#In the books - Fiction becomes reality

[themyscirah]

Reading shit comics kind of sucks but at least I get the satisfaction of proving my own point w this

[longagoitwastuesday]

*reading a thesis about the evolution of the concept of infinity in China with a large amount of tabs open with diverse articles or word combinations to further look for information, all the while seething, blood boiling* I wish Satoru Gojo would fucking cease to exist

[c1trvswurld]

I'll never forget when i was discussing self reliance by Waldo Emerson with my teacher and it evolved into well-needed deep conversations about media literacy and pro/anti-ship debates found online

[deldeldel90]

love writing and reading books with a "romantic" style;; not in the romance sense, but in the way I can write the world through an emotional perspective, tinted by life experience, elaborate metaphors and memories and musings about religion and art and all things that matter not to us, but to the narrator, and it's a style that cares, that cares so much it becomes biased.

[minty-trash]

What do all of your blorbos have in common?

I'll start.

Mine give me gender envy.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil Gaiman, co-author of Good Omens:

My first encounter with Terry Pratchett was The Colour of Magic, as read on BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour. I was a young journalist and I reached out to his publisher for an interview, and thus became the first journalist to interview Terry Pratchett, in Bertorelli's Italian restaurant, in Gower Street. (We remembered it as a Chinese Restaurant in Goodge Street, demonstrating either the fallibility of memory or our fondness for Chinese food.) We became friends.

I was lucky enough to read Terry's books as he wrote them, to become one of his beta readers, and then to collaborate with him. Terry had a brilliant eye for the places where reality and narrative tradition intersect: he had a science fiction writer's mind, let loose on a fantasy world, and he loved to explain and show how things came to be. The last time we saw each other he told me I had to read a book about feeding Nelson's navy – and I still wonder, had he lived, about the Discworld novel he would have written, about ships, and naval battles and all, and the lessons he would have taught us. Because at his best, Terry was a teacher. The kind who makes you laugh while simultaneously realising that everything you have taken for granted so far is utterly wrong. I miss him.

[nyannyannyanx3]

life when I was an antishipper: "this character kind of looks 16, not 18, I shouldn't crush over them." / "I feel so guilty for feeling bad for these lolis... they didn't choose to be sexualized." / "was I groomed?" / I know multiple who liked things like black butler and okegom, can't believe theyre so gross to like proship content" / "what if I become a pedophile? what if I become a zoophile? I shouldn't enjoy these books or shows, they don't condemn it." / "what if this ship is a darkship? at this point, I don't think I should ship anything"

life as a proshipper: "haha I love doing whatever the fuck I want cuz I know fiction is not reality"

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr Gaiman. I have read all of your books.

This is not an ask, rather an answer.

I would like to say thank you for saving me. Knowing I will never meet you will not change the way I feel about you or myself.

Love your fiction work. I feel bad for the fact that it’s not fiction to me. It is my life story.

Very sad one. That I am still trying to make sense of today.

I was raised by the other mother. Not really, but I was raised by a bipolar narcissist who hated me and loved me but didn’t know how to do either. She sexually abused me for 12 years.

No one ever believed me. No one.

So I would pretend that I was Coraline and that I was brave. I was. But that was because I knew that the spell had to break at some point.

I am 24 now. She is old and frail but the hell she has made in my mind - I almost never escaped. Until I understood that I truly was stronger.

Because she tried to make me just like her, but I refused. I picked kindness.

If you can’t find a friend, be one. If you can’t find someone you look up to- become someone who others can look up to.

I did. I tried my best. I promise.

I want to tell you the ultimate secret that no one ever could. You probably figured it out a long time ago, but it still makes me feel better to write it here, even if I know that you might never reply or ask me if I am safe, or dismiss me like a crazed fan/abused child who desperately needs help and attention.

I don’t. I would like to be your friend. But I know it is not possible.

So I want you to know I know why they do it.

They do it for the same reason as you wrote books. To not feel alone.

But that is the problem with existing in this world. Evil is nothing but not understanding yourself and hating different people from you.

Ignorance brings hate. How do you justify yourself in a world like this?

Simple.

You change the world by breading more people who believe hate is love, and love is hate. Evil needs justification. Kindness needs non.

I sat alone for 24 years and told no one. The paragraph above was just the start and the ending.

My story is still unfolding. But I wanted to let you know you are no longer sitting alone at your birthday party.

Because the only present I ever got was knowing someone else like me existed.

Someone who could look evil in the eye and stare back.

And never stop talking about it.

Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for writing “View from the Cheap Seats”

When I read it I put it down as well as the razor that I wanted to end my life with.

Because you were my only friend. And you still are.

And I cannot take the injustice anymore. If they won’t read, I will read to them.

I will save them just like you saved me. Making reading cool and easy.

And I will do it for you and me. So that no one else can see the horrors anywhere but in books and movies.

And I will do it one act of kindness and love at a time.

So they will know that injustice is just a state of mind.

Thank you Mr.Gaiman. You gave me hope.

And now I will do the unthinkable. I will try until my dying breath to change their mind.

One step forward into a future where you are not sad and a story like mine is just a horror movie and not a reality.

Because you are my only friend, and I hate to see my friends sad.

Leto

I'm so proud of you, and this made me tear up.

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (1)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: lead up, talk of submission and sadomasochism, flirty touches and conversation.

note: This is the first chapter of a new story that I'm writing, any ideas or inspiration would be appreciated so if you have any ideas feel free to drop them in my requests, other than that buckle in! (I will try to get the next part out as soon as possible)

The Art of Submission - Chapter One 

The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the cluttered desk, your cursor blinking impatiently on an empty document. You stare aimlessly at the screen, your fingers hovering above the keys waiting desperately for inspiration to strike. It had been hours since you sat down, hoping to squeeze out something, but your mind felt trapped and foggy, yet every time you wrote a sentence, you only sank deeper into it. The end result had started to feel completely out of reach.

Your last book had done okay. It wasn’t groundbreaking or a bestseller, but it was just enough to remind you that you could do this. You could write and publish your writing and make some level of a name for yourself in the world of lesbian erotica. Not that it was hard considering the low level media attention that your field rarely gained. The reviews had been mostly kind and the sales had trickled in steadily enough that you were managing to stay afloat, but nowhere near the level of success that you first imagined when you wrote your first novel. 

Your apartment is a mess, the evidence of your creative block scattered pointlessly across the room. Empty coffee mugs crowded your desk, some still holding the cold remnants of yesterday's caffeine-fueled desperation. You’d also not left the apartment in days, time becoming a blur of restless nights and sluggish mornings, avoiding stepping outside. You found it was easier to stay here, trapped within the confines of your own thoughts, hoping something would come to you. 

You lean back in your chair, groaning in frustration. You thought about getting up and attacking the massive pile of laundry that had sat abandoned in the corner for days, but you quickly pushed that aside, realising that there was no point until you at least got another page written. The cursor was blinking furiously at you and you felt yourself going slightly insane. You wanted to smash your head into the keyboard, but instead you imagined yourself doing it which brought a small smile to your lips. 

It was at this moment that a sharp knock sounded at the door, you spin in your chair, frowning as you try to glance over at the entrance to the apartment. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d ordered something, but you couldn’t work it out and you knew you definitely wasn’t expecting company. You push yourself out of the chair with a deflated sigh, stretching your legs out as you go towards the door. The knock came again, firmer this time. Whoever it was, they weren’t planning on leaving. 

Shuffling to the door, you don’t bother to smooth the wisps of your hair or fix the crumples in your shift, you just swung it open. 

“Hey, I hope I’m not intruding, but I thought you could use a break.”

You blink in shock, momentarily stunned. Wanda stood in your doorway, her familiar yet distant neighbour from across the hall. You knew her as the woman who you occasionally exchange small talk with in the corridor, but there she was holding a bottle of wine like she’d been planning this all along. Her reddish-brown hair flowed over her shoulders, perfectly catching the dimming light of the room, the colours of her striped blouse almost too cheerful for the cluttered mess that she would soon walk into. 

“I can basically hear your sighs from across the wall. Writer's block?” Wanda smiled, her green eyes warm but with a hint of darkness behind them, as if she knew something that you didn’t. She stepped further inside, her presence filling the small apartment yet you didn’t move to stop her, you didn’t feel the need to. 

“Yeah no of course, come on in.” You say, brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you were trying to write again, come to think of it, you hadn’t even told her that you were a writer in the first place. Suddenly, your cheeks flushed pink in the realisation that she knew who you were. 

Wanda set the bottle down on the counter, next to a half empty cup. The sound of it landing felt louder than it should, cutting through the quiet tension that was arising around the pair of them. 

“You’ve been in here too long, I thought wine might be a good excuse to step away from the screen for a bit.” Wanda spoke with a caring tone beneath her soft voice, yet you found it unsettling in how she acted so naturally, offering up solutions to problems that you hadn’t even told her about. 

Wanda always seemed to have a way of appearing when you least expected it, offering little moments of relief, like that time she helped carry groceries up the stairs. She was friendly, sure, but there was an edge to her friendliness. A knowing look, like she was always a step ahead of you, just waiting for the right moment to weave her way into your life. You didn’t know why, but you weren’t exactly complaining about it. 

“You know, I’ve read some of your stuff.” There it was, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes dart to Wanda’s face, as if you were searching for any hint of a joke but instead you’re met with a calm, confident smile. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You’d always presumed that your audience was horny teenage girls, but Wanda was a mind-blowingly gorgeous woman, the exact opposite of who she was expecting. Besides that, your books lived in a cosy corner of the erotic fiction world, usually flying under the radar, definitely not the type of thing a neighbour casually brings up over wine. 

“You have?” You ask, trying to sound casual but your voice comes out a little more strained than intended. You walk around the kitchen counter where Wanda had perched herself, your hands almost shaking from the unexpected social encounter. You reach into the cupboard, finding two wine glasses and placing them down between the two of you. 

“Mhm.” Wanda leans against the counter, an almost playful spark in her eye, “You’re good. The way you write about submission, it’s real, raw. It’s incredible.” 

You feel your cheeks warm up, unsure on how to respond. This was the first piece of praise you’d received from inside your own kitchen. You felt your pulse quicken, the fact that Wanda had read those words, the intimate fantasies that you’d put into your stories was making this situation way more intimate than deemed necessary. 

You literally were stuck in a state of speechlessness, but Wanda was acting like she expected this. She lets you stand with your back against the counter opposite her, fiddling with the ends of your hair while she pulls up a stool. “Corkscrew?” 

“Oh yeah, of course.” As you turned you wanted to slap yourself, why were no words coming out, you are absolutely embarrassing yourself, yet the redhead was still gleaming at you as if you were adding something to the interaction. You rummage through your drawers to find what you needed before handing it over to her. 

“You know, when I first picked up one of your books I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She chuckled, tilting her head thoughtfully as she worked on opening up the bottle. “But then, well, I couldn’t put it down. Dangerous stuff.”

This time you manage a small laugh, still processing the idea of Wanda - the beautiful and put-together woman from across the hall - curled up reading the things you’d written. “I guess it’s not what most people expect from their neighbours.” Once again you’d tried so hard to sound casual that your voice was wavering in response. 

“Well maybe we just don’t know our neighbours as well as we think we do.” With that, she pulled the cork from the bottle and filled up the two glasses, leaning in a little closer as a smile grew into a smirk. 

You glance down at her as you reach for the glass, “I never really imagined someone like you reading my books you know.” You say sheepishly, taking a sip of the wine hoping to mask the nerves that were creeping up your spine. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her smirk more prominent now. “Someone like me?”

You shrug, avoiding her gaze as you fiddle with the stem of your glass. “You know, my audience is usually different. Younger maybe.”

She chuckles softly at your response, “Are you saying I’m too old for erotic fiction?” Her tone is teasing, yet there's a glint in her eye that makes your palms sweat. Her comment about submission still lingers in the air, your cheeks continually growing warmer. 

“No! No, I just-” You stammer, flustered by how casually she was controlling this conversation, “I didn’t think you’d be into, you know, that kind of thing.” Your voice is desperately pathetic and all you can do is smile shyly, trying to lighten the tension that was twisting in your chest. 

Wanda takes a slow slip from her glass, her eyes never once leaving yours. “Don’t assume you know what I’m into,” she comments, voice soft but full of unspoken meaning. There's that look again, the one that says she knows more than she lets on. “But seriously, I thought your writing was refreshing. You don’t hold back and that's what makes it compelling.”

You feel the blush rise again, her praise catching you off guard. “Thanks, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a little more exposed than you’d like. 

She waves a hand in the air, brushing off the awkwardness as she crosses her leg over the other. “I could tell you were stuck though,” She adds, swiftly changing the topic with a casual flick of her wrist. “So I figured I’d rescue you from yourself for a bit.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “Rescue me?”

She nods, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve been hearing you pace around for days, It’s not hard to guess you’ve got yourself into a block.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the conversation switching to something that was making you more comfortable to talk about. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve been staring at that god stupid screen for hours.” 

Wanda shakes her head, mock disapproval on her face. “That’s no way to get inspired, sometimes you just need to step away.” She gestures to the wine and the dim, cosy lighting of the room. “This is your moment to relax.” 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your chest lighten ever so slightly. “I guess I have been driving myself crazy.” This would usually be an overstep in a first proper conversation, but the curious look behind Wanda’s eyes made you feel like she was making you say all of this, like she was dragging the vulnerability out of you. 

Wanda smiles at your openness, a knowing, almost secretive smile as she lifts her glass to her lips again. “There's a reason they say inspiration strikes when you least expect it, maybe you just need to stop expecting it.”

The laughs were more relaxed now, “Oh, is that how it works?” You tease playfully, finally getting to a point where your nerves have stilled out. You could feel the tension in your body loosen just a little, but Wanda’s gaze still never faded.

She grins at your response, swirling the wine around in her glass. “Well sometimes it helps to just let go.” Her eyes sparkling as she watches you. “So what’s this book about anyway? What's got your pretty little head in a spin?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. There's no easy way to explain what you’re writing without dipping into something personal and intimate. But the way Wanda is watching you so intently, waiting, you decide to just go for it. You’re thinking maybe talking about it will help you sort out what’s been blocking you. 

You clear your throat, and look down at the glass in your hands. It’s, uh well, it's another one in the same genre as the others.”

Wanda cocks her head at you, leaning in again. “Mhm, go on.” She pulls out the stool next to her, tapping on the top of it. You smile in the safeness of her space, walking round the counter and sitting down next to her. 

“It’s about sadomasochism actually. I’m trying to explore that dynamic, the balance between pleasure and pain, trust and submission.” You feel your face flush, realising that there's no backing out now. This is supported by Wanda’s lips curling into an all too well knowing smile. 

“So you’re digging into the darker side of submission? That’s bold.”

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah it’s more about the psychological aspect of it - how it feels to surrender completely to someone else but it's hard to get it to feel real rather than just something for someone to get off on.”

There's a brief pause, both of you deep in thought, but you can feel Wanda’s gaze like a weight on your skin. Her eyes darken, just for a moment, as she processes your words. “Sounds intense.” She murmurs, her voice dropping a little lower. 

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension that you’d created. “Yeah well it’s not exactly an easy thing to write about. I want to portray it with respect.” 

The redhead has now turned in her chair to face you completely head on, her head tilted as she rolls her lips together. “Maybe that’s because you’re overthinking it.” She pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Or maybe because you haven’t experienced it enough yourself.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at her suggestion and you can’t hold her stare anymore, quickly glancing away with a small cough. “I- Well I’ve written about it plenty.”

She chuckles gently at your answer, her tone life but her words heavy with meaning. “It’s not quite the same thing though is it?” Wanda’s fingers gently brush against yours as she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. The touch is light, fleeting, but she doesn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead her fingers linger just long enough to make you wonder if it was an accident or something more deliberate. 

You attempt to laugh it off, but your voice falters slightly. “I guess not.”

She meets your eyes again, her gaze almost daring, “You know, sometimes the best way to get through the writer's block is to immerse yourself in the subject matter.”

You swallow hard, praying that she didn’t hear the gulp that erupted in the back of your throat. The air between you had grown thicker than before. “Yeah I’ve heard that before.”

She smiles, leaning just a little closer, her arm brushing against yours as she picks up her glass. “So what’s tripping you up? The emotional stuff, or you know the physical details.”

The way she’s looking at you, so calm yet so confident. It’s like she’s pulling the words out of you without you even realising it. “Both. It’s hard to get the balance right, making the dynamic feel believable.”

Wanda nods thoughtfully, biting the tip of her finger as she indulges herself into your problem. “Have you thought about how you’re building the dynamic between them?” She shifts closer and in the process her knee scrapes past yours under the lip of the counter top. You’re hyper aware of every small movement now and it's impossible to be an accident. “Like what does submission look like to you? What does it feel like in the story?”

You blink, caught off guard by the directness of her question. “God, I don’t know, It's like surrender, like when you trust someone enough to give them complete control.” You pick up your glass again, taking a massive chug in order to keep your hands steady. “It’s like you know they won’t hurt you, even when you’re in your most vulnerable state.”

She nods understandingly, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. “Okay so what does that look like physically, how are you going to write that?”

Your pulse is going crazy now, you’re convinced that Wanda can hear your heartbeat quicken from just her words. “It’s about touch,” You say, your voice almost wobbling, “The way they respond to each other. The way a person can take control with just a look or a gesture.”

As you speak, Wanda’s lips turn up into a smirk, her gaze still unwavering. She’s so close to you now that the warmth of her body is radiating off of your skin. Her hand rests slightly above your knee, the touch intimate, sending a shockwave up the back of your spine. “Show me.” 

Your breath hitches, heart racing as her fingers begin to trace a small circle against your leg. The motion is almost absentminded, yet it feels nothing but deliberate. She maintains her eye contact, her expression open but charged with a spark of something playful and dangerously enticing. 

You freeze, caught in a whirlwind of sensations as the room feels smaller now, the air thick with unspoken tension. You know exactly what she’s suggesting without her having to say it.

You open your mouth to respond, but immediately close it, earning a small chuckle from the redhead. “If you can describe it so well, you shouldn’t be stuck here right.” The dangerousness in her tone makes the words evaporate and you become acutely aware of the heat radiating from her body, the way her thumb brushes softly against your skin, drawing you in deeper. 

Wanda pulls back just slightly, but her hand lingers where it is, a gentle weight that feels both reassuring and electric. Her eyes lock back with yours, searching, waiting for your answer. “It’s okay.” She whispers, her voice soft yet commanding, as if she's completely in control in this delicate moment, “I’m just trying to help you get… unstuck.”

You can’t look away from her, caught in her captivating gaze. Her confidence is wrapping itself around you, urging you to step closer to the edge of your own desires. The space between you is charged, the possibilities suddenly hanging thick in the air as you contemplate what she could do next.

“Have you thought about drawing from your own experiences?” Wanda questions, still attempting to find a solution to a problem you couldn’t tell whether she was actively helping or not. “You know, sometimes personal stories can ignite that spark of inspiration.”

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I wish I could.” You admit, your pulse is still racing from her touch that she has now released, yet her body still remains just as close. “I’ve never really had anything that intimate.”

A playful glint flickered within the green of her eyes, her gaze sharpening. “Really? Nothing? Not even a fleeting moment that made your heart race?” She tilts her head slightly, studying your face as if searching for unspoken truths buried inside of you. 

You shake your head, feeling the embarrassment paint itself across your face. “Not like that, I mean I’ve had relationships, but nothing that’s ever made me feel like I was completely out of control, everythings always felt so safe.”

“Safe can be good, but isn’t there something thrilling about stepping outside of your comfort zone?” Her face leans closer to you once more, the feeling of her leg permanently resting against yours now. 

You nod, the thought resonating with you, but you’re still hesitant. “I just don’t know how to write something so raw and believable if I haven’t experienced it myself.”

Her expression softens, shifting her weight slightly. Her gaze drops to your lips for the briefest moment before locking back onto your eyes. “Kiss me,” She whispers, the command both shocking and exhilarating. 

Your heart races, a jolt of electricity coursing through you at her words. You can’t look away, caught in the depths of her stare. The space between you feels impossibly small, filled with a tension that pulses with possibility. “Just one kiss,” She adds, her voice a sultry invitation. “It might just unlock everything you’ve been trying to write.”

With her eyes gleaming into yours, the world around you fades into the background leaning only the two of you in this moment. You’re drawn to her, every instinct telling you to surrender to the rush of desire coursing through your veins. You lean in, heart racing as you connect your lips together. The kiss is soft at first, a small tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens, igniting something almost primal within you. Wanda’s hand slides from your knee to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if she wants to consume every part of you. You pull back, the softness of her lips still lingering against yours. You’re panting slightly, taking in the depths of what you just happened. 

Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her finger touching her lip and you can’t help but smile widely at her. “See.” She murmurs, her tone low and teasing. “Just a taste of what it feels like to let go.”

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

🔎 chapter one: "love is short but forgetting is so long"

chapter two: “did the love affair maim you too?” -> chapter three

summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

word count: +4,5k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

It's been a few crazy days for you. After what happened last time, it took you a few days to go back to the last flower cafe to write. You preferred writing in your studio at home. You had a comfy balcony with a lovely view of the Monaco sea. So you just took inspiration from it to write another chapter of your book. 

Seeing Charles confused you. You didn't know what to think or how to feel about it. You got scared you would see him again. But at the same time, you wanted to see him again. 

It felt confusing because you knew it wasn't right for you or the best to see him again, or wanting to or whatever. But even if he broke your psyche the way he did, you couldn't stop thinking about the what ifs. 

What if this time works? What if he was immature but he is worth it? What if this time is better? What if he feels the same way you do? What if he says he’s sorry? What if you forgive him?

All of those questions filled the fire to write. Writedown all of the what ifs as it was reality for your character. Maybe in this fictional life, you two have your happy ending.  

Your writing process was interrupted by your bestie phone call that you, of course, picked up. “Hey” you could hear the kids scream as if you were there.

“Are you coming to pick the kids up?” she asked, remembering you, you promised her to take them to have ice cream and for a walk. You facepalm. You forgot about it.

“Oh sorry, A. Yeah,of course. I’ll pick them up in 30 minutes. I’m sorry, i forgot” you apologised starting to walk towards your bedroom to get change. You still have your pajamas on. 

“It’s okay y/n. I knew you would probably forget that’s why I called. They will be ready when you get here. Thank you, i love you” you said i love you back and ended the call. 

You chose to wear a tracksuit, trainers and a coat. It was really cold this year in particular. But you loved it. You weren’t a fan of summer that much. You preferred snow and hot chocolate. Cuddling in bed to keep yourself warm. And playing cards near the chimney. You Loved autumn and winter, it made you feel special. 

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So today was the day, the day he probably would become officially single. Charles really hated the divorce process. It was a very painful one. He had, once again, broken another woman’s heart. He wasn't proud of it but he really wanted to do things the right way from now on. No more bullshit. No more feeling guilty of the past, tied to it as if he had to pay for everything. So 6 months ago he communicated it to Alex, it was really heavy on the heart scene. He felt like an actual monster. However, he started therapy. He was starting to understand himself more and learning to forgive himself for every decision he took that maybe wasn’t the best, but he didn't know better. He was young and about to become one of the most successful drivers in formula one. He thought he knew what he was doing to then realize he actually didn't at all. 

He started his day journaling. He tried to write something but all he could do was drawing your face. That image he couldn't stop seeing every time he closed his eyes. He felt scared about it but he let himself follow along. It was best to try to take you out of his mind in some way. Then after breakfast he decided to play some piano and record new parts of a new piece he was working on. He sent it to his producer and drove to Carlos' house to have lunch together. Lando was also there. They all chatted and enjoyed barbeque at Carlos’ beach house. 

And at that moment, talking in the living room, something changed. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I think she is a writer. I always see her on the balcony surrounded by multiple sheets of papers and a computer. Or maybe she is a translator or something I don't know but she is cute, you know? Maybe you can hit on her lando " Carlos commented while serving more wine to their cups.

“Do you follow her on instagram or something?” Lando asked for further information, apparently interested. Charles was zooming out thinking about you. 

“Oh no I don't, I don't even know her name but” Carlos opened his window curtains “yup, there she is” Carlos pointed to the balcony that was visible from there. Lando patted Charles' arm so the three of them could see through the window hoping the woman wouldn't notice them. 

“Oh my god” Charles almost fainted when he saw you there in your sherk pajamas drinking from an avengers cup (you didn't change that, though. You still are a geek for movies, superheroes, comics and books he guessed). Your balcony was quite close, the view was 4k. The guys who looked at Charles getting whiter, felt weirded out about his reaction.

“All right mate? I don't think she is that ugly, you know? I mean, she is fine as hell if you ask me and I'm not that into red hair” Lando said, checking on charles.

“Yeah, maybe she is too beautiful… now that he’s officially single” Carlos added.

Charles shook his head going back to the sofa.

“It’s y/N, carlos. y/n it’s your fucking neighbor. She was there all this time and i didnt fucking know. I don't know how I never bumped into her " Charles spitted with so much mixed feeling. Lando and Carlos looked at each other. Carlos closed the curtains before sitting along them.

“Mate, i didn't have a clue she could be y/N to be honest. I’ve never met her, "Carlos explained himself.

“Wait, who’s y/N? And why is she neighbors with you?” Lando was confused. For a moment he thought they were joking but Charles looked affected. He missed a part of Charles' story or something. The only woman he met was alexandra and she is officially out of his life.

“It’s his ex, like the one” Carlos explained to him but then Lando was even more confused. Charles noticed and with a sigh he explained the situation better in his opinion.

“y/n was my girlfriend during my f2 days. I left her for Alex but since that moment I regret it. It was like 10 years ago. "Lando's face expressed understanding with his mouth showing an ‘o’.

“So I guess I can't date her now, right?” Lando said, receiving a correcting punch on his arm by carlos. “Alright, alright” 

“I need to go guys, i got stuff to do” Charles said after a long silence and stood up ready to go. He Couldn't stay longer. He needed to breathe some air. He was scared. He actually hated feeling like that. Scared of what? Of her? Of himself? Of the truth? The truth that maybe he did indeed waste all of these years pretending to like his life when all he wanted to do was go back to her? Maybe. But the truth was too heavy to admit and process. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You were out with your nephews. It was a saturday afternoon, cold but the sun was shining bright. Between giggles you were walking with them to their favorite ice cream shop. 

Unfortunately, it was LEC ice cream. 

Benjamin and Renato were four years old, they were twins. And then there was Dante who was 6 years old. They were messy but today was a good day, they were chilling. They ran inside the ice cream shop all excited followed by you. You closed the door and they were already on the counter talking with the cashier. You smiled shyly. 

“good afternoon” you greeted her and she smiled back at you.

“Auntie, I want the chocolate one! It is always so yummy!” said Benjamin, excitedly grabbing your coat and pulling from it in desperation. He did a few little excited jumps as his twin. 

“No! Benjamin! I want the chocolate one!” Renato got mad at his brother. Their voices were so cute they made you giggle a bit. 

“It's alright boys, you both can get the chocolate one” you said, mediating between the siblings smiling at the cashier. She noted and went to look for them. “Dante, darling, which one do you want?” He was the shyest out of them all. He was so like your best friend, polite and collected. He looked at the flavour list on the wall. 

“I want the vanilla one, please” he talked directly to the cashier making you smile proudly.

“That’s my boy,” you said, congratulating him. Seeing him smile filled your heart full. You loved those three kids with your whole heart. You always get so emotional realising how fast they are growing. 

“Alright, gentlemen, here are your ice creams” the cashier said warmly and rounded the counter to give the ice cream to each one of them. You smiled watching the scene. They got shy but grabbed their ice creams anyway. 

“What do you say boys?” you looked at them gently. 

“Thank you very much” they said in unison, making the cashier smile widely. “go seat” you told them and they obeyed you. You got close to the cashier now in her seat on the counter. “How much is it?” you asked but before she could answer you, a voice, that fucking voice, interrupted.

“It’s on the house” you wanted to believe it was a dream and that it wasn’t real. But it was. It was charles. You turned to look at him a bit confused about the whole situation. He smiled at you again, the same way he did at the restaurant. You tried to play it cool, but you knew your smile and attitude were weird. 

“Oh, thank you. It wasn’t necessary” you said politely and he shook his head. 

“No problem, for real” he said and you half smiled in return. 

“Thank you” you say for both of them and went to sit with your boys at the sofa table they chose. You just didn't want to look at him that much nor you didn't know what to say. “Hey” you greeted them, and took some napkins from the table and cleaned the twins' faces full of chocolate. you smiled funny. Dante got closer to you while you were helping Benjamin clean his hands. 

“Auntie, is that the driver dad is a fan of?” he asked shyly close to you and really low so only you could hear him. 

“I think it is darling, would you like a picture with him?” you offer sweetly. He nods, smiling brightly. That made your heart race because you now have to talk to charles. You could hear him talking to his employees in a relaxed way. You could hear he came just to check in. 

You licked your lips nervously “i'll be right back, okay?” you tell the kids and stand up to walk right back to the counter. Your heart was racing. “Um, excuse me” you tried to capture his attention, and for sure you did. He looked at you immediately. His eyes found yours and you felt your heart skip a beat for a moment. “Sorry, but one of my nephews recognized you and I wanted to ask you if you could take a picture with him? Don't mean to bother you, of course,” you finally said. And you saw his face light up instantly. You were pretending you didn't know each other. You just played along without even mentioning it. You swallowed hard half smiling.

“Of course, no problem,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you” you said to him before getting to the kids.

“It's fine,” he assured you. 

You called Dante to come over and he came all shy. “Hey champ, is it good?” Charles was squatting to be on Dante's height. He talked really sweet to him. Dante stuck to you, intimidated to  have that awesome driver his dad loved so much. He nodded looking at him. “You wanna take a picture? I’ll be really happy to have one with you”  he said sweetly so Dante would loosen himself. He looked at me for aprovation. You just smiled and nodded at him excitedly. Dante then relaxed, nodding towards Charles in a huge smile. He gave him a hug and charles’ heart melted between the kid’s arms. 

They posed together and you took as many pictures as you could. And after cleaning Benjamin and Renato`s faces again, they also posed with charles. They started yapping with him and imitating car noises. They made you laugh for a bit. 

They got so excited, they gave Charles so many hugs. You played along so they can have a great moment to remember someday. You recorded some videos to send to your best friend agostina later, so she can have the memories. “My daddy loves you! He always screams to the tv ‘GOOO CHARLES GOOOO’ ” Dante commented imitating his dad in the funniest way making you laugh. “But he doesn't like Carlos that much, he prefers hamilton!”

“Oh wow, you are an expert in formula 1. Who’s your daddy?” Charles really engaged with your nephews. He even sat next to you so he could have a conversation with them. He got confused for a bit, he believed they were your children. But it didn't seem like that. 

“My dad is andrew and my mom is agostina, and she is auntie y/N” dante explained to charles the whole family dynamic in his way. You smiled nodding looking at Dante, then moved to see charles. He now understood the whole thing. You were their aunt. His heart melted for a moment. He didn't know what to say.

Benjamin asked you to grab him and you did. You sat him on your tights, and he was sleepy. You stroke his thin shiny hair gently as he pressed his head on your chest wanting to fall asleep. 

Charles looked at you with a half smile.

“I think it’s time to go home kids, mommy is waiting for you. It’s pizza night!” you told them funny and excited so they would get excited. Dante celebrated along with Renato doing a victory dance making you and Charles let out a laugh.

“Let me give you a ride, that baby wants to sleep,” Charles offered sweetly, looking at Benjamin in your chest. He was trying to play it cool but his heart was speeding faster than his car in any race. Looking at you like this, made him regret every single decision of his life. How could he leave you like that? He wanted to punch himself on the face because he was sure you hated him. So it was impossible to get a second chance nor that he believed he deserved it. 

You doubted but he got a point. Walking ten blocks with a baby or two in your arms was not gonna be an easy task and your back will suffer a lot. You sighed. “Alright, thank you. It’s really nice of you” you gave in at his offer and he smiled widely. 

“Alright, let’s go home guys” Charles announced. The cashier was even more confused than the two of you were. Since when did Charles Leclerc engage so much with strangers and offer them a lift? They must not be strangers at all. They must know each other all too well. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Charles helped you get the kids in the car, or well, his Ferrari  that was parked one block away. Dante, all excited, wanted to touch every single thing the car had so you had to tell him to calm down and behave for a bit. You got in the passenger seat. 

Charles let you use his phone so you put your friend's address on it. He now knew where you lived and he was thinking of offering to drop you there after leaving the kids but at the same time he didn't want to be so invasive. 

Smelling your perfume was sending him on a spiral. You still had that effect on him. And he didn't know how to feel about it. You didn't look at him. You probably hate him, he thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. But then why did you let this happen? Because of the kids? It was ten blocks away. He stopped himself from keeping up his delusions for way too long he would believe them. He felt like a kid about this whole thing with you. Or the one you had. The life you had. You made him and his family so happy. Arthur still likes you, you always had a soft spot on his heart. And that made Charles feel miserable. 

The drive was silent. The kids fell asleep in like three blocks. You were so nervous you would throw up right then and there. You just looked out through the window. You didn't want to talk that much with him. You knew that would be dangerous. 

He knew it too. He knew all too well what you were trying to do and in a way he was thankful for it. But in another way, he just wanted to know everything about you, again. 

A million questions were playing again and again in your heads silently but agonizingly at the same time.

Ten minutes later, you were finally on your destination: your best friend’s, agostina, house. She was waiting at the porch of her house. When she saw the black ferrari stop by her sidewalk she frowned. She thought you were coming on foot with her three children. 

You looked at charles in a half smile, just praying your friend doesn't get mad at you for this insane idea. “Thank you for lifting us” you said shortly and he nodded. It was awkward. 

“Let me help you” Charles said and both of you got out of his car. 

When your friend first saw you, she looked confused, with a million question marks in her eyes. But then, when she saw Charles coming off the driving seat, her eyes almost fell out. I mean, she was relieved that it was him at some point but not so much out of concern for you. 

“Hey, A” Charles greeted her with a wave helping you wake the kids up. He remembers your friend, of course. He remembered everything about you. 

“Hey, charles. It’s been a long time” A said, grabbing Benjamin from your arms. Charles helped Dante and you grabbed Renato in your arms. Both baby twins were knocked out sleeping. Dante grabbed his mum's hand and waved to Charles in a goodbye. He closed his Ferrari door and waved to us. You just smiled. You were in the most uncomfortable situation of your life. You didn't have a good feeling about this. 

You felt it was the beginning of the end, for some odd reason you couldn't identify yet. 

“Bye charles!” Dante said happily and was still a bit sleepy. Agostina smiled at him but when she turned to look at you, her eyes were screaming “ARE YOU CRAZY GIRL?” and how could you blame her for it. You just put her kids into the car of a known stranger. 

Charles observed the situation with you and your friend from his car. The sunset sun made you glow. And your eyes were so shiny he got confused for a bit if he was actually dreaming. He made his horn sound and disappeared into the monaco streets pretty fast. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Cozy wrapped around blankets and pillows, your friend brought you a cup of hot chocolate. You decided it was to sleep overnight to gossip because Andrew, her husband, was out of town for work. The kids were sleeping in their rooms. The baby monitor in front of you two. You were laying on the living room couch with ambient music in the background playing from the tv above the chimney. 

“I can't believe you bumped into Charles, to be honest. It's been ten years, you have never seen him and out of nowhere you see him everywhere” your friend was as surprised as you were. 

“Yeah, I don't know. I feel really weird about it. I thought next time i would bump into him i would be dead but i’m still alive so far. He felt so different… Yet he felt the same. His perfume was the same. His eyes are the same, the way they shine and…” you sighed stopping yourself. You started crying. You didn't know what you were feeling. If you were supposed to feel happy or angry or sad. The stress level was at its peak. It was too much emotionally to handle. 

It hurts you to pretend you didn't know him, that you didn't want him or that he was once your everything and now he was a stranger. A stranger holding so many secrets of you. All of your life traumas and experiences, your virginity, your first ever love story (and the only one). It still hurts because it couldn't be easier. Why couldn't it be forever together as you dreamed? When you saw him you felt the same as that last day you watched him leave that motherfucking restaurant. 

Your friend hugged you understanding how hard this was for you. And how frustrating it must feel to finally be ready to move on and then he is back just like that. How unfair life could be, right? She felt so sorry for you. You deserved to be so happy yet here we are, still crying for that ficking stupid asshole. 

It felt like the beginning of the end.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Hey, Arthur, I'm officially and legally single again. Want to have dinner at my place?” Charles called his brother on his Ferrari the second he sat in the driver’s seat. He needed to talk to someone about what happened this afternoon. His anxiety had made a hole in his stomach and he almost threw up a couple of times. 

He felt guilty. Like he did something terrible lifting you and your nephews to your friend’s house.

“Bro!!! That’s amazing!! Ready to enjoy life? I’ll be there in 30 minutes, and order some steak. I’ll bring wine. Love you!!” he shouted into the phone making Charles put it a little far away from his ear so he won't be left deaf. He ended the call, so Charles couldn't say otherwise. He giggled a little to himself. He loved his family, but especially Arthur, he was his little brother, and also his best friend.  

After a few minutes, he was already wearing his comfy clothes and had ordered the stake his brother told him to. He had set the table and put some random playlist on spotify on shuffle. Now that he was home, the hole in his stomach was not as huge as it was during the day. His house was his safe place. Though, it still felt weird not having leo (his and alex’s puppy son) or alex around. He tried so hard to love her, he got used to having her around. The chemicals on his brain were adjusting still to his new life. He changed furniture and redecorated the whole house. He wanted to start again from zero. Rebuilt himself step by step and finally, the Charles he always wanted to be. 

The bell took him out of his thoughts announcing his brother had arrived. 

“Hey, Brody,” Arthur said excitedly, hugging his brother when the older one opened the door. Arthur was really proud of his brother. He knew how hard all of it was. And how hard he was with himself when it came to mistakes committed in the past.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

They sat on the couch in front of the tv with everything already tidy up and with their stomachs full. They talked about everything and anything but yet not about her. 

“I brought you something, wait a second” Arthur said and got up looking for his bed. Charles observed his brother a little tipsy by wine already. He didn't know what to expect from him. He was always a surprise box. “I know you saw her again, I don't know how you feel about it but I know we will eventually talk about her. But I think it will help you if you read her book. I think it’s a fictional story but the way she tells it… i think it can make you reflect on what happened.” he added coming back from his bag with a book in hand. After he sat again on the couch he handed it to charles. Charles listened and watched the book in front of him. He took it carefully.

“I saw her today, she was with her nephews. I also know where she lives now as well. It was at carlos’ house and he was talking about his neighbor being attractive so Lando could try and hit on her. So he opened the fucking curtains and there she was on her balcony. I almost choked and died. Then I saw her at LEC. and I gave her a lift to her friend’s house. "Charles started throwing up everything that happened that day. Arthur’s eyes were big as plates. He couldn't understand how his brother survived o all of that. I mean, he was happy. He loved y/n, but he knew damn too well it was probably a nightmare for his brother to go through all of that. 

“Oh my god, charles. And you also were announced to be single legally? How did you survive? I'm impressed. You’re strong dude” arthur commented half joking half serious. Charles laughed it out a bit shaking his head. 

“I don't know but all I know is that my heart almost stopped how fast it was beating,” Charles answered.

“That’s called anxiety,” Arthur pointed out.

“I know. I was scared. She looked even more beautiful than she ever did or that I remember” he grabbed the book in his hands more strongly. He took a deep breath. “Today was too much for me,” his brother agreed. 

After Arthur was gone, Charles sprinted to his bed. He had a headache. He wanted to pretend it was because of the two bottles of wine they drank. But he knew it was because of overthinking. He laid in bed. Book in his hands. He started analyzing the cover: It was light blue, her favorite color he remembered. A red scarf and autumn leaves falling down. Her name is printed on the corner of it. He brushed his thumb above it taking a moment.

Adjusting his glasses he flipped to the back cover of it and that’s where something changed inside him.

‘Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?’

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter three: coming soon.

tag list: @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136

shout out: thank you to my girlies from the gc (ur the best i<3u all), specially Sonny for hyping and helping me sm with this!

author's note: here it is <3 i'm so excited about this series! Sorry if you don’t see that much French I know NOTHING of it so yeah :(

what do you think it's gonna happen next?

don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

[its-avalon-08]

Can we have some hurt comfort with Lando Norris. Like Lando and her haven’t been spending a lot of time together and when he is free he’s spending all his time gaming or golfing and reader is feeling like he doesn’t love her anymore because of that.

But happy ending.

brick on my heart (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluffy ending

Y/n sat perched on the edge of the sofa, a half-finished cup of tea growing cold in her hand. The television broadcasted a pre-race interview, Lando's face filling the screen. He was animated, talking strategy with a practiced ease that had become a trademark. But the excitement in his voice didn't translate to his eyes. They held a weariness, a hollowness that mirrored the growing emptiness in her own chest.

Across the room, Lando was hunched over his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The rhythmic click-clack was the only sound in the once-lively apartment, a stark contrast to the playful banter and movie nights that used to fill their evenings. Y/n had planned to surprise him with dinner - a gourmet pasta dish she'd spent the afternoon perfecting. Now, the aroma just mocked her, a forgotten promise of connection in the sea of Lando's single-minded focus.

A notification chimed on his phone. He glanced at it briefly, a fleeting smile tugging at his lips before he returned to the game. Y/n's stomach lurched. Was it a message from a teammate, a sponsor, or maybe even a fan? It certainly wasn't from her. The silence between them, once comfortable, now felt suffocating.

She rose silently, pushing the untouched pasta towards the back of the fridge. Lando didn't react, his eyes glued to the screen. Maybe a part of him registered her movement, but it didn't translate into a question, a "Hey, where are you going?"

Y/n retreated to the bedroom, the sting of unshed tears pricking her eyes. She picked up a book, the worn pages offering a refuge from the cold reality of their apartment. But even the fictional world couldn't hold her attention. The echo of Lando's laughter from a past game night played on a loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of what they'd lost.

Later that night, when Lando finally emerged from his gaming trance, he found Y/n curled up asleep on the bed, the untouched book lying on the floor beside her. Her peaceful slumber masked the storm brewing within. In the dim light, he didn't see the silent tears that stained her cheeks, the growing distance between them, or the love slowly withering in the absence of his attention.

The Monaco sun beat down on the bustling paddock as Y/n followed Lando, his pace brisk and focused. Conversation was a forgotten luxury, replaced by the rhythmic crunching of gravel beneath their feet. As they passed by the Red Bull garage, Daniel Ricciardo gave Y/n a bright smile and a cheery, "Hey there, sunshine!" but it fell flat. His usual banter felt forced, his eyes lingering on Lando's oblivious form.

The McLaren garage, once a haven of laughter and shared excitement, now felt cold and sterile. Mechanics scurried around, their greetings to Y/n polite but perfunctory. Lando disappeared into a briefing, leaving Y/n awkwardly adrift in the sea of racing paraphernalia. She found herself drawn to the relative quiet of a secluded balcony overlooking the track. Leasing her back against the railing, she allowed the weight of her unspoken words to crush her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of the sleek cars below.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice startled her. Carlos Sainz, his usual smirk replaced by a worried frown, stood beside her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Y/n choked back a sob, shaking her head mutely. Carlos, ever perceptive, understood. Without a word, he enveloped her in a warm hug, his strong arms a comforting presence against her shaking frame. The tears came then, hot and uncontrollable, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

"Lando?" he asked gently, his voice barely a whisper.

She shook her head again, the effort to speak a betrayal. Carlos held her tighter, a silent promise of understanding hanging in the air. He wasn't just her brother's teammate; he had always been a confidante, a protector.

Exhausted from the weight of her unspoken pain, Y/n leaned sleepily against him. The rhythmic thrum of the engines below served as a lullaby, a distant echo to the storm raging within her. When Lando finally emerged from his meeting, searching for Y/n, he found her fast asleep on the couch as Carlos lay a blanket over her.

The sight hit him like a physical blow. The worry etched on Carlos' face, the vulnerability in Y/n's sleeping form, it was a stark reminder of his neglect. Shame burned in his chest, replacing the usual pre-race nervousness. The starting grid, once a symbol of his ambition, now seemed insignificant compared to the love he felt slipping through his fingers.

The checkered flag fell, signaling the end of the grueling Monaco race. Lando, his face flushed with exertion but a triumphant smile playing on his lips, emerged from his car. He scanned the crowd for Y/n, his heart sinking when he spotted her standing stiffly at the edge of the podium.

He jogged towards her, expecting a celebratory hug. Instead, she offered a weak smile and a forced, "Congratulations, Lando."

His smile faltered. "Hey, you okay?" He reached for her hand, but she subtly pulled away.

"Yeah," she mumbled, staring down at her feet. "Just... tired. I think I'll head back." She knew about the post-race party, the usual celebratory affair Lando relished. She didn't want to be a burden with her heavy heart.

Lando's stomach twisted. "You sure? I could—"

"No," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Go celebrate. I'll see you later." She turned and started walking away, her steps heavy and defeated.

Lando watched her go, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. This wasn't right. He needed to talk to her, to fix this. He glanced at his car, then back at Y/n's retreating figure. With a determined sigh, he changed his mind.

He caught up with Y/n outside the paddock, keys jingling in his hand. "Change of plans," he said, his voice firm. "You're coming home with me."

Y/n looked up, surprise flickering across her tear-filled eyes. Too tired to fight him, she simply nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. The silence on the drive home was thick, pressing down on them like a heavy fog.

Once inside the apartment, the silence shattered as Y/n finally broke. The dam holding back her emotions crumbled. "Lando," she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears, "you don't love me anymore. It feels like there's nothing left in here," she clutched her chest, a gesture mirroring the hollowness she felt inside.

The raw pain in her voice hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He saw the hurt etched onto her face, the love he had taken for granted slowly fading away. Tears welled up in his own eyes.

"No, Y/n, that's not true!" he rushed out, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything. This season… it's been chaotic, it's swallowed me whole, and I… I was stupid. I didn't realize how much I was neglecting you, pushing you away. Y/n, listen to me. I know I've messed up, big time. But that's no excuse. The truth is, I've been so focused on winning, on proving myself, that I completely forgot what truly matters. And that's you."

He sank to his knees in front of her, his head bowed. "

Seeing you walk away after the race… it hit me like a ton of bricks. You looked so… empty. And the worst part? It's my fault. All this time I've been chasing trophies, podium finishes, while neglecting the biggest prize in my life – you."

"The late nights spent gaming, the hours practicing golf, the quick goodbyes for training… I never realized how much I was pushing you away. I took our love for granted, assumed you'd always be there."

"But you're not just a trophy girlfriend, Y/n. You're my teammate, my confidante, the person who makes me laugh even after the worst race. Seeing the hurt in your eyes… it tears me apart."

"Please, believe me when I say I love you. More than anything. I know my actions haven't shown it, but you're the sunshine in my day, the calm in my storm. I can't lose you. This season can wait, the sponsors can wait, the races can wait. But you? You're irreplaceable. Please, Y/n, believe me. I can't… I can't lose you."

Y/n, witnessing his genuine remorse, felt a flicker of hope rekindle in her chest. She knelt down, gently cupping his face in her hands. "I love you too, Lando," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But we need to fix this, together."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. Relief and gratitude washed over him. "We will. I promise. No more neglecting you. No more letting the racing overshadow our lives." He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "We'll race together, laugh together, love together."

Y/n smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. This time, it wasn't a tear of sadness, but a promise of a new beginning, a love strong enough to weather any storm. In the quiet of their apartment, they held each other close, their tears mingling, a testament to a love that had been bruised but not broken, ready to face the future together.

[goryhorroor]

horror of 2025

here's the list (hoping i get every movie but mostly will be kinda focusing on the ones i'm either excited for or is super popular)

the wolfman - leigh whannell's take on the classic

final destination: bloodlines - tormented by recurring violent nightmares, stefanie returns home to break the cycle

black phone 2: sequel

sax xi: eleventh installment in the saw franchise

28 years later - it's been three decades since the rage virus escaped a laboratory and some groups have been able to live amongst the infected but when they leave the safety of their island they'll discover dark secrets

m3gan 2.0 - sequel

companion - after being invited to a weeekend trip at her new beau's lakeside estate, iris uncovers a terrible secret

they follow: sequel to it follows

frankenstein: guillermo's del toro's take on the original

the strangers: chapter 2 - sequel

the strangers: chapter 3 - end of a trilogy

scary movie: return to the horror spoof series

sinners - trying to leave their troubled lives behind, twin brothers return to their hometown to start again, only to discover that an even greater evil is waiting to welcome them back

untitled jordan peele film - plot tba

poohniverse: monsters assemble - a team of evil childhood cartoon characters i didn't know we needed but i guess we're getting one

vicious - a young woman must spent the night fighting for her existence as she slips down a disturbing rabbit hole contained inside a mysterious gift from a late-night visitor

blade - i mean i hope so but i'm not sure if we're actually getting it this year

the bride - in the 1930s, a lonely frankenstein travels to chicago to seek the aid of dr. euphronius in creating a companion for himself. they murder a young woman and the bride is born

scary stories to tell in the dark 2 - sequel

thanksgiving 2 - sequel

the auditors - nikki, grappling with post-job loss financial strain, inadvertently ignores the fine print of their MDPOPE purchase, and their descent into horror begins with the arrival of the auditors who subject them to torture

grind - a group of college students host a midnight grindhouse film festival. they discover a cursed arthouse horror movie called the creeping chaos. in screening the movie, they unleash absolute mayhem

you take can now - plot tba

scream 7 - plot tba

kraken - marine biologist johanne is doing research on a fish farm in vangshe, a rural community located by the fjord. when she encounters strange occurances along with two brutal deaths, she discovers that a mythical creature rests

the woman in the yard - a mysterious woman who repeatedly appears in a family's front yard, often giving chilling warnings, and leaving residents to question her identity, motive, and potential danger

i know what you did last summer - reboot of classic

fear street: prom queen - prom season at shadyside high is underway, but when an outsider is unexpectedly nominated to the court, and other girls start disappearing, the class of '88 is in for a hell of a prom night

until dawn - live action of the video game

let the evil go west - a railroad worker stumbles upon a fortune teller in distubring circumstances and horrifying visions drive him towards madness

the monkey - when twin brothers hal and bill discover their father's old monkey toy in the attic, a series of gruesome deaths start occurring around them

hell house llc: lineage - fifth installment

screamboat: a late night boat ride turns into a desperate fight for survival in new york city when a mouse becomes a monstrous reality (what the fuck)

body farm - the forester johann only wants to warn his ex-wife sophie of a forensic research facility, but when he gets to the site, fast-growing slime has infested the corpses of the dead and brings them to life

i know exactly how you die - when his slasher-fiction novel manifests in real life, rian burman has to finish his story without getting his protagonist killed

le fanu's carmilla - retelling of the book

devil's work - when a couple, traveling on their vacation, meet a desperate girl seeking for her missing sister, they encounter terror and up as hostages to a twisted family and their son

the seductress from hell - hollywood actress undergoes a horrific transformation after being pushed to the edge by her husband

hyde - modern take on the classic novella by robert louis stevenson

crawlers - in the year 2030, a zombie pandemic decimates the united states population. american surviors rush to mexico where a plateau is believed to be zombie free

the children of the woods - in january 1999, a group of five disappeared after they went into the woods of york, south carolina for a camping trip, their story is being told 25 years later (inspired by blair witch project)

the dreadful - in the backdrop of the war of roses, anne and her mother-in-law morwen who live in solidary, run into a man from their past

presence - a family moves into a suburban house and become convinced they're not alone

victorian psycho - winifred notty arrives at a remote gothic manor, and as she assimilates into life, staff members begin to disappear

heart eyes - when the heart eyes killer strikes seattle, a pair of co workers pulling overtime are mistaken for a couple by the couple-hunting killer. now they must spend their valetine's day running for their lives

peter pan's neverland nightmare - after her brother michael is abducted by "the boy who won't grow up," peter pan, wendy darling goes on a rescue mission

[shanastoryteller]

I was one of the anons that didn’t know what to think when I first saw the Sam/Dean tag on See Something Say Something but now I’m like. You know what fuck it, you write it well. I look forward to every chapter and i apologize for being a hater

LOOOL you are forgiven we have all guzzled hatorade at some point

during my initial foray into supernatural (when i was watching the early seasons in real time) i didn't ship them at all until i read a crack fic as a joke

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride by fleshflutter summary: Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. He has a small army of angels and demons, he has an adoring cult, he has a work of prophecy by Jack Kerouac, and he has Dean. Things are going pretty well until he accidentally signs Dean up as his Beloved Consort, a role that requires sex with the Antichrist on an altar. And that's when things stop going pretty well. Also, the soundtrack to the Apocalypse sucks.

it has no business being as unbelievably good as it is, but also it was my first fleshflutter fic so i didn't know what i was getting myself into. it's one of my favorite fics in any fandom just because the balance of crack and horror and love and humor is so finely done that you just have to go damn. even if i hated everything about this fic i would still love it

but i was like, okay, just because this fic was good doesn't mean i really ship it. like what's wrong with just a freaky little codependent brotherly relationship? the ship mostly just exists because they're hot

then i read Stranger Than Fiction by nyxocity summary: Meta-comedy/drama set immediately post-4x18, The Monster at the End of This Book. Dean can't stop wondering why people would write gay porn about him and Sam. Research takes him to interesting places; re-reading novels for subtext, visiting message boards, and a really freaky place called LiveJournal. What he discovers is a sick fascination with fanfiction, more about gay sex than he ever wanted to know, and an even deeper obsession with understanding why people write this stuff. Meanwhile, they're hunting a mysterious monster that takes the form of a person's truest love to kill them slowly, the lines between fanfiction and reality are starting to break down, and they still have to stop Lilith and save the world.

which reads like it's crack, which is probably why i clicked on it, and isn't really. not only did the author convince sam and dean, they also convinced me. i was like okay fine you make a compelling argument

and when supernatural sucked me in this time a decade later, i was once more like well! yeah wincest is fine but i really am just a sucker for a good fucked up brotherly relationship. no need to be a folgers commercial about it

then i read It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu summary: Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see. Damn it, Dean thinks, This is gonna take a lot of chickflick moments.

which is not only one of my very favorite supernatural fics but the one that made me throw up my hands and go fine!! i ship it then!! are you happy now?

pleased and honored to be your gateway drug in these trying times <3

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words Related to Science Fiction

Android - a robot that looks like a person

Antigravity - reducing, canceling, or protecting against the effect of gravity

Blaster - a handheld weapon similar to a gun that fires bolts of energy instead of physical projectiles

Cyberpunk - science fiction dealing with future urban societies dominated by computer technology

Cyborg - a bionic human

Deep space - space well outside the earth's atmosphere and especially that part lying beyond the earth-moon system

Extraterrestrial - originating, existing, or occurring outside the earth or its atmosphere

Galactic - of or relating to a galaxy and especially the Milky Way galaxy; huge

Hyperspace - a fictional space in which extraordinary events happen

Kryptonite - a substance that causes the comic-book character Superman to become weak when he is exposed to it

Martian - an imaginary creature in books, movies, etc., that lives on or comes from the planet Mars

Multiverse - a theoretical reality that includes a possibly infinite number of parallel universes

Space opera - a futuristic melodramatic fantasy involving space travelers and extraterrestrial beings

Space-time - the whole or a portion of physical reality determinable by a usually four-dimensional coordinate system

Starship - a spacecraft designed for interstellar travel

Superhuman - being above the human; divine

Time machine - a hypothetical device that permits travel into the past and future

UFO - "unidentified flying object"; a mysterious flying object in the sky that is sometimes assumed to be a spaceship from another planet

Warp speed - the highest possible speed

Wormhole - a hypothetical structure of space-time envisioned as a tunnel connecting points that are separated in space and time

Source ⚜ More: Word Lists

[headlinxr]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 ─── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠-𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

SYNOPSIS  !  Sung-hoon is a renowned photographer who has managed to capture the essence of his models in a unique way, but his talent becomes his worst enemy. The moment he meets you, a young model whose beauty embodies his perfect vision of aesthetics, something dark ignites within him. What begins as an artistic fascination quickly transforms into a morbid obsession.

GENRE. non idol! au, f!reader, stalker x victim, obsession.

WARNINGS. stalking, Sung-hoon is weird, slight Stockholm syndrome.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The camera doesn't lie. Or at least, that's what Sung-hoon has believed for years, a truth he has carried with him in every step of his life. Through his lens, the world unfolds before him with absolute clarity, a universe reduced to lights and shadows, to shapes and textures, to a moment frozen in time that, according to him, reflects the immutable truth of existence. As a renowned photographer, Sung-hoon has achieved what few can: He has mastered his art with such skill that his images not only capture reality but also penetrate the very essence of his subjects, stripping their souls bare with almost surgical precision.

Each click of his camera is a sigh, a heartbeat, an attempt to capture the elusive. For him, photography is much more than a technical act; it is an unceasing quest for something deeper than a simple pose or a well-composed scene. In each photograph, Sung-hoon seeks to unravel the hidden essence of what he sees: that spark of vulnerability, that fragile beauty that lies behind everyday masks. The faces he photographs are not mere portraits, but windows to the truth, as if each image could decipher untold stories, repressed emotions, silenced fears. In his mastery of the interplay between light and shadow, he has found his most authentic voice, a visual language that allows him, with each shot, to transcend the limitations of the physical and touch the intangible.

He is a master in creating atmospheres, an alchemist of light who transforms the ordinary into something sublime. He knows that light, as elusive as life itself, has the power to reveal and conceal, to create depth in the superficial, and to give shape to what seems inert. For him, each shadow is a promise, and each flash of light, a revelation. In his hands, the camera becomes an almost divine instrument, capable of immortalizing moments that, in their transience, seem eternal. And yet, behind this unparalleled skill, there is a reality that Sung-hoon has refused for so long that he has come to forget it. His camera, which has been his most faithful companion, has also been his jailer.

Because while his art has elevated him to the pinnacle of recognition, it has condemned him to a solitary existence. The dedication he has put into his work, unwavering and absolute, has cost him much more than his time. He has sacrificed a personal life, a life he could never integrate with his vocation. He never had a partner who understood him, nor friends who shared his universe, nor family members who dared to call his attention outside of the studio. Love, friendship, human connections, seemed to him minor distractions in the face of the greatness of his photographic mission. In his mind, there was no room for anything other than visual perfection, the constant search for that transcendent image that could touch the very essence of life.

But while his world was being built through the lens, a subtle and silent darkness began to take shape within him. Each photo he took was a window to the outside, but at the same time, it closed the doors of his soul even more. The camera granted him the power to see and capture everything happening around him, but it denied him the ability to see what was happening in his own heart. In that space where shadows intertwine with light, where the ephemeral becomes eternal, Sung-hoon got lost. He became a distant observer, trapped in an endless cycle of images, but with no real contact with the life that existed beyond his lens. The loneliness he dragged along, hidden within the folds of his success, grew deeper, more overwhelming, until one day, he could no longer escape it.

As Sung-hoon's recognition grew, so did the shadow that loomed over his life. Fame, like a brilliant reflection, mirrored an image of success that the world applauded, but he felt increasingly disconnected, more alien to that applause, as if everything were part of a movie that was not his own. The galleries, the exhibitions, the critics' laudatory comments, the flashes capturing his moments of glory: none of it managed to penetrate the ice armor he had forged over the years. The camera, his tool of revelation, had made him an expert in the truth of others, but not in his own truth. And, despite being a creator of worlds, within himself lay a deep, unfathomable void that even the most powerful images could not fill.

In the stillness of his studio, surrounded by thousands of stories frozen on photographic paper, Sung-hoon found himself in a strange space, filled with foreign memories but empty of his own. The walls, adorned with his best works, offered him a vision of the world he had captured with meticulousness, but the images did not speak to him. Those faces, those gazes frozen in a second that seemed eternal, watched him with a fixity that overwhelmed him, as if judging him in their silence. The gestures he had halted in his journey through life now appeared to him as ghosts of a past he himself had lost. Each photograph was a masterpiece, yes, but also a cruel reminder that he had been a spectator in the lives of others, without truly participating in his own. The distance between him and his art had become an insurmountable abyss.

The studio lighting, which he had so expertly mastered when capturing the essence of others, now seemed distant and cold to him. The shadows he had used to build atmospheres in his photos now enveloped him like a mantle of darkness in his own life. His soul, which he had learned to sculpt in each image, slipped through his fingers like water, like a film unrolling before him, but which he could never touch. Sometimes, at the end of the day, when the last light of the day began to fade, he found himself in front of his photographs, in a silence that devoured him. A feeling of incompleteness overwhelmed him, as if his constant search in the eyes of others had been a way to evade his own face. Why, despite the fame, did he feel that something within him was slowly crumbling? The answer was not in the lens of his camera, but in the absence of a real connection with himself.

It was a typical work afternoon, without any preambles or announcements, when something inside him changed. While reviewing the photographs that would soon be part of his new exhibition, one in particular caught his attention. It was you, a young woman, with your gaze lost on the horizon, as if your thoughts floated beyond your body. In your expression, so laden with melancholy, Sung-hoon saw something he had never perceived before: His own reflection. The sorrow in your eyes, the fragility emanating from your face, the sadness seeping through your gestures, everything seemed so familiar. It was as if he himself, in his bewilderment and emptiness, had become you, trapped in a moment he couldn't let go of.

In that instant, the camera stopped being a simple tool to capture reality and transformed into a mirror. A mirror that reflected not only the image of its subject but also that of his own soul, slowly crumbling, invisible to the eyes of others. You were not just another subject in his photographic archive; you represented what he had left behind, what he had never been able to live. The melancholy of that image seeped into his very being, like an underground river that had finally found its way to the surface.

In that instant, the camera stopped being a simple tool to capture reality and transformed into a mirror. A mirror that reflected not only the image of its subject but also that of his own soul, slowly crumbling, invisible to the eyes of others. You were not just another subject in his photographic archive; you represented what he had left behind, what he had never been able to live. The melancholy of that image seeped into his very being, like an underground river that had finally found its way to the surface.

Sung-hoon was forced to confront the question he had been avoiding for so long: How many times, while observing others, had he seen his own emptiness reflected in their eyes? How many times had he searched in the gestures of his subjects for the humanity he had lost, as if he could find something of himself in the faces of others? Each photograph, he thought, had been a search to find what he had not been able to find in his own life. He had spent years chasing a truth that only existed in the shadows of his lens, without realizing that, in the process, he had stopped seeing the light within himself.

That night, when the studio lights went out and darkness began to fill the corners of the room, Sung-hoon found himself in front of the mirror. The reflection he saw there was not that of the renowned photographer, the man admired for his skill, for his unique vision. It was the face of a weary man, marked by years of sacrifices, of renunciations, of living in the world of images without ever daring to live in his own flesh. The dimness of the room was reflected in his eyes, filled with shadows, unfulfilled desires, lost affections. And as he looked at himself, he saw the traces of loneliness that he could no longer hide, the marks of a being who had been running for too long, without really knowing where to.

It was at that precise moment when something broke inside him. As if a window in your soul had opened, finally letting in the fresh and renewing air of introspection. The camera, which had been his refuge, his lifeline, his prison, ceased to be the only means of expression in his life. And for the first time in years, Sung-hoon began to wonder if it was possible to live outside the lens, if he could find a new way to connect with the world, to stop being a spectator and become a participant. Would he be able to find a life that was his own, without the mediation of the camera?

The search for truth in others had brought him there, to that breaking point. But now, something was beginning to take shape in his mind. Maybe the story he really needed to capture wasn't that of others, nor the image of a distant subject, but his own. The camera would no longer be his only way of seeing; perhaps the time had come to learn to look, for the first time, without filters.

Despite the internal storm that was tearing him apart, Sung-hoon found himself being pulled by an almost mechanical impulse towards the meeting he had with Jake. The appointment was marked in his agenda like a beacon guiding him towards a destiny he could not evade, a point in time that, no matter how much his soul screamed in resistance, he had to fulfill. In his mind, chaos reigned, a whirlwind of doubts and unease that rose like black clouds above him, so dense that he could barely see the light that once propelled him. Despite the years of success and recognition he had harvested in his career, an unfathomable void devoured his being. That void, which neither fame nor applause could fill, was his constant companion, his inseparable shadow. But still, he got up that morning, with a heaviness that crushed his shoulders, and headed to the café where he would meet Jake, his long-time companion, a man whose relationship with life was so different from his that he seemed from another world.

Jake had always been his counterpoint, his antithesis, and at the same time, his reflection. While Sung-hoon got lost in the dark depth of photography, searching for the soul of his subjects, Jake glided over the surface of life, finding beauty in simplicity and human connections with an ease that Sung-hoon had never experienced. Jake was a man who saw life in bright colors, with a cheerful disposition that contrasted with the photographer's somber and analytical gaze. For him, each encounter, each face was a story told without the need for capture, while Sung-hoon looked through the camera, searching for shadows and reflections, the invisible that could only be observed through the lens. But despite their differences, Jake was his companion, and that meeting was a bond that still maintained the appearance of normalcy in a world that was slipping through his fingers.

Upon arriving at the café, the feeling of unreality enveloped him strongly. The bustle of conversations, the sound of coffee being poured into cups, and the aroma that filled the air seemed like distant echoes to him, as if he were looking at the world from the distance of a photograph, frozen and distant. Each object in the place, each face that crossed his path, seemed like a lifeless painting, a static image that had nothing to offer him beyond its fleeting existence. Only the constant buzzing in his mind kept him anchored to that reality, but everything felt like a dream he hadn't chosen himself.

When Jake greeted him, his face lit up with that broad and contagious smile that had always been so bewildering to him. Sung-hoon looked at him, recognizing in him the unyielding energy that he so often wished to possess but never could. Next to Jake, there was a figure that seemed familiar, but he still couldn't put a name to it. A young woman, whose presence seemed to fill the space with a natural light that had nothing to do with the shadows Sung-hoon had grown accustomed to. It's you, your smile was so open and generous that it contrasted with the coldness surrounding Sung-hoon, like a ray of sunshine entering a gloomy room. Despite your apparent tranquility, your energy was so vibrant that it seemed to fill the air around you, flooding the room with a vitality that Sung-hoon felt was foreign.

—I'd like you to meet (Y/N)— said Jake, with a spark in his eyes that Sung-hoon couldn't ignore. —She's my new model and, well, also someone I've been dating lately.—

Sung-hoon nodded mechanically, unable to find words beyond polite formality. His mind, on the other hand, was already beginning to process the image of you. Something felt unsettling to him, as if your presence challenged the stillness he had sought in the photograph. When you extended your hand to him, your gesture was warm and filled with that energy that Sung-hoon had never understood, as natural and genuine as the air he breathed. Despite his attempts to maintain emotional distance, Sung-hoon, inside, was as tense as a wire, with his jaw clenched and his fingers closing around his hand with a rigidity he couldn't disguise. It was as if he were touching something that didn't belong to him, something he couldn't possess.

—(Y/N), it's a pleasure to meet you— he said, with his usual cold and calculated tone, but despite his control, a small crack opened in his voice, a slight tremor that betrayed the internal storm shaking his chest.

You looked at him with a smile that, although warm, never wavered. Your posture was relaxed, completely oblivious to the conflict raging within him. It was a sight that seemed out of place in Sung-hoon's world. In the photograph he had captured the day before, you had been a shadow of yourself, a figure breathing sadness, deep melancholy, as if the world had stopped offering something worthy of your gaze. He had captured that essence, that gaze lost on the horizon, that fragility that so attracted him, seeking in you what he himself felt was missing: A naked truth, almost painful, that could only be understood through a lens. But now, in front of him, stood a completely different woman. The melancholy he had imagined was replaced by a vibrant light, an energy that seemed so foreign to the image he had created in his mind. It was not the sad figure he had seen in his camera, but a beacon of joy, a warm glow that illuminated everything around him.

Sung-hoon, for a moment, was paralyzed, as if time had stopped. The figure of the young woman in front of him was not the same one he had captured. The reflection he had found in his camera, the sadness and depth he thought he understood, crumbled before his eyes. Reality was imposing itself with a force that bewildered him. This woman was not a shadow, not an emptiness; you were the very antithesis of what he had sought. Something twisted inside him, a mix of frustration and fascination, as if the image he had created, the one he had conceived through his lens, was being torn from his being.

Was that the same woman he had portrayed? Was it possible for a captured image to be so radically different from reality? Confusion overwhelmed him, frustration began to take shape, mingling with a strange feeling of jealousy, as if your life were a slap in the face to the truth he had tried to find in his work.

While the conversation continued between Jake and you, Sung-hoon remained silent, his gaze fixed on you, who now seemed an impossible enigma to decipher. Every word you spoke, every move you made, confirmed something he feared: The image he had built of you no longer existed, and he was unable to comprehend the real woman standing before him. The photograph, which had always been his refuge and his way of understanding the world, now betrayed him, crumbling in his hands.

With each breath, a small dark spark began to burn within his being. It was no longer about admiration, no longer just fascination. It was something deeper, something that awakened in him an even greater sense of emptiness. There was something he couldn't reach, something he had touched in his chamber but that now seemed to slip through his fingers, like the light he had tried so hard to seize.

And as his heart beat with growing anxiety, he realized something terrifying: Perhaps photography hadn't given him what he thought it had. Maybe what he needed to capture wasn't in the world he saw through the lens, but in the darkness that hid within him.

From that day on, something in Sung-hoon began to crumble like an old film that, exposed to light, starts to tear and disintegrate. His initial fascination with you, a light curiosity, an admiration fueled by the desire to capture your ephemeral beauty, slowly transformed into an excessive obsession. The lens of his camera, that object he had used for years to spy on the human soul, now took on a different weight, a dark power that seemed to dictate the rules of the relationship. He no longer saw you as a fleeting muse, but as an immaculate canvas, a virgin territory that had to be conquered over and over again. Each click of the shutter was not just a reminder of his technical prowess, but a twisted validation of his need to possess the image of you, to freeze it in a perpetual instant, to impose his will upon you. Each shot was a subtle, almost imperceptible affirmation that what he captured through his camera was his. In his mind, distorted by obsession, each shot reinforced the idea that his love, his devotion to you, was reciprocated, that his control over the image meant control over your being.

The first time Sung-hoon photographed you without your consent, it wasn't an accident; it was a chance disguised as an opportunity. You were sitting on the edge of a window, motionless, looking out at the garden as if the outside world were an extension of your thoughts. The soft afternoon light slipped through the curtains, illuminating your face with an almost celestial clarity. In that moment, Sung-hoon raised the camera instinctively, almost as if the gesture were an extension of his own being. There was no time to think about it, no space for reflection. It was a visceral impulse, a need to capture the image before it faded, as if your beauty were a flash of light that only he could capture, preserve, and, in his mind, possess. The sound of the shutter, so familiar, vibrated in his chest with an indescribable satisfaction, a shiver that ran down his spine. In that single second, something inside him broke even more. The image he was creating was not simply that of a beautiful woman, nor just another of his artistic photographs. It was an attempt to possess you, to trap you, to hold you in a space that he controlled. Through the lens, you became a static object, a being that, for him, no longer existed in the unpredictable flow of time, but in a capsule of light and shadow that only he could decode.

The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of reality, began to transform into a channel to something much darker, a means to impose his will, to create his own distorted version of the truth. Thus, he began to photograph you compulsively, without rest. The sessions were no longer scheduled or agreed upon; they were driven by an uncontrollable impulse fueled by the need to see you in your purest, most fragmented, most his form. Sung-hoon was not just a photographer; he saw himself as a sculptor in the darkness, molding reality, shaping your figure with the precision of his lens, seeking perfection in every angle, in every light. He asked you to stay for an "improvised session," suggested poses with an apparent delicacy that disguised itself as professionalism, but in every gesture, every instruction, there was an insatiable need for control. The power of the camera, the ability to capture a moment in time, became a game of manipulation, a dance in which he was not only the director but the absolute creator.

Each image created was another step towards the achievement of his ideal, an ideal that distorted both your figure and reality itself. There was something perverse in the way he looked at you, a fascination that went beyond mere aesthetic pursuit. It was no longer just about capturing the beauty he had found in his other subjects; in you, he sought something more, something that belonged to him, a beauty he could hold in his power. And, like a painter who wants to capture the soul of his muse in every stroke, Sung-hoon aspired for that beauty to be his, only his, until it merged with his own vision. The camera was no longer just a medium; it had become an instrument of control, an artifact that, in his hands, could strip the woman of your humanity, transforming you into a frozen and manipulated image.

The sessions dragged on indefinitely, and you, although initially immersed in the fascination of art, began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. At first, you thought that Sung-hoon was simply an eccentric, a man trapped in his art, like those cursed geniuses of history who saw the world through a unique, distorted lens. You tried to convince yourself that your concerns were an overreaction, that you weren't seeing things clearly. But as the days went by, something inside you began to resist, as if a small alarm in your subconscious was going off. Every glance Sung-hoon directed at you, every moment he spent in front of the camera, made you feel as if his presence was constantly being analyzed, dissected, reduced to a series of visual formulas that he controlled at will. It was no longer just about capturing his image, but about taking possession of you. Each gesture, each instruction, felt like another strategy to strip you of your identity, to make it fit into the image he had created of you.

After one of those long sessions, you met with Jake to talk about what you had been feeling, even though the words seemed inadequate to describe the discomfort that was overwhelming you. You feared that by expressing myself, your feelings might seem excessive, melodramatic. However, something inside you told you that you couldn't ignore it any longer.

—Jake— you began, your voice wavering, —I'm not sure how to explain it, but... Sung-hoon is being weird with me. He is constantly taking pictures of me, but it's not just for work. Sometimes I feel like he isn't seeing the person I am, but rather an image he has created in his mind. It makes me feel… Uncomfortable. As if he were watching me to decipher something I can't control.—

Jake looked at you thoughtfully, but in his expression, there was something that suggested indifference. In his world, your image in Sung-hoon's camera was not just a portrait; it was an open door to fame. The name of Sung-hoon, so well-known, could be the key that launched your career. What better way to rise in the artistic world than to be under his lens?

—Come on, darling— he said with a confident smile. —Sung-hoon is eccentric, I know, but he's not doing anything wrong. You have to see this as an opportunity. Not everyone is lucky enough to be photographed by him. This could be just what you need to take the next step in your career.—

Despite Jake's reassuring words, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The discomfort you had started to feel with Sung-hoon persisted, growing with each session. Every time he looked at you through the lens, his eyes seemed not only to capture your image but to scrutinize, to penetrate deep within. In his mind, the photographs were not just images, they were not simply captures of a moment. They were symbols of his control, his power, his one-sided and uncontrollable love. In Sung-hoon's universe, each photograph was a declaration: I possess you, I have understood you, I have made you mine.

Meanwhile, Sung-hoon continued his obsessive collection of images. Each click of the shutter was another step towards the creation of a distorted version of you, a version that only he knew and that no one else could understand. In his mind, the photographs wove together like threads forming an invisible web, a space he controlled, where his impossible and unrequited love could live, eternal, beyond the truth.

As Sung-hoon's obsession deepened, his once contained and meticulous nature began to crumble slowly, like an hourglass whose grain of sand never ceased to fall. The darkness that surrounded him grew denser, like a thick fog that took over the room, the air, the space he occupied. Your perfection, so incandescent and ephemeral in its image, was no longer just your face, nor the curve of your body under the soft light of the sunset. No, you yourself had become the very essence of his vision, the focus to which Sung-hoon had dedicated every millimeter of his art. For him, you were no longer a woman; you were a symbol, a canvas yet to be painted, a mystery yet to be solved, and the camera, that extension of his being, was his only passport to that distorted world he had begun to build around you.

The photographer, trapped in his own twisted conception of love and beauty, no longer just captured the light that fell upon you like a brush caressing the canvas. He had become a sculptor of shadows, an architect of moments, a man trying to redraw reality to match the chaos that inhabited his mind. And while his lens rested upon you, his gaze went far beyond the visible, beyond the external appearance that so fascinated others. His eye, always trained to capture the raw and natural beauty of life, now dedicated itself to observing every crack in your soul, every fragment of vulnerability you tried to hide. His vision, once purely artistic, had become an act of possession.

Sung-hoon was not just a mere observer; he infiltrated, like a painter delving into the history of his muse before putting a single stroke on the canvas. He began to explore your intimacy with the same precision with which he composed a perfect shot. In every word you let slip unintentionally, in every sigh that was just for him, the photographer saw an opportunity to discover something new, something deeper. He knew you more than you could imagine. The cracks you had tried to cover with an impeccable facade were now his field of study. He knew of your fears, your dark memories, the scars you carried in your soul, those stories that, had it not been for Sung-hoon's meticulous patience, would have remained as secrets buried in time. He was not simply an observer, but a collector of broken memories, a gatherer of the fragments of your being that you had never shown to anyone.

In his daily interactions, his deep knowledge of your personal life slipped into the conversation with the subtlety of a sharp knife. In a casual comment, Sung-hoon inserted fragments of his private life, as if they were simple, unimportant observations. —I remember that time you mentioned your father, as if you were still seeking his approval— he said quietly one day, while adjusting the lights in the studio. —And that little corner in your apartment, where you keep the old letters... You always keep it closed, why is that?— Each word, each insinuation was like a fishing line cast into the wind, trapping you in an invisible net of your own past, a net that, although as fine as a thread, tightened over time until you could no longer move without being aware of Sung-hoon's constant watchfulness.

For him, it was not enough to capture the light that surrounded you; he had to seize your soul. With each shot, with each scene he asked to repeat, Sung-hoon was searching for something deeper: A distorted truth that only he could see, a facet of you that existed only in his mind. The camera, which had once been his tool to capture the essence of others, transformed into his chain of control, a tool of power that connected him to you, an invisible bond that kept you close, that kept you in his line of sight. And although you began to feel the pressure, the threat of the invisible, you couldn't escape. At first thinking that it was all part of Sung-hoon's eccentricity, his dedication to perfection. But soon, the truth became evident: you weren't being photographed; you were being observed, studied, dismantled piece by piece.

Sung-hoon never resorted to brute force or open threats. He was much more skilled than that. His control was not in strong words or confrontation; his power lay in subtlety, in silent gestures, in the whispers that accompanied each shot, in the way he manipulated the perception of reality through the lens of his camera. He didn't need to say it openly: He knew you were beginning to understand the extent of his influence. Each suggestion, each gesture of support, was imbued with a tacit expectation, the expectation that you would follow him, that you would continue playing your role in the image he had created. He offered you opportunities, but those opportunities were nothing more than carefully woven traps, designed to make you more dependent on him, to draw you even closer to the distorted picture of yourself.

And, like a photographer who discovers an imperfection in a seemingly perfect image, Sung-hoon begins to notice the cracks in your facade. Your smile, which had once been natural and carefree, was beginning to seem forced. Your responses, once so full of life, were now shorter, more evasive. The sparkle in your eyes, which I had captured so many times, was now subtly fading. For Sung-hoon, each of these moments was a revelation. He was not only seeing the woman you pretended to be, but he was also seeing the woman he had begun to shape in his mind, a creation that had no escape. The pressure, invisible but palpable, was his signature. In the tremor of an unspoken word, in the imperceptible shift in posture, Sung-hoon found what he had been searching for: Beauty in fragility, art in oppression, control in broken perfection.

Meanwhile, you began to feel trapped in your own image, a distorted reflection that Sung-hoon had created around you. He, the god of shadows and light, saw the truth behind the masks, and you could no longer hide what he wished to see. The worst part is that, in his mind, you were already part of his creation, a muse that only existed through him. In the web he had woven, you found yourself trapped, not knowing if the exit was an illusion or if the only way to escape was to become someone else, someone completely different from the image he had shaped. But, as always happened in photography, there was no turning back: The exposure had been made, and what remained was a fixed, unchangeable image that only he could understand.

As the days slid by slowly, like a movie advancing in slow motion under the relentless direction of fate, you began to perceive how the walls of your own world, once open and full of possibilities, were closing in, trapping you with a subtle but devastating force. It was as if you were trapped in a photograph that never stopped being taken, each moment immortalized, each gesture meticulously framed. Every word Sung-hoon uttered, every glance he cast, were no longer mere interactions; they were fragments of a story he had written without your permission, a tale in which you were trapped, like a porcelain figure in the lens of a photographer obsessed with capturing your essence, with no voice or vote over your own portrait. It was a story that had ceased to belong to you, a narrative from which you had become an unwilling spectator, watching yourself from a distance that stripped you of your humanity.

In his mind, the perception of time and reality began to blur like the light dissolving on the horizon, tinting everything around him with increasingly dense shadows. Before, your world had been clear, like a well-exposed photograph; but now everything seemed to be revealed through a dark filter, as if the image were taken with a defective lens that distorted colors and shapes. The man who had been, until then, your mentor and companion, began to reveal himself as a dark, twisted, and distant figure, whose influence had infiltrated her life with the subtlety of a rising tide. Sung-hoon, with his gaze fixed like that of a predator, had managed to weave his control over you in such a subtle and meticulous manner that, at times, you wondered if you had ever been free. Freedom, once a natural right, now seemed to You an illusion fading among the folds of a photograph that had been taken without her consent.

Sung-hoon had transformed every corner of your life into a stage where only he dictated the rules. In his mind, every scene had to be directed by him, and you were nothing more than the actress chosen to play a role you didn't know. At first, you had believed that his obsession with you was the passionate fervor of an artist who seeks, like a painter lost in the meticulous details of his muse, to capture every nuance of your essence. But soon you realized that the camera, that extension of the human eye in which he trusted blindly, had become a watchful eye, an unrelenting lens that not only captured your image but also disfigured you, twisted you, and reduced you to a distorted shadow. The light, that sublime element which once revealed beauty, had ceased to be your ally. Now, each ray of light seemed like a threat, a deadly trap in which you found yourself ensnared, trapped within the frame of a reality he had created for you.

Sung-hoon's camera was not simply a tool for creating art; it had evolved into a weapon of control. Each click, each capture, was an assertion of his dominance, a manifestation of his power over your life and identity. In his eyes, you were not a complete woman, but a canvas on which he could paint without your consent, a blank page that had to be molded according to his will. And the most devastating thing of all was that, at first, You had believed he saw you as you truly were, that his work as a photographer had allowed him to delve into the very essence of your being. But, over time, the truth began to slowly unveil itself, like an old layer of paint peeling away, revealing the cracks in the facade he had built. Sung-hoon didn't see you. He didn't understand you. I had reduced you to an image, a figure projected onto the wall, a puppet whose only mission was to fit into the distorted vision of your world.

However, something within you began to awaken. It was a small spark, almost imperceptible, like a glimmer in the darkness, but it grew with each passing day under Sung-hoon's control. The feeling of being trapped became increasingly unbearable, as if his room were an invisible prison, a glass cell that only reflected your own image, as if You were looking at yourself through a mirror that only returned your despair. Every time he looked at you, every word, every seemingly innocent gesture of affection, transformed into a symbol of his manipulation. The casual comments about his past, the insinuations about his darkest secrets, no longer seemed like simple observations; they became sharp knives buried in your skin, constantly reminding you that he knew your vulnerabilities, that he could destroy you if he wanted to.

Each day that passed under his dominion, you felt your freedom fading more and more, like a photograph that, as it develops, begins to dissolve in the water, losing its definition, its life, its color. The pressure that was once subtle had transformed into an unstoppable force, a rising tide that pushed you towards the unknown, towards the disintegration of your own identity. The camera, which had been your refuge, your art, your way of seeing the world, had now become your jailer. And Sung-hoon, the man you had admired, had transformed into the architect of your destiny, a god who shaped reality at his whim, playing with light and shadow like a puppeteer who manipulates humans to his will.

Like a lighthouse in the midst of the storm, the possibility of escape began to become clearer, though still vague. You knew you couldn't keep living trapped in the shadows that Sung-hoon had cast over you. The struggle to regain your freedom turned into a frantic race against time, a desperate sprint to prevent him from completely destroying the public image you had so carefully cultivated. You began to search for clues, to scrutinize the details, to look for the cracks in the perfect facade of your life that Sung-hoon had built. You were like a detective in your own life, unraveling the web of lies he had woven around you, with every word, every action of his turned into a clue about his hidden intentions.

As your thoughts organized themselves, You began to notice details that had previously gone unnoticed. The photo shoots, which once seemed like an artistic ritual, now revealed their true nature: A carefully designed strategy to keep you close, to continue controlling your image and, therefore, your life. The compliments I once considered sincere, the insinuations that seemed like flattery, the intense looks from Sung-hoon, were no longer mere displays of admiration. They had become tools of manipulation, like the light a photographer uses to highlight only the elements they want, the viewer to see, darkening everything else. The truth, like a film that has been exposed to the sun for too long, began to reveal itself with blinding clarity.

Sung-hoon, however, was not a man who could be disarmed so easily. In his mind, each interaction with you was another shot, another take that brought him closer to his ultimate goal: to possess you completely, to break you until only the perfect image he had forged in his mind remained. He knew you were starting to notice his control, but, like a photographer playing with light and shadow, he remained in the shadows, hidden, manipulating every piece of the puzzle without your seeing it. His power lay in the ability to make you feel vulnerable, to introduce thoughts into your mind that would leave You trapped in your own confusion, like a poison silently seeping into the current of your consciousness.

Time, that elusive abstraction that had always slipped through his fingers like fine sand, began to take on the texture of an impenetrable wall. The days, which once stretched like an endless chain of empty moments, now intertwined in a spiral of shadows that faded and dissolved into a whirlwind of uncertainty. Each attempt to flee, each fleeting glance towards an exit that became increasingly unattainable, evaporated with the swiftness with which shadows succumb to light, leaving behind only the sensation of emptiness. In the course of your silent resistance, you came to understand, with painful and dizzying clarity, that escaping from Sung-hoon was not a tangible option, not a viable alternative. Like photographic film that, when exposed to light for too long, develops prematurely, the fate of your actions was already marked, predestined. And as this truth settled in his chest like an unbearable weight, hopelessness began to wrap around his soul, as heavy and dense as the camera hanging from his neck, like an extension of his own being, relentless, like the presence of a specter.

The air, once light and breathable, became thick, like the tension-filled atmosphere inside a dark room, where harsh and cold lights create a palpable sense of claustrophobia. The flow of life, that incessant and turbulent river, seemed to have halted its course, gently moving you towards an abyss from which you could not escape. You no longer fought against the current. The tide of your destiny enveloped you, absorbing you with an almost hypnotic force, as if everything were in its place, as if everything were part of a carefully composed picture. Your resistance dissolved, like an image fading in the developer, when the chemical envelops you and erases the edges of what was once defined. The contours of his will blurred, softening, fading, until the unquenchable impulse for release that had burned in his chest extinguished, fading like the last light of day when the sun sinks below the horizon, leaving only the cold darkness that follows.

Sung-hoon, the man who had been your mentor, your companion, your torturer, and your savior, had taken on the form of a dark, almost mythical figure, a silhouette in which light and shadow merged into an incomplete portrait. Throughout your time together, you had believed you knew him, that you understood each of the intentions hidden behind his icy gaze, like the reflection on the calm surface of water disturbed by a stone falling without warning. But now, in the midst of the silence that surrounded you, you realized that you had been nothing more than a piece in a work that you could not fully comprehend. You were part of a photograph revealing itself before you, an image constructed by a photographer whose vision had transformed you into something even you didn't recognize. And yet, instead of rejecting that truth, something strange began to well up in your chest, like a subtle whisper, a spark of light filtering through a crack in the darkness. It wasn't love, at least not in its purest form, but it was something that resembled it, something more enigmatic and complex. It was a fatalistic acceptance, a kind of silent submission that was beginning to reshape your perception of Sung-hoon.

You had feared it before, that light emanating from his chamber, which you had believed revealed the truth behind the masks. That same light, which now trapped you like an invisible spider's web, kept your soul captive. The intensity of his gaze, that tireless observation that never seemed to leave you, had become the core of your anxiety, a focal point of unease that consumed you. But, as time passed and the concept of escape faded as quickly as shadows succumb to the first ray of sunlight, you began to see something different, something new. Like a photographer examining an image on their screen and realizing that what once seemed blurry is, in fact, a photograph with a disturbing and unique beauty, you began to perceive the complexity of Sung-hoon. The darkness that once terrified you now contained nuances you could not ignore. Each of his gestures, each word he uttered, each glance, contained a profound truth about his being, something that transcended mere manipulation. It was like a lens that distorts the world, but at the same time, captures a raw beauty, a beauty that was undeniable, though incomplete.

Sung-hoon, in his obsession with perfection, was not simply a man with selfish desires for control. His need to capture the essence of the world, of humanity itself, through his camera, was something more visceral, more profound. The photographer was not just an observer of the world; he molded it, took it in his hands like a sculptor shaping clay. And you, caught in that web he had woven around you, began to see, even to admire, that skill, that tireless drive to dominate nature through art. Sung-hoon's vision was not a desire for manipulation, but a primitive impulse, a need to freeze the essence of the moment into a pure image, albeit devoid of all compassion. Somehow, you felt a deep admiration for him, for his ability to distill the chaos of reality into something simpler, more comprehensible. Light and shadow, those two opposites, were no longer enemies in his world. Now they were your allies, and you found yourself trapped in a scene where you were not only the subject but also the spectator of your own existence.

Sung-hoon was not just a man. He was the architect of his world, the demiurge who wove reality around him, undoing and redoing the threads of fate with the same skill with which he adjusted the frame of a photograph. Somehow, you understood that his own complicity in that process had given him the power to transform you. Like an old photograph that, over time, fades and changes, your resistance to him began to crumble like a negative dissolving in water. You no longer saw him as a jailer, a monster who kept you trapped. Instead, you saw him as the creator of a world in which, despite yourself, you felt special, unique. Sung-hoon's control was no longer oppressive; instead, it became a reflection of his own essence, a control woven with almost artistic patience and precision.

That feeling was an amalgamation of fear, fascination, respect, and acceptance. You disliked him, yes, but at the same time, there was something about him that attracted you, something impossible to ignore, something that overflowed the surface of his being. The shadows that once surrounded you now illuminated the truth of your existence, and what once seemed like a prison, a space of despair, now became a refuge where your soul, marked and distorted by Sung-hoon's lens, found itself. The light and the darkness, the contrasts and the shadows, began to weave into a single thread, creating a new reality, a new identity.

Each shot from Sung-hoon's camera not only kept you under his control. It offered you a strange form of comfort. In each image he captured, you saw not only a distorted version of yourself but also a more authentic, more complete one. The light and shadow, which once disturbed you, now took on a new dimension, one in which you found acceptance, transformation. Somehow, you had learned to embrace the image that Sung-hoon had created of you, an imperfect, broken portrait, but essentially true. A portrait that, like humanity itself, reflected fragility, internal struggle, and the inevitable beauty of the struggle itself.

Sung-hoon hadn't destroyed your identity. He had transformed it. And, slowly, as you began to understand the depth of that transformation, you realized that you were no longer a victim of his control, but a work in progress, an image still taking shape under the relentless lens of a man whose art had learned to reveal the deepest essence of your being. Without being able to help it, your feelings towards him became a whirlwind of contradictory emotions, a spiral in which love and fear, submission and admiration intertwined, trapped in a portrait whose exposure was not yet complete. And, like a photograph that is yet to be fully developed, you found yourself trapped in the endless process of its own revelation.

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART II

Felix x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Felix become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (9,7k words)

Author's note: I'm sorry guys but I have to leave you with another cliffhanger. The last part will be posted this weekend, feel free to vent in my inbox and enjoy x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

FELIX: I'm just your uh... normal guy. [smiles] Just trying to be a nice guy and do something my mum would be proud of at the end of the day. [snickers] I don't really have any lines, I don't have, like, a strategy to attract girls. Basically, I just walk into a bar and they heard my voice and accent, sorted. I wouldn't say how many girls I've been with [chuckles] uhm... people only focus on the numbers and a gentleman doesn't say. [laughs]

-

Felix has been staring at the surface of the pool long enough that it starts to calm him down. He was nervous a minute ago, waiting for you in anticipation even though he should be relaxed knowing that you said yes to having a date with him.

The date is set in the pool of the villa with a fruit platter and a bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket of ice served at the side of the pool. It's not the first time he's going on a date but his pattern of dating is casually meeting someone someplace and taking them home for a hook-up, that's it.

It's going to be hard to change that pattern, especially when he's been trapped in it long enough that it's comfortable. Going on a date and try not to do any physical touches? Felix already has a hard time imagining it.

"Hi, hello!"

Felix's head snaps in your direction and he almost chokes on air seeing you walking toward him in a crimson-red bikini.

"Have you been waiting long?" You ask.

Felix quickly offers his hand to help you get into the pool, slowly engulfing both of your bodies in the lukewarm water from the chest down. The lights from the bottom of the pool casts a bluish glow on your face and with this proximity, he can see your face up close and observes every facial feature you have.

Felix slightly shakes his head in disbelief. You're so perfect from head to toe that he's having a hard time wrapping his head around it and you're right in front of him.

-

FELIX: She's lush! In that red bikini looking like a forbidden apple and I just want to take a bite.

-

"Aren't you going to pour me a drink?" You're eyeing the two empty champagne flutes.

It's obvious he's too busy lusting over your body that he forgot to be a gentleman. You hold the glass as Felix filled them with bubby wine and pours himself a glass after.

"It's so nice!" You compliment.

Again, Felix has to force his brain to cooperate and actively stop himself from looking at your body, "Huh?"

"The date," you say, picking a grape from the plate and shoving it into your mouth, "I've never been on a date this nice before."

Felix gulps his wine to fuel his guts, "me too," he says, reaching for the grape but you get ahead of him.

"Here," you say, bringing a grape close to his mouth and feeding it to him.

He's more than eager to eat it right from your hand and grins as he chews on it while you refill both of your glasses with more wine.

"Thank you for picking me for the date by the way," you tell him with a smile.

Felix clinks his glass with yours, "thank you for saying yes," he thanked you back.

After taking a sip, you put the wine away and focus on him instead, making him nervous as you tilt your head low and look at him through your lashes. It's the classic trick in the book of seduction but you do it effortlessly with a hundred percent rate of success, making him feel like a special man, the only man in the world.

"I was surprised when Lana told me you asked me for a date," you explain.

The water is still enough that Felix can see you scoot closer to him that your knees bumps with him and it takes everything in him not to put his hand on your thigh, "May I know why you chose me?"

Felix has to force his brain to work extra tonight and rakes his hair to the back as if it would help, "I have my eyes on you on the first day," he admits.

Your lips curl into a smile and it's a familiar one that tells you're not buying his words, "yeah?"

Good thing Felix has just the proof of it, "I'm the one who kissed you at the blindfold game," he confidently spills the truth.

You hold a gaze for a moment then look away to get your wine glass, "I know."

If you know, then why you didn't react the way Felix expected to? You hold your wine glass close to your mouth but not drinking it, "What I want to know is why you didn't make a move on me until now?"

Felix finishes his wine before answering, "I have my reasons," he answers.

Your hand reaches for the fruit platter next to his shoulder and picks a slice of strawberry, "is it because I'm your second choice?"

"No!" Felix immediately denies it.

"The boys talked about which girls they were going for. You are Alex and Jamie's choice, then Jamie partnered up with you so I–I uh..." he stammers as he watches you eat the strawberry, then wash it down with the wine.

-

FELIX: Sitting this close and not able to kiss her? Impossible. She's irresistible, my gosh... [sucks air through teeth]

-

When Felix talked to you in the firepit that night, you have your guard up because he knows you were with Jamie but now, look at you! Your head is slightly tilted and flutter your eyelashes at him. You got game and Felix likes having all of your attention just for him. He's more than eager to give you all of his attention, that wouldn't be hard, you're the only one he's seeing.

Felix licks his lips as his throat got dry from watching you and quickly recovers by splashing some water into the back of his neck, "I think compared to them, I don't think I'd have a shot with you," he furtherly explains.

You stare into his eyes and locked them in an intense gaze, "why? I think you're attractive," you tell him.

He unconsciously reaches for his ear as he gets flustered by your compliment.

"I think you know by now that three of the girls are chasing after you. Shouldn't you be happy?" You share the news Felix already knew. He wants to know something else, something more important, "depends," he says, "If one of the three is you then yes, I'd be happy."

A laugh burst out of you and Felix is elated to know that he's the one who made you laugh like that. There's something else as important he needs to know, "so what's your type?"

You fix the strap of your bikini and Felix reflexively looks at your cleavage, glancing at the soft mounds inside your bikini top, then quickly shifts his eyes back to your face.

"On the paper, no, you're not," you honestly answer.

Felix's smile fades a little but he keeps his disappointment to himself by sipping his drink.

"But I'm attracted to you," you add.

He swallows his drink at once and almost choked on it, the scintillating smile returns to his face.

"The fact that you're not my type but I'm attracted to you... I think that says something," you tell him with a sly smile. You hold his gaze before looking away and it's cute that you can be bold then shy the next minute.

He sees that you're eyeing the fruit platter next to him, "want something?"

You lowly chuckle and shyly say, "I was looking at your biceps actually but yes, okay, I'd like a strawberry, please?"

You always seem to know what to say and how to make his heart flutter, he can't help but softly laugh, flustered. You hold his hand by the wrist and steady his hand as you eat the strawberry right from between his fingers.

Felix briefly feels how your mouth and lips feel like. It's not technically a rule break and he was playing it safe until you did that. He clears his throat to steer his mind back on track, "Uhm... is that what you like about me? My biceps?"

You lick the juice escaping the corner of your mouth with your tongue, "you have a great body but what I like is the freckles," you share.

Felix unconsciously reaches for his face, "Yeah?"

You pull your hand out of the water and touch his chest, "I didn't know that you also have freckles on your chest."

Is it the beads of water slowly trickling down his chest or it's your fingertips that are lightly touching him that make him tingle inside? Felix feels the need to do the same with you. He reaches for the stray hair escaping your messy bun and tucks it behind your ear.

Instead of retracting his hand, he keeps it there, holding the side of your face.

-

FELIX: [Hisses] I want to kiss her so badly.

-

Felix may as well take his chance, leaning in close but doing it carefully as he seeks permission from you. He leans in closer to whisper in your ear with his hand still holding one side of your head, "Should we kiss?"

You put your hand on his thigh underwater and seductively chuckle, hinting that you probably think it's not a bad idea after all.

"I just got out of this thing," you avoid mentioning Jamie in the sentence, then you smile as you say, "I don't want to rush things."

Felix nods in understanding, "That's fair."

However, the hand resting on his thigh tells him otherwise.

-

FELIX: The chemistry we have is electric. I get the feeling that he can't resist me for long.

-

The date ends since it's about to be curfew soon. You and Felix exchange a hug, a long one that he gets to feel your body against him.

"That was a nice date," you mutter with a hand around his neck.

Felix uses the opportunity to draw you closer until your breasts squashed between your chests, "Yeah, indeed."

Being the gentleman he is, he gets out of the swimming pool first, then immediately offers his hand to help you. You take it without complaining, letting him hold you until you got out of the water.

Felix watches as the streams of water trickle down your body and your bikini stick to your skin, leaving so little to his imagination. He grabs a towel from a stack prepared on the lounger and put it around your shoulder.

"Thank you," you thank him, then he grabs one for himself and walks back into the house together.

-

FELIX: She refused to kiss but I’m confident to say the date went well.

-

The date may have ended but the night continues.

You both go straight to the bathroom with water dripping down your bodies and it's empty since everyone else is tucked in for bedtime. The spacious shower stall gives Felix an idea crossed but he's afraid of crossing the line to ask you.

"You can go in first," he offers.

You drop the wet towel and put it on the edge of the bathtub, "how about we shower together?"

Are you reading his mind? Because that's exactly the idea he had in mind. Felix suddenly doesn't know what to do with himself, aimlessly pacing around the bathroom.

"You can use my nice-smelling shampoo," you offer with a playful laugh.

"I can't say no to that," he replies.

Felix has to calm himself as you enter the shower after him, turning your back to him to help you untie the straps of your bikini. He puts all of your hair away and carefully works the knot open, you take it off yourself after. He watches as you hook your fingers around the sides of your bikini bottom and slide it down your legs, putting the bikini aside with your feet.

It's when you turn around to face him that he starts malfunctioning. There's nothing left to imagine now he sees all of you, that beautiful body of yours that he wants to explore if it wasn't for the stupid rules. You step under the shower and tilt your head up to let the water rain down your chest.

Felix has never been this jealous of the water for being able to be all over you.

"Want me to wash your hair?" You ask, taking the shampoo out of your toiletry bag.

Unable to verbally answers, he stifled a nod.

-

FELIX: I don't know how I'm still alive after seeing her phenomenal body [whistles]

-

It's the way you stare up at him with your hands slowly massaging his scalp and standing so close to him that it alarms him that he's rather in danger.

"Is it good?"

He's not sure what you're asking, the way you shampoo his hair or how your body makes him feel. He chooses to compliment you instead, "You're good at this."

"Yeah?" You ask with a grin.

"Mmh, yeah," he tries to distract himself by talking but not long after, he found his eyes looking at your breasts, hung so beautifully on your chest, merely inches away from his chest.

"Time to wash it," you inform, pulling him under the shower and washing all the suds away from his hair while brushing it clean with your fingers.

As you intently clean his hair, Felix braves himself to put his hands on each side of your waist and reminds himself to not go lower than that.

"It smells nice," he comments, opening his eyes from closing it for too long.

You drop your hands on his shoulders then clasped your hands together on the back of his head. With his proximity, your hardening nipples are lightly grazing his chest, raising the goosebumps on his arms.

"You're lucky I let you use it," you say with a sweet smile on your face and your eyes staring back at him. 

This is it. Felix has hit his limits. He can't resist it anymore.

-

FELIX: Oh fuck, I'm in trouble.

-

"I'm glad we didn't kiss on the date," Felix says.

You chuckle right at his face, "Huh? Why?"

Getting bolder, Felix wraps his hands around you and pulls you even closer, "Because now is the right time to do it."

Your teeth faintly biting your lower lip and he can see the lust in your eyes. Once you close your eyes, Felix knows that he just got your permission. The sweet smell of your breath welcomes him as he kisses your slightly parted mouth. You kiss him back with the same eagerness with a broken moan slips out of you between kisses.

Felix expected sparks but what he gets are far greater, fireworks getting off inside his chest.

-

FELIX: The kiss is such a long time coming and I just don't care about the rules at that moment. It feels so right.

-

You pull away first with a gasp and an open mouth, keeping your hands looped around his neck

"Wow. We made that kiss worth the six grands."

Felix grins in agreement with you, except that for him, the kiss is worth more than that. He'd pay with his own money if he had to, it was special, one of a kind. Then another problem appears, Felix craves for it more than before. He leans in for another but you're quick to turn your face to the side, sending his lips landed on your cheek.

"We can't break another rule today," you whisper into his ear.

Defeated, Felix drops his head on your neck and holds you close.

You reach for the faucet and turn it to the side, "How about a cold shower, mmh?" 

-

FELIX: A part of me is glad that she stopped me or else, we would have done everything by now [shamelessly laughs]

-

It was too late to have you sleeping with him last night.

Hopefully, later, he can fix this bed situation so he can wake up next to you and probably, sneaks a kiss or two. Seeing your face and exchanging a secretive smile is enough to gather his spirits to last the day.

Cole is going through his routine and asks everyone the question of the day, "anyone breaks any rules last night?"

He scans everyone to spot any guilty faces and Felix knows that he's safe from his suspicious eyes since Cole is his bedmate.

"You guys are looking guilty over there," Heidi points at Jamie and Mia's bed.

Fuck Jamie, he's so stupid to let you go but smart enough to leave you because you deserve better. Felix is confident that he is that 'someone better'.

Unlike everyone else, Felix can't wait for everyone to know that he kissed you and gets jealous of him.

-

FELIX: Another day, another chance to break the rules [winks]

- 

Too bad that despite his excitement, Felix can't spend time with you as you are being called to the front yard for a workshop with the other girls. He has no other things to do but join Alex working out and at the same time, helping him with some lower body workouts.

"You didn't tell me about your date last night," He says as he's taking a minute of a break between sets.

Felix counts the time and at the same time answering to his question, "It went great, man."

Alex is the one who encourages him to keep trying even when you were still with Jamie.

"Told you," he says with a triumphant smirk and getting up, grabbing dumbbells in both hands.

"Did you do anything?" Alex glances at him to get any hints from Felix's expression.

Felix refuses to answer but the grin on his face gives it away.

"How much did you spend?"

He's bad at lying and it's not like he's talking to Cole, which reminds him to look around, "Just one kiss," Felix answers after steering clear that Cole is out of his earshot.

Alex laughs and puts the dumbbells down, "just get ready, bro."

Surprisingly, Felix doesn't care so much about what everyone is going to say when they know about him breaking the rules.

"As an experienced rulebreaker, do you have any tips?" Felix playfully asks.

Alex laughs again and plops down on the hot sand, "I hate to tell you but the only way is through," he says with a stupid grin.

"Thank you, Dorothy!" Felix jokingly responds.

-

FELIX: I missed her even though I know she's only on a different side of the villa [chuckles]

-

Felix can't hide his smile when he sees you back from the workshop.

Moreover, he doesn't want to be around Jamie. The fact that he left you for someone else leaves a bad taste in him. Or maybe it's just that Felix grows protective of you that makes him feel that way.

"It's so hot. I'm thinking of taking a dip," you tell him.

He glares at you, "And you're not inviting me?"

"Yes. I'm not inviting you," you tell him with a sly smile, walking to the pool while dragging him along behind you.

Seeing your wet body only reminds him of last night, except that you have not even a thread covering that beautiful body of yours. He's standing next to you inside the pool, facing the view of the beach. He should distract himself from looking at your body by starting a conversation, or anything to keep his head occupied.

"So uh... how was the workshop?" He asks.

You turn to face him when he wishes that you didn't, "basically that when we let men into us, we also absorbed everything about them," you answer.

Your hand is floating on the surface of the water and drifting close to him, "it taught us that we should be more selective of the men we let in," you finish.

Can't help himself to touch you, he places a hand on the arch of your back, "that sounds great," he comments.

You nod and prop a hand under your chin, looking at him with a soft smile.

"What's your verdict on me?" Felix asks.

You tilt your head with a questioning look on your face.

He pulls you close and allows himself to place a kiss on your bare shoulder, "will you let me in?"

You shyly chuckle while putting your hand on his shoulder, "We'll see..." you vaguely answer.

-

FELIX: She may have not fully recovered from the previous thing but I think we're off to a good start.

-

You turn him around and jump onto his back, "get me there," you order.

"To the end of the pool?"

You nod, "and back," you continue.

"I didn't know that I have to do lower body workout," he says.

You throw your arms around his neck, "Go! Go! Go!"

Felix hoists you higher on his back and slowly walks to the end of the pool, carrying you on his back.

"Am I heavy?" You lean in close.

"If you're asking of we can do the wheelbarrow position, the answer is yes," he shamelessly pulls a lewd joke.

-

FELIX: It's so hard to not think about sex when she's walking around being the hot temptation she is.

-

The firepit is your favorite place in the villa and it unconsciously becomes his favorite place too.

"We're matching!" You exclaim, spotting the navy blue shirt he's wearing and pointing at the dress you're wearing.

"We're meant to be," he coyly responds.

If only you knew that he took a peek at what you'll be wearing tonight and purposely matches his clothes with yours. You sit next to him on the long sofa, lounging with him under the moonlight with the fire keeping the night warm for both of you.

You're lying sideway facing him and resting your head on his arm, this way, he can see the curve of your body wrapped in a skin-tight dress with thin straps.

He takes this chance to ask the question he's been wanting to ask, "Will you sleep on my bed tonight?" 

Your fingers are busy playing with the button on his shirt.

"For the rest of the retreat too?" He asks again.

You lowly chuckle, "No."

Felix jerks his head away, refusing to believe that you just rejected him.

You look up at him and say, "But you can sleep on my bed."

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and dryly laugh, "Oh yeah, we're going to evict Heidi tonight."

-

FELIX: The bed situation has been sorted, there's one more thing left to do now.

-

Felix runs his hand up and down your arm, "it's a nice dress," he compliments.

"I borrow this from Laura," you share.

The strap accidentally got caught in Felix's bracelet and pulls it down your arm, almost spilling your breast out of your dress.

"Whoops," Felix cheekily responds. He carefully fixes it for you and slides the strap back to its place on your shoulder.

It seems wrong to be this close to you and not kiss you. Not when that's what he thought about all day, the taste and the softness of your lips. Felix tilts your head and seeks your permission with a thumb that tenderly brushes your lower lip.You close your eyes, once again, letting him get what he wants and hopefully, it's what you want too.

Felix doesn't need to worry as you return his kiss with the same eagerness. He can taste your lips with a hint of mint that he believes is coming from your lip gloss. A hand wraps around your neck to keep you still as his tongue pries open your mouth so he can deepen the kiss and tastes you wholly. 

Everything else doesn't matter at that moment, it's just you and him, encased in a breathtaking kiss.

-

FELIX: I'm willing to pay with my own money just to kiss her again [shrugs]

-

"Do I have your lipstick on me?"

You nod as you wipe your smudged lipstick.

"Does it look good on me?" Felix leans in close so you can clean it for him.

"Yes," you reply, intently wiping the lipstick mark you left on his lips with your thumb.

With you still leaning close and your finger brushing his lips, Felix is tempted to kiss you again. You quickly sense his intention and look away to prevent it from happening. One kiss is enough, for now.

-

FELIX: I just can't stop... oh, my God! I don't want to stop.

-

It's only about time that Lana comes and announces the damage you both did.

Before that, you fix your dress and hair, leaving nothing that will give anyone the impression that the two of you have kissed. Felix holds your hand as you both make your way to the cabana and sit on the smaller sofa on the side of the room. He leans in close to the side of your head and softly asks, "Are you nervous?"

You take a deep breath and answer, "Yeah."

It would be a lie to say that he's not as nervous. This is his first time being on the hot seat but he knows what to do, he has his defense at the ready.

"It'll be fine," he comforts you while tucking a hair behind your ear.

The sweet smile you give him puts him at ease. Then you take his hand, clasped it together with yours, and rest it on your lap.

"Hello, everyone!" Lana greets with her computer voice.

"Hello, Lana banana!" Heidi being the loudest of us greets her back.

"There have been breaches of the rules," Lana announces.

Cole brushes his hair to the back in frustration and leans back on the sofa, "I'm so done with y'all."

Felix decides to own up to his mistakes and comes forward, "We kissed. Twice," he concisely admits.

Felix glances around and sees that Jamie is grinning, probably going to enjoy that he's not the one about to get shouted at. Instead of that, there's a moment of silence and he's not sure if it means good or bad.

"Well, if it's you guys..." Laura says, flipping her hair to the back, "I think you deserve it."

Alex nods, agreeing with her and Felix appreciates that Alex has his back like a good friend he is.

"I agree," Maeve adds with a smile shot at you.

-

FELIX: Whoa, what was that? That is not the reaction I was expecting we'd get [eyes widens]

-

"I feel like... you guys are building connections so..." Heidi gives her opinion.

Felix lets out a quiet sigh of relief and smiles at everyone, "Thank you, guys. We appreciate it," he says, shaking your clasped hand in giddiness.

He looks at you and you look back at him with a sweet smile. He feels more certain about his choices, this is right, you are right for him.

"But that's not all..." Lana drops a sudden announcement.

-

FELIX: Oh... fuck off, Lana!

-

"We have reached the middle of the retreat. However, certain individuals haven't shown the growth we wanted," Lana continues.

Felix feels your hand holding him tighter and he puts his other hand on you, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

You put your head on his shoulder, "Is she sending us home?" You meekly ask him.

Considering that he has broken the rules that automatically put both of you on Lana's naughty list, his heart races in his chest. Felix doesn't want to leave yet. Now that he's with you, he wants to stay for as long as he could.

"I'll be sending home two people."

"Two? Right now?" Cole gasps in pure shock.

You nuzzle your head further into his neck, "what the hell," you softly murmur with a restless sigh.

Felix lets go of his hand to put his arm around you. He can't say much because he's not in a good position to know for certain that it's not you or him Lana going to send home.

"Oh, fuck!" Heidi sighs into her hands.

The situation turns even more bleak as everyone got hit by the realization that they can get kicked out at any moment and they should have taken the rules seriously.

-

FELIX: I'm absolutely shitting it.

-

"Come on, Lana! You can't be serious," Cole says with a nervous laugh.

"The guests leaving the treat are..."

Felix hears your panicked whine on his shoulder and reflexively pulls you closer to him, knowing that you seek comfort from him.

"Daniel and Aly."

"Oh, my God!" You mutter, slung your hand across his shoulder.

Everyone is in complete shock while a few of them kind of figured that they're the ones who have been fooling around the retreat and not taking the process seriously. Despite all of that, it'll be a loss not having them again in here. Felix cherished the time he spent with them even though he doesn't know them on a personal level.

"Since arriving at my retreat, you have ignored my rules, dismissed my teachings, and failed to grow. And pursued your own desires at the expense of those around you."

Everyone gets quiet as Lana explains the reasons why she sends them home tonight.

"Daniel and Aly, you must now leave my retreat."

-

FELIX: I think Daniel had a problem following the rules and always chose to be selfish.

-

"Love you," Aly mutters to you as she hugs you.

You sniffle and say back to her, "Love you, Al!"

Besides Maeve, Felix has seen you hang out with Aly a few times so he understands that it must feel like you're losing a friend. That only proves what a caring person you are and he's lucky to be with you.

After watching them leave, you turn to hug to seek comfort from each other.

-

FELIX: I hope they continue to grow outside of the retreat. I wish you all the best, Daniel and Aly! [smiles]

-

It's bedtime and he feels bad if he has to evict Heidi, he turns to Cole, kindly asking him to sleep with her.

"Don't let me down, okay?" Cole warns before taking his pillow with him to Heidi's bed.

He saw you're chatting with Maeve in the make-up room and that explains why it's taking you long to come to bed. He's listening to everyone else talking about Daniel and Aly leaving one bed unoccupied for the night.

When you finally appear, you're smiling as you make your way to his bed. You toss the cushion onto the floor to make some space on the bed while he's puffing your pillow for you, then puts his arm out for you to rest on.

Felix doesn't wait to kiss you on the cheek, "you smell so good," he says.

You smile and say, "I'm pretty sure it's the moisturizer."

-

FELIX: I'm sharing a bed with her and she smells so good [hisses air through teeth] It's not going to be easy tonight!

-

There is not an ounce of privacy in the villa but as time goes on, Felix has come to the point that he stops caring about it.

The lights are out and as you turn to your side, your body instantly molds against him. Felix almost lets out a lewd groan the moment your ass is rubbing against his crotch. His self-control is being put to the test tonight and he's most likely to fail at it. He plants soft kisses along your shoulder and up the column of your neck, "I'm so happy that we're sharing a bed," he whispers into your ear.

Felix hears you softly giggling and if only you knew how much he likes hearing your giggles.

You slightly turn your head to the side, "Me too."

He plants his mouth on your neck again and tries not to think about kissing your lips that are mere inches away from his.

"Mmh..." he hums as he plants his nose in your hair and the smell of your shampoo brings him back to that night he showered with you. He hums again but it comes out as a low growl with the deep voice he has.

You look over your shoulder and gently grips his chin, "let's not break any more rules," you lowly say.

He nods and hastily kisses the nape of your neck, "mmh... 'kay."

It's like his hands have their own brains, they start to roam around your body, feeling your clothed body all over. Well, he can vividly picture it in his head without looking, you're wearing a white, thin tank top with boxer shorts that barely cover your body.

"You're so beautiful," he seductively says into your ear.

Sensing that he's close to danger, you take his hands and clasped them with yours to prevent them from wandering around. Felix sighs in defeat, then breaks into laughter as you caught on to his bad intention.

You laugh along and turn to softly kiss him on the jaw, "Goodnight."

He returns it with a long kiss on your cheek, "Goodnight, babe."

-

FELIX: [sticks tongue out] It's clear that she has better self-control than me [laughs] 

-

You look adorable with your hair tousled, barefaced, and disoriented like an angel who has just fallen from heaven.

"Morning," he forgot that his voice is even deeper in the morning and slightly surprised you with it.

You sleepily smile at him, "Morning."

You reach for his head and slip your hand in his hair, lazily scratching at it.

Felix is smitten, he can look at your face for hours without getting bored. If only he could kiss you while he's at it, it would be perfect. He notices that your tank top slides to the side, almost exposing your breast. He immediately helps you fix it before anyone can see it.

Cole is calling for Felix across the room, "Are we good, bro?"

He chuckles knowing that he's asking whether he broke rules or not, "Nothing happened. I promise you," he assures him.

-

FELIX: I had the hardest yet the best sleep I had so far in the retreat.

-

"How are things going, my friend?" Killian asks.

Felix leans back on the sofa and looks at the beach with its postcard-worthy view.

"We've been good if that's what you're asking," Felix playfully replies then shot a glare at Cole.

"I have no problems with you breaking rules if you like each other," Cole defends his strict policy about rulebreaking. He stares at him and with a serious face asks him, "Do you like her?"

"I do," Felix replies without a beat.

He smiles out of the blue like a fool in love he is, "I started to notice these little things about her and find them cute."

Cole and Killian break into laughter in unison but Felix is too happy to feel offended and laughs along with them.

"Oh, boy!" Cole exclaims, enjoying making fun of him too much.

-

FELIX: [Covers face with hands] I like her so much it's so stupid. I don't know if she likes me back, I'm sure she is but... [shrugs] no, I actually don't know.

-

Seeing that you're done giving your daily interview, he begins searching for you in the house.

Instead of you, he bumps into Maeve and she knows right away he's looking for her best friend.

"She's in the bathroom," she informs.

"Thank you!" He quickly mutters to her, heading to the bathroom, seeing you standing by the sink and lathering your body with sunblock. It's time that he returns the favor you've done to him once.

"Need help?"

You smile the moment you see him standing in the doorway, "yes, please!"

Felix enthusiastically takes his position behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder before lathering the skin with sunblock. Not that he's no longer attracted to your body, unfortunately, he will always be but he's getting better at controlling his impulses.

Sure it's tempting to untie your bikini and with everyone out of the house, you and him could have another round in the shower. He takes a deep breath when the urge comes up and reminds himself that he shouldn't break any rules, he's aiming to form a genuine connection with you to get a green light

He slips his arms under and around you, "you're so beautiful, babe."

You giggle in response and look at his reflection in the mirror, "Thank you!"

Without warning, he lifts you and carries you out of the bathroom like a sack of potato, sending you squealing, "I'm taking you with me everywhere.”

-

FELIX: Things are going better between me and her. We're happy with each other.

-

Knowing that none of you break the rules, Felix can relax when it's time to get to the cabana. He's sitting next to you, putting his arm around you and fiddling with the strap of your bikini, twirling it around his finger.

"Hello, everyone!"

"Hello, Lana!" He half-heartedly greets her back. From the sound of her ever-the-same computer voice, Felix gets the feeling that she's going to share the good news.

"I'm about to initiate my test."

-

FELIX: Oh shit. I was wrong to think that it was going to be good news.

-

"With the help of two new arrivals."

With Daniel and Aly left, it only makes sense that Lana brought new contestants into the retreat. Felix should have seen it coming and now, he's just nervous, afraid that it's going to be what he thinks it is.

"The first new arrival is Poppy."

Everyone starts to guess what she looks like just from her name.

"The second new arrival is Josh."

Now this is what Felix fears the most: what is Lana going to do with them? Because if it would be like the last time, Felix dislikes the idea.

"Two of you will be going on private dates with the new arrivals."

-

FELIX: Whoever this new guy is... I don't feel threatened. At all.

-

This is not good.

Things are looking up for him and Lana decides to stir things up by sending new guests which he's sure, not only going to change the dynamic in the house but possibly, cause some chaos too.

"They have selected the guests they are most attracted to from the choice of those in relationships."

Did Felix accidentally manifest it into reality? 

-

FELIX: Josh, my guy, you'd better not step on my toes.

-

"Josh has chosen to go on a date with..."

Felix's heart is beating out of control, it's like his body is telling him that his worst fear is about to come true. He closes his eyes and tries to be cool if it's you who gets chosen.

When Lana calls your name, his heart leaps and he closes his eyes.

"Of course!" He mutters under his breath. He didn't intend for you to hear it but he's a bit upset about being put in this situation.

-

FELIX: I trust her. It's this new guy that I don't trust.

-

Felix looks at you to see your reaction. You seem to be at a loss for words and turn rigid next to him. Unlike him, you probably didn't expect to get picked.

"You may now leave to get ready for your dates."

He pulls you into a hug and reluctantly lets you go, "See you later," he says and manages to put on a smile for you.

"Bye," you say to him.

He watches as you leave to go on a date with someone else.

-

FELIX: If she goes for this new guy, I'm not going to lie... [licks lips] I'll be absolutely heartbroken.

-

"How are you feeling, Felix?" Maeve asks from the end of the sofa, curious about his feelings about this situation as if his face didn't tell how worried he is right now.

"It's not easy," he answers, "I trust her but I can't lie, there's a little part of me that's worried."

Maeve gently pats him on the knee, "Well, Lana said it's a test so..."

She shifts on her seat to put her feet up, "it wouldn't be easy."

Felix's head is in overdrive. There are so many thoughts inside his head and most of them are not doing him good.

"Yeah..." he half-heartedly answers.

"But I know her and I'm sure she'll stay faithful to you," Maeve tells her.

Considering that it's coming from your closest friend in this retreat, Felix decides to hang on to those words. At least, after this, he'll know whether he can trust you or not.

-

FELIX: This guy chose her for a reason and that makes me restless [drops head into hands] 

-

The boys agreed to wear matching black shirts tonight. Felix just picked whatever piece of clothing he has in white color and put it on, having no energy to dress up for tonight.

Killian offers him the extra black shirt he packed with him, "You can wear mine, mate!"

Cole can only laugh seeing him so restless as they're hanging out by the fire pit and talking about the new guy when that's the last thing he wants to talk about.

"Are you nervous?" Jamie asks.

Felix knows that Jamie tries to take a dig at him, "not really," he coyly answers.

If only he knew that Felix is so close to losing it.

-

FELIX: My head is all over the place right now... I refuse to show it. I don't want to show my weakness.

-

Felix tries not to think too much about it. However, when you show up linking your arm with the new guy, he slouched down on the sofa to hide himself.

"Ooh... she's smiling," Killian quietly informs him.

He tries so hard not to look no matter how much he wanted to. He doesn't want to see you're happy with someone else.

"This is not good, man!" Cole adds, putting Killian's words deeper into him.

Felix covers his eyes as if it would stop him from facing reality. Cole aggressively pats his knee and not stopping until he snaps his head his way.

"They're coming this way!" He informs.

"Oh, fuck!" Felix curses under his breath and sits straighter on the sofa.

Good thing that with the job he has as a model, he knows how to put on a good front even though he's dying inside. He takes a deep breath and put on a straight face.

"Hey, everyone," you greet them as you descend the stairs to the firepit.

"This is Josh," you introduce.

Instead of parting ways, you decide to sit next to each other on the sofa across from him.

-

FELIX: Fucking hell, man?!

-

Jamie decides to be the one breaking the awkward silence, "How was the date?"

Josh nods with a smile on his face, "it was good."

The answer doesn't quite give Jamie the satisfaction, so he turns to you for another answer.

"It was nice. I think we got on well," you answer and glance at Josh.

"I've chosen her for a reason and I enjoyed the date. I think I'm going to try, get to know her better," Josh adds after you.

It takes everything in him to not go at him or snatch you away, out of this retreat. Felix starts to heat, inside and outside.

-

FELIX: Josh is a nice-looking guy and I can see that he's on a mission. Well, he's going to be a big problem to me [gulps air]

-

"I'm sure you guys have a lot to talk about," Cole kindly put the conversation to an end.

"Josh, right? We'll introduce you to the girls," he gets up, indirectly telling everyone to come along as well so you and Felix can talk.

Once they left, you walk over and sit next to him. He takes your hand resting on the space between you and him, "it's nice to have you back," he says with a smile.

You lean on the sofa and sit facing him, "yeah?"

He swallows air before asking you the question he's been dying to know.

"How was the date? Really?" He asks and nervously gulps air, it's like no matter how much air he takes, he stays breathless.

"Well, I did tell him about you," you begin.

That's a good thing but it's too early to celebrate yet, "yeah?"

"But he said he doesn't care," you continue with an awkward laugh.

-

FELIX: Oh, Josh, man, I'll never let you step on my toes.

-

You fiddle with the end of your hair before looking him in the eyes and continue talking.

"Josh is a nice guy but..." you put all of your hair to the side, "we didn't do anything."

Felix can't help but let a smile blooms on his face hearing your words.

You playfully grab his biceps and squeeze on them, "No one was going to change my mind."

The smile grows wider on his face and he can finally breathe for the first time.

"I know we have something great going on and I don't want to throw that away," you say with a soft smile that matches the gaze.

But Felix has one more question to assure him that he's made the right choice, "Does this mean you like me?"

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion, "Of course, I like you. I wouldn't have tried if I don't."

-

FELIX: Tonight, I am the happiest man on this retreat. Possibly the luckiest too [grins]

-

Ecstatic, he throws himself at you, sending both of you toppled onto the sofa. He rests his head on your chest and lets you brush his hair like you always do, "You're sweating," you tell him.

Felix laughs his embarrassment away, "I tried to stay confident but I was struggling."

You coo at him and brush his hair to the back, "Well, I kind of want to make you sweat a little."

He puts his arms around you and nestles his head in your neck, "I'm glad to have you back, babe," he says.

He gets carried away that he leans in to kiss you to abruptly stops as he remembers Lana's rules and gasps in shock, "Oh, fuck!" 

You cradle his head and kiss him on the cheek to compensate for it.

-

FELIX: I can't believe I'm about to thank Lana because this test only brought us closer, stronger. So thank you, Lana! [Blows a kiss to the camera]

-

The two new arrivals don't make a significant change except that the empty bed is now occupied.

Yeah, he's happy that Alex also stays with Laura and proves to everyone that he has a connection with her. However, Felix is too over the moon to even think about everyone else. His cheeks hurt from smiling non-stop and now he's about to spoil you with cuddles as you climb onto the bed.

Cole warns the new arrivals that he's watching even though his eyes are closed, earning a series of laughter from everyone.

The lights are out but with his heart full to the brim, Felix can't sleep. He touches you all over and places kisses on the skin he can land his lips on. He likes you so much and he always thinks that just saying it is not enough. He wants to show you with actions.

-

FELIX: We've been good lately so I don't see why we can't spend a little money [smirks]

-

Felix waits until the night got late.

When he deems that everyone is fast asleep, he begins by disrupting your sleep with slobbering kisses on your neck and face. His hand is placing fluttering touches on your body and once in a while, squeezes on the flesh.

He doesn't stop until you wake up from your slumber and when you do, he whispers into your ear, "Baby?"

You turn your head on your pillow and look at him with half-shut eyes, "why are you still awake?"

Instead of answering you, he kisses the nape of your neck, knowing that it's your sensitive spot.

"I like you so, so, so much," he whispers into your ear and emphasizes the words to you.

You lowly giggle, then tangle your hand in his hair, softly tugging at it, "I like you too, baby."

Catching you off guard, he turns your head by your chin and crashes his lips against yours.

-

FELIX: I'm so happy she chose me and I want to show her that [raises an eyebrow]

-

Felix gives you no time to stop him. He distracts you, keeping your mouth busy while he slides his hand down, swiftly sliding his hand inside your silk shorts. You whine against his lips as his hand makes contact with your sex, so soft and warm.

"Shh..." he hushed you.

Felix touches you as he would to a delicate flower, doing it so carefully and with so much tenderness. You pull the duvet to cover you and muffle any noises that may come out of you even though you have planted your mouth on his neck.

Felix hovers his head above you, watching your face in the dark as your breathless moans echo under the cover. He traces your fold, fingers lightly circling your clit and applying gentle pressures when he knows you're getting closer to coming undone, "Close?"

"Mmh," you hum in answer.

He keeps doing the same thing with more intensity and adds more speed to it. From the way your cunt pulsates under his touch, you're on the brink of your release. He kisses you whole to contain your moans and stops moving his hand once you hit your high, feeling your hand clawing at his shoulder.

As it gets suffocating staying under the cover, he retracts his hand and put the duvet away. He hovers above you and tenderly caresses your face with his knuckle. 

"I'm so happy that you're with me," he tells you just in case, what he just did, did not quite deliver the message to you.

You put both hands around his neck and pull him close, sending him collapsing on top of you. You turn your head to only give him a chance to capture your lips in a rapturous kiss.

Felix doesn't even think about the money at that moment. All he thinks about is you, you, and you.

-

FELIX: Let's think about the money later, when it's time.

-

It's his bad behavior last night that makes you act super careful today. You're sitting on the far end of the sofa even though he's patting the space next to him.

"Why are you sitting so far away, babe?"

You shrug and adorably pout, "I'm setting uh... a safe space?"

He laughs at your excessive effort to not create another damage to the prize fund, "Come here!" He insists.

"I wouldn't do anything," he promises, "at least not in here."

You refrain from coming at him and remain where you are, shaking your head at him. Felix eventually comes to you and puts you on his lap.

"I didn't mean to break the rules," he explains, "I wanted to show you how much I like you."

You're poking his freckled cheek with your index finger, "we have to be good from now on."

He nods in agreement, "I agree."

You hold his chin and turn his head to face you, "I'm serious!"

"I'm serious," he convinces you.

You cover his mouth with your hand, "then stop pouting your lips at me."

He chuckles and puts your hand away, "My lips have always been like this."

You put his hand to cover his mouth this time, "From now on, you have to talk to me like this."

He refuses to obey, then puts his hand away, "No, I don't want to."

You try to get away from him but he's quick to hold you down, not letting you off his lap.

"Where are you going, mmh?" He's tickling your neck with his nose.

-

FELIX: Lana called us to the cabana and I am shitting it because of what we've done last night.

-

"Somebody better not ruin my good mood," Cole says once he's seated.

Felix shoots an uneasy glance at you and you turn his head away, avoiding looking him in the eyes. Nothing wouldn't change, he's ready to defend himself and you for what he did.

"There has been a breach of the rules."

Lana doesn't dillydally, she goes straight to business, and by business, he means putting him at a stake and about to set him on fire.

Heidi looks at everyone and coo, "Who's been bad?"

Felix remains calm despite his heart feeling like about to jump out of his chest. It's always better, to tell the truth fast than prolong the pain.

"We kissed last night," Felix blurts out.

"Again?" Laura asks with eyelids fluttering.

He takes a deep breath before coming up with his first defense, "I was so happy last night and got carried away, it felt right in the moment to do so."

Cole gives him a death glare, "Was that it? Just a kiss?"

Felix hates to disappoint him but he can't lie, he doesn't have a good poker face.

"Something else also happened last night," Felix's voice goes lower than it already is.

"Oh, no..." Killian exclaims next to him.

Lana takes control of the situation, "Last night, the two of you kissed multiple times."

Cole's eyes widen and are about to pop out of their sockets.

"But that's not all they did," Lana continues.

Here it is, Felix squeezes your clasped hand and braces himself for what's about to come.

"They're engaged in a prolonged, manual gratification."

-

FELIX: I'm not sorry for what I did but I admit I feel bad for letting everyone down by being selfish.

-

"You have cost the group a total of $33.000."

Felix turns to you, seeing you wince in both pain and disappointment. But he appreciates that you don't blame it all on him even though it wouldn't happen if he didn't lead you to it.

"I'm speechless as to how much we've lost money this fast," Heidi says with her voice heavily tinted with disappointment.

"The prize fund stands at $86.000."

Everyone gasps in shock and face-palm hearing the announcement.

Cole shakes his head and sighs, "We lost more than half of the money, fuck... sake..."

-

FELIX: Hearing it makes it real and I genuinely feel bad.

-

"Today, I asked you to respect my rules but instead of building deeper and meaningful confections, you have continued signs that you may not be here for the right reasons."

Felix's heart drops and his head goes straight thinking that he'd be sent home tonight. He holds your hand tighter because this probably would be his last to do so.

"Therefore, I'm setting you the ultimate test."

Oh? He can breathe a little knowing that it's not elimination.

"To see if you can adhere to my retreat rules under the most trying of circumstances."

You slightly shift on your seat and scoot closer to him.

"Tonight, you will spend the night alone in the private suite."

-

FELIX: I'm screwed. I don't trust myself, that's the problem.

-

It doesn't take a genius to know that everyone is too haste to pull a conclusion: that Felix will fail.

"To be honest guys, I've always been the one who initiated it but not tonight," Felix makes a promise to himself and everyone.

"I'll not break any rules," he states and hopes that no one hears how his voice is quivering at the end of the sentence.

"If you did, that would be the most disrespectful thing you do to us," Cole says.

Felix raises his hand as if he's making an oath, "I promise."

"Please make your way to the private suite!" Lana orders.

-

FELIX: The pressure is on but it's the only way to prove that we have a real connection.

-

You jump onto the bed the second you both entered the private suite.

"Oh, it's so nice," you sigh, laying on the bed with a sheer dress on and looking at him with dreamy eyes.

"Stop looking so sexy," he says, getting on the bed and lying next to you.

The bed is much softer than the ones in the shared bedroom and covered in silk sheets. He looks around and sees sex toys, condoms, and even lubricants provided at the side of the bed.

"What do you want to do first?" You ask with a sultry voice.

Felix is not sure if you're being playful or trying to seduce him. Either way, he decides to play along with you, "First, I'll take your clothes off."

"Yep."

He glides his hand down your curve, "Then I'll give you head."

"And I’ll return the favor after," you continue with a sly smile.

That gets his eyebrow raised in excitement, "And after that…"

"And after that?" You repeat his words then bite your lower lip.

This is a dangerous game but Felix wants to test his limit, sees how far he can go, "We'll do some more foreplay, use a sex toy or two," he's eyeing the selections of sex toys on the bedside table.

You delightfully hum and turn over to lay on your stomach, "And after that?"

He takes a deep breath as he can vividly imagine it in his head in real-time, "Sex, " he lowers his hand to the curve of your ass, "Lots and lots of sex," he shamelessly adds.

You locked in an intense gaze with him and purposely lower your voice as you ask him, "What are you waiting for then?"

-

FELIX: Lana, what makes you think it's a good idea to put me in a room with her and not do anything? [Shakes head in disbelief]

-

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