just one more fic

in the spirit of november 30th and the last day of “no shave november” i give you this zimbits fic. in which jack finally shaves his moustache and to say that bitty is thrilled would be an understatement. it’s all very warm and fuzzy, but not in a movember moustache way.  

When Jack get’s home from the game the apartment is dark and quiet, but the light over the oven is on and he can smell butter and bananas, so he knows that Bitty’s still awake. The Falconers played the Lightning and won the game 4-2. Jack scored the opening goal and got an assist on the last one that helped to keep them ahead. He’s feels exhausted, but he perks up when he sees Bitty shuffle out of the bedroom in a Falconer’s hoodie and that pair of red shorts.

“Jack! I didn’t hear you come in,” Bitty exclaims when he notices Jack standing in the doorway, his shoes still on and his bag still slung over his shoulder. “Congrats on the win, sweetheart.”

Jack smiles and drops his bag before he welcomes Bitty with open arms as the other man walks over for a hug. “Thank you, mon lapin,” Jack replies before he presses a kiss into Bitty’s hair. These moments are his favourite. Coming home to a warm apartment that looks and smells like it’s been lived in while he was out. Bitty left a couple of bowls on the counter and his textbooks are strewn over the coffee table. It’s perfect. Jack likes having someone here with him. He likes coming home to someone. 

Jack pulls away slightly and tilts Bitty’s head up with a finger under his chin, but when closes his eyes and leans in for the kiss, instead of lips, he feels two fingers hold him back. His eyes snap open as he begins to worry that something is wrong. “Bits?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” Bitty sighs when he sees Jack’s furrowed brow and he takes his fingers away from Jack’s mouth. “But… you promised…” he trails off as he traces his thumb over Jack’s moustache, making a face of distaste as he does so. 

Jack smirks as he remembers the conversation that they had last night before bed, and the night before that, and the day before that over the phone. “I promised I’d shave off the moustache when I got home from the game on the thirtieth,” he recalls, like a mantra.

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Jungkook Fan Fic Recs

Here are just a few chaptered Jungkook fan fics that i actually love even though the majority kill me with feels. Check out everything by these writers because i honestly don’t think i would be able to survive without their beautiful writing. PART 2  | Masterlist

Arranged Love by @jungkxook

Roommate by @mystline  (this was actually the first fan fic i ever read and honestly ever since i’ve had a whole new perspective on life.)

Tomorrow by @jungk0oksthighs (Jeon Law honestly makes my day everytime i think about it)

Hidden Stars by @jungblue

Liar Liar by @minthusiast

The Blood Disparity by @hanipdnim 

Astray by @btsmutimagines

Philophobia  by @minsvga

Dark Obsessions by @kookzbunz

Brother’s Best Friend by @idolimagines

Neighbours by @sylph-wings

Roommate by @tayegi

2

“Everything about this woman was both hard yet soft, delicate yet bold, wild yet calm. She was a storm that called to Cassian; it beckoned him into its grasp. A storm that he didn’t want to avoid anymore. He wanted to give in to the urges that pulled him to Nesta and he wanted her to do the same. So he let go of all pretense, closed his eyes, and leaned in to finally, finally, kiss the catastrophically beautiful woman below him.”

/enlarge images for HD/

i’ve been thinking about the psychic thing/knowing alex was gay thing and i have thoughts

and wow this ended up more undeveloped story like and also near to 1000 words i hate myself i’m so sorry and it is under the cut sorry mobile users, if you see this

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anonymous asked:

Hi Addy! I wanted to ask who are your favourite fandom writers and what do you like specifically about their writing style or their fics :)

alright! here are a few of my favorites (definitely not all of my favorites, there are too many for me to list all of them ahaha).

TheCellarDoor (@donotdialnine) - Okay aha i feel like I never shut about it, but I just really think Patri does pining and tension THE BEST.  I always feel like I’m dying in the middle of the fic.  ahaha particularly with Faking it and also Autumn At My Window.  I particularly love how Harry and Louis are always so warmly written, also.     

missandrogyny (@paynner) - I part of why I love reading missandrogyny fics because they have a lighthearted sensibility.  @100percentsassy (another of my super favorite authors, lol) is always talking about how great it is when fanfics capture this sort of banter-y romcom quality, and I think paynner really does that so well!!! Everythings always entertaining and genuinely funny! i really loved to kill the mess we’ve made and I am very excited to read the cuddling fic this afternoon!!

RealName (@realname91) - I am just always super impressed by how emotionally believable things are in RealName fics.  And emotionally complex, too! Like, people are screwing up and hurting each other sometimes, but it’s understandable as to why.  My favorite of theirs is Big, Bright World, but I’m always trying to get everyone to read Cold, as well.  I mean the pining and the angst!!!! I went on a annie lennox listening tear after I read it. 

juliusschmidt (@juliusschmidt) - I’m not sure how to describe this exactly, but I love it how Alex writes stuff that like, accurately reflects the world and all the problems in it.  Like, realistically sexist teenage boy conversations or just subtle or not so subtle homophobia coming from character’s parents and friends.  Also, I think Alex is very funny.  I know I just recced her advent fic a little while ago, but also definitely read little wings on my shoes right away, if you have not!!    

stylinsoncity (@alienproof) - I feel Chelsie always has like 3500 ideas that she’s working on and she tries so many different things and it’s amazing. I really love the Wonderlands because there is so much emotion in it, i love the way Harry’s relationship with his daughter is handled.  so good!!   

 okay, that’s it for now! Sorry if I repeated myself a ton ahaha i just love emotions, i guess! 

Guess what came in today?? @goddamnchou‘s Sugar with the amazing cover by Pandanoi! I’m so glad I didnt forget to order one before it’s out of store, because I love that fic to pieces…It’s Fluff, Feels, Smut and…Daddy in all the right amounts :> The Eruris themselves did take a look too:

…at the smut, huehuehue.

i’ll never be your mother’s favourite

Request: “Love your writing!! Can you write a Shawn imagine about him being nervous about meeting your family for the first time and he ends up feeling sick the whole way there but you tell him to just relax and it’s just nerves but once you get there later that night he just continues to feel worse and worse and ends up falling really ill and you feel bad for him and take care of him?? And maybe he’s embarrassed about being sick at your parents house??“

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x reader/female character
Rating: General audience
Words: 1353

John Mayer is playing softly on the radio as they speed past the trees on the side of the highway. Shawn buttons and unbuttons the top button of his shirt in the side view mirror for what feels like the hundredth time. They’re getting closer to her parents’ house and he can feel his stomach turn at the thought of standing in front of them for the first time. He looks hesitantly at the tie in his clammy palms every few seconds.

“Do I have to wear the tie?” he groans. “I feel like I’m already in danger of asphyxiation with this shirt collar.” 

“If I have to wear this dress, you have to wear that tie,” she says, eyeing the piece of silk in his lap. “Besides, it was your idea.” She receives nothing but a pitiful expression in response. “Fine,” she gives in. “But you’re helping me out of this damn thing when we get back home.” She rolls her eyes when she sees the smug smile on his face. “Not like that! This dress is tight as hell and I’m going to need help taking it off.”

“Oh, so no sex?” Shawn smirks at her. She smiles and shakes her head as she puts on the blinker and turns onto a smaller road. 

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  • Derek falling asleep in his loft at 7 am after running all night under the full moon in wolf form
  • Derek curling up in a patch of sunlight on the floor because it’s warm
  • Derek shifting back to human from in his sleep and mumbling incoherent things about beards, bunnies and big teeth
  • Dere waking up at noon covered with a blanket and a pillow half tucked under his head
  • Derek trudging groggily to the kitchen to find hot coffee on the counter and Stiles reading some online article on another supernatural creature
  • Derek kissing Stiles on the nose and sipping his coffee blissfully
  • Derek being dragged to the couch for cuddles because it’s Sunday and Stiles is lazy and they have all the time in the world
  • Derek falling asleep again with no nightmares to haunt him because this, this is home and it’s warm and it’s safe and it’s Stiles

Gallavich Fic Recs Part 2

Welcome Home

Request: Hi I absolutely love your work! Could you please do one where Shawn finally comes home : ) you can make it a bit smutty but up to you if you’re not comfortable

a/n: thank you for your kind words ! I’ve actually never really ~written smut haha like nothing against it but whenever I’ve tried it just turn out really awk so I just always allude to it at the end!

Your name: submit What is this?

Being away from Shawn for such a long period of time was something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.  Two years of dating and the time zones still messed you up, and while the Skype calls made you happy, they always fell short because he was never actually right there in front of you.  There was always a screen and an ocean separating the two of you.

But now Shawn was only a fifteen-minute drive away.  He’d come back from during a few radio promo tours in the UK two days ago. Of course you wanted to see him right when he landed, but you wanted him to spend some quality time with his family. Family was the most important thing in the world to Shawn, and you could understand why.  He tried to see you when he first landed, but you made sure that he spent the first few days with his mom, dad, and sister.

Tonight though, the two of you had plans for a nice dinner in Toronto.  You told him over and over again on the phone that you were fine just ordering in pizza and relaxing at either his or your house. But Shawn was adamant on treating you to a nice dinner after being away for so long.

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Elate Fic Rec Masterlist

I keep seeing requests for Nate/Elena recommendations, so here’s a huge ass list of amazing authors!

This is not meant to be an exhaustive list of every elate fanfic out there, but rather an extensive collection of ones I have personally read and loved. I have a page on my blog specifically for recs here, but I figured a post would get around easier–and people can add to it if I’ve missed any goodies!

Directly below is a key for what I’m specifically recommending authors’ fics for, since many authors on this list have written dozens of fics and I would have to write a whole novel to describe how great each fic is individually. They’ve been divided up into a few different categories:

  • Angst: 💔
  • Fluff: ♥
  • Smut: 🔥
  • Family Life (aka with Cassie!): ♫

And although I read a lot of fanfic, I’m only including stories on here that I have actually read and are about Nate/Elena, so some authors on here have extra stories on their AO3/FF/tumblr/etc that are not listed here, either because I haven’t gotten around to reading them yet or they’re not about Nate/Elena as a central theme. However, anyone on this list is awesome, and I make broad recs for all their uncharted fics! I’m also including author’s tumblrs (that I know of; sorry if I missed any!) if you wanted to check out their blog!

Honourable mention to @elateweek and its fanfic tag, where you can find various gems archived there.

Fair warning: the angst can range from mild interpersonal drama to soul destroying, so read with caution when following this label.

Another note: because I am sell-out, I’m including my own fics on here (partly for inclusion’s sake, and partly because I’ve been told I write good things on occasion).

Well, without further ado… here it is!


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“I dunno, I really like that these tiny moments happen and other stuff’s obviously going on behind, you know, that we don’t see, as an audience. And something about those tiny moments tell you that – this sounds odd, so you might have to winkle out exactly what I’m on about – but it’s like those tiny, tiny moments make you feel like there’s something else happening somewhere else. “ - Louise Brealey


“You’re not saying a word,”

Sherlock Holmes sunk deeper into the couch as he tugged his dressing gown tightly against his body, his knees pressed against his chest as he looked at the small pathologist sitting right in front of him with her lips pressed tightly against each other. He doesn’t know how long he can last in the silence but he didn’t want to face this, face her. The woman that mattered, the one who mattered the most. He wonders what she’s thinking, unable to deduce her even with his mind on speed. She loved him, he knew that. Molly Hooper obviously will always love him but can she forgive him?

“I don’t have anything to say,” She replied sounding jollier than she expected but that’s just so incredibly Molly Hooper, hiding behind the façade of a happy woman. Always putting others before her.

“I did it for John,” he excused although he knew she would never believe him.

“Yeah,” she faked a smile. “Do you want some tea? Or coffee… I can..”  she mumbled, obviously trying to avoid any eye contact with the man that, ironically, she’s been tasked to watch.

“I just need you,” his voice breaks.

“Sherlock,”

“If I’m not the same man as you knew,” he stood up and started walking towards her and as he caught a whiff of her perfume, he suddenly forgot why he ever felt the need to get high when her scent would cause the same effect. This is why he’s always so fond of cake. Molly Hooper always smelled like one (if not a tinge of formaldehyde). “If everything you knew of me was wrapped in this big messed up, heroine junkie that is undeserving of anyone,” moments later he was sitting on the floor holding her hand “Would you still have me?” 

“No,”

He let go but she held him back, just like she always does. Always chasing after him because Molly Hooper knew that Sherlock Holmes was better than this.

“You are still Sherlock Holmes and I love you,” for the first time since they’ve been in the same room, she stared at him. “But I won’t have you like this,”

“I love you too,” a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek, as always. “Let’s get me cleaned up then, Shall we, Molly?” his voice way deeper than it should be as his stare bore onto her eyes making her weak in the knees. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Molly Hooper smiled despite knowing that the path they’ll travel onto will not be easy. As the consulting detective stood up to walk away, she jested. “Do you want some cake?” 

8

The Bird and the Worm ch. 3

crossroads | chapter 9

He’d just taken his first puff from the cigarillo when the door to the bar opened beside him and an anxious-looking Hanzo appeared. “Jesse, are you – Jesse,” Hanzo gasped, all but tripping over himself in his hurry to get to Jesse. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, honey,” Jesse said quickly, settling a reassuring hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to worry ya.”

Hanzo didn’t seem convinced at all. He took Jesse’s face in his hands and looked him intently in the eyes. “You are crying.”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause something’s wrong. More like…” Jesse took another puff of the cigarillo as he considered what to say. “‘Cause something’s right, I guess.”

“What is it that is right?”

Jesse laughed softly. “You are, Hanzo.”

features:

  • jesse’s backstory!! oh shit
  • including a lot of dad gabe…nice
  • a start to resolving the yakuza conflict
  • genji/amélie brotp 4 life
  • also hanzo/fareeha brotp
  • also jesse/angie brotp
  • cute lesbians
  • actually everyone is gay and cute

READ ON AO3

How the hell do people write fanficton.

I want to write so bad but I’m terrified that I’ll write out of character? I’m sitting here thinking up plots and AUs and ficlets and stuff that I’m so excited about, and I just can’t put words on paper (or a word document, heh).

What would ______ character do in this situation? I don’t know, I’m not them.

Mercurial

I’ve been listening to Glass Animals a lot lately and I was ~inspired~ so I spat this out… idk how I feel about it but here you go.

Pairing: Solangelo

Summary: Nico di Angelo has a voice like charred cinnamon and Will Solace is addicted

Word Count: 2,099

Warnings: Vague nudity… kind of smut… but not really…… at all………..


Will remembers the night like a dream or a backward hallucination.

It starts in a bar made of low lights and swaying bodies. Lazy disco lights that filter through fingers like something sticky.

The music makes the atmosphere what it is. The band that’s performing is just starting out, and Will doubts that anyone in the room is sure of what their name even is, but they fill up the room with their noise. It’s a hazy timbre of electronic sound, it breathes and pulses, controls the fibers of everything it touches.

Their lead singer has a voice that’s so soothing it turns Will’s limbs to waste. He exists only front and center on the stage, crooning, hangs from the microphone like he wouldn’t be standing otherwise. He’s less dancing to the music and more singing to the dance. His movements control the way the words are breathed from his lips.

Will hasn’t been so mesmerized by someone before in his life.

After they finish performing, he finds the melodist at the bar, throwing back a drink and settling it back down onto the counter with a gentle exhale. His lips part slightly, face tilted toward the ceiling and catching a glowing serenade of lights. He’s made of everything soft and lovely in that moment.

Will’s first words to him can barely be heard over the second band of the night.

“I’d like to know your name.”

When this stranger sets his gaze on him, Will feels his fingers go numb. His eyes are just as dizzying as everything else about him. The smile that he offers is enough to jolt into action an earthquake across Will’s ribs.

“Nico,” He breathes it like a secret. Will leans forward like he wants to hear more, like he has to, and so Nico leans forward too, “di Angelo. Nico di Angelo.”

Later, when Nico pulls him into his hotel room, Will whispers it against his thighs, feels fingers twisting into his hair and hears Nico curse and whimper. It’s vertiginous, like standing at the edge of a drop-off, watching tiny pieces of earth crumble away and drop into the abyss.

Will kisses every inch of him, shivers and curls his toes at the feeling of Nico’s hands moving over him, his breath against his ear, his words the only important thing that exist in that moment. They’re all that is.

And afterward, Nico lays in his arms and sings into his hair and then against his neck, and Will tells him that he’s beautiful, because he is.

He’s not there in the morning.

Will would suspect he dreamt it, but the marks scattered across him prove otherwise.


Two years later, Will hears news of Nico’s band coming back through town and after arguing with himself for days on end, he gives in to the part that insists he needs this. So, he gets himself a spot front and center in the audience, the place he knows Nico di Angelo comes to life.

He slips onto stage like a shadow, the way he makes his way forward tricks Will’s mind into believing that he belongs there, that he’s just an extension of the rickety ceiling fans and loose floorboards.

His band is still small enough that a part of Will thinks of him as a secret to be kept from everyone else.

Will watches Nico’s fingers curl around the mic stand with such exact fascination that the breathy, “Hey,” uttered from above him makes him startle slightly before flicking his gaze upward; Nico stares straight back at him, all eyelashes and tight jeans.

The smirk that works its way onto Nico’s face as his band starts in on the first song of the night is dangerous and he practically makes love to the microphone, pulling his hands down it and letting his knees go weak. Will wants to stand in its place, let Nico utter the lyrics onto his lips.

As soon as the performance ends, Nico slips off the stage and lands right in front of Will, drags him into a kiss that’s all slow fire and Will’s brain blinking out.

That night, they dance against each other for hours and Will tries to memorize the paths his hands take. It’s not surprising that he wakes up to find Nico tangled in the sheets next to him. It’s also not surprising that he closes his eyes once more and when he opens them again, the other side of the bed is vacant.


It becomes habit. Every time Nico’s band goes on tour, they find their way back to a certain town huddled off to the side of a city that screams loud enough for the entire world.

There’s a point that Nico recalls vaguely, a restless night where it’s four a.m. and he’s thinking about a boy. A boy that lives all the way across the country. He’s wondering how he walks because they’ve never really been together long enough for Nico memorize something like that, to even pay attention.

Will Solace’s hips are the only consistency that Nico knows outside of the band. He knows the shape of him as well as he knows the shape of his guitar and it aches low inside of him, the way nothing else makes him feel quite as whole. So, even when his band is hitting top 40s lists, he gets them into the venue nearest to the boy with the freckles and he utters a cryptic greeting into his microphone when he finally spots him in the crowd, as close to the front as he can get.

Will knows where to find him after every concert. And he does, despite telling himself that he won’t, that this is the year he won’t find himself trapped in the singer’s web.

Nico stands out back next to the trash cans where no one else wants to venture, lazily pulls at a cigarette while he waits. Just like every other time before.

When Will catches sight of him, he frowns. “That’s going to kill you one way or another, di Angelo.”

Nico just tilts his head back and blows smoke into the night, “I only smoke once a year, Sunshine.”

The meaning is clear, but Will is not flattered. “I don’t believe that. You could just stand out here.”

“That’s not nearly as fun.” He drops the cigarette and smashes it beneath his boot, creeps up to Will with a look on his face like vengeance flipped upside down, catches his belt loops and drags him closer.

Will sighs, lets their lips find each other in the dark. It’s too familiar, Nico’s hands slipping beneath his t-shirt.

Nico’s kisses tell a story.

His lips are soft and quietly desperate, they caress and move with such care that it feels almost irrelevant to breathe and disrupt their dance.

His tongue is pleading, it nudges against Will’s lips and slides against the edge of his teeth, he’s not afraid of being wounded.

His hands are tragic and tumbling, they don’t know where to rest and the shivers across Will’s nerves chase them.

Nico di Angelo is a drifter, nothing about him is quite certain, but when he kisses him, Will thinks of rainfall. He remembers sun breaking through clouds. He feels petals across his fingertips, breathes the sweet smell of honey and kicks up clouds of sand.

Nico is a summer breeze, he’s always welcome and never there for long.

Will always, always wants him.

So he drags himself away, holds Nico at arms-length, “No.”

Nico’s expression is more viable then than ever before, “What?”

“Tonight, we’re going somewhere. I’m… I can’t just have you for one night anymore, Nico, I just can’t.” He face crumbles as he says it and he pulls Nico slowly closer again, but more tender this time, just his hands against Nico’s biceps and their foreheads touching.

Nico closes his eyes, they’re so close that it would be difficult to just look away. “You know I can’t stay.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just…” Will sighs defeatedly, kisses his cheek softly because it’s the only way they’ve communicated for so long, in touches and feeling. He wants to convey: I want so much more of you than what I have.

Nico’s breath catches. People are not tender with him, they do not want more, it’s always been one-night stands and coiling smirks and emptiness. He’s just a thing to be discarded.

But Will has always been different, softer.

He proves it now, nudging his nose against Nico’s, pushing hair from his face and muttering a quiet, “Hey,” into the wind.

Nico smiles a bit, “Hi.”

That makes Will laugh, but then they’re quiet again and it’s just their breaths and hands against skin and over clothing; tentative.

“We’ve known each other for years, Nico. And I don’t even know your favorite color. I don’t think I’ve even asked… I want to talk to you. I want… I want to know you. Really know you.”

Nico is already nodding, without even thinking it over really, because it’s always been what he wants too.

Will lets out a breath, “Where do you want to go?”

Shaking his head, “I can’t… We can’t go somewhere where I’ll be seen. I don’t want to deal with that tonight, Will.”

Will makes a face like he’s berating himself for forgetting such a simple thing. Oh. Yeah, of course. We can… Just…” He opens his eyes, brushes his fingers over Nico’s cheek to get him to do the same, “Come to my place?”

Nico’s breath catches. Being invited into Will’s home feels symbolic.

“Okay.”

Will pulls his jacket off and drapes it over Nico’s shoulders instead, pulls the hood up so it shades his face, and then guides him into the parking lot by the hand. Nico keeps his head down and holds his breath when they walk past large groups of people, but Will does his best to guard him from view and no one bats an eyelash.

Will Solace’s car is such an obvious reflection of him that Nico laughs. It’s an old, red pickup truck. The kind that belongs in the country, trundling over long and serene views of endless hills. Will just shoves him playfully, saying that he can walk if he’s going to disrespect his truck, and Nico shakes his head. “No, I just… I should have known that you’d own something like this.”

The look Will gives him makes Nico’s face flush enough to match the car. (It’s wondering and awed and lovely.)

Will turns the radio on as soon as he starts driving, and Nico watches as he taps out beats on the steering wheel and sings along off-key, flashing him sideways grins in between verses. It’s endearing because he’s not quiet about it. This a windows down, all or nothing afair, and Will Solace is giving it his all.

Soon enough, Nico joins in, and Will’s voice falters in the second afterward, because it seems almost disrespectful to sing over something that beautiful.

They keep up their chorus all the way to the door, though, even without the radio backing them up. It’s all laughter and Nico knocking their shoulders together, trying to shush Will, who’s not discouraged in the slightest. He only shuts up when he gets shoved against the door and Nico yanks their mouths together fierce enough to make his heart give out.

“Goddamn,” he chokes, and Nico laughs and laughs, pulls the keys out of his weakened fingers and opens the door for them.

Everything between them is as natural as breathing. A small part of Will recognizes that it probably shouldn’t be, but he doesn’t really care.

They sit on the floor in front of the couch with a vast assortment of junk food and just talk. They find things out about each other that are so mundane it’s hardly believable they didn’t know before. Suddenly, they’re more than just bodies, they have souls.

Nico reaches out and curls his pinky finger around Will’s.

“Just come with me. Come on tour with me. I’ll stow you away in the bus and we can just be together, you know?” He says it sadly, looking down at their hands. He knows it’s not really possible.

Will sighs, “I wish. I wish.”

Nico just bites his lip, lets out a shaky breath. “At least promise me that you’ll be here. You’ll be here.”

Will nods. He knows that Nico means, Tell me you won’t find someone better.

He lifts his hand a little, pulling Nico’s with it, “I pinky promise.”

Their laughter fills up the apartment, gives life to the walls, and when Will wakes up the next morning, Nico is curled up with his head in his lap. He closes his eyes once more and when he opens them again, it’s because of the soft press of lips against his own.