#if warmth and comfort was a scene this is it

[d-z20]

From Jealousy, Comes a Flood (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: During a coven gathering, harmless flirtation draws the sharp eyes of Agatha and Rio, their possessive instincts simmering beneath the surface. Later, in the privacy of their bedroom, they remind you exactly who you belong to.

-OR-

Jen is flirting with you, much to the displeasure of Agatha and Rio. They can only take so much so it is not long before you're dragged upstairs and fucked into next week

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mentions of alcohol consumption, Top Agatha, Top Rio, bottom reader, threesome (duh), kind of mean agathario, light dom/sub themes, magic cocks, possessiveness, ownership, degradation, praise, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, squirting, soft aftercare, cock-warming

Words: 4.9k

A/N: another FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU and I've decided that Eddie gets roped into it as well. I think I'm utterly hilarious with this title and I don't care if you disagree 💀 Fic req

AO3 | Masterlist

The evening hums with warmth, the air thick with candlelight and magic. Agatha’s living room is filled with the easy sounds of conversation, the occasional clink of glasses, and the quiet laughter of a coven that has, against all odds, found peace. Lilia and Billy sit tucked away in one corner, deep in discussion about the ever-shifting paths of the Witches’ Road, their words a steady, familiar rhythm against the backdrop of Alice’s teasing. Eddie groans in mock frustration, waving her off with a smirk, but it’s all background noise to Agatha, barely registering past the scene unfolding across the room.

You’re seated comfortably on the loveseat, a glass in hand, and Jen is next to you—too close, really, though you either don’t notice or don’t mind. The warmth of her body presses against yours, a slow and steady presence, her knee brushing against yours beneath the low table. She’s relaxed, sprawled in a way that lets her arm drape casually over the back of the couch, fingers dangerously close to your shoulder. Every so often, when she leans in to say something, her lips hover just shy of your ear, the words meant for you alone.

Agatha’s grip tightens around the stem of her wine glass.

She watches, sharp blue eyes tracking every languid movement Jen makes, every flicker of her fingers against your arm, every flash of your smile in response. You look at Jen the way you always do—open and warm, entirely unaware of the way Agatha’s gaze darkens, something smouldering beneath the surface. The wine is smooth on her tongue, but there’s something sharper curling in her gut.

From across the room, Rio stands near the fireplace, her stance deceptively relaxed, one arm resting against the mantel as she observes the interaction with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers tap a slow rhythm against her lips, a steady metronome of barely restrained irritation. She doesn’t bother to mask the way her gaze lingers on Jen’s hand—where it rests, where it shouldn’t.

Jen is playing with fire. And she doesn’t even realise it.

Or maybe she does. Maybe she’s testing the waters, seeing just how far she can push before the dam breaks.

It’s not overt—nothing crude, nothing anyone else would comment on—but Agatha knows. She knows the way a witch moves when she’s hunting, the way interest sharpens into something bolder. She can see it in the way Jen leans just a little too close, in the way her fingers graze your wrist under the pretence of emphasising a joke.

You laugh, head tilting back slightly, and the sound is a warm, golden thing that makes something in Agatha snap. Just for a second. Her knuckles go white around the glass, the tension bleeding into her posture, but she reins it in before it can spill over. She’s controlled. Patient. But, oh, she’s scheming.

Rio catches the shift before anyone else—the slight clench of Agatha’s jaw, the way her fingers flex before settling, the sharp inhale she takes before exhaling through her nose. Brown eyes flick back to you and Rio’s smirk deepens. It’s not amusement anymore.

It’s oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re in for.

And when your hand slips over Jen’s for just a moment—fleeting, accidental, barely even a touch—Agatha’s patience wears just a little thinner.

—

The evening winds down in a slow, lazy hum, conversations fading into the comfortable haze of flickering candlelight and half-drunk glasses of wine. What hasn’t wound down is the tension that has been steadily curling around you, threading through every moment since Jen first laid a hand on you. You feel it now—wrapped around your skin like something tangible, like something electric.

And Agatha is done waiting.

She doesn’t announce it, doesn’t make a scene. She simply moves. A shift of energy, a shift of power. One moment, she’s perched on the edge of the couch, glass in hand, her blue eyes unreadable as they flick between you and Jen. The next, she’s there—at your side, close enough that the warmth of her body is a quiet, searing brand against your own.

An arm snakes around your waist, fingers firm but deceptively gentle, nails grazing the fabric of your clothes as she pulls you flush against her side. The contrast is dizzying—the casual way she holds you, like she’s done it a thousand times before—and the quiet steel beneath it, the way her grip brooks no argument. She doesn’t ask. She takes.

“We’re going upstairs,” she tells everyone, her voice a slow, dark thing that settles deep in your belly.

Then a beat of silence. The air crackles with unspoken meaning before Agatha tilts her head, smirking slightly. “No need to leave just yet,” she adds, deceptively pleasant. “Señor Scratchy will make sure you all find the door soon enough.”

The coven collectively shifts their gazes toward the far side of the room, where the very content, very fluffy rabbit sits on an ornate end table, lazily munching on a piece of lettuce. His nose twitches slightly, his ears flicking as if in acknowledgement, but otherwise, he seems completely unbothered.

Lilia is the first to clear her throat. Eddie coughs. Alice shifts uncomfortably. Jen just smirks, taking a slow sip of her drink as if she knows exactly what’s happening—and that she’s not the one who won this little game.

You barely have time to process the shift before another presence joins you—heat at your other side, softer but no less overwhelming. Rio presses in close, her breath a whisper of warmth against the shell of your ear, her lips just shy of touching.

“Say goodnight, sweetheart,” she tells you, voice thick with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches, the sudden intensity making your head spin. It’s not that you don’t know what’s happening; it’s just that it’s happening so fast, so seamlessly, that your body is still struggling to catch up. There’s a pull, an inevitability in the way they move around you, a claim in the way they close in, blocking out the rest of the room until it’s just you and them.

Your mouth parts, but the words stick, caught somewhere between confusion and anticipation, between the slow thrum of excitement winding tight in your stomach and the heat creeping up your neck. You barely manage a stammered, “Uh—g-goodnight,” before Rio’s fingers ghost down your arm in silent praise, a teasing brush that makes your pulse stutter.

Jen, still lounged comfortably on the couch, lifts her glass in an easy, knowing salute, a smirk tugging at her lips. There’s amusement in her gaze, maybe even a bit of satisfaction—like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she knew what this would lead to. But she doesn’t push, doesn’t gloat. She simply watches.

Agatha meets her gaze with a single, sharp brow raise—nothing more, nothing less. A quiet warning wrapped in a glance, a silent you got your fun, now she’s ours.

Then, without another word, Agatha guides you forward, her hold on your waist unrelenting, leading you away from the dim glow of the living room and into the deeper, darker warmth of the house.

Upstairs.

To their room.

—

The door has barely shut before Agatha has you pinned against it. It isn’t rough, but it’s deliberate—controlled. A slow, calculated press of her body against yours, her presence overwhelming in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs. The wood is cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat curling low in your stomach and to the way her fingers trace down your sides, nails dragging in a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

Her lips are close—so close you can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over your skin.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” She purrs, voice a knowing thing that winds tight around you. Her fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you in until there’s barely any space left between you. “Letting Jen touch you. Letting her look at you like that.”

The words aren’t a question. They’re a verdict. A confession she already knows you’ll make.

You can’t even form a thought before another touch finds you—this one softer but no less commanding. Rio’s fingers trail along your jaw, tilting your chin until you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes gleam in the dim light, dark with something wicked, something hungry.

“Maybe we haven’t been reminding you who you belong to enough,” she ponders aloud, and there’s something almost playful in her tone, but underneath it there’s something far more dangerous.

Magic crackles between the three of you, thick and intoxicating, filling the air with a charge that sets your skin alight. It pulses beneath their fingertips and seeps into your bones.

Agatha’s nails press in just a little harder, a teasing scratch down your ribs. “That’s alright, darling,” she muses, her lips curving into a smirk that sends heat straight between your thighs. “We’ll just have to remind you.”

And you know with the way their bodies cage you in, with the way their magic hums against your skin like a living thing, that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

The air vibrates with something electric, something that thrums through your veins like a spell you have no control over. Agatha doesn’t need an incantation; just a flick of her fingers, a lazy curve of her lips, and suddenly, magic coalesces between you.

With a single, effortless motion of her wrist, the world shifts. Clothes dissolve into nothingness, vanishing in wisps of deep violet energy, unravelling at the seams like they were never there at all. Warmth rushes over your now-bare skin, a phantom caress where fabric had been just moments ago. You barely have a second to register the sudden exposure before a new sensation takes its place.

It takes shape in a slow, pulsing shimmer, raw energy forged into something solid, something thick and heavy. The last remnants of magic glowing faintly around the shaft make your breath catch.

Agatha tilts her head, watching you with a knowing smirk. “Since you were so eager for attention today,” she purrs, tapping the tip of her newly conjured cock against your thigh. “Why don’t you show us how desperate you really are?”

Heat floods through you, pooling deep in your core, making your knees weak.

Rio hums from where she lounges on the bed, one leg draped over the other, fingers tapping idly against her thigh as she watches. Amusement flickers in her eyes, but beneath it—beneath it is something darker, something that makes your pulse pound in your throat.

“Go on, sweetheart,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Show us.”

Agatha’s hands find your waist, steadying you, guiding you onto her lap. Her skin is soft beneath your palms as you brace yourself against her shoulders, heat radiating from her in waves.

Then she pushes you down slowly, deliberately, and her cock slides into you, stretching you inch by inch. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as it fills you perfectly like it was made for you, like she knew exactly how to shape it to hit every aching, sensitive part of you.

Agatha’s nails press into your hips, holding you there, keeping you still even as your body trembles with the need to move.

“So pretty when you’re taking what we give you,” she notes, voice like velvet, dark and dripping with satisfaction. Her lips ghost over your throat, breath warm and teasing, as if she’s considering sinking her teeth in.

A choked whimper escapes you as she rolls your hips, setting a slow, torturous rhythm, dragging you along the thick length of her in a way that has sparks dancing up your spine.

From the bed, Rio’s voice reaches you, smooth as silk. “Look at them, my love,” she muses, her gaze molten as she watches. “So eager.”

Her lips curl, wicked and indulgent, as one hand lifts effortlessly. Magic crackles in the air, a deep, searing green that pulses and solidifies, taking shape in her palm. A thick, glistening length, forged from pure energy, larger than Agatha’s but just as intoxicating.

She wraps her fingers around it, stroking slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving you. The motion is unhurried, teasing, as if she’s savouring the anticipation, the way your breath catches, the way your thighs press together unconsciously.

“Let’s see how long you can last,” she purrs, heat and promise dripping from every word.

Agatha’s grip on your hips tightens, keeping you exactly where she wants you—trapped in the slow, torturous grind she’s set. Her cock twitches, responding to every shift of your body, pulsing with a pleasure that borders on overwhelming. Every drag, every deep thrust, sends sparks of sensation curling up your spine, heat coiling tighter in your stomach.

Her mouth never strays far from your throat, her breath a teasing whisper against your skin. “You feel that?” she murmurs, rolling your hips just a little sharper, just enough to have you gasping. “Every inch of you stretched so perfectly, taking what I give you.”

A whimper catches in your throat as your fingers dig into her shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto, something to anchor yourself against the immeasurable pleasure. But Agatha only smirks, amusement flickering in her sharp blue eyes as she watches you struggle between wanting to take more and barely holding on.

From the bed, Rio groans, a sound of both appreciation and impatience. “Mmph, fuck, look at you,” she breathes, her own desire evident in the low rasp of her voice. “So pretty when you’re like this—so needy.”

Your gaze flickers toward her, drawn by the hunger in her tone. She’s sprawled against the sheets, her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. But it’s her hands that make your pulse stutter; one is gripping the sheets for control, the other is wrapped around her own summoned length, stroking rapidly. Each slick glide of her palm is deliberate, hungry, her grip tightening as she watches you. She’s panting, barely holding herself back, jaw clenched, muscles taut as if restraining the urge to take you right then and there.

The sight of her like this—wrecked and wanting—sends a bolt of heat through you, your body reacting instinctively, clenching hard around Agatha’s magic cock inside you. Agatha notices immediately. A sharp inhale, a dark chuckle, and then—her fingers dig into your hips, nails biting deliciously into your skin as she drags you down further, rougher this time, forcing you to take every inch.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, rips a cry from your lips, your head falling forward onto her shoulder. But Agatha only hums, pleased. “Take what you’re given.”

“Is this what you wanted?” Rio taunts, her voice smooth and dangerous. “To be fucked like this? To let her flirt with you all night while you waited for us to put you back in your place?”

It’s too much and not enough, all at once. The pleasure is searing, magic rolling over your skin in heated waves, and you’re on the edge—so unbelievable close. You arch against her, hands fisting in her hair, eyes fluttering shut as you—

“Not yet,” Agatha tuts, slowing your movements, keeping you just barely from tipping over the edge. “You’ll cum when we say you can.”

A desperate sound slips from your lips, but she only chuckles, dragging you into one last, deep roll of your hips before finally stilling you in her lap. You’re trembling, breath ragged, body thrumming with need.

Agatha strokes a hand up your spine, soothing despite the wicked smirk she wears. “That’s enough—for now.” Then, softer, close enough that her lips brush your ear, she whispers, “Now, be a good thing and let Rio have her turn.”

The words send another shiver through you, but before you can fully process them, strong hands are on your waist, guiding you to your feet.

Agatha’s grip is firm and unyielding as she manoeuvres you effortlessly onto the bed. Rio’s hands replace Agatha’s as they press against your hips, steadying you as they shift your position. Before you realise what’s happening, you’re being bent over the edge of the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your palms bracing against the sheets. The cool air against your heated skin sends a shudder through you, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

Rio moves behind you, her body flush against yours, the solid heat of her presence a stark contrast to the chill of the room. There’s no hesitation as she presses into you, her chest warm against your back, her breath ghosting over your shoulder as her hands map slow, possessive paths over your body. Her fingers trace over the curve of your waist, down your stomach, teasing lower, skimming over sensitive skin still thrumming from Agatha’s touch.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” she teases, the amusement laced with dark satisfaction. “Let’s see just how much more you can take.”

Her hand dips lower between your legs. A sharp gasp escapes you as she gently strokes your clit, teasing, spreading you just a little more.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before she’s pressing the tip of her cock against you, not pushing in yet—just waiting, letting you feel the heat radiating from it, the pulsing energy that matches the pounding of your own heartbeat.

Her lips brush your ear, her free hand coming up to rest against your throat, fingers curling just enough to remind you who’s in control. “Gonna make sure you can’t even think about anyone else,” she promises, voice dripping with possession.

Rio doesn’t rush; she never does. She starts to push herself in, stretching you open, inch by inch, the heat of her magic cock thrumming inside you, making you feel every inch of its pulsing weight. Your body shudders against her, muscles trembling from the unrelenting pleasure already coursing through you, but she only chuckles, low and satisfied.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Take it all. Let me feel you, my love.”

Her hands roam—one splayed possessively over your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you feel how deep she is, the other tracing up your chest, over your throat, to grip your chin. She tilts your head back, forcing you to meet Agatha’s gaze.

The older witch watches you with something like reverence, sharp blue eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved in a knowing smirk. Her fingers brush the damp skin of your flushed cheeks. “Still with us?”

You can’t answer—can barely think—because Rio starts moving. A slow, deep pull before she thrusts back in, setting a rhythm that has you gasping, back arching against her. The heat of her magic rolls over your skin, intoxicating and overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with every snap of her hips.

Her breath is hot against your ear, her voice dark and possessive. “No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to hear these pretty sounds.”

Agatha leans in, tracing a thumb over your parted lips before slipping it into your mouth. “So perfect when you’re like this,” she hums, watching the way you instinctively suck, tongue swirling over her thumb. “Our pathetic, pretty, little slut.”

They move together, Agatha’s hands guiding your hips, Rio fucking into you deep and steady, drawing out every little noise, every desperate twitch of your body. It’s too much, too good, pleasure curling so tight inside you it’s almost painful.

And then they switch.

You don’t even have time to process it before you’re back in Agatha’s lap, her cock filling you once again, stretching you perfectly as Rio moves in front of you, fisting your hair to tip your head back.

Their hands roam—Agatha’s grip unyielding on your hips, Rio’s fingers tracing your throat and your lips, her gaze dark and hungry as she watches you fall apart between them.

Again and again, they take you, switching, repositioning, and fucking you until your body is trembling, your voice breaking on gasps and whimpers. Until your skin is slick with sweat, muscles twitching from overstimulation, nerves frayed and buzzing with raw pleasure.

Rio is the one to finally allow you to cum.

You're on your knees, straddling Agatha, your thighs trembling as you try to hold yourself up. Beneath you, Agatha leans back against the headboard, watching you with dark, hooded eyes, her hands gripping your waist as if she has no intention of letting you escape. Her nails dig into your skin, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

Behind you, Rio is relentless. She pounds into you, each deep thrust forcing you forward, pressing you harder against Agatha’s body. The room is thick with heat, with the slick sounds of skin meeting skin, with Rio’s panting breaths and the quiet, pleased hums from Agatha as she watches you fall apart between them.

Agatha’s fingers trail up your spine, slow and teasing, before wrapping around your throat, tilting your head down so you’re forced to meet her gaze. “Completely ours.”

Then, Rio cups your face from behind, her fingers warm, her thumb tracing your lower lip in a slow, tantalising glide. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her voice thick with command and something sweeter—something indulgent.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she coaxes. “You can let go for us now.”

Agatha’s mouth ghosts over your skin, her nails digging into your hips as her voice turns sharp, electric with command. “Cum for us, you desperate little thing. Show us who you fucking belong to.”

The command shatters you.

Your body seizes up, pleasure slamming into you so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs, your vision going white. Heat erupts from deep inside you, a gush of wetness spilling over Agatha’s thighs, soaking her completely.

Rio groans, dark and satisfied, watching you unravel.

Agatha hums, pleased, dragging her fingers through the mess between your thighs before bringing them to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied smirk.

“Now that,” she chuckles, her voice dripping with pride, “was beautiful.”

Your body trembles; you can barely hold yourself up as Agatha strokes slow circles into your hips, her touch grounding. Under you, her thighs (and the bedsheets) are soaked with your arousal, her blue eyes hooded with satisfaction as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

And then Rio thrusts one last time, burying herself to the hilt with a low, guttural grunt. Her arms tighten around you, muscles tensing as she finds her own release. A shudder racks her frame, and you feel it—all of it—spilling deep inside, filling you in a way that makes your body clench around her in aftershocks.

She holds you there, pressed flush against her, breath hot against your neck. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice thick and satisfied, lips ghosting along your damp skin.

Agatha hums, trailing her fingers through the mess between your thighs, bringing it to her lips with a wicked smirk. “Beautiful.” 

Rio’s laughter is low and sinful, a slow drawl of amusement as she watches the way your body still trembles, the way slick drips down your thighs, glistening in the dim light. “Look at you,” she coos, fingers skimming possessively over your lower back. “Absolutely pathetic.”

In a flash, Agatha’s hands are in your hair, firm enough to make her point as she pushes you forward. With a displeased grunt, your cheek is pressed against the soaked sheets, the scent of your own release thick in the air.

“Making such a mess,” Agatha tuts, her voice laced with mock sympathy. Her nails scrape lightly down your spine. “Like a needy little thing who can’t help themselves. Is that what you are, hmm?”

Rio leans down, her breath warm against your ear as she adds, “Did you even realise how much you were dripping? Fucking soaking the bed like a desperate little slut.” Her fingers trace over the damp imprint you’ve left behind, and she chuckles. “And it’s all because of us. Only we can make you lose control like that.”

Agatha’s fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up just enough for her to smirk down at you. “But you like this, don’t you?” she jibes, rubbing a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “Being used. Being ruined. Being ours.”

And despite the teasing, despite the way they taunt, there’s something else lingering beneath it—a kind of satisfaction, a wicked pride that it was them who made you break like this.

In a complete switch of character, soft hands start to guide you away from the bed, leading you into the bathroom. Your legs nearly give out as you stand, but Agatha steadies you with a knowing chuckle. “Oh, darling. You’re completely wrecked, aren’t you?”

Rio presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your waist. “You did so well for us.”

Warm water surrounds you as they pull you into the shower, Agatha sliding in behind you while Rio hovers at the edge, running a washcloth over your body with slow, deliberate care. Every touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to their earlier intensity.

Agatha hums as she combs fingers through your damp hair. “Still with us, love?”

You nod, sinking further against her, completely pliant as Rio finishes cleaning between your legs, her touch featherlight. She grins when you whimper, placing a teasing kiss to your knee. “Sensitive?”

You glare at her, but it lacks any real heat.

When they’re satisfied that you’re clean, they literally carry you back to bed because your legs still aren’t working properly. Agatha tucks you between them, her fingers trailing lazily along your arm as Rio curls herself around your back, her chest warm against you.

For a moment, it’s peace.

Until you feel something hard press against your oversensitive clit.

Your breath catches as you shift, feeling the unmistakable shape of Rio’s length rubbing against you, already slick from the mess between your thighs. She doesn’t move—just lets it rest there, pulsing, waiting.

When you don’t protest, Rio rolls her hips forward, pushing inside you with a smooth, deliberate thrust.

Your body jolts, a whimper escaping as the stretch burns just right, still sensitive from before. Every nerve is raw, overstimulated, yet the moment Rio moves, your body betrays you—clenching around her, desperate despite the exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

She groans, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips hot against your sweat-damp skin. “Sorry,” she breathes, though there’s no real remorse in her voice. Only hunger. Only possession. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Couldn’t help myself. You feel too good.”

And then she moves again.

Slow at first, rolling her hips against you, stretching you open all over again, but the drag is too much, too intoxicating, and she quickly loses patience. Her thrusts grow rougher and deeper, pressing you down into the mattress as she chases her pleasure.

One of her hands slides down, pressing against your lower stomach, feeling how deep she is and how your body takes her so perfectly. “Fuck,” she grits out, her voice breaking into something desperate, something raw. “You were made for this, made for my cock.”

She buries herself to the hilt, grinding deep as her breath stutters, her grip on you bruising. A low, guttural groan spills from her lips as she spills inside, heat flooding you, filling you up in a way that makes your body arch, whimpering at the sensation. But she doesn’t pull out.

If anything, she shifts closer, wrapping herself around you, securing you in her grip, arms banding around your waist as if she could sink deeper, as if she could mould you to her, and her cock twitches inside you softening slightly.

Agatha chuckles beside you, lazy satisfaction dripping from her voice as she drags her nails down your stomach, the sensation sending another shiver through your overstimulated body. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, her amusement laced with something dark, something final. She leans in, lips brushing yours as she purrs, “You’re staying like this all night.”

Rio hums in agreement, a deep, satisfied sound as she strokes your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “So when you wake up,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin, “the first thing you feel is us.”

And just like that, you’re pulled deeper into their warmth, into the comforting weight of them around (and inside) you.

—

When you wake the next morning, every part of you aches—a deep, satisfying soreness that lingers in your muscles, in the tender places where hands had held you down, where teeth had marked you.

You shift slightly, stretching—and then you feel it.

The fullness between your legs, still there, still hot, still hard.

A quiet groan vibrates against your skin, and you realise Rio is awake, her breath warm against your shoulder.

Agatha is watching from her side of the bed, propped up on an elbow, smirking down at you. “Morning, darling,” she purrs, looking far too amused.

Rio presses a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder, her hips shifting slightly. “Sleep well?” She grumbles, her voice still husky with sleep.

Your breath stutters, your body already reacting despite the oversensitivity, and heat sparking low in your belly.

Agatha hums, brushing a teasing hand down your stomach, nails grazing over your skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “We’re not done with you yet.”

And just like that, the morning is off to a very good start.

-----

Ugh, I finally remembered to include the diva that it señor scratchy in my writing, I've been meaning to do it every time because I love that guy 😭😭

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

[puppym3]

felix x reader ─── just this once?

synopsis - you and felix, your best friend, are watching anime and cuddling on the couch together; and while there's nothing weird about that, why do you feel so weird when he reacts strangely to you playing with his hair?

wc: 4.5k

silly tags: MDNI! 18+, bsf!felix, afab!reader, maybe pining?, felix is a huge cuddler, other seven members exist but are nowhere to be seen, felix likes having his hair played with (me too), PT 1 (maybe pt 2?)

MDNI!! smut warnings under cut!!

WARNINGS: smut, masturbation (f + m), hair pulling, slight choking (not rough), they masturbate in front of each other, post-nut clarity, cum ingestion, reader likes noisy men!! (YES YOU)

Felix was the one you considered your best friend in the entire world, despite having seven other good friends. You and Felix just clicked. Maybe it was because he'd stay up playing video games with you, or make you late-night desserts even though you both agree you shouldn't be allowed to have snacks after 11 pm. Or maybe it was the fact that you found him the cutest out of the eight, making him the easiest to tease. (The insane cuteness aggression you get)

The apartment was unusually quiet today, the kind of silence that felt rare in a space usually filled with chaotic laughter, competitive yelling from game nights, or the general commotion of eight boys who all somehow coexisted without killing each other. But tonight, it was just you and Felix, sprawled on the couch, tangled in a way you both swore no one else would ever find out about.

Somehow, you were always falling for Felix's lures, agreeing to the "no telling" pact after Felix hit you with those wide, pleading eyes. It was unfair, honestly. A weaponized look that had no business being as effective as it was.

“Just this once,” you had muttered at the time, already knowing you were lying. It was never just once with Felix.

And now, here you were; his head resting on your chest, your fingers weaving lazily through the soft strands of his black hair. His eyes were half-lidded but determinedly focused on the anime playing in front of you, though he was obviously on the verge of dozing off. His long, delicate fingers absentmindedly traced light patterns along your arm, the subtle scratching oddly soothing.

“Don't fall asleep, Lix," you teased quietly, though the warmth of your voice lacked any real scolding. "You're gonna miss the three episodes of filler!”

“M’not,” he mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion. But the way his body melted further into yours suggested otherwise.

A soft laugh escaped you. “Sure, sure. Just resting your eyes, hm?”

Felix hummed in contentment, clearly too comfortable to argue. "You’re a good... head massager," he admitted with a lazy grin, though it quickly faded into something softer as he shifted his head slightly, nuzzling closer without a care.

You knew this was dangerous territory, the kind of scene the other boys would never let either of you live down. Hyunjin would tease Felix mercilessly for his "puppy syndrome," and Chan would probably lose it at the idea that you of all people caved to cuddling. No, this would definitely remain a secret.

Your fingers slid into his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp as Felix let out a soft, pleased hum. It was barely a sound, but the scratch of his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest, one you couldn’t quite place. He shifted slightly against you, his body curling closer as if he were trying to burrow into your warmth.

"That feels so good," he murmured, his voice low and sleepy. Another noise escaped him; a quiet, deep sound of contentment that shouldn’t have meant anything but, for some reason, made the air feel a little heavier. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. It was just Felix. Your best friend. Nothing weird about this.

But as his quiet little noises continued, your hands faltered. The sound; it wasn’t wrong, exactly, but it felt… intimate in a way you weren’t used to, like you were overhearing something private. You hesitated, your fingers slowing to a stop as you tried to collect yourself.

Felix stirred, a small whine escaping him as he looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Why’d you stop?” he mumbled, the tiniest pout forming on his lips. “It was nice.”

You laughed nervously, your hand hovering above his head. “I don’t know. Just… thought you were about to fall asleep.”

“I wasn’t.” He yawned, completely ruining his point, before nudging his head against your chest again. “Please? Just a little more?” His voice was so soft, so innocent, that you felt ridiculous for overthinking it.

Still, when you started again, something about it felt different. His little hums of satisfaction grew deeper, quieter, like they were traveling straight to your core and wrapping themselves around your nerves. It heightened your awareness of everything; the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his head on your chest, the way his hand idly traced your arm.

You swallowed hard and quickly adjusted, opting to rake your fingers through his hair instead. It felt safer somehow, less intimate than the slow, deliberate scratches. Felix didn’t seem to mind, his eyes fluttering shut again as he relaxed fully against you.

“Better?” you asked softly, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips tugging into a small, sleepy smile. “You’re the best.”

Your stomach flipped, and you had to bite back a groan. This was Felix. Just Felix. So why did you like these sounds so much? Why did you want so badly to tug on his hair to see what sound he'd make? You couldn't boil this down to just 'cuteness aggression', it sounded way too perverted in your head to be left at that.

You could only blame your curiosity, the sudden urge to explore what other sounds you could get out of him. Would he whine if you pulled his hair a bit harder? Would he moan if you lightly dragged your nails across the sensitive spot on his head? The thoughts raced through your mind, a whirlwind of possibilities that shouldn’t have been so exciting, yet they were.

You clenched your jaw, willing the thoughts away as shame crawled up your neck. Your hands stilled in his hair, fingers frozen mid-motion. You needed to stop before your imagination ran even wilder.

Felix's body tensed against yours, his head shifting slightly as he let out a pitiful whine. “Nooo,” he protested softly, his voice coated in drowsy frustration. His sleepy eyes blinked open, glassy and pleading. “Don’t stop,” he begged, barely above a whisper. “Please? Feels nice...”

That voice, low and soft, made your already frayed nerves snap. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, the way your breath caught at how needy he sounded. But it only got worse when he used those eyes again, wide and shimmering with earnest desperation, pulling at you in ways that felt dangerous.

You should have ignored him. You should have laughed it off and told him to watch the show. But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers clenched reflexively, twisting gently into his hair without thinking.

Felix gasped softly, his body jerking slightly at the sudden tug. A quiet, breathy sound slipped from his lips, half a moan, half a whimper; and it undid you. Your pulse raced, heat flaring in your chest and spreading like wildfire as you struggled to keep your composure.

Felix’s eyes widened, the sleepy haze lifting just enough for curiosity to spark in their depths. His lips parted slightly as if processing the situation in slow motion, the sharp tug, your face burning up, the way your breathing had quickened ever so subtly.

A sudden realization flickered across his expression, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The anime played in the background, completely forgotten now.

"Did- did you like that??"

Fuck.

He caught on.

You didn't know what to say, your mouth opening and closing several times.

"You...you did," he whispered, more a statement than a question, his voice thick with disbelief.

"Lix-" you started, not sure where to go.

"Do it again," he urged, his eyes settling on your face, his soft hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders .

"Again??" You squeaked, feeling embarrassed at how turned on you were getting.

"Please, just..." he bit his lip, and oh god, that wasn't helping at all. "...please."

Felix was your best friend, but you like the sounds of his voice and his little moans a little too much to risk it.

The embarrassment burned under your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him no. Slowly, cautiously, you curled your fingers into his hair, the same way you'd done earlier. Only this time, you tugged harder, letting the strands slide between your fingers.

Felix's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping him as his head tilted back, his eyes slipping shut. "Oh..." he whispered, his voice breathy and strained. He bit his lip again, the sight nearly undoing you.

"Lix," you said, the word coming out hoarse. "I-"

"Don't stop," he breathed, his hands gripping your shoulders a little tighter. "Just- just one more time."

Your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging a little harder this time. Felix's mouth fell open, a moan slipping free as his eyes fluttered opened, dark and unfocused. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his cheeks burning red. He was looking at you with such raw, shameless desire that you didn't know how to handle it. You were pretty sure you were shaking.

You could feel the now drenched fabric of your panties clinging to you, your entire body thrumming with need. Felix's body was warm and solid, his grip on you desperate as your leg experimentally lifted. You could feel his length pressing into your leg, his need becoming clear.

Felix’s body went rigid as he suddenly snapped out of his tired, needy trance, his flushed face contorting with embarrassment. He sucked in a sharp breath, his wide eyes flickering downward before realization hit him like a truck.

“Oh—uh, sorry—” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scrambled to pull away from you. His movements were jerky, frantic, as though physical distance could erase the undeniable evidence of his body's reaction. He stood up too quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet.

You blinked, still caught in the haze of heated confusion. “Wait-” you pleaded instinctively, reaching out to catch his wrist before he could escape.

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. His face was bright red, the tips of his ears burning. “I—I shouldn’t—I mean—this is just—”

“Felix,” you interrupted softly, your voice steadier than you felt. Your grip on his wrist tightened just enough to keep him from bolting. “Don’t… don’t go.”

“I—” He bit his lower lip, clearly at war with himself, torn between wanting to vanish into thin air and staying despite the mortifying situation. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and you could tell how desperately he was trying to regain control.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding so violently it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. Heat crawled up your neck as words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. “You don’t have to go,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I mean… if you want to stay.”

Felix blinked at you, bewildered. “Stay?” he repeated dumbly, his voice cracking again.

“I—” You faltered, embarrassment knotting your stomach. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to shut up, to take the out he was clearly offering, but something raw and primal clawed its way to the surface instead. “You can… um...” You hesitated, heat flooding your face. “If it helps—if you need to—you can... do it here. In front of me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your heart stopped. The weight of what you'd just said hung heavy in the room, your own embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even look at him.

“What?” Felix’s voice cracked, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Wait—are you saying—do you want me to—”

“I don’t know...” you blurted out, mortified beyond belief but too far gone to stop now. “I just—” You exhaled shakily, words fumbling over themselves in your mouth. “I liked hearing you, I shouldn’t have, but I did, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Felix’s breath hitched audibly. He stared at you, his expression shifting between disbelief, awe, and something far more intense than either of you had expected to find in this situation.

“You liked it,” he repeated softly, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Felix’s gaze flickered between your face and the hand still wrapped around his wrist. His lips parted, words catching in his throat before he finally spoke again.

“Just this once?” he asked quietly, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Yeah,” you murmured, barely managing to get the word out. “Just this once.”

Felix’s body trembled slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, cautiously, he sat back down beside you, his breath uneven as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to jump or not.

But he leaned back, looking forward as if he was trying to pretend you weren't staring holes into him. Then his hands moved, closing his eyes as his hand slowly went to his bulge, his breath hitching. You could hear the sound of the fabric shifting and his hips slowly rolled.

The sounds were enough to have you weak, your face feeling like it's on fire, the way he moaned and breathed out made you even more excited. He was enjoying it, enjoying the feeling of the fabric rubbing against him.

It was as if your knees felt a magnetic force, you were drawn to the way his hips rolled and the sounds. It was a good thing he had his eyes closed or he would have seen the way you fell off of the couch onto the floor, the way you crawled over to him was embarrassing, but the urge was too strong.

You settled on your knees between his legs, the new position giving you a much better view of the show. His fingers curled into the couch cushion, his body tense and shuddering. You could hear his ragged breaths, the subtle groans as his hips rocked against his hand.

You wanted more. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to see more. The realization washed over you, your pulse throbbing in your ears. Without thinking, you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

Felix froze, his eyes snapping open, his face flushed. His gaze drifted to the hand on his knee and then up to your face. He blinked a few times, his lips parted in surprise. You felt like a deer caught in headlights. You had no idea why you did that. Your hand trembled against his knee, a mixture of guilt and shame and something else twisting in your gut.

Before you could pull away, his hand moved. His fingers tangled in yours, holding your hand firmly against his knee. He took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes dark and full of something that looked dangerously close to want.

You were paralyzed. Stuck in place, frozen, unable to move.

Felix bit his lip, his gaze unwavering. His free hand went back to his bulge, his fingers curling over the outline of his cock. His hips jerked slightly, a breathy gasp slipping past his lips.

Then, his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped. Something sparked in his gaze, something so intense that you felt yourself tremble.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to roll his hips again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, fingers sliding along his length through his pants. You couldn't look away. The sight was overwhelming, almost too much, but you couldn't look away.

His hand left yours and moved up to the hem of his shirt, hiking it up to expose his bare stomach, the muscles flexing with every movement. You swallowed hard, transfixed by the way his abs contracted and relaxed, the way his breath quickened and grew heavier.

Felix bit his lower lip, his brows furrowing, his gaze darkening as his free hand slid up his abdomen. He brushed his fingers over his nipple, his lips parting, a strained moan escaping him. He pinched and twisted his nipple, the sensation shooting through his nerves and straight to his cock.

You watched as he slowly brought his pants and boxers down enough to expose his erection. Just the sight of it made your core pulse. He was bigger than you thought he would be. And you could feel yourself tingling, desperate for friction, almost numb just from watching him.

Felix groaned, his head falling back as his fingers wrapped around his cock. He gave a few slow, experimental strokes, his hips thrusting slightly. The sound of his hand moving over his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You were completely hypnotized by the sight of him. You so badly wanted to hold it in your hand yourself, but you knew that'd be crossing a line, the very same line you were currently dancing on the edge of.

Your hands wandered, your fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and the top of your underwear. Your fingers grazed your sensitive flesh and you whimpered, your hips jerking reflexively. It would be so embarrassing if he found out you were touching yourself because of him, but that thought only made you want to do it even more.

Felix moaned, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze landed on you and his breath caught. Watching how your eyes were transfixed on his cock, his hand moving teasingly slow, making sure you could see everything.

He was mesmerized by the way you looked, and how aroused you looked just by watching him, he felt a rush of pride knowing that he was the one making you look that way. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as his movements sped up, his chest heaving.

"You like watching me, hm?" he asked, his voice deep and raspy, his accent strong and hitting your ears in a different way.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You were too far gone to speak. Instead, you nodded, whimpering quietly.

He chuckled softly, his eyes darkening. "Fuck, that's so hot," he groaned, his gaze flickering over your body, drinking in the sight of you. "I wanna make a mess on that pretty face of yours."

Your heart pounded, the words sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You couldn't stop yourself, you moaned, the sound surprising both of you. Felix groaned, his cock twitching in his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were getting so close, and it had never happened this fast in your life. The sight of his cock, the sounds he was making, the way he was staring at you; it was too much. Your hand moved faster, your fingers dipping into your aching cunt and brushing against your clit. You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze flickering between your face and your hand. He sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching.

"Are you... are you touching yourself?"

His words hit you like a slap. Your eyes snapped open, your face burning with shame. But before you could say anything, his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging roughly.

"Don't stop," he hissed.

"But-"

"Just keep going," he urged, his voice low and husky. "I want to watch, too."

Your stomach flipped. He wanted to watch you? You moaned in response, your fingers stilling inside of you. Your body shook, the intensity of his gaze too much for you to handle. You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, but it didn't help.

His hand stilled, his fingers moving back to its grip on your chin. "Keep going, keep looking at me."

And before you could think about how embarrassed you'd be later, your fingers started moving again, his gaze searing into you. You couldn't breathe, your body trembling as his hand moved faster. You were so close, so painfully close. You gasped, arching into your touch.

Felix groaned, his head falling back. "Fuck, just like that."

His words went straight to your core. You could feel yourself pulsing, the pressure building. Your hand moved faster, the sensations flooding your body. Your hips bucked against your hand, a broken moan slipping past your lips.

Felix's gaze locked with yours, watching your every movement, your every expression. He could tell you were much closer than he was, but he seemed to love it all.

He watched your face, taking in every detail, committing them to memory. He was mesmerized, captivated, entranced. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. The sight of you, the sound of your breathing, the way you moaned and shuddered; it was intoxicating.

You were right on the edge, your orgasm building rapidly. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips jerked against your hand, your fingers frantically moving over your clit.

"Lixie... I can't-" you moaned, the sound coming out strangled and desperate.

Felix's gaze flickered over your face, taking in every inch. His jaw clenched, his lips parting. He let out a low groan, the sound echoing in your ears.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice rough and breathless. "Cum for me and I'll cum all over that pretty face of yours."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. Your whole body shuddered, heat flooding your veins. You gasped, arching into your hand. Your hips bucked against the couch, the tension building rapidly.

Your orgasm crashed over you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You cried out, your eyes screwing shut. You couldn't control the sounds that spilled from your mouth, a mixture of moans and cries and curses.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every detail, his eyes glazed over with lust. He watched as you came undone, his lips parted, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He groaned, his cock throbbing, precum dripping onto his hand.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmured, his voice low and breathless.

You could barely catch your breath, your chest heaving. You couldn't stop trembling, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Felix's grip on your chin loosened, his fingers gently brushing across your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips, the tender gesture sending a shiver down your spine.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his tone affectionate and almost loving.

The words made your heart skip a beat.

But then his hand traveled down, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

You obeyed without question, your eyes opening, meeting his.

Felix groaned, his gaze darkening, his lips parting. "God, that's so hot," he breathed, his cock twitching in his hand.

You couldn't look away, couldn't take your eyes off of him. You could feel the heat in your face, the flush creeping up your neck. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and the sight of him made your heart race.

His hand moved faster, his breathing ragged, his gaze intense. He was so close, his body tensing, his hips bucking. He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his fingers tightening around your neck.

You couldn't stop your mouth from opening, slightly letting your tongue fall out. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you what a bad idea this was, but you didn't care.

Felix's eyes opened, his gaze locking with yours. He groaned, his hips jerking, his body trembling. His breathy and somewhat cute moans got louder as his hips rolled and bucked, his hand moving faster and faster.

He was getting close. So, so close. His body shuddered, his cock throbbing. He gasped, his grip on your neck tightening, his body going rigid. His eyes screwed shut, his lips parting. A shudder rippled through him, his orgasm crashing over him.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was so beautiful, so perfect. The way his face twisted in pleasure, the way his chest heaved, the way his lips parted. You were mesmerized, captivated, entranced. You couldn't tear your eyes away.

And then, he opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. He moaned, his cock twitching. A thick, warm stream of cum landed on your face, splattering across your face and tongue. You couldn't look away, couldn't think straight.

His grip loosened on you as he laid back on the couch, his eyes drifting closed. You were frozen in place, stunned, unable to move. His cum dripped down your cheek, his taste lingering on your tongue.

It wasn't until Felix was completely spent that you came to, snapping out of your trance. Your face was burning, the heat crawling up your neck, your ears turning pink. You could feel his cum slowly sliding down your cheek, the sensation strange and foreign.

"Oh, shit."

You flinched at the sound of his voice, his eyes fluttering open.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I should've-"

Before he could continue, you swallowed the cum that was pooling in your mouth. You could feel it running down your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

Felix's eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel yourself blush, embarrassment flooding your veins. You could feel his cum, still warm and sticky, clinging to your face. The feeling was unfamiliar and strange, but not unpleasant.

Felix cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away.

"I should- uh- I'll just go clean up."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move. You couldn't even look at him.

The two of you sat in silence, the tension heavy and awkward. Neither of you knew what to say, what to do. Neither of you had ever imagined this happening, and now, here you were.

"I'll... see you later."

You could hear his footsteps, the sound growing distant as he left the room.

And that was it.

You were alone, his cum still on your face. You felt a wave of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment. You started this, you asked your own best friend to do that in front of you, and you came in front of him, even worse to the thought of him.

You wanted to cry, to scream, to hide. You couldn't look at him again, you couldn't stand the thought of facing him, but you couldn't stay here.

You rushed to your feet, your legs shaking. You ran into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You stood there, in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection.

You looked like a mess, like a disaster, a fucking wreck. Your hair was a mess, your face covered in cum, your shirt slightly tucked into your pants.

Things had just changed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

taglist for my lovelies : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @honeyybbuubblleess

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: while filming an emotional scene, y/n receives devastating news about her mum, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown on set as her boyfriend drew and their co-stars comfort her.

based on this ask !! thank you @xoxosblogsblog for another amazing request, a very emotional one to write as i’ve lost a parent, but it was therapeutic to write <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: death of a parent, crying, panic attack, descriptions of dissociating, grief, the cast being adorable :’), very angsty but a comforting ending !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N sat in her trailer, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror.

The makeup artists had just left, the remnants of their work leaving her looking polished, camera-ready. Her character was meant to be grieving in today’s scene, but they had only given her a touch of concealer, a dusting of powder to dull the shine of the lights, and a hint of smudged mascara to make it look like she had been crying.

She was supposed to pretend to be devastated.

The irony was almost cruel.

Her phone vibrated against the counter. She glanced down at the screen, expecting to see a message from Drew, maybe a reminder from the assistant director to head to set soon. Instead, her father’s name flashed across the screen.

Her stomach twisted.

It wasn’t like him to call during the day. He knew she was working, knew she was filming one of the biggest scenes of the season. A sudden chill crept up her spine, a visceral knowing before she even answered.

With slightly trembling fingers, she swiped to accept the call.

“Dad?” she answered, her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her.

There was silence for a beat too long.

Her father was a strong man, always composed, always measured in his words. But when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow, stripped of all its usual warmth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and in just that one word, she felt her world tilt on its axis.

She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

Another pause. Then a sharp inhale, like he was bracing himself.

“It’s your mum,” he said, and the way his voice wavered sent ice coursing through her veins.

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the phone. “What about her?”

His breath hitched, and then—

“She’s gone, love.”

The words didn’t compute. They didn’t make sense, didn’t fit into any conceivable reality she had prepared herself for.

“What?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“She passed away this morning.”

Her father’s voice was thick, like he was struggling to hold himself together. But she barely heard him now. The words looped in her mind, repeating over and over, yet still, she couldn’t understand them.

She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

That wasn’t possible. She had just spoken to her mum a few days ago. She had promised to visit after the season wrapped. She had plans with her, had texts left unanswered, had so many things left unsaid.

A strange ringing noise filled her ears, drowning out whatever else her father was saying. She felt the weight of her own body disappear, like she was floating outside of herself, detached and weightless.

Her vision blurred.

The room around her suddenly felt too small, too quiet. The air too thick.

“… I know you’re at work,” her father was saying, his voice distant, “and I don’t want to take you away from that. There’s nothing you can do right now, sweetheart. I’ll handle everything here. Just—just get through today, yeah? Then we’ll figure everything out.”

Get through today.

That was the only option, wasn’t it?

She would have to book flights, pack a bag, make arrangements—but none of that could happen now. If she left set immediately, what would she do? Sit in a hotel near the airport, trapped with nothing but her grief?

At least here, she had something to do.

At least here, she could pretend for a little longer.

She swallowed, her throat raw. “Okay.”

Her father hesitated. “Y/N—”

“I have to go,” she interrupted, her voice eerily calm.

“Sweetheart, wait—”

But she ended the call.

The phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the counter with a dull clack.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

She stared at the mirror, at the girl looking back at her—the girl who, ten minutes ago, had been fine. Normal. Whole.

Now, she felt like a cracked porcelain doll, barely held together, each fissure running deeper and deeper beneath the surface.

Her face remained passive, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable. But her eyes—her eyes gave her away.

She wasn’t there anymore.

She was somewhere else, floating through the spaces between reality and nothingness.

Her body felt heavy, yet she was untethered.

Her fingers curled against her lap, gripping onto the fabric of her costume as if that alone could keep her from slipping away entirely.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

Because if it was—

A soft knock at the door made her flinch.

“Five minutes to set!” called a PA from outside.

She blinked.

Five minutes.

A deep inhale. A slow exhale.

She forced herself to move, to pick up her phone, to smooth down her clothes. She had a job to do.

She pushed everything else aside, packed it into a box, sealed it tight.

She would grieve later.

For now, she would pretend.

She opened the door and stepped onto set, not realising that in just a few short minutes, the cracks in her facade would shatter completely.

—

The set of Outer Banks was alive with the usual buzz of controlled chaos—crew members adjusting lights, directors conferring in hushed tones, the distant hum of the ocean blending into the background. It was supposed to be just another day of filming, another scene to capture before moving on to the next.

It was a heavy one.

Her character had just lost her father. The Pogues were there, trying to comfort her, trying to remind her she wasn’t alone. Even Rafe—played by Drew—stood nearby, a complicated mix of emotions brewing in his expression. The cameras were rolling, capturing everything.

Y/N tried to focus, tried to remember her lines, but something inside her cracked wide open.

She felt the grief swell like a rising tide, swallowing her whole. It was too big, too raw, too real.

When she started crying, no one questioned it. She was an incredible actress—everyone knew that. The scene demanded tears, demanded heartbreak. But as her sobs grew heavier, more uncontrollable, the air on set shifted.

Rudy shot a glance towards Chase, brows furrowed. Madelyn, kneeling beside Y/N in the scene, squeezed her hand, her own eyes glassy with concern. Drew, standing just out of frame, felt his pulse quicken.

Something wasn’t right.

The way Y/N clutched at her chest, the way her breathing hitched, sharp and ragged—it wasn’t just acting anymore.

Still, the cameras kept rolling.

Adrenaline surged through Drew’s veins. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his instincts screaming at him to cut through the scene, to pull her out of whatever was happening. But he hesitated. Y/N was a professional. If this was her choice, if she was using real emotions to fuel the performance, he had to respect that.

Then she collapsed to her knees.

The sob that tore from her throat wasn’t scripted. It wasn’t crafted for the scene. It was pain—real, unfiltered pain.

That was when the director finally called, “Cut!”

But Y/N didn’t stop.

She was still sobbing, her body trembling, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. The cast and crew hesitated, frozen in the moment, unsure whether they should intervene.

Drew didn’t hesitate.

He was by her side in an instant, dropping to his knees, hands grasping her shoulders. “Hey, hey—Y/N, breathe. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t okay.

Her body was shaking so violently that she could barely hold herself upright. Tears streamed down her face, her expression twisted in anguish.

“Y/N,” Madelyn whispered, stroking her back. “What’s going on?”

“Someone get her water,” Chase called, already stepping forward.

Drew cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Love, talk to me.”

But she couldn’t.

The world around her blurred at the edges, the voices of her friends distant, muffled. She felt like she was floating—adrift in a sea of grief, unable to grasp onto anything solid.

“Come on, baby,” Drew pleaded, his own voice shaking now. “You’re scaring me.”

Y/N gasped for air, her chest constricting so tightly it hurt. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

Madelyn was rubbing soothing circles into her back, whispering soft reassurances, while Rudy and Jonathan exchanged worried glances. The crew had fallen into an uneasy silence, watching the scene unfold.

Finally, through the sobs, through the suffocating grief, Y/N forced out the words that shattered the air around them.

“My mum… she’s gone.”

Drew’s heart stopped.

The words didn’t register at first. He blinked at her, his grip tightening instinctively.

“What?” he breathed.

Y/N choked on another sob, pressing her hands to her face as if she could somehow block it all out.

“My dad called me before we filmed,” she whimpered. “She—she died. I—I didn’t know what to do—I thought I could just—” She gasped, shaking her head frantically. “I thought I could just get through the day, but—”

Drew didn’t let her finish.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly it felt like he was trying to fuse them together. She collapsed into him, gripping the fabric of his shirt with desperate hands.

The rest of the cast looked on, their own eyes brimming with emotion. Madelyn covered her mouth with her hands, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Jesus, Y/N…” Chase muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I—” Her voice broke again. “I couldn’t.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Drew murmured against her hair. His own eyes were wet now, his throat thick with emotion. “We’re here. I’m here.”

She let out a broken whimper, gripping him tighter.

Madelyn sat beside them, wrapping her arms around Y/N from behind. Rudy joined a moment later, then Jonathan, then Chase. A pile of bodies, all holding onto her, surrounding her with warmth, with love.

The weight of Y/N’s revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a sombre pall over the once-bustling set. The cast remained huddled around her, their collective warmth a fragile barrier against the encroaching chill of grief.

Drew held her as if anchoring her to the present, his fingers gently threading through her hair. “We’re here, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not alone.”

Madelyn, her own tears silently falling, whispered soothing words, her hand never leaving Y/N’s back. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re with you.”

Chase knelt beside them, his usual playful demeanour replaced with earnest concern. “Whatever you need, Y/N. We’re family.”

Rudy and Jonathan exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a shared resolve. “We’ll get through this together,” Jonathan said softly, his voice steady.

As Y/N’s sobs gradually subsided into quiet tremors, the director approached, his expression a mix of compassion and uncertainty. “Is there anything we can do?” he asked gently.

Drew looked up, his eyes red-rimmed but determined. “I think she needs some time. We… we need to get her home.”

The director nodded, understanding the unspoken request. “Of course. We’ll arrange for flights immediately. The production will cover all expenses.”

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes swollen and glassy. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You’re not,” Madelyn insisted, squeezing her hand. “You’re family.”

The crew moved with quiet efficiency, making the necessary arrangements. Within the hour, flights were booked for Y/N and Drew to return to her hometown. The cast remained by her side, offering silent support as she navigated the haze of shock and sorrow.

As they prepared to leave, Y/N turned to her friends, her voice trembling. “Thank you… all of you.”

Chase stepped forward, enveloping her in a gentle embrace. “We’ll be here when you’re ready to come back.”

Rudy nodded, his eyes earnest. “Take all the time you need.”

Jonathan offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll keep things running smoothly here.”

Madelyn hugged her tightly, her voice breaking. “We love you.”

Drew took Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

As they departed, the set remained in a hushed stillness, a testament to the profound impact of shared grief and the strength of chosen family.

The grief wouldn’t disappear. The pain wouldn’t lessen. But in that moment, she wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a every emotional one, but i hope you all enjoy it !! my requests are still open until i go away on wednesday so please send some in :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[latrespada]

ᯓ ✈︎ apple of his envy

You arrive home late, far past the promised dinner time, only to find Caleb soaking in a warm bath. As you approach, you notice his expression, even in sleep, is etched with a scowl of annoyance. Gently, you bend down to touch his cheek, but before you can, he pulls you into the bath with an unrelenting grip. His arms are tight around you, his voice thick with tension and a hint of desperation, as if he had feared you wouldn’t return, or worse, that you had chosen someone else over him. In the steamy embrace, he reminds you with unspoken intensity where you truly belong—by his side. Even if it means sinking together into a bath swirling with sensual, envious passion.

lads caleb x reader

warnings : semi-jealousy, bath sex, bathtub sex, possessive sex, angst and hurt/comfort

6.5k words

rated : m

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62700367

A/N: This was a bit tricky to write—I wanted to make the positioning clear, but bathtubs are surprisingly complicated! Also, I couldn’t help but notice how much you all enjoyed the dry-humping fic. I’m really happy you liked the last one.

You exit West Garden Station and sprint toward home, your heart pounding with worry and a tinge of fear. Thoughts race through your mind, colliding in a cacophony of guilt and dread. You had promised to be home before dinner, but the day spiraled out of control. You meant to take a short break from your reports, but one thing led to another, and now it’s nearing midnight—four hours past when you were supposed to be home.

The air feels heavy, thunder rumbling ominously in the distance as the clouds above flash shades of purple. A storm is brewing, but it’s nothing compared to the one waiting for you at home. You know Caleb doesn’t mind when life gets in the way of plans, but failing to keep him updated? That’s what sets him off. You push your legs harder, running as though you can somehow outrun his disappointment.

You finally reach your apartment complex, breathless, your chest tightening as you fumble for your keys. Your trembling hands make quick work of unlocking the door, and you step inside, greeted by darkness. The faint aroma of red-braised tofu lingers in the air—a reminder of the dinner you missed. The silence is suffocating as you pull out your phone, using its flashlight to guide your way.

The living room is empty, with not a single light left on. The kitchen has been cleaned, and the only evidence of its earlier use is a faint warmth in the air. You move toward the bedroom, kicking off your boots, socks, hunter’s vest, and belt as you go. It’s eerily untouched, and the bed is still neatly made, save for a few wrinkles, as though someone had briefly sat there before moving on.

The bathroom door creaks slightly as you push it open, and your eyes fall on a shadowy figure reclining in the tub. Your hand searches for the light switch, and when you flick it on, the scene becomes clear. Caleb lies there, his head tilted back, a towel draped over his face. His arms rest along the sides of the tub, and his knees break the surface of the water. He looks like a marble statue, serene yet heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Light… off,” he mumbles, his voice low and flat.

“You want me to turn off the light?” you ask cautiously.

“Off,” he snaps, louder this time.

“Alright, alright,” you say, raising your hands in surrender. Turning off the light and stepping out into the hallway, your heart is still racing. After rummaging in the kitchen, you return with a candle and a lighter. The faint glow casts soft, flickering shadows on the tiled walls as you enter the bathroom again.

Caleb hasn’t moved, still draped in his dead-like pose, but the candlelight softens the edges of his silhouette. “I brought a candle,” you say gently, placing it on the counter. “Just to give you some lighting and mood for your relaxation.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, but you think you catch the faintest twitch of his lips—a subtle acknowledgment of your gesture.

“I’m not relaxed,” Caleb says, his voice low, etched with an almost threatening seriousness.

“Why are you in the bath then?” you ask softly, sitting on the edge of the tub, your concern growing with every second.

“I’m stressed… thought this would help. It’s what you do.”

“Stressed? Why’s that?” you ask, leaning forward to touch his cheek. But before your fingers can graze his skin, Caleb’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist and pulling you into the tub with him.

Water splashes everywhere as you struggle against his hold, your clothes heavy and clinging to your skin. Caleb’s grip is unyielding, his strength pinning you down. Finally, you push yourself free, shoving his shoulders with a force that makes his back hit the porcelain edge. “What the hell, Caleb?” you shout, water dripping from your soaked hair.

Caleb doesn’t react immediately. He sits there, his head tilted back, the towel still covering his face, ignoring your anger.

Grabbing the towel, you hit his face with it. “I said, what the—”

“I know what you said,” Caleb interrupts sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He pulls the towel off his face, his eyes locking onto yours with a raw intensity. “You were gone for so long. I didn’t know if you were coming back. You said you’d be here hours ago.” His voice wavers slightly as he sits up, his hands suddenly gripping your face, forcing your foreheads together. His breath is hot, his touch desperate. “I thought you’d finally left. That you didn’t need me anymore. Or maybe… maybe you found someone else too…” He stops, his words choking in his throat. Instead, he rubs his forehead against yours, the motion rough and unsettling.

“Stop it,” you groan, pushing him away.

He falls back slightly, his hand covering his face as if shielding himself from his own thoughts. “Were you with Zayne?” he asks, his voice quieter but laced with suspicion.

“No,” you answer firmly.

“Your colleague. Did he drag you into his work again? You know he shouldn’t need you for everything.”

“No,” you repeat, your patience wearing thin.

“Were you hired as some overnight bodyguard?”

“Enough,” you snap, your tone cutting through the room like a whip.

“Enough?” Caleb laughs bitterly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Am I not enough?”

You try to stand, to pull yourself out of the tub, but Caleb grabs you again, his hold growing tighter. He drags you back into the water, his desperation palpable.

“Caleb, I’m still freaking dressed!” you exclaim, trying to wrestle free.

“Am I not enough?” he repeats, his voice trembling, his eyes searching yours for answers you can’t give. “Answer me!”

“Caleb…” you groan, prying at his hands, but his grip doesn’t waver.

Then, without warning, he places a hand over your mouth and the other on your back, dipping you into the water. It’s not forceful, not meant to harm—there’s no malice in his actions. Instead, it feels like he’s trying to calm himself, to ground his spiraling emotions. He pulls you back up moments later, your hair slicked back, water streaming down your face as his half-lidded eyes bore into yours.

“I was waiting,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “And while I waited, I thought maybe I could distract myself. Played with myself. But every time I tried to think of you, to feel close to you… my mind kept drifting to the idea that you’d found another home.”

“Caleb, I was stuck at work,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sorrow.

“For that long?” he asks, his tone teetering between hurt and disbelief.

You don’t reply. There’s no excuse you can offer or words that would improve it.

“I thought you’d found someone else to hold,” he continues, his voice barely audible now. “Someone else to need. To cook for you.” He laughs bitterly, the sound hollow. Dropping his head onto your chest, he nuzzles into the exposed skin of your cleavage, his breath warm against your damp skin. “Am I really that replaceable?” he asks, his voice breaking, his vulnerability spilling out like the water around you.

As you press his head against your chest, cradling him, your head resting on his, there’s a quiet understanding in the shared silence. His arms snake around your thighs, shifting your legs to fit snugly against his lap, grounding you both in this moment.

“No, you’re not replaceable,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady. “But even if I tell you that, I know you won’t believe me just like that.” Your fingers stroke his damp hair as you ask, “What can I do to assure you?”

Caleb tilts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an almost childlike vulnerability. “What’s the most important thing I need from you?” he asks, his tone imploring, as though willing you to understand without him saying it outright.

Your brows knit together as you hesitate. “To own me?” you offer, unsure, the words trembling out of your mouth.

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head before leaning back, still keeping you anchored on his lap. His hands rest loosely on your hips, but his gaze is intense, flickering between the water and your face. He brushes his wet hair back, the strands sticking to his forehead, his usually sharp features softened by the dull ache in his eyes. You’re transfixed, your fingers instinctively tracing the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his lips. His mouth is slightly swollen, perhaps from his teeth pressing into it—whether out of frustration, longing, or anxiety, you can’t tell.

Caleb catches your hand, kissing it with surprising tenderness. “To feel you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your knuckles again. “To know you need me.” His voice is raw, the words carrying an unspoken weight.

He shifts beneath you, his legs spreading wider to adjust your position as he pulls you closer, to him. His hands are firm yet reverent. “Though this feeling isn’t the most important thing to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “it’s one I don’t mind… as long as your warmth is on me—and me only.”

You’re hyper-aware of his body beneath yours, the press of his erection evident even through the layers of damp fabric. The friction sends a jolt through you as you instinctively move, attempting to kneel, but your movements falter, slipping against the slick surface of the tub.

“Let me help you,” Caleb says softly, his hands steadying your waist. His fingers find the waistband of your soaked pants. “Stand up for me,” he coaxes, his voice gentle yet commanding.

You rise slowly, your gaze never leaving his as he unbuttons, unzips, and peels the fabric away with deliberate care. The water clings to your skin, droplets cascading down, some splashing onto Caleb’s face as he maintains unwavering eye contact. With a quiet determination, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his touch grazing your thighs. You lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the discarded clothing, which lands with a wet thud on the bathroom floor.

Caleb’s hands trail up your legs, his fingers barely grazing your most sensitive areas before sliding beneath your blouse. His hands are warm despite the cool air, and they skim over your stomach before finding their way under your bra, cupping your breast with tenderness. His thumb brushes over your skin, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion, “let me feel you in ways words can’t express.”

You drop to your knees, water sloshing over the tub’s edge, drenching the tiled floor in rippling streaks. Your fingers tremble as they grip the porcelain rim, your body leaning forward until your forehead rests against Caleb’s. His warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the steamy heat from the bathwater. His hand lingers over the curve of your breast, his touch equal parts grounding and electrifying. Time seems to stop for a moment, the world outside the bathroom dissolving into the sound of rain tapping insistently against the windowpane.

Your hand wraps around his, gently tugging it free from beneath your soaked blouse and bra, guiding it upward until his calloused palm cradles your cheek. His thumb grazes your bottom lip, tracing it with a tender slowness that belies the tension between you. Your lips part under his touch, and before you can think better of it, he closes the gap, his mouth crashing against yours with unrestrained hunger. The kiss is messy, teeth grazing as his lips claim yours, an edge of desperation bleeding into every movement.

His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling it slightly before his tongue sweeps over the sting, soothing and coaxing. His hands slip to your back, the broad span of his palms pressing you against him, molding your bodies together. Your arms loop around his neck in a frantic embrace, pulling him so close it feels as though you might never let go. The friction of your lower halves grazing, ignites a fire that licks at every nerve ending, an ache building deep and insistent.

Caleb pulls away suddenly, leaving you breathless, his chest heaving as he struggles to regain control. His hands find your hips, pushing you back until your spine meets the cold, slick surface of the tub. You let out a soft gasp at the sudden chill, your legs laying open as though of their own accord, your knees resting against the tub’s edges. The candlelight flickers across his face, half glowing warm and golden, the other lost in the inky shadows cast by the storm outside. The duality of light and darkness mirrors the push and pull between the gentleness in his touch and the raw, carnal need in his gaze.

His eyes trail over you, lingering on the translucent fabric of your blouse clinging to your skin. The faint outline of your bra beneath it seems to taunt him, his jaw tightening as his restraint frays. Slowly, almost reverently, his lips find yours again, softer this time but no less intense. His hands move with a deliberate urgency, tracing the soaked fabric to the buttons that run down your front. With a sharp tug, they give way, scattering across the floor with muted clinks, the sound swallowed by the storm’s distant rumble.

The blouse slips from your shoulders, the wet fabric sticking briefly before it’s discarded to the water enveloping you. Caleb doesn’t stop, his hands finding the delicate straps of your bra. Frustration flashes in his eyes as his fingers fumble with the clasp, his impatience winning out. He hooks his fingers under the straps and pulls, the lace and elastic giving way with a sharp snap. The ruined garment joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, leaving your skin bare beneath his gaze.

His breath catches, and his eyes drink you in with a reverence that sends a shiver racing down your spine. He lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing you deeper into the curve of the tub. The contact is intoxicating, and his warmth bleeding into your skin as your legs near around his hips, anchoring him to you. The water churns around you, soap bubbles bursting and clinging to your bodies as you move together, the rhythm driven by a shared, unspoken need.

You grip his shoulders, your nails biting into his slick skin as his lips trail from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck. The storm outside roars louder, the thunder echoing through the room, but it’s distant compared to the pounding of your heart, the ragged sounds of your breaths mingling with his. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered moan feels like a fuse burning faster, drawing you closer to the edge of something neither of you can control.

"Caleb…" you breathe out, your voice trembling as his lips trail along your jawline, their warmth lingering before descending to your neck. His mouth moves with purpose, licking at your sensitive skin before returning to claim your lips. His tongue dances with yours, the intimacy deepening with every heated second.

Your fingers find their way into his damp hair, grasping at it as though it’s the only anchor you have. He pulls away briefly, his eyes dark with desire as he takes one of your hands. Without breaking eye contact, he brings two of your fingers to his mouth, his tongue swirling around them sensually. The heat of his mouth and the slickness of his saliva send shivers through you. After a few lingering seconds, he releases them, your fingers now glistening.

Without thinking, you bring them to your lips, smearing the saliva across them like a makeshift balm, feeling the moisture cool in the air. Your gaze flickers to him, your expression daring and full of intent. Slowly, you shift yourself over, moving with purpose. Your knees find ground on the porcelain base as you lean forward, your torso arched enticingly. Your free hand grips the edge of the tub tightly for support, while your hips tilt back, pressing your rear firmly against Caleb’s groin.

The anticipation is electric as you use the slickness of his saliva to guide your hand under you, seeking out your sweet spot. Meanwhile, Caleb teases at your entrance with the tip of his length, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

"Mmnh," you moan softly, biting your lip as the ache of desire builds.

For a moment, both of you hover in this space of mutual teasing, pushing each other closer to the edge without fully giving in. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your body’s response undeniable as you prepare yourself for him.

Finally, your hand pulls away from your sweet spot, and you grip the opposite side of the tub, bracing yourself. Caleb wastes no time, his hands steadying your hips as he slowly slides himself inside. The touch is perfect, the heat overwhelming, and a low grunt escapes his lips at the sensation of you enveloping him.

"Nnngh," you whimper, your head tilting forward as his hips begin to move. He starts slowly, almost experimentally, before gradually picking up speed. The rhythm of his movements becomes more deliberate, his body pressing against yours with every thrust.

Your soapy hands begin to slip against the tub’s edge, the lack of grip threatening to throw you off balance. Sensing your struggle, Caleb tilts over your back, his chest pressing against your back, his heat enveloping you entirely. His hands cover yours, his fingers slipping between to lock them in place, giving you the stability you need.

The two of you move together in perfect harmony, the water rippling and splashing around you, the air thick with the sounds of pleasure and desire. The combination of his touch and the feeling of him inside you drives you to the brink, your senses overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

With a grip that is almost trembling, Caleb pulls your hair to one side, his fingers threading through the damp strands, only to find their spot again on your hands. His breath is warm and unsteady against your ear. He exhales a low, shaky sound that makes your stomach twist. His lips brush your skin, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he lingers, his breathing heavier than before, like he’s trying to steady himself. Like he’s battling something in his head.

“You kept me waiting,” he whispers, the words coming out slower than usual, his voice laced with something quiet but raw. “I thought—” He stops himself, cutting off whatever thought had started to spill.

His lips press to the curve of your shoulder, his kisses softer than usual, more hesitant, like he’s savoring every inch of you, trying to remind himself you’re still here. His hips rock forward, slow and deliberate, and the movement forces your legs to spread wider, your back arching into him instinctively. But even as he moves, even as he drowns himself in you, there’s a tightness in the way he holds you.

You turn your head slightly, catching his gaze through your peripheral vision. His eyes are shadowed, darkened by more than just the dim candlelight. There’s something in them that makes your chest ache—something vulnerable, something afraid.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, knowing exactly where his mind has taken him.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, his grip tightens around your hands. "You say that now," he mutters, pressing his forehead against the side of your head. "But people get tired. They move on. They find something— someone —better. More exciting. More… necessary ." His voice dips on that last word, almost like it pains him to say it aloud.

You turn your head fully this time, your nose brushing against his cheek, and he closes his eyes as if it’s too much to look at you right now.

“I don’t want to be left behind,” he admits, so quietly it’s almost swallowed by the rain hitting the window.

Your chest tightens, your throat suddenly thick with emotion. With both your hands still locked in his, you squeeze, trying to ground him, trying to reassure him in the only way he’ll let you. “You won’t be,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Caleb finally opens his eyes, searching yours as if testing the weight of your words.

"Prove it," he murmurs, his voice no longer commanding, no longer tainted with jealousy—just desperate. Just pleading. "Stay right here. Just… let me feel you.”

Letting go of your fingers, his arms envelop you in a way that feels both possessive and desperate. The heat of his breath fans over your neck as he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear before trailing down to your shoulder.

You can feel it in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his body molds so perfectly against yours as he spoons you from behind. One hand cups your breast, kneading, his thumb rolling over your nipple, sending small shocks of pleasure down your spine. The other dips lower, fingertips teasing over your sweet spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that match the lazy, deep rhythm of his thrusts inside you.

A shiver runs through you, not just from the pleasure but from the way he’s holding you—as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Caleb…” you breathe, his name slipping from your lips like a plea, a prayer.

“Please…” his voice is hoarse, strained, “keep—” he groans, his thrusts stuttering slightly before he regains control, “keep saying my name.”

His movements are slow but insistent, his lips never leaving your skin, as if grounding himself in you, as if needing the reassurance that you’re still here.

You moan again, letting his name tumble from your lips like a mantra, and you feel his breath hitch against your neck. His grip on you tightens, his thrusts pushing just a little deeper, his fingers pressing just a little harder.

But then, you feel it—his hesitation.

The momentary pause in his rhythm, the way his lips linger on your skin like he wants to say something but can’t. It’s in the way his fingers tremble slightly against you, the way his breath falters, the way his arms tighten around you just a little too much.

Your heart clenches, the realization settling in.

He’s scared.

Not of losing you physically, no—that’s not the kind of fear that grips him. It’s something deeper. The thought of someone else replacing him, someone else becoming the one you turn to, the one you whisper your secrets to, the one whose name you say when you need comfort.

The one who matters to you.

You shift slightly, pressing your body even closer against him as if trying to reassure him without words. Your hand moves to cover the one he has on your chest, fingers intertwining, holding him there.

“I’m here,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears it. You know he does because his body stills for just a second before he exhales, a deep, shaky breath against your skin.

And then, he moves again—faster now, rougher, his hands leaving your breast and sweet spot to grip your hip, holding you in place as he thrusts harder.

As if trying to prove something.

As if trying to remind you that it’s his name you say.

That it’s his touch you crave.

That it’s him . Only him .

As your remaining hand slips off the tub's edge, it instinctively reaches behind you, cradling Caleb's head against your shoulder with a tender yet unyielding grip. The other arm remains steadfast, covering the arm Caleb has wrapped around your chest, holding him close as the warmth of the water and the intensity of the moment envelop you both. Your body begins to rock back and forth, a gentle yet insistent motion that helps Caleb deepen his penetration, the sensation sending shivers down you.

Caleb's teeth sink into your shoulder, the bite hard enough to make you hiss, a sharp intake of breath that mingles with the sound of water splashing around you. It's as if the deepwater waves are engulfing you both, pulling you under with their relentless rhythm. As Caleb leans back onto his side of the bathtub, his arms release their hold on your body, only to wrap around your neck, pulling you into a tight, almost suffocating embrace.

You find yourself practically sitting on his lap, your body tilted back against his shoulder, his arms tightening around your neck like a vice. Your hands grasp the edge of the tub once more, and you begin to bounce up and down, the motion sending waves of pleasure through your body. Caleb's whimper of "Fuck…" is music to your ears, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

Your moans are stifled by the chokehold, but you manage to gasp out a few words, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. One of Caleb's arms releases its grip on your neck, only to find its way to your sweet spot once more, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You take control of the penetration, moving up and down with a frenzied intensity, while Caleb focuses on making you feel good, his other arm still wrapped tightly around your neck.

As he presses his lips against your ear, his breath hot and erratic, his words slurred with desire, "This is what I want," he groans. "I… want us to be one…" The sentiment sends a shiver down your spine, and you continue to bounce, going even faster, your body straining towards release.

Your words are barely intelligible, but Caleb finds your struggle seductive, "Ask again?" he whispers, his voice a low, husky growl.

You manage to gasp out a few words, "Tou…ch…me…" your saliva dripping from your lips as you point to your breasts, "Plea…se."

Caleb's arm releases the chokehold, massaging your breasts with a gentle yet insistent touch, sending you into a frenzy of pleasure. You turn your head, whispering sweet nothings into Caleb's ear, "Yours… Always yours…" The words seem to send him over the edge, and he sighs, his body relaxing into the moment.

As you continue to move, a final kiss lingers on Caleb’s lips before you shift forward, your hands plunging into the warm water, pressing against the smooth base of the tub. Your body arches instinctively, your back curving as if offering yourself to him, the motion a silent plea, a shared rhythm that neither of you can resist.

The water sways and splashes around you, cascading against the porcelain, a steady pulse in tune with your bodies. Your hips roll and press against his, the friction igniting every nerve between you. Caleb’s breath grows heavier, a low, husky whimper slipping from his lips as his fingers tighten around the tub’s edge.

You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of him—his head tilted back, his throat exposed, an image of surrender and control all at once. His eyes are barely open, dark lashes fluttering, yet within the narrow slits, a glimmer shines through. He’s watching you, devouring the way your body moves, the way your lips part as you stifle your sounds of pleasure.

There is something unspoken between you, something deeper than mere desire. It’s in the way his fingers twitch as if resisting the urge to reach for you again, in the way his breath hitches when you shift just right. The water, the heat, the tension—it all builds into something near unbearable, an intensity neither of you can escape.

You face forward again, and the sound of Caleb’s fingers tapping—no, clawing—at the tub’s edges fills the air, a silent display of restraint unraveling. The water ripples around you, heated waves splashing against your skin as you move with growing urgency, your hips rolling and pressing down in time with Caleb’s eager thrusts.

“Haa… ha…” you breathe, your voice breaking into the humid air, swallowed by the rising tension between you.

Then, a shift—your body twisting as you turn to face him, your legs spreading to straddle him completely. The moment your gaze locks onto his, you slow just enough to let him take in the sight of you. Your hands slide up your cheeks, fingers tangling into your damp hair, lifting it, teasing, as your hips begin to circle in slow, hypnotic rolls against his lap. Every movement is deliberate, each sway of your hips a silent dance meant for him alone.

Caleb watches, utterly mesmerized. His breath hitches, and his lips are slightly parted as if he is unable to find the words to describe what you’re doing to him. His fingers twitch at the edges of the tub before finally releasing their grip. Instead, his hands find your waist, strong fingers digging into your skin as he matches your rhythm. His own urgency is evident in the way he guides you—rougher, more desperate.

Your own hands glide down from your hair, trailing over your collarbone, down your chest, teasing, fondling, reveling in the sensation. Your damp strands of hair cling to your face, framing your half-lidded eyes, and through the veil of tangled locks, you see Caleb watching—spellbound, lost in you.

The water sloshes violently against the porcelain, the sound a mere backdrop to the intoxicating symphony of your mingled breaths and whispered gasps. Your fingers find the tub’s edge again, gripping for leverage as your movements become wilder, and faster. Caleb meets you with equal fervor, his hands holding you tighter, guiding you, urging you.

Your head tilts back, and your wet, unruly hair cascades over your shoulders, sticking to your skin in dark waves. The feeling builds, winding tightly inside you like a fire threatening to consume you both.

You lean back, letting the warm water envelop you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut, and your hands reach blindly through the rippling depths, searching for Caleb. The moment your fingers brush against his skin, he shifts, adjusting above you, the weight of his presence pressing closer.

Then, the pressure tightens—Caleb submerges, following you into the water’s embrace. The world above grows muted, distant, leaving only the sound of your racing heart and the rush of bubbles breaking between you. His lips find yours beneath the surface, soft yet insistent, melding against yours in an urgent kiss. His hands slide down your body, fingers finding your thigh and pulling you against him.

Even beneath the water, his movements are fluid, and precise—a rhythm that sends ripples through you both. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as your bodies move in perfect sync, the weightlessness making every sensation feel heightened, electric. The water shifts with your movements, a silent witness to your shared intensity.

Then, in one swift motion, Caleb lifts you, breaking the surface. The rush of air fills your lungs, but before you can fully recover, your back meets the cool porcelain with a forceful thud. The contrast of heat and cold, of water and open air, sends a jolt through your system.

Caleb towers over you, droplets streaming down his face, his breath heavy and erratic. His hands remain firm, one still gripping your thigh, the other braced against the tub. His body moves with reckless abandon, each motion deep, and relentless. Water sloshes over the edge, cascading onto the floor, forgotten.

His grunts mix with ragged breaths, his voice breaking through the sound of splashing water. Your gasps mirror his, the tension between you coiling tighter with every movement. Every sensation—his touch, his breath, the warmth of his body against yours—feels amplified, consuming.

His fingers tighten their hold, his pace unrelenting, pulling you both toward the inevitable, where words no longer matter—only feeling, only this.

Caleb shifts, guiding your legs over the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain a stark contrast against your heated skin. A shiver of anticipation courses through you, a delicious tension coiling in your stomach. His hands planted firmly on the tub’s rim, framing your face, caging you beneath him. You tilt your head back, searching his eyes—those dark, smoldering depths that drink you in like you’re something sacred.

Droplets of water fall from his damp hair, landing softly against your skin and trickling down like whispers of rain. The heat of his breath fans against your lips as he leans in closer, his voice hushed yet commanding.

“Look at you…” His tone is rich and reverent. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers tightening around his arms. Then his lips crash against yours—hungry, unyielding as if he’s trying to claim every unspoken word between you. The kiss deepens, tongues meeting in a slow, intoxicating dance. Your fingers weave into his wet hair, pulling him closer, savoring the taste of him—faint traces of warmth and something undeniably his.

Then, with one swift movement, he shifts, pressing deeper, and a strangled gasp slips from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him. He swallows your moan, his own breath stuttering as he holds still for a moment as if grounding himself in the way you fit so perfectly beneath him.

Your nails press into his skin, trailing down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. Caleb’s forehead presses to yours, his voice a shaky whisper against your lips.

“Tell me…” His breath is ragged, his body taut with restraint. “Tell me you feel this too.”

Your voice is barely more than a whimper. “I feel everything…”

He groans, his grip tightening, his body responding with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. You arch into him, your breaths coming in gasps, your senses drowning in the heat, the sound of water sloshing around you, the deep timbre of his voice breaking between heavy breaths.

“Say my name,” Caleb murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your pulse point, where his tongue flicks, teasing.

“Caleb…” You breathe it like a prayer.

His lips curve into a knowing smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken, something primal.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hands gripping your waist, his movements deep, slow, deliberate. The way he looks at you—like you are the only thing in the world—sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“My world… my life,” your voice is soft, yet resolute, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin. “It includes you.”

Caleb stills. A breath catches in his throat, his body rigid as your words sink in. For a moment, the possessiveness, and the urgency, all dissolve into nothing. What remains is something raw—something unguarded. His lips find yours again, but this time, the kiss is different. It’s not hungry. It’s not desperate. It’s deep, steady, a silent confession. A kiss of understanding, of devotion.

It’s a kiss of acceptance.

His hands, once gripping with unrelenting fervor, now hold you like you’re something fragile, something irreplaceable. He’s always claimed you as his, but now, in this moment, he understands—he is yours just as much. There is no fear of loss, no silent battle for reassurance. He is here. He is loved. And he finally believes it.

“I’m sorry…” His voice is breathless, a whisper against your lips, though his body continues to move—slow, as if savoring every second.

You respond with a soft hum, your body shuddering against him. The peak of your pleasure had passed moments ago, but you hold on, staying with him, letting him embrace this moment fully. Your forehead rests against his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin.

“Nngh…” His breath stutters, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips as his body tenses, shuddering against yours.

And then, release.

His grip tightens, his arms pulling you impossibly closer as he finally lets go, his breath heavy, tangled with yours. There is no rush to part, no need for words. Only the quiet rise and fall of your chests, the lingering warmth between you, and the unspoken promise sealed between your lips.

Caleb shifts, his movements slow and tender as he guides your bodies into a new position—his back resting against the cool porcelain while you lay against him, your body melting into his warmth. His arms encircle you, securing you against his chest, your head finding solace on his shoulder.

His breath is still uneven, lingering in the space between you, but he presses soft kisses along your shoulder as if grounding himself in your presence. Each press of his lips is a silent whisper, a quiet confession.

You reach for his right hand, tracing the calloused ridges of his fingers before gently opening his palm. Lifting it toward the window, you slide your hand beneath his, pressing your fingers together—lining them up, feeling the contrast, the fit. His fingers move first, locking with yours, holding tight. Then, without hesitation, he pulls your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand with a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

A beat of silence.

“I…” His voice is quiet, as if the words have been sitting on his tongue for too long. “I love you.”

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t feel the same, but because the weight of his words lingers, filling the space between you like something sacred.

He exhales, then presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you,” he repeats, more certain this time.

You smile faintly, tilting your head against him. “I know.”

A short laugh escapes him, but then he grows serious again. His grip on your hand tightens, his lips hovering close to your ear.

“No… I love you a little more than you realize.”

The words settle deep in your chest, warmer than the water surrounding you. And in his hold, in the quiet of this moment, you believe him.

You don’t speak, but the way you squeeze his hand, the way your fingers stay laced between his, tells him everything.

The room is quiet now, save for the faint dripping of water from the edges of the tub, and the slow rise and fall of your breaths. Caleb lets out a deep sigh, his chin resting against your damp hair, his arms wrapped around you as if afraid to let go.

Outside the window, the world feels distant—lightening flickering, the candle casting a soft glow across the bathroom. But here, in this small, water-kissed space, nothing else matters.

His thumb brushes over your knuckles absentmindedly, memorizing every dip and ridge of your skin. You tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing his jaw before whispering, “I know… and I love you, too.”

Caleb doesn’t speak, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breath stutters for just a moment, as if those words unraveled something deep within him.

Neither of you move. There’s no need to.

Because here, at this moment, tangled in warmth, wrapped in whispered confessions and lingering touches—this is everything.

And neither of you would change a thing.

[holyguardian]

That feeling sat in Aerith's stomach. Maybe she was more sensitive than others, but... no, any caster who had to down so many mana elixirs too close together would understand that uneasy bubbling kind of feeling that crept up.

These were the consequences of her own actions. But it wasn't as though she had much of a choice, when the alternative meant people would be left to suffer.

"When you drink those elixirs, it's like they're... fizzy. Feels like I'm full of angry bubbling." she explained to Somnus, sucking in a steadying breath as they walked on. This was a losing kind of feeling. She just hoped she wasn't about to embarrass herself.

She followed his gentle guidance. Even sat down when he urged her to, though her head shook at the thought of laying down. That wasn't about to happen.

The warmth of the fur draped around her shoulders should have been more comforting. She loved the weight of such a blanket — it usually had a calming effect, but in that moment she felt herself swallowing back. That creeping feeling was getting intense. She must have looked pretty bad, because even her father knew exactly what to offer.

"Please-!" she accepted, springing up from the bed like a lightning bolt had struck. Aerith had probably never exited a tent so fast in her life. To his credit, neither had her father, who knew exactly what was about to happen.

Great big hands held her hair back as she made quite a... stomach-churning scene among the trees. Her father gave her back a rub and even offered her a waterskin that should have been familiar, but in that moment it was far from her focus.

Coughing, straightening up, looking like a royal mess, the best medicine had really been to let it happen. She felt a bit better. "... I will have that cup of tea." she agreed, leaning against her father's side for a steadying moment, before leaving that lovely scene behind. "Thanks dad... don't tell anyone I'm gross."

This time she absolutely collapsed into that offered bed, laying down without that horrible feeling rocking this way and that.

Really… it was a miracle. Somnus checked his side every now and then. And despite this ‘just’ being healed by her magic water, the cut was almost closed by the time he could lead her away from the scene.

Was she even aware of her doings?

Somnus questioned that, but Aerith definitely was aware of her nauseous state. And she let him know that. Somnus held onto her arm, the crease between his eyebrows deepening a little out of concern.

“Why?”, he inquired, unsure what the cause could be. The fight itself, even though it was hours ago? The wounds and ailments she had treated? He had seen her drinking a small elixir… and she had pulled a face at it. Was that the reason?

Overall, it did not really matter what the cause was. He needed a solution for her.

“Come… just a bit and we are there.”

The tent was huddled beneath a tree, guarded heavily though everyone easily made way for the royals. Somnus lead Aerith to one of the low beds, grabbing the billow of another, so she would be more comfortable. Then he simply crouched down in front of her, his hands capturing hers, so he hopefully also held her attention like this.

“I will get you water. Please lay down.”

Glenn’s eyes had been on them ever since they had arrived inside the tent, but now Somnus felt the giant man approaching. Worry and regret on his face as he saw his daughter in such a state. This was a vulnerable moment. Enough for the prince consort to damn all rules and mannerisms, as he joined at Aerith’s side, already having a big roll of fur to blanket her with.

“We have some of your mother’s tea herbs, springonion. Do you want those?”

[bright-side20]

A very little Elriel scene 💗

Elain stood in the small, cozy shop nestled in the heart of the Winter Court, surrounded by shelves lined with jars of dried herbs and flowers. The air was thick with the scent of pine and frost. She had come here specifically to buy grains of the Winter Aconite, a flower known for its ability to resist the cold and bloom through snow. As she waited for the shopkeeper to prepare them, she smiled, imagining how the delicate yellow flowers would look blooming through the melting snow in Velaris.

Feyre and Rhysand had insisted that someone from the Inner Circle accompany her, even though the Winter Court was friendly territory. She had considered asking Nuala or Cerridwen to come along, but in the end, she had relented. Azriel had offered, and despite the distance between them since the almost kiss, she convinced herself that his ability to winnow would make the journey quicker.

As the shopkeeper worked behind the counter, Elain's thoughts drifted to the last time she and Azriel had truly spoken. The silence between them felt heavier now. She wondered if he sensed the same things she did or if he was simply content with the distance they had put between them. She caught herself glancing out the window toward where Azriel waited, standing out against the wintry backdrop...tall and still. Her heart fluttered despite herself, but she pushed the feeling aside. This wasn’t the time to dwell on such things.

The shopkeeper emerged from behind the counter, carefully placing a small, delicate pouch of Winter Aconite grains into Elain’s hands. She smiled gratefully, feeling the weight of the pouch settle in her palm. "Thank you," she said softly, handing him the coins in exchange. After offering one last polite smile, she turned to make her way out.

Stepping outside, she secured the small pouch of grains within the folds of her cloak. The crisp Winter Court air greeted her...cool but not harsh with clear skies overhead. Azriel was already there, leaning slightly as he held the door open for her.

“I got what I needed,” she said , but before the words had fully settled between them, Azriel reached out and took her hand. No hesitation, no glance, almost instinctual...like his hand belonged there, wrapped around hers.

They walked side by side, the quiet streets of the Winter Court stretching ahead, dusted with frost that shimmered faintly under the pale afternoon light. Elain couldn’t focus on the beautiful architecture in front of her, all she could feel was his hand.

Azriel’s hand was warm against hers, a contrast to the cool Winter Court air brushing her face. His fingers were long, rough , but his touch was gentle, almost careful, as if she were something fragile. The faint ridges of old scars brushed against her skin. His palm was broad, firm where it met hers, yet there was a tenderness in the way he held her, like he was afraid to hold too tightly.

She liked how his hand felt...solid and real. There was comfort in the warmth seeping into her fingers, in the slight pressure of his thumb resting against her knuckles. His scars didn’t feel harsh or jagged, they felt like threads stitched into the softness of his touch. She liked that, too...that it made her feel as if his hand was the safest place hers could be. She’d always thought his hands were beautiful...not in the polished, untarnished way people often described beauty, but in the way old trees were beautiful, weathered by time and storms, yet still standing. She had heard about his past, about how his cruel brothers had tormented him, but she didn’t want to ask more, because it felt like invading his privacy. She wished she could hear his story from him, in his own words.

Her thumb grazed a particular scar near the curve of his thumb, shaped almost like an Iris in bloom...a small mark etched into his skin. She wondered if he had ever noticed it, or if he saw his scars as nothing more than remnants of survival. To her, they weren’t just marks. They were stories. Stories written on his skin, each one a testament to battles fought, pain endured, and life lived. And this one an Iris was a symbol of hope. Did he know? Did he realize he carried that symbol with him?

She liked this...liked him like this. Not the Shadowsinger, not the spymaster...just Azriel, holding her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, it was.

Elain’s thumb grazed over the back of his hand again, slower this time, as if drawn by something beyond her control. She felt the faintest tremor in his grip...a subtle tightening, his fingers curling around hers just a little more. The gesture was so gentle, yet it caught her breath. His steps didn’t falter, his face remained calm, but she could feel it...the shift, the charge humming beneath the simple touch.

Then his voice broke the silence. “Are you hungry?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her knuckles as if he couldn’t help it. “Or would you like to stop for some tea?”

She swallowed, her heart stumbling over the quiet intimacy of his words. But she managed a polite smile, soft and careful. “No, thank you. I’d rather return home.”

Then Azriel stopped walking, his hand still holding hers. Elain looked up at him. “It’s too far to winnow from here,” he said , his hazel eyes meeting hers. “We should fly a bit farther first.”

Elain blinked. She knew he was lying. She had seen him winnow longer distances without breaking a sweat. He could do it now if he wanted to. But she just nodded, pretending it didn’t matter.

Was he making excuses to spend more time with her ? The thought flickered through her mind, dangerous, but she didn’t let it linger. She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, how desperately she wanted the same. How she missed talking to him for hours, the quiet comfort of his voice woven with hers. She missed the way he listened, how his quiet presence had always felt like a safe place.But even in this silence, with no words between them, just his hand wrapped around hers, it still felt like that...like home.

Azriel’s hands tightened around her waist, holding her steady as they soared into the sky. Elain’s heart raced, not from fear, but from the way his touch felt so familiar. She could feel his strength, the way he held her so easily. The wind rushed past them, but she wasn’t scared. With him, she never was.

It reminded her of the first time she had flown, and it had been with him. Azriel had made it so simple, guiding her through the air with calm hands and a quiet voice that reassured her. She hadn’t even been nervous. He had made her feel so secure, like nothing could go wrong as long as he was there.

As they flew together, Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. She couldn’t ignore the steady beat of his heart against hers. She had always enjoyed the view when one of the bat boys took her flying...whether it was Cassian’s wide, sweeping motions or Rhysand’s smooth, controlled flights. But today, she only wanted to look at Azriel. A part of her wondered if she would ever have the chance to spend time like this with him again, just the two of them. The thought left a dull ache in her chest.

Up close, Azriel looked even more beautiful, somehow more human. His hazel eyes glowed in the sunlight, the golden hues catching the light, with darker flecks of amber around the edges. There was a tenderness to them when they met her gaze, and Elain couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. Strands of his hair occasionally moved with the wind, hiding his vision, and her fingers itched to reach out and smooth it back. She peered back at his wings, huge , dark and sleek, with strong lines and scars. She couldn’t help but admire how they moved with him, so effortlessly powerful.

Elain noticed Azriel’s gaze on her, as he watched her take in the sight of his wings. Her cheeks flushed, a slight heat rising as she quickly looked away. Without thinking, she rested her head against his shoulder. His body reacted to her, stiffening for a brief moment, his muscles shifting beneath her cheek. She pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze, feeling the intensity of his eyes on hers."I’m sorry if I took up too much of your time," she murmured, her voice soft. "Thank you". Azriel’s gaze softened, his hand brushing her waist . "I’m happy to be here, Elain." He said.

She opened her mouth to respond, but then the wind picked up, suddenly crashing into them with a cold force. Without thinking, she slid her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, burying her face in the curve of his neck.His scent surrounded her cedar, rich and mixed with the faint trace of mist, like the air after rain. Azriel’s body went rigid the moment she made contact, a breath caught in his throat. He shuddered, but didn’t pull away. He didn’t say anything at first, just held her there, his hand tightening around her waist and thighs.She knew he was aware of her closeness, just as she was painfully aware of his.

Azriel’s hand moved, and with a quick flick of his wrist, a shimmering blue shield appeared around them. He wrapped it tightly around both of them, blocking the harsh wind. "Are you alright?" His voice vibrated against her ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her.

Elain didn’t answer immediately, her face still hidden in the curve of his neck. She didn’t want to pull away. Didn’t want to break the moment between them. She could feel his pulse against her, his breath shallow, and she wondered if he could feel the same pull she did ,the same ache that was becoming harder to ignore.

Slowly, she pulled away from him, taking a deep breath. She forced a smile, “Yes, I’m fine.” she said .But even as the words left her lips, they felt hollow.

Azriel’s gaze stayed locked on hers, intense and searching. His hazel eyes seemed to see straight through her. She couldn’t hold his stare for long, looking away quickly, unable to meet his gaze for another second. She could swear she felt him flinch, as if her reaction had hurt him, she clenched her jaw, he had no right to act that way.

Maybe she wasn’t fine at all. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to him accompanying her. Maybe today was just another form of torment she was putting herself through. She had to stay distant,cold even though everything inside her screamed to lean in. It was torturous, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it...

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Unspoken Boundaries

Marshall Mathers sat in his studio, earbuds in place as he played through some beats. His mind, however, wasn’t on his music. His thoughts kept drifting to her—Y/N. His wife. The one person who had always been his anchor, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life.

She was a model—always had been—but this time was different. For the first time, she'd agreed to be in a music video. Just not his. Another rapper had offered her the role, and after years of turning down similar offers, she'd decided it was time to take the leap.

“Marsh, I’ve got something to tell you,” she had said earlier, her eyes filled with excitement.

“What’s up, babe?” He’d asked, looking up from his work.

She had been nervous. "I’m going to be in a music video. It’s for [Rapper's Name]."

Marshall had smiled, genuinely happy for her. She’d been working hard for years, building her career, and this was a huge opportunity. “That’s amazing, baby,” he’d said, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”

She’d smiled softly, but there was a glint of hesitation in her eyes. “It’s just... it’s not like what you’re used to. You know, I’ve never done something like this before. I just wanted you to know I’m doing it for me.”

“I get it,” he’d reassured her. “You’ve got this.”

But as the day of the shoot arrived, Marshall’s mind started to race. He kept thinking about her—his wife—being on set with someone else. He tried to push the thoughts down. She wasn’t just his wife; she was a professional, and this was a career move. Still, he couldn’t shake the discomfort that built in his chest as he imagined another man—another rapper—around her.

The day passed slowly. Every time his phone buzzed with another update from the set, his stomach tightened. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling inside, but seeing pictures of her on set, looking so confident, so beautiful, made something stir in him. Then came the shot that did it—the shot. He saw the rapper’s hand on her waist. It was casual, nothing suggestive, but the image was enough to send a surge of jealousy coursing through his veins.

When she finally came home that night, Marshall was sitting in the living room, his hands restless on his lap as he tried to stay calm. He’d been pacing for hours, but when she walked through the door, he froze.

She stepped inside, looking tired but still glowing. Her eyes met his, and she hesitated for a moment.

“Hey, baby,” she said softly, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and warmth.

He didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t. His chest felt tight, his jealousy bubbling up again, but this time, it was different. This time, it was laced with something else—worry. “How’d it go?” he asked, his voice strained despite his efforts to keep it steady.

She shrugged off her jacket, running a hand through her hair. “It was good. I mean, it was fine, but...” She hesitated, biting her lip as if weighing how much to say.

Marshall’s mind raced, the image of the rapper’s hand on her waist flashing in his mind. “But what?” he asked, his voice low, almost too calm.

She paused, her gaze shifting toward the floor. “It just felt... weird, you know? He had his hand on me during some of the scenes, and it... I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being touched like that by someone else.”

Marshall’s heart dropped at her words. The jealousy, the worry—it all suddenly made sense. It wasn’t about the job. It was about her comfort, her boundaries. She had been in an uncomfortable situation, one that had nothing to do with the work itself but everything to do with what felt right for her.

He stepped toward her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t realize—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I was being selfish. I just... I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

She smiled at him, a tired but affectionate smile. “It wasn’t that bad. It’s just... I never wanted to be in a position like that, you know? I’ve always kept my distance from that kind of thing. I didn’t expect to feel so... off about it.”

Marshall reached out and cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it now. I just... I hate the thought of anyone else having a piece of you, even if it’s just for a second. You’re mine. Always have been.”

Her eyes softened, and she leaned into his touch. “I know. And I’m still yours. But it was just... one of those things. I couldn’t do it, Marsh. I couldn’t let him get too close, even if it was for the job.”

Marshall’s chest swelled with relief, but a sudden thought crossed his mind—an idea he’d been too hesitant to voice before. “Then maybe... maybe it’s time for you to be in one of my videos.”

She looked at him, surprise flashing in her eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice firm but full of affection. “I want you in my video. You’ve been by my side through all of this, and I think it’s about time the world gets to see us together, the way it should be. I don’t want you to be in anyone else’s video unless it’s with me.”

[Y/N] smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing as she wrapped her arms around him. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice warm. “I’ve been wanting it for so long. No one else should have that privilege.”

She kissed him then, her lips soft and tender against his. “I’d love to, Marsh. Let’s make it happen.”

Marshall felt a sense of relief flood through him, a peace that only came when she was near. He knew they were both in this together, and she wasn’t just his wife—she was his partner, his equal. No matter how many other men might try to get close to her, she would always come back to him.

And now, more than ever, he was determined to share that with the world.

[writeriguess]

I’m so glad that you wanted to start writing again! I know it must’ve been hard given everything that happened but we all support and appreciate you for everything!

I saw that you were taking asks since could I request shinsou with a reader who’s friends with the Bakusquad and reader laughs at absolutely anything and everything. Because personally I have a problem with laughing at everything and then proceeding to laugh for too long and annoying people. Okay so what I had in mind is like Shinsou is in 1-A now and he’s dating reader and she convinced him to sit at the Bakusquads lunch table when some random sits with them and calls her annoying and makes fun of her for laughing. And while the Bakusquad is about to defend their friend her lovely bf shinsou absolutely wrecks the random for making fun of his beautiful gf. And he later provides her comfort when she’s insecure about laughing. Bc I could really use that comfort rn.

And once again, we all love and appreciate you!!! 👻💜✨

author's note: I hope this will offer the comfort you need <3

The Sound of Your Smile

Convincing Hitoshi Shinsou to sit with the Bakusquad at lunch wasn’t an easy feat. Not because he didn’t like them—he tolerated them more than most, in fact—but because their boisterous energy wasn’t exactly his scene. Still, after some gentle nudging, the promise of sitting next to you, and a few teasing bribes, you managed to coax him into it.

As you walked into the cafeteria, your hand firmly clasped in his, you could feel him sighing beside you. “Are you sure about this?” he muttered, his voice laced with skepticism.

“Hitoshi,” you said with a grin, squeezing his hand, “it’ll be fine. I promise. They’re not that bad.”

“Mm.” He didn’t look convinced, but he let you lead him anyway.

When you reached the table, the squad was already in full swing. Mina was dramatically recounting an event from earlier in the day, Kaminari was trying (and failing) to balance a fry on his nose, and Bakugo was scowling at Kirishima for some crime against his lunch.

“Y/N!” Mina’s face lit up when she saw you, and she waved you over enthusiastically. “Finally, you’re here! And you brought the boyfriend!”

“Wow, the man, the myth, the legend,” Kaminari added with a playful grin. “Shinsou’s actually joining us? Didn’t think we were his vibe.”

Shinsou gave a small smirk as you slid into a seat next to Kaminari, pulling him down beside you. “Don’t get used to it.”

The squad laughed, already jumping into their usual routine of playful banter and inside jokes. The air was loud and lively, but to you, it was just another day at lunch.

As always, you couldn’t help but laugh. Everything about your friends was funny—the way Mina overacted every story, the dumb puns Kaminari threw out, and even Bakugo’s sharp retorts that were more bark than bite. Your laugh rang out loud and clear, uncontainable as you leaned into the warmth of the group.

Hitoshi, for his part, watched quietly, his usual reserved demeanor softening whenever his gaze landed on you. He loved your laugh—how bright it was, how it lit up your face, how it was impossible not to smile when he heard it.

But not everyone shared that sentiment.

It started when a random student approached the table, someone you vaguely recognized from another class. They slid into an empty seat, uninvited, and gave a half-hearted wave to the group.

No one paid them much mind—until they opened their mouth.

“Geez, do you ever stop laughing?” they said, their tone dripping with mockery as they turned to you. “It’s kind of… annoying.”

The laughter at the table came to an abrupt halt.

Your smile froze, the heat rushing to your face as their words hit you like a slap. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Before you could process what was happening, Hitoshi spoke up.

“Excuse me?” His voice was calm—too calm.

The random student blinked, clearly unprepared for confrontation. “What? I’m just saying. It’s loud and distracting.”

Hitoshi leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as his violet eyes locked onto theirs. His gaze was intense, his tone low and dangerous. “And what exactly gives you the right to comment on her laugh? Or anything about her, for that matter?”

“I—I didn’t mean anything by it,” they stammered, suddenly shrinking under his piercing stare.

“Didn’t mean anything by it?” Hitoshi repeated, his voice sharp. “You insulted her for laughing. For being happy. That says a lot more about you than it does about her.”

The random student shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the table as if looking for backup. But they wouldn’t find any here.

“Seriously, who invited this extra?” Bakugo growled, glaring daggers at the intruder.

“You’re lucky she’s too nice to tell you off herself,” Mina added, crossing her arms.

Kirishima nodded, his tone unusually serious. “Not cool, dude.”

Kaminari, ever the instigator, smirked. “You’re just mad because your own laugh probably sounds like a dying goat.”

The student flushed red, mumbling something incoherent before hastily getting up and leaving.

As soon as they were gone, the table erupted into cheers, Mina and Kaminari high-fiving while Kirishima clapped Shinsou on the back.

“Dude, you destroyed them,” Kaminari said with a grin.

“About time someone put a jerk like that in their place,” Mina added.

Shinsou, however, wasn’t paying attention to them. His focus was entirely on you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded quickly, but your forced smile didn’t fool him.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur. The Bakusquad did their best to cheer you up, throwing jokes and reassurances your way, but you couldn’t shake the sting of the random student’s words.

Later that evening, back in the dorms, Hitoshi found you sitting alone in a quiet corner.

“Hey,” he said, sitting beside you. “What’s going on?”

You sighed, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “It’s stupid,” you muttered.

“Try me.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes—so full of patience and care—made it impossible to hold back. “I know I laugh a lot,” you admitted. “And I know it’s loud, and sometimes it goes on too long, and it annoys people. I try to stop, but I just… can’t help it. And when they said that…” You trailed off, your voice cracking.

Hitoshi’s expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, “don’t ever apologize for laughing. Your laugh is one of my favorite things about you. It’s loud because it’s real, and it’s long because you’re happy. And anyone who has a problem with that can deal with me.”

You blinked back tears, your heart swelling at his words. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You bring light into every room you walk into. Your laugh makes everything better—it makes me better. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into his touch. “Thank you, Hitoshi.”

He smiled back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime.”

And for the first time all day, you laughed. It wasn’t forced or hesitant—it was pure, unrestrained joy. Hitoshi’s smile widened as he pulled you into his arms, content to listen to the sound he loved more than anything.

Feel free to request <3

[scarnatlover]

hello!! can i request an aubrey plaza x reader wherein reader visits aubrey on set? just something super fluffy and soft! have a good day tyia!!

Set visit surprise

Pairing: Aubrey Plaza x Reader (romantic)

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling. If you have any request (read this first), I will try and write them.

Taglist

A.P. Masterlist

The sun sank below Los Angeles and painted everything golden. Y/N leaned her forehead against the glass of the hotel room window as she watched out at the spread of lights making up the night skyline. Just back to L.A., coming from the relentless week she faced in Seattle from meetings across to negotiations. However, it was not work that brought her here this time around, because there was an aftermath of sorts-the surprise party waiting for Aubrey Plaza while shooting her next movie.

Y/N had been counting down the days until she could see Aubrey again. Their busy schedules often tore them apart, but Y/N was determined to make this visit particularly special. She had spent the last few days coordinating with Aubrey's assistant to ensure that her arrival would be a complete surprise. Now, with a few hours to spare before Aubrey wrapped for the day, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

Having showered in record time and putting on a chic yet comfortable outfit, Y/N snatched her bag and left. She clutched a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hand-Aubrey's favorite. The drive to the studio was one filled with anticipation, and Y/N couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing Aubrey's face light up when she walked onto the set.

Arriving at the studio, Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. The bustling atmosphere was alive with crew members setting up equipment and actors rehearsing lines. She approached the reception desk, her nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Hi, I’m here to see Aubrey Plaza,” she said, trying to sound confident. She was a lawyer and, as such, full of confidence, sometimes even coming across as arrogant, but outside of the office, she had always been a discreet person, not particularly skilled at socializing with other people but especially very shy.

The secretary finally looked up-a knowing smile played on her features. "You must be Y/N! Aubrey mentioned you might stop by. Let me call her."

Y/N's heart soared when she heard her name being called. A second later, the receptionist nodded for her to follow. "You can wait in her trailer. She should be done with this scene shortly.

Y/N nodded, bubbling over with excitement, as she followed the receptionist down a narrow hallway lined with posters of past productions. Finally, they came to a small trailer with a nameplate that read "Aubrey Plaza." The receptionist lightly knocked before hearing the voice from inside telling her to come in.

The receptionist looked briefly behind her and saw Y/N looking around a bit. She proceeded to open the door of the trailer. "Aubrey! You have a visitor!" she called out and stepped aside.

Y/N stepped inside the trailer. Her breath caught in her throat. The space was so cozy, filled with touches that made it personal: photos of Aubrey with friends, family, and some of the two of them, a few quirky knick-knacks, and a small plant that seemed to be thriving under her care. But it was Aubrey who was taking Y/N's breath away.

Aubrey sat in front of a mirror, surrounded by her hair and makeup team. She was wearing an amazing outfit that really brought out her figure, and her eyes sparkled mischievously as she caught sight of Y/N in the reflection.

"Y/N!" Aubrey exclaimed, in some surprise and joy. She jumped up, and her chair squeaked as she ran toward Y/N, opening her arms wide.

Y/N laughed, feeling a surge of warmth as Aubrey wrapped her in a tight hug. "Surprise baby!" she said, pulling back into Aubrey's eyes. 

Aubrey's face softened, her smile radiant. "You have no idea how happy this makes me. I thought you were stuck in meetings all day.

"I was, but I had to make it work," Y/N replied, her heart swelling with affection. "I missed you too much."

Aubrey's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, you picked the perfect time to show up. We just wrapped a scene, and I have a little break before the next one. Come on, let me show you around."

"Or...." Y/N began, hands clenching into Aubrey's hips and her lips, softly beginning their tender assault up the neck, ".we stay here and just make up lost time for days that we could've spent being together." the voice whispered. Her head dug in into the crook of the actress' neck.

"No, ma'am. Not on your life." Aubrey pushed Y/N's head away lightly. "Now we will do what I want now. Tonight, though depends on how you behave in these hours with me." Then she gave her light kisses on the lips. Y/N pouted but eventually she agreed.

Y/N followed Aubrey as she led her out of the trailer and onto the bustling set. The energy was palpable, and Y/N felt a thrill as she watched the crew work seamlessly together. Aubrey walked with confidence, commanding presence even amidst the chaos.

"This is amazing," Y/N said, taking in the lights and sounds. "I can't believe how much goes into making a film."

Aubrey grinned, her eyes sparkling. "And this is just the tip of the iceberg. You should see the craziness during a live shoot. It's like organized chaos."

As they walked, Aubrey introduced Y/N to various crew members, each one greeting her with warmth and familiarity. Y/N felt a sense of belonging as she watched Aubrey interact with everyone, her charisma shining through.

Alright, I have to show you my favorite spot on set, Aubrey said, taking Y/N to a quieter corner where an outdoor area had been set up with chairs and a few potted plants. This is where I go to escape for a few minutes. It's nice to have a little peace amidst the madness.

Y/N smiled, taking in the serene space. "It's beautiful here. I can see why you love it."

Aubrey leaned against the railing, her gaze softening as she looked at Y/N. "I wish you could be here more often. It's not the same without you around."

Y/N felt the warmth spread through her chest at Aubrey's words. "I know, but I'm always cheering you on from afar. You're incredible at what you do."

Aubrey beamed wider and gently took Y/N's hand into hers, their fingers intertwining. "You have no idea how much that means to me. Sometimes, it gets overwhelming, and just knowing you're in my corner helps.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of the set fading into the background. Y/N took a deep breath, savoring the moment. "I brought you something," she said, pulling the bouquet of wildflowers from her bag. "I thought these might brighten your day."

Aubrey's eyes sparkled, and she took the flowers, having a sniff at their sweet scent. "These are perfect! You always know how way to make me smile, baby." She leaned up and hit soft lips against Y/N's, who melted into the kiss, letting the world around them fade away.

All right, enough mushy stuff," Aubrey said, pulling back with a playful grin. "Let's get back to chaos. I want you to see me in action."

Y/N laughed and followed Aubrey back toward the set. As they walked, Aubrey filled her in on the project's details, passion dripping from each word. Y/N listened intently, her eyes caught by Aubrey's enthusiasm.

Arrived on set, Y/N felt her jaw drop. People everywhere moved lights and cameras while actors were practicing lines. It seemed as though the whole space brightened with the presence of Aubrey herself. There was just something in that moment, it swelled the chest of Y/N with pride, watching her girlfriend command attention from every last soul in that room.

"Alright, everybody! Next scene, people!" Aubrey yelled out over the racket. The crew sprang into action, and Y/N watched in awe as Aubrey slipped into her role, her demeanor shifting seamlessly from playful to serious.

Y/N found a spot off to the side, her heart racing as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Aubrey was a force of nature, her talent shining through as she delivered her lines with conviction. Y/N couldn't help but be in awe of her-love washing over her in waves.

After a few takes, the director shouted, "Break!" and Aubrey ran up to Y/N, her face flushed with excitement. "What did you think?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

"Aubrey, you were so amazing! Seriously, I still can't fathom how naturally you transition from one character into another; you're just entirely different," Y/N replied in an awestruck tone.

The bright smile spreading across Aubrey's face spoke volumes. "Thanks! It's a lot of work, but I love it. And having you here makes it even better.".

As the day wore on, Y/N found herself caught up in the magic of filmmaking. She spoke to crew members about their roles, learning about each different one, and even caught glimpses of the behind-the-scenes magic that brought stories to life. Aubrey was in her element, and Y/N felt grateful to witness it all.

Finally, the sun began to set, casting a warm orange glow over the set. Aubrey finished her last scene for the day, and as the director yelled "cut," the crew exploded in applause. Y/N joined in, her heart welling with pride for the woman she loved.

"Great job, everyone! Let's call it a day!" the director announced, and the crew began to pack up.

Aubrey walked to Y/N, who was still flushed with excitement. "Did you enjoy it? I hope I didn't bore you with all that behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Not at all! I loved every minute of it. You're incredible, my love" Y/N exclaimed truthfully.

Aubrey softened and inched a bit closer. "I'm so glad you came. I've missed you more than words can say.

Y/N smiled, the warmth spreading over her. "I missed you, too. I just wanted to remind you how much you mean to me, even when we're apart."

Aubrey's eyes shone with emotion as she reached for Y/N's hands. "You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special. Let's celebrate your surprise visit. How about dinner at that little Italian place we love?

Y/N's heart beat faster with a flutter at the thought. "That's perfect. I just can't wait to spend more time with you.

The excitement of the day still lingered in the air, wrapping itself around them in warm embrace, as they made their way out of the studio. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting an orange and pink glow across the sky-perfect as the backdrop to the love that had blossomed between them. Contentedness washed over Y/N, knowing that no matter how apart they would be, no matter how busy, moments like these made it all worth it.

As they arrived at the quaint Italian restaurant, the familiar scent of garlic and herbs hit them first, transporting them to a place filled with cherished memories. They settled into a cozy corner table, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between them. Sharing plates of pasta and laughter, Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at Aubrey, her heart swelling with affection.

"Thanks for today," Aubrey said, her voice softening as she reached across the table and squeezed Y/N's hand. "You made this day unforgettable."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering. "I just wanted to remind you how much you mean to me. You're my inspiration, Aubrey."

There were tears of gratitude in Aubrey's eyes as she leaned her head closer to him, speaking in a whisper. "And you're my anchor. I don't know what I'd do without you.

With dinner over, conversation flowed like the current, full of dreams, plans, and all those little things that make a relationship so special. They reminisced about their favorite moments together, and Y/N couldn't help but feel joy in knowing no matter the distance, their love grew stronger.

They exited into the bright city of Los Angeles after dinner, hands clasped together. They strolled down the road as the night grew darker, with stars twinkling above; Y/N almost felt the presence of magic there. They made a stop in a small park where the sweet sounds of merrymaking and music overflowed into the night.

"Let's take a picture," Y/N suggested, pulling out her phone. Aubrey grinned, and they posed together, their faces lit up with joy. As Y/N snapped the photo, she felt a rush of happiness, knowing this was one of those moments they would always treasure.

Only after going to collect Y/N's things from the hotel and delivering them to Aubrey's, did she feel peace finally set upon her. Aubrey took Y/N in her arms and drew her near as they stared out the window at city lights. "I wish we could stay like this forever," Aubrey whispered into her ear with warmth.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, resting her head against Aubrey’s shoulder. “But I’ll always find a way to be with you, no matter what.”

And with that promise hanging in the air, their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss, sealing their love with a vow that no distance would ever take away what they had. As they pulled away, Y/N looked into Aubrey's eyes, knowing this was just the beginning of many more adventures they would share together.

And as the night wore on, they knew, no matter where life might take them, love would bring them back together again and again, their hearts forever interlacing in this exquisite dance of love and laughter.

Taglist: @thegirlwholikesrain

[cosmicsomethingorother]

I feel like James speaks in this kinda unhinged way. Like he's overflowing with humor and words and snark and wit. Asking him what he's thinking about is like opening the floodgates to the most insane conversation

"Hey, Prongs! Whatcha thinking about?"

"Why do we say you'll lose your head? You know the expression 'I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to me'? Why do we say that? Your consciousness is in your head. You'd be losing your body. And the running around like a headless chicken? Insane. We're the head! We're the head not the body. These sayings aren't logically sound!"

I like to think James and Marlene are the ones who speak fast. It matches them perfectly because at their core, they are just two excited kids. I imagine they talk like the Gilmore Girls, fast with jokes coming out at record speeds and jumping topics topics randomly but with an air of confidence

And the others are always watching them back and forth like pinball machine. Peter can understand all of it since he grew up with them. He can understand their quick, witty talk and doesn't blink when they switch topics on him - while Pete may be more careful and deliberate with what he says, he understands his friends better than anything else. Remus and Sirius are quick to catch on. Their minds move fast as all the Marauders are rather intelligent. So they understand Jame as well, his fast paced speech doesn't shock or confuse them (anymore). To Dorcas, though, it feels like she's missing something every time they talk. She gets the references a little too late because they move on so fast and Dorcas is so used to people like Frank and Alice (I imagine those three were besties), who speak slower and with less wit.

I do imagine that Dorcas starts to get it later on! I mean, she spends every waking moment with these people, she starts picking up what they're saying and can even join in sometimes. By join in, I mean make some snarky comments, watching James and Marlene sharply turn to her and spitfire jokes right back at her.

Lily is like Remus and Sirius, she catches on to what they're like easily. She gets a lot of practice with Marlene but tended to tune out James for a while. I think when Lily and James start becoming friends (I think they become friends 5th year), the others are shocked at how well Lily can throw back snark to James wit. James isn't, he never really thinks about how fast he talks but Sirius especially is entranced because it took him months to truly get down James' speech pattern.

The first time Lily just effortlessly went along with James' bit, everyone was so shocked. Like Peter made this huge scene over it. And Sirius was clutching his chest like he'd just watched a murder. James doubled over laughing because he loves when people--Lily--go along with him. Lily sat there watching the chaos with a smile and a soft giggle.

I think this group, especially the warmth in their relationships, is a really comforting thing for Lily. Like she's so used to people dismissing her and the cold atmosphere in her house--cough cough Petunia cough cough. But this group is filled with love and warmth. They throw jokes at each other and expect the others to catch them and pitch it right back. It's a dynamic filled with love. And Lily feels such a warm, bright feeling rise in her everytime one of them jokes around or just talks. I think this group is a welcome change to her, going from people like Snape and Petunia to people like James and Marlene.

[ohmnnnezz]

warmth and comfort

[aprilblossomgirl]

Q said there is a sad puppy here, so that’s why we came.

We Are (2024) | Ep.13

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Li Zeyan’s Candlelight Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 烛火之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Translation Under the Cut]

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Subbed Video】

─────────────

【Chapter 1】 

After being stuck in traffic for over forty minutes on the way to the airport, I slam on the brakes once again, staring in despair at the unmoving stream of cars ahead. 

The weather outside is gloomy, the sky overcast with heavy dark clouds, and the wind howls through the crevices of the car windows. 

Even though the evening has barely fallen, the sky is already darkened completely. 

MC: Feels like it’s gonna be pouring hard... 

MC: I don’t know if Li Zeyan’s flight has been affected. 

Just as I am about to look up the flight information, his call comes in. 

LZY: I’ve arrived. 

MC: That’s great! It looks like there’s gonna be a heavy downpour outside, so thank goodness you landed on time. 

MC: On the downside, though, I’m stuck in traffic... 

LZY: Given the weather, I could guess that already. 

LZY: Don’t rush, safety first. Turn on your headlights and take your time. 

MC: Don’t worry, I promise to follow the traffic rules~ So, I must apologize to CEO Li and ask him to wait for me a little longer~ 

LZY: No worries, I’ll just take this time to think about what to make for Pudding. 

The day Li Zeyan is returning from his business trip also happens to be Pudding’s birthday, and we’ve planned to have a small celebration at home. 

As I picture Li Zeyan making a birthday cake for the little kitten, the corners of my lips involuntarily curl upwards. 

MC: Pudding’s parents are so thoughtful! The little birthday boy is blessed with the luck of tasty treats today. 

MC: Rest assured, I’ll definitely get you to Pudding safely and in one piece. 

LZY: With a certain someone “braving the wind and waves” to come pick me up, I’m already luckier than those who can’t get a cab. 

MC: Hehe, this time it’s my turn to be the prince who cuts their way through thorns and thistles to rescue the sleeping princess! 

LZY: Well, it seems like I’ll have to wait a hundred years then.

MC: ...you just told me to take my time. 

A soft chuckle transmits from the other end of the phone, and carried by the car’s stereo, it spreads through the entire space, giving me the illusion as if he is right next to me. 

LZY: It’s not contradictory. 

LZY: Even if it takes you a hundred years, I’ll still wait.

–

──────

[Tidbits]:  This conversation here is a reference to one of Li Zeyan’s earliest ASMRs, “Sleeping Beauty,” where LZY said in response to MC’s question that if he were the prince, he wouldn’t let the girl he loves wait a hundred years. Whereas, in the reverse scenario here, he tells you that if he were the sleeping princess and you the prince, he would gladly wait a hundred years (இдஇ; ) though, for a man who literally did wait 17+10000(*n) years for you— a hundred years is, well, still unbearable to think about ahah (ﾉಥ益ಥ) 

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Chapter 2】

I park the car near the exit, and as soon as I look up, I see Li Zeyan walking towards me, dragging his suitcase. 

I immediately push open the car door and run up to him, throwing myself into his arms as hard as I can. Both his hands are occupied by luggage, and I collide against him so hard that he staggers back a few steps. 

His familiar scent wraps around me securely, instantly dispelling all the tension and fatigue from the road. I nuzzle against his chest contentedly, earning a soft chuckle from above my head. 

LZY: Why the lack of courtesy right off the bat?

MC: I haven’t seen you for days, and I’ve made our big busy person wait so long. I can’t afford to be polite anymore. 

Li Zeyan smiles, lets go of the luggage, and draws me into his arms, lowering himself to rest his head on my shoulder. 

A soft sigh sounds next to my ear, and I sense how exhausted he is. I put aside my playful thoughts and stroke the back of his head. 

MC: I hoped you could get some rest after getting off the plane, but I didn’t expect this weather… 

MC: I’ll head out earlier next time! 

LZY: You already got here much faster than I expected. 

LZY: Let’s go, there’s a birthday boy waiting at home. It’s raining hard outside; I’ll drive on the way back. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✄ ┈┈┈┈┈┈

As we head home, rain begins pouring down in torrents. Even with the wipers operating at their highest speed, the visibility only clears for a fleeting moment. 

Through the impenetrable curtain of rain, the emergency lights of nearby vehicles flicker faintly. The water pooling on the ground reflects the surroundings like mirrors, and the streets have transformed into an utterly bizarre kaleidoscopic labyrinth. 

I hold up my phone to record the scene outside the window when suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning splits the sky not far away, followed by a rolling thunder approaching from the distance, pressing closer and closer. 

I can’t help but shrink my neck and set my phone down. 

MC: This weather is just ridiculous… I’m sure today’s Moments posts are gonna be flooded with candid shots of the rainstorm. 

LZY: A certain someone has made significant strides. 

LZY: A few years back, you would get so nervous in this kind of weather that you’d grab onto other people’s clothes. Now, you'd just make a fuss about it on Moments. 

MC: Huh? When did I grab onto your clothes? 

I turn my head to look at him with a puzzled expression. Li Zeyan glances at me, and before he can even speak, a smile creeps onto the corners of his lips. 

LZY: That time when you asked me if I dared to like you. 

I freeze for a second, the familiar feeling of nervousness and anticipation surging to the forefront of my mind. 

Memories flood back along with the warmth of my cheeks, as I’m reminded of a similar night in the past mirroring this raging storm. 

The pitch-black darkness that descended after the power outage was so thick that one wouldn’t even be able to make out their own hand in front of them. I felt like danger, and the unknown would swallow me whole at any moment. But he was there with me, accompanying me for what felt like an eternity on that apocalyptic night. 

Back then, I felt like I couldn’t handle it on my own, so I wanted to cling to a straw, to hold onto this steady and exceptionally gentle person beside me. 

Snapping out of the reminiscence, I clear my throat to dispel my embarrassment. 

MC: Y-You don’t need to remember such things so clearly! 

MC: But come to think of it, ever since I met you, I don’t seem to have gotten rained on much. 

MC: Even if I forget my umbrella or can’t catch a ride, you always manage to “scoop” me up right on time. 

LZY: So, as a result, a certain someone has developed the bad habit of not checking the weather forecast before going out? 

MC: …It clearly taught me the good habit of how to “scoop” people up in crucial moments! 

The car stops at the intersection, waiting for the traffic light. Li Zeyan casts a glance my way, his lips curving into a smile as he strokes my head. 

LZY: Given that the person “scooping” me up is also the one I want to see, it does feel pretty good. 

His warm palm rests on my head for a moment before sliding down to my cheek with yearning. A small sense of satisfaction leaps in my heart, and I smile, poking his cheek. 

MC: I think I can understand why the prince braves countless perils to reach the princess.

MC: For this moment right now, I’m willing to endure any hardship~

–

──────

[Tidbits]:  The call-back of the apocalyptic night is from one of Li Zeyan’s earliest dates, “Doomsday Date,” where MC asks him if he’d dare to like her and if he’d dare to be by her side even if doomsday arrived – and the rest, as they say, is history, quite literally in this case ahah~ (இдஇ; ) 

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Chapter 3】

“Bzzz!” 

As I step through the doorway and flip the switch for the pendant lamp, to my surprise, the light flickers and then abruptly goes out. 

The inside of the house is instantly taken over by the dimness from outside the windows. Pudding, who was originally crouching at the door to welcome us, lets out a yelp and scurries under the table. 

My mind automatically starts concocting a horror movie scenario, and I immediately step back a few paces. 

MC: What did the power suddenly go out? It was perfectly fine before I left... 

My words are barely out of my mouth when a series of extremely bright streaks of lightning flash outside the window. 

The howling gale rattles the window frames, while the water pipes exposed to the downpour on the side of the building, pelted by large raindrops, are making peculiar noises. 

The continuous flashes of lightning project the wildly swaying shadows of the trees onto the floor, making the storm outside seem even more terrifying. 

Li Zeyan sighs and steps forward, taking hold of my hand that is frozen in mid-air. 

LZY: Are there any spare lights or flashlights in the house? 

MC: Yes, there are, in my room... 

While saying this, I clutch Li Zeyan’s arm and carefully start walking towards my room. A hand reaches out and pulls me into a familiar embrace. 

LZY: Wasn’t a certain someone “scooping people up” pretty amazingly just now? Why are you so nervous now that we’re home? 

MC: ...I guess I’ve been overdoing it with the horror movies lately, and the after-effects are still a bit strong. 

I laugh awkwardly and, relying on the dim light of the flashlight, dig out a large, bulging bag from the storage box. 

MC: Rechargeable desk lamps, some decorative fairy lights, and lanterns. 

MC: They should work if we plug them into the power bank. 

LZY: ...That’s it? 

MC: They can provide light and serve as tools to set the ambiance. Isn’t that wonderful? 

Li Zeyan turns on a palm-sized rechargeable desk lamp and releases a small sigh. 

LZY: In that case, the gift I brought you can also be included to make up the difference. 

MC: Huh? What gift? 

Li Zeyan rummages through his suitcase, takes out an exquisitely wrapped box, and gestures for me to open it. 

I lean in closer and find a very charming candle holder with a glass cover nestled inside. 

MC: It’s so beautiful! As expected, CEO Li’s eye for things can never go wrong. 

LZY: Simultaneously doing the job of adding flowers to the brocade and delivering charcoal in snowy weather一 it definitely seems to be maximizing its value.  

LZY: Come on, let’s go and light up all the lamps that we can use first. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✄ ┈┈┈┈┈┈

With me “lending a hand” by holding the flashlight through the entire process, dinner and Pudding’s salmon cake are soon prepared. 

Pudding, who had been hiding in the corner this entire time, also forgets his fear under the temptation of delectable food and begins prancing around again. 

After eating and drinking to our fill, I sit on the carpet with another small blanket, light a scented candle, and carefully set it in the candle holder Li Zeyan gifted me. 

Li Zeyan then casually plops down at the foot of the bed where I’m leaning, naturally stretching out his arm for me to use as a pillow. 

I look at Pudding grooming his fur not far away and can’t help but sigh with emotion. 

MC: Time sure flies! Pudding has grown another year older. I wonder what progress he’ll make this year. 

LZY: He wasn’t very brave when he was younger, but now he, too, looks after the house on his own and appears to be fairly calm and composed. 

MC: Why did you use “too“? I suspect you’re insinuating something about someone else. 

LZY: Just stating facts. 

LZY: The way a certain someone acted when she walked into the house earlier didn’t exactly resemble the “prince“ who came to pick me up. 

I glance again at the flashes of lightning and thunder rolling outside again, scratching my cheek awkwardly. 

MC: The house just went dark all of a sudden; I wasn’t mentally prepared. 

LZY: What about now? 

LZY: Are you still scared? 

I turned sideways to watch him. The dancing candlelight paints his side profile in a warm glow, and the subtle fragrance of the scented candle melds into his calm gaze, making me gradually relax. 

I hug his arm and pull him into my arms, beaming a wide smile at him. 

MC: I have my “fragrant princess“ in my arms now, and I fear neither getting swept by wind nor being battered by rain any longer. [3]

LZY: Are we sure about who’s in whose arms? 

MC: Does it really make a difference who’s in whose arms? 

Li Zeyan gives me a look that says “whatever you say,” and I smile victoriously at having my way before turning to glance at the pitch-black darkness outside the window.  

The small lights in the room are mirrored on the glass, reminiscent of stars, blurring into a cluster of halos by the unrelenting rain. 

Serenity and turmoil are separated by only a wall. I grasp his wrist and tilt my head, pillowing into his palm and nuzzling against it. 

MC: Luckily, you came back today. Otherwise, I would have definitely dragged you into “simmering a pot of telephone congee” with me all night long. [4]

LZY: That wouldn’t have been too bad either. 

MC: Well, that’s true, but it would have made me seem like I haven’t grown at all... 

I raise my head and look into his slightly puzzled gaze, feeling a little embarrassed as I lower my voice. 

MC: I’m clearly not a child anymore, and many of the things I used to fear shouldn’t be a big deal now. 

MC: Yet when running into situations where I’m not entirely confident, I can’t help feeling a little afraid. 

MC: For instance, a pitch-dark empty house, not being able to find the kitten, and a thunderstorm that I don’t know when will end. 

MC: I still can’t seem to be like you, to be able to keep myself from thinking the worst regardless of the kind of situation I’m confronted with... 

I soliloquize in a whispered tone, and the palm I’m resting my head on suddenly moves. I look up, and my fingers are immediately swept up in a reassuring warmth.

Li Zeyan is pillowing himself on my bolster, covered by a blanket that is clearly not big enough for him, creating for a rather comical scene. Yet, I find myself solely captivated by his extraordinarily serious gaze. 

He quietly watches me like this for some time before finally opening his mouth to respond. 

LZY: Then just be afraid. 

MC: ...Huh? 

LZY: Building courage doesn’t mean you should be absolutely fearless. 

LZY: If you have no reaction to the unknown and uncontrollable, that, on the contrary, is dangerous. 

LZY: For a dummy, knowing how to dodge in the right direction at a critical moment is also progress. 

He strokes the back of my hand meaningfully, and I clasp his fingers even more tightly in tacit understanding. 

In moments of fear and anxiety, I always want to hold onto something, to reassure myself that I’m not facing it alone. 

And this man in front of me, as fortune would have it, always happens to be within my reach, catching my insecurities and leading me along slowly. 

I think back to the first time I “grabbed onto” him, the gentleness in his tone that I had rarely seen, and I can’t help but laugh. 

MC: Well then, it seems I’ve been making progress since the first time I grabbed onto your clothes. 

LZY: Mm-hmm, it hasn’t been easy. 

MC: But I can only advance a little bit at a time. I’ve kept you waiting for so long. 

The corners of his lips curl up slightly, and his eyes, sparkling with a smile, gently embrace me. 

LZY: This isn’t work; nobody is asking anything from you. 

LZY: If you’re afraid, just light up a lamp.

–

──────

[Tidbits]

[3] LI ZEYAN WRITERS!!! CRIES AT THE SACRIFICE I HAD TO MAKE AND HOW THE BEAUTY OF THE WORDPLAY JUST GETS LOST IN TRANSLATION HERE 😭 anywho, as you might’ve already noticed, “rescuing the sleeping princess“ theme and the “seeming“ role reversal has been one of the running themes of this date. The term used here is 软香 (lit. meaning soft fragrance), which is usually used to refer to the delicate scent of a woman or a woman in general and, in the context of the times, a palace beauty. The full term MC uses here is 软香在怀 (lit. meaning having ‘soft fragrance’ in one’s arms), which also conveys a deep emotional closeness, a sense of security and comfort as scent is something very sensitive. What the writing does here is kill three birds with one stone— (i) conveying MC’s “prince and princess role reversal“ quip, while also delivering the emotions of the candlelight monologue two sentences prior, i.e., (ii) the fragrance melding into his calm gaze, the vivid imagery of her sensitivity to his presence itself, (iii) the reassuring effect of his being. 

[4] I’m gonna cry; this is such an adorable expression haha 😭 the term MC uses here is “煲电话粥,” which really does mean “simmering telephone congee.” The idea of it is to have a marathon phone call with sb, but it’s more intimate— similar to how simmering sth can take a long time and porridge essentially is a comfort food 😂 

–

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Chapter 4】

The night is dark, and the rain seems to have weakened a bit. I hug the blanket and squeeze onto the small bed with Li Zeyan. No matter in which position we lay down, most of our bodies are pressed against each other. 

I watch the person beside me becoming a part of the scene I’ve been familiar with since my childhood days, and for a long time, I find myself unwilling to close my eyes. 

MC: It feels so surreal to have you and Pudding together at my place. 

MC: It’s like having guests at home, but at the same time, it feels like welcoming new members to the family. 

LZY: So, which one do you hope I am? 

MC: I’ve long regarded you as the latter in my heart, obviously. 

MC: However, this situation makes me seem like I’m not being a gracious host... 

MC: Having to deal with the bad weather is one thing, but who knew the electricity in the house would be unstable at a critical moment, and now my bed isn’t big enough either. 

I look up at the small pink pillow under Li Zeyan’s head and sigh softly. Li Zeyan, however, just smiles calmly and brushes aside the hair falling over my face. 

MC: Be careful when you roll over. If you’re afraid of falling off, just hug me a little tighter~ 

LZY: [i’m cRY at how he just plays along with you haha] It’s certainly something to be afraid of. 

Li Zeyan says this as he gets up to turn off the lights, and the room is plunged into darkness once again. 

I reach out my arms towards him and am immediately swept back into his arms. 

MC: Thank you, CEO Li~ How about I repay you with a goodnight kiss? 

LZY: That’s it? 

MC: Then what else do you want? 

I blink my eyes at him, and suddenly, he lifts his hand to cover my sight. 

A soft warmth captures my lips, swallowing my confusion. 

He holds me too tightly in the square of his arms, and his broad palm accidentally presses on my nose, causing my already erratic breathing to become even more difficult to maintain. 

I punch him indignantly, and Li Zeyan finally moves his hand away, his fingers cradling my face. 

LZY: Didn’t you say you wanted to repay me? 

MC: T-This isn’t what I had in mind! 

LZY: Is this not good? 

His warm finger pads caress the side of my face in a back-and-forth motion, leaving me with no refuge to escape but to gaze into his smiling eyes. 

LZY: Instead of letting your imagination run wild every time you’re scared, why not think about something that can put your mind at ease?  

LZY: For example, me. 

LZY: So, consider this as collecting a tip in advance to cover your memories.  

A soft chuckle drifts from above me, and he lifts my face again. With the last hint of light also overlaid, I close my eyes, welcoming this novel memory pertaining to the night’s darkness. 

┈┈┈┈┈┈ ✄ ┈┈┈┈┈┈

The next morning, the sky finally clears up. 

The entire city looks as if it has taken a bath. Under the early morning sunlight, there are glittering lights refracted by water droplets everywhere. 

I summon every bit of my self-control and more to extract myself from Li Zeyan’s warm embrace and rise early to make breakfast. 

Originally, I planned to have him take the day off and recover from jet lag, but as soon as he gets out of bed, he receives a call from LFG, saying there is an urgent matter that needs to be dealt with in person. 

I watch as a certain someone at the dining table finishes his breakfast with a sullen look on his face and can’t help but burst into laughter. 

MC: Who knew even CEO Li could show such a “rebellious” expression about having to work overtime. 

LZY: ...It’s just that I haven’t gotten over the jet lag yet.  

MC: Who told you not to sleep obediently last night? 

I stand up with a laugh before he can glare at me and push his suitcase to the door for him. Li Zeyan dons his coat, seems to hesitate for a moment, and then turns back to look at me. 

MC: What’s wrong? 

LZY: Nothing. 

MC: It doesn’t seem like you’ve left anything behind, have you? 

I look around to check while speaking, but I realize that Li Zeyan has kept his gaze trained on me, with no intention of searching for anything. 

I blink my eyes, and an adorable guess bubbles up in my heart. 

MC: Could it be that... CEO Li is unwilling to leave? 

Li Zeyan grips the handle of the suitcase, averts his eyes, and smiles. 

LZY: Let Pudding stay at your place for one more day. 

MC: No worries, we’ll get along perfectly. 

He doesn’t give a direct answer to my question, so I take it as his tacit assent and continue along with his words. 

LZY: He ate quite a lot last night, so feed him less cat food today. 

MC: Understood~ 

LZY: Be careful with the electricity today, and if you run into any issues, reach out to me right away. 

MC: Uh-huh, anything else you want to remind me of? 

I stare at him, smiling giddily. Li Zeyan opens his mouth, but in the end, he just displays a helpless expression and says nothing. 

The rare instance of not being able to find the words to say, the rare moments of being dumbstruck and not knowing how to reply, the rare scenario of dragging his feet about going to work... 

All of this shows that he is really unwilling to leave. 

I smile even happier and tiptoe up to lock my arms around his neck.  

Li Zeyan seems a bit puzzled, but he promptly supports my waist and arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. 

MC: Hehe, consider this as a tip you’re paying in advance. 

MC: This way, whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, you will think of only me. 

I mimic his words from last night, and even reach up to muss his hair. 

LZY: Little copycat. 

Li Zeyan seems to want to resist this “childish” act subconsciously, but his arms betray his honest feelings and draw me in even tighter. 

He looks at me with a silly smile on my face, about to say something when I suddenly feel a tickle on my ankle, as if something furry is rubbing against it. 

Just as I’m about to look down, my face is pinched by someone. 

I’m compelled to raise my head and see the sunlight falling on Li Zeyan. 

The locks of hair hanging over his forehead and eyelashes are all bathed in dazzling, golden-bright luster. He reminds one of a big cat who has just woken up, making people irresistibly want to get closer to him. 

And he does exactly as I wished, taking the initiative to bring this warmth to me. 

The distance between us is reduced to zero, and I naturally close my eyes, welcoming this kiss infused with the warmth of the sunlight. 

Even if a person grows accustomed to the humidity of this city, they will still rejoice when the sky clears and the sunshine beams down. 

Even for those who can see the person they love every day and kiss them whenever they want, they will still find that any small separation feels too long. 

The meow of the kitten rises from our feet, as if it also wants to participate in this wordless goodbye. I gently bite Li Zeyan’s lips, and he, rather reluctantly, pulls back just a bit. 

MC: Mr. Customer, you’re being too generous with your tip. 

With his eyes cast down, he continues to gaze at me, his breath still lingering at the edge of my lips. 

LZY: Because I’ve already fulfilled the conditions you set. 

LZY: Now that I’ve paid double the tip, I’m asking for an upgrade on the terms. 

He raises an eyebrow, as if he is genuinely negotiating with me. 

At such proximity, my mind is already a muddled mess, yet I still manage to capture the answer he desires from the look of yearning in his eyes. 

I strive to muster my willpower, rise on tiptoe, and kiss his lips again.

MC: Then you must work diligently and clock out early... 

MC: And who knows, perhaps I’ll suddenly appear when you’re missing me?

──────────────────────────────────────────

[maa-riiee]

“there are lots of other lucases and lots of other eliotts, in other parallel universes together right now”

✧. °• ⋆ 🪐 samedi 09:17 🪐 ⋆ •° .✧

— details

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[euporiez]

I love including non sexual nudity in ship fanart because its such a potent way of showing intimacy however I feel awkward when I do it because. idk.

[wallpapersmonster]

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