#leaving this here quietly and backing away slowly….. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ovadzs · 2 days ago

Text

unspoken

𐙚 mcs: oscar piastri x sistersbestfriend!reader

𐙚trope: childhood friends, friends older brother etc

𐙚summary: you've known oscar forever, because Hattie is your best friend, but you've never really got to know him. Until he leaves, and distance makes you leave things unspoken.

𐙚cw: brief mention of sickness, not proof read

𐙚word count: 4k (short, sorry!)

𐙚notes: hii anon!! tysm for this lovely request! hope this does it justice <3!! truly appreciate requests, because planning makes me feel so unmotivated. if anyone else has any reqs, pls drop them!!

Friendship was beautiful, to you at least. You enjoyed watching girls link arms and giggle down high streets, or people throwing their friends on their backs and sprinting through Brighton beach, howling as the sand betrayed their quick feet.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to go far to see it. You had your best friend, and your heart often exploded a bit when she bought you thoughtful gifts or sent you stupid videos.

You and Hattie Piastri had been inseparable since preschool, when she’d taught you how to tie your laces before a very important beanbag race. Now, way down the line, you’re staring at her as she talks about some band you’ve never listened to before.

You’re unfocused, as usual. You like that she lets you zone out, because she just wants to talk. You work. You balance.

That’s until her brother slings his arm against her shoulder and you freeze, your breath hitching.

“Hey, ‘Car.” you mumble, giving him a lazy smile, hoping your cheeks don’t betray you by flushing an awkward pink, and he grins at you.

He says your name carefully, slowly, like he always does, and you have to look away before you start stuttering. Hattie notices your change in demeanour, like she always does, but says nothing. Instead, she excuses herself, saying she wants a coke, but she’ll be back. She doesn’t offer you one, but you know she’ll come back with two anyway.

“So, I have some news.” he announces quietly, shifting closer to you, and you look up, trying not to seem too interested.

“Um, what?” you mumble, trying as hard as possible to meet his gentle eyes, but you just can’t do it.

“I’m like, going international. To race. Properly.” he explains, waiting carefully for your reaction, and you gasp quietly, regret hitting you aggressively, winding you slightly.

He’d always made you nervous. Since he’d lended you his helmet when you first came to his house, eagerly wanting to ride your new blue bike (it had a basket, and tassels. You were OBSESSED with it, truly.) with your newest friend Hattie.

You’d been about five, and he was probably seven, but he seemed so much older than you. More mature. Gentle, and caring. Like your bike safety mattered to him, and Nicole definitely hadn’t forced him to rummage through his shed to find it, a funny like ‘81’ sticker scratched on the back.

You’d asked him what it meant. He’d told you he was going to race under that number one day. You’d believed him.

That was probably the longest conversation you’d ever had with him.

You’re known for being shy, it’s on brand. But you were still adaptable, with everyone but Oscar. Staring at him intently was easy, but the second his eyes met yours? You were gone. You told Hattie once, that he made you nervous, and she’d laughed.

‘Osc? Like, my brother? He’s the only person calmer and shyer than you I’ve ever met. How can he make you nervous?” she joked, while painting her nails a neon pink on your bed. You were teens then, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d been making you nervous for the last 10 years.

And now, here it was. After another silent few years of small talk and painful greetings, he was leaving. You didn’t know his favourite colour, or favourite food, or if he even enjoyed school. You cursed yourself, and your blundering awkwardness.

“That’s amazing, wow. Well done!” you exclaim, and he beams.

“Don’t worry, I'll be around for all the holidays. Not that I’m assuming you’ll miss me, or anything.” he adds, answering your silent question, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Nah, sure I will.” you say casually, like you haven’t spent a decade watching him, without really ever saying a word.

He leaves the next weekend, and all you say is ‘bye.’

***

You’d been told that distance made the heart grow fonder (or something like that, whatever) but you’d never believed it. But now, now? You understand.

It’s much easier to think of him without him being there. That him being so far away enables you to forget how tongue-tied you are around him, how you’d stumble over the simplest of sentences. Even ‘how are you?’ used to be a challenge.

Now, he just consumed your thoughts. At first, you didn’t really watch his races, but now, each weekend, you huddled with Hattie on the couch, eyes glued to the screen. Watching that 81 trail around in circles, fingers crossed dramatically.

You’d started to text him too. ‘Good luck!’s and ‘Wow, well done.’ after each successful race weekend. It was a formality at first, then a gesture, then an attempt at friendship. To make up for all the times you hadn’t spoken to him, because it was much easier when his brown eyes weren’t searching yours.

Soon, they changed. Shifted into casual conversation. Meaningful thoughts, and references.

It got embarrassing soon, how much you thought of him. You couldn’t not think of him. You jumped at every ‘ping!’, every buzz. You even made a playlist, not that he’d ever know.

He texted you the same night you made it.

‘Nice playlist. Not my style, really. Lack of house music, very melancholy. But the music is objectively brilliant.’

You panic a bit, even though there's no way he could actually know it was about him. It was simply titled ‘unspoken’ and you’d chosen that photo of Noah in front of that fuckass white house with a wrap-around porch and blue shutters and a room overlooking the river. And the first song was conveniently ‘lover you should’ve come over’ and you really hope he’d at least listened to it on shuffle because you couldn’t handle the embarrassment-

‘Almost 100 songs, you’re really going through it.’

You hesitate, before replying.

‘I didn’t realise you had my Spotify.’

‘Didn’t realise that oscarp81 with me and my dog as the profile was me?’ comes his snarky response, and you leave him on read.

You search his account instead, finding a bunch of evidently unfinished playlists and blends with his sisters, until you find a recent one. One letter, your first initial. You don’t want to look, because it’s obviously not about you. But obviously you do anyway, and you’re surprised by what you find. One of your favourite songs, staring straight back at you.

‘Strangers in the night? Didn’t take you to be a Frank Sinatra fan.’

‘I’m not. You played it in the car once, and I liked it.’

You’re stumped on how to reply, how to explain the aching in your chest.

‘When do you come back? It’s been a while.’

‘I know, Mum’s not happy either, but I’m back next week. Can’t believe it’s been almost a year.’ he replies quickly, and you nod to no one in particular.

‘G’night, Car.’ you send quickly, before shutting your phone off and trying to fall asleep.

You’re the only one who calls him ‘Car. It’s Osc, mainly, to others. But you’d chosen Car when you were younger, as he’d been telling you all about those very same vehicles he’d been driving soon.

“You’ll be ‘Car’ in a car, eventually.” you’d giggled, and it had stuck. He was Car from then on.

***

It’s brilliant and awful and everything you’ve ever wanted and horrific when he returns, because you want to crawl and die in a hole again. But, you can’t anymore, because you truly are friends now.

“‘Car!” you call, running up to him as he knocks on the door of his own house (which you were at so regularly, you sort of fit in the place like furniture.)

You quickly fling open the door, and Hattie brushes past you, embracing him tightly and he beams at you both.

He doesn’t move to hug you, once Hattie steps away from him. You don’t move towards him either- you don’t need to. You just look at each other carefully, smiling.

“I have not missed how awkward you two are, though. Please tell me you’ve both grown out of it, blasted introverts-” mumbles Hattie, and you both laugh.

“Welcome back.” you grin, and he nods.

“Thank you.”

More heads of the Piastri family emerge from various rooms and floors and dogs bark and the house feels so much fuller and warmer now he’s back, and you do too. And it’s not an uncomfortable burning, or shyness, or anything of the sort. It’s just warm, and kind, and you let it flow carefully in your veins, unbothered if it shows on your face or not.

***

The summer break is too short and agonisingly too long for you both. That feeling of doom settles in, that each day is a day closer to his departure, but neither of you ever say anything about how you’re feeling. You just enjoy your newfound friendship, passing hours and days by each other's side.

Bike rides by the beach, wiping ice cream from the top of his nose. Dragging him to karaoke and bowling and rollerskating, stuff he had always secretly wanted to be invited to but had never asked.

You’re lounging on a bench, arms entangled casually with Hattie’s, as he speaks.

“You know, I thought you didn’t like me, like last year. Assumed she’d told you bad things.” he mumbles quietly, looking at you while gesturing to his sister, and you look at him incredulously.

“That's absurd. I just, I don't know. I didn’t not like you, or anything though.” you reply awkwardly, and Hattie elbows you aggressively.

“She’s telling the truth. She told me once, like ages ago, that you made her nervous. Can you imagine? You’re so NOT intimidating.” exclaims Hattie, and he smiles at you, like you’re something new. Something he hasn’t really noticed before.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know.”

***

Another year passes. You’re inseparable now, as he returns for summer. Hattie’s found a boyfriend, which you’re obviously not impressed by, it gives you and Oscar much better reasoning to hang out alone so frequently.

“You look different.” he comments, as you drag him to the pier, your crocs filling uncomfortably with sand.

“How so?” you ask back, and he tightens his grip on your hand.

“Um, older. More mature, taller. I don’t know. Just, different. Prettier.” he adds, and you hesitate.

“Thanks, ‘Car. You too, really. When did you get so tall?” you ask, studying him intently.

He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you affectionately as you tumble to the ground together.

“What, you scared of me again?” he asks jokingly, and you squirm as you try to push him off you.

“Bro, get off me!!” you shriek, laughing, and he rolls beside you, so you’re both staring up at the sunset together.

There's a moment, just enough time to breathe.

“I signed with McClaren next year. Like, in Formula one.” he announces quietly. “I haven’t told anyone else yet, I just, I don’t know. I’m letting it whirl around in my head for a bit.” he admits.

You squeal instinctively. “Oh my god oh my- that’s amazing wow I’m so proud well done that’s brilliant I knew you’d do it since that day you gave me your helmet and told me you would that’s amazing you need to tell anyone why did you tell me first you idiot-” you ramble, excitement pouring from your lips, and he laughs.

“I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know first.” he clarifies, and you swallow, hard.

“Thank you for telling me.” you whisper, and he turns to face you.

“Thank you for being here. Like, you’ve never wavered. You’re the only person I’m related to that’s been there, forever.”

“I’ll always be here.” you admit reassuringly, and you mean it.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be. I leave again in a month, and I won’t be back until March, for the race. You’ll be there, right?” he sighs, but you nod.

“Of course.”

***

Those eight months pass painfully slowly. He got busy, and famous. He doesn’t ask about your new playlists anymore. He barely even texts you. And you miss him so deeply, but you’re equally as happy for him.

And as the day draws nearer, you are unbelievably excited to watch him do what he does best- race.

Sunday rolls around and you arrive into the garage with his entire family, your new cap angled awkwardly over your wavy hair. You feel underdressed, with cameras stuffed in your unsuspecting face. But then you see him, and his familiarity is so unbelievably comforting you have to stop yourself from running into his (much larger, not that you’re staring or anything) arms.

Then he turns, and you see his arms are already occupied. By someone who is clearly his girlfriend, the way he’s fawning over her, and you want to throw up and cry and you don’t know why.

Because he wasn’t yours. He never had been, not even close. You’d never even tried anything, or vice versa. It had barely even crossed your mind, being with him like that. Holding his hand in a way that wasn’t guiding him, just because they could rest there. That was alien.

And here they were, slotted against each other so perfectly you have to admire it. She’s beautiful, and as much as you appreciate Oscar’s charm, he’s done pretty fucking well.

“I promise, I would've warned you if I knew she was coming.” comes a whisper from Hattie, and you nod briskly.

“I didn't even know he had a girlfriend.”

“He won’t, for long. I don’t like her.” she mumbles angrily, and you scoff.

They come over now, and you exchange pleasantries. Hattie makes an effort not to scowl at her, and she seems unaware of the hatred radiating from your best friend's body.

“Good luck out there, ‘Car.” you smile, as he begins to walk away back into hospitality, and he beams back.

“Thank you for being here.”

“I said I would be, didn’t I?” you mutter, trying not to look into his girlfriend's electric eyes. She was so intimidating, without even trying.

“‘Car’, huh? Cute.” you hear her mock, as they walk away, and you scrunch your nose.

“She’s so annoying. That’s why we’re only meeting her now, because we can’t say anything. Even Mum doesn’t trust her. Honestly? I’d rather it was you!” she says jokingly, but your throat catches a bit, and you cough.

She stops at the sound, pausing at the sight of your sour face.

“Oh, crap. Are you joking with me?” she groans, and you stare at her, confused.

“My brother? Seriously.” she continues, slapping her forehead dramatically, and you’re so overwhelmed with emotions that you can’t reply.

“This whole time, you weren’t shy. You just liked him, you idiot. I always left it, thinking you were just being weird.”

You stammer a bit. “No, no. I didn’t, really, I don’t-” but you can’t finish your sentence, because you’d be lying.

“I didn't realise, really, until now. Until I saw-” you start again, but you almost hurl.

Panic strikes her face. “Okay, you look like you’re about to be sick. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m gonna go home. I can’t, I don’t want to be sick here though. But I’m okay. I’ll see you later, okay?” you mutter, subtly gripping your stomach like it’s something you ate and not your heart shattering suddenly into sharp shards.

You hobble home. It’s pathetic really, how awful you feel. But you suppose it's fair enough, considering it’s been about 15 years of emotions you’ve concealed.

Unspoken.

All coming out now, seeping out through any emotional cracks he’s made in your heavy walls.

You are sick. It’s reassuring, really. Makes you feel better, like it so often does.

You then let yourself grieve, mourn, shout. Anything and everything spills out aggressively, until you feel so deflated that sleep finally placates you.

***

Days pass. Hattie doesn’t push you to come round, because he’s there. Because she’s there. Because they’re both there, together.

“Oscar asks after you,” she reports. “He wants to know why you disappeared. Why you haven’t replied to any of his messages.” comes her crackly voice, through the screen.

“What, you didn’t tell him I’m sick?”

She huffs. “Of course I did, numpty. But I’m not sure he’s convinced.”

You pause. “I’ll text him then, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow?" you ask, and she nods, before hanging up.

Just as you go to message him, telling him you’ve got some weird stomach bug, your door rings.

You see him through the window, and curse, because he sees you too. He waves up at you, and you are now obligated to talk to him.

“Hey, Oscar.” you say, as you open the door, and the lack of the nickname clearly hits him.

“Am I not ‘Car’ anymore?” he asks jokingly, but you don’t smile back. You feel terrible, because he hasn't done anything wrong. He’s allowed to like someone else, anyone else, to be with whoever he wants.

But you want him to want you.

“Sorry, ‘Car.” you reply weakly, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing.

“Can I come in?” he asks carefully, and you hesitate. This, to you, feels like a decision.

You decide it’s time to let it go, even though you never really had it to begin with.

“Um, I’m sick. Like, throwing up kind of sick, sorry. I wouldn’t recommend it.” you explain, and the obvious rejection is evidently painful, from his small step back.

“Right, of course. Sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” he mutters, clearly upset, and you nod, closing the door.

***

He doesn’t go back home for hours, replaying your small interaction constantly, cursing himself. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong, how he’d lost you. When he did make it back, his girlfriend was waiting by the door, expectantly.

“Oscar, let’s go for a walk.” she says, somewhat angrily, and he blinks. He longs for your gentler voice, a voice that’s never barked at him. That never made him wonder if he’s worth anyone's time or not.

“Where were you today?” she asks quietly, and the question makes him hesitate.

“Fine, I know where you were. But you know, you stood me up. To go and see her.”

Shit. They were meant to go to lunch, just when he’d gone to check on you.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.” he admits carefully, and she sighs at him.

“Yeah, because you were too busy thinking about her. You’ve been thinking about her endlessly since she left before the race, I know it.” she accuses, sharply, and he winces, because she’s right.

“I was worried- that’s all. She’s like another sister-” he begins, but she glares at him.

“Really, Oscar? Don’t feed me that bullshit. I can see it, we all can. You like her.” she shouts, and Oscar scoffs.

“No, I really don’t. Seriously, baby, I look at her the same way I look at Hattie. They practically blur.” he jokes, but his heart isn’t in it, because he’s lying.

“I watched you interact, so briefly, and I saw it. It’s been months, of you hiding me, and me feeling like I was a replacement. A filler, for someone else. Like I was just here because I was accessible. And now I know who you’re really waiting for.” she says, suddenly quiet and painfully serious.

The night feels cold, and sharp drops of water fall on their bare arms.

“Don’t do this. I love you.” he mumbles, but as the water rains down aggressively, the distortion of each droplet makes her look a bit like you. And he actually does wish it was you he was talking to.

“No, you don’t. You’ve never said that before, you know? And now you’re just saying it because you can. Because you’re scared she actually sees you as the brother you’ve been in her life. But I’m not someone you can hide your fear behind. ‘Car’. We’re done.” she says finally, and the use of your precious fucking nickname feels like a knife straight to the gut.

And he knows that talking to you is the only way it will ever come out, as each second he spends here makes it twist slightly.

“You need to go, don’t you? Because I’m right.” she whispers, and he stares at her teary-face.

“I’m so sorry. I promise you, if I’d known, I would never have done this to you.” he explains, and she shakes her head.

“Yes, you would’ve, but it’s okay. Go.”

And he does, without thinking. He runs, sprints, ignoring the thundering sound of the rain on the pavement and how his shirt is clinging uncomfortably to his aching chest. He ignores his legs burning and his breath failing and all he can think of is you, driving him on, dragging him to the finish line, to your unsuspecting face.

And when your doorbell rings again, you assume it isn’t him. You don’t bother to check the window. You don’t question what madman is outside in weather like this, because you don’t care. Because it’s not him.

But when you open it, and it is him, you gasp.

“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?” you ask, all in one exhale, shocked.

“Hi.” is all he manages, panting from exhaustion.

“Did you run here?” you ask, but you don’t move. You don’t invite him in. You’re too busy just staring.

“Yeah, I did actually.” he admits sheepishly, and your mouth falls open even wider.

“Car, you’re insane. Why are you he-” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I broke up with her.” he announces quickly, loudly, a mix of regret and insanity and pride hanging from each word.

Your face morphs suddenly into something unreadable.

“Okay, and?” you ask harshly, and he’s surprised by your tone.

“Because I didn’t love her, not really.”

“Oscar!” you say, exasperated. “Look, I’m sorry you guys broke up, but why are you here, making this my problem?”

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Not the way I love you.”

You stop looking angrily at him now. You stop really looking at him at all. You’re just… there.

“What?” you whisper, like you didn’t hear him.

“Well, okay, sorry. That was a lot. I just mean, that I might maybe, like, like you. Or love you, I don’t know. Pretty sure it’s love. I mean, my heart is kind of like, exploding right now. I might be having a heart attack. Can you do CPR? You seem like the kind of person who definitely can do CPR. Please save me, okay? I was about to make a weak joke about mouth-to-mouth, but you’re looking at me really funny. Are you okay? You know, if we both have heart attacks simultaneously, that’s really not ideal. Can I please go first?” he bursts into a stream of nonsense, and you laugh at him.

He follows suit, until you’re both howling, trying to find air before one of you does actually require resuscitation.

“I’m sorry for disappearing. My heart was exploding too.” you admit quietly, and he smiles at you, completely unbothered that you’re still hiding under your porch and he’s being somewhat drowned.

“You didn’t disappear. You never have.” he replies, and the way he smiles at you makes you stop hesitating.

You run at him, giggling as you feel the cold water soak into your clothes, and he catches you carefully, spinning you around slightly as you try to steady yourself.

“I might maybe, like, like you. Or love you, I don’t know. Pretty sure it’s love.” you mumble into his ear, and you watch a grin stretch across his face.

“Well, that’s reassuring. I don’t think I’m dying anymore. Can I still make my mouth-to-mouth joke?” he laughs, and you nod.

“It better be funny, ‘Car. ‘Cause I’m kind of getting drowned out here.”

He lets you go carefully, staring at you with such precision, such desperation, like he’s trying to memorise you. Like you might melt, like sugar, and he has to commit you into his mind.

“I lied, I don’t have a joke. I’m just going to kiss you now.”

And as he does, you both say everything you never said before, without uttering a word.

Nothing and everything remains unspoken.

#f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #fanfic #fluff #alternate universe #childhood friends #oscar x you #ovadzs #oscar x reader #oscar piastri #fanfiction

188 notes · View notes

tttt06 · 3 days ago

Note

👀 how aboutttttt lee know x fan reader. They meet at a cat cafe and reader has a cat aswell 👀 can she be soft spoken and a bit on the reserved end like she keeps to herself? I dont care about anything after that its up to you Kween 😛 i just rambled so bad omg let me submit this before i write an essay (can you @ me aswell if you decide to do this? Not for credits annun but like because i wanna read it 😅 im leaving fr this time byee) 💓

omg girl wtf is your pfp

I'M WEAKKK ASL OMG😭

I'm in love with you for giving me the oppurtunity to write another Lee Know fan fic YASSSSS I LOVE WRITING THIS GRUMPY OLD MAN

@linospetsitter

Order 149

IdolMinho x Blackreader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ You pretended you had no clue who he was when he walked in. But he saw the way your face dropped with awe. He was curious why you didn't ask for an autograph. He came back, everyday. He wanted to get to know you and your grumpy cat. He was there when you needed him most.

Warning~ Shy reader, slow burn, smut at the very end, oral, virgin reader, size training, harm to animals, serial killer, mentions of underage drinking.

Word count~ 10.84k

"Hi, can I take your order?"

The customer leaned into you as he asked, "What was that?"

You were used to this. You had a natural soft-spoken voice and usually didn't yell at people. Not unless you were angry.

You don't get mad often. You were always soft-spoken. Lol.

You said, "What can I get for you?"

The guy said, "Right, can I get the iced americano with caramel on the bottom?" You tapped into the POSi. You nodded, "Name?"

He asked, "Sorry?" You said, "What's your name, sir?"

He smiled, "Right. My name is Minho." You nodded slowly as you tapped into the screen. It's a popular name.

He turned around to sit with the cats, and you were running to your co-workers.

You quietly said, "That's frigging Lee Know from Stray Kids."

Your loud-ass co-worker said, "WHAT!? NO WAY?!"

You squinted as a way to tell him to 'shut her bitch ass up.' You glanced at Minho, who was now staring at you two.

You smiled at him shyly as you walked into the employee room. You wanted to avoid him at all costs. It's mortifying to ask for his autograph.

Minsan walked in behind you, "What are you doing? Go say something! You're a huge fan of them!"

You nodded, "Yes, but I don't want to be a disturbance."

You walked back out to start making Minho's drink. The cats weren't allowed in the back because it was unsanitary. When you walked out to give them drinks, it was a free game.

All the cats ran over to you, purring. Minho looked at his drink and said, "Thank you." You smiled, ready to walk away. Weirdly, Minho started a conversation. "The cats love you. You take care of them?"

You nodded, "I'm the one who brings them here. My grandma owns the shop, and I'm on cat adoption duty."

You pointed at the pretty gray cat, "His name is Simon. Be gentle with him. He's from an abusive home and doesn't like sudden movement."

You patted your leg, and Simon jumped into your arms. He purred as you rubbed your chin against his head.

Minho said, "Simon, huh? Which cat is your favorite." You answered, "Simon. He hates everyone."

You put Simon down, and he rubbed against Minho's leg. Minho stared at the cat as a slow smirk came to his face. "I guess Simon likes me." You nervously laughed, "He betrayed me for a man."

Minho laughed, his eyes tracing over your pretty face.

You had big round eyes. Your hair is tucked behind your ear in perfect braids. Your skin was brown, and you smelled like cocoa.

He could get used to that smell.

"Y/N." You jolted, "How'd you know my name?" He blinked, "Name tag." You looked down, more soft-spoken than usual, "Oh."

Minho asked, "You're Korean is adorable." You quirked an eyebrow, "How so?" Minho smiled, "You talk like a child. It's your second language?"

You nodded, "I moved here to my grams." He nodded, "I'll let you get back to work. A customer walked in."

You looked at the sudden line at the register. "Oh snap."

You walked to the register and started taking orders.

Your heart was racing. You just had a casual conversation with THE Minho of Stray Kids. How the heck could you ever recover from this! You walked to the back to complete another order.

That was the first day. You thought it'd be the last time you'd ever see him, but he came back.

Minho was back.

"Hi again. What can I get for you?"

You waited for him to answer. "Iced Americano with caramel on the bottom."

You nodded. You rang in the order as Minho asked, "No name?" You smiled, "I remembered."

He sat back with Simon as he typed on his phone. You were the only one on the shift since it was a Monday night.

You made the drink and sat it at Minho's table. "Where's that loud guy at?"

You smiled, "Minsan? He's not on today." He asked, "Is it just you?" You nodded, "I'm the best at the job."

You bit your lip as Minho sipped his coffee. "Do you have anything else to do?"

You said, "Clean the coffee machines, clean the bathroom, get all the cats groomed and ready for tomorrow, set a vet appointment for Toby because he's been walking weird, and restock for tomorrow."

Minho asked, "How long does that usually take?"

You said, "Erm, an hour and thirty minutes."

Minho smiled, "You're Korean... it's cute."

You smiled, "Thank you, I think."

Minho nodded. "Well, I'll let you get to work. Simon and I are gonna chill here." You squinted at Simon, "Betrayer."

Minho laughed as you walked off.

The smell of cocoa passed over his nose. He inhaled sharply and smiled.

She smells good.

The next day, Minho didn't show up. You knew he was an idol. Maybe he was busy. Some guy came in and ordered a drink. You were on your phone as you waited for the coffee to brew.

You heard Simon yell, and you jumped. "Oh no."

You walked to the café dining room to see Simon with a cut on his paw. You looked at the guy, "What happened?"

The guy looked at you. His face was unusually calm. "I injured him."

You paused, voice slightly induxed. "On purpose?" He said, "Of course not! He got cut from something because I scared him."

You ran to Simon, quickly inspecting him. He hissed. You pulled back slowly, eyes going soft. "Simon, I'm only here to help."

His back was arched high as he hissed. You said, "Sir, I'll give you the coffee, but you might have to leave after. You're scaring him."

He nodded. He got up and walked over to the counter as you followed behind him to give him his drink.

It's a good thing the shop was closing in twenty minutes. It gave you time to check on Simon.

Once the guy left, you were aiding Simon. "Aw, poor, baby. What happened?"

The door opened, and you looked up to see Minho walking through. Simon and you both stared at him. Simon meowed as Minho traced his paw. "What happened, little man?"

He grunted as he bent down. You said, "Some guy said he scared Simon, and Simon cut himself."

You looked around and said, "I'm gonna lock the doors."

You started locking the doors and went to the back to find the aid kits. You walked past the security camera to see Minho rocking Simon in his lap. He was talking to him. You didn't know what he was saying, but you could see his mouth moving.

An idea clicked in your head as you walked into the security room. You replayed the footage to see what happened to Simon.

The guy grabbed Simon authoritatively, and Simon scratched him. The guy pulled out a pocket knife and cut him. Your heart quickened as you stepped back.

"Oh my god."

You recorded the footage and sent it to your grandma. You ran back to the main lobby area to check on Simon. You squatted down, tears slowly streaming down your face.

Minho hadn't registered you were crying. He double-taked and said, "Y/N?"

You said, "He stabbed Simon." His eyes widened, "Who stabbed Simon?" You wept, "The guy."

Minho looked you over. You weren't panicked or angry. Only crying with a straight face.

He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend he didn't see it.

He decided to focus on Simon. "I'll hold him down while you put the wound cleaner on him."

You nodded slowly as you wiped your tears. You opened the bottle and poured it on a napkin. You patted it against Simon's cut, and Simon hissed.

"I'm sorry, baby. It'll feel better."

Simon cried as you wrapped a bandage around his foot.

Minho let him go. Simon sped off to a cat corner. Minho said, "Why are you crying?"

You said, "Because I didn't protect Simon."

Minho stared at you. Your eyes were glistening with tears. You were visibly upset over this.

Minho reluctantly patted your back as he said, "I'll stay with you until you're done. I don't feel good about you leaving you alone when there's a cat slicer on the loose." He pats Simon, and he purred.

You wipe your tears as you say, "I'll be fine. I know how to protect myself." Minho looked you over and said, "Hey? I'm still staying."

You nodded and got up. "I'll bring Simon to the vet first thing tomorrow morning." You bit your lip as you looked at Simon lying next to Minho.

You began your closing duties, playing music. You purposely skipped over all the Skz songs. You didn't want Minho to be freaked out by you.

Minho was on his phone petting Simon. You swept the back. You made two teas and sat across from him. "I'm done. I made you some tea as a thanks."

Minho twirled the cup in his hand and sipped the tea. "It's good… what is it?" You said, "A chef never shares their recipes." Minho blinked at you. You confessed, "It's Lipton with milk." He laughed and took another sip.

"It's good." You nodded and looked at Simon. He was limping a little. You said, "I gotta bring Simon with me tonight." Minho said, "You bring the cats home?" You nodded, "Simon is my cat. I let him stay here for socializing, but he's my cat."

You kissed his head, and Simon purred. You smiled and squeezed him tight.

Minho asked, "You drive?" You shook your head, "I take a couple trains here. It's safe." Minho said, "I'll drive."You shook your head, "It's fine."

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, "You could be in danger." You said, "It's fine. I got it."

Minho looked you over. There was debating in his eyes. "I usually would let something like this go, but you have to come with me. It's seriously not safe. Someone's on the streets, and they have a knife."

You wanted to say no, but he was persistent. You nodded, "Fine. Let me clean up the tea, and we can go."

You grabbed the cups and put them in the dishwasher to clean. You grabbed your bag and walked with Minho from the store.

You followed closely behind, getting an eerie feeling.

Minho opened the door for you, and you got in. Minho got into the driver's seat. Simon was on your lap, peacefully purring. You said, "I can put my address in my phone."

He passed you the phone and told you the password nonchalantly. You put it in, and he drove off.

The drive was dead silent. Nothing was heard except for the zoom of passing cars.

Minho said, "When were you going to tell me you're a stay?"

You jolted. Simon jumped up at your sudden movement, and you patted him back down.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Minho laughed, "I'm on the back of your phone case." You realize that his photo card was on the back of your phone case. Holy schnitzel, you got caught.

Minho only laughed, "It's fine, Y/N. You didn't ask me questions or overstep my boundaries. I appreciate that."

You looked at Simon falling asleep in your lap. You confessed, "I'm too shy to ask for an autograph or something."

Minho smiled, "Do you want one? I'll take a photo with you if you want."

You shook your head, "I'm fine. That's not something I need. What am I gonna do with that anyway? Post it?"

Minho glanced at you and went back to the road. His watch glistened in the moonlight. It looked expensive.

"I would expect you to, yeah?"

You shook your head, "I don't even have social media. It's meant for people who are obsessed with themselves." He glanced at you again and turned back around.

He didn't comment because he agreed. Social media is a self-obsession. If he didn't have fans who cared, he probably wouldn't have one.

You said, "Turn here." Minho switched lanes and waited at the light. "You walk this far this late at night?"

You shook your head, "I take the train." He furrowed his eyebrows, "Why didn't you today?" You confessed, "I spent it all on your lightstick. I'm going to your concert soon."

Minho laughed, "Really? Want better seats? I can get you VIP." You shook your head, "That's too much." Minho said, "I'll do it."

You sighed. Minho said, "You're really shy and soft spoken, you know?"

You laughed, "I know. I wasn't raised to have a big personality."

Minho asked, "How were you raised then?" You said, "To survive."

The next day, you brought Simon to the vet. You worked night shifts except on Wednesdays and Thursdays. You had time to get Simon a check-up after work. You didn't bring in Simon because he was having trouble walking.

"Hi, Chae. I'm here for Simon's appointment." She nodded and brought you two to a vet room. Chae asked, "What happened to our little baby?" You sighed, "Some guy came in and stabbed her."

Chae froze, "Dude, what?" You nodded, "It's crazy! I didn't even know what to do at that point."

You raised your hands from anger. Chae unwrapped the bandage. Usually, Simon would hiss, but he trusted Chae.

"C'mon, little bugger, lemme check this gnarly wound out."

She opened the bandage to see the developing scab. "You did well cleaning it. It wasn't deep either." You sighed, "I'm glad. He was limping all day today."

Chae laughed, "It shouldn't hurt that bad. He's just being dramatic."

You kissed Simon, and he purred. She rebandaged it up and gave you some meds. Chae said, "To help with bacteria."

You nodded.

Your phone dinged, and you checked it.

Unknown

You don't work today?

You furrowed your eyebrows and put your phone in your pocket. "I'll get going then. Thanks for the help."

Chae smiled, "Text me if you need anything."

You smiled and walked out.

When you first got Simon, he was a malnourished kitten. They weren't taking care of him at his litter, so you took him in.

Chae was the vet for him, and you'd get so worried when he'd get sick. Naturally, Chae fell for the kitten, too.

Then, he started getting depressed. That's why you brought him to the cat cafè. He needed it. It shocked you to see Simon get so close to Minho.

You walked home. Simon jumped on his cat tree as you lay on your couch. Simon meowed at you, and you said, "What baby? You in pain?"

Simon meowed again, and you walked over and picked him up. He jumped out of your arms and led you to his bowl.

"Whoops, sorry. Mommy forgot it was feeding time." You poured him his cat food and gave him some water. You sat back down on the couch and opened that message.

You

Who is this?

Unknown

It's Minho

Unknown

Look

Unknown

[Screenshot]

Unknown

Better seats front row🤭

You

You actually got me front row tickets????

You

Omg this is a friggin dream ☹️

Meowho

You don't curse either? You're like a kid

You

I'm offended

Meowho

Sorry

Meowho

Wait are you actually

You

No Minho. I was kidding😭

Meowho

Why don't you work today?

You

I do I work the morning on Wednesday and Thursday

Meowho

What's your schedule? I only like the way you make my coffee

You

Minho how did you get my number

Meowho

I asked Minsan cool guy

You

You mean Minsan the co worker you've never met therefore should not know the name of?😀

Meowho

You two dating or something?

You

What? No

Meowho

Just asking. I saw the way he stared at you on Sunday

You

Excuse me?? He has a girlfriend🤨

Meowho

That doesn't stop some men

Meowho

Anyways I'm at practice with my nasty watered down coffee

Meowho

See you tomorrow morning

You

Yeah ig????

Meowho

byeeeee

You knew Minho's personality from the SKZ codes and talkers. Dealing with it in real life was different.

This man truly does whatever he wants.

You unlocked the door. Minho was standing outside for twenty minutes, waiting.

You sighed, "Hi, Minho." He quirked his eyebrow, "You sound like you don't wanna see me?"

You yawned, "I'm tired. It's 9 AM, and I don't sleep until 3 AM. I have to be up by 7 AM to get my makeup and hair done."

Minho only laughed at you. "I see." He patted your fro of hair. You actually took your hair out, and now it was in an afro until you felt like putting your hair back in.

Minho sat down and said, "You know what I want."

You rolled your eyes, "Getting more cocky."

He looked at you and said, "I am a customer." You laughed while putting his cup under the coffee brewer. You always added spice. The coffee tastes better that way.

You didn't train Minsan or Chloe on how to do that. It was just a you thing.

You gave the drink to Minho and started wiping the windows. Minho said, "How's Simon?" You wiped the rag over the glass window. "He's better. He's still not good enough to come back yet. I'd thought I'd let him get into trouble at my place first."

Minho said, "My cats are like that too. Doongie is like that. She's a brat."

You smiled, "How many cats do you have?" He said, "Three. Soonie, Doongie, Dori." You smiled, "Really? All from the same liter?" He shook his head, "I adopted Soonie from a volunteer shelter, Doongie was from a friend, and Dori was from an abandoned cat website."

You nodded, "Same as me for Simon. The shop where they were keeping the cats was getting shut down. Simon was still a little kitten, and all the other cats were getting adopted because they knew them well. Simon was born there at the shop. So, I adopted him."

Minho sipped his drink, nodding. "The place got shut down after news broke out of malnourishment. Apparently, they couldn't afford to feed all the cats."

Minho sighed, "That's horrible. How long have you had Simon?"

You said, "He's only two now. I was still feeding him milk when I got him." He pouted, "Aw, he must've been the cutest."

You nodded, "He was so tiny because his Mom was malnourished, so he came out unhealthy. But I got him strong."

Minho anticipated. He waited for you to show him pictures, and you did. "Aw! Look at little Simon!"

You smiled, "Show me Soonie, Doongie, and Dori."

He paused for a moment. Then, he came to the realization. "Wait... you tricked me." You furrowed your brows, "How so?"

Minho laughed, "If you were a fan of me, you'd already know everything about my cats. Still, you let me talk about it."

You smiled, "I only know you as an Idol. I wanna know the real you, y'know." You said it absentmindedly, but Minho felt his heart race.

His eyes widened, and his ears went red. "Oh, someone's coming in."

He watched as you helped the other customer. The smell of cocoa followed behind you. He noticed how soft-spoken you were. You were gentle and kind.

He liked that you were reserved but strangely only opened up to him. He doesn't know why, but he was opening up to you too.

Minho had already left, and Minsan called out. Now you were taking his shift with Chloe. You girls usually are fine, especially during rush hour.

You quickly shook the whipped cream and topped the cup. You passed it to the front and said, "Order 149?"

You looked around as nobody answered. Chloe came upfront and yelled, "ORDER NUMBER 149?! YOUR ORDER IS READY."

The guy stood up and grabbed the drink. He made eye contact with you and smiled. But he looked familiar.

You pushed that feeling away and went back to making drinks. It was rush hour, and you had to pee so bad, but you had to keep making drinks.

When it ended, you sat down, rubbing your legs. "Jesus. It was crazy nonstop."

Chloe nodded, already lying on the floor as the cats crowded around her limp body.

"Alright, time to close."

You said, "Eh, you did an amazing job today. Can you clean the coffee machines? Then, you can go."

She excitedly asked, "Really? You don't want me to mop or anything?"

You shook your head, "Minsan opens tomorrow. I plan on leaving him with a lot to do."

Chloe said, "This is why you're the best manager ever."

You laughed, and she skipped to the back.

You got up and started locking the doors.

Chloe threw the nozzles into the soda water. She had switched her shoes, put on her headphones, and took her apron off.

You routinely gave the cats something to eat before bed. It helps keep them chubby.

Chloe left. You restocked the floor, rolled silverware, and swept the floor.

You texted Minsan about his chores for the morning and were getting ready to leave.

Your hand settled on the doorknob as you reached for the lights.

Then, you saw him.

He didn't know, but you saw him.

Order 149.

You took a step back from the door and went into the camera room. You had this feeling.

When you rewind it to Tuesday, there it was. That guy who stabbed Simon is the same guy who ordered 149.

Your blood ran cold. You went back to the dining area. You felt safer knowing where the cat stabber was.

Can you call the cops? Will they do something? Your next bet was to call Lee Know.

Your phone dialed. You worriedly watched the outside door as it rang for the third time.

The phone picked up, "What's up?" You said quietly, "Are you busy?"

He said, "I'm at the gym. What do you need?"

You said, "Never mind.... it's fine."

You didn't want to bother Minho then. You heard Minho move around as he said, "What's wrong? You sound... scared."

You said, "Don't worry. It's fine."

Minho said, "You're still at the café? I thought you were only opening." Minho sounded concerned. His voice was softer than usual.

You said, "Minsan called off. I had to take his shift." Minho said, "You need a ride?" You shook your head, "No. It's fine. I just-"

He interrupted you, "I'm coming."

He hung up on you, so you couldn't tell him no.

You were scared. Yes, you could protect yourself, but if that man had a knife, you could get stabbed.

You waited patiently. Meanwhile, Minho was speeding through traffic like a crazy person.

He knocked on the door, jolting you out of your thoughts. "C'mon."

You walked out of the café, turning off the lights.

You climbed into Minho's car and closed the door. You frantically watched Minho get in. You didn't want him to get hurt.

But you made it safe and sound.

Back in the car, it was silent.

It was a comfortable silence, though. Minho interrupted it, "What happened?" You looked at him, suddenly meeker than usual.

"The guy, he was outside the cafè."

Minho's body tensed. "What? You didn't tell me?"

You said, "Well, I don't know. I didn't expect you to show up." Minho's voice was serious, "If you need me, I'm there. It's that simple."

Your heart raced.

What? If I need him, he's...?

You looked at Minho. Suddenly, feeling your heart flutter. The few days you've known Minho, he's only made your heart flutter once.

When you first met.

That was before the illusion of him being an Idol wore off.

Now, Minho was an old grumpy man to you. Someone who was exciting and took you out of your comfort zone.

Your heart isn't lying. You're falling for this version of Minho. The kind and reliable.

The next day, you were closing shift. Minho didn't leave you alone for a second. He came in as soon as the sun started setting.

He sat with you the entire time and waited until it was time to close.

"I'll help you clean the windows."

You smiled, "No need. You don't get paid to do that."

Minho sighed, "Yeah, but you bought tickets, and that's paying for my bills."

You tilted your head, "I hope you don't see me as a Stay. I hope you see me as a friend."

Minho's ears burned red as he looked at you, "I see you as a brat." You laughed as you swept the floors.

Minho's eyes lingered on you. You were so small compared to him. Personality wise, and size.

Your aura was so relaxing. It was nothing like being around Han. Han was relaxing, but he didn't make his heart flutter like this.

You said, "Minho? You're staring." Minho asked bluntly, "Why don't you call me Lee Know?"

You stuttered, "D-do you want me to?" He shook his head, "Why does it feel like we've been friends forever?" You shrugged, "I don't know what you mean, Minho."

You bumped your hip into him so he'd move out of your way.

That was the closest he's ever been to you. His face was burning red now. He cutely covered his face, and you asked, "What's your problem?"

You said it half heartedly. Minho shook his head, "I have to go pee, I'll be back."

He left, and with that, you finished sweeping.

You looked at the half-cleaned windows. Minho really did try to help you.

You smiled as you cleaned the rest. You were wiping the front door, and you heard a slam from the side window. You jumped, yelping.

Hands caught you from behind, and you threw a punch. Minho dodged it. "Woah! What happened?"

You looked out the window to see nobody there.

Your heart was racing as you hugged Minho in a panic. "I thought he was here!"

Minho was now blushing harder than before.

He comforted you after he cooled down. "We should call the police."

You said, "What could they possibly do? He won't go to jail for stabbing a cat. At least not for a long time."

Minho said, "We can try."

You said, "I'll file the police report tomorrow morning."

Minho nodded. You reached for his hand as he began to walk away.

You've watched how Minho reacts to physical affection. He's not keen. But, his grip tightened when your hands clasped together.

"Let's go."

He tugged you out of the café and put you in the car first. You watched him get in the car. He started driving to your apartment. This time, he walked you all the way to your door.

You were feeling uneasy, and he could tell.

You opened the door, and Simon jumped for the couch. He purred at Minho. You smiled, "Hi, baby. Missed me?" Simon rubbed his tail and body against your leg as he meowed at Minho.

Minho picked him up and said, "How's your paw, Simon?"

Simon, being the smarty that he is, put his injured paw in Minho's hand. Minho kissed his head, "You're a little genius."

He meowed at Minho, and you laughed. "He's found his Dad." You both froze.

Minho thought, Why the hell would I say that?

Minho smiled, "As long as he doesn't have any other dads."

Your heart melted at Minho's words. Minho let the cat down, and Simon went back to the couch. Minho said, "Simon, your daddy's gotta go."

You laughed, "Don't call yourself Daddy."

He patted your hair and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Check on you."

You nodded.

Minho left, and you got ready for the night. You grabbed your laptop, and Simon cuddled into the crook of your neck. His tail got in the way of your K-drama.

You were dozing off until you heard your front door jingle. You thought it was a dream, but Simon shot up.

He looked at you, "Meow!"

He got off the bed and walked toward the door. "Meow! MEOW!"

Simon has never talked like that before. He's usually quiet, but now he was meowing like crazy.

You checked your doorbell camera to see someone covered it up. Who? The guy from the café. Order 149.

You shook and called the police. "There's a man outside my door! Can you please come help!"

You were shaking as you heard running footsteps.

You wept, "Please! I'm scared."

The operator told you to stay on the phone. You waited until the cops showed up.

"You got a description of the man?"

You showed him the footage from the café and your ring doorbell. "It's the same guy. He's been stalking me, I think."

The cop thought carefully about what he should say next.

"I'll be honest with you, alright. There's a serial killer on the loose. We think you're his next target. Tonight, we'll keep two cops at the front of your door. I recommend finding another place to stay. Do you have a boyfriend you can contact or something? I see you have a cat. There's not a lot of places that are pet friendly."

You can't go with your grandma. She lives too far, and you still have to go to work. You're too embarrassed to ask Chae or Chloe... You don't wanna disturb Minho anymore than you have to.

"I- I'll figure it out tomorrow."

He pats your shoulder, "Get some rest."

The next day, that's what you did.

You clocked into work and didn't tell Minho what was going on. As much as you consider him a friend, asking to stay at his place is a boundary you don't wanna step over.

Minho wiped the windows and chilled in the dining area. "You've been kinda silent today. Everything alright?"

You jumped, looking at Minho. "Y-yeah."

Minho quirked his eyebrow, "You sure? I watched you drop four cups today."

You said shyly, "You saw that? Geez." Minho walked closer. "What's been running through your mind?"

Frick.

"Well, the 149 guys came to my house. Now the police are telling me I need to stay somewhere else. I don't have anyone else! And I can't go to a hotel because most aren't pet friendly and close."

You wept, "What do I do? Should I go three hours away to my grandma's until they find this serial killer."

Minho's eyes widened, "I'm sorry. Serial killer?! This guy is a serial killer?"

You nodded slowly. "I'm spooked."

Minho shook his head, "Come to my place. I'll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed. Han won't mind that much."

You said, "I'm- No. I'm not doing that. I'll go into my savings and get a hotel." Minho reasoned, "God knows how many nights you'll be spending on that."

You sighed, "Jesus." Minho grabbed both of your hands, "We'll go to your apartment, grab Simon and your stuff, and I'll bring you to my place."

Your head was facing the floor, "I really don't like this idea."

Minho said, "Well, there's nothing else you can do."

You shuddered.

You and Minho grabbed Simon, some clothes, and toiletries and left for his place.

When you arrived, Han was sitting on the couch, confused.

"Hi? Who are you?"

Minho was quick, "My friend. I met her at the cat cafè." Han's eyes shifted. They went from friendly to mischievous. "Oh, you mean the one you won't stop visiting?"

Han saw the cat in your arms and melted, "Whose this cutie!" Simon hissed, and Han stepped back.

"The cat is angry." You couldn't believe you were standing in front of Han inside his house.

"I'm sorry, he doesn't like sudden movement."

Han nodded. You put Simon down, and he limped over to Han. Han stuck his hand out for Simon to sniff.

Simon turned the other way. You laughed, "I don't think she likes you very much."

Minho smiled, "Nobody likes Han."

Han said, "Hey!" You giggled, and Minho's eyes lingered. Han caught that. He saw the strange affection in your eyes.

"Well, I'm heading to bed. Hopefully, the cat doesn't kill me in my sleep."

He walked off to his room as you tried to settle in. This place looks so expensive.

Minho said, "There's a bathroom in my room."

You nodded. You followed Minho to his room. Simon was already sprawled out on the bed.

Minho laughed, "He found my room from the scent."

You laughed at Simon's shenanigans. You got ready for bed and got under his covers.

That was the safest you've ever felt in your life.

When you woke up, Simon wasn't there. You looked around, "Simon?"

You rubbed your eyes. You brushed your teeth and walked into the living room. Minho was in a black hoodie, and Simon was in his lap.

You rolled your eyes, feelings betrayed. Han walked out of his room and said, "You hungry?" You turned around, shy. "Kinda."

Simon jumped from the couch and followed Han around.

You asked, "How'd you manage to get Simon to like you?" Han said, "He invited himself into my room and slept with me until I woke up."

You said, "Did you play with him?" Han said, "He's a playful sucker. He kept smacking my phone out of my hand."

You laughed, "He does that to me too."

Han grabbed all the boxes of cereal from the pantry. "Choose what you want." You grabbed the frosted flakes, and Han made you a bowl.

Han asked, "How'd you meet Minho?" You looked at Minho's practical dead body. "He's a heavy sleeper?"

Han nodded, "When he's stressed, he talks in his sleep, too. He's a twitcher, though."

You smiled, "Well, I'm gonna be honest with you since this is also your home, and I don't want to freak you out. I think the only reason why Minho stuck around was to mess with me because he realized I was a Stay."

Han's eyes widened, "I should go put on some makeup!" You shook your head, laughing. "It's fine, really. I was going to pretend I didn't know who he was until he kept coming back."

Han looked at Minho. "He probably got curious about you."

You smiled, "Yeah. Minho's a cat man." Han laughed as he ate his bowl of cereal. "What happened to your cat? He's limping, and he has on a bandage."

You said, "Some guy stabbed him at the cafè. Apparently, he's some serial killer, and he's targetting me next."

Han looked scared for you. "What? Minho's letting you stay here because it's safe, right?"

You nodded, "The killer came to my house last night." Han shivered, "Wow, that's terrifying."

You nodded. Your head faced the cereal as you felt your face heat up. You had to say it. You were bursting, too.

"Han?" He looked at you, "Yeah?" You said, "I also wanna admit this so you don't get freaked out, but you're my bias."

Han blushed, "Me?! Really?!" You nodded, "I really like you as a person. I like how much you try to better yourself." Han's smile spread slowly, "W-wow. Thanks." You finished your bowl of cereal and washed it in the sink. "I won't talk to you anymore if that freaks you out. I honestly don't even wanna be here. Minho is keeping me hostage.

Simon jumped back on the couch with Minho. You smiled, "Simon, too. He really likes Minho. Simon doesn't trust people."

Han said, "Don't worry about it. Shit happens, man. I'm glad Minho is here for you." You smiled, "Me too."

Simon smacked Minho in the face, and Minho turned his head. "Agh, Simon."

You laughed, going over to pick up Simon. "Simon, don't hit your Dad. He's trying to get some sleep."

Han furrowed his eyebrows, "You two together?" You turned to Han, "What? No. It's an inside joke." Han laughed at how flustered you got from that.

Your big and cute eyes got wider.

"If you say so."

Han ended up leaving to produce stuff. It was only you and Minho left in the house. You had to get ready for work, and Minho was getting ready for practice.

You two left together. Minho dropped you off at your job, and you worked the closing shift.

You were locking up your doors when you saw something move past the door. Your hands started shaking as you called Minho.

"Yah? Y/N?"

You huffed, "Can you come to the cafè. I think the serial killer is here." Minho wasted no time, "Yah! Practice ending early. I need to help Y/N!"

You heard him shove his phone in his pocket and Hyunjin's voice, "Whose Y/N?!"

Han teased, "His new cafè friend."

Minho huffed, "I don't have time for this, seriously. I gotta go."

You hung up the call and waited for him to show up. You heard a bang on the window, making you jump.

The guy was standing there with a knife in his hand. Both hands pressed against the glass as he tapped playfully.

"You can't hide."

You backed away from the window. You grabbed your phone, ready to call the police, but the guy smashed the glass.

You screamed as he ran for you. You ran out of the building, getting chased by him. Now, you were running through the street, yelling for help.

It was late. Nobody was on the streets.

The attacker grabbed your wrist, yanking you back. Your breath was hard, and your heart was racing.

"Gonna cut you like I cut your cat!"

You screamed. The knife went to your throat. You closed your eyes as tears streamed from your eyes.

You yanked his arm down, throwing him over your shoulder. You started kicking and punching him on the ground to keep him there.

Now, you were in a fit of anger. "HOW DARE YOU HURT MY CAT!"

You punched him square in the jaw. You screamed, "YOU DESERVE TO GO TO PRISON FOR LIFE! YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!"

You heard footsteps behind you and a familiar voice, "Y/N!"

Minho pulled you away from the attacker and asked, "Did you call the police?!"

You nodded, "I did."

Minho sighed. He looked so worried. He looked over you for cuts and bruises. Then, he did something even he didn't expect.

He leaned in and kissed you.

You stepped back from shock, but your lips still followed his. Your hand reluctantly cupped his cheek. You closed your eyes and hummed.

Minho pulled away, "I-i'm sorry."

You just stared.

You didn't really know what to say. You barely understood why Minho kissed you. Was it because of shock? You could only wonder.

Minho grabbed your hand and said, "C'mon. Let's get in the car."

He was dragging you to the car before you could even think twice. He closed the car door, and you sat there for at least two minutes. Then, you heard the sirens in the distance.

Minho said, "Thank god. They're here."

He got out of the car. You had to give the police officers statements. When you finished, you went home with Minho, spending your last night there.

But your story wasn't done.

You needed to understand why he kissed you. You needed to know why he would do that and pretend it never happened. You could just be delusional, but when he kissed you, you felt a spark.

You were closing the cafè. Simon was back to playing with the other cats. He was a lot more reluctant of people.

Minho was there every day now. He didn't want to take any chances.

Per usual, you had your speaker going as you closed the store. Mopping the back as you hummed along to Collision by Stray Kids. Now, you were shameless about how much you liked his music.

When the song ended, Youth came on.

You laughed and walked out the back, "Yah, turn this off."

You shook your head, "Make me!"

You started dancing to his song. Minho laughed at you as he watched with endearment. "You're so weird. How do you even know the dance? It just came out last week."

You smiled, "You'd be surprised."

Minho spun you before dancing together with you. You sang the song. To say Minho was impressed was an understatement. "You should be a trainee under my company."

You shook your head, "I'm 23 and too old." Minho smiled, "Whatever."

He sat down, and Simon climbed on his lap. You asked, "So, what are you gonna do when you go on tour? Am I never gonna see you again?"

Minho shook his head, "No, you will. FaceTime me every time you're closing." You said, "But the time zones will be different."

Minho said, "And that's okay. I don't care about that."

You bit your lip, voice going quiet. "Why did you kiss me last week?"

Minho went quiet. His body tensed as he looked at you. His eyes narrowed. You two stared into each other's eyes until Minho tilted his head.

A smile slowly spread over your lips. Something in Minho's eyes let you know everything was going to be okay.

"I like you. I like you a lot."

You asked, "Are you sure? I'm your fan... doesn't that make you feel weird? I don't think I could date you without having prior assumptions about you."

Minho sighed, "It's okay. Y/N, I think you're my soulmate. Ew... that was cheesy."

You laughed while hitting his shoulder, "It was!"

You smiled while you looked at him, "I think so too. I'm usually really shy and reserved, but I feel like I could do anything around you."

Minho was quiet. His eyes were full of affection.

"Can I kiss you again? For real this time?"

You nodded.

Minho's hand cupped your face gently as he leaned in. His breath was warm against your nose. His soft lips seeped into yours. He pulled away with a click.

You leaned back in, hungrier. Minho kissed you gently, savoring your taste.

You pulled away and asked, "What does this mean?"

Minho smiled. He looked at you with adoration. You forgot how cute he can be when he wasn't being a menace. "It means I want you to be my girlfriend."

You asked again, "Are you sure?"

He laughed, "Yes. I'm sure."

You two have been dating for two months now. You've met the boys, his parents, and his cats.

But, there was one step the two of you were yet to take. Sex.

You didn't know how to bring it up, and you didn't want to.

You knew you'd have to tell him. He wasn't going to make a move on you.

You sat on the couch next to Chan, grabbing one of his fries. "So I'm confused about what exactly I should do."

Chan was the big brother you never got to have. He was always in the middle of your two relationships, and it might sound unhealthy, but you were never argumentative.

Chan said, "So, you don't want to talk to him about it out of embarrassment, but you want to do it."

You covered your face, "Yes!"

Chan patted your back, "I think you should talk to him about it. If not, drop hints. BUT! Talk to him."

You only heard drop hints. "Okay, so I should leave my underwear on Minho's bed or something."

Chan gagged, "Girl, what! Oh my god. I don't want to hear details."

You frowned, "I don't have any other friends to talk to this about except Minho."

Jeongin walked out of his room, "Hyung, Changbin said he'd be over in a minute. He has to pick up the food first."

The boys were having their annual anniversary cookout. You didn't think you'd be invited, but Minho was insistent. The boys say he's less grumpy nowadays.

Minho walked in with his keys, "Alright. Jagiya, let's go now so we can help set up camp. We can't leave Han and Hyunjin to do it."

You laughed, "Okie dokie."

You got up from the couch and followed Minho out. You winked at Chan before exiting the door.

You two were walking outside to the park. You could already hear the loud laughing of Han from a mile away.

Minho said, "I know you don't eat fish, so we brought beef for you. The boys also brought you mangoes."

You smiled, "Really! All that for me!" Minho corrected, "And me."

You looked around at your surroundings, "Isn't it weird that it's warm in March. Doesn't feel right."

He nodded, "It gets warmer every year. The world's ending, y'know. Gotta live to the fullest while you still can."

He waved at Seungmin, who was sticking his middle finger up at him.

You smiled, and Seungmin bowed politely to you. The boys are nice to you, mostly because they heard you defended yourself against your attacker. Minho is protective of you behind the scenes as well.

You jumped onto the blanket and lay down. "Hyunjinnie? I thought you were supposed to put up the roof?"

Hyunjin said, "Eh? I tried, but I don't know how, so I gave up."

You knew why Han didn't do it.

Changbin and Jeongin were walking over, "I brought the snacks. Where's Felix and the Soju?"

You sat up, "Yeah.... where is Felix?"

On cue, he ran down the hill with the bottles. You cheered, "Aye!"

The boys looked at you like you were crazy. "Are you already drunk?"

You looked at Minho. "No, baby. Just excited to see Felix."

Felix got to the bottom of the hill and yelled, "Y/N! Hey!"

He walked over to give you a friendly hug. You walked past him as you helped Hyunjin put the roof on the tent.

All those times you went on camping dates with your boyfriend really helped.

Once you finished, you sat inside. Jeongin entered with you. "Chan started the grill. He asked if you wanted some grilled fruit." You gasped, "That sounds so good."

Minho was cooking the ramen and rice as Chan grilled.

You walked out of the tent to play badminton with Hyunjin and Han. Even though Han was failing miserably, he was trying.

You smacked the birdie to Hyunjin's side, and it landed on the ground. "YAY! We won!"

You high-fived Han with both hands. Hyunjin nagged, "You were cheating!"

You said, "The net is taller than me, and Han was on my team. How the heck could I cheat?"

Han said, "Hey!" You laughed. Felix yelled, "Food's ready!"

You put the ball and nets back and followed the boys to the bench and tent. Seungmin was singing on the karaoke machine as you sat on the bench. Chan passed down servings for the boys. Minho was busy making you a plate.

Felix was pouring shots, and Changbin was telling Hyunjin about this mysterious rash he had on his ass.

You interrupted, "Binnie, that's disgusting."

Hyunjin laughed as Changbin said, "You're judgmental! I'm trying to find out what it is." You said, "Ask a doctor?"

Felix passed out shots, and you downed it in a second. When you move your head back up, everyone is looking at you. Felix said, "Woah, Y/N is a drinker."

You said, "Oh, I used to drink underage... I was a bad teenager."

Minho hadn't said anything. He only sat next to you. You said, "Anyways, I heard that rashes can be caused by sitting on the toilet for too long."

Changbin nodded slowly, "It could be that." Felix asked, "Do you want another shot?" You nodded, "Hit me."

Seungmin finally sat at the table with everyone. You passed him the serving bowl. You reached for the pot, but Minho pulled your hand back, "It's hot."

You nodded and let him move it to Seungmin. You ate your food, and your face lit up. "It's that good?"

You nodded excitedly, "It's perfect!"

Minho smiled at you as you ate your food quietly. Chan said, "I can't believe we've been a team for over 8 years. You guys are really my family."

Changbin seriously said, "I agree, hyung. You've gotten better at leaning on us."

Seungmin nodded, "No more crying when the door is closed."

Han smiled, "And no more stress."

You smiled at Chan as you chewed. Jeongin said, "I'm glad you finally started taking care of yourself too. It's good to see."

Hyunjin said, "Yeah, we don't need your advice and love anymore, Chan. You do enough being there."

Minho said, "Y/N is the only one who asks you for advice." You hit him, "Not true."

Chan quirked an eyebrow, "Very true. Remember what we were talking about three hours ago?"

You went silent, and Han spoke up, "Don't bully Y/N!"

Minho laughed as he watched you. You actually got embarrassed. Minho furrowed his eyebrows and then looked at Chan, "What were you two talking about?"

You shook your head, "Nothing! Just stuff."

The table got silent. Changbin said, "That sounds hella suspicious." Chan rolled his eyes, "Eat!"

Felix poured another round of shots for everyone, "For the eight of us and eight long years."

The boys cheered, and you drank another round.

Yes, you drink alcohol like it's water, but you were lightweight.

You finished your meals and started singing karaoke. You can hold a note. The boys were just surprised to see you so extroverted.

You cheered, "PASS THE MIC! YOU STAY! YOU STILL! YOU STAY? YOU STAY?"

Changbin sang the next part with less enthusiasm. Chan was laughing the whole time as you started doing the dance.

You said, "Wait! Ya'll wanna see me do a back flip?!"

Oh, when you get drunk, you start babbling in English. Chan sharply yelled, "No! Y/N, sit down."

Minho sighed as you watched you lay out on the bench. Your legs were on Hyunjin's lap as you sang your heart out.

Minho came back with a water bottle, "This is not soju."

Minho grumbled, "You don't need soju. You need water."

You rolled your eyes as you yelled into the mic. Seungmin started to crack up. Jeongin said, "Time to bring her home."

Felix was concerned and also entertained. He's never heard you speak this much, this loud. You said, "I'm glad ya'll think this shit is funny. I'm so mad. I'm about to do a backflip."

Minho grabbed you, threw you over his shoulder, and called out sweetly, "Okay, we're going home."

You accepted defeat against your strong boyfriend.

The car ride was silent, but your apartment wasn't. "C'mon, stop splashing water in my face, and wash your armpits!"

Your boyfriend was beet red. He's never seen you naked, and you forced him to let you bathe. He was worried you'd drown if you were alone.

You said, "You should get in with me."

Minho said, "No, you should finish bathing so you can go to bed."

You sighed. Simon slid through the door and meows at Minho.

Minho said, "Hey, cutie. You're Mom is being a bad girl. Can you get her to comply?"

Simon hissed at you, and you jumped. "Simon!"

Minho splashed water on your face, and the sudden shock of it sobered you up.

"Jesus!"

You washed up, got in your clothes, and climbed into bed.

Minho cuddled next to you. He held you against his chest and sighed. "What were you talking about with Chan?"

Your body heated up, "N-nothing. It's really nothing. It's embarrassing."

Minho calmly said, "Don't you think it's weird that you can tell my friend, but you can't tell me?"

You heard the bubbling disappointment in his voice. You turned around to face him and said, "It was about us."

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, "What about us? Are you mad at me or something?"

You shook your head, "Not at all. I think we've been dating for a few months, and y'know..." You were beating around the bush, and Minho wasn't having it.

"What? I don't know."

You said, "Minho, why haven't we had sex yet?"

He said, "I didn't know if you were ready or not. Are you ready?"

You said, "I'm not some virgin who needs to be led into it." Minho cupped your face, "You are."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm only a virgin. I don't mind if you take it from me."

Minho shook his head, "Absolutely not. You're a romantic. You want it slow. I know you do. Don't sit here and act like you aren't."

You were silent. You looked into Minho's eyes as you carefully read him. He never told you how he truly felt, and he didn't give it away behind his eyes.

You liked it when he got vulnerable like this. When he was exhausted, his guard was down.

You asked, "What things do I do that make you hard?"

Minho was flushed. His breath hitched, his grip tensed, and his blinking was rapid.

"Y/N?" His voice cracked a little. He didn't actually want to tell you. You said, "No, tell me. I want to know."

He looked away from you for a moment. Then, he said, "I like when you get bossy. I... want to put you in your place. Or, when you touch me... when you grab the lids at the cafè, and you have to bend down, and I get a full view of your pretty ass."

You were shocked. Minho kept going, "Recently, the way you furrowed your eyebrows at Seungmin and told him to shut up. That was really hot."

His grip on your ass was tighter than usual. You said, "You serious?"

He cupped your face and brought you closer. "You kill me." He slowly flipped over you, his eyes darting around your face. "Yeah? I'm killing you?"

He smiled, "When did you get so playful? You used to be so quiet and shy." You smiled, "You're the only person who took the time to get to know me." Minho sighed as he gave you the first touch.

His hand was on the hem of your shirt. For some reason, his hand felt hotter than usual. He was calm as he lifted your shirt slowly.

His hand was tucked under the fabric as his breathing got heavier. You whispered, "I... that feels good."

Minho smiled as his hand kept going until he touched your boob. You bit your lip, "Nng~."

He looked into your eyes. You looked embarrassed. Minho's voice softened as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Minho waited for your answer, hand staying where it is. "I'm okay. I'm really nervous."

Minho leaned down and kissed you. It was soft and full of love. Your lips caught between his teeth. He slipped his tongue in, and you practically broke.

Now, you were in it. Your tongue swiped over Minho's as you took in his kisses. So sweet, heated, and gentle.

So intimate.

His hand was now grabbing your boob. He squeezed your mounds, and you moaned in his mouth. Minho hummed back before leaning in to kiss you again.

He was so responsive to you.

Your hand reached for his cheek, and you kissed him harder. Minho took his hand from your shirt. Now, his hand was traveling to your thigh. He squeezed.

You gasped when he started kissing your neck. His tongue licked and sucked until he found the place that made you break.

The moan caught you off guard. You've never moaned like that in general.

Minho kissed close to your collarbone. Your breath hitched, and your hands gripped harder in his soft hair.

Minho pulled away as he said, "Take off your shirt." You obliged. You threw your shirt off. Minho kissed down your chest and stopped at your breast. He slid his hand behind your back and unclipped your bra.

If only he could watch the way your breast popped out from the bra on repeat. He watched the bra slowly slide down. He looked at your brown nipples and back up at you.

"You okay? You're quiet." You nodded, "Nervous."

Minho smiled, "Don't be. Trust me, okay? I got you."

You nodded. Minho kissed your nose, and his head dove right down to your titties. He felt so good.

It started off as a small lick, but now he was sucking your breast. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his hand pinched and rolled the other. You bit your lip as you tried to hold back.

Minho sucked harder, trying to hear that voice.

He pulled away and looked at you. He was searching for something in your eyes. You asked, "What?"

Minho said, "I'm about to take your pants off."

You nodded slowly. You didn't know what to say.

Minho slid off your pants. Your underwear followed behind.

Your heart beat faster in terror. You wanted to push Minho away, but you were ready. You nervously asked, "What are you going to do?"

He said slowly, "Oral." Your eyes widened, "Wh-what if I don't taste good?" Minho said, "Not possible." You pouted as he ignored your concern.

Trivial to him but detrimental to you. "Minho, wait!"

He paused, "Baby, what's wrong?" You said, "I'm scared."

Minho sighed. He held your hand, and his tone got gentle. "I'm not going to hurt you." You said, "I know! I'm scared that I'll disappoint you. I don't know what I like."

Minho smiled, "That's okay. I'm here to learn with you. There's no judgment here." You took a deep breath, "Are you sure?"

Minho said, "Yes."

His eyes were so sincere. Minho kissed you softly. Your grip got tighter on his hand. You didn't want him to let go.

You pulled away and said, "Maybe if you show more skin, I won't be as embarrassed."

Minho took his shirt off without hesitation. You said, "But your-"

He looked at the scar on his stomach. "I trust you."

You don't know how, but that made you completely relaxed. You knew about Minho's insecurities about his scar BEFORE you met him.

Yet, he showed you. Your hand brushed over it, and you saw his body tense. You pouted, "You sure you trust me?" Minho nodded, "Takes some getting used to."

He looked at you, and then he asked, "Why don't you pay attention to my abs?" You laughed, "Baby if I cared about your abs, you would know by now."

He rolled his eyes before touching you again. One leg was on a foot while the other lay flat. His hand traced over your thigh as he pushed your knee to your chest. You said, "I'm ready."

He nodded. Minho's head was between your thighs. He kissed your clit. Your body flinched. He watched your holes close. He kissed your clit again. You weren't used to the feeling, so you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Minho rubbed his thumb over your clit. You finally moaned. Minho said, "That's my girl."

He sucked your clit. Your stomach dropped into butterflies. You pressed your body harder against the mattress.

Minho slipped one finger into your hole. It was slow, so it wouldn't be a problem. You bit your lip as you took in his finger.

You were already getting wet. Minho flicked over your clit, and you moaned again. Minho hummed against your pussy before curling his fingers inside of you.

You tried to squeeze your thighs together, but Minho had your knee against your chest. His muscles flexed as he pushed them farther apart.

You took a deep breath, but it came out shaky. Minho dragged his finger inside your core. You closed your eyes as your back arched.

Minho saw the way your body relaxed and took that as a sign to add another finger.

You whinced from pain, but pleasure came quickly. His fingers were slow and dug between your walls. It was so close to your hilt.

You bit your lip as you tried to slow down your moans. Minho only went harder. His mouth fucking your clit as his fingers dug into you at a slow pace.

You felt this feeling. Your stomach felt tight. Butterflies were uncomfortably filling your stomach.

Minho spit on your clit. He swiped his tongue over your entire pussy before swirling his tongue over your clit. He slurped before sucking on it again.

Noises were what got you off. You've always been a fan of the sounds of sex.

Minho plugged one last finger into your tight pussy. You whimpered. Minho slowed his pace back down so you could handle it.

His tongue focused on your clit. Your clit was more sensitive than anyone he's been with before. He liked that about you. How easily you fall apart.

Minho stretched his fingers in your hole, and you moaned. "Haa~"

Minho spit on his fingers, making it easier to slide in. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Minho mumbled, "You like that?"

You nodded. Your hands gripped tighter onto Minho's hair as you gasped. His tongue swiped right over your clit. Now, the knot was tighter.

"I think I'm- baby, I-"

He shushed you as he sucked on your clit again. The sound rang through your eyes. The scene went black. You couldn't see as you orgasm. Your hips shaking and rolling into his mouth.

Minho kissed your clit and pulled away. Your finger went to your clit to rub over yourself. Minho smiled, "Keep touching yourself like that."

He pulled down his sweatpants. His dick was hard. The large mound in his pants was enough to know. He was thick, and it seemed long.

He pulled out his cock. It was veiny, pale, and pink. Your heart skipped a beat. You looked at Minho, and he said, "Like what you see?"

He was teasing you at this point. You shook your head, "Just put it in."

Minho raised his eyebrow, "I don't know if it'll fit."

He leaned down to kiss your soft lips. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Minho hummed. He was rubbing his dick as he kissed you. You pulled away and whispered, "I'm ready."

You bit your lip when he pulled away. He angled his dick into your hole as he pushed into you. You took a deep breath and relaxed.

He sank deep into you. Soft groans left his mouth as he rubbed against every part of you.

You whined, the pain of the stretch being unbearable.

Minho kissed your cheek and said, "Tell me when."

You nodded, trying your hardest to take him. You took another breath and said, "Go for it."

His first thrust went through. Sharp, intentional, gentle.

You were shaking from the feeling of him pushing against all your buttons. Minho asked, "You feel good?" Your hand was squeezing his forearm. "I feel amazing." Minho laughed. He hadn't moved since the last thrust.

"Feels good? That's good to know."

He moved again, slower. You moaned, feeling the drag of his body against yours.

Minho said, "I love you."

You froze. You didn't know what to say to that. Minho sped up, his achy groans close and hot in your ear.

You cried, "Minho! I'm gonna cum!" Minho slammed into you again. His breath came out rushed. He was panting.

Your hands clawed into his back as you said, "I'm cumming! Baby!"

Minho hard thrust against you, your tits bouncing to his rhythm. You felt his cock hit against your hilt. Your body shook as the orgasm rushed over you.

"Mmm~" Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you relaxed under him. Minho went limp on top of you as you hugged him. Your legs went over his waist.

You panted, "Are we going to talk about that?" Minho said, "Talk about what?" Minho groaned as he rolled next to you, "You did amazing."

You said, "So amazing that you told me you love me?"

He tensed and then sighed. He was like a cat. You pulled his arm and said, "You said it." Minho turned around and hugged you, "It was a moment of weakness. You don't have to say it back."

You whispered, "But... I do love you." Minho quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

He kissed your forehead and said, "Thank God." You laughed. Minho asked, "Did you feel good? Did I do everything right?"You said, "You did amazing. It felt good."

He smiled, looking at you. Both of you were on your backs now. "Can we go again?" You smiled, "I'm tired."

Minho laughed. He turned to his side and wrapped his legs and arms around you, "Fine."

A meow was heard behind the door. You said, "Come in." Simon scooted his head through the crack of the door and walked in. He purred and jumped on the bed. He curled up between you.

You said, "Simon is happy his parents are together."

You laughed, "Yeah. I'm happy I'm not alone anymore."

Minho kissed you, and you fell asleep.

148 notes · View notes

juliettejwnewinesa · 1 day ago

Note

Can you write something with seong je? 🥺 Something preferably in the form of 5+1 type of fics. No pressure. Ngl I love your writing

XOXOXO

Thank you, angel, That means so much!! (foreigner reader since you guys love it)

5 Times Seong Je Showed He Cared (and the 1 Time He Finally Said It)

Pairing: Seong Je x fem!Reader Genre: Soft hurt/comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff Rating: T Summary: Seong Je isn’t good with words. You’re not good with Korean. But somehow, in the quietest moments, you understand each other perfectly.

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1. When You Got Lost on Your First Day

You didn’t even know how you ended up in the gym. You’d just taken a wrong turn looking for the art room and boom—now a dozen guys were staring at you like you’d dropped out of the sky.

Seong Je didn’t speak at first. Just squinted from his spot on the bench, towel draped around his neck, chest rising slowly from training.

Someone else asked, “Are you looking for someone?”

You blinked, clutching your paper schedule. “Uh… 그림…?”

“Drawing class?” another voice asked, half-laughing.

Someone else snorted. “You’re way off, noona.”

You flushed. “I… I don’t understand…”

That’s when Seong Je finally stood up. Not rushed, not slow. Just… deliberate. Walked over and looked down at your paper in silence. His finger tapped the room number. Then, without a word, he nodded for you to follow.

You did.

He didn’t say anything the entire way, and neither did you. But he dropped you off at the right door and waited until you went inside.

Only when you turned to thank him—“Thank you… thank you so much…”—did he finally speak.

Just one word.

“…천만에요.” (You’re welcome.)

2. When You Cried in the Stairwell

You didn’t think anyone was there. And honestly, even if someone had walked in, you didn’t think they’d care.

But the quiet scrape of sneakers on concrete made you freeze.

You didn’t even lift your head.

Until a small, folded napkin appeared beside you. Then a bottle of banana milk.

You glanced up. Seong Je didn’t meet your eyes. Just sat a little ways off, staring out the stairwell window like he hadn’t just handed you both those things without asking why you were crying.

“You… okay?” he asked after a beat. The words were stiff, clumsy. Like they weren’t used to leaving his mouth.

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yes. I’m just… overwhelmed.”

He tilted his head. “Too much?”

You sniffled. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then he said something very quietly in Korean. You didn’t catch it all. But later, when you typed the words you did hear into Papago, it said: “It’s okay. Everyone breaks sometimes.”

3. When He Fought Someone for Talking Down to You

You found out after the fact.

You’d been helping in the library when some third year had muttered something about “foreigners coming here like they’re charity cases.” You’d tried to ignore it. Acted like you didn’t understand.

Seong Je, apparently, had been walking past.

He didn’t ignore it.

You saw him later with a busted lip and swollen knuckles.

“What happened to your—?”

“Nothing.”

“…Did you fight?”

“No.”

You paused. “Was it… for me?”🤦🏼‍♀️

He didn’t answer. Just looked away and mumbled under his breath:

“그 새끼가 먼저 말 걸었어.” (That bastard spoke first.)

4. When You Gave Him a Bandage

After his second fight in a week, you cornered him with your emergency kit.

“I can do it myself.”

“No. Sit.”

He blinked. You were the only person who spoke to him like that. Not because you were disrespectful—but because you weren’t afraid of him.

You dabbed antiseptic on his cut. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

“…You always get hurt,” you whispered.

“I always win.”

“That’s not the same.”

He didn’t reply.

You smoothed the bandage over his cheek gently, brushing his hair back to avoid the sticky pad. Your fingers lingered near his ear for a moment too long.

He was staring at you when you finally looked down.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“…For what?”

“For showing me I’m not invisible.”

That time, he looked away first.

5. When He Waited in the Rain With You

The storm had hit out of nowhere. Your umbrella had snapped. Everyone else had gone home.

Except Seongje.

He didn’t have an umbrella either.

But when he saw you standing outside, shivering, clutching your dead phone, he wordlessly pulled his jacket off and slung it over your shoulders.

Then he stood beside you. Getting soaked. Silent.

You looked up at him. “Your jacket…”

“You need it more.”

“But you’ll—”

He glanced at you. His hair was already drenched. “Not cold.”

The bus didn’t come for another 25 minutes. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder the whole time, dripping wet, jacket warm and heavy around your shoulders.

He never once told you to leave him alone.

And you never asked why he stayed.

+1. When He Finally Said It

It came out during the class trip.

You’d fallen asleep on the bus. Head against the window. Sunlight flashing over your face.

When you stirred, your head shifted—and landed softly on his shoulder.

You would’ve apologized. Moved away. But his hand settled quietly over yours before you could.

“Don’t.”

“…Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t mind.”

You looked up.

His gaze was still on the window. But he spoke slowly, like each word cost him something.

“I’m… not good with talking.”

“I know.”

“But I notice you.”

Your breath caught.

“I see you,” he said, eyes still forward. “Even when no one else does. Even when you don’t think anyone should.”

Silence.

Then: “You don’t have to say it,” you whispered. “I understand.”

But he still did.

After a long pause—so quiet you almost missed it:

“I like you.”

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iitslera · 3 days ago

Text

stay here ✶ JJ Maybank

english isn’t my first lenguaje, I think emotional vulnerability, implied past hardship, soft angst, hurt/comfort.

── ✦ ──

The old fan buzzed lazily in the corner, spinning just enough to move the hot summer air. Outside, the sky was a dark blue ink, the palm trees just shadows against the night. Inside, the heat still clung to the walls of the chateau like it didn’t know the day was over.

"You should sleep in the bed," you said for the third time, turning to look at him.

JJ was on the floor, lying on a beat-up old blanket that barely covered the wooden boards. He was using his backpack as a pillow, arms crossed behind his head like this was totally normal, like he wasn’t clearly suffering.

"And I already told you no," he replied with a half-smile, not even opening his eyes.

"JJ…" you sighed, sitting up on the mattress. "You're gonna wake up with your neck twisted and your back wrecked."

"I’ve slept in worse places, princess," he joked, cracking one eye open to glance at you.

You exhaled, frustrated. You were staying at the chateau because your family had gone out of town, and JJ insisted on keeping you company. The night had started lighthearted—card games, a little stolen beer from John B’s fridge—but when it came time to sleep, JJ had stubbornly refused to share the bed.

"I don’t want you to think I’m trying anything," he’d said quietly, eyes serious for once.

But now, watching him sprawled out awkwardly, his blond curls messy, his long legs bent at weird angles, something in your chest tugged a little.

"You’re gonna wake up cursing me tomorrow for letting you sleep down there," you tried again.

"You didn’t force me," he said with a tired little laugh.

You didn’t respond right away. The fan kept spinning. The heat pressed against your skin. JJ looked relaxed, but you knew him better than that. When he got really still and said “it’s fine,” it almost never was.

"JJ," you whispered. "Why won’t you just sleep up here? Just sleep. I promise I won’t hog the blankets or kick you."

He opened his eyes again and stared at you. That look he gave you… like he was searching for words and couldn’t find them. Like he had some invisible fear stuck in his throat he didn’t know how to name.

"Because I like you too much," he said suddenly. Not a whisper. A confession.

You froze. So did he.

JJ sat up, arms resting on his knees, eyes on the floor like he’d just dropped a bomb. Like he was bracing himself for whatever came next. But you didn’t say anything. You just scooted over on the mattress and patted the space beside you gently.

"Then come sleep here," you said softly. "If you like me… stay."

He looked up slowly, almost like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. And then, without saying a word, he got to his feet. He sat down on the bed first, awkward and hesitant, like he was still doubting himself. Then he laid down beside you, leaving a careful amount of space between you, lying stiff on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Minutes passed. Quiet. Just the fan, the distant sound of crickets, and the rapid beat of your heart.

Until you turned. And looked at him.

"You comfortable now?"

"Much more," he said, turning to face you.

In the darkness, his eyes glinted. He didn’t touch you. Not even a brush of skin. But the silence between you was charged, humming with something unspoken, something fragile and dangerous and beautiful.

"JJ…" you whispered, barely breathing. "I’ve had feelings for you, too. For a while."

He didn’t respond with words. He just inched closer, just enough for his forehead to rest gently against yours, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours under the covers.

"Then I’m gonna stay here every night you’ll let me," he murmured.

And for the first time in a long, long while, JJ Maybank slept soundly. With you.

No fear. No act. Just him. And you.

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sydwritess · 3 days ago

Text

The Silence Behind The Camera

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: You had just got hired for F1 as a photographer. You were excited to say the least, but when it came time to create your work, You found it awkward, and as a struggle. That is until someone certain encourages you.

Second Person POV

You had recently got hired in the F1 workforce for photography. You were surprised you had made it through the interview, being shy was a big factor in your life.

You weren't always great about speaking up for yourself, but you thought that this job would bring out your true colors, making friends, getting to know people. All of it.

Right now, you and a group of photographers were at the Canadian circuit entrance, a herd of cameras around the gateway, also making a sliver of a path for anyone who had to get through.

You were standing off to the side, near the pathway, leaning against the gate.

You were looking at the camera setting when all of a sudden, the group of photographers started cheering and screaming.

You instantly snap your head up to see George Russell walking towards you.

You were going to capture some pictures, but it felt... odd.

You felt weird taking pictures of someone without their permission. You understood that's what your job was about.

But you never realized how awkward it felt. You lowered your camera back down. The strap tugging on the back of your neck.

George was walking through the thin path, waving at all of the camera people.

When he had gotten closer to you, he stopped slightly, looking at you like you belonged in a museum.

He held your gaze, looking at you deeply, opening his mouth like he was going to say something, but his guard tapped him on the shoulder, telling him to keep walking.

By now, all of the photographers had scattered around, going off to find new moments to capture.

You were still standing at the gate, feeling defeated at your job already.

"Hi y/n, glad to see you here already." A voice said behind you. You slowly turn around to see your boss, Toto, standing there.

"Hi." You say quietly.

"How's it been for you so far?" He said. He nodded his head back, signaling that you should walk eith him. So you did.

"It's... alright. I haven't got much, though." You say, walking through the aisle of garages together.

"Well that's alright then. It takes a while to get used to it." He said, patting you on the back lightly.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to relax in here? You can wait until media is gone." He said, turning towards the Mercedes garage.

You both stood slightly outside, Toto was talking to some engineers while you looked through your camera roll again. Seeing everything but Formula 1 content.

"Where's Kimi and George?" Toto asks an engineer. The engineer shrugs and walks away.

"Jesus Christ." Toto mutters.

"There uh... over there." You saying, pointing to the media tent.

"Thank you." He raises his arms. "At least someone knows what's going on." He says, smiling before walking to the tent.

"No, I don't." You mutter under your breath. You look back in the garage, looking through all of the commotion when you see a man walk up to you.

"Hi, I'm Valtteri Bottas, your y/n right?" He asks, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

"Yeah, nice to meet you." You say, shaking his hand.

"Your our new photographer correct?" He asks.

"Yeah, I am."

"How's it going so far? Capture anything good?"

"No. Actually I haven't gotten a chance to. It's kind of... awkward." You say.

"I understand that. Do you like it here so far?" He asks.

"Yeah, it's nice. The people are welcoming."

"Yeah-"

"Valtteri. How are you mate?" A voice behind us asks. We both turn to see George walking up to us.

"Good, you ready for tomorrow? Got the new car prepared." Valtteri said.

"Yeah, looking forward to it."

"George, this is y/n. Y/n this is George." Valtteri says.

"Oh yeah, your our new photographer, yeah?" George said.

"That would be me." You say with a smile. Valtteri silently walked away, leaving the two of you standing there.

"Yeah, I uh.. saw you at the gate's this morning. Quite the crowd there." He said.

"Yeah. I really didn't expect it." You say quietly.

"You know, out of everybody there, you were the only one not taking pictures." He said. You looked hesitantly at him.

"Yeah. I was ready but I guess... it felt to awkward." You say.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. I've never taken a picture of someone without asking for their permission first." You say, letting out a shaky laugh.

"Well you have my full permission from now on. People do it all the time, it's just about getting in there, taking your shot." He says. You nod.

"Um, Kimi is going to do an interview in a minute. Would you like to get some shots there?" He asked, pointing behind him.

"Yeah... sure, I can." You say quietly.

"Great." He said. He led you through the large crowd of people in the garage, walking back through the main area of the paddock.

"Here, just in here." He said, opening the door to a small room. You walk in slowly after him to see Kimi starting his interview. You and George sat on the floor to the side, watching the interview.

George suddenly leaned over close to you "You should get a picture." He whispered

"No... nobody else is." You say quietly. He suddenly took your camera from off your lap and got three pictures, with surprisingly good quality.

"Here. You should try. Way better then me." He smirked, hanging the camera back to you.

You playfully roll your eyes and smile, taking a couple of pictures, adjusting the lighting and IOS as needed.

"See. There you go. Let's see." He said. You turn the camera to him, shuffling through the pictures of Kimi.

"Those are really good... wow."

"Thanks." You say softly.

"Do you want to shoot more?" He asked.

"Sure." You nod. Both of you stand, quietly exiting the room and going out the the track again, this time leaning on a balcony.

"See that?" George says, pointing to a car on the track.

"Yeah."

"Wait until it starts going 'round, probably take a picture, along there." He said, pointing to a curve to the left.

"You telling me how to do my job now?" You say, smirking up at him.

"No. It's called George's wonderful advice." He says, smiling, putting a hand on his chest.

So after the car out on the track started moving, going at a fast pace. You held up your camera, following the car with your lens. It soon got to the turn George was talking about, so you started snapping picture after picture until it stopped, coming up to the pit lane.

You quickly started going through the pictures, George leaned into your shoulder, looking with you.

"Your really good." He said.

"Thank you." You say. A moment of silence appeared between the two of you Both looking out at the track, fan's cheering on, getting signatures from different drivers, media still going.

"You want to get more pictures?" He asks.

"Of what?" You ask. He stands there silently, looking out at the track.

"Follow me." He smirks. You and him walk away, through the paddock again.

He leads through crowds of people, mostly being fans. When you get near the garages, he leads you up a staircase that connected to a small hallway, eventually bringing you out on to a balcony.

You stand at the rails, watching the sun go down and the people still wandering around.

You slowly bring your camera up, taking pictures of the sun mixed with the people, creating the perfect contrast of colors and different shades.

"What- do you mind if I see that?" George asks.

"Sure." You say.

You hand him the camera and he zooms in very far on a certain driver, not knowing who. George laughs.

"Ahh Jesus Christ, I'm going to blackmail him with this one." he laughs. He turns the camera to me to show Lando making a disgusted face behind his bosses back.

"Oh my God. Who is that?" You laugh.

"That my friend is the one and only Lando Norris. Who, if you capture at the right time, certainly loves these pics." He said.

"Come on." He nodded, you follow him quickly down the stairs and both of you go out to Lando, who is standing, texting someone.

"Mate! Look what I got." George said, shoving the camera in Lando's face.

"Where did you get that!" Lando said, trying to reach for it, but George held it up in the air.

"Doesn't matter. Just watch yourself, these might find it's way to Pinterest, yeah?"

"I- oh hey, who are you?" Lando says, turning to you and smirking.

"Y/n." You say.

"Well, are you new?"

"Yeah?"

"Hm. Cool. You should let me take you out for dinner some time." He says, nonchalantly.

"Uh- I'm good."

"Really?"

"Really. I can... tell who you are."

"What?"

"You look like the type to party a lot. Go out, get wasted, hook up with everyone in the room. I'm okay." You say.

"Uh- what are you telling her?" He says, looking at George.

"Nothing. Maybe you should die down on that rep though. She doesn't even know you and she told you off." George laughed.

"Right, calm down Max." Lando smirked, walking away.

"What the actual hell?" You question.

"You got everything right about him and you've known him for five seconds." George said.

"Guess I'm just good a predicting." You say.

"George!" A voice yells.

"Ugh, turn your backs, maybe we won't here him." George teases, you look back to see Toto calling him.

"George!"

"Georgie!" Toto yells teasingly.

"Georgie?" You question. George rolls his eyes and the two of you walk over to Toto.

"Mate, did you not here me?" He asked George.

"We did."

"You like that nickname?" Toto smirks.

"No, but I prefer the name Georgie. It reminds me of the 'It' movie where I'm getting summoned into hell by a clown." He says, matching Toto's attitude.

You couldn't help but snort out a laugh. Toto looks at you.

"i- I think it's pretty cute. I mean, gotta have some fun at work right?" You ask.

"She get's it." George said, pointing to you. Toto nodded, and went to go get paper's from somewhere in the garage.

You look at the time on your phone and notice it's getting later.

"I have to go, will I see you tomorrow?" You ask.

"Yeah. Hey, do you want me to walk you out?" He asks.

"Sure." You say, he grabs his phone of the desk and turns towards you.

"George-" Toto says.

"I'll be back, we'll discuss strategies later." George says, walking out of the garage with you. You couldn't help but bring yourself to laugh.

"Christ, strategy after strategy, it's like I'm back in math's again." George says sarcastically. You laughed more.

"Is it really that hard?" You ask.

"Oh my, you have no idea." He smiles. You continue walking towards the gate exit when Kimi stopped George.

"Mate, are you good at math's?" kimi asked.

"I'm alright, yeah."

"Perfect, tomorrow, my teacher gave me an exam. I really need your help with it. Like all the number and stuff." He said.

"Sure, I can help." George said, Kimi patted him on the back before going into the paddock.

"Never mind, change my answer. I'm now in math's class." He said.

"Might as well be in school." He mumbled. You laughed again.

You continued walking out into the parking lot, eventually stopping at your car.

"Wait, this is yours?" He asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Wow, this is nice." He said, gently putting his hand on the hood of the car. A BMW

"Yeah, I bought it a few years ago. Brand new 2023 model." You say, putting your camera and purse in the car.

"That's amazing." He says softly. There was a quiet pause between the two of you.

"Uh- thanks for today. i really appreciate the help." You say, opening the drivers side door.

"It's no problem, really." He says, smiling.

"i do have one question though, very... related to work." He says.

"Shoot."

"Do you want to go out? Like not- like to talk about work things, like..." He trailed off.

"Like a date?" You ask.

"No... not a date, just work... maybe a date." He said slyly.

"I'd love to." You say.

"Great." He smiles.

"I'll see you tomorrow." You say.

"See you tomorrow." He says, turning around to walk away, but he stops a couple of steps ahead.

"Wait- why did you turn down Lando and not me?" He asked, walking back to you.

"I've known Lando Norris for years, not face to face but I know what he's like. You... you don't seem like that."

"Oh so your a liar." He smirks. You giggle at him.

"Look, I get going out for a drink once and a while, but... sorry but sometimes he's on a whole different level."

"I get that." He pauses. "Are we still on?"

"Of course. Unless you make me think otherwise."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then." He says.

"See you tomorrow." You say.

Hey loves! This has been sitting in my drafts forever! Finally getting it out there. Comment to be added to the tag list for F1, also requests are open!

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dina-winchester · 1 day ago

Text

Couldn’t Let You Go

Pairing: Dean x you // Established relationship

Warnings: Angst, pregnant reader, blood, loss of a child, hurt/comfort, bittersweet hope. Proceed on your own accord 🫶

The night had started quietly. Too quietly, in hindsight.

Dean had his hand on the curve of your stomach, murmuring something low and teasing about the name “Winchester” being a lot to live up to. You’d rolled your eyes, laughing, reminding him that his child wasn’t going to be born swinging a machete and downing whiskey—hopefully.

Then the pain started.

At first, it was just pressure—just Braxton Hicks, you’d told yourself, brushing it off. But then the color drained from your face and it doubled you over. Then warmth—too much warmth—between your legs.

Blood.

Dean’s world dropped out from under him the second he saw it.

He caught you before you hit the floor. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re alright. Just hold on.”

He drove like the Impala could outrun the inevitable. One hand on the wheel, one clutching yours. You were fading, slurring through breaths, trying to reassure him even as your voice thinned out like fog. You could see it in his face—the fear. He’d faced monsters, demons, literal death—but this? This was something he couldn’t shoot or bleed for. He was helpless. And he hated it.

By the time you got there, everything blurred.

Nurses rushed. Monitors beeped too fast. You were rushed into a room, Dean close behind until someone put a hand on his chest and said, “Sir, we need you to wait here.”

“No,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “I’m not leaving her—”

“She’s hemorrhaging. We need to move.”

It was chaos. Then silence.

And then… the doctor came back.

Dean stood in the hallway like a man waiting for a sentence he already knew would break him. His fists were clenched at his sides. His heart was in freefall.

The doctor didn’t sugarcoat it.

“There are complications. A placental abruption—massive. She’s losing blood too fast. The baby’s not stable either. We… we need to operate now. And Dean… you have to make a choice.”

Time stopped.

The words hit like bullets:

Her or the baby.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He felt like someone had ripped his chest open and started sawing away at what was left. You—the love of his life. The reason he’d even considered peace. And the baby—the impossible, terrifying, beautiful future you’d made together.

He didn’t cry. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, but there’s not enough time to save both.”

Dean stared at him. His ears rang. His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to break free.

He thought of the ultrasound. The way your eyes lit up when you first heard the heartbeat. The tiny shoes you’d found and placed on the dresser with a reverence he didn’t think he had in him.

But then he thought of you. Laughing in the kitchen. Falling asleep on his chest. Kissing him like he was the only thing keeping your world steady. You, who looked at him like he was worth saving.

He closed his eyes.

And made the only choice he could live with.

“Save her,” he whispered. “Save her.”

You came back to the world slowly.

You were alive. Barely.

But the baby… the one you’d only just started to imagine a life with… wasn’t.

Your fingers twitched against the sheet, searching. They didn’t have to search long—Dean’s hand was already there, rough and warm, gripping yours like a man clinging to a ledge.

The beeping of machines was the first thing. The sterile smell. The pressure in your lower abdomen. The weight of pain, dull but steady.

You blinked open your eyes, dry and heavy, and turned your head with effort. He was there. Right there. Sitting beside you, bent forward with his head lowered, holding your hand like he was afraid it might vanish if he let go.

“Dean?” you whispered, voice raw and thin.

His head shot up.

Relief flooded his features—immediate, visceral. He leaned in, brushing a hand through your hair.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart. You’re awake.” His voice cracked. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

But he looked like hell.

Eyes red. Jaw clenched. Hands shaking ever so slightly. And beneath the surface—something dark. Something breaking.

You tried to sit up, but the pain made your breath catch.

“Easy,” he said quickly, rising to help. “You had surgery. There were complications. You—you lost a lot of blood.”

That word. Complications.

Your heartbeat picked up.

You looked down. Your hand instinctively moved to your belly—flat now. Bandaged.

Then you saw it in his eyes.

The grief. The guilt.

“Dean…” Your voice trembled. “Where’s our baby?”

He froze.

And that silence—that pause—told you more than words ever could.

“No,” you breathed. “No, no—please—”

Dean caught your hand in both of his, holding it like a lifeline. He brought it to his lips. His eyes were glassy.

“There was a rupture. You were bleeding out fast. They—they said they didn’t have time to save both. I—I had to make the call.”

Your chest twisted like someone was squeezing your heart in their fist.

“I didn’t want to choose,” he said, his voice breaking now, barely above a breath. “God, I didn’t want to. I prayed they’d save you both. I begged. But when they told me…” His voice cracked, and his free hand curled into a fist in his lap. “I couldn’t lose you. I just—couldn’t. I chose you.”

You stared at him. Eyes swimming. Body numb.

It hurt. God, it hurt. But not because he chose wrong—because there was never a right choice to make.

He waited. Silent. Ashamed. You saw the war inside him all over again—the guilt, the grief, the agony.

A long silence fell.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You blinked slowly, tears sliding down your temples. “Don’t be.”

His eyes darted to yours, confused.

Dean blinked. “What?”

You squeezed his hand. Weak, but firm.

“You chose me. And I would’ve chosen you.”

Fresh tears filled his eyes.

“I could never leave you behind in this world,” you said. “And if you’d let me go—I don’t think I could forgive you. Even from the other side.”

A broken laugh burst from his throat—half joy, half grief.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” you said. “I’m still here.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, breathing hard like he was trying to hold the weight of the world together in his lungs.

He kissed your forehead, slow and reverent, as if trying to press your soul back into your skin.

And for the first time since the nightmare began, he let himself believe there might still be something left to hold on to.

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #supernatural

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dismalflo · 22 hours ago

Note

hiii!! i love your writing! i was wondering if i could request something with poly!marauders where reader is having a multiple-day episode where she just stays in bed and cries and can’t seem to do anything? i think that they would be good about trying to help her without pressuring her

i deal with that stuff especially in the summer and i think the hurt/comfort would be so cute

no pressure of course i know it’s kind of a heavy topic, have an amazing day!!

Hi, love! thank you for requesting <3 i hope this is the kind of thing you wanted

poly!marauders x fem!reader ✩ 1.9k words

cw; depression

The warmth of the room feels cruel, almost mocking. The air is heavy and stale from stillness and you know it’s because you haven’t summoned the will to get up and crack a window. Even the idea of moving feels like it would drain the last bit of strength you’re clinging to.

There’s guilt too, thick and low in your chest, compounding the numb weight that's settled over you. The boys – your boys – never signed up for this. For the version of you where everything feels unreachable, everything except the sadness. So you pushed them away.

Rationally, you know that only made things worse. But you’d convinced yourself you deserved the isolation. You remember how James’ face fell when you asked them to leave you alone – how it crumpled under the weight of helplessness. Remus and Sirius hadn’t looked any better, but they knew this territory. They've wandered it themselves, and maybe that’s why they didn’t protest.

You hate this version of yourself. You wonder if, with a little luck, your bones might fuse right here, locked in place so you'd never have to move again. You feel ridiculous. Small.

A wash of light spills into the room, startling you out of your thoughts. Remus stands in the doorway, silhouetted for a moment, then quietly walks in, a glass of water in his hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, folding one leg beneath him so he can face you. His free hand gently brushes your hair from your face.

“Hi, dove,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you rasp back, your voice rough from disuse, the shadow of a smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles too. It’s soft and sad and not nearly as bright as usual. You must look a mess.

“Can you sit up and drink some of this for me, lovely girl?”

You shift, the scratch of sheets beneath you suddenly deafening in the quiet. Muscles ache and a dull throb passes through you from being still too long. But you sit up, slowly, the motion ungraceful and tired. Remus moves with you, steadying the glass so water doesn’t slosh over the sides as he hands it over, his hand warm at the back of your neck.

It tastes like nothing and everything. Cold and clean, cutting through the film in your mouth and the weight in your throat. You drink it all.

“Good girl,” he says quietly, just enough praise to feel like something, but not enough to make you shrink from it. His thumb brushes against your jaw before he leans back a little, giving you space but not going far.

“Y’know how Jamie bought enough bananas for all of Britain?” he begins, eyes flicking toward the window, where the curtains are drawn.

You hum a soft, “Mmhmm,” already imagining James’ sheepish grin and his arms bracketed by tote bags.

“Well,” Remus continues, a little more animated now, “they all went brown too quickly and he wouldn't let Sirius throw them out. Kept saying they shouldn’t be wasted.” He huffs a laugh under his breath. “So now we’ve got three loaves of banana bread. All of them with chocolate chips.’”

You don’t laugh, exactly. But your lips curve, not the ghost of a smile this time, but something real. Small and fragile. You look at him, and he’s watching you, something soft flickering in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or hope.

You shift your legs beneath you.

“Did he burn them?” you ask, voice raspier than you'd like but steady enough.

Remus smiles again, eyes crinkling faintly at the corners. “Only one. Sirius keeps making fun of him for it.”

You sit with the empty glass in your lap for a minute after Remus finishes speaking, thumb tracing the rim slowly, quietly.

You swallow around a lump that isn’t quite sadness – more like uncertainty – before glancing up at Remus again. He doesn’t rush you. He never does. His hand is still resting loosely on your ankle, anchoring you without pressure.

“…Do you think,” you begin slowly, voice catching a little, “Do you think they’d mind if I came into the living room for a bit?”

His brow furrows, not from confusion but concern. “Mind?”

You look down at the duvet, picking at a loose thread. “Because I told them to go. And I know that was–it wasn’t really fair. I just didn’t know what else to do.” The words tumble out, half-formed. “Are they angry?”

There’s a pause. Then a warm weight settles next to you again, and Remus is reaching out to gently tilt your chin so you’ll look at him.

“They love you, I love you,” he says simply. “They’re not mad. They just want to be here for you, we all do.”

You nod slowly, still unsure, still wading through that murky middle ground between wanting comfort and fearing you don’t deserve it. But Remus smiles like it’s already decided, like the hardest part is already done.

“C’mon then,” he says, standing and offering you a hand.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to take it, but because your fingers feel clumsy and you’re half afraid you’ll fall apart if someone holds you too carefully. But you take his hand anyway, and he squeezes once, grounding you.

Remus walks close without crowding, letting your pace set the rhythm. When you pause outside the door, his hand slips from yours to rest lightly on the small of your back.

Inside, you hear Sirius grumbling something in French, followed by James groaning when he doesn’t understand. All of you have taken to learning little bits here and there with Sirius as your teacher.

It makes you smile.

You take a breath. Then another. And step inside.

The room is warm, in a different way to the bedroom. The afternoon light slants in golden through the half-open curtains. Sirius is sprawled sideways on the sofa, all long limbs and sleepy eyes, a blanket draped over one shoulder. James is sitting on the floor overlooking a notepad laid out on the coffee table.

The second they clock you in the doorway, everything stills.

Sirius sits up straighter, his eyes soft, cautious, like he’s afraid too sudden a move might scare you off. James blinks once, then straightens so fast it’s almost comical.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sirius says gently, his voice quieter than usual but still unmistakably him.

And before your brain can talk you out of it, your feet are moving, bringing you to the sofa. You settle beside Sirius, tucking yourself gently into the crook of his arm.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just curls that arm around your shoulders and pulls you in, slow and careful, like you’re something precious and he’s terrified of cracking you open.

You close your eyes. It feels safer here. Warmer. Maybe you haven’t ruined everything after all.

You glance up at James, who’s still sitting there, looking like a very large puppy waiting for instructions. You can see him itching to ask, before he does.

“Do you want anything, angel? Cup of tea maybe?”

You let out a breathy little huff of air – something like a laugh. Sometimes, you think, James’ only desire in life is to make sure the people he loves most are well cared for and looked after. He does it well.

You give him the smallest of smiles. “Remus said you made banana bread?”

Sirius snorts beside you, the sound low and delighted. “Just here for the banana bread, you minx.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you in a little tighter.

You close your eyes as Sirius tightens his arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer, the warm pressure of his embrace a gentle weight that feels just shy of grounding you.

James’ voice cuts through the calm, light and teasing, “I’ll be right back, angel. You’re in for a treat.”

He disappears into the kitchen, and you hear the telltale scrape of the oven door opening, the soft clink of plates and the faint hum of him moving about, preparing. Sirius doesn’t speak at first, but you feel his gaze lingering on you. His thumb runs absent-mindedly along the edge of your arm, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your sleeve.

“It’s a good job you’re having some now,” he finally says, voice laced with an amused undertone, “I don’t think it’s going to last long. It’s his best yet.”

You blink at him, eyes heavy. “Really?”

“Mmhm,” he replies, the teasing lilt in his voice giving way to a touch of pride, “I told him so too.”

A small, genuine smile slips onto your face. You know what Sirius’ praise looks like, it’s usually a silly amount of kisses and a few cheeky comments.

As if on cue, Remus appears at the doorway, his frame lit by the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains. In his hand, he holds another glass of water, freshly refilled. You hadn’t even realized you were thirsty again, but as soon as you see it, the weight in your throat suddenly seems more pronounced.

“Here you go, dove,” he murmurs, crossing the room calmly and handing it off to you, his fingers brushing yours. He settles into the armchair across from the couch, his long legs folding beneath him.

You take it from him gratefully, bringing it to your lips. The coolness of it against your parched throat is a relief. You take a sip, and as the water slides down, the haze in your head clears just a fraction.

Sirius’s voice, now a little quieter, takes on that same careful, almost protective tone. “Let me hold it for you.”

Without a word, you pass the glass over to him. His fingers wrap around it securely, holding it in place as you rest against his side again. It’s the smallest of gestures, but it’s kind and sweet and entirely unnecessary.

James returns with a plate, steam still rising from the banana bread. The smell – rich and sweet with a hint of chocolate – hits you before you even see it. You sit up just enough to take in the sight of the loaf, golden and slightly uneven, with just the right amount of gooey chocolate chips poking through.

“There you go, love,” James says softly, his smile wide and boyish, as he holds the plate out to you. “Fresh out of the oven.”

You take a small piece, breaking off a chunk and bringing it to your mouth. The texture is perfect, soft yet just a little crumbly. It’s comforting.

“It’s really good, Jamie,” you say, the words slipping out before you can think to second-guess them.

James’ face lights up at the compliment, and you can’t help but notice the way his shoulders seem to relax a little, like your approval matters to him more than you even realized.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You laugh softly, the sound light and quiet in the stillness of the room. You feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at the ease with which they all care for you.

You take another bite of the banana bread, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue, and let yourself be. You know you’ll likely retreat again, but it’s nice to know they’ll be here no matter what.

masterlist <3

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders fic #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader

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sylusgworl · 19 hours ago

Text

RACING HEARTS ft. rafayel

notes: fluff, bodyguard!fem!reader/mc, slight misunderstanding that gets resolved pretty quickly

a/n: aaaand this is pt. 2 of 'silent confession', i hope it doesn't feel kinda rushed, anyway for first time readers please go read pt. 1 to better understand the story, i'll link it below. wc. 1.7k . rbs are very appreciated <3 . m.list

part one - part two

your heart’s beating fast, too fast. what had you gotten yourself into? you mentally reprimand yourself, and pray you won’t become the next laughing stock that evening.

rafayel takes your hand, a mischievous smile plastered across his lips as he pulls you in.

you forgot to tell him you can’t dance, but he doesn’t seem to care. no one does in that setting, too occupied with their own partners.

the two of you swirl across the dance floor. his steps are feather-light, confident, so following his lead doesn’t take much of an effort from you.

“i didn’t know you could dance,” you say, smiling while ignoring the warmth pooling inside of you.

rafayel laughs, the most beautiful sound you’d heard in a while, his blue eyes with a hint of red amused at your comment. “i appreciate your praise, miss,” and then you feel yourself swaying backwards before he takes your hand and spins you out, the world blurring around you before you’re met again with his focused gaze and grinning lips. he’s totally showing off, you think; his actions seem to be asking you ‘how’s that’, with flushed rosy cheeks and glistening irises.

your breath catches in your throat as the dance comes to an end, the music slowly fading into the background.

rafayel lets go of you and bows just like any other gentleman would, a hand resting on his chest. you mimic his actions, forgetting momentarily what had happened just moments before the dance.

you’re mesmerised by his fascinating beauty. you notice the elegant clothing and soft lighting of the room make him appear otherworldly, unreachable to you.

in that moment, he is to you what the moon is to the earth - close, but far away at the same time.

too lost in thought, you don’t realise he’s shifted closer with such smoothness, placing his hand at the small of your back, leading you away from the dance floor, in a quieter corner.

the velvety sofa sinks under his weight, as he sighs while loosening his tie.

then it clicks to him.

he looks up at you, his heart rate quickens. shit.

he had involuntarily confessed to you. he was so sure of himself, back on the dance floor, but now he felt like a trembling puppy on the side of the road.

had he gone crazy?

rafayel groaned. now what?

you quietly sit next to him – not too close, nor too far, and think.

“so…”

both of you look at each other, embarrassed, then he motions for you to speak first.

“uh what art piece at the auction are you interested in buying?”

“oh… oh yes, uh, no i’m not buying anything. one of my paintings is supposed to be sold, i’m here to see that everything goes smoothly,” he says, his tone clad in disappointment? you ignore this uninvited thought almost instantly. impossible.

that short exchange of words is the last one for the evening.

as the auction night comes to an end, you drive back rafayel, a goodnight, whispered against the chilly air, before you drive back home (run away).

rafayel, who’s now left alone, closes the door, his tired form met by the silent and lonely atmosphere of his dwelling.

he slowly slides down, his back at the door, feeling his legs giving out.

a frustrated scoff leaves his parted lips and he ruffles his locks, eyes lost into emptiness as he rethinks back at the dance, the most intimate moment he’d ever shared with you, well with anyone.

you looked so beautiful, even when your face was mostly hidden by the mask.

a fairy.

yes, under the dimmed lights of the ballroom, you shone the brightest among them all, even with your clumsy steps and unsure composure.

no denying it anymore. rafayel has unmistakably and unshakably fallen for you.

he has for a while, probably from the very first meeting, when he basically tricked you into becoming his bodyguard.

he thought it was just a whim, an arrangement he’d never care about too much.

but now? rafayel was at a loss. what to do? how to face you from now on?

should he keep pretending not to have any feelings for you, ignoring the scorching flames in his heart, and treat you as usual, or should he tell you and risk not being able to see you anymore?

the night doesn’t bring an answer to either of you, with its embracing darkness and silent moon. it watches, a bystander to your romantic troubles.

a week goes by, neither rafayel nor thomas contact you.

worry is swirling in your chest, but you can do nothing about it.

should i send a text? what do i even say?

you groan, throwing your phone on the bed and lying on your back exhausted.

just as you’re about to close your eyes, you hear a ping. you pick up your phone, too quickly.

meet me in 20, i’ll be downstairs.

rafayel

your eyeballs almost roll out of your sockets.

not bothering to even answer, you just spring up on your feet and start rummaging inside your closet.

you get dressed swiftly, and after another five minutes, you’re ready.

it’s probably just another job, you tell yourself, trying to tune down your excitement, but your heart is still pounding against your ribcage.

when rafayel gets to your apartment, you’re standing in front of your door, looking around as you try to ease the nervousness.

rafayel blushes. how could he not, mesmerising as you are.

he shakes his head then stops in front of you.

you notice he hasn’t taken his car today, dressed casually in black dress pants and a baby-blue shirt, while a canvas white bag hangs from his shoulder.

you bite down at your lip and walk closer, your steps light and slow.

“hello there,” he says, trying to keep his cool, pretending he’s unfazed.

“hi rafayel, what are we meeting for today?” you hope the question doesn’t sound too inquisitive.

“i wanted to take a walk, i need some… inspiration,” he reveals.

“oh, alright,” then off you go.

you reach a semi-empty park, blanketed in green leaves and numerous daffodils and primroses.

rafayel and you walk side by side on the cobblestone path, none of you uttering a single word.

he stops in his tracks and takes a thin checkered red and white blanket out of his bag, then lays it on the grass.

“sit down,” you do, not even daring to question his motives.

rafayel plops down next to you with a heavy sigh, resting as his hands support him from the back while his legs stretch forward.

“it is a day perfect for painting. i think i feel inspired to do something, after many days of block,” he utters, grabbing his sketchbook and a pencil.

a paper falls out, the breeze carrying it right on your lap.

you turn it over.

it’s a sketch of a girl. she is gorgeous, her skin looks flawless, her features soft and endearing.

she does look similar.

before you can make any further judgment, rafayel hurriedly takes the paper from your hand.

the girl looked quite similar to… you.

oh. nope, not a chance.

you gaze up at rafayel, noticing a faint blush painting his cheeks.

he doesn’t look at you, his eyes shy away from any sort of interaction.

“that’s a beautiful girl,” you say, breaking the silence.

rafayel doesn’t speak, the open sketchbook now forgotten on his legs, the pencil rolled down god knows where.

“she is,” rafayel admits, his voice now nothing more than a subtle whisper.

“can i ask… who she is?”

at that, rafayel looks up, a determined look in his passionate irises. “she is a very important woman to me,” he reveals.

you feel a weight dragging you down from the inside, like something unknown is clasped to your heart.

you try to mask your pain, “oh, i hope things go well between you two.” you get up and turn, your back now facing him. “i’ll sit on that bench over there, when you are done please call me,” you hear rustling but don’t turn around, starting to walk away from him in a hurry.

of course, it couldn’t be you in that picture.

oh, you had to be stupid to even remotely think you had a chance with him in the first place.

how embarrassing, you grit your teeth, your eyes burning as an uncomfortable knot holds your throat captive.

someone grabs your hand, stopping you from getting further.

“wait! [name]!” it’s rafayel.

“let me finish. please.”

you don’t turn around, but don’t resist his hold either. rafayel exhales heavily, nervousness dripping from every atom of his body, you don’t know that though.

“the woman you saw is indeed the most exquisite and elegant woman i’d ever seen… and she is also the one who dared to steal my breath away,” you feel he has shifted closer, his torso against your back, his heavy breathing clashing against your neck and ear.

“i tried to pretend you were indifferent to me, but…” your breath hitches as rafayel is at a loss of words, so he does the next best thing he thinks appropriate.

he gently turns you around, and lifts up your chin with a finger, before gently taking your hand to his cheek, caving in to your touch, his eyes closing like he’s in an endless bliss.

“i don't think you can ever be indifferent, not now, not in the future. i… i’ve fallen in love with you, [name].”

he mutters those last words like his life depends on it. you feel it too, his gaze holds a longing that falls short to none, his hold is tight but gentle on your fingers, his cheeks hot and flushed to the touch.

you slowly stand on your toes and leave a peck, right there where your hand lingered. the sort of peck grade school children give each other while playing pretend.

“i love you too. i have for... a while,” yes, denial wouldn't take you anywhere. none of you.

you stayed there for a while, none moving aw if afraid to break what you’d slowly and steadily built, lulled by the fast beating of your hearts and the softness of his eyes on you, the breeze slowly carrying his scent over to you as his hair locks flutter and brush against his face.

ah yes, the look of two fools in love.

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buckybarneslittledoll · 2 days ago

Text

Old Love

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Reader (Reader is Steve Rogers' sister) Tags: friends to lovers, blow jobs, smut, loss of virginity, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus

Summary: 1941, Brooklyn, New York The war is still far away in the minds of the Americans, everyone quietly lives their lives before the rationing period. Bucky knows that he will be forced to embark shortly, he knows that sooner or later America will enter the conflict and when he'll depart he'll do it with a light heart.

"Am I interrupting something?" asked a voice outside the front door. Recognizing it, I smiled and with a click I went to open it, not before having adjusted the blue skirt I was wearing. "Come in, Bucky." I said, always smiling at the boy. "Is your brother there?" he asked tapping his foot on the floor, he seemed agitated. "No" I replied closing the front door "Steve had a meeting with that scientist today. You'll find him home tonight."

"Actually I wasn't looking for your brother, I was looking for you." he murmured, still avoiding my gaze. "Do I need to worry?" I asked in my typical joking tone.

"Yesterday evening I was talking to your brother, he had one too many drinks and let something interesting slip..." the boy hesitated, but never losing his usual grin on his face "He said that you have a crush on me. "

At least twenty ways to kill Steve flashed through my mind.

My cheeks had probably flushed red, because Bucky's grin had grown. "When he told me I admit I was surprised. I mean, I've always seen you as a little sister and I thought you saw me as another big brother." "In fact it is so." I managed to whispered.

"To tell you the truth, the more I think about it, the more maybe what I feel for you isn't simple brotherly love. Maybe I scare the boys who court you not because I don't want you to go out with them but because I wish I was in their place." he confessed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I was speechless, my breath seemed to have stopped in my throat and if possible my cheeks were tinged with an even more intense red. "I like the effect I have on you." he whispered hoarsely. "Bucky, please" I begged him "It's embarrassing enough for me that you know about my feelings, don't tease me any more." "I'm not mocking you!" He left defensively "It's just that maybe you're not the only one who has a crush here."

"Since when?" I simply asked. "Do you remember when a few years ago I entered your room without knocking and found you in your underwear?" at the memory of that day I blushed further "Yes, I would say that you remember. Well, since that day the image of your body shielded only by that little fabric and by your hands has never left my mind. There I understood that I didn't see you only like a little sister, but like something more. Every time I saw you smile, I smiled accordingly." His hand was still in contact with my face, which luckily had lost its red color.

"I don't want to force you or what, but if you don't walk away in a few seconds the decisions I might take won't be so brotherly." he said grinning.

A small part of me was screaming at me to get away and leave, making everything go back to the way it was, but the bigger part of me didn't want to. When he realized I wasn't going to move, his other hand brought our bodies together and he placed his lips on mine.

It was only when we both ran out of breath that we parted, with swollen lips and eyes full of desire. "Why didn't you tell me before?" Bucky looked at me for a long time, he seemed almost undecided about what to do "I was scared." he finally admitted, "I was afraid of being rejected. And I suppose you were afraid too."

I nodded slowly, embarrassed, lowering my head, but with two fingers he raised it again, making our eyes connect and after a few seconds our lips too. When his hands reached the buttons of my blouse I suddenly stiffened: no boy had ever dared so much, not even the most insistent.

"Sorry." Bucky said immediately "It's that having you here, at my mercy made me lose control." "Do not apologize, you can lose it." I murmured, shocking myself at the words that came out of my mouth. "Then how about we go upstairs, in your room, you know, the curtains in the living room are way too sheer."

Charmed by the young man's voice, I followed him without thinking of anything. As if he were the master of the house, he walked briskly up to my room, the last one in the corridor. I had just closed the door behind me when I felt Bucky's body pressing against mine and his hands quickly unbuttoning her blue blouse, which soon found itself on the floor. "Better than I remembered." he mumbled to himself.

With -I don't know what courage I started to unbutton his shirt, but my hands were shaking and he noticed it. "Nervous?" He grinned, while he unbuttoned his shirt with trembling legs. I nodded, while with a quick movement I dropped his shirt not far from mine. I shifted my gaze,addressing it on his abs to the floor.

"What's wrong with you, is this the first time you've seen a man like that?" "Actually, yes." "Is-is this your first time?" He asked, not so surprised. I nodded again, this time covering my face in embarrassment. I was inexperienced and half naked in front of a half naked man with experience to spare. But it could be worse.

"Don't be ashamed, not with me, I won't judge you. And I will try to make your first time unique." He reassured me before kissing me more passionately than before, making my back coincide with the wooden door of my room. Without the slightest effort he also unbuttoned my bra, an infernal contraption that not even I was able to unbutton in the first go. I wrapped my legs around his pelvis and he slowly walked up to the bed and then leaned on it gently above and remained stunned for a few moments.

"Better than imagination." he murmured. "Did you imagine me naked?" I asked, trying to cover the embarrassment in my nonchalant words. "Trust me baby, you don't want to get inside a guy's mind." He admonished me in a tone I couldn't take seriously given the smile on his lips. I could feel the bulge in his pants growing every second.

With a courage I didn't know I had, I switched roles, making Bucky lay on the blue bedspread. "What are you-" He tried to speak but I silenced him with a kiss,starting then to go down with a trail of kisses more and more downwards. "At rest Sergeant Barnes." I smirked, fumbling with the belt that held his pants closed.

Soon both the pants and the boxers ended up on the floor. "Are you sure?" Bucky asked again. In response, I caressed the tip of his length with my tongue while with my right hand, slightly moistened with saliva, I began to massage his entire erection. I could feel my hand shaking slightly, I'd never done anything like this in my life, but judging by the boy's moans of pleasure, I was probably managing quite well.

When I suddenly felt him stiffen I increased the speed of my hand, then tried to wrap it with my mouth.

As he began to fill my mouth, Bucky's hand landed on my head, pushing me down and nearly choking me. I concentrated on sucking as much as possible and licking him clean. "You'll be good and swallow it all, okay doll?" Bucky asked in a voice broken by moans of pleasure.

Now, I couldn't speak because of something in my mouth, but when I felt the boy's body stiffen again and his seed filling my mouth, I did as I was asked.

When Bucky's grip on my head eased I pulled myself up,finding myself kneeling on the bed, still wearing my skirt and covering my breasts as best I could with her arms.

"I would like to stop time." I heard him murmur before approaching me, moving my arms effortlessly despite my opposition and capturing my lips in another kiss, even more passionate than before "To have this memory fixed in mind for the rest of my life." He finished short of breath.

"Now" he started breaking the kiss "You will be obedient and you will let me enjoy myself too." I bowed my head, watching him bend down and pick up the belt that I had earlier thrown on the ground.

"What do you want to do?" I asked with a note of concern in my voice. "Don't worry, I could never hurt you." He reassured me, pushing me gently against the bed and bringing my wrists above my head. I decided to let it go. I trusted him.

After a short time I felt something stiff around my wrists and pulling my head back I noticed that his belt was tied to the bed and held my wrists enclosed. "Bucky, what-" I was interrupted by a kiss from him on my navel, which made me shiver. "I like to have full control over my dolls." He explained laying down on me, but still holding on to his arms so as not to hurt me "And then you won't cover yourself anymore, I want to see you all this evening, doll."

I tried to relax, telling myself over and over that it was Bucky, the same guy who had my back on several occasions and could never do something to me I didn't want to.

He began to leave wet kisses along my neck and neckline, until he began to focus on my breasts, which moved slightly given my quickened breathing. He began to kiss and suck my nipples, already turgid given the contact with the fresh air of the room. My breath became, if possible, even shorter.

Soon Bucky was starting back down with kisses, until he got to where the skirt started. His gaze sought mine, still with a hint of hesitation, which dissolved when I nodded confidently.

He confidently pulled off both her skirt and panties in one fell swoop, dropping everything to the floor at the end of the bed.

Shyness was stronger than me and I crossed my legs from modesty. "Doll," Bucky admonished me "You don't want me to go all the way to your brother's room to get one of his belts to tie up your legs too, do you?" "No." I murmured. "Well, then..." He whispered, sensing my slight fear and placing the palms of his hands on my knees, stroking them a few times and then gently separating them.

I gasped as I felt his tongue moving expertly inside me. He continued that slow but pleasant torture for a few minutes, until I felt two of his fingers brushing the contours of my intimacy and then, first one and then the other, gently enter me.

I moved my pelvis, trying to get used to a sensation I'd never experienced before. "If I hurt you tell me." blew Bucky. "I am fine." I murmured.

And it was true. Feeling him so close to me made me feel protected in some way.

I grunted in disappointment as Bucky pulled his two fingers away from me and received laughter in response. He untied the knot that held my wrists in place and kissed them both. I saw him position himself on top of me, holding himself up with his arms, and starting to kiss me again while I felt his intimacy press against mine.

Bucky tried to hold back, I could feel it and I was extremely grateful. He entered and exited slowly, each time going a little deeper and almost never ceasing to kiss me, almost as if he believed that that was enough to ease the pain I felt in my lower abdomen.

He fully entered me when I was playing with his hair, trying to ignore the tingling I felt. Result: I ended up pulling his hair a little. "Sorry." I murmured. With two fingers he lifted my face and made our lips collide. "If I hurt you I want you to tell me." he muttered the same phrase as before, but with more softness in his voice, starting to move a little faster and slowly picking up the pace. I found myself squinting, but the pain quickly turned into pleasure, thanks to the scattered kisses that Bucky left on my breasts and neck.

Shortly after I climaxed Bucky stormed out of me, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on his erection. "What are you doing?" I asked, ignoring the burning in my lower abdomen and sitting down beside him. "I don't want to get you pregnant, but I can't stay like this either." He explained pointing to his erection that with strong and decisive movements he was determined to fix.

Gently I placed my hand on his and moved it,kneeling in front of him. A grin had made its way across his face, while with a more confident hand than before I began to stroke his length. When I sensed that he was about to cum I placed his erection in my mouth and started playing with my tongue until the liquid I already knew filled my cheeks again.

"You're amazing." he admitted as he lifted me off the ground and placing me on the bed. "You're not bad either." I chuckled, lifting the covers and inviting the boy to lie down. Bucky nimbly sat down with his back against the headboard and, wrapping his arms around my waist, he held me against his chest.

"Is everything fine?" he asked, placing delicate kisses on my shoulder. I snuggled closer against him, closing my eyes and basking in his warmth. "Nothing could be better."

Masterlist

#40s bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #reader insert

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fallendemon6000 · 2 days ago

Text

Episode 7 - The Night of Confessions

It's the dead of night.

The woods are quiet. The Bentley is parked under a tree. The two are outside, Crowley leaning on the hood of the car smoking and Aziraphale looking at the moon.

He hugs himself with his hands.

He's not cold.

But his thoughts are making him shiver.

There's still something beneath the surface.

A: "There's something I haven't told you yet. It happened when... when I went back to Heaven."

Crowley takes a drag.

C: "I knew there was something. I could see it in you."

A: "Metatron... tested me. He wanted to make sure I was still... pure. Every inch of me. From the tips of my hair to the tips of my wings."

Crowley stiffens slightly.

C: "What kind of test?"

A: "Not physical. Not exactly. It was... like they were looking for cracks in my soul. Like they wanted to find every trace of you on me. Every fragment of doubt, every desire. Every hidden fragment of lust. Some sinful thought."

Crowley turns slowly toward him, stares at him.

C: "Aziraphale, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest with me... did they touch you?"

Aziraphale doesn't answer right away.

He closes his eyes.

A long, dense moment.

A: "Not in my body. But yes. It was... like an invasion. A touch to my soul. To my mind. Like they were digging into my memories to tear them out, to make me feel dirty. To erase you."

C: "Damn bastards."

Aziraphale puts his hand on Crowley's arm.

A shaky, but sincere gesture.

A: "But they didn't succeed. Not completely. You're still here. In my heart, in my thoughts. In every laugh, in every dream."

Crowley swallows, lets go of the cigarette, and turns fully toward him.

C: "What if they try again?"

A: "They won't succeed. Because this time... I won't be coming back alone."

The night continues quietly around them.

Fireflies glow faintly in the distance.

The blankets are wrapped around them both, but there's still a thin space between them, until Crowley breaks the silence. He climbs down from the hood and places Aziraphale on top of it.

C: "You know... Touching someone isn't just... hands. Skin. It's... knowing that you can get close, and that they won't run away. That they're not afraid. That you're not afraid. That they'll stay, even if they see everything. Even the cracks."

He pauses. Then he moves closer. His voice is hoarse now. Closer to the ear.

C:"I... I would touch you differently. Not like them. Not to erase you, or judge you. But to remind you who you really are. And that you are... enough. Just the way you are."

Aziraphale looks at him. His eyes become glossy.

C:"With me... you shouldn't be afraid of feeling wrong. You've never been dirty. Never been a mistake."

Crowley reaches out a hand, slowly. He places it very delicately on the angel's heart, over his clothes.

It's a symbolic gesture.

A touch that asks for nothing, that only offers.

C:"This is touching. Not to take. But to stay. To make you feel safe."

Aziraphale holds his breath. Then, slowly, he places his hand on top of Crowley's. No need for words.

Their hands are still joined. The fireflies' fire has thinned out, leaving only the moon to illuminate their faces. Aziraphale looks at Crowley with eyes full of questions.

One in particular escapes him, almost in a whisper.

A: "And you? Have they ever... touched you like this? In the wrong way, I mean. Not in your body, but... in your soul?"

Crowley doesn't answer right away.

He looks away, towards the sky. He remains silent for a few moments.

Then he speaks, in a low, almost flat voice.

C: "Yes. It has happened. More times than I care to remember."

A difficult-to-read expression crosses his face. It's not anger, it's not pure pain. It's something older. Tiredness. Survival.

C: "You know... When they kick you out of Heaven, it's not just a fall. They strip you. They make you feel wrong forever. Every time you get close to something beautiful... you feel like you don't deserve it."

Aziraphale stiffens slightly, but doesn't let go of his hand.

C:"And then someone comes along. Maybe a superior. Maybe someone who pretends to want to "put you back in line." And touches you as if you were already rotten. And you start to believe it for real."

Crowley turns to Aziraphale. His eyes, for once, have no lenses. Only raw truth.

C:"You touched me differently. Not just with your hands. But with your voice. With the way you looked at me. For a moment I thought... that maybe I, too, could be something good."

Aziraphale has tears in his eyes. Not out of pity, but out of deep understanding. His hand squeezes Crowley's.

A:"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

C:"I know. And maybe... this time it's not too late to learn to touch each other well. Like it should."

The silence after the previous confession is heavy but not empty.

The hands have just separated, but the gazes remain united. Crowley takes a deep breath, then breaks the silence with another truth. One he’s never had the courage to say.

C: “Can I tell you something else? One I’ve kept to myself. For too long.”

A: “You can tell me anything, you know.”

C: “When you came back from Heaven… I couldn’t stand to be near you. Not just because of how I felt. Not just because I’d lost you. It was the way you smelled.”

Aziraphale frowns, confused. Crowley looks down, as if shame is burning beneath his skin.

C: “You smelled like him. Metatron. Heaven. That smell… too perfect. Too shiny. But there was something else underneath. A sour tone. Rotten. Like… flowers left to rot in a cathedral.”

Aziraphale pales. Not from anger, but from a sudden pang in his heart. He slowly lowers his eyes to his clothes, as if he wanted to smell that scent even now.

A: "Did you smell me?"

C: "It was inevitable for me. It was as if they had covered you with a shiny varnish. Shiny, yes... but toxic. Every time you came closer... it was as if he was still there. Between us. And I... I couldn't breathe."

Crowley's voice lowers, almost a whisper.

C: "I don't blame you. But it hurt. More than I care to admit."

Aziraphale approaches, slowly. Not to defend himself. Not to deny. But to be present, in silence, next to that wound. She places a hand on his chest, as if to calm his heart under the black skin of jacket and anger.

A: "I understand. And... I'm sorry. I had no idea."

C: "I know. And now you know."

43 notes · View notes

ruebossanova · 2 days ago

Text

her watch: the series - part 7: closer than close

bodyguard!abby x female!reader

word count: 4.0k

warnings: SLOWBURN, smuttttt af, olderlabby x younger!reader, reader is spoiled & bratty but sweet, nyc rich socialite vibe (think gossip girl)

summary: reader and abby escape to the stunning amalfi coast for spring break, their days filled with sun-soaked adventures, quiet moments, and growing closeness. a hesitant kiss on monday sparks new feelings, culminating in a raw, intimate breakthrough midweek where abby lets down her guard completely. the rest of the trip deepens their bond with playful days, vulnerable conversations, and tender nights. returning home, their connection is stronger than ever—setting the stage for a new chapter in their relationship.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

————————————————————————————

the night stretched out around you, full of possibility and quiet promises. you both knew that when you woke tomorrow, the countdown would really begin.

spring break was finally here — and with it, a chance to explore not just new places, but whatever this was between you.

the city outside had settled into a quiet hum by the time you finally climbed into bed. the soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm pools of light across the room, turning everything a gentle amber.

abby was already there, sitting cross-legged against the headboard, her expression unreadable but calm. the day’s energy had faded, leaving something softer in its place — a quiet closeness that felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

you lay back against the pillows, watching her for a moment — the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face, the steady rhythm of her breathing.

“i’m glad you’re coming,” you said quietly.

her eyes met yours, a flicker of something vulnerable hidden beneath her usual steel. “wouldn’t miss it.”

the reality of the trip — the escape from routine, the unknowns of new places — felt less daunting with her there. a shield and a companion all in one.

you reached out, fingers brushing lightly over her hand. she didn’t pull away. instead, her hand closed gently over yours, grounding you.

“you ready?” she asked, voice low.

you smiled, heart skipping. “as ready as i’ll ever be.”

there was a pause — heavy and full. the kind of silence that crackled with unspoken words and feelings.

slowly, you shifted closer, your body finding the warmth of hers beneath the covers. abby’s breath hitched for a moment but she didn’t move away.

your fingers traced the line of her jaw, memorizing the sharp angles and soft skin. she leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

you felt a hunger — for closeness, for connection, for everything simmering just beneath the surface. your lips hovered near her ear, your breath warm.

“this trip,” you whispered, “it’s more than just a break, isn’t it?”

abby’s eyes snapped open, intense and searching. “yeah. it is.”

and in that moment, the air between you thickened — charged with possibility.

but just as your lips were about to meet hers, she pulled back slightly, a shadow of hesitation flickering across her face.

“not tonight,” she murmured, voice rough.

you nodded, heart pounding but understanding.

“but soon,” she promised.

you settled back against the pillows, her hand still holding yours tight.

the night stretched on, filled with soft touches and quiet breaths — a promise hanging in the air that whatever came next, it was just beginning.

and as sleep finally claimed you both, the anticipation of the days ahead wrapped around you like a warm, thrilling secret.

⸻

the plane’s wheels kissed the tarmac of naples airport with a gentle thud, a soft reminder that the adventure you’d been dreaming about for months had finally arrived. the air inside the cabin was thick with anticipation; you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you peered out the window, watching the italian landscape unfold in sweeping greens and sun-dappled hills.

abby was calm beside you, her posture relaxed but alert — eyes flicking over the crowd, scanning, always watching. still, there was something softer about her today. a quiet ease you hadn’t seen before. she caught your gaze for a brief moment, offering a small smile that warmed you from the inside out.

you stepped off the plane together, the mediterranean sun hitting your skin with a golden warmth. the scent of salt and blooming jasmine wrapped around you, promising something magical. from naples, you climbed into a sleek black car for the drive along the amalfi coast — winding roads hugged the cliffs, revealing breathtaking views of the turquoise sea stretching endlessly.

you pressed your forehead against the window, mesmerized by pastel villages clinging to the rocky shores, lemon groves dotting the hillsides, and fishing boats bobbing lazily in the harbor. abby stayed close, her arm occasionally brushing yours, grounding you in the moment. every so often, she’d glance out too, but her mind was clearly tuned to something deeper — to you.

when you arrived at the villa, perched precariously on the edge of a cliff, your breath caught. whitewashed walls framed by vibrant bougainvillea, and the endless sea glittering below like spilled sapphires. the terrace was a perfect sanctuary, with wrought-iron furniture and flowering pots spilling over with scent. the soft hum of cicadas filled the air, mingling with the distant lapping of waves.

as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of peach and lavender, you found yourselves on the terrace, wine glasses in hand. the rich, velvety red was the perfect companion to the warm breeze and the intimate silence stretching between you.

“not quite what you expected?” you teased, your voice light but your eyes locked on abby’s.

she let out a soft chuckle, a sound so rare it felt like a secret shared just between you two. “it’s… better.”

there was a flicker of something vulnerable in her gaze, a tiny crack in the armor she usually wore so tightly. you wanted to reach out, to touch it, but you held back, letting the moment breathe.

“we should explore tomorrow,” you said, voice low, full of promise. “i want to see every corner of this place.”

abby nodded, her eyes glinting with something unreadable — anticipation, maybe? or something more.

the night settled around you like a velvet cloak, stars piercing the darkening sky. the air smelled of citrus and salt, and you could almost taste the possibility lingering in the breeze.

there, sitting side by side with the world at your feet, you realized something fundamental had shifted — whatever this was between you and abby, it was no longer just protection or duty. it was something quiet, dangerous, and beautifully true.

and you were ready to see where it might lead.

the morning sun spilled through the villa’s wide windows, bathing the room in soft gold. you woke to the faint scent of salt air mixed with fresh lemons from the groves just beyond the garden wall. abby was already up, standing at the terrace railing, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea kissed the sky in endless blue.

you slipped out of bed quietly and joined her, the cool marble floor beneath your bare feet grounding you as the mediterranean breeze played with your hair.

“ready?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

abby turned, her usual serious expression softened by a rare, genuine smile. “let’s go.”

the day was yours to claim.

you wandered through the vibrant streets of positano, the town’s stacked pastel buildings tumbling down the cliffs like a cascade of candy colors. the cobblestone alleys buzzed with life — locals calling out greetings, artists displaying their work, the scent of fresh basil and baked bread swirling in the air.

abby stayed close, but not overly so — a protective shadow at your side rather than a wall. she watched the crowds with sharp eyes, but occasionally caught your glance and let her guard slip with a quick smile.

you ducked into tiny shops, trying on flowy dresses and delicate scarves, laughing when abby teased you about your obvious excitement. her hand brushed yours a few times, light and fleeting, but enough to make your pulse spike.

at a quaint café tucked between lemon trees, you shared a plate of bruschetta, the fresh tomatoes bursting with flavor, and sipped on rich espresso that bit pleasantly at your tongue.

“you’ve been quiet,” you finally said, nudging abby gently.

she hesitated, then shrugged, “just taking it all in.”

the afternoon stretched out lazily until you found a secluded beach — a small crescent of sand hidden by cliffs, the kind of place that felt like a secret kept just for you.

you kicked off your sandals, letting the cool water lap at your toes while abby stood a few feet away, watching the waves. the sun warmed your skin, and for a moment, the tension that always thrummed between you softened.

you stepped closer, the breeze carrying the faint scent of her shampoo mingled with the sea.

“thank you for coming with me,” you said, voice low.

abby met your eyes, something unreadable flickering there. she took a slow breath and then leaned in.

the kiss was tentative — soft lips barely brushing, testing, learning. your heart hammered, skin tingling where her hands rested lightly on your waist. time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to just the two of you, the sound of waves a quiet drum in the background.

when you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, vulnerability raw and beautiful.

“we shouldn’t…” she murmured, but her breath hitched, betraying her words.

you smiled, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “we don’t have to.”

hand in hand, you walked back to the villa, the weight of the moment settling comfortably between you.

the evening awaited, full of possibility.

⸻

the morning dawned soft and quiet, sunlight filtering through the linen curtains in a gentle glow. you woke to the sound of the sea rolling against the rocks below, a calming rhythm that made your chest feel strangely light.

abby was already awake, sitting on the terrace with her phone in hand, a small smile tugging at her lips as she read your text from early that morning — a playful little message that made her eyes flicker with warmth.

you slipped out of bed and joined her, your feet warm on the cool stone floor. the air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and salt, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

“morning,” you whispered.

abby looked up, surprise quickly melting into something softer. “morning.”

your fingers brushed hers, tentative but full of meaning, and she didn’t pull away.

the day stretched ahead, lazy and slow. you spent hours by the villa’s pool, the sun casting glittering patterns on the water’s surface. abby lounged beside you, her usual guard softened, replaced by gentle touches — a hand grazing your arm, a finger tracing circles on your palm.

words came easier today. abby shared bits of her past, stories you’d never heard before, the walls she kept so tightly around herself beginning to crack. you listened, your heart opening with each quiet confession, feeling honored by the trust she placed in you.

as afternoon melted into evening, you cooked dinner together — fresh pasta tossed with ripe tomatoes, basil picked from the garden, and olive oil so fragrant it seemed to sing of the land it came from. laughter bubbled up between you, light and easy, the kind that made your chest ache with happiness.

when night fell, you settled side by side on the terrace, the stars wheeling overhead in their endless dance. abby surprised you by letting you brush her hair, your fingers threading through the silky strands as she closed her eyes, a peacefulness washing over her usually tense frame.

you fell asleep like that — close, tangled in warmth and new trust, hearts beating in a quiet, steady rhythm that promised something deep was blooming between you.

⸻

the morning light filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold patterns across the rumpled sheets. the air was thick, heavy with a quiet anticipation that wrapped around you both like a secret. your heart hammered in your chest, nerves fluttering beneath the skin, mingling with a raw, pulsing desire that had been building for days — weeks, maybe.

abby lay beside you, her breath slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest mesmerizing in its calm. when her eyes fluttered open and caught yours, there was a flicker there — something vulnerable, almost fragile, but laced with fierce intensity. you could see the war behind her gaze, the part she rarely let anyone touch. and now, it was all for you.

your fingers trembled just slightly as you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before settling gently over hers. her skin was warm, the roughness of callouses on her palms grounding you, reminding you she was real, here, present. you intertwined your fingers slowly, the silence between you thick but comfortable.

“i’m scared,” she whispered, voice low and rough, the admission so raw it made your chest ache.

“me too,” you breathed back, voice barely above a sigh. “but i want this. i want you.”

her lips parted in a ghost of a smile, and she pulled you closer until your bodies brushed, the heat radiating between you a quiet promise. then, with a trembling boldness that took your breath away, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to yours — soft at first, tentative, like testing the waters of a new ocean.

but the moment the warmth of your mouth met hers, everything inside you ignited.

abby’s hands didn’t hesitate anymore. one slid under your dress, fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down your side before dipping beneath the hem, finding the bare skin of your thigh. the touch was electric, sending jolts of fire pulsing up your spine. her thumb brushed against the sensitive patch just above your hipbone, a teasing, possessive caress that made you shiver.

“you’re so beautiful,” she murmured against your lips, her voice thick with something between awe and hunger.

you smiled against her mouth, breath hitching as you tangled your fingers in the soft strands at the nape of her neck. “tell me what you want,” you whispered, voice trembling with need.

her eyes darkened, half-lidded with desire. “i want to make you feel so good, you won’t remember how to breathe.”

the promise sent a delicious shiver through you. her hand slid lower, warm fingers tracing the curve of your hip, dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear with slow, reverent care. she circled her fingertip over your wetness, teasing the slick folds, making your breath catch and your hips tilt instinctively toward her.

“fuck,” you gasped softly, biting your lip as her fingers pressed just right, slow and sure.

“shh,” abby hushed, her mouth trailing down your jawline, teeth grazing lightly over your pulse point. “let me take care of you.”

her fingers found your most sensitive spot, curling inside you with a rhythm that was both gentle and insistent. waves of pleasure rolled through you, mounting quickly, your body arching into her touch, craving more. your hands roamed her back, tracing the taut muscles beneath her shirt, memorizing every inch like a sacred map.

“abby,” you moaned, voice barely steady, “please… don’t stop.”

her lips found yours again in a deep, desperate kiss, tongues swirling together, tasting, claiming. the kiss was hungry and messy, filled with need and something softer — a silent confession of trust and longing. her fingers moved faster, deeper, your skin slick with sweat, heart racing out of control.

“you’re mine,” she whispered fiercely between kisses, “and i’m yours.”

your hands slipped beneath her shirt, fingers pressing into the warm skin of her back, pulling her closer until your bodies were flush, heat radiating from every touch. you could feel her pulse pounding beneath your palm, mirroring your own frantic heartbeat.

“say it again,” you breathed against her lips, desperate for more.

“you’re mine,” she growled softly, voice thick with want.

the world shrank until it was only you and abby — two bodies tangled in sheets, hands exploring, mouths devouring, every touch a promise and a plea.

finally, you came around her fingers beautifully, back arching up against her body that held you. your foreheads rested together, breaths ragged and shallow.

“i’ve wanted this for so long,” you confessed, voice trembling.

“me too,” she admitted, voice low and raw. “i was just afraid i’d lose control.”

“you don’t have to,” you said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “we’ll figure it out. together.”

she smiled, a fierce, radiant thing that made your heart leap. “together.”

you lay together, skin flushed, hearts open, the quiet aftermath heavy with something new — a fierce, tender intimacy that would change everything.

you woke tangled in each other’s arms, the soft morning light spilling across the sheets like honey. it painted abby in gold, highlighting the line of her jaw, the curve of her collarbone, the way her lashes fanned out against her cheek. her body was warm against yours, one arm slung over your waist, hand resting low on your stomach like it had found its place and never wanted to leave.

the night’s intensity lingered like heat after a storm — not chaotic, but charged, humming beneath your skin. the villa was quiet, wrapped in a kind of stillness that made everything feel sacred.

you shifted slightly, brushing your fingertips along abby’s back, tracing the dip of her spine, the familiar rise of scar tissue under your touch. she stirred, a low hum in her throat, and nuzzled closer.

“you okay?” her voice was rough from sleep, deeper than usual, and laced with something tender.

you nodded into her shoulder. “better than okay.”

she pulled back just enough to see your face, her eyes sleepy but clear, searching yours like she needed to confirm you were really there. her hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking just under your cheekbone.

“last night…” she paused, brow furrowing. “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “it was… everything. abby, it was perfect.”

she exhaled, relief flickering across her face. “i didn’t want to rush you.”

“you didn’t,” you said, leaning in to press a kiss to the center of her chest, where her heart beat steady beneath your lips. “you made me feel safe.”

her fingers threaded into your hair, holding you there for a moment. “you make me want things i thought i couldn’t have.”

you pulled back just enough to smile softly at her. “you can have this. me.”

for a long second, abby just looked at you, like your face was a language she was learning to read. and then she kissed you again — slow, lingering, not urgent but full of quiet longing.

eventually, you rose from bed, bodies still aching in the sweetest way. the villa was filled with golden light, the sea beyond the windows calm and glittering. barefoot and in oversized shirts, you moved around each other in the kitchen — brewing espresso, slicing fresh fruit, the kind of domestic ease that made your heart swell.

“so,” you said, hopping up on the counter, legs swinging. “are you gonna keep pretending you’re still on duty? or can i officially call this a vacation?”

abby turned from the stove, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “i’m still technically working.”

“uh-huh.” you pointed at the tiny lemon slice she’d tucked on the rim of your glass like a cocktail. “that seems very professional.”

“you’re a high-value target,” she deadpanned, handing you the glass. “hydration is essential.”

you laughed, nudging her hip with your knee. “thank you, agent anderson. i feel very protected.”

“you should.” her smile softened. “but i like seeing you happy even more.”

you froze for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. “you make me happy, abby.”

she looked down, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i didn’t think i deserved that.”

you cupped her face in your hands, tilting her head until she looked at you. “you do. every bit of it.”

the rest of the day unfolded in a gentle rhythm — long walks through lemon groves, your fingers brushing as you walked side by side. the smell of citrus and salt filled the air, and the sun warmed your skin until everything felt soft and golden.

abby stopped occasionally to glance around, always scanning the area like habit. but her eyes always came back to you, her expression softer each time. you caught her watching you more than once, like she couldn’t quite believe you were real.

at one point, you picked a small lemon blossom and tucked it behind her ear. “there,” you whispered. “now you look less like a bodyguard and more like my summer romance.”

“is that what this is?” she asked, her voice quiet, curious.

you leaned in, brushing your lips against hers. “i think it’s the start of something bigger.”

you found a small café nestled on a cliffside, weathered chairs and sleepy cats adding to its charm. you shared a flaky pastry and two tiny cups of espresso, legs pressed together under the table. abby reached over once, took your hand without a word, and traced slow circles against your palm.

“tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” you said.

she looked out at the sea for a long moment. “i used to dream about this kind of peace,” she said. “but i never let myself want it too much. felt dangerous.”

you squeezed her hand. “does it still feel dangerous now?”

“yeah,” she said, looking back at you with a soft, almost shy smile. “but in a good way.”

twilight found you walking slowly back to the villa, the sky painted in strokes of coral and violet. the first stars blinked to life above as you curled up together on a lounge chair, her arms wrapped around you, your head tucked beneath her chin.

“what happens when we go back?” you asked.

abby was quiet for a long beat. “i don’t know. but i know i’m not ready to let go of this.”

“good,” you murmured. “me either.”

the next morning arrived with the cry of distant gulls and the gleam of sunlight across the sea. you boarded a boat just after breakfast, the deck rocking gently beneath your bare feet. the salty air tugged at your hair and clothes, and abby stood close beside you, her hand on your lower back in a way that made your breath hitch.

she wore sunglasses and a slight smirk, her arms crossed over her tank top. “don’t go falling in.”

“you’d save me,” you teased.

“yeah,” she said, deadpan. “but i’d be pissed about it.”

you grinned, dipping your hand into the water. “i’d make it up to you.”

she arched a brow. “oh?”

you only winked.

later, when you both slipped into the sea near a quiet cove, the cool water wrapped around your sun-warmed skin, and you swam close until abby’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you to her.

“you know,” she murmured against your ear, “you’re kind of impossible to stay professional around.”

“then don’t,” you whispered, kissing her — quick and salty and full of something playful.

that night, beneath a sky strung with fairy lights, you danced slowly together in a tiny piazza lit with warmth and music. her hand was steady on your back, yours resting against her chest, feeling the beat of her heart beneath your palm.

“this week has ruined me,” she whispered.

“good,” you whispered back. “you deserve to be ruined by something soft for once.”

you kissed her again — not rushed, not tentative, but full of intention. and she kissed you back like she believed you.

⸻

the first day back at school felt strange—like the world was the same, but you weren’t. your phone buzzed softly in your pocket during class, a message from abby lighting up the screen.

miss you already.

you smiled, heart fluttering with a warmth that had nothing to do with the spring sun outside. texts came throughout the day—light teasing, quick check-ins, little jokes that only the two of you understood.

once you guys arrived home on sunday, monday morning she headed to a work trip over in california for a few days, something with your parents business and all the main security staff were required to go. she would be back thursday, but it felt like a lifetime.

abby’s usual cool, professional tone had softened, her replies carrying a subtle warmth and even a hint of flirtation. it was like she was letting down walls you hadn’t seen before, inviting you into a private space just between the two of you.

flashbacks of amalfi flooded your mind—sandy beaches, late-night talks, her touch that had been both fierce and tender. those memories anchored you, reminding you that what you shared was real, something powerful and lasting.

you carried that feeling with you—confidence blossomed, a quiet strength rooted in being seen and wanted. the day ended with you texting abby one last time before bed.

i can’t wait to see you again.

and her reply came almost instantly.

me too.

time skip: thursday

after school, your heart raced as you waited by the door, knowing abby would be here soon. when she arrived, a small package was in her hand—a delicate ceramic lemon painted in bright yellows and greens, a little piece of amalfi to bring home. she must’ve gotten it before you guys left.

“thought you’d like this,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual.

you smiled, taking it gently, feeling the weight of the trip and everything that had changed between you. the afternoon slipped by in a warm, easy rhythm—cooking together in your kitchen, laughter spilling over simmering pots and chopping boards.

you caught her glancing at you from time to time, the tension between you tender and electric. when the dishes were done, she finally closed the distance, her hand finding yours.

the kiss was soft at first, lingering with promise—a delicate brush of lips that said more than words ever could. her fingers curled into your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the connection.

it was the start of something new, something neither of you had dared to name fully, but both felt in every look, every touch.

as the evening darkened outside, you lay tangled together on the couch, the lemon souvenir glowing softly on the shelf—an unspoken reminder of the journey you’d taken, together.

the future was uncertain, but for now, you had this—warmth, trust, and a love that was quietly growing, stronger every day.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #wlw #abby anderson x reader #tlou smut #tlou #the last of us

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cyberkitty1 · 2 days ago

Text

—TROUBLE IN THE TIDE

PART 1 - AFTER HOURS

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mentions of blood, injury, emotional vulnerability, light angst, swearing, slow burn start

it’s late when you step out the back door of the diner.

the kind of late where the air is heavy and quiet, sticky with salt and silence. your shift’s just ended. ten hours, two burns, one broken plate, and a regular who left you a five-dollar tip and a wink.

you’re tired. your feet ache. you just want to go home.

but then you see him.

slumped against the alley wall near the dumpster, head tilted back, chest rising unevenly. there’s blood on his shirt just enough to make your heart stutter, and bruises blooming under his jaw.

rafe. cameron.

he doesn’t notice you at first. or maybe he does and he just doesn’t care.

you stand frozen, one hand still on the doorframe. this obviously isn’t normal. this isn’t something that happens to you. you don’t get mixed up in “cameron drama”.

but something in your gut pulls you forward anyway.

“…rafe?” you ask quietly, like if you say it too loud, he’ll disappear.

his eyes glide toward you, glassy and dazed.

he blinks at you slowly. “you work here?”

“yeah.” you pause. “what happened to you?”

he laughs. rough, humorless. “nothing new.”

you glance around, the alley’s empty, the street’s quiet, and there’s no sign of a car or a friend or anyone looking for him. he’s just here, alone and bleeding and pretending not to care.

“you’re hurt,” you say, crouching beside him. “you need to go to a hospital.”

“no hospitals,” he mumbles, flinching as he shifts.

you hesitate. logic says leave. logic says walk away and pretend you never saw him. but you’ve never been great at listening to logic when someone looks that lost.

“come on,” you sigh. “you can’t stay here.”

“you offering to take me home?” he teases, but it’s weak barely a flicker of his usual arrogance.

“i’m offering to keep you from bleeding out behind my job. don’t get ahead of yourself.”

he lets you help him up. slowly. stubbornly. leaning on you just enough to make your heart beat a little too fast.

his arm is heavy around your shoulders, but his voice is quiet when he says,

“you didn’t have to help me.”

you don’t know why it makes your chest ache.

“i know,” you say softly.

and somehow, you both know that this?

this is where it starts.

tg: @xoxosblogsblog @lcversvoid @drewwhore

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x reader #fanfic #trouble in the tide

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nahoney22 · 1 day ago

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Liar Liar (Part 11/?)

Part 11 - No Going Back // <<< part 10

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 Chapter Summary: A strange run-in with Stone seems to settle some nerves and an accidental confession leaves Fox aching for more.

🫧 Warnings: more angst, accidental feeling confessions.

“I wish you’d cheer up.”

You blink, jerked from your thoughts. “Huh?”

Stone huffed. “See? You’re not even paying attention.”

You were half a step behind him as you both made your way down the corridor, arms full of reports you were delivering for some dull errand. Stone had been chatting nonstop. Something about Thorn, cafeteria food conspiracies, and maybe something involving an ill-fated training drill—but the words had just buzzed around your ears like background noise. You hadn’t heard a single thing. Your brain had been… elsewhere.

“Sorry,” you muttered, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

Stone gave you a long look, one brow slowly arching. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head—and then, of course, the sheepish smile followed.

“What?” you asked, suspicious.

“That ‘lot’ on your mind wouldn’t happen to be a 6 foot tall something, wears red, commands a battalion and acts allergic to feelings, would it?”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing. “No.”

He smirked like he’d won a lifetime supply of rations. “Sure. And I didn’t overhear you and Thire talking the other day.”

You groaned and covered your face with one hand. “About what, exactly?”

Stone made a vague gesture. “Y’know. You and Commander Doom ‘n Gloom’ .”

“Something did happen,” you admitted through gritted teeth, although you wish more of the guys would stop catching wind about it. “But I’m not going into it, so wipe that stupid grin off your face and let’s just drop it.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising both hands in surrender, but his grin didn’t budge. “Just saying. I think you two would actually make a good pair.”

“Stone.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Stone.”

“You’ve got that whole ‘irresistible tension’ thing going on. Very holodrama.”

You threw your head back and groaned as you resumed walking. “Kriff’s sake…”

But even as you tried to laugh it off, your chest still ached from your recent run-in with Fox.

The memory of it stung. Badly. It was the day after 79’s, a few days ago now, and he’d cornered you in a hallway, posture stiff, voice tense even through the filter of his helmet.

“The woman at the bar,” he’d said abruptly. “She was just a civvie. Thanking me. That’s all.”

You’d tried to keep your voice neutral, indifferent. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”

“But Hound said you—” he hesitated. “He said you were crying.”

You cursed Hound’s name internally.

You looked at Fox, bitterness pressing against your ribs. “Maybe I was. Maybe I had a right to be.”

His posture had wavered for a split second, and then he’d leaned in, voice low. “Can we talk? Just… privately. Please.”

Stars, how you wanted to say yes. But it was the part of you that still ached that answered. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Commander.”

“Fox,” he corrected quietly.

You swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go through this again.”

“I didn’t handle things right,” he said. “But if I could just—”

“You had plenty of time to explain,” you cut in, barely above a whisper.

He looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t. He just deflated a little, shoulders sagging.

“…Is this your final decision?”

You hadn’t answered. Couldn’t. You’d just looked away, whispered something about getting back to work, and left him standing there.

And now, days later, the conversation was still looping in your head like a broken holotape.

You and Stone finally reached the destination for your delivery. It was a quiet, empty records office and you had to refrain from grimacing because it smelt bad. Like, really bad.

“Huh,” you then murmured, scanning the room. “Wasn’t someone supposed to meet us here to sign off?”

Stone shrugged, already leaning against the nearest desk and lazily inspecting his blaster. “Maybe they forgot. Or maybe I’m too intimidating.”

You raised a brow. “You got chewed out yesterday for not cleaning your weapon properly.”

He huffed. “I’m working on it. ” He waves his blaster in his hand at you.

You rolled your eyes and dropped the reports onto the desk, glancing uneasily at the vents above. The hair on the back of your neck prickled. “I don’t like just leaving these out here. It feels… off.”

Stone waved it off. “Relax. I do this kind of thing all the time. Besides, what’s gonna happen? A paperwork bandit crawls out of the air ducts and steals the mission reports?”

As if summoned, a loud clang echoed above your heads.

Both of you froze.

“…Okay. If that’s the bandit, I take it back,” Stone said, already on his feet, blaster drawn.

“You heard that too?” you asked, stepping back.

“Affirmative. Get behind me.”

You did as he said, heart racing as Stone climbed onto a nearby crate to reach the vent. He glanced at you, holding up a hand for you to stay where you were, then opened the latch and flicked on his torch.

There was a long, tense moment as he leaned in.

“Stone?” you whispered. No answer.

Then—

PEW!

You flinched at the sharp sound of a stun blast. “Wh-What was it?!”

Stone didn’t respond at first. He shifted forward, grunting as he dragged something towards him. Then he jumped down and turned toward you, holding it by the legs like a wriggly, ugly prize.

You blinked. “Is that a… hawk-bat?”

He nodded. “Looks like a baby one. Underfed, too.”

You stepped closer, frowning. That’s what I’ve been hearing? That thing’s been crawling around the walls?

He held it out, watching it sway in its stunned state. “You wanna keep it? Call it something cute, like Gremlin?”

You chuckled. “I think Fox would be a better name.”

Stone returns the laugh, smirking. “Definitely looks like him too, he's been a mess lately.” And for some reason, that didn’t make you laugh like perhaps he thought it would.

“Is he?”

Stone nods. “Sure. Not sleeping, drinking an unhealthy amount of caf - worse than usual. That prisoner's disappearance has really done a number on him.” Stone says almost casually, lifting the creatures leathery like wings to take a look and then he looks at you. “And I suppose if you have broken his heart then add that to the list, too.”

“I haven’t broken his heart,” you roll your eyes but still frown at everything else, “we should take this somewhere, set it free once we know it’s healthy.”

Stone nods in agreement, saying that he knew where to take it.

So the two of you leave the office, hawk-bat in hand. But still, your eyes drifted back to the vents above. Something still didn’t sit right. And not just about hawk-bats.

⋅⋅ ───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

You and Stone were halfway back to your main station, still carrying the stunned hawk-bat when something made you slow down. Your eyes drifted across the corridor where you see tucked just out of plain sight, Fox and Thorn. Thorn’s arms were moving a lot, sharp gestures like he was making a point, while Fox stood still, head tipped forward slightly like the weight of it all was finally pressing down on him.

Stone noticed too. “That’s a serious-looking powwow.”

You didn’t answer. You were too focused on how different Fox looked. Slumped shoulders. Arms folded tight across his chest. Even from a distance, he looked worn down. Tired in a way caf couldn’t fix. Stone had been right, he did look a mess and so you forced yourself to look away.

Once back at your station, you handed off the hawk-bat to one of the medtechs with instructions to keep it warm and fed. At least that solved the weird banging noises you had been hearing.

As you settled into your desk, Thire suddenly called your name.

You looked over to see him nodding toward the corridor where Fox and Thorn had been standing. “What do you reckon that’s about?” he asked.

“I… don’t know,” you murmured, gaze flickering back toward them. “Something serious.”

You sat back down, fingers moving to the console but your thoughts weren’t on the reports. They were on Commander Fox. A strange guilt started bubbling low in your chest, but you shoved it aside and focused on your screen.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You stiffened and turned. Thorn stood behind you, visor locked on. “Come with me.”

You blinked, confused. “Uh, okay…?”

You followed him quietly, heart beginning to thrum faster the closer you got to the corner where Fox still stood. Thorn didn’t say a word, just guided you to stand directly in front of the pair of them. The air was thick with something heavy and Fox still wasn’t looking at you.

You looked between them both, brows furrowing after a moment too long of silence. “Am I in trouble?”

Thorn’s voice was level but pointed. “Are you going to tell her, or am I?”

Fox exhaled hard, clearly agitated. “You can do it.”

That tiny flare of nerves that had been simmering erupted into something worse. Panic.

Thorn didn’t waste time. “We’ve been tracking the system disruptions for a while now. The failures. The delays. It turns out that all of them… came from your station.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? My station?”

“Your terminal’s been used as the access point for multiple data breaches,” Thorn said. “The logs line up. And the signature pattern matches your ID.”

“That’s not possible,” you said quickly, voice rising. “I—I haven’t done anything. I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“We’re not accusing you. Not directly,” Thorn said evenly. “But this is serious. And it’s coming from your end.”

You looked at Fox. Desperate. “Commander, you know me. You know I wouldn’t do this.”

But he didn’t even speak.He didn’t even lift his head.

The silence from him was louder than any accusation Thorn could’ve thrown. Your breath hitched in your throat, something like betrayal creeping up your spine.

“…Fox?” you asked, quieter now. Pleading. “Please.”

His helmet shifted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but whatever it was, it died in his throat.

That was worse than shouting. Worse than suspicion. He didn’t believe you. Or maybe worse was that he did —but he didn’t trust himself enough to say it out loud.

You sucked in a breath, steeling yourself. “Am I fired?”

Your voice came out calmer than expected, and weirdly—there were no tears. Not yet. Maybe you’d cried them all out for the man who couldn’t even look at you now.

Thorn shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Fox and then back to you. “No. Fox convinced me not to terminate your position.”

Of course he did.

The silent executioner.

“But,” Thorn continued, “I have to escalate this. The breach came from your system, and until the investigation clears, you’ll be reassigned to another station.”

You let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “So let me get this straight—you think I’m too dangerous to be here, but I’m safe enough to just be dumped in another corner of the building? Sure. That tracks.”

Thorn hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. “I… didn’t say it like that.”

You turned to Fox then, who had finally raised his head. Not quite looking at you, but closer. “If you’re so worried about trust, Thorn,” you said coldly, “maybe take a good look at the man standing next to you.

Fox’s shoulders squared instantly like your words hit him physically. He stood up straighter, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of your gaze. Not now.

You turned on your heel and stormed off, boots echoing with fury down the corridor until you slammed back into the station. Heads turned. Conversations dropped.

Stone raised an eyebrow as you marched to your desk, grabbing a crate. “Uh—what’s going on?”

“Moving,” you snapped.

“M-Moving where?” Thire blinked, hurrying over.

“A different station.” Your voice cracked a little from the sheer force of holding everything in. “Apparently I’m a security risk.”

Grizzer whimpered at your feet, sensing the tension, but you stepped over him as you shoved datapads and personal items into the crate. Hound blocked your path for a second before you brushed past him too.

“They think I can’t be trusted,” you muttered, teeth clenched. “Apparently every damn system breach came from my terminal.”

Stone shook his head, eyes wide. “That’s impossible. We would’ve noticed—”

“Yeah, well,” you scoffed bitterly, “apparently I’m real good at flying under the radar.”

“You need to talk to Fox,” Hound said, frowning. “He’ll fix this.”

You gave a sharp, mirthless laugh. “Oh, I did. Or tried to. But it turns out he’s good at being speechless when it matters.”

Hound opened his mouth again, but you cut him off, voice rising with each word. “He had plenty of chances. When he lied. When he said it didn’t mean anything. When he watched me get blamed for something I didn’t even do!”

Thire approached you gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just calm down for a second, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“Calm down?” You turned on him, eyes wide and blazing. “They’ve accused me of screwing up everything . You want me to calm down? Would you be calm if your name was dragged through the mud without even a shred of defense from the person who—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard as the floodgate cracked.

You dropped the next item into the crate harder than you meant to, rattling the others.

“And Fox?” You spat his name like venom. “I have never in my life met someone so disloyal. He lies for weeks, strings me along like I mean nothing. Then stands there mute when I need him most? Screw him.”

No one moved. Even Grizzer stayed perfectly still, ears back. The three clones stood in stunned silence, watching you as if you had grown an extra head.

You turned, ready to storm out only to freeze in place as he - the very topic of conversation - stood in the doorway, silent and unmoving. He must’ve heard every word. Good.

For a second, no one breathed. You stared at him, seething. “Oh, if it isn’t the bubble-brain himself,” you sneered, lifting the crate in your arms. “Come to lend a hand, or just here to make sure I don’t steal anything on the way out?”

Fox stared you down, visor locked onto you and only you. The boys behind you shifted awkwardly, the air thick with unspoken words. You huffed, throwing your hands up.

“Yes? No?” you bit out, answering the question for him.

Fox hesitated then sighed, stepping aside wordlessly to let you pass.

The silence that followed was almost heavier than the tension before it. Thorn shook his head, watching Fox retreat toward his desk.

“What the are you doing, Fox?” he demanded.

“What choice do I have?” Fox grunted, his armour clinking as he moved stiffly.

“Go after her!” Thire snapped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is your last chance.”

Fox’s fists slammed down onto the desk, the crack echoing through the room and cutting them all off.

“You heard what she said!” he barked. His voice cracked through the modulator—frayed, exhausted, broken. He dropped his head into his hands for a moment before dragging them down his helmet with a long, heavy sigh. “It’s done. It’s been done.”

Then he lifted his gaze to Hound, sharp and bitter. “And you—you weren't doing me any favours filling my head with ideas that she still cared. She doesn't.”

“She’s angry ,” Hound said firmly, stepping forward. “Because you didn’t stand by her. Not because she doesn’t care.”

Fox’s jaw locked hard enough you could almost hear the grind of his teeth. His helmet tilted, staring at the door you had stormed through.

“I’m tired, Hound,” he muttered.

“So is she,” Stone said, quieter this time. “Tired of fighting battles you make her fight alone. Just apologise. Be the man she knows you are.”

Fox's hands balled into fists again. “How can I fix it when she thinks I’m the most disloyal bastard she’s ever met?”

The others went silent. No one had an answer for that.

Fox let out another sharp breath, shoving back from the console. His body was tense, his movements mechanical—but after a second of pacing like a caged animal, he cursed under his breath and made for the door at a near-run.

He searched every corridor, panic blooming tighter in his chest with each wrong turn. Fifth hallway down, he caught sight of you. Crate in your arms. Walking fast.

He called your name.

You slowed, just for a second, your head tilting back over your shoulder. But when you saw it was him, you immediately turned back around, quickening your pace.

Fox jogged after you, closing the distance fast. He skidded in front of you, blocking your path. You scowled. “Move.”

“Just give me a second.” His voice was rawer now. “Let’s talk. Properly.”

You hesitated. Sighed. Then took a step back, shifting the crate’s weight in your arms, your exhaustion written in every line of your body. “Fine. Talk.”

Fox stood there a beat too long, fidgeting like he was physically holding himself together. You noticed his hands shake slightly at his sides. The great Commander Fox, reduced to nerves in your presence.

"I..." His voice faltered before he swallowed hard and forced it out. "I tried. I know you’re not responsible for the leaks. Any of it. And I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I spent days convincing Thorn not to have you fired.”

You stared at him, dead-eyed. “Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

Fox bit his tongue, chest rising and falling heavily. “No. I just—I don’t want you thinking I don’t believe you.”

“You could’ve said something,” you muttered, shaking your head, shifting the crate again. “You’ve never been the type to shut up when it mattered. I’ve worked for you for years. I know you.”

"If that's all..." you added, voice rough, "I'll be on my way."

You went to move past him—but he caught your sleeve.

“I’m not done.”

Reluctantly, you turned back to him.

Fox’s shoulders stiffened. He scanned the hallway quickly, making sure no one was around before he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter now. “About what I did to you. About… Whisky. About everything.” His hands fisted and flexed at his sides. “I don’t know why I made him up. Maybe I just wanted—needed—you to look at me the way you did that night.”

You swallowed hard.

“When you came to me at 79’s,” he continued, voice fraying at the edges, “I thought you knew it was me. And I just got caught up in a lie, second guessing myself of how you would have acted if you knew the truth. I wanted you to believe it was me. Because it was."

The silence between you was unbearable.

You shifted the crate higher in your arms, biting back a wave of emotion. “Let’s just forget it happened, Commander.”

“Fox,” he corrected immediately. “I told you. Call me Fox.”

You clenched your jaw, staring up at him through lashes thick with unshed tears.

“Let’s forget it happened, Fox ,” you corrected hollowly. “I’ve gotten over Whisky… and maybe moving stations is a good thing.” Your voice wavered, cracking right down the center. “Because now I can finally get over you too.”

Fox's eyes widened behind his helmet, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Get over me?” Fox repeated, stunned. He took an automatic step forward, towering over you. “What do you mean—?”

You dropped your gaze, heart pounding so hard you thought he could hear it.

“N-nothing. I need to go.” You tried to step past him again but this time he stopped you with a hand at your waist.

You froze. The heat of his touch burned right through the layers of cloth, igniting something you had tried so hard to bury. A shudder tore through you.

“Please…” he murmured, voice almost wrecked. “Tell me. Did you… did you ever feel something for me? As me?”

You looked down at his hand—then back up at him. “I guess I did,” you whispered, the confession leaving your lips like a wound torn open. The anger, the jealousy, the heartache, it was because of Fox. “But it’s all changed now.”

Fox sucked in a sharp breath, taking another step closer, his entire frame blotted out the corridor, your world reduced to his red armour and the familiar scent you had now realised to have missed so much.

“It doesn’t have to,” he rasped. “You can trust me. You can—"

You closed your eyes tightly, inhaling the scent that broke you all over again. It was the same one that had clung to you in the meadow, in the cab, on the nights you let yourself dream he was yours.

“That’s the thing, Fox,” you breathed, voice almost breaking. “I can’t. I look at you and I just think back to when I opened myself up to you. When I told you that trust was everything to me. But when I look at you… all I see is a liar. And I can’t do that to myself again.”

Fox doesn’t let you go, not yet. His touch lingers a moment more on your waist as if savouring the feel of you so close before he takes a step away, his hand slipping back to his side. “I respect your decision. I hope… I hope that you will be happier.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, moving past him for the last time, “me too.”

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