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jacksabbotts · 16 days ago

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✧ cold storage — ❪ part two ❫

. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . dr. jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!morguetech!reader . ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . after jack’s furious outburst in the morgue, you can’t sit with the silence—or the guilt. even with no space left and no backup available, you wheels a stretcher up to the er yourself, determined to prove you are doing your job. what follows is a quiet, desperate attempt to avoid confrontation while making things right even if it means handling four dead bodies alone.

. ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! \ age gap ( reader is late 20s, jack is late 40s ) \ medical setting ( hospital/morgue ) \ mentions of corpses / dead bodies / autopsy prep \ death discussed clinically \ anxiety / overthinking / spiraling thoughts \ harsh tone from a superior ( prior scene reference ) \ self-isolation / emotional suppression \ physical overexertion / self-neglect \ internalized guilt \ negative self-talk \ touch aversion ( mild )

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JOIN THE JACKSABBOTTS 1K EXTRAVAGANZA HERE or REQUEST FOR jack abbot x morgue tech!reader

you pressed the button for the third floor.

the elevator doors closed too slowly.

your hands were clammy around the collapsible gurney handle, your palms sticking to the rubber grip as the platform shuddered into motion. you hated these elevators—how loud they were, how long they took, how the lights overhead always buzzed like they were about to die.

you hated this entire decision.

but you were doing it anyway.

because it had been an hour since he stormed out and the silence was unbearable.

you’d refreshed your email inbox eight times. no response from admin. no pickup update from the funeral home. no call from your boss the medical examiner, who was likely asleep and blissfully unaware of the fact that the basement morgue was packed full and you were about to try and make room for four more.

this was stupid.

there was no room.

but the idea of him—jack abbot—still believing you weren’t doing your job? that you were down here eating lentil soup while patients bled out upstairs?

it gnawed at you. it rotted you.

so you brought the gurney. the elevator dinged at every floor like it was mocking you. you exhaled slowly. in through the nose. out through the mouth.

okay. just apologize. simple. direct. professional.

you tried again, whispering under your breath :

'dr. abbot, i just wanted to say i’m sorry again for the delay—'

no. too stiff. too scripted.

'i know it’s not ideal, but i’m doing my best to keep things moving—'

too defensive.

'i didn’t mean to make things harder for you, i just—'

too pathetic.

the elevator stopped at the second floor. no one got in. you swallowed hard. tried again.

'it’s just me downstairs. i’ve been trying to manage everything as best i can. i should’ve escalated the situation sooner. i’m really, truly sorry—'

and then maybe he’d say—

no.

no, don’t imagine what he’ll say.

you weren’t good at that.

jack didn’t follow scripts. he didn’t talk like anyone else. he didn’t even look at you like anyone else did—and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad yet. all you knew was that when his voice had filled that cold little morgue, something inside you had snapped in half.

no matter which version you picked, they all made your stomach twist. none of them sounded right. none of them felt like enough.

you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be making space for four new bodies. but the funeral home had come through early—just two pickups, but enough to buy you drawer room and a single empty table.

you could’ve waited for security to bring them down.

but part of you didn’t want to look like you were hiding.

the elevator dinged.

the doors opened into fluorescent light and barely-controlled chaos. someone shouted a room number. monitors beeped down the hall. a paramedic wheeled in a gurney while two residents followed, talking too fast.

you slipped into the corner like a shadow, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you scanned the room for him.

jack wasn’t there.

your shoulders dropped an inch. not in relief. not quite. you’d been bracing for impact. now you didn’t know what to do with the leftover adrenaline.

you angled your stretcher toward bay two—the furthest from the main desk, where the most recent doa had been placed. you could be fast. quiet. invisible.

'hey!'

you flinched.

dana. you didn't know her, but you know of.

of course, things could never go the way you planned them.

she strode over from the central desk, still in her navy compression top and trauma boots, a clipboard tucked under one arm. 'your the new morgue tech, right? you’re here for the stiffs?' she asked, jerking her head toward the curtain. 'jack's gonna lose his mind. he’s been bitching for hours.'

you couldn't help the rumbling in your stomach as dana referred to dr. abbot as jack. were they really that close? they seemed close in age and had the same no fuck around attitude. but you supposed it wasn't any of you business and nodded.

you nodded quickly, eyes darting toward the er entrance. 'great, i'll just get him so he can sign the transfer papers,' she turned to walk away and you stopped her with what could only be defined as a mouse peep.

'um. could you just give him the papers after i leave? i'll sign them and everything.'

dana blinked. 'why?'

you hesitated for a moment, probably trying to come up with a believable lie. 'he’s busy. he doesn’t need to worry about . . . something that’s just my job.'

she raised an eyebrow. 'you sure? he’s been chewing everyone out about this. if i tell him you’ve got space—'

'please,' you said again, more firmly. 'it’s okay, really. he needs to worry about the live ones, i've got the dead ones.' you immediately wince at your phrasing but don't say anything else.

dana looked at you for a beat too long. her expression softened slightly. 'alright, morgue girl. holler if you need any help.'

you nodded.

she patted your shoulder once—light, but enough to make you tense—and turned away without another word.

you exhaled slowly.

your hands were trembling again, just a little. the unexpected social interaction was a little more draining than you had anticipated. you adjusted your grip on the stretcher and moved toward the curtain, telling yourself you’d be gone in five minutes.

tops. no conversations. no confrontations. and absolutely no Jack, if you could help it. just a job. you were good at your job.

you took them down one at a time.

no one offered to help—not because they were cruel, but because you didn’t ask. the er was busy, and you didn’t want to pull anyone away from the living. besides, you were used to it. the elevator was slow, and the stretchers stuck sometimes when you turned them, but you managed. you always managed.

by the time you returned with the fourth body, your shoulders ached and your hands were stiff around the rails. you were sweating under your scrubs, even in the chill of the morgue—but the work gave your mind something to focus on. something that wasn’t jack abbot or the echo of his voice in your head.

the funeral home had picked up two earlier—unclaimed cases from last week. that gave you just enough room to do what needed doing, if you were smart about it.

and you were always smart about it.

you turned the thermostat down as far as it would go. the whole morgue shivered in response—cold creeping into the corners like frostbite, numbing the walls, the vents, your fingers. you didn’t mind. you preferred it that way. like a walk-in freezer, steady and sterile.

you slid the first two onto the autopsy tables. not ideal, but manageable. you pulled the vinyl covers over them and laid their charts on the tray beside each one. you’d process them later, when things were quiet again.

the third went between the file cabinets.

you’d cleared that space before—back when the coolers were under repair. it wasn’t perfect, but it was dark and low and close to the vents. the cold pooled there. it would hold.

the last body took the most time.

there was nowhere left.

you looked around the room, scanning every corner, every shadow, until your gaze landed on the empty gurney beside your desk.

it wasn’t even a decision. just motion. you rolled it forward, locked the brakes, and transferred the body as gently as you could. you covered them. labeled the tag. added a note to the chart.

then sat down.

right there. at your desk. beside the dead.

it didn’t bother you.

not really.

you’d always been good at compartmentalizing. at pretending you were part of the quiet. part of the stillness. being surrounded by the dead was no different than being surrounded by filing cabinets or lab equipment. they didn’t need you to make conversation. they didn’t expect you to smile.

the body beside your desk wasn’t a person anymore.

just paperwork.

just weight.

you rubbed your fingers, cracked from the cold, and jotted down notes in your log. your breath fogged the air.

you didn’t know what time it was.

you didn’t think about jack.

not directly.

but your hands trembled when you reached for the next file.

just a little.

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if your user is white instead of gray it means i was not able to tag you, i copy and pasted straight from the forms so that means there must be typo, feel free to resubmit a form ( linked below ) and i will update the taglist. this not all the people who have requested to be tagged ( i am one person and i will get everyone on the list at some point. thank you !!!!

* ✷ ⊹ * ˚ want to join the morgue tech!reader taglist??? click here!!!!

#jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #the pitt #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #jack abbot x morgue tech!reader #morgue tech!reader #the pitt x morgue tech!reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot smut #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x fem!reader #jack abbot x female reader

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cyberstabbing · 2 years ago

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so dizzy and so out of it and once again my life in spiraling out of control due to my own laziness and procrastination

#and today my mom's going to call and ask about my classes tomorrow (nope)#and if i signed up for all those mental health courses and meetings at my school (i don't go there technically so nope)#and doctors appointments i haven't scheduled and all the shit i haven't done #at camp an older colleague asked me about my adhd and how i didn't seem like i had it #(not in a rude way--she's got adhd+autism and we would speak at length about being neurodivergent at a camp for kids with autism)#but that she'd noticed that i worked really hard and seemed on top of things #especially compared to our manager who had adhd and would constantly be late and forget stuff etc #and i told her the truth. which is that i can focus on one thing at a time #and do that thing really well. go above and beyond #but everything else in my life gets put on hold/falls apart #bills appointments course work other jobs messages emails deadlines #none of that shit gets done. and the consequences of that bite me in the ass HARD #it's a cycle that doesn't get better with age. feels like it gets worse.#idk smoking weed as much as i have definitely hasn't helped #i'm almost out rn and i'm not buying anymore for a while #it needs to end.#i'll sign up to my backup courses today but they won't work towards my degree #it's so frustrating bc i'm missing just a few points to get into the course i need to continue my program #and it's for work i have done (i just didn't send in the reflection essay until last week because i'm an idiot)#and the teachers didn't respond to my email and today's the last day and yeah #yay #it's just so fucking embarrassing. i don't want to tell my mom AGAIN #i wish she had another kid so she could be proud of their academic achievements #i come from a family of academics so i hate being the fuckup #mine #rant

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bananayuyu · 8 months ago

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Come to Mine

Pairing: idol!Yunho x backup dancer!reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You didn't plan for it to be this way. You just couldn't help being attracted to each other.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration, safe sex (condom woo), it's very sweet and clumsy

A/n: This was such self indulgence, I hope you enjoy if you read <3 I can't believe the comeback is tonight! I hope everyone is having a good day <33 (sorry for any typos, I didn't feel like editing today)

Read it on ao3

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You couldn't believe your eyes when you received the email.

Congratulations, you've been selected as one of the dancers for Ateez's upcoming comeback. Rehearsals start next Monday, August 2nd. Please look out for our next message, which will contain the full schedule with dates and locations. We look forward to working with you!

You'd worked with several other Kpop groups over the last few years. You'd actually made it as a dancer, much to the surprise of your family. You'd like to say you were surprised too, but in truth you weren't. You had felt it in your bones that this is what you were meant to do and would be doing, ever since you first watched a Girl's Generation MV on your shitty middle school laptop.

Working with Ateez felt like the absolute pinnacle. You were only several years in, but you knew from hearing the chatter, from watching their performances, that backup dancing for them was a true honor, and a challenge. You'd gone to the audition with an open mind, not riding on the fact that you'd be selected. They told you all they wanted twelve girls total, a smaller number than you'd expected. And most of the girls you went with were more experienced, or had major connections within the industry, so it really was a shock to you that you were selected. It made your whole body buzz, your confidence skyrocketing. If they believed you could hang with the best of the best, you'd do everything you could to prove them right.

Sitting on the hardwood floor at the end of your first rehearsal, it all just felt right. The group was working together so well already; most of these girls you'd danced with before, and you realized looking around that if you'd ever had the chance to select a dance team yourself, you would have made almost the same selections they did. Everyone was a dance nerd, a true artist, focused, dedicated. Everyone took good care of themselves, was smart, driven, and so hardworking. You all spoke amongst yourselves after rehearsal, anticipating your first rehearsal with the boys, wondering what they'd really be like in person. You'd all followed them closely for years, and were all big fans. You couldn't not be, given just how talented they were, just how dedicated to their craft, the same way you were. But you all vowed to be as respectful as possible, and keep the giggling and ogling to yourselves when the time came.

It was comeback season for them, their schedules incredibly full. The next album was almost entirely finished already though, and you had no doubt they were already beginning work on songs that would make future albums too. It was still six months until the comeback you'd be performing in, the time feeling indescribably far away. Many of the other girls, like you, still had smaller projects to work on in the meantime. This was the beginning of a long journey, one that would begin slowly. It was high pressure, you could feel it. You needed your absolute best to show here, for the sake of your career.

You'd never have guessed how it would feel finally meeting them all.

Sweaty and exhausted, they all came in after their final music show performance. They'd been up since the early hours of the morning to film, and now it was closer to midday. You'd slept in, spending the morning stretching and readying your body for this important rehearsal. In hindsight you hadn't needed to, the first day with the members being more of a meeting, followed by an attempt to brainstorm what formations would be possible with the twenty of you. Then you each had to introduce yourselves, going down the line of twelve, each repeating your names and where you were from.

After saying your name, after bowing, your eyes caught on Yunho's. And in that moment you knew it was all over.

All you could think was, 'fuck, I don't need this.' Truly, you didn't. There was too much else to focus on. Life had been hectic for so many reasons, but now you were just trying to focus on being present, there for your friends and family, focused on your work. You'd been single for almost two years now, and it had been the best time of your life. The time with your friends had been beautiful, fulfilling, peaceful. The success you'd had with dancing had been all you could have dreamed of. But you knew in that moment that something was about to change, something you doubted you could put any stop to. It felt written in the stars, like it was meant to happen. It had to. You could tell.

He'd noticed you right away. You were the shortest of the girls selected; they'd skewed more towards choosing taller girls, so that the height differences wouldn't be too severe. You weren't tiny, but still he'd noticed right away that you were shorter than everyone else. Your big glasses, your messy wavy hair, your baggy sweat pants. You stood out amongst the rest of the girls, but not because you were flashy. You were almost too relaxed in your appearance. He loved it instantly. And he could tell it affected you when he looked your way, your eyes darting fast to the floor when he pierced you with his gaze.

He watched you intently over the next few rehearsals, seeing immediately how talented you were. You picked up everything with such ease; but you weren't cocky, weren't throwing it in anyone's face. You helped other girls when they needed it, and you spoke up when an instruction wasn't clear, helping the main choreographer realize their mistake. You were quiet, mostly, except when you needed to be loud. You seemed so put together, almost boringly so. Some of the other girls were chaotic, which made the boys or other dancers gossip. But as Yunho listened to it all he realized none of them really mentioned you. From the outside in you seemed unassuming, and he knew people thought the same thing about him. So he knew that just like him, there was something more under the surface. Something juicier, freakier, stranger. Every time he looked you right in the eyes, the few times you'd let him, he could see it written in your pupils. And the way you always looked way, like you'd just had the wind knocked out of you, made him think he was probably right.

It really didn't help that he was such a good dancer, so confident and technically gifted, with a certain quality to his movement that you could not put into words. You became mesmerized from the first moment you saw it in person. You'd been impressed with his dancing abilities for a while, but seeing it in person in front of you, seeing his massive tall body move with a level of control that should not have been possible, had you completely entranced. You couldn't help the giddiness you felt when heading to work, the excited texts sent to your best friend. Your crush was forming fast, threatening to inflate inside of you and make you float away. He was all you could think about when you laid in bed at night, awaiting the next time you'd get to be in his presence, and say the few words you did to each other.

Then one day, it changed.

"Y/n, could I go over the middle section with you?"

His voice came from behind you, as you carefully retied your shoes during a break in rehearsal.

"With me?" you asked, turning around to find him standing behind you.

"Yeah, I've been watching everyone in the mirror and you seem to know that section best. I missed that rehearsal where we first learned it, so I think I'm missing the timing a bit." He reached out a hand to help you up, and you took it automatically, the touch between you sending adrenaline through your heart and making you shiver.

"I think you've been doing it just fine. What part is confusing?" you asked.

"I'm wondering when the arms come up, when we're turning around. Is it on one, or the and of one?"

"It's on the and. Here, do you want to do it slowly together?" You couldn't believe the words were tumbling out of your mouth, so naturally from your years of helping assist dance classes at your high school.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Yunho replied, getting in position beside you. You began counting slowly, you both dancing crudely through the counts, reaching the confusing section with hesitation. "See, one and," you threw your arms up, spinning around and turning your back to the mirror, your hands coming out beside you. "They're not back down until the and of 2."

"Ah, that makes sense. So they're delayed compared to the shifting of our feet there," he said, and you nodded in agreement, watching him step through the moves himself, flawlessly.

"Yeah, that's perfect," you smiled at him.

"Thank you, that was really helpful. I'm worried I'm messing things up cause I missed that rehearsal," he smiled back, arms locked behind his back. It looked like he was nervous, to you, which endeared you even more to him.

"Your dancing looks perfect to me," you said, standing still and awkward, your nervousness also showing.

You both stood staring at each other, and this time you didn't flick your eyes away. It all felt like things were clicking into place, and any feeling you had to resist this little thing was all gone. Not that there really was much to begin with. But you were nervous at first, so unsure of his interest. You couldn't bring yourself to assume that someone like him would want to be friends with someone like you. You had to wait for the confirmation from him.

Easy conversation followed the next few rehearsals. Talking about the choreography was always an easy in, and Yunho took to using it as much as he pleased. He complimented your dance skills more than you thought he should, because you worried the other dancers would find it strange or have something to say about it. But no one said a word to you. You felt this thing happening, the two of you magnets pulled together, but it seemed like no one around you had any clue. It was normal enough for him to want to talk to a dancer about the routine, and so what if in those conversations things turned more personal, more jokey, more flirtatious. He complimented your glasses early on, you remember that, and it stuck with you for weeks. You couldn't get it out of your head, the way his head tilted to the side when he said it. His tone of voice, the look in his eye.

Then there was the rehearsal in the gymnasium. You were all sectioned off, the main focus of the day being how the background sets for the MV would fit around the group of you dancing. The director was there, talking with all of ateez and the head choreographer, as they all stood around on the floor. The rest of you were told to wait in the stands, as they set the exact measurements of the set pieces, needing you all on stand-by at a moments notice. It was times like this you realized just how big the budget they had was; they were paying you all to be here today, even though most of the day you spent just sitting there, your fellow dancer sitting next to you almost falling asleep on your shoulder three separate times.

He saw you as soon as you came in, your hair up in a messy bun, your hoodie swallowing you. Your socks didn't match, your shoe laces partially untied. You pushed your glasses up your nose as you stepped inside, nearly bumping into the girl in front of you. Unassuming. Clumsy. For some reason, everything he wanted.

He craned his neck to watch you sit down, waving when you finally looked in his direction. You waved back, the sleeve of your hoodie pulled over your hand. He stood amongst his members, wishing he could somehow say something to you. Everyone was discussing the slight differences in the placement of something, but he'd stopped listening as soon as he saw you enter, so he really wasn't sure what it was. He reached for his phone, wanting to shoot you off a quick text. But then he remembered, the managers had taken them today so the boys would be focused. Also, he still didn't have your number. He knew he needed to remedy that problem as quickly as he could.

You zoned out for a moment, everyone around you buried deep in their phones as soon as they realized they'd be stuck in the bleachers for a bit. But it didn't take long for your gaze to sweep back down, settling on the person you couldn't keep your mind off of. You were met with a surprise, holding a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

Yunho was holding up a piece of paper in your direction, the word HI written in big bold letters. You weren't even sure where he got the paper from, much less the marker, but god did it make your heart constrict. How fucking adorable, how totally and completely cheesy. You were like Taylor Swift and her crush in 'You Belong With Me,' holding out written signs to each other and reading them through the window. Well, you could have been, if you had any paper of your own. You smiled, his action absolutely heartwarming, but you couldn't help feeling terribly disappointed that you couldn't reciprocate the gesture. That was until you remembered the back of your hoodie had the word HELLO written across it, right above the smiling sunflower. You held your hand out to him, beckoning him to wait a moment, as you turned and lifted up the hood to make sure he could see the white letters, that you hoped contrasted enough against the blue fabric that he could see them from so far away.

You turned to find him smiling, his shoulders jumping for a moment like he was laughing. It was just far enough away that you couldn't hear well, so you had no idea if he really was. The moment passed, and your heart was beating remarkably fast, but yet again it seemed like no one around you noticed. You blinked around, looking over your shoulder at your fellow dancers. Right then it hit you, that maybe you shouldn't be so openly doing this, whatever this was. You'd been warned time and time again that being involved with an idol was bad news, that plenty of dancers had done it and payed the price. One of your favorite fellow dancers had dated an idol, and you'd heard her horror story before over drinks one night. You knew people had complicated feelings on the subject.

But you also knew your own feelings weren't so complicated, at least when it came to him. Finally you all were beckoned down to the floor, the sets put in place. You all danced in front of them, the director trying out his camera movements, asking you to repeat certain sections so he could try different angles, see how the composition would look with so many bodies in the shot. You'd said hello to each other when you came down, but quickly you had to get to work, everyone's focus held on your dancing. It wasn't until you all wrapped up for the day that he said anything else.

"Hey, I've been meaning to get your number so we can text if we need to, like today," he said. Your stomach dropped; you couldn't believe the words you were hearing. Was he really asking for your number, here in front of everyone?

"Yeah, that would be great," you smiled, waiting for him to pull out his phone and hand it to you.

"My manager has my phone, do you have yours?" he asked.

"Uh, it's up in stands with the rest of my stuff. I'll have to go grab it," you responded, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah, no worries-"

"Everyone we need to clear out, we're supposed to be gone in five minutes! Let's get going!" the lead choreographer cut him off, calling out to the whole room.

"Yunho, I've got your bag, and the car is out front, we need to leave now," his manager came running up, placing a hand on his shoulder. You didn't know where he was headed, but it was probably another rehearsal, or interview, or photoshoot. One of the thousands of things they all had scheduled every week.

In the chaos you scrambled up the stairs, grabbing your stuff before dashing out the door, not wanting to get in trouble. Yunho waved to you from the car, it pulling away as soon as you exited the building and started your walk to the subway station. It had all happened so fast, and you hoped he didn't think that you'd forgotten. His question stuck in your mind over the next three days, until you had rehearsal again. And that time you walked in with your phone already open, pulled up to a new contact entry. You didn't even greet him that day; you just placed your phone in his hands, and looked up at him with big eyes. He blinked a moment, but it wasn't hard for him to know what you were asking. He put in his number, handing the phone back to you, and you sent off your first text of many.

🌸: hello :)

You waited that night after rehearsal, meeting up with your best friend for dinner. You could just feel it again, you knew he'd say something, if you had just a little patience.

🐶: I hope rehearsal didn't kill you today. They really didn't give you guys any breaks :(

Immediately you squealed, shoving your phone into your friend's face.

"How cute, he's so concerned for you," she laughed, poking your cheek.

"I can't believe he already texted," you sighed, grabbing another bite.

"He obviously likes you," she said, making your mind spin.

"Don't say that, you're getting my hopes up," you replied, shaking your head.

"Why else would he ask for your number?" she asked.

"To talk to me about work stuff, dance stuff, I don't know?" you replied.

"Did he ask for anyone else's number?" she asked.

"I don't know, he could have," you said, raising your shoulders.

"I doubt it," she smiled. "Look at you, you've caught yourself an idol. Better be careful, my girl," she joked, finishing off her drink.

"I wonder if this is a bad idea," you pondered, staring off into space and letting your mind wander.

"Don't overthink it. How often do you come across people you like? If he likes you too, you should go for it. You don't have any reason to hold yourself back from this. I mean, be careful of course. I don't want any death threats coming your way," she chuckled, reaching over the table and grabbing your hand. "Connecting with another person is a special thing, and it sounds like you two really have. Don't under sell that."

You left the restaurant and wandered home, a warm feeling in your chest. Hugging your friend goodbye you thanked her, so grateful to have someone you know you can tell anything to. As soon as you made it home, you pulled out your phone and responded to him.

🌸: It was fine, I just got very sweaty. my hair was a frizzy mess 🐶: you still looked so pretty 🌸: you are very sweet to me 🌸: why is that 🐶: I like you, that's why 🌸: you like me? 🐶: I want to see you outside of work 🌸: I want that too

Your breath caught in your throat. It was everything you could have hoped to hear and more.

🌸: how can we do that tho 🐶: we'll find a way 🌸: you could come to my place. it's very small. I live alone

He could have guessed that was the case. You never mentioned having roommates, or parents, or anyone else you lived with in the brief conversations you'd had.

🐶: can I come this Saturday? 🌸: okay :) 🐶: are you sure? 🌸: be here at 7 🐶: will do

You had two days of filming for a different group's music video, a huge group dance with nearly fifty dancers. You be finishing it up Saturday morning, and hoped that things ran on time. You wanted to have the time to get yourself ready, take a shower, pick out your clothes. Even though you'd just be at home, surely just lounging around. You wanted to wear your favorite sweats, and the black tank top you had that sat perfectly over your figure. You two wouldn't be going on dinner dates out, or to the bar for drinks, or to the cafe or farmer's market or any other place where Yunho could be spotted. He didn't have to explain that to you; you'd worked in this industry long enough to understand. He'd have to do everything he could to avoid being seen entering your building. If this did become a romance, it would be one conducted in the privacy of bedrooms, apartments, hotels. You couldn't walk out on the street holding hands, or even just walk down the street side by side. But then you reminded yourself of the if. You still didn't know what he wanted, exactly. You'd still never been in the same room just the two of you. The nerves gnawed at you as you showered, as you carefully set out the clothes you would wear as you dried your hair. You'd wear no bra with your tank top, you decided, and you'd wear your favorite bikini cut black underwear. You didn't like lacy thongs, you didn't like most women's clothing period. But you wanted to feel sexy when he arrived, wanted it to be clear to him what you were after.

🐶: I'm heading out now, I should be there in 17 minutes, according to google maps 🌸: see you soon :)

Your adrenaline surged, your body sweating despite the cool temperature of your tiny apartment. You scrambled around, cleaning every surface one time over again, making sure your dirty clothes were tucked away in your closet and not strewn about anywhere. You gave yourself a final look in the mirror, your glasses looking comically huge on your face. Your hair was a mess, but it always was. You'd never learned how to properly take care of your waves. The black tank top looked as good as you'd hoped though, so you shrugged. It was good enough.

You'd only sat on your couch for about thirty seconds when the doorbell rang, and you physically jumped. Opening your door you found him in a loose button up shirt, casual baggy pants, a baseball cap covering his nut brown hair, and a mask.

"Hi, come in," you said, your heart beating faster than it did even during your most difficult dance numbers.

"Thank you," he said, stepping inside, his jacket held over his arm. He pulled off his mask, folding it and shoving it in his pocket.

"Would you like some water?" you asked, awkwardly. You didn't know what to say, the two of you standing feet apart in your tiny living room.

"Sure, that'd be great," he said, looking around, taking everything in.

"You can sit on my couch, or on the floor, if you'd like. Sorry there aren't more options, my apartment is tiny," you said as you filled his glass. You decided to fill one for yourself, realizing now that you'd completely forgotten to eat dinner or drink any water this afternoon because of your nerves.

"It's perfect. I really like it," he said, sitting himself down cross legged on the floor, on the small rug that surrounded your coffee table. It was the only table you had here, the one you always ate your meals at. "Is this the rug you always lay on at night?" he asked as you came and set his water in front of him.

"Oh, no, that one's in my room," you smiled, sitting opposite him on your couch, cross legged too.

"I was gonna say, this is pretty small for laying on," he laughed.

"My other one is small too, I guess," you laugh in response.

"Can I see it?" His eyes have a mischievous glint to them as they meet yours.

"Sure," you say, smirking back at him. You're trying to put on a confident front, because you swear you keep seeing his eyes trail down your body hungrily, but as soon as you start walking towards your room your legs are shaky. Yunho reaches out and grabs your shoulder from behind, steadying you for a moment.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, just tired. Filming ran long this morning, we had to go over this one section like fifty times. I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," you say.

"Do you have a foam roller? It's helps me a lot when my legs are cramping up on me," he says, as you open your bedroom door, revealing the tiny room to him. It only has room for your full bed, your dresser shoved into your closet.

"I should really get one," you say, turning to face him. "There's the rug," you smile, watching intently to see his reaction.

"That's the one you lay on every night?" he asks. You nod your head, chuckling. "That's even smaller than the one out there," he laughs, pointing in the direction of your living room.

"I wonder if you'd even fit," you laugh, looking down at the small strip of floor that isn't taken up by your bed frame.

"Let me try," he says, kicking off his shoes and setting them on your shoe rack outside your door. He crouches down, settling himself on his side, his legs bent up to make it possible for him to fit.

"Wow, so comfortable," he quips, sarcastically.

"It is if you're my size," you pout, looking down at him with your arms crossed.

"You really lay here every night before bed?" he asks.

"It's my favorite spot in the world," you nod.

"You think we could both fit?" he asks, pulling off his hat and tossing it on your bed, holding out an arm to you.

"Maybe..." you trail off, stepping over towards him, carefully setting yourself down in front of him. You're on you side too, your face maybe a foot from his, your back shoved up against your closet door. You stare into each other's eyes, still not having touched, the whole scene potentially still friendly and innocent.

A yawn hits you, a wave of exhaustion washing over your whole body. You really should have remembered to eat a good meal before this.

"Tired?" Yunho asks, you his eyes not leaving yours.

"I guess so. Sorry for yawning," you say.

"Am I boring you?" he jokes.

"No, not at all," you shake your head, smiling back at him. And then you both just stare, a good minute passing, your heart racing and racing in your chest, your body aching for something, anything.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks, but still doesn't move. So you do instead, pulling yourself closer to him, your legs entangling as your lips finally meet, the first moments of the kiss awkward and stilted in that way it always is with a new person. But soon enough you've found each other's rhythm; you can tell he likes sucking on your bottom lip, and likes it when you open your mouth and let out those breathy moans, allowing him to dive his tongue inside, feeling over the plush softness of your tongue. It's heated so quickly, your arms desperately grabbing at each other, a sexual excitement awakened in you in a way it hadn't been in so many years. You got lost in it; you couldn't have even remembered your own name in that moment, because all you knew was his mouth and his hands, his tongue on your neck, the way your clit felt rubbing hard against his thigh, your climax reaching you so fast you don't even realize it until your hands are cramping up. They do that when you're too stimulated, when your whole nervous system has too much input and can't process it all. He senses a change in you, pulling back to see you holding your hands, trying desperately to calm the spasming muscles.

"What's wrong?" he asks, gently holding your hands in his own.

"It just happens sometimes, when I come," you whisper into the cool air of your bedroom. "My hands lock up like this." You start to giggle, a blush creeping over your face at the look he's giving you.

"You came?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm insanely sensitive," you laugh, still rubbing at your hands.

"Fuck," he groans, shaking his head back and forth, and you laugh again at how affected he is. "Are your hands going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just give them a moment. They'll be fine," you say, putting your face up to his again, your lips connecting and fire shooting through you once again.

Before you know it he's on top of you, kissing you hard, his hands snaking underneath your top to feel over your hard nipples, grabbing hungrily at your body. "Can I taste you?" he whispers through ragged breaths, and you nod into him, whispering yes on his lips. He moves down, pulling at the waistband of your sweatpants, and you lips your hips to help him. When he grabs at your panties he drags them off slowly, shoving them in the pocket of his jeans, moving his mouth down your thighs and licking up to your core. He swipes his tongue up your slit slowly, giving firm pressure to his movement, making you moan and arch your back in response, your knees falling wide and hitting the wall and bed you're caged between. Yunho hums at the taste of you, the heady sweetness better than he could have even imagined, his tongue swiping again and again up your entire slit, taking in as much of you as he can.

"Fuck you taste good," he whispers, before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking gently and making you squirm, your knees jumping up to cage in his head. Then he's adding a finger, and then another, slowly pumping them into you while he keeps sucking on your sensitive bud, ripping another orgasm out of you in seconds. He keeps touching you through your after shocks, making your moans high pitched and sharp as you feel overstimulated, but then as he keeps going you slip back into pleasure, and another orgasm builds faster than the first.

"Fuck, fuck," you scream, your hand in his hair, snaking through and grabbing hard onto it. It makes Yunho moan, the vibrations radiating through your core and sending you over the edge once again, your pussy fluttering around his fingers. This time you push him up, your body wracked from coming so hard and fast.

"You can come multiple times," he states, his lips and chin glistening from your slick. You just nod coyly, breathing hard, trying to regain your sanity as he moves on top of you again, kissing you hard. You moan at the taste of yourself, and at the way he's smothering you so entirely. "You like how you taste?" he asks, smiling into you as you nod your head yes, your lips not able to leave each other for more than a few seconds.

"Can I fuck you?" he asks into your ear, his low voice shuddering through you.

"Please," you whisper, grabbing at his pants to help push them down, laughing as he tries to stand and bumps his head on the door handle to your closet.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, holding his head for a moment, scrambling still to pull of his pants and finally get to what he's wanted all night. "You're making me so desperate that I'm hurting myself," he jokes, slipping a condom over himself with finesse, finally collapsing back onto you, rubbing his hard dick up and down your slit, attaching his lips to yours once again. Slowly he pushes in, testing the waters, watching your face as he stretches you out. He's loving your reaction, the way that just him putting his cock in you is making you so overwhelmed with feelings and pleasure.

"You're so big," you cry into his shoulder, grasping onto him for dear life.

"I know," he chuckles, his face in your hair, taking in the scent of you.

"Shut up," you giggle, hitting his shoulder playfully, holding back a moan from ripping out of you. He's just barely bottomed out, holding tight onto your hips to anchor himself.

"You okay?" he whispers, placing gentle kisses on your forehead temple, keeping himself still until you give him the okay. You nod against him, your face still buried in his shoulder, holding him to you.

"Please move Yunho," you beg, your body needing more from him now, even if the stretch is hurting. He slowly pulls himself out, pushing back in with care, the wet sounds loud and embarrassing. You're so wet it's starting to drip down your leg, and he slides in so easily, even though you're tight against him.

"Does that feel good?" he asks you, setting a slow pace, watching your body intently. You babble and nod against him, and he picks his pace up, hitting something so deep inside of you that it makes you head fly back against the ground again. Thankfully your rug is there on the floor, but it isn't the thickest, and the actions till hurts.

"Ow," you mutter, your eyebrows scrunching up in pain.

"Careful, careful," he coos, grabbing the back of your head in his large palm, slowing his movements. "Why are we on the floor when your bed is right there?"

You chuckle, blinking up at him with blown pupils, your walls still clenching hard around him.

"Let's move up there," he smiles, slowly pulling out of you, standing gingerly and helping you up carefully, too. You pull at his shirt, unbuttoning some of his buttons, making him pull if off over his head. He's completely revealed to you now, and he grabs at your top too, pulling it over your head and throwing it over the side of the bed.

"Your head okay?" he asks, moving on top of you again, cradling it in his hand.

"Yeah, it's okay," you laugh, staring up at him. "How's yours?"

"It's fine," he chuckles, kissing you deeply and grabbing at you, unable to stop himself. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, and in a moment he's sheathed himself inside of you again, resting your head against your pillows as he starts fucking you hard, his mouth on yours as your tongues swirl around each other's mouths. He's hitting that spot inside you again, over and over sending waves of pleasure through your abdomen. You feel like you're being split open, like your entire body is filled by him, by everything he's meaning to you. The care, the attention, the perfect angle of his hips as they snap against yours, has your mind floating on a cloud of pure joy. God, it's never felt this good, and you don't want it to stop, don't ever want this feeling to end. You know you're stuck now, you're addicted, you've had one taste of him and you'll never want anyone else.

"Yunho," you whine against his lips, as you feel another orgasm building.

"Fuck, don't say my name like that, you're gonna make me come," he groans, lifting his head up to deepen his angle even further, fucking you even harder. "Are you close?" he asks, and you whimper in response, moaning high pitched and holding tight onto his biceps. "You're so fucking perfect," he says, his upper body falling down on top of yours again, as he holds you close. You come, the warmth and safety his body is giving you making you release, every part of your being comforted by the man above you.

"Yes, fuck that feels good," he groans into your ear, feeling the way you're squeezing so hard down onto him, your moans like screams again, stroking his ego in such an addicting way. "I'm never gonna get enough of you," he groans, finally releasing his load, his orgasm washing over him hard as his hips stutter, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he finally comes. He collapses on top of you, holding you close as you both come down from your highs, your breaths hard and fast and totally in sync.

"You're amazing," he mumbles, stroking a hand through your hair.

"No, you're amazing," you giggle, your head floaty and calm in your post orgasmic state. You poke his side, giggling into him when his body jumps.

"Don't you dare do that right now," he grumbles, tickling you back and twice as hard, making you shriek and laugh beneath him.

You stay cuddled up all night, not able to sleep cause you keep kissing, Yunho's large warm body making you feel safe in a way you didn't know you were missing.

"I should have taken these off before I fucked you," he laughs as he pulls off your glasses, placing them gingerly on your side table.

"Eh, it's okay," you laugh, snuggling into him closer. "They're always on, I'm used to it. I keep them on even when I dance most of the time, which is weird."

"I noticed," he said. "They're so fucking cute."

"You really like them?"

"Y/n, you're fucking perfect. Every thing about you."

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

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brownlyfe · 19 days ago

Text

Love A Woman (Bonus): Wish I Never…

The Bonus Part to a Three Part Modern Day AU

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

cw: smut, slightly ooc

wc: 7,921

summary: annie is caught between two brothers who show their love for her in two different ways. one quiet and soft beneath her control, the other? unapolegtically rough and playful. weekdays are a slow burn of passion and promise, but the weekends are chaos and surrender personified. but when blurred lines, missed promises, and real feelings start to surface, the balance shifts. loyalty gets tested. and annie has to decide what kind of love she really needs, and who’s strong enough to hold all of her.

notes: omg yall!! we’re at the end fr fr this time! first i would like to say yall have me cracking up really bad over last chapter. I was fighting for Stack’s life writing this. and the way I thought everyone was going to say yes and not no 😭😭. also I saw a tiktok comment about this story, yall even mad over there 😭. anyways enjoy this last part and get ready for more stuff to come!

The bedroom was a mess of half-packed outfits, open suitcases, and shoes lined up in disarray. Annie was crouched near the edge of the bed, holding up two different swimsuits with a frown on her face while her phone balanced between her shoulder and cheek.

“I’m serious, Mia,” she said. “I need backup. I’m not going without moral support.”

Mia’s voice crackled through the speaker, dry and amused. “It’s just a weekend getaway. How bad could it be?”

“It’s Stack,” Annie replied flatly.

That shut Mia up.

“…Alright. Fair. Still... Kennedy’s gonna say no. You know she doesn’t do group trips.”

“Tell her I’ll make the pasta she likes.”

“Girl, you’re already bribing my wife?”

Annie threw the swimsuit onto the bed. “Yes, desperately. Smoke just told me that Stack’s girl is bringing a friend. So I’m not showing up alone like some ex with baggage.”

Mia sighed. “You are an ex with baggage.”

Annie flopped backward onto the bed. “I know. That’s why I’m trying to pack light.”

Smoke walked in, fresh out of the shower, a towel around his waist, a cigar unlit in one hand. He paused in the doorway, watching her with that steady, unreadable gaze.

Annie glanced up at him and raised a brow. “I’m bringing the navy set or the burgundy?”

Smoke’s eyes flicked to the bed. “Burgundy.”

Mia caught the tone in his voice and groaned over the phone. “Oh God, he’s there. I’m hanging up.”

“Tell Kennedy I’ll text her.”

“Uh-huh. Tell Smoke not to start anything he can’t finish.”

Smoke smirked as Annie ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“You good?” he asked, setting the cigar down.

“No,” she muttered, sitting up. “I’m packing for a trip that I’m probably going to regret.”

Smoke stepped closer, slowly and deliberately. “You’ll be fine.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” He stopped in front of her and cupped her chin. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

Annie leaned into his touch just a little.

“I know,” she whispered. “But I still want to look better than her.”

That made Smoke grin. And then he kissed her.

The sky was a soft, lazy gray, just overcast enough to calm the road. The kind of weather that made hours pass quietly, letting the hum of the tires and the low beat of music do all the talking.

Annie had one foot tucked under her in the seat, phone in her lap, legs bare under a pair of soft black shorts. She scrolled through work emails she wasn’t truly reading and sipped from a green juice that had long since warmed up. Her hair was slicked into a braid. Her tank top hung off one shoulder.

She looked put together, but Smoke could feel it. The way she hadn’t said his name once. Not during the packing. Not on the drive. Not since she found out he’d be at the house. She was dodging that truth like it had claws. Floating on top of it like it didn’t still had teeth.

So she talked about everything else.

“…and you remember Deja from accounting?” she said, flicking a nail against her phone screen. “Tell me why she’s pregnant again, and nobody knows who the dad is. Again.”

Smoke chuckled under his breath, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh. “She consistent, I’ll give her that.”

Annie laughed, a real one, head falling back for a second. “You’re sick.”

Smoke chuckled low, eyes still fixed on the road. His thumb stroked a slow circle just above her knee.

She didn’t react at first. She was used to him touching her, palm wide on her skin, thumb dragging circles just above her knee.

He watched her from the corner of his eye. The tension hadn’t left her shoulders. Her jaw was still too tight. Her foot was bouncing. She was running.

Then his hand slid higher, past her mid-thigh, and the hem of her black knit shorts. Fingers drifting with precision and no announcement.

“Smoke,” she muttered, glancing up.

“Shh.”

His fingers slid over her, parting her slowly, then dipped inside, two fingers curling deep with practiced ease. Annie's whole body stilled, then she melted.

She gripped the door for balance, the breath catching in her chest before her left hand reached for his arm instinctively, gripping tight with her diamond ring catching the light.

He stroked her gently at first, just enough to pull her breath into a higher pitch, her thighs trembling.

Smoke didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on the road. He was calm and focused. Like he wasn’t currently sliding two fingers into her while driving seventy-five miles an hour on a rural highway.

Annie tried to say something, but all that came out was a sharp inhale, her body leaning back into the seat.

“You need to relax,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “Let go for me, baby.”

Her moan cracked free. “Oh my– fuck–”

Smoke smiled, just a little. His thumb found her clit and circled slow, the pressure perfect, rhythm tight, until her hips started to move on their own.

She bit her lip, trying to stay composed, but it was already unraveling. The angle of his hand, the slick drag of his fingers, the pressure of his thumb circling her clit like he knew her better than she knew herself. And he did.

She was trying so hard to keep her composure. But he knew what she sounded like when she broke.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, voice low. “I want it all. Right here.”

She clutched his forearm harder, nails digging in. And when he curved his fingers just right, she shattered. A choked cry spilled from her lips, her body curling into the seat, eyes wide and wet, thighs shaking violently around his wrist.

But Smoke didn’t stop; he kept going. Slow and steady. And when she whimpered, already too sensitive, he leaned in and kissed her shoulder without taking his fingers out.

“One more,” he said quietly. “You’ve been running too long. Let it catch you.”

She sobbed out his name, and it wasn’t long before the second wave slammed into her. It was deeper, hotter, wrecking her in his palm.

She slumped into the seat when it was over, breath shaky, lips parted like she was still trying to come back to earth. Smoke pulled his hand out gently, licked his fingers clean, then took her hand, the one with the ring, and kissed her knuckles slowly.

“Smoke–” she whispered, wrecked.

He finally looked at her then and smiled.

“You good, mama?”

She nodded, eyes glassy.

“Good,” he said. “Because the weekend’s just starting.”

The last year hadn’t always been smooth sailing. Actually, it had been more like a roller coaster than anything.

The slam of the kitchen cabinet echoed down the hallway. Annie was barefoot in the doorway, arms crossed, face tight with frustration. Smoke stood near the sink, hands braced on the counter, cigar forgotten in the ashtray beside him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said, voice hard.

Smoke didn’t look at her. “Doing what, Annie?”

“This. Pretending like everything’s fine when we both know it’s not.”

He turned slowly, eyes darker than she’d seen them in months. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then act like it,” she snapped. “Stop holding shit in until it explodes. Say something. Yell. Be mad. Just do something other than stare at me like I’m a fucking burden.”

“You want me to say something?” he barked, stepping forward. “Fine. I’m tired of feeling like I’m option two. Like I’m just the man you fall back on when Stack’s too busy being a fuck-up.”

Annie’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?”

“You think I don’t see it?” he went on, voice rising. “You’ve been grieving him while lying in my bed, and you think I’m not supposed to feel that?”

“That’s not fair,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“What part? The part where I let you keep us both because I thought love could stretch? The part where I watched you unravel over him for years and still gave you my whole damn heart?”

Annie blinked fast. Her throat was tight. “You think this was easy for me?”

“No, I think you made it easy for him.” His voice was sharper now. “You begged for his attention. You softened for him. But me? I was the one holding you when he didn’t show up. I was the one who loved you first.”

“I was with you,” she shouted. “I chose you.”

“No, you settled for me,” he growled. “There’s a difference.”

Annie’s face twisted in disbelief. “You think I don’t love you?”

“I think you loved him more.”

She laughed, bitter and sharp. “Wow. That’s rich coming from a man who doesn’t even talk unless I pull it out of him.”

“You always needed somebody loud to validate you,” he shot back. “Maybe that’s why you were never satisfied with me.”

Her whole body recoiled. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said coldly.

There was a thick silence. The air between them cracked.

Her next words came out low, dangerous, and hurt.

“You want to talk about settling?” she whispered. “Maybe I did. Maybe I needed something because I was tired of being second place to your silence.”

His nostrils flared.

“And maybe I needed someone who didn’t need to be the center of every goddamn universe to feel loved.”

Annie took a step back.

Smoke’s voice lowered, strained, and shaking. “You think you’re hard to carry, Annie? You are. But I did it anyway. I did it because I loved you. But this…this ain’t love anymore.”

Annie blinked fast. Her chest burned.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “Maybe it never really was, Elijah.”

The room froze. Smoke’s face changed. The hurt hit him like a slap.

“You wanna end it?” he asked, voice low. “Say it.”

She hesitated.

“Say it, Annie. Say you’re done.”

“I’m done.”

He nodded once. Took off his chain, the one she gave him two birthdays ago, and set it on the counter.

“Then I won’t come back.”

And she didn’t stop him. Not this time.

The apartment used to be the kind of quiet that comforted him. Normally, the lighting was dim with jazz bleeding through the speakers, and Annie would be somewhere in the next room. Her presence had always been a constant. Now the empty silence pressed against his chest like a hand he couldn’t move.

Smoke sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, the soft glow from his nightstand lamp casting long shadows across the room. The cigar between his fingers had burned out minutes ago, but he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t been to sleep.

His phone was facedown. Her contact hadn’t lit up in a month. And yet, her memory hadn’t shut up once.

His mind drifted past the silence, back to the dorm rooms with thin walls and even thinner mattresses.

Back then, she used to make everything quiet. Back when he was barely more than a storm walking around in boots and low expectations. Annie had a way of softening the edges of his anxiety. Of showing up.

He remembered how she used to pack extra granola bars in her backpack, just in case he forgot to eat again during midterms. How she’d show up at his dorm uninvited with her laptop, crawl into his lap, and say, “I’m not leaving until you submit that assignment.”

She’d help him submit his assignments. Email his professors. Keep snacks in her drawer for the days he forgot to eat. Pull him out of his shell when he wanted to drown in it.

How she used to touch his face gently after his nightmares. Stroke his back. Press kisses to his neck. Whisper, “You’re okay, Elijah. You’re not there anymore.”

And he’d wake up sweating, heart pounding, breath tight. She’d wrap her arms around him and hum into the crook of his neck until his breathing leveled out. She learned him before he learned himself.

She never judged him for how quiet he was. She just understood. Even now, he could still hear her voice when she called him Elijah. And he let her in even when he didn’t let anyone else in.

He leaned back on the bed, eyes burning. She used to be the only thing in the world that ever made him feel safe. And somehow, he’d let her go.

She was sitting on the floor in her bedroom, hair in a loose bun, wrapped in an old hoodie that she forgot to give back. The wine on the dresser was half-full, but her thoughts were overflowing. A whole month and not one call from him or to him.

Her friends still thought everything was fine. She hadn’t told a soul. Every time Mia got close to asking, she changed the subject. Lied with a smile. Said they were “just taking time.” But there was no we anymore. Just the cold absence of a man who used to be her everything. And that was what hurt the most.

Smoke had always been there. Through her long hours, her promotions, her breakdowns behind the bathroom door. He’d run her baths before she even asked. Cooked her dinner when she forgot she hadn’t eaten. Took her phone when her clients stressed her out. Fucked her slow when she needed to remember how to breathe.

He didn’t take up space in her life…he held it. Even when she was cold or when her new job made her impatient, entitled, and hard to love.

She started turning bratty around the same time she started losing herself in work, snapping at him, dismissing the things he did, forgetting he was trying. But he never threw it back at her. He just tried harder.

Smoke didn’t make big gestures. He didn’t talk a lot. But he constantly showed up.

He was the one who held her when she fell apart at work. Who massaged her shoulders when the tension wouldn’t leave. Who made her feel beautiful on the days she felt like nothing. Who ran her bubble baths and poured her wine and kissed her slowly when the world felt too heavy to carry.

He was never loud about his love, but it was everywhere. And now, without it? She felt the silence like punishment.

So here she sat there on the hardwood floor, legs crossed, realizing she had no one to blame but herself for how far he drifted. Annie buried her face in her hands, her heart squeezing tight. She missed him. And for the first time, she wondered if missing him would be all she had left.

The line was longer than usual, but Annie didn’t mind. She had thirty minutes before her next meeting, and the place was quiet, tucked into a block of glass offices and tree-lined sidewalks.

She checked her phone, absently scrolling through emails, heels clicking softly as the line inched forward. That’s when she felt it. A presence. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat.

He stood near the other end of the counter, waiting for his order. Wearing a charcoal suit with no tie and the sleeves rolled up. His watch glinted beneath a pressed cuff. He looked every bit like the man he had grown into.

And when his eyes lifted and met hers, it was instant. Something between them broke and rebuilt all at once. He didn’t smile. He just looked at her long enough that her stomach tightened.

Annie turned back toward the register, pulse hammering. She ordered her coffee and breakfast sandwich quietly. And when she reached for her card, the barista shook their head.

“It’s already taken care of.”

She blinked. “What?”

The barista nodded toward the other end of the counter.

Smoke didn’t say anything. He just met her eyes again and gave a small nod. That was all. But it hit her harder than she expected.

They sat across from each other at a corner table, tucked away from the bigger crowd. It was quiet except for the soft background music and the clinking of silverware. They hadn’t seen each other in over a month.

Smoke stirred his drink slowly, thumb tapping against the side of the mug.

Annie looked down at her plate. “You didn’t have to pay for it.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “But I still wanted to.”

She didn’t argue, but there was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Smoke looked up, surprised.

“For what?”

Annie took a shaky breath. “For everything. For all the ways I made you feel less than. For falling into Stack’s trap when I knew better.”

Smoke’s jaw tensed, but not in anger, just pain.

“I should’ve known,” she whispered. “You were the one who always showed up. I just– I didn’t see it clear enough back then. And by the time I did, I’d already hurt you.”

Smoke stayed quiet for a second, but then said, “I didn’t handle everything right either. I held things in when I should’ve said them.”

She nodded. “Still, you didn’t deserve what I put you through.”

“You didn’t deserve what you were dealing with either.”

Their eyes met, but it was different this time. There was no begging. Nor was there any blame. Just two people who had lived through the worst of it and still found room to sit across from each other.

Smoke leaned forward slightly. “I think about you a lot.”

Annie looked down, lips twitching into something sad. “I miss you.”

He reached for her hand, just enough to hold. Her thumb was tracing his knuckles.

The house was gorgeous. There were vaulted ceilings, polished floors, warm lighting that poured across expensive furniture, and an open floor plan that made the whole place feel like luxury with no walls.

Annie stepped inside first, pulling her roller suitcase behind her, the soft clack of wheels on hardwood echoing under her sandals. Smoke followed close behind, a duffel in one hand and their wine bag in the other.

“Damn,” Annie said, looking around. “This place is beautiful.”

Smoke nodded, gaze sweeping over the high ceilings and curated decor. “Definitely not cheap.”

They wandered slowly, past the open-concept kitchen, into the living room, toward the hallway with several doors branching off. Annie turned the corner and immediately froze.

There they were, Stack and Crystal, half-naked on the couch.

Crystal gasped, startled, scrambling for a throw blanket that barely covered anything. Stack didn’t move at first. His hand still rested on Crystal’s hip, but his eyes, his eyes locked onto Annie’s like time had slowed.

And he didn’t look guilty. He looked like he wanted her to feel something, anything. Like he needed her reaction. But Annie just blinked. Completely unbothered. She almost looked amused.

Smoke stepped in behind her, immediately reading the room. He caught Stack’s stare, the weird tension laced into it, and with zero hesitation, he gently turned Annie around by her waist.

“Let’s go,” he said under his breath, cool and calm.

Annie let him guide her out without protest. She didn’t say a word, but the silence spoke volumes. Stack’s stare burned into her back the entire way out.

Smoke led her down a hallway and into one of the guest suites tucked away from the noise and the tension.

The room was stunning, cool-toned linens, oversized windows, a king bed that looked hand-pressed, and a balcony overlooking the lake below. The en suite bathroom was even better, with marble tile, gold fixtures, and a rainfall shower big enough for two.

Smoke dropped their bags by the bench at the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms around Annie from behind.

“You good?” he asked, voice low against her neck.

Annie nodded, exhaling. “Please. I didn’t expect anything different.”

Annie sat cross-legged on the bed, still in her travel clothes but barefoot now, scrolling through the TV menu. Smoke was reclined against the headboard, one arm draped behind her, the other lazily scrolling on his phone.

Neither of them had said a word about the run-in with Stack and Crystal. They didn’t need to. It didn’t quite matter.

“So,” Annie said, clearing her throat, “we left off in the middle of the reunion, and I swear if Kenya gets one more dig in, I might actually switch teams.”

Smoke didn’t look up. “She’s messy.”

“You say that like you’re not dying to see how it ends.”

“I ain’t invested.”

Annie turned and gave him a look. “You literally asked me last week if Shereé ever got her damn joggers.”

Smoke cracked a small grin. “That was one time.”

“Uh-huh. You love the drama.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You watch it more than I do.”

He looked at her then, soft amusement in his eyes. “And I watch you watch it. That’s the point.”

Annie smirked and leaned into him, her fingers brushing his jaw as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was gentle. Like they’d chosen to be here, in this moment, instead of stuck in the past. But the peace never lasts long.

A knock on the door pulled them apart.

Annie groaned. “Let the chaos begin.”

Smoke stood to answer it, pulling the door open just as Mia and Kennedy stepped in with overnight bags and a bottle of wine. Mia sunglasses on and her energy was hot. Kennedy, by contrast, looked calm, amused, and slightly resigned to whatever drama her wife had dragged her into.

Annie hugged Mia tightly. “You came.”

“Of course I came. I don’t trust any situation that involves your ex, his new girl, and some mystery couple.”

“Please don’t get kicked out before tomorrow.”

“I’m not making promises we both know I won’t keep.”

Downstairs, Crystal’s friend, Nina, and her boyfriend had just arrived as well. They all made their way back down there to properly mingle with each other. The energy in the room was mildly awkward.

The introductions started off politely. But the moment that Nina started to eye Mia a little too hard, things got tense. Annie pulled Mia away to the kitchen before things got to be too much.

The dining table was set, candles lit, wine bottles uncorked, plates passed around. It should’ve felt like a peace offering. Instead, it felt like waiting for a spark in a room full of gas.

Annie sat at one end of the table, Smoke to her right. Mia and Kennedy sat across from them, doing a perfect job of being calm. Stack was at the other end, Crystal to his side, and Nina and her boyfriend sat between them, like the self-appointed royal couple of the group.

The conversation had started light. Vacations. Favorite shows. Someone made a joke about group trips being cursed, which, ironically, got the biggest laugh. But then Nina started asking questions. The kind that made everyone’s wine glasses pause halfway to their lips.

“So, Annie,” she said sweetly, slicing into her roasted chicken. “How long have you and Smoke been together?”

Annie’s eyes lifted slowly. Her smile stayed polite. “Since college.”

Nina blinked. “Oh, that’s cute. So, not sharing anymore?”

Mia’s fork clinked against her plate. Smoke didn’t look up. Just kept cutting his steak, slowly.

Crystal let out a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. “Nina–”

“What?” Nina shrugged. “I just mean it used to be a…unique arrangement, right?”

“We grew up,” Annie said, tone even. “Some of us do that.”

That earned a chuckle from Kennedy.

Nina kept smiling. “Right. Growth is everything. I mean, not everyone finds peace when they finally pick someone.”

Annie raised her brows. “You’re right. Some people just pick…convenience.”

Stack set his glass down a little too hard. Crystal touched his arm lightly, her jaw tightening. Mia didn’t bother to hide her grin. The conversation stalled for a beat.

Then Nina turned her attention to Smoke. “And you, Smoke, you good with all this? I mean, no offense, but you don’t seem like the type to take that.”

Smoke finally looked up, steady and calm. “You asking ‘cause you’re curious, or ‘cause you want something to talk about later?”

Nina blinked while Annie smirked into her wine glass.

Mia let out a little “oop”, and Kennedy reached for her hand under the table to keep her still.

The rest of dinner was spent with overly loud sips of wine, surface-level conversation, and a lot of pointed glances passed silently between four of them.

Steam curled into the night sky as the jets bubbled around Annie and Mia. The hot tub lights glowed, casting both women in a soft blue and gold. A half-empty wine bottle floated on a tray near the edge, but their glasses were within easy reach.

Annie leaned back, arms stretched wide across the rim, her hair in a bun and her lashes still perfectly curled from earlier. Mia, on the other hand, had shed all physical signs of dinner, but her attitude was still on.

“I swear to God,” Mia said, swirling her wine, “if Nina tries you one more time, I’m snatching her by that cheap ass wig and drowning her respectfully.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Respectfully is crazy.”

“I’m just saying,” Mia shrugged, “I came here for peace. What I’m not doing is letting some recycled wanna be bad bitch try you about your relationship like she doesn’t smell like expired Dior and desperation.”

Annie snorted into her glass.

“No, but seriously,” Mia said, serious again. “Don’t let that girl get under your skin. You handled her at dinner, but I know you.”

“I’m fine,” Annie said. “Really. She’s just…”

“A fan,” Mia finished. “Heavy on the fan behavior.”

They both sipped. Then Mia grinned.

“So, anyway,” she said, lowering her voice, “I brought some of those honey packs I was telling you about.”

Annie blinked. “The what?”

Mia held up three fingers like she was swearing an oath. “Those TikTok honey packs? The ones that make your coochie hum like a Tesla?”

Annie chuckled while sipping her drink. “Mia.”

“I’m serious! I brought one for each of us. Me, you, Kennedy. I was gonna sneak one to Smoke, too, but he doesn’t need it.”

Annie flushed, but grinned. Just then, the back door slid open.

Smoke and Kennedy stepped out in their own swim attire, towels in hand. They were both used to the shenanigans of their women, so it was no surprise that dinner turned out the way that it did.

“Well, well,” Kennedy said, slipping into the water next to Mia. “Y’all been out here talking shit without us?”

“Obviously,” Mia replied, kissing her cheek. “And planning a little experiment.”

Smoke sank in beside Annie, arm sliding along the back of the tub behind her. Annie relaxed instantly, her thigh pressed to his under the water.

“What experiment?” Smoke asked.

Mia smirked. “I brought the honey.”

Kennedy shook her head with a smile. “I told you that stuff is probably illegal.”

“It’s legal…I think?” Mia said. “Anyway, I’m just saying, we’re all grown, and the tension in this house is high, why not let everybody go home happy?”

Annie covered her face, laughing.

Smoke leaned into her ear, voice low. “You down?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she murmured back.

The conversation turned playful from there, laughter echoing into the night as the group slowly unraveled into each other. For a moment, Annie forgot all about Nina, Stack, and the weirdness of it all.

The lake glimmered under the high afternoon sun, with just enough breeze to keep the heat from sticking. Everyone was outside, lounging and playing around. Music pulsing low from a speaker set on the dock.

Annie stood at the edge of the water, her toes curling into the wooden planks as she watched the group settle in. She wore a sleek burnt-orange bikini, high-cut with a wrap around her waist. Her curls were pulled into a puff, and her face was bare except for sunscreen and lipgloss. Her engagement ring was tucked safely in the little jewelry dish on her nightstand, back inside out of fear that she would lose it.

“Don’t overthink it, baby,” Smoke’s voice came from behind her, low and teasing.

She turned. He was already shirtless and wet, standing waist-deep in the water. Swim trunks low. That calm, focused look on his face that always gave away his next move.

“I’m not getting in yet,” Annie warned, backing up.

Smoke raised a brow. “That wasn’t a question.”

Before she could react, he lunged for her quickly and held her in his arms. Annie shrieked, her body wriggling as she tried to pull away, but it was too late. He had walked them backwards until the water swallowed them both.

When they came up, Annie was gasping through her laugh, splashing him hard across the chest. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed to relax.”

“I was relaxed!”

Smoke smirked, water running down his shoulders.

She rolled her eyes but stayed close. Her arms looped loosely around his neck as they floated in the shallow water. His hands found her waist like they belonged there. Which, at this point, they did.

Meanwhile, on the deck, Mia watched the whole thing with her arms crossed and a margarita in hand. Kennedy was beside her, calm as ever, rubbing sunscreen on her legs.

Crystal and Nina were sitting nearby in matching swimsuits that were clearly curated for Instagram, and not for movement. Both wore full faces of makeup and had done a grand total of zero swimming.

“This is…fun,” Nina said, in a sort of sarcastic tone.

“Super fun,” Crystal added, sipping her sparkling water like it was tea. “I guess this is what people do to remember what a good relationship feels like.”

Mia didn’t turn to them, but with her ears on sonar mode, she heard everything. She didn’t blink or hesitate in the words she was about to say.

“I guess you need a vacation to remember what a good wig feels like, huh?”

Kennedy coughed to cover her laugh, Crystal blinked, and Nina narrowed her eyes.

Back at the water’s edge, Smoke had Annie hoisted onto a float, and she was trying to keep her balance while he nudged it from underneath.

“Don’t–” she warned, laughing. “Smoke, don’t tip it.”

“Say you love me.”

“I do love you. Don’t play with me–”

He flipped it anyway.

The dining room was dimly lit, warm-toned, and almost too quiet as everyone settled into their seats. The food was good, plated beautifully, smelled inviting, but the energy was off.

Annie sat beside Smoke, her hand resting on the table, her wine glass just close enough to touch. The diamond on her finger sparkled under the overhead light, subtle but impossible to miss.

Stack noticed. His eyes would flick to her hand every time she reached for her glass. Next to him, Crystal had seen it too. She hadn’t said a word about it, not directly, but her smile was tight, her grip on her fork tense.

Nina, of course, was in rare form.

“So how long have y’all been engaged?” she asked sweetly, swirling her wine without looking up.

Annie looked over slowly. “A while.”

“That’s so nice. Some of us get that one good love, you know? Others just keep running in circles.”

Crystal’s jaw tightened. Stack shifted in his chair. Mia raised a brow, but stayed silent. She stored the rising tension and comment in her head for later.

Conversation continued in scattered bursts, half-forced, half-tipsy. Kennedy tried to change the subject, asking about the jet ski rental. Smoke kept a hand on Annie’s thigh under the table, grounding her.

Then Nina struck again.

“I mean, I get it,” she said, addressing no one and everyone at once. “Some women like their men quiet and safe. Some of us like a little spice.”

Mia set her fork down slowly.

“Girl, what the hell are you talking about? Is this you trying to say something, or do you just like hearing your own voice?”

Nina tilted her head, sucking her teeth. “I’m just saying, silent men are nice, but they get boring real fast.”

“You must be bored a lot,” Mia said, dead calm. “Considering how often you’re in other people’s business.”

Crystal snorted into her wine.

Nina’s smile faded. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Oh, I did. I just don’t think you realize how you sound. Grown women who act like guard dogs? That’s usually insecurity.”

Mia stood up. Kennedy’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

“Mia,” Kennedy warned. “Not at the table.”

“I’m good,” Mia said through clenched teeth, eyes locked on Nina. “But let the bitch say one more thing and I swear…”

Annie reached up, placing a hand gently on Mia’s arm. “Please. She’s not worth it.”

“She asking all these dumb ass questions. She don’t know you. She don’t know me. And if she did, she wouldn’t be talking right now.”

Nina raised her brows. “Touchy.”

Mia took a step forward. Kennedy and Annie both rose halfway from their seats, holding her back just as her chair scraped the floor.

“Mia.”

Stack cleared his throat. “Let’s not do this.”

“Why not?” Crystal piped up, her voice honeyed but icy. “You weren’t concerned about keeping the peace when you were staring at Annie’s ring for the last thirty minutes.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Stack froze. Annie looked down. Smoke didn’t move, but his hand on her thigh gripped just a little tighter. Mia slowly sat back down, still heated, still staring daggers across the table. Nina stayed quiet for once.

Crystal lifted her glass with a fake-ass smile. “To love, I guess.”

Nobody raised theirs. Nobody said a word. The toast died in the silence.

The kitchen was quiet, except for the low hum of the fridge and the soft tap of Annie’s nails against the marble counter.

She was perched on the edge of it in her short silk robe, loosely tied, with one leg swinging. Her eyes focused on Smoke, who stood in front of the open fridge like he was considering life’s deeper meanings.

Smoke stood across from her, also in his robe, barefoot, holding a small bowl of sliced fruit they hadn’t bothered touching at dinner.

He held up the gold foil packet between his fingers. “Still wanna try it?”

Annie smiled slowly. “You said we were sharing.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

Smoke walked in between her legs while he ripped the package open and held it out for her to take from him. Instead, she wrapped her lips around the small package and sucked until half of the golden liquid was gone. Their eyes remained locked on each other.

“It’s sweet.”

Smoke took the pack from her and downed the rest. “We’ll see how sweet it gets.”

Smoke helped her down from the counter so they could make their way to their room to wait out however long it would take for the honey to start taking effect.

As they walked back, with their robes loose, they passed by Mia and Kennedy’s door just in time to hear the unmistakable sounds of pleasure echoing through the wood.

Mia’s voice, muffled but dramatic: “I’m sorry, baby…oh shit– I’m sorry, I was just mad–”

Annie stopped mid-step.

Smoke kept walking, unbothered. “Guilt’s a hell of a foreplay starter.”

Their balcony was quiet, lit only by the moonlight and the dim outdoor sconces. They sat side by side in matching robes, nothing underneath, skin brushing every time they shifted.

The lake shimmered below, crickets filled the silence, but the air between them was tightening.

Annie licked her lips, her body suddenly too aware. Heat had started curling low in her stomach, her skin hypersensitive.

Smoke leaned back in his chair, legs spread, robe open just enough to tease.

“You feel that?” she murmured.

He nodded once. “Mmhmm.”

His eyes dragged over her body. Her thighs. Her collarbone. Her fingers rested on her knee. Annie shifted, crossing her legs, only for the fabric of her robe to part. Smoke’s jaw flexed. The air between them grew thick.

“You wanna go back inside?” she asked, voice a little softer now.

Smoke didn’t answer right away. He leaned in slowly, one hand on her thigh, the other sliding up her waist until it rested just under her robe, fingers splayed across bare skin.

“Nah,” he said. “I think we can start right here.”

Annie’s eyes fluttered closed for a second. When they opened, he was watching her like he already had her answer.

“Come here,” he whispered, voice raspy with something unspoken.

She stood and moved between until she was straddling him. It felt like second nature the way his hands traveled up and down her body and the way her arms wrapped around his shoulders. The pressure in her body bloomed with the sweetest ache, and the warmth between them turned sharp. He didn’t rush it just leaned in and kissed her neck all slow. And suddenly, that balcony didn’t feel too public anymore.

The night air was thick with heat, but Annie felt hotter than the breeze. His hand was around the base of her throat, thumb stroking slowly over her pulse. The honey pack was surely kicking in full gear now. She could feel it in her chest, her gut, her clit, everything pulsing and too aware.

Smoke's other hand slid down her back, settling on the curve of her ass. He gripped it firmly, then slapped it once, hard enough to sting. Annie gasped, breath catching, her hips already rolling.

“Greedy already?” he murmured against her ear.

“It’s the honey,” she whispered, but she was lying. It was him. It was always him.

Smoke shifted, dragging her robe off her shoulders fully. He leaned in and placed kisses along the tops of her exposed breasts. He could feel her shudder from what he was certain was the feel of his mouth on her heated body.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiled. “Good.”

He slid her off his lap, stood her up, and turned her to face the railing. Her hands gripped the edge automatically. He pushed her robe open and bent her slightly.

“Stay there.”

He knelt behind her, kissing the inside of her thighs. Then he spit between her legs, fingers spreading her open as he licked her like he hadn’t eaten all day. Deep, slow, messy strokes with his tongue until Annie was shaking, gasping, grinding back into his mouth.

“F-fuck, I—”

He sucked her clit just right.

She came with a cry, legs buckling. But Smoke wasn’t done.

He stood and slid two fingers inside her, pressing up until she whimpered. His other hand wrapped around her throat again, pulling her back into his chest while he fingered her hard and fast from behind.

“I want that shit on my hand, baby. Come again, baby.”

And she did, wet and loud, her body jerking, a high-pitched moan spilling into the quiet night. He stood with the most focused look on his face.

One strong hand between her shoulders, the other gripping his slick shaft. When he slid into her, it was deep and possessive. Her favorite combination. The kind of strokes that made her legs tremble from the first thrust.

“I missed this pussy,” he gritted out. “Missed the way it gives up for me.”

He started slow, just enough for her to feel him everywhere, then picked up speed. He had his hand on her ass, giving it a few slaps after some thrusts. Her cries were barely contained. Then came the choking again.

When she came again, she collapsed into the railing. He caught her, wrapped his arms around her, and kept fucking her through it until he couldn’t hold back. He came with a low groan, buried deep, both of them breathless. When it was over, he held her there a moment.

He decided to pull back when it seemed like both their bodies regulated themselves enough. He crossed the balcony to sit back in his chair from before. Annie’s legs were still trembling from the last orgasm, but she wasn’t done.

She looked over at Smoke, seated in the balcony chair, legs spread wide, his dick hard and glistening, chest rising slow. His robe had fallen completely open. There was nothing patient about the way he looked at her now, his eyes low, heavy with hunger.

She walked back to him, climbed into his lap without a word.

Smoke gripped her hips instinctively. “That what you want, baby?”

She nodded, lips brushing his. “I want to ride it. Let me.”

He leaned back, voice deep. “Do your thing.”

Annie gripped him with one hand, guided him to her entrance, and eased down slowly. Her mouth parted in a breathless moan, and his hands tightened as she took every inch.

“Fuck,” he growled, head falling back.

Annie started to move, slow rolls of her hips that made her clit drag right across the base of his stomach. She kept her arms wrapped around him, her mouth near his ear, her moans soft and unfiltered, sweet and filthy all at once.

He licked his thumb, reached down between them, and pressed it to her clit. Her breath caught. The pace stuttered. She ground harder, then started bouncing. Her thighs slapping against his with every rise and fall.

“Daddy, shit! Yes–”

“Good girl,” he growled, rubbing tight circles on her clit while she fucked herself on his lap.

Smoke watched her, his jaw clenched, hands guiding her rhythm. He loved watching her take control; how she started slow, built the pressure, then began to bounce harder, deeper, faster.

Annie cried out, leaned in, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her breath hot against his ear.

“I’m close again,” she whispered.

“Take it,” he said. “This yours.”

She came again, shuddering in his lap, tight, wet, clenching around him so hard it made him hiss through his teeth. The orgasm hit her sharp and sudden, a wave that made her body tremble and her cunt flutter around him. She slumped forward, clinging to him, eyes closed, mouth open.

“Too much?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not done.”

Annie dropped to her knees between his legs, robe slipping completely off her shoulders. She dragged her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, then sucked him in with purpose.

Smoke leaned his head back against the chair, one hand gripping the armrest, the other fisting her hair.

“You tryna finish me off like that?”

She didn’t answer, just went deeper. Spit gathered at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin, her eyes locked on his the whole time. She moaned around him, and the vibrations made his hips jerk.

He grunted, low and strained. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t. And when he came, it was rough. His body tensing, a sharp groan ripping from his chest as he spilled across her tongue. Annie swallowed everything. Licked him clean. Then looked up at him like she knew exactly what she’d just done.

Smoke leaned forward, cupped her jaw, and kissed her slowly.

“Always mine,” he murmured.

She nodded, resting her head on his thigh, smiling against his skin.

“Always.”

The morning air was crisp and full of goodbye energy as everyone gathered at the driveway. Bags were being loaded, hugs exchanged, and the jet ski group chat began planning their next outing.

Annie stood near the car, clutching her travel bag, watching the others with a gentle smile. Smoke was right beside her, luggage at the ready. Mia and Kennedy were chatting with Smoke while Crystal and Stack talked quietly a few feet away.

An uneasy pause settled over the group.

Stack cleared his throat and walked over to Annie. “Can we talk?”

She nodded, slipping her arm out of Smoke's. “Sure.”

They stepped to the edge of the driveway, out of earshot.

“So, Annie,” Stack began, voice steady but low, “I wanted to say, I’m sorry. For everything. I never meant to hurt you like that.”

Annie closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I forgive you.”

Stack’s relief was brief. “That means everything.”

She looked away, gaze distant. “But I…I regret us. I regret letting myself get tangled up for all those years. I wish I had never did that.” Her voice caught. She stopped.

Stack nodded slowly. Hurt flickered across his face. “I get it.”

They stood in silence for a beat, two people who once meant everything, now broken into something quiet.

Annie took a small step closer. “I hope you can forgive yourself, too.”

He offered her a sad smile. “I’ll try.”

They started to move back toward the others, but the moment was interrupted by a shout.

“Mia, stop!” Kennedy’s voice cracked across the yard.

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the porch just in time to see Mia, barefoot and furious, dragging Nina down the wooden front steps by her hair. Nina’s screams echoed, high-pitched and panicked, as she flailed in protest, trying and failing to get free.

“You trifling bitch!” Mia screamed, yanking harder. “Say one more slick thing about Annie! One more you bitch!”

Kennedy rushed down behind them, wrapping her arms around Mia from behind, trying to lift her off the ground. “Mia! Baby, let her go!”

But Mia was gone. She was pure adrenaline, rage, sharp and unforgiving. “This ho been running her mouth all weekend!”

Nina hit the bottom step hard, scrambling to sit up, clutching at her hair. “Get her away from me!”

Mia kicked off Kennedy’s grip just enough to spit, “Next time you speak on Annie, bitch, make sure you don’t have a wig I can rip off!”

Crystal was screaming, panicked, “Stack! Do something!”

But Stack just stood there staring, wide-eyed.

Smoke stood a few feet away, arms crossed, completely unfazed. He didn’t even blink. Annie stayed near the car, her hand on the door, eyes following everything but not moving to stop it. Because this wasn’t her fight. Mia had always been loud with her loyalty.

Kennedy finally got a solid grip and dragged Mia back toward the car.

“I’m good!” Mia yelled, yanking her arm from her wife’s hold. “Let me go. But I meant that shit!”

Kennedy opened the car door and physically pushed her inside. Mia stuck her head out the window before it closed and pointed directly at Annie.

“Call me, bitch. I got time.”

Then she disappeared into the car, and Kennedy peeled off seconds later, gravel spinning behind them.

The yard fell into stunned silence. Crystal was still breathing hard. Nina was crying, crumpled on the stairs. Stack looked like someone had just unplugged him from reality. Smoke calmly picked up the bags, walked around the back of the car, and loaded them into the trunk like it was any regular morning.

Annie didn’t say a word. Just walked to the passenger side. Smoke opened the door for her, kissed her shoulder, and helped her in like she was breakable.

Then he turned to Stack and said a simple, “Take care of her,” before closing the driver’s side door and starting the car. They pulled off without a second look. Because when it was over?

It was over.

Taglist: @stormynovashambler @coolfoodrunworld-blog @katezy2x @lizbehave @summrsovrinterlude @bigjh @tadjoa @puffmamaa

#annie sinners #annie x smoke #elias stack moore #elijah smoke moore #sinners fic #smoke sinners #smoke x annie #smokestack twins #stack sinners #smoke x annie x stack #stack x annie

168 notes · View notes

vivienne-charm · 3 months ago

Text

Dr. Stone Headcanons

x Texts with them Pt. 2 x

Part 1 here!

Part 2 bc part 1 reached 100 notes. Tysm !!! ♡

Stanley Snyder

⋆ he's an asshole

⋆ but a very cool asshole

⋆ the way he talks, the way he carries himself, even the way he texts, it's so suave

⋆ god forbid you ask for his opinion on something... it's always MEAN AF

⋆ "Stanley, which pic should I post on my socials?"

⋆ "whichever makes you look less ugly"

⋆ "...wtf?"

⋆ "so neither"

⋆ he enjoys being playfully mean to you to gauze your reaction

⋆ but if he senses you're genuinely hurt by his comment, the blondie will attempt to soothe you in his own way

⋆ "don't worry, being ugly means less creeps around you"

⋆ "stfu, stanley"

⋆ "yes, ma'am" / "yes, sir"

⋆ as you guys grow closer, this non-chalant man finds himself looking for ways to make you even more embarrassed and flustered

⋆ so sometimes he would randomly text you with sweet nicknames

⋆ oh don't ever let him know that you fw being called a good girl/good boy

⋆ if you did then uh oh, pack it up, its so over for you. he's going to ABUSE that phrase. you just handed him your leash with that one.

⋆ since he's a military man he can't be with you all the time to banter with you and all... that's why the texts between you guys mean alot to him so he makes sure to keep a backup of them just in case something happens to his phone

⋆ yk those group of people who sing happy birthday and dance around with a pic of the said person if you pay them...

⋆ for your birthday, stanley motherfuckin' snyder sends them the most embarrassing, most hideous candid picture of you which he sneakily clicked so he can send you a vid of them wishing you a happy birthday

⋆ he knows how to piss you off

⋆ and....he knows how to make it up to you as well ;)

⋆ either way, texts between you and stanley can get intense real quick. whether its from an intense banter or other stuff, it is upon you guys.

Xeno Houston Wingfield

⋆ apart from being a goofy disney villain....ok sorry sorry, apart from being a cruel dicktator, he's a sweet loverboy at heart

⋆ "Good morning, sweets! Good Night, Lovey! Have you eaten yet? Oh, did you enjoy your hiking trip?"

⋆ proper grammar, no spelling error, formal greeting, detailed interrogation

⋆ you almost concluded that this man cannot distinguish between an email and a normal text

⋆ but you were wrong

⋆ because to him texting each other is like being a PEN PAL with him, far from an e-mail...

⋆ but he's so sweet, you dont have the heart to tell him that he doesn't have to end his texts with "Yours elegantly, Xeno"

⋆ btw, if he ever sees some acronyms/slangs he doesn't understand, he immediately texts you to ask you it's meaning 🥹

⋆ some kid once commented "sybau" under his social media post explaining about some scientific phenomena

⋆ you didn't have the heart to tell him what it really means so you....

⋆ "The kid's telling you to Stay Young, Beautiful, and Unique, Xen."

⋆ he ALMOST replied back the kid with a hearty thank you but you thankfully stopped him. bless his soul.

⋆ he's the kind of fella to reply back to your texts as soon as he can

⋆ he also treasures your kind messages alot. they move him to tears sometimes.

⋆ when he complained about his ideas being rejected and you soothed him with your texts, he couldn't stop crying like a baby that day.

⋆ stanley keeps noticing his bestie being progressively more occupied with his phone

⋆ xeno doesn't realize how cute he looks replying to your texts with a big smile

⋆ he is so precious

⋆ you're winning

Bonus

Chrome

⋆ "so you're telling me, if i write something here, it'll show up in your device all the way to wherever you are?"

⋆ "yup"

⋆ he then runs away from you as far as he can

⋆ types "science is damn AWESOME"

⋆ runs all the way back to you to check if its delivered

⋆ starts shouting in amazement after he sees that you did actually receive it lmao

#dr stone x reader #dr stone #stanley snyder x reader #stanley snyder #stanley #dr xeno #xeno houston wingfield #xeno x reader #chrome #dr stone chrome #chrome x reader #doctor stone #y/n #texts #TECHNOLOGIA

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viaxslz · 3 months ago

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·　　₊　 Ⳋ I CAN’T HANDLE CHANGE ꒷.

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 f!reader (idk gender is really specified), cw: ceo x secretary, mention of an oc (Jiwon), attempt at crack in between not proofread :P, 1.2K WC

Masterlist

When you walked into Hyunjin’s office that morning with a somber expression, he didn’t expect to feel the sudden heaviness that dropped in his chest. He had barely taken a sip of his morning americano when you quietly announced you’d be taking a short leave to take care of your sick mother. It wasn’t forever. You’d be back in a week or two, depending on how things went. You promised to keep him updated, and you even emailed a full, color-coded schedule for the next ten workdays, complete with notes, reminders, backup documents, and even motivational post-it messages for when things inevitably went wrong.

Hyunjin blinked at you for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly, not trusting himself to say much.

“Alright,” he said after a beat, trying to sound neutral, professional. “Family comes first. Take all the time you need.”

You smiled softly at him, and he returned it, even if his felt tight around the edges. When you left that afternoon after wrapping up the day's work, he sat in his chair staring at your now empty desk outside his office, wondering why the thought of not seeing you for a few days made him feel so off-kilter. It’s not like he liked you. That would be completely inappropriate. You were his secretary. A very good one. Efficient, organized, smart, annoyingly intuitive about his moods. That was it. Just a secretary. A very competent, extremely capable, incredibly witty, irritatingly cute—

He cut himself off with a grunt and tossed a pen across his desk.

—

The next morning, the substitute secretary arrived. Hyunjin had been assured by HR that they found someone “just as qualified” as you, someone with experience and a calm demeanor. Her name was Jiwon, and she seemed nice enough. On paper. She walked in ten minutes late, introduced herself with a chirpy tone that made his eye twitch, and proceeded to unpack a Hello Kitty stapler, three pink gel pens, and a very large mirror from her tote bag.

Hyunjin stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

To be fair, Jiwon wasn’t bad at her job. She just wasn’t you. And that, unfortunately, meant that everything began falling apart.

The first thing to go wrong was the meeting schedule. You always arranged everything with precision. Hyunjin never had to check twice. But now? His Monday meeting with the marketing team was double-booked with the finance review, and instead of his 2 PM lunch with a client, he was dragged into a Zoom call with someone named Gerald who kept calling him "Mr. Huang" and asking him about stock investments in Albania.

The second thing to go wrong was the coffee. You always knew how he liked it. half sweet, no foam, two shots of espresso, slightly less ice, stirred counterclockwise, and served in his black mug with the little red crown on the side. Jiwon brought him iced vanilla lattes. With whipped cream. In a cup with a paper sleeve that said “Slay Queen.”

The third thing…well, by the time they reached the third thing, Hyunjin had a headache. And not the usual, manageable kind. No, this was the I-miss-my-secretary-and-the-world-is-burning kind. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was spiraling. The office looked the same. Functioned the same, technically. But something was off. You were the glue that held everything together, and now it felt like the glue had melted and everything was sliding into a chaotic pit of doom.

One morning, Hyunjin walked into the office, sat down at his desk, and stared blankly at the screen. The company’s quarterly review was that afternoon, but the numbers on the slide deck didn’t make sense. You always prepped the data for him, color-coded the charts, and wrote notes in the margins with little jokes to keep him awake during meetings. Now, all he had was a spreadsheet and a sad little sticky note that said “You got this, boss!” with a winky face.

He slumped in his chair. “I don’t got this.”

Jiwon poked her head in a second later. “Did you call me, Mr. Hwang?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Oh. Okay. By the way, there’s a guy named Gerald waiting on Zoom again. I think he’s in Albania.”

Hyunjin slammed his head gently against the desk.

By the end of the week, everyone had noticed. He was moodier. Snappier. His tie was crooked two days in a row. He accidentally wore mismatched socks. During one staff meeting, he nearly burst into laughter halfway through a very serious presentation because he remembered how you once drew cat ears on his financial report when he wasn’t looking. He missed your weird little habits, like humming when you typed, or sticking post-its on his lunch container with puns like “lettuce meet deadlines today” and “you’re egg-cellent.”

He was in denial about it, of course. Anytime someone asked if he was okay, he’d wave them off with a grumble and mutter something about seasonal allergies or being behind on sleep. What he would never admit was that he had started checking his inbox way too often just to see if you’d emailed an update. When he finally received a short message from you that Friday afternoon, saying your mom was doing better and you’d likely return the following Monday, he nearly stood up and cheered. Instead, he calmly replied, “Glad to hear it. Take your time. Let me know if you need anything.” Then he stared at the screen for another five minutes and whispered, “Please come back before this place burns down.”

Monday came like a blessing. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. He even managed to tie his tie correctly on the first try. And when you finally walked into the office, tote bag in one hand and your usual iced coffee in the other, Hyunjin swore he heard a heavenly choir somewhere in the distance.

You beamed at him like you always did, setting your things down at your desk and immediately pulling out a notepad.

“Alright, what did I miss?” you asked brightly.

He looked at you for a long moment, then leaned against the doorway of his office.

“How much time do you have?”

You blinked, a little wary now. “That bad?”

“Let’s just say Gerald might have bought stock in our name. Also, there’s whipped cream in my soul.”

You snorted, clearly confused but entertained. “What?”

“Don’t leave again,” he said, too fast and too serious.

You raised a brow. “Hyunjin…”

He cleared his throat. “I mean. If you do. Give me a week’s notice. So I can mentally prepare. Or maybe just… take me with you next time.”

Your laughter was loud enough that a few interns turned to look. Hyunjin didn’t even mind. He was just happy to hear that sound again. To see your post-its appear one by one around his office. To have his coffee taste right and his schedule make sense and his thoughts stop spiraling every time he walked past your desk.

Maybe it was inappropriate. Maybe it was bordering on ridiculous how much he’d missed you. But when he caught your eye later that afternoon and you gave him that small smile the one you reserved for private jokes and quiet moments he realized something.

The office wasn’t the only thing that felt out of sync without you. He was, too.

And now that you were back, the world made sense again.

Even Gerald.

Kind of.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #·　　₊　 Ⳋ DIE FOR YOU ꒷.#stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x female reader #hyunjin x female reader

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hwaslayer · 4 months ago

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wildfire (cs) | sixteen.

—spotify playlist |series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 6.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, the storm is here (literally), a bit of a lillll argument, san comes to the rescue ofc, saurrrr much tension at first.. like the air is THICCCK, coming to resolutions & making up 🥺, kissing/making out, sweet moments, unprotected sex, fingering, slightly nipple play, hella soft missionary, hella soft sex from behind. idk everything is hella sweet and hella soft cause they’re just so in love and missed each other pls let them have this lil tender moment!! 🤍, a small oc x iseul encounter (just because i needed her to at LEAST give iseul some business), sorry if i missed anything - quickly edited!

—on rotation: goin' crazy - natalie

"Babe. Go home?" Eunchae says over the phone while you pack some things up. You were the only one out of your friends who stayed behind to finish up a few things and get ahead before the storm rolled in. The rest of your friends were smart enough to leave, and now, you were stuck on campus until [god knows when] the storm would settle.

"Chae, I literally think I'm stuck here. I didn't leave early enough." You sigh and head towards the window, watching as the rain continues to pour, the wind howling and beating against the glass.

"Why don't you wait it out for a few and then dart out as soon as it stops? I'm sure we'll get a quick break from the storm."

"I'm scared to drive out in this rain. What if it traps me out on the road?" You groan. "I should've left earlier but I had to take care of some stuff in the lab before the storm came in just in case. I didn't want it to set me back."

"Is the building staying strong? Back up generators and all still pulling through?"

"Yeah, thankfully—" As if you had just jinxed it, the lights suddenly shut off in your studio— the lights in surrounding rooms also going out. The street lights are out.

Everything is dark and cold.

"Oh, fuck. Nevermind." You whine and pretend to cry.

"What, the lights went out?!"

"Yeah. I think the backup generators might've tripped out."

"Girl, get your ass home. Who knows when they'll start investigating and working on that?"

"I should've left yesterday. I should've just listened to my gut!"

"But no, you had to go and be my 'lil overachiever." The both of you hear your emails ding— the internet in the building going out, leaving you with choppy service. "Oop, there goes the university message about the backup generator getting blown out for residence halls."

"Save me."

"Babe, just wait it out and get outta there. I'm sure it'll be fine when you drive home later, okay? Text me if anything. I can force my stepbrother to come and rescue you if needed."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll be okay."

"Okay, be safe for now. Love you!"

"Love you, too!" You let out another small breath as you sit in front of your half-packed weekender bag. You continue to pack your things, finalizing the last bits of the necessities needed so you can dash out of here the moment the storm calms—

Whenever that is.

You set your bag aside, along with your jacket and shoes before plopping onto your couch to try and get some work done through your phone's hotspot. But, it doesn't last for long when the videos you need to watch won't play and your data won't upload properly. You check the weather to see if there are any gaps in the rain coming soon, but to your luck, there are none.

In fact, it only sounds like the rain will get worse until tomorrow afternoon.

"Fuck." You whine to yourself, feeling scared and alone without your friends around to keep you company.

Had you listened to your gut and let your work sit for a minute, you wouldn't be in this predicament.

You try to busy yourself by lighting up some candles, spreading it out within your studio from the kitchen table to your nightstand. You go from trying to take notes under the dim candlelight, to laying in your bed trying to warm up.

Suddenly, a text comes through on your phone. You weren't expecting anything to come through with how shitty and inconsistent the service has been. You grab your phone, assuming it was one of your friends or your mom checking in on you.

You did not think it'd be Choi San.

san: hope you're staying warm and safe, y/n.

Your heart drops and you immediately don't know what to do. Should you respond? Should you continue ignoring him, continue to force yourself to act like San doesn't mean much to you?

Erase that part of your life?

After all these months, he still has the same effect on you. No matter how hard you try to hide it, your feelings for him haven't gone anywhere.

you: trying to. i hope you are too.

He doesn't answer right away, but that's only because he wasn't expecting a response. He was fully convinced you hated him since the last time you spoke, yet that hasn't stopped him from thinking about you every single day. Especially now, when the storm is at its peak. You're alone, and he's alone. He misses you.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when you follow up with another text, and he almost feels like this could be a window to talk to you and see how you've been doing. He's been itching to talk to you again.

you: do you have power?

san: i do. do you need anything? just saw the university message about part of the residence halls being out of power.

you: um, no. i think i'm okay.

san: you sure? did they say when it'll come back up?

you: no clue.

san: you can hang out here if you want. i'll give you space.

you: i'll think about it. thank you for offering, though.

san: course. let me know. i was actually hoping we could talk at some point.

You pout a bit, setting your phone aside as you try to lean back against your headboard and continue studying. You try to get your mind off of San, believing you can hold out until tomorrow when the rain smoothes over and the storm passes. The longer the power continues to stay off, the colder it gets. The harder the rain and wind get, the more you hate being alone.

What did San need to talk about?

Your curiosity definitely got to the best of you because even though you don't entirely think you're ready for whatever San has up his sleeve, you pick up your phone to text him back anyway. You don't wanna be alone, and even if you don't wanna admit it right now, you'd rather be with him than here.

you: but, it's pretty crazy outside. you'd drive in this?

san: well, yeah. it's tapering off for a bit anyway. do you want me to come?

you: okay.

san: i'll be there in about 15 minutes.

you: pls be careful.

san: i will, love.

You sigh, pinching at your bottom lip to try and understand your feelings right now. Were you excited? Were you nervous? Were you regretting this?

Should you tell him to not leave? Change your mind?

You're so conflicted that it takes up all your time— up until the very moment that San is texting you that he's in his usual spot. A wave of nostalgia washes over you, and obviously, it's too late to turn back now no matter how nervous you are.

You throw on your huge puffer jacket, throwing on the hood from your hoodie over your head while grabbing your weekender bag, along with your school bag to try and get some work done at San's house. Might as well be productive in a warm place with running hot water, heat and lights.

San is right about the rain; it's a lot lighter than it was earlier, but you know it won't last for long. You hurriedly walk over as the rain continues to fall, swinging his door open and plopping yourself into the passenger's seat— slightly getting the leather wet.

"Hey."

"Hi." You say softly as you settle in, lowering the hood from your face. San feels like his heart is beating out of his chest while he watches you from the side, turning to throw your things in the back before looking at him. "Was it hard driving over?"

"No."

"Hm, okay." You hum.

"How's it been?"

"Fine, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Heard you're in the final stages for your transfer to Mirae. Namjoon says it's been crazy busy for you because you're trying to wrap things up before you leave."

"Oh, right." You look down at your hands. "Yeah. Yeah, he's right." You pause. "It has been busy that I've barely had time for myself. All worth in the end, I guess."

"Excited?"

"Not sure yet. I will be, I think."

"Mm. That's great, Y/N. You deserve it." You look at him and furrow your brows before scoffing a bit.

"So, that's it? We're just gonna act like things are fine because you're coming to my rescue during a storm?"

"No, that's not it at all." San looks at you, almost matching your energy. "First of all, I was worried about you. Second, I just wanted to check in and then apologize. Is that so wrong of me to do?"

"You don't have to do all that."

"Well, I want to."

"Apologize for what?" You look directly outside of the windshield, listening and watching as the rain hits the glass harshly.

"The texts and the calls during Mingi's birthday at the bar."

"It's fine."

"Was it? You were kinda brushing me off."

"The last time we spoke before that, you broke up with me and we didn't necessarily part ways on a friendly note."

"I wanted to, but you were angry."

"You decided what was best for me. Without me." You cross your arms and look out the window, feeling the hot tears brimming your lids.

"I didn't come and pick you up to argue." He sighs when he sees the switch in your body language. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry because I know I was out of line and I shouldn't have done things that way. I did mean it, though. Everything I said to you that night. What happened that night didn't mean—"

"What is the point of this, San?" You begin to cry into your hands while sitting in the seat. "I don't know what you want."

"Baby, you know what I want."

"Stop." You whine a bit. "I don't know what you want."

"You. It's always been you." He shakily sighs, his own tears brimming his lids. "I'm sorry, I just— I didn't mean to hurt you, love. You know I didn't. I know you've been angry about it, but I was just trying to do what was best at the time. I was scared, and I didn't want anything to happen to you so I jumped. Baby, please know that." His eyes are burning up, cheeks slightly rosy as he looks at you with concern. With hurt.

With love.

"San, you make this so complicated." You whine as you dig your head into your hands as a dull headache comes on.

"I'm not trying to, sweetheart." He almost matches your tone, gaining frustration from the entire situation all over again. It isn't you, no. It's just the fact that he had to do what he needed to do in order to blow shit over, but that meant spending months away from you— the one person wanted and needed.

You're pulled out of your own thoughts when the rain starts to pick up again, pounding against the windshield and windows like pellets. You sigh and shake your head, running your hand through your hair.

"Can we just not.. right now? The storm is gonna pick up again, maybe I should just head back—"

"You can stay at mine. I'll give you space like I promised. Who knows when the generators will be back up." He starts up his car and you don't even protest. "Do you want me to stop by anywhere before heading to the house?"

"It's crazy out here, San. We should just get back to the house." He sighs a bit.

"I'll make you some ramen when we get back." You quietly sit back and watch as San safely navigate the incredibly wet and dangerous roads back to his house. Luckily, it isn't far from campus, and your anxiety lowers when he gets closer to his place. Just as you're about to turn onto his street, the storm picks up quick— the rain hitting the car harshly, making it hard to see through the windshield. But, San finally pulls into his garage, allowing you to release the breath you've been holding during the car ride.

You feel safe again.

You feel safe like you typically do when you're with San. Angry or not— San has always been a safe space for you.

He swings your door open after grabbing your things in the back, giving you space to step out and walk ahead of him. It feels so familiarly unfamiliar walking into his house after months of not doing so, but everything feels the same. It still feels.. safe. Comfortable.

It looks the same.

"It's warm."

"Good." San chuckles a bit before nodding towards upstairs. "I'll take you to the guest bedroom so you can get comfortable and do whatever you need to do." You nod and follow San upstairs, trying to see if anything has changed. But, nothing has.

He swings the door open and the bed is still neatly made with its light grey, fluffy duvet, matching sheets and pillowcases. You quietly set your things down while San backtracks out into the hallway.

"Let me grab you a towel." You nod, starting to go through your bag to change into the pajamas you brought— some old christmas pants and an oversized sweater. San comes back into the room with a towel, placing it gently on the edge of the bed. "Here."

"Thank you." You grab the towel, along with your travel pouch and clothes, and head to the guest bathroom to get washed up. You're setting your things down onto the counter when you hear San approaching. He's carrying something in his hand, welcoming himself into the bathroom.

"I, um, have this." San brings a basket full of skincare and hair products that you use. "I took note of the stuff you use so you wouldn't have to keep hauling it over. You know.. back then." You turn to him, surprised he got every detail right.

"San."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"Course. Do you need anything else?"

"No. This is perfect." He nods.

"I'll be downstairs." You give him a tiny smile before he walks out and shuts the door to leave you to your peace. You take a moment to go through the basket that San brought in, feeling your heart swell at how incredibly attentive he's always been.

You miss him so badly, and he's just in the room below.

You shake off the thoughts in your head, stepping into the piping hot shower to finally release all stress and overthinking. You take your time being that San's power seems to be holding on strong, and you're not gonna lie, his shower feels amazing after the busy ass weeks you've been having. You step out after a good 30-mins of extra lathering, exfoliation and scrubbing, really giving yourself the self-care treatment you've been yearning for. You finish up your routine by lotioning up and brushing some treatment through your hair before changing into your pajamas. You step into the room to fix your things, grabbing your laptop and gently tossing it on the bed so you can slowly pick up where you left off earlier—

"Nice pajamas." San stands by the door with a bowl and water in his hands, making you roll your eyes.

"I was supposed to head to my mom's, not yours." You pout and it makes San bite his lip to prevent himself from teasing you even more about your mickey mouse Christmas pajamas. "Don't make fun of me."

"No, it's cute." He sets the bowl of ramen on the nightstand near the bed. "Made you a bowl."

"Thank you." He nods.

"I'm gonna be next door in my office to finish up some things. Will you be okay in here?"

"Yeah, I will be."

"Well, you're welcome to pop in if you need anything. Help yourself to anything downstairs, too. You can just leave the bowl in the dishwasher."

"No worries. Thank you, San." You say softly as you sit on the edge of the bed. He nods and locks eyes with you for a moment, a soft gaze on his face before he grabs at the door handle. He slowly shuts the door, almost pained having to do so.

He wishes he didn't have to, he wishes he didn't have to keep this door between you two. Those walls.

And you do, too. But, you're too scared to say it. Because if you say it, how will you overcome these feelings? You shouldn't even be here in the first place since you've done so well minding your own business while burying your feelings for San. You've done so well, and now, you're here. Threatening to reverse all of that work. You just weren't sure where this would take you two and the uncertainty kills you.

In the end, what if it just never really works out? What would've all of this been for?

You shake the thoughts out of your head, eating the delicious ramen San made you before chugging most of your water bottle. It gives you enough energy to power through the work you couldn't complete earlier in your studio due to the power going out. You can hear San hopping on a few phone calls, one being with Jongho. You hear San's deep voice talking through a lot of key points during some of these calls. You try to focus your way through most of your work, trying to ignore how awfully attractive San sounds through the walls.

Then, it gets quiet. And you know he's busying himself, too.

When in reality, San is wondering when he could talk to you a little more. He can't stop thinking about how cute you look in those pajamas. How much he just wanted to hug you and hold you close.

To just be with you.

But instead, he lets out an audible sigh and continues working on his presentation for this meeting coming up for a new grant he's close to being rewarded. It takes him about another 45 minutes before he's done for the evening. He shuts off his computer and fixes his desk before heading out of his office to get cozy.

You don't really hear San moving around as much, so you figured he was deep in his work that you could head downstairs, clean up your dishes and grab another water bottle for the night. When you swing the door open, the door to San's office is open, and so is the room. You don't see San around, but you do faintly hear the shower going. You quietly shut the door and head down the steps with the dishes and empty water bottle in hand, instantly tossing the bottle into San's recycling bin. You wash the dishes instead of leaving them in the dishwasher, setting them neatly on San's drying rack next to the sink. Afterward, you dig into San's fridge for a new water bottle, quickly eyeing how stocked his fridge is.

"Hey." He looks at you as he comes down the steps slowly, running a small towel across his wet hair. Your eyes can't help but fall to his bare chest for a short moment, a shirt hanging on his broad shoulder. "Sorry, wasn't expecting you to be down here right at this moment." You shut the fridge door.

"Just wanted to grab some more water and wash your dishes." He nods.

"Is it too cold for you upstairs? Do you want me to turn up the heat?"

"No, it's alright. Thanks." He brushes past you, the scent of his body wash lingering in the air. He digs into the fridge and pulls out his own water bottle before twisting the cap open and taking a sip. You find yourself stuck in your position until thunder roars outside, lightning following shortly afterward.

"Jeez." San says, looking at the weather outside. "Yeah, you definitely wouldn't be having a good time at your place in this."

"Not at all." He cocks his head to the side, trying to read the quiet tone you respond with.

"You scared of thunder?"

"No." You look at him with a look. "Not really." He cocks a brow up, still shirtless a few feet away from you. "Kinda. It's just really loud." He chuckles a bit.

"Well, you're safe here." You silently nod.

"Aren't you cold or something?" You avoid eye contact as you take another sip of your water.

"Not really. Why? Is this bothering you?" He smirks a bit and you roll your eyes.

"Please."

"Just curious." Is all he says with the smirk still on his face while taking another sip. You should be heading upstairs to mind your own business and sleep, distancing yourself from San like you had originally planned.

But, you can't.

And he can tell.

He stands in the kitchen, watching as you pause in your steps, turning back to face him.

"San?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I.. ask you something then?"

"What's up?" He gently sets his bottle back down, slipping into his t-shirt. Finally, you think. It's hard when your attraction to him hasn't faded one bit.

"About that night.. with Zara."

"Oh." He simply says, leaning against the counter. "What about that night?"

"Did you mean that part?" You step closer to him. "You know, about the kiss."

"I did. It shouldn't have happened in the first place, and there was just a misunderstanding between us. I never meant to lead her on or anything, but I think she might've mistaken my actions for feelings."

"Oh." He sees you deflate a bit and he reaches out to brush your hair back. He does it slow, though. In case you don't want him near you, or you retract. But, you don't. You look at him like you've been needing him the same way he's needed you, and it relaxes him a bit.

"Y/N, I promise. It didn't mean anything. She kissed me first and I didn't really have time to react right away. It sounds stupid, and I was drunk. But, it meant nothing to me. And I told her the truth." His hand rests on your cheek and you lean into his touch. "Even throughout all of that, I just felt even more.. lonely and empty without you, I didn't really know how to cope with it."

"It made me feel like you two had something going on."

"No." He says softly. "I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to make you sad or upset over that." You pull away from his touch and look down at your feet.

"That's okay."

"Is it?" You nod. "I'm sorry for the way I came off that night, too. I didn't mean to overwhelm you or anything."

"That's okay, San." You respond close to a whisper.

"I thought you were done with me."

"No. I've just been doing what you insisted in the first place." He sighs, his hand dropping down from your cheek.

Things shouldn't be this complicated, and he's afraid he doesn't care much about the repercussions anymore. Time has passed, and his feelings haven't changed.

It shouldn't be like this.

"Anyway. Should probably head back upstairs." There's a sense of defeat in your tone and San can feel it, too. He simply nods, fighting with himself to gain the courage to just ask you to join him in bed tonight so you can talk, catch up.

So he can say sorry.

So he can get you back.

Because that's all he wants, and that's all he's ever cared for.

Why he chose today in particular, he isn't sure. But, the storm, the gloomy days and the rain all reminded him of the way he'd be feeling lately and how tired he was of it.

San quietly follows you up the steps, every step closer and closer to shattering through the invisible glass floor he walks on.

Fuck this.

"Hey. Why don't you—" San begins, but it comes out at the same exact time you hit him with the—

"Actually. Is it okay if I join you?" The both of you pause, looking at each other with a sort of need, a sort of long time longing and yearning.

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, of course." You rub at your arm as you slowly walk into the room after him, awkwardly standing at the end of his bed as if you hadn't slept there before. "You can get comfortable, Y/N. You don't have to do that."

"Sorry, it's just been awhile."

"That's okay." He pulls back the covers and gives you a moment to slip in before he does. He adjusts a bit, making sure to leave some space in between in case you were uncomfortable, but the distance only has you feeling empty. Lonely. "Gotta make sure the thunder doesn't get you."

"Funny." You turn to him and glare, making him laugh a bit. The photo on his nightstand catches your attention— it's a photo you two took on your trip to the Baskin Conference. He must have caught on because his eyes travel down to the photo and he smiles toothlessly.

"It's my favorite picture."

"It's mine, too." You respond softly while looking at San in front of you. His eyes are roaming around, eyeing your features. "So, are you and Zara still friends?" He shrugs.

"I don't really know. I haven't talked to her. It's pretty awkward and I know I hurt her, so I don't know if she necessarily wants me around."

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

"She's always had it for you, San. And I almost thought you two were better off. I thought it'd end up that way when we broke up." He shakes his head.

"Nah. I've only been concerned about one person and that has never changed since everything happened." He says, close to a whisper. His hand comes to your cheek again, gently caresses the surface with his thumb. The space in between you two feels so cold, and it makes you realize you don't wanna be this far from San.

You don't want anything to keep you two apart anymore.

"I wanna talk to you about that day, too. When we were in the car."

"Okay."

"There were so many things happening that I just needed to protect you from." He brushes the hair away from your face. "Please know that I never wanted it to happen, and that I never had any plans to leave. I just had to do what was right because I was scared for you first and foremost. I didn't want you to get hurt, I didn't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, San. I'm sorry." You whisper. "I was too hurt to realize it at first, but I know you were just trying to protect me and do what was best." He licks his lips and continues to maintain eye contact.

"But, trust me. I wouldn't have if I truly didn't have to, angel. You were and have always been the most important person. That hasn't changed." You lean into his touch, turning your head to gently lay a kiss on the palm of his hand— scooting into his arms when he pulls you into them.

And it feels like home all over again.

"San."

"Yeah, love?"

"I don't wanna do this anymore."

"I don't either." You feel the tears welling up in your lids, a few already streaking down your cheeks. The only difference this time around is that San is here to wipe it away, to comfort you, to physically reassure you that he has always been here regardless of the circumstances.

"I'm tired of crying over you, I'm tired of missing us."

"I hated seeing you cry. I don't want you to cry." He whispers.

"Then, what're we supposed to do, San?" You ask at a whisper and he continues to cup your cheek.

"You're transferring, love. Things will change, and I don't think it'll be as bad as it was before."

"I know, but we shouldn't be reckless anymore. Regardless if I'm transferring."

"I won't. We won't. I can't keep going like this, baby. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I don't wanna do it anymore." He shakes his head. "I can't lose you for good. I can't."

"You won't."

"Good, cause I don't plan to." He says lowly, caressing your cheek before bringing your lips to his for a sweet, soft kiss.

You missed this, and you missed San. And your body must have too, because it reacts instantly to his touch. His kiss.

He holds you close, his body heat keeping you warm under the sheets. He cups your cheek and presses soft, feathery kisses to your eye, cheek.

Nose.

Lips.

"Missed you, sweetheart."

"Missed you too, Sannie."

"Yeah?" He whispers, continuing to plant sweet kisses across your face, down your neck.

Soon, your shirt is off and so is San's. He takes his time caressing your body, feeling every inch that he can.

Lips gently dragging across your skin like a paintbrush against the canvas; painting you with sweet, love marks— kisses that are meant to close and heal each wound from the past months.

You and San take your time indulging in each other. The kisses are slow, the touches are gentle. The actions are sweet. He hovers over you, careful not to put his entire weight down while he kisses down to your chest— tongue swirling around your perked buds one at a time before gently pulling back with a pop. His thumb is slowly rubbing at your heat as he continues his trail down, two digits slipping in just to feel how wet you are for him— how ready you are for him. His lips are grazing yours as he slightly picks up the pace; just enough for you to feel his fingers curling at the right spots, dragging them in and out at a overwhelmingly pleasurable pace to start you off.

He takes his time. His focus is on you, not himself.

When you beg him to keep going, he teases you a bit with his cock— slipping and sliding in between your folds with intention, nudging his tip ever so slightly into your entrance before repeating his motions a few more times. He lets out a low moan when he sees how much you're yearning for him, how much your eyes are pleading him for him to give you more and more— slowly easing himself into the space that was made for him and him only until he bottoms out, your pussy swallowing him whole. He pauses for a second, now lowering himself back down onto your body so he can hold you close. The both of you wrap your arms around each other as he starts at a slow and steady pace— letting you feel every inch of him, every part of him that missed you so terribly and so deeply.

He praises you in your ear, keeping you close, holding you close; making sure he won't ever let you go again. Everything about it is so sensual, so intimate, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in San's arms. He continues slowly, deeply, laying more kisses across the skin of your neck and jaw.

Back up to your cheeks, eyes.

Nose.

Lips.

“Can you be a good girl and turn around for me, baby? Hm?” He says and hums lowly. “Please.” He pleads, just as he presses his lips onto yours for a heated, open-mouthed kiss. You do as he asks, flipping onto your stomach while you press your cheek against the pillow. His large hands roam up your body, leaving kisses in a fiery trail from your lower back— up to your shoulder blades and the sides of your neck. He reconnects your bodies as one, your mouth falling agape as he lets out a deep moan. You’ve got a leg bent up, with the other straight— San’s hands resting on your thigh and hip as he slides his thick cock in and out of you. He’s quick to find his rhythm, moans and repeated whines filling the walls of the bedroom.

"Y/N." San lowers himself to grip your chin, back pressed against his chest. He whispers in your ear as he rolls his hips into you from behind harshly, an arm now wrapped around you to keep you as close as possible.

"Sannie." You breathe out repeatedly. He pants, the low moans and whimpers echoing in the space of the room.

Bodies slick with sweat.

San moves to the side, pressing his lips against your temple just before letting out another guttural groan at the way your walls squeeze him so perfectly, pushing him right at the edge.

Heaven sent.

"Y/N." He repeats your name, his words are choked; he feels himself tipping over, coil ready to snap any second. His dick slick with your wetness every time he drags in and out. "I love you." He says. "I love you, baby." He repeats over and over, and over, and over again. Until it sinks into your skin, into those wounds.

Until it bleeds deep into your soul.

"I love you too, San."

In the following weeks, you find yourself busy as can be in Professor Kim's lab. You were able to pull your transfer application and all the required documents together within the two week timeframe given, along with participating in meetings with Professor Qi to slowly start getting yourself acclimated to her lab, her work and the clinical department you'd be working heavily in.

To say you are exhausted would be an understatement.

But, having San back by your side helps a lot.

You and San have been very secretive about your relationship for very obvious reasons; despite you pretty much having the transfer in your pocket and being the next step in your career, you were still scared. You stopped having San pick you up on campus, opting to drive to his place and slipping your car into the garage while San would leave his cars out. You wouldn't mention San to anyone, you wouldn't talk about his lab, you wouldn't do anything except focus on yourself, your work in Professor Kim's lab and making preparations to move.

After hours— it was different.

Barely can keep your hands off of each other within the walls of San's home, making up for lost time. Constantly in each other's space, afraid to let go in case the other wanders too far away. But, you could never. San could never.

"Sannie." You giggle when San wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses you against the forehead, cheek, jaw. His hands roam around your body, caressing and squeezing every inch he possible can.

"Why are you rushing out?"

"Uh, because I have things to do. Like you do." You laugh.

"5 minutes."

"5 minutes and we'll both be late. No." He whines and pouts.

"No fun."

"I'll see you later, yeah?" You turn to face him after getting your things together. "Have a good day." San continues to pout.

"You too, baby." You laugh and start heading out of the room. San follows, tying the tie around his neck properly. "What time are you planning to come, anyway?"

"I promised my friends I'd get dinner with them, so after?"

"Hm." He hums. "Okay, love."

"But, at least I won't have an early start tomorrow."

"Thank god. Cause I got plans for tonight." You smile and caress his chin before giving him another quick peck to the lips.

"I love you." You say softly when you pull back briefly.

"I love you, too." San smiles, losing his pout completely when he hears you say those words. It could literally fuel his entire day— which, he'll need with all the back-to-back meetings he has today.

When you get to campus, you head straight to class— grabbing a parfait on the way over. It seems to be a pretty busy day on campus, being that it was nearly impossible to find parking, and all your favorite quick cafés seemed to be packed with people. You find that there are multiple symposiums going on, along with other important events around campus. Class isn't too bad, and it goes by a lot quicker with the last half being small group breakouts and assignments that need to be completed before class ends. Afterward, you hurry on to the lab, hoping to snag one of the small conference rooms for your check-in with Professor Qi.

Except, you run into a minor roadblock— one that you very much want to confront head on instead of ignoring it like you typically do.

"Professor Lee?" You turn to Iseul as you tuck your books to your chest. She turns over her shoulder to look at you, brows knitted tightly together as if she's already annoyed that you're calling for her attention. And if she is, you couldn't give a fuck. Because she isn't gonna like what's gonna come out of your mouth next, and you hope it finally sinks into her thick ass skull.

"Yes?" She checks her watch. "Can we make this brief? I'm heading to a meeting."

"Don't worry, I don't care to take up much of your time." You give her a small smile. "Thank you for your support with my move to Professor Qi's lab at Mirae. Seems like after all the trouble you went through to try and air out my business, it only brought me to better opportunities. I'm not going anywhere and so isn't San." She's glaring at you now, watching your every move in total disgust.

"Very bold move of you to come up to me and waste my time on the way to a meeting."

"Also very bold of you to meddle in his business after everything you've put him through."

"You have no right to speak on that."

"And you had no right to involve yourself in something that doesn't concern you." You pause. "Just so we're clear on this." You step a little closer and tilt your head to the side. "You can do whatever you want, however you want. I'm not gonna let you take his happiness away again." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, turning to her watch again.

"I’ll assume this is done." You give her a toothless smile before she storms off, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Although she probably won't give this another thought, you felt accomplished having released that from your chest. But little do you know, she hates it, and she hates it because she only thought she was doing the right thing.

Now, she's the enemy and everyone sees her and Yunho as that.

you: hey.

You pull out your phone as you scurry along to the conference room, still having enough time to spare before your check-in with Professor Qi. San texts back almost instantly even though he's definitely in a Zoom meeting right now, making you chuckle to yourself.

He will always make time for you, regardless.

san: hey baby. what's up?

you: sorry, wasn't expecting you to answer mid-meeting.

san: it's alright, i can do both. you okay?

you: i am.

you: i just wanna say i really appreciate you, san.

san: all of a sudden? 😂 i appreciate you too, love. more than you know.

you: yeah. 🥹 i love you.

san: i love you too, sweet girl.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated @randajjjad

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subjectsix · 8 months ago

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KIP'S BIG POST OF THINGS TO MAKE THE INTERNET & TECHNOLOGY SUCK A LITTLE LESS

Post last updated November 23, 2024. Will continue to update!

Here are my favorite things to use to navigate technology my own way:

A refurbished iPod loaded with Rockbox OS (Rockbox is free, iPods range in price. I linked the site I got mine from. Note that iPods get finicky about syncing and the kind of cord it has— it may still charge but might not recognize the device to sync. Getting an original Apple cord sometimes helps). Rockbox has ports for other MP3 players as well.

This Windows debloater program (there are viable alternatives out there, this one works for me). It has a powershell script that give you a little UI and buttons to press, which I appreciate, as I'm still a bit shy with tech.

Firefox with the following extensions: - Consent-O-Matic (set your responses to ALL privacy/cookie pop-ups in the extension, and it will answer all pop-ups for you. I can see reasons to not use it, but I appreciate it) - Facebook Container ("contains" Meta on Facebook and Instagram pages to keep it from tracking you or getting third party cookies, since Meta is fairly egregious about it) - Redirect Amp to HTML (AMP is designed for mobile phones, this forces pages to go to their HTML version) - A WebP/AVIF image converter - uBlock Origin and uBlacklist, with the AI blacklist loaded in to kill any generative AI results from appearing in search engines or anywhere.

Handbrake for ripping DVDs— I haven’t used this in awhile as I haven’t been making video edits. I used this back when I had a Mac OS

VLC Media Player (ol’ reliable)

Unsplash & Pexels for free-to-use images

A password manager (these often are paid. I use Dashlane. There are many options, feel free to search around and ask for recs!). There is a lot that goes into cybersecurity— find the option you feel is best for you.

Things I suggest:

Understanding Royalty Free and the Creative Commons licenses

Familiarity with boolean operators for searching

Investing in a backup drive and external drive

A few good USBs, including one that has a backup of your OS on it

Adapter cables

Avoiding Fandom “wikias” (as in the brand “Fandom”) and supporting other, fan-run or supported wikis. Consider contributing if its something you find yourself passionate or joyful about.

Finding Forums for the things you like, or creating your own*

Create an email specifically for ads/shopping— use it to receive all promotional emails to keep your inbox clean. Upkeep it.

Stop putting so much of your personal information online— be willing to separate your personal online identity from your “online identity”. You don’t owe people your name, location, pronouns, diagnoses, or any of that. It’s your choice, but be discerning in what you give and why. I recommend avoiding providing your phone number to sites as much as possible.

Be intentional

Ask questions

Talk to people

Remember that you can lurk all you want

Things that are fun to check out:

BBSes-- here's a portal to access them.

Neocities

*Forums-- find some to join, or maybe host your own? The system I was most familiar with was vbulletin.

MMM.page

Things that have worked well for me but might work for you, YMMV:

Limit your app usage time on your smartphone if you’re prone to going back to them— this is a tangible way to “practice mindfulness”, a term I find frustratingly vague ansjdbdj

Things I’m looking into:

The “Pi Hole”— a raspberry pi set up to block all ads on a specific internet connection

VPNs-- this is one that was recommended to me.

How to use computers (I mean it): Resources on how to understand your machine and what you’re doing, even if your skill and knowledge level is currently 0:

This section I'll come back an add to. I know that messing with computers can be intimidating, especially if you feel out of your depth. HTML and regedits and especially things like dualbooting or linux feel impossible. So I want to put things here that explain exactly how the internet and your computer functions, and how you can learn and work with that. Yippee!

#old internet #computer tag #resource post

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barefoothighlander · 3 months ago

Text

never going back again - 4.5

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), sad but also happy, insinuated alcohol abuse, mentions of PTSD and mental illness, little switch in POVs, alcohol, fluff but also angst

prev part masterlist

a/n: well, my friends, it’s been a long time. i hope this is everything you all waited for and i apologize for the extreme delay. all my love

Six months, fourteen days and twelve hours, that’s how long it had been since your heart had been torn from its place in your chest. The simmering pain of losing him stayed with you through every moment, every corner of the house lay a memory of his spirit.

There were no promises made, no vows spoken, no concrete reason for him to find his way back to you and yet, hope persisted.

There had to be a reason he wasn’t there, you knew the relative outline of what his job required, you knew he couldn’t just pack up and leave but everytime Riley’s ears perked up at a noise outside your heart skipped a beat, hoping the door would open and he would be there.

The days drew on, restless nights in a too large bed, what once was a warm and cozy cottage became an empty home, nothing felt right anymore.

•

It was Simons third meeting this month for his insubordination, disobeying a handful of direct orders gets you put on the shit list, he knew they would never discharge him, he was too much of an asset to the team considering he wasn’t even legally alive.

The day he returned to the base he had requested leave, any amount of time that would get him back to you, to his home.

It was strange to use the word and mean it so wholeheartedly, he’d never felt this type of belonging, not in Manchester with his family, not in the military with his squad, not even in the 141, and they were the closest he had to brothers.

Everyday he’d report for duty only to return to his empty flat, the clacking of beer bottles on the coffee table as he rested his feet, he had nothing left without you, and if he left without notice he knew the team would hunt him down, Shepard would probably send some kill squad after him.

So he waited, for months he waited, putting in a new leave request everytime his previous got denied, it was unfair, he’d devoted decades of his life to the service and the moment he found a reason to leave they force him to stay.

He’d used his clearance to try and track you down, find some sort of phone number or email that he could talk to you, just to hear your voice, to know you were okay, he needed to know that you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

•

You couldn’t take it anymore, the not knowing, the constant wondering, the hoping, it was driving you mad, it was a moments decision, you had no plan, no clue where to start, but you knew you could begin somewhere.

The dial tone bleeds through the phone, “Hello?”

“I need a favour”

“Anything, what’s up?”

“Can you take Riley and Goliath for the week”

“Yea of course, is everything alright?”

“Yea, no, I mean I’m okay, everyone’s okay I just have to leave town for a bit”

“I’m home all day, drop them off whenever”

“I’ll be there in 15”

The call ends and your heart races, springing to your feet you reach under the bed, pulling out a carry on bag, stuffing the contents of your drawers into it, no time to think.

You persuade your pets into the car with various treats, tucking Goliath into a small carrier before strapping him in, Riley seems all too comfortable sitting passenger.

Making the drive to Williams house you park the car, Riley following after you as you grab Goliath, two knocks on the door and it opens.

Riley races in making himself comfortable as you pass the carrier and a bag full of the animals necessities.

“I can’t thank you enough, I won’t be gone long I promise”

“You’re acting strange”

“I just have to do this” He can sense the determination on your face, nodding.

“Good luck”

You give him a small smile before returning to your car, punching in the closest airport location to your gps.

“What do you mean there’s no flights to England”

“There’s none scheduled till tomorrow ma’am”

“That’s not possible, there has to be some airline flying there, please I’ll take anything”

The woman behind the counter can sense the anxiety on your face, letting a small sigh fall from her lips.

“I can get you to Scotland, maybe there another flight from there”

“When does it leave?” You tap your fingers agains the desk nervously.

“10 minutes, gate three”

You nod, picking up your bag and taking the ticket from her, eyes following her movements as she points you in the right direction.

You make your way through the halls, dodging groups of people to get to the gate, reaching for your passport and handing over your ticket before stepping onto the boarding platform.

It’s a relatively short flight, a little over four hours and you’re landing in Edinburgh, your body refusing to sleep on the plane allowing your tiredness to catch up.

It’s another argument with the airlines to get on the nearest flight but an hour later and you’re seated once again on a plane, bound for London.

Your dread settles in your stomach, the lack of planning rearing its ugly head, you had no idea where to go from there, no place to start, only instinct and an idea.

The flight is quick, struggling to grab navigate your way through the busy airport before finding a cab.

“Where’s the nearest military base?”

“S’about 20 kilometres from here”

“Let’s go there please”

There could be a hundred bases around and you had no clue which one Simon would be on, you knew he was from Manchester but that didn’t mean he lived there, you’d have to start somewhere.

“Ma’am I can’t let you in without authorization”

“Is there someone I can call? I need to know if the person I’m looking for is here”

“I’m afraid all of those answers are classified, I wish I could help but for security-“

“I know, security reasons, it’s the same shit I got at the last two bases”

“You’ve been around three bases looking for this guy?”

“I don’t know which one he’s on”

“And you don’t know his address or anything?”

“No, I know nothing” The realization hits that this may be a means to an end, running around South England, trying to find a man that doesn’t exist.

“Well I’ll tell you this, you go around asking about people on another base and they’re gonna detain you for questioning”

“I figured they would at some point”

He smiles, “Good luck”

It’s cold and wet, the rain unrelenting as you step out of the cab, after too much money spent driving around you’d decided to just check into a hotel and accept your defeat, your heart heavier than the weight of your eyelids. What a stupid idea, dropping everything to chase a man halfway across the world without a semblance of a clue as to who, or where he is. Your chest pangs as the tears begin to fall, dripping down your cheeks as the exhaustion overtakes you, there is nothing left, no clue to follow, the house doesn’t feel like home without him. Your last thoughts are of him, soft and warm, dozing in the morning sun when he looks almost peaceful as your eyes shut and sleep takes over your body.

You wake to a knock on the door, running your puffy eyes as u rise to answer it, a middle aged woman standing behind it muttering something about housekeeping, she looks thoroughly unimpressed as you wave her off and close the door. Checking the clock it’s a little before noon, you stand at the window looking out over the cityscape, trying to make sense of the maze of streets and crowds of people bustling by.

It’s not long before you’re dressed and outside, the breeze doing wonders for the dryness you feel in your throat. Just being outside feels better, atleast outside you can distract yourself with strangers and various shops, rather than sitting alone, thinking about him. You waste hours wandering around, peering into book stores and stopping for tea at a little cafe, half the day passes before you even check your watch and find its past dinner, your stomach growling to remind you that you’ve had little to eat.

You pass by stores closing and pubs opening looking for somewhere relatively quiet to grab some food before setting your eye on a rundown pub a few blocks down, the lights are on but there’s no one outside, unlike the other pubs that dot the block, groups of people outside yelling and drinking as they curse at the rugby game that plays on the television inside.

•

Simon had enough, enough of the denials, enough of the mandated meetings, if they wouldn’t give him leave he’d atleast go home for a weekend, leave the place that forbids him to spend a moment thinking about you and not about his work. That’s all he needed, one weekend alone, drinking in the quiet dark to set his mind right. He’d been stepping out of line toward his superiors, cursing them for making him take accountability for going AWOL, he was sick of always being the bad guy, that’s what he missed, being able to have a regular conversation, the freedom to be Simon rather than his darker counterpart, the peace that only came from being tucked away in the cottage with you.

He grabbed what little he had in his shacks and threw it into a bag, stowing it in the rear seat of his truck before taking off toward Manchester, he still kept an apartment near where his mum used to live, he liked the neighborhood, liked seeing the kids with their parents, with their dads. It helped him imagine what his life could’ve been if life granted him a decent father, though if it did, he would have never met you, never known real kindness, real affection, real love.

Time passes quickly as he drives, the radio almost a silent echo of the wind that passes by the window. He parks in the driveway and grabs his things, moving to unlock the door and make his way upstairs. It’s dark inside, he’s not much for interior design but there’s a bed and a couch, the latter typically where he finds himself on the nights he stays here. His hand moves to flick on the light but nothing happens - “fuckin bills” with a sigh he drops his things, rifling through the pile of unpaid electric bills that have fallen through the door slot, dropping them aside and walking toward the kitchen. He opens the fridge and it assaulted by the smell of whatever left overs had gone bad and the sight of three warm beers, cursing under his breath he throws the lot in the garbage.

He needs a damn drink, but with the group of men hanging outside and the gaggles of drunks that’ll be lining the streets in no time hes down to a limited amount of choices. Raising the hood of his sweater he locks the door, making his way outside the building and down the street. Simon keeps his eyes toward the ground, not out of cowardice or fear but rather over the chance that someone in this neighbourhood might recognize him, even though he’s 30 years older, about 190 pounds larger and covered with more scars than he can count, he knows that if someone were to look into his eyes, they’d recognize that young boy, one who’s life is filled with so much pain.

It’s a couple minutes walk from his place to get to the small pub run by an elderly man, Paddy, or Addi? He can’t remember, and odds are the man is too drunk to speak clearly even through his thick accent, it doesn’t bother Simon, the not knowing, he’s used to people around not asking questions about him, making assumptions, he’d rather take his drink alone in the corner anyway, less people to distract from watching the game.

He arrives at the pub, albeit with a few taunts from a couple of drunk teenagers a few streets back, the bell above the door ringing as he opens in breathing in the scent of wood and alcohol, the televised cheers echoing through the newley empty room. He’d been frequenting this pub for a few years, it was quiet, less people came to it considering the age of the building and the lack of air conditioning or heating, but the less people the better, and the whiskey was just as good.

He keeps his head down as he makes his way in, sure to not make eye contact with any patrons but the voice of a young woman catches his attention and he peaks up. At the bar is a girl, dressed in nice clothes with his hair done, laughing with Paddy/Addi and yelling at the television, he can’t stop staring, she’s enigmatic, almost familiar as she sips her drink, her eyes glued to the screen. He’s stuck, glued to the floor as his heart races, his stomach threatening to upturn.

“Oi, big lad, you gonna stand there like some creep or d’ya wan a drink”

The man’s voice breaks the trance and Simons dream crashes to a halt as the woman turns around.

It’s not her.

His worlds stops and starts over a hundred times in a second, of course it’s not her, how could it be, what an idiot, she’s not coming for you.

Simon nods and the man pours a whiskey, pushing it across the bar as Simon grabs it, downing the liquor before setting the glass back down, nodding for another. He finds his spot in the back, resting his sore back against the harsh wood and keeping an eye on the game as he continues to drink, his mind spiraling over thoughts of you, tucked away in your small corner, safe. It’s that part that makes him feel some comfort, the fact that if you were apart of his world, you’d be in danger, and he’d rather see a lifetime of pain and loneliness than ever put you in that position.

•

Your shoes are practically soaked through by the time you reach the steps of the pub, navigating the old streets and avoiding the drunk onlookers, your face flush and mouth dry, aching for a drink. The bell rings above the door as you step in, there’s only a few people inside but it looks to be a rather big pub, an old man tends the bar while he chats to a young woman. You shed your layers, allowing your skin a bit of air before you overheat and you make your way in.

“What’ll it be miss”

You give him your order, thanking him with a tip as you sip your drink, the cool liquid working quickly to smooth your throat, this is fine, this works, a quiet bar to drink and pretend you care about sports. This’ll do wonders for taking your mind off Simon.

“Oi, big lad, another?” The man shouts over his shoulder, you can’t see who he’s talking to but you hear him, that voice. Thousands of people in this city, all the same accent, no one with a voice like that. The man begins to pour the drink and take it over but you stop him -

“Do you mind if I take it over?”

He looks at you quizzically, “Be my guest, less work for me”

You take the drink from the man and make your way toward the back of the pub, a sigh from ahead over the rugby match making your pace quicken, your heart skip a beat. You can see the outline of his upper body, the man is so large he takes up nearly half the bench as his gaze is toward the television, he looks at his empty glass then straight ahead, as is wondering where his drink is.

Simon moves to look toward the bar but his eyes land on you, standing there, holding his drink, and you can see his face fall, his eyes squint then open as he stares at you. You can’t help the tear that escapes you, the quiver of your lip as you move closer, you clear your throat as you place the drink on the table.

“You know, it was getting lonely up there, was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me”

He swallows, his body moving before his mind as he stands, his arms enveloping you, caging you to him as if trying to figure out if you’re real. You wrap yourself around him, out of all the outcomes, all of the possibilities, perhaps your subconscious knew this was the bar he would be in. Maybe fate intervened and brought him here, who cares, destiny, fate, god, all them be damned, he was here.

Minutes that felt like seconds trailed on as he held you, slowly pulling back to look at your face, your skin blotchy and red from the tears you failed to fight. His hand reaches up to hold your cheek, wiping away the stray tear as he leans down, his lips enveloping yours and it feels like you can breath again. No air compares to this feeling, like half of your soul returned, you stay there, inches away from eachother before he steps back.

“How” He asks

“I don’t know”

He nods slowly, moving to sit down as if needing to catch his breath and you follow, positioning yourself right at his side.

“I never thought you’d come here” He says, his face tilted down.

“I had to, i realized pretty quickly that if I wasn’t with you, i felt empty. So i got a flight, ran around a couple of military bases, definitely got myself put on some kind of warrant list. And then I decided I needed a drink to stop thinking about you”

He laughs slightly, “I needed a drink so I could think about you”

It sounds harsh but you understand,

“Does anyone know you’re here?”

You shake your head, just you.

He nods.

“Simon I-“

“Don’t say anything, not yet atleast”

You silently agree. The two of you sit, your sides glued together as the silence washes over you, your breaths practically in sync as your hearts finally slow to a steady beat.

“Thank you” he says

“For the drink?”

“For coming, no one’s- no one outside the team has ever come looking for me, and they only come cause they have to”

“You would’ve done the same for me”

He nods, despite all his attempts, all his capabilities, you were the one that came to him, you chose him.

“I’m gonna be here a while, in the city I mean”

He turns to face you, “Darling i don’t care where you are or where you’re going, as long as it’s with me”

You smile, your hand reaching for his face as you lean in to kiss him, the taste of whiskey on his breath as he kisses you back. Home, you were home, in a dirty old pub that stunk of liquor and wood, sitting in a rough seat, beside the man you loved, his eyes looking at you with nothing but hope as his lips leave yours his hand moving to hold yours.

The two of you leave the pub, your heart full and head clear, albeit a little tipsy as you walk back to your hotel room. Simon doesn’t say anything about his apartment as he helps you drag your suitcases up the stairs into it, you don’t ask. He vows the buy some proper furniture for the place and you decide to stay a little while, at least until he can figure out how to explain to his superiors that his deployment will only be with the 141 from now on. You settle in once again to life, you see him most weekends though he’s on base a lot during the week, but this life, with him, it’s better than an eternity without, and the joy in his eyes as he looks at you, even weeks later when he’s kneeling in front of you, his fingers sliding a ring onto yours, you can’t fake it, the happiness that floods your veins at the thought of being tied to him forever, no matter the consequences or struggles, it’s real, and it’s everything money can’t buy.

A lifetime of happiness with Simon, his highs and lows, the knowledge that no matter what happens, he’d fight to the death to get home to you.

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