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sunboki · 30 days ago

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⎯ what remains unspoken. ⟡ featuring christopher bahng

🪝 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, jealousy, angst, two idiots chasing their own tails believing their love is unrequited (ㅠㅠ), based in australia, summer! au, beachhouse! au

WORD COUNT. 8.3k words ☆ 32min read

WARNINGS. cursing, jealousy/shame, reader moves away, mentions of drunkenness, nondesc smut, a dirty dream? (nondesc), reader is said to wear makeup, mentions cheating

AUG'S NOTES. working myself through a writing block.. this fic has helped a lot :) thank you all for being patient with me thus far, i think writing for channie is like free therapy<3 please let me know what you think!!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Attached to the hip, you and Chris might as well have been twins in a past life. And yet, it’s always that tiny inkling, so many years where one of the two wants something more. So when you bring home a boyfriend one summer and both you and Chris begin drifting apart, you wonder if that denial will become something permanent.

or alternatively :

Until when do you stop pretending?

Among many things, Chris likes to think there was an “oh shit” moment to his life. One, exactly.

Over the years he tried pinpointing when that would be, what that would be.

And then you brought a boyfriend home. His home. To a beach house you two would occupy together. Making shadow puppets with your hands and running out to the beach in the early mornings.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Making sand castles, running into the water with your clothes on and running out giggling messes.

For two weeks every summer, always. Together.

Never with a plus one.

He debated upon subtly sizing up the guy or appearing overly friendly, but not an ounce of his face seemed to move. Steely.

Cold.

Chris was never cold, and he felt that pang in his chest—guilt—seeing you notice it. That miniature knit of your brow, the purse of your lips.

Did he know you like Chris did? Know when you were angry, or frustrated. What your favorite song was, or how you preferred your hair when you were focused?

He wanted to hate comparison, he used to hate comparison.

And now he’s hating himself for being too late, letting you slip from his grasp like sand between his fingers.

When you were once protagonists of a novel written with a happy ending, that love interest was now home to another.

And he was a bystander to a love story that was never his, watching you smile at someone else.

Someone that wasn’t him.

Breakfast is hellish, not to mention the sleeping arrangements. This boyfriend of yours in the guest bedroom, while he sleeps in his.

Alone. Without you, or your pretty hair, or your pretty eyes. Void of your warm body snuggled up to his, where you used to make silly jokes beneath covers and muffle laughter in turn.

A part of him wants to cry, wants to ask you what you two used to be. What was under the covers?

“Ah.. Chris..” The soft moan of yours, all those years back. Stupid, seventeen, single. A cursed pair of “S”’s he hadn’t realized would come to haunt him each time he closed his eyes.

What was your pretty sounds, his face between your thighs those five years back?

Was it all pretend? Exploration as friends?

No, you were smarter than that.

So he tells himself he was too late, and endures.

Because maybe, maybe they’ll be a plot twist one chapter. Where you fall for the side character.

No, no book ends like that.

It all started in an editing firm’s office.

Well, not literally, considering you hadn’t even been in your mother’s mind until Jessica Bahng—mother of a four-month old Chris Bahng—held back a poor woman’s hair while she belched into a toilet.

That poor woman being your mother, who found out she was pregnant that evening after work.

And through a few Saturday’s at the corner cafe and prolonged conversation by the office’s monitors, the two became the best of friends. Watching little Chris grow into a toddling one year old, and in the process welcoming you into the world nearly ten months later.

From there, almost every waking moment consisted of time together. Chris as the lanky teenager with his brown hair sweeping across a tanned forehead, and you, following after him each step he took at less than a year younger. Kindergarten, Primary School.

Although, in the midst of the friendship, your father had found a better job opportunity in Brisbane, a decent ten-hour drive from the Bahng household you’d found second home in.

Though, after plenty of crocodile tears and mumbled “I’ll miss you”’s tumbling from an eighth grade mouth too absorbed in worrying about the matter of leaving rather than the fact you’d likely visit every month, you departed, off to a city so different from the Sydney you had known of.

Even if it was Australia all the same.

And in turn, the annual summer visits began.

Summer before your freshman year of high school, where Chris finally got his braces off in his sophomore year and you soaked up every ounce of information given on surviving the first few days of school.

Then your own sophomore year, filled with feelings and discoveries and struggles unearthed you didn’t think could be experienced so vividly, expectations in need of fulfillment the board expected a sixteen year old to answer immediately.

What do you want to do with your life? Any plans for college? What about taking these extra classes? They look good on a résumé.

And simultaneously rip the ounces of childhood from your fingertips, but no school board puts that in the papers.

So the moment the car door opens after hellish voyaging to Sydney, you allow your lungs to inhale each ounce of salty air the Bahng family house offers, the childishness allowed for once amid crushing pressure.

It is a meager five minute walk to the lapsing shoreline after all, and the ocean keeps good secrets within the sand, washing away your footprints as to flush away traces of whatever happenings occurred there.

Yet, never truly forgotten. Instead, taken into the waters for little children to tell their mother of whom never believe the ocean spilled someone’s precious secrets.

“Chris.”

June eighteenth of your second year in high school, pajama-clad knees curl close into your body, lashes dusting open in the sparsely lit room to focus on him.

A dilation of the pupils, a hitch of the breath when he turns to you.

High school has changed Chris, but not in a foul manner. Blond curls, he’s exchanged from his usual russet locks. Round cheeks shifting in tandem with a sculptors hand, the marble of his skin a bit more toned, defined.

His jaw that clicks when he grows angered—not often, sometimes at his gaming system.

Thickened brows furrowing and knitting in concentration.

Though those eyes are the same, and always will be. No other will have eyes like his, and you know in any life, in any state of amnesia, they would be recognized.

An “aha” moment where a switch flips in your brain, formulating a mere sentence involuntarily.

I love this boy, and I hope for forever he’ll look back at me.

And for that, you’re selfish. But honest.

If Christopher was a stranger, a look into that gaze and you think you’d know him instantaneously.

How silly.

But just as you had spoken, you’re reminded that childishness was something found each time you visited this place regardless of your actions. You’d hold onto that.

“I don’t want to grow up.”

The bit of fat at his under-eyes cause his eyes to form into crescent moons when he smiles, wrinkles at the corner of thick lashes crinkling.

Chris has always liked the moon.

A warm hand of his reaches forward, cupping your cheek as if the first time.

You think you like this more.

“Then don’t.”

A stroke of his thumb, and you snort a laugh when the cold of your nose bumps against the digit.

“And when you want to go back to being sixteen, come to see me, okay?”

Little did you both know that the future had a way of testing just how long sixteen would last.

Until when do you stop pretending?

An explanation as to how you ended up with the curly blond’s lips pressed to your thighs doesn’t sit anywhere in sight, and in the quiet comfort of your bedroom, you let the thought slip by.

Yet, in the end, there’s as much of a pathetic excuse as expected.

That serves for a bit of background information first.

It was a mistake.

You were just teenagers.

But the stinging feeling in your heart, like the swelling of a thorn stuck between your rib cage, tells you that’s far from the truth.

For any infant it’s easy to placate an act, a theatre of behavior. For your stuffed animals as a doctor, for diving into the pool after the rings a mother would toss in beforehand, feigning the role of an experienced diver.

But there comes both a time and occasion to weave a lie, no less complete the loom as someone cognitive enough to understand a situation’s veracity.

When the mind is said to be “not fully developed” but each and every predicament feels like it matters on behalf of the world, when a sentence a year back pops itself from hiding, appearing at the forefront of your mind.

The true question.

Just how long can one stay sixteen?

Junior year, with eighteen lingering a hairsbreadth away for the both of you.

Junior year, where talk of pressures and intimacy lead to Chris being your first time.

And in turn, you were his.

Though that came a few minutes later. Something clumsy and unpracticed the both of you laughed at on continual occasion, enacted for the pure reason of curiosity, of trust.

While everyone gave themselves to strangers, you wanted to give yourself to someone adored, whom you didn’t believe for a second you’d regret.

But was that really the sole reason?

Curiosity?

Or love?

No. Nothing along those lines.

Or that’s what you told yourself those years, those moments. And although it’s supremely underestimated by that of adults, those prolonged stares, the upward quirk of his lips when he catches your eye from across the room is but a matter a babe could understand.

It has always been more, been a new road opened since you’d kissed him. The both of you simply headed the same route you always had.

Best friends, that’s all.

But to an astronaut, the earth has never been the limit, or they wouldn’t be an astronaut. And you were someone that loved Christopher Bahng, but hid behind a title the both of you knew was untrue.

Now it exists like a flash of the mind, swift and fast and almost unnoticed if not for the lingering feeling at your skin—an insatiable itch where his fingers had laid trace.

A soft nip to your inner thigh, his thumb resting just above your navel. His chin upon your lower belly when your events had come to a close, gazing up at you, unreadable.

No. Not unreadable, but one you didn’t want to read, look too far into and get hurt.

Was that it? A gnawing fear of getting hurt holding you back from the things you wanted?

His face lingering with traces of you, lips swollen and glossy and stretched into a smile you scorned to stare at.

“You’re.. gross.”

Maybe a “thank you” or a “that felt amazing” would’ve been the more appropriate response, but this was Chris, and to not speak your mind would break a vow instilled from the earliest of your elementary days.

He laughs, a squeaky sound of happiness you soak up like a sponge—absorbing, absorbing, taking in every ounce offered.

That you can trust in, place faith within.

In a future unknown, however, a part of you knows that the only way of freedom is to prepare for a pain that may come, and may not.

For there is never a guarantee love will be fatal, but all will pass someday.

To live without a taste of that freedom seems too awful to stay in your bubble.

All so scary, uncertain. The unpredictability can be overwhelming. Somewhere in between you hope he felt it too.

Love, that is.

Ah.

A kiss at your lips, and he tastes like you—something you’d shrink away with disgust at if not for his presence, the tender manner in which he eases your shirt back down, then his own adjusted over his head.

That night, you ate dinner and never spoke of it. Not a taboo topic, merely mutually understood. His parents out for a night, Hannah off staying late for an after school activity.

A kiss after washing dishes in the sink, a kiss when you flop onto the couch. After an uno match by the coffee table, where your competitiveness sparks into screaming matches, tackling him following not long after.

Your bodies like a whirlwind of motion, writhing with chortled laughter like squabbling infants.

Overtop of you he pauses, and your earlier feigned rage fades as quickly as it was provoked, chest warming at the chaste peck to your cheek, then the press of his lips you beckon closer, hands curling into the fabric of his tee, slipping down his back to trace the bumps of his spine.

One breath, two.

Warm, and it feels like you’re melting.

Fingernails usher the shirt upwards, his lower back beared, tanned from summer sun.

More.

You want more all over again.

“Chris!”

It’s Hannah’s voice, squeaky at age thirteen, that clears the steaminess instantly, clambering off each other so quickly your foot slams into his stomach, his hand shoving your face into the carpeted floor.

“I- I won in Uno! Fair and square!”

Not a great cover up, Chris, but the flushed nature of his ears, his cheeks, makes up for the stupid excuse.

From this prompts a sequence of events, of excuses and hiding, of denial and relapsing into what’s familiar.

But just as life is unpredictable, none of those thoughts plagued your mind yet.

Nothing had happened yet.

Then it happened, and you can’t come to recall how.

A party, freshman year of university. A guy, loud music, too many drinks.

He was a sweet soul, helping you back to your dorm when the world became a distant, fuzzy memory. Someway or another (you’re betting your roomie gave it to him), he snagged your number.

Because Saturday morning, 11am, you received a: “Feeling any better?” text you gazed at in horror—believing the random number to be some drunken one night stand—before being filled in.

Jae was his name. Jae Hyeong.

A student in your Wednesday lecture, passing by unknown, now becoming known.

You told Chris about him that summer, mumbled between bites of strawberries after a stop by the market in his dad’s old pick-up truck.

Rust clung to the sides, and you could never be certain the engine would start up again. But it was loved and cherished. So faith was placed in it anyway.

Expectedly, he just nodded his head, popping another sweet bite between plush lips.

The thing was, you told Chris about him without mentioning the dating factor.

Jae was funny, sweet. The first of your dates concluding with your stomach aching from laughter. And a cowardly part of you blames forgetfulness, while the other points directly at your heart.

Even when, staring into his eyes, all you see is Chris.

How cruel, and you want to hate yourself for dragging this boy along.

Scared.

Because at the moment, pursuing music was Chris’s dream, attending Uni at Sydney was that utmost goal he reached towards.

And you’d support him through it, even if you were left behind.

It wasn’t you, your mind berates.

It never was you.

So you’ll look away, deny the love you ache for. Jae deserves that, right? Not to be treated as some source of healing for you, a rebound for love unrequited.

Maybe the friendship of yours has clouded your judgement. It’s not love you harbor, but fondness.

A soul-sucking, gut-wrenching fondness that’s unequivocally love.

“I think you’d like him.”

Maybe this is your hopes of even ground. That if the both of them become somewhat-friends, your feelings will ease and you’ll realize this was all a fever-dream and you were truly in love with Jae.

All a dream.

“Will I?” Chris grunts in reply, both of your legs dangling from the truck bed’s edge.

He thinks you’re prettiest like this. A bit unkempt, no makeup, hair left to its own devices.

You. Wholly, unapologetically you.

Blemishes and smile lines just like his, bits of strawberry lingering by the corners of your lips he wants to kiss away, lap up with his tongue and take advantage of the quiet of the morning, the lack of townspeople awake to witness his greed.

Chris is greedy when it comes to you, he’ll admit it. He wants and wants and wants, and can’t ever seem to be satiated.

Whether it’s your kisses, your laughter, that sweet, mumbled moan when you’re feeling so good.

Shit. He’s in too deep.

To his core, Chris is a gentle man. He wouldn’t allow himself to be angry at you if it cost his life but, he’s also human. And humans feel jealousy.

It’s been a while since the thought occurred to him, since that biting pit began forming in his gut, gnashing their teeth at anything in sight.

“Is he good to you?” A quiet murmur, one that’s a bit reserved compared to his usual cheerfulness, optimistic tone. This is curious, observant. That kind of behavior when he wants to know more though remain subtle.

Plus, he argues with that frothing jealously. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, right?

Then, as quickly as it came, the jealousy is gone, swept away in the crashing tides just a few miles from where you sit. Replaced with nervousness, worry.

It’s not like Chris can control you. You aren’t to be controlled, and it’d be cruel to keep you from your potential to begin with. He’s just the coward that can’t bring himself to confess.

And neither can you, but he doesn’t know that.

Two nervous messes, fretting over love they’ve shared long before anyone speaks up about it.

What remains unspoken.

Will your boyfriend be good to you? Treat you right? His head swims, grasping a strawberry hard enough that streams of juice slip down his wrist, droplets trickling onto the top of a muscular thigh.

And heaven forbid the guy breaks your heart. He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Chris and likely earn a beat down for the road.

But then comes the hopeful thought, the “what if” that lingers under his skin, buzzes at his fingertips as an index comes to loop a strand of hair behind your ear to better see you.

The bit of pride in the corner, nudging his shoulder as if it were you. A longtime friend.

I’ll treat you well.

Please let me be good to you.

Closing his eyes, the sad smile of yours after having failed your final exam resides there. Bittersweet, somber.

Would it be considered stages of grief if he had yet to lose someone?

No less, it feels as if you’re leaving him behind altogether.

“You alright?”

But for now, you’re by his side. It’s enough.

“Hm,” A nod, eyes remaining closed.

“The sun feels good today.”

It feels better with you.

Who knew how quickly good things go.

“Hi Berry!”

The summer before your junior year of Uni, and for a moment, standing in front of the Bahng household feels nostalgic in a way that makes your heart sink.

The rose-tinted glasses feel further away than ever. Peeling paint, cracks in the wood, creaking of the paneled floors you hadn’t noticed those summer’s before.

Things have changed, and you shudder to think you were the bringer of it.

The hand in yours whose last name isn’t Bahng, however, proves the point.

This summer, Jae came with you. Officially regarded as your boyfriend.

Thus far, there has been no greater feeling of dread and guilt in your gut than right now.

Dread in witnessing Chris’ reaction, guilt from the gnawing ache in your chest. Because no, by no means did you wish to treat Jae as a buffer, an anchor to love unrequited. Nonetheless, that certainly felt the case, more so the situation responsible for your guilt.

And maybe, just maybe, it was wordlessly understood. The manner you’d speak of Chris to Jae, that hidden longing unable to be shielded by a facade.

How cruel, a heart is. To love so shamelessly. Garner affection, but withhold a love solely reserved for one.

In need of mending, care you fail to give by yourself.

Berry, the beloved Chevalier King Charles Spaniel, helps calm such a maelstrom, if only for a short amount of time.

Before Chris walks down the stairs.

If fur had lined Chris’ back, it would be spiked in apprehension, aggression. Like a wolf, scruff ruffled in the presence of someone new.

A second-long overview tells him enough. Your hand in his, the way he trails after you as if some lovesick puppy.

The taste of bile in his throat makes him want to choke.

He missed his chance. Now it’s gone.

So childish, it all is. This harrowing sadness weighing on his chest, the jealousy.

“This is Jae, isn’t it?”

Ah, you should’ve known better.

Chris could always tell.

Yet, his eyes never leave yours. A mere flicker of attention to the newcomer until you’re bathed in the spotlight again, and the hair on your arms rises unnervingly.

“Yeah,” Swiftly clearing your throat, you feebly try at gathering your wits, granting Jae a smile you hope is reassuring.

“He’s.. my boyfriend.”

All at once, Chris feels his world crashing down on him.

“What happened?” He wanted to ask, forgetting you grew up, no longer that little girl seated beside him on the playground’s swings.

Because it’s already enough in recognizing it, but another in receiving clarification.

A slow inhale is breath into lungs he feels are already too full, straining to contain oxygen.

He missed his chance. Now it’s gone.

I lost you, whispers in his mind. Fragmented pieces of a puzzle.

There was a reason an extra pillow resided in the linen closet, or the My Little Pony toothbrush tossed in the mug his old swim-team sold as merch.

For you, and only you.

Never another.

Selfishly, he feels this casting has abruptly booted him from the main position, now rooted as a bystander in a set that isn’t even his.

Of course, Chris lacks the complete asshole gene, so a hasty handshake serves as greeting enough before he’s already reaching for the door.

“Eh? But we-“

“Guest bedroom is on your left. Y/N will show you. You two can sleep there or whatever- I’m going to surf.”

Just the partial asshole gene.

And he knows you can tell. Reading each other with the ease of a lover. Attentive, observant.

Nevertheless, your love is directed to someone else.

“He uh.. isn’t usually like this.”

A mumble on your part suffices in buffering the silence. That, followed by Jae’s cocked brow.

“Real friendly guy.”

Your lip tugs between your teeth, peering back at the boy from over your shoulder. Apparently, your expression of remorse fails to be hidden well.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jae consoles, “I dealt with that one jerk of a roommate back in Brisbane for a whole semester, y’know? A bit of coldness is nothin’.”

Ignorance only feels good for so long. Bliss is never permanent.

If only you had understood that lesson, abided by it.

Yet, just like those years before, you turn your head the other direction and allow life to pass by without him in it, despite staying in the same home.

Despite him being everything to you, despite a love shared over countless years.

He’s irritable. Chris is. The subtle grit of his teeth you've come to recognize, the harsh grip he nearly crushes his fork in. Dinner had never felt so stifling, never when you were here.

All of a sudden, the household you had once found solace inside feels all too hot, a sweltering furnace where each extra beat of silence adds a degree to the thermometer.

Jessica Bahng’s cooking was incredible, as predicted, and conversation flowed effortlessly between you, her, and Jae—the boy charming without trying, his charisma winning over the woman after a mere two bites of food.

What wasn’t predictable was Chris’ quietness from across the table. Because each time he looks up, he finds himself seated in a theatre, watching what was pass by. Watching how you’d kiss Jae, hold his hand, laugh by his side.

Was that all it was? Him as a spectator?

The chip in the corner of his dinner plate held in hand verifies emotion unwilling to be shown on the surface.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

Jerk.

You scoff, offering him a miniature scowl from the corner of your eye.

“So, how’d you meet Y/N? I forgot to ask last night,” Jessica insists, glancing from you to Jae in rapid succession.

Oh, great. The formalities.

“Well,” A pause on the younger boy’s end, sheepishly grinning. “It was actually at a party—“

“Pfft, yeah right,” Chris grunts beneath his breath in amusement, ramming his fork down into a piece of broccoli.

Acting like a child and he knows it, but no amount of maturity can seem to withhold the snide comments.

Either the other three didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him. He’s fine with both.

“And yeah, I just remember her being so drunk and—“

“You wish,” The dyed blond mumbles once more to himself, shaking his head in quiet mirth.

Those words beckon attention, and Chris mutters an inaudible curse after the sharp kick his mother grants in warning.

That night, dinner concluded like usual. Cheerful on one end, quiet as a mouse on the other. Figuring out who belonged on which side came easy.

Except, Chris fails to remain silent this time around whilst attending to dish duty, lips drawing into a tight line witnessing Jae place his plate beside the sink.

Not in the sink, not even an offer to help wash. No, the bastard’s eyes are dead set on you, flickering from your eyes, lips, ass—

Dammit, he wants to sock the guy right about now.

However, he waits until you get upstairs to wash up for bed before speaking.

“Gonna give me a servant uniform too at this point?” The last of Chris’ mutters, and it seems Jae is done with staying silent as well.

“Alright, just what is your problem?”

“I don’t know, why can’t you be well-mannered as a guest? At least wash your own damn dish,” Chris growls back, the two’s eyes meeting in a vicious staring contest prior to his mother’s scolding, resulting in both boys on dish-duty.

Although it’s the words muttered in his ear when Jae leaves that nearly provokes every nerve in his body to crush the man’s face in with his fist.

“Whatever was between you two, forget it. She’s not yours anymore.”

Your face appearing from the top of the stairwell keeps his urge at bay, merely evident in the white-knuckled clenching of his fist, his form hasty to disappear outside the screen door.

Instinctively, sandal-clad feet taking him to the one place that lets him think.

The ocean.

It’s late, and high tides crash against the sandy shoreline. The squawking of seagulls has drawn to a close, the enormous light of the moon overhead a constant he finds comfort in.

Pattering of your footsteps, however, gather his focus instantaneously, wordless where your form curls by his side.

Another constant, just you and him.

Something to spite the change.

So much change, in fact, he feels like each bit of the youth he’s known is being swallowed up, consumed into newness he can’t accept.

But you still open doors fully in case monsters hide behind them, and he hasn’t changed the flavor of ice cream he buys from convenience stores since he was eight, so perhaps nothing has changed but exterior.

To be ignorant is to be blissful, a lesson continually presenting itself this summer. Neither happens to be involved in your predicament.

You’re first to break the silence. Always the more courageous one, albeit he’d never admit it.

“I shouldn’t have brought Jae here, I’m sorry.”

Your slow inhale.

“This is.. our place, I get it. I just thought—“

“No,” A shake of his head, second nature upon reading the startled look you give him.

“I mean,” He has to tilt his head to peek at your face, hidden between your knees like a child.

“It’s our place, you’re right but-.. If one day.. somebody comes along, then that’s..”

A begrudging acceptance, if that’s the word.

You look up at him and- ah, you’re so pretty. Chris stops to stare for a moment, his lips parted like an infant fixated on the cookie jar.

Hurried blinking and a swift breath dispel the prior awe.

“That’s okay. If “you” becomes you and someone else, then so be it.”

A small, wry smile. Though beneath, he feels as if he’s breaking.

“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t pester your boyfriend, or, y’know, future boyfriends. ‘S what I do for my favorite girl.”

He smiles, wanting to cry more than anything while playfully pinching your cheek.

Why can’t you be mine?

Ten minutes or so separate your conversation, but you pick up again as if you’d never stopped in the first place.

“Sometimes I think it’d be easier if I could just go back to being when we were kids again, y’know?”

“And what would you do if you were kids again?”

These words are slow, patient.

His reply ruins the peace, the begrudging acceptance you had built like a wall of defense, blocking feelings foaming at the mouth to climb from your throat, echoing in the night air.

“I’d never let you go.”

“I’m going to bed,” A mumble interrupts the quietness, your head weighing against his shoulder.

An anchor, in fear you’d be thrashed into the waves without return.

Chris has always been your buoy.

If only he could keep you afloat in your dreams, but you had yet to yearn for that just yet.

The small nod where he assures you he’d stay a bit longer serves as an untold: “good night” you offer a tight smile in response to, slipping past the creaking doorway and up to your shared bedroom.

Shared with Jae, not Chris.

And no, Jae wasn’t a buffer. A substitute until you could muster courage to confess, to shout the aches and pains and torment your messy love prompts.

More often than not, Jae has been a lighthouse, helping you venture through the fog of feelings muddling your mind, decisions.

Hell, you don’t know half of what you’re doing.

So many adult responsibilities are manageable, but love provides its own labyrinth no matter the age, never a mere math equation, a problem and solution.

But with loopholes, and heartbreak, and stupidity, and impulsiveness.

Confusion and sadness and guilt, these gut-wrenching feelings keeping someone up at night.

Like tonight, where your eyes stare daggers into the guest bedroom’s wall across from you. A wall lacking Chris’ swim posters, medals. The old nightlight still plugged into the outlet, once prominent galaxy patterns faded into nothingness.

There for the memories, it was.

Is that what you and Chris were now? A night light still plugged into the wall, left there like some somber source of recollection to look back on?

You hate how your stomach dips at the thought, the nausea building in your throat causing you to roll over, now face-to-face with a snoring Jae, limbs strung like a starfish across the mattress.

Luckily, sleep wasn’t too far away for you either, though it felt like an eternity before your consciousness fully dissipated.

“Oh… Oh my Go-“

Your arms lift above your head, reaching for something you don’t even know. Reprieve, possibly, amid the tingling of your body, the fuzziness of your head.

After months of dreamless nights, of course it’s a dirty dream.

Then an involuntary shift occurs through your body, hand extending towards the boy’s hair. And for a moment, it seems your dream-like vision flickers like a faulty lightbulb, because all you can see is Chris.

Somehow, you know it isn’t Chris, but Jae. Nevertheless, he’s the only face you can make out, the only form recognizable.

Although his name wasn’t explicitly uttered, the horror etching itself into your bones merely mouthing it has you reeling back into reality.

Not Chris’s bedroom, but your dorm room.

Not his chocolate irises meeting yours when you look down, the gentle reassurance in his warm palm, grasping the back of your thigh to offer a grounding squeeze.

This is Jae. This dream is in Brisbane. And Chris is a whole ten-hours away.

Your second day at the beach house, you wake in a cold sweat.

And right there, sixteen really did fade away.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

Apparently, on a rather comical note, Jae had anticipated your form to be standing by the stove preparing breakfast, his sleep-ridden frame the last to wake up.

Mrs. Jessica had already busied herself driving Hannah to spend the summer with their grandparents, her own annual ritual.

Trust, he wasn’t all too pleased to find Chris there instead, the pan-wielding man granting your boyfriend a venomous stink-eye.

“Sorry, I don’t play housewife,” Your slumber-ridden mumble from the countertop’s stool beckons Chris’ slight snort, pointing the spatula to himself as if clarifying a: “That’s me, the housewife”.

That, paired with containing a huff of laughter watching your form peering into the fridge, hoping the next time you’d open it up a delectable dessert would be there.

To no avail, evident in your dejected grumble.

“Hey,” The curly blond scowls, his frown growing imperceptibly deeper when Jae presses a kiss to your cheek in greeting.

You don’t notice.

“Wait for breakfast, ‘m making omelette how you like. And uh.. I made some other stuff. You can have that, Jae.”

“Thanks,” Sarcasm drips from your boyfriend’s tone, rolling his eyes.

Still on the rocks.

Got it.

“Anytime,” Predictably, Chris feeds off the sarcasm, acting as nonchalant as ever while plating the food and murmuring reminders about waxing his surfboard in the garage.

Further grating Jae’s nerves in turn, you note.

A bigger bite of your omelette feebly manages to redirect the anxiety, the remnants of stringy cheese clinging to your upper lip.

“You’ve got something there.”

Your best friend’s hum rings aloud, reaching to brush the piece of food from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

And for a moment, a memory of the past flickers in your mind. The darkening of a room, now bright after only a second.

A memory. Not the dream last night.

His lips on yours, the quickening of breath, hands squeezing his clothing like a vice and—

“Thanks.”

The words surprise even you, not a forethought in sight.

And you also don’t notice the cock of Jae’s head, the utter “I dare you” spoken in Chris’ lifted brows, this sneering quirk of his lips offered as a war cry to the other boy before walking past without another word.

One look, and a war had begun.

“We should visit the zoo,” Jae mentions one Sunday while you’re painting your toenails and Chris is absorbed in some video on his phone.

“You seriously haven’t been to the Sydney Zoo?”

Conversations always end like this, and you’re tempted to ram your head into the nearest wall.

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to surf. You’re Australian, seriously.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t live in my fancy beach house a convenient two minute walk from the beach.”

More bickering, bickering, bickering. Your skull wants to explode.

On an off-handed occasion, maybe they’ll behave tolerably in regards to one another.

That day was not today. Frankly speaking, tonight, where the only responsible person in the household, Jessica Bahng, had left on a work trip.

…You would admit, you also aren't immune to stupid decisions.

However, this stupid decision took the cake.

A competition, predictably, but not just mini golf or freestyle swimming; drinking.

From Asahi beer, apple-flavored soju and hard liquor, the whole assortment bedecked the coffee table, an already tipsy Christopher Bahng swaying across from you.

Sure, college paved the way for immaturity, but seriously. Seeing who could better handle their alcohol was just sad.

And trust, Chris looked about the epitome of sad (adorable, you forgot to mention) with his flushed cheeks and ears to the frustrated crease of his brows, pupils blown, eyes glossy where they fixate on a victorious Jae.

Who, in a prideful fashion, tips back another shot of soju with his own, less-tipsy hiccup prior to getting up and stretching his legs, hopefully gathering water in the process.

Nonetheless, Chris just spaces out, evidently inebriated thanks to the unfocused nature of his attention. Fleetingly, his gaze then roved on you, head tipping in a swoon-worthy fashion like some enamored first grader.

Little were you aware just how gorgeous you looked right now from the boy’s buzzed perspective, breath smelling of alcohol where he exhales short huffs, lips curving into this dumb-happy smile.

And— he passes out, thankfully already seated on the carpeted floor.

Though, leaving you and a grumpy Jae with the responsibility of lugging him onto the couch, letting sleep help sober him up until you (considering your boyfriend did everything in his power to avoid interaction with the blacked out Chris) took the role of coaxing sips of water into his mouth.

By midnight, all the glasses had been cleared, and you adjusted a blanket over Chris’s drunken, sleepy frame, Jae already preparing for bed upstairs.

“I love Berry.” A whisper, and you crane to catch the remnants of his words before he shifts beneath the blanket, dead silent for a minute or two.

Then he rolls over to face you, sporting a downright longing sort of look.

“.. I really love Berry.”

“You said that already, Chris.”

“Okay.”

And he rolls over like it was all a dream, pouty.

Too cute.

Your fond touch smooths coiling strands of hair from his forehead, sparing him a last glance prior to thumping up the stairs.

That night, lying sleepless in bed, you can’t help but wonder:

How much more of this? For both them and you. How much more competition until the calm facades crack, until your patience snaps?

The flames of a rivalry never seem to wane, each interaction adding gasoline to a heat almost unbearable.

Only a matter of time until someone pours in too much and ignites an inferno.

One week until your visit to Sydney comes to a close, and the two are still at each other’s throats.

Between mundane things like making dinner or cleaning to stupid competitions like who ran the fastest mile in junior high or who can stay underwater the longest (or the drinking competition, a notable contestant), this trip has started to feel like a babysitting gig instead of a vacation.

“Chris-“

“Christopher.” Chris corrects one evening, the snide reprimand earning Jae’s icy glare in return.

Currently seated by your side on the couch once occupied by the blond, Jae scoffs to himself, arm extending to drape over your shoulders.

Meanwhile, your attention remains solely on the nature channel, a bit dazed in exhaustion after a long day of swimming beneath the warm sun overhead.

What makes him bristle is the way Jae leans into your form, pressing a kiss to your temple whilst maintaining sole eye contact with the other man.

When your head turns, however, all is well.

This quieted, occasionally evident rivalry grates your nerves with no trace of resolve.

“Say,” An aimless hand taps against the side of the reclining chair your best friend sits within, a loose tee and sweatpants adorning his form.

And you’d be a fat liar to not admit glancing more than once at the way the fabric stretches over his torso when he shifts, squeezing against muscles unable to suitably fit.

Merely appreciative, you tell yourself.

“Why don’t we let dear old Jae pick Y/N’s favorite movie, hm?”

Such a mocking question, it is, and Chris spares no expense chucking the remote control in hand a little too hard at Jae, the man’s brows furrowing in silent irritation he refused to voice aloud.

Testing him.

Perhaps a time ago you’d mentioned your favorite movie to your boyfriend, though the topic wasn’t all too serious in your opinion.

For Jae, however, this was war, this unspeakable quiz verifying if he knew you better than Chris, knew the answer the other man knew like the back of his hand and then some.

You both know the champion title would always rest in Chris’s hands.

That you kept quiet about.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t know her favorite movie.”

Cocky, Chris is.

And dammit, the tick of his jaw is unfairly attractive.

“It’s Tangled, now give me the remote and both of you grow up.”

It’s your turn to answer, having grown sick and tired of these childish taunts before snatching the remote from Jae’s grasp with a shared, scolding glower towards the both of them.

Comedically enough, they shrink like dejected puppies.

Fortunately, the movie helps distract you for a while, long enough that a nap becomes a decision not on your own accord—body slumping against Jae’s.

Unfortunately, Jae flipping Chris off from the couch and mouthing a “loser” beneath his breath escalates things to a level you don’t like to imagine.

Perhaps that’s the cause for either black eye decorating their face and Chris’s busted lip the next morning.

Trust, waking up to black and blue boys roaming the house was a sight hard not to laugh at.

“Did you guys.. fight?”

“Fight? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got a black eye, Jae.”

By the time the last day rolls around, those arguments, petty behavior, childish games become something you want to hold onto, June and July drifting past too quickly for you to chase after.

And while you had some grasp of their fight three days ago, only half of it has been made knowledgeable.

Chris would like to keep it that way for a multitude of reasons.

The favorite movie of yours served as the gasoline, and you had foretold the inferno to come.

“It’s not my fault you can’t let go of something that was never yours!”

Chris shoves Jae’s suitcase in the back of your car harder than need be, the other boy’s words ringing in his head as if some dreaded deadline.

“She’s- she’s not something to be owned like an object! I don’t want to possess her, I want to love her! And my god if you could get that through your head I think things would become a lot easier for both of us!”

A worthy argument on his own part, Chris would argue.

“You know what needs to get through your head?” Chris recalls the events similar to replays in sports, nearly able to feel the anger that had been coursing through his veins when Jae retaliated.

Storming straight up in his face where they stood on the beach, the night sky as their audience.

“You lost your chance, Chris. Waited too fucking long to confess and now you’re acting like a little kid just ‘cause you didn’t have the balls to say something, get it?”

Jae spat his name like a cursed pseudonym, and a snort of satisfaction exhales from his frame envisioning the sucker-punch he gave the boy after that.

Followed by the clench of his fist, observing your laughter while talking with your boyfriend from afar.

Boyfriend.

Dammit.

Then the last part, before they both went tumbling into the sand in a mixture of fury-filled shouts and flying limbs.

“She’s not yours, Chris. Deal with it.”

His reply?

“Hurt her, break her heart, and I’ll give you a matching black eye.”

Who knew such a day would come so soon.

Maybe you should’ve known better.

Or that’s what you try to explain to yourself using. Some sad excuse to make up for the scene witnessed just minutes earlier.

Six months, not even half a year, and two months after traveling to Sydney together.

Stopping at crappy restaurants during the boresome ride, cracking jokes, laughing until your bellies hurt. Kissing, sex.

Was it the whole tension with Chris? Your mind rationalizes, frantically searching for some reason, rhyme.

Trick question. There is no rhyme or reason in love.

Now, Jae professes all of it amounted to nothing while staying silent at the same time.

Him kissing another girl in front of your dormitory proved that.

Cheater.

And within the few minutes you bask in realization, you wish so terribly you could unleash that wrath on him. Scream in frustration or land similar punches the two battered each other with in Sydney.

Kick him in the shins, yell manically enough to scare the sadness out of your body.

But honestly, you just want to cry.

A sharp inhale, battling the sob threatening to run free with the beep of your phone’s keypad, serving as your only companion.

Until Chris picks up the call, and shit.

You break.

“What.. What was I thinking-“

It’s a job and a half sniffling up the cries, and for once, you feel embarrassed calling Chris crying—even with this being far from the first time.

Why involve someone else in your own problems?

Realistically, a part of you knew such a happening both could and, stupidly enough, would occur, knew this placated vision of peacefulness was a meager mask, acting as a film to the truth behind the blurry camera lens.

You can’t stay ignorant to him, and there isn’t a particle of happiness in unrequited pining, no matter trying to ease the pain with someone else who’ll eventually hurt you.

Fuck.

Because you love him. That’s all.

There, said and done.

In your mind, at least. But saying that aloud results in your tongue feeling like lead, results in more crying.

“Y/N,” His voice, and you feel the coldness in your fingertips warm up, as if wrapped in his embrace. A long, safe hug.

“Answer me two things.”

Your additionally embarrassing, whimpered sound of agreement affirms his offer.

“Was this Jae?”

No it was—

Yes. Honestly, truthfully, it was.

No more pretending, excuses. Sixteen was over.

“Mhm,” Wiping your snotty nose on the back of your hand, a miniscule amount of relief comes from leaning against the wall behind you.

“And do you want me there or just want to talk?” That lilt of his tone, tender.

He’s good at making you want to cry. Though never due to meanness.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, you calm your voice as much as possible.

“Here. Here, please.”

Then a realization.

“But you’re, like, ten hours awa-“

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll make it five. Right now, go back to your dorm, get some good takeout, and turn on Tangled, okay? Find something relaxing and don’t think about anything for a moment. I’ll be right there, alright?”

Longing lies in the way you press the phone to your cheek, savoring his voice like a soothing balm.

Let’s go back, let’s try this one more time.

First that time he asked you to prom in highschool, the second in his bedroom, allowing yourselves intimacy with each other for the first time.

You’ve never heard of a third chance before.

For him, you’re willing to try.

That said, Chris held tight to his word, the rattling truck of his a miracle in managing to get here—no less get here two hours earlier than most did on the drive to Brisbane from Sydney, alerting you from the comfort of your dorm’s bed with its puttering engine and creaking brakes.

Surprisingly, however, he doesn’t spare you a word whilst rushing past, seemingly having chosen perfect timing in rushing to the dorms where a rather unlucky Jae steps out.

You don’t think you’ve heard a more dreadful noise than the crunch of Jae’s nose beneath Chris’s fist, the force alone sending the boy bowling to the ground before he’s being picked up again by the collar, your best friend downright seething.

“What did I tell you, hm?” A growl, his arm poised for another blow you can’t bring yourself to watch.

“Hurt her, break her heart, and I’ll give you a matching black eye.” Chris repeats, nothing but white-hot rage charging through his veins.

Jae, satisfyingly enough, looks terrified.

Good, Chris internally muses. Because simply pulling in, he saw all he needed to. The puffiness of your eyes, your shuddering sniffles.

And all of a sudden it feels like that time in second grade, where Chris and a few of his friends had gotten redemption on the kid who stole your favorite popsicle flavor purposefully.

And for you, you feel like you’re watching that missing-toothed, sunburnt boy stand up for you again.

“I think another black eye might compliment the nose,” He snarls, momentarily catching your gaze.

The subtle shake of your head dissipates every angry instinct simultaneously, deciding to harshly shove Jae back to the ground alternatively and, at last, gather you in his arms for a hug that felt long overdue.

Occasionally you come to think there are connections that reach deeper than love — being the connection of souls in the most intimate of moments. Being your fingertips threading through blond curls, kissing at his lips clumsily—unlearned.

Right now, this hug. Nosing into the scent of his detergent, finding comfort in the place you were meant to be in, the arms you weren’t meant to be held in.

It had always been unlearned, but it was Chris, so you didn’t mind.

Oh, you loved it.

Loved him.

A bloody-nosed Jae could wait, because the last hour of Tangled needed to be watched, and the curl of his fingers in yours coaxed you along without a chance of stopping.

Senior year and soon to be graduates. Grown up, maybe just physically.

“Chris.”

The words are nearly inaudible, drapes of the canopy bed sole privacy to the man lingering above you, blond curls just as you remembered, eyes that same, heart-stopping chocolate hue.

Your hands find themselves reaching up, tentative to touch warm skin. Golden.

Chris is always golden.

“Please hold me.”

And those arms that were always meant for you, lips kissing at your chin, pulls you into a rip current you had no intention of leaving.

Yours, his.

Messy, unlearned. Down to experience eventual problems.

But it was Chris, so you didn’t mind.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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ordinary-barbie · 5 months ago

Text

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #tiff writes ✏️

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n1ght0f-nyx · 2 months ago

Text

summers heat

wrote this late last night to cope with Australia's bipolar autumn weather

farmer centaur x fem!reader smut

tags/warnings- monster fucking, centaur Voyeurism, size kink, rough sex, worship kink, power imbalance, predator-prey energy, clothing damage, outdoor sex, public risk, dirty talk, possessiveness, scent kink, breeding kink

word count- 2047 words

The sun bore down on the fields with a lazy, golden heat, thick and drowsy in the high noon air. The garden was alive with the buzz of insects and the rustle of wind through corn stalks, but you were barely aware of anything outside the soil beneath your knees and the sweat dampening your shirt.

Your hands moved through the earth, dirt under your nails as you weeded around the squash vines, bending low, arse high—trying to ignore the prickling awareness at the back of your neck.

You weren’t alone.

He’d been watching you since you arrived that morning. You could feel him, every time you bent over, every time you stretched and your shirt rode up to expose the curve of your back. Every time you shifted your weight on your knees and your thighs squeezed together, you knew he was there.

Christos.

The minotaur was a massive presence on the farm, both in size and silence. A towering, broad-shouldered beast of a man, all muscle and sweat and deep, gravel-thick breathing. You’d barely exchanged more than a few words since arriving last week, but his eyes—dark, amber-ringed and burning—said far more than words ever could.

You hadn't meant to tease. Not really. But you weren't blind either. You’d caught him watching. Yesterday. The day before that. His gaze glued to your body as you worked, slow and heavy like a hand on your skin.

And now?

Now you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. Because if you did, you knew you'd find him there—leaning against the fence post or standing in the shadow of the barn, stroking himself.

Your breath caught.

The garden felt too quiet. Too still. The hairs on your arms lifted.

You shifted—deliberate, slow—and reached to pull another weed. The denim of your overalls tugged tight over your arse as you arched. The silence cracked behind you.

A low grunt.

Oh gods.

You bit your lip.

You still didn’t look back. Couldn’t. But in your mind’s eye you saw him: hand wrapped around that thick, heavy cock, dark and monstrous, stroking it slow, watching you like a starving animal.

You let your weight shift again, thighs spreading slightly as you reached deeper into the garden bed. You felt your breath hitch when you heard it again—another grunt, heavier this time. And then a wet sound—rhythmic. Hard.

Your pulse thudded in your ears.

He's touching himself.

Your core pulsed. You squeezed your thighs together, and you hated how wet you already were. You should have told him to stop. You should have got up, acted innocent, walked away.

But instead…

You stayed on your knees.

Bent over.

Offering him the view.

Your body was trembling, just barely. Not from fear—but anticipation. Heat. You felt slick between your legs, your breath shallow, your heart racing. You had never been watched like this before. Never wanted to be watched like this.

You heard a growl. Deep. Animal. That sound twisted through you like lightning.

And then—

Footsteps. Heavy. Slow.

Your breath caught, and before you could move, he was there.

You could feel the shadow fall over your back. The heat radiating off him. His breath, laboured, panting like a bull ready to charge.

He knelt behind you.

Massive hands planted on the dirt beside your hips. His fingers were thick, rough, stained with earth and work, but the way they trembled… that was for you.

You finally turned your head, heart in your throat.

Christos was devouring you with his eyes.

“I told myself I’d wait,” he rumbled. His voice was low, gravelly. Like thunder. “Told myself you were too sweet for this. Too soft. That I’d scare you off.”

You swallowed, lips parted, eyes wide.

His hand came up, brushing the side of your hip. “But then you come out here… bending over… showing me this tight little arse…” His voice broke into a growl. “And you know I’m watching.”

You nodded, just once. Barely.

His hand curled tighter.

“You been teasing me, girl?”

You breathed, “Maybe.”

He snarled.

And then you felt it—him—pressing hard and hot between your thighs, still clothed but unmistakable. You gasped, your body reacting before your mind caught up, arching into him, seeking more.

“You want it rough?” he breathed into your ear, voice vibrating through your spine. “Want me to take what you’ve been offering all damn week?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

That was all he needed.

He gripped the back of your overalls and yanked, ripping them open at the seams. You gasped as the denim tore, baring your arse to the warm air—and to him. His breath hitched. You could feel him looking, dragging those eyes down your bare thighs, your soaked knickers.

“So wet already,” he growled, almost reverently. “Look at you…”

He slid one massive finger between your legs, dragging it along the fabric—pressing, circling, teasing.

You cried out, hips jerking.

“You want me to touch you here?” he murmured. “Want these big fingers stretching your little cunt?”

“Please…”

The fabric disappeared—ripped away. And then his fingers were there—bare skin on bare skin—and you moaned, loud and unashamed. He growled, watching you twitch under his touch, watching your slick coat his fingers as he dragged them through your folds, spreading you open.

“Fuck…” he groaned, half to himself. “You were made for this…”

You pushed back against him, needing more.

He gave it.

One thick finger slid into you, slow and relentless. Then another. Stretching you, filling you.

You were gasping, writhing, moaning into the dirt as he worked you open. Worshipful, like he was savouring every sound, every clench of your body.

And all the while, his hips ground against your arse, his cock still trapped behind thick denim, throbbing and impatient.

“Need to fuck you,” he growled. “Need to claim you.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes—please—”

The sound of his belt unbuckling was like a thunderclap.

You braced yourself.

And then—

He filled you in one brutal, delicious thrust.

You screamed, your fingers digging into the soil as he split you open, wide and deep and perfect.

He didn’t move at first—just stayed there, buried to the hilt, panting behind you, his breath hot against your back.

“You feel that?” he growled, hips grinding. “Feel how tight you are around me? How perfect?”

You nodded, tears at the corners of your eyes. “So full…”

“Damn right you are,” he growled. “And I ain’t stopping till I fuck every last moan outta you.”

And gods, he meant it.

He started to move—deep, punishing strokes that rocked your entire body, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go. You were sobbing his name, crying out with every thrust, lost to the rhythm of it, the heat, the filth of being taken like this in the dirt, bent over and filled by a monster who worshipped every inch of you.

“Look at you,” he growled, leaning over you, voice thick and desperate. “Taking me so good. So fuckin’ good, girl—”

His hand slipped under your belly, found your clit, rubbed you in tight, merciless circles as he fucked you harder. You shattered, body convulsing around him, gasping out a broken moan that made his hips stutter.

And then he roared—low and guttural—and came inside you, thick spurts that made your already full body tremble with aftershock.

You both collapsed forward—him panting over your back, still buried deep, you twitching, boneless, in the soil.

Silence.

Except for the wind. The bees.

And the slow, wet slide of him pulling out of you.

His hand stroked down your back, gentler now. Worshipful. Reverent.

“You alright, little thing?” he murmured.

You nodded weakly, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. I think I’ll like working the garden.”

He chuckled—a dark, satisfied sound. “Good. ‘Cause I ain’t letting you go anywhere.”

322 notes · View notes

lieslab · 3 months ago

Text

Shadows and silhouettes

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: You admit when you stress out, your brain causes you to imagine things out of the ordinary.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This was a request from what feels like ages ago. The request was so vague, so I made this more on the light-hearted side of things. Although it's shorter, I hope you enjoy <3

_ _ _

Chan:

“Hey, Chan?”

“Huh?” Chan glanced up from his desk. His laptop sat open as he saved a file. “What’s up?”

“How big are the spiders in Australia?”

“Um…” He grimaced and sucked in a deep breath. “They’re pretty big, why? Did you see a big spider? I can happily reassure you that the spiders here are nowhere near the same size.”

You didn’t take your eyes off a certain spot on the wall. When Chan noticed, he pushed himself from his seat and stood up. “Is it over there? I can get my shoe and take care of it.” He stepped over behind you. The scent of his spicy cologne filled your nostrils.

You blinked and shook your head. “Nah, never mind. I must have imagined it. I’m really stressed and it went away when I blinked. Thanks anyway, it’s good to know that I can count on you.” You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll be back later, I’ve gotta go grocery shopping. I’ll see you soon!”

His mouth opened to say something, but words didn’t come out. You leaned over, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and left the room. Your words echoed in his head. He glanced around the area, still worried about a nearby spider.

Australian or not, it still didn’t mean he liked spiders.

_ _ _

Minho:

“What did you say?” Your head jerked over your shoulder at the sound of a whispered voice.

Minho stared at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? Nothing. I haven’t said anything.” The two of you were standing in line at a cafe. Soft murmurs filled the air, but you swore he said something behind you.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes narrowed. “If you have a problem with my drink of choice-”

“Woah,” his hands went up, “I didn’t say anything, yet. Since you want to start, I can say something now. Your drink of choice is pure shit. How much sugar and caffeine does a single person need? You’re going to cause your heart to explode.”

“Untwist your dick and get off your high horse! Want to complain about me and my order? At least, I don’t drink Americanos. No flavor. Nothing, but diluted bean juice. Disgusting.”

He reached up and pressed a finger to the center of your forehead. “Ding, dong, your opinion is wrong.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re hearing the voice of God. He’s saying make better coffee choices. If you don’t, the devil is going to get you.”

“It’s actually probably psychosis or something.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” You spun back around, leaving him in disbelief. He blinked rapidly, looking around and wondering if anyone else heard your words. When you didn’t say anything else, he shook his head.

“I knew you were a nut case, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Hey, I heard that. I’m going to poison your coffee.”

“Spare me empty threats and just put me out of my misery.”

_ _ _

Changbin:

“Do you ever see or hear things when you’re stressed?” The words came out of your mouth without a single stutter or call of alarm. You uttered the words with your head against the arm of the couch, as if they really didn’t matter much.

“What?”

“I asked if you see or hear things when you’re stressed. Like you know, shadows and faint whispers and whatnot.”

Changbin stared at you with wide eyes. “I-I um… no?” He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t believe that I ever have. Do you do that?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“I think we should get you seen by a doctor. That doesn’t seem normal or okay. Does your head hurt? Are you having vision issues? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

He held up three fingers and it caused you to laugh. Your head shook and your hair flew in multiple different directions. “No, it’s not like that. My head is fine and I can see perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” you insisted.

“You worry me sometimes.”

You squirmed over to his side of the couch and laid your head on his thigh. “I’m okay, I swear. I think I just worry too much and my anxiety causes issues.”

“And you’re sure it’s manageable and under control?” His hand reached down to play with your hair.

“Absolutely.”

“Good.”

You smiled as he kissed the top of your head.

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Stay put! Stay there! Don’t move!” Hyunjin held a hand up to you. Worried dark eyes were wide. “Just don’t move and I’ll help you. I can go get Felix, he has that big ass bible. Channie, hyung can help us too.”

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “For what?”

“You just said you hear things that aren’t there! That’s like the first sign of demonic possession. Felix knows his bible! I’m sure we can get Changbin involved to hold you down. The devil can’t fight off all of us.”

“Hyunjin, I don’t need an exorcism!”

“Demonic possession!”

“I’m not possessed!”

“You are!” He screamed when you stood up from the kitchen table. His fingers went up in a small cross. “Stay back, demon! Stay back! In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, I command you to-”

He cut off when your lips met his. You cupped his cheeks and gently patted them. “Would a demonically possessed person do that?”

“No, but a succubus and an incubus would. This doesn’t make me feel better. I need Felix to conjure up some holy water. My spirit is in danger.” His hand went to his chest and he shook his head frantically. “I can feel it.”

_ _ _

Han:

“And you’ve just dealt with this for how long?” Han’s head tipped to the side. “These um… things?”

You chuckled, trying not to fall victim to his cuteness. “A long time. It’s just become a part of my life. I don’t fear it and it only happens when I’m really stressed.”

“So if you see a shadow figure, I won’t see the shadow figure?”

“You shouldn’t. It’s just me and my brain that’s causing the issue, not yours.”

His water bottle crinkled in his hand and his entire body shook with a brief shiver. “I don’t know how you put up with that. Why don’t you freak out? If that was me, I’d need to be put out of my misery or put on medicine or something.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Bro, I think seeing Casper the friendly ghost floating above your head is pretty bad.” Han frowned and lowered his voice. “What if he tries to seduce you? You’re mine.”

“Babe, Casper is a ghost child and it’s not like that.”

“Oh! Thank God!” He slumped over in his chair relieved. “I’m safe for another day. I can’t lose you to a hot ghost.”

“You’re such a loser.”

“Put some respect on my brand, a hot loser.”

_ _ _

Felix:

The first time you told Felix about your experiences with stress, he frowned. His hand reached out and he pressed the back of his palm against the back of your head. Your eyebrows furrowed, “what are you doing?”

“I’m checking to see if you have a fever because that sounded like a delusion. You can’t possibly be serious, but I don’t think you’re burning up either. Sweetheart, are you having a mental health crisis? I have an advocate on speed dial and-”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, Felix, I’ve made my peace with this a long time ago. It’s just random stuff and it means nothing.”

“Can I still take you to the doctor? It’d make me feel a lot better about this. I just want to make sure you’re not overlooking something, I don’t mean to overstep, really.”

“You’re sure it’d make you feel better?”

He nodded.

“Then I suppose I’ll make an appointment for next week. Just try not to worry too much until then, okay?”

His arms wrapped around your waist tighter. “I’ll try, but you make these things so difficult sometimes. I love you an awful lot and want the best for you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love you more.”

“And I love you most.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

“Okay, what the fuck?”

“What?” You blinked innocently, wondering why he seemed so stunned. “It’s a harmless and simple thing.”

“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed. “Sure. Because normal people see bugs, blink, and they disappear. Abracadabra or whatever. Uh-huh. Sure.”

You groaned and threw yourself back into your chair. “Why do you have to be like that? It’s not that big of a deal. It’s only once in a while, anyway. You’re making something so serious out of nothing.”

“If you admit this to a doctor, they’re going to throw your ass in the mental ward.”

“Now you’re being silly.”

“Straight jacket and all.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the food on your plate. “You’re ruining my dinner.”

“ME?” His jaw dropped and he pointed the fork to his chest. “You just told me you see flies in this house when they don’t exist! You’re the one watching the spiders of smashings past, web up my fine china! I told you that this is why you take the bugs outside and stop killing them. Now you’ve got their ghosts haunting your dumbass.”

You grumbled and rolled your eyes.

“Keep up that attitude and next thing you know, they’re going to haunt your hole.”

“Up yours, Kim Seungmin.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

Jeongin’s eyes widened after your announcement. He collapsed his hands together, pulled them apart, and threw them up in the air. You shrugged and pulled the barren blankets over your body. “I told you it was weird.”

“I’m truly speechless. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m like…”

“Like what?” You rolled over to face him.

“Ten seconds away from losing it. How are you so calm about this?”

“The first time it happened I wasn’t. Do you know how haunting it was? I looked out the back door and there was a vampire.”

His nose scrunched up and his lips parted. His head tipped in a look of disgust. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“He waved at me and flashed his fangs.”

“And you didn’t think to call the cops or something?”

“For what? I blinked and he disappeared.”

“You would not survive a home invasion. I love you so much and you know that, but oh my god. If you see a person lingering and peering into your back door, you should call the cops for someone trespassing.”

“And tell them what? A vampire was at my back door? He gave me a drive by flashing?” You rolled your eyes, rolled further into the pillow, and shut your eyes. “They’d think I was high on crack.”

“Sometimes, I really think you are.”

“Harsh.”

“I really don’t know what to say.”

“Just go to sleep.”

He sighed and pulled the covers up to his chin. “Great. Now I’m going to be afraid that we have a vampire of interest lurking around outside.”

“We do. You live with Chan. I’m pretty sure he’s raiding the kitchen for garlic, so he can make spaghetti and garlic bread.”

“It’s three in the morning!”

“And vampire producers have to eat a fulfilling meal too.”

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

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powderpinkprincess · 2 months ago

Text

Twin Telepathy [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

description: Little moments of your lives as identical twins.

Lando was walking down the paddock, a bottle of water in his hand. He was still wearing his street clothes, deep in his thoughts. Soon, a reporter approached him, so he put on a polite smile and stopped for a minute.

“Lando, the fans are dying to know… Is twin telepathy a real thing?”

Lando raised his eyebrows, then he smirked slowly like he’s been caught in a joke he’s not going to explain. He hesitated a bit, pretending to consider it before answering. “No, it's not.”

“No?” the reporter pressed, sensing immediately that he was hiding something.

“No,” Lando shook his head, clearly enjoying himself now. He knew that despite your Instagram account being private, some of his fans still managed to find out information about you and make connections.

“Yesterday the two of you were wearing the same colour scheme,” the reporter added, smiling.

“Coincidence,” Lando grinned, leaning closer to the microphone to emphasize it.

“So, no twin telepathy then?”

“No. That’s a myth.”

---

You knew Lando was in Spain on a race weekend, but you desperately had to reach him. His private phone had some issues, and he asked you to do something with it while he was away. He had a busy schedule in the upcoming weeks, and he couldn’t find the time to do it himself.

You called his work phone, but it signalled that he was busy. It was almost impossible to call him at the right time. You sighed, but then you got a message from him.

“I was literally just calling you.”

You grinned and texted back. “Twin shit.”

---

You loved running. You were participating in a charity event, 15 kilometres in the city. You were training for your third marathon, so it came in handy. Lando was on a race weekend in Belgium. The two events started around the same time, so you couldn’t watch him.

At kilometre 10, a volunteer handed you an open bottle of water, and you slowed down a little, only to be able to take it. Your grip wasn’t tight enough, and you dropped the bottle on the concrete, spilling half of the water on yourself and some on the volunteer in the process.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” your eyes widened as you watched the young girl completely caught off-guard. You couldn’t wait until she gave you another bottle; people were starting to overtake you, so you kept running.

After you crossed the finish line, you went to find a shadow to cool off. You saw your reflection in a shop window and started laughing, taking a picture for the family group chat.

Screwed up the water hand-off, you typed.

A few moments later, Lando started typing as well.

It’s ok, I missed a pit call, he texted back.

A grin appeared on your face as you read his message.

Of course you did. We’re both idiots.

Soon his reply came. Indeed, we are.

---

Lando was doing his first race weekend of the season in Australia. You stayed in England, even though he invited you to come. Your job didn’t allow you to leave that week.

You woke up unusually early, feeling a little restless, so you went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. Your chest felt weirdly tight, similar to stage fright or something like that. You crawled back under the covers as you still had two hours before you needed to get ready. You tried to get some more sleep until that. You were scheduled to sign a contract with a new client, which usually didn’t make you nervous, but apparently, for some reason, this time it did.

You texted Lando in the afternoon.

How was quali?, you asked. You haven’t checked the news yet.

Lost the rear at turn three. Hit the wall, he texted back within minutes.

Your eyes widened, and you opened the app. His car was so damaged that he was going to start from the pit lane the following day. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Knew it, you typed.

You were watching??

You shook your head at your phone, smiling. You were going to explain later, but now you had to hurry back to your client.

Twin brain, you texted him before you locked your phone’s screen.

---

You and Lando’s best friend, Max Fewtrell, visited Lando in Monaco. It was much better to fly there together than alone, so you often teamed up.

Lando didn’t enjoy the beach as much as the two of you did, but he was alright with spending a day there, knowing that neither of you was living on the warm seashore. He decided to take a nap under the safety of an umbrella while you were on a SUP in the water. Max was back with him, and his eyes just caught as you fell into the water in the distance.

Lando, as if on cue, rubbed his eyes and sat up to look around. “Where is she?”

“Right there,” Max pointed at the water where you were trying to climb back on the SUP. He had known both of you ever since you were small, so he was used to the special bond between the two of you.

“Ah,” Lando scrunched his eyes as he watched you intently. “I knew she was doing something dumb.”

At that, Max couldn’t help but laugh. “How did you even know? She could’ve just lost her balance.”

Lando just shrugged. He wasn’t sure what you did exactly because he didn’t see you attempting that handstand that caught Max’s attention in the first place.

---

You were on a ski trip with some mutual friends, but the weather was horrid. You had no better idea than to play charades until the storm passed outside.

You started the game by acting out a word, but you had no idea how to do it. You thought for a minute, and then you made a few weird moves with your hands. Everyone in the room fell silent, staring at you with wide eyes. They had no idea, except for one person.

“Global warming,” Lando said.

You smiled and nodded.

“Okay, why did Lando and Y/N get sorted in the same team?” Max from the opposite team stood up from the couch. “Lando, get your ass over here right now. There is no way that the two of you will both be red. You’re blue from now on.”

“How did you even guess that?” Max’s girlfriend asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Global warming? Like, come on, how do you even act that out?”

“They cheated, that’s how,” Max told her as he sat down on Lando’s spot.

“We didn’t cheat!” you objected immediately.

“Yes, you did,” Max shook his head. “Freaky twins. Alright, let’s move on.”

You and Lando shared an amused look but decided not to comment on it.

---

Lando felt sick in his stomach. He couldn’t stop bouncing his legs as he sat in the conference room. He opened his water bottle and forced down some liquid on his throat, hoping it would ease the tension in his chest. There was no air in the room. It almost felt suffocating. He took a deep breath, and his gaze wandered out the window. Then he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, so he quickly pulled it out to glance at the caller ID.

It was his mom.

Zak was talking, but he ignored it. He pushed his chair back, almost knocking it over as he stood up. All eyes were on him now.

“Sorry, gotta pick this up,” he mumbled, and then he rushed out to the corridor, letting the door shut close behind him.

His fingers were shaking slightly as he accepted the call. “Mom? Where is Y/N?” he asked immediately, not even letting a chance for his mom to greet him. He heard a sob, and his stomach shrank. “Mom? Are you crying?”

“She was in a car accident,” Cisca started, but she choked on her words.

Lando suddenly felt the walls closing in on him. He leaned against a pillar, afraid that his legs would give up. “Mom, please… Where is Y/N?!”

Lando’s dad took the phone from Cisca’s hand, and she let him. “Y/N is going to be alright,” he spoke with a gentle firmness in his voice, before Lando would panic as well. “She is in the hospital right now. We are heading there to see her. She hasn’t woken up yet, but she is stable. She is going to be just fine.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lando whispered, helplessly running his free hand over his face. “How did it even happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” Adam answered. “We just got the call, too. Your mother just wanted to give you a heads up because she had a feeling you would know that something happened.”

Lando swallowed thickly, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “I did,” he affirmed quietly. “I’ll book a ticket and go back home today. Or organize a private flight, I don’t know. I will be there soon.”

“Can you do that?” Adam asked hesitantly. He knew how strict his son’s schedule was.

Lando shot a quick glance towards the closed door of the conference room, where the others were probably wondering why he had left so suddenly. “Yeah, they’ll be fine without me.”

“Alright then. See you soon. And take care, please,” Adam added. He couldn’t bear the thought of his son getting injured as well by doing something reckless out of worry. Your accident was already more than the family was prepared for.

“I will. See you soon,” Lando nodded to himself before he ended the call. Whatever Zak had planned for that day, Lando didn’t care. He was going to be there for you, and he knew you would do the same.

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando x y/n #lando norris x y/n #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n

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muashamaila · 21 days ago

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aangelinakii · 15 days ago

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EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE.

— every single day, every word you say.

summary : clark finds himself admiring you in moments you admire him.

note : sorry this is a little short but i've taken a long hiatus from proper writing for like over a month and i'm just trying to get back into it, so hopefully you guys can still enjoy :))

requested !

pristine white sleeves rolled up past his elbows, clark finally twisted off the tap, the steaming water streaming from the faucet hissing to a stop, and the bubbles began to spill down the drain, shining plates drying on the rack by the sink.

the skin beneath his curly black fringe was hot, and as soon as he peeled off the yellow rubber gloves, he was running his exposed forearm over his brow.

last night you did the dishes, so, naturally, tonight it was clark's turn.

once he had thrown the gloves carelessly on the edge of the sink, he was trudging into the living room, where you sat on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television.

you tore yourself away from the screen to look up at him as he rounded the sofa, leaning up with pursed lips. before your lids fluttered closed, you were able to catch a glimpse of clark's lips curling into a smile. "thank you for doing the dishes, my love."

with a groan, once he'd pulled away, clark lowered himself down onto the cushions beside you, an arm slinging over the back of the couch, grazing the back of your head.

"if it's what it takes for you to be happy..." clark gave a sigh, though you could tell by his small smile that it wasn't genuine.

he glanced at you from the corner of his oversized specs, and the dimple at the edge of his mouth deepened, the hand perched on the back of the sofa coming down to play with your hair. "what's on the film roll for tonight?"

trying to ignore the shiver brushing down your spine as one of clark's fingers softly raked over your scalp — and how gorgeous he looked with his messy hair and crooked glasses — you turned back to the tv, shrugging your shoulders. "there's nothing really good on tonight, but i was thinking maybe we could rent or buy something?" hopeful smile coming onto your face, you sent an eager glance clark's way. "you know i've really been wanting to watch that sydney sweeny and glenn powell film!"

"oh, anything but you?"

at that, your smile only grew, the apples of your cheeks aching with the pressure against them, and you turned back to him again.

pressing the buttons that led you to amazon prime, you gave a half-sheepish, half-excited shrug. "you remembered."

clark's chuckle reverberated through his skin, warming against the back of your neck, where his forearm lay achingly close. "it's only what you've been talking about since two pay-cheques ago."

on the tv, a grey line rolled in a circle, loadîg up the application, and you allowed the remote to fall slack at your side, forgotten about in the cushions as you repositioned yourself, stretching your legs out over clark's lap, taking up even more space on the couch. when you caught his eye, however, you found the shadow of a dimple etched into his skin, when prime finally loaded, and the light from the tv illuminated him.

he never minded you taking up space; you deserved every bit of space in this apartment as he did. he just thought you deserved it a little bit more.

one hand fell on the exposed skin of your ankle, finger drawing absent shapes along your flesh as you worked to get the screen onto the new romcom you'd been eyeing.

"should we buy it or rent it?" your voice came, a little uncertain now you were so close to getting what you wanted (which was to watch sydney sweeney and glenn powell fall in love in australia).

after a beat, "let's buy it." you glanced sideways at clark, who met your look with kind eyes. "that way, if you like it, you can watch it whenever. if you don't like it, we never have to touch it again."

something seemed to burst inside you — fireworks, a hot air balloon, a bomb — and you leaned forward in an instant, leaving the remote on the sofa beside you. your hands cupped the sides of clark's face, soft flesh against your soft grip, despite the eagerness of it, and his eyebrows shot so high they disappeared behind his curls.

"you are so freaking sweet, do you know that?" you gasped, like you couldn't find the air within your lungs to express it, cheeks aching once again.

a boyish laugh brushed past clark's lips, and his hand inched higher to your calf, taking it carefully in the palm that had picked up cars, buildings, stopped bullet trains on their track — and yet he ensured utmost fragility when it came to you.

his baby blue eyes glanced between yours, the arm that had been perched along the back of the couch coming to wrap carefully around your shoulders.

one of your hands moved from his jaw, up to brush into his stark black hair, pads of fingertips soaring through curls like a snake navigating the lush plants of the amazon — which, back on the glowing tv screen, was waiting for you to make a purchase.

forgetting all about sydney and her love story with glenn, your other hand moved from jaw to earlobe, taking the soft flesh into fingers. your fingers swooped from earlobe to nape of neck, and clark's change of breathing pace didn't go unnoticed.

"what's up?" clark managed to utter, lips trembling, despite the fact he saw you every day, every week, every month of every year, and had been for the past three of them.

you gave your own deep breath, in and out through the nose, and your hands found purchase against the sides of clark's face again, keeping his head steady as he stared at you, skin a glistening grey in the light of the television. "just you. you're everything."

clark's head twitched under your hands, and he seemed to remember he was in your grip, so his eyes nervously met yours. the heat of his ears reached the tips of your pinkie fingers.

"i don't think you should be the one who gets to say that."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #superman #superman imagines #superman headcanons #superman x reader #clark kent #clark kent imagines #clark kent x reader #clark kent fluff #clark kent headcanons #kal el #Spotify

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megs-1800 · 29 days ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do some dad Mason of twin babies (boys). And take them for the first time to the family trip the Mount's take with Jazz, Lewis (and all of them) in Greece (sorry, I still can't get over Mason with his family in Greece 🤣) and that's where for the first time the babies take their first steps.

Sorry for my bad English, I'm Latin American.

Paradise

Notes: So sorry its taken me so long to complete this. I had lost so many ideas and really struggled to write. Please send me some more requests!

Summary: Its your twins 1st holiday with the Mount.

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Fluff and Smut

I learn oven the bed as I zip up the side of my suitcase, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my frame pushing me further onto the bed. “Uhmm I like this position”. Mason mutters breathing onto my neck. I push him off of me and turn around so I am pressed face to face with him.

“Well unfortunately we don’t have time for this position as we are getting picked up in an hour”. I say throwing my arms around his neck and place a small kiss to his lips. I watch him pout as I pull away.

“Well we are all packed and ready to go so we have an hour, so do you know what we can do in an hour? Well we probably could do it twice?” Mason raises his eyebrows and smirks. I giggle at his enthusiasm.

“Yeah well me and the twins are packed but you” pointing over to his empty suitcase in the corner of the room “ are not packed. So you have an hour to pack and get everything sorted. If you packed last night like I asked maybe we would of have time for that now ” I wined which caused Mason to huff in annoyance and roll his eyes. I watch him start throwing things in his suitcase and I walk out the room into the twins room to continue getting them ready.

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“Oh y/n!” Debbie screams as she wraps her arms around me. We agreed to meet the family at the airport so everyone can come separately as its so much easier with the kids. “And how are my gorgeous grandbabies?” she asks crouching down to the double pushchair and undoes Elijah and wraps him up, Jaz is in her shadow and gets Ezra out and swings him around. “I cannot believe how big they are getting”. Jaz states placing a kiss to my cheek.

“I know it feels like yesterday I gave birth” reminiscing of that day a year ago.

“Yeah tell me about it. I am still traumatised at how hard you were holding my hand”. I feel Mason approach me as he wraps his hands around my waist from behind.

“I had to push a whole baby out of me Mason next time you try it”. I pull away from Mason’s grasp giggling.

“Next time yeah?” Mason cocks his eyebrow. I shake my head and roll my eyes. All Mason has spoke about since we had the twins was when the next one is coming, but right now I am happy with my boys.

I go to say hello to everyone, it’s the first time I am going away with the whole family at once as Stacey and her gang have flown over from Australia. I have been for weekends away with the others but nothing this far. We are off to Mykonos and I cannot think of a better venue for Elijah and Ezra’s 1st holiday.

Mason has arranged a private plane for us as we thought it would be easier then trying to get Mason through the airport. We prepare for take off, I have Elijah and Mason has Ezra in arms as we both give them a bottle to try and equalise their ears. They are so well behaved the whole flight, they haven’t cried once and they are sleeping away, I look at the time and we should be preparing to land anytime soon. I quickly make my way to the bathroom before the seatbelt sign comes on, once finished I open the door and almost scream as I wasn’t expecting Mason to be stood there.

He pushes me inside and locks the door behind “What are you doing?” I question watching his eyes darken. He walks towards me trapping me between the sink and his chest. I can feel his hot breathe on my neck making the hairs stand up.

“Well I wanted to give my insanely hot girlfriend a good start to her holiday and since you were being mean earlier I suppose here will have to do”. Mason begins nibbling on my neck and I can feel my body melting into him.

“Well I have always wanted to join the mile high club” I giggle and move his face to mine as I connect our lips. Mason deepens the kiss as I can feel his tongue darting around my mouth causing me to moan into the kiss.

Mason pulls away and looks me in the eyes “you are the most gorgeous women in this world. I am so lucky” I can feel my heart melt as he connects our lips again. I pull Mason closer into me and I can feel his length harden between us. Mason reaches down underneath my joggers and pushes my thong I am wearing out the way and starts making circles on my clit, I lay my head back on the mirror as I let the pleasure overwhelm me.

I am taken out of my trance by a knock at the door, Mason suddenly detaches himself from me. “I don’t want to know what you are both doing in there but they are preparing for landing so you both need to return to your seats” we hear Lewis shout from the other side of the door. I let a large groan out as Mason replies saying we were coming. We haven’t been intimate in a while so our bodies needed this. “I promise to finish this off later” Mason winks and I follow him out the bathroom.

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“Oh my god this place is unreal!” I gleam as I walk around investigating the villa. I place Ezra down on the floor as he begin crawling away quickly “We need to keep an eye on them” I turn to Mason indicating how quickly they are crawling now.

“We are on it!” shouts Mila as she chases after the boys which causes me and Jaz to smile. Mason helps me carry all of our suitcases up stairs into our room. “Wow!” I am gobsmacked at the size of the room, its absolutely breathtaking with an unreal view of the sea on the balcony. “I still cannot get over things like this. You treat me too good”. I place a kiss to Mason’s cheek as I move the twins suitcase to the side of the room with the cot.

“Well only the best for you!” he smiles as he places a kiss to my neck.

“Right 40 minutes and we meet back down here for dinner!” Tony shouts. I quickly run downstairs and grab the twins. I have created a little playpen for them in our room where I know they cannot escape whilst I get ready.

“You go shower and start getting ready I will sort the twins out as I know its going to take you forever! Well as me on the other hand just need to have a quick shower and I am done”. I start to undress as I watch Mason’s gaze monitor all of my movements.

“Well beauty takes time, its not my fault that you look that unreal and take 2 secs to look like that”. I giggle as Mason smacks my bum as I turn around to make my way to the bathroom.

I turn the shower on and let the warmth consume my body, I turn my back to the shower door and run my hands through my hair and all the tiredness from travelling is fading away. I complete my shower routine as I am about to leave I suddenly feel a body on the back of me, I jump at first and then relax myself as soon as I know its Mason.

“W-what are you-“ Mason cuts me off with a kiss and I cannot help to look at his naked body which is starting to have flex of water run down his chest. Still now it makes me nervous. “You are staring sweetheart” I chuckles.

“Well can you blame me?” I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him closer. The kiss is deep and passionate, both us fighting for air. All I know at this moment in time is I need this, I need him. I reach down and feel Mason’s dick harden underneath my grip.

“f-fuck” he moans into neck as I continue my pace. “that feels so fucking good” Mason continues to moan which is fuelling me to carry on.

“Mase can I borrow your- whoah” I hear Lewis shout, we quickly pull away from eachother.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mason shouts quickly pulling a towel around his waist and chucking me one so I can do the same.

“I didn’t see anything I promise!” Lewis laughs putting his hands up in surrender now with his back to us. “Believe it or not me and Myles forgot to pack body wash so could we borrow yours until we can go shopping tomorrow please? You two really cannot keep your hands off eachother, just be grateful it was me that walked in and not mum”. Lewis turns around now that we have signalled that we are covered. Mason chucks him his body wash and Lewis quickly runs out the room. I shake my head knowing that Lewis has killed the moment.

I gesture to Mason that I am going to start getting dressed which he groans and goes for a shower probably knowing he is going to be taking a cold shower. I get the twins ready and start getting ready myself, Mason walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and I have to stop myself staring with the small specks of water running down his toned chest. “Take a picture it will last longer” Mason winks. I quickly get my phone out and snap a quick picture of him which makes him chuckle.

“Well you said it” I state in defence. I finish getting myself ready and opted for a maxi skirt and a plain white tshirt I can tuck in for the 1st night, I give myself a once over in the mirror which I feel Mason come up behind me and snake his arms around my waist and nestles his face in my neck and I feel him breathe me in.

“You look unreal” he squeezed my hips and placed some kisses to my neck. Which I melt into his arms. That’s when the door suddenly flies open. “For fucks sake can’t you two keep your hands to yourself for 5 minutes” Lewis burst through the door joking.

“Well its our room bro so maybe if you could learn to knock that will be great”. Lewis doesn’t reply and him and Myles invite themselves into our room and flop onto our bed and pick up the boys. Mason rolls his eyes and we make our way downstairs to the join the rest of the family.

We make our way to a little Trevena near us, the family basically takes up the whole of the restaurant where we have such a big table. I have decided to sit away from Mason and sit with the girls as its been ages since I have had a proper catch up with Mason’s family.

It’s a night full of laughter and good vibes, its nice to get away from reality for a week. Once dinner is finished the boys are asleep in their pushchair and all the other kids are getting tired which I think us adults are feeling as well as it’s been a busy day travelling. We all tiredly walk back to the villa. “I cannot wait to go to sleep” I state flopping on the bed. Mason and I each take a boy and get them ready for bed slowly trying not to wake them and place them in their cot.

I complete my bedtime routine and Mason and I curl up in bed, I can feel something start to poke into my bum as he is spooning me. “Mase as much as I would love to be doing this right now I am shattered I can hardly keep my eyes open” I groan and I hear Mason wine a little but I know deep down he is as tired as me. He turns over so I can spoon him and we let sleep overcome us.

I wake up to sun shining through our room, I stretch but feel disappointed to not feel Mason’s warmth next to me. I sit up and Mason and twins are no where to be seen. I sleepily trudge over to the balcony and see Mason and Jaz in the pool each with one of the boys whilst some of the other family watch. I smile as I feel my heart melt as I watch Mason interact with them, “Wave to mummy!” He shouts to the boys as they spot me, which causes me to smile more.

I quickly go back inside and decide what to wear, I wanted to bring swimming costumes with me as I am still a bit insecure about the last bit of my mum tummy that I just cannot seem to shift but Mason made me bring bikinis as he said that he loved my body and if anything he loves it more now, to be honest he has been a lot more touchy since we had the boys, he always makes me feel amazing especially when I am at my lowest he always finds a way to make me feel better.

I opted for a little blue bikini and a sky blue overdress to put over the top and make my way downstairs. Mason is stood in the kitchen in his swimshorts dripping water everywhere. “I made you an ice coffee” he passes me the glass and places a small kiss to my lips I thank him and follow him outside. I settle on a sunbed with my ice coffee enjoying the view of Mason and his family playing around with the children in the pool. I am going to love this holiday.

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“Oh my god I think its happening!” I shout to the others bringing their attention to the boys who have just started to stand up. This wasn’t new they were able to bring themselves to a standing position however they were too unstable on their legs. Ezra stands up first bringing himself to stand using the sunbed and then Elijah stands up too the same way both holding hands, they look directly at me. At this point Mason is watching apprehensively in the pool with a couple other of his family members gathered round us with their phones. I get my phone out, to record. “Come on babies come to mummy” I encourage and hold my hands out. We all watch excitedly as they take their 1st unstable steps. I feel my eyes water in proudness as my babies walk, we all cheer as they reach my arms and I pick them both up. “You are getting so big my baby boys” I gleam in proudness as Mason jumps out the pool and wrap his arms around us all, right now I really don’t care that he is soaking us I am just happy how good everything is right now.

“I love you all” Mason smiles kissing me and then places a small kiss to both their heads.

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“Right its our last night here I say parents night out!” Mason shouts from the patio area to all the others. I can see all the adults debating it.

“Not going to lie I would love to have a night out without the kids!” Jaz replied. They all turn their heads to Tony and Debbie. “We would look after the children” Debbie laughs. We all thank them and start getting ready.

“I really have nothing left to wear!” I moan as I throw all my outfits onto the bed trying to sort through them. Mason winks at me. “Well you know I only suggested parents night out so me and you can finally get some alone time, so you can go out wearing a paper bag for all I mind, you are going to look fucking sexy in whatever you wear and all I am going to be thinking about is taking it off”. Mason hums into my neck as his hands and placed onto my bum.

I don’t blame Mason I am exactly the same, its been hard to find intimate time at home with the babies and Mason’s schedule so we were looking forward to this time away to actually have some alone time, but one of us as either come home too drunk, the babies wouldn’t settle or one night we ended up with the kids in our bed as they wanted a sleepover with uncle Masey so here we were. I would be lying if I say I don’t want it as much as him but I needed to remember that we were on holiday with his family so I couldn’t be totally all over him.

The night is amazing, we have all had too much to drink. We went out for some dinner and then found a local nightclub near by to the villa. I am on the dancefloor with Jaz and Stacey with a drink in my hand trying our best to dance but after a few too many we are probably more stumbling all over the place. I can feel Mason’s eyes on me as I sway my hips to the music, Mason is sat with the boys as his gaze becomes more apparent as I continue to wiggle my bum to put a show on for Mason, which I don’t even have to look at him to know that its winding him up.

“I think I am done!” Stacey shouts to us trying to be heard over the music.

“Yeah I agree.” Jaz states. We walk over to the guys. “We’re done boys!” Jaz flops herself next to her husband as he places an arm over shoulders. The boys start to grab all the stuff from the booth we were sat in and start to lead us out.

“Me and Y/n will meet you back at the villa. We are going to stay out a bit longer” I look at Mason confused as I thought he would want to go home and have some alone time.

“Okay get back safe though both of you” Jaz says and we hug all of them goodbye. We wave them off as they share a taxi and Mason goes to lead me back inside the club.

“I thought you would want to go home, you know have some mummy and daddy alone time” I throw my hands around his neck and place a needy kiss to his lips.

“Patience baby! I promise we will definitely be having some alone time when we are back but just for now I am liking having you all to myself. I wanted to spend a couple of hours with you, just us. Have a couple of drinks and a dance. Sound good?”

“Of course it sounds good you dickhead” I pull away from the kiss I placed on his cheek and make my way to the bar.

Another couple drinks down and I am very tipsy and I know I am going to be regretting my decision in the morning when I got to get ready for our flight home, but right now in this moment all I can think about is Mason. I know Mason is as tipsy as me, he doesn’t usually drink so when he does it hits him quickly. Our hands are no stop over eachother, its like we are scared to not be touching. I can feel Mason start to harden as I turn my back towards him and grind my bum into him to the music. “I think its time to leave” I feel his breathe on my neck which gives me goosebumps.

Mason basically drags me out the club and into the taxi, we are attached again and we are both fighting for air. I can feel his tongue slip against mine and he lets out an audible moan into my mouth. The taxi pulls outside the villa, Mason throws some notes at the driver and pulls my hand inside. We are slowly walking through the villa trying not to make much noise as its early in the morning. The sound of my heels are loud on the marble floor so Mason crouches in front of me and helps me take them off, I lean on him for balance as the alcohol is starting to effect my balance. “This way” he whispers.

“I feel like naughty teenagers sneaking around” I try and keep my voice low. Mason slides the patio door open and I am confused as to where he is going. “You wanna do it out here? Isn’t that risky?” Mason ushers me over to the other side of the patio, its barely visible from inside but I am still worried. “Mason they could see us out here. You cannot be serious?!” Mason ignores my concerns and wraps his arms around my sides, slowly lowly a hand to my bum.

“They are all asleep. No one is going to see us. Now I want time with my incredibly sexy Mrs so can you stop coming up with ideas not to do anything and start taking your clothes off” it gave me goosebumps with how forward he is being. He starts kissing my neck and slowly making his way up and nipples my earlobe as he knows that’s my weakness, I can feel my legs start to buckle underneath me, I am not sure if it’s the amount of alcohol confused or his affect on me but I am thinking that it’s a combination of both.

Mason starts stripping until he is completely naked, I look down and see how excited he is already becoming. “Come on!” he shouts but still in a whispered tone and dives into the pool. I shake my head at his antics and remove my clothes and slowly dangle my legs at the side of the pool. He swims over to me and pulls me in with him. I naturally wrap my legs around him. I can feel his dick start jabbing my entrance, I grind my hips down teasing him which results in a moan escaping his lips. Mason floats us to the end of the pool which is furthest away from the villa, Mason places one hand on the side behind me and another on my bum. As he continues to kiss me, this time its sloppy and needy.

His hand drops from the side above us and inbetween us, his hand travels down to where I need him most. He starts to run his fingers across my clit and through my folds. “Someone is wet!” He smirks I know he loves what affect he has on me. “Don’t flatter yourself sweetheart it’s the water nothing to do with you”. I kick back, Mason shakes his head as we both know its definitely his fingers that have caused that.

“Honestly I am so horny right now! I want to tease you so bad but I don’t know how long I can last” Mason looks deep into my eyes, his eyes have darken and I can see the lust in them. I grind my hips down on him again knowing that I am winding him up as I know he is already aching for it. “You know what fuck it! I have waited all holiday for this!” with this Mason lifts me up to the side of the pool and spreads my legs, he nestles inbetween them and starts giving open mouth wet kisses to the inside of my thighs.

“Mason!” I shirked. “someone could see!” I try and close my legs but the ache inbetween them are too much.

“You really want me to stop?” He comes up from them and all rationale is out the window and he continues kissing all the way to the area I need him most. I don’t respond but just let out a moan as Mason licks a long strip across my core. “You need to be a little quiet baby we don’t want anyone hearing now” I hold my hand across my mouth as Mason continues, I never know what he does to make it so good but its honesty he gives the best head I have ever had. He gives a mixture of licks and kisses and as soon as he sucks on my clit I am a gonna cum. Mason inserts 2 fingers as he continues to suck on my clit as I try my hardest not to suffocate him, I can feel the ground beneath scratching at my skin but right now I cannot focus on how uncomfortable it is all I can think about is what Mason is doing to me. Its not long before he has me cumming, I cover my mouth as tight as I can as I scream my name into my hand but some moans do escape which I can feel Mason smirking into me. He quickly laps up all my cum on his fingers and cleans them with his tongue. “I love the taste of your cum” He smiles and places a small open mouthed kiss to my thigh.

“I love how you make me cum” I reply joining him in the pool again. “So your turn?” I question. Mason shakes his head and traps me between the edge of the pool and his body. I can feel his dick throbbing between us.

“Honesty I don’t think I could cope if you touched me right now, I need to be inside you, I need to feel that tight..wet…pussy” kisses along my neck inbetween each word which made me shiver.

“Oh my god! Mason Mount is turning down a blow job” I joke. Mason shakes his head and I know he isn’t in a playing mood. I haven’t seen him this needy in a while, but I think the lack of intimacy lately we are both desperate for it. Mason places his hands on either side of my legs and wraps them around his waist. He gives himself a couple of pumps and lines himself with me, he slowly pushes himself in.

“F-fuck y/n that is so good!” he moans, I feel his grip on my waist tightened and I clench around his cock which causes him to moan loudly in response.

“Shhh remember we gotta be quiet” I repeat his words to him that he said to me earlier.

“I cannot help it this pussy is insane. You are insane. I am the luckiest man in the world.” My heart melts at his words. I haven’t been the most confident with my body and having the twins I have become more insecure but he always has a way of making me good about myself.

“You can move” I say as I have adjusted to his size. “I really need you right now Mason. You know like I really need you”. I start kissing along his collarbone and his neck not caring about the marks I am leaving.

“Say no more baby girl. I am ready to ruin you” and with that he pulls out and gives me a massive thrust resulting in a loud scream from me which I try and block out by screaming into his neck. Mason continues a pace which is damaging and I can feel myself unravelling around him.

I tighten my grip of my legs around his waist “fuck you are so sexy y/n you have no idea how long I have waited for this” his breath causes me goosebumps over my skin. I am clenching around him and I start to become dizzy with the amount of pleasure that is shooting through.

“I’m gonna cum baby” I feel Mason pick up his pace and reaches between us and starts to put pressure on my clit. “Mase f-fuck” I scream he kisses me at the same time to silent my moan.

“I know baby I am with you”. Mason pace becomes sloppy and I know he is struggling to keep us both upright right now. “Uh that’s it y/n, right there. Fuck you are so fucking sexy” with that Mason shoots his load into me and wraps his arms around my body so we are both bobbing around the pool. Mason eventually pulls away after a couple of seconds.

“That was incredible” I smile. Mason tucks a stand of hair behind my ears.

“You are incredible” he replies. “Lets quickly get out of here before we get caught. I think I left two towels on the beds earlier”. He quickly jumps out the pool still knackered and runs over to the sunbed and grabs the towels. I get out the pool and we both quickly dry off as much as we can and wrap the towels around us and pick up the evidence of our clothes at the side of the pool.

We tiptoe quietly through the villa trying our hardest not to wake anyone up as we make our way upstairs to our room. Our sleeping babies in their cot melts my heart. We get ourselves cleaned up and ready for bed. I lie on Mason’s chest as he brushes his fingers up and down my back.

“I don’t wanna go home” I say into Mason’s chest. He hums in response.

“I agree this has been paradise” Mason places a small kiss to the top of my head as we slowly fall asleep.

#angst #football #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #footballer smut #smut #fluttershy #mason mount fanfic #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount

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prettyforwoso · 11 months ago

Text

Shadow of Smoke

Part 1

Alexia Putellas x teen reader, Barca Femeni x teen reader

based off this request

summary: Exams are getting to the best of you. Isolating yourself from your friends and teammates, you find solace in substance.

MASTERLIST

You were getting closer and closer to punching a fist through your laptop screen every second. You usually enjoy studying, but not when it becomes mind numbingly easy and pointless, yet you still have to do it.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from sitting at your desk for so long, you wish you didn’t have to do this stupid homework but it needs to be turned in by class tomorrow morning.

Rolling back on your desk chair, you face the full wall window in your bedroom, looking over the Barcelona city sunset. Nothing beats this view.

You had moved into Alexia's house almost straight away when you moved to Barcelona. Family was out of the picture for you, and living completely alone at 16 in a new country was an absolute no for Alexia.

The two of you had met before, after the world cup semi finals, just as you got knocked out of the competition. Alexia and a few of her Spanish teammates were there.

You were relatively new to the game, making your debut as an Aussie player only just before the world cup, but you sure as hell were not unknown. You had taken the world by storm.

Alexia came up to you and introduced herself, as if you didn't know who she was. She complimented you, saying how well you played for someone so young and small. Quick into this conversation, Alexia clocked how shy you were, not able to hold eye contact and mostly only speaking when spoken to, alas, she quickly realized how sweet you were. The pair of you almost immediately getting along well.

Soon after singing for the team. Alexia came to meet you at a private conference while still in Australia after the world cup. She quickly adored you, she saw so much of her younger self in you. So nervous and shy, so quiet, yet such a big personality.

Your living situation was discussed at the conference, Alexia offered for you to live with her for a little while, until you got comfortable. A little while turned into forever the day that Alexia offered for you to permanently move in with her.

Alexia’s house was kind of the group spot for the team, it was very rare that you and Alexia were the only ones in the house during the day. It was a welcome spot for everyone, and the team took advantage of that.

…

Desk abandoned, you sat in front of the window with your laptop on your lap, trying to finish the last details of your essay.

“Chica!” You hear Alexia yell over the music and chatter in the kitchen. “Come eat dinner”

You sigh and close your laptop. Your feet find the floor as you walk towards your bedroom door.

You make your way down the hallway, following the calm chatter and soft music that filled the living room and kitchen.

You make your appearance, walking next to the stove top where Alexia serves you a plate. “Go sit with the girls and eat” She says as she looks down at you. Sat at the table was Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid, laughing amongst themselves. “No Alexia, I have to finish my essay” you plead, hoping she will let you eat at your desk. “No. You eat at the table, go sit” she says sternly, turning away from you to serve her own plate.

You sigh and roll your shoulders forward, making your way to the table.

“Oh there she is!” Ingrid smiles, looking at you taking a seat between her and Lucy . She presses a kiss to your cheek and Lucy messes with your hair.

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework” You look up from your plate with the explanation of your absence.

“You’re such a good girl, I never did any homework in highschool” Mapi speaks up, making you crack a smile. That's so unsurprising.

“Don’t encourage that behavior Maria” Alexia drills into her as she takes a seat next to her. You roll your eyes and take a bite of the food.

“What? I just copied my friends” Mapi says jokingly, earning herself a smack on the back of the head from Alexia. “Callarse la boca” the statement accompanies her action. Mapi rolls her eyes and laughs in your direction, winking and smiling. You look down and smile at her encouragement.

“All this little one does is study” Alexia says after a silence, pointing to you with her fork.

“I thought you found school easy?” Lucy asks.

“Yeah… because I study.” You say, Alexia gives you an unsatisfied look because of your tone of voice. You just playfully roll your eyes and get back to eating, keeping to yourself as the rest of them carry on talking.

…

The house gets quieter as you get into bed and crack open a book. Everyone is still there, but they have moved to the deep chat part of the evening, knowing that you will be sleeping, taking into consideration that you have school tomorrow.

You feel your eyes begin to close when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah?” you yell out, thinking it's Alexia. The door cracks open and in comes Mapi. “Hey you, I wanted to come say goodnight.” She speaks as she walks towards you in bed. “Ingrid and I are heading home” She sits and moves hair out of your face. Mapi leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was nice to see you Chica, you should start coming out with us all soon”.

You know deep down that she's right. Alexia is hard on you about your studies but you know that's just because she loves you and wants you to do well. She would always let you go out to have fun, sometimes even encouraging it, begging you to lift yourself from your desk to get out of the house and explore the new city.

“I know, I will once I’m all done with exams” Mapi seems unsatisfied with your answer, a flash of sadness enters her eyes. “You’re doing a great job sweetheart. Really I mean it.” Her comment makes you smile and you lean up to kiss her cheek. “Thank you Maria”

It means a lot to you, statements like that. Your parents are not in your life, they never really had been. So being told by someone that they are proud of you always makes you smile.

…

You make it to training about an hour late because you had a class in the morning. You do part time schooling so that it can work around football and your professional career. This however, has come in the way of you really making many friends in the new city. You did have plenty of really good friends, but they were always at parties when you stayed home, so you weren't that close with them.

You are deathly shy. Hating nothing more than the idea of introducing yourself to someone or meeting someone new. You were so quiet when you first started playing for Barca, even the team had to work together to get something out of you sometimes. You eventually warmed up however, revealing your big personality and ability to make literally anyone laugh.

Training today seems like a step backwards in terms of your progression to confidence in the group. Walking into the gym all you said was a quiet hello to a few of your teammates. You were feeling so tired and overwhelmed from school and studies that you didn’t have the energy to have any kinds of conversations today.

“How are you today chica?” Frido asks as you walk over to the weights where she is standing. You don't verbally answer, instead just press your head to her chest and take a deep audible sigh. Frido wraps an arm around you and pulls you to look up at her. “Tired hm?” she asks and you simply nod.

This severe drop in energy hadn’t gone unnoticed to the rest of your teammates, all seeing you suddenly go quiet again, or straight up sleeping in meetings. They all had an understanding that you have exams at the moment, however, they usually don't affect you like this. They knew there had to be something else going on.

It was true, something more was going on. You had been isolating yourself too much. With the desperate need for academic validation comes the lack of a social life and the act of socially withdrawing. Everything was moving so fast at the moment, studies were one of the only things you felt like you could control. You basically refused to go out with any of your friends when they would ask, and Alexia took quick note of this.

Whenever she would ask, you would just tell her that you were feeling stressed with school and really needed to focus. She believed you to an extent. You have always been shy. She knew that you had been struggling to make friends at your new school, but you had made some and they seemed really genuine. It's not them she was worried about. There were other girls at your school that she knew didn’t make you feel at all welcome. These were the girls that picked on you and said rude things behind your back. You tried to reassure her that it was fine, and she acted like she believed you, but deep down she knew you were hurting, desperate to get out and go to the parties you were invited to, but you were just too nervous.

Those girls picked on you because you were so quiet. They called you all sorts of mean things that you pretended to not hear, more for your own comfort than anyone else's.

…

The two of you arrived home just after lunch. You threw your bags down on the doorway of your bedroom and escorted your body to the shower.

Water runs down your body in reflection. You stare down at your toes, inviting your shampoo to drip over your face. You close your eyes when the liquid attempts to make contact. Your hands are on your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to discard the soap on your face. Your eyes remain shut as you rock your head back and lean your whole body against the shower wall, keeping it in reach of the water that keeps you warm.

Your vision breaks free as you crack your eyes open, seeing nothing but the fogged up shower glass isolating you from the rest of the room.

You had been invited to a party tonight, one of those random massive group parties smack bang in the middle of the week- in the middle of exams. You weren't planning on attending- to say the least, but Alexia knew you had been invited and you knew she would encourage you to go. A small part of you wonders if maybe you should…

You hadn’t been to a party in weeks, maybe even a month or two. Your friends never fail to invite you, always wanting to make you feel included even when they knew that answer was always going to be a no.

A knock on your door brings you out of your delusions. It’s Alexia- who else would it be.

“Yeah?” You yell out, fighting with the volume of the water crashing down on the tiled shower floor.

“Babygirl get the FUCK out of the shower, its been an hour” Alexia jokes.

You groan, roll your eyes and turn your body to turn the water off. It was never a big deal when you had long showers. You and Alexia had separate bathrooms. However, Alexia would get worried if you were in there for longer than an hour, believing the hot water will damage your ‘Perfect baby skin’. Your eyes were consistently rolled in this household.

…

You sit on your bed, wrapped in your towel. Wet hair meeting your back. You were hunched over looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not to attend tonight. Alexia returns to your room, sighing when she sees your posture, a correction she has made many times.

“What is the matter?” You turn around, eyes meeting her voice. She stood in the doorway, looking lovingly stern.

You don’t move from your position. “I think I might go tonight” Alexia's eyes widen and she physically looks shocked. “Wait really?” she asks, as if to double check before she continues. “I think that’s a good idea” She says, her accent beginning to struggle with her english.

…

“You’ll be home by 12?” Alexia says, holding your shoulders, her face close to yours. “And you can call me anytime to come get you…I’ll be there”

“Yes Alexia” You begin. “I have been to parties before” You say, cracking a smile. “I know, I just want to make sure you have fun” She said, tilting her face down and locking eyes, as if to question you. “Now come here, give me a hug before you go” You step onto your toes and press your face to her chest. “You look so gorgeous Bebita” she says, inhaling the scent of your perfume on top of your hair products. “Thank you Lex” you lean up to her and press a kiss on her cheek, soon heading out the door.

…

It’s loud and crowded here, not unlike any other parties. You greet a few people but hunt for your friends, trying to remain confident with your posture.

Your face morphs into a smile when you find them outside, sitting around a fire with a few others.

You hug and kiss them all, finding a seat squeezed between two of them, placing your hands out, hovering close to the fire to be warmed.

Chatter and more chatter. The deep conversations around a fire, all sat in plastic chairs, were never anything but enjoyable. You weren’t uninvolved in the party, you were just at a smaller section of the party, and if anything, the main party was becoming the campfire as more and more people came to join, dancing around or just sitting and chilling with friends. You wondered why you always say no to this, you always end up having fun with everyone, you begin to regret the isolation you have put on yourself as you realize just how much you have been missing out on.

You’re silent for a while, letting the others around you fill your conscious. You didn’t have anything to say, so you happily said nothing at all.

The attention of your group is suddenly all on you as someone near you hands you a vape. “Hey, you want a hit?” They ask. “No, no thanks” You non-judgmentally decline, passing it back and waiting for everyone to move on with the conversations, but they don’t.

“Go on, it won’t kill you” A friend of yours speaks, nudging your shoulder with their own.

“Bro no, I’m an athlete” You say jokingly, smiling at the fact they think it’s not a big deal.

“One hit isn’t gonna take away your spot” the one who offered her vape says.

You think for a moment. Lots of teenagers do it, no one you know has ever got sick from it. And part of you knows they are right- one hit won’t hurt. As if Alexia would ever know.

#woso #barcelona x reader #barca femeni #fluff #barcelona femeni #lucy bronze #alexia putellas fluff #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #lucybronze #barca x reader #barca #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femini x reader #fc barca #ona batlle #hell is a teenage girl #alexia putellas smut

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sweeterthanficstion · 5 months ago

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— coast2coast (pt. one) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, featuring claire (and chris in later parts!), UNEDITED!! so far only fluff (unheard of...) i'll add as i go!

oh actually, my shitty attempt at knowing anything about surfing despite learning everything through youtube, google and malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid (what started this whole thing). i am NAWT a pro --- so if any of you guys actually know a thing or two abt surfing hit me up!!! i'd love to learn more!

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: AHH HI! i'm so excited to post this one!! it's currently summer here in australia and i've been down at the beach nearly every weekend, so it was only inevitable that my fixation on surfer!leon came back full force. i have this big story all set up in my head, but i was too excited to wait to finish writing it so i'm posting it in parts!! ++ oh also i had no idea corral beach was an actual place in malibu so my version is fictionalised. just. take everything in this fic with a grain of salt i have no idea what im doing lol

i also thought it'd be really fun idea since i'm so busy nowadays, that if you guys are interested at all, you can send in little ideas for blurbs for surfer!leon, and i'd love to write them! i'll figure out ways to fit them into the story, just as little extras, but obviously no promises on writing all of them!! i'll likely just pick the ones i think fit best into the plot. i just think that'd be AWESOME!! <3

playlist⭑masterlist⭑AO3 ⭑ series masterlist⭑next part (coming soon)

California is exactly how you’d left it. Exactly how you remember it. Nothing has changed between the sand beneath your toes and the palm trees lining the scorching hot tar roads, their shadows stretching long and thin like sleepy cats in the afternoon sun. The salt-kissed air wraps around you, sticky and warm, a gentle reminder that time moves slower here. Or maybe it doesn’t move at all.

That’s the thing about California. A time capsule—sun, sand and sky.

June, July, August, Summer melts in your mouth like a sticky popsicle, one into the next, so quick you forget what it tastes like before it’s even passed.

No matter where you are in the world, what waves you're chasing, whether it be in Oceania, the Pacific, the Atlantic, summer melts, fickle and eager.

You’ve learnt to love it while it lasts.

“Another fish and chips!” One of the waitress staff calls from the front—Bunny’s Seafood Diner has been around for as long as you can remember, a weathered little gem perched off the coast of Corral Beach, Malibu. A quick and convenient right turn off the PCH, it’s a lighthouse for road-tripping families and sunburned surfers chasing their next ride.

You flip the fryer around your wrist with a practised flourish, “On it!” You call back, before you dip the metal back in the bubbling oil, the familiar sizzle of golden fries accompanying the bustle of the late afternoon rush. The kitchen smells of salt and grease and the faint tang of fresh-caught fish, a scent so familiar it clings to your skin like a second layer.

Claire breezes past with lazy grace, bumping her hip against yours. “Heading to the surf after?” she asks, her grin as wide as the beach outside, like her mouth was made for holding sweet oranges on hot summer days. She’s balancing a seafood basket in one hand and a plate of fries in the other, weaving through the bustle with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before.

“How’s the forecast looking?” You ask back instead, tossing the crispy fries into a basket lined with deli paper.

“High tide in twenty,” Claire winks over her shoulder at you, side-stepping a counter corner like it’s second nature. “It’s gonna be perfect.”

You can’t deny that does sound perfect. After a shift as long as the one you’ve worked today, a surf might be all you need to feel alive again. You look back up at the foggy old clock on the wall—ten minutes left, five if you can sweet-talk your manager. You end up counting the minutes in your head, that familiar itch to feel the sand under your feet and the sun on your skin insatiable.

By the time the clock hits four, you’re halfway out the door, ready to trade the smell of fried seafood for the briny tang of the ocean instead. Claire is hot on your heels, boards tucked under both your arms as she chases you across the tar road that burns under your bare feet, down the splintering boardwalk, and onto the powdered-sugar sands of Corral Beach.

The sun has already dipped far past it’s zenith, and the world feels washed in gold. Golden rays stretch out across shimmering waters, painting streaks of honey over the horizon, the heat settling into a balmy hum that sticks to your skin in a way you can only love.

You follow the shaded path of sycamore trees until the beach opens up to surfer’s paradise—a long stretch of sand, waves that swell and crash, aching to be carved into by hungry surfers. The path curves past a weathered wooden bulletin board, been there as long as you can remember, and you think it might be older than Bunny’s, if that’s even possible.

“Wait!” Claire stops in her tracks, and you are helpless but to comply. Your eyes stay glued longingly to the beach while Claire’s squint at the array of flyers pinned up—some faded, some fresh. There’s a yoga class, a missing dog poster, and the usual surf report stapled to the corner, its ink smudged from damp fingers. But her eyes zero in on something bright and bold and new.

“Here we go.” She plucks a flyer off the board, turning it toward you like she’s struck gold. The words Corral Beach Annual Surf Comp are printed in big, blocky letters, accompanied by a grainy photo of a surfer carving into a wave.

“Oh, no,” you groan, already shaking your head.

“Oh, yes,” Claire says, a grin spreading across her face.

Claire’s been singing the same song since you were fifteen and cutting through waves better than most kids your age here on Corral Beach. That you should be out there winning trophies and medals and 10k cheques instead of cleaning out the back of the greasy old fryer’s in Bunny’s.

“C’mon, you have to do it!” She bugs on, waving the flyer around like some magic wand.

You laugh, ducking under her arm as she tries to push it into your face. “Claire, come on.”

“I’m serious!” she insists, jogging to catch up with you as you head toward the water. “You’re out here every day. You’ve got the moves, the skill—everything they’re looking for.”

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. You’ve been surfing since before you could walk. You’d grown up right here on Corral Beach, knew these waves better than yourself. You’d watched your parents chase waves like it was their religion—Bali, Costa Rica, Australia, it was their entire life. Something they loved that was inevitable for you to love too.

“I’m just not the competition type,” you shrug, gaze drifting out to the waves curling in the distance. It’s not that you don’t want to—well, okay, maybe it is. The idea of standing out there, under the scrutiny of judges, crowds, and strangers, feels about as foreign as the first time you stepped onto a board. Surfing, to you, is about as religious as it is to your parents. An outlet, an art form, the ocean calms your restless soul when you need it most. Putting a score to something like that just doesn’t feel right.

“You’re one of the best surfers out here.” Claire presses, she does it so effortlessly. Poking and prodding, always enough but never so much as to push you over the edge. “Half the people in those comps are just there for a shot at a new wetsuit.”

You meet Claire’s gaze, hesitate, the memory of your dad paddling out at dawn or your mom teaching you how to duck dive flickering in your mind. “It’s not about that. My parents taught me how to surf before they taught me how to say mom and dad. They’d enter comps now and then, but it was never about winning. It was about the waves, the adventure.”

“And you don’t think that’s in you too?” Claire asks, raising an eyebrow as she shields her eyes against the sun.

“Maybe it is,” you say finally. “But that’s their story, not mine.”

Claire’s gaze softens for all of a second before she snorts, shoving your shoulder with her own. “You’re so full of it. You’ve got more talent in your pinky than most people out there. Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”

You do nothing of the sort.

The second your feet are in the water, you forget all about the comp, all about your job and any other worries on your mind. Salt water seems to have that sort of effect on you. Wasting no time, both you and Claire paddle past the surf, straddling your boards in the ocean, watching as the other surfers before you take off one by one with each new wave that rolls in.

It doesn't take long before the first wave in a gorgeous set comes in, Claire’s all but primed for it. She takes off, gets into position, and pops up on her board, carving into it like it’s breathing. You follow suit as the next one comes in, and just like that, you fall into the rhythm of the ocean.

Wave after wave, you don’t stop until the sun is cotton candy pink, purple, gold. Most of the other surfers have dispersed by now, and Claire’s traded shredding the bigger waves for wading through the calm waters with her back pressed against the flat of her board.

You, on the other hand, feel like fate is decidedly on your side. You watch as another set rolls in, the first crashing just out of reach. It peels exactly as you’d hoped, slowly to the right, so when the next one rolls in right after, you paddle with it, catch the feeling of the tide underneath you, and like it's simply second nature, get to your feet.

This is where you feel most alive. There is not a second to spare for the other noise in your head, not about the past nor the future nor anything in between other than right here and now. Nothing but the instinctual insistence of how much longer can you stay on? How much longer can you keep your balance? Lean left, right, forward. Better, longer, more, more, more.

And when you’ve finally completed your balancing act, you dance up to the nose, hovering there on the tip of your board, arms out to steady yourself like sails catching wind, and then you close your eyes and let the crash of the wave topple you off.

It’s only once you’ve resurfaced, board nowhere to be seen, that you realise you didn’t feel the familiar tug of the leash around your ankle. By the time you drag yourself to shore, breath heavy and hair clinging to your face, you see it—the measly cord trailing behind you, frayed and snapped clean.

You huff a sigh, not surprised. It had been old crap for a while now. So had the board, but it carried enough summers in its scars to mean something. A history you weren’t quite ready to part with.

Claire’s already gathering her things by the time you meet her on the sand, shaking out her towel and tossing it into her worn tote bag.

“What happened to your board?” she asks, her tone casual, but her raised brow suggests she’s caught the fraying leash.

You lift your ankle and let the cord dangle, the sad state of it all the explanation she needs.

She winces, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. Guess it’s finally time for a new one?”

It’s only when you’re halfway up the beach that you spot it again. Your board? Your board!

It’s leaning lazily against the base of a lifeguard tower, looking as though it had simply wandered off and decided to wait for you all this while. Relief blooms in your chest, and you call to Claire that you’ll catch up.

It’s only when you’re closer that you notice him.

He’s standing by the lifeguard tower, a red rescue can slung casually over his shoulder. Blonde hair catches the light, tousled and damp like he’s been in the water himself. His broad shoulders are framed by the white-and-red uniform shirt that looks a little too crisp for someone who spends their day in the sun.

You can tell he’s new. There’s a hesitation in the way he stands, like he’s trying to look comfortable in a place he hasn’t quite claimed yet. But there’s something magnetic about him, the way he surveys the beach with quiet curiosity, like he’s soaking in every detail.

And you don’t mean to stare, but you’re caught in the moment, the way he looks like he belongs there despite it all, carved from the same sun and salt as the beach itself.

You’re still staring when his eyes meet yours.

They’re blue, impossibly so, the kind of blue that reminds you of the water when it’s so clear you can see straight to the bottom, the kind of blue you could fall into and forget how to breathe. His mouth quirks into a smile—easy, natural, like he’s been doing it all his life.

For a heartbeat, the world shifts, tilts ever so slightly, like the two of you are caught in some half-remembered dream. Something stirs in your chest, familiar yet unnameable, like déjà vu soaked in sunlight. You freeze, caught like a fish on a line, just before his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he lifts a hand in a casual wave.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice carries over the sound of the waves, warm and low, and you think there’s a hint of the coast in it—just not this one.

You blink, salt-sticky and sun-drunk, realizing belatedly that you’re still rooted to the spot. “Hey,” you manage, shifting your weight on your feet.

He doesn’t move, but his attention is all yours now, quiet and steady, as though nothing else on the beach exists, like you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Nice ride out there,” he says, nodding toward the water, his voice dipped in easy admiration. “That last wave—you made it look easy.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, unplanned but genuine, a flush to your cheeks at the notion of being watched and noticed. You hope he mistakes it for sunburn. “Easy? You sure you weren’t watching someone else?”

“Nope,” he says, the smile widening just a fraction. “Definitely you. The board gave it away.” He says, nodding towards the board that’s still propped against the lifeguard tower like a loyal dog.

“Ah,” you say, realising. “So it was you.”

He shrugs, sweet and boyish in his sincerity. “Figured it deserved better than drifting out to sea.”

You glance down at your battered shortboard, the paint long faded from years of sun and surf. The edges are chipped, and the wax is uneven, but it feels like a part of you. “Thanks,” you say, meaning it. “Guess I owe you one.”

And before you can really think it through, the words escape you all at once. “You surf?”

“Not like that,” he hums, tilting his head toward the waves. Not like you. “Still trying to figure out how to make it look as easy.”

“That’s how it starts,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips despite yourself. “You’ll get there.”

He shrugs, a bit sheepish. “We’ll see. I’m mostly here for this,” he hefts the rescue can with a crooked smile. “Started lifeguard training last week. Figured I’d better get to know the locals.”

“Locals, huh?” You arch a brow, a subtle quirk to your lips. “And I’m one of those?”

“Definitely,” he grins, his voice sure now, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like this is where you belong.”

The words hang in the air, sweet and sticky like the heat of the day. For a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Well,” you manage, recovering with a nod toward the tower. “Welcome to Corral Beach. Try not to let it chew you up and spit you out.”

He laughs then, and it’s warm, golden—like sunlight filtering through the trees. “I’ll do my best.”

He steps back, making space for you to collect your board, though his gaze lingers, like he’s reluctant to go but knows he should.

“See you around?” he asks, the question carrying a hopeful edge.

“Maybe,” you say, the word feeling light and easy as you turn toward the parking lot.

You don’t look back, but you feel his eyes linger, and it leaves a quiet sort of thrill in your chest, like the first rush of catching a wave.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

#spilled ink ₊˚⊹♡#IM SORRY IF THE ENDING FEELS UNFINISHED #AS I SAID I GOT SUPER EXCITED TO POST #updates will be slow as usual so im sorry about that!! that's why im hoping blurbs will be enough to fill the space in between if anybody #is interested of course #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfiction #sweeterthanficstion #coast2coast #surfer!leon

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sunboki · 1 month ago

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⎯ what remains unspoken. (teaser) ⟡ featuring c. bahng

🪝 : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, jealousy, angst, two idiots chasing their own tails believing their love is unrequited (ㅠㅠ), based in australia, summer! au, beachhouse! au

WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 4k-7k words

WARNINGS. cursing, jealousy/shame, reader moves away, mentions of drunkenness at a party, nondesc smut

AUG'S NOTES. my annual summer pieces are unearthing themselves as we speak and i’m so so so excited. i began this as a tiny snippet of thought while on the train :) who knew it’d be developed into a fic! although this is just a teaser, please let me know your thoughts!!

PLAYLIST.

or alternatively :

Until when do you stop pretending?

Among many things, Chris likes to think there was an “oh shit” moment to his life. One, exactly.

Over the years he tried pinpointing when that would be, what that would be.

And then you brought a boyfriend home. His home. To a beach house you two would occupy together. Making shadow puppets with your hands and running out to the beach in the early mornings.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Making sand castles, running into the water with your clothes on and running out giggling messes.

For two weeks every summer, always. Together.

Never with a plus one.

He debated upon subtly sizing up the guy or appearing overly friendly, but not an ounce of his face seemed to move. Steely.

Cold.

Chris was never cold, and he felt that pang in his chest—guilt—seeing you notice it. That miniature knit of your brow, the purse of your lips.

Did he know you like Chris did? Know when you were angry, or frustrated. What your favorite song was, or how you preferred your hair when you were focused?

He wanted to hate comparison, he used to hate comparison.

And now he’s hating himself for being too late, letting you slip from his grasp like sand between his fingers.

When you were once protagonists of a novel written with a happy ending, that love interest was now home to another.

And he was a bystander to a love story that was never his, watching you smile at someone else.

Someone that wasn’t him.

Breakfast is hellish, not to mention the sleeping arrangements. This boyfriend of yours in the guest bedroom, while he sleeps in his.

Alone. Without you, or your pretty hair, or your pretty eyes. Void of your warm body snuggled up to his, where you used to make silly jokes beneath covers and muffle laughter in turn.

A part of him wants to cry, wants to ask you what you two used to be. What was under the covers?

“Ah.. Chris..” The soft moan of yours, all those years back. Stupid, seventeen, single. A cursed pair of “S”’s he hadn’t realized would come to haunt him each time he closed his eyes.

What was your pretty sounds, his face between your thighs those five years back?

Was it all pretend? Exploration as friends?

No, you were smarter than that.

So he tells himself he was too late, and endures.

Because maybe, maybe they’ll be a plot twist one chapter. Where you fall for the side character.

No, no book ends like that.

It all started in an editing firm’s office.

That poor woman being your mother, who found out she was pregnant that evening after work.

Although, in the midst of the friendship, your father had found a better job opportunity in Brisbane, a decent ten-hour drive from the Bahng household you’d found second home in.

Even if it was Australia all the same.

And in turn, the annual summer visits began.

What do you want to do with your life? Any plans for college? What about taking these extra classes? They look good on a résumé.

And simultaneously rip the ounces of childhood from your fingertips, but no school board puts that in the papers.

Yet, never truly forgotten. Instead, taken into the waters for little children to tell their mother of whom never believe the ocean spilled someone’s precious secrets.

“Chris.”

June eighteenth of your second year in high school, pajama-clad knees curl close into your body, lashes dusting open in the sparsely lit room to focus on him.

A dilation of the pupils, a hitch of the breath when he turns to you.

His jaw that clicks when he grows angered—not often, sometimes at his gaming system.

Thickened brows furrowing and knitting in concentration.

Though those eyes are the same, and always will be. No other will have eyes like his, and you know in any life, in any state of amnesia, they would be recognized.

An “aha” moment where a switch flips in your brain, formulating a mere sentence involuntarily.

I love this boy, and I hope for forever he’ll look back at me.

And for that, you’re selfish. But honest.

If Christopher was a stranger, a look into that gaze and you think you’d know him instantaneously.

How silly.

But just as you had spoken, you’re reminded that childishness was something found each time you visited this place regardless of your actions. You’d hold onto that.

“I don’t want to grow up.”

The bit of fat at his under-eyes cause his eyes to form into crescent moons when he smiles, wrinkles at the corner of thick lashes crinkling.

Chris has always liked the moon.

A warm hand of his reaches forward, cupping your cheek as if the first time.

You think you like this more.

“Then don’t.”

A stroke of his thumb, and you snort a laugh when the cold of your nose bumps against the digit.

“And when you want to go back to being sixteen, come to see me, okay?”

Little did you both know that the future had a way of testing just how long sixteen would last.

Until when do you stop pretending?

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pixiefelixie · 3 months ago

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𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "SUMMER DAYS"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out.

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: this work is explicit and NSFW so minors do not interact!, established relationship, fluff, smut, injury mentioned (jellyfish sting) important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

wow, i can’t believe this is over. writing this story was such an experience. these characters feel like a part of me now, and it’s honestly kinda heartbreaking to say goodbye. but i just wanna say thank you for reading! this series will always stay with me, and i hope it stays with you too. i’m really gonna miss this. 💙

series masterlist

nsfw warnings and chapter under the cut ~16k words

warnings: a lot of you wanted another smut chapter so here ya go loves!!, underaged sex, non-penetrative, making out, handjob (m. receiving), MDNI!!!

day 8 - 6:40

your knuckles hovered over the door, your fingers curling, then loosening again. the weight in your chest hadn’t budged since you left the apartment, and standing here now, it only grew heavier.

it was early. too early. the sun had barely started its climb into the sky, casting long, sleepy shadows over the quiet street. felix was still curled up in bed when you slipped out of the room. you hadn't left a note. you’d be back before he woke up.

hopefully.

you’d texted chris earlier, needing to talk, and he’d responded quickly. already up, he said. and so, you found yourself standing here, not entirely sure why, but knowing that this moment was unavoidable.

chris answered faster than you expected. he ran a hand down his face, blinking against the dim light, his curls a chaotic mess like he’d just tumbled out of bed. his t-shirt was wrinkled, the fabric twisted against his shoulder, and the drawstring of his sweatpants hung unevenly—proof that he had, in fact, not really been fully awake when he texted you back.

“hey,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep. his gaze flickered over your face, slow and assessing.

you exhaled, some of the nerves tightening in your chest easing at the sight of him. “so much for already being up when i texted,” you said, eyes flicking to his mussed hair.

chris made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, stepping back to let you in. “i was up,” he grumbled, rubbing at his face again. “just—laid back down for a second.” he stretched his arms over his head, joints popping as he yawned. “i have to go to the boat shop with my dad soon anyways.”

you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and immediately, the house’s quiet warmth settled over you. the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixed with something softer—fabric softener, maybe, or the remnants of last night’s rain slipping in through the open kitchen window.

“am i bothering?” you asked, glancing at him as he wandered toward the kitchen.

chris shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “no, no, you’re fine,” he assured you.

his house smelled like coffee, faint but warm, like it had been brewed hours ago and left to linger. the quiet hum of the fridge filled the silence as you stepped into the kitchen, chris trailing behind you.

chris lifted the milk frother slightly, raising an eyebrow in silent question. you nodded, murmuring a quiet “thanks,” and he nodded back, turning his attention to making you a cappuccino. the soft whir of the machine filled the space between you, the early morning quiet settling in comfortably.

a moment passed. then, casually, chris said, “so, i take it things are good with you and felix now? considering you didn’t ditch us yesterday.”

a quiet breath of laughter left you, your fingers curling over the edge of the counter. “yeah,” you admitted. “we figured it out.”

chris snorted. “so the idiot finally told you how he feels.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the way your lips twitched into a smile. “yeah,” you murmured. “he did.”

chris snorted, shaking his head as he slid the finished cappuccino toward you. “’bout time.”

you curled your hands around the warm cup, inhaling the soft scent of espresso and steamed milk. chris watched you, the teasing amusement in his gaze fading as he took in the way you hesitated. his arms crossed over his chest, brows pinching just slightly.

“so,” he said, quieter now. “what’s wrong?”

you wrapped your hands around the warm cup, watching the steam curl into the air before meeting his gaze. and for a moment, you weren’t entirely sure how to answer.

“i’ll just get straight to the point.”

“go ahead”

“it’s about mabel.”

chris stilled.

it wasn’t dramatic. he didn’t flinch. he didn’t jolt back like you had struck him. it was smaller than that—quieter. the barest flicker of something in his face, so brief you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching so closely.

but you were.

and it was enough.

you were right.

“i know what happened to her.”

he exhaled sharply through his nose, pressing his lips together. he didn’t ask how you knew, but he didn’t have to.

“and no, felix didn’t tell me,” you said before he could assume otherwise. “i found out myself.”

chris dragged a hand over his face again, but this time, it wasn’t just frustration—it was something deeper, heavier, something tangled up in the years he had spent standing by felix’s side, watching him unravel and piece himself back together.

“i feel terrible about it,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “not just about what happened, but about—about everything. about how young she was. about how young he was when it happened.” you swallowed, trying to press down the tightness in your throat, but it didn’t budge.

“i don’t feel right, chris.”

his brows furrowed immediately. “y/n—”

“i mean it.” you let out a breath, staring down at the cappuccino, watching the way the foam swirled with each subtle movement of your hands. “i keep thinking about how i’ve been waiting for him to just say it. to tell me he loves me. and i was so caught up in wondering why he wouldn’t, why it was taking so long—” your throat tightened. “and the whole time, it was her.”

chris inhaled sharply, arms tightening across his chest. his jaw twitched, like he was holding something back, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should.

your grip on the cup tightened. “and felix…” you hesitated, your voice threatening to waver. you clenched your fingers around the warm ceramic, grounding yourself. “he must have felt so horrible. losing her like that. it must have been—god, i can’t even imagine how hard it was for him to find someone else after that.” a slow exhale left your lips, shaking at the edges. “to trust someone else. to let himself feel for someone else.”

the silence between you grew heavier, pressing into your ribs, wrapping around your lungs like a vice. chris still hadn’t spoken, but the way he looked at you—carefully, calculatingly, like he was waiting for the moment you’d either break or pull yourself together—made your stomach twist.

you let out a sharp, uneven breath, shaking your head. “and chris, it’s different.”

his brows pulled together, but he didn’t interrupt.

“they didn’t break up,” you continued, your voice raw. “she didn’t leave him. she didn’t hurt him. she just… died.” the word felt ugly, brutal, but there was no use softening it. “she was taken from him, and if she hadn’t been—” you swallowed hard. “who’s to say he wouldn’t still be in love with her?”

chris’s lips parted slightly, like he might argue, but you kept going before he had the chance.

“and that’s probably why he couldn’t tell me he loves me.” your voice cracked, and you hated the way it did, but you couldn’t stop now.

chris exhaled slowly through his nose, tilting his head back slightly as if the weight of your words had struck him harder than he’d expected. he looked at you for a long moment, his gaze steady and focused, but there was a shift in the air now, a tension that you couldn’t ignore.

“you’ve got it all wrong,” chris said, his voice low but firm. his tone was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.

you blinked, the words hanging in the air like an unsolved puzzle. “what?”

the question came out before you even had a chance to stop it, but you couldn’t help yourself. this wasn’t how you thought it would go. you had said it—you had put it out there—and yet, now chris was looking at you like you didn’t understand anything.

“you really don’t know anything, y/n.” his voice was quiet, almost like he felt bad for you—for the fact that felix never gave you the explanation you deserved.

he took a step toward you, his posture stiff, like he was trying to steady himself, trying to keep his own emotions in check. but you could see it—the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched like he was about to burst with something unsaid.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. the pieces in your mind were starting to shift, but you couldn’t make sense of them.

chris looked like he was struggling with something, like he wanted to tell you more, but was holding back—like he was protecting something that wasn’t his to protect anymore.

you finally whispered, your voice small. “what are you talking about?”

he met your gaze again, the conflict in his eyes still there, but now there was something else—a flicker of anger, a flash of something you couldn’t place.

“mabel was not some angel.” he stopped, swallowing, and for a second, you thought he might say more, but he didn’t.

you shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your brain, trying to understand. “but chris, i—”

“no,” he interrupted, his voice low but urgent. “felix and mabel had a very… interesting relationship. and when i told you before that she screwed him over, i meant she actually did.”

your stomach twisted.

chris wasn’t one for exaggeration. he joked, sure. he teased, he made sarcastic remarks. but when it came to things like this—things that mattered—he didn’t just say things for the sake of saying them.

“what do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

chris sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “look, i never liked mabel. i tolerated her because felix liked her, and that was enough for me. but she was…” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “complicated.”

complicated.

it felt too mild, too neutral, like it didn’t fully capture the weight behind his words.

chris exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “no, scratch that—she was the most manipulative, condescending bitch you’d ever meet.” his voice was colder now, edged with something raw. he let out another laugh—bitter, laced with old memories.

“i can’t tell you how many times i watched him second-guess himself because of her. how many times she’d say something—just the right way, just sharp enough—to make him think he was the problem.” his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping restlessly against his bicep. “she knew how to make him feel small. and he let her do it.”

your throat felt tight.

“he thought he loved her,” chris continued, quieter now. “and maybe he did, in his own way. but mabel? she never loved him the way he did.” his jaw tightened, his voice growing rougher. “she loved the thrill of making him insecure.”

a cold, sinking feeling settled in your stomach.

chris sighed, rubbing at his temples. “felix doesn’t talk about her for a reason, y/n. not because he’s heartbroken. not because he’s still in love with her.” he leveled you with a look—one that was heavy, serious. “because she left scars he’s still trying to cover up.”

and suddenly, everything—the hesitation, the fear, the way felix had held back from you for so long—it all made sense.

you stared at him, your pulse suddenly loud in your ears.

“listen to me.” his voice was firm, serious in a way that left no room for argument. “felix loves you. and don’t go thinking you’re some replacement. if anything, you’re the exact opposite of what she was. and that’s why he’s scared.”

your brows furrowed.

chris let out a humorless chuckle, pushing off the counter. “because you actually love him, y/n. you make him feel safe. you don’t make him question himself every second of the day. you don’t treat his love like it’s something he has to earn.” he leaned back against the sink, exhaling heavily. “you think he doesn’t realize that? that it doesn’t terrify him?”

a lump formed in your throat. “god,” you whispered. “i feel like an idiot.”

chris shook his head immediately. “don’t,” he said, his voice firm. “felix doesn’t make this easy. and honestly?” he let out a breath, raking a hand through his curls. “i don’t think he even fully understands it himself.”

you stared at the coffee in your hands, watching the way the foam swirled. your heart pounded in your chest, a storm of emotions crashing against your ribs.

“y/n.”

you looked up.

chris watched you for a moment longer, then exhaled, shaking his head slightly. his arms uncrossed, and without hesitation, he said, “come here.”

your throat tightened.

you hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, and as soon as you did, chris pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, grounding embrace.

his warmth was immediate, solid. his chin rested lightly against the top of your head, and his hands pressed against your back, steady and sure. you closed your eyes, pressing your forehead lightly against his chest.

chris sighed, his voice quieter now. “i know it’s a lot,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “but you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

you swallowed, nodding slightly against him.

the front door creaked softly as it swung open. felix stepped inside, shaking off the cold from the outside air. chris’s place had always been like a second home to him—he never knocked, never needed to. the lights were on, a quiet warmth filling the space, and he figured chris was here.

felix shut the door behind him and took a few steps in, about to call out when he stopped short. his gaze landed on the living room.

there, standing in the soft glow of the lamp, was chris—his arms wrapped tightly around you.

felix stilled.

chris’s arms loosened around you the moment you turned, your breath catching slightly when you saw felix standing there.

his eyes flickered up to chris’s, confusion flitting across his face like a shadow before he quickly masked it. his brows furrowed for only a second, but the moment you stepped away from chris, moving toward him, his expression shifted. the second you reached felix, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself into him.

felix exhaled sharply, his arms coming around you almost instantly, holding you tight. his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt like he needed to feel you, to make sure you were really there.

“i was wondering where you were, i got so scared.” felix buried his face in your hair, breathing you in like he needed the reassurance that you were here, with him.

your arms tightened around felix, your fingers gripping onto him as if trying to anchor him, to reassure him. his warmth, his scent—everything about him was familiar, safe. his heart pounded against your cheek, and you could feel the way he held onto you, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

felix exhaled shakily, his hand sliding up your back before his gaze flickered past you, landing on chris. “what are you doing at chris’s house?”

you hesitated, your fingers curling slightly into the back of his hoodie. you could feel the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, the subtle shift in his breathing.

“i wanted to talk to you about something,” you admitted, keeping your voice gentle. “and i needed to run by it with him first.”

the warmth in his embrace didn’t disappear, but you could feel the way his body stiffened ever so slightly, the way his hands twitched against your back like he was bracing himself. he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he pulled back just enough to look at you. his brows furrowed, eyes flickering between yours, trying to read you, trying to figure out what this was—what this meant.

felix’s body stiffened against yours. his arms, still wrapped around you, tensed for just a fraction of a second—so subtle you might’ve missed it if you weren’t pressed so close to him. he swallowed, his jaw tightening, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter. “about what?”

his eyes landed to chris again, almost like he was looking for an answer before you even said it.

you let out a quiet sigh, dropping your gaze for a moment, staring at the space between you—the way your hands rested against his chest, the way his hoodie bunched slightly beneath your grip.

chris exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. “you know, felix,” he said, his voice firm. “you know what this is about.”

felix’s fingers twitched against your back. you could feel the way his breath faltered, just slightly, before he took in a slow inhale through his nose. he didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel the battle going on inside him. he wasn’t dumb. he knew exactly what this was about.

his voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, something tight and strained.

“did you tell her, chris?” his jaw clenched, and he turned, pulling away from you just enough to face him fully. “i told you not to mess with this.”

your voice cut through the thick air between them.

“it wasn’t him, felix,” you said, your voice quieter now, but it held that sharp edge. you shifted just enough to look him in the eyes. “i found out on my own.”

his gaze sharpened instantly.

felix’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flicker of frustration cross his features. he turned away from you, his body tense, like he needed space, like the walls in the room were closing in. without a word, he stepped toward the front door, his sneakers scraping lightly against the hardwood floor.

you hesitated for a moment, but your feet followed him anyway, your pulse racing. felix stopped just in front of the door, one hand on the handle, his body facing the outside world as if he needed that distance, that air, to breathe. he didn’t turn around, but you could hear the tension in his voice when he spoke.

"let's talk outside," he muttered, his words clipped, almost cold. you nodded silently and followed him out as the morning breeze hit you like a sudden breath of air, cool against your skin, rustling the leaves in the trees around you. you felt it, the shift in the atmosphere, the way it made everything feel a little more real, a little sharper. the silence between you both stretched, thick and uncomfortable, like the air was holding its breath, waiting for something to break it.

felix’s voice was low, quieter than before, and the question hung between you like a challenge, a plea for clarity. “if it wasn’t chris, then who told you?”

you looked at him then, really looked at him. the way his jaw clenched, his eyes not meeting yours directly, but somewhere past you as if he couldn’t bear to face the reality of this conversation. the guilt was there, and you could feel it—heavy and thick in the air.

“why does it matter?” you murmured instead, and to your horror, your voice cracked.

felix’s expression softened just slightly, but you weren’t done. the emotions inside you were pressing against your ribs, demanding to be spoken, to be heard.

“i’ve spent our whole relationship wondering about who she was,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper now, but there was weight in each word. “you never talked about her. you barely mentioned her. what was i supposed to think when you’ve been so obviously hiding something?”

felix’s hands flexed at his sides, the tension in his body like a taut string, just waiting to snap. he didn’t have to say anything—you could feel it. your words were landing like daggers, each one leaving a mark on him.

“i’ll tell you right now, felix.” your voice was quieter now, but just as firm. “i could’ve found out months ago. but i told myself i could trust you. that you’d tell me yourself. that you’d tell me why you act like you’re seeing a ghost every time she’s brought up.”

the wind howled around you, the distant waves crashing against the rocks, but all you could focus on was him. felix still hadn’t moved an inch, his eyes fixed on the ground like he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. his chest heaved, shallow breaths coming in and out like he was trying to brace for the storm you were unleashing.

your heart hammered in your chest, but you pushed forward, step by step, closer to him. the air between you felt electric, charged with everything that had gone unsaid.

you took one slow, deliberate step forward, the tension between you both thickening. felix’s eyes flickered to yours for a brief second before darting away, unable to hold your gaze for more than a heartbeat. you reached out then, your hand trembling slightly, but it was more from the weight of everything hanging between you than fear.

you gripped his hand. his fingers twitched, and he instinctively curled his fingers around yours, but there was a hesitation, a wariness that you could feel in the way he held you, like he wasn’t sure if he could fully trust himself to be there.

“but i get it, felix,” you whispered, your voice softer now, but still steady, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. you squeezed his hand, your palm warm against his cold skin. “after finding out, i understand why you’d hide it. i understand why you’d keep it from me. i’m not mad at you for that. not at all.”

you met his eyes, and this time, he didn’t look away. there was something different in the way he was looking at you now—something soft, something broken. you let him see it, the sincerity in your gaze, the truth of your words.

“but you can’t blame me for wanting to know,” you finished, your voice quiet. “so please,” your voice cracked. “please talk to me.”

the silence that followed felt like an eternity, thick and suffocating. you stood there, heart racing, waiting for him to say something, anything. but felix just stood frozen, his gaze dropping to the ground, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

your hand still held his, and you could feel the tremble in his fingers, the tension in his body. the world seemed to pause around you, the wind picking up and brushing past you both, but it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else.

finally, he spoke, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t feel real.

“i thought i killed her.”

your heart skipped a beat, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’d just said. you blinked, the confusion on your face clear, but you couldn’t speak.

“what?” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, barely making sense to you.

felix’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, the weight of his words hanging between you like a thick fog. he looked almost... haunted. his eyes were shiny, glistening like they were holding back something more than just tears—like they were trying to contain everything he had buried deep inside. his jaw was tight, his lips barely moving as he spoke again, the words coming out in a strangled whisper.

“i hated her, y/n,” felix murmured, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of the words. “god, i hated her so much.” he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with a deep breath that did nothing to calm him. his face was tight with emotion, like he was still trying to wrestle with the parts of himself he didn’t want to face.

you stood frozen, feeling like the ground beneath you was shifting with every word he spoke. you had known about the past, known about mabel and the hurt she’d caused him, but hearing it like this, hearing how much hatred and confusion he carried—it felt like being punched in the chest.

felix’s eyes were distant, staring down at the ground as he continued, his words flowing in a rush now, spilling out like a dam breaking. “two summers ago... when she went back to the states. i thought i’d finally get a break. i thought i could breathe again. i was away from her. away from all her toxic bullshit.” his voice wavered, and you could hear the bitterness, the anger that had built up over the years.

“during that summer, i thought i could finally live that i didn’t have to deal with her, and i actually... i actually felt free.” he looked up at you then, his eyes pained, glistening with unshed tears. “i wished, every single day, that she wouldn’t come back to australia. i wished that i wouldn’t have to see her again. i wanted her to stay away. i wanted her gone from my life for good.”

felix’s voice cracked, trembled, as he looked at you then, his face twisting in pain. “and then she died on the way here. she was gone, and all i can think is... i wanted that. i wished for it every day. and now...” his voice faltered again, the words breaking apart before he could finish.

you could see how deeply this had cut him. how torn he was between what he thought he’d wanted, and the reality of what had actually happened. his guilt was suffocating him, drowning him in a way you had never seen before.

what does it do to a person when their biggest tormentor, their deepest wound, is suddenly gone?

there’s no closure, no way to process the years of pain and rage. instead, felix was left with an emptiness—a hollow feeling, like a part of him that he didn’t even know how to acknowledge had disappeared along with her.

you stood there, the silence stretching between you two like an endless chasm, as you tried to comprehend what felix must have been feeling.

“i know you think i’m crazy,” he said, his words fragile, like he was afraid of what you might think. “like i’m not over her. that i’m still hung up on her. but i’m not. i swear to god, i’m not in love with her anymore.”

you stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing against his hand again. “i don’t think you’re crazy,” you said, your voice steady, trying to match the calmness in your heart. “i think you’re human. and guilt is a hell of a thing. i don’t know what it’s like to carry that kind of weight with you every day... but i know it must hurt.”

felix didn’t speak at first, just let your words settle around him to know that you weren’t pushing him away, that you weren’t going to jump to conclusions.

“but i know you’re over her,” you added quietly. “you’re allowed to feel how you feel about all of this, even if it doesn’t make sense. i’m not going anywhere, okay?”

you opened your arms instinctively, and in that second, felix melted into you. his chest pressed against yours, his face burrowing into the crook of your neck, like he was seeking solace, a place to let go of everything he had been holding in for so long.

you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the tremble in his body. the weight of everything he had just revealed was still there, but in this moment, it was like you could take some of that burden off him, if only for a little while.

“i’m so glad i told you,” he murmured into your skin, his voice thick with emotion. you could feel the words vibrating through his chest, his breath warm against your neck.

you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “i’m glad you did too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady. “you don’t have to keep things like that locked inside, felix. i’m here. always.”

for a moment, there was only the sound of your breathing, the quiet rustle of the breeze around you, the weight of the world seeming to shift just a little.

“i love you,” you whispered, the words so natural, so right, that you almost couldn’t believe they hadn’t been said sooner. you meant it, every syllable. you loved him—so much it was almost overwhelming. it was more than just the words; it was the depth of everything you felt for him, the way his vulnerability made your heart ache in the most beautiful way.

felix’s shoulders sagged, the last bit of tension leaving his body. “i love you too.”

day 8 - 11:00

the sun was high now, glinting off the rolling waves as they crashed lazily against the shore. the morning storm had long passed, leaving behind nothing but a crisp, salt-kissed breeze and a sky so blue like it was out of a movie.

you waded out of the water, breathless from laughing, your skin damp and glistening in the sunlight. felix was right beside you, shaking his head like a wet dog, sending droplets flying in every direction.

“felix—stop,” you squealed, shielding your face with your arms, though you were already soaked.

he grinned, wicked and unrepentant, pushing his hair back from where it stuck to his forehead. “what? you’re already wet.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes, and without thinking, you shoved him—hard.

felix stumbled back a step. “oh?”

you barely had time to laugh before he was shoving you right back, his hands warm against your bare shoulders. you yelped, feet slipping slightly in the wet sand, but before you could retaliate, he was already laughing, eyes bright and boyish.

the two of you were back at the cove, water droplets clinging to your skin, the sun warming every inch of you as if trying to dry you off itself. the cove was as breathtaking as ever, tucked away from the rest of the beach like a secret only you and felix knew. the towering rock formations framed the shore, their rugged edges softened by patches of greenery that clung to the stone. the sand, fine and golden, still held the last bit of coolness from the morning, but with the way the sun hung high in the sky now, it wouldn't last much longer.

felix sighed as he plopped down onto the sand, bracing his arms behind him and tilting his face up to the sky. his skin was still damp, beads of water catching on his collarbones, trailing down his chest.

you watched him for a moment, the way the sun lit up the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips still stretched into an easy grin. he looked so at peace, so effortlessly golden in the afternoon light, like he belonged here—like he was part of the sun and the sea and everything warm.

then he turned his head, catching you staring. his smile softened, something playful but a little more thoughtful underneath it. without a word, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your thigh before settling there, warm and steady. his thumb traced absent circles over your skin, and it sent a tiny thrill up your spine.

“you gonna stand there all day?” his voice was low, teasing, but there was something else behind it, something quieter.

you smiled, sinking down onto your knees beside him, the sand soft beneath you. “maybe,” you murmured, tilting your head. “i like the view.”

felix let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head, but there was a pinkish hue creeping up his neck. his fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, and when you leaned in just a little, he met you halfway.

and then he tilted his head down toward his lap. an invitation.

you raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

felix’s lips twitched, a hint of a smile curling at the edges. he tilted his head down again, more deliberate this time, widening his eyes.

you held his gaze for a second longer before a soft chuckle slipped past your lips. shaking your head, you lowered yourself onto your knees, the sand cool beneath them.

felix wasted no time. as soon as you settled against him, his arms slid around your waist, pulling you in close, his palms splayed over your bare skin. the heat of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, the contrast of the cool breeze against the warmth of his body making your skin prickle.

he dipped his head without hesitation, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in like the salty air wasn’t enough. his lips found the spot just beneath your jaw, soft at first—just a lingering press of warmth. then, his mouth moved lower, kissing along the side of your throat, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.

and then—his teeth. a light graze, barely there, but enough to send a sudden jolt through you.

you twitched, a surprised chuckle bubbling up before you could stop it. "felix," you laughed, squirming slightly in his hold.

he grinned against your skin, arms tightening around your waist as he pressed another kiss there, lips curving. "what?" he murmured, though he didn’t pull back.

"you know what," you accused, still laughing softly as he dragged his nose along your skin, slow and lazy, like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

felix hummed against your skin, the sound deep and satisfied, like he was exactly where he wanted to be. his hands traced slow, lazy circles against your sides, fingertips skimming just beneath the edge of your swimsuit, like he was testing the limits of how much he could touch before you stopped him.

but you didn’t.

"you smell good," he murmured, his lips still ghosting over your skin. "like salt and sunshine."

you huffed, but it came out breathy, your fingers curling against his shoulders. "you're so weird."

he grinned again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. but then—just when you were about to shove him for being so smug—he moved.

his hands slid up to cradle your face, and before you could catch your breath, his lips were on yours. warm and firm, but unhurried, like he was savoring the feeling of you beneath him.

and he kissed like he meant it. like he’d been waiting forever.

your hand slid across his chest, fingers trailing over smooth, sun-warmed skin. he felt solid beneath your touch, every inch of him sculpted and familiar, like something you’d memorized once but were only now remembering. his abs tensed slightly under your fingertips, and a quiet, pleased hum left his throat as you explored the planes of his body, tracing the ridges of muscle like you had all the time in the world.

gosh, you had missed this. missed him.

the heat of him, the way he touched you like he didn’t want to let go, like he needed you closer. your body pressed against his, and he pulled you in tighter, chest rising and falling beneath your palm in time with his uneven breaths.

"you're driving me crazy," he murmured against your lips, voice rough, laced with something deeper.

a shiver ran through you, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand so easily. "then stop talking," you whispered, fingers sliding lower, nails grazing just above the waistband of his swim trunks.

felix inhaled sharply, his whole body going still. you felt the way his muscles tensed beneath your fingertips, the slight hitch in his breath as your hand hovered just above the waistband of his swim trunks.

for a moment, he didn’t move. he just looked down at your hand—staring like he was trying to process what was happening, what it meant. then, slowly, his gaze lifted to yours.

your heart pounded. not just from the heat, not just from the way he felt under your touch, but from the weight of the moment pressing between you. this had always been something unspoken, something hanging in the air like a possibility neither of you ever dared to reach for—until now.

"do you—" your voice was quiet, careful, but steady.

felix swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. his fingers twitched against your skin, like he was holding himself back, thinking, deciding. and then, finally, his lips parted.

"yes."

it was barely a breath, but it was enough.

something in his face shifted—nervous, but sure. he let out a soft laugh, almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening, and then he smiled. that smile—the one that always made your stomach flip, the one that was full of warmth, full of him.

before you could say anything, he leaned in, kissing you quickly, a little eager, a little shaky, like he just had to feel you against him again. his hands held your waist, warm and grounding, and you were already moving, already reaching for him—

then—

a noise.

a sharp rustling in the trees behind you.

felix froze. you did too, your fingers stilled, your breath caught in your throat. the sound wasn’t just the wind. it was something—or someone.

your eyes snapped to his, wide and questioning. he was already looking past you, his whole body on alert, jaw tight.

neither of you spoke. neither of you moved.

then, another rustle. closer this time.

your heart hammered. "felix…" you whispered.

he exhaled, lips pressing into a thin line. then, still holding onto you, he turned his head toward the trees, gaze sharp and searching.

the trees rustled again, the sound sharper this time—closer. your stomach twisted.

"what is that?" you whispered again, barely moving your lips.

his hand tightened on your waist, his body tense against yours. then, without hesitation, he whispered back, "hide."

your pulse jumped. he was already moving, already pulling you up with him, his grip firm but careful as he guided you toward the nearest cover—a large rock nestled against the edge of the cove, half-hidden by the curve of the arch.

you scrambled behind it together, the sand hot beneath your feet as you crouched low. felix's hand found yours in the dim shade of the rock, fingers lacing between yours. his grip was warm, steady, but you could feel the way his pulse thrummed just as fast as yours.

felix shifted slightly, just enough to peer around the edge of the rock. his jaw was tight, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed as they flicked toward the trees. he was watching. waiting.

and then—

another rustle. more deliberate this time. slow. like someone was taking careful steps through the undergrowth.

your fingers curled tighter around his. your breath hitched.

felix’s grip on your hand tightened as voices broke through the quiet.

“yeah, this whole area’s overgrown,” one of them said, his voice carrying through the trees. “too many plants blocking the view. we’ll need to clear some of it out.”

a second voice hummed in agreement. “shame, though. it’s beautiful back here. you don’t get many spots like this anymore.”

felix shot you a look, his brows lifting, and despite the pounding of your heart, you almost laughed. here you were, crouched behind a rock like fugitives, while these guys casually discussed landscaping.

but they weren’t leaving.

"let's have a look over here."

the words sent a sharp jolt down your spine. footsteps shifted—deliberate, moving toward you.

felix’s entire body went rigid. his grip on your hand became iron, his breath steady but sharp. you turned to him, eyes wide, but he wasn’t looking at you—he was looking around, scanning, calculating, his mind already racing ahead to what came next.

the space behind the rock suddenly felt too small. too exposed.

"we need to go," he whispered, his voice barely audible beneath the sound of the waves.

your stomach flipped. "how?"

his gaze flicked toward the water, then back to you.

no time.

felix exhaled sharply. then, without another word, he grabbed your wrist. “come here.”

you barely had time to react before he was moving, tugging you with him as he crept toward the water’s edge. he didn’t hesitate—just stepped in, sinking into the cool waves like it was second nature. the waves lapped at his legs as he pushed forward, the water swallowing him inch by inch until he was gliding effortlessly into its depths.

you followed, breath tight in your chest, heart hammering against your ribs. the moment you were deep enough, you let go of the earth beneath you, pushing off with a single kick, the ocean cradling your body as you drifted forward. the cool rush of the water swallowed the heat of your skin, the sound of your own pulse drowned beneath the rhythmic lull of the waves.

the sound of their voices faded behind you, muffled by the rush of the ocean in your ears. the cove stretched out ahead, and beyond it, the rocky cliffs curved around, hiding another small, empty stretch of shore.

however, there was no soft sand, no welcoming stretch of land. instead, a cluster of slick, uneven rocks jutted out from the base of the cliffs, their dark surfaces glistening under the afternoon sun. the tide rushed against them, filling the crevices with swirling foam before retreating again.

it was no beach. but it was something.

relief bubbled up in your chest, sharp and sudden, and before you could stop yourself, a breathless laugh slipped past your lips. you turned to felix, still swimming beside you, ready to joke about your great escape.

but something was wrong.

his face was tight, his jaw clenched, brows furrowed in a way that sent an instant jolt of unease through you. his strokes were still strong, still pushing him forward, but there was a stiffness to them, a strain in the way he moved.

your stomach dipped. “felix?”

his breath came out shakier than before. he hesitated, like he didn’t want to say it.

“i got stung.”

the words hit you like a wave, cold and sudden. your laughter died on your lips.

your face dropped. “what?”

felix winced, his movements faltering just slightly. “something in the water.” his voice was tight, but controlled, like he was trying not to make a big deal of it.

panic flared in your chest. without thinking, you surged toward him, cutting through the water with quick, urgent strokes.

“don’t,” he said quickly, his voice strained. “it might still be here.”

you ignored him, reaching for him anyway.

“y/n,” felix warned, but his voice wavered, the edges fraying with something dangerously close to pain.

you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

the moment your hands found him, his body tensed beneath your touch, his muscles drawn tight like a bowstring. his skin was warm—too warm—beneath the cool embrace of the water, and as you gripped his arm, he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply through his nose.

your stomach twisted. “felix,” you breathed, scanning him in a rush, eyes darting over his chest, his arms, the expanse of his stomach just beneath the surface. “where?”

he shook his head slightly, jaw locked, his breath coming out in controlled, shallow pulls. “i don’t—” a sharp inhale cut him off.

without thinking, you moved, your hands ghosting over his side. the moment your fingers brushed just beneath his ribs, felix flinched—his entire body jerking at the contact.

“shit—” his hand shot out, gripping your wrist, his eyes squeezing shut even tighter, a pained hiss slipping past his teeth. “there. there.” another shudder ran through him, his head dipping forward.

panic surged in you like a wave. your mind raced, trying to remember anything—anything—you knew about marine stings. jellyfish? stingray? something else? you had no idea. you had no clue what the hell had just sunk its venom into your boyfriend’s skin, but you did know that every second spent floating here was another second wasted.

his muscles tensed beneath your touch as he moved, as if forcing himself to keep going, to push forward despite whatever fire was searing beneath his skin. he cursed under his breath, his jaw clenching so tightly you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

the jagged rocks were only a few strokes away. the waves crashed against them in a steady rhythm, white foam licking the edges like a warning. you had to time it right—wait for the moment between swells and move.

you tightened your hold on felix, heart pounding, breath quick. “we’re almost there,” you murmured, trying to sound steady, even though your chest was tight with fear.

felix just nodded, lips pressed into a thin line, his body tense against yours. and then, with a deep breath, you surged forward, dragging him with you, toward the rocks, toward safety, toward whatever came next.

the shore was close now—just a little further. the waves grew gentler as the water shallowed, the ocean floor rising beneath your feet. you could almost touch it, almost pull both of you onto solid rocks.

felix’s fingers dug into your wrist, a sharp, almost desperate pressure. it hurt—his grip like iron, like he was holding on for dear life—but you didn’t say anything. if it was grounding him, if it was giving him even the smallest bit of relief, you could take it.

his breath came in sharp bursts, his jaw clenched so tight you were sure it ached. every now and then, he let out a shaky exhale, like he was trying to work through the pain, trying to convince himself it wasn’t as bad as it clearly was.

“almost there,” you murmured, voice low, steady. “just a little more.”

he gave a weak nod, but his grip on you only tightened.

the moment your fingers found solid rock, you clung to it, bracing yourself against the slick surface as the water tugged at your legs. the tide was relentless, threatening to pull you back in, but you gritted your teeth and pushed forward.

“come on,” you urged, turning to felix.

his jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven, but he didn’t hesitate. with a sharp inhale, he reached for the ledge, his arms trembling slightly as he hauled himself up beside you. he gritted out another curse as his side brushed against the stone, a fresh wave of pain stiffening his movements.

the second you were both out of the water, felix collapsed back onto the rock, exhaling shakily. his head tipped back against the uneven surface, his chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the only sound was the ocean crashing against the rocks below, the water swirling hungrily around where you had just been. the fear in your chest still hadn’t fully settled, adrenaline buzzing through your limbs, but you forced yourself to focus.

felix let out a low groan, dragging a hand down his face before resting it over his ribs. his brows furrowed, and his fingers hovered just above the spot where he’d been stung, like he was afraid to touch it.

you swallowed hard. “let me see.”

he hesitated, his jaw clenching as if debating whether to brush you off. but then he exhaled, his shoulders sinking just slightly. without a word, he moved his hand away.

your stomach flipped.

a long, angry welt stretched across his ribs, already inflamed, the skin around it tinged a deep, irritated red.

he huffed out a breath—something close to a laugh, but edged with pain. “you know… i heard pee helps with this.”

you groaned, rolling your eyes as you helped lower him onto the dry sand. “felix, i swear—”

“i’m just saying,” he muttered, wincing as he shifted. “if you really care about me…”

you shot him a look. “yeah, well, if you really cared about me, you wouldn’t make me consider peeing on you, you freak.”

that actually got a laugh out of him, even if it was short-lived. he exhaled through his nose, his head tipping back slightly. the skin was already swelling, the edges a blotchy pink.

your stomach twisted. “that looks like a jellyfish sting,” you murmured.

felix peeked down at it, nose scrunching. “yeah. feels like one too.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you need something on that before it gets worse.”

he smirked again, though it was weaker this time. “not pee?”

you swatted his arm, unable to help the small smile tugging at your lips. "no, you idiot. get up."

felix groaned dramatically but obeyed, pushing himself up onto his feet with a wince. “yes, ma’am,” he muttered, shaking his head as if this was all your problem to deal with. you rolled your eyes and reached for his arm to steady him, but he shot you a lopsided grin. “good thing i have an expert with me,” he said, his voice teasing despite the pain laced through it. “since, you know… you’ve had experience getting bitten by snakes.”

you blinked at him. “you mean, when i was six?”

he shrugged, barely suppressing a smirk. “still counts.”

you gawked at him for a second before groaning, dragging a hand down your face. “that was forever ago.”

“yeah, but you lived to tell the tale.” he gestured vaguely. “so i trust your survival skills.”

you shot him a flat look. “felix, i cried so hard i passed out.”

felix sighed, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the pain. “well, let’s hope i don’t,” he muttered, stepping toward the water.

he exhaled through his nose, glancing down at the angry red welt on his ribs. without another word, he crouched by the water, scooping some up in his hands and splashing it over the sting.

the reaction was immediate. his body tensed, shoulders going stiff as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. he turned his head away from you, like if he didn’t meet your eyes, he could somehow downplay just how much it hurt.

you noticed. the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers flexed slightly in the sand, like he was trying so hard not to let it show. your eyebrows furrowed, a pang of sympathy tugging at your chest.

felix inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders before pushing himself to his feet. “alright,” he said, shaking his hands free of water, forcing a smile. “i treat it properly when we get home.”

you let out a quiet sigh, watching him for a second. before he could step away, you reached up, fingers brushing through the damp strands of his hair. felix blinked, caught off guard, but he didn’t move—just let you smooth his hair back, let you touch him with that soft kind of affection that neither of you really put into words.

and then, still holding his gaze, you brought his head down, just enough to press a gentle kiss against his forehead.

felix stilled.

for a moment, he didn’t say anything, just hovered there, his breath fanning against your cheek. then, his lips curved into something small, something softer than his usual teasing smirk.

“i should get injured more often,”

day 8 - 13:00

the walk back to the beach house had been longer than expected, weaving through uneven terrain and jagged rocks, but felix had been a trooper. he never once complained, just pressed on with that quiet determination of his, even when the occasional wince betrayed the sting in his skin. you had kept an eye on him the whole way, noting every subtle twitch, every sharp inhale he tried to mask.

once inside, you wasted no time grabbing the first-aid kit. the both of you settled in the bathroom, the air warm and still, the only sounds being the soft rustle of bandages and the occasional hiss of breath when you worked out the small, stubborn stings that had lodged in his skin.

now, felix was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped lazily over his stomach, the other resting against the back of the couch. his shirt was slightly lifted, revealing the fresh bandages across his ribs—proof of the careful tending you'd just finished.

you walked over to him, the small bottle of advil in your hand rattling softly. felix barely moved at first, his eyes half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion, but when he caught sight of you, a slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips.

“thanks, baby,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough from fatigue. he reached up, taking the bottle from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting second before he unscrewed the cap. he grabbed the glass of water you’d already set nearby and popped a couple of pills into his mouth, swallowing them down in one motion.

you watched him for a moment, the way his throat bobbed, the way his shoulders finally seemed to lose some of their earlier tension. when he was done, he let out a slow exhale and—without hesitation—leaned into you, his head settling against your shoulder like it was second nature.

you let out a quiet breath, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the sleeve of his shirt. felix was warm against you, solid, but you couldn’t shake the worry still curling in your chest. you glanced down, eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he settled deeper into your touch.

you hesitated, voice softer now. “i wish i could take your pain away.”

felix hummed, the sound low and lazy, before shifting just enough to look at you properly.

“you could kiss me better,” he said simply, tilting his head, offering up his injured side like some kind of invitation.

a soft laugh escaped you, despite yourself, despite the lingering worry in your chest. typical. he could be bruised and aching, and he’d still find a way to make you smile.

shaking your head with a small smile, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss just above the bandage on his ribs. your lips barely brushed his skin, gentle and careful. felix let out a slow exhale, his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he shifted, tilting his face toward yours.

“i love you,” he murmured, voice quiet but certain.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers instinctively smoothing over his arm, tracing slow circles against his skin.

felix smiled then, small and easy, before his eyes flicked open again, mischief creeping in at the edges. “do you remember what we were doing before those landscapers interrupted us?”

your breath hitched—just slightly. a slow, creeping heat worked its way up your neck, and you swallowed, hard.

your throat went dry. “of course,” you admitted, voice a little quieter now. you did remember—very clearly.

felix let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against your leg, like he was thinking about reaching for you but wasn’t sure if he should. “then,” he murmured, “we shouldn’t leave that hanging. should we?”

your pulse stuttered.

his eyes searched yours, open and wanting, his fingers finally curling against your skin like he needed the contact, like he needed you.

“felix,” you murmured, hesitating. “you’re injured.”

he swallowed, his hand tightening just slightly. “i know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this could help me take my mind off it.”

your heart did an embarrassing little flip, your resolve slipping faster than you’d like to admit. and judging by the way felix was looking at you—like he knew exactly what he was doing—you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.your fingers tightened slightly where they rested against his arm. “you’re crazy,” you murmured, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

felix only grinned, shifting just enough to nudge his knee against yours. “am i?”

you exhaled slowly, willing your pulse to stay steady, even as he tilted his head, watching you with those half-lidded, unreadable eyes. he wasn’t in any hurry. he had all the time in the world, and he knew you’d get there eventually.

still, you hesitated, fingers trailing absentmindedly along the band of his sweatpants, playing with the fabric. “what is it that you want, then?”

felix’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching where they rested against your leg before sliding just a little higher—not pushing, not demanding, just searching for more. his grip tightened, like he needed something to hold onto. “something slow.”

your breath caught.

felix’s lips twitched, like he’d noticed. “something that won’t, you know—” he gestured vaguely toward his bandaged ribs. “break me in half.”

you let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “that’s not reassuring.”

felix shifted then, his touch drifting, his fingers brushing against your hip in a way that sent heat licking up your spine. his voice was lower when he spoke again, quieter, like it was something just for you.

“i just want to feel you,” he murmured.

your pulse jumped.

felix’s fingers flexed, just slightly, against your hip. “i don’t need much,” he said, and there was something slow, lazy, and entirely deliberate in the way his voice curled around the words. “just a little…” his knee nudged against yours again. “pressure.”

a warmth spread through your chest—hot, insistent, impossible to ignore.

felix leaned in, his nose brushing against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin as he murmured, “just like the other morning. is that okay?”

it was ridiculous, really, how easily he unraveled you. how one look, one shift of his fingers against your skin, could turn your thoughts to static.

because you wanted him. you wanted what you had that morning two days ago, the way he had kissed you, touched you—unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. you remembered how he looked at you afterward, like you were something worth worshipping, like he had never wanted anything more.

and now? now you knew he loved you. now, that pull toward him was even deeper, twisting into something undeniable, something you didn’t even want to fight.

your fingers curled slightly against his arm, your body already leaning into his without a second thought. the way he was looking at you, lazy and knowing, sent another wave of heat down your spine. you wanted him, wanted to close the space between you, to press against him and get lost in the feeling of him.

but he was injured.

you forced yourself to breathe, to ground yourself in the rise and fall of his chest against your side. his body was warm, solid, but there was still a soreness lingering in the way he moved, a tension in his muscles that told you he wasn’t fully okay yet. and as much as you wanted him, as much as you ached for the weight of him over you, you weren’t about to let him push himself just to prove a point.

but you had an idea.

your fingers traced light patterns over his arm before drifting lower, a slow, intentional path. felix’s breath hitched, just slightly, and you felt the subtle shift in his body—his muscles tensing, then relaxing under your touch.

“while you relax,” you murmured, voice soft but certain. “i’ll take care of it.”

your fingers traced along his forearm, featherlight, teasing, just enough to make him twitch beneath your touch. he was watching you, his gaze dark and lidded, but there was a flicker of surprise when you slid your hand further down, fingertips brushing just above the waistband of his sweatpants. his breath stilled.

“that’s not what i meant,” felix murmured, voice thick, but there was no protest in it. just curiosity, a slow-building heat.

you hummed, tilting your head slightly as your hand skimmed lower, playing with the edge of the fabric, slipping just beneath—just enough to feel the heat of his skin. "i know," you admitted, voice soft but certain. "but this way, you won’t have to do anything. you can just relax.”

felix’s lips parted slightly, his breath coming just a little faster now. his grip on your thigh flexed, then released, like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. he swallowed hard, his voice quieter when he finally spoke again. “are you sure?”

your pulse jumped, but you didn’t hesitate. your hand pressed more firmly against him, the heat of him unmistakable even through the fabric of his sweatpants. “yes, felix.”

felix exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against your skin before he finally let himself relax, sinking back against the pillows with a slow, measured breath. his eyes stayed locked onto yours, watching you, waiting. trusting.

and that—god, that—was what made the heat in your stomach coil tighter. because felix could be so damn cocky, so effortlessly teasing, always knowing exactly what to say to make you weak. but right now, with you, he wasn’t playing a game. he was just looking at you like he wanted you, like he needed you, like he’d let you do whatever you wanted to him because he knew you wanted this just as much as he did.

your fingers traced over him again, slow, deliberate, pressing just a little more firmly this time. felix let out a quiet breath, his body tensing for just a second before melting into the sensation. his head tipped back against the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat, and something about that—about the way he gave in so easily, trusting you, wanting you—made your own breath catch.

your grip tightened just slightly, the slow, deliberate drag of your touch making felix’s breath hitch, his entire body tensing beneath your hands. you felt it—the way his muscles tightened, his fingers flexing against your thigh, his breath stuttering like he was holding himself back from something.

“relax, felix,” you murmured, voice softer now, coaxing, a quiet command wrapped in warmth.

a strangled sort of laugh left him, breathless and wrecked, his head tipping forward so his forehead nearly brushed yours. his eyes were dark, hazy with something he wasn’t bothering to hide anymore. “i can’t,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

something about the way he said it—like he was unraveling beneath your touch and there was nothing he could do to stop it—sent a fresh wave of heat through you, made your own breath come a little quicker.

felix’s hand curled against your thigh, gripping, grounding himself. “you don’t—” he exhaled sharply, his lips parting, like he was trying to string together a thought but kept losing it. “you don’t know what you do to me.”

you swallowed, your pulse skipping, because you felt it. felt the way he was barely holding himself together, felt the way his body reacted to every little touch. his breath was hot, uneven, his body taut beneath your touch, his entire being folding under the weight of whatever this was—whatever you were doing to him.

and then, in a breathless, wrecked whisper, he said it.

“i fuckin’ love you.”

your fingers tightened instinctively, the weight of his words sinking into you as heat curled low in your stomach. you felt him twitch under your palm, his body jerking slightly at the firm press of your hand, and gosh, the sound that spilled from his lips—a choked-off breath, a quiet groan, barely restrained—made you want to push him further, drag more of those noises out of him.

felix’s breath stuttered, his hips shifting just slightly, like he was trying to stay still, like he was trying not to fuck into your hand. but then you squeezed—slow, deliberate, feeling the solid heat of him through the fabric—and his entire body tensed. his fingers dug into your thigh, his grip tightening like he was holding onto you for dear life, and then he exhaled, sharp and shaky, his head tilting back against the couch.

“fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked, like you had just knocked the air out of his lungs.

you stroked again, this time firmer, dragging your palm over him in a slow, deliberate motion, feeling every inch of him, the way he throbbed under your touch, the way his body responded instantly. the sweatpants did little to dull the sensation—he was hot and hard beneath the thin fabric, and when you squeezed again, when your fingers traced the outline of him, pressing just enough to feel him twitch against your palm, he groaned, low and needy.

his jaw went slack, lips parted, breath uneven, and you could see it—how bad he wanted this, how much he needed it.

you didn’t stop. you kept working him, your hand steady, your strokes unhurried but firm, dragging up from the base with just the right amount of pressure, and he fucking melted. his breath came quicker, his shoulders tightening, and then he let out a low, shaky curse, his head tilting back against the couch.

his voice was hoarse when he spoke again, barely held together. “i’m not gonna last if you—” he cut himself off with a sharp inhale, his stomach tensing beneath your touch.

you kept your grip steady, your fingers tightening just enough to make his breath hitch. the way his body responded to every stroke, every slow, deliberate squeeze, sent a hot thrill through you. his hips twitched, his jaw went slack, and the muscles in his stomach tightened with every movement of your hand.

felix sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching where they gripped your thigh. he was so warm, so solid beneath your touch, and fuck, the way he was falling apart for you made your pulse stutter, made your own breath come a little quicker. his head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat, and god, he looked wrecked—lips parted, eyes half-lidded, lost in the sensation.

you let out a soft hum, tilting your head as your fingers slowed, teasing now, just enough to make him whimper—fucking whimper—before you pulled back slightly. his hips lifted instinctively, chasing your touch, and the frustration in his expression sent another wave of heat down your spine.

his breath came faster now, rough and uneven, and his grip on your thigh tightened as his eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. he blinked up at you, his brows drawn, like he couldn’t understand why you had stopped.

a slow smirk curled at your lips. “felix,” you murmured, letting your hand rest just over him, barely applying pressure now. his body tensed beneath you, his thighs twitching, like he was fighting the urge to move, to beg. “do you want me to really touch you?”

his breath hitched, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a second, he didn’t answer—just swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, his fingers flexing against your leg.

then, slowly, he nodded. “god yes.”

his voice was low, wrecked, raw with need. it sent a shiver through you, made your own body thrum with anticipation. but you didn’t move just yet. you watched him, drinking in the way he looked up at you—open, wanting, completely at your mercy.

“do you want me to touch you properly, felix?”

the muscles in his stomach clenched, his grip on your thigh tightening as if that was the only thing keeping him grounded. his jaw worked, lips parting like he wanted to speak, but all that came out was a shaky exhale. and then, finally, his voice—wrecked, breathless, desperate.

“yes, y/n. please.”

something about the way he said your name—soft, needy, like a prayer and a plea all at once—made heat coil low in your stomach. your smirk deepened, slow and wicked, and you dragged your fingers down to the waistband of his sweats, teasing the fabric between your fingertips. his hips twitched, his breath catching as anticipation crackled between you like static.

you took your time, hooking your fingers into the band, dragging it down—slow, excruciatingly slow—watching the way his cock strained against the thin cotton of his boxers. your mouth went dry, your breath hitching slightly despite yourself, because fuck—he was big.

the shape of him was thick, the fabric barely containing the way he twitched, aching for relief. you could see the way he pulsed against it, the way a damp spot had already formed at the tip, his arousal leaking through. felix let out a choked noise when you traced a single teasing finger along the outline of him, dragging from the base to the tip, feeling the heat of him through the barrier of dark fabric. his hips bucked slightly into your touch, and his hands flexed, like he was fighting the urge to grab you, to pull you closer.

“god,” you murmured, voice hushed, almost to yourself. “you’re…” you trailed off, shaking your head slightly, biting your lip as you finally—finally—slipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed a deep, needy red, the head slick with precum. it twitched under your gaze, the length of him standing proud, veined, leaking, like he’d been aching for this for so, so long. a shiver ran through you, heat pooling low in your belly as your thighs clenched involuntarily.

felix sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back against the couch, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “fuck,” he groaned, his voice a wrecked rasp. “fuck, y/n…”

you swallowed, eyes fixed on the way his cock throbbed in the cool air, aching for your touch. your fingers ghosted over the thick length, barely brushing, and he jolted, a low, helpless sound escaping him.

you wrapped your fingers around him, the heat of him burning against your palm, solid and thick, so much more than you had imagined. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his thighs twitching under your touch.

you gave a slow, experimental stroke, dragging your hand from the base to the tip, feeling the way he pulsed under your palm, the way he leaked against your fingers. felix let out a shaky moan, his hips jerking slightly, like he couldn’t help it.

your grip tightened just slightly as you dragged your hand down again, taking your time, feeling the weight of him, the smooth, velvety skin stretched over iron-hard arousal. he was perfect—thick enough that your fingers didn’t quite close around him, the veins along his shaft pulsing as you traced them with a featherlight touch. his cock twitched in your grip, leaking more, smearing slick warmth over your fingers.

you had never seen anything like this before. had never touched anyone like this before. and yet, here you were, wrapped around your boyfriend’s cock, watching it throb in your grip, slick with his need.

a part of you couldn’t believe this was happening. another part of you never wanted to stop.

his gaze flicked down to where your fingers were wrapped around him, where his cock throbbed against your palm, slick with precum. “so this is what people do when they have no parents around for the week, huh?”

your stomach clenched. the weight of his words, the reality of the situation, sent a fresh wave of arousal rolling through you. his parents were gone. it was just the two of you, no one to walk in, no one to hear, no one to stop this from going further.

and everyone you knew—everyone you had ever talked to about your relationship—had assumed it was the first thing you two would do this week.

you swallowed hard, your strokes slowing as the thought settled in your mind.

your grip tightened, slick fingers gliding faster over his throbbing cock, and felix shuddered beneath you, a wrecked, desperate sound spilling from his lips. his hips jerked up into your touch, chasing the friction, chasing you. his breath came in sharp gasps, chest rising and falling unevenly, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to grab onto you or let himself unravel.

“fuck,” he panted, voice breaking, raw with need. “fuck, i’m—”

you cut him off by leaning in, pressing your mouth to his, swallowing the rest of his words. he moaned into the kiss, high and breathless, the sound vibrating against your lips as his whole body trembled under you. his cock throbbed in your hand, leaking slick, twitching with every firm stroke. he tried to hold himself back, tried to keep from losing it too soon, but he was falling apart, and he knew it.

“i’m not—shit—i’m not gonna last,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut like he couldn’t bear how close he was. “i—fuck, fuck—”

he was babbling, barely coherent, his body tight with tension, his abs flexing with every shaky breath. you watched his face, his brows furrowed, his lips parted, his whole expression one of pure, unfiltered pleasure.

and it scared you. just for a second.

felix noticed. even through the haze of his impending orgasm, he noticed the hesitation in your touch, the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. his lashes fluttered as he cracked his eyes open, pupils blown wide and dark with lust, but there was something softer there too—something grounding.

he exhaled shakily, then covered your hand with his, guiding you. his fingers laced with yours, showing you the rhythm, the grip, the pace he needed. his breath stuttered, hips stuttering up into your joined hands, and he groaned again, deep and wrecked.

“just like that,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “just—yeah, fuck, just like that—”

you leaned in, lips brushing against the curve of his neck, breathing him in—warm skin, sweat, the faintest trace of cologne. his pulse pounded beneath your mouth, a frantic, needy rhythm that matched the way his hips jerked under your joined hands.

felix let out a groan, deep and broken, his fingers tightening over yours as if to anchor himself. his body trembled, every muscle going taut, his breath hitching on a sharp inhale. you pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his throat, feeling the vibrations of his next moan as it tore from his lips.

"fuck—" his voice cracked, desperate, wrecked. his cock throbbed in your grip, twitching violently.

before you knew it, thick, hot ropes of white spilled onto his stomach, streaking his skin, each pulse met with a shuddering gasp. his whole body tensing, fingers digging into yours as if he couldn’t handle the intensity alone. you kept stroking him, slower now, working him through it, feeling every pulse, every aftershock.

felix let out a strangled whimper, hips twitching, oversensitive but unwilling to let go of your hand just yet. his head fell back against the couch, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp with sweat. his lashes fluttered, his lips parted, completely undone beneath you.

felix let out a breathy laugh, his body still twitching with the aftershocks, and murmured, "my goodness…" his voice was hoarse and it made something warm curl low in your stomach.

you kissed him before he could say anything else, soft and slow, tasting his lingering gasps on your tongue. he melted into it, groaning lightly as he kissed you back, his lips parting under yours, lazy and pliant, like he was still coming down from the high.

when you finally pulled away, you brushed your nose against his and murmured, "you feel better?"

he blinked, dazed, then dropped his gaze down to his stomach, where his release streaked his skin, before shifting slightly, wincing. his eyes flickered toward his side, the sting of his injury grounding him again. you followed his gaze, fingers ghosting over the spot instinctively.

“honestly, i forgot about it.” he grinned sheepishly. his thumb brushed lightly over your skin, and his voice was softer this time, lower. "thank you, baby."

day 8 - 15:00

the door to the beach house clicked shut behind you, the sound oddly final as you both stepped forward onto the road. something made you turn back, eyes trailing over the familiar windows, the sand-dusted porch, the memories woven into every inch of the place.

“you’re gonna miss this beautiful home,” you murmured, taking it all in. “and all the stuff that happened in it… and behind it.”

felix glanced at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

just then, a seagull soared overhead, its wings cutting through the blue, like it had just launched from the rooftop. your gaze followed it before a thought struck you, your eyes flicking back to felix.

“let’s go see it?” you asked, tilting your head toward the house.

felix nodded. “yeah, let’s go.”

you both made your way around the back, where the slanted roof was just within reach. the nest had been there for days, nestled in a spot just out of sight from the ground. felix stopped beneath it and looked at you with an all-too-familiar glint in his eyes.

“hop on,” he said, crouching slightly.

you hesitated, eyeing his injured side. “felix—”

“i got it,” he cut in, already holding his hands out to steady you.

you sighed, but there was no real fight left in you. carefully, you placed your hands on his shoulders before swinging a leg over, trying not to think too hard about the fact that his grip on your waist was firm, steady. he lifted you with ease, and as you straightened, your head finally peeked over the edge of the roof.

and there it was—the nest, barely held together by twigs and bits of seaweed, cradling one tiny, wrinkled, pink bird. it was ugly in the most endearing way, its barely-there fuzz shifting as it moved.

you gasped, a soft coo escaping your lips.

“what is it?” felix asked from below, trying to look up without tipping you over.

still balancing on his shoulders, you fumbled in your pocket for the small digital camera you’d been carrying around. you lifted it, fingers quick as you framed the moment, the lens capturing the fragile little thing in all its awkward glory before clicking the shutter.

you brought the camera down, grinning as you glanced at the tiny screen. felix craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse.

“oh my gosh,” he blurted, eyes wide as he finally saw the picture. “it looks so ill.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “i think that’s just how they’re supposed to look.” you glanced back at the nest, then at him, still giggling. “not everyone’s born cute, you know.”

felix made a face, amused. “that’s… reassuring.”

still balanced on his shoulders, you snapped a few more photos from different angles, capturing the little bird’s ugly charm. felix stayed steady beneath you, his hands secure at your shins, making sure you didn’t wobble too much.

“okay,” you finally said, slipping the camera back into your pocket. “i think i got enough.”

felix hummed. “alright, down you go.”

slowly, his hands slid to your waist, fingers curling gently as he helped guide you down. he lowered you with ease, making sure your feet were firmly on the ground before letting go.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, smiling up at him. “yeah. you’re a very reliable ladder.”

felix grinned, scrunching his nose. “anytime.”

as you stepped away from the house, the moment still lingered between you, like the warmth of the sun clinging to your skin. felix walked beside you, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second before he pulled away, reaching for your suitcase.

you sighed, reaching for the handle. “you’re hurt. give it to me.”

he held it tighter, grinning like he wasn’t wincing slightly. “this is nothing. i got it.”

“no, you don’t.” you stopped walking, crossing your arms.

felix huffed, but when he saw the dead-serious look on your face, he relented, letting you take the handle from him. “you’re so stubborn,” he mumbled.

“says you,” you shot back, adjusting your grip on the luggage.

the bus stop was just ahead, the blue sign swaying slightly with the breeze. you pulled your bag over your shoulder, the weight of it grounding you. felix glanced at you, then back ahead, kicking a stray rock with the toe of his shoe.

“so, how long are you alone for?” you asked.

“my parents come back tomorrow morning,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. “we’ll be here for two days after that, and then i’m heading back to sydney.”

you nodded, lips pressing together.

felix exhaled softly. “i’m gonna miss you.”

you blinked at him, tilting your head. “felix, it’s only a couple days.”

“still,” he said, bumping your arm with his. “i mean, i had so much fun.”

you smiled, nudging him back. “me too.”

and you really, really meant it.

the two of you kept walking, the bus stop coming into view at the end of the street. the air between you felt light, but there was still something lingering—like neither of you really wanted this walk to end just yet.

felix glanced over at you, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “so,” he started, swinging your suitcase slightly as he rolled it along. “what was really your favorite part of the trip?”

you let out a small chuckle, remembering the last time he’d asked you that. things had been different then—tense, uncertain, like you were both walking on eggshells around each other. now, it felt easy. natural.

still, you decided to mess with him. you tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “mmm… definitely bleeding in the middle of the ocean.”

felix let out a loud laugh, his head tipping back. “oh my god,” he wheezed. “that was horrifying.”

you grinned, shrugging. “hey, at least it was eventful.”

“i swear i thought you were about to be shark food,” he said, shaking his head.

“oh, i loved that night on the yacht when i started drinking,” you said suddenly, a teasing lilt in your voice.

felix groaned dramatically, running a hand down his face. “oh gosh, i’m a terrible influence. what am i doing to you?”

you laughed, bumping his arm. “relax.”

“no, seriously.” he shook his head, feigning horror. “your parents leave you with me for one week, and when you come back, they find out their daughter’s boyfriend let her drink?”

you raised an eyebrow. “well, technically, you weren’t even there when i started drinking.”

felix threw his hands up. “still!”

you giggled, watching the way he genuinely looked like he was rethinking every life choice. “felix, i wouldn’t worry about it.”

he gave you a side-eye, lips twitching. “mmm… i feel like you just saying that isn’t super reassuring.”

you grinned, shrugging. “guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

felix sighed, shaking his head like he was suffering. “great. now i have that on my conscience forever.”

“oh, please,” you teased. “we've done way worse.”

he gasped. “like what?”

you smirked. “i’m keeping a list.”

felix groaned again, but he was smiling because he knew what this was about.

by the time you reached the bus stop, the bus was already there, idling at the curb with its doors open, passengers filing in one by one. you hadn’t realized how much time you’d spent by the bird’s nest, how easily you’d gotten caught up in just being with felix. now, standing in line with him beside you, it was sinking in—this was goodbye, even if just for a little while.

you looked up at him, offering a small smile. “i'll see back in sydney?”

he nodded, but there was something reluctant about it, like it wasn’t really the distance that was bothering him. “and also back to school,” he muttered, face scrunching in dismay.

you chuckled, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “the real tragedy.”

felix huffed a soft laugh, but it faded quickly as he looked at you, his expression softening again. his fingers brushed against yours, like he wanted to hold onto you but wasn’t sure if he should. you took the decision out of his hands, shifting closer, voice dropping to something more sincere.

“i love you, felix,” you murmured. “thank you for letting me stay here.”

felix blinked, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something, but he just nodded instead. his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and then, before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest.

you melted into him instantly, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the way his heartbeat thudded against yours. he held you so tightly, like if he just held on long enough, maybe time would slow down, maybe this moment wouldn’t have to end so soon.

his breathing was shaky, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly, and it didn’t take much to realize he was holding back tears. felix had always been soft like that, felt things so deeply.

you pretended not to notice, just holding him closer, running a soothing hand along his back.

“i love you too,” he whispered, the words barely there, but you felt them more than anything.

and then, before you could even process it, he pulled back just enough to press a quick, fleeting kiss to your lips—warm and desperate, full of everything he wasn’t saying. it was over almost as soon as it started, but the feeling lingered, the taste of salt and sunlight and felix still on your lips as he pulled away.

you were at the front of the line now. the driver glanced at you expectantly, but you barely noticed, too caught in the way felix was still holding your hand, his grip firm but unwilling.

“be safe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

you nodded, squeezing his fingers one last time before slowly pulling away. he let go like he didn’t want to, his hand lingering in the air for a second before he dropped it to his side.

you took a step forward onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. he was still standing there, watching you with those soft, stormy eyes, lips pressed together like he was still trying not to let everything spill over.

you smiled gently. he smiled back.

inside the bus, you found a seat near the window, tucking your bag beside you as you settled in. the hum of the bus, the low murmur of other passengers, the faint smell of worn leather seats—it all felt strangely distant, like white noise in the background of something bigger, something heavier pressing against your chest.

the ride was only two hours.

it would go by fast if you just let yourself sleep.

with a soft sigh, you leaned your head against the window, watching as felix took a small step back from the curb. he was still there, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slumped, staring at the bus like he could still see you through the tinted glass. for a second, you almost thought he could.

the ride was only two hours.

it would go by fast if you just let yourself sleep.

you had spent the last few minutes pretending it wasn’t that bad, pretending it didn’t hurt to leave. you told yourself it was only two days. that you’d see felix again soon, that sydney wasn’t that far, that it wasn’t a big deal.

but now, as the bus gave a slight lurch forward and the distance between you stretched just a little more, something in your chest twisted.

you swallowed thickly, blinking up at the ceiling to keep it at bay, but a single tear slipped down the outer corner of your eye, trailing along your temple before disappearing into your hair. you shut your eyes tightly, inhaling slow and deep, like that might help push the ache away.

it wasn’t just about felix.

sure, not seeing him, not being with him for even a few days felt like a weight you weren’t ready to carry. but it was more than that.

you were heading straight back to the unknown.

school. the pressure. the expectations. the scary parts of it all that made your stomach knot up when you thought too hard about them.

the bus picked up speed, the scenery shifting, the ocean slipping out of view, and you curled in on yourself just a little, hugging your arms as you pressed your forehead against the cool window.

and you were gonna miss this place.

this place—this stretch of coastline, the beautiful home, the hammock beneath the shade of the trees—had become something special, because of him. it felt right to leave those words here, like they belonged in the air around you, woven into the sunlight and the sea breeze. love was in the air on the east coast.

and you had known that by now. you had felt it in the way people greeted each other in passing, always with a smile or a friendly wave. everyone seemed to know everyone else, as if the whole town was one big, extended family. it wasn’t just a place—it was a community, woven together by familiarity and kindness, where laughter drifted from front porches and children ran barefoot through the sand.

everywhere you looked, there was beauty—not just in the scenery but in the way life unfolded here, slow and steady, like the tides. the mornings brought soft fog rolling in over the water, afternoons sparkled under a brilliant sun, and evenings painted the horizon in shades of amber and violet.

felix had truly grown up in this world. not in sydney, with its bustling streets and endless noise, but here, in this quiet coastal haven. this was his home, not just because he lived here, but because it had shaped him. you could feel it in the way he moved, in the way he spoke about the sea and the sky, as though they weren’t just elements of nature but old friends. he carried the calm of the ocean within him, the steadiness of the earth beneath his feet, and the warmth of the sun in the way he smiled. he was like this place: quiet yet full of life, unassuming yet unforgettable.

this place had done something to you too. it changed the way you saw things, made you more present, more aware of life’s simplest joys. and as the horizon blurred in the distance, fading behind you, a bittersweet ache settled deep in your chest. you didn’t just love felix. you loved this world he had invited you into. it was his, and it had become a part of you.

you realized, as the wind carried the faint scent of salt and pine, that you were leaving more than just a place. you were leaving a feeling, a way of being, a piece of yourself you would carry forever. and you knew that even though you were moving forward, a part of you would always be here—where the ocean kissed the shore, where life moved slow and steady, where you first learned what it truly meant to love.

this summer would stay with you, etched into your soul like sunlight on water. the sights, the sounds, the way the air had felt heavy with promise—it would all come back to you in moments when you least expected it. and whenever you closed your eyes, you’d see it again: the endless stretch of beach, the way felix smiled at you beneath the dappled light, and the love that had taken root in your heart without you even realizing it.

you sighed, shifting in your seat as the road stretched endlessly ahead. the weight in your chest hadn’t lightened, but you forced yourself to breathe through it, to let the steady hum of the bus lull you into something close to peace.

then, almost instinctively, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone.

it had barely crossed your mind all week—not because you didn’t have it, but because you didn’t need it. there had been no urge to scroll mindlessly, no need to check for updates or messages, no impulse to fill the quiet with artificial noise. you had been there, completely and wholly, connected to everything around you—the ocean, the trees, the laughter, him.

but now, with nothing but miles of road ahead and the place you loved shrinking behind you, you unlocked the screen, feeling the strange disconnect settle in again.

then your phone vibrated.

your heart skipped a beat at the name flashing across the screen.

felix.

you barely hesitated before swiping to answer, bringing the phone up to your ear.

“hi, felix,” you murmured, a small smile already tugging at your lips.

“hi, y/n,” he sounded the same as he always did—gentle, warm, like summer.

you curled up against the window, eyes drifting over the trees blurring past. “miss me already?”

“shut up.”

this summer wasn’t just a season. it was a beginning. and you will always remember this summer.

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