

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes. 

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt. 

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back,  grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right.

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips. 

Your back hits the bed as Soobin attaches his lips to your neck. The dogs scratch at the locked door of your bedroom, but you know they’ll give up after another minute of waiting for a result that will never come. You have other priorities to tend to.

Soobin’s lips and teeth mark you up as he travels along your skin with his mouth. He removes your dress and his shirt so your skin is in closer contact, the feeling of his every present warmth lighting you from the inside out. Your undergarments are still in the way, but you know they’ll be discarded soon.

“You do not know how many days I wished for this,” he mumbles into the spot between your breasts, his kisses setting you on fire to the point you can barely tell where he’s going next. He unclasps the clips holding your bra together, your top half now bare for his eyes to witness.

He marvels at the fullness of your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He licks at the skin as he suckles. The action pulls a moan from your lips, your body thrusting up at nothing but open air.

“You can touch me in other ways, Soobin,” you gasp, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers.

He blushes a deep crimson, releasing your nipple from his lips. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

You take his hand to guide lower to the top of your underwear, urging him to slip his hand inside. He does so, immediately finding the wetness of your folds against his fingertips. “You can move them around—just like that.” 

He takes your advice and expertly finds your clit to take between his thumb and index finger. Your hips buck up into his touch, and he smirks against your lips. He asks, “Is this what you like?”

“Yes, please.” He takes your underwear off to freely glide his fingers in and out of you, three of the digits simultaneously filling you but leaving you aching for more. “Please, Soobin, please,” you beg.

“What do you want, my love? Don’t hold back.”

“I want you inside of me,” you confess. He listens to your request without question. Unbuckling his pants, his cock springs free to make your eyes linger to the bottom half of his body. You don’t guess for long what it feels like, as he immediately sinks into you to make your eyelids flutter.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, pressing your hands to his lower back, pushing him in deeper until he’s filling you to the hilt.

“You feel amazing.” Soobin says the words against your lips as he thrusts for the first time. He pulls completely before slipping back in, groaning the entire way.

While you appreciate the slow movement of his body against yours, not too eager to rush the experience, you cling to him with eager fingers, hoping the message will come across. “Soobin, go faster.”

You’ve only ever been with two other men in your life, two lackluster experiences in college you wished to forget. All the time between now was just a waiting game, you only willing to go the distance when you felt it was with the right person. And it seems like all the failures in your history have led you to this perfect blip in time.

Like Soobin can read your mind, he slows down just enough so he can whisper to you, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

You can’t help the tear that forms in your eye, but it’s quickly kissed away with Soobin’s lips on your cheek and, subsequently, your mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Soobin. Please don’t stop.” His hips work faster, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your clit harder, and you can barely feel your body before it lights up in every area.

Your toes curl, your mouth slacks, and your soul explodes as the pleasure overtakes you. You feel empty yet so full from the endorphins released from your orgasm.

Soobin continues to move his hips against yours. His pace stutters, signaling his own release. He captures his lips with yours as he spills inside of you, your body his to claim completely. Nobody has ever had you in this way—emotionally, mentally, physically.

When you tell Soobin “I love you,” you mean it in every facet of reality, your soul intimately linked with his otherworldly one.

“I love you too, my love.” He smiles like a bashful child, taking you into his arms and pulling you closer as the night continues on outside. When you again, bodies intertwined between your sheets, all that you wish for now is for the moment to last forever.

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house , your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him. 

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

You crawl back into bed, naked and alone, tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share. 

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word. 

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

 You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

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[meiluu]

Edward Cullen's Mate

Edward Cullen/ Afab!Reader

cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral f receiving, unprotected p in v sex, edward breaks the headboard hehe, and edward is completely enamored with you.

(I need to get this out of my system, been thinking about him a lot recently...)

this was supposed to be a short drabble but i just couldn't shut up

reader pov.

Being with edward has been nothing but a beautiful and slightly chaotic ride. With finding out he wasn't human instead was a hundred something year old vampire along with the rest of his family. And then as your relationship grew as did the romance between you too, and that grew tenfold when the magnetic pull you felt for one another was because you were mates.

Fated to be together, equals, crafted for one another, you both completing one another and that never felt truer than now.

Body underneath his stony one, feverishly chilly lips leave a scorching trail of kisses from your neck to your bare chest. edward inhales your scent, and scent that didn't have him craving your blood like he was supposed to instead it calmed and aroused his body in a tantalizing mix. His eyes flick up to yours, pupils nearly completely dilated leaving behind a dark amber ring at the edge of his iris. Love and lust in his gaze has your body warming, and you knew that your gaze mimicked his.

"So beautiful. I'll never get enough of you my love." his word are spoken with nothing but truth. Leaving your shared gaze he continues his journey down your torso, soft hands caressing your hips squeezing the plump flesh before leading down your thighs to the backs of your knees. Mouth leaving behind love-bites upon your skin, each one sending jolts of heat straight to your core, evidence of your arousal staining the insides of your thighs.

Going lower with each kiss pulling your legs apart allowing him to sink further down, mouth right above where you need him most. A blush covers your cheeks and the tops of your breast, "Edward- you don't have to do that."

His gaze snaps up to you, and the sight of his head between your thighs with the full intention to bring you pleasure has you holding back a shiver. "I want to, God you have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. Can I ?" Why would you ever deny that? Nodding your head edward goes back to staring at your weeping cunt.

Hands tighten their grip on you before he's pushing them further apart and up, completely baring you to him. You watch as his mouth descends until you feel his tongue lick up from the bottom to your clit. softly wrapping the bud with his lips gently sucking on the bud, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. A moan falls from your slightly swollen lips, seeing your obvious satisfaction edward continues his ministrations. Swirling his tongue a sucking in your clit, body lighting up in euphoria as a ball of pleasure settles into the pit of your stomach. Shaky breaths leave you as your gaze stays locked onto edward’s head, vision blurring around the edges as your mind begins to wholly submit to him.

Then his mouth is leaving your clit all too soon, but you don't have to wonder for long where he's going next. His tongue delves straight into your cunt, mouth covering the bottom half of you. Your eyes widen before rolling back into your head at the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue massaging your walls, pushing in and out of you. Then one of his hands is leaving your thighs and begins to swirl your forgotten clit between his fingers.

Your breathing is uneven breast rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. Heart racing as your body becomes so pliant and warm under his devotion. Your moans and cries of his name bounce around the room, hands going to his soft hair to tangle themselves within them, hoping to keep yourself grounded. The knot within your belly only tightens with each moment that passes. Your mind lagging behind as it gets lost within this pleasure, you realize a little late that edwards tongue has left you but his cool fingers have entered and taken the spot where his tongue once was. Curling up sweetly rubbing into your g-spot, a near-cry of pleasure leaves you at this.

The ball of pleasure that had settled within your core tightened and then you where cumming, as your cunt milked his fingers as they continued to abuse your g-spot. With your high fizzling out of you, thighs shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes open looking down to see edward leaning his head against the one thigh he still had a grip on, fingers still buried within you and a smirk of satisfaction upon his face.

"You look so gorgeous when you cum." giving the inside of your thigh a sweet kiss before he starts to sit up, wrapping your legs around his waste. Face rising up to yours, his mouth comes down giving you a kiss that leaves you breathless. "Do you want to keep going?"

"Yes-yes, please." no shame, your words are full of need and edwards smirk brightens. "Of course my love, I am at your whim."

Reaching down taking edward by surprise, you grip his hardness, a groan leaves him at your soft hold. Lining him with your cunt you let him slowly sink into you. Your head falls further into the pillow as edward grits his teeth hoping to keep himself in control.

He stretches you out just perfectly, filling you up with no space left and your walls wrap so beautifully around him, so warm and wet and oh so welcoming to his cock. You were both made for one another as you slot together- bodies entwined with one another. "Move, Edward please." as your words leave you, he is obeying.

With near flawless movements he starts a slow yet deep pace, bottoming out to the hilt. Each thrust has you keening in utter ecstasy body lit aflame. But his pace begins to pick up speed as your cunt continues to push him to his limits by squeezing him, and with every pull out of you, your walls are trying to suck him back in. God he never knew he could feel like this, so wholly enraptured, this was his new drug and Edward knew that he would never want to part from it.

Your thighs tighten around his waist, arms leaving the bedsheets to latch onto his back. Nails digging into his stony muscle, as your head buries into his neck where his scent is strongest. Your sounds of pleasure are right by his ear, the most beautiful song he's ever heard. His arms leave your waist in favor of the headboard, harshly gripping onto the mahogany. Edward moans along with you as he tilts his pelvis down and up, kissing your g-spot with the tip of his cock. And with his pelvis hitting your clit with every thrust back into your cunt.

Your arousal leaks out staining the fronts of his thighs along with the sheets beneath you, your heady scent filling the space around you two. Edward feels the head board snap then crumble within his grasp and not a moment after that does he feel your cunt quiver as you cum, walls milking him as a gush of your arousal stains his thighs. An unfiltered moan falls from edward, completely in shock at this sensation pace becoming frenzied as he pistons into you with the sole intention to cum within your cunt. Your head has fallen back into the pillow body buzzing in overstimulation as your third orgasm nears.

"Edward-please, please, I need it." words broken up by moans as you barely get them out. Edward's body hunches over yours, hands coming down from the shattered headboard to the sheets beside your head before quickly wrapping around your body. Pulling your chest against his, a hand against the small of your back the other at the base of your head.

His body trying to get as close to you as possible, trying to bury himself within you. Cock bullying your overstimulated and weeping cunt that continues to welcome him in with every thrust, pace now rougher and faster. Each time his cock bottoms out reaching the end of you your moans are punched out of you, mind having turned to mush. Your ears are hypnotized by the heady squelching sound of your cunt along with edwards moans of pure pleasure.

Edward feels the painfully tight knot of pleasure in his pelvis snap, cock swelling as he empties himself within you, eyes closing from the heavy orgasm. That orgasm grows tenfold with you cumming again, walls milking his cock in an attempt to ring him completely dry. Slowing down his thrusts as you both come down from your highs, coming to a stop as you are both left in the aftershocks of your orgasms. Gently bringing you back down to the bedsheets, turning to the side with you still within his embrace. feeling your racing heart against his chest.

Ever so softly he begins to place chaste kisses upon your skin along with 'I love you's, soon your body is lulled into unconsciousness, as edward continues to give his worship to your body. As you rest he lays protecting and watching over you and with every moment that passes does he fall more and more in love with you.

His mate, made just for him.

---

*not edited*

[topherwrites]

𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘛, 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙

summary - a saturday morning, and I love you on the tip of both your tongues.

pairing - bob floyd x (gn!)reader

word count - 2.1k

rating - nsfw content, 18+, mdni!

content warnings & tags - no use of (y/n) / fluff / slightly h*rny fluff / bob's love language being acts of service / the peak fantasy of homeownership / bob floyd being the ideal man™ / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: time for my bi-yearly fic drop, lol! i wrote this in semi-conjunction with this moodboard. (a.k.a i started this months ago.) everyone who said they want to live in it... same. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Your boyfriend has disappeared.

Even before your eyes are open and your brain is semi-functioning, you feel the lack of his presence, the sheets next to you devoid of his usual space heater existence. You touch the left side—his side—double checking—hoping, really—that you won’t have to peel yourself out of bed to search for him.

A cascade of orange and pink spills through your curtains, painting your room in soft light, letting you know it has to be before seven. With a groan, you check your clock, confirming your suspicions. The time reads a quarter past six—far too early for you.

Not nearly as agonizing for him, one of those irritating early riser types, but Bob is diligent about letting you know when he’s leaving for his early morning runs, a kiss planted to your temple, and a ‘be back soon’—just a little moment in case you have to leave for work before he gets back.

But it’s Saturday, and you had plans of lazing about in bed until at least eleven, preferably with him. 

Your brow creases as you push up onto your elbows, slowly blinking around your room as if your boyfriend will just appear in front of you, and you won’t have to pull yourself out from under the covers to try to coax him back to bed.

As of late, it’s like he gets struck by a whim, and his body is overcome with the need to check it off a list, unable to rest until he does—changing your oil at ten o’clock at night, fixing the light in your fridge that flickers before he heads off for a run, trying to fix the leaky pipes under your en-suite sink—he did eventually give up on that one and call a plumber. Thank god.

Part of you has just taken it as part of his job and personality—he likes getting up as the sun does, he likes fixing things, and his job is a stressor, you're sure. But it doesn't feel work-related, so part of you is beginning to wonder if it’s you. 

An ugly little thought that you can recognize has no factual basis. He’s never been anything but honest with you, open and vulnerable, even when you’ve guarded yourself.

As a result, you tuck it away, considering that he’s off on another one of his little quests. They’re things that always make you feel cared for and thought about—weeding or checking the pressure on your tires or rearranging his kitchen so you can reach the things you frequently use.

So, as you begin to pressure yourself to leave your cocoon of early morning sleepiness, a quiet metal-against-metal clattering floats down the hall and through the crack in your bedroom door, catching your attention.

Slipping out of bed, you pad down the hall, sleep shirt brushing your thighs. Growing nearer to the sound of the soft noise—clearly being sensitive to try not to wake you—-you catch soft guitar strings and the twang of John Prine and Iris DeMent coming from your grandma’s old record player.

You cringe as your foot touches the cold tile lining the floor and immediately regret not rummaging around for your slippers.

You find Bob there, posted at the counter as he cuts something at a butcher board, only wearing the sweats he went to bed in. He's still warm despite the lack of clothing and the countertop fan blowing at him.

At the arch entry, you stop and watch him for a moment, entranced by the way his broad shoulders and the muscles of his back move with the motion—by the sight of him in your kitchen. Something so distinctly domestic and intimate about it.

Completely focused on his task, he doesn't hear you come up behind him. He slightly jumps under your touch as your hands slip around his middle, his stomach beneath your fingertips.

He makes a short noise of surprise that washes into a gentle greeting, his voice low, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You press your lips to his shoulder blade, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

You've clearly ruined some sort of surprise, but you can't feel too bad at the sight of his eyes still clouded by sleep and the odd angles his hair sticks up.

Keeping his eyes on the cuts he’s making, Bob briefly twists around to press a kiss to your temple as he mumbles, “Go back to bed.”

You just hum, beginning to press kisses to the freckles that scatter along his shoulders, deepened by the tan he’s obtained from working in the flowerbeds that sit alongside your front door. The beds were slightly tragic before you began dating, some sort of sparse bushes planted there. They were alive at one point, you assume, but lying half dead and bare when you bought the place.

In no time at all, he had the beds torn up and replaced with bright white hydrangeas that now sit in full bloom under your front windows. Pink zinnias, sunny yellow goldenrods, and pale milkweeds—all chosen by him because they attract monarch butterflies during their migration—flank either side of the brown brick pathway. Cheek pressed to his skin; you cast a glance outside just as a small orange and black blur flits by the glass.

“So… where is it?”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Bob casts a lost glance around the plant nursery’s vast outdoor gardens—bright pops of color among vast expanses of green, the high afternoon sun beating down on them—the acreage of it is astounding and certainly a workout.

You’re supposed to be picking up some mulch for the beds—but you keep getting sidetracked. Half your fault; you beeline for every slightly pretty plant, balancing it on the cart that’s rapidly becoming overloaded. The wheels digging heavily into the gravel pathways, little trenches left in your wake.

It’s early days with Bob Floyd, but he’s sweet and helpful and easy to get free labor out of—a big plus in your book.

On your first date, when he walked you to your front door, sweet and gentlemanly, you made a quick joke, a callback to your hinge profile. There, you had answered the prompt, I'm looking for…, with, ‘someone to put together my ikea bookshelf. seriously.’

Because, after two unsuccessful attempts to put it together and three months of it languishing in the corner of your living room, you were tired of feeling a pang of guilt every time you piled another book on top of the precarious stack teetering next to your reading chair.

Of course, on the date, you didn't actually expect him to do it. You made the joke as a way to test the waters, to see if he was open to coming inside without fully putting yourself out there that way.

But then he followed you in, sat himself down cross-legged on your living room rug, and got to work. You stood there in the doorway for a moment, warming even further to him. 

You poured a glass of wine for each of you, and watched his hands as he set joints together and tightened screws with a furrow between his brows. And despite his serious focus on the job, he continued asking you questions about your taste in books, your favorite bands growing up, what you liked about San Diego as you sat near—your only real contribution being the wine, simple conversation, and occasionally handing him a screw.

He’d finished near midnight, asked if you wanted help sorting your books, and when you said no, already mildly abashed at the fact that you’d set him to work on your first date, he’d given you a kiss goodnight on your cheek—chaste and unpresuming—and left it at that.

You’d fallen for him a little bit then and there.

Blinking, he stares down at the map once again—same furrow in his brow—turning it in his hands. Not sounding any more sure than he was a second ago, he points slightly westerly of you, “That way. I think.”

It draws a slight laugh from you. You lightly hip-check him, teasing over your shoulder, “Come on, farm boy, you’re supposed to be helping me.”

The scent of lemon carries inside from the open window over the sink, summer ripening the tree planted in your yard. That’s also when you spy past his shoulder a small stack of the same yellow fruit on the counter. A pancake crackles away on the stove.

Your voice is quiet—reticent to break the seal of this hushed moment—as you ask, “What are you making?”

Hands wandering mindlessly, your touch follows the trail of hair from his belly button, fingers sneaking only just under the waistband of his sweats, loosely hung on his hips. 

He seems to part with the idea of whatever he’s doing being a surprise, clear that you’re not going to accede to his request and tuck yourself back into bed, too awake now to do so.

“Pancakes,” he reveals, continuing to whip, “with lemon ricotta whipped cream.”

“Trying out a new recipe?”

His throaty laugh reverberates into your chest, shaking you. Your smile hikes higher before you even know what he’s laughing about—just enjoying the sound, the melody and the slight grit to it.

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, scooping a bit of the whipped cream onto his finger, offering it to you to taste. “Would you?”

You draw his finger into your mouth. It’s slightly sweet with a burst of tang, the sugar and cream mellowing out the sharper edges of the lemon flavor. A success, you think. As you draw back, you flash your gaze up and find his eyes unabashedly caught on your mouth.

You pull off and without breaking eye contact, breathily tease, “Lech.”

With a slight flush to his ears and cheeks, he laughs and leans in, nose brushing yours as he presses his lips to yours. His mouth slants over yours, insistent, his hand finds its way to cradle your jaw, tilt your head just right. It catches your breath, makes your toes curl against the tile.

You're still not entirely used to this, the sweetness of Bob Floyd. His eyes are soft as he pulls back, his thumbs sweeping along your cheeks. He clicks his tongue, cheekily muttering, “I think it’s good.”

His lips move to your cheek next, mumbling between a kiss there, “You're distracting.”

The gesture, so simple, makes your heart flip.

By this stage of dating you're usually spiraling, finding reasons that it won’t work out and tallying up slights so when the expected happens, you're not blindsided. Like it's a game you’ll win; perpetually preparing yourself for heartbreak. 

And it’s often been easy, dating men who were noncommittal or uninterested or flippant with affection made it so. They were easy to write off— jettison them from your life and think, onto the next. 

But everything has changed with him. There’s an ease to the intimacy, a frankness to him that makes that defense mechanism very difficult to muster. You're… settled.

And it should scare you, the way your heart is fully on the line, but then you catch sight of one of his dogeared-to-hell paperbacks in the living room or the little date night notes he leaves scribbled on the calendar that hangs next to the fridge or his mismatched colorful socks mixed in with your laundry and it doesn't. As simple as that.

You haven’t said the L word yet. But it’s there, dancing on the tip of your tongue every time you look at him.

Bob is near certain that this is love.

No, he supposes, he is certain. He’s mulled this particular topic over too much in his mind not to be.

It's love—the big kind. He’s just not certain when he should let you in on that fact. Release it out to you and see if it comes back returned.

In the past five months he’s undertaken a million little projects to keep his hands, mouth, and mind busy, working out all that excess energy. All he’s doing is kicking the can down the road, trying to find “the right time”. 

He's gotten close more than once, yet every time it catches in the back of his throat, his tongue an uneasy ally in the venture. The words, three simple ones, are left as something uncomfortable to swallow down at each abandoned attempt.

And yet, virtually all that discomfort is eased by the way you say his name, catching his attention when they nearly slip, nearly an endearment all on its own. 

His call sign being his name means that Bob hears it alot, from a considerable amount of mouths. Shouted, whispered, whooped. In a variance of forms, he's heard it. But it's never sounded so important, so weighty, then it does as it falls from your lips. Like you're speaking a dialect only the two of you hold knowledge of, his name equivalent to the word in the forefront of his mind.

"Bob."

He hums, certain that his face gives him away; 'Whipped' as Mickey called it or 'in love' as his mother did the first time you met.

This is the sort of thing that his parents have, the ease, the humor, the affection. It permeates every space of his life, the knowledge that you're here, with him, choosing each other easily.

Eight letters.

I love you.

He lets temptation run wild, hands glancing down your back and tugging you right into him. He takes a moment just to look at you, your bright eyes, and the sweet shape of your lips as you smile up at him. Your hands slide around his neck, gently teasing the hair at the nape of his neck, his stomach swooping at the feeling.

Three syllables.

I love you.

He lets them swirl in his head, settle in the back of his throat as he prepares his tongue.

Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and he opens his mouth, readying himself, just as your lips part, and twice at once, I love you, becomes tangible reality.

Like a held breath released, a smile, broad and uncontrollable, spreads over his face, mirrored on yours as everything comes into view.

Just as Bob leans in to brush his lips against yours, higher than he’s ever felt, the smell of rapidly burning batter hits his nose. 

"Oh, shoot."

a/n: thank you for reading!

[solbaby7]

I loved Blurred Lines!! Do you think you’d ever want to do a part 2 for when Rhys shows up? 👀 👀🔥

[ part one ]

Rhysand hears you before he see’s you.

Unhinged shouts and the rhythmic smacking of skin on skin pulling him closer, beckoning him inside. The concealed safe house reeks of sex, clothes scattered around the floor from the moment he walks in; chairs are tipped over, rugs askew and there’s a dent on the hallway wall.

He doesn’t bother calling out for you, certain that you probably wouldn’t hear him anyway through the drug-induced haze. The traces of it lingers in your scent, spiking sweet honey and brown sugar with strong notes of spicy cinnamon that settles thick in his throat. “Swear, I can take it, Az.” Desperate whines and choppy breaths coupled with deep grunts and a husky swear at the sound of your plea. “Just a little harder.”

Rhys knew it shouldn’t have affected him the way it did. The blood that rushed between his legs at the sound of Azriel complying, doing everything you’d asked for and more. Neither of you even notice him, shadows too distracted in squeezing at heaving breasts and gliding up the length of your neck. A soothing cool to combat the overwhelming heat that Azriel had spent hours trying to quench.

It would work for a little while before the need grew again, demanding more tongue and teeth biting into your shoulders. Blazing for the harsh grip of Azriel’s hands on your hips as his cock nudged in as far as your body allowed. “Rhys will be here soon,” He’d mutter into the shell of your ear when you’d clench around him, hips stuttering and tears streaming down your cheeks from the sensitivity of yet another orgasm.

And yet, still your body commanded more.

“It won’t stop,” Sweat beads at your hairline, hair tangled and lips swollen as your body holds onto Azriel like a lifeline. Filthy sounds squelch between where you begin and he ends, arousal dripping like a leaky faucet. “Why won’t it stop?”

“Rhys,” Azriel sighs in relief when the High Lord comes into view, exhaustion evident in tousled inky hair and droopy lids but he’s too lost in the feeling to stop. The spymasters wings are splayed out behind him as your hands wander freely along the leathery texture, hips rocking and tongue dragging along the side of his neck. “You’re here.”

Rhysand nods once, easing you off and into his arms. You find instant relief with his touch, face buried in his neck as he guides you into the bathroom. The water in the tub had long since ran cold and yet it’s perfectly warm when he rests you inside. “Took you long enough,” You whisper weakly, voice raspy from overuse. “I nearly broke him.”

His jaw clenched, unreasonable jealously tickling at the edge of his mind at the sight of Azriel’s marks on you. “I can see that,” Rhys pushes damp hair from your face, cupping at flushed cheeks to stare into your eyes. At the bright specks the shade of lavender dotting the iris, a stark contrast from pupils blown with lust. “Amren said it sounds like you were drugged with a strong mix of herbs; mostly meant to disorient but a natural side-affect is debilitating arousal.”

“She say how long it’ll last?”

Rhys grimaces slightly, hesitating before answering. “Depending on how much you ingested? Roughly a few hours, possibly less.”

Your heart plummets. So much time had already passed. How much more could you possibly endure?

More. More. More.

Every bone in your body screams as you watch the High Lord undress, exposing sun-kissed skin and mouth-watering tattoos. The water trickles when your thighs shift, searching for friction as a fresh wave of need rises. “In that case,” Your hand trails down beneath the water, hyperaware of the violet stare tracking every move. “I hope you brought your stamina.”

He’s quick to join you in the tub—even quicker when he tugs you on top of him, pressing claiming kisses to your mouth and he slides in with ease, hushed curses falling from full lips from the near unbearable heat of your cunt. “It’s not my stamina you should be worried about,” Rhysand’s deliberate in the way he slowly lifts you off him, watching more of his length come into view until only the fat tip of his cock is inside. “I’ll spend all night fucking the smell of him off you if I must.”

[sceletaflores]

can you write a smut fic with mike x reader where he eats you out?? thank you!!

Eating In (It's good for you)

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: mike is a munch always why would i write anything else???

warnings: 18+!!! NSFW!!! MDNI!!! oral sex (f!receving), fingering, squirting (kinda?)

word count: y'all already know 1.3k

authors note: you guys really speak my language. the beginning of this got a lot fluffier than i was expecting lol still filthy though. 18+ content mdni!!! hope you love it anon mwah <333 also pretty sure i flipped flopped between perspectives sorry babies i'm dumb

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it's no secret that mike lives for eating you out. he could live between your thighs if it was up to him, spending hours drawing out those desperate noises from your lips when he does that thing with his tongue that you love.

the feeling of your hands tugging his hair and your thighs tightening around his head because you just feel so good make his eyes roll back in his head every time he thinks about it.

tonight was no exception, but it was a little different.

as soon as the two of you put abby to bed he was on you. pinning you to his bed as you lazily made out, grinding against each other in slow relaxed motions.

“baby,” mike breathes between kisses, “can you do me a favor?”

you hum in acknowledgement, not wanting to pull away from kissing mike enough to reply.

mike chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss to nip teasingly at your lips. “i want you to ride my face.” he whispers dirtily, licking a stripe over your lips.

mike watched as his request sinks in, your eyes widening and mouth dropping open just a bit. “mike…” you whisper, he can hear the hesitation in your voice. he can’t have that.

“come on baby, please?” he pleads, moving his hands to rub soft circles into your hips. “you’ll love it, baby. i’ll make it so good for you.”

mike can see the moment your pupils completely dilate, fully swallowing your iris’. your chest heaving as your adrenaline kicks up.

after a beat, you nod slowly. your soft “okay” barely audible, mike grins like he just won the lottery.

“well hop on baby,” mike says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “we don’t have all night.”

mike pulls away, falling on his back on the bed. laying his laced hands on his stomach, waiting patiently for you to give him what he wants.

he waits as you take a steadying breath, gathering up the courage before you rise up and start to shuffle over to him. mikes hungry eyes watch you swing your leg over his lap, making your way up his body.

you stop short, sitting on his stomach with a timid look. mike places two grounding hands on your hips, squeezing them reassuringly.

“you have to tell me if i’m smothering you or something. i don’t need to accidentally kill you.” your hands fidget with the waist of mikes pants nervously.

“what a way to go.” he says wistfully, a dopey grin on his face.

you let out a small laugh, trying and failing to hide your smile. “you’re such an asshole.” you reply, pinching his chest teasingly. your tone is too fond to hold any actual malice. mike laughs back.

finally, you start to shuffle higher up his torso, but he stops you holding your hips in place. “other way, baby.”

it doesn’t take a lot of brain power to understand what he means. you let out a soft moan, a shiver wracks your body. pleasure zings up your spine at how filthy this is.

it’s a little awkward, but you manage to swing your legs around so you're facing the rest of his bedroom, not just the wall. from this angle, you can see how his dick is tenting the front of his loose sleeping pants, a wet spot forming near the tip.

you still only hover over your boyfriend's face instead of truly sitting, scared of hurting him. mike decides not to say anything, too preoccupied with the view directly in-front of him.

“fuck,” mike whispers hotly, staring up at your clothed pussy makes his dick twitch. baby pink lace darkened by how wet you are. he leans up slightly, running his tongue over the rough lace still covering you.

"shit...mike," you shudder, legs trembling on either side of his head.

mike takes his time, laving his tongue over the soaked lace a few times, reveling in your familiar taste, but his patience wears thin. soon enough he's tugging your panties aside to get at what he really wants before returning them to your hips.

mike moans at the sight of your slick pussy, already so wet from his mouth. he can't help but softly run his pointer finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and using it to circle around your clit.

you moan softly, trying your best to be quiet so abby doesn't wake up.

mike stops his fingers assault on your clit, too eager to chase the sight of your convulsing pussy with his mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding easily through your folds. he groans, rubbing his face between your thighs, no doubt covering his nose and chin in the copious amount of wetness leaking from your pussy. he quickly gets lost in the feeling of tasting you, of licking and sucking at your clit making you moan and whine.

"shit!" you exclaim, pitching forward to steady yourself with your hands flat on his chest. the rough feel of his stubble scratching your inner thighs, most likely leaving red marks on the skin there. you hope it'll leave marks, that you'll be able to feel it every time you walk tomorrow, a reminder of what the two of you did tonight.

by now you're white knuckling the front of his shirt as you frantically circle your hips against his face, the bed squeaking quietly under your movements. mike spurs you on with small smacks to your ass, groaning into your pussy with every pass of his tongue over your fluttering hole.

you can feel the vibrations in mike's throat as he fucks you with his tongue, guttural groans making your thighs shake in an attempt to stay upright.

but it's just too much, the onslaught of his tongue making you forget all about your earlier insecurity, and you fully lower yourself onto his mouth too caught up in your pleasure to even hold yourself up anymore.

mike's eyes widen in surprise at you seating yourself on his face, moaning way too loudly at how hot it is to see you lose control.

"fuck! feels so good, mike," you slur, head hanging down to your chest, hair falling around your face. "mph- mike - ah, ah, ah,"

you realize you're going to come like this, riding mike's face like you're starved for it. you can feel it, the warmth settling deep in your belly. flames licking there way up your body.

mike realizes it too apparently, because he latches his mouth over your clit and plunges two fingers into your clenching pussy, thrusting them in and out quickly.

the lewd squelching noises that fill the room make your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“holy fucking shit! mike fuck!” you moan, trying desperately to control your volume. “i’m gonna come, oh fuck.” mike moans in respines, speeding up both his tongue and fingers.

the combination of mike’s tongue rapidly flicking over your clit and thick fingers expertly hitting your g-spot every thrust pushes you over the edge. one final suck to your clit has you coming all over mike’s face. drenching the lower part of his face in your juices and soaking up the dirty groans mike makes as he sucks up every last drop.

mike pulls away from you clit, and takes his fingers out of your pussy to let you come down from your orgasm. kissing across the inside of your thighs as you shake and tremble above him.

after a few shuddering breaths, you lift up and off mike’s face to collapse onto the mattress next to him. the two of you lay next to each other staring up at the ceiling, panting out wet breaths as you come down.

you turn to mike, his lips are slick and red. lower half of his face shining with your come, eyes half-open and hazy. you lift your hand to trial your finger down his body, making your way to the waist of his sleeping pants riding low on his hips showing off his dark happy trail. your hand slides lower to the ever still present hard-on tenting his pants obscenely, rubbing over his erect dick with purpose.

“your turn?”

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taglist!

@yuenity @ebodebo @mfdxz

[pillowspace]

HI….👉👈 AM I ALLOWED TO ASK ABOUT YOUR SIBLINGS AU????

sooo so curious if you have an facts or tidbits to share like! whats their dynamic like? is there any Backstory to this oooor just for fun? i am. very very interested ehe

(only if u want to tho!!)

(About this post and this post)

Mmmm! Let me see what I can think of!

Mal's full first name is Maldu. I imagine everyone would call them Mal except for Odile, since she calls Bonnie Boniface, and would presumably call Mal "Maldu."

Mal is like 12-15, I'm not really strict on the exact age. Since Mal would be the second youngest, they would probably like following Bonnie around even if Mal doesn't really know how to "play" or anything. They just kinda... stand there and try to curiously mirror whatever Bonnie does.

Mal is a bit quiet. They can speak, but they don't do so often, and are more likely to speak when they're upset than when they're pleased.

The red star that hangs from their bandana cannot be seen in colour unless Mal is especially upset. Not the most upset of their life like Siffrin, but even just a big cry could cause the star to shine for everyone to see.

Mal is very sensitive and cries easily. Siffrin's grown practiced at calming them down but still gets freaked out by the sudden tears.

Mal likes quietly watching and listening. They enjoy being taught by their allies how to perform certain tasks, and will give that wide-eyed look of a silent "really??" when praised for doing something right. They soak up praise like a sponge due to a perpetual feeling of doing something wrong.

While their right eye spirals, Mal's left iris is entirely white! It's usually covered by the slanted hat, however.

And! I hadn't actually really thought of a backstory until just now, but does this work? I think it maybe could

Siffrin accidentally created Mal through Wish Craft when he had a mental breakdown as a child/teen soon after the northern island's disappearance, though neither of them know this, and they did not meet until a couple years after this happened. Mal's existence slowly came to be with a clear understanding that they existed for a reason, but they weren't sure why. When Siffrin and Mal eventually crossed paths, it was like finding a second half that you hadn't even realized you had lost. Though even after meeting, the two are still unsure of how this happened to begin with. As far as Siffrin's concerned, the two just "clicked," and does not remember the breakdown. Meanwhile Mal's not really sure where they came from or what they are, but they gladly latch onto the protection Siffrin offers.

Mal is simultaneously an extension of Siffrin, and a separate being entirely. Mal was made from Siffrin's soul, even if Siffrin hadn't meant to share himself like that. When one is hurt, the other shares the echoes of their pain. Mal likely severely panicked when Siffrin lost the eye, and the echoing pain in Mal's own head surely didn't help. If ONE panicked kid (Bonnie) wasn't enough, you also get TWO in this AU! Congrats!

Since Mal was created from Siffrin's distraught state, it reflects through Mal in certain ways. How sensitive they are, how timid they are, their unease, their anxiety, etc. Siffrin's helping Mal every step of the way though, and is very protective of them, urging his allies to be gentle with them.

[honeykaes]

natural artwork

hickies hc’s feat. wriothesley, lyney, thoma

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, marking, praise, rough sex (wriothesley), doggystyle (wriothesley), creampies (wrio + thoma), fingering (lyney), unedited

As the Duke of the Fortress du Meropide, Wriothesley knows he is respected across the halls. He knows many would not dare to challenge his authority and challenge his charisma, respect and strength he has crafted for years in this place.

Although he knows many wouldn’t dare challenge him, he couldn’t help clench his jaw a little too tightly when his icy eyes caught the multiple gazes focused on your form. He wasn’t a jealous man by many means, but the way their eyes lingered wishing their hands were his own—gently clasping your hand was building up frustration.

Something he can take out with ease with you.

His thick fingers pressed against your tongue, causing you to gag and tighten as his cock tongued to plunge deep inside of you. His other hand slapped firmly on your clit, jolts of pain and pleasure rippling through your body. He dragged his caines across your neck and nibbled the sensitive skin while his other hand palmed and squeezed against the plush of your ass.

“Why are you always so good for me hmm…squeezing me so tightly like this. It’s a shame I can’t have you moaning my name out in case some wandering ears try to figure out what we’re doing here,” he mused, gyrating his hips before sinking in deeper. His tip nudged against your cervix, thick veins massaging along your walls with every thrust.

“But I have to have some insurance that they know not to mess with what’s the Duke’s, even if it’s just in their imagination,” he grunted. His lips made contact with your neck, gently sucking on the skin. Vibrations from your moans reverberated on his fingers still gagging you, as he continued to nip and suck at that skin.

When he looked up, a large bright red mark had made its way on that spot—a reminder for those wandering eyes of those in the Meropide. A smirk fell on his lips as he slapped your ass in response, pace gaining in speed as he admired the new art on your body.

With a few more grunts, he felt your walls cave in and your body squirm as you managed to reach your high. 

“That’s it…that’s it, love,” he hummed. He grunted, sloppily thrusting a few more times before finally losing himself inside of you. Ropes of this thick cum filled you up, as his lips continued to drag against the hickey on your neck.

The famed magician of Fontaine, can’t seem to take his hands off of you. Through all the masks he’s worn in life, he’s thankful to finally find someone who loves him without them.

It was late night and the two of you were unwinding after one of his shows. He stood the vanity mirror, taking his white blouse off before a smile curved on his face admiring the faint marks on his chest—reminders of your love that he adored wearing.

His amethyst eyes flickered to your reflection seeing you bare chested and unaware of his gaze. The marks he had littered on your chest were becoming faint as well, barely detectable to someone who wasn’t specifically looking for them. His smile turned into a slight pout before getting up from the vanity.

“Mon cœur, come here please…” Lyney hummed, beginning to wipe the makeup from his face. As you curiously looked at him, you quickly walked over to where he was sitting by the vanity. He lifted his gaze toward you, iries swirling in mischief 

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked. Lyney rose from his seat, offering you a slow and sensual kiss on your lips. He softly moaned in the kiss as you returned it, before his hand crept up along your thigh, resting at the waistband of your pants. 

His fingers dipped down, fingers quickly cupping your soft folds before his thumb slowly circled your sensitive clit. He could feel your cunt beginning to drip with your essence.

His lips finally separated from your own, trailing soft kisses from your neck and collarbone until making his way to your chest. He pressed his lips between the valley of your chest, beginning to suck and nibble at the skin as his other thumb rolled itself against your sensitive and pebbling nipple.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Lyney’s fingers pressed firmer on your clit, circling it faster.

“Such a lovely symphony from your lips…might if I hear more of it,” he chuckled before making his way towards the top of your mound, sucking and nippling them. He could feel you tighten against his fingers, body shifting and shivering in the pleasure he was offering you.

“L-Lyney…!” you whimpered out, as you reached your high, grinding your hips to get any more friction from his fingers. Lyney lifted his head up, admiring the new marks decorated on your chest.

“C’est parfait…” Lyney hummed. “Now…I think it maybe time for you to reapply your marks, hm?~” 

You could always tell when Thoma was more frustrated than other times. He always usually wore a smile regardless of how frustrated he was —a trick he had picked up from working for the Kamisato estate for so long. It was easy to notice if you were close with him.

Sometimes his eyes would twitch, other times his nose would flare. And whenever he was being intimate, it seemed that a hickey would manage to find itself on you.

Thoma grinded into your core, grunting as his lips nibbled and sucked on your collarbone. Your legs wrapped themselves against your waist, feeling his cock continue to slip across your slit. His cum already drippled from you as he pumped his hardening cock once more, soon trying to push himself back inside.

“Thoma…did something happen at work again…?” you asked, playing with his soft hair. He froze momentarily before sighing and a soft laugh coming from his lips.

“...A-Ah…it’s that obvious?” he asked. You shook your head as he leaned up, looking at the multiple bright red hickies on your collarbone. Your gaze softened before he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own.

“Well…I’m your spouse so I can tell you these things, Thoma,” you murmured. Thoma sighed before sinking his cock back inside of you. His pace was much slower than it was the previous round as his thumb slowly rubbed your overstimulated clit.

The constant slap of skin echoed out into the bedroom barely illuminated with a candle.  Thoma’s lips parted, emerald eyes darkened in lust as he muttered your name.

“I just wish my time was more respected, that’s all. I just want time for….us,” he grunted, his calloused fingers pinching  your clit. You shift you head to the side as Thoma’s lips made their way to your neck. 

“I just want to be with you more….do this more. I always feel so guilty making you wait for me,” he admitted, as his pace began to quicken. He could feel your walls quivering soon reaching your second climax of the night.Thoma grunted, pushing his head against your neck as he soon joined you.

As you two tried catching your breath, you play with Thoma’s hair once more.

“Then…maybe we can negotiate with the heads to get you a week of vacation, maybe two weeks. We can visit Mondstadt or something…” you offered. Thoma lifted his head, eyes softening before pecking your lips.

“That sounds great.”

[sanguinesky-if]

Sanguine Sky

DEMO [Public] [Updated 07/12/2024] genres: romance, modern-fantasy, supernatural, mystery, dark-fantasy.

Sanguine Sky is a work-in-progress modern dark-fantasy interactive novel. The story is heavily focused on romance, characters, and relationships.

The story rated 18+, contains mature and distressing content that may be triggering to certain individuals. It is recommend to check the full list of warnings before you proceed to the story. Please exercise caution and take care of yourself.

Total word count: 197k words [excl. code] | 227k words [incl. code].

You are a detective, tasked with investigating mysterious murders that have taken place in your normally quiet and peaceful hometown, Fallenmor. 

With two victims confirmed already, the initial one being your former mentor, Detective Bergmann, the situation couldn't seem more dire. Or so you thought until you received the news of another body, a possible third victim, discovered at the police station. In your very own office. 

An accident, a mere coincidence, a straightforward warning, a looming threat, or something entirely else… Whatever is happening, you feel it affecting you, awakening something both significantly familiar and distinctly foreign inside of you.

If only you knew that this was just the beginning… Things could have been different. 

But back then, in your ignorance, your singular concern lay with a pressing question: if you failed to find the murderer, who would become the next victim?

➤ Play as male, female, non-binary or trans; straight, gay, or bisexual.

➤ Customize your appearance and shape your personality.

➤ Take on the role of a detective, immerse yourself in the work of the police station.

➤ Embrace the mystery of your existence, or reject that inner sight of you.

➤ Seven romance options to choose from. Select their gender, be shy or bold, or focus on your goal without pursuing anyone.

All ROs are player-sexual and gender-selectable [M/F].

Kyle / Keira Moreno

Your colleague, a police inspector, and one of the rudest people you have ever met. Sharp and stern, K is surprisingly perceptive, and they use it to really see you. The good, the bad. Everything. Appearance: icy blue eyes, dark red hair, very pale skin.

Alexis 'Lex / Lexie' Conlan

Your best friend, and also your former partner from times when you were just a patrol officer. With a heart of gold and an approachable attitude, L always chooses you over the others. Appearance: forest green eyes, copper hair, beige freckled skin.

Morgan Schoivell

Your other colleague, a highly-skilled lab technician. M is rather reserved when it comes to emotions, and after almost a year of working together, M is still a walking mystery for you. Appearance: dark brown eyes, ash blond hair, light skin.

Roderick / Rebecca Reyes

The commanding agent of the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) team sent to catch the killer. Overbearing and ruthless, R has their own way of getting things done. Appearance: gray eyes, blond hair, pale skin.

Theodore 'Theo' / Theresa 'Tess' Vazquez

Another member of the CID team. With a cocky smile, T is full of flirts and sneering comments, regardless of the occasion. T has no doubts about what they want and isn't afraid to vocalize it. Appearance: dark green eyes, black curly hair, rich brown skin.

Isaac / Iris Brailsford

I looks the most mature and approachable of CID's fellow agents. Looks can be deceiving, though. Working behind the scene and watching from afar, I carries all the scars within. Appearance: hazel eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin.

Sebastian / Selena Goldstein

Someone new and temporary, S has a velvety voice and a perfect smile that doesn't reach their eyes. You're not sure if your paths will cross in the future, but something tells you S can't be trusted. Appearance: black eyes, long black wavy hair, bronze skin.

Other notable characters:

Your twin-sister: Your sweet, kind, caring, and gentle twin sister. She always tries to be there for you, and show how much she appreciates you, no matter what. Chief of Police, Kendrick Nash: Your boss, who is not handling his job so well after the recent death of his husband, Klemens Bergmann. Detective Klemens Bergmann: Police chief's husband, who happened to be a senior detective and your mentor. He was the first victim, murdered under mysterious circumstances.

A full list of warnings is available in the demo before beginning of the story. I recommend to check it before you proceed to reading.

Links: DEMO | CoG Forum | Q&A | Romance | Tags & Links | Patreon | Ko-Fi | Error Reports |

Thank you for your interest ♥

[bvidzsoo]

Cosmically divine

☆ Synopsis: Olympus, the place where Gods play pretend and do as they wish. Dion, the place where mere mortals suffer and do as the Gods wish. One might wonder, is life ever fair? ★ 

☆ Author: bvidzsoo ★ 

☆ Pairing: Ateez members x female reader ★ 

☆ Rating: nsfw, 18+ ★ 

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, dark romance, violence, smut, gore

☆ Status: on-going ★ 

☆ 1. Choi San x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Underwater ◖Ares x Naiad Nymph!au◗ 

Summary: You knew that your love would never be fulfilled as the man you loved belonged to another woman. But can you help your poor Naiad heart when San, the God of war himself, seeks you out again and again when he is most vulnerable?

☆ 2. Kang Yeosang x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Marionette ◖Aphrodite!au◗ 

Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ 3. Kim Hongjoong x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Color of love ◖Hermes x Iris!au◗ 

Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ 4. Jung Wooyoung x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Kingdom come ◖Oread Nymph x Dryad Nymph!au◗ 

Summary: Nymphs were nothing but deities that preserved nature and allowed the Gods to love them in return for their blessings. And when Zeus lurks around, you are labelled as his, never to be touched by anyone in the whole cosmos. But can you help yourself when the man he claims is Wooyoung himself? The gorgeous and warm-hearted Oread that coincidentally returns your forbidden feelings for him?

☆ 5. Song Mingi x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Dead man running ◖Hades!au◗ 

Summary: You were cursed, at least that's what your family thought about you. After a while, you started believing it too, the shadows that whispered to you convincing you that you were either crazy or just...different. And maybe you were, after all, the God of death himself, wouldn't have just called you his little shadow without a reason, right?

☆ 6. Choi Jongho x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Nightmare ◖Phobos!au◗ 

Summary: Coming from a family that thrived under pressure and mayhem, it was only a matter of time until your father allowed you to join him on the battlefield. But perhaps what set you apart from other warrior families was the fact that each one of you worshiped a God of war. You just happened to make the mistake of offering yourself up to one in exchange for your dear sibling's life.

☆ 7. Jeong Yunho x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　One Kiss ◖Atë!au◗ 

Summary: Cast out of Olympus because Zeus has had enough of the mayhem and craze you created amongst men, living and meddling with mortals changed nothing. You thrived off of stupid men falling to their knees and begging you for attention, promising things no mortal could offer. But when a pure, untouched, and unassuming boy might just fall into your trap, you can't help yourself and entice him just to the point of madness.

☆ 8. Park Seonghwa x female reader ★ 

༄ ҉ 　Moonlight Melody ◖Poseidon!au◗ 

Summary: You always thought the man of your dreams never existed, would never come and whisk you away from this terrible terrible life that you lived. And perhaps when he starts showing up in your dreams, with promises that he'd soon come and see you, you find yourself hoping for a love that only the stars would bear witness to.

☆ A/N: Hello, my lovelies, I am here with a new story, can you believe it?! Because I can't lol, this wasn't supposed to exist but I thought...why not? Updates won't be too frequent, probably, as I have got quite a few others things to write, but I can't wait for you all to see what I have planned here! ^^ These stories won't be too dark, but I felt it necessary to mention dark romance as we're still dealing with some ambiguous topics. Taglist, as usual, is open and you are all very welcomed to comment on this post if you'd like to be added! Thank you for showing love, support, and interest in my works on here, they mean the world to me! <3 divider ★ 

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