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[muashamaila]

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[ari-ana-bel-la]

Can you pls do a dad Oscar fic with a young daughter and she loves his sisters and while playing with them she grazes her knee or smth and runs back to her dad thank youuuuuuu x

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

The late afternoon sun bathed the backyard in a golden glow, casting long shadows over the freshly cut grass. A warm breeze rustled the trees, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine through the open space. Laughter echoed across the yard as two-year-old Yn toddled between her aunties, her tiny hands grasping at the air as if she could catch the very essence of happiness.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched his daughter. Two weeks in Australia before the season started had seemed like a perfect idea. His family hadn’t been able to see Yn as much as they would have liked, given his demanding schedule and the fact that they lived all the way in Monaco. But now, here they were—surrounded by loved ones, the air filled with the sounds of home.

"She’s getting so big," Edie mused from beside him, her arms resting on the wooden outdoor table.

Oscar hummed in agreement, his eyes still on Yn. "Tell me about it. Feels like yesterday she could barely sit up on her own. Now she’s running around like she owns the place."

"She does own the place," Nicole chimed in with a chuckle from across the table, her maternal warmth shining through. "At least in your dad’s eyes."

Chris, Oscar’s father, chuckled. "Not just mine. Look at those two," he nodded toward Hattie and Mae, who were fully invested in entertaining their little niece.

Hattie was crouched down beside Yn, her fingers delicately plucking tiny daisies from the grass and handing them to the eager toddler. "Here, sweetheart, give these to your mummy later, yeah?"

Yn beamed, nodding enthusiastically as she clutched the tiny bouquet. Her little fingers tightened around the stems, some of the petals already beginning to fall. "Mama!" she chirped, clearly excited about the thought of giving Lilly the flowers.

"That’s right!" Hattie praised, smoothing back Yn’s soft curls. "She’s gonna love them."

"Yn! Look what I found!" Mae’s voice rang out from a few meters away, her tone filled with excitement.

Yn’s head snapped up, her greenish-blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Coming!" she declared, her little legs springing into action.

She ran as fast as her tiny body allowed, the determination in her stride adorable and fierce. But her coordination hadn’t quite caught up with her enthusiasm. Halfway across the yard, her foot caught on the uneven grass, and in an instant, she tumbled forward.

The world seemed to pause for a fraction of a second. Then, the sharp sound of her small hands and knees hitting the ground broke the air.

Oscar was already sitting up straighter, his body tensing slightly.

Yn sat up quickly, her chubby hands pushing against the ground as she examined herself. At first, there was no sound—just wide, surprised eyes scanning over her scraped knee. A small drop of blood welled up, and suddenly, her lower lip trembled.

A soft whimper escaped her, then she was up on her feet again. But instead of running to her aunties, she turned on her heel and sprinted as fast as she could to the safety of her father.

"Daddy!" she cried, her voice thick with impending tears.

Oscar was already reaching for her by the time she reached him, carefully lifting her into his lap. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing his fingers over her curls. "Let me see, love."

Yn sniffled, still holding back her tears as she stretched her little leg out for him to examine.

Hattie and Mae had rushed over, concern written all over their faces. "Oh, bubba, are you okay?" Hattie cooed, crouching beside Oscar’s chair.

Mae reached out but paused when Yn burrowed into Oscar’s chest instead. "She’s a tough one," she said with an affectionate smile.

Oscar remained calm, his touch gentle as he inspected her knee. "It’s just a tiny scrape, love. Nothing we can’t fix," he reassured her. "You’re so brave, my little one."

Yn hiccupped, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt. "Hurts."

"I know, baby. But Daddy’s gonna make it better, okay?"

As if on cue, Edie appeared beside them, holding a small first aid kit. "Figured you’d need this."

"Perfect timing," Oscar said, shifting Yn slightly so he could access the kit. He pulled out a wipe first. "This might be a little cold, love," he warned.

Yn watched him with big, trusting eyes, her little fingers still curled into his shirt as he gently wiped the scrape. She flinched slightly but didn’t cry.

"Almost done," he murmured. "Now, how about a special band-aid? I think we have some princess ones in here."

At the mention of princesses, Yn’s sniffles paused. "Princess?"

Oscar bit back a smile. "Yeah, princess ones. Do you want pink or purple?"

"Pink," Yn decided with a determined nod.

Mae grinned, shaking her head. "That’s my girl."

Oscar peeled the backing off the pink princess band-aid and carefully placed it over her knee. "There we go. Good as new!"

Yn looked down at her knee, examining the band-aid as if it were the most important thing in the world. Slowly, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Pretty."

"The prettiest," Oscar agreed, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Nicole had been watching the entire interaction, her heart swelling with love for her granddaughter. Deciding that a little extra comfort was needed, she disappeared into the house and returned with a large bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with colorful sprinkles.

"Here we go, my love," she said, placing the bowl in front of Yn. "A special treat because my sweet girl was so brave today."

Yn’s eyes went wide. "Ice!" she gasped excitedly, her previous injury now completely forgotten.

Everyone chuckled as she eagerly reached for the spoon, her tiny hands gripping it with delight.

Oscar ruffled her hair. "See? You survived, and now you get ice cream. Not a bad deal, huh?"

Yn happily shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and nodded enthusiastically. "Best," she declared.

Chris let out a deep laugh. "You might wanna get used to this, son. She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger."

Oscar sighed dramatically. "Yeah, I know. I’m done for."

Yn giggled at that, her little body still curled up in his lap as she enjoyed her treat.

And just like that, all was well again. The sun continued to cast its golden warmth over the yard, the air was filled with laughter.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves!I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[ordinary-barbie]

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."

[lieslab]

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

[prettyforwoso]

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. 

[sweeterthanficstion]

— 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

[korpuskristae]

Verdict

Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries

Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...

AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.

 Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.

After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.

 In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement. 

The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.

In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.

The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak. 

Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option. 

Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him. 

Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”

Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.

“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.

Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.

“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.

Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.

Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.

“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.

Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…” 

 Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.

Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.

 Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.

Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!

Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!

Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful. 

Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion. 

The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.

After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.

Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?” 

Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…

AN: First time writing smut, how'd I do? ;)

[pixiefelixie]

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. 💙

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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.

[muashamaila]

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[highonmarvel]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

WILD CHILD KISSES

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: Eddie's finally told he'll be graduating, but his spotlight is soon shadowed after a certain event is coming up. Warnings: mentions of drinking, flirting, tears, kissing. A/N: this is also kind of a warning, I am not American/ do not live there, therefore I do not know how your schooling day works, I have searched it up but there is no clear answer that will help me, so I shall continue to set it up the way my school does here in Australia, which is 2 periods, then 20 minute recess, then 1-2 periods, 40 minute lunch, then 1-2 periods.

buckle up, this is a long one. sorry. 7.3k

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Eddie Munson had spent the better part of the last three years sitting in this very chair, staring at the principal’s desk like it was some medieval execution block. He’d been here so many times he had the wood grain of the desk practically memorized. Detentions, lectures, warnings- all of it leading up to the same crushing reality year after year.

But this time? This time was different.

Principal Higgins let out a sigh, rubbing his temple like the news physically pained him to deliver. “Against all odds, Munson, it appears you’ve finally done enough to graduate.”

Eddie blinked. He was sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

Higgins folded his hands atop his desk. “You passed, Munson. By the skin of your teeth, but you did it. You’ll be getting your diploma with the rest of your class.”

A slow grin spread across Eddie’s face. He slumped forward, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d just been shot. "you're fuckin' with me, right?"

Higgins cut him off with a dry look. “Language, Mister Munson, and no, it mostly came down to us wanting you out, but you passed, so"

Eddie placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart was and faked a tear, wiping it away with his free hand

"I'm flattered, Higgs, really-" he started before the older man huffed, rolling his eyes at the nickname the teen gave him.

"Yes, yes, now go to recess, boy"

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice.

He shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, practically sprinting out the door.

The lady at the front desk of the office looked up at the sound of the door slamming but she visibly relaxed when she saw Eddie's wide smile across his face as he almost skipped through the office.

"Farewell, Linda, you lovely old bat!"

The older woman gasped in offense as Eddie rushed past her, practically spinning her in her chair as he runs down the hall to the cafeteria.

He didn’t care that his boots squeaked against the linoleum, that a couple of freshmen nearly flattened themselves against the lockers to avoid being bulldozed. He had only one thought in his mind:

Tell Hellfire.

By the time he burst into the cafeteria, he was breathless, heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon. Quickly spotting his lost sheep at the Hellfire table, he smiled. The guys were mid-conversation, probably about their next campaign, when Eddie slammed his hands down on the table.

“Guess who's graduating"

For a second, silence.

Then, absolute chaos.

Dustin practically fell out of his chair, Jeff and Gareth erupted into cheers, and Mike started laughing like it was the greatest plot twist in history. Gareth, always the most dramatic, actually leaped onto his seat and threw his hands in the air. “WHAT? NO WAY!”

“I know!” Eddie cackled, throwing his arms up, “I thought I was doomed to haunt this hellhole forever, but lo and behold, miracles do exist!”

The guys pounded on the table, throwing their arms around him, shaking him with excitement. It was loud, ridiculous, everything Eddie could’ve hoped for.

And then, you.

You were smiling at him from across the table, bright-eyed, genuine. Like you were actually proud of him. Not just amused, not just surprised- but really, truly happy.

And without thinking, Eddie turned and hugged you.

It wasn’t like the one-armed, casual side-hugs he’d given other people. No, this was different. He wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling you against his chest, his heart still hammering in exhilaration. You smelled like something sweet- maybe it as your shampoo, maybe something you put on that morning. Either way, it was dizzying.

You were taken back at the hug, not sure where all this came from seen as though everything had been awkward between you today until now.

Your mind was tracing back to the almost-kiss yesterday, it made you nervous and weak in the knees every time you thought about it.

And believe me, you tried so hard to not think about it.

Arms wrapping slowly around his torso, you hugged him back.

For a second, it was just nice. Warm. Familiar in a way that made no sense.

But then it must have hit him. The tension.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, it wasn’t just excitement burning under his skin- it was something else. Something more dangerous.

Reality crashed down, and his arms stiffened. He pulled back, just slightly, just enough to put space between you both- but it was too late. The moment had already stretched just a second too long, crossed into something else.

You blinked up at him, still caught in that moment of pure joy, but it was already shifting. Already becoming something awkward.

Eddie swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands, what to do with himself. His voice came out rough, unsteady. “Uh… sorry.”

And then, before he could look at you again, before he could see whatever expression you were making, he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck like it never happened.

The Hellfire guys were still talking, still cheering, still high on the energy of the moment. None of them had noticed the weird shift between Eddie and you. But you noticed. He knew you did.

You were still standing there, arms now folded over your chest, watching him like you were trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Eddie didn’t want to figure it out. Not right now.

So, he did what he did best.

He played it off.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, forcing a cocky smirk. “Who’s throwing me a graduation party?”

Dustin immediately started rambling about how they had to do something legendary, and just like that, the conversation shifted. The guys took the bait, launching into plans, joking about how Eddie had to go out with a bang.

But across the table, you were still watching him, your gaze unreadable.

And Eddie? He felt like his stomach was in knots.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just trying to ignore the tension.

He was afraid of what it might mean. 

It made you wonder if he really meant what he said- what he admitted to, last night.

Did he like you? did he really like you?

The bell rang, cutting through the chaos of the cafeteria. Eddie glanced around, the guys still animatedly discussing plans for his "legendary" graduation party, but the noise felt distant now. He glanced back at you, still standing there, arms crossed over your chest, looking like you didn’t know whether to stay or go.

"Guess we better get to class," Eddie muttered, his words a little too casual, though his heart was pounding in his chest. He tried to act like nothing had shifted, but he could feel it. You felt it too. Didn’t you?

You nodded, but the hesitation in your step matched his, like neither of you was quite ready for what came next. You pushed your chair back, and Eddie mirrored your movements, both of you standing awkwardly, not sure if you should say anything else.

The silence stretched between you as you both started walking toward the door. Eddie’s boots clicked on the linoleum, his pace a little faster than normal. He didn’t want to rush, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t keep the anxious energy from bubbling up inside him. Every now and then, he’d glance at you- just a quick look, but long enough to see the way you quickly turned your gaze elsewhere.

And then, he’d steal another glance, the second one always a little longer, like he was trying to figure out if you felt the same tightness in your chest, the same unease that was gnawing at him.

"So… you're finally graduating, huh?" You finally said, your voice a little quieter than usual, like you were trying to convince yourself it wasn’t all just some dream.

“Yeah…” Eddie said with a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers trembling slightly. “I still don’t know if I believe it, honestly. It’s like someone’s pulling a prank on me, but… here we are.”

He was trying to make light of it, but the truth was, his chest was full of nerves. What if this- what if everything- was just him imagining it all? His mind kept cycling back to the moment you hugged him. That warmth, that connection, that feeling of having you pressed against him—it wasn’t like anything else.

But what did it mean? Was it just excitement, or was it something more? Was it possible that you felt the same way?

Eddie couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at you again, and this time, when his eyes met yours, his breath caught. For just a fraction of a second, everything in him wanted to step closer, to close the gap, but he held back. He couldn’t push it. He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was yet.

You weren’t looking at him anymore. Instead, your eyes were fixed straight ahead, but Eddie could see the subtle way your lips pressed together, like you were thinking about something, something important. He felt a pang in his chest, the realization that you might not be as sure about all of this as he was.

Your voice broke through his thoughts again. “I’m glad you are, though, took you long enough”

Eddie blinked, surprised. The way you said it, your tone so genuine, it made his heartbeat even faster. It felt like you were saying more than just what you meant, like there was something else there, something he had to pull out of you, but he didn’t know how.

He offered a small, sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah… I’m glad too.”

There it was. That moment when everything felt like it was about to tip over the edge. Eddie didn’t know what to do with the way his pulse was racing, the way his thoughts kept spiraling back to you, to what had happened at the table, to everything that might happen next. What was he supposed to say? What if you didn’t feel the same way?

The hallway felt strangely smaller now, like the space between you both had been shrinking with every step, and Eddie had no idea how to fix it.

You were still walking beside him, your steps so quiet compared to his, but every time he glanced over, your eyes seemed to flick back to him before you quickly turned away. He could tell you were nervous, just as unsure as he was. And that made it worse, because if you were thinking the same things he was, then what?

He couldn’t just keep pretending like it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t keep pretending that every time you looked at him, his heart didn’t race.

The classroom door loomed ahead, and you both hesitated before stepping through, but Eddie didn’t want to stop walking. He didn’t want the moment to end. He didn’t want to face the reality that he might be the only one who felt this strange, burning thing between you two.

He followed you into the classroom, taking his seat beside you. There was still too much space between you both. It wasn’t enough to feel close, but it was too much to ignore. Every glance, every shift in position made his stomach twist in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And every time his eyes met yours, all he could think was: Does she know? Does she feel it too? Or am I just reading too much into this?

You met his gaze once more, and for a split second, everything seemed to pause- his heart in his throat, your eyes wide with something unreadable. And then the moment passed, just like that, leaving Eddie both relieved and disappointed all at once.

He smiled awkwardly, looking away, trying to focus on anything but how badly he wanted to say something, anything, that could break the silence that was threatening to crush him.

But for now, neither of you spoke. And Eddie wondered if maybe he was the only one who was brave enough to admit it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Third period zoomed past, you and Eddie making a few comments on the work here and there, but it was mostly laid back as the end of school was only a week away, teachers slacking off and letting the kids do whatever.

The hallway erupted with noise as students spilled into the corridors. You and Eddie stepped out together, moving in the same direction toward the cafeteria. Neither of you spoke at first. You had walked with Eddie plenty of times before, but today, it felt different- charged with something unspoken.

The walls were lined with prom posters, bright colors and glitter catching the fluorescent light as you passed. PROM: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER! in bold letters, surrounded by stars and hearts.

You frowned at first, knowing that all these decorations were not up an hour when you entered this class. So, there had to be a handful of people to decorate every hall and corridor in an hour.

Prom, yes, everyone was already talking about, for at least 2 months now, but these decorations make everyone's eyes light up and smile-

But your stomach twisted. You could feel Eddie glance at you, but by the time you turned to meet his eyes, he was already looking away.

He was acting weird. But so were you.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. Would he ask you? He had confessed yesterday, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some drunken mistake. He liked you. So why hadn’t he said anything about prom?

You stole another glance at him, catching the way he ran a hand through his curls, looking everywhere but at you. The usual easy-going, over-the-top Eddie Munson was nowhere to be found. Instead, the boy walking next to you was fidgety, lost in thought.

And truthfully? So were you.

Maybe he doesn’t like me after all.

The idea had been creeping into your mind all morning. If he really wanted to go with you, wouldn’t he have asked by now? Maybe the almost-kiss yesterday didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he regretted telling you how he felt. Maybe he just said it because he thought you needed to hear it.

You felt something heavy settle in your chest.

Eddie, meanwhile, was caught in his own storm of thoughts. He wanted to ask you. Hell, he’d spent all morning thinking about it, trying to work up the nerve. But the words never made it past his lips.

Because deep down, he knew the truth.

She wouldn’t want to go with me.

You were you, and he was him. The town freak. The guy everyone whispered about in the halls, the one teachers sighed over, the one the jocks mocked for sport. What would it look like if you showed up at prom with him? What would people say about you?

Besides, if you did like him- if you really liked him- you would’ve said something by now. Right? You would have said so yesterday, when he told you. You wouldn’t just sit there, waiting. You would’ve told him.

Which meant you didn’t.

And that was that.

So he stayed quiet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as the two of you pushed through the cafeteria doors.

The Hellfire table was already buzzing with conversation. The usual chaos of lunch was in full swing- trays clattering, voices overlapping- but today, there was one subject dominating the table: prom.

"Okay, but hear me out," Dustin was saying, practically bouncing in his seat. "I think prom could actually be cool if they had, like, a real band instead of some cheesy DJ."

"You can’t even go, Henderson," Gareth pointed out, rolling his eyes. "You’re a freshman. None of us are seniors except Eddie and Jeff"

That was when Dustin’s eyes landed on the two of you. A slow, knowing grin stretched across his face. "Speaking of which-" he turned to you, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did Eddie ask you to prom?"

The words hit you like a slap.

Your heart leaped into your throat, cheeks flushing with heat. It was such a sudden question, so blunt, that for half a second, you couldn’t even react. Your eyes darted to Eddie on instinct, searching for something- some sign of an answer, some confirmation that, yes, of course he was going to ask you-

But Eddie wasn’t looking at you.

He was staring at Dustin like the kid had just lit a stick of dynamite and tossed it onto the table. His face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.

"No!" he blurted, voice cracking slightly. "No, I-uh-no, I didn’t-"

He was stammering.

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipped out in a quiet exhale, and something cold settled in your stomach.

Oh.

The disappointment hit you harder than expected, like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Dustin, completely oblivious, laughed. "Dude, why not? You like her, right?"

You froze.

Eddie froze.

The table went quiet.

Eddie let out a strangled laugh, running a hand down his face. "Henderson-shut up." His voice was strained, panicked.

Dustin blinked, confused for half a second before realization dawned on his face. "Oh." His eyes widened slightly. "Wait, she doesn’t know?"

You felt your breath hitch.

Oh, you know, you just didn't know anyone else- the whole of Hellfire- knew.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath before turning to you, finally meeting your gaze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His confession from yesterday flashed in your mind. You knew he liked you. He had told you. So why was he acting like this? Why was he shutting it down like it wasn’t even an option?

The way he was looking at you- like he knew he just messed up, like he knew you were hurt but didn’t know how to fix it- made your stomach twist even more.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as you pushed your chair back. "I’m gonna grab some lunch."

Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

You didn’t wait for a response. You just stood up and walked away.

You heard Eddie shift beside you, like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

Because what could he say?

The noise of the cafeteria faded into background static as you moved toward the lunch line, your mind racing.

You had thought- hoped- maybe he would ask. Maybe last night meant something. Maybe he meant it when he said he liked you.

But now? Now you weren’t sure anymore.

And Eddie- Eddie just sat there, staring after you, hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

He wanted to go with you. God, he wanted to.

But he had a feeling he just ruined everything.

And the worst part?

He had no idea how to fix it.

By the time you returned to the Hellfire table, tray in hand, the conversation had fizzled out. The guys had sensed the shift in energy- how the excitement over prom had suddenly turned into something way more awkward-

And one by one, they had made their exits. Even Dustin, who normally lacked any kind of social awareness, had mumbled something about needing to grab a book from his locker before practically running off.

So now, it was just you and Eddie.

Alone.

He was still sitting in the same spot, hunched forward with his arms resting on the table, fingers tapping restlessly against the wood. You sat down across from him, trying to ignore the way your heart twisted at the sight of him- how his usual confidence had been drained from his posture, how his brows were slightly furrowed like he was deep in thought.

For a minute, neither of you spoke.

You focused on your tray, picking at your food without really eating. You could feel Eddie watching you, could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he struggled for the right words.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Uh- so- " He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a sharp breath. "That was… a whole thing, huh?"

You didn’t look up. "Yep."

Eddie winced at your clipped tone. He hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Look, Dustin’s just- he’s an idiot, alright? He doesn’t know when to shut up."

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I don’t care."

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by how casual you sounded. He had expected you to be mad, or embarrassed, or something- but not this. Not this calm, unaffected brush-off.

"You don’t care?" He repeated slowly, testing the words like they didn’t make sense.

"Yeah," you said simply, finally looking up. "I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go with you anyway."

That was a lie.

But the words came out so easily. So effortlessly. Like they were true.

Eddie barely had time to mask his reaction.

It was quick- just a flicker of something in his expression, something unguarded and sharp, like your words had landed right where it hurt.

He covered it up almost instantly, forcing a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat. "Right," he said, nodding. "Of course. Why would you, right?"

You could tell he was trying to play it off, trying to act like it didn’t matter.

But you knew Eddie well enough to know when something did matter.

And this?

This did.

But you didn’t take it back.

You just smiled, small and polite, before returning your attention to your tray.

Eddie watched you for a moment longer, his fingers still tapping anxiously against the table.

Then, with a barely audible sigh, he slumped back against his chair, staring up at the ceiling like he had just royally screwed up.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The parking lot was loud with the usual after-school chaos- cars starting up, doors slamming, groups of students lingering to chat before heading home.

Eddie stood by his van, hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. His stomach was a mess of nerves, though he’d never admit it. He had been waiting—hoping—you’d show up.

And then, finally, you did.

You were walking towards the buses, books hugged to your chest, brows slightly furrowed like your mind was somewhere else entirely.

He hesitated for half a second, then pushed off the side of his van, striding over to you.

“Hey,” he called, trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t been waiting for you.

You glanced up, a little surprised. “Hey.”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh, the guys are heading to my place. Y’know, to celebrate my miraculous academic achievement.” He smirked, tilting his head. “Figured I’d give you a ride.”

Your grip on your books tightened. “Oh- I, um- I actually have something to do.”

Eddie frowned. “What?”

You shifted your weight, glancing toward your car like you were in a hurry. “Yeah, I just- I can’t make it. Sorry.”

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. He had been so sure you’d come.

He forced a chuckle. “C’mon, what could possibly be more important than celebrating me finally getting out of that godforsaken school?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just-”

“Please?” Eddie’s voice softened, and something about it made you freeze.

He wasn’t just asking. He was really asking.

Like he needed you there.

You looked up at him, at the hopeful, almost nervous glint in his eyes.

And just like that, your excuse- your whole plan to put some distance between you two- crumbled.

You sighed. “Fine.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Really?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Munson. You win.”

Eddie grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the van with a dramatic bow. “Then hop in, sweetheart.”

And God help you.

Your stomach flipped, your breath hitched, and for a second, the world tilted just slightly.

That stupid nickname.

He said it like it was nothing, like it didn’t curl around you, warm and teasing, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Like it didn’t make you feel dizzy in the worst- and best- way.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to play it off, to act like that one word didn’t shake you to your core.

And despite everything- the tension, the confusion, the ache in your chest from earlier- you found yourself smiling as you followed him.

Because, really, how could you ever say no to Eddie Munson?

The guy that's been driving you crazy as of late, the guy you can't get out of your head. It was nothing but unfair, really.

Eventually, the van rattled to a stop in front of the trailer, the familiar sight of Forest Hills mobile homes stretching out under the dimming afternoon sky. The drive had been… mostly quiet, filled with a comfortable kind of tension that neither of you had tried to break. The radio had been the only real sound between you, some old rock ballad playing low through the speakers, but even then, neither of you had been really listening.

Eddie pulled the keys from the ignition, glancing at you before shoving the door open.

You followed him up the steps, the screen door creaking as he pushed it open. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of coffee and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.

And there he was, sprawled out on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand, his other resting on his stomach. He barely glanced up from the newspaper at first.

Then he saw you.

And the absolute shit-eating grin that took over his face was so immediate, so smug, you almost took a step back.

“Well, well,” Wayne drawled, folding the paper and setting it aside. His eyes flicked between you and Eddie, like he already knew something neither of you were saying. “Second day in a row, huh? Should I be expectin’ you tomorrow too?”

Your face burned instantly.

“Oh- uh-” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “Jesus Christ, Wayne.”

Wayne smirked, sipping his coffee like he wasn’t watching you both squirm. “I’m just sayin’- you never bring anyone over, and now suddenly I got a guest two days in a row? Feels like I should be puttin’ out another dinner plate.”

Eddie huffed. “She’s not- ” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Forget it. Can we not make this weird?”

Wayne just chuckled, but the teasing gleam in his eyes never faded.

Eddie sighed and flopped into the recliner, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I brought her here so we can celebrate, old man.”

Wayne raised a brow. “Celebrate?”

Eddie leaned forward, his grin almost boyish. “I’m graduating.”

For a second, Wayne didn’t react. Just blinked.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted, the teasing melting away into something softer.

“Say that again?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “I’m graduating, Wayne. Like, officially. No more repeating senior year, no more Higgins breathing down my neck. I’m done.”

Wayne set his coffee down, staring at Eddie like he had just grown a second head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

And then, before Eddie could react, Wayne was up- clapping him on the shoulder, gripping the back of his neck in one of those rough, affectionate gestures only Wayne Munson could pull off.

“Goddamn, Ed,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “You really did it.”

Eddie laughed, leaning into the touch like he was twelve again and just scored a home run at some little league game. “Told ya I would.”

Wayne huffed. “You told me that two years ago, and I stopped believin’ ya after the second time.” But his voice was warm, proud.

Your heart clenched a little, watching the moment unfold.

Eddie was trying to play it cool, but you could see it—the way his shoulders relaxed, the way he ducked his head slightly, like that small bit of approval from Wayne meant the world to him.

Which, knowing Eddie, it probably did.

Wayne turned to you suddenly, pointing a finger. “And you- you keepin’ him outta trouble, or are you the one gettin’ him into it?”

Eddie cackled. “Oh, definitely the second one.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Wayne smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

And just like that, he clapped Eddie on the back one last time before heading for the kitchen. “I got a couple beers in the fridge. You want one?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yes, I—”

Wayne shot him a look before looking at you, to which you nodded slowly.

Wayne snorted but grabbed a couple of drinks anyway, muttering something about damn kids under his breath.

You just shook your head, sitting down on the couch while Eddie kicked his boots off and sprawled out beside you.

And for the first time all day, it felt like maybe- just maybe- things didn’t have to be so complicated.

Wayne handed each of you a beer, the cold condensation dripping onto your fingers. He patted Eddie on the back, a proud smile creasing his weathered face.

"Well, I gotta get ready for work in about an hour, so we can celebrate tomorrow, ay?" He glanced over at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "And I assume you'll be there too?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked down at your feet, suddenly finding your worn-out shoes incredibly fascinating.

"Wayne—" Eddie began, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

But his uncle cut him off with a chuckle. "—so that's a yes?"

You couldn't help but feel the flutter in your chest at the idea of being invited to another hangout, but it left you a little nervous, too.

Eddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll see, Wayne. Don't scare her off before then."

Wayne laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you kids to it."

As he walked away, you dared to glance at Eddie. He met your eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. The air between you both felt thick with the unspoken.

"Sorry about him," Eddie muttered, his tone more sheepish than usual.

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile. "It’s alright. He’s... nice."

Eddie returned your smile, and for a brief moment, the world outside the trailer seemed to blur. There was something warm in the way he looked at you, like you mattered to him. But before it could linger too long, he cleared his throat.

"Wanna go to my room?"

You nodded. "Sure."

Eddie led the way, his boots echoing in the narrow hallway. His room came into view, posters of bands covering the walls, and an old guitar standing proudly in the corner. You stepped inside, your eyes scanning the space. It was exactly how you'd imagined-

Chaotic and full of character.

You stopped just inside the door as Eddie turned to face you, but before either of you could speak, Wayne's voice cut through the air from the kitchen.

"Better keep that door open!"

You and Eddie exchanged confused glances.

"Why?" Eddie asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

Wayne leaned against the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Don’t pretend what I walked in on you two doing yesterday didn’t happen. I don’t wanna be a grandpa just yet, boy."

Your heart jumped in your chest, your face burning with embarrassment. "We didn’t-"

Eddie’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he cut you off. "Jesus, Wayne! Nothing happened!"

Wayne laughed, enjoying the discomfort he’d caused. "Just messing with ya. But seriously, door stays open."

Eddie rolled his eyes and led you into his room, leaving the door ajar as Wayne insisted. As soon as you were inside, Eddie dropped his backpack onto the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry about that," Eddie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still think he's nice?"

You laughed, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Yeah, He's alright"

Eddie collapsed onto his bed, stretching out with a groan as he kicked off his Reeboks. You hesitated for a second, standing in the middle of his room.

The silence between you was comfortable at first, but soon, you felt it shift. The questions you both had about each other lingered in the air.

Eddie finally broke the quiet, his voice low and thoughtful. "so...about yesterday."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you turned to look at him, a little nervous. "What do you mean?"

Eddie rolled over onto his side, propping himself up with one arm. His eyes flicked to you, and his gaze softened. “I mean... I’ve never really been good at this whole ‘being honest’ thing. But with you? I don’t know, it’s different. I keep thinking about it—about what happened between us, what it means. And it’s weird, but in a good way."

Your heart beat faster, the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Could he really be saying what you thought he was saying?

Eddie laughed softly, rubbing his face in frustration. "I’m not good at this. But I don’t want you to think I’m just..." He stopped himself, looking over your frame from where you stood

"do you wanna sit?" he patted the spot on his bed beside him, shuffling over.

You looked around before slowly stepping to his bed, shuffling to the wall beside him, when you look up to come face to face, you shuffle away, not realising how close you became.

Clearing your throat, you mumble an apology, but he only stares at you, his eyes soft and warm as he smiles, his dimples on display as he fiddles with his rings.

Your gaze followed down to beside him, where a fluffy brown bear sat lopsided on his pillow.

You smiled and leaned over him.

His breath hitched when he followed over every curve of your body the way your ass stuck in the air and the way your shirt revealed cleavage so dangerous that he had to close his eyes, a cold sweat breaking out as you leaned away to sit back down

"Is this Ozzy?" you beamed brightly when Eddie opened his eyes.

He frowned for a second "how do you know that?"

Eddie never tells anything that personal to anyone- especially you, why would he tell you he still sleeps with a stuffed teddy bear and has a name for him?

With a raised eyebrow you laughed softly "on our da- at the fair... I told you I had a few teddys and you told me you had one"

You played with the worn-out bear in your hands and Eddie felt his heart explode in his chest. He remembers it, and he curses himself for forgetting

"right, yeah" he nodded slowly

"S'pretty worn down" you mumbled, examining the bear

The teddy bear looks like it's been loved for years, its once soft fur is now matted and thin in some places, with patches of faded color. The edges of its ears are frayed, the stitching barely holding on in places where it’s been hugged too tightly over the years.

The eyes are scratched, losing some of its glossy shine. The bear’s nose, once a neat little button, has worn down into a faded stitch, barely visible. Its limbs, though still stuffed, are soft and floppy, having lost the firm structure they once had. the bow around its neck stained and ripped. There’s a small tear on its side, the fabric worn thin, but it’s been lovingly stitched back together- a sign of years of comfort, care, and maybe a few bumps along the way.

Despite the wear, it still carries that comforting, familiar scent of childhood- a mix of dust, warmth, and a little bit of home.

Eddie chuckled lowly "yeah...well, s'about fifteen years old so..."

"Mm. Ozzy hasn't been making music for that long, though" you pointed out

"Yeahhh. I only named him when I was...thirteen?" he smiled, looking and loving the way you handled him with care "don't know... Mum tried to think of names but...none of them really felt like him..."

You looked over at him, finding his gaze stuck on the teddy, eyes hung low, rested.

"So, your mum gave him to you?" You spoke, handing it to him.

He smiled, nodding, letting the bear sit in his lap as he brought his knees up.

"yeah...she saved up for months to afford him...she tried to make that birthday so special...I remember dad getting mad when I opened it, he didn't want her spending so much money of a stupid gift for 'girls'" he laughed humourlessly.

"but it was one of the best gifts I've gotten ever...mum always treated us like brothers because that's what I wanted her to do...dad thought it was stupid though; he hid him for about 2 months before mum found him and gave him back..."

When the first tear fell you rushed to brush it away gently. He shook his head, putting the bear beside him as he cleared his throat.

With a sip of his beer, he sighed, leaning his head on the wall as he looked forward.

The room was silent for a few moments. You take the time to look around the room, really look.

The Corroded Coffin banner above your head and the pictures that look like they have been ripped out of a magazine scattered on the walls. Clothes piled in the corner of the room, random trinkets all over the floor, it was so Eddie.

He sat up with a groan, going to his CD collection in his desk, right below his guitar that's hung up against his mirror "music?"

With a quick nod, you looked at the options he handed you. finding a bunch of covers that look straight out of a horror film, but your eyes wandered to the orange and yellow CD, one that looks familiar and frowned

"I know Metal freaks you out" he chuckled lightly "but it's the only music I have"

You remember, the music store where you had been caught looking at that exact album.

He saw your gaze on W.A.S.P the last command and smiled "still fascinated by it?"

Before you could respond, he placed the disc in the player and the blasting of music came on.

The first notes hit, and your chest tightened instantly. It was loud- the kind of loud that filled every inch of space, that crawled under your skin and took over your heartbeat.

The guitar riff tore through the air, sharp and reckless, and when the drums kicked in, you swore you felt them in your ribs. The sheer force of it had you frozen, your hands gripping the edge of Eddie’s bed as if the sound alone might knock you back.

Then the voice came in.

"I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain…"

Your breath caught, pulse stuttering. The way he sang- gritty, hungry, like every word was bitten off with sharp teeth. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you listened.

Eddie was watching you.

You felt it before you even turned your head. He was leaning back, one arm draped over his knee, the other lazily tapping a rhythm against his thigh. His rings caught the dim light of the room, glinting as his fingers moved.

But his eyes?

His eyes were on you.

"A creature of love and I can’t be tamed…"

Heat crept up your neck, a flood of goosebumps creeping their way onto your skin.

You weren’t sure if it was the song or the way Eddie looked at you, but something in your stomach flipped, twisting tighter with every second.

The chorus hit, bursting through the speakers like a wildfire.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me…"

Your hands clenched into fists.

It was so blatant, so bold, like the song wasn’t even trying to hide what it was about. It wasn’t sweet, wasn’t careful- it was raw, unashamed, hungry.

And Eddie was still watching you.

His gaze flickered, his lips twitching into something almost knowing. Like he could see the way your fingers curled in your lap, like he knew exactly what kind of effect the music was having on you.

You tore your eyes away, staring at the stereo instead.

"I need you to touch me… ‘Cause I want what you do to me…"

You exhaled shakily.

It wasn’t just the lyrics. It was the way the guitars screamed, the way the drums crashed like a thunderstorm, the way every single note was laced with something untamed and electric. It sent shivers down your spine.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

Eddie leaned in slightly, voice barely loud enough to hear over the music.

"Not so bad, huh?"

You swallowed, your throat dry.

He was close- closer than before. You could feel the warmth of him, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and something else uniquely Eddie.

Your heart pounded.

You turned your head slowly, meeting his gaze again. He was grinning now, lazy and pleased, like he could feel your nervous energy crackling in the air between you.

You had no idea if he was thinking about the song’s lyrics. If he was thinking about how they fit.

But you were.

As the song swelled, the raw, electric energy filled the small room, pressing in on you from all sides. The words pulsed in your veins, the heavy beat vibrating through your bones.

"I’m a wild child, come and love me… I want you…"

Eddie was still watching you.

Your heart was racing. Not just from the music. Not just from the way it shook the walls and the floor beneath you. But from him. From the way he was looking at you- eyes half-lidded, like he was memorizing every part of this moment.

You could barely breathe.

And then, as the chorus hit again, as the song begged and burned, you turned your head just as he did.

Your noses brushed.

For a split second, neither of you moved. Just hovered there, inches apart, the music crashing around you, your breaths uneven.

Then Eddie whispered, "Sweetheart..."

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Your lips met his- tentative, hesitant- But as soon as you felt the warmth of his mouth, the way he sucked in a sharp breath, you knew there was no stopping it.

Eddie made a noise in the back of his throat- something between a groan and a sigh, relief and desperation tangled together. His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the back of your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening it.

The song roared around you.

"A naked heat machine, I want your love!"

Your stomach flipped as his lips moved against yours, slow but sure, like he’d been waiting for this. And God, maybe you had too. Maybe that’s why it felt so dizzying, so right.

You kissed each other like you were both afraid it wasn't real.

When you finally broke apart, you opened your eyes.

And you found that you weren't kissing him.

Instead, you were in his van, music blaring in your ears as he drove you to his trailer, talking about his graduation party, and you? you were imagining kissing him for the 100th time this evening.

God, you're so hooked screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Ha. you really thought? sorry.

Taglist:

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon  @xlostitx  @pupwrites  @carolineesnell  @foreveranexpatsposts  @itsmadamehydra  @thedoubleexposurephotography  @g3n3zshack  @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable  @emxxblog  @nubedeoctubreval  @bimboshaggy  @sheneedsrocknroll92  @callmytherapistplease-blog  @ifeelbadbutimhot  @littlemissholy  @sammybrrr  @alastorssimp @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[meazalykov]

independent

trinity rodman x rodman!reader

part two - part one here

summary: you've gained, and you've lost

warnings: angst, and forgiveness

months passed by in silence between you and trinity. 

national breaks came and went on the uswnt, but the tension between you two lingered like a shadow, a constant reminder of the distance—both physical and emotional—that had grown between you. 

the once unbreakable bond felt broken, each encounter on the pitch with the uswnt tingled with an awkwardness that neither of you had the courage to confront.

you avoided eye contact with the older twin during training, focusing on the drills and the game plans, while trinity did the same with you. it was easier that way, less painful. but the avoidance left a hollow feeling in your chest, a nagging regret that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried to bury it. 

each time you caught a glimpse of trinity across the field,or when you had to make a pass to her up the field– you felt the ache of what used to be—a closeness that now felt like a distant memory. 

the silences between you were noticed by the team, and the unspoken words weighed heavily on your heart. however, the team decided to not get themselves mixed up in family business. 

now, the olympic games were supposed to be the pinnacle of your career, and in many ways, they were. 

you played your heart out, having the most assists in history. each goal, except for korbin’s goal against australia, had you as the assist-ant. contributing to the team’s journey to the final with everything you had. 

even as you stood on the pitch, in the starting lineup with your sister against brazil– knowing you were just a game away from olympic gold, the thought of trinity weighed heavily on your mind. 

this was what you’d worked so hard for, yet the victory felt incomplete without sharing it with her. 

would she want to share it with me? you’d thought. 

the pressure was immense, and while your teammates cheered and encouraged you to be the playmaker, the absence of trinity’s support gnawed at you.

when the final whistle blew, signaling your victory and the uswnt’s fifth gold medal, you were swarmed by your teammates. 

cheers, tears, and hugs from mallory, naomi, and sam surrounded you, but there was still an emptiness inside. 

you glanced around, searching for trinity in the sea of jubilant faces, and when your eyes finally met, time seemed to freeze. 

the celebrations around you blurred into the background, and all you could see was the distance in trinity’s eyes, a distance that had grown over the months of silence.

trinity was standing a few feet away, holding onto alyssa with a bright smile on her face. however, her eyes showed a hint of sadness. 

she looked back at alyssa, and you looked back at sam coffey who screamed in joy. 

the next time you look at her is after the gold medal ceremony. you took your pictures, individually and with some of your teammates. 

now, many photographers begged to get you and trinity in a picture. unaware of the broken bond between the both of you. 

she looks over at you with her gold medal, her expression unreadable. you both hesitated, as if an invisible wall still stood between you. 

but with the world watching, there was no more running away. the weight of the moment pressed down on you, and you knew that this was it—the moment where everything would either begin to heal or break completely.

slowly, you approached each other, the roar of the crowd fading into the background. you stood there, gold medals around your necks, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. your heart pounded in your chest, and you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to break the silence that had held you captive for so long.

she wrapped her arm around your waist and you did the same to her, a bright smile on your face as if everything was okay. 

once the cameras went away, you broke. 

“i’m sorry, trin,” you blurted out, the words rushing out of you before you could stop them. 

“i’ve missed you so much, and i hate that we haven’t talked. i don’t like you being mad at me.”

trinity’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the same sister you’d grown up with, the one who had always been by your side. 

“i missed you too, y/n,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the loud noises around you. 

“i was so angry, but more than that, i was hurt. i didn’t know how to deal with you being gone.”

“i know,” you whispered, taking a shaky breath.

“it’s been so hard being away from you, and i hate that it happened like this. but i love playing at barcelona, trin. it’s everything i dreamed of. jana and esmee have became some of my bestest friends on the team– i have a girlfriend too finally! salma is her name, i was hoping you’d get to meet her today but spain didn’t make it unfortunately.”

to your surprise, trinity smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. 

“i’m really happy for you, y/n. i’ve been following your games, even if i didn’t say anything. i saw you win the champions league...  and what the fuckkk that goal from you in the beginning of the second half was incredible. i should’ve congratulated you earlier, i’m so sorry.”

you blinked back tears, a mix of relief and guilt washing over you. “thank you, trin. i’ve wanted to talk to you for so long, to tell you everything that’s happened, but i didn’t know how. talking through imessage or facetime wouldn’t do us any justice.”

trinity nodded, her smile fading slightly as she looked at you with a seriousness that made your heart clench. 

“i guess we both needed time to figure things out. but i don’t want to lose you, y/n. you’re the closest person in my life, and i’m proud of everything you’ve achieved. olympic gold, champions league... you’re the next big thing, you know that?”

you laughed through the tears, shaking your head. “says you! you’re the reason why we made it here– but i don’t feel like the girl who’s won these competitions. i just feel like your little sister who misses her twin.”

trinity pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as if she’d never let go. 

“you’re always going to be my sister, no matter what you achieve or even if you’re across the pond. i’m proud of you, y/n. and i’m sorry for how things went down between us. i should’ve been happy that you’re playing at your dream club.”

“i’m sorry too,” you whispered into her shoulder, feeling the weight of the past few months finally lifting. “but we’re here now, and we have gold!”

as you stood there, wrapped in your sister’s embrace, the world seemed to right itself again. the distance between you was closed.

after a few moments, trinity pulled back slightly, looking at you with a newfound determination. “we’re going to be okay, you know that, right? this distance... it won’t break us. it can’t this time.”

you nodded, feeling a sense of reassurance that had been missing for so long. 

“yeah, we will. and maybe... maybe we needed this. to grow, to understand each other better while having our own lives. but i don’t want to go through this again, trin. i need you in my life, no matter where we are.”

“same,” trinity agreed, her voice firm.

“no more avoiding each other.”

you squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her grip, the familiar connection that had always been there, now stronger than ever. “deal.”

“i heard about the new boyfriend, the one with your name. i have to meet him sometime– you know, just to approve of him.” you comment. 

“the same way i’ll have to meet salma someday.” 

hope you enjoyed <3

my master list is here if you want to read more fics!

[pinkiemachine]

GOTHAM FILES: SEASON 5

JASON TODD IS ALIVE!!!

Ra’s Al Ghul has brought him back to life and intends to give him back to Bruce as a reconciliation gift. The only thing is, the Lazarus Pit can have… interesting effects on people, especially when bringing them back to life. In Jason’s case, he comes back with a serious case of brain fog, with some slightly psychotic tendencies. Ra’s can’t return Jason like this, so he spends the next few months rehabilitating the boy and training him with the League. He’ll be such a fine warrior, not only will Bruce be getting his protégé back, but he’ll be in better shape than when he died. Little by little, though, Jason is beginning to come back to his senses, his memories return, and he begins to question where he is and what he’s doing. This isn’t right… where’s Bruce? Where’s Alfred? Why isn’t he in Gotham anymore? In a panic, somewhat brought on by the side effects of the Pit, Jason escapes the League of Shadows and winds up totally alone, totally lost in West Asia, trying to get back home. The League of Shadows goes after him, and he has to outrun them any way he can, and after a long, harrowing adventure where he jumps all around Asia, South-East Asia, and Australia, he is finally on the fast track to getting back to the States and Gotham. He’s thrilled to be back home, but the first thing he sees when he looks at the news… is Batman… and a new Robin… saving the city. He heads to the Manor to see for himself and finds Tim Drake sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. There’s still some Lazarus Madness in his head, so he doesn’t take this so well at first. It gets worse when he realises that Joker is still alive. Batman never avenged him. Cue the events of “Under the Red Hood” where Jason takes down a gang of thugs, takes the identity of their leader, “The Red Hood,” and starts tearing up Gotham, looking for Joker, while simultaneously poking Bruce at every available opportunity. And then, when the truth is finally revealed about who Red Hood is, Ra’s shows up and tries to be all, “Look! I brought Jason back for you! Surprise? Heheh… now come marry my daughter.” And Bruce is like…. “No.” Ra’s warns him, though, that if he doesn’t join him now, he’s going to be in for a few surprises soon. He still refuses. Ra’s slinks off back to the Shadows.

Anyway, the point is, Bruce is confronted by Jason regarding Joker. Jay doesn’t hold a grudge against Bruce for not being able to save him—it was Jason’s own fault that he wound up that situation in the first place—but what he is ticked about is the fact that Joker’s still alive, and, well, to a lesser extent that he’s been kinda replaced, but it’s mostly the Joker thing. But since Jason isn’t Robin anymore, he’s not playing by Batman’s rules. He’s going to do what Batman couldn’t, and be the hero Gotham really needs. He’s going to end the Joker once and for all. Bruce tries to stop him. Killing isn’t the answer. It’s a quick fix, but it’s no guarantee that another Joker won’t pop up tomorrow, and worse… Bruce isn’t prepared to lose what’s left of his humanity. He’s traveling a dark enough path as it is. He refuses to let himself fall further and become the very thing he hates. He doesn’t want that for Jason either. In the end though, due to Bruce and Jason fighting, Joker gets away (he does wind up getting hurt bad enough that he loses sight in one eye, though), and Bruce begs Jason to come home. He’s just so immensely relieved to see him alive! But Jason… he’s not the same kid he was when he went under. He’s not Bruce’s Robin anymore and he still plans on killing Joker. It’s time they parted ways. For good.

So, yeah, the falling out part is real sad… and everyone’s brooding over what happened, and Dick even tries to find and talk to Jason, but that doesn’t help. It looks like Jay’s not ever going to be part of the BatFam again… until this happens:

Jason is rightfully ticked at Bruce, but they can shelve that long conversation for a later date. Right now they’ve gotta MOVE if they want to get Tim home alive. Everyone gets called in, Nightwing, Batgirl, Spoiler, even Starfire shows up, as she and Dick have been dating for a while now. Joker’s come up with a real twisted scheme this time, one that really throws the crew for a loop as they try to figure it all out, and Joker nearly has enough time to psychologically torture Tim (giving the Batman: Beyond film flashbacks!) but before Tim can be all twisted up into mini-Joker, his team arrives and they save him just in the nick of time!

Jason is ultimately the one to grab him, and in a way he confronts his own trauma by sparing Tim from a similar fate. This is how they bond and become one of the closer pairs in the BatFam. Jason really kicked into “Protective Older Brother Mode.”

After that scare, Batman keeps Jason from killing Joker and he’s instead locked up tight in Arkham Asylum. Again. Hopefully this time he won’t break out… hopefully. Now Jason can really chew Bruce out, but the main thing this adventure did was force them all to work together again. And maybe Jason won’t really be too far away from now on. He’s still gonna have his own place and do his own thing, but… he still does care about Bruce… and he does think of Dick and Tim as brothers… and Alfred is the best. Jason will be around.

The season goes on for a bit longer, tackling a few other stories, etc, etc, and then it ends with Dick proposing to Starfire… and Ra’s kidnapping Bruce again, but this time, it’s not to force him to marry Talia… mostly. This time, he’s got something to tell Bruce. There’s someone he needs to meet. His son, Damian Wayne. Way back in season 1, Talia had stolen some… “DNA” from Bruce while he was captured, and they had used it, in conjunction with her own… “DNA” to create Damian. She and Ra’s had been raising him for the past ten years, training him to be the perfect weapon, the perfect leader, and the perfect heir to the throne of the League of Shadows. Now it was time for the next stage in his studies. Talia had taught him just about everything she knew. Now it was Bruce’s turn. Besides, the boy had wanted to meet his father. Ra’s declares that Damian will go live with Bruce for five years, and then return home.

…So, long story short, Bruce winds up back in Gotham on the heels of Dick’s engagement with the ten-year-old son he never knew he had.

These next few years are gonna be fun.

Part 6 👇

Part 4 👇

[milkmejae]

Brisbane '17— s.yj

sypnosis: year '17, after your parents’ bitter divorce, life feels like it’s falling apart. one night, on a rooftop, you're ready to end it all—not until a guy stops you. the encounter sparks an unexpected connection, though neither is ready to admit it.

genre: romance, angst, fluff, tragedy, comedy (?)

pairing: boy next door!s.jy x female!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of su!cide, death, profanity, physical attack (unintentional lol), familial problems, depression

playlist: call me back - chase atlantic, brisbane - youth in revolt, her - chase atlantic, bmf - SZA, love me not - ravyn lenae, kiss kiss - mgk, royalty - enhypen, ivy - frank ocean, august 10 - julie doiron, strangers - ethel cain

a/n: hi lovely reader, this is my first work and idek how to write lol. still gonna edit this but this fic is inspired by the song brisbane by youth in revolt and the aussie boy himself, i hope y'all will like this, mwa! please reblog if u want. not proofread

Year 2017— Brisbane, Australia

The suburban rooftops stretched out under the faint glow of the moon, rows of identical houses and overgrown lawns barely visible in the darkness. The night was cold, and the wind carried the petrichor from the rain, but you really didn’t care. It was eerily quiet, just like you wanted it to be. The edge felt so close—just one step, one moment of weightlessness, and then everything would finally stop. The whispers of your parents arguing still echoed in your mind, even though they already stopped and ended things months ago. Their divorce had been loud, messy, and final. All the abuse and hurting is done, but not on your part. You were still tormented in your own mind. They moved on with their separate lives while you were left stuck in the ruins of what used to be a family.

Your long, black locks whipped around your face as you took a drag from your cigarette. The warmth of the smoke wasn’t enough to chase away the chill in your chest. The metal railing pressed into your palms, the cold biting into your skin. You leaned forward slightly, eyes closing and letting the wind brush against like a silent invitation.

The night became your sanctuary. But tonight, it was meant to be your escape.

You leaned forward slightly, toes curling within the sneakers over the edge. You were on edge. The cold metal railing pressed against your palms as your breath hitched. It would be quick, you thought to yourself. It would be painless.

"You're not really going to do that, are you?"

The voice startled you, sharp and low, like a blade slicing through the silence. You spun around, your heart lurching within your aching chest, breath starting to get heavy.

He was standing in the shadow of a tree across your house, half-hidden in darkness. Moonlight seeping through the leaves, revealing his dark brown hair sitting messily over his forehead, hiding his sculpted appearance. Black hoodie hung loosely on his frame. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he tilted his head slightly, watching her.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, narrowing your eyes. Strings were pulled within him, producing a low chuckle that's somewhat utterly offensive on your part.

"Who even are you?"

"Someone who doesn't want to see a messy scene," he said, stepping into the faint light. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but there was something unsettlingly focused about his dark eyes. "It’s a long way down, you know."

"None of your business," you snapped on his words instantly, turning back toward the edge.

"Maybe not," he said, his tone almost lazy. "But I’d hate to see someone ruin a perfectly good night." You froze, gripping the railing tighter. "What do you want?"

The man took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "Just to chill, but you made a scene so it somehow ruined it." Oh, that's not very kind of him.

"Fuck off you dickhead, I'm already on the verge of making my brain scatter on the ground and you ruined it, god—"

"yeah yeah, you good?"

Did he just cut you off?

You were pushed to the edge, you might as well just blow your heads off, right? His voice was annoying, a second away from making your veins pop and destroying whatever's within you.

"Do I look like I'm good?”

“Nope, you look shit.” popping the ‘p’

“Why do you care?" Your voice wavered, betraying the anger you tried to cling to. He shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't cost me anything to care." You glared at him over his shoulder, chest tightening.

"Fuck off."

"Nope," he declined, popping the 'p' again, almost breaking his neck looking up, watching you a few feet away. His eyes stayed on you, unblinking. "But I can tell you’re not as cold as you want to seem." clearly annoying you to get something… typical.

You didn’t respond. "Let me guess," he continued, his voice softer now. "You think this is the only way to make it stop. The pain, the loneliness, all of it." The guy kinda get what you're feeling at the moment, hell, it even felt like he could see straight through the walls you spent years building around. It was disarming—how he spoke like he understood, like he’d been there too. His words weren’t pitying or condescending; they were raw, honest in a way that made your chest ache. But still, it feels like it's an act to go through you, can't really trust anyone these days.

You didn’t answer, but your grip on the cold metal railing became tighter than ever, as if it was not letting him the space to keep talking.

“You’re not the only one feeling this way,” he continued, his voice steady but somehow warm, like the kind of drug you didn’t know you needed until someone offered it. “And I’m not saying things will magically get better overnight. But jumping from a rooftop won’t fix anything. It’s a dumb way to go, you won't even die. It won’t make the pain go away.”

Plain stupid. You didn’t want to hear it. No. Not from some dude living across your house. But still, you couldn’t shake the way his voice felt like a lifeline—a thread you didn’t want to grab but felt reaching for anyway.

“I don’t know what it feels like to be you,” he added, stepping a little closer, his eyes not leaving mine. “But I know what it’s like to feel like everything’s too much. That you’re drowning,” His voice softened even more, almost gentle. “I won’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know that there’s no point in doing something that takes everything from you. Not when there’s still a chance to find something else.”

You looked down at the ground, at him, heart heavy in your chest. The suburb lights flickered below the guy, a tiny, distant reminder of everything you were trying to do, plotting a cry to escape. Throat tightening, you felt a lump form from within that you couldn’t swallow down.

He took another step closer, his gaze still soft but unwavering. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

The words hit harder than you expected. No one had ever said anything like that to you—not in the way he did, with no judgment, just nothing.

"So just come down and—”

Shit.

His nose is on period.

You just wanted to shoo him away, not throw an empty pot on his face. Well, you told him to mind his business but he couldn’t. Deserved.

"Listen," he said, as if reading the thoughts in your mind, "Even if you broke my nose, I’m not leaving until you come down from here. And if you try to go back to that edge, I’ll be ready to call the cops on you. I know you probably think I’m just some random guy who doesn’t know a thing, but I don’t wanna be the person of interest if you die."

You inhaled shakily, your breath catching in your throat. It felt like you're teetering on the edge of something—something fragile that you didn’t want to fall into, but something you're so tired of fighting. The pain in your chest had been so constant, so overwhelming, that you almost convinced yourself it was the only thing you knew how to feel.

But this moment, with him standing there, with that soft but resolute look in his eyes, made it all feel a tad less heavy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added, his voice quieter now. “Not unless you do.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t want to go anywhere. You felt something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time— warmth.

—------

The school bell rang, slicing through the quiet of the early morning. You sat in your usual seat in the back of the classroom, eyes focused on the empty desk in front. It was hard to shake the feeling from last night—the quiet rooftop, his voice, the way his words had made the weight in my chest feel a little less suffocating.

But this was school. This was a place full of people you barely knew, and most of them you didn’t care to. You were fine with the distance, being nonexistent, keeping your head down, interactions as minimal as possible. It’s cooler that way.

You pulled out your notebook, hoping the comfort of your routine would ground you. But as you glanced around the room, your gaze landed on a figure near the door.

With all of its glory, it was the guy.

"Yo! Jake!"

It was loud and playful, carrying a teasing energy that you couldn’t ignore. You turned, just for a second, then glanced at the source of the sound. A guy appeared, tall with messy washed-brown hair and an easy grin plastered across his face. His energy seemed to fill the hallway as he walked up to the guy, clapping him on the back with enough force that the guy nearly stumbled from his seat, but quickly recovered.

Jake...

The name was already lodged in your mind, familiar in a way you didn’t want it to be. And yet, it was impossible to ignore the small ripple of something—something you couldn’t name—that had started when you first heard it. It wasn’t much, just the passing mention of a name. But the way it rolled off his friend's tongue, with that playful teasing and the easy affection, made you realize just how little you knew about the boy who had stopped you on the rooftop.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his dark brown hair tousled as always, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He was wearing the school uniform, but it looked effortlessly cool on him, like he hadn’t even tried. You had to admit, the guy’s drop dead gorgeous. And, for the briefest moment, I could’ve sworn he was looking straight at me.

"What’s up, man?" the other guy said with a boisterous laugh. "You’ve been ghosting us again!"

Jake raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "You’re one to talk, Hee," he muttered, pushing his friend away in mock irritation. "I’ve just been busy."

His friend didn’t let up. "Yeah, yeah," he said with exaggerated drama, throwing an arm around Jake’s neck and pulling him into a friendly headlock. "Where have you been, huh? Got yourself a girlfriend or something?"

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t fight it. "Doubt it," he replied coolly, pulling away from his friend’s hold and straightening his shirt. "Just keeping busy."

The guy wasn’t finished. He glanced over at you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes as he waved a hand in your direction. "Yo, what’s up?" he said loudly, flashing a grin. "You two know each other?"

“oh, fuck.” You cursed under your breath.

Jake stiffened, his body language changing ever so slightly, but it was enough for you to notice. His gaze flickered briefly over to you, but he said nothing. It wasn’t the surprise or curiosity you’d expect from someone who had just met you—it was almost as if he recognized you, but wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge it. You turned your head quickly, pretending not to care, but there was a faint flutter in your chest that you didn’t quite understand.

His friend seemed to take it as an invitation to tease more. "Don’t tell me, Jake," he continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "you’ve got some secret going on here?"

Jake, still with that same calm expression, didn’t flinch at his friend’s words. His gaze remained fixed on the blonde guy, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to entertain the question. "Can you just go away?" Jake muttered, pushing his friend away with a little more force this time.

The guy, unfazed by Jake’s disinterest, just shrugged, still smirking. "Alright, alright. Don’t get all grumpy, man." He turned to leave but threw one last playful look your way. "But hey, don’t be a stranger, okay?" he called out, his voice light and teasing.

You stood there, unsure of what to make of it all. The interaction between the two of them had felt so effortless, like this kind of back-and-forth was second nature for them. It made you feel like you were witnessing something you weren’t supposed to be a part of. And yet, there you were, caught in the middle of it.

Jake watched his friend walk off, but for a moment, there was something unreadable in his gaze. His eyes flickered to you again, but this time, there was a subtle shift—a brief, almost imperceptible glance that lasted a little too long to be accidental. He dragged his seat towards you to be closer, obviously.

It was strange. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach—a warmth, a flicker of something that shouldn’t have been there. But Jake quickly broke the moment, pulling his phone out again and looking down at the screen, his casual indifference back in place.

"His name’s Heeseung," Jake said, as if he were speaking to himself more than to you. "Just in case you were wondering."

You didn’t know why, but the name seemed to settle somewhere deep inside you. It echoed in your mind long after Jake had finished speaking. "Heeseung." You repeated it under your breath, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was the least significant thing in the world, but for some reason, it felt like you’d just learned something important.

Jake, however, didn’t seem to care. He didn’t acknowledge you any further, nor did he make any effort to start a conversation. He stood there, his back to the lockers, his eyes glued to his phone. He wasn’t interested in talking to you, at least not outwardly. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you. That subtle shift in his gaze, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long. It was like he was ignoring you, but also, not really.

And as you walked away, the feeling that had started to settle in your chest—something between curiosity and discomfort—lingered. You didn’t know what it meant, and you didn’t want to know. But it was there, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze had felt.

—------

The final bell echoed through the hallways, a collective sigh of relief spreading as students spilled out of classrooms, ready to escape for the day. You, as usual, lingered behind. There was no rush. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for you at home, and you preferred the silence of an empty hallway to the chaotic noise outside.

You were zipping your bag when a shadow filled the doorway. Jake stood there, leaning casually against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. His dark brown hair fell over his forehead, messy yet annoyingly perfect. He had that infuriating smirk plastered on his face—the kind that screamed trouble without him having to say a word.

“What do you want?” you asked, your tone flat as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “Good question,” he said, stepping inside with an air of nonchalance. He shut the door behind him, the sound making you stiffen. “I was thinking… you look like someone who could use a change of scenery.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you look like someone who’s wasting my time.”

He ignored your jab, taking a few steps closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice light, teasing. “You can’t be always hiding and feeling like shit forever.”

“I’m not hiding,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t need a pep talk from you.” Jake tilted his head, studying you for a moment. The way his gaze lingered made you shift uncomfortably. Then, with a sudden movement, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“Let go,” you snapped, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“No.”

“Yes”

“Fuck no.”

“Not happening,” he said, his smirk widening as he started pulling you toward the door.

You dug your heels into the floor, glaring at him. “What are you doing?”

“Kidnapping you,” he replied breezily. “Don’t worry, i’ll send you home before dinner.” The man winked at you, utterly disgusting.

“Jake, I swear—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, glancing back at you. “You’re too uptight. This’ll be fun. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you,” you said coldly, but he didn’t seem to care. He dragged you outside, ignoring your protests. By the time you reached the parking lot, you were fuming. That’s when you saw it—a beat-up, ancient bike leaning against the fence.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, staring at the contraption. Jake grinned, clearly amused. “What? It’s a classic.”

“It’s a trap,” you said, your tone dripping with disdain. He swung a leg over the seat, ignoring your comment. “Get on.”

“No,” you replied bluntly.

“Alright,” he said with a shrug, grabbing your bag and tossing it into the rusty basket on the front. “Guess I’ll take this instead.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jake, don’t—”

But he was already pedaling away, the sound of his laughter carried by the wind.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, running after him.

By the time you caught up, you were at the entrance to the beach. The salty breeze hit you first, followed by the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. You didn’t even knew that there was a place like this in the shitty place you’re in. Jake was leaning casually against his bike, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing to the ocean like he owned it. You snatched your bag from the basket, glaring at him. “What’s the point of this?”

“The point,” he said, stepping closer, “is that you’ve been walking around like the world owes you something. Thought I’d remind you it doesn’t.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling under your skin. “You’re cringe.” snarling at the boy, smirking at you gracefully.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his smirk softening into something quieter. “But I know this is better than you staring at a ceiling alone all day.” Before you could respond, another voice called out from the dunes.

“Jakey!”

You turned to see a guy approaching, with a tall and lean frame, skin white as snow. His hair blonde, not a speck of darkness, as if it was freshly bleached, he looks blinding.

“That’s Sunghoon” Jake said, barely sparing him a glance. “Ignore him.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes as he reached you, giving Jake a playful shove. “Dude, I was just passing by and.... who is this fine young woman?”

Jake didn’t answer, his focus returning to you. Sunghoon looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he gave you a quick nod.

“Shut up, Sunghoon,” Jake muttered, grabbing your wrist again. “I’m not even talking?” Sunghoon was confused at the remark his friend dropped. Yeah, he wasn’t even talking? “Go home, Hoon.” Jake replied, annoyed by the sight of his friend.

“Yeah going home now, was just passing by but got busted instead” Sunghoon fake cried, gripping his chest dramatically whilst walking towards the road away from the sea.

“Come on.” You allowed him to lead you down to the shore, ignoring his friend. The sand cool beneath your feet. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and calm. Jake didn’t say anything, but he stayed close, his presence annoyingly steady.

The salty breeze swept through the air, pulling strands of your hair into your face as Jake led you down to the shoreline. The ocean stretched out before you, endless and restless, its waves crashing rhythmically against the sand. It was nearing sunset, the sky streaked with fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold, casting everything in a warm, dreamlike glow.

You turned to Jake, raising an eyebrow. "Your friends are weird." Jake shrugged, his lips curling into an unapologetic grin. "You’re one to talk."

“Jokes on you, don’t have one.” You crossed your arms, already regretting letting him drag you here. "Alright, we’re here. Now what? Am I supposed to have some kind of life-altering epiphany while staring at the ocean?"

"That would be ideal," Jake said, crouching down to pick up a rock. He turned it over in his hand before tossing it toward the water, the stone skipping three times before disappearing beneath the surface. "But I’d settle for you cracking a smile."

You snorted. "Don’t hold your breath."

Jake straightened and turned to face you, his grin softening into something quieter, almost thoughtful. "You can’t tell me this doesn’t feel a little better than sitting in your room, doing… whatever it is you do all day."

“Being dead is waaaaaay better that whatever this is, I wanna-” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something about the sound of the waves, the cool breeze on your skin, and the way the fading sunlight painted the world in soft, golden hues.

Jake noticed your hesitation and his grin returned, this time more triumphant. "See? I knew it. You’re just too stubborn to admit I’m right."

"Don’t get used to it," you muttered, brushing past him toward the water.

The sand was cool beneath your feet, damp and firm where the waves lapped at the shore. You stared out at the horizon, the sky now bleeding into shades of lavender and indigo. It felt strangely calming, like the ocean was swallowing up all the noise in your head. Jake came to stand beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if gauging your mood.

"You ever skip rocks?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"No, why would i?"

He bent down and picked up a flat stone, holding it out to you. "Here. Try it."

You stared at the rock like it might bite you. "Why?"

"Because," he said, his tone teasing, "I don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely fun in your life."

You shot him a glare but took the rock anyway. It was smoother than you expected, cool and oddly comforting against your palm. Jake stepped back, giving you space as he gestured toward the water.

"Flick your wrist," he said. "Like this." He mimed the motion, his movements fluid and easy.

You tried to imitate him, throwing the rock with as much precision as you could muster. It plunked unceremoniously into the waves, sinking without even a single skip.

Jake burst out laughing, the sound loud and unapologetic.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That was… something."

"Don’t," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

"What? I’m just saying, for someone who acts like they’re above everything, you’re surprisingly bad at this."

You grabbed another rock, determined to wipe that smug grin off his face. After a few failed attempts—and Jake’s insufferable commentary each time—you finally managed a single skip.

"There you go!" he said, clapping his hands. "Knew you had it in you."

"Shut up," you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

The two of you stayed there for a while, tossing rocks and exchanging sarcastic remarks. The sun dipped lower and lower, painting the beach in shades of amber and crimson. Jake eventually flopped down onto the sand, leaning back on his elbows as he stared up at the darkening sky.

You hesitated before sitting a few feet away, pulling your knees to your chest. The sound of the waves filled the silence between you, comfortable and unpressured.

"You’re quiet," Jake said after a while, his voice softer than before.

"I don’t like talking," you replied bluntly.

"Yeah, I noticed." He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his expression. "But you’re still here."

“Aight, I’ll go first.” You tried to stand, not sure how to respond. The man grabbed your wrist immediately, forcing you to stay.

“NOOOOOO,” he shouted in disdain. “I was just playing with you, you’re too dense.”

Jake smiled faintly, tilting his head back to look at the stars beginning to peek through the darkened sky. "You know," he said, his tone thoughtful, "sometimes it’s nice to just… be like this. No expectations, no pressure. Just this."

For once, you didn’t have a retort. The ocean stretched out endlessly before you, vast and calming, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you.

Jake glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "See? Told you it’s not so bad."

"Don’t push your luck," you muttered, but there was no bite in your words. The two of you stayed there until the sky turned deep blue, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds overhead. Jake stood first, brushing sand off his jeans before holding a hand out to you.

"Come on," he said, his voice quiet but steady. "Let’s head back before it gets too late."

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, his grip warm and firm as he helped you to your feet. As you walked back toward the bike, the sound of the waves fading behind you, you couldn’t help but feel… lighter. For a little while, the weight you carried wasn’t so heavy.

—------

The days after fell into an unspoken pattern, a natural ebb and flow that neither of you acknowledged outright but couldn’t seem to break. Jake had a way of weaving himself into your days effortlessly, his presence becoming as routine as the ringing of the school bell.

It started with the small things. You’d find him waiting for you after class, leaning against the wall with that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. At first, you’d scoff, brushing past him with a curt, “Don’t you have someone else to bother?” But he’d fall into step beside you, completely unbothered by your cold tone.

“Maybe,” he’d reply, hands shoved into his pockets. “But you’re way more fun.”

You didn’t notice how often it started happening until it became something you looked forward to. Even when you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care, the way your heart picked up speed every time you saw him leaning casually against the lockers told a different story.

In the mornings, he’d spot you walking through the school gates and fall in step beside you without a word. By lunch, he’d somehow worm his way into sitting across from you, a tray of food in hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he’d say one afternoon, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you, “you’re a lot more tolerable when you’re not glaring at me.”

“I wanna make you bite the curb.”

“It’s true, you look pretty if you're not glaring at me.”

You scoffed, stabbing at your salad with unnecessary aggression. “And you’re marginally less annoying when you’re not talking.”

“Marginally,” he repeated, grinning. “I’ll take it.”

What surprised you most was how natural it felt. Jake had a way of breaking down your walls without you realizing it, slipping through the cracks with his easy charm and disarming humor. He didn’t push too hard; he didn’t need to. His persistence was quiet, steady, and strangely comforting.

Before long, your walks home became routine. He’d wait for you outside the school gates, kicking at the gravel as if he’d been there for hours. Sometimes, you’d walk in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional distant bark of a dog. Other times, he’d talk about anything and everything—his dreams of traveling, funny stories about his childhood, or even the ridiculous antics of his friends Heeseung and Sunghoon.

“You should meet them sometime,” he said once, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “They’d love you.”

“I wouldn't.” You snorted.

“No, really,” he insisted. “You’d fit right in. They’ve got thick skin, so your whole ‘I don’t care about anyone’ vibe wouldn’t scare them off.”

“I doubt that.” smiling ever so slightly which made Jake’s heart skip a beat.

“No way.”

“What?”

“You fucking smiled, bro you-” The guy is now shouting, freaking out from what he had just witnessed. “YOU SHOULD SMILE OFTEN!” Jake is twitching at this point, in his perspective, you look like an angel sent from above.

Your lips twitched, but you quickly suppressed the smile threatening to break free. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

Despite your attempts to keep him at arm’s length, you found yourself relaxing around him more and more. The biting remarks softened into playful banter, and the silences between you felt less like walls and more like bridges.

But with the growing closeness came something else—something neither of you were willing to name. It was in the way his gaze lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking, the way his teasing tone softened whenever you let your guard down. It was in the way your heart skipped a beat every time he brushed past you, his shoulder bumping yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

One evening, as you walked home together, the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. Jake was unusually quiet, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“What?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Nothing,” he said quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. The air between you felt heavier than usual, charged with something unspoken.

The days blurred into weeks, and soon it wasn’t just the afternoons you spent together. Jake began showing up early in the mornings, offering to walk you to school. He’d lean against the gate, his dark brown hair catching the light in a way that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know, I don’t need an escort,” you told him one morning, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Who said anything about needing?” he shot back, falling into step beside you. “I just like the company.”

You didn’t respond, but a small part of you—the part that you kept buried deep down—was grateful for him.

In school, you noticed how his attention shifted. Jake was popular, with friends who seemed to orbit around him like planets around the sun. But his focus was always on you. Even when he was surrounded by laughter and chatter, his eyes would search for yours.

It scared you, the way he saw through your defenses. You’d spent so long building walls, convinced that no one could—or should—get close. But Jake… Jake didn’t knock them down. He climbed over them, slowly and deliberately, until you weren’t sure where the barriers ended and where he began.

You both felt it—that quiet, undeniable pull. But neither of you dared to say it out loud. Instead, you let it linger in the space between you, in the stolen glances and fleeting touches. Because saying it would make it real, and real meant vulnerable.

And neither of you were ready for that.

—------

The house felt hollow when you walked in, the walls devoid of life. The echoes of the past lingered in the corners, faint but persistent. Your mom sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee. The weary look in her eyes was enough to tell you something was wrong.

“Sit down,” she said, her voice a quiet plea. You hesitated, the knot in your stomach tightening as you pulled out a chair. She didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she stared at the surface of the table, as if the woodgrain patterns held answers.

“We’re leaving,” she finally said, her voice breaking through the silence.

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard her correctly. “Leaving?”

“Yes,” she said, exhaling heavily. “I… I decided it’s best if we move overseas. Start fresh without your dad.” The weight of her words hit you like a tidal wave. “Overseas?” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “You mean I have to leave everything—everything I know—behind?”

Her lips trembled as she nodded. “This is what’s best for us, sweetheart. I also got a job there, it’s been so hard here, and we need to move forward.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening. Moving forward? How could she say that so easily? Your mind immediately went to Jake—the boy who had pulled you back from the edge, the boy who had made you feel like life was worth living again. The idea of leaving him felt unbearable.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t leave.”

“I know this is hard,” she said, reaching out as if to comfort you, but you pulled away. “You’ll understand one day.”

You didn’t tell her about Jake. You didn’t tell her about the nights on the beach or the way his quiet persistence had chipped away at your walls. Instead, you stormed up to your room, slamming the door behind you. The weight of it all crashed down on you, and for the first time in months, the tears wouldn’t stop.

And then, just like that, you were gone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say goodbye.

—------

Jake noticed your absences immediately. At first, he thought it was just one of your off days—you had those sometimes, disappearing for a day or two before returning with your usual cold demeanor. But as the days turned into weeks, the gnawing worry in his chest grew.

By the end of the week, he couldn’t take it anymore. He cornered your homeroom teacher after class. “Hey, uh… the girl who sits in the back. She hasn’t been here for a while. Is she okay?”

The teacher looked at him with surprise, then a flicker of pity. “Oh, she and her mom moved overseas. It was very sudden.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “Overseas?” he repeated, the word foreign and sharp in his mouth.

“Yes Mr. Sim, overseas.”

Jake walked out of the classroom in a daze, the world around him blurring. You were gone. Just like that. No goodbye, no explanation. The thought of it left a hollow ache in his chest.

That night, he sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. The silence of his room felt oppressive, and the weight of everything he hadn’t said to you pressed down on him. Without thinking, he picked up a pen and began to write.

From that night on, Jake wrote to you. Each letter was a reflection of the longing that grew with every passing day, a way to keep you close even though you were gone.

Jake kept writing, even as life moved on around him. Heeseung and Sunghoon would tease him about how distracted he seemed, but they didn’t press too hard—they knew he was holding onto something he couldn’t let go of.

—------

Year ‘25— Brisbane, Australia

The streets of your old neighborhood were both familiar and foreign as you walked through them. The years had changed you, healed parts of you that had once felt irreparably broken. But as you approached the park where you used to spend your afternoons, the ache of the past resurfaced.

You saw him then—Heeseung. He was standing by the swings, holding the hand of a little girl while another child played nearby. His laughter carried through the air, warm and joyful.

Your steps faltered, but you found your voice. “Heeseung?”

He turned, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re back,” he said, a bittersweet smile spreading across his face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Where’s Jake?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile faded, replaced by a sorrowful look that made your stomach drop.

—------

Year ‘23— Brisbane, Australia

One rainy evening, Jake was driving home from work, his hands gripping the steering wheel loosely as the rhythm of the rain on the windshield filled the silence of the car. The world outside was a blur of gray and water, the headlights of passing cars distorted like smudges on a wet canvas. The weather had been relentless all day, the kind of storm that soaked through your clothes in seconds and turned streets into glistening hazards.

He had been thinking about you again. Not that he ever truly stopped. You were always there, in the back of his mind, a quiet ache that he had learned to live with. Jake often wondered where you were now, what kind of life you were building in a place he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he imagined you smiling, truly smiling—something he hadn’t seen often when you were here. The thought brought him comfort, even as it twisted his heart.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but he didn’t reach for it. He knew better than to let his attention waver in this weather. The rain had turned the roads into slick ribbons of danger, and visibility was poor, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the downpour. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought about what he might say to you if you were here now.

Maybe something stupid, he mused. Something to make you roll your eyes the way you always did, though he’d catch the ghost of a smile on your lips if he looked close enough. He could almost hear your voice, the sharp edges of your words softened by the warmth you tried so hard to hide.

As he approached the intersection, the light turned yellow. Jake slowed, his foot easing off the gas pedal. The rain made the world feel heavier, the weight of the water pressing down on everything, muting the usual chaos of the city.

And then it happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a set of headlights barreling toward him, far too fast, far too close. There was no time to react, no time to process. The car tore through the red light, and in an instant, the world exploded into chaos.

The sound was deafening: metal crunching against metal, glass shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, tires screeching against the wet pavement. The force of the impact sent Jake’s car spinning, the world outside becoming a disorienting blur of rain and darkness.

When the car finally came to a halt, Jake was slumped against the seat, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The airbag had deployed, the acrid smell of burnt chemicals filling the small space. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting, but it wasn’t the physical agony that consumed him.

It was the thought of you.

His vision blurred, whether from the rain streaking down the cracked windshield or the tears pooling in his eyes, he couldn’t tell. His mind was racing, desperate and frantic. He had always imagined that, someday, he’d see you again. That he’d get the chance to tell you everything he’d never said. How you had changed his life, how you had become the one thing he clung to when the world felt like it was falling apart.

The rain pounded against the car, drowning out the distant wail of sirens. Jake’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last. He could feel his body growing heavier, the edges of his consciousness fraying like an old threadbare cloth.

But even as the pain surged through him, his thoughts remained anchored to you. He pictured your face, the way your eyes would narrow when you were annoyed, the rare but breathtaking smile that would light up your features when you thought no one was looking. He wondered if you’d ever think of him, if you’d remember the boy who had once pulled you back from the edge.

“I hope… you’re happy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. His fingers twitched, reaching for something unseen. “I hope… you’re okay.”

The sirens grew louder, closer, but Jake’s focus was elsewhere. In his mind, he was back on the beach with you, the two of you sitting under the dying light of the sun, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. It was a memory he clung to, a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that had become his sanctuary.

As the darkness closed in, Jake allowed himself one final thought, one final hope. Maybe, somehow, you’d feel it—the depth of what he had never been able to say. Maybe you’d know.

And then, with the rain still falling and the world slipping further and further away, Jake’s hand fell limp against the seat. The sirens arrived too late, the light in his eyes fading as his final breath escaped into the storm.

Even in the end, his heart had been yours.

—------

The world tilted, and you felt your knees threaten to give out. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Heeseung’s voice wavered as he continued, “He never stopped thinking about you. Even after all those years… he kept writing.”

He gave out the stack of letters. They were worn and faded, but the sight of Jake’s familiar handwriting made your chest ache.

You sat on the park bench, the letters trembling in your hands. Opening the first one, tears blurred your vision as Jake’s words came alive once more.

Heeseung sat beside you, his presence quiet and comforting. “He loved you,” he said. “Even when you weren’t here, he loved you.”

Jake's Unsent Letters

August 10, 2017

Hey,

I don’t know where you are or if you’ll ever read this, but I wanted to tell you—I miss you. School isn’t the same without you. No one rolls their eyes at my jokes anymore.

Jake.

September 5, 2017

Today, I went to the beach. It felt empty without you there. I kept looking at the waves, hoping you’d show up out of nowhere and tell me I’m an idiot.

I’m sorry.

December 24, 2017

Merry Christmas. I wish you were here.

I wish you were here with me too.

March 13, 2018

I saw someone today who looked like you. My heart jumped, and I felt stupid when I realized it wasn’t. I hope you’re okay.

“Dumbass.” you muttered under your breath, tears flowing on your face.

May 21, 2019

It’s been almost two years. I still think about you. A lot. Do you even remember me?

How will I even forget you?

June 10, 2020

I told Heeseung and Sunghoon about the letters. They said I should send them, but I don’t even know where to send them.

I’m sorry, Jake.

November 2, 2022

I’m starting to feel like you were a dream, like I made you up. But then I remember your laugh, and it feels real again.

Jake..

March 12, 2023

I’ll never stop missing you, everything about you is good, what we had felt good.

God, please take me back to Brisbane ‘17.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Hi, Can't wait for the fics that you write I lover them all. But can I request a Katrina Gorry x wife reader, where the reader is a footballer too but in England or Spain team. Thanks....

Mi Vida

Katrina Gorry x Reader

Angst fluff

Falling in love with your wife has been the easiest thing you had ever done, telling her you loved her was nerve wracking but not hard, asking her to marry you was an easy decision planning out how you where going to do it not so much, organising the wedding was complicated but ultimately you both had decided to marry at La Fortaleza in Mallorca and finally the decision to start a family had been the quickest yes you had said in your life finally feeling your life align the way you had always hoped.

That changed when your wife had been signed to a team in Sweden and had ultimately decided that she would be the one to take your 6 month old daughter with her. Both your girls where three hours away by plane and the only way you got to speak to them was through a phone most of the time. You couldn’t help but feel deflated after you hung up every night, looking over the videos you had been sent of Harpers first steps to her first words and little sentences she was still trying to string together.

You spent every break you could in Sweden trying to make up for lost time but every time you saw them both your heart broke at how much had changed how big Harper was getting so quickly, and with that her interests something you didn’t catch on to until she had been a screaming mess shouting how much she hated paw patrol when you had tried to give her the presents you had brought over. What hurt even more was how little Spanish she had or understood compared to her understanding of Swedish “Osa puedes decir te amo mamá ?.” Harper had stood clueless babbling before you tried again and she began to get frustrated a tantrum ensuing after as Katrina watched heart breaking at your crest fallen features realising what was happening to her family.

Leaving was never easy you felt guilty watching Harper beg and cry for you to stay to not leave her and how hopeless she slowly became to your promises to return “too long mama stay.” You of course would only answer in Spanish wanting to surround her in as much of it as possible during such a short time, “lo sé, osa, lo siento, te prometo te veré pronto mi niña.” Harper would begin getting frustrated shouting for you to speak English.

Katrina had been a bystander during these moments, she had felt her heart break the minute she told you she had signed to play in Sweden and would be taking Harper with her, she was surprised you hadn’t fought for her to stay in Spain with you surrounded by her Tías instead when she had begun shouting at you to say something about her decision you had grabbed her into your arms and told her it was ok, having Harper move from place to place wouldn’t be good for her at all and if Katrina thought Sweden would be best for your daughter then you would support her. But she couldn’t deny she felt regret and guilt creep in watching you try to hold back tears on FaceTime or hear you cry every night you where home as you tried to hide it.

After talking to her agent Katrina decided that the 2023 season would be her last in Sweden, but she had decided to keep it a surprise from you wanting to bring some spark back in your eyes since she had left. But first was the Women’s World Cup.

Australia and New Zealand had been chosen to co host this years World Cup and the Matilda’s had been hopeful that they would win it on home soil, whereas the Spanish team La Rojas as they where fondly called had been shadowed in controversy and had come into the tournament wanting to prove the world they where more than what the news projected them to be.

Your contract with Barcelona was set to end while you where playing at the World Cup and you had made the decision to leave the club on a high of winning a champions league and leave for a new league the WSL, what team you would been signing to was get to be made known to the press wanting to tell you close family and friends before the big announcement.

The Spanish federation hadn’t been as accommodating as you hoped, refusing to allow you to fly over two days ahead of the team in order to see your wife and daughter or even letting you see them once you arrived over stating they didn’t want any distractions, Alexia and Ona stood beside just off camera as you called Katrina “Hola Mi Amor.” Katrina knew something was wrong the minute your face appeared “everything ok my love.” You looked at your teammates before sighing “they won’t let me fly out two days early or see you during the tournament, I don’t know how you say eh distracción.” Katrina eyes softened “distraction love.” You nodded “I just want to see her and to see you too.” Katrina felt the guilt come back “I know I’m sorry my love it won’t be much longer.” You nodded “is she there my little osa.” Katrina smiled sadly at the hope in your eyes at seeing your daughter “mums taken her to the park y/n I’m sorry.” You could only smile sadly at her “it’s ok, I have something to tell you though.” Katrina hummed letting you know she was listening “I’m leaving Barcelona, I want to go to England to play plus flight times are less I get to you both quicker no.” Katrina was overjoyed at the news “oh darling I’m…really but you love Barcelona.” You nodded “I do but it’s the right time.” Katrina smiled at you before she was interrupted by your older two children Kyra and Charli “hola ma how are you.” You smiled at the younger girls. “I’m good but I have to go I’ll see you all soon and please give my osa a big hug and kiss from me tell her I love her.” Katrina could see the heart break in your eyes at your words “she knows my love but I’ll remind her.”

The tournament had been a nightmare for the Matilda’s, they had been knocked out by England and would now battle Sweden for the bronze while you faced England at the hopes of winning it all. The team had gathered in the screening room to watch match hopping for your wife to win. Anytime Katrina came on screen your team cheered and your heart swelled every time of course those cheers got so much louder when your daughter appeared on screen as they all talked about how cute she was you felt tears form in your eyes seeing her dressed in her Australia jersey waving a flag. You texted the Australian girls after stating how proud you where of and that deserved so much more but that she should be proud of leaving it all out on the pitch and creating history.

You stood in the tunnel holding your mascots hand when you felt a tap on your shoulder turning to see Alessia Russo “Rumour has it your joining the WSL.” You nodded smiling “that rumour would be true.” Alessia smiled Turing to face the front “I look forward to it then.” You smiled before squeezing your mascots hand asking if she was ready to go. Walking out you stood proud giving your jacket to the young girl shivering in front of you before singing the national anthem and saying good by taking your place on the back line with Ona.

You had done your best making sure your back line stayed strong against such a strong English squad. You found an opportunity in the 29 minute the lioness gravitating to the left wing gave you the chance to break into the middle right before calling for the pass from Bonmatí seeing Mary just off her mark you sent a rocket to the top left holding your breath as it nestled in the back turning you ran to your bench jumping onto Alexia as she screamed in excitement before you looked past the bench to see the Matilda’s standing behind it, you spotted your wife and daughter pointing at the letting them know it was for them before Alexia pushed you back down to the pitch telling you to get a move on.

The minute the final whistle blew you dropped to the ground before feeling your teammates pile on top of you before you shook them off walking straight to the lionesses, congratulating them on their performance before Lotte Wubben moy grabbed you “we need you holy shit mate.” You laughed pulling her into a hug “I’m Spanish but ooh to be a gooner.” Lotte squealed pulling you tighter “can’t wait mate.” You nodded before excusing your self.

You ran right past your management team before jumping the Barrier as fans around you tried to grab you but you ignored them running up the steps “salto de Osa.” Harper jumped from Charli’s arms “oh mi Osa te amo.” Katrina pushed through the girls congratulating you pulling you down to kiss her “I’m so proud of you of all of you you did it Y/n.” You felt tears well in your eyes “I couldn’t do it without you it is all for you I’m sorry you didn’t win but what’s mine is yours sí.”

Harper wouldn’t let you go for the trophy ceremony, Katrina stating she was jealous of the mascot the minute you walked out holding her hand screaming that you where her Mama and only hers. You took your medal with Harper on your hip as well as threw her in the air when they raised the trophy before letting the girls take her away briefly as Katrina made her way on to the pitch “for you.” You took your medal off putting it over your wife’s head kissing her softly. Katrina held you as you watched Harper laugh with the girls “ lm leaving.” You froze “leaving what.” Katrina could see the worry in your face “Sweden I’ve decided I’m done splitting this family apart so at the end of this season I’m leaving and I’m following you to England.” You felt your heart swell “really.” Katrina nodded “my life is with you and Harper no where else I can’t live through that or put you both through that again it broke my heart seeing her cry every night knowing you where doing the same in Spain.” You held her as she gave you her reasoning “I’m going to Arsenal.” Kyra squealed from behind you “I am too oh we are going to be a real family in England.” Charli nodded “yeah cause I decide I wasn’t being left out either.” You felt content finally creep back in as you looked around at your little family “oh mi Vida es Bella.”

[proton-wobbler]

Great Backyard Bird Off - Australia (poll 3)

Bird Info & Submission Reasons

Australian Magpie (Gymnorhina ribicen)

"Certified madlads. Absolute fluff balls. Stupidly intelligent, steals my coat hangers every year to nest, shows me the babies in a row and drops them off at my trampoline for free childcare. I’ve walked in on them in the strangest positions sunbathing on a brick wall in my house. Anyways I love them"

"Beautiful singers, horrifically violent"

"You think Canada geese are scary? They might be bigger than maggies, but at least they generally stay on the ground and you can see them coming! In nesting season (spring), every cyclist across Australia knows to beware these swooping birds, lest they take out your eye or knock you off your bike. (They swoop people walking too, but generally focus on cyclists). Seriously, people put zipties on their bike helmets, long end sticking up, specifically so that the magpie runs into the plastic and flies off instead of bashing straight into their heads. After being swooped, I have lain awake at night and fantasised about snatching the magpie out of the air and crushing it to death with my bare hands... All that aside, though, magpies are an intelligent and iconic bird that's found across Australia, and if you feed them or are friendly to them, they'll remember you and be friendly forever :)"

"These birds can get a bad rap. Yes we do have swooping season but only a small portion of magpies swoop and at the end of the day they only want to protect their babies. Plus they have the most magnificent song. Seriously. Look it up, they're beautiful birds. Very intelligent. Can and will fuck you up and honestly I'd side with the bird just about any day."

Noisy Miner (Manorina melanocephala)

"I know these guys have a bad rep for pushing out a lot of smaller native birds but I always enjoyed their little family dramas playing out in the backyard. Also they are good alarms for cats, snakes, and birds of prey!"

"They have a yellow section by their eye that looks like kick-ass eye shadow"

"Annoying as hell, everywhere, lowkey a pest. Also really fucking loud. It terrorises me every now and then again. The rest of the world should have to at least acknowledge its existance."

"probably the bird I see the most by pure numbers, they're incredibly gregarious, always doing things together. they make alarm calls a lot, and they're known for their aggression, they mob animals they don't want in their territory a lot, e.g. snakes, cats, other birds. they're also very pretty! mostly soft greys with a little bright yellow, and a lovely olive green patch on their wings."

Image Sources: magpie (Derek Stokes), miner (David Irving)