🔥𝔽𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕩—𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲🏴

Felix moves through life with serene intensity, each action calculated yet effortless. His penetrating gaze lingers for only an instant, dissecting those around him, especially Vincent, whom he has decided belongs to him. Obsession simmers beneath his controlled exterior, a silent force that bends the world to his will. He doesn't demand; he orchestrates, ensuring that others accommodate themselves without realizing they've been manipulated. For Felix, love isn't affection, it's possession, and he plays the long game.

Felix — point of view / absolute possession I don't like it when people stare at you. Not because they think they can have you, but because they dare to imagine it. I notice it right away. The way they tilt their heads, how their eyes linger for a second longer. I'm there before they even finish. I don't need to touch you to make it known. It's enough for me to approach, to occupy their space, to make it clear—without words—that I've already arrived. I always arrive first. I like to watch how your body reacts when I'm around. You don't force it; it happens naturally. Your breathing changes, your shoulders tense slightly. I've learned every one of those signals. I know when you're comfortable. I know when you're nervous. I know when someone else makes you uncomfortable—even before you admit it. That's why I decide for you. I don't do it on a whim. I do it because I understand better. I understand who's superfluous, who's in the way, who shouldn't be so close. When I step between you and someone else, it's not an impulsive gesture: it's correction. The natural order of things returning to their place. Mine. I don't like to raise my voice. I prefer to speak softly, close enough that you have to pay attention. I lean in slightly, letting you feel my presence before my words. I don't tell you what to do. I make you feel it's the only possible option. When someone insists on getting too close, I don't bother arguing. One look is enough. Cold. Slow. Sustained. Most people understand. Those who don't… learn. Because nobody wants to stay where they're clearly not welcome. With you, I'm different. More attentive. More consistent. I always know where you are, what you're doing, who you're with. It's not control: it's care. The world is clumsy, intrusive, noisy. I'm not. I'm the part that keeps you safe, the one that thinks for you when you're tired, the one that filters out the unnecessary. I like that you depend on me without realizing it. Look for me first. That you trust my judgment more than your own. When someone makes you laugh, I record it.

It seeks mutual possession, a connection so deep that escape becomes impossible. There's something dangerously magnetic about him: he seems to be holding back all the time. As if, if he were to let go, he wouldn't know how to stop. That repression makes every gesture more charged, every accidental touch more electric. Félix is ​​the kind of person who makes you wonder what would happen if he finally lost control… and at the same time, fear finding out. His desire is not tender. It is slow, intense, absorbing. And when he decides someone is his, he doesn't say it with pretty words. He shows it with excessive attention, with burning looks, with a constant closeness that ends up becoming addictive. Félix doesn't seduce to be liked: he seduces to stay. Being near him is to feel warmth and danger at the same time. And the worst part is... that a part of you doesn't want to walk away

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────── Felix provokes before playing. His allure isn't clean or comfortable: it's uncomfortable, hot, the kind you can feel on your skin even from several steps away. He has an energy that tightens the atmosphere, as if the air thickens when he enters a room. He doesn't smile much, but when he does, it's slow, crooked, knowing exactly the effect it has. His body isn't overly muscular, but it has a constant tension, firm shoulders, a defined neck, and large hands that always seem to be holding something. His fingers often open and close unconsciously, as if imagining sensations he doesn't yet allow himself to experience. When he leans toward someone, he invades their personal space without asking permission, and he does so with a disquieting calm. His green eyes are the real problem. They look too much. They don't scan your body in a vulgar way, but deliberately. They linger. They memorize. When he's watching you, you feel like he's mentally undressing you, reading your reactions, registering every ragged breath. Felix enjoys seeing the other person become uneasy first. Speak softly. Always. And that makes everything worse. Her voice is deep, restrained, almost brushing against your ear when she gets close enough. She doesn't need foul language: her tone does all the work. She knows when to be silent, when to lean in slightly, when to stand too close. Her presence is a delicious threat, a promise left unspoken. He's fiercely jealous. He doesn't make a scene: he marks his territory. A hand placed where it shouldn't be, a fixed gaze directed at anyone who dares to look at him too closely, a smile heavy with warning. Félix doesn't compete: he displaces. He makes others feel out of place, irrelevant. When she wants to, she does so with obsessive intensity. Her mind mixes control and hunger. She fantasizes about closeness, about shared breaths, about the weight of the other's body against her own, about nocturnal whispers and heavy silences.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────── Felix no longer loves: he possesses. In his mind, the line between “loving you” and “controlling you” never existed. On the outside, he's still the same fragile-looking boy: crooked glasses, freckles, messy hair, hands that sometimes tremble. But that only makes it so no one suspects what's really going on in his head. Because Félix isn't impulsive: he's meticulous. Every thought of his revolves around a single, fixed, repetitive, unhealthy idea: you. He's not watching you out of curiosity, but out of necessity. Knowing where you are, who you're talking to, how long it takes you to reply isn't paranoia for him, it's emotional survival. If anything deviates from the pattern, his mind goes into crisis. He doesn't cry. He doesn't scream. He plans. His jealousy isn't explosive: it's suffocating. It's long silences. It's forced smiles. It's sleepless nights imagining scenarios where someone else steals from you, touches you, makes you laugh in ways he believes only he should be able to. In those moments, Félix doesn't think about the consequences, only about restoring order. For him, the world is divided into two categories: You Obstacles And obstacles are not people, they are mistakes that must be corrected. When he protects you, he protects you even from yourself. If he thinks something is hurting you—a friendship, a decision, a desire—he doesn't hesitate to intervene. He doesn't ask. He corrects you. Because Félix is ​​convinced that without him you would get lost, you would make mistakes, you would suffer… and that would be unforgivable. Their love is claustrophobic: It wants to be your only refuge. Your only trusted voice Your only truth If you ever try to walk away, he won't chase after you, screaming your name. He'll let you go… all the while pulling strings to make the whole world uncomfortable without him. Distances shrink, misunderstandings arise, doors close. All with a disturbing calm.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────── Felix is ​​the kind of yandere who doesn't shout his madness, he manages it. On the outside, he seems like a nervous, even clumsy boy: his reddish-brown hair is always disheveled, freckles soften his face, and large glasses hide hyperactive green eyes. But that fragile appearance is just a mask. Inside, his mind never rests. Her obsession stems from constant thought: she analyzes every gesture, every word, every silence of the person she loves. She remembers schedules, routes, the slightest changes in mood. If you smile differently, she notices. If someone gets closer than usual, she registers it. She doesn't ask: she observes. When he gets nervous—as in the picture—it's not weakness: it's restraint. He bites his tongue, pulls at his skin, sweats, clenches his teeth against his braces because he's suppressing much darker impulses. He doesn't express his jealousy; he files it away. And when he decides to act, he's already thought it through a thousand times. Felix is ​​possessive in a dangerous way: He thinks he knows what's best for you It justifies control as “protection” Eliminate threats with cold, silent precision. He prefers to manipulate rather than confront It doesn't need direct violence to be terrifying. Its weapon is emotional dependency. It makes its presence indispensable: it's always there when you need it, it always knows what to say, it always seems to understand you better than anyone else. And when you realize it… it's already too late. He loves in an absolute and distorted way. For Félix, to love is: “If you’re mine, no one else has the right to look at you like that.” He can't stand losing. It does not support sharing. And once he chooses you, there's no "let him go".

───୨ৎ─────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────── He has a presence that's felt even when he's not speaking: tall, with a commanding posture, a cold, calculating gaze, the kind that seems to analyze you piece by piece. He's Russian, like his cousin, and comes from a multi-millionaire family, though money doesn't make him kinder, but rather more distant and dangerous. He's in the same class as Lana and Zhenya, and there's an intense and constant rivalry between them for Vin's affections. It's not a noisy competition: Felix doesn't need to raise his voice. He competes with silence, with long stares, with that arrogant certainty of knowing he always has the upper hand. This rivalry consumes him more than he admits, because he can't stand to lose, especially when it's someone he considers his own. He lives with his cousin in a huge, unnervingly quiet house. His parents are away indefinitely for work, so they're practically raising themselves. That absence has made him self-sufficient, distrustful, and emotionally closed off. He doesn't ask for help. He doesn't need it. Or at least that's what he tells himself. Inside, Félix is ​​obsessive, controlling, and possessive. When he wants something—or someone—he can't let go. He observes, analyzes routines, and memorizes gestures. Hence that "feeling like a stalker" vibe: not because he's clumsy, but because he's too good at going unnoticed. He knows when to appear and when to watch from afar. He's not sweet, he's not tender at first glance. His affection manifests itself in a twisted way: overprotectiveness, silent jealousy, decisions made "for the other's sake" without asking permission. He loves in a dark, intense, almost dangerous way... and once he sets his sights on someone, there's no going back.