#fabric barrier is important to this

[beepbeepbithc]

god i need to grind on someone’s hard bulge until i cum,, please

[plasticairenvironmental]

Plasticair Environmental: Leading Ventilation Fan Solutions

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[nonasuch]

IT IS TIME: Miss Universe National Costume 2023

it's here! the Met Gala for people who actually understand what camp is!

yes I'm like 3 months late, but I sat down and watched the damn thing. I put up with the horrible little rhyming couplets for each contestant so you don't have to. and without further ado:

Albania: Starting off very Victoria’s Secret this year! Apparently it’s gold for important symbolism reasons, not just because everything in this competition is blinged out to within an inch of its life. The wings do look nice in motion!

Angola has a good balance of bling, actual cultural dress, and oh hey it has surprise bonus art on the back! That will be a theme this year.

Argentina: Why is there a guy in a hat right down at the bottom edge of her cape. He looks like he’s staring at her butt. How does this represent their flag.

Aruba: This is fine. I like the coral. She thinks climate change is bad. Her parrot is clearly way too heavy to hold up and it wobbles like crazy in motion.

Australia: This is now multiple years in a row that Australia has just worn a fucking prom dress. It’s got native wildflowers on. You could have made this exact same dress with a Great Barrier Reef theme and I would have liked it 80% more.

Bahamas: This costume is allegedly based on a 19th-century doll from the Bahamas “world famous straw market,” which is already bullshit; I googled “bahamas straw market antique doll” and like. they both have big skirts? I guess? Anyway now I’m too distracted by the way she has a hoop skirt awkwardly jammed under there and hiked up on one side. Minus ten for poor construction.

Bahrain's theme is “Bahrain’s pearl heritage,” which like. I guess? The headdress and yoke are pretty. Put more pearls on the actual outfit. Kudos for getting to wear pants.

Belgium: Girl. No. Why is your theme “Latin dance” and why are you wearing a spangly cocktail dress with a totally unrelated piece of fabric fluttering behind it? (Apparently the fabric was designed by a member of Belgium’s royal family? Who is a fashion designer? This is what nepotism gets you.)

Bolivia saw Aruba’s parrot and was like, I can do that better. And she was right! It’s way less wobbly and the costume as a whole does work better. Also made from recycled materials, so we’ll see if that’s a theme again this year. The back of the cape is nice too.

Sadly, Bolivia's parrot supremacy was short-lived, because Brazil was like, bitch please. I see your sad little parrots and raise you FOUR giant parrots, and also the shoulder parrots are articulated and can turn their heads back and forth. I think Brazil wins the parrot competition that only she knew she was in.

[yasministration]

the phoenix - remus lupin

summary: whispers of a secret agent floated around grimmauld place for days on end. the phoenix. an agent so important they had been named after the order itself. or was that actually the case? wc: 3k+

Whispers of a secret agent floated around the manor for days on end. Meetings for the Order of the Phoenix started and ended the same way: the kitchen door slamming shut and then finally easing open as new problems were brought to the surface and shooed away.

The kids in the house began noticing the tension lingering in the shoulders of the order members. This time, it wasn’t directly to do with the stirring war. No, it had to do with you.

They had never met you. Neither did most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. You were just a name, an undercover name, shared in forbidden whispers around the house and nowhere else. The Phoenix, they called you, so when the Weasley kids and Harry heard talk of you, they knew you had to be important. Questions followed mentions of that name in dark rooms, dead silent apart from the concerned whispers that lingered in the shadows.

Do you think The Phoenix is still alive?

When did Dumbledore say the cut off date was?

Will the mission succeed, you think?

They didn’t know what any of it meant, but it was easy to make assumptions. Hermione Granger had made most of them. She insisted you were an agent gone undercover, and they wouldn’t know anything about you or your mission until you were back. If you were back. She swore that Dumbledore’s ‘cut off date’ was when the members of the order could stop assuming you’d be back — to think of you as dead.

Of course, Hermione Granger’s winning streak was strong. The date circled in red on the calendar in the kitchen had allowed them to guess when this cut off date was. For a while, they didn’t know if it was confirmation bias; they had created their own meaning from fragments of sentences heard and now interpreted everything around them to support that belief. But what did they interpret?

Was it the way they were convinced that with each day that passed, the energy between order members decreased, falling into a tunnel of hopelessness? Was it that before every meeting, the kitchen door slammed shut just a little bit louder?

No one told them anything.

People they knew in passing came and went; aurors who worked for the ministry ignored them wholeheartedly, Professors who continued to teach them avoided eye-contact, family members told them to mind their own business. When Harry asked his godfather for the finest sliver of information, a hand clasped on his shoulder, and the topic of conversation was changed.

But Harry didn’t need anyone to tell him who you were because he saw you.

In the dead of night, a hand clutching your side as you winced, mumbling a wandless spell to clean your hands from the blood that had swept through the fabric of your clothes. The alleyway around you was dark, not a single lamp lighting the path around you, but a dark door was visible in front of you, your fingers tracing the letters carved into the dark wood. You straightened your back, inhaling deeply before pulling the hood of your coat over your head, casting a dark shadow over your face. Pushing the door open, Harry got a good look at the writing on its oak wood, spelling out the words ‘Borgin and Burkes’

Harry squinted, following you into the shop, where a man greeted you by the counter. “I’m looking for this relic.” You told the owner, pulling out a crumpled image from the pocket of your coat. Your voice was innocent and kind — a ploy to make the man give you what you wanted. None of the ruggedness from the life you’d faced came through. It was your secret weapon; to make people think you know nothing will let you discover more than they could ever imagine.

The man walked out from behind the counter, making his way over to a display of jewellery in the shop. There was a glass barrier over the display, protecting the intricate pieces from any customers with slippery fingers. A hum of approval left your lips, informing Harry that you had found what you were looking for. The owner watched closely as you placed a hand over the glass, exactly above the relic you had sought. He seemed happy with your satisfaction, leaning back on the counter with a smile that made Harry uneasy.

This couldn’t be safe for you.

“How much?” You asked. “It’s not for sale.” Scoffing, you tugged the hood around your head, ensuring he couldn’t see your face. “Come on, let me see your face. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t hide it.” Harry’s gut twisted, watching the owner with a grimace. The broad man leaned in closer to you, bringing his voice down to a whisper despite the shop being completely empty. “I’ll sell this piece for you, but it comes with a price.” Harry’s eyes trailed down to where the man gripped his belt buckle, a silent offer hovering on his lips.

All the alarms were ringing in Harry’s head; You had to get out of here.

But suddenly, the glass disappeared beneath your fingers, and your hand instantly closed around the locket. A noise resembling a roar escaped the man’s throat, and he made a move to lunge at you, but with a loud pop, you apparated away from the scene, taking Harry with you.

Gasping loudly, Harry woke up, sitting up straight in his bed.

Looking around the dark room, he gripped the bedsheets underneath him, trying to ground himself as he panted for air. Ron sat on the edge of his bed, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep. Saying something about safety. Saying you had to get out.”

Without anyone telling him, he knew you were The Phoenix. This entire time Harry had imagined The Phoenix would be a man, muscular yet lean, scars on their face and a dark aura, showing the consequences of their missions. But his dream had proved him wrong.

Harry knew The Phoenix would come. And so he told no one of his vision.

As the moon dipped below the earth’s curve and dawn announced the new day, Grimmauld Place became a Manor of chaos. The kids had known that the Order of the Phoenix was larger than the number of people who consistently came to meetings, but they hadn’t expected this many witches and wizards. As every new person apparated into the house, Harry believed less and less that they would all fit into the kitchen. Alas, the door eventually shut once more for the most important meeting of the year.

August 3rd 1995 — the cut off date.

Harry wondered what could possibly be discussed in this meeting. Either you were alive, or you weren’t, and a meeting wouldn’t tell them that. It would only be your presence that would alert them of such thing. He briefly wondered if you would show up – if you had made it the past few days.

Alive.

Similarly to every other night spent in this house, Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione sat on the staircase in silence, as though attempting to hear the discussion within the kitchen. The muffling charm never allowed them to.

As the night seeped deeper into the house’s tragic emptiness, hours ticking into the next day’s early morning, the kids began mumbling tiredly, saying incomprehensible words formed by the sonants of ‘bed’ and ‘sleep’. But it was only then – as Ginny and Hermione began standing up – that things got interesting. Heads unanimously snapped upwards as the handle of the front door rattled.

Everyone went silent, all complaints forgotten as the hinges creaked open and a figure slipped through the gap in the doorway, dressed in all black, clothes as dark as the night bleeding into the house around them. You turned around, slipping the hood of your coat off your head, eyes lifting up to make direct contact with Harry across the room. His breath hitched in his throat.

It was you. The Phoenix was here.

Slipping your coat off your figure, you hung it up in the entryway, exposing more of you. The sleeves of your black top were long, cutting off around your wrists, but the one on your left arm had been ripped at your shoulder, and the black fabric was tightly wrapped around your forearm, an injury undeniably concealed underneath it.

However, that wasn’t important. Because on your arm was a beautiful tattoo of a phoenix, abstract art designed around it as the creature occasionally flapped its wings against your bicep. Harry almost felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been right this entire time.

A loud slam of a door opening broke everyone out of their daze. Remus Lupin rushed out of the kitchen’s now open door, following your scent until he stood right in front of you. His arms were limp at his side, and he stared with his mouth agape until he finally whispered your name. It was so quiet that the unfamiliar syllables weren’t picked up by the children in the room, but it attracted someone else from the kitchen. At the sight of you, Sirius grinned widely, but your eyes were sunken, serious, and it was only then that the two men remembered you had been undercover for the better part of three months.

Pushing past the two men, the slight frown on Remus’s face was barely caught by the teenagers in the room as you made yourself known to the rest of the order. Everyone in the kitchen held their breath, drinking in your appearance for the first time in months. For some, it was the first time ever. The Phoenix, someone murmured, but was promptly ignored as you spoke for the first time.

“I don’t want to get blood all over the kitchen, so we can either wait until I’m done cleaning myself up or we move this meeting elsewhere.” Clearly, you had already made up your mind, because you didn’t give anyone the opportunity to respond. Instead, you walked out of the kitchen’s open door to the nearest bathroom. You were familiar with this house, Harry noted, despite it only being the Order’s meeting spot since the beginning of summer, long after you had gone undercover.

Remus followed you to the bathroom, the door kept open as he made his presence known to you. All it took for the kids to see past it was to turn their heads towards the room. “Can I help?” You nodded, continuing to unravel the fabric of your shirt from your arm. Remus carefully took your arm in his hands, looking closely at the deep cut you had sustained. He kneeled down, opening the drawer underneath the sink to fetch the first aid kit.

“How are you feeling?” You seemed taken aback by the question, spluttering slightly. “I’m… fine, I think. In pain. And everything hasn’t really hit me yet. But I’m fine. There's a lot I need to tell the Order.”

“Still in fight or flight mode?” Remus joked, and you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. When your arm was secured underneath a layer of gauze, you tugged your shirt upwards, exposing the gash on your side, above your ribs. Silently, Remus worked to clean your wound, applying a layer of disinfectant and healing cream over the wound before covering it up. His fingertips were gentle against your skin, nimble whilst working against you.

Remus disappeared from the bathroom for a few minutes, and through the crack in the open door, you spotted curious eyes staring at you. What the hell were teenagers doing in this house?

When Remus returned, he held clean clothes in his hands. He shut the door behind him, placing the clothes onto the counter. “Can I help?” He asked again, this time in a whisper, his fingers grazing the hemline of your shirt. You nodded, wincing slightly as you raised your arms above your head so that Remus could pull the top off your torso. The material was sticky with blood in certain areas, and he abandoned it in the sink as he dabbed at any dried blood on your skin with a wet cloth. His eyes followed the new scars decorating your body, some fresh and tender, others pale with age.

Remus dried his hands before reaching for the clean jumper. One of his. He held the hole for your head open, guiding your arms through the appropriate sleeves. “Sorry, I only had-” Remus held up his sleeping trousers in his hand, and you smiled softly, moving to unbutton your trousers. You steadied yourself against the counter as Remus knelt on the floor in front of you, dragging your trousers down your legs.

It was odd, being so comfortable with him so quickly. Almost as though you hadn’t gone three months without seeing him. Almost as though you never had that argument before you left.

‘I just want you to be safe’

‘I’ll be safe, Remus!’

‘You’re going on an undercover mission! Dumbledore is giving us a cut off date for when to stop expecting you to come back home!’

‘Well shit Remus! If we all stayed so safe all the damn time, we’d have no one to fight this war! Do you want them to win!? Did you survive the first one just to give up now!?’

‘I don’t want them to win, I just don’t want you to have to be the one to go.’

‘Well, I am going. And I’ll come back, because that’s the only way this entire mission is going to accomplish anything.’

This was the first time you were speaking to him since, limbs aching with bruises and scars that hadn’t been there when you left. It was silent between you as Remus stood back up, his dark pyjamas tightly knotted so they could hold around your waist. You cleared your throat, looking down at the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

A call of your name had you glancing up, eyes going wide. “I’m really happy you’re back.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“My name. Please.”

And so he did. Whispered it to you softly, a hand coming up to rest on the side of your neck, feeling the steady beat of your pulse. Repeated it once when he noticed the way your head bowed down. “It’s been so long since anyone has called me that.” You told him, eyes watering. Remus stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you into a gentle hug. He caressed your back, promising you “It’s really good to have you back, y/n.”

You returned to the kitchen, walking past the kids once more, still the Phoenix, but now much more human too. Your skin was littered with bruises, scars that told stories of your journey. You were still young, so young, but much too mature for your age.

When the kitchen emptied, much later, the kids had all gone to bed. All but Harry, who stared at the doorway, waiting for you to come out. You didn’t, but the rest of the order did, filing out all together. He couldn’t tell if the morale was raised, or if the situation had only gotten worse. But it didn't matter, because you were alive, and that surely meant something good had been accomplished.

Eventually, Sirius left the kitchen too, extending an arm out towards Harry, who instantly followed his godfather. “We’ve got to give her and Moony some time alone.”

“Why?” Harry asked as Sirius led him into the living room, glancing back towards the kitchen. Well, Remus needed to apologise.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you before you left.” He told you, arms crossed as he leaned back on the counter, eyes trained on you. You looked up from your mug of tea, furrowing your eyebrows. “It was selfish of me,” He continued. “I haven’t cared for someone like you in a long time, and the last time I did, it caused me a lot of grief. And I didn’t want to have to grieve over you.”

You stood up slowly, walking over to Remus whilst shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologise, Remus. If anything, you motivated me. There were days that really weren’t easy, but I knew I couldn’t leave you alone. I had to come back to you, no matter what.”

Remus blinked away rapidly approaching tears, extending an arm to curl his hands at the back of your elbows, tugging you closer to him. “You know, the order of the phoenix isn’t the same without the phoenix.” You scoffed, resting your head onto Remus’s chest. “Still don’t know who gave me that stupid nickname.”

“Oh, it was Sirius.” You giggled immediately at the older man’s admission, your youth reflecting on your face with your smile. “Remus?” He hummed, lips spread into a soft smile. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months.”

“Oh. What’s stopping you?”

“Well I don’t really tend to make the first move. So…”

“Are you asking me to kiss you?”

“Uh huh.”

Remus grinned, thinking back to all the conversations he had heard the Weasleys and Harry have about you. The terrifying Phoenix — undercover agent so important they were named after the order itself. He could barely believe that you were the same person they had been discussing, now wearing an oversized jumper and much too large pyjama pants.

“Right, that’s fine, I suppose.” Remus rolled his eyes playfully, bringing a hand up to his chest to grab your hand when you jokingly smacked him, touch as light as a feather. Remus grinned, leaning down to press his lips to yours, one steady hand on your hip. You sighed into the kiss, taking a step forward so your chest was pressed against his. When you broke the kiss, lips still touching, Remus finally spoke.

“Dumbledore won’t like this one.”

“Oh please, what’s he going to do? Give us a detention?”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-f017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @why-am-i-like-this18, @theoraekenslover, @animalcrossingshameless, @azure-drag0ness, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @girlontheblock, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @cakiebleh

[eph3merall]

the coolness of matt's rings feel shocking compared to the warmth of your skin, his hands rubbing up and down slowly as he presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. the fabric of your panties is already drenched and clinging to your pussy, giving the man between your legs the perfect view of your cunt even with your underwear acting as a barrier.

his nose ends up bumping at your clit, to which you mewl out loud and try to grind your hips down—desperate for any type of friction he was willing to give you. you hear matt grumble something, leaning back a little to press another chaste kiss to your inner thigh, only this time much closer to your covered cunt. he lets one of his forearms shift to press your hips down onto the bed while the thumb of his free hand rubs teasing circles around your clit.

"ssh, hey, stop movin' so much. awh, this is kinda pathetic, baby. look at how wet you are, and from what, huh?" matt's words are condescending and you wail out when two of his fingers prod at your entrance over your panties. his forearm serves as the only thing keeping your body from moving around so much, pressing down harshly on your hips to cease your squirming.

your head thumps back against the pillows, hushing yourself in your mind when you feel matt hook his fingers into your underwear and atart tugging them down your hips, over your thighs, letting them drop to his floor. you almost moan out of excitement, only barely managing to stifle it as you feel fingers spreading your folds. your head lifts a little to meet matt's eyes for a split second, whining lowly when the tip of his middle fingers sinks into your waiting hole.

you're practically desperate, eyes squeezing shut when matt eases his finger in. through the buzz in your ears, you hear him mumble a few words that probably have no importance to them anyways, legs twitching when he starts to pump his finger inside you. faint coos from the man between your thighs make it through the haze of your brain, moaning when he adds another finger.

matt is practically entranced by the sight, like hes a teenage boy having sex for the first time again. his thumb rubs lazy circles on your clit and he relishes in the way you whine and cry out his name. his fingers speed up, the wet sounds of your pussy squeezing him in loud and shrill in his ears. that, and the way you moan so pretty for him.

when he feels you clench around his digits, he promptly stops, blue eyes shifting from the sight in front of him to your face. he gauges your reaction, all whiny pleas of asking him to not stop and fat tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

matt just hums, pulling his fingers out of your sopping hole to quickly lick clean. his eyes practically roll back at the taste of you on his tongue, fighting back the urge to groan. he doesnt miss the way you start squirming again, thrashing around to try and get your way. firm hands grasp your hips, shoving them down and pinning them to the mattress as he shoots you a glare.

and you attempt to glare back, obviously annoyed at how slow this pace is going. but your glare directed at matt resembled more of a fleeting look to him, all shy and desperate. a chuckle falls past his lips and he swallows thickly, leaning in to lick a broad stripe up your slit. he's ready for the cry you make, for the way you try rutting your hips down against his face.

matts tongue licks your clit into his mouth, sucking gently on the bud and humming in his throat when you respond with your hands tangled in his already messy hair. he isnt sure when the backs of your knees have landed on his shoulders, but he doesnt mind. his hands grasp your thighs to tug and pull you closer, releasing your clit to wiggle his tongue against your entrance.

matt's room quickly fills with the sound of loud cries and low groans and grumbles, the sounds bouncing off the walls and seeming to echo in your ears. the sound of matt messily slurping at your cunt makes your face heat up in embarrassment, hands tugging and pulling at his hair.

he alternates between slow licks and fast flicks of his tongue, nose nudging at your clit and making that knot in your tummy tighten each time. surprisingly, he freely allows you to grind your cunt down against his face, groaning against you and only serving to make you whine and moan.

it doesn't take long for the knot in your stomach to tighten and then snap, thrashing and crying out as your orgasm hits you like a wave—pulling you under and making it feel horrifyingly intense. matt continues licking and eating you out through it, humming when you whine about how sensitive and overstimulated you feel. he's lapping up as much of your release as possible until youre weakly attempting to shove him away.

he drops your legs back onto the bed, lifting his head up from between your thighs and stregching his shoulders out a little with a grin. his beard is soaked right along with his lips, and there's a sting in his scalp. ignoring it, he wipes at his mouth quickly. matt turns his body to reach for the camera on his shelf, tongue poking out to lick his lips as his eyes probe over your spent body—half lidded eyes, stomach heaving in breaths, and a pretty mess between your thighs.

"smile and say cheese, baby."

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

©eph3merall 2025

[solbaby7]

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

[blueeyedheizer]

Hello! I don’t know if you still do request for smut or anything. But if you do then can you do a Cassie Howard x make reader smut where the reader is the brother of Maddy Perez?

male reader

"fuck, where is it…" you mumble, swinging your legs off the bed as you look around for your discarded clothes. "hey cass, you seen my shirt?"

you glance over your shoulder, your expression softening as cassie stirs beneath the rumpled sheets, blinking slowly as she regains her senses. she shifts, eyes barely open, the faint remnants of sleep still clinging to her.

"huh?" she murmurs, her voice thick with exhaustion. she rubs her eyes, attempting to focus on you as you continue your search.

"my shirt," you repeat, a bit more slowly this time, still scanning the floor. "did you grab it last night?"

cassie groans, stretching lazily under the blanket, her movements slow and deliberate. “it’s probably under the bed... or, you know, somewhere around here," she says, her voice still heavy with sleep. "you took it off like… really fast."

you can’t help but smile at the casual tone in her voice, but a bit of nervous energy bubbles up in your chest. "right," you mutter, still looking for the missing piece of clothing.

cassie shifts again, finally managing to prop herself up on her elbow. the duvet falls away, exposing her bare chest.

"why are you in such a hurry anyway...?" she asks, frowning. she eyes you for a moment, her expression turning slightly suspicious at your silence. she pushes the sheet away, moving to settle behind your back. she wraps her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "c'mon. tell me."

"maddy's been trying to reach you all morning."

cassie pulls away just a little, her arms loosening their hold around you. "maddy...? why?"

you sigh, rubbing a hand across your face. "dunno," you mumble, frustration and a hint of nervousness settling in. "she didn’t leave any voicemail. just kept calling. and I didn't want to wake you up, so.. "

"hm." cassie sighs and relaxes again, her hands sliding down your chest, stopping just shy of your boxers. "it's probably not that important. she always leaves a voicemail when she's in trouble." she murmurs, peppering kisses along your shoulder.

"you... you don't think she found out, do you?"

cassie pauses, her lips hovering over your skin for a moment as she considers your words. "no," she says softly, though there’s a glimmer of uncertainty in her tone. "If she had, you’d know by now."

you exhale, trying to shake off the worry gnawing at you, but it doesn’t completely fade. "yeah... you’re probably right."

"don’t stress. there's no way maddy can find out. and even if she does, well... she'll get over it. you're not a baby anymore."

she says, tugging gently at your shoulders to pull you back, making you lay down. she switches position and swings a leg over to straddle your hips, her warm thighs bracketing your waist as she locks eyes with you. "now...we've still got a couple hours to ourselves before we have to return the keys. let's make the most of it, 'kay...?" her tone is soft, sensual, and it sends a jolt of excitement straight through you. then her lips meet your neck, soft, teasing presses of her mouth.

"mh, okay...I like where this is going." you murmur, one hand moving to the back of her hair to grab a gentle fistful and tug her head back. your lips press together in a hot kiss, her hips starting to grind, slowly at first, then a little bolder when she feels the effect she has on you.

you reach down almost instinctively, your hands grasping her ass as you moan into the kiss, squeezing and kneading the firm globes as you guide her closer, urging her to grind harder, your cock already straining within the thin barrier of your underwear.

"fuck, cassie." you groan, letting go of her ass just long enough to yank the fabric halfway down your thighs, your cock springing free. it slaps against your stomach, hard and ready, a bead of pre cum leaking from the tip.

cassie does the same, fingers deftly moving to push her panties out of the way, baring her pussy to your gaze. she wastes no time, reaching between her legs and grasping your cock in her hand, lining it up with her entrance.

you watch, soft pants leaving your lips as she rubs the leaking tip up and down her slick folds, coating your cock in her arousal and teasing herself with your heat before sinking down onto you, lowering herself inch by tortuous inch.

"fuck, you're so fucking big," she buries her face in the crook of your neck, lifting her hips up, down, up, down — repeating the same motion over and over again as she chases her orgasm, the hotel room filling with the obscene sounds of moans mixed with skin slapping against skin.

it's not long before you take over, your hand gripping cassie's hips firmly to help her bounce on your dick while you start thrusting, pushing yourself into her all the way to the hilt. her nails start digging and raking down your chest in response, leaving red lines in their wake as she clings to you desperately, her moans becoming louder, bolder.

"fuck yes— right there, harder, fuck me harder!" cassie begs shamelessly, the pleasure so raw it has her trembling. she straightens up a bit, bracing herself better as she throws her head back, riding you faster, harder, her tits bouncing with each thrust. you take advantage of the new position, leaning in to take a nipple into your mouth, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around the hardened bud. you're growing impatient, desperate, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"i'm gonna come— hah, i'm gonna fucking come, cassie," you gasp, your voice thick with lust as you drive into her from below, the wet, squelching sounds driving you both crazy. "fuck, keep riding me, baby. don't slow down. fuck. please."

cassie tries to speak, but all that comes out are needy, pathetic moans of sheer ecstasy. the way you're driving into her, each stroke hitting deeper, harder, is pushing her over the edge dangerously fast.

and then you reach down, your hand slipping between her legs, finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles, adding another level of pleasure that has her moaning louder than she probably should, her body shaking as she clamps down around your cock, her release washing over her in waves.

"fuck, yes. that's it. fuck, you're so perfect," you pant, your hands roaming her back, tracing the curves of her spine as you guide her through it. you gaze stays locked on her face—the parted lips, the fluttering eyelids, the way her brows twitch as pleasure still lingers in her expression.

cassie's fingers grip the headboard, the cold metal a grounding presence as she rides out her orgasm, her body twitching and trembling as the last of the waves finally fade. you press a slow, grounding kiss to her shoulder, murmuring soft praises against her skin as she collapses on your chest. "breathe, baby. just like that."

cassie barely has a moment to recover before her phone buzzes on the nightstand again, the sound cutting through the haze of pleasure and making her groan. she straightens up, still straddling you, her body warm and slick against yours as she leans in to press a slow, messy kiss to your lips. she’s pretty sure the phone has been going off for a while—she just hadn’t noticed with the way you were fucking her.

she reaches for it, her fingers fumbling against the screen. the screen lights up with missed notifications and she swipes a thumb across it, barely glancing at the messages before tossing it back onto the nightstand.

whatever maddy wants from her, it can wait.

[bellesaisonn]

body language

For his twentieth birthday, Alex’s bandmates take him to a strip club.

warnings: smut, slightly touched starved fetus!alex, sex work, lap dances, hand porn (kinda), blowjob, he's really awkward but in a cute way i promise...

word count: 5.2k

The sound of your heels on the hardwood floor was almost too loud, slicing through the bass-heavy pulse of the club. The air was thick, saturated with the sharp scent of leather and cologne, hanging in the space like a presence of its own.

They said he was a rockstar. You hadn’t asked what band. It didn’t seem important. The name wouldn’t have meant anything to you, probably—some up-and-coming group with a cult following and a carefully managed image. You’d learned not to be curious in that way. It was better to keep things surface-level, transactional. The minute you started caring about details—names, reputations, headlines—you ran the risk of believing there was something meaningful about any of it.

He was just another client. A boy in a room with money to spend and something to prove. Whatever version of fame he carried with him didn’t change what was happening here. If anything, it made it more predictable.

You stepped into the private room without knocking. The door swung open with a quiet ease, as though you had done it a thousand times before. It was a habit now, this sense of entering without asking, without permission. Your eyes settled on him immediately, and you didn’t hesitate before speaking.

“You must be the birthday boy,” your voice was light, the words coming out with a practiced ease.

The lighting was low, uneven, like the room had been arranged to obscure rather than reveal. He was sitting on a black leather couch, his posture uncertain—spine curved slightly inward, hands resting awkwardly on his lap, like he didn’t quite know what to do with his body.

He looked young. Not too young. But young enough that you noticed it in the curve of his jaw, the softness that hadn’t been hardened by time yet.

"Y-yeah," he muttered, almost drowned out by the loud music blasting through the club's speakers. "What's your name?"

You gave him the name you always used. Not your real one. The other one—the one you chose early on, when you were still figuring out what this was going to be. It had stuck. Over time, it stopped sounding strange. Now it felt almost natural. Like a barrier. Like something you could step behind when things got too close.

"I’m Alex," his voice was a broken whisper, his gaze dropping to the floor, to the loose thread on his jeans. He played with it, the thread unraveling, as though the fabric of his composure could somehow be mended in small, cautious motions.

There was something strangely delicate about it, the way he concentrated on the thread, as if it were the only stable thing in the room. As if everything else—your presence, the setting, his own decision to be here—was too much to look at all at once.

"So,” you said, casual. “How many candles are you blowing out today?”

You’d learned a long time ago that a bit of conversation usually meant better tips. Something easy. Friendly. Harmless.

Alex glanced up, like he hadn’t expected the question. “Twenty.” There was a pause. Then, more quietly: “I’ve never done this before.”

His face coloured as the words hung between you. He looked down, almost like he wished he could take them back.

“I mean—” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never paid someone. For this. My mates thought it’d be a good birthday present.”

He wasn’t looking at you. His shoulders were tight, drawn in like he was trying to make himself smaller. His voice had an edge to it—not sharp, but fragile, like a paper cut. Easy to miss.

“Does it feel like a good present?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think I’d go through with it.”

A beat. Then, “But I guess I am.”

You nodded, slowly.

“Sometimes things are easier when you don’t think too hard.”

He smiled at that, a small, crooked thing that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

There was a kind of vulnerability in him, quiet and unguarded. A shyness that didn’t try to mask itself, didn’t try to become something tougher or cooler. It just was. And that, in its own way, felt like an invitation.

Not the kind that comes with words. The other kind. The kind you learn to recognize by posture, by silence, by the way someone avoids your eyes but doesn’t leave.

This was the part that always interested you most—the slow undoing. Not the obvious gestures or the rehearsed lines, but the subtle shifts. The cracks that appeared when someone was trying too hard not to break. The thrill wasn’t in the performance. It was in what slipped out by accident. The trembling silences. The confessions they didn’t know they were making. The way a name, spoken too softly, could sound like a question. Like a plea.

"Well, Alex, I need you to sit on your hands, yeah?" You gave him a playful look. "Can you do that for me, baby? It's house policy."

He hesitated—a beat too long—his gaze still fixed on the floor. Then, obediently, he moved. His hands slid beneath him, disappearing under the weight of his body. He didn’t look up. His body tightened, as though every muscle was coiled, waiting for the next instruction.

"Good boy," you said, watching him closely, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

The words hung there, suspended in the quiet that followed. The atmosphere between you had thickened slightly, grown more charged. You could see it in the way he moved—or didn’t. The small adjustment of his shoulders, the shallow rise of his chest as he drew in a breath that wasn’t steady.

As a high-energy pop song started playing, you knew it was your cue to begin. You turned away from him without ceremony. There was no need to perform the anticipation. You already knew every movement, every shift of weight, every rhythm your body would fall into.

You leaned forward, arms reaching out in front of you, your fingers grazing the floor. The stretch in your thighs was familiar, almost reassuring. Your hips tilted, responding to the movement more than the intention behind it. It was muscle memory.

The lingerie you wore was soft and pale and practically transparent. It barely held to your skin. You were aware of how you looked from behind, the exposure of it, the way your body arranged itself in response to being observed.

You looked back over your shoulder, hair tumbling around your face. He was watching you with a hungry expression, drinking in the sight of you. The blatant desire etched on his face sent heat blooming low in your belly.

You stayed still for a moment, letting him look. Then, without breaking eye contact, you lifted your hand and brought it down on your ass, quick and deliberate. The sound was sharp, echoing off the walls, louder than you'd meant it to.

His reaction was immediate. A sharp inhale, as if the sound had landed on him. Alex shifted slightly in his seat, momentarily off balance, like the force of it had knocked something loose.

You turned, and he looked at you with a kind of sharpness, as if he was seeing you more clearly than before. His gaze moved over you, slow and unfiltered, with a quiet intensity that made the space feel smaller. You didn’t look away. Instead, you smiled, a small, unspoken thing, and absentmindedly ran your fingers over the flimsy lace of your lingerie, as though the fabric were somehow more significant than it was.

Leaning forward, you placed your hand on his thigh, letting your palm glide over the taut fabric of his pants, feeling the warmth beneath it. You leaned in closer, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, the space between your lips so thin it almost didn't matter.

The bass of the song vibrated through you, a low, constant pulse that seemed to sync with your own, like the music and your body were moving in quiet tandem. You reached for his belt loops, your finger slipping through them effortlessly as you pulled his hips forward. The movement made the growing bulge in his jeans more evident, straining against the zipper.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment. "Already?"

Alex looked down, his cheeks flushing, the tips of his ears tinged with red. But you could feel it before you saw it—the way his throat shifted when he swallowed, the way his hips instinctively pressed toward you. There was no mistaking it: he was enjoying this just as much as you.

"It's almost too easy to make you blush," you whispered, leaning in closer, your breath warm against his cheek.

You placed your hands at the back of his neck as you lowered yourself onto his lap, one knee on either side of him. The movement felt calm, deliberate. You began to shift your hips slowly, in time with the music, letting the rhythm guide you. Still, you kept yourself just above him, your body moving in careful, measured arcs, never quite making contact. The distance between you—narrow, intentional—seemed to say more than anything else could.

The absence of pressure, of full contact, created its own kind of heat, a tension that curled low in your stomach. You could feel how aware he was of it. How still he had become beneath you, how carefully he was breathing.

He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure where to land his eyes. They moved—from your mouth, to your neck, down to the point where your bodies almost touched. And then back again. There was something helpless in the way he looked at you, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the shape of the words. His lips were slightly parted. You could see the tension in his jaw, the way he was holding it, like he was trying not to move, not to ruin it.

You let yourself really see him now. Up close, he was striking in a way that felt almost disarming. His nose was strong, his jaw defined, and his lips were thin, almost boyish, lending his serious expression a quiet vulnerability. But it was his eyes that kept drawing you in. Deep and dark, yes, but softened by something unspoken. Like he was listening without you having said a word.

"You're beautiful," you breathed out, your voice low, just for the two of you to hear.

His eyes widened, like he hadn’t expected it, or maybe didn’t know how to handle it. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. He seemed to shrink a little, like the compliment had unsettled him more than it should have.

It was endearing, almost painfully so. You could see it now, how his confidence wasn’t the brash kind, but the quiet, uncertain sort, fragile in its own way.

You’d been in this business long enough that the excitement had long faded. It didn’t stir you anymore. You could just as easily be in an office, filling out sales reports. The motions were the same, predictable, easy.

But this—this moment, right here. Him. It was different.

You wanted to devour him.

You wanted—no, you needed to close the gap between you and consume the hesitation, the uncertainty, the soft vulnerability that poured off him in waves.

Finally, you shifted, letting yourself sink down onto him. Your lace-covered core pressed against his bulge, the delicate fabric barely a barrier between your skin and the rough denim of his jeans.

Alex let out a soft moan, almost a sigh, as his head tipped back against the couch. You could feel him growing harder beneath you.

As your body swayed above him, you ran your hand down his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles. You could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt, the way his breath hitched as you softly grazed his nipples upon your descent. They hardened under your touch. You lingered there for a moment, circling them gently with your fingertips, feeling the way his body responded to your touch

When you reached his lower belly, you toyed teasingly with the hem of his shirt, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric to feel his soft skin. The sensation was intimate, the warmth of his body against your fingertips, the way his breath hitched as you explored the sensitive area. You could feel the slight tremble in his body, the way his muscles tensed as you traced the line of his waistband.

You leaned in a little, let your voice drop—not seduction, exactly. Just softness, a quieter register. “Any big birthday wishes, Alex?” you asked. “Something you’re hoping for?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away. The silence that followed didn’t feel empty, though—it was full of something. Anticipation, maybe. Or nerves. You couldn’t tell. You heard the way his breath caught, too quick and shallow. His chest moved like he was adjusting to a change in pressure.

Then he said, almost too quietly, “Please… let me touch you.”

You didn’t move. You just looked at him.

This wasn’t unusual, exactly. Clients asked for things like this all the time. But the way he asked—like it cost him something—made it hard to dismiss. His voice wasn’t confident. It was raw. Exposed in a way that felt, somehow, private. You weren’t sure why it got to you. But it did.

You hesitated, just a moment, but in the end, you couldn’t push the feeling away. It was like the weight of something unspoken settled into the room, urging you to comply.

“Alright,” you said. You kept your voice even. “But no funny business, okay? I’ll have you thrown out if you try anything.”

He nodded. Too fast. His eyes were still locked on yours, like he didn’t know where else to look.

“I swear,” he said. “I just—”

He stopped there. You saw it again—that thing in his expression. Not lust, exactly. Not in the way you were used to. More like longing. Something softer. Something confused.

You didn’t trust it, not really. But you didn’t pull away either.

He reached out, slowly, like he was still waiting for permission. His hand hovered for a moment, then settled lightly on your bare hip. His palm was warm. Hesitant. Not greedy.

With a small, teasing smile, you glanced down at him, your eyes flickering with amusement. "Don’t be scared," you murmured, a soft, playful note in your voice. "I’m not gonna break."

The words seemed to have the opposite effect, making him blush even harder, his cheeks flushed with a deep, telling color. He didn’t answer. His hand stayed where it was, as if moving it might undo the moment entirely.

You were aware, suddenly, of how quiet the room was. The music from the club bled in through the walls, dull and far away, like a memory. In here, it was just breath and skin.

He looked up at you then. Not in the way most people did, scanning, assessing. He just looked. Like he was trying to memorize you, or make sense of something he didn’t understand.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he said. His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

It caught you off guard. Not the words, exactly, but the way he said them, as if this was something real. As if there was something here to get right.

You didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t supposed to be emotional. You didn’t do intimacy. That wasn’t the job.

But still, you didn’t move away.

“I’ll tell you if you do,” you said. Your voice came out more gently than you intended.

There was a pause. A kind of stillness that made your skin feel too tight. He didn’t speak again, but he didn’t let go either.

You took his other hand, the one that had been resting uncertainly on the couch, and gently guided it to your thigh. There was something in the way he reacted, something that shifted. His hands, once tentative, suddenly seemed to find their place, moving with a kind of urgency, as though everything he'd been holding back had suddenly come undone. It was awkward, in a way, but not entirely uncomfortable. Just something real, unspoken, between you.

His hands were all over you, roaming with a desperate urgency that left you breathless. Alex grabbed at your breasts, his palms rough and eager, making your nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of your lingerie.

He didn't linger there, though. His hands moved down your waist, tracing the curve of your body with a possessive intensity. You could feel the warmth of his fingers on your skin, the way they seemed to leave a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached the small of your back, he pulled you closer to him, your chest pressing flush against him. The contact was electric, the heat of his body seeping into yours, making your heart race.

He inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the crook of your neck, not even a little bit ashamed of how eager he seemed. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the way it sent goosebumps racing down your arms. He breathed you in as if he was trying to memorize your scent.

You felt the pull to touch him too. Your hands slid from his neck to his hair, a gentle tug that made him expose his throat, the soft curve of his skin just within reach. But you didn’t kiss him. The thought alone was too much. Once your lips met his skin, this would become something else, and you couldn't have that.

Instead, your hand traveled to his face, your thumb brushing the delicate line of his cheekbone. He sighed, a sound so quiet it seemed almost fragile.

You kept moving your hips, but the real tension lingered just beneath your fingertips, palpable and charged. Every response, every soft shift of his body, felt like a small, thrilling victory. Each reaction stirred something deeper, more urgent, and you wanted to follow it, to trace the edges of this unspoken thing between you, to see how far it could go.

Your thumb traced the shape of his mouth, and his eyes fell shut like it was instinct. His lashes rested softly against his cheeks, undisturbed. Then, delicately, his tongue touched your skin. A fleeting, uncertain gesture.

You inhaled, warmth pooling low in your stomach.

He opened his eyes again, as if startled by his own reaction. A silent question lingered there, caught somewhere between hesitation and want. His gaze held yours like he was waiting for permission or maybe wondering if he'd already crossed a line.

You didn’t answer. Not out loud. But you didn’t pull your hand away either.

His lips parted slightly, not in speech but in invitation—like the moment was moving ahead of him and he’d decided, quietly, to follow it. You moved slowly, your thumb tracing the edge of his lower lip before slipping past it. He didn’t flinch. Just closed his mouth around it, eyes still open, still watching you like this was a kind of conversation too.

His mouth was warm, the pressure gentle as his lips closed around you. There was something almost reverent in the way he held it there, like he wasn’t sure if this was allowed but wanted it badly enough to risk it.

You felt the soft graze of his tongue against your skin—tentative, like he was testing the shape of want itself. Your breath caught, but you didn’t move, letting him explore the moment in his own uncertain rhythm.

His eyes stayed on yours, dark and searching, like he was waiting for you to pull away or to say something that would make it easier to understand what was happening between you. But you didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Instead, your free hand found his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, where skin met softness. There was a kind of stillness then, charged and fragile, like you were both suspended in something that hadn’t been named yet.

With your thumb still resting in his mouth, your hips pressed against him harder, the movement raw and unrefined. There’s no coordination to it, no thought. Your hips and your hand moved together like they’re part of the same mechanism. You didn't care about the music—couldn't even hear it properly anymore. It was too loud, too fast, irrelevant. There’s nothing graceful in how you moved. Nothing performed. Just your body, insistent.

Alex’s grip on your hips tightened as your rhythm faltered, becoming less controlled. You could feel his cock pulsing through the thick fabric of his jeans. It’s all pressure and friction, nothing soft about it. Everything feels too close, too much, but you don’t stop. You don’t want to.

When you spoke again you sounded delirious, "You look so good like this, baby."

He moaned around your thumb shamelessly, and the vibration traveled from your hand straight to your pussy. You're drenched. It was embarrassing, really.

His hips rose to meet yours, awkward in motion yet achingly aligned, as if his body knew the rhythm of yours by heart. When you pushed down on him, he responded instinctively, pushing back with a kind of need that felt like longing.

He was making these quiet little sounds, almost absentminded—soft sighs and low hums that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. His mouth stayed around your thumb, warm and careful, the motion gentle, almost thoughtful. The faint sound of it, wet and rhythmic, settled into the quiet between you, strange and tender at once.

You pushed your thumb harder into his mouth, and he took you in hollowing his cheeks and sucking you in hard.

"Taking me in so well," you murmured into his ear, your voice low. "Such a good boy."

Your words seemed to unravel him.

You felt him freeze beneath you, his hips halting, like he couldn’t control it anymore. You didn’t stop. You kept moving, like it didn’t matter, like the rhythm was its own thing. He bit at your thumb, a sudden, sharp movement, and you could feel the way he let go, the way the tension left him all at once, like he was surrendering to something he couldn’t hold back.

His breath caught as pleasure overtook him, his body tensing and then releasing in a wave that seemed to echo through you. You felt every tremor, every subtle shift, as if his pleasure was somehow your own.

You could feel the heat of his release, the way his body shuddered beneath you, the tension in his muscles slowly easing. His hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin, as if he was anchoring himself to you, needing the connection to keep from floating away.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his temple as you whispered, "That's it, baby. Let go for me." He leaned into your touch, soft sighs escaping from his lips.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and satisfaction. But as the intensity faded, he turned his face away, a flush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. Your hand dropped from his mouth. He couldn't meet your eyes, his breath still ragged, as if he was suddenly aware of how exposed he'd been, how completely he'd let go.

You stroked his cheek gently, feeling the warmth of his skin, the slight dampness of sweat. "Hey," you said softly, trying to coax his gaze back to you. "It's okay. You're okay." But he just nodded, still avoiding your eyes, the moment of intimacy now tinged with a quiet, awkward vulnerability.

"I—I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed anywhere but on you. "I’m not usually like this... I’m not so... desperate."

You let out a soft breath, brushing your fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. "Oh, baby, don’t apologize,"

Alex met your gaze, eyes clouded with a mixture of embarrassment and something deeper, but he didn’t say anything.

You let the silence stretch, then added, “You still have about fifteen minutes. Do you want another dance?”

It was an awkward offer, like you were trying to fill the space with something, anything, to keep the moment from drifting into something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

He didn’t answer, still withdrawn, wrapped in his own quiet discomfort.

"Alright," you said, your voice dropping just a touch. "Since it’s your birthday, I’ll give you something." The words hung between you, your eyes lingering on his.

Slowly, you kneeled down between his legs, your movements deliberate, drawing out the moment. There was a quiet understanding in his gaze, a mix of surprise and something deeper, something that made your heart race. You started unbuttoning his jeans, your fingers moving slowly, as if each motion was a question, a request for permission.

He didn't stop you. Instead, he watched you, his breath hitching slightly as you tugged his jeans down slightly, revealing his boxers, the fabric stained and damp with his release. You could see the outline of him, and you leaned in, your breath warm against his skin. Your tongue traced the path of his release, and the taste was salty and warm, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you'd shared.

He shivered slightly, his breath hitching as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, freeing him.

"You're so big," you murmured, as your eyes lingered on him.

You grasped the base of his cock, your fingers wrapping around him with a firm grip. Leaning in, you took the tip into your mouth, your lips closing around him softly. You sucked lightly, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, capturing every salty drop. The taste filled your senses—a mix of salt and musk that was uniquely his.

Alex winced, just a little, like the stimulation might’ve been too much—close to painful, even—but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away. He just looked at you, like he couldn’t stop, like stopping hadn’t even occurred to him. His breathing was fast and uneven. His eyes were wide, unreadable, dark.

You let your lips travel down his shaft, your tongue darting out to clean him in lazy, deliberate strokes. You could feel the slight tremble in his body, the way his hips seemed to instinctively push forward, seeking more of your touch. Your hands moved to his hips, steadying yourself as you continued to clean him up, savoring every little sound that came out of his mouth.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the mix of emotions there: pleasure, vulnerability, and a hint of something more. You held his gaze as you continued, your tongue tracing the length of him. It was intimate, almost too intimate, but you didn't falter.

"I-I won't be able to..." He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft and understanding. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice gentle yet firm.

With a tender touch, you tucked him back into his underwear, the fabric cool against your fingers. You took your time, zipping up his jeans and fastening the button with a deliberate slowness, as if each movement was a silent reassurance. Your hands lingered on his hips, feeling the warmth of his skin through the denim.

Once he was covered again, you smiled up at him, your voice soft, "All cleaned up."

He took your hand and pulled you gently to sit on his lap, his arms wrapping softly around your waist. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the warmth of his breath on your neck.

"God- fuck, this was good," he said, talking to himself more than you like he needed to confirm it out loud.

"Just good?" you teased.

A flush crept over his face, his voice stuttering as he scrambled for a better answer. “No—I mean, it was amazing. You’re really… you’re really talented.”

He closed his mouth quickly, as if the words had escaped him before he could stop them, his face contorting with that quiet, embarrassed regret that only made him seem younger.

“You’re too sweet,” you said, cupping his chin, gently pulling his gaze back to yours.

He looked at you then, really looked—like he was trying to understand something about you he hadn’t expected to care about.

“You don’t seem how I thought you’d be,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And how’s that?”

Alex hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I thought this would feel more fake. But it doesn’t. You don’t.”

There was a silence between you then. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just full.

"I want to see you again," he said, meeting your eyes this time. No hesitation.

"You can come tomorrow, I'm always at the club on Saturdays"

He shook his head. “No, I mean… actually see you. Out of here.” He hesitated. “Sorry, is that too much?”

"Alex..." you trailed off, unsure how to answer.

You were caught between what you wanted and what you knew you should want. You’d done this before, kept it simple, kept it distant. You had rules. They were small and sharp and meant to protect you. But this didn’t feel like danger. It felt like falling into warm water. A pull from somewhere deep.

There was something about him—too sweet, too honest. You could see yourself getting addicted to the way you felt when he looked at you. You couldn't have that. No. You couldn't afford to get attached, to get hurt.

But at the same time, the way he was looking up at you in that moment. His eyes expecting. Holding his breath waiting for your response. It was too much, it was not enough. You had to see him again.

You heard the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself: “I get off at six. You still up then?”

You looked away quickly, embarrassed by how eager you probably sounded.

If he noticed the shift in your demeanor, he didn’t acknowledge it.

"I'll be up," he sounded relieved, as if you’d finally let him breathe after holding him just out of reach.

"Alright, Alex. See you later," you said, pulling yourself off his lap.

You needed distance. Air. A drink. Something. You couldn’t stay here—your body already buzzing in ways you didn’t trust.

“See you later,” he echoed back, soft, almost dazed. Like he wasn’t fully back yet, as if part of him was still caught in whatever had just passed between you.

You felt that, too. That in-between place. Not ready to leave it. But already walking away.

-

a/n: well, this ended up longer than i originally intended, sorry. also, this is my first fic ever, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated... thanks for reading all the way through!

[sp00kymulderr]

the way you do

Joel Miller x transmasc!reader

A lover boy fic

Words: 1.7K

Warnings/tags: 18+, MDNI. No outbreak au. Trans masculine reader (afab genitals mentioned briefly). Reader wears a strap-on, oral (reader recieving via strap-on), Love they are in LOVE, kissing, touching. There is no universal trans experience, and therefore this is personal to me. Unedited and unbeta'd.

Summary: There's nothing frantic, nothing feral about this. It's a practice in worship, in reverence. (or: Joel sucks the strap and oh boy does he love it)

Putting on your strap had become something of a ritual; The slow way you’d undress yourself, teasingly touching your body as you did, the slide of the harness fabric against your skin, pulling the straps tight against yourself and feeling that pinch and pull that meant it was secure.

Picking your cock, this one on the longer side, girthy but less so than your favourite - it worked for what you wanted today. Attaching it through the o-ring always felt important. Made you feel real. Powerful.

There’s a sense of control that starts to grasp you when you view yourself in the mirror now. Your cock juts proudly, the skin tone matching yours and you feel an intoxication, almost, giddy and nervous and turned on all at once. A cocktail of feeling fizzing through your body, thrumming down you and concluding in a dizzy ache in your core.

Finally, you turn to face Joel. He’s heavy-lidded, dark eyed, his own cock semi-hard and flushed at the head already. Bare, tan skin glistens and glows, still slightly wet from the shower. A slight red blush creeping up his chest and neck, like it always does when he’s turned on. His eyes focus down on your cock, flick back up to your face.

“Fuck, you’re perfect” He groans, wanton as he takes his cock in hand, grips the base and squeezes, trying to dampen the already building tingle in him.

You fluster at the compliment, you always do. A man like that, such a man, and he wants you. Doesn’t just want you but needs you, spends every day showing you how much, how far he’ll go for you and how much he adores you. He loves you in every moment of every day, he’ll love you in every lifetime from now to eternity. And he makes sure you know it.

Joel shifts on the bed, brining your thoughts back to the now. You hold out your hand, beckon him closer to where you stand so that when he reaches you, you can pull him in and pour all those feelings, all that gratitude into the kiss you give him.

“Love you…” you sigh against his lips, “I love you. So much”

The kiss turns from sweet to dirty, tongues clashing, tangling, you grip the back of his neck and don’t let him break away as he stands from the bed and takes up all your space, both hard cocks pressed between your bodies. He overwhelms you just the way he knows you like, and you break and mould to him just the way you know he likes. Your urge is to touch him, but that isn’t what this is about, so you refrain. Instead your fingers tangle in his hair, blunt nails scratching gently against his scalp. He grunts and pushes his hips forward, and for a moment you’re both lost in the pleasure of it - hungry, needing, wanting.

“Baby…fuck…” He stills himself, strong hands kneading the flesh of your hips. Fingers massage where the straps are digging in, soothing like he always does, gentling the urgency building between you.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself too. Everything scrambles when he’s this close to you, when there’s no barrier between you two, nothing to do but be the lovers you were always destined to be. You both take a moment, a breath, a tonic for the burning lick of arousal that would consume you.

“Tell me, Joel. Tell me what you want” Your words come out raspy, oh you’re so far gone.

The desire in his gaze is never ending, mouth slightly open and breath heavy. His fingers twitch and squeeze where they lay. There’s a turn here. A twist. You both know what he wants, but it’s time to hear him voice it.

”Want…wanna suck it, baby”

”Yeah?”

”Yeah. Gonna let me suck your cock?”

No matter how many times you hear them the words make you shiver, arousal slick between your thighs. You nod, wordless. How do you respond to that without anything but an urgent moan?

You’ve both learnt by now, so you grab a pillow before he gets to the ground. You don’t need him having any extra aches and pains with all that hard work he does. He’s slow with it, takes his time as he kneels before you, looking up at you like an idol, a thing to worship. And that’s what you always feel with Joel; that you’re more, you’re worthy. Before him you never felt that kind of worth.

He runs a light touch up the backs of your thighs and you smile down at him like a blessing as your own hands run through his hair, through the heavy sprinkle of greys and mess of curls. He’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful and he’s yours. It takes your breath away. 

One hand frees itself from his hair to cup his chin, tilting his head up so his eyes can meet yours. There’s a heady power that sparks through you as your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, a boldness as you push it forward and make him take it into his mouth. And Joel is good when he wants to be, he switches so easily between giving and taking, willingly sucking the digit into his mouth with tongue swirling around it.

“Good. You’re so good” you whisper. He blushes and squirms at the praise, never one to take a compliment easily, but his cock twitches between his legs too; already beginning to pearl at the slit, you can tell it aches and you know how he loves to prolong that ache too.

There’s the slightest noise when you withdraw your thumb, close to a whimper, his grip tightening on the back of your legs for a moment.

“Don’t worry, Joel” You coo, partly teasing and partly soothing. “Don’t worry, I’ve got something else to give you”

Hungry eyes finally break from yours, eager as he watches you fist your cock in front of him. The silicone is soft to touch, but wrapping hard steel within, it feels good to touch. Better to watch it sink into Joel.

“Tell me you want it” Your voice lowers, husky with a rising and sudden desperation, a burn of greedy lust.

“I want it. I want your cock” He doesn’t hesitate at all, the words spoken with absolute certainty. Oh, he wants it.

“Please” Joel adds for good measure, and when he looks up at you again it’s with a begging look.

“Yeah, I know you do.” You murmur softly, teasing the head against his lips, waiting for him to open up and take you in. You suck in a breath as he does.

He's gentle in his touch, hands roaming up to your hips as he works you into his mouth. He doesn't pull at you, grope you, demand. He takes what you give him and he is thankful for it. His lips wrap beautifully around the girth of you, taking a couple inches, and then more. There's nothing frantic, nothing feral about this. It's a practice in worship, in reverence. It's one of those moments where just the two of you exist and it's yet another way that your love is shared.

He looks so perfect. You stare down at him, and he's already dreamy eyed, dazed, taking you in his mouth, working you down with single minded focus. A little drool leaks from the corner of his stretched lips and you gently swipe it away.

The first few times, it hadn't been like this. Not with Joel, but with an ex who had been the first you had asked to do this with. They had been a guiding hand in a journey that was full of experimentation and finding the right things for you, and this was one of those things that had certainly stuck. But with Joel it was less an act for the sake of being a man and more an act that you felt, in so many ways.

Difficult to explain how you can feel it but you do - a tingle in your belly, and lower too. A throbbing need for more. It is your cock and he is taking it in his mouth, and you feel it. The close grind of your clit against the fabric of the harness as you press softly further in makes you shiver. Arousal pools low, slick and warm and causing a flutter in your core. He makes it count, and he makes it real, and it feels so real.

"Taking me so good. So f-fucking good" You let out a low moan and fist your hand back in his now messy hair.

He's dedicated to his cause, looking up at your as your tug on his hair and guide him to take the whole, not insignificant length of you - when you bottom out his eyes water, those beautiful big brown eyes wet and wide and still begging for more, begging for it to never end. He is so good to you. You start to rock your hips, drawing a little out, a little in.

"Gorgeous. You look so gorgeous like this. Such a good cocksucker, taking me all the way"

He squirms, you know how much he loves you to talk dirty. His large, warm palms glide down to your ass, palming your cheeks, squeezing and encouraging your movements.

"You want this?" You ask, holding for a moment at the back of his throat until he gags faintly, his eyes closing and a tear slipping down his cheek. Merciful, you draw back and out of his mouth and he takes in a deep breath, his saliva connecting to the head of your cock.

"More- more, baby" Joel practically whines for it, accent thicker than ususal with how unrestrained he is. He wants it bad.

"Oh, Joel" You whisper gently, wiping away the tear with your thumb, meeting his eyes he looks up at your again "You can always have more"

You bring the tip of your cock back to his lips, smear them with his saliva that coats you. He looks so desperate, you want to give him everything.

"Always. It's all yours"

[linopls]

kinktober day four

roleplay hyunjin x fem!reader summary: hyunjin has invited you to his art studio where he says you need to brush up on some of your basic art skills. warnings: professor/college student roleplay, lots of praising, nipple play, unprotected p in v 1.2k words

“are you sure you should be asking a student that, mr. hwang?” you’re sat on one of the stools in the middle of hyunjin’s small art studio. he’s sat across from you, an easel with a large canvas acting as a barrier between you.

he peeks out from behind the easel and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “knowing basic human anatomy is a very important basic art skill all my students should have an understanding of.” 

“but how am i supposed to learn when you’re the one painting?” you ask while slowly starting to unbutton your shirt.

“a bit of a smart ass, aren’t you?” he retorts, tying his hair back and out of his face.

you giggle and slide the silky white fabric of the shirt down your arms and toss it at the foot of his easel.

“now your skirt,” hyunjin instructs while picking up one of the large brushes from his side table and dabbing into a color and smearing it on the canvas.

you stand up from the stool and make a show of sliding your skirt down to the floor and kicking it with your shirt.

“do you often forget to wear panties when you're having one-on-one meetings with your professors?” hyunjin asks, observing as you sit back on the stool.

“just the hot ones,” you tease. 

hyunjin chuckles and makes his way to where you are sitting. “i’m gonna put you in a pose, and you can’t move or you’ll mess up my proportions, okay?”

you nod and hyunjin slowly parts your legs to face his easel. he places one of your hands on one of your knees and the other to rest gently on your exposed clit. you gasp slightly at the sensation. hyunjin then positions your head to look directly at the easel. he moves back to his seat and admires the positon for a second.

“hmm,” he thinks aloud. “that works.”

he sits back on his stool and grabs another brush and begins to work on the canvas. you’re entranced by his focus expression looking to your and back to the canvas.

“you’re doing so well for me, staying still,” hyunjin praises. 

his words run straight to your core and you whimper softly. the gentle feeling of your fingers resting over your clit are driving you insane.

after about thirty minutes of working silence, hyunjin sighs and leans back to look at the canvas. 

“what’s wrong, mr. hwang?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer you, instead he gets up from the stool again and walks behind you. you notice the tent in his pants as he makes his way around you and you can help the rush of arousal that runs to your core. 

you feel hyunjin’s soft fingers on your back and fidgeting with your bras clasp. you feel the clasp release and your lacy bra fall down your arms, getting caught on your arms. hyunjin walks back to stand in front of you and assists in moving your arms from the spots to remove your bra and places your arms back.

“i need to see your full beautiful figure to finish my painting,” hyunjin purrs, moving one of his hands to your breast and pinching one of your nipples between his finger tips. you moan out in response and hyunjin smiles and sits back on his stool and begins working again.

in between one of his glaces from your body to his canvas hyunjin smirks.

“what are you thinking, mr. hwang?” you ask, curious about his expression change.

“i’m debating on if i should paint the puddle you’ve made on my stool,” he laughs.

you face flushes a deep run and you quickly look down at the stool below you.

“i didn’t say you could move,” hyunjin snaps. you quickly look back up at him and fix your pose.

hyunjin laughs again. “i’m doing final touches now, it’ll only be a minute longer.”

he keeps to his word and as the minute passes hyunjin turns the easel around to face you. you stare at the painting for a bit. embarrassed that its your naked body on the canvas, but amazed by his ability to capture details in such a short amount of time.

“it looks amazing, mr. hwang,” you say sweetly. 

“thank you, y/n.” he smiles.

“will you now tell me how i can improve my own work?” you ask.

“touch yourself for me,” hyunjin says blankly. “you deserve a reward for being so good for me.”

you whimper and slowly and finally put pressure on your begging clit. you rub small circles on the aching bud and hyunjin watches in awe. after a minute, hyunjin unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down just enough to free his aching cock. 

hyunjin notices your attention shift from his face to his cock. “come here, y/n.”

you quickly get up from the wet stool and make your way in front of hyunjin. “yes, mr. hwang?”

hyunjin puts his hands on your hips and guides you to stand above his lap. he grabs his cock with one of his hands and lines it up with your entrance. you slowly slide down on his member and wrap your legs around hyunjin’s middle. you place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself and hyunjin moves his hands down to cup your ass and meets his lips with yours. 

hyunjin kisses you with passion and lust like never before. he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours and you both into each other's mouths. hyunjin stands up from the stool and walks you both over to his desk and sits you down on it. he breaks away from the kiss and places one of his hands on your hip and the other to cup your cheek.

“mr. hwang, please fuck me,” you purr.

“jesus,” hyunjin moans. 

he slowly slides his cock out of your slick hole and slams it back in quickly. he starts to fuck into you at a steady pace. you move one of your hands down to your clit and rub circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. you unconsciously clench down on his cock and hyunjin hisses and quickens his actions.

you both moan out loudly and hyunjin moves his head so that his mouth is next to your ear.

“do you fuck all your professors, y/n?” hyunjin grunts.

you shake your head, “no, just you.”

“good girl,” hyunjin moans.

he moves his hand from your cheek and grabs the underneath of your knee and push it up against your body. the new position has you seeing stars and moaning out of control.

“hyunjin! please!” you cry.

“what did you just call me?” hyunjin grunts.

“i’m sorry!” you exclaim. “mr. hwang, i’m sorry.”

“good girl, good girl,” he says before pulling you into another kiss.

you whimper loudly and feel yourself coming closer to your release. you pull away first.

“mr. hwang, can i cum please?” you whimper.

“fuck, yes, cum with me, please.” hyunjin moans. he quickened his pace and with a few more thrusts you both finish with loud moans and cries. 

hyunjin slowly continues to fuck both of your through your orgasms and you rest your tired head onto his chest. when hyunjin stops he sighs loudly and places one of his hands on the back of your head and rubs small circles on your scalp. 

“you’re such a good student, y/n,” hyunjin giggles.

“thank you, mr. hwang,” you mumble into his soft chest.

HYUNJIN GLASSES >>>>>>

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[yanknowalready]

Sleep Aid

yandere Chrollo Lucilfer x reader

[0.9k words] general yandere content

How many days has it been now since you slept in your bed, you wonder. At this point you doubted if even the familiarity of your own mattress would allow you to relax. Certainly not while Chrollo was around. The fact he let you have your own room did help, but only so much, especially when you learned how little resistance a locked door poses. For a while, you had thought waiting until you couldn't hear his footsteps outside the door would indicate it was finally safe to let up on your vigilance. A failed attempt to use that as a chance to escape revealed how a lack of noise did not mean a lack of his presence. Now you couldn't even rely on the silence to calm your racing heartbeat.

A quiet groan escapes your throat as you pull the covers up over your eyes. Thoughts of how terrible tomorrow would be, having to deal with your captor on no sleep, began to plague your mind. Unfortunately the interruption to these thoughts brought no sense of relief. The sound of the door opening has you bolting upright, panic pulling your restless eyes open further.

"Oh good, you're not sleeping yet." It was a pointless comment, you both knew that before he had even approached the door, Chrollo was aware you were awake. You still didn't understand how, but he always seemed able to sense your emotional state, not to mention your exact location. "I was hoping to spend some time with you tonight before I had to leave for Troupe business." Even without supernatural powers like his, you could tell he didn't particularly care if you bought his performative lines.

Rolling over to face away from him, you mutter, "Would it even matter to you if I was asleep?" You pull your limbs in close, contenting yourself to the traces of comfort such trivial defenses could provide.

"Of course it matters!" He protests, mocking offense, "I'm not going to do anything to you while you are sleeping, what do you take me for?"

You turn back only far enough to shoot him a glare. As far as you could tell, he had kept his word on that, low bar that it was. What you couldn't tell was whether it was out of some twisted sense of chivalry, or if your futile attempts to fight back invoked schadenfreude. If there was anything he genuinely wanted to do to you, being awake would hardly be enough to stop him.

The mattress shifts noiselessly as Chrollo lays down behind you, but the covers pull tight, not loose. He's granting you the flimsy barrier of fabric... or so you thought. You flinch when he places his hand on your bicep, gently stroking the skin with his thumb.

"Why do you even bother if you won't even acknowledge my objections."

He leans his head against the back of yours. "I'm ensuring you are aware of my intentions towards you. Good communication is supposed to be important for cultivating a healthy relationship with loved ones after all."

"Ha!" You scoff, "as if you didn't lose your chance to qualify for a 'healthy relationship' when you threatened to kill people if I didn't cooperate with your abduction."

His chuckle causes goosebumps to raise where his breath touched your neck. "I did no such thing! I merely stated how no one would need to die if you came with me peacefully, and you did. Any insinuations you may have read into what could happen otherwise was completely out of my control. The way I see it, you are here by your own choice, so there is no reason I need to feel guilty showing affection." As if to emphasize the point, he lets go of your bicep to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer and laying your head against his chest.

It was ironic to hear his heartbeat slowing, clearly finding repose in this quiet moment with you. Meanwhile, your own heart seemed to be imitating the drum for a heavy metal song. Despite the anxiety keeping you from sleep, your body had reached the point of exhaustion where all you could do was close your eyes and try to focus your thoughts on whatever songs you could call to mind to accompany your rapid metronome, instead of on the man holding you captive, at the moment more literally than usual.

After what seemed a concert's worth of drumming in your chest, you hear a melancholic sigh. "As nice as it would be to linger in this embrace, I do have others who are waiting on me," he whispers, wiping away the tears that had been coalescing in your eyes, "sleep well, dear." He places a kiss on your forehead before his weight is gone from the bed and the door makes a soft click.

You roll over to face the door, back to the wall, giving yourself a more or less full view of the room. Once you feel certain he actually is gone, you are finally able to slow your breath, the sudden lack of adrenaline allowing your exhaustion to overtake you. As you begin to drift off, you remembered how incurably awake you felt before Chrollo came in, and wonder if he did this on purpose; his way to "help" with your insomnia. An expression of love as twisted as the man performing it, you think bitterly before consciousness leaves you.

[tactical-jellyfish]

Injuries (drabble)

Warnings!: Injury described, canon-typical violence (you know, like war). Nightmare. Comfort. Off-screen kiss on the cheek. Swearing. [~2.2 k words]

Beneath your haunches, the ground is trembling with the force of the cracking bullets in the air, vibrations blasted through tainted oxygen so hard that they infect cracked concrete and really test your hearing protection.

The firefight is one of the nastiest you've seen yet. A concerning amount of the fire you hear is decidedly not cover fire, cracking off the (former) concrete pillar and it's collapsed sibling that are turning out to be nearly-perfect cover, even if there's more rebar and mesh than you would like.

Your comms are trying, poor things, but there's little to be done, and you know it when Gaz's voice cuts as he tries to relay orders to you. Or, hell, maybe they were orders, you couldn't hear shit through the static either way

Boot soles grit against sandy concrete as you try to bite out a return message. Position compromised, you try, but the words don't leave when you see what looks like a medium-sized stone tossed over your barrier.

"Fuck!"

You try to run, but the comm's wire (and with it, your hearing protection) is snagged, pulled out by a burr of rebar breaking through the pillar's surface, tangled hopelessly in the mesh.

There's no time, and still, you try.

Always assume that a grenade tossed at you has two seconds or less till it does its best to turn you into red mist.

You had forgot.

And still, the blast is never quite as small as you think.

There is no pain in the immediate seconds after, and you silently thank deaf ears in the heavens for adrenaline, until you spot a movement a few meters away, peeking out from a corner.

It's automatic. Your rifle bends to your wills, a machine that is operated by an equally robotic entity. One of blood and one of metal. The way real warfare has been for thousands of years.

A body hits the floor, but you don't hear it, you see red painting the forehead, leaking through a too-weak helmet. You hide behind the more upright of the pillars, before watching another assailant burst from the corner, shoulders shaking as they grab their dispatched colleague by the shoulders, shaking them helplessly as though to will life back into their body.

Once more, you take a shot, and there is no miss.

It's a somber thing, but there is no time to offer condolences or sympathies, not when the broken box of your comms finally figures something out and flashes a yellow pinprick for you.

Evacuate ASAFP. You May Or May Not Be Important Enough To Wait For.

A twinge hits your arm as you lower it, and a wet warmth floods the area, but there's little time for that now. Having a chunk of grenade in your arm is preferable to being dead, by far.

Running has always been good for you.

You've never liked to sit still, not at work. The movement is what prompts the blood in your veins to pump, your heart to follow with hummingbird-fast beats. The burn in your lungs, it's what makes you real.

But, at the same time, the ache in your arm has taken time to grow as it stains your uniform with a deep red, forcing a sharp pain up your nerves and into your brainstem with every thump of your boots against the cracking ground.

You switch your rifle to your non-dominant hand, but it does little once the high of adrenaline starts to fade, and your foot also starts screeching its protest, weakening with each forced stride, no matter how much you push forward.

The helicopter is already raring to take off, and you try to shout out to your team, but you can't hear yourself.

Your foot hits the floor one last time, and flash of agony is so intense that it forces what should be another cry from you, but once more, no noise hits your ears.

Knees buckle, fabric is scraped off with skin in tow, and your damaged body lays heavy on the ground.

Another boot appears in your peripheral, and you try to look up.

Just before the face comes into focus, a particularly nasty gush of blood leaves the wound in your arm, and takes your vision with it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor beneath you is inky black, and cold.

A boot thuds down right before your face, and Price's face comes into focus, bristly bearded and bristling with rage.

His voice booms from seemingly everywhere around you, like you've been plugged into a surround-sound system made in hell.

"Rookie, whot the hell were you thinking, going in like that? You knew your coffin'd be empty if you died, right?"

It's so loud your ears are already starting to ache, the noise piercing every fiber of your being and rocking your cells with the vibrations, tearing your muscles apart from the inside.

A sharp sting spreads through your foot, but your neck refuses to allow you to look as muscles lock up, and another face steals away your attention, even as the pressure mounts.

"Ah, Cap, they're green. Might well bury'em alive. Sae's the time, aye?"

Soap's face is different. Low-sitting eyebrows pinched down, but a wicked smile present on thin lips, practically reveling as the floor seems to swallow you whole.

You know the laughter you hear, but it brings no comfort when you see Gaz cackling next to the Scot.

God, he looks so pretty when he laughs, and it does nothing but twist the knife when you watch him lean against Soap, before looking down at you.

"It's alright, luv. Some people just... don't make the cut. Way of the world, innit?"

The comfort is false, you know it is, but your damaged heart takes it anyway, to somehow make believe that it's not your fault, that you had just aimed too high.

When Ghost appears, there's no more defense you can give yourself.

As usual, the only thing you can see is his eyes. Light brown like mud that's just about to crack, honeyed when the light hits just right.

He says nothing, but he turns away, and some part of you can't allow that, even as the room starts to pivot on some axis you can't see.

You try to reach forward, to plead, but your voice doesn't work, and your legs are stuck, sinking into the black with no foreseeable way out, rotating faster and faster, a bug spiraling down into the drain.

A grating, long BEEEEEEEEEP floods the space around you first, painfully high-pitched and absolutely unbearable because it seems to match exactly with the ringing flooding into your ears.

You're certain that there are a few specific parts of your body that ache, but in the haze of painkillers, it's a simple dullness.

That being, until hands are on your shoulders.

Price stands above you, brows pulled down in worry, lips tuned in a stiff frown, and he speaks.

"------! - ------- --- ---- ----! --- ---- –"

He pauses when he watches you fail to acknowledge what he's saying, staring up at him with a pinch in your brow, eyes calculating as always, but now trying to put together what he's saying.

"-- --. ---, ---- -------! ----'-- --- -----."

Price's head follows a movement you only catch the tail end of. A body leaves the door, walking quickly, but there's no squeak of boots on linoleum.

His hand is under your chin, then, gently guiding you to look back up at him, baby blue eyes full of sympathy, a fatherly sort of concern that looks oddly welcome on his weathered face.

Price is slow to move, making sure you watch as he gently takes the plastic cup from the crappy nightstand beside the stiff bed your body lays on, taking a mock sip himself before holding it out to you.

Something is wrong, but you reach out a lead-heavy arm anyway.

It doesn't work very well, but thankfully Price catches it before it can spill.

It's humiliating, sure, but you still sip when the plastic rim kisses your parched lips.

You don't look, but if you had, you would see John smiling, reassured, ever so slightly, that you'd be alright. Not quite the v-shape you had come to know, but close enough.

You smile back, in turn. Weakly, but you do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap spends a good deal of time in your room, in the first few days.

It's like he refuses to let hospital food actually be eaten by you, with how he keeps on bringing over his leftovers and heating them up in the microwave down the hall for you.

The first time, it's soup. Then, a stew, a little thicker, with some bread, which is followed by a simple sandwich.

But that's not all. He's joking with you the whole time, smiling as you come back into being a person again.

Yet another day, and the door opens.

The trial hearing aid planted in your ear does little to muffle the ringing that has become characteristic since your injury, but when the hinges squeak, your tired head snaps over to the Scot in your doorway.

"Fuck. Simmer down some, hen o' mine. Don't stare at me like that. I got ye sumthin'."

Your curiosity is met with a chuckle, and a small, wrapped package being set into your lap. After a few seconds of stillness, he gently prods you to open it.

A book of sudoku, crossword, and other puzzles. "To pass the time," Johnny says fondly. "Gotta keep the brain sharp, I'm sure."

He's sat beside your bed, and for once, you dare to do something new. You reach for his shoulder with an arm, and pull him into yourself.

That's the first time you have the balls to hug someone you work with.

He hugs you back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The diagnosis is only half shocking.

To you, that is still much too shocking to be comfortable, but Gaz, by your side, is much more active than you, in the discussion.

"Nerve damage? To what, specifically?"

"They can recover, right?"

"Would you recommend surgery or physical therapy? Both?"

"What's the timeline before they can have a re-evaluation for service?"

John had insisted that someone went along with you, and the Lieutenant was out training with Soap. So, that left Gaz.

He's a very good patient advocate, really, and at some point, you start looking at him in his seat beside you instead of paying all your attention to the doctor.

The white light is the pure opposite of flattering, but he manages to look good because of course he does, he's Gaz.

Brown eyes suddenly snap over to you, and his lips turn down slightly in concern before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, jostling you just enough to call you back to reality.

"What? What's- is something wrong, Garrick?"

Your voice is a little rougher than usual, not properly pitched as per usual, but enough.

He sighs lightly, but starts to smile softly when he does.

"Your hearing aids are in, right luv?"

"Y- I- I think so?"

"Ringing or no ringing?"

"It's- mate, it's not supposed to go away for a few weeks, I don't think."

Your voice is a bit more practiced, that time. Better.

The doctor, across the desk, pauses in her scribbling on the notepad (you're sure they think they're writing something, but there is no way that those are words), and looks up at you.

"Dead right. I'm glad you're well-read on your condition."

Her voice rings out once, and in the quiet, an alarm rings.

"Shit. I am so sorry, we're running over and I need to get to my next appointment. I'll see the pair of you again in a week, alright?"

You nod, but Gaz, on your side, seems just a bit ticked by the ordeal, but he takes you with him, already whisking you off into the café to get you some actual food.

And hell, if you kiss him on the cheek when he drops you back off at your room for the night, that's alright. Your little secret.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I swear to God, I'm gonna fucking kill you, Lieutenant."

Your punches hit the bag repeatedly as your words bite from your lips, sweat-coated and annoyed.

"Not until you hit your previous times, sergeant."

Ghost, bastard he is, is training you again.

Sure, you're out of physical therapy now, and sure, you do want to train, but he's just such a bastard about it.

A particularly hard swing is where you focus that annoyance, and the bag very nearly comes back for your face.

He stops rocking on his heels, and the relative silence is soon broken.

"Good for the day."

He declares, and you look back up from the red, padded synthetic leather, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You wanted to be done for the day, right? You're done."

You stand, confused and maybe a bit upset, hands still wrapped up tight.

"No, I want to earn being done for the day. I was annoyed with you. Those are different."

There is a shift of the fabric of the mask you see, indicative of some sort of real facial expression.

"You're going to do just fine, rook."

His voice is warmer, this time.

[bookwormjust]

Bad fall on the stairs (Established relationship, Cassian’s mate)

It started as a small misstep. One second, you were descending the long, spiraling staircase of the House of Wind, and the next, you were tumbling down, your body hitting the hard stone steps. By the time you reached the bottom, pain radiated through your side, but you quickly pushed yourself to your feet, brushing it off. No one had seen. That was the important part. You didn’t want to worry anyone—least of all Cassian.

You’d been with him long enough to know how protective he could be, especially when it came to your safety. If he found out, he’d hover, his overprotective instincts kicking in, making a big deal out of what you convinced yourself was nothing more than a few bruises. So, you locked your side of the bond tight, trying to keep the pain, the stiffness, and the bruises hidden.

Throughout the day, you carried on as usual, doing your best to ignore the throbbing ache in your side and the way your body protested with every movement. The bruises had bloomed dark and blue across your ribs, and it hurt to even breathe deeply. Still, you acted like everything was fine, smiling through the pain during dinner with the inner circle, sitting stiffly in your chair to avoid jostling your sore body.

Cassian sat across from you, watching you with that familiar, attentive gaze. His hazel eyes swept over you from time to time as he laughed and joked with Rhys and Azriel. You thought you were doing a good job of hiding it, but Cassian knew you too well. He didn’t miss the slight wince when you shifted in your seat or how you reached for your glass a little too carefully, as if your body might protest the motion.

After dinner, as everyone dispersed, you tried to slip away quietly, hoping to avoid any more attention. But Cassian wasn’t having it. You barely made it to your room when you felt his presence behind you—warm, familiar, and unmistakably determined.

"Y/N," he called softly, his deep voice echoing in the hallway.

You froze, your hand still on the door handle, your back turned to him. "Cassian, I’m fine. Just tired. I think I’ll go to bed early—"

He was in front of you in an instant, faster than you could finish your sentence. His large hand gently cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "Don’t lie to me."

You opened your mouth to protest, but his eyes were sharp, scanning your face, then trailing down to the way you held yourself, stiff and tense, the way your hand hovered protectively over your ribs.

He inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching. "What happened?"

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "I just… fell down the stairs earlier. It’s nothing. I didn’t want to worry you."

His brows furrowed, a mixture of concern and frustration clouding his features. "You fell? And you didn’t tell me?" His voice was low, and though he tried to keep it calm, you could hear the undercurrent of worry.

"It wasn’t that bad," you insisted, trying to step around him, but he gently caught your arm, his fingers featherlight on your skin. "Cass, it’s just some bruises. I’m fine."

He didn’t let go, his gaze dropping to the side of your body where your movements had been stiffest. His face darkened as he noticed the faint outline of the bruises, the way the fabric of your shirt clung to your side. "Let me see."

You hesitated, but the bond between you hummed with his concern, and even though you’d tried to keep your side of it locked away, his emotions flooded through, seeping past the barriers you’d put up. He wasn’t just worried—he was scared. Scared that you were in pain and hadn’t come to him.

With a sigh, you pulled up the hem of your shirt, revealing the dark bruises that spread across your ribs. Cassian’s expression shifted immediately, his hand hovering just above the bruised skin, not quite touching, as if afraid to hurt you more.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice was softer now, the edge of frustration gone, replaced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

"I didn’t want to worry you," you admitted, your own voice quiet, guilt settling in as you saw the hurt in his eyes. "I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I’m used to bruises, Cass."

His wings drooped slightly, and he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You’re not just anyone, Y/N. You’re my mate. You don’t get to hide things like this from me."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked at him, his hazel eyes so full of concern, love, and the faintest hint of anger—not at you, but at the fact that you’d kept this from him. "I didn’t mean to."

Cassian reached out, pulling you gently into his arms, careful of your bruises. His large hand rested on your lower back, holding you close as he whispered against your hair, "I’m always going to worry about you. But that’s because I care. I need to know when you’re hurt, no matter how small it is."

You nodded against his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, easing some of the lingering pain. "I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to be a burden."

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks. "You could never be a burden to me," he said, his voice fierce with sincerity. "You’re my heart, Y/N. Don’t ever lock me out again, not when it comes to you being hurt."

Tears stung your eyes at the raw emotion in his voice, and you nodded again, leaning into his touch. "I promise."

Cassian kissed your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips—gentle, reassuring, full of the love you’d felt through the bond but had tried to ignore. "Now, let’s get you patched up," he murmured against your lips, his smile returning as he brushed a thumb over your cheek. "I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re healed."

Despite the lingering ache in your side, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling with the warmth of his love and care. You knew, without a doubt, that no matter what happened, Cassian would always be there to catch you—even when you stumbled.

[mariaxxxxx]

Red Sea (+18)

Summary:Menstruation is causing her a lot of pain and her husband decides to give her relief with her mouth. (+18)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, , size difference, soft!dom!, HEA, good ending, slight degradation, duvious consent, menstrual sex, , arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, , kidnapping.

A/N:Well, the topic below can be a little delicate because there is the water daddy not being afraid to dive mouth into the red sea that we humans with vagina and uterus go through every damn month.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

Work count: 2.707

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The trunk creaked softly every time you pulled another fold of fabric out, trying to rearrange the clothes that insisted on getting tangled up as if they had a life of their own. The floor was covered in small piles of fabric: crumpled dresses, old scarves, a blouse that smelled sweetly of easier days . You moved slowly, one hand resting on the edge of the old piece of furniture, the other pressing the base of your belly with almost instinctive care. The cramps weren’t a sharp pain, but rather a constant and stubborn presence, like waves crashing against the rocks inside you—stronger and stronger, closer and closer.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a second, allowing yourself to feel the weight of the pain that throbbed in spasms. The soft cloth you had placed between your legs was already beginning to weigh down with the warm blood that was running silently, as if your own body was mourning something you still couldn't name. But there you were, folding clothes, dragging memories, breathing deeply — surviving another cycle like so many others before you.

You try to focus. Your hands continue to fold the linen blouse you used to wear in the late afternoons, when you could still see the sun coming through the window and everything seemed less cramped inside. Now the fabric is heavy. Maybe because of the memory, maybe because of the pain that is intensifying in short, merciless waves. The cloth between your legs no longer brings relief, only a thin sensation of containment, as if it were a fragile barrier against the fatigue that comes from within. You sit on the floor, the cold of the tiles penetrating your thin clothes, but somehow, it helps. Just for a moment. A trickle of sweat runs down the back of your neck, even though the air is cool.

The trunk remains open, its edges worn and its smell of old wood mixed with the perfume of clothes stored away for too long. You stare inside the trunk as if there were answers inside—as if among the lace, loose buttons, and crooked seams there was something that could explain why your body insists on screaming like this, month after month. Another contraction. You curl up a little, close your eyes. Try to take a deep breath. Count to four, hold it, release it slowly. It works for a second, until the discomfort sets in again, dragging a tiredness that is not just physical. It is a kind of old exhaustion, almost inherited.

You rest your forehead on your hands, sitting there, among clothes and memories. Everything is quiet, except for the distant sound of the world outside and the muffled murmur of your own body asking for rest. And yet, even so, you keep going. Because no one is going to fold those clothes for you.

“A task too menial for a queen” No no No. You feel your strength fading into dust, your moment of scourge being cut short, the pain in your lower abdomen worsens just by looking at him.

“There’s not much to do here,” you reply shakily, reaching out to grab another piece of clothing. It takes strength to look away from the man standing before you, with all his wealth studding strategic points on his body.

“If you weren’t so stubborn you would have more important tasks to perform.”

You're not surprised when he kneels down beside you, taking the piece from your hand with a wicked smile. A smile you knew well and had been dealing with for over half a year.

“I don’t understand their language.”

“Theirs.” He repeats. “We are your people now. Your home. It’s been over half a year and you still haven’t gotten used to it or even had the decency to learn the customs.”

“This is not my home,” you say indignantly. “Your demands to take me as your wife were not the right ones.”

“Perhaps. But before you think of painting me as the monster, remember that they were the ones who accepted my proposal without a fight.”

The salty taste still seems to stick to your tongue, even after so many moons have passed. You rummage through the clothes inside the trunk with contained anger, as if the fabrics could absorb the bitterness that boils inside. The cramps pulse in your belly like an ancient drum, marking the rhythm of your revolt, of the memories that never cease.

You never chose that fate. You were given as a living offering—a covenant sealed between the surface and the depths. A body given to the man of the sea in exchange for calm and favorable tides. A cold bargain, wrapped in ceremonial veils and smiles that disguised the sentence. Your voice rose against it. You screamed, you struggled, you begged. But your family would not give in. They could not go against tradition. Against the “ancient agreements.” Against the whispers of the ocean.

His face, so calm, so strange, still comes to mind often. You admitted, silently, between salt-soaked sheets, that he knew how to touch your body like someone reading the currents of the sea. A skilled, careful, even gentle lover—when he wanted to be. But that was never enough. Because no caress can undo invisible chains.

You were from the surface. And his people never let you forget it. Wry looks. Whispers that sank into your ears like cold seaweed. A kind of silent, constant rejection that left you increasingly silent, more withdrawn, more... absent. As if you were always submerged, even on dry land.

A sharper stab makes you arch your back, the damp cloth between your legs sticking to your warm skin. The pain is sharp, like something inside you is trying to claw its way out. You hurriedly reach your stomach, gasping for air between clenched teeth.

"What was that?" The deep voice echoes through the chamber of stone and shells. He stands there, watching, attentive.

You shake your head. "It's nothing." The answer comes out dry, almost automatic, and you try to walk away.

But his hand catches your wrist before you can take a step.

"It doesn't look like anything," he says, quieter now, almost like someone trying to decipher a storm in the distance.

You stare at his hand on your skin, warm and firm. The silence between you is thick. The pain still vibrates inside your body, like a broken bell. You try to pull your wrist away, but he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. Your knees buckle and your legs buckle, knocking a few pieces of clothing off your body. You struggle against him, fascinated and frightened by his strength.

“Stop!” you demand.

“Tell me what’s going on.” He demands back.

You shake your head, declining.

“Stubborn child.” He spits. “I’ll check it out myself.”

Her heartbeat accelerates even more when K'uk'ulkan hurriedly begins to undress her without the slightest care for the richly embroidered fabric. He squeezes and pulls each breast as it is exposed and moves lower.

“No.” You say, trying to push him away in vain. You push yourself up and manage to dodge his tight embrace for a few seconds, but he follows you, standing up and pulling you even tighter towards him.

His hand reaches down and pulls down your panties. The carefully folded cotton inside your panties comes loose and falls to the floor. You cry in embarrassment.

“It’s bleeding,” says K’uk’ulkan , the wretch. You close your eyes to avoid the humiliation.

“Yes.” You cry out, still trying to escape his tight embrace. “That’s why it hurts. I’m bleeding. Are you happy?”

Your rambling ends as quickly as your husband tells you to shut up. He maneuvers your body until your back is pressed against his chest and your arms are tightly pressed against his chest, he holds you with only one hand. The other roams freely over your body; first over your belly, down your lower abdomen, until it rests on your methodically trimmed mons venus.

“A little blood doesn’t scare me, my queen.” His hand comes down and, with his index finger, explores her bloodied pussy. “I don’t see it as something dirty, or as a burden. To me, it’s a sign of the strength you carry, of the ability to create and renew, like a flower that closes and opens with the passing of the days. It’s a mystery that should be revered, not feared.”

He takes his finger out of your pussy and plays with it quickly, rubbing it with his thumb. This was too much for your eyes. It was an absurd level of humiliation. You wanted to protest, scream, run, but his grip kept you pinned in place. You expected him to let go, but what he does next makes you gasp. He brings his fingers, index finger first, to his mouth and licks them clean of all the blood and repeats the same with his thumb.

You can only be shocked by such boldness and courage. He turns you around again, you face him, and you look away, not having the courage to look him in the eyes. He doesn't seem to care about your shame. He reaches your pussy again, this time with two fingers, one he sticks inside your bloody cavity and the other plays with your clitoris.

K'uk'ulkan 's thick fingers sliding inside you make you scream.

“You want me, my queen. You want me, but your stubbornness speaks louder.” He maneuvers his finger and reaches that spongy part. “Confess that you want me, girl. Confess! And I will make the pain go away.”

“I...” You gasp at the pleasure of his caressing your two pleasure points. Your hips move trying to find him, to welcome him, but he seems intent on torturing you; his movements become slow and his grip prevents you from seeking more.

“Confess,” he demands. “Be mine and I will give you everything; the sky, the earth, the sea. You will be my wife, my queen, the mother of my child. I will make Talokan kneel before his parents. I will bathe your skin in gold and fill your soul with power and pleasure.”

What happens next is too fast for your eyes. He pulls his fingers out of you, grabs you by the waist, and maneuvers you so that you are sitting with your legs wide open on the wet wooden table.

“Wait, wait...” You ask, but he doesn’t listen, or pretends not to listen.

He kneels over your legs and puts his mouth on your pussy, you go limp. Your eyes fill with tears that soon slide down your cheeks and your mouth opens to exclaim a loud moan of pleasure. He buries his face even deeper between your thighs, and your excitement builds up and mixes with the blood.

You ask him to stop, but he ignores your sobs and continues to eat your pussy with his mouth. Your hips move involuntarily in search of more contact. He licks your clit and then pulls it with his lips. Each breath you take is a soft symphony, marked by the cadence of a reverent silence. Your eyes are closed, but the world seems to vibrate around you, as if the earth itself, in its vast dance of cycles, is with you, following the rhythm of your body. The pain is there, a constant presence, like a weight on your body, pulsing in waves that crash against your insides. Each breath seems to amplify the discomfort, as if you are a tide that refuses to retreat. But even under this weight, there is something moving inside, something tenuous, almost imperceptible, a thin line that connects the pain to the possibility of another sensation, one that still seems distant.

It was then that his mind began to quiet, and his breathing, which had been ragged, began to slow. A new rhythm was emerging, delicate as the first ray of sunlight touching the cold earth. The pain, with its overwhelming force, did not dissipate immediately, but began to transform, like a shadow that dissolves at the touch of light. What had been sharp now seemed deeper, longer, and suddenly there was a space inside him, like an empty field, waiting to be filled.

Pleasure came like a soft, slow current that flowed over her skin, caressing the most sensitive points of her being. It insinuated itself, gently, like the breeze that mixes with the summer heat, transforming the ardor into something that spread with unexpected tenderness. Her body, previously rigid with pain, opened, like a flower that is breaking free from its shell. The sensation took over every fiber, like a wave that slowly overcomes the rocks, until it reaches the earth with a peaceful force, unhurried, but full of certainty.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be carried away, as if the pain itself had been transformed into something softer, sweeter, and your skin, once marked by discomfort, was now vibrant with a new warmth. The pleasure, which had once seemed like a distant echo, now became the sound of your own breathing, of your body giving in to what was due it. And in the silence that followed, you found yourself in the center of yourself, where the pain became memory and the pleasure a part of your essence.

He pulls away from your thighs. Your eyes meet instantly. K'uk'ulkan 's beard is so wet and red, his lips and tongue are the same. He uses his free wrist to wipe his mouth, but it doesn't do a very good job; your arousal and menstruation have done too much damage. It's embarrassing, profane, arousing. You were so confused.

“The pain...” he begins. “...still bothers you?”

“No.” You reply. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

The heat between them still hung in the air, thick and dense like steam rising from the depths. The moment felt like it was about to unfold into something irreversible, something that threatened to undo the bonds you had tightened around own chest.

K'uk'ulkan pulled away like a wave receding before it touches the sand. His eyes, once filled with veiled desire, were now two calm, calculated tides. He regarded her for a long second—not coldly, but with a kind of solemnity she could not name.

“I will ask the servants to care for You during your periods,” he said, the words low but firm, laden with centuries and ancient seals.

He rose in a single fluid movement, as if his body obeyed some tide greater than human will. The light from the liquid shells that graced the chamber shone on his shoulders as he walked away, leaving behind not just his touch, but something deeper: his absence.

You didn't say anything. You didn't even try to stop him. You stood there, your body still trembling and your senses half-open, like a flower that dared to bloom before its time. The pain was gone. You had withdrawn silently, like a sated spirit. And in its place, there was now the echo of something warm, vibrating inside you with the strength of a newly discovered secret.

Alone, you felt your own body pulsate. No longer in agony, but in waves that seemed made of light. You were alive, completely. And the pleasure that had once seemed like a foreign land now inhabited you naturally. It was strange. It was beautiful.

There, in the space where his touch had been interrupted, you found no lack. You found question. You found desire.

Why did he stop? Why did he leave you like this, adrift, in the middle of your own sea?

And, what's more, why did you first think of calling him back?

Não por necessidade física. Mas por algo mais sutil — o desejo de ser verdadeiramente vista, não como uma oferenda, nem como uma rainha, nem como uma estrangeira. Mas como alguém que, mesmo ferida, estava aprendendo a se abrir. Aos poucos. Como o mar se abrindo para o céu antes do amanhecer. Você ficou ali, respirando. Sentindo. E pela primeira vez, você teve seu tempo.

[roseykat]

What would be skz(separately) fav type of underwear on their gf? like what underwear/lingerie do they like to see their gf wear...? Maybe a mix of sfw and nsfw?

TITLE: Their favourite types of underwear/lingerie you wear.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of lingerie and underwear, sex, oral sex - nothing too heavy.

A/N: I’ve actually never thought about this question until you raised it anon, so thank you. I hope I’ve done it some justice lmao x

BANG CHAN

Channie is the type to try and hide how much he’s affected by you walking around the house in such lacy lingerie. He’d actually get fully flustered and would stumble with his words if you tried to speak to him too.

In saying that, he does have a secret favourite set that he loves seeing you wear which is a black, dainty, slightly see through bra and panties with cute small coloured flowers scattered over the fabric. He loves it because it’s a sexy meets cute style that makes him wonder if he wants to dominate or be dominated.

-

MINHO

Now look, there’s almost no point in wearing lingerie around this man because it’s coming off either way. In my mind, Minho has a high sex drive, so easy access is important. Clothing on you is a barrier to him. That being said, Minho can appreciate a good set of lingerie preferably in either black, a deep maroon, or white. With or without, he thinks you look stunning regardless.

However, there’s a specific set of panties that are almost see through and have intricate patterns on which he likes to trace over with his tongue as he eases into fully going down on you which, can drive you insane. It’s a classic Minho movement to try and establish that he’s in charge and that you wearing such sexy pieces of lingerie aren’t going to affect him (when it really does).

-

CHANGBIN

Honestly, I feel like Changbin enjoys seeing you in just plain, simple, cotton underwear. It sounds so basic, but it’s so effective on him? Like when he comes home from work or the gym and just sees you in a t-shirt and underwear - even better, one of his jerseys and plain underwear. That would throw him off.

But there’s also a domestic feel to it for him. He knows that you’re comfortable enough to just stride around in the house wearing next to nothing. Even sleeping in underwear too which most people do, including Changbin himself majority of the time.

-

HYUNJIN

Hyunjin is the type of man who would see you in anything and fall in love all over again. At the same time, he has an eclectic and refined taste for seeing you in lingerie. A staple black set is gold to him. It’s so sleek, elegant, and sexy at the same time, and even though this sounds cliche, it makes Hyunjin want to take photos of you wearing it or draw you in real time.

On the NSFW side, Hyunjin will be the type of guy to push your panties to the side and fuck you. But he’s also the type to pull out last minute and decorate the material on your body with white strings of his own cum. He always follows up with the promise of buying you another new set, which he always stays true to his word.

-

JISUNG

He honestly thinks you look stunning in lingerie that it makes him want to wear it sometimes. In saying that, he has a similar taste to Changbin in the sense that he likes seeing you in plain underwear. In fact, he’ll wear his own around the house with you too. But again, there’s that domestic aspect to it.

At the same time, if you do happen to be wearing a nice set of lingerie, Jisung is a goner. For some reason he switches right back into a sub and just wants to be absolutely dominated. He’d want his hands tied behind his back and to use his teeth to pull garters from down your thigh. You don’t know how that affect could possibly occur, but you don’t ever complain about it.

-

FELIX

Felix is all for you wearing lingerie. He won’t only help you pick out what he thinks would look nice on you, but he also buys sets for you if he sees one when he’s out. Some of his favourite colours are more on the pastel side and likes the ones with delicate frills over the fabric on your hips. However, Felix will lean towards seeing you in darker sets and maybe a set of white because it makes you look angelic.

Similar to others, it is an aesthetic aspect with the way in which you suit it so well. Felix enjoys watching you walk around the house in nothing but a bra and cute panties that he bought for you. It shows your level of appreciation for his gestures.

-

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin is also another person who has a high appreciation for you in lingerie. He likes it when you wear them for scenes in the bedroom. You would be wearing a nice set that he might have picked out earlier on, something that compliments your body well because he’s also going to be accentuating it even more through the methods of shibari.

He thinks it looks clean cut, eye-pleasing, and photo worthy - something that should be presented in a kink museum. Sometimes he’ll opt for you to wear a black, silk yet sturdy bra and lacy black panties then will accommodate that with some red rope when he starts tying you up. Otherwise it's the opposite - red lingerie set and black rope. At times, he’ll also suggest you wear thigh high lace stockings that pairs well with your bra and panties.

-

JEONGIN

Jeongin would actually make the perfect boyfriend and we all know that, but he knows how to throw an outfit together - and for you in particular, Jeongin also takes the aesthetic of lingerie into his consideration. Whenever you’re both going out somewhere nice for food, Jeongin will help match your undergarments to your clothes.

If you’re wearing a top that exposes a bit of the bra underneath, he would help find the right colour for it. So in short, it really just depends and that’s the beauty of it because no set of lingerie he puts you in will be the same.

[pixiefelixie]

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "THURSDAY"

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out. 

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: felix + reader are intended to be 17-18, established relationship, fluff, blood tw! (nosebleed), extra long chapter this week important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

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chapter under the cut! ~18k words

day 5 - 8:00

the rain wept against the windows, silver streaks tracing ephemeral paths down the glass, blurring the world beyond into a watercolor dream of grays and blues. the sky hung heavy, stretched like damp silk over the restless sea, the waves rolling in slow, sleepy undulations. you stood by the window, arms loosely folded around yourself, watching as droplets merged and parted—tiny rivers colliding and splitting apart, like the way your thoughts tangled, unraveled, and knotted again. the beach stretched out below, the waves churning softly under the darkened sky, a stormy beauty that still managed to captivate you. the world outside felt hushed, like the storm had pressed a finger to its lips, demanding quiet. 

felix had already been up, slipping away earlier to take a shower. you’d heard the faint creak of his door as he’d retreated to his room afterward. you found yourself moving, feet barely making a sound against the floorboards as you crossed the living room. when you reached his door, you hesitated, fingers ghosting over the wood before giving a soft knock.

“come in,” came his voice, low and familiar, slightly muffled by the barrier between you.

you pushed the door open, stepping into his room just as he was pulling a shirt over his head. the fabric slid down slowly, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach, the sculpted lines that had never caught your attention quite like this before. the shirt settled into place, hugging his frame, and your breath hitched. you’d seen him shirtless so many times before—at the beach, wandering casually around the house—but now, something about it felt... different.

felix ran a hand through his still-damp hair, stray droplets sliding down his temples, catching the light. he looked at you then, lips curling into that familiar smile. “hey.”

“hi, felix,” you said softly, your voice carrying an edge of shyness you hadn’t expected.

you crossed the room and when you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to his chest. his damp hair clung in wild streaks to his forehead, droplets sliding down his temples like they envied the way his cheekbones caught the light. the faintest sheen of moisture made his skin glow, and the cotton of his oversized t-shirt draped over his torso. you could see the faint trace of his collarbone, the way his neck tensed—was he always this... hot?

what was happening to you?

felix’s arms were around you before you could even register the shift, his touch feather-light but deliberate. his hands settled on your shoulders first, then slid up slowly to cup your face. his thumbs brushed along your jawline, his fingers curving to cradle you as though you were made of something fragile and precious. the way he tilted his head sent a ripple of heat down your spine—his lips parting slightly, his gaze flickering down to your mouth before rising to meet your eyes again. time slowed, and for a moment, you could feel the air shift between you, charged and heavy with something you couldn’t name but felt all the way to your core.

and then he leaned in.

his lips were soft, warm, and the gentleness of the kiss only magnified the intensity building inside you. you melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

it was innocent, a kiss that carried no expectations, but the effect it had on you was anything but. the room spun, every sensation heightened—his scent wrapping around you like a cocoon, the warmth of his hands against your skin, the steady beat of his heart you could still feel beneath your palms. your chest tightened, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you leaned into the kiss, letting it consume you. 

when felix pulled back, his lips curved up into a soft smile, his gaze catching yours for just a second longer than necessary, and then he straightened, letting his hands fall casually to his sides. he chuckled lightly, breaking the silence with a voice so effortlessly casual it almost made you doubt what had just happened. “good morning,” he said, his tone warm, like the kiss had been no more significant than a passing breeze.

your heart hammered against your ribs as you stared at him, blinking, trying to piece together how something so fleeting had felt like the ground beneath you shifting. he reached up, running a hand through his damp hair again, his eyes flicking toward the window where rain was softly streaking down the glass.

“looks like it’s been pouring all morning,” he said, his voice light, conversational, as though he hadn’t just stolen the breath from your lungs and left your world tilted on its axis. “i was planning to go for a run, but…” he gestured lazily toward the window, shrugging, the motion causing his shirt to ride up just enough to reveal a flash of skin.

“hmm?” you managed to murmur when you realized he was looking at you, waiting for some kind of response. his expression was relaxed, open, like nothing had changed for him. maybe it hadn’t. maybe it was just you, your every nerve ending suddenly tuned to felix, every touch, every word from him magnified to a point you could barely handle.

“yeah,” you said, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. 

felix chuckled, the sound low and warm, and it rippled through you like the aftershock of an earthquake. you wanted to say something, anything to fill the silence stretching between you, but words felt clumsy and irrelevant.

before you could gather yourself, a sharp crack of thunder split the air, so loud and sudden that both of you jolted. your eyes widened, and you caught felix doing the same, his hand instinctively shooting out to steady himself against the edge of the window ledge. he turned to look at you, his lips twitching into a crooked grin as he shook his head. “did not see that coming,” he said, his voice tinged with laughter.

the rain outside had escalated from a steady rhythm to a full-blown torrent. sheets of water streaked down the glass, blurring the world beyond into a wash of grays and blues with the palm tree fronds being violently pulled by the wind. felix shifted closer to the window, his brows knitting together as he peered out. you moved to stand beside him, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder, watching as the wind hurled rain against the window with an almost violent intensity. lightning lit up the sky in a brief, jagged flash, followed closely by another deep rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the very walls.

“feels like the kind of storm you’d see in a movie,” you muttered quietly, as if speaking too loudly might provoke the tempest outside. his hand brushed against yours where it rested on the windowsill, the contact so fleeting that it could have been accidental—but it still sent a spark racing up your arm.

felix’s eyes lit up so suddenly that it startled you. his mouth parted slightly, and he turned to you with an intensity that made your breath catch. you knew that look—the one he got when an idea hit him out of nowhere, so consuming that nothing else existed.

“what?” you asked, already wary.

he didn’t answer right away. his gaze flicked between your face and the window, as if piecing something together in his head. then, a slow grin spread across his face—one of those mischievous, boyish ones that always meant trouble.

before you could demand an explanation, felix grabbed the hem of his shirt and, without hesitation, yanked it over his head.

your brain short-circuited.

“what the—felix?!” the words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, your voice slightly higher than normal.

he shook out his damp hair like a golden retriever, completely unbothered. the stormy light filtering through the window cast soft shadows over his collarbones, the lean, toned lines of his stomach. a stray drop of water slid down his neck, tracing a slow, meandering path across his chest. you absolutely should not have been watching it.

but you were.

heat crept up your neck, betraying you completely.

“felix?” you blinked, trying to snap yourself out of it as he suddenly bolted for the hallway like a man on a mission. “what are you—?”

“we need to go out there right now!” he called over his shoulder, voice practically vibrating with excitement.

you frowned, still rooted in place. “huh?”

felix didn’t wait to explain. he skidded to a stop outside the storage room and flung the door open with a flourish, vanishing inside before you could get another word in. the faint sound of clattering echoed down the hall. seconds later, he reappeared, grinning like he’d just unearthed buried treasure. in his hands were two surfboards, one propped under his armpit and the other held out toward you like some kind of offering.

“the waves!” he said, his words tumbling out in an excited rush. “they’re gonna be amazing with this storm coming in! we can’t miss it!”

you stared at him, incredulous. “you want to surf? in this weather?” you gestured toward the window. the wind whipped through the palm trees with a ferocity that sent fronds flying, and the dark clouds above promised nothing short of chaos. it looked like the kind of storm that fishermen whispered about in seaside bars.

felix nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “exactly! you don’t get waves like this every day,” he said.

you let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “you’re insane,” you muttered, though the familiar tug of excitement in your chest was already betraying you. felix had this... thing about him, this ability to make even the most ridiculous ideas sound like the kind of adventures you’d regret not taking. and maybe that’s why you found yourself leaning into his chaos more often than not.

“come on!” he urged, bouncing on the balls of his feet now. he extended the second surfboard toward you, shaking it slightly like he thought you might be tempted by the sheer proximity of it.

you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “if we get electrocuted, it’s your fault.”

“deal,” he said immediately, his grin only growing wider as if you’d just signed up for the time of your life.

with a resigned sigh, you gave in, peeling off your t-shirt and shorts to reveal your swimsuit beneath. it has become second nature to wear it under your clothes while staying at the beach. the cool air brushed against your skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the way felix was looking at you.

his eyes lingered for a heartbeat too long, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. he opened his mouth like he might say something, then seemed to think better of it. instead, he simply leaned in, his voice dropping to a soft whisper, barely audible over the howling wind outside. “come on,” he said, the words carrying an almost conspiratorial tone as you took the board out of his hand.

felix barely hit the back door before it flung open, the wind catching it hard. the storm outside roared to life, rain hammering down in thick sheets. the second your foot hit the sand, the cold punched through you like a live wire, drenching your clothes in an instant.

"shit—!" the shock forced a yelp out of you, but then—then the thrill took over. the chaos of it, the sting of cold rain against your skin, the wildness of the wind tearing through the night. laughter bubbled up before you could stop it. the kind of laughter that made your ribs ache, that made the storm feel less like a warning and more like an invitation.

felix, already a soaked mess, chuckled back, his hair plastered to his forehead in dark, dripping strands. the rain didn't seem to faze him at all. it was as if the storm made everything more alive, more real. you followed him down the stairs, your feet slipping slightly on the wet steps as the rain came down harder.

felix was already running toward the shore, his enthusiasm infecting every step. the wet sand squelched beneath his feet as he picked up speed. he put down his board with a soft thud, tossing it onto the sand. his laughter rang out, mixing with the roar of the storm as he threw his arms wide to embrace the pouring rain.

"race you!" you shouted over the sound of the crashing waves, a wide grin spreading across your face as you strapped the leash onto your ankle.

felix looked momentarily caught off guard, his eyes widening as he tried to process your challenge, but it only took a second before he snapped back. “what?!” he yelled, barely able to finish the sentence before you sprinted ahead, the storm adding an extra layer of exhilaration to the race.

with a burst of energy, you made it to the water first. without hesitation, you threw yourself onto your board, the coolness of the sea making your heart race even faster. the board’s surface was slick beneath your chest as you paddled with determination, the saltwater splashing around you, urging you forward.

felix, now just a few steps behind, didn’t miss a beat. he threw his board into the water with a grunt and quickly followed your lead, paddling furiously to catch up. you could hear his laughter cutting through the noise of the waves, his joy contagious as the two of you battled the current together.

a massive wave loomed ahead, its towering presence sending a thrill of both fear and excitement through you. the sound of the ocean filled your ears, muffling everything else as you ducked beneath the water, your body moving with the rhythm of the ocean. for a moment, the world above the surface felt like a distant memory, replaced by the peaceful bubbling sounds of the stormy sea surrounding you.

when you surfaced, gasping for air, the storm felt almost more beautiful than before. the waves were relentless, but so were you. you glanced at felix, his face filled with a mix of determination and exhilaration. his eyes were wide with excitement as he nodded to you, signaling that another big wave was coming, and you both needed to get ready.

together, you turned towards the shore, the pounding waves pushing against you, urging you to move faster. you paddled with everything you had, your muscles burning with effort, but the water was relentless, its pressure urging you forward. your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your breath mingling with the storm.

at this point, the rain was the furthest thing from your mind. you could feel the pull of the water beneath you, the coldness of the sea threatening to drag you under, but you were determined to keep moving forward.

suddenly, you saw it. the perfect wave surged ahead, its towering form breaking the horizon. your eyes widened as you exchanged a look with felix. his face was a mask of pure excitement, his eyes sparkling with a thrill you could hardly ignore. without a word, he flashed you a grin, his smile wide and full of confidence, and that was all you needed. together, you turned away from the wave, both of you preparing for the ride of your life.

your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation thrumming through you. you arched your back, shifting your body on the board, your legs instinctively finding the right stance. the water surged beneath you, a powerful force pushing you toward the shore. your feet were unsure on the board at first since you haven’t surfed since last year, but with every passing second, you felt your body find its center. you spread your feet further apart, grounding yourself as the wave built behind you, ready to launch you forward.

the board glided smoothly over the water, the wave carrying you effortlessly toward the shore. your heart raced, adrenaline coursing through your veins as the wind whipped around you. felix’s laughter rang out behind you, and you could hear him urging you forward, encouraging you as you both rode the wave together. the thrill of it was beyond anything you had ever experienced, and you couldn’t help but smile.

the waves were enormous, driven by the fierce wind, each one towering higher and crashing down with a powerful force. the water beneath your board was alive, a swirling mass of energy that propelled you forward with exhilarating speed. the surface of the ocean undulated, creating peaks and troughs that challenged your balance and skill, but also filled you with a sense of wild freedom.

suddenly, you heard felix's voice cutting through the chaos, yelling out your name. you glanced over just in time to see felix attempting a 360 turn on his board. his movements were fluid and confident, but as he spun, the wave's powerful momentum caught him off guard. he lost his balance, his board slipping out from under him, and he wiped out spectacularly, disappearing into the churning water.

you couldn't help but laugh, the sound mingling with the crashing waves. you lay flat on your board, momentarily catching your breath and savouring the thrill of the ride. the waves continued to surge around you, their immense power a reminder of nature's raw, untamed beauty. you watched as felix resurfaced, shaking the water from his hair and grinning sheepishly.

the ocean swelled once more, the biggest wave yet forming in the distance. 

you knew you had to take this on. 

paddling forward, you felt the wave lift you up, its crest towering above you like a moving mountain. you rose to your feet, the force of the water beneath you a powerful, exhilarating rush.

the wave surged beneath you, pushing you forward with a force that made your heart race. you leaned into the movement, carving your board effortlessly through the water, each turn more fluid than the last. the sound of the ocean was drowned out by the rush of wind in your ears as you sliced through the wave, the water spraying around you in a dazzling mist. the thrill was electric, each movement feeling sharper, more connected to the pulse of the ocean.

suddenly, the air seemed to crack open. 

a lightning strike flashed right in front of your eyes at the shoreline, so close it felt like the air itself had cracked open. your expression went blank with shock, and you frantically looked over at felix. his face mirrored your fear, eyes wide with terror.

in that moment, every instinct screamed to keep moving, but all you could do was stare at the water beneath you, unable to tear your eyes away from the swirling depths. the waves, once thrilling and empowering, now seemed ominous, like a waiting predator. you had heard it over and over when you first started surfing—never look down—because the board will always follow your gaze. but now, your eyes were locked on the dark, churning water below, as if looking for an answer, or maybe a way out.

and just like that, the board slipped out from under you.

you didn’t wipe out in the graceful way you'd hoped for; instead, your board was violently thrown back at you, striking your face with a painful thud. the impact knocked the wind out of you, and before you could react, the force of it sent you hurtling downward, into the depths of the ocean.

the world above you faded away as you sank, the crashing waves muffled into eerie quiet. it felt like the water was swallowing you whole, the pressure building in your chest, the world spinning in slow motion. your nose throbbed with an unbearable ache, the taste of saltwater filling your mouth as you accidentally swallowed a mouthful of the briny liquid. panic surged through you as your vision blurred, and your mind screamed for air.

instinctively, you kicked your legs, swimming toward what you hoped was the surface, though everything felt like it was spinning out of control. you reached out, your hands clawing through the water, and for a split second, you couldn’t tell if you were swimming up or down. you didn’t have the time to think about that.

breaking through the surface, you gasped for air, coughing violently into your hand. blood smeared across your palm and mixed with the water, spreading out in tendrils. felix's voice cut through the chaos, shouting your name. "look, baby, i know this has been fun. but we seriously need to head home now, did you see how close that lightning strike was!" the panic in his voice was unmistakable, but he didn’t know what had happened to you.

you could barely register his words, your head still spinning. you were too disoriented to respond. instead, you kept your head low, one arm draped weakly over your board as the waves jostled you. the storm wasn’t just around you anymore; it was inside you, thrumming through your bones, rattling against your ribs like a bird trapped in a cage. the pain in your nose was sharp and unforgiving, a steady pulse of fire radiating outward, but it wasn’t just the pain that held you captive. it was the fear.

it curled around your limbs like seaweed, tightening, twisting, dragging you under. the ocean had swallowed your breath, leaving nothing but the taste of salt and blood on your tongue. it was in your throat, thick and metallic, coating your teeth, seeping into every exhale. your heart pounded erratically, beating out a frantic rhythm that didn’t match the rhythm of the waves. it was too fast, too uneven, like a drum with a broken cadence.

your body felt foreign, unsteady, like it no longer belonged to you. the water rocked you, gentle and violent all at once, the ocean playing with you like a predator that hadn’t decided whether to let you go or pull you under for good. your fingers curled weakly around the edge of your board, but the slick surface felt miles away, like something that existed in another world, a world where you hadn’t just been thrown under, hadn’t just stared into the dark abyss beneath the waves and wondered, for one terrifying second, if you’d ever see the surface again.

you couldn’t help it. the fear clawed its way up from the pit of your stomach, rising so fast you didn’t have a chance to brace yourself. your chest heaved, the breath hitching in your throat, and before you even realized what was happening, you broke.

a sob tore out of you, raw and uncontrollable, shaking your already unsteady frame. the sound was swallowed by the storm, but it felt like it echoed inside you, bouncing off every fragile part of your soul. tears mingled with the saltwater already streaking your face, but these were hotter, more insistent, driven by something deeper than the cold. you weren’t crying because of the pain in your nose or the ache in your muscles—you were crying out of pure fear.

through the haze, you saw felix paddling toward you, his face twisted with concern. his eyes were frantic as he called out your name again, his voice growing closer, more desperate. "what’s going on? why aren’t you—" he stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on the streaks of red trailing in the water around you.

seeing the blood, the way you weren’t responding—everything in him screamed that something was terribly wrong. his eyes darted over your face, his mind racing to make sense of it, but everything felt distant, disconnected. you were barely holding it together, and felix felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him.

"everything okay?" he asked again, his voice trembling with raw fear. obviously you weren’t. but he needed you to say something. anything.

you didn’t answer. your eyes were unfocused, your head lolling to one side as the storm continued to rage around you. the pain from your nose, the overwhelming pressure of the ocean, the feeling of being lost in it all—it was too much. felix’s heart raced as he hovered over you, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. the way you shook with sobs, barely clinging to the edge of your board, sent a cold, unrelenting dread spiraling through him. 

"fuck!" felix cursed, his voice laced with fear as he saw the extent of your condition. with a sense of urgency he didn’t know he had, felix reached out, his hands steady but shaking as he gently helped you onto your board. the weight of the situation was crushing him, but he pushed it aside as he focused entirely on you.

“hang on,” he said firmly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue as his own panic threatened to break through. his voice stayed steady, even though every part of him wanted to scream, wanted to break down in fear. “i’ll get you back to shore.” he repeated it like a mantra, clinging to the words even though his heart was hammering in his chest.

but his thoughts were spinning, like a whirlwind of terror. his parents had trusted him to look after you, and so had yours. has he failed already? what if he doesn’t get you back by the time the next lightning strike comes down and hits you both? what if the blood in the water had already attracted sharks, and—

the waves, sensing your need, seemed to assist you, their powerful surges pushing you forward. you held your nose with one hand, trying to stem the bleeding, while paddling with the other. felix stayed beside you, occasionally giving your board a push to help you along. the shore drew closer, the tumultuous ride feeling like an eternity. finally, you felt the sand beneath your board. felix's voice cut through the noise of the storm. "leave everything here." he urged as he unstrapped the leash from your ankle and his own. “come on, come on!

the storm outside raged with a fury that seemed almost otherworldly, its howling wind battering against the walls of the beach house, a sound that felt like a warning from the sea itself. the rain came down in sheets, cold and merciless, each drop striking your skin like ice. felix's grip on your board was firm, his urgency evident as he turned toward the house, his movements quick and determined.

“go up, i’m right behind you,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm’s roar. he gestured toward the deck and nodded towards the beach house, his face set in a mask of concentration.

you stumbled against the fierce wind, its invisible hands pushing against you, forcing you to fight for every step. felix stayed close behind, his presence a solid anchor as you finally reached the porch, breathless and drenched. with a swift motion, he dropped the boards onto the deck with a dull thud, and his hand was at the door, pushing it open to reveal the warm, dimly lit interior of the house.

“get inside,” felix urged, his voice steady yet tinged with urgency. you moved toward the door, your body shaking from the cold and exhaustion, and as you stepped over the threshold, the warmth inside hit you like a soft embrace. felix followed you in, quickly closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed almost surreal after the chaos of the storm. the sound of the wind and rain pounding against the windows became muffled, but the tension in the air was still thick, a reminder of how close you'd come to danger.

you hesitated, not wanting to leave a trail of water across the floor, but before you could even protest, felix was already moving. he quickly grabbed a thick towel from the nearby shelf and wrapped it around you, his hands warm and gentle against your chilled skin. the softness of the towel contrasted sharply with the harshness of the storm outside, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, closing your eyes as the warmth of the towel began to seep into your bones.

you removed your hand from your nose, wincing as the motion sent another sharp wave of pain through you. the blood was still trickling, staining the palm of your hand, but before you could react, felix was already there, gently placing the paper towel against your nose with a tenderness that belied the gravity of the situation. 

"hold still," he whispered. his touch was so gentle, almost reverent, as if afraid that the slightest pressure might make things worse.

felix gently helped you to the couch, his hands still warm on your shoulders as he guided you to sit. the storm outside raged on, but inside the house, everything felt calmer. the warmth of the living room was a sharp contrast to the chill that had settled into your bones from the rain and the shock. as you sank into the cushions, you finally allowed yourself to relax, your body unwinding after the chaos. felix settled beside you, his eyes still full of concern, but there was a quiet relief in his expression now, too.

the noise of the storm seemed to fade into the background as you both sat there in the cocoon of the house. the sound of the wind and rain felt distant now, almost like it belonged to another world. felix's presence beside you grounded you, and you began to feel your senses returning, the dizziness of the moment slowly fading away.

felix hesitated for a moment, watching you carefully, his gaze flickering from your trembling hands to the crumpled paper towel pressed against your nose. his jaw clenched slightly before he finally spoke, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"can i see it?"

you swallowed, still feeling the dull throb pulsing through your nose, but you nodded. slowly, you pulled the tissue away, wincing as the air hit the tender skin. the bleeding had slowed to a faint trickle, but it was still sore.

felix leaned in, his eyes scanning your face. you could see the worry still lingering in the furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together as if he were bracing himself for something worse. but then, his shoulders dropped slightly, and he let out a breath—long and slow, filled with relief. it wasn’t broken, luckily and all he saw was that cute nose he loved. he trailed off, his expression shifting as he took in the rest of you. your eyes, red-rimmed from salt and tears, the faint tremble in your hands.

felix’s stomach twisted.

but as the reality of the situation sank in, you couldn’t help but chuckle. "i cannot believe we did that," you said, your voice muffled by the tissue still pressed to your nose. the irony of the whole situation hit you in waves. here you were, sitting on felix's couch, soaked to the bone, and with a bleeding nose. you shook your head slightly, still processing what had just happened.

felix ran a hand through his wet hair, his expression a mix of frustration and worry. "i'm sorry," he said, his voice tight. "it was my fault. i shouldn't have made you go out there in that weather." he was still trembling, but whether it was from the cold of the water or the fear of what had just happened, you couldn’t be sure.

you shook your head, offering him a small smile. "it's fine, felix. i had fun," you said, your tone lightening. "the lightning just really freaked me out so i wiped out." you glanced down at the tissue, already soaked with blood. "ugh, this one's done for," you muttered, tossing it into the trash with a flick of your wrist before felix handed you a fresh piece of tissue to replace it.

“i should’ve—” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his frustration with himself evident. 

his eyes locked onto yours then, filled with a guilt so raw it nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

"i should've realized sooner." he shook his head, his grip tightening on your hands. "i kept telling you to hurry up like you weren’t right there, falling apart, and i—" felix’s expression tightened, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, his words coming out rushed. “my dad... he’s going to kill me if he finds out we did this,” he said, his eyes wide with a panic you hadn't seen before. “i never should’ve—”

you reached out, trying to offer some comfort, but he flinched, moving back. he was trembling now, his shoulders hunched, his face pale. his hands were shaking and you swore you saw the glint of unshed tears in his gaze before he looked away.

“felix,” you began, your voice soft and steady, “it’s okay. he’ll understand.”

he cut you off in a tight, strained voice, barely audible. “no, no, i... i can’t,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “i’ll never be trusted again. look at me.” his hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white as he looked down at them, avoiding your gaze. “you shouldn’t trust me. no one should.”

before you could find the words to reply, felix suddenly stood up, his movements sharp and abrupt. he turned away, his shoulders tense as if the weight of everything was physically pressing down on him. without another word, he strode toward his room, each step quick and purposeful, before the door slammed shut behind him. the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the silence that followed. 

you had never seen him break like this. it was jarring, almost surreal. he was felix—the boy who was always so sure of himself, so steady. but he was still just a teenager. he wasn’t invincible, no matter how much he tried to be.

he had been left alone in this vacation home, trusted to hold it together, to prove himself capable of responsibility. of course, he had earned that trust. felix was the brightest boy you knew, kind and thoughtful to a fault, someone who carried the world on his shoulders without ever complaining. but there was pressure in that—an unrelenting, quiet pressure to show that he wasn’t abusing the trust.

you hated that he felt this way—that he doubted himself, even for a second. because to you, felix had already proven everything that mattered. he didn’t need to be perfect; he just needed to be him. but how could you make him see that?

fifteen minutes had passed since felix stormed off, and you had taken the time to settle your own mind. the warm shower had worked wonders, the steam filling the bathroom and calming your nerves as the hot water washed away the tension that had been building since the storm. you had sat with the nosebleed for what felt like forever, tissues piling up as the blood finally stopped after a long ten minutes, but the mess of it had left you feeling drained. 

you walked over to the window, your bare feet cold against the wooden floor as you pulled back the curtain. the storm had passed. the clouds were parting, revealing a sky that was now dark but calm. the trees outside swayed gently in the aftermath, and the world was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath.

the heavy rain had stopped, the rumbling thunder replaced by a gentle breeze. you could hear the distant crashing of waves, a soothing sound that almost made you forget about everything else for a moment. but felix still lingered in your thoughts.

you froze when you heard his voice faintly coming from behind the closed door. at first, you told yourself it wasn’t your place, that you shouldn’t listen, but curiosity got the better of you. felix had stormed off, and it had left you with a knot in your chest. hearing him now, hearing the strain in his voice, drew you closer.

you tiptoed toward his room, your steps soft against the wooden floor, and pressed your ear gently against the door. the sound was clearer now, enough for you to make out the words.

“appa,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, a vulnerability you weren’t used to hearing. “i was so scared.” 

then a pause.

“i don’t know how she’s doing right now,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “i panicked... and i just ran off.”

he wasn’t talking about the storm or the lightning. he was talking about you.

there was another pause, longer this time, and then felix’s voice came again, this time more tentative. “can you put mom on?”

you could hear the faint rustle of movement on the other end, and then a softer voice spoke. you couldn’t make out what she said, but felix’s reaction was immediate.

he choked out, his voice breaking. there was a sharp inhale, and you realized he was crying. “i messed up.”

you swallowed hard. deep down, you knew his parents weren’t going to be mad at him—not as much as he thought, at least. they’d understand. they’d remind him that the weight he carried didn’t have to be his alone. but right now, felix didn’t see that.

“i feel terrible,” he said, followed by a sniffle. 

felix’s mom began to speak again, her voice too muffled for you to make out the words. you strained to hear, but it was impossible. she must’ve said something fairly lengthy since felix went completely quiet.

“i’ll talk to her. okay… bye. love you.”

the sudden click of the phone hanging up startled you. you quickly moved away from the door, careful not to make a sound, and stepped back into the hallway just as you heard the rustling of movement inside his room. your heart raced as you stood there, debating whether to go in or give him space.

summoning your courage, you stepped up to his door and knocked gently.

there was a pause, then the sound of felix clearing his throat. “yeah, uh… come in.”

you pushed the door open slowly, peeking inside to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his phone still in his hand. his hair was messy, and his eyes were slightly red, but he gave you a small, strained smile as you stepped inside.

“i thought i heard your voice,” you said softly, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of how he was feeling.

felix looked down, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “yeah, i was just, uh… calling my parents.” his voice was quiet, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to explain further. he paused, then looked up at you, his eyes tinged with worry. “i’m sorry. are you okay, first of all?”

you gave him a small smile, stepping further into the room. “yeah, i’m fine. it stopped a while ago,” you assured him, referring to your nosebleed.

felix exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted. “i shouldn’t have run off like that,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “i panicked, and i left you alone when you needed me. that wasn’t okay.”

you shook your head, your expression softening. “felix, it’s okay. i get it. i’m not upset at all,” you said gently, hoping to ease the guilt you could see written all over his face.

you walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed. the mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and felix looked at you out of the corner of his eye, his hands twisting together in his lap.

“i mean it,” you said softly. “you got us out of that storm, and you made sure i was safe. you’ve been so strong through everything.”

his lips parted slightly, like he was on the verge of saying something, but instead, he let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching tight. his eyes locked onto yours, glistening with unshed tears, but this time, there was no hesitation. he reached out, pulling you against him with a firm, unrelenting grip, his chin resting against the top of your head as if he needed you close to remind himself you were safe.

he didn’t want to cry in front of you. he was trying his best to hold it together, like a dam on the verge of bursting, his breathing shallow and uneven. but then, his body betrayed him. a shudder ran through him, his shoulders trembling as a silent tear slipped free. his arms around your waist tightened, almost possessive, like letting go would mean losing you entirely.

in his head, the storm of emotions raged—regret, guilt, love—each one crashing into the other. you. it was always you. the one who could read him like an open book, the one who stayed no matter how much he tried to hide the weight of his struggles. the one who made him feel whole, even in his most broken moments. the words were right there, at the tip of his tongue. i love you. three simple words that felt monumental, like they could shift the world if he said them out loud. but he couldn’t. not right now—not like this, with tears streaming down his face and his heart too raw to handle it. the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to say it made his chest ache, as he clung to you even tighter.

your voice broke through the silence, soft but steady, pulling him back to you. “you know…” you started, your hand tracing slow circles on his back, “i was scared out there too. i thought something was going to happen, something we wouldn’t be able to fix. but when you came to me i felt so much safer.”

he pulled back a little at your words, “i’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice unwavering now, grounded in the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt. “i’ll always be there for you. no matter what. you hear me?”

you nodded, your breath catching in your throat. “i hear you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached out to wipe the tear on his face.

felix let out a shaky breath and managed a small, almost timid smile in return. “i’m not making any stupid mistakes like that anymore,” he said firmly, his jaw tightening like he was sealing the promise in stone. “i mean it. i’m done being reckless.”

you tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “but what’s felix without a little recklessness?” you teased, your voice light.

for a second, he just stared at you, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “oh, so that’s how it is?” he said, his tone laced with mock offense. “you’re telling me you like it when i make impulsive decisions?”

you shrugged, feigning innocence. “maybe. it keeps things interesting.” then, with a softer voice, you added, “but only when you’re not scaring me half to death.”

felix stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, finally—finally—he smiled, the tension in his shoulders melting away. and then, without warning, his hands darted to your sides, fingers pressing into your ribs as he tickled you mercilessly.

a surprised squeal burst from your lips as you jerked away instinctively, but he was quicker, pulling you right back into him. “felix!” you shrieked between uncontrollable laughter, squirming in his grasp.

he only grinned wider, his deep, warm laughter finally breaking through the weight of everything that had happened. “you wanted reckless, didn’t you?” he teased, his fingers dancing over your sides with practiced ease.

you gasped between giggles, pushing at his chest, but he was relentless. “i take it back! i take it back!” you cried, breathless. and before you could protest, he started peppering kisses all over your cheek. for a second, everything was lighthearted—his breathless laughter mingling with yours, the warmth of his lips brushing against your cheek in quick, teasing kisses. 

you barely had a second to catch your breath before you twisted in his grasp, your laughter still bubbling out between gasps. his fingers faltered for just a moment—just enough. you seized the opportunity, grabbing his wrists and using all your strength to push against him.

felix let out a surprised grunt as you shifted your weight, catching him off guard. “oh?” he said, his voice quiet.

before he could react, you shoved him backward, sending him tumbling onto the bed with a soft thud. he let out a breathless chuckle, propping himself up on his elbows, his blonde hair slightly tousled from the sudden movement.

but then—

caw.

you both froze.

a second later, another call rang out—not the familiar, grating squawk of a seagull, but something deeper, more chilling. 

your eyes flickered to the window, your heart rate still unsteady from the tickle attack, but now for an entirely different reason. “felix,” you said cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper before you pushed yourself up. “do you think…”

his gaze followed yours, and before you could even finish, he filled in the rest. “ravens?” his voice was lower now, more serious.

you swallowed hard, the memory clicking into place at the same time for both of you. his father’s words from before he left echoed in your head—how ravens had a habit of stealing gull eggs, how they tended to come out when it rained.

and it had rained earlier.

a chill ran down your spine.

felix exhaled sharply, then pushed himself up. “come on,” he said, his voice firm. “let’s go check.”

he was already moving, reaching for your hand as he stood. you nodded, your fingers slipping easily into his grasp as you followed him to the door.

felix led the way, his grip firm around your hand as you both stepped outside. the salty air was thick with the remnants of the storm, the ground still damp beneath your feet. the sky had cleared, but the lingering gray clouds cast an eerie light over the beach house.

neither of you spoke as you rounded the corner, your eyes immediately lifting to the spot where you had first seen the seagull nest, nestled in the crook of the roof.

and there it was.

a massive black bird stood perched at the edge of the nest, its sleek feathers glistening under the weak sunlight. its talons curled tightly around the wooden beam, its head tilted ever so slightly as it regarded you both. the raven was larger than you had expected—far bigger than any gull you had seen.

its beady black eyes locked onto you, unblinking.

your breath hitched. there was something wrong about the way it stared—calculated, aware. it didn’t flinch, didn’t startle at your sudden presence. it simply watched.

felix’s grip on your hand tightened.

the raven’s head twitched, its sharp beak parting slightly as if it was about to make a sound—but it didn’t. it just stood there, unmoving, towering over the nest like a shadow waiting to descend.

your stomach twisted.

“felix…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he took a step forward, shifting slightly so he was in front of you, his shoulders squaring. his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the raven as if daring it to move. then the sharp, guttural cry tore through the silence, echoing against the house. you flinched. the raven didn’t move an inch. it just kept staring.

your heart sank as your gaze flicked to the nest. the thought was unavoidable—what if it had already gotten to one of the eggs?

“felix… do you think it—”

“don’t,” he cut you off gently but firmly, his voice low and steady. “don’t go there yet.”

before you could reply, felix’s eyes darted to the ground. he let go of your hand and crouched, grabbing a long, sopping-wet stick from the grass. it was drenched from the storm, muddy and slick, but he didn’t seem to care. straightening up, he held it like a spear, his shoulders squared, every muscle in his body tense.

it stayed perched, unmoving, as if it was trying to decide whether felix was a threat worth acknowledging. felix stepped closer to the corner of the roof, gripping the stick tightly in both hands. he tilted it upward, pointing the end directly toward the raven, his stance firm.

“go,” felix commanded, his voice sharper now, almost daring the bird to challenge him.

the raven cocked its head at the sound of his voice, the calculating look in its beady eyes making your skin crawl. the raven remained as still as a statue, its gaze locked onto felix with an unnerving intensity. then it let out another piercing caw, its wings unfurling in a sudden, jerky motion that made you flinch.

and finally—it took off.

the massive bird beat its wings hard as it launched itself into the air, its dark silhouette stark against the cloudy sky. you could feel the rush of air as it passed overhead, its cries echoing in the distance as it disappeared into the horizon.

felix lowered the stick with a long exhale, glancing back at you. “well,” he said, “i didn’t think that would actually work.”

felix’s gaze never left the nest as you both stood there in the aftermath of the raven’s sudden departure. something in you tugged at the unease in your chest, a hunch that maybe things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“i should check,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix didn’t hesitate. he nodded, crouching down in front of you, his eyes scanning the nest with a deep, steady focus. without a word, he motioned for you to climb onto his shoulders. you took a deep breath, your stomach twisted with a mix of dread and determination. as you carefully perched yourself onto his back, you braced yourself for whatever you were about to see. felix lifted you with ease, his hands steadying your legs as he raised you higher.

you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. please let it be okay, you thought. 

slowly, you opened your eyes, and your breath caught in your throat.

the sight was worse than you had feared. the eggs—most of them—were shattered, the fragile shells split open like broken promises, their contents exposed to the elements. your heart sank, a cold, tight feeling creeping up your chest. the raven had gotten to them, and now it was too late.

but there was one egg left. 

felix’s voice was tight with disbelief as he crouched lower, his hands steadying you. “what happened?” he asked, his eyes wide, scanning the damage.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, and it took a moment for the words to come. “he got to two,” you managed to say, voice barely above a whisper. “the raven… it must’ve eaten them.”

felix’s shoulders slumped, and his face tightened with guilt and sorrow. he set you down gently, his fingers brushing against your arm before he pulled you into his chest. you could feel his heart beating quickly, mirroring your own as you both stood there in a heavy, shared silence.

“i’m so sorry,” felix murmured, his voice barely audible. you could feel the weight of his words, like he was carrying the burden of something he couldn’t control.

you wrapped your arms around him. “the mom’s gonna come back,” you said softly, the words slipping out despite the lump in your throat. “and she won’t understand…” you bit your lip, trying to hold it together, but the lump in your throat felt too large to swallow down.

“i wish there was something more we could have done.” he exhaled slowly, like the air itself had become heavier. 

“let’s go back.” you said quietly, feeling that same heaviness in your chest that he did. felix’s hand found yours once again, his grip warm and steady as he led you back down from the roof.

the walk back to the house felt long and solemn, the world around you muted under the gray sky. there were no words exchanged, but there didn’t need to be. the silence between you was an understanding, a shared grief for something you both knew was beyond your control.

once inside, you both drifted toward the couch, where you sat side by side, close but not saying anything. felix sat a little farther from you than usual, his hands resting on his knees. but you could feel his presence, and that was enough. 

day 5 - 17:00

the kitchen was warm, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows. the smell of sizzling garlic and herbs mixed with the salty air, and the soft strumming of a guitar played from the speaker in the corner. you were focused on slicing the vegetables when felix sidled up beside you, leaning against the counter.

without shame, he snatched a piece of carrot off the cutting board, popping it into his mouth.

“felix,” you warned.

he just grinned, reaching for another piece. before you could stop him, he lifted a finger and gently booped your nose.

“ow,” you winced, pulling back. “it still hurts from earlier.”

his eyes widened. “oh—sorry, sorry!” his hands flew up like he’d just committed a crime, guilt flashing across his sun-kissed face.

you let out a small, pathetic whimper, holding your nose like it was broken.

felix blinked. then he narrowed his eyes. “wait—are you messing with me?”

you tried to keep a straight face, but when his suspicion deepened, your resolve crumbled, and you burst into laughter.

“oh my god,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “stop doing that! one day, i won’t believe you’re actually hurt, and i won’t show any compassion.” he pointed at you accusingly. “you’ve never heard of the boy who cried wolf?”

“it’s not my fault you choose to fall for it every time,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow as you started cutting the onions.

he scoffed, shaking his head. “well, obviously. you’re my girl, i care about you.”

you rolled your eyes at felix’s words, shaking your head as you focused back on the onions. but as soon as you sliced into another piece, the sting hit. it crept in slowly at first, then all at once—your eyes burned, your vision blurred, and before you knew it, tears welled up against your will.

felix gasped dramatically. “are you crying?” he clutched his chest, looking far too entertained. “was it that touching?”

you shot him a glare, blinking rapidly to fight the irritation. “no, you asshole, as if,” you snapped, voice slightly watery as you instinctively raised a hand to wipe at your eyes. and it happened to be the very hand you touched the onion with. before you could, felix’s reflexes kicked in, and he pushed your wrist out of the way just in time.

“oh my gosh, you dummy,” he muttered, exasperated but laughing as he reached for a tissue. carefully, he dabbed at the corners of your eyes, his touch gentle. “you know, i can take over,” he offered, nodding toward the cutting board.

you shook your head quickly. “no, no, it’s okay. i got this.”

felix raised an eyebrow as he finished dabbing your eyes and pulled back. “you sure?”

“i’m okay,” you insisted, blinking rapidly to clear the last of the sting.

he held his hands up in surrender. “alright, if you say so. i’m gonna go grab—” he paused for a second, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “oh! i need to get the—uh, the marinade from the garage! i knew i was forgetting something.” you hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on the onions. before leaving, felix reached out and pet your hair, “try not to cry too much while i’m gone.”

you swatted at his arm, rolling your eyes. “get out of here.”

felix chuckled as he made his way to the front door, stepping outside. the air was cooler now, the sun dipping lower on the horizon. he jogged across the driveway, pulling open the garage door, and grabbed the marinade from a shelf near the back. with a quick motion, he shut the garage door behind him and turned back toward the house—

then he saw it. 

the beach house across the street. the one he has been staring at for the entire summer, wishing a certain someone was there.

chris’s house.

and a car.

not just any car. chris’s car.

felix stopped in his tracks. his heart did a weird little flip, and for a second, he just stared, trying to make sense of it. no, no, it’s impossible. chris didn’t tell him he was coming up. he said he was too busy this year. it’s probably just his parents. yeah, that’s it.

but the thought nagged at him. the hope.

and before he could talk himself out of it, he spun around and bolted back inside.

“baby!” he called, practically sliding into the kitchen. “you are not gonna believe this.”

you looked up from the cutting board, startled by the urgency in his voice. “what? what happened?”

felix stood there, wide-eyed, gripping the marinade like he’d completely forgotten he was holding it. his chest rose and fell like he’d just sprinted, his sun-kissed face a mix of shock and disbelief. his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. instead, he gestured wildly toward the front door, his fingers twitching like his brain was moving faster than his mouth.

“the—the—the—” he stammered, his hands flailing as if they could physically drag the words out of him.

you set down the knife, narrowing your eyes. “felix, what?”

but instead of answering, he surged forward and grabbed your wrist. his palm was warm, slightly sweaty, and buzzing with something electric. “come!”

you barely had time to register before he was tugging you through the house, his grip firm but urgent. the kitchen disappeared behind you in a blur, the scent of onions and garlic fading as he pulled you through the hallway and toward the front door. his excitement was contagious, sending a thrill of anticipation racing up your spine.

“felix, what is going on?” you demanded, breathless as you stumbled after him.

“just—just look!” he practically threw open the front door, the warm night air hitting your skin as he pulled you outside. the sky was streaked with fading pinks and oranges, cicadas buzzing in the distance, the salty ocean breeze rustling through the palm trees.

you stood there for a second, completely lost. your eyes darted between felix’s face—alive with barely contained excitement—and the house across the street, but nothing about it seemed unusual. it was just a house.

“…okay?” you said slowly, glancing at him. “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

felix exhaled sharply, shaking his head like you were missing something massive. “remember when you first came? i showed you where chris’s house is?”

you nodded, still confused. “yeah?”

he pointed aggressively. “that one. chris’s house.”

you followed his gaze, staring at the familiar structure, still unsure what he was getting at. “okay… and?”

felix turned to you, eyes wide, and gestured again like you weren’t seeing the obvious. “there is a whole car there. chris’s car!” his voice pitched higher, his hands gripping your shoulders now like he needed to shake the realization into you. “chris didn’t say he was coming up! why is his car here?”

you were still trying to wrap your head around what was happening. “well, then go say hi,” you said with a shrug, a hint of teasing in your voice.

felix’s eyes flickered to the house across the street, his expression torn between confusion and frustration. “no, no, what the fuck?” he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further as he paced in a small circle. “he can’t just come without telling me! he’s not gonna show up like this and expect me to be all, like, welcoming and happy to see him after—ugh!”

his jaw clenched, his body tense as he turned his focus back to the car in the driveway. “you know what?” he muttered, shaking his head. “forget it. let’s just go back inside. i’m actually done here.”

you almost laughed at how furious he was. it was funny—and kind of adorable, in a way, how deeply this was getting under his skin. but at the same time, you could tell he wasn’t about to let this go anytime soon.

“felix, relax,” you said, trying to stifle your laughter as he threw an arm over your shoulders, practically dragging you back toward the front door. 

you were halfway through your meal, the plates piled high with the food you’d worked together to prepare. the light hum of the music in the background mixed with the occasional clink of utensils against plates, but something felt off. you glanced over at felix, who was sitting across from you, his fork hovering in midair as he stared at his food. his brows were furrowed in that familiar, deep thought expression, his gaze distant. you could practically see the gears turning in his mind, his mood clearly still rattled. 

“why do you think he wouldn’t tell me?” felix’s voice broke the silence, low and pensive. his question was almost like a challenge to himself, like he was searching for some kind of logical answer to the chaos in his head.

you paused, taking a breath as you set your fork down. “i don’t know,” you said softly, glancing at him. “maybe he wanted to surprise you?”

felix’s voice was tinged with dry humor, though it was clear he was still trying to work through the confusion. “well, he’s terrible at it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “cause i found out before he could even say anything.”

you couldn’t help it—you chuckled softly, the sound light against the tension in the room. it was amusing, really, how seriously felix was taking this, and how easily he’d figured it out despite chris’s attempt at a surprise.

“well,” you said, still smiling, “guess he’s not as sneaky as he thinks, huh?”

as you were about to respond, felix’s phone suddenly buzzed on the table, the vibration loud enough to catch both your attention. he glanced down at it, letting out a heavy sigh, then rolled his eyes dramatically. “of course,” he muttered, checking the screen with a look of exasperation.

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “who is it?”

felix held up the phone so you could see. chris flashed on the screen, making your smirk widen. “well, answer it then. looks like he’s finally ready to explain himself.”

felix hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen as he shot you a look. “fine,” he grumbled. “but if he thinks i’m going to just forgive him for this...”

with a dramatic sigh, he answered the call, tapping the phone to his ear and then switching it to speaker mode. “hi.” felix muttered.

chris’ voice cut him enthusiastically. “hey felix! how are you?”

felix wouldn't let his guard down. he needed to get straight to the point. “good, why are you calling?”

“i just wanted to let you know that my parents arrived at the beach house today. they’re planning on having you over today—they’d love to see you, especially your girlfriend. they’ve been asking about you guys.”

“dude, i saw the car. stop messing with—”

before felix could finish, chris’s voice came through, sounding surprisingly calm and apologetic. “oh yea, sorry about that,” chris cleared his throat to explain. “my parents drove up in my car since i’ve been using theirs to move into my dorm. it’s got more space for all my stuff, you know?” 

there was a brief pause, while felix blinked, his annoyance faltering as chris’s words sank in. “oh,” he said slowly, glancing over at you. “well... okay then.”

but even though he tried to mask it, you could see the shift in his expression—his shoulders sagged just a little, and his lips pressed together tighter than before. a moment of hope had flickered in his eyes, the thought that maybe, just maybe, chris had come to surprise him. but now that hope was gone, shattered, and you could practically feel the sharp sting of disappointment that he was trying so hard to push aside.

felix cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay even. “yeah, um,” he said, picking at the food on his plate. “we’re just finishing up dinner. we can swing by after.”

“sweet,” chris replied easily. “my parents will be thrilled to see you.”

felix hummed in response, but his usual enthusiasm was noticeably absent. you could see the way he pushed his food around, his appetite suddenly gone.

there was a brief pause before chris spoke again. “felix?”

“yeah?”

chris let out a breath, his tone softer now. “hey, i know it’s been a while, and maybe i should’ve called earlier. but just because things are changing doesn’t mean i don’t care, alright? i still got you. always.”

felix blinked, his gaze lowering to his plate. he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head slightly. “yeah, yeah. i know,” he muttered. felix toyed with the food on his plate for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “how’s moving?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

chris let out a dry chuckle on the other end. “hard,” he admitted. “so much packing, so much driving. feels like i’ve been living out of boxes for weeks.”

felix hummed in acknowledgment, nodding even though chris couldn’t see him. “bet your new place is a mess.”

“oh, it’s a disaster,” chris groaned. “my mom’s been on my case about organizing, but honestly, i don’t even know where half my stuff is. i think i lost my favorite hoodie in the process.”

felix let out a breath of laughter, but it was short-lived. he twirled his fork between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “guess it’s really happening, huh?”

chris was quiet for a second before answering. “yeah. it is.”

felix swallowed, nodding again. “right.”

without thinking, you reached out and took felix’s hand under the table, your fingers slipping between his. he exhaled softly at the touch, his grip instinctively tightening around yours. his thumb brushed over your knuckles, absentminded but grounding, like he needed something to hold onto.

chris, oblivious to the quiet moment between you two, let out a sigh on the other end. “alright, i gotta go,” he said, his voice lighter now. “but i’ll see you sometime, yeah? i’ll come visit in the winter.”

felix’s jaw clenched for just a second before he forced himself to relax. “yeah,” he said, his voice steady, but you could feel the slight squeeze of his hand around yours. “see you then.”

chris chuckled. “take care, man.” 

the call ended with a soft beep, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than before. felix didn’t move for a moment, just staring down at the table. you gave his hand a small squeeze, tilting your head slightly as you studied his face. “you okay?”

felix scoffed, shaking his head like you’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “am i okay? of course, i’m okay.”

you raised an eyebrow. “felix.”

“what?” he let go of your hand to pick at the food on his plate, stabbing at a piece of chicken like it had personally wronged him. “i mean, whatever. it’s not like i was expecting him to actually be here.”

you didn’t call him out on the way his voice tightened at the end, or how his shoulders were still drawn up just slightly, like he was trying to brace himself. instead, you nudged your knee against his under the table. “you know it’s okay to be disappointed, right?”

felix huffed, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. “not disappointed,” he said around the food, voice muffled. “just... whatever.”

you nodded, deciding to let it go for now. if felix wanted to keep pretending, you’d let him—for a little while, at least. the two of you ate in relative silence after that, the occasional clink of silverware filling the space where words should’ve been.

felix barely touched his food.

you noticed, of course, but you didn’t call him out on it. he was in his head, and he’d work through it in his own way.

the sun had dipped lower by the time you both left the house, the sky now a deep shade of blue with traces of orange clinging stubbornly to the horizon. the warm air carried the distant hum of cicadas, the pavement cooling beneath your footsteps as you followed felix across the street.

he hadn’t said much since dinner, and even now, as he walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, he was unusually quiet.

the two of you stood in front of chris’s door, the porch light casting a warm glow over the entryway. felix let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back like he was bracing for impact.

as you approached the front door, a sudden wave of nerves crept up on you. you glanced at felix, hesitating just before stepping onto the porch. “what do i even say?” you murmured, glancing up at him.

felix scoffed, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “they’re literally the nicest people on earth,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “just be you, and they’ll love it.”

you nodded, swallowing your nerves as felix reached out and pressed the doorbell. almost instantly, the sound of high-pitched barking rang out from inside. felix’s lips curled into a small smile. footsteps approached the door, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal chris’s mom stood in the doorway, radiant in the golden glow of the porch light. she was beautiful in a timeless way, with soft, kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and rich, dark hair that framed her face in effortless waves. at her feet, a small cocker spaniel bounced excitedly, its tail wagging furiously.

“oh, hello, felix!” she greeted, her voice full of warmth.

“hi!” felix grinned before looking down at the dog. “and hi, berry,” he cooed, crouching slightly as the dog immediately leaped at him, little paws scratching at his legs.

you stepped forward with a polite smile. “it’s really nice to meet you.”

chris’s mom turned her attention to you, her smile widening. “so you’re the one felix has been telling chris about,” she said warmly, stepping aside to let you both in. “it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

berry was still jumping excitedly at felix’s legs, tiny paws scratching at his sweats as he wiggled his tail. felix reached down to ruffle the dog’s ears, laughing when berry tried to clamber up his leg. “still the same little menace, huh?”

as you stepped further inside, the warmth of the house embraced you, carrying the familiar scents of home-cooked food and something faintly floral—maybe a candle burning somewhere nearby. the living room was cozy, filled with framed pictures of chris and his family, soft, well-loved couches, and the kind of atmosphere that made it feel like home.

before you could fully take it in, a deep voice called from further inside.

“there he is! about time you came to visit, felix.”

you turned just in time to see chris’s dad, jack, approaching with a broad grin. he was a tall, sturdy man with a slightly weathered face, exuding the same easy warmth as his wife.

felix grinned as he stepped forward, meeting him with a firm hug. “hey, jack.”

jack clapped him on the back before pulling away, his sharp eyes shifting toward you. “and this must be the girl i’ve been hearing about.”

you smiled, shaking his hand. “nice to meet you.”

jack smirked. “how are you holding up with this one?”

without missing a beat, you deadpanned, “oh, he’s the worst.”

jack let out a loud laugh, while felix shot you an unimpressed look. “wow. betrayed immediately.”

“hey, i like her,” jack said approvingly.

felix rolled his eyes but tugged you toward the couch anyway. he plopped down, stretching an arm over the backrest behind you while chris’s mom sat across from you. the small cocker spaniel, berry, had finally calmed down, settling at felix’s feet.

felix leaned back with a sigh, shaking his head. “you know, i really got fooled by that car for a second,” he admitted, almost laughing at himself. “for a second, i thought chris was actually gonna be here.”

chris’s parents nodded along, but in the corner of your eye, something shifted.

a figure stood near the entrance to the hallway, moving so silently you almost didn’t notice.

your breath caught slightly, but you forced yourself to stay still. the man was wearing a black t-shirt, arms crossed, posture relaxed yet intentional. he was handsome, a bit buff, and even though you’d never met him before, you knew exactly who he was. he lifted a finger up to his lips when he saw you looking at him.

chris.

he looked exactly like the pictures felix had shown you—sharp-eyed, charming, with that same knowing smirk.

your stomach flipped, but you schooled your expression, keeping your focus on felix, who was still oblivious.

then, from behind you, a voice broke through the air.

“you really think i’d leave my precious car out of my sight?”

felix stopped mid-sentence.

visibly froze.

for a second, he didn’t move. just sat there, processing.

then, slowly—like he was almost afraid to believe what he just heard—he turned his head. 

chris stood there, leaning casually against the doorway with a smug grin, arms crossed over his chest. his eyes gleamed with mischief as he took in felix’s stunned expression. felix blinked once. twice. his brain seemed to short-circuit as he processed what was happening. “what the—”

chris barely had time to react before felix shot up from the couch. “you absolute asshole,” he breathed, staring at his friend like he was seeing a ghost. “you—are you kidding me right now?!”

chris burst into laughter, stepping forward just as felix launched himself at him. the hug was aggressive—felix practically slammed into him, shoving him back a step before gripping his shoulders tightly. “you—” felix’s voice cracked, and he pushed chris again, shaking his head in disbelief. “you fucking lied.” felix’s grip tightened before he pulled him in again, hugging him even harder this time. “you suck,” he muttered into chris’s shoulder, voice slightly muffled.

chris patted his back, clearly enjoying every second of this. “missed you too, man.”

you watched, a slow smile spreading across your face. felix had gone through every emotion in the span of five minutes, but the way he held onto chris—like he couldn’t quite believe he was real—made your chest ache.

chris pulled back just enough to look at felix, his grin stretching wide. “damn, i really got you, huh?”

felix scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “you’re such an ass.” he shook his head, exhaling sharply, like he was still processing everything. 

chris laughed again before shifting his gaze to you, his eyes lighting up. “oh my goodness,” he said dramatically, stepping around felix and throwing his arms out like he was seeing a celebrity. “it is so nice to finally meet you.” chris stepped back but kept his hands on your shoulders as he grinned down at you. “felix has told me so much about you,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

chris had pulled you into a quick hug, his enthusiasm overwhelming which you returned. “oh trust me, me too. you know, you’re kind of a big deal.” you joked.

chris raised an eyebrow, glancing at felix with a smirk. “oh, really?” without warning, he reached out and ruffled felix’s hair, messing it up completely. felix let out a squawk, immediately ducking away and swatting at his hand as he groaned, smoothing his hair down with both hands. 

chris just laughed, clearly pleased with himself. before felix could retaliate, chris’s parents stepped into the room. “we’ll go get things from the kitchen,” his mom said, exchanging a look with his dad.

felix stared at chris for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “wait, so what are you doing here? i mean, aren’t you, like, hella busy?”

chris shrugged easily. “i have some time before school starts, you know? figured i’d come see you guys.”

felix blinked. “but i thought you were still settling in—”

“yeah, i got that done already,” chris said, stretching his arms over his head. “took a lot shorter than i expected.”

felix stared at chris, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was still processing what was happening. “wow. what the hell.”

chris just laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “surprised?”

felix scoffed. “yeah, no shit. you made it sound like you were too busy to even think about visiting.”

chris shrugged. “i like to keep things interesting.” then, as if remembering something, he turned to you, his expression brightening. “so, is this place any different from sydney?”

you exhaled, looking around for a moment before shaking your head with a grin. “very much so.”

chris chuckled, nodding in agreement. “yeah, the beach is unreal.” he tilted his head slightly. “what have you guys been up to lately?”

felix groaned immediately, rubbing his face. “oh, dude. did you guys get caught in that storm today on your way up?”

chris made a face. “yeah, it was horrendous.”

felix snorted. “yeah? well, we went surfing in it.”

chris’s head snapped toward him. “you idiots.”

you laughed, raising a hand. “in our defense, we didn’t know it was gonna get that bad.” then, shaking your head, you sighed. “i might be traumatized, though. i wiped out so hard, and my board came right back and smacked me in the face. i almost passed out.”

chris hissed through his teeth, wincing. “that sounds brutal.”

felix let out a heavy breath, crossing his arms. “oh my goodness, i was freaking out so much. i saw her bleeding—” he cut himself off, shaking his head, like the memory was still too fresh. “i swear my heart stopped for a second.”

chris raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “you guys are cute, you know that?” he said, clearly enjoying the playful dynamic between you and felix.

felix groaned, rubbing his face in mock embarrassment. “oh, god. please, no.” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow.

just as chris was about to say something else, his mom stepped into the room, carrying a tray of snacks. “alright, who’s ready for something to eat?”

her husband followed behind, holding a pitcher of lemonade. “we brought the good stuff,” he said with a smile, setting the drinks down on the coffee table.

“perfect,” chris said with a grin, moving to sit on one of the chairs as his parents placed the snacks down on the table.

day 5 - 22:00

it was around 10 p.m. when you decided to step back, letting felix and chris have their chance to catch up without you. you didn’t mind. you could tell they had a lot to talk about, and you were more than happy to give them the space to do so. the night air had cooled down, the sky darkened, and the faint glow of streetlights cast long shadows along the sidewalk as they started their walk.

you stood back, leaning against felix’s front door as they walked away, watching the two of them in the dim light. it was nice, knowing that they were reconnecting like this. you’d never been one to cling to every moment, and tonight, it felt right to let them share some space.

the sounds of their footsteps and occasional laughter drifted over to you, but eventually, they faded as they walked further down the street, making their way to the familiar spot where you and felix had shared a bonfire just days ago. you couldn’t help but smile a little as you imagined the conversations they were having.

“you think anyone's gonna be at the bonfire tonight?” felix asked, his voice carrying easily in the cool night air as they walked along the street. he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his breath fogging in front of him in the chilly night air.

“not sure,” chris said, glancing around. “but if not, i’m cool with just talking, man. it’s been way too long.”

felix smiled, his expression softening. “yeah, it’s been forever.”

the two of them walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sound being the faint rush of the ocean waves in the distance. felix glanced at chris, his face lighting up with a playful grin as the conversation shifted gears.

“so, did you make it to jenny and jake’s birthday party the other day?” chris asked.

felix nodded, letting out a slight groan. “yeah, i went. it was... interesting, to say the least.”

chris raised an eyebrow, curious. “interesting how?”

felix paused, letting the silence hang in the air before breaking it with a casual but telling, “we, uh... we hooked up.”

chris’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he stopped walking for a second, staring at felix like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing. “what the fuck, man. you and jenny?” he blurted.

felix’s eyes widened in horror, quickly waving his hands to clarify. “no, no, no, not jenny,” he said, his voice getting a little frantic. “i meant—god, no. i meant y/n.”

chris blinked at him for a beat, the confusion on his face only deepening. “your girlfriend?” he laughed nervously, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the whole situation. “okay, man, you gotta be clearer next time. i thought you were talking about the twins—now that would’ve been wild.”

felix let out an exasperated sigh, a mix of relief and embarrassment crossing his face. “i’m sorry, man, i didn’t mean it like that.” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “i meant my girlfriend. we... we hooked up at the party.”

chris let out a nervous laugh, still trying to process what felix had just said. “but what else would you be doing all week? holding hands and playing at the beach?” he nudged felix’s shoulder, expecting him to join in on the joke.

felix, however, stayed silent, his expression more serious than chris was expecting. his gaze locked onto chris for a moment, and chris’s playful grin faltered as the realization hit him. felix’s eyes were intense, almost guarded, like he was holding something back.

chris’s smile slowly faded, his expression turning more cautious as he finally got it. “oh.” he said bluntly, his tone shifting.

felix nodded, his voice quiet when he spoke. “yeah.” it was a simple answer, but it hung in the air with a weight that made the conversation feel heavier than it had moments ago.

chris’s eyes widened a little, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “wait, you... you haven’t...?”

felix shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “no. not yet. just… we’ve been taking it slow.”

chris paused, processing that for a moment before he gave felix a thoughtful look. “damn, man. i didn’t realize it was like that. you know, i thought you two were... well, really close by now.”

felix let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t entirely light. “we are close. it’s just… important to me, you know?”

chris gave him a knowing look, a slight smirk creeping back onto his face. “i got you, man. taking it slow... doesn’t mean you’re not thinking about it, right?”

felix’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the quiet smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “shut up.”

chris raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning a little more teasing as he shot a quick glance at felix. “have you guys talked about it yet?” he asked, the curiosity evident in his voice.

felix’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “yeah... last night.” his voice was quieter now, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should even be saying this out loud.

chris nodded, his smile softening. “that’s great, man. i’m glad you two are communicating.” he gave felix a curious look. “but what’s holding you guys back, though? it seems like you’re both into it.”

felix let out a deep breath, his expression faltering as he thought about his words. he shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck again, clearly uncomfortable with the vulnerability of the conversation. “i don’t know… i just— it feels wrong, you know? we’ve only been exclusive for like a few months and…” he looked at chris, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “i haven’t even told her how i feel about her, like—really told her. it just doesn’t feel right rushing into anything.”

chris’s gaze softened, and he gave felix a serious look. "you haven’t told her you love her yet, felix?" he repeated, his tone quieter now, like he was trying to understand the hesitation.

felix exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before muttering, “well… i did.”

“when?”

felix let out a humorless chuckle. “the other night, when i was a little drunk, i told her.” he shook his head, as if embarrassed just thinking about it. “i don’t even remember how it came out, but i know i said it. and she—” he hesitated, his jaw tightening.

chris leaned forward slightly, watching him closely. “what did she say?”

felix sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “she told me to talk about it when i was sober.” his voice was quieter now, laced with something almost regretful. “and then from that moment on, i just… pretended like i didn’t remember anything.”

chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “felix.”

felix let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, i know. it was an asshole move.” he exhaled sharply, staring at the ground as he kicked a loose rock down the path. “i mean… i’ve been thinking about it so much, but every time i want to say it, i just—” he cut himself off, his jaw tightening. “i just can’t get it out. ”

chris was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable as he hesitated. he looked like he was debating whether or not to say something, his lips parting before he finally spoke. “do you think it might have something to do with… mabel?”

felix’s entire body stiffened at the name. his head snapped toward chris, eyes narrowing slightly—not in anger, but in something uncertain, something guarded. he didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stared at chris, his grip tightening in his pockets.

chris exhaled, nodding like he’d expected that answer. “you’ve told y/n about her, right?”

“yeah,” felix said quickly, before glancing away. “just… maybe not the specifics.”

chris held his gaze, watching him carefully. “i mean,” he continued, his voice gentler now, “it makes sense, doesn’t it?”

felix swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he turned his eyes back to the path ahead. “i don’t know,” he said, but there was a weight behind it, like he wasn’t sure if he was lying to himself.

chris didn’t back down, watching felix carefully. “i mean, think about it,” he said, his voice measured. “you and mabel—”

felix flinched. it was subtle, just the faintest tension in his shoulders, but chris caught it. he caught the way felix’s fingers curled slightly, the way his jaw locked for just a second before he spoke.

“can we just…” felix exhaled, forcing a short, awkward chuckle. “can we keep her name out of this conversation?” his voice was lighter, but there was something tight behind it, like he was holding something back. “i don’t wanna talk about her.”

chris immediately backed off, nodding. “yeah. sorry.”

felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “it’s not— i don’t feel anything for her anymore,” he clarified, shaking his head. “it’s not about that.”

“yeah, i understand. but, you know… just keep it in the back of your head. sometimes things stick with you more than you realize.”

felix let out a slow breath, staring ahead at the flickering glow of the bonfire pit in the distance. he knew chris was right. he just wasn’t sure if he was ready to face what that meant.

because if he admitted it—if he said that maybe, just maybe, what happened with mabel still had some kind of hold on him—then what did that mean? that he hadn’t gotten over her?

no. that wasn’t true. he knew that wasn’t true.

he’d be terrible not to, especially when the girl for him was you. it had been you from the moment he really let himself see it. mabel wasn’t in his life anymore. he never thought about her, never missed her, never wished for anything they had. he didn’t care.

and yet, every time her name came up, every time someone even hinted at what happened, there was pain in his chest.

like a ghost of something he’d already buried.

felix exhaled, forcing the thought away. he didn’t want to talk about her. he didn’t even want to think about her.

chris seized the opportunity to change the subject, clapping felix on the back lightly. “well,” he said, his tone shifting back to something more casual, “looks like we’re here.”

the distant crackle of the bonfire grew louder as they approached, accompanied by the hum of conversation and the strumming of a guitar. the music, slightly muffled by the night breeze, carried over to them, breaking through the tense silence that had settled between them.

felix’s lips curled into a small smile as they stepped onto the sand, the bonfire’s glow illuminating their faces. the crowd was smaller than when you and felix had come, but there were still plenty of people lounging on the logs, talking in clusters, and swaying to the music. some familiar faces turned toward them, offering nods or waves of recognition.

felix glanced at chris, then smiled to himself. “three…” he murmured under his breath.

chris frowned, tilting his head. “what are you doing?” he asked, chuckling in confusion.

felix didn’t answer, eyes scanning the group ahead. “two…”

chris narrowed his eyes, a laugh bubbling up. “felix, what—”

“and one.”

before he could question felix further, a voice cut through the music.

“oh my god, chris?”

a girl appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her eyes lighting up as she made a beeline for him. her voice dripped with excitement, and felix barely contained his grin as he watched chris’s reaction unfold.

felix, grinning shamelessly, leaned over just enough to murmur, “called it.”

chris barely had time to react before she was in front of him, flashing a bright smile. “i can’t believe you’re here,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “you look even better than i remembered.”

his lips curled into an amused smirk, eyes flicking over her face with that teasing glint. “better than you remembered?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “i mean, i’ll take the compliment, but now i have to wonder—exactly how bad was my competition?”

she laughed, rolling her eyes. “please. you know you weren’t competing with anyone.”

chris hummed, dragging his gaze away for just a second before looking back at her. “that so?” he mused. “good to know.” his tone was light, casual—but the way his words lingered, the way his eyes moved just a little slower, made it impossible to ignore the charge in the air.

felix barely contained his laughter, watching the exchange unfold. “i should start betting on this kind of thing,” he muttered under his breath, but neither of them heard him. 

chris chuckled softly, his smile still lingering, but he gave the girl a polite nod. “i’ll catch up with you later, yeah? it’s been a while, so i’ve got to make my rounds and say hi to everyone.”

she grinned, clearly not bothered by his subtle exit, and leaned in just a little closer, her hand brushing against his arm as she spoke. “of course, bang chan,” she said, his korean name slipping off her tongue in a teasing, flirty way. her fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, the touch almost electric.

“it won't take long.” chris promised, a light laugh escaping him as he backed off slightly before the girl left. 

felix, still standing off to the side with an amused look on his face, couldn’t resist. “you’ve always had a way of doing that,” he commented, nudging chris with his elbow.

chris smirked, shaking his head. “well, i don’t know about that.” he glanced at felix, amusement flickering in his eyes. “you’re the one in the committed relationship, my guy.”

felix rolled his eyes, shaking his head but laughing nonetheless. “you’re not wrong,” he said. he leaned in, mimicking the girl’s earlier tone in a teasing voice, “bang chan.”

“shut up, lee yongbok,” he said, a playful edge to his voice, knowing full well it was a name felix hated being called.

felix froze for a second, his eyes widening as he scowled. “hey!” he smacked chris in the back of his head, but only half-seriously. “that’s crossing the line, man.”

felix couldn’t help but smile as he looked at chris. his best friend was back, and for now, that was enough. and it all felt good.

day 5 - 23:59

you could feel every inch of it, the wetness of the waves wrapping around you, soaking through the thin fabric of your clothes. your arms were heavy, each stroke harder than the last as you paddled out, your movements frantic but sluggish. the water felt wrong, its temperature sinking deep into your bones, each pull more exhausting than the one before.

you looked around, your breath hitching, but the view was nothing but endless dark water. no shore in sight. no land. just the vast ocean stretching on forever, swallowing you whole. the silence of it, broken only by the distant roar of the storm above, was deafening. the air was thick with pressure, and your chest felt tight as the clouds above swirled ominously, dark and brooding.

you glanced down at the water, and that’s when you saw it—first just a strange shift in color, and then it was clear. the water was no longer blue, but red. the deep crimson color spread out around you like the ocean itself had been transformed into blood. it felt wrong, as if the very world around you had turned against you. the water, once so familiar, now felt foreign, alien. you shivered as the sickening sight of it pulled at your stomach, a growing sense of unease crawling over your skin.

then, a ripple broke the surface of the water, followed by a wave. not a typical wave, but something far larger—an immense, towering thing that seemed to reach toward the heavens. the scale of it was terrifying. it moved slowly at first, but you could feel the pull of it, drawing closer with every second. your heart pounded as panic set in. you tried to paddle away, but it was hopeless. the wave was too big, too fast.

your body moved without thinking, your breath ragged and shallow as you fought against the current, paddling furiously as the water seemed to push back with every stroke. the fear settled deep into your chest, a cold knot that tightened with every passing moment. you knew it was coming, the giant wave, and you knew you couldn’t escape it. the storm above raged louder now, the thunder crashing like a warning.

the wave loomed closer, its massive shape blocking out the sky above. it felt like it would swallow you whole, and you couldn’t escape. there was no way out.

and then, with a deafening roar, the wave crashed over you. the world was swallowed in darkness, the cold water engulfing you completely. it was as if the ocean itself had turned on you, and the weight of it pressed down with crushing force.

your body jerked up in bed, a strangled gasp escaping your lips as your chest heaved with panic. sweat slicked your skin, and your heart raced, every muscle tense and trembling from the aftershock of the dream. 

the darkness of the room slowly started to take shape as you tried to catch your breath. your heart pounded in your chest, but gradually, as the room came into focus, you recognized the familiar surroundings—the pale blue walls, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. the gentle rustling of the wind outside reminded you that you were still in the beach house, the comforting warmth of the room in stark contrast to the cold, oppressive weight of the dream.

the incident earlier that day had a grasp on you, wrapping its tendrils around your thoughts.

taking a shaky breath, you closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. but as soon as your eyelids fluttered shut, the nightmare flashed before your mind’s eye once more. the red water, the massive wave—everything came rushing back like a tide, threatening to pull you under once again. the fear surged within you, choking you, and your heart leaped into your throat.

you shot your eyes open again. you couldn’t do it. you couldn’t fall asleep again, not when you knew that the nightmare would be waiting, lurking in the dark corners of your mind, ready to drag you back into its depths.

rolling over onto your side, you stared at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, but sleep seemed so far away now. and with every second, the memories of the nightmare seemed to tighten their grip on you, keeping you wide awake.

you closed your eyes briefly, hoping to find some comfort in the dark, but every time you did, the nightmare flashed back into your mind, sharp and unsettling. you pulled the blanket up higher, trying to shield yourself from the thoughts, but it didn’t help. nothing felt right.

then, a sudden creak broke the silence.

your body tensed instantly, your eyes snapping wide open. the front door—just beyond the hallway—shifted in its frame with a soft noise. it wasn’t loud, but it was enough to stir a primal sense of unease in your gut. the sound was faint but familiar—the soft shuffle of footsteps in the hall. your heart skipped a beat as you realized it was felix.

you slowly pulled the blanket over your legs, trying to calm your nerves. the night still felt heavy, but you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet meeting the soft, plush carpet beneath you. slipping into your fluffy slippers, you took a steadying breath before standing, moving toward the door.

you could hear felix moving in his room, the sound of him adjusting things, probably getting ready for bed. but you weren’t ready for sleep—not with the feeling of the nightmare still lingering, clawing at your chest.

for a moment, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the door handle. should you go to him? you knew it was late, and you didn’t want to worry him, but you were in a bad state right now, and maybe... maybe being close to him would help you feel safe again.

you exhaled quietly, then pushed the door open, walking across the hallway to felix's room. the lights were on, and the brightness made you squint, your eyes adjusting to the sudden shift in light. felix was standing by his bedside, plugging his phone into the charger, his back turned to you.

once he heard your footsteps, he turned around almost instantly. felix’s eyes softened as he noticed the way you were standing in the doorway. his expression immediately shifted to one of gentle concern, his voice quiet as he said, “baby, i thought you’d be asleep by now.”

you didn’t respond right away, not sure how to explain the weight of the nightmare, the unease that still lingered. felix noticed your hesitation and immediately walked over to you, his movements smooth and careful. as he got closer, his eyes searched for yours, and the worry in his gaze deepened. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

you inhaled deeply, your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath as the fear still clung to you, making it harder to speak. felix’s hand gently rested on your arm, the touch light but grounding, as if he was trying to remind you that you weren’t alone in this moment. his eyes softened, and he waited for you to find the words, not pushing, just quietly offering support.

“i’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible, but the vulnerability in it was clear.

felix’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze filled with concern as he leaned in a little closer. “scared of what?” his voice was a soothing whisper, coaxing you to open up but still giving you space to process.

you swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. the nightmare felt like it had a hold on you—like the fear from it still clung to your mind, refusing to let go. it wasn’t just the dream itself, but the overwhelming feeling of being lost, alone, and helpless in the water. the dread that had flooded through you felt like it was seeping into every part of your body, even now, even with felix standing in front of you.

“i had a nightmare,” you admitted softly, feeling the weight of the words as they left your lips. it felt almost silly, but it was the truth. the dream had felt so real, the fear, the panic—it was hard to shake off.

felix gently squeezed your arm, his thumb moving in small circles as he listened to you. his eyes softened as he took in your words, his heart aching at how much distress you were in. he could feel the tension in your body, the way your breath was still a little shaky as you spoke.

felix's thumb gently stroked the inside of your arm, a steady, calming motion that sent warmth through you, though your heart still raced in a panic. he looked at you with concern in his eyes, his voice soft and reassuring. “what was it?”

you hesitated for a moment, your mind racing, but you needed to get it out. you took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself enough to explain the nightmare, but your words kept tumbling out in a rush, the panic seeping through. “it… it was like, i was in the water. but it felt like everything was wrong. the ocean was… different. it was freezing, and then it turned red. like blood. and there was this huge wave. just… huge. like the one in that movie we saw together…” you trailed off, trying to remember it.

“interstellar.” felix filled in.

“like the waves in interstellar.” you nodded and carried on. “i was stuck, and i knew it was going to crush me, and i couldn’t do anything.”

you took a shaky breath, feeling your heart race again as you relived the moments from the dream. the panic in your chest grew, and you tried to calm it, but it was like it was spreading, wrapping around your throat.

“i think it has to do with this morning,” you added, your voice growing frantic as you tried to piece together what was happening. “the wipeout. i… i was so scared when i hit the water, and then my board came back at me, and it… it almost knocked me out. and now it’s like i can’t escape it. the waves, the storm. it all feels so real, and i don’t know how to make it stop.”

your voice caught in your throat, and before you could stop it, you were shaking your head, your hands tightening at your sides. “i know it’s stupid,” you muttered, feeling like you were making a bigger deal out of this than it was. “i shouldn’t have come to your room. it’s just a nightmare.”

felix’s heart ached seeing you like this. he stepped closer to you, his hand gently stroking your arm, trying to soothe the panic that had taken over. “hey, hey,” he whispered softly, his voice steady and full of warmth. “you’re not bothering me, baby. you can always come to me. i want you to.”

he stepped even closer, his body offering warmth and comfort as he pulled you into a soft, reassuring hug. his hand moved to the back of your head, gently running his fingers through your hair as he whispered, “and it’s not stupid, okay? what you’re feeling is real.” he paused, running his hand up and down your arm as if to soothe you, trying to calm the panic that still lingered in your chest. “can i tell you a secret?” he asked with the softest voice possible while he guided down to sit on his bed, the one he always made neatly every morning..

you nodded, looking up at him, searching his eyes for comfort. the sincerity in his gaze made you feel a little safer, even in the midst of your panic.

felix gave a small, almost embarrassed smile, his voice soft as he began. “even when i was 13, whenever i had a nightmare, i would still go to my parents' room. you know what they’d do?”

you shook your head, not entirely sure what he meant, but listening intently.

“my dad,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “he’d tell me to get their bed and then they’d stay with me to talk about it until i fell asleep.”

a laugh bubbled out of you despite yourself, the image of young felix sneaking into his parents' room bringing a lightness to your chest. “that’s cute,” you said, trying to smile, though the remnants of the nightmare still clung to you.

felix's smile deepened at the sound of your laugh, his tone lightening. “so, i’ll tell you what, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? i’m gonna go wash up real quick, but in the meantime you can wait for me in bed. is that okay?”

you nodded, feeling a small sense of relief settle over you just at the thought of him being there, taking care of you. “yes,” you murmured, your voice still quiet but softer than before.

felix smiled softly, his hand still resting on your arm as you both stood up. “come on,” he said gently. his movements were careful and deliberate, as if he was trying to make the space as comfortable as possible for you. he pulled the duvet off the bed, giving it a quick shake before walking back toward you.

without saying a word, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, a soft, affectionate gesture that made your chest feel a little lighter. “i’ll be quick,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

you nodded and gave him a small smile, though you couldn’t help but feel comforted by the gesture. as he made his way to the bathroom, he turned the lights off on his way out, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window.

the sudden quiet was almost surreal. you moved down in the bed, curling up under the warm duvet. you pulled it close around you, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. the bed smelled like him—like the faint scent of his cologne, like warmth, like safety—and it was as if the world outside the room ceased to exist for a moment.

you leaned your head back into the pillow, your body melting into the softness as you closed your eyes, feeling the last remnants of tension from the nightmare slip away. the rhythmic sound of your breathing slowly became steadier, and the night seemed less intimidating with him so near, even if he wasn’t physically in the room.

it felt like time passed in the blink of an eye. your mind wandered in that dreamlike state, the world shifting gently as you teetered on the edge of sleep. everything felt so much easier now. the warmth of the bed, the sense of calm that only felix could bring—you could almost forget the nightmare, the fear, and just let yourself drift away.

you stirred awake again, the softness of the bed and the warmth surrounding you pulling you from your dreams. as your eyes blinked open, the first thing you saw was felix, his shirtless figure silhouetted against the dim light. his features were soft, and he had a gentle smile on his face as he watched you, his presence filling the space around you.

he moved closer, his body warmth radiating toward you. his eyes searched yours for a moment, a trace of concern in them as he asked, "are you okay with this?" his voice was soft, like he didn’t want to pressure you but wanted to make sure you felt comfortable.

you smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle in your chest just at the sight of him. "more than ever," you replied, your voice barely a whisper but full of warmth.

felix slid an arm beneath you with effortless ease, his movements gentle but sure, as if he had done this a thousand times before. his other arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in close until your body was pressed snugly against his chest. his warmth enveloped you instantly, a quiet reassurance against the lingering remnants of fear.

you felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the slow, rhythmic pattern grounding you in the moment. his scent—clean, familiar, tinged with the faintest hint of the ocean breeze—wrapped around you just as securely as his embrace. the soft fabric of his hoodie brushed against your cheek, and beneath it, the steady drum of his heartbeat thrummed against your skin.

felix shifted slightly, adjusting until you were tucked perfectly beneath his chin, your head nestled into the crook of his neck. his cheek rested against your temple, his breath warm as it fanned over your hair. one of his hands settled against your back, his fingers splayed lightly as if to shield you from the weight of the nightmare that still clung to your mind. the other draped over your arm, his thumb moving in slow, comforting circles against your skin.

his hold was protective but never constraining—just solid, just safe. his entire body seemed to curve around yours, sheltering you from anything that might still linger in the corners of your mind. the world outside ceased to exist in that moment. no crashing waves, no blood-red water, no looming shadows—just felix, warm and steady, anchoring you to reality.

felix didn’t hesitate. he slid an arm beneath you with effortless ease, his movements smooth and sure, as if it were second nature to him. his other arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you in until your body was flush against his bare chest. the contrast between the cool air and the warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine, but felix was quick to notice, pulling the blanket up around you both like a protective cocoon.

the heat of his body seeped into yours instantly, his skin warm and soft against your cheek. you could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingertips, strong and soothing, grounding you as the remnants of your nightmare slowly unraveled. his scent—fresh, familiar, tinged with salt and something uniquely him—wrapped around you just as securely as his embrace.

felix shifted slightly, adjusting you until your head fit perfectly beneath his chin, your face tucked against the curve of his shoulder. his cheek pressed lightly against your hair, his breath warm as it fanned over your forehead. one of his hands rested against the small of your back, his fingers splayed lightly, while the other draped protectively over your arm, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin.

felix let out a slow breath, his chin resting lightly against your hair as he listened to the quiet sound of your breathing. it had evened out now, softer, steadier, no longer carrying the weight of panic. that alone made something in his chest tighten—relief.

he tilted his head slightly, just enough to look down at you. the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the window, casting faint silver highlights across your face. your features were relaxed now, peaceful, your lashes resting gently against your cheeks. the sight of you—so close, so completely at ease in his arms—made warmth flood through his entire body, spreading from his chest to the very tips of his fingers.

god, he loved you.

the thought hit him with quiet certainty, like a wave rolling in, steady and unstoppable. it wasn’t sudden. no, it had been there for a long time, buried beneath fleeting glances, quiet moments, and every touch that lingered just a little too long. but now, holding you like this, feeling the way you melted into him, trusting him even in your most vulnerable state—there was no denying it.

he loved you.

and it terrified him.

because if he told you—if he let the words slip past his lips—what would it change? would you look at him the same way, or would you pull away? would the comfort you found in his arms disappear, replaced by the weight of something unsaid, something too heavy to bear?

his grip on you instinctively tightened, just slightly, as if he could keep this moment frozen in time, untouched by the risk of words unspoken. felix let out a quiet sigh, tilting his head to press the softest of kisses against your temple.

for now, he would keep it to himself.

for now, he would let you sleep, safe and warm in his arms, and he would hold onto this moment for as long as you let him.