#felix x reader

[hanniebaeee]

Delicate

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: suggestive MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Summary: Felix isn't talking to you. It's Day 3, and you've had it. So you do what's necessary to get your bratty boyfriend back in order, and it is chaotic to say the least.

a/n: Short, but trying so hard to run from the writer's block lurking in the corner 😭

Never in your life did you think you'd be doing something like this. Never. 

It was 2:15 am on day three of Felix’s silent treatment, and you were scaling the wall of the rickety old Victorian building like a lovesick ninja.

The things you do for love - or, more accurately, for your sulky little shit of a boyfriend, who was probably scowling at his phone right then.

The fight was stupid to begin with. Something about you laughing (too hard, according to Felix) at Changbin’s dumb joke about beating Felix repeatedly in a ‘Tekken tournament’. And Felix took this way too personally.

He was especially sensitive about his gaming skills being questioned. And now he has shut you out, ignoring your texts and calls (and cute puppy videos as well).

You had tried everything - apologies, flirty voicemails, even slipping a handwritten love note under his door. But nothing. He didn't even look at you, but that tiny delicate pout on his lips? Oh you'd notice it from anywhere. 

Seeing you try so hard, Chris, the frat’s resident dad/Zen master, cornered you after day one, his voice all soft and diplomatic as he said, “Give him a day or two, yeah? Lix is just...in his feels.”

Ok, so, you respected that. The next two days. You did that.

Now at day three, and you were done waiting - hence the climbing. The window on the second-floor landing was your ticket in (because you knew the boys left it unlocked all the time). You were halfway there, your ladder not half as long as you thought it would be. So you were cursing the ivy you were clinging on - it was definitely not as sturdy as it looked in movies. You were one slip away from becoming a campus legend for all the wrong reasons, at this point. 

Your fingers gripped the ledge, and you were hauling yourself up when, *BAM* - the window flew open (nearly taking your head with it), and Hyunjin’s head popped out like a damn jack-in-the-box.

"Hyunjin!!" You hissed, and he yelped, flailing so hard he nearly toppled out himself. 

“What the fuck?!” he hissed back, clutching his chest like you’d given him a heart attack.

“Shh!!” you snapped, clinging to the sill for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole house, you idiot!”

“I’m the idiot? You’re the one playing mission impossible on our wall!” Hyunjin whisper-yelled, eyes wide, his hair a messy halo from whatever he was doing at this hour. “What are you doing?”

“Getting to Felix, obviously,” you said matter-of-factly. “Now help me in before I fall and die.”

Hyunjin smirked, because of course he does.

“Say ‘pretty please’ first.”

“I will shove you down the stairs,” you growled, but he was already grabbing your arms, yanking you through the window with surprising strength.

But momentum betrayed you both, and you crashed onto the hardwood floor -  you were sprawled on top of him in a tangle of limbs. Your knee was in his ribs, his hands on your ass, and your chest to his face. And he had the audacity to grin like this was  the best thing that has happened to him all week.

“Well, hello there,” he purred, voice dripping with that flirty gremlin energy he was infamous for. “If you wanted to climb me, you could’ve just knocked, I'm generous.”

You shove off him so fast, it made you dizzy.

“Get your horny paws off me, Hwang.” You said, scrambling to your feet.

You adjusted your hoodie, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on you. “Where’s my boyfriend?”

Hyunjin propped himself up on his elbows, still chuckling.

“Your boyfriend’s in his room, sulking like a kicked puppy.” he said, slowly rising to his feet, towering over you (and daring to take a step closer) with a grin. 

You rolled your eyes, shoving past him as he called after you, “My offer stands!”

You turned around, batting your eyelashes at him, and said, “I'll remember that, Hyunjinnie!”

And he laughed as you creeped down the dimly lit hallway. The frat house was a maze of creaky floors and hallways, but you knew Felix’s room like the back of your hand. You saw that the door was open a little, and you slipped inside the dark room, heart pounding. Felix was sprawled across his bed, shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, scrolling aimlessly. He didn’t notice you at first, his brows furrowed, lips pouty in that infuriatingly adorable way. 

God, he was hot even when he was being a brat.

You cleared your throat and said, “So, you planning to ignore me forever, or what?”

Felix jolted, phone nearly flying out of his hands. You watched as he fumbled to switch on his bedside lamp and his eyes widened, then narrowed, that stubborn spark flaring.

“How’d you even get in here?”

“Climbed the wall,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re lucky I didn’t break my neck.”

He scoffed, sitting up, the movement making the muscles in his chest flex in a way that was really distracting. “Why didn't you ask Changbin for help, hm?”

“Oh, real mature, Yongbok.” You stepped closer, hands on your hips. “What are you even mad about? Don't bring Binnie into this, cos I know it's not that.”

“It’s not about Changbin,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “It’s about you acting like I’m not enough.”

Your heart twinged, but you were not letting him off that easily.

“Not enough? Lix, I’m literally scaling buildings for you. If that’s not devotion, I don’t know what is.”

He glanced at you, and you caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes before he masked it with a scowl.

“Whatever.”

You’d had it. Marching over, you snatched his phone and tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Enough with the baby act. Talk to me.” you snapped. 

He glared, but there was a heat in his eyes now, not just anger. “Why should I? You’re the one who -”

You cut him off by climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap before he could finish. His hands instinctively landed on your thighs, and you felt the shift in his breathing, the way his body reacted despite his stubbornness.

“You’re gonna listen to me now, Yongbok,” you said, leaning in until your lips were so close to his. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. But I’m not letting you push me away over some misunderstanding.”

His eyes darkened, fingers tightening on your hips.

“Yeah?” His voice was husky now, the pout replaced by something dangerous. “Prove it.”

Oh, game on. You closed the gap, kissing him hard, all teeth and tongue, pouring every ounce of your frustration into it. He groaned into your mouth, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. The fight was still there, simmering under the surface, but it was morphing into something else - something that had you tugging at his hair, his hands slipping under your hoodie, lifting it up to feel your skin against skin.

“Still mad?” you murmured against his lips, grinding down just enough to make him hiss.

“Furious,” he growled, flipping you onto your back in one swift move.

He hovered over you, freckles glowing in the soft golden light, looking like a goddamn dream despite the attitude.

“But you’re making it real hard to stay that way.” he whispered, and you smirked, hooking a leg around his waist. “Good. Now shut up and make up with me properly.”

The door creaked open just then, and Chris’s voice cut through the haze.

“Yo, Lix, you good? Oh - shit.” Chris stood frozen at the door for a moment his eyes fixed on you, before scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Guess you two worked it out.”

“Get out!” Felix yelled and Chris literally scrambled out, and you could hear Hyunjin cackling in the background, before the door slammed shut. Hyunjin's loud screams rocked the house next, and you both lay there, eyes still on the door.

Felix sighed before looking back at you, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.

“Where were we?”

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

Divider: @saradika-graphics

[kainuhsblog]

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆ save me , bro

prompt some guy is pestering you and you text your boyfriend to come and save you

pairing bf!skz x fem!reader

genre bf!skz, uhhh crack ?, bro idk

warnings jeongin's own is a tiny bit suggestive, minho's hissing, implications of a brawl, light mode

a/n not my usual aesthetic since my friend has my laptop now so i tried to limit all conversations to 1 screenshot and i didn't even try to find a gif to go along with this , so forgive me and the lack of other links. they'll be fixed when my laptop comes back to me!

⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

When you fall asleep on their shoulder- skz maknae line

Genre: Fluff | Comfort | Slice of Life

Warning: Extreme softness, physical touch (shoulder leaning), light romantic/platonic interpretation

Han

The two of you were lying side by side on the living room floor, rain tapping against the windows, a soft lofi playlist playing in the background. You were wrapped in a shared blanket, cheeks warm from laughing earlier.

Jisung was telling you a story, something silly about his trainee days, when he felt you shift closer, your head slowly falling onto his shoulder.

“Yah…” he whispered, looking down. “Don’t tell me you just knocked out in the middle of my story.”

You didn’t respond.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Wow… that’s rude,” he teased quietly, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice.

Carefully, he reached down and pulled the edge of the blanket higher around you, then tilted his head to rest gently against yours.

“You’re lucky you’re this adorable,” he murmured. “You’re like… my favorite kind of peace, you know that?”

Then, quieter:

“Let’s stay like this a little longer. Just you and me, doing nothing... and it still feels perfect.”

Felix

You had both gone out for a night walk, but the cool breeze and late hour made you sleepy. Back at the dorm, Felix made you some hot chocolate, and you both sat by the window wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed while he talked about stars and dreams.

He stopped mid-sentence when he realized you weren’t responding.

“...Y/N?” he whispered.

He peeked down and saw your peaceful face, your breathing slow and even.

“Oh my angel,” he whispered, his voice soft with affection. “You must’ve been so tired.”

Felix slowly took your mug from your hands and placed it on the table, then wrapped both arms around you gently. He kissed the top of your head and leaned his cheek there.

“I’ll stay right here,” he whispered. “Even if the world spins fast outside... I’ll stay still for you.”

And for the rest of the night, he didn’t move an inch.

Seungmin

You were both holed up in a cozy corner of the campus library, surrounded by open books and soft yellow light. You had been studying for hours, slowly slumping lower and lower until finally, your head bumped gently onto Seungmin’s shoulder.

He looked down, surprised. “...Y/N?”

When you didn’t respond, he huffed out a soft sigh and shook his head with a small smile.

“You really fell asleep here?” he muttered, pretending to be annoyed. “In public? On me?”

But his hand moved instinctively, pulling your hoodie hood over your head so the light wouldn’t bother you.

“You must trust me a lot, huh?” he said after a moment, voice much softer now. “To fall asleep like this…”

He glanced around before carefully scooting closer, letting your head rest more comfortably.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "I’ll wake you before the librarian kicks us out."

I.N (Jeongin)

You were riding the train together after a long day out, your head bobbing every few seconds as sleep tried to pull you under. Jeongin was sitting beside you, holding your shopping bags, when you finally gave in, your head gently falling onto his shoulder.

He stiffened instantly, eyes wide. “W-What do I do?”

He turned his head slowly to look at you, blushing hard at how calm and sweet you looked. His heart was practically thumping in his ears.

He sat frozen for a moment, then carefully adjusted his arm so you could lean more comfortably.

“Okay. No moving. No breathing too loud. You’re trusting me with your whole nap right now,” he whispered to himself.

Then he quietly smiled, cheeks still flushed.

“You’re the cutest when you sleep,” he whispered, so softly no one could hear. “I hope you dream about me.”

Taglist: @m-325

Credit: @cafekitsune for the divider ✨️

[dakusan]

W h e r e V a m p i r e ! S K Z L i k e s t o B i t e Y o u

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight fangs. eight fixations. and every filthy way they ruin you where it hurts the most

🔞synopsis: You thought you knew desire. You thought you understood sex. Then they bit you. This isn't love. This is hunger. Worship. Power. A kiss laced with venom. A cock buried in your cunt while your blood runs hot down their chin. Eight vampires. Eight bite locations. Eight ways to lose your mind and beg for more.

💌a/n: Welcome to fucking Wreck Me Wednesdays. This was supposed to be “mini.” Instead I wrote eight vampire sex case files with feeding traits, bite kinks, and full-blown NSFW lore. Somewhere between Chan’s heartbite and Han's “mine mine mine,” I lost the plot and my soul. Some are longer. Some are feral. Some are shorter. All of them ruined me and they shall ruin you too. Read responsibly. Stay hydrated. Stretch your legs. Cry in the bathtub. p.s. reblog = consent to be ruined by a vampire. p.p.s. Tell me who broke you. For science. p.p.p.s. pls enjoy the song :3. i will also get to the asks later today, haven't forgotten!

⚠️ warnings: NSFW / 18+ ONLY — minors will be fed to Minho. This series contains graphic vampire smut and feral content not suitable for the emotionally stable | Bloodplay + feeding during sex | Biting (everywhere) | Obsessive/possessive behavior | Power dynamics (soft dom to unhinged dom) | Crying, overstimulation, choking on moans | Praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink | Fang kinks. Vein kinks. Chest kinks. Thigh kinks. | Oral (receiving + giving), rough sex, soft sex, bubble bath sex, rage sex

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𓆪 BANG CHAN // Abnormal Vampire Obsessed with control. Addicted to your pulse.

🩸PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Neck or heart — where the pulse is loudest. He wants to hear it skip.

💉FEEDING STYLE ‣ Controlled. Lethal. Intimate. ‣ Always timed with orgasm. May edge before bite. ‣ Often restraints you during feeding. Uses voice as a binding tool.

🫀EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Rapid heartbeat. ‣ Dissociation from overstimulation. ‣ Emotional dependency post-bite. ‣ High risk of imprinting.

⚠️PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasmic blood-loss. ‣ Neck bites mid-thrust = blackout-level pleasure. ‣ Heart bites = ego death. Immediate sobbing. ‣ Lingering soreness + possession marks.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 001 𓆪

"Strip. Slowly."

You're standing in front of him—already trembling, already soaked. He hasn’t touched you. Not yet. Just sits back on the velvet chaise like he’s watching a performance he paid for in centuries. Legs spread. Shirt open. Mouth smiling, fangs peeking. Hands not on you.

Not yet.

You undress like you're unwrapping something forbidden. And his eyes don’t leave your chest. Not even once.

"There," he murmurs when your top hits the floor, voice like silk over blade. "It stutters when you know where I'm going to bite. Do you want it tonight?"

You nod, breathless.

"Words, darling."

"...yes. Please."

It doesn't take long, really it doesn't. Because one second you were putting on a show for him, stripping, peeling layer by later until you were naked and suddenly, you were now laid down on the bed with Chan knelt between your thighs, breathing against your cunt without touching.

With only one single kiss, not touching. Not yet.

"So warm here. You've been aching for me all night, haven't you? Dripping for me. Thinking about how it'll feel when I bite your chest and fuck you until your name melts off your tongue?"

You whimper, nod, hips twitching—but his hands grip your thighs down firm and leans forward, tongue finally moving—not inside you—no, he flicks along your folds. One stroke. One taste. Then stops.

"Mm. You're going to wait for me to bite. I'll have to make you cum with my mouth first."

He eats you out slowly. Sinfully. Like a king savouring dessert before the main course. Fingers spreading you, tongue teasing, lips sucking your clit just barely enough to make your stomach tense. Then he stops. Over and over. Until you're crying, hips grinding, begging.

"Please—Chan, please—fuck—just let me—"

"Let you what?" he says, smiling against your pussy. "Bleed? Break? Cum?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—all of it."

He hums against your cunt like you gave him a goddamn prayer.

"All of it, huh?" He drags his tongue up slowly, catching your clit just to hear the gasp he wrings from your throat. "Then keep those thighs open. Let me earn it."

And he does.

His mouth descends like a curse and a promise, this time not stopping. He licks like he’s reading scripture off your skin. Like he’s memorizing the shape of your moans. Two fingers press in, curling perfectly, while his tongue circles your clit with calculated cruelty. He’s not being sweet—he’s being precise. Every flick, every suck, every curl of his fingers is designed to make your legs tremble and your mind splinter.

“There it is,” he growls into you when your hips start bucking. “So fucking wet, baby. You gonna cum like this? Before I even bite?”

You try to answer. You really do. But it’s already happening. Your stomach tightens, thighs trembling, mouth open on a silent scream as your orgasm crashes down—hot, humiliating, perfect.

He doesn’t stop.

Licks through your orgasm, dragging it out. Groaning low, fingers still thrusting, until you’re gasping, writhing, overstimulated and dripping. Then—finally—he pulls back. Just enough to lift his head.

His mouth is wet. His chin shines with your slick. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are blown wide, black with hunger. “Now you’re ready,” he says, voice darker, lower. “Now you’ll taste right.”

He climbs up your body slowly, kneeing your thighs further apart as he goes. One hand cages your throat—not tight, just present—and the other cups your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple.

And then he leans in. Presses his lips right over your heart. The bite is sudden. Deep.

Your blood floods his mouth, and he moans—moans—like it’s better than sex, like it’s what he’s been starving for. His hips grind against yours as he drinks, hard cock pressing against your folds like a promise. You’re shaking beneath him—your orgasm still echoing, your body pulsing, blood pouring into his mouth like a gift only he deserves.

And then—just when you start to go dizzy—he pulls back. Fangs red. Lips stained. Chest heaving.

“Still with me?” His voice is rough, wrecked with restraint. “Because I’m not done.”

You nod—but barely. Your whole body is trembling, and your vision is hazy, floating from the orgasm and the blood loss and the fact that he bit your fucking heart like it was a fruit he’s waited centuries to taste.

And he’s still fully dressed. Shirt unbuttoned, dark slacks hugging his thighs, belt still on. You’re naked and wrecked and soaked, but he’s untouched. Pressed against you, blood-slick mouth and cock hard against your pussy—but untouched. “Look at me,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down your side, over the bite mark, over your trembling hips. “Look at me while I feed you something else.”

And then he leans back.

Slowly. Casually.

Undoing his belt with one hand, unzipping his pants like he's got all the time in the world. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them down just enough to free himself—his cock thick, flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, veins mapped like sin. You swear it twitches when he sees your thighs shake.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base and giving himself a lazy pump. “Open. Dripping. Ruined. And all for me.”

He strokes himself slow, torturing, his fist sliding up over the head and back down, slicking it with precum while his other hand presses down on your lower belly, keeping you there.

“You feel that?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s mine now. This heat. This slick little cunt. Your blood’s still warm inside me and now I’m going to fuck it back into you.”

You sob. Actually sob. Because even just the way he slides against your folds—up and down, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance—it’s too much.

“Please, Chan,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I want you inside—I want to feel it—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He lines himself up. Presses the head in just a little. Just enough to make you gasp. “You’ll take it. Every inch. Slow.”

And he means it.

He pushes in inch by devastating inch, watching your face the entire time—watching your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter, your back arch. You feel every ridge, every vein, the stretch of him parting you slowly like he’s carving space for himself where no one else belongs.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking. “So fucking tight.” Another inch. Another. “God, you’re squeezing me like you missed me.”

You cry out. Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming fullness, from the feel of him dragging along your soaked, overstimulated walls.

He pauses halfway in. Just pauses—hips pressed flush, cock twitching inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“You want more?” he asks, fangs still out. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to fill you.”

“Please,” you gasp, tears spilling, voice trembling. “I need it—I need you inside—all of you—fuck, Chan, please.”

His hips snap forward. You scream. He bottoms out with one deep thrust, cock buried to the hilt, and the stretch burns so good.

“There,” he grits, grinding slow, deep, merciless. “That’s what I wanted. That fucking clench. That pretty little scream.” He stays buried in you for a moment—deep—just breathing, letting your walls flutter and your cunt adjust to the full stretch of him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, trying to lock him in, but he just smirks.

And then he starts.

Slow. Precise. The first few thrusts feel like worship—or punishment—dragging out so achingly slow that your body clenches tighter, trying to chase what he won’t give you. His hips roll, grinding into you, the thick weight of him pressing against every oversensitive inch of your soaked, blood-drunk cunt.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans, head dropping to your throat as he sets a slow, grinding rhythm. “So fucking warm. So tight. You gonna cry for me again, sweetheart?”

You already are. You’re gasping, eyes glassy, body shaking as he rocks into you with that slow, devastating rhythm. One of his hands cradles your face, the other beside your head, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And then—he leans in. Mouth dragging across your skin. Kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, your throat. Peppering kisses like you’re sacred. His fangs scrape lightly down your neck and you twitch underneath him.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “The fangs. The pressure. You want me to bite again, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “Not until you cum on my cock. Not until I’m so deep you forget how to speak.”

He picks up the pace now—still controlled, but faster. Harder. The sound of skin slapping, of your soaked cunt swallowing him in, fills the room along with your moans. Your nails drag down his back. Your hips rise to meet his.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. Take all of me. That greedy little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—made for you, only you—”

He kisses you. Hard. Bruising. Tongue sliding past your lips like he owns your mouth too. And when he pulls back, his eyes are pitch black, fangs still bared, lips red from your blood.

“Say it again.”

“Made for you,” you cry. “Yours. Only yours.”

“Good fucking girl.”

His pace snaps harder now—deep, perfect strokes—one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressed firm against your throat. His body curves over yours, keeping you pinned while he fucks you like he’s staking a claim inside your cunt.

Your legs tighten around him. Your belly coils. You feel your orgasm building—hot and sharp and dizzying.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, rutting harder now. “Gonna let me feel it? Let me feel that pretty little pussy milk me while I drink from your heart again?”

You sob. You nod. You beg.

“Please, please—bite me—fuck, Chan—please—”

And that’s all it takes. He thrusts deep, one last time, grinding hard against your cervix, and then bites—again—right over your heart.

You cum instantly. Your walls clench so hard around his cock it triggers his own orgasm—thick, hot, flooding you as he groans into your skin, drinking and thrusting and owning you. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, licking the wound tenderly. Your body’s trembling—soaked, stuffed, claimed—and he just looks down at you like you’re a masterpiece.

Chan leans down, kissing your lips so softly now. "You're mine sweetheart. Bloody, body, soul."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𓆪 LEE KNOW // Abnormal Vampire Sadist in silk. Devours screams. Fuck-first, feed-later type.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner thigh — where you're softest, where you beg hardest.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Slow. Pain-laced. Erotic. ‣ Often feeds while fucking from behind. ‣ Fingerplay first—he has to feel you fall apart before the bite.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Shaking legs. Sore hips. Oversensitive clit. ‣ Mind-fracture from orgasm + blood loss combination. ‣ Known to cause dehydration, bruising, and uncontrollable sobbing. ‣ Marked behavioral changes: submission, clinginess, obsession.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasm coincides with bite. Scream = trigger. ‣ Thigh bites may cause blackout + limp for 2–3 days. ‣ Post-bite euphoria. Known to whisper “again” while you’re still twitching. ‣ Irreversible addiction risk. Do not engage without safe word.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 002 𓆪

“You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

His voice is silk-coated steel—low and lethal. You’re on your back, naked, legs spread wide on the silk sheets, with Lee Know fully clothed beside you. Not even undressing. Just watching. Eyes dragging over your soaked cunt like it’s something he owns. Like it exists to be ruined.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.” His eyes narrow, lips curling with warning. “If you want my fingers inside you, you’d better earn them.”

“Yes. I understand,” you breathe. “Please—Minho, I need it—”

He hums, finally moving. One hand strokes up your thigh, so gentle it makes you shiver. “So polite,” he murmurs. “And already dripping. All this for me?”

Two fingers press between your folds, parting you slowly. You moan. He doesn’t move fast—he just teases. Up and down, collecting slick. Spreading it messily across your clit before tapping it, sharp and precise.

You jerk. He laughs softly.

“No cumming, sweetheart,” he reminds you, before pushing a finger in.

You moan, clenching instantly. He’s slow at first, curling upward to find that spot, rubbing it deliberately. Then a second finger. Scissoring, stretching. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, but never enough. Never fast.

And when you start to tighten around him, about to tip over—he pulls out.

You scream. He smiles.

“Again,” he says, and starts over. Fingers, curl, rub, drag—stop. Over. And over. By the fourth time, your body’s twitching. Your thighs shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets. “Minho—fuck, please—I’m going to lose it—”

“Good.” He leans over, mouth brushing your ear. “Then maybe you’ll behave.”

He grabs your hips, flips you over in one smooth motion—onto your knees, chest to the sheets. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine into a perfect arch. The other? Slipping down to play with your pussy again.

“You’re so wet baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers back through your folds. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You sob into the sheets. Then you feel it—his tongue. On your inner thigh. Not your pussy. Not yet. Just slow, deliberate licks on the sensitive skin right near your pulse point.

You freeze.

“Oh, did you think I’d forgotten about the bite?” he purrs.

He kisses the skin first. Then bites. His fangs sink in with a sharp, hot pain that melts instantly into pure fucking ecstasy. Your vision goes white. Your arms give out. You cry out, body trembling as blood leaves you in slow, sensual pulses.

And the second his mouth pulls back—

He’s undoing his pants.

You hear the belt unbuckle. The zipper lower. Then feel it—his cock, thick and flushed, dragging through your soaked folds. “You want this?” he asks, voice darker now. “Want to be fucked while your thighs are still bleeding?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—please—”

He slides in.

No warning. No mercy. One smooth, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of you. His hips slam into your ass, cock buried to the hilt, and he groans—deep and guttural—like he just found heaven inside your cunt. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing your hips with bruising force. “So tight. Still twitching from that bite?”

He doesn’t wait.

He starts moving. Deep, hard thrusts that punch cries from your throat. Your back arches, cheek pressed to the sheets as he fucks you in a perfect rhythm—every stroke hitting exactly where you need him.

And he does not stop.

“Cry for me,” he growls, slapping your ass. “Scream. Let them hear how good I fuck what’s mine.”

You scream. You cry. You babble his name like a prayer.

“That’s right,” he hisses, hips snapping faster. “Fucking perfect.”

You’re gone. Broken. Bleeding. Full. And when your orgasm is close, when you're just about to cum—he doesn’t stop you. “Let go,” he pants. “Give it to me. I want to feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

You do. You collapse, sobbing, shaking, cumming so hard your thighs go limp. But he doesn’t stop.

Minho groans through his teeth and keeps thrusting—fucking you through your orgasm like he’s chasing something deeper. His grip bruises your hips, cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls, harder now, rougher.

“You sound so pretty when you break,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “I can feel it. Every pulse. Every squeeze. You're milking my cock like you want me to stay inside forever.”

You whimper, twitching under him, nerves fried, cunt still clenching in aftershocks. Your body is shaking—numb, overstimulated—but he fucks you through it, like you owe him every second.

“I’m close,” he growls, burying himself deep. “Gonna fill you up—fuck, just like this—”

A sharp snap of his hips, one final grind—and then he spills into you with a broken sound, teeth bared, fangs glinting. His cum is hot, thick, flooding your sore cunt as he presses as deep as he can, breathing hard against your spine.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

The second his cock slips free—wet and dripping with both of you—he’s flipping you over again. Your body’s limp, arms trembling, blood drying sticky on your thigh. You can barely focus. Barely breathe.

But you feel him. The press of his mouth. The heat of his breath.

“Still bleeding here,” he murmurs, fingers parting your thigh. “And you’re still so warm.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he bites again.

Same thigh. New wound.

You scream—not from pain, but from the crash of sensation. The moment his fangs sink in, your body floods with another unbearable wave. You’re twitching, crying, clenching around nothing—your cunt soaked, still dripping his cum—while he drinks, slow and deep.

Every pull of his mouth makes your stomach tighten. Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re delirious—gone—his mouth on your thigh, blood leaving in perfect rhythm with the mess between your legs.

He moans softly against your skin. Then he pulls back. Lips stained. Fangs gleaming. Blood running down your thigh like a love letter written in ruin.

He crawls over your body, eyes dark and hungry still. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips. “But I’ll let you rest…”

One hand strokes your cheek, surprisingly soft.

“For now.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 𓆪 SEO CHANGBIN // Normal Vampire Made of muscle, menace, and moans..

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Below the ribs or just above the hipbone

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Possessive. Worshipful. ‣ He growls when he drinks, like it's carnal. ‣ Usually feeds during sex. Leaves deep bruises around the wound from how hard he grips.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Breathless moaning. ‣ Clawing, overstimulated orgasms. ‣ Emotional grounding. Heightened intimacy. ‣ High likelihood of imprinting if bitten more than once.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Feral rut-level fucking. ‣ Bruised hips, shaky legs, blood-drunk sobs. ‣ Bite leaves a phantom heat that spreads like wildfire. ‣ Will absolutely carry you to a bath after and tell you you did so well.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 003 𓆪

You were teasing him. You didn’t mean to—but you were.

The corset was tight. The skirt was short. Your lipstick matched the red of your bite mark from two nights ago. You were only supposed to drop off the file he needed but you knew what the outfit would do to him. What it always did.

And the moment he looked up from his desk and saw you?

All bets were off.

He’s already panting when he slams the door shut behind you. One heartbeat later, you're pinned to the wall—hard. His broad chest flush against your back, his breath already ragged and hot against your ear.

You hear the low, animalistic growl deep in his chest before you feel it—rumbling through you like a warning.

Or a promise.

Because you’re standing there in his office after midnight, wearing nothing but a black lace corset that cups your breasts high, a tiny pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and delicate panties—thin, sheer, soaked. Stockings, too. Garter belt. Lip gloss still shimmering.

You knew what you were doing.

And so does he.

“Take that shit off,” he growls, voice already thick with bloodlust and need.

You turn—barely—and meet his eyes. They’re black. Fully fucking black.

And you’re soaked.

“Changbin—” you whisper, breath hitching, thighs pressing together. It’s not a protest. It’s a plea.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. One sharp tug and your corset jerks loose at the back—ripped. Another growl, and your panties are shredded in his hands, lace in tatters. The air hits your bare skin and you whimper.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Walking in here dressed like this? Like a fucking offering?”

You squeak as he grabs you under the thighs and lifts—one arm. Just one arm and you're airborne, slammed back against the wall like you weigh nothing to him.

Because to him? You’re not fragile. You’re his.

His mouth crashes into yours—hot, brutal, claiming. His tongue is deep before you can breathe. Fangs brush your lower lip and nick the skin just enough for blood to bloom, sweet and fresh, and he moans against your mouth.

“You wore this for me?” he growls between kisses. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were trying to get ruined.”

You nod frantically, breathless. “Please—need it—need you—”

Then he drops. To his knees. Fast. Like gravity yanked him straight down. He’s still fully dressed in black slacks, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, mouth already parted. And you? You’re bare now—corset loosened, panties gone, skirt hiked up around your waist, legs trembling over his shoulders.

Your back hits the cold wall. Your pussy is right at his eye level. And he looks up at you like he’s about to worship you.

Or destroy you.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls, dragging his thumbs up your inner thighs to spread you wider. “You're soaked. All this for me?”

You can’t speak. You nod. His smirk turns feral. “Good.”

He doesn't waist a second, Changbin devours you.

No teasing. No buildup. His tongue dives in like he’s starving—wide and wet, licking through your folds with a brutal, messy hunger that makes you cry out on impact.

“F-fuck—Changbin—”

He groans. Moans into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, nose buried, chin soaked, lips dragging up your slit again and again until they’re flushed and swollen with your slick. His tongue curls up to your clit—flicks, circles, sucks. Sloppy and relentless.

Then?

He starts making out with it.

No joke. Full mouth. Open, hot, filthy kisses against your cunt—like he’s Frenching your pussy with every ounce of his desperate need. Tongue moving deep inside, then sliding up to wrap around your clit, sucking hard, then soft, then hard again. Over and over.

Your legs are shaking on his shoulders.

He drags one arm around your ass, pressing you closer to his mouth, while his free hand slides two thick fingers inside—curling, fucking, spreading your walls until you're gasping like you’re being split open.

He’s growling into your cunt, fingers pounding, tongue flicking your clit like he’s trying to drag the orgasm out of you with brute force.

“Come on,” he pants between slurps. “Give it to me. Cum on my tongue, baby—now—”

Your scream tears through the room. It breaks you. Your orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—raw, loud, endless. Your whole body locks. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your vision goes black for a second.

And he fucking loves it.

Keeps sucking through it. Fingers still thrusting. His mouth sealing over your clit again as if your climax is what he’s been waiting for all day.

Only when you’re gasping, limp, twitching—only then does he finally rise.

And fuck, he looks good.

Mouth soaked. Chin gleaming. Eyes still black. Fangs bared.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are moving—fast. Belt undone with a sharp snap, pants shoved down, briefs yanked below his thighs. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Harder than sin.

You don’t even get a chance. Because suddenly—he lifts you. Again. Effortlessly. Strong arms under your thighs, back slammed against the wall. And this time, he doesn’t wait.

He slams into you.

One thrust—brutal, perfect—and he’s fully inside. Stretching you open. Your head rolls back, mouth open in a soundless scream as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Fuck—yes,” he snarls against your throat. “That’s it—tight little pussy—knew you could take it.”

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you into the wall. Rough. Desperate. Fast and deep and relentless. The slap of skin on skin echoes, your moans ricochet off the walls, and his name is the only thing you remember how to say.

“Changbin—Changbin—oh fuck—”

He groans against your skin. “You’re mine.”

And then?

He bites. Hard.

Right into your neck—fangs sinking deep, blood spilling into his mouth like wine from a sacred chalice. You scream, thighs trembling, orgasm threatening again just from the pain, the pressure, the possessive violence of it.

But he’s not done.

He licks the bite. Bites again—your shoulder this time. Then your collarbone. Then your neck again.

Everywhere.

Like he needs you in his mouth, over and over, just to stay grounded. Like drinking you is the only thing keeping him sane. His cock is ruthless inside you—dragging through your soaked walls, pounding harder each time you clench around him.

Your head spins.

He’s drunk on you. Absolutely gone.

“Fucking addictive,” he snarls. “Gonna mark you everywhere. Fill you up. Drain you dry. Fuck—this pussy’s perfect—squeezing me like it wants to bleed.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He loves it. Groans from deep in his chest. Slams into you even harder.

“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it. All of it. Don’t you dare stop squeezing me—make me cum, baby.”

You do.

Your orgasm hits again, body seizing, cunt fluttering around his cock like it’s made to wring him dry—and he loses it.

With a guttural snarl, he slams in deep—hips grinding, cock twitching as he spills inside you in heavy, scorching pulses.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move.

Just stays there—cock buried, teeth still scraping your neck, hands fisting in your hair and thigh like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He pants. Shudders. Then licks your wounds. Gently. Worshipfully.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing kisses to every bite mark. “Fucking mine. And I’m never letting go.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𓆪 HWANG HYUNJIN // Abnormal Vampire Beauty made ruin. Moans like a prayer. Kisses like a curse.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Pulse points — wrists, neck, inner thighs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Hypnotic. Addictive. Laced in poetry and pain. ‣ Always bites during orgasm. Sometimes mid-cry. ‣ Tongue traces first. Fangs follow like a kiss you asked for in a dream.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Euphoria-induced sobbing. Clutching, clawing, surrendering. ‣ Heart palpitations, glossy eyes, speech loss ‣ Often left with multiple bite marks in one session—each placed like a secret

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Known to say “You’re mine” while you’re still moaning. ‣ Multiple orgasms expected. Blood + sex high overlap. ‣ Post-bite daze may last hours. Often found still shaking in his arms. ‣ Extreme bond-forming. Danger of becoming his favorite. And never leaving.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 004 𓆪

You feel him before you see him.

That overwhelming stillness, the kind that drowns out thought. Your breath catches—and then there he is, walking in like a vision, black silk shirt half-buttoned, pale chest glistening, golden hair slightly damp like he’s just stepped out of a dream.

Hyunjin doesn't speak at first. He just walks toward you. Barefoot. Soft steps. Eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists.

And then?

“You wore my favorite,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing the strap of your lace slip. “Ivory. Like fresh canvas.”

His lips ghost over your collarbone. Not a kiss. Not yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “all night. What color you’ll bleed for me. What sound you’ll make when I make you fall apart.”

You tremble.

He lifts your chin gently, eyes gleaming obsidian. “Lie back, baby. Let me paint.”

You obey, shivering as you settle onto the bed—bare skin against cool silk, thighs pressed together from sheer need. He doesn’t make you wait long. Just climbs over you slowly, like you’re delicate, precious, sacred.

And then his mouth is on your wrist. Kissing. Worshipping.

“I’ll start here,” he breathes. “Where your pulse is softest.”

The bite is slow. Precise. A sharp flash of heat as his fangs pierce your skin, followed by dizzying pleasure—almost like he’s sipping your soul. He groans, low and ruined, as your blood coats his tongue.

“Mmm… divine,” he whispers against your wrist, pulling back only to let the droplets smear along his lips. “But I want more.”

His hands trail down. One over your breast, teasing your nipple, the other slipping between your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he hums, licking the blood off his fingers. “Did you get this wet just from the bite?”

You nod. He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Then—he spreads you.

Kisses down your body, trailing open-mouthed devotion from your chest to your stomach, thighs, then—

“Oh, fuck—Hyunjin—”

He groans as he reaches your cunt, breathing deep. “So pretty,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss over your clit. Soft. Like the place between your legs is a cathedral and he's repenting with every breath.

His lips brush your folds. Once. Twice. Then his tongue flattens against your clit, slow and wide, dragging up until your hips twitch off the bed.

“Sweet,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “So fucking sweet—like nectar, like stars, like sin.”

You moan.

He moans louder.

Because Hyunjin isn’t just eating you out. He’s savoring. Every lick is long and deliberate, every press of his tongue a whispered poem. He swirls around your clit—soft at first, then pointed—then sucks it into his mouth with such aching, focused gentleness you cry out without warning.

“Hyunjin—”

He groans at the sound of his name. The vibration floods through your cunt.

“Say it again,” he whispers against you, then kisses your clit again like it’s your mouth. “Please. Sing for me.”

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

You can’t help it. You’re squirming, writhing, lost beneath him. Your thighs tremble around his head but he doesn’t let go. One arm wraps behind your waist, anchoring you to his mouth like he can’t stand the idea of you pulling away.

His tongue starts to move faster—up, down, circle, suck—messy, wet, worshipful.

Slurping sounds fill the air. His own moans grow desperate. He drags you closer, face buried deep, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flicking mercilessly now. Like he’s not kissing anymore—he’s feasting.

You sob.

You’re panting his name like a spell now. Your back arches. Your thighs clamp.

His fingers dig into your skin. His tongue curls up and in. Every noise you make feeds him. Fuels him. Until he’s drunk on it. High on it.

High on you.

When you cum, it’s violent. Like drowning in silk. You clench around nothing, but feel everything. Your body locks. Your mind breaks. Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

And Hyunjin just groans. Like your orgasm was inevitable. A masterpiece finished.

He licks you through it. Sucks gently on your clit like he’s coaxing the last bits of your soul out through your cunt. Then another kiss. And another. Until he finally slows, breath ragged, mouth glossy with you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. Black. Dilated. Reverent.

Your breathing’s still erratic. Limbs heavy. The aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you in soft, involuntary flinches. And Hyunjin just watches. Licks his lips, eyes locked on the trembling between your thighs like it’s the final frame of a painting he’s not done signing.

Then? He shifts.

You barely register it until his mouth is on your inner thigh.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Just—gentle. Open-mouthed kisses along the softest part of you. His fangs slide out.

You feel the sharp brush of them ghost over your skin. He drags them softly, so softly, up the inside of your thigh, until your hips twitch from the sheer anticipation.

Then—

The bite.

It’s deep. Precise. His fangs sink into the flesh of your inner thigh like they were made for this—like your body was crafted just for his teeth. The sting is immediate, yes, but it blooms so quickly into pleasure that your head falls back, lips parted in a choked gasp.

Hyunjin groans the moment your blood hits his tongue.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, anchoring you as he drinks. Slow at first. Then deeper. His throat works in soft, rhythmic swallows. You can hear it. The slick sound of him feeding.

And all the while—he moans.

Like he’s tasting divinity. You try to move. He growls. “Stay still.” he breathes against your wound.

He licks the blood as it trails, mouth sticky and stained. Then another kiss. Another bite. This time, just a little higher—closer to where he just worshipped you with his tongue.

You gasp. The pleasure-pain bursts behind your eyes.

“Hyunjin—please—”

He hums your name into your skin. Wipes his mouth on your thigh like a signature. Then finally climbs up your body, hovering above your face. Eyes on your perfect pillowy lips, but he doesn't kiss immediately. He just hovers. Lets you see the blood on his lips—your blood—before whispering: “You’re mine, now. I’ll paint you in bruises and bites."

Then he kisses you.

Tongue deep. Copper-sweet. Blood-warm and you melt. Melt like puddle in his arms. His arms, exactly where you belong.

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𓆪 HAN JISUNG // Normal Vampire Chaos incarnate. Bites first, thinks later. Addicted to your blood and your moans—equally.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Side of the neck ‣ Also: your chest, your fingers, your thighs—he’s not picky. Just rabid.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Chaotic, breathless, unrestrained. ‣ Often bites mid-fuck or right after you cum. ‣ Will feed and finger you at the same time, panting into your blood. ‣ Tastes you like he’s making out with your pulse.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Overstimulation. Dizziness. Bite-high. ‣ Orgasms feel drugged—like you're floating underwater. ‣ Can trigger full-body shivers, sobbing, giggles, and collapsing. ‣ Irregular heartbeat post-bite. Known to laugh while you cry.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Bite syncs with his orgasm. ‣ Feeds multiple times in one session—don’t expect to walk. ‣ Cums from your taste. Known to say “I need you again” before he’s even pulled out. ‣ Proceed with caution: addiction is mutual.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 005 𓆪

Han Jisung is already naked.

He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to wait. But the second you walked into his apartment—short skirt, bare thighs, lipgloss still wet—he lost his fucking mind. Clothes gone. Fangs out. The kind of wide, dangerous grin that promised disaster and begged for it, too.

“You’re gonna ride me, yeah?” he pants, back hitting the bed with a thud. “Wanna see your tits bounce while I bite you.”

You swallow. Nod.

“No, no—c’mon,” he grins, already breathless. “Say it. Say you’re gonna ride me like you mean it.”

“I’m gonna ride you, Ji,” you whisper, crawling over him. “So fucking hard.”

“Fuck yes—” His head drops back, eyes fluttering. “My girl.”

You straddle him, feeling his cock hot and thick between your folds. He’s already leaking, already twitching beneath you. Your slick coats him in seconds. But he doesn’t thrust—no, he waits. Lets you drag your hips up and down until you’re both dizzy with it.

And then—you sink down.

“FUCK—” he cries, hands flying to your hips, gripping so tight you’ll bruise. “Shit—so warm—so tight—don’t move—fuck, baby, let me feel you like this—”

But you move anyway.

Start slow. Grinding your hips in circles, milking moans from his throat. He looks wrecked—sweaty, flushed, eyes half-lidded and glowing red. One hand sneaks up to grope your tits. The other stays on your hip, flexing with every grind.

When you start bouncing? He chokes.

“God—fuck—ride me—ride me, baby, please—”

You do.

Faster. Harder. Until your thighs burn and your pussy tightens with each drop. His mouth is everywhere—licking your collarbone, mouthing at your nipples, biting into your neck without warning.

He drinks. Moans into the wound. Licks the blood like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You scream.

Not from pain—from pleasure so sharp it cuts. He pulls back, blood smeared on his lips, gasping like you just fucked the soul out of him. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum—baby, cum with me, ride me until we break—”

You do. Together.

A shared orgasm that hits like a freight train. Your cunt tightens around him in rhythmic spasms, and he holds you through it—groaning, babbling praise, licking blood from your skin while he cums so hard his whole body shudders beneath you.

But he’s not done.

Because your chest is rising and falling—vulnerable, flushed—and he leans up, presses one last kiss between your tits.

Then bites again.

And again.

And again.

Your body’s still trembling. Muscles twitching. Slick and cum sliding down your thighs where he’s still buried deep inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

But Jisung?

He’s laughing.

Low. Breathless. A little too unhinged to be safe.

“You’re still warm,” he pants, lapping at your collarbone like it’s glazed in sugar. “Still fucking clenching around me. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You try to answer. You really do. But your brain has melted. Your mouth just opens—gasping—and that’s when he bites again.

Right above your heart.

You scream. Loud and broken. His fangs sink into skin like it’s the only place he belongs—like he can claim you from the inside out. He drinks like you’re water and he’s been parched for centuries. Moans like your blood makes him high. His cock twitches inside you, still half-hard and swelling again.

“Fuck—” he breathes, pulling back, his lips coated crimson. “You’re sweeter here. I knew you would be.”

Then he tilts his head. Looks down.

Sees it.

His cum.

Dripping out of your pussy like melted candlewax. A creamy mess of lust and love and loss of control. “Oh my fucking god,” he groans, manic. “I made you drip like this?”

A pause, a sharp inhale.

“Addicted,” he whispers. “Completely fucking addicted. You don’t even know—baby, I need—”

He bites again. Your shoulder this time. Then the other side of your neck. Then the curve of your breast.

He kisses each one after, messy and frantic, tongue smearing blood and spit across your skin like a mad artist painting his masterpiece.

And then?

He flips you. Again.

Pins you down now, hands on either side of your head, his mouth dragging over your body like he can’t choose where to ruin you next. I want to fuck you again,” he confesses, breath shaking. “Want to stay inside forever. Want to drink until I forget my name.”

“You already did,” you whisper, hoarse.

He grins. Wide. Bloody.

“Good.”

And then he bites again. This time? Your mouth.

Kisses you so hard his fangs nick your lip. Blood trickles in. He licks it up like a shot of liquor, hands gripping your thighs, your ass, your tits—anywhere he can touch.

"I love you. Mine, mine, mine forever."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𓆪 LEE FELIX // Abnormal Vampire Soft on the surface, deadly underneath. Sleeps in silk, fucks like a fever dream.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Over the heart or the curve of your breast

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Gentle at first. Almost shy. Kisses before teeth. ‣ Feeds while holding you close—rocking, murmuring sweet things into your skin. ‣ But when hunger takes over? He gets lost. Mouth drunk. Eyes glazed. Almost feral.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Full-body shivers. Skin hypersensitive. ‣ Overstimulation from prolonged oral + emotional collapse after the bite. ‣ Heightened affection post-bite—clinginess, sobbing, echo-pleasure. ‣ Bite mark often becomes an erogenous zone.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Dreamwalkers induce trance-like states in partners. Bite can cause mild hallucinations. ‣ Reader may experience floating sensation + blackout orgasms. ‣ Blood-sharing with Felix forms rapid bond. Extremely addictive. ‣ Warning: prolonged exposure may result in crying during aftercare. And begging for more.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 006 𓆪

The penthouse is quiet when you return.

Shoes off. Dress unzipped. Champagne still singing in your veins from the gala. Felix walks in behind you, shrugging off his velvet blazer, golden curls loose around his temples, skin glowing under soft amber lighting.

He looks too good—black silk shirt open at the chest, fangs glinting behind his smile, eyes already darker than they should be. Not hunger. Something else.

Devotion.

"You were perfect tonight," he murmurs, fingers ghosting your waist as he draws you toward the bathroom. “But I didn’t like sharing you.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you whisper, recalling the way his hand had stayed glued to your lower back all evening, lips to your ear at every chance, voice dipped low with possessive undertones. Like you were his prize.

His worship.

His next meal.

Felix chuckles. “No. I wasn’t.”

The tub fills behind you—steaming, lavender-scented, full of white foam and rose petals. His idea, of course. He always did prefer indulgence after restraint.

He helps you in like you’re made of porcelain. Your skin sinks into the warmth with a sigh. Felix climbs in after, settling behind you, legs spread so you’re seated snugly between them. Your back hits his bare chest, and already, you can feel it.

The thrum beneath his skin. The restraint snapping thread by thread.

“You wore that dress to kill me,” he murmurs, mouth against your neck. “Slit up to your hip. No bra. Lace so sheer I could see the curve of your nipples under every chandelier.”

You smile. “And?”

“And now I’m going to take my time with you.”

His hands cup your breasts from behind. Thumbs flicking your nipples. Bubbles cling to his wrists, his forearms. His lips drag up your neck. Soft. Featherlight.

Then sharp.

A kiss first—then a bite.

Fangs sink in, clean and deep, right beneath your jaw. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as the pain melts into pleasure. He drinks slow—just a few sips, just enough to make you squirm—and licks the wound clean with a reverent groan.

“So sweet tonight,” he whispers. “You taste like champagne and sin.”

You whimper.

His hands trail lower. One slips down between your thighs, parting you under the water, fingers pressing into your cunt with aching care. The other? Gliding over your thigh, then gripping it, spreading you wider for him.

He doesn’t tease.

Two fingers sink in—slick, hot, stretching you open as the water laps around you. His thumb finds your clit, circles slow and steady. The angle is perfect. Deep. Focused.

"You always take me so well,” he breathes into your skin. “Even when you’re trembling.”

You are. Shaking, helpless, your body already wrung too tight. The bite. The warmth. The way he touches you like he’s composing a symphony.

And then—he pulls you closer.

“Ride me,” he whispers. “Like you did the last time I fed on your heart.”

You whimper. Turn in his arms, straddling him with the water sloshing over the edge. His cock is already hard, flushed, pressed against your stomach as you rise onto your knees.

He watches you. Eyes half-lidded. Blood-drunk.

When you sink down on him—slow, stretching around his thick length—you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

“Fuck—baby—you feel like velvet,” he chokes out. “So wet. So fucking warm—”

You start to move.

The rhythm is gentle at first. Slippery skin, heavy breaths, the sound of water shifting with every roll of your hips. Felix bites your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower, tongue lapping blood before it cools, fangs sinking in again like he’s trying to mark every inch.

You're bleeding. You're riding. You're both coming undone.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Dripping for me. Bleeding for me. My perfect little canvas.”

Your orgasm builds like a tide—slow, inevitable. His cock hits all the right places, his hands guiding you faster, his mouth sealing over your throat for one final bite as he moans into your skin.

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Feed me while you fall apart.”

Your whole body tenses—like a wave crashing against fragile glass.

And then it shatters.

You break apart on him with a choked cry, thighs trembling, nails clawing down his back. Your orgasm ripples out in hot, helpless pulses, cunt fluttering around him, blood still seeping slowly from your bitten throat as you collapse forward into his arms.

Felix growls.

The sound vibrates through his chest, deep and guttural—feral with need. His mouth seals tighter around your neck, and he drinks as you shake through your climax. Every pull of his lips sends fresh aftershocks rolling through you. You're twitching, overstimulated, undone.

“That's it,” he whispers, lips stained, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “That’s my angel. Give me everything.”

He swallows every drop like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is the only thing that can keep him sane.

When he finally releases your throat, his tongue traces the wound—gentle now, reverent, like he’s kissing the holiest part of you. Blood paints his chin. His cock still buried inside you, twitching, heavy, throbbing.

Then—he lifts his head.

You see it in his face. The complete loss of control. His pupils blown wide, lips red, hair clinging to his temples in damp, golden waves. His hands clutch your waist again—and he thrusts up once, hard, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Oh—fuck—” he gasps. “I’m gonna—”

You’re still pulsing around him. Still warm, wet, perfect.

He buries himself deeper, spilling into you with a low, desperate groan. His mouth finds yours mid-release, kissing you like he’s tasting eternity. Tongue slick with blood and love. You’re breathless, trembling, still locked together in the cooling water—and only then does he speak again. Softly. Against your lips.

“You’re divine.”

You smile weakly, forehead to his. “So are you.”

Felix brushes a petal from your shoulder. One last kiss to your jaw. One last whispered truth, low and sacred:

“I’d bleed for you too.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓆪 KIM SEUNGMIN // Normal Vampire The gentleman with a scalpel smile. Clinical precision. Calculated hunger.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner arm — intimate, exposed, and close to your heart. ‣ Sometimes the chest or side of your ribs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Calm. Measured. Strategic. ‣ He plans his bites—timed, placed, controlled. ‣ Often feeds during emotional peaks—after soft sobs, laughter, confessions, or sex. ‣ Gentle on the surface, but watch closely: there’s a dangerous edge underneath.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heart rate spike followed by unusual stillness. ‣ Floating sensation. Hallucination-like euphoria. ‣ Skin hypersensitivity for hours after. ‣ Develops strong dependency on his praise and attention.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Low-risk externally—but internally, you’ll never forget the way he says your name. ‣ Prolonged feeding can induce dreamlike sedation or emotional bonding states. ‣ Known to leave almost invisible marks—but you feel them for days. ‣ Vulnerability spike: tendency to confess secrets or cry in his arms after.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 007 𓆪

You hadn’t spoken in over an hour.

Not since the fight.

Not since he said, “Maybe if you didn’t run every time we got too close, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you actually want this.”

You’d slammed the door to the bedroom. Now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, staring at the wall like it’s going to offer answers. It doesn’t.

The air is tight. Tense. Like everything’s been coiled too long.

Then—you hear his footsteps.

And suddenly, he’s there.

Seungmin doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shout. He just walks over, grabs your jaw with cold fingers, and tilts your head up.

“You want to be left alone?” he asks quietly. “Or do you want me to make you feel something again?”

Your breath stutters. That look in his eyes—sharp, calculating, barely restrained—isn’t the usual teasing calm.

This is something else.

You whisper, “Make me.”

And just like that—he snaps.

You’re pushed back against the bed. His body cages yours, knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your wrists above your head. You gasp, arching—but he doesn’t give you time to speak.

“I hate fighting with you,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “You know that?”

You nod, breathless.

“But you push me. You always push. And then you run, and I let you. But not tonight.”

His lips crash to yours—angry, desperate, hungry. You kiss back just as hard, teeth clashing, tongues twisting. Seungmin bites your lip—draws blood. Licks it up like you’re wine and he’s parched. “Take it off,” he demands, tugging at the shirt. You pull it over your head, baring yourself to him completely and his eyes darken.

His eyes scan your body like he owns it. Like he's earned it. Then—he lets go.

Just releases your wrists and leans back, chest heaving. You blink, confused, but he only settles onto the mattress, dark hair mussed. One arm folded behind his head. The other gestures lazily down his own body.

“Take your panties off.”

You hesitate.

He raises a brow. “Now.”

You obey.

Silently, you slide the soft lace down your thighs, aware of how his gaze never leaves your center. You think—maybe—he wants you to straddle his face. Let him taste the slick that’s already gathering between your legs.

But Seungmin has other plans.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Back to me.”

You do, breath catching.

“On your knees. Over my chest.”

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re not riding his mouth. He’s placing you above him, facing the length of his body, and when you obey—when your hands brace on the bed and your knees sink beside his ribs—he shifts both of you down.

So now he’s under you. And your soaked pussy is right above his mouth. But his cock? Hard. Heavy. Inches from your face.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he growls. “And keep it open while I ruin you.”

You barely have time to whimper before his hands are gripping your hips, dragging your pussy down to his mouth. His tongue licks one long stripe through your folds before his fangs sink into the plush of your thigh with no warning, no restraint.

You cry out.

But then—you moan.

Because his mouth is everywhere. Kissing. Biting. Tongue fucking you while blood still runs hot against his lips. He’s feeding and pleasuring, starving and devout all at once.

And you?

You finally do what he told you.

Shaky hands pulling down his grey sweatpants and his briefs, his cock springing out, hard, leaking, throbbing.

You lean forward. Wrap one hand around the base of his cock. The other balances on his thigh. And then—you sink your mouth over him, slow at first, tongue pressing to the underside of the thick, pulsing length that jerks the moment you moan around it.

He groans.

Deep in his throat. A growl of praise.

“Just like that,” he breathes against your cunt. “Take it all, baby. Feed me while I fuck your throat.”

You do.

Mouth stuffed full of his cock, your hips rocking over his face as he feasts between your thighs like you’re the cure to every craving. His tongue works in circles—then flicks. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider, holding you still when your thighs start shaking.

You’re dripping. Gagging. Gasping for air.

And Seungmin? He never lets up. Every time your mouth slides down over his length, he rewards you with another harsh suck, another bite to your thigh, another moan against your clit that sends you reeling.

Until you’re both right there.

Teetering. Desperate. Drenched in sweat, saliva, and blood.

Then—his cock throbs. Your walls flutter. Your body clenches around nothing as the orgasm explodes from your spine, rolling over you like a wave of fire.

Your juices soak his mouth. He drinks. Groaning. Devouring. Never stopping.

Your body trembles through the high and just as you release his cock from your mouth, gasping, your hand wraps around his base again, stroking him once, twice before he finally cums. All over your chest. Your mouth which you made sure to keep open. Your tongue.

Seungmin is panting, eyes dark, lips red, blood dripping from his mouth like wine and he licks your inner thigh again. "Feel better now?" he asks hoarsely.

You collapse sideways onto the mattress, dizzy and dazed. "Fuck you," you whisper.

He smirks.

"You already did. But unless you want more, I'm happy to oblige~"

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓆪 YANG JEONGIN // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) Vampire The sweet boy with the sharpest bite. Addicted to affection. Dangerous when starved.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Shoulder blade, inner thigh & lower back

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Emotional. Impulsive. Clingy. ‣ Bites happen mid-kiss, mid-moan, mid-breakdown. ‣ Never feeds clean—always leaves marks. ‣ Mouthy. Sloppy. Overwhelmed. Often doesn’t stop until you pull him off.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heavy euphoria followed by crashing neediness. ‣ Breathing becomes erratic. Limbs tremble. ‣ Intense emotional projection—feels what you feel, tenfold. ‣ Causes your body to crave touch long after the bite ends.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Unpredictable: safest when loved, most lethal when rejected. ‣ High risk for overfeeding during sex due to overstimulation. ‣ Known to whimper while drinking. ‣ Will worship you for hours afterward like he’s trying to say sorry with every kiss.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 008 𓆪

You’re still wearing it.

That lingerie set—the one in soft wine-red lace, delicate enough to tear, pretty enough to drive him feral. It’s sheer over your chest, satin at the waist, and trimmed in ribbon. You’d worn it as a surprise. You didn’t expect him to unravel like this.

Jeongin stares at you from the mattress, already shirtless, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. He looks dazed. Hungry. Like he’s been trying not to lose control all night and now he’s at his limit.

“I’m not taking it off,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you. “It’s too perfect. Too hot. Just—ride me like that.”

Your breath catches.

You crawl into his lap slowly, knees bracketing his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands grip your thighs, sliding up the sheer lace with reverence and a tremble. Then his mouth is on you—kissing down your neck, biting gently at first, tongue soothing the sting. But that’s not what he really wants.

“I need it,” he whispers. “Please. Let me bite.”

You nod.

He doesn’t hesitate. Sinks his fangs into the swell of your breast just above the lace, groaning low as your blood hits his tongue. You moan at the feeling of the heat rush that floods your body. Your hips grind down on instinct. He grips you tighter, hips twitching beneath yours.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back with blood smeared at the corner of his lips. “You taste so good.”

You rock against him again. He’s hard already, pressing against your center through thin layers. Your pace quickens as you straddle him, grinding down in search of friction, your moans growing louder with every pass.

And then—he thrusts up once, twice, desperately, through his boxers, trying to meet you. It’s messy. Uncontrolled.

“Take me out,” he pants. “I—I need—please—”

You reach between you, freeing him from his briefs. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking against your hand. He bucks into your touch, then holds your hips steady while you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto him—inch by inch, lace still clinging to your skin.

His head drops back against the pillow with a moan so wrecked it doesn’t sound human. “You feel… fuck… you feel unreal.”

You start to move.

Slow at first—steady rolls of your hips, his hands roaming every inch of you he can reach. His fangs flash again as he watches you bounce, lace framing your curves, blood still drying on your chest.

“I can’t—can’t hold back,” he grits out. “Need to bite again—need to feel you everywhere.”

You nod, too lost in pleasure to form words.

This time, he bites your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your breast again through the fabric, enough to tear the lace slightly. Each time, his tongue follows, soothing the sting with a worshipful lick before he moans against your skin.

You’re shaking. Close. So close.

“Jeongin—”

“I know, baby," he growls—but this time, there’s a rasp in his throat. A dark edge. A thirst not just for you—but for what’s inside you. What feeds him.

Then—he snaps.

Jeongin bucks up into you with renewed force, rough and desperate, the rhythm turning messy and fast. One hand clutches your hip, guiding your motion, the other lands sharp against your ass—slap.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take it. Ride it. Don’t you dare stop.”

You try to answer, but your voice breaks. He’s deep, hard, relentless. The blood loss, the overstimulation, the lace chafing just so—it’s too much, and still not enough.

Then he sinks his fangs into you again.

Lower this time—just above your heart. A claim. A feeding. His moan is filthy against your skin as he drinks, hips slamming up with each pull from your vein. His lips seal to the bite like it’s sacred, tongue swiping the spill before it stains.

You feel yourself tipping, unraveling—body jerking, walls fluttering around him. He groans, hands digging into your ass, holding you in place as his thrusts become erratic.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, blood-slicked lips against your breast. “I could drink you dry. Fill you up. Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop.”

You don’t. Your body moves on instinct—legs trembling, hands clutching at his chest, your moans dissolving into shattered gasps as you ride him harder, faster, deeper.

He fucks up into you like he’s chasing something primal—like he’s on the edge of breaking, of shifting into something unholy. His grip on your hips bruises. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s staring at you like you’re divinity draped in lingerie and blood.

“Fucking—cum,” he snaps, voice cracking. “Let me feel you.”

And then—you do.

It hits like a flood, your whole body locking around him, head thrown back as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, shaking, grinding down on him as your walls clench and flutter and milk him mercilessly.

Jeongin loses it.

He growls—a sound feral, needy—and slaps your ass again, rougher this time, then grabs your waist and slams up into you with sharp, punishing thrusts. No rhythm now. Just desperation. His cock drags along every swollen, overstimulated nerve inside you as he chases his own climax, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Fucking—tight—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Another slap. Another thrust. His fangs flash again like he’s tempted to bite one last time, but instead he buries his face in your chest, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. His fingers sink into your thighs, holding you down as he spills into you with a deep, guttural groan.

His entire body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Then stillness.

His grip softens—only a little. His face stays pressed against your skin, your blood still drying against his lips. His cock twitches inside you, aftershocks making your thighs tremble from where you’re still seated on him.

He finally breathes. Hoarse. Like he’d forgotten how.

“…mine,” he whispers. Like a prayer. Like a vow.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco

[sillylilsquid]

after daisy

pairing - felix x reader summary - after losing his service dog, Felix finds comfort in the ER tech who stayed. grief turns to healing, and healing turns to something more; with a new dog, shared nights, and the quiet love growing. warnings - animal death, description cpr/life saving measures, grief, depression 6k words

It was a slow lull between cases–the kind of pause that never lasts in veterinary medicine. Especially the ER.

You had finished tending to inpatients, and now you were restocking gauze and flushing lines when the front door slammed open with a bang that echoed through the fluorescent lit ER. “Help–please–someone help me!”

You turned on instinct. He was already running toward the counter, cradling a limp, bloody golden retriever in his arms. She was hardly moving. Her hind leg dangled at a sickening angle. Her coat was matted with road grit and blood. Her tags clinked weakly with each panicked step.

The man was crying–sobbing, actually–face blotchy and twisted in a raw kind of grief that made your stomach knot. “She–she got out–she ran, and then–a car–” His voice cracked and broke apart.

You didn’t ask for details. You rushed up to him, reaching for the dog. “We’ve got her,” you said, urgent but calm. “What’s your name? What’s her name?”

“Felix. This is Daisy.”

“Okay, I got her, let me take her.” You turned to him, eyes locking. “I need to take her now.”

He hesitated, shaking. His arms clutched tighter around the dog like he wasn’t sure he could let go. “I c-can’t–she’s my–she’s my–” His whole body folded inward, like the weight of her was all that was keeping him from collapsing too. “She’s my service dog.”

Your breath hitched. “I promise we’ll do everything we can,” you said softly now. But I need to take her back. Now.” You saw the moment he surrendered, the pain slicing through him as he handed her over. You rushed toward the back, yelling for help. “Hit by car, unconscious, bradycardic–”

The rest blurred into chaos. You laid Daisy on the exam table in the trauma bay, the team already swarming. You started checking vitals as you barked orders without hesitation. “Get me IV access–jugular if you have to. Start her on oxygen. Warm saline, full flow. Let’s move!”

Blood matted thick along her flank and mouth. Her breathing became agonal–barely there. You felt for a pulse at her femoral artery. Nothing. “She’s coding.”

You were already switching gears. Another tech slid in beside you and began chest compressions while you clipped in an IV catheter with a practiced flick. You flushed the line fast, securing it with tape as you called out for the doctor.

Dr. Park entered just as you began intubation. “Epi, 1ml IV push it now!” You wiped blood from her airway with gauze, sliding the endotracheal tube into her throat, then hooked it up to the ambu bag. “Tube’s in. 7.5, cuff’s inflated. Starting ventilation.”

The screen beeped. You switched out compression with a colleague, watching the monitor–still flat. Ultrasound was already on her chest. No motion. No flicker. Her heart was silent. “Come on, Daisy,” you whispered, almost without realizing. “Stay with me…”

Another round of epi was pushed. Another round of compressions. Sweat ran down your back beneath your scrubs. The whole room pulsed with urgency. Fear and desperation.

The monitors were a chaotic rhythm of being and alarms. Everyone was moving fast–hands passing syringes, lines being flushed, someone calling out vitals. You were pressing hard on Daisy’s chest, her ribs fragile under your hands, while another tech breathed for her through the endotracheal tube. Her gums still pale. 

Still flatline. “No cardiac activity,” someone whispered. Dr. Park hesitated, glanced up at the clock. “I’m calling it,” he said softly.

Your hands dropped. The fell still–all that noise and effort sucked away in a single breath. You stared down at Daisy. Her chest no longer rose. Her fur was still warm under your gloves, but fading. You took a step back, nausea twisting in your guy. You tried. You tried everything. And it hadn’t been enough.

You scrubbed your hands under burning hot water for the third time. They were shaking. Dr. Park had already written up the report. “I’ll go talk to her owner,” he said and you nodded, deciding to stay behind. But you watched as he stepped out into the cold fluorescent hallway.

You began to clean Daisy up. Removing the endotracheal tube and her IVs. You used a warm rag to clean most of the blood off of her–at least what would come off easily. You brushed out her fur the best you could.

After digging through the cupboard you found the warmest, fuzziest blanket and wrapped Daisy in it. Trying to make her look as presentable as possible for Felix.

Meanwhile, Felix hadn’t moved from reception. He was in the far corner of the waiting area, hunched in a chair meant for paperwork and quick check-ins, not grief. He was still soaked through–his sweatshirt darkened with drying blood, jeans stained with road dust. One of his hands gripped Daisy’s leash like it was a lifeline; the other was shaking violently, holding a crushed paper towel someone must’ve handed him earlier.

His leg bounced, his lips moved soundlessly, like he was whispering to her. Maybe praying. Dr. Park cleared his throat, beginning to speak quietly. “Felix?”

He stood too fast, stumbling forward. His face was a mess–red and drawn and desperate. “Is she–can I–” The words caught and tangled in his throat. 

“Let’s talk in private.” Dr. Park guided him toward an exam room, a larger one they used for sensitive cases. The blinds were drawn. The walls were quiet.

Felix sat stiffly in the lone chair beside the counter while Dr. Park remained standing, giving him space. The leash was still wrapped around Felix’s fist. The doctor didn’t sugarcoat–something he learned in his years in the field. “We tried everything we could. We intubated her, gave her fluids, medications, compressions. There was no cardiac activity on ultrasound. We ran multiple rounds of code, but…” A pause. “We couldn’t get her back. She’s passed away. I’m sorry.”

Felix didn’t react at first. He just sat there, staring at the floor. Then– “No.” Soft, almost inaudible. He shook his head, eyes burning as they welled up. “No, she’s strong. She always bounces back.” His voice broke hard, cracking open like something raw beneath it had finally surfaced. “I don’t understand–I–no–”

Dr. Park apologized again, giving Felix a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ll have them bring her to you, if you’d like.” And that’s when he broke. Felix’s cries became sobs, his sobs turned into screams.

His face was buried into his hands, screaming inaudible words as he cried. His shoulders shook, his blonde hair fell in his face. Dr. Park turned to leave, heading straight back into the treatment area.

Meanwhile, you’d just finished getting charges put in the computer under Daisy’s profile. When you saw Dr. Park he flashed you a sad smile. “Can you take Daisy to him, please? Exam room 3.” You nodded. As you began to wrap Daisy up in a way that would look more peaceful, rather than traumatic, you heard Felix’s screams. His sobs. Daisy’s name falling from his lips over and over again.

“Jeez,” one of the other techs muttered. “It’s sad, but that’s a little dramatic.” 

The words caused a fire to burn in your chest. You turned towards her and shook your head. “That was his service dog. Show some fucking compassion.” You muttered, grabbing Daisy in your arms and storming out of the trauma bay.

You headed towards the room Felix was in, the door was cracked and you saw his bent over frame. You knocked gently with your foot as you pushed the door open. “I have your girl for you,” you spoke softly. Felix’s head immediately snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, face was blotchy, dried blood smeared across his face.

You gently laid Daisy on the ground making sure her blanket was wrapped neatly around her, leaving her head out. “I cleaned her up as much as I could,” you explained, brushing your fingers through the fur behind her ears. “Take all the time you need.”

Felix practically fell out of his chair, kneeling next to Daisy. His hands trembled as he reached out towards her. When his fingers touched her fur, he broke harder than before. His body hunched over, engulfing Daisy in a hug as he practically laid next to her on the floor. His face buried against the top of her head.

As he cried, repeating her name and how sorry he was, you quietly moved out of the room. Wanting to give him privacy, but you left the door cracked just slightly. Just in case he needed anything. And as you continued with the rest of your shift, you found yourself peeking out into the hallway towards his room.

The rest of your shift passed in quiet echoes–charting, cleaning, checking on overnight inpatients. You kept glancing at the clock. Thirty minutes went by. Then an hour. Two. By the time three hours had passed, the sun started to rise. You heard a few whispers, “Is he really still in there?” “At least he stopped crying.” And you had to bite your tongue.

You’d just clocked out for the day. You changed out of your scrubs, hoodie tugged over your head, badge stowed in your locker. But before you left, your feet pulled you back toward exam room 3. The door was still cracked. You knocked gently on the frame, barely louder than a breath. “Hey…” you said. “Can I sit with you?”

Felix didn’t look up right away. He was lying on the floor, curled around Daisy’s blanket wrapped form like a child would hold a stuffed animal. His face was blotchy, eyes swollen, lips dry from hours of silent crying. But he nodded.

So you stepped inside, quiet and small, and took the chair beside him. No words, just your presence. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t have to.

After a few minutes, you scooted off the chair, sitting near them but not too close. And you reached out–slowly, carefully–fingers brushing through Daisy’s fur one last time. “She would’ve liked you. She liked everyone.”

You blinked hard, trying to swallow back tears. “I think I would’ve liked her too.” And the two of you just…sat. The kind of silence that doesn’t need filing. The kind that honors what was lost. The kind that stays.

The sky outside was blushing grey with morning when Felix finally stirred. He sat up slowly, arms reluctant to let go of Daisy’s small form, his forehead still pressed gently to hers. When he did lift his head, his eyes were glassy again–emptied out, yet somehow still overwhelmed. “I should go…” His voice sounded hoarse and wrecked. “Or I’ll stay here forever.” You wouldn’t have blamed him.

You smiled softly, the kind of smile that knows the pain he’s talking about. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Felix sat for another beat, stroking Daisy’s fur beneath the blanket, before whispering, “Thank you, Daisy. For everything.”

You swallowed down the ache in your throat. He looked up at you, hollowed out but grounded, like grief had finally started to settle into his bones. “Do you know what you want to do for aftercare?” you asked gently. “We can send her for private cremation if you want her ashes returned, or–”

Felix cut in, quietly, eyes dropping to her collar in his hands that he had unclipped from her. “I can’t afford that.” He hesitated then added, “The front desk already asked. Said I could make payments on what I owe for today.”

That landed harder than you expected. He didn’t look embarrassed. Just defeated. You only nodded. “Okay,” you said softly. “I understand.”

Felix bent over Daisy one last time, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his lips trembling against her fur. “Goodnight, baby.”

He didn’t cry then. Not out loud. But his whole body trembled as he tucked the blanket around her once more. You waited until he stepped out of the room before reaching for her. Even though you were off the clock, you carried her back to treatment yourself–wrapped gently, respectfully–no different than you would if her person had still been watching.

The back was quiet again. Everyone moved slower in the early morning hours, that liminal space before the rush of breakfast cases and rechecks. You paused by the freezer door, then turned, and walked toward the doctor’s office instead. Dr. Park looked up from his computer when you knocked.

“Hey,” you said, clutching Daisy to you tightly. “I’m paying his bill. All of it. Cremation too. Private. I’ll cover it.”

He blinked. “You sure? I know it’s sad, but we can’t help everyone–”

You nodded once. “She was his whole world. That should matter more than a fucking invoice.” 

He didn’t argue. Just typed up a few notes and handed you the paperwork to sign. You swiped your card without a second thought.

The sun was fully up by the time you stepped outside. The parking lot was mostly empty. The only cars were the tech’s and doctor’s–but one car hadn’t moved.

You recognized it immediately. Felix was still in the driver’s seat. Just…sitting there. Not on his phone. Not crying. Just staring through the windshield at the front doors of the hospital like something might walk back out.

You stopped by the curb. Watched him for a second, heart folding in your chest. Then, gently, you raised your hand in a quiet wave. He looked up. And when he saw you, something flickered in his expression–confused , exhausted, but grateful.

He raised his hand too. Not a wave. More of a reach.

That next evening at the clinic had settled into its usual rhythm–barking from the ICU, a limping kitten in Room 2, and a stack of unfinished SOAP notes growing at the treatment desk. You were finishing up a TPR when the front desk phone rang.

“Hey, uh…there’s a guy up front. Says his name’s Felix? Wants to talk to someone from ER.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You finished the vital signs with a rushed scribble and stepped into the lobby. He was standing by the counter, holding a small envelope. He looked better–less wrecked–but still like he hadn't quite landed back in his body yet. His hair was down, brushed messily out of his face as if he’d ran his fingers through it a thousand times.

When he spotted you, he straightened. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I…I just wanted to say thank you. For yesterday. For everything.”

He handed you the envelope. Inside was a thank you card–simple, soft grey with white script. Tucked inside was a photo: Felix and Daisy on a hiking trail, her tongue out, his smile wide and natural. There was a $50 gift card to a nearby cafe stapled inside with a note that read for the team–thank you for taking care of my girl.

You blinked fast. “You didn’t have to–”

“I did,” he cut in, voice rough. “I had to. You were…kind.” He turned to the front desk then, digging into his pocket for his wallet. “I also need to make a payment toward my bill,” he said. “They told me I could split it over a few weeks–”

The receptionist blinked at the screen. “Um. It’s actually…already paid in full.”

Felix’s brows furrowed. “That’s not right. I didn’t–”

“I know,” she replied, glancing behind him towards you.

You step forward silently. He turned when he felt you hovering. There was something guarded in his expression–grateful but confused, like he was trying to understand something he didn’t quite have the language for yet.

You didn’t explain. Didn’t confess. You just met his eyes and said, gently, “Daisy will be back in a few days.”

His mouth parted, then closed again. He swallowed. “Really?” His voice was tight, careful.

You nodded. “I’ll call when she’s ready to come home.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes wet again, but steadier this time. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Really. For all of it.”

It’s been a few weeks. Daisy’s ashes are long gone. You wrapped them in tissue paper and tucked the box into a plain brown bag. You remember his fingers trembling when he took it from you–how he didn’t speak, didn’t look you in the eye. Just nodded once. Like if he opened his mouth, he might break apart in front of everyone.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until today.

“That guy with the Australian accent was looking for you yesterday,” one of the night nurses says casually, popping gum between her teeth as you sign out. “Didn’t catch his name. Said he came by about his dog? He didn’t seem right.”

You pause, pen hovering midair. “Did he say anything else?”

She shrugs. “Just…asked if you were working. Didn’t come in. Stayed by the doors, looking kind of lost. Then left.”

You don’t ask why she didn’t come get you. You just nod and finish your charting.

The next day your shift drags. Nothing goes terribly wrong, but the hours feel heavier than usual–like you’re waiting for something. Every time the front door dings open, you glance toward it. And every time, it’s not him.

Until it is.

You’ve just clocked out. Your hoodie’s half zipped, stethoscope tucked in your bag. You round the corner to head out back and–there he is. Sitting on the curb outside the staff entrance. Hoodie up. Elbows on his knees. Daisy’s leash looped twice around his wrist, like it always was–except there’s no dog at the other end now. Just empty slack.

He looks up at the sound of the door. And when he sees you, he tries to smile. It doesn’t work. “Hey,” he mumbles. His voice is raw, like he hasn’t used it much lately. “Didn’t think I’d catch you.”

You sit next to him. Not too close. Not yet. He fidgets with the leash. You ask how he’s been doing. He doesn’t lie, not really.

“Not great,” he admits. “Some nights I still reach for her food bowl. Realize halfway through that I’m filling it for a ghost.”

He laughs a little, but it’s brittle. His eyes are rimmed red. There’s a dull tremor in his hand when he presses his fingers to his temple. “It’s quiet, you know? Real quiet. I thought I’d like that. But…it’s different without her. It’s not silence, it’s…”

“Absence,” you finish.

He nods. The silence between you this time is gentler.

“She used to wake me up when I had bad dreams,” he murmurs. “Now I just wake up and stay up. Because there’s no one to stop it.”

You glance at him. “Do you have anyone else?”

He shakes his head. “It was just her. Just Daisy.” A pause. “And you, that day.”

He doesn’t cry. But it’s a near thing. You want to ask a million things. You want to tell him it’s okay. But you don’t know if it is. So you say the only thing that feels real.

“You don’t have to go home yet.”

And you stand. You wait. And after a long, fragile pause–he rises too.

“I mean–sorry, that probably sounded weird. I just…” You let out a breath. “You can come to my place, if you want. Just for a bit. Stay as long as you need. I figured you might not wanna be alone.”

He looks at you for a long moment. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s quiet on the drive over. You fiddle with the heat, give him the aux cord even though you know he won’t take it. His hands stay in his lap, the leash still curled tight in his grip like muscle memory.

At your place, he toes off his shoes and stands awkwardly by the door. You flick the lights on and toss your keys into the bowl. “Make yourself comfortable,” you announce. “Couch, bed, floor–whatever works. I’m gonna change into something less covered in fur and anxiety.”

That earns a soft snort from him. A tiny upward curl at the edge of his mouth.

You return in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He hasn’t moved far–just wandered into your room and perched on the edge of your bed, eyes on the ground like he’s not sure if he should even sit.

“I haven’t eaten since, like, yesterday,” he mutters.

You sit down next to him and pull your phone out. “Pizza?” you ask.

He nods. “Pineapple?” you test.

A breathy laugh escapes him. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” you say, tapping your order in. “I was gonna judge you.”

It takes about 40 minutes for the food to arrive, and in that time, something shifts. He tugs off his hoodie and sits cross legged on your comforter. You toss him a pillow and he hugs it close. “Is this weird?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you reply honestly. “But not in a bad way.”

You eat pizza sitting on your bed with your knees brushing, boxes spread out between you. He talks with his mouth full, and you don’t call him out on it. You’re just glad he’s eating.

After dinner, it’s quiet again–but not heavy. You stretch out and lean against the headboard. He follows, sinking down beside you. And that’s when he finally lets go.

“She used to curl up under the blanket and stick her nose out like a little burrito,” he murmurs, staring at his hands.

You let him talk. About Daisy. About her first day with him. Her surgeries. Her anxiety. Her stupid favorite toy that squeaked like a dying bird. The way she’d sit outside the bathroom door if he forgot to leave it open.

“She didn’t like most people, but she probably liked you.” He says.

Your chest goes tight. He’s quiet for a beat. Then, softer, “She trusted you. That means something…I haven’t really talked about her. Not like this.”

You nod. “You can keep going. Say whatever you need. You don’t have to stop.”

He does. He talks until his voice goes hoarse. Until he can’t keep his eyes open. You don’t rush him. You just listen. At some point, his head tilts and lands on your shoulder. You go still. “Just a second,” he mumbles. “I’ll move.”

You shake your head. “You’re good.”

And he stays. Breathing slowly, warm beside you. And for the first time since you met him, there’s no difference. No wall. No leash between grief and comfort. Just two people on a bed, sharing quiet and space. The beginning of something fragile, and maybe healing.

It doesn't happen all at once. First, it’s just that one night. Then another. A few days later, he shows up outside the clinic near the end of your shift. No texts. Just leans on your car, hands in his jacket pockets, waiting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Figured I’d see if you wanted takeout,” he says.

You do.

And after that, it becomes a pattern.

Your place, his place. Takeout boxes in the trash, half finished movies in the queue. He starts leaving things behind: a hoodie on your chair, socks tucked in your laundry, a toothbrush next to yours without either of you mentioning it.

Some nights, you fall asleep talking. Other nights, you don't talk at all. But it’s never awkward. Not with him.

You start watching for his face after shifts. He waits for you outside the ER, hood up, sleeves pulled over his hands. He holds your lunch sometimes. Brings coffee. The other nurses start to notice.

“Is that your boyfriend?” one of them teases.

“No,” you say too quickly. “We’re just–friends.”

But even as you say it, it feels too simple.

One late evening, you’re curled up on the couch at his place. A documentary plays in the background, muted. He’s been quiet for a while, scrolling through something on his phone. You think he’s not really present until he says: “There’s a dog at the shelter.”

You turn toward him, brows raised. “Yeah?”

He nods, still looking at his screen. “They posted her picture this morning. She’s older. Little shy. Black lab mix. Looks like she’s had a rough time.”

You pause, watching the way he chews on the inside of his cheek. “You thinking about adopting her?”

A long silence. He locks his phone and tosses it beside him. Shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno. I don't know if I can do that again. Losing her. I don't know if it’s too soon, or if it’ll always be too soon.”

Your heart aches. You shift closer, gentle. “It’s not weird that you’re thinking about it.”

He looks at you. “I just thought…maybe we could go see her? You know. No pressure. Just meet her.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. We can do that.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

He exhales, like he’s been holding that breath since Daisy died. And when you lean your head against his shoulder, he doesn’t flinch or pull away. His fingers brush yours on the blanket between you. Neither of you say it out loud, but there’s something shared in that silence. Something healing. Something ready. 

The shelter smells like bleach and wet fur. It’s loud in the way all shelters are loud–echoing barks, whining, the sharp clang of metal bowls hitting concrete.

Felix tenses beside you as you check in at the front desk. He doesn’t say much, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, but his eyes never stop moving. Not fear exactly–just bracing. Expecting impact.

You glance at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Just…haven’t been here since…” He trails off and you just nod in understanding.

You reach out without thinking, touching his wrist. His gaze drops where your fingers brush his skin, then back up to your face. He doesn’t pull away.

The volunteer, a young guy in a ‘FOSTER HEROES’ t-shirt, comes to meet you with a clipboard. “You’re here to meet Emmy?”

Felix nods once.

“She’s a little shy,” the guy says as he leads you down the hallway. “Came from a neglect case. She’s sweet though. Warms up once she trusts you.”

You stop in front of a kennel near the end of the row. The dog inside is curled up at the back–small for a lab mix, black with graying fur around the muzzle, one ear that won’t quite stand up.

Emmy doesn’t rush the door. She doesn’t bark. She just lifts her head, slow and careful, her eyes big and cautious. “Hi, sweet girl,” you whisper.

You crouch down. Let her sniff you through the bars. She doesn’t flinch, but she doesn’t move closer either. Felix stays back at first, hands still in his hoodie, watching.

“Do you want to go in?” the volunteer offers.

Felix hesitates. “You can both go,” he says. “No pressure.”

Slowly, Felix follows you inside. Emmy keeps her distance, tense and watchful, but when you sit cross-legged on the floor and open your palm, she takes a few slow steps forward. Her nails click against the concrete.

You don’t rush her. Felix sits beside you, knees drawn up. Quiet. He doesn’t reach for her–just watches the way her body moves, cautious and ready to bolt.

But then Emmy sniffs your hand. Then Felix’s shoe. Then, slowly, she presses her nose against his knee. He freezes. You don’t say anything. 

She sniffs again, then settles her chin on his thigh like she’s already made a decision. Felix’s breath shudders. He brings one hand up, trembling just slightly, and lets it hover before gently touching her fur. 

“She’s so soft,” he says, barely audible.

You smile. “She likes you.”

“You think?”

“Look at her.”

Emmy shifts, half in his lap now, tail flicking just once. The volunteer grins from the door. “Take all the time you need.”

You stay like that for a while. Letting the silence settle. Letting Felix fall in love again–slower this time, more careful.

And when the volunteer finally returns and asks, “So, wanna put in an application?” Felix looks to you first.

Not because he needs permission–but because this time, he doesn't want to do it alone. You smile and nod. “Yeah,” he says, voice soft but certain. “Yeah, I think I do.”

The rain starts as a gentle tapping on the windows, but by the time the takeout boxes are empty and the lights are low, it’s a full on storm. Thunder rolls heavy through the sky, shaking the apartment like a warning.

Felix doesn’t say much. He hasn’t said much since the shelter. Just looked at Emmy like she might vanish if he blinked too long.

Now, the three of you are curled up in the dim warmth of his bedroom–Emmy at the foot of the bed, you and Felix lying side by side under his gray comforter. The TV is on low, playing some random show that neither of you is really watching.

He flinches a little when lightning flashes. His breathing’s gotten tight. You shift closer, careful. “You okay?”

Felix nods–or maybe just tips his head a little–but his hand is fisting the blanket by his chest, jaw clenched.

“Storms?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Been better since Daisy. But…tonight’s loud.”

You don’t push. You just stay next to him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, grounding. You feel him trembling a little under your touch. A deep rumble of thunder rolls across the sky.

Felix’s body tenses again–barely perceptible, but you feel it. And then, like she’s been watching the whole time, Emmy rises from her spot at the foot of the bed.

She moves slowly, ears half cocked, and steps over the sheets to where Felix is lying frozen. One paw, then the next, up until she’s settling herself directly on top of his chest–not heavy, just enough to anchor him. Her chin rests just under his collarbone.

Felix holds his breath. And then–you hear it–a quiet, cracked whisper, “Daisy did this.”

Your heart lurches. He doesn't cry. Doesn’t move. Just lies there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his hand coming up like muscle memory to curl around Emmy’s side.

“First storm after I adopted her. I couldn’t breathe. And she–she just climbed on me. Like she knew.” His voice breaks around the edges. “She always knew.”

You press closer, curling your arm over his and resting your head against his shoulder. “Maybe Emmy knows too.”

He exhales, long and shaky, like something loosens inside him. “She’s not Daisy,” he says softly. “I know that.”

“She doesn’t have to be,” you whisper. “She’s Emmy. And you have each other now.”

There’s silence. Then Felix nods. Emmy shifts slightly, letting out a small sigh, her eyes fluttering shut. Thunder cracks again. This time, Felix doesn’t flinch.

Mornings settle into a rhythm.

Felix wakes before the alarm, most days. You brew the coffee while he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Emmy circles your ankles, tail wagging like she’s clocked in for duty.

She follows Felix from room to room–never needy, just near. Always watching. She nudges his leg when he’s pacing too much. Sits against his knees when he gets that faraway look, the one you’ve learned means he’s spiraling. She even curls up beside the bathroom door when he showers. Just like Daisy used to.

The first time you notice it, you glance down at her quiet shape, then up at Felix through the half steamed glass. “She waits,” you murmur. “Like she knows you need someone on the other side.”

Felix blinks at you, water running down his face. “Daisy did that,” he says, his voice sounding surprised.

You smile. “Maybe Daisy’s telling her how to help you.”

He doesn’t answer right away. But that night you find him sitting on the couch while Emmy lay across his lap, and he’s just…still. Not scrolling, not fidgeting. Just breathing. You let yourself believe he’s healing.

It’s a Thursday when it happens.

Rain again, but softer this time. You’re both in sweats, Emmy’s squirrel toy already soaking wet from too many rounds of fetch in the hallway. Felix is on the floor, back against the couch, and Emmy trots over to drop the soggy toy in his lap. “Okay, okay, one more time, Daisy.”

It slips out like breath. He freezes. You’re on the couch, just close enough to see the shift in his eyes–the way the air pulls tight around him. “Felix.”

His jaw clenches. He looks down at Emmy like he just betrayed her. But Emmy doesn’t react. She just nudges his hand, then places the squirrel gently in his lap again.

Felix blinds rapidly, sniffling once. He picks up the toy, not even wiping his eyes. “You wanna play, huh?”

Emmy wags her tail and sits, ears up. He throws the squirrel. She sprints. You slide down next to him, touching his arm lightly.

“She knows who you meant.”

He laughs through a shaky breath. “I miss her.”

“I know.”

You don’t say more. You just sit there, letting Emmy trot back and forth between you, panting and proud. And when Felix rests his head on your shoulder, you lean into him–quiet, steady. Letting the weight of grief settle alongside something softer. Something new.

The squirrel toy lies abandoned now, forgotten in the corner. Felix’s legs are stretched out in front of him, your thigh pressed against his where you’ve both stayed slouched on the floor. Emmy has flopped belly-up between you, snoring faintly, her head resting across his ankle lke she belongs there.

Neither of you has said much in a while. The only sounds are the hum of the fridge and the soft patter of rain. You glance sideways at him, taking in the soft slump of his shoulders, the wet curls stuck to his temple. He’s tired. Not just end-of-the-day tired. The kind that lives in the bones.

“You okay?” you ask gently.

His eyes stay fixed on Emmy for a second too long. Then he swallows “I keep thinking about how bad I was doing,” he says, voice so quiet you almost miss it. “Back when Daisy died.”

You stay quiet. Let him lead. 

“I wasn’t eating. Barely sleeping. I’d come home and the place felt like a grave like if I breathed too loud I’d break it.”

He rubs a hand over his face. “Then I met you.”

You blink. “Felix…”

“I’m serious,” he says, looking at you now. Really looking. “You didn’t just hand me her ashes and disappear. You stayed. You kept showing up. You let me talk about her. You let me not talk about her.”

You feel your throat tighten.

“And now Emmy–she’s not Daisy. I know that. But she…fits. Like she just knew where she was supposed to be. With me. With us.”

He glances down at Emmy, who kicks her leg in her sleep like she’s chasing something.

“Some nights, when I wake up and I feel like I’m drowning again–I’ll turn over and you’re just…there. And she’s there.”

He looks back at you, blinking slowly.

“I don’t think I could do this without you.”

Your heart aches. You don’t speak, just slide your fingers between his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to,” you whisper.

He leans into you, forehead resting against yours, lashes damp. “Promise?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Felix.”

Emmy stirs, shifting so her paw flops over both your legs like a sleep seal of approval. And for the first time in a long time, you see something new in Felix’s eyes. Not just grief. But hope.

Felix stays pressed against you for a long moment, his breath slow and steady. The storm outside has softened to a light drizzle, but inside the room, something warmer is starting to flicker between you.

You shift closer, letting your hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. His eyes find yours, searching, hesitant–like he’s asking permission without words.

You smile softly. “You know,” you murmur, “you don’t have to be scared here.”

His lips twitch in a small, tired smile. “I’m not scared,” he says quietly. “Maybe…just tired.”

You nod, understanding. And then, carefully, as if testing the waters, your fingers brush a stray curl from his forehead. Felix closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like it’s the safest place in the world.

You hesitate, then tuck your hand behind his neck, pulling him gently closer. His eyes flutter open, and you see that vulnerable mix of hope and uncertainty again.

“Can I…?” you ask softly.

He nods, and your lips find his. The kiss is slow, soft–like the quiet promise of something new, something healing.

Felix’s hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing gentle circles. Emmy stirs again at your feet but doesn’t move, like she knows this moment is yours.

When you pull back, your foreheads rest together. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this again,” he confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, rubbing your nose against his. “Me neither.”

“Thank you,” Felix says, voice thick with emotion.

You squeeze his hand. “No, thank you. For letting me in.”

Outside, the last of the thunder rumbles softly–but inside, it’s calm. Warm. Full of new beginnings.

a/n - sorry for the heartbreak, but ugh this idea has been in my head for a while. I work in vet med and see so many grieve. xoxo hope u enjoyed

[lieslab]

Don't be afraid of me

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: Your ex refuses to let you go without putting up a fight and terrorizing you.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 5k

Trigger warning: Stalking, paranoia, and an unhealthy/obsessive ex.

A/N: Requestee, your request was vague. You never came back to clarify exactly what you wanted, so I wrote it as a 9th member AU and made sure the reader interacts with every single person. This is up far later than usual because I kept freaking myself out slightly aha whoops🫠 (stalkers are so scary, please call the cops if you have a freak on the loose near you)

_ _ _

It was a love pulled from the movies. Every kiss felt right. Hands touched, they pulled, and the body craved more. Magnetic forces aligned and everything remained right, until it all crumbled. A love story turned into a real life horror movie. 

The moment things became too much, you put a stop to it. Your lover’s little moments of love became obsessive. Too clingy, too much, too suffocating. You couldn’t breathe. The moment you dumped them, you thought it’d lead to bigger and better things. 

You shut the door to that chapter of your life, but you forgot to lock the window. 

~ ~ ~ 

You sat in the cafe across from the JYP building drinking your favorite drink. You were released for lunch twenty-five minutes ago. Instead of heading down to the canteen, you walked across the street, down the block, and into the opening arms of fresh pastries. 

Sweetened dough, french vanilla coffee, and pastries formed with love. Tea bags filled with dried herbs to soothe the soul. Enough espresso to awaken the dead, the hustle and bustle of an afternoon rush, and you. You in the wooden chair, scrolling on your phone with one hand, and sipping your preferred beverage with another. 

Minutes rolled by and you scrolled. Glancing at local news, the front pages of social media, and you responded to two unread text messages. You stood up, about to head back to the company building when your phone vibrated with a new message from an unknown number. 

I see you :)

The moment you read the message, fear spiraled down your spine. You slowly tipped your head up and glanced at the customers around you. None of them seemed out of place. A mother trying to console two young kids in the line with a few elderly folks behind her. 

Notebooks sat scattered all over one table. A college kid with headphones in, he typed frantically at his laptop, probably writing an essay. Further in the back, two friends sat laughing. One gestured to the other’s face where a coffee mustache sat. They laughed and wiped it off with a napkin. 

Another table housed a middle aged man with a book. In front of him, a half-eaten croissant sat on a piece of parchment paper. Salt and peppered hair, wrinkles creased in the center of his forehead, and golden-rimmed glasses on the perch of his nose. His eyes scanned the words, but he didn’t glance in your direction. 

You didn’t have to ask. Your eyes shifted outside, but nobody seemed to be around. Another two people came through the glass door. A bell jingled, but nobody else followed. Wrapped up in their own conversation, they didn’t look at you, either. 

You already knew who the message came from. When you left, they vowed you’d regret it. They couldn’t bear to be without you. A life without you would be a fate worse than hell. You thought you were bettering yourself by leaving, but the floodgates opened. Demons don’t play by the rules and neither does the primal madness sitting locked inside some humans. 

You opened up Pandora’s box and you weren’t sure how to shut it. 

~ ~ ~ 

A few days later, you tried to forget about it, but the paranoia grew. It ballooned in your stomach and eyes felt like they were everywhere. Even walking the halls in your familiar company building, you didn’t feel alone. As if someone lurked around the corner, an invisible being breathed down the back of your neck. 

You couldn’t prove it, but you could feel it. They tip toed behind you, moving closer and closer, until you whipped around. They disappeared, morphing into the shadows and slipping just out of sight. That single text kept you on edge. 

You were headed towards the dance practice room when Chan jokingly nudged your shoulder. You shrieked and nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Jerking around with wide eyes, your fists flew up to defend yourself. 

“Woah, it’s just me! Don’t deck me, mate!” He held up his hands innocently and grinned. “I didn’t know you were that out of it.” 

“What the hell, Chan?” You snapped angrily. “Oh my god, you practically scared the shit out of me!” 

“Sorry. What’s got you so worked up? Did you watch another horror movie last night? Let me guess. Was it the one with that smiling demon? Hereditary? A classic like Nightmare on Elm Street?” 

Your head shook and you sighed. “No, I didn’t watch anything. It wasn’t like that.” 

“Right,” he teased. He leaned over, letting his hand run through your hair. “Come on, let’s get into the dance practice room. The rest of the guys are waiting for us.” 

You let him wrap an arm around your shoulders, but not before looking back behind you to make sure the two of you were alone. 

~ ~ ~ 

Hello, baby. I miss you. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home :)

A batch of your favorite flowers sat beside Han and Changbin with the attached note. You came in to record your parts of a song. You weren’t expecting the flowers, let alone the note. The fear crept back up again. 

“These are pretty flowers, but I thought you dumped your-” 

“I did,” you cut Han off. “I did. Is this a joke?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then Changbin. “Because if this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny.” 

Changbin glanced over from the director’s seat. “Woah, easy there. Why would this be a joke? The receptionist just sent up one of the assistants with them a few minutes ago. He said they were given to the receptionist and they were specifically for you.” 

“From who?” 

“From the flower guy. He was given to them by-” 

“Shut up!” You snapped again. Tears filled your eyes and you blinked rapidly. You grabbed the flowers, walked over to the trash can and shoved them in the bag without another word. 

“What was that for?” Han asked. 

“Because ever since I broke up with that asshole, weird things have been happening and it’s freaking me the fuck out. The other day, I got a text message from them and now these flowers and I-” 

“What text message?” 

“I deleted it, but it said ‘I see you’ and it had a smiley face. I got it alone when I was at the cafe having lunch. It freaked me out and now these stupid flowers are appearing with a similar face.” 

Han and Changbin shared a look. An unsettling feeling fell over the room. Changbin spun around in his chair and faced you. “Listen, if this is something that’s escalating, we should call the cops.” 

“No,” you shook your head, “it’ll make it worse. I just hope they’re done fucking with me. I left them because they’re shitty. I’m done with it. I’m done with all of it and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

You wiped your eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to focus on the work before you. You held your head high and walked towards the empty recording booth. “Let’s just get started and forget about all of it.” 

Han and Changbin wanted to say more, but they didn’t want to cause more distress, so they stayed silent.

~ ~ ~ 

On the way home, you laughed in the back of Changbin’s car. He sang along to the radio in a high-pitched voice. Beside him, Hyunjin fist-pumped the air to the beat. Their voices collided, leading you into a further fit of giggles. 

The pair were supposed to drop you off at your own apartment. You were on your own until the weekend. The guys promised to help you move back into Hyunjin and Changbin’s dorm when they all had free time. You had been shuffling between living with your significant other and your own place for a few months, at least until things fell apart. 

Changbin’s worries from earlier still lingered. They lingered so much, he insisted he needed to be the person to drive you home. He tried not to scare you as he stepped into your path earlier. Without much of a word, he hauled you over his shoulder with a fit of giggles. He’d do anything to distract you from the flower basket. 

As he pulled into your driveway and the song cut to advertisements, Hyunjin turned off the radio. You shifted in your seat, reaching down to grab your bag when he called your name. “Hey, did you leave your apartment unlocked this morning?” 

“No,” your head popped up, “why?” Your question was answered when you looked up at your front door. The wooden door sat wide open, silently beckoning you inside. Your face fell and the excitement to get home and comfortable melted away. “Changbin?” You weakly uttered. 

“I know.” 

“What?” Hyunjin looked between the two of you. “What is it? Why do both of you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” 

You cracked, forcing yourself to explain the situation to Hyunjin. The moment you finished, he reached out for his cell phone. “We need to call the cops.” 

“Save it,” Changbin uttered. He jerked off his seatbelt and shoved open his door. “Get the authorities on speed dial and you might want to get an ambulance when I’m finished with them.” 

He slammed the car door shut. You scrambled out of the car and Hyunjin followed. “Changbin, wait!” You cried out. As he climbed the steps, you followed. “Hyunjin is right. We should just call the cops and wait, so they can-” 

He made it a handful of steps into your apartment when he stopped. “Hyunjin, call the goddamn cops.” 

You peered around the corner of the door and your eyes widened. Your items were strewn everywhere. Couch cushions left the couch. Something heavy had shattered the TV screen. The glass coffee table laid in thousands of glass shards. 

You tried to push past him, but Changbin’s arm shot out, stopping you. “Stay here until I clear things.” He stepped forward, heading deeper into the apartment. 

As Hyunjin rang the authorities, his eyes ran along the door frame. He expected to find signs of breaking and entering, but the door frame didn’t contain cracking. The door knob was perfectly intact, as if someone slipped in the key and walked in like they owned the place. 

You followed behind Changbin, in too much shock to stop yourself. In the kitchen, glasses and plates sat shattered on the floor. Your refrigerator door hung wide open and the fridge alarm beeped, signaling your fridge had been open for too long. 

Empty condiment bottles littered parts of the floor. The acidic scent of ketchup made your stomach churn. Bright yellow mustard oozed down the fridge. Globs of mayo speckled open cabinets. 

Fresh kimich squashed beneath Changbin’s feet. He cursed and stepped back. What you planned on having as a dinner side sat ruined. Everything was ruined. In the bedroom, your clothes had been tossed from the dresser. Your bed had been stripped from the usual comforter set. 

Posters ripped to shreds. Jewelry littered the bathroom. The scent of your shampoo and conditioner soaked the tub. Your favorite book sat in the toilet. Everything was all wrong. 

Noticing your closed closet, Changbin ripped open the door fuming. You flinched and tensed up, but nothing was there. All the boxes and items had been tugged out. Changbin flicked on the light and you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

The only thing waiting for you was that sinister goddamn smiley face spray painted and covering the back of the closet wall. 

~ ~ ~ 

You explained the situation to the cops a week ago. The unknown number. The flowers. The smiley faces. The paranoia. All of it. The messy breakup and the threats made to you when you left. They were so sure you’d come crawling back. 

The cops dubbed it a crime of passion. Whoever trashed your apartment, it was a personal vendetta. Nothing was stolen, but everything was destroyed. When they cleared the scene, you tried to go back for your clothes, but they’d been cut. 

Someone spent so long going through every clothing item you owned and they cut it in two. Over and over and over and over again. They cut and cut and cut and cut, with your own fucking scissors. The cops found them beneath a stack of clothes and took them in for fingerprinting. 

Your ex became a person of interest, but they couldn’t find them. Hunkered down in Hyunjin and Changbin’s dorm, you grew more and more terrified as the days passed by. Little things made you jump. You no longer felt safe. 

In fact, the paranoia grew worse. Even at work, it lingered. Singing and dancing used to bring you happiness, but now you dreaded going out. You performed once at an award’s show and the moment it was over, you fell apart backstage. Tearing up and shaking, you couldn’t stop. They could be in the crowd watching your every move. 

Wondering. 

Waiting. 

Observing. 

Planning. 

Changbin and Hyunjin weren’t safe. The rest of the guys weren’t safe. Nobody was safe and if anyone ended up hurt because of your obsessive ex, you’d never forgive yourself. You used to think you were brave for getting through your trainee years and debuting, but this broke you. 

Your sleep grew less and the restlessness grew more. The group worried about you. Changbin and Hyunjin would awaken and find you sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee. You were tense with purple bags under your eyes. On the defense, you’d never be caught off guard again. 

You’d do whatever you could to keep yourself and the guys safe. You looked out for your group. You looked out for your fans. As the paranoia grew, your ex didn’t have to do anything else. 

Too petrified of all the what-ifs, you brought yourself to your knees. 

~ ~ ~ 

There was nothing to move on the weekend. Nothing in your apartment was salvageable. You and the guys entered with trash bags. Not once did you feel safe. You worked in silence, tossing all of your old clothes into a trash bag. 

In the opposite room, Han and Felix whispered to one another. “I’m worried,” Felix uttered softly. “They’re barely sleeping. I haven’t seen them eat anything since Thursday. Even then, it was only a single banana. This is destroying them.” 

“The cops are still looking for their ex. They have to find them. They’re going to find them.” Han carefully placed another shard of glass into the black bag. “They have to find them. This can’t keep happening. Things will go back to normal, I believe it.” 

“This just sucks. They didn’t do anything to deserve all this.” Felix glanced around your destroyed living room with a frown. You hadn’t once spoken about your things since the home invasion occurred. 

In your room, it took nearly an hour for you, Jeongin, and Chan to clean up all of your items. Jeongin offered you some of the necklaces and rings, pointing out that they were still okay, but you refused. You didn’t want anything your ex touched. Everything tarnished with their touch. 

The person you once knew, they were dead. They died in the breakup. Something monstrous woke up and took over. You didn’t understand why it happened, or what it did. There were signs in your relationship before you left. 

They begged you to leave your group. Insisting and pleading, you could live with them and they’d provide for you. You objected, reminding them it made you happy and you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in a contract and you couldn’t break it without legal trouble following you. 

They scowled when it happened. Shooting you a glare, mumbling curse words, and slamming their empty plastic cup down on the table. You should have known they weren’t normal. Something was off, but you didn’t understand it then. You thought they were upset over something silly. You didn’t think they were showing you their real form. 

Beneath the soft kisses and the need for intimacy, something dark hid beneath their skin suit. With each item you shoved in a trash bag, you were reminded of it. Your fingers shook, but you endured because you always did. If you could endure this, you could endure anything. 

~ ~ ~ 

You dubbed them dickhead one and dickhead two. Seungmin and Minho stood guard with similar crossed arms and narrowed eyes. Felix sat down on the floor beside his bed with his Nintendo Switch. 

“You’re being assholes!” You complained. Sitting on the edge of Felix’s bed, your arms sat over your chest. You glared at the floor. You knew they meant well, but you were too stubborn to admit it. 

“And you’re being a little bitch,” Seungmin countered. “You’re lucky Felix is being nice enough to offer you his bed. Get in it, get under the covers, and go to sleep. 

“Jesus Christ, do you two kiss your mothers with those foul mouths?” Felix mumbled. His thumbs moved as he moved his character around his Animal Crossing island. 

“Yongbok, sit there and stay out of it.” 

“Hey,” Minho countered, “don’t talk to him like that. You either put your ass in that bed, or I’m going to invent chloroform and knock you out with it.” 

You glared at him. 

“Keep it up and I’ll hogtie you while I’m at it.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Cuntdracula, get beneath the covers and go to sleep, or so help me I-” Seungmin never finished his sentence. 

Felix’s bedroom door flung open and you glanced up. Han strolled in and smiled when he saw you. “I heard someone couldn’t sleep very well.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Seungmin rolled his eyes and jerked open the door. “Thank god. I’m clocking out and I’ll be in the living room if anyone needs me. Actually, I take it back. I’m going into the kitchen and finding a drink. This is fucking exhausting.” 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Han dropped beside you on the bed. He leaned over, placing his head on your shoulder. “We’re all worried about you. You’re practically sleep-walking as you speak. You can’t keep this up, you’ll collapse.” 

“But I’m afraid,” you weakly admitted. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. “I’m afraid if I’ll go to sleep something will-” 

“Nuh-uh. That’s not happening. Yongbok is going to kick your ex’s ass. Before they get to him, they gotta go through me and my airfryer,” Minho reminded you.  I’ll stick a feral ferret and wild boar on their ass.” 

“Boar?” Felix glanced up from the floor. “Do you mean Changbin?” 

“Have you ever seen Changbin when he’s mad? Dwaekki after dark is a boar.” Minho shuddered and shook his head. “That’s the stuff of nightmares. We’ll hold down the fort, you just focus on getting some sleep and letting us handle it for now. I’m going to go wrangle the puppy.” 

He left you alone, leaving you with Felix and Han. Han wrapped an arm around your body. “Please try to get some sleep. We can tackle this again when you wake up.” 

“Yeah.” Felix got up and crawled onto your opposite side. “I’ll bash their head in with my Nintendo Switch. Bet they wouldn’t see that coming, would they?” 

“You’re not that scary, Lix.” 

“Clearly, someone hasn’t seen me when I lose a game I play passionately.” He huffed, leaned over, and laid across you and Han. “Maybe I should ask Innie to join us. Would it make you feel better if we all puppy-piled?” 

“Maybe a little,” you finally admitted. 

“Say no more. Han, take over and watch my house. Chan is on my island and my house is in danger. He’s been threatening to take my stuff.” 

Han raised an eyebrow. “When did Chan get into Animal Crossing?” 

“Right after I threatened to open his window on the plane and let it vacuum him into the sky. I was bored and didn’t want to play alone.” 

He texted on his phone, as if his words were the most normal thing in the world. 

~ ~ ~ 

The thirteen hours of sleep finally left you feeling somewhat refreshed. You were still paranoid and worried, but you felt better. You entered the JYP building with the guys and scattered in different directions. With Minho and Chan, you ventured into the dance practice room, so you could try and learn the dance moves you kept messing up. 

The rest of the guys did their own things. For nearly an hour, you worked tirelessly. When you paused to take a break, you sucked in a deep breath and headed to the door. “I’m going to go find a drink. I’ll be right back.” 

“You didn’t bring one?” Chan called after you. 

“Nah, I forgot it because I was in a hurry this morning.” 

Minho laughed at you and pointed, making sure to make a mockery of your actions. You rolled your eyes, flipped him off, and headed out to go find a drink. On your way down the hall, you paused when your manager called your name and waved you down. 

“Felix is on his way back from one of the cafes with drinks. He wants to know if you can head downstairs and meet him outside. Apparently, he’s almost dropping the drinks. I’d go help him, but I’ve got a meeting with the uppers.” 

A brief lapse of fear ran through you, but you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to smile. “Yeah, I’ll head down there now. Thanks for letting me know.” You found it strange that Felix didn’t call, but you didn’t have your phone with you. It was tucked in your bag in the dance practice room. 

You headed in the direction of the stairs, trying to be mindful of all the trainees, idols, and spare employees. In the lobby, you walked through the tile floors, trying to ignore the dreading feeling building in your stomach. You told yourself the anxiety was pointless. 

Your ex wasn’t in the area. Surely, they knew you’d put the pieces together. They’d know you knew it was them and they’d go far away, never bothering you again, right? At least, that’s what you wanted to happen. 

At the set of glass doors, you pushed them open and headed outside. In the early hours of the morning, cars brushed past downtown. A distant horn honked and a plethora of people hurried past the building, eager to go somewhere. You sucked in a deep breath and turned in the direction you assumed Felix would be coming from. 

Usually when you got drinks for one another, you came from the cafe you favored. It was your favorite for that reason. Everyone liked the drinks and pastries, it wasn’t just you. As you walked, your nerves short-circuited and your feet stopped. 

In the distance, someone walked towards you with their hoodie hood pulled down. You tried to look around them, searching for Felix, but you couldn’t find him. You took a step back, focusing on the fear running through you. 

“You’re being dramatic,” you mumbled beneath your breath. “It’s just a random person. It’s chilly outside and…” You trailed off as they picked up speed. 

Their head tipped up and they jerked down their hood. Even from a distance, you could see the dead eyes. Something hid beneath the arm of their hoodie. It sat balled up and your stomach dropped. Your heart took off and so did you. 

Footsteps stormed after you. Cars blurred as you rushed back to the building. Your heart hammered in your chest and you struggled to breathe. There was one thing you liked about the JYP building. You shoved your finger against the fingerprint reader and the doors clicked. 

Right as you grabbed the door and jerked it shut behind you, their silhouette appeared. You tugged as hard as you could. They tried to pull, but the door sealed shut with a loud click. Locked inside, you were untouchable. 

A phone rang behind you and someone picked it up. Footsteps. Your own heavy breathing. The dead eyes of your ex and that damn smile. The corners of their mouth upturned and you couldn’t breathe. 

A flash of something silver appeared in their fist. They taunted, waving whatever the object was at you. Your fear grew and so did their grin. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Tears pricked in your eyes. 

They reached over to the keypad, trying to use their own prints to get in and it snapped you out of it. You jerked around. “Help! Help! Call the cops! Help!” You didn’t recognize the shrillness in your voice, but Felix did. 

He was on his way down to the canteen when he heard you yelling. A handful of people started to dial and Felix approached you. “Hey, what is-” He stopped when something banged against the door. “Call security now!”

He grabbed you and pulled you back from the door. You clutched onto him, shaking like a leaf. Words erupted from your ex, but you couldn’t hear them through the thick glass. You heard the excessive banging, but the words remained muted. 

Hot tears filled your eyes. A group of similar dressed men in dark polos and dress pants rushed forward to stop the man. Cries were heard. Felix jerked you into his chest, so you didn’t see the chaos. Your ex screamed. 

“We’ve got a sasaeng!” Another yelled. 

“It’s not a sasaeng,” you spoke up, “that’s my ex.” 

~ ~ ~ 

“The cops said a phone call came in to the new receptionist. When the person said they were Felix from Stray Kids and needed you, she didn’t recognize the voice. Too frazzled and unsure, she passed the message along to our manager.” Changbin sat at the end of the couch. “That’s how you were lured outside.” 

In Jeongin and Chan’s dorm, you all gathered to try and understand what happened. After everything unraveled at the company building, shaken up after two security guards were stabbed, the company dismissed everyone from the building, so the cops could put the story together. You talked to the cops. Changbin talked to the cops. Felix talked to the cops. 

You were left exhausted and in disbelief. The injured security guards were going to be okay, but you were still distressed. If you wouldn’t have slipped back into the building, if the doors wouldn’t have automatically locked, you weren’t sure you’d be with the guys right now. Your head felt fuzzy. 

Your body strung across Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin. Despite your argument with Seungmin the other day, he played with your hair gently as your eyes drooped. You were still so exhausted from everything occurring over the past two weeks. This morning felt like a nightmare came to life. Every time your eyes shut, you remembered the way they grinned. 

A slew of charges awaited them. Tomorrow, you planned on going to the police station with Chan and your manager. A restraining order would be put in place. Not only with you, but your manager wanted to discuss a restraining order being prepared for the entire group. They weren’t having any of it. 

“I really thought it was Felix,” you mumbled sleepily. “I went out because I thought he needed help.” 

“I was recording with Han and Hyunjin.” He gently patted your back. “I’m right here and we’re okay. That’s the most important thing.”

“I can’t believe security guards were stabbed.” 

“They’ll be okay, they’re rough guys. One time, one of them threw me over his shoulder and took me down the stairs to prove a point.” Hyunjin playfully poked your calf. “He was short, so I insisted he couldn’t carry me. He proved me wrong.” 

“Huh?” 

“It was sometime last year.” 

“Cheater,” Changbin grumbled. 

“And you’re a cheater, cheater,” Felix added, shooting a glare at Changbin. 

“I did no such thing.” 

“I’m a victim,” Seungmin mumbled beneath his breath. “Stuck in a love triangle that I didn’t ask to be part of. I knew I shouldn’t have sat on the couch.” 

“I think the most important thing is that the jackass is gone. They’re gone and we’re all safe. They’ll be locked away for a long time and we’re safe,” Hyunjin repeated. 

“Nuh-uh,” Minho strolled into the room, “you’re all about to be a victim of me. I killed off Han, Chan, and Jeongin.” 

Jeongin peeked around the living room corner. “Hyung, we’re literally just in the kitchen and eating ice cream. We’re not dead yet. You wouldn’t kill me anyway, I’m too cute to kill.” 

Minho glared and then sighed. “Damn. You make a good point. You’re off the hook, but not the other two.” 

“I’m literally like the love of your life,” Han cried out. 

“Yeah,” Chan said, “plus, I’m your elder. You can’t kill me off, that’s ageist.” 

Minho’s hands went up in the air in defeat. 

“Hey look, they’re finally asleep.” Seungmin gently poked your cheek. With your face relaxed and your eyes shut, you breathed softly. “It’s about fucking time.” 

“Poor thing is traumatized.” 

“I don’t think they’re ever going to date again,” Felix frowned. 

“Welp,” Minho shrugged, “I guess they’ll just have to date one of us.” 

Han’s eyes widened. “Hyung! You can’t just say that!”

“I don’t see any of you trying to stop my ass grabbing.” 

“Perverts in my catholic home,” Hyunjin shut his eyes. “I can’t believe this.” He leaned back against the couch. 

“Hey, this isn’t even your house.” Jeongin appeared from the kitchen. “Leave Channie hyung and I’s dorm alone.” 

“You heard the little man,” Minho added, “leave my ass grabbing alone, or you’re next Hwang.” 

They didn’t know you weren’t asleep; you heard the entire thing, just grateful that the horror had finally passed and you all survived. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[cosmicalily]

"what's in my bag" - ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | what i think skz's gfs would keep in their bags

author's note: a skz ver of the ateez ones i posted on @liliesformingi <3 warnings: reader is referred to as a girl, however no feminine pronouns are given (i tend to use girl/girlie kind of as a gender neutral overarching term)

bangchan & minho

the breakdown: bangchan girlies keep their bag minimal and down to the essentials, a tried and tested selection of exactly what they know they'll need while out. and, of course, a little friend to keep them company is a must, and earphones are essential for moody music listening sessions on the train! minho girlies are always prepared for any feline that might approach them, along with a sweet, subtle fragrance to enchant any non-cat walkers by! again, kept simple but sentimental; daily bits and pieces, all very well loved!

changbin & hyunjin

the breakdown: changbin girlies are the kind of people you'd meet in a restroom and they'd fix your hair for you, and their bag contents reflects that! a super cute wallet (with a pilates studio membership likely hidden inside) as well as snacks for on the go; you never know when you need a sweet treat! hyunjin girlies treat the world as their muse, adorers of any kind of physical media. they start the day with the basics, and throughout their adventures, collect little bits and pieces, probably for their journal. flowers, keychains, crystals . . . anything!

jisung & felix

the breakdown: jisung girlies are quirky and sentimental, always keeping something on hand to keep them occupied when out and about, whether it be a graphic novel, fidget or a gaming device, as well as a digicam to capture physical thoughts and memories. felix girlies are refined and reliable, with a well-stocked bag that has anything anyone might possibly need on hand. need a tampon? you know they've got you. hands are dry? this cream's scented like vanilla! they're the ultimate girls' girl!

seungmin & jeongin

the breakdown: seungmin girlies know what they want and like, and that's familiarity. a physical notebook makes them feel more in touch with the present than a phone notes app, and even though they're always one for practicality, this is a luxury they won't deny. also collectors of fluffy things; they remind them of him. jeongin girlies are always on trend and up to date; the latest phone? they preordered it a month ago. that new lip product everyone's raving about? they have it in four shades. the contents are constantly swapping in and out, lovers of trying new and fun things!

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq @lenfilms @yaniblvsh @dearmini @ilovedallywinston @0sunshinecryptid0 @peskybirdysya @channieschocco @straberieslee @hanverse-recs @skzfangirl143 @hanjiiscake | comment, dm or send an ask to be added :)

[bbokaricentral]

SKZ as love languages

summary: skz maknae line x gn reader - what love language they would embody/enjoy

(hyung line here)

wc: 1.6k

Han Jisung - Physical Touch Giving: There’s something almost magical about how Han Jisung comes home to you. It’s the way his tired eyes brighten when he sees you, the way his whole demeanor shifts from exhaustion to pure contentment. His favorite part of the day? Walking through that door, dropping his bag, and wrapping his arms around you like he’s been starved for your touch all day. You’re there, always waiting, and he doesn’t take that for granted. "Sungie!" you greet him, practically running to him for a tight hug. He smiles, his lips curling up, and without hesitation, his hands come up to cup your face. His kisses are tender and full of love, starting at your forehead, brushing across the tip of your nose, and finally landing on your lips. Every time, it's like the first time all over again. “I love you,” he says with that soft smile of his, like he’s completely in awe of you. His eyes twinkle, and for a moment, the world outside your little bubble doesn’t exist. It’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, and that’s all he needs. "I love you, too," you whisper back, your heart racing as you rest your forehead against his. It's moments like this that make the long day worth it.

Receiving: Jisung isn’t shy about his need for affection, and the moment you give him even the smallest amount, he practically melts. You could brush your hand against his arm or squeeze his hand lightly, and he’d turn into a puddle of sweetness. He’ll lean into your touch, his eyes softening, and sometimes he’ll look at you like you’re the best thing to happen to him. Even if you’re walking by each other, he might grab you and pull you into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as if he’s starved for the comfort of your arms. "I missed you," he’ll murmur quietly, and even though you’re not sure how long it’s been, his words always make it feel like it’s been forever. There’s no end to how much he wants to hold you, touch you, make sure you know how much you mean to him.

Felix - Gift Giving + Physical Touch Giving: Felix is a man who listens—and I mean really listens. He notices the small things you mention in passing, the little details you might not even realize you’ve said, and then, months later, he surprises you with them. Maybe you mentioned how you liked a particular perfume or how you thought a book looked interesting, and there he is, surprising you with exactly what you wanted, even though you’ve long forgotten you ever mentioned it. It’s never about the price or the grandeur; it’s about the thoughtfulness behind it. Felix doesn’t shy away from expressing his love physically, either. He loves being close to you, especially at night when things are winding down. Before you both drift off to sleep, he pulls you in for one of those cozy, warm cuddles, his body enveloping you in a way that feels like home. His lips gently kiss your forehead, and he whispers into the quiet, “Good night, baby.” Your response is soft, sleepy, “Night, Lixie.” And even though it’s a simple exchange, it’s everything to him—those little moments, the warmth of your body next to his, the comfort of knowing you’re both safe and together.

Receiving: Felix is much more of a giver when it comes to affection, but when you surprise him with a hug or a soft kiss out of nowhere, it catches him off guard every time. He’s used to being the one who initiates all the cuddles, so when you wrap your arms around him or sneak in a kiss on his cheek, he’ll freeze for a moment, his eyes wide. He blinks, trying to process the unexpected affection, and then his face will flush a little. His hands might hesitate at first, unsure of how to respond, but then, just like you always do, he’ll pull you closer, wrap his arms around you, and kiss you right back, his fingers tracing along your back as though he’s savoring every moment. He’ll laugh shyly, his voice soft. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he’ll tease, but his smile is warm, and his eyes are full of affection, making it clear that he loves the way you love him.

Seungmin - Acts of Service, Physical Touch + Words of Affirmation Giving: Seungmin’s love language is sneaky, like a game of pretend. He’ll act like he’s annoyed when you ask for help, but in reality, he secretly loves doing things for you. One of your favorite things is when you’re cooking dinner together, and you ask him to chop the vegetables. He’ll roll his eyes, scoffing, but before you even realize it, he’s grabbing the knife and slicing up the onions with expert precision. “You can’t do everything yourself,” he’ll mutter, but there’s a softness in his voice that he can’t quite hide. It’s in these little moments—when he says he doesn’t want to help, but ends up doing it anyway—that you realize just how much he loves you. He’s not great at expressing it verbally all the time, but his actions speak louder than words.

Receiving: Seungmin is not a man who craves over-the-top affection, but when you give him little compliments or affectionate touches, it sends him into a cute, flustered mess. The most innocent comment from you can make his face turn pink. One night, after dinner, you’re sitting across from him when you casually say, “Minnie, your smile is adorable.” He freezes, blinking at you like you just told him you were going to the moon. “Really?” he asks, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, really. My pretty boy with the prettiest smile.” He immediately covers his face, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. “Stop,” he groans, though you can see the little smile he’s trying to hide. “You’re embarrassing me.” You can’t help but laugh, reaching over to take his hand, and he lets you, even though he’s still trying to act like he’s not enjoying the attention. It’s moments like this—when he lets himself be vulnerable with you—that make him feel the safest, and for you, it’s one of the sweetest things he does.

Jeongin - Quality Time Giving: Jeongin isn’t one for excessive physical touch, but the way he expresses love is through time spent together. He enjoys your presence more than anything, and that’s what makes him happiest. The two of you could spend hours doing something as simple as arguing over what movie to watch or bickering about which snack to buy, and to him, that’s more than enough. It’s in these small moments that he feels most connected to you. “You’re so impossible,” you laugh as you try to make your case for the movie you want to watch. “I’m impossible? You always pick the weirdest movies,” Jeongin teases, his playful smile lighting up his face. “Excuse me, I pick good movies, okay?” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms dramatically. “Good? They’re all so weird,” he replies, shaking his head in mock disbelief. The bickering continues, but it’s lighthearted and full of warmth. You both know there’s no serious tension—just two people who love spending time together, even if it’s over something as trivial as choosing the right movie.

Receiving: Jeongin’s idea of love is simple: quality time. He doesn’t need constant PDA or big gestures, just your presence. When you’re together, he feels content. Sometimes he’ll catch your eye when you’re not looking, just to see if you’re still there, just to remind himself that you’re real and that you’re his. It’s those quiet, unspoken moments that make him the happiest. “Can we just stay like this for a while?” he asks, his voice soft as he leans against you, his hand naturally slipping into yours. You smile, squeezing his hand. “Of course.” For Jeongin, that’s all he needs: being with you, doing nothing and everything, and knowing that you’re both happy in each other’s company

[sunshinesfreckless]

We Never Broke up….right….?

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: Felix just can‘t seem to let go of his Ex. Idek if it makes sense i just wildly typed something out in my notes app.

Warnings: Smut Smut Smut. Minors DNI 😛

A/N: Felix was so hot at the Louis Vuitton show yesterday…. expect a fic about it.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Y/N hated him.

Not the way people toss the word around casually—ugh I hate that guy—but the kind of hate that sits inside your chest like wet cement, heavy and permanent, poured in the shape of his name.

She hated how he broke her heart like it was a disposable thing. She hated how cool and detached he’d looked doing it, like he hadn’t spent months memorizing her coffee order and the birthmark on her thigh. She hated his new Instagram photos: hair wet, jaw clenched, staring into the lens like it owed him something. She hated seeing other girls repost them. She hated the ads—the LED screens flashing his face, the soft-focus images of his smile on bus stops and subway walls. She hated that just the sight of him could gut her like a fish.

And worst of all, she hated that even now—months later—she still knocked on his door. Or he knocked on hers. Depending on who broke first.

Tonight, it was him.

She heard the knock before she saw him. No words, no messages. Just a knock like a reflex.

She didn’t ask who it was. Didn’t need to.

When she opened the door, he was already looking down—hood low, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, glasses doing nothing to hide the sharp lines of a face that still lived in her memories like a ghost refusing to leave. She didn’t speak. Neither did he.

She just stepped aside.

It always started the same.

His mouth on hers like an apology he didn’t know how to say. Her nails on his skin like a punishment he knew he deserved. Their bodies colliding with the violence of everything they refused to speak aloud.

“Still mad at me?” he asked against her neck, breath warm.

She pulled his shirt up over his head, eyes dark. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But her hands trembled.

He smirked, the cocky, infuriating grin she used to kiss just to shut him up. “You always say that. Right before you let me fuck you into the mattress.”

She did.

And she let him again.

Because Felix always knew how to break her open in bed. He touched her like he owned her. Fucked her like no one else mattered. Whispered things in her ear that made her knees buckle, his voice deep and rough and aching with something they refused to name.

He always knew just how deep to go. How long to stay inside her before she broke.

She’d come undone beneath him, clinging to his back, his name bitten into her pillow. And when it was over, when her chest heaved and his lips hovered just above her skin, they both stayed frozen.

Like maybe if they didn’t speak, they could pretend it was something else.

That they weren’t exes. That they hadn’t ruined each other.

“You should go,” she whispered into the silence.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he brushed his thumb across the curve of her hip like he was tracing a memory. His eyes softened for just a second. “You still wear the necklace I gave you.”

She slapped his hand away.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t pretend this is sweet.”

“It was sweet,” he murmured, quieter now. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes wasn’t enough.”

She turned away, curling into herself, sheets tangled at her waist.

He sat up, watching her like she might disappear. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t trust himself not to say too much…..

────୨ৎ────

She didn’t know how they ended up like this again. He was supposed to perform at a show tonight.

But Felix had her pulled back into him, her spine curved flush against his chest. One of his hands was between her legs, slick and cruelly slow, while the other was wrapped around her throat.

Not tight. Just enough to make her breath catch, just enough to make her thighs tremble.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Still like it when I do this, baby?” he murmured against her ear, voice low and hoarse from how long they’d been at it. “Knew you’d come crawling back for it.”

She didn’t answer—couldn’t, not with his forearm curved so perfectly under her jaw, lean bicep pressed right against the side of her neck. He kept his grip precise, just how she liked it. He’d always had strong arms, dancer-lean and deceptively firm. And when he used them like this—slow pressure, whispering filth into her hair—she completely came undone.

Her fingers clawed at the sheets. “Fuck, Felix—”

He chuckled darkly, kissing the hinge of her jaw, licking a stripe up to her ear. “This pussy misses me,” he groaned, rocking his hips into her from behind. “So fucking tight around me. You think anyone else can fuck you like this?”

He punctuated it with a hard thrust, choking her a little more as her eyes fluttered shut.

“You think they know what you look like when you’re like this?” he rasped. “Falling apart, drooling all over the pillow, letting me use you like this?”

His breath stuttered. He held her tighter—not just around the neck, but her waist too, as if he couldn’t stand the idea of her slipping away.

“I swear to God,” he whispered, a tremor in his voice now, “no one else gets to see you like this. No one.”

She moaned helplessly, back arching against him as his rhythm quickened, hips slamming into her from behind in perfect, brutal strokes. His fingers moved to her clit, relentless, his bicep flexing just a little more—and that’s all it took.

She came with a ragged sob, her whole body shaking in his hold. Felix groaned behind her, burying his face in her neck as he followed, clutching her tight, fucking her through it like he’d die if he stopped.

Afterward, he didn’t let go.

He just stayed there, arm still around her throat but soft now, his other hand sliding down to rest over her stomach, the smallest breath of a kiss against her shoulder.

And it hit her then—how quiet it was. How easy it would be to say something. Anything. She frowned when he pulled out.

────୨ৎ────

Chan always said their breakup was messy. Both of them too prideful. Both of them too hurt to reach back when the other pulled away. It was the kind of love that burned everything it touched. And yet—they kept coming back.

They kept knocking on each other’s doors like addicts desperate for another hit.

────୨ৎ────

Felix stood finally, pulling his hoodie back on.

“I’ll go,” he said. But he didn’t move. “Just tell me one thing.”

She didn’t answer.

“Do you still love me?”

Her breath caught. She looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time in weeks.

He was still beautiful. Still hers, in a way no one else could ever be. But she said nothing.

And maybe that silence was the answer.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Because the next time there was a knock, she opened the door again.

And the time after that.

And the time after that.

Because some people never really break up. Not in the ways that matter. They just take turns pretending the other one doesn’t still live inside their bones.

[minholuvr333]

Bsf skz texts are so good????? Can you do bsf skz texts accidentally caught thirsting over yn PLS?

bsf!skz accidentally getting caught thirsting!!

pairing: skz x fem!reader

ask and u shall recieve, anon!! <33

tw: sexting, pet names (baby, kitty, angel, puppy, pretty girl), small talk of collars and choking, general freak behavior

bang chan;

minho;

changbin;

hyunjin;

jisung;

felix;

seungmin;

jeongin;

a/n;

haiii :3 requests are open!!

i love these idiots (bsf skz)

i’ll be posting a little one shot soon!! longer story for the lovebugs (you) <3

[stray-kidshardstan143]

Request from @myfrecklesboy

Felix x fem reader smut audio

[hyuneflix]

love-coded.exe

season one: finding sunshine boy a hacker group, comprised of five members, has their world changed when a glitch leads to y/n joining their private chat. gn!reader.

-ˋˏ S1 EP 3.2: S.O.S signal ᝰ.ᐟ

↳ are you still watching? << exit // continue watching >>

taglist 0.1 @stilldontknowhoiam • @missvanjii • @torkorpse • @estella-novella • @fic-for-readers • @bloominglix • @j-0ne25 • @mythicmochi • @lausnotverybright• @velvetmoonlght • @mangojellyyy • @yn-x-them • @facioleeknow • @blckchrryy • @akindaflora • @xo-xaevia • @chansbbgnumberone • @diekleinesuesse • @bee-the-loser • @hyeon-yi • @unorthodoxdreamers • @sona1800 • @cutiebinni • @lil-royal-spo0k • @ksywoo • @daylightkarla

@vegetablesarefuntables • @notcamii • @poody1608 • @oceanz7 • @jeonginsleftcheek • @sirroma • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @candyquokka • @bahablastplz • @0sunshinecryptid0 • @my-neurodivergent-world • @lov3rachan • @painterhyunjin • @velvetmoonlght • @igotajuicyass • @bee-gremlin • @brbwritingfanfic • @pigeonseatmayo • @velvetskize • @woozarts • @pixie-felix • @corgilover20 • @ye0lkkot

[0nly-channies-girl]

𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜..𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙺𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝), 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚡

𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙵 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚇

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜..𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝..

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘.

𝚂𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 "𝙷𝚒." 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 "𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕." 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝, 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚢 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒����𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚕𝚢 "𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚈/𝙽." 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 "𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡...? 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝.. 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜.", 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚕𝚢 "𝚈/𝙽 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙?" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚢𝚕𝚢 "𝚞𝚖...𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎." 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 "𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢." 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢, 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 "𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎." 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕." 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚜, "𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢." 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝙷𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚙, 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚍/𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎. 𝙷𝚎 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔, 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎." 𝙷𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, "𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑!" 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚖. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚢. "𝙻𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎.." 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. "𝙼𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖..𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚑..𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢?" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 "𝙽𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎..𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞." 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢. "𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞." 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. "𝙸-𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚡".

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙷𝚒𝚒! 𝙸'𝚖 𝙴𝚕𝚕𝚊! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚖𝚔, 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎! 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐!

[darlingbubble]

☆。*。☆。。* 。☆

[inniesfanblog]

Lee Felix at the DOMINATE TOUR in San Francisco!!!

[peachiejeongin]

Hi sweetie! So I don't know what is up with lixie and his whole beauty and the beast obsession.. it's a beautiful concept tho... Omg nah I'm OBSESSED! Could I get a fic where reader and Felix are best friends but are low key something more (you know how it goes 🤣) and him and reader attend a fancy dress party and without him knowing (until reader shows up) that she is dressed in the most stunning belle inspired princess dress and he's in LOVE. Like absolutely in awe. literally can't catch his breath. Like literally that's my wife right there. Oh but things take a turn for the worst when she slips and bumps her head (maybe from dancing on the table - a dare by Han) to the point where's she's all dazed and confused and Han feels guilty trying to help clean her up with protective chan or someone but shes all like no I want my beast! And it's just so cute because as if the reader hasn't pulled on lixies heartstrings enough! And the boys are so offended but so shocked and so happy that you want Felix more then anyone and it's obvious you two have a thing and it's all so lush and it's all so perfect and it all makes perfect sense! And omg just reader and lixie as beauty and the beast! 🥺 Maybe a long hard cute confession of their love at the end maybe? (Idk, you said you wanted long requests so I'm really trying here 😇) Thank youuuu x

Tale as Old as Love | Lee Felix

Synopsis: A night of dancing, festivity...and one unfortunate head bump leaves Beauty wanting her Beast.

Pairing: Felix x Reader

Genre: non-idol au, best friends to lovers, fluff, a little crack

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

WC: 2.3K

Notice: Hello, my loves! As you all may have noticed, I have been M.I.A. due to some issues in my personal life :( Nevertheless, I am back and here to deliver your hearts' requests! I absolutely ADORED writing this, so I thank you, dear darling, for the request! Without further ado, enjoy the night with your Beast ;)

Divider By: @strangergraphics

The night was shimmering with gold; the sun was starting to set over the trees overhead, casting an ethereal glimmer on the crowd of partygoers below---some were chatting while enjoying sparkling glasses of wine, some were just arriving and prepared for a night of joyous adventure. One, however, was still waiting for his date to arrive.

It was not Felix's idea to attend this elaborate dress party; in fact, it is never truly his idea to attend any of the events you two often find yourselves parading at. You had casually brought up the idea just a week or so prior, stating how you had a coworker who knew a guy that knew a guy who could get you, Felix, and the rest of your friend group into the party for free. Your best friend, looking forward to a night of dressing up and dancing the night away, more so looking forward to doing so with you, agreed to the idea almost instantly. He had even offered to pick you up; however, you had declined for reasons unbeknownst to Felix.

Thus, here he stood, adorned in a deep navy embroidered jacket with gold thread curling across the edges of the torso and sleeves, matching dress pants, and black dress shoes that felt like they were squeezing his ankles to the point of blistering. The party had officially started almost ten minutes ago, yet you were nowhere to be found.

Felix glanced nervously at his watch, then towards the entrance to the party venue, before taking a deep sigh; as he exhaled, he noticed Han coming out of the double doors, holding a glass of champagne.

"Y/n's still not here?" Han questioned before taking a sip of his drink. Felix responded with a saddened head shake.

"It's weird," he began. "She's always on time. I'm usually the one that's running late." Han chuckled lightly.

"Well, come on inside and dance with us while you're waiting for your princess to arrive." Han started his stride back to the event, leaving Felix agape at his words; eventually, Felix followed suit and quickly found his group of friends.

The room sparkled under sparkling chandeliers. Couples danced to the slow music softly blaring overhead. Glittering masks and flowing ball gowns were everywhere imaginable. Felix tapped his foot nervously, unable to focus on Changbin attempting to hold a conversation with him about some new workout routine. He glanced around the expansive ballroom, hoping he would catch sight of your face somewhere in the crowd.

Where were you?

His train of thought was broken by the doors creaking open and numerous gasps erupting from the crowd; Felix's attention fixated on the capturing sight.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

You had finally arrived at the party, dressed in a glistening, goldenrod gown, clearly inspired by the beauty, Belle, herself; off-the shoulder sleeves brushed against your shoulders, a lace-fitted bodice curved perfectly onto your waist, and a full, flowing skirt shimmered with every step. Your hair was pinned up with tiny, jeweled pins glinting like stars. Your face was lit with a soft, glowing smile as your eyes scanned the room in search of Felix.

The boy in question was stiffened, his eyes the only part of his body that he could adjust as he watched your every move.

"Bro," Changbin whispered, nudging Felix's arm. "You good?"

"She..." Felix stammered, his voice briefly catching in his throat. "She's beautiful."

"If he's like this now, imagine him on their wedding day," Hyunjin teased, eliciting laughter from the others. Felix, however, just nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah. Imagine," he responded in a daze. "Because that is my future wife." The boys snorted in laughter as you slowly approached them, cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as you noticed Felix's stare.

"Y/n!" Minho called out first. "Give us a spin!" You giggled as you twirled, the fabric of your dress spinning before carefully falling back into place. You looked up at Felix and gave a toothy grin.

"Hey," you shyly greeted.

"Hey," he breathily replied. "You look...magical." Felix's words made your heart pound in your chest as your gaze fixated on the floor. It felt as if every moment of tension between you and Felix had peaked at this very moment; sure, you had always been best friends, but it had also always felt like...more than that.

Throughout the entire night, you rarely left Felix's side, only doing so to grab another drink or chat with a friend. The two of you would share snacks with one another, sneak into the nearby photobooth, and laugh about any and everything together. There was no denying that something soft yet electric was in the air between you two; Felix's freckled cheeks would redden at anything you did, and you could not keep your eyes on him for more than a few seconds without shyly glancing away. It felt as if absolutely nothing could ruin this night.

Except for Han Jisung.

An energetic dance song had begun to blast through the speakers, immediately prompting Han to rush over to you.

"Y/n! Come dance with me! This is our song!" Han screamed over the music; he had perhaps had one too many glasses of champagne, denoted by the way he was tugging sluggishly at your arm.

"Okay, okay!" you chuckled at his antics before turning to Felix. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all, love," Felix answered as he patted your shoulder. "Just, uh...good luck with that one."

You laughed at his response before scattering off with Han. You were making your way towards the dance floor before Han tugged you in a completely different direction. You were utterly confused...that is until Han hopped onto an empty table, swaying to the beat and begging you to join him.

'Eh, it won't hurt!' you thought to yourself as you hiked your skirt up slightly and climbed onto the table alongside Han. Felix kept his eyes on you from a distance, watching you dance along to the loud party track. He was glad you were having a good time and began making his way over to the table so he could cheer you on.

Before he could, however, the heel of your shoe caught onto the edge of the table, causing you to fall backwards when you went to take a step forward. Your head smacked against the floor lightly, causing Felix, Han, and Chan to rush your way. Han and Chan, being the closest in vicinity, were the first to make it there.

"Y/n!" Chan nearly screamed. "Are you okay?" He tried to lift up your head, but to his surprise, you pushed his arm away. Han attempted to do the same but was met with a similar reaction.

"Felix," you murmured painfully. "Where's Felix? I want Felix!"

Upon your pleas, Felix rushed to your side, something twisting so painfully in his chest that he felt his heart breaking into two pieces.

"I'm here, love," he whispered as he cradled you in his arms. "I'm here."

Felix helped you up gently, sending Chan to grab an ice pack for your head. You clung to him like a lifeline, your head still throbbing from the impact.

"You scared me, y/n," Felix chuckled as Chan hurried over with the ice pack. Felix pressed the cool compact against your forehead, and you sighed as you felt instant relief.

"'M sorry," you groaned.

"No need to apologize; although, you know you don't have to put on a spectacle like that to get my attention, right? You've already got it!" Felix was only joking, but the way you looked up at him was as serious as ever.

"I...I do?" you questioned, causing Felix's eyes to widen.

"I mean, yeah. Yeah, of course you do. You're my best friend; I'm always going to pay attention to you."

"What about as more than a friend?" you suddenly asked. Felix felt his heartrate quicken.

"Um...what do you mean, y/n?"

"I mean...do I have your attention as more than a friend?" You stared into his eyes, searching for some sort of a response, whether it be fear, hesitation, love, whatever.

"Well, uh...you see-"

"It's okay if I don't," you suddenly replied. "I understand."

"What? No, no! That's not what I mean at all it's just...the question just caught me off guard is all!" Felix nervously stuttered, attempting to chuckle and cover up his anxiety; however, the look in your eyes spelled out that you did not believe him. Thus, he took a deep breath and confessed.

"You have always had my attention in that way. Everything about you, it...it awes me, truly. Tonight was just more proof of that."

"Me falling off of a table proved that you like me?"

"No!" Felix playfully nudged you before continuing. "Tonight...the way you looked, the way you looked at me, everything. It just all proved that I fell so much harder for you than I thought I ever would." To his response, your cheeks flushed and your eyes softened.

"Trust me, this isn't the way I wanted to tell you," you began, "but I fell for you too. The way you care about me, protect me...it's all so endearing and I... I love you for it, Lixie." Felix's eyes widened once more, and his lips formed into an endearing grin.

"You...love me?"

"Mhm," you nodded, a thin smile forming. "Again, not how I wanted to tell you. In fact, I'm going to have to tell Seungmin to keep the sign we made in his car-"

"Wait, sign?" Felix inquired whilst laughing. "You made a sign to tell me that you loved me?"

"What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic!"

"Wait so, the reason you invited me out tonight...it was to confess to me?"

"Perhaps," you looked away, pretending to think about Felix's words. "I wanted to make tonight special, but as you can see, it has turned...not so special." You shrugged, allowing your hands to fall into your lap as they came down; as soon as they did, Felix grabbed them, pressing gentle kisses onto both of them.

"Every moment I spend with you is special, y/n. You are truly a fairytale come true. Because of that, it is with full confidence that I can say I love you too." As Felix watched your eyes light up, a slower, romantic song began to play; as such, he smiled towards you before standing up and holding out his left hand for you to take.

"May I have this dance, my Beauty? If you feel well enough for it, that is?"

"You may, my Beast," you replied, grinning from ear to ear as you took Felix's hand.

Thus, under the soft golden lights, you danced in each other's embrace. The world around you seemed to vanish as you both thought, in the backs of your minds, that this was your happily ever after all along.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)