#Amazon Crossing

[pier-carlo-universe]

SEO Description: Nel secondo volume della serie, Bree Taggert affronta un’indagine tra scomparse, delitti e una testimone che potrebbe essere la prossima vittima. Scopri di più su Alessandria today.

[tishrivers]

ALDIS HODGE: TV Guide Interview (2024)

[thequietesthing]

so i think we can all agree that My Lady Jane is one of the best new series on any streaming platforms. like, enemy-to-lovers tension, arranged marriage, magic (sorta), history (sorta), knives, and Dominic Cooper being the villain: it as it all!!

[soft-persephone]

Let Me In Ch.1

Alex Cross x Fem!Reader • Dark!Terry Richmond x Fem!Reader

MDNI // WC: 1.8k // mention of sex mention of violence// lighter first chapter but things get more intense as series continues // masterlist //

Easy, big guy.”

You warily eye Terry on the monitor, switching between where he is and where he needed to be, scanning for new routes.

“There's going to be a guy in front of you as soon as you make a right. . .Discretely and efficiently.” you remind him of his orders. The one’s he tends to disregard, depending on how he’s feeling, but tonight he was in a good mood, or as good as you can determine.

Terry moves fast, with one strike the guy is down. He disassembles the man’s gun and tosses all the parts into a bush before stuffing his body in a closet.

“Did you grab his badge?”

He smacks his teeth. What kind of agent would I be if I forgot?” He tries to get smart, but you can practically hear his grin, even if you can't see his face as he waits for the elevator.

“Mandripoor?” you scoff.

“Mandripoor is a fictional island from Marvel comics. What you meant to say is Madrid, a real city in Spain, and that was a long time ago on one of my first missions.”

“So you admit you did in fact forget and now I have to remind you each and every time. Got it.”

He steps into the elevator.

“Room 892.”

“I know.”

You purse your lips.

Please don't make this difficult. Please, don't make this difficult. Please please please.

“Well in that case just yell if you–’

“Don't go anywhere.” Terry glares up into the camera in the elevator.

“I service more agents than just you tonight and they occasionally need me more than you do.” You start as evenly and plainly as you can, but keep a mellow bite in your voice. “ I have orders.”

He smiles.

“I’m just joking, Jasmine. Go do your job.” he winks. The doorbell rings and he steps out of the elevator, “I’ll signal you if I need you.”

You gave him your fake name.

Because how could you know if his name was real? Was anything he ever told you about him real?

Soldiers were ghosts, whispers in the wind. They were useful until they weren’t. They could be discarded, they might jump ship to other agencies, they were brash, unpredictable, and they often had no one but themselves. Those were the most dangerous kind. With nothing and no one to lose.

And Terry had no one. A fact that made him appealing to the organization as much as it made them wary of him.

Could they afford another unpredictable no one with no former ties and nothing to lose?

No.

The answer is always no.

Prepare for the worst and have a back up plan for whenever it happens because it is always going to happen.

They had you, so they could always sleep easy.

“Jasmine!” You turned from the desk at the sound of your code name.

“Boss.”

All superiors are referred to as Boss.

You didn't know their names and they didn't know yours, or that's what they tell their agents.

But of course there were files. Everyone had a file, but all things can be traced. All buildings have cameras. Phones and technology can be hacked.

Always safe and careful, the organization refuses names spoken on premise, but you were extra secretive of yours.

It's how you were trained.

“Terry just reported. Another successful mission and no messes that need to be cleaned.”

“He’s a good agent–”

“Save me the pleasantries, Jasmine.” You nodded.

“Terry is trouble.” Boss with the military buzz cut sprinkled with more salt than pepper these days, stuffs his hands in his pockets. His grin coming off with more edge, not sincere enough. “But when you’re on the other end of his comm piece he becomes a whole new agent. He follows orders clean and simple. Does not put up a fight or bitch and moan. . .How do you do it?”

There's no way this Boss was ever in the field. He’s too comfortable behind his desk, holding his phone and making calls. He’d die fast. You summarize.

Not a real leader.

“I only do my job.” You reply with no emotion, but as politely as you can.

“People say you’re friends.”

You smile.

It's casual and polite, but it's real. It's the appropriate smile for this occasion. A normal employee trying to navigate an awkward conversation with a boss that knows entirely too much and keeps trying to pry more than what’s polite and appropriate.

“We have been friendly and we have had one or two moments of casual acquaintance, but none of that equates to a real relationship of any kind. Thank you for the chat Boss, but it is time for me to clock out.” and with one final smile, more thin and formal that conveyed polite but respectfully peeved and slightly uncomfortable. You turn back to your computer to sign out and grab your things.

“Where you going?” A low rich voice calls from behind you.

“Hey Terry.” you sigh, not hiding your annoyance, “How was your mission?”

“Not here. Let's go to the range.” He grabs your arm, pulling you along.

You let him, and you can’t help, but smile. A real smile.

When was the last time you actually smiled and meant it? As you follow Terry through the organization building you can't help but wallow into the warmth that spreads over your sensus.

Savoring the moment, because when was the next time you’d feel such joy? A real and genuine joy.

“Just like I taught you.” Terry wraps his hands over yours, placing your fingers in the right position.

Slowly, tentatively, you follow along the motions. He had only wrapped himself around you to fix your hands, but he lingers, letting his chest rest against your back.

“I'm gonna step away now.” his breath brushed along your ear. Even as he moves his hands from yours, so you can brace for the kickback on your own without his chest resting on your back and taking most of it for you, like he did in the beginning of your lessons, He didn’t move too far.

You shot fast and precisely, careful not to show off how good you actually were, but good enough to keep track of your false progress under his tutelage.

“All kill shots. Not that precise, but consistent.” He praises lightly with a tight smile.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We do make a good team.” His words are still hot on your skin.

“You never told me how your mission went.” you choose to ignore how close he was.

He didn't seem to mind. He grabs your hands, taking the gun and turning the safety on, placing it to the side.

“I wish it was you.”

“Terry I don’t–”

“-- you don’t read mission reports.” he frowns.

“Mine are different from yours. I get blueprints of buildings and where I need to get you to be.”

He nods.

“Whatever, just. . “ he sighs. “It was some orgy. I had to fuck some bitch.”

You soften. Terry had been venting to you lately. It's good for agents to have an outlet. Some soldiers like to train, but apparently, he liked talking.

To you.

You ignore the small voice in your head that tells the truth.

“There’s always some random bitch to fuck. They always see me as exactly what they’re supposed to.” He drops his voice to a low whisper. It wavers and shakes, but his eyes remain firm, blazing with an emotion you can’t identify.

His eyes shifted to stormy grey clouds tinged with a lightning of green. As expressive as they were in color, he could hide his emotions well. They were glossless, hard, and free of emotion. At times like this a fear bubbled at the base of your throat, threatening to rise uncomfortably and spill out your mouth, but you swallowed it down and stamped it out.

“Like, I’m some fucking thing. A piece of meat. They either think it doesn’t matter—That because I'm attractive it's fine, right? . . . Or I'm used to this type of behavior from bitches all around the world. I get any and every bitch I want, so they can throw themselves at me and get a chance, right?”

“Ter–’

“Or they don't care. They’re too driven by a disgusting lust they confuse with desire to understand how dumb and unattractive it makes them.” He raises his voice as he interrupts you, enunciating each word in a way until it cuts at you, driving home a point that you probably will never understand, letting out the searing anger he’s hidden for quite a while.

He scoffs, looking away from you.

You want to tell him that it's just how the job is, but at some point he stopped talking about the job. Probably how he thinks all women look at him, and to that, you don’t know what to say.

It speaks to an experience of someone who looks at people as people and not potential threats to your safety. Someone who had the luxury to be a child as they grew up and not a weapon in training. Someone who didn’t grow up in a secluded mountainside farm off the grid.

But as he looks back at you, his stormy

eyes show a swirl of fury.. An apathetic accusatory grey blue, sprinkled with hazy hazel green hues of anger.

Without a word, you give him an even harder look and walk away, throwing your safety goggles behind you without a care and grabbing your work bag.

That, you understood.

The London night air was cold and wet.

You checked your watch, pulling your coat more snuggly on our shoulders. Letting it warm you and shield you from the slow pattering rain. Taking refuge back into your usual nature outside of the organization.

You settle into the familiar uncomfortable feeling that eats away at you from the inside out.

Sometimes it gnawed at you from within, snarling and snapping at you. Begging you to feed it, to satiate its burning need, ripping at your flesh and leaving invisible scars and bite marks. Filling you with a chill the rain can’t match.

But that was the life of a spy.

Terry should know better.

It's the organization above all else and yourself if you can't trust your organization, you’re good as dead or better off continuing to be their pawn . . .or the only way to get out is to kill everyone involved and burn it to the ground.

You were lucky enough to actually believe in your work. It was a part of you, it was your legacy, it was in your blood, it burned you. It demands you to prove yourself more. That once you meet one limit, you raise the ceiling hire and find a new one. This current job of babysitting Terry was beneath you and your skill level, but you took it gladly and with pride.

You’ll be the best god damned secretary they’ve ever had.

.

.

.

.

Taglist : @zillasvilla @novahreign @kenshisluvrgirl @theglamclosetsl @kismet83 @orchidwonder @avoidthings @nathanbatemanfucker @megamindsecretlair @nerdieforpedro @chaithetics

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon’s financial shell game let it create an “impossible” monopoly

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

For the pro-monopoly crowd that absolutely dominated antitrust law from the Carter administration until 2020, Amazon presents a genuinely puzzling paradox: the company's monopoly power was never supposed to emerge, and if it did, it should have crumbled immediately.

Pro-monopoly economists embody Ely Devons's famous aphorism that "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

Rather than using the way the world actually works as their starting point for how to think about it, they build elaborate models out of abstract principles like "rational actors." The resulting mathematical models are so abstractly elegant that it's easy to forget that they're just imaginative exercises, disconnected from reality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/03/all-models-are-wrong/#some-are-useful

These models predicted that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power. Even if they became a monopoly – in the sense of dominating sales of various kinds of goods – the company still wouldn't get monopoly power.

For example, if Amazon tried to take over a category by selling goods below cost ("predatory pricing"), then rivals could just wait until the company got tired of losing money and put prices back up, and then those rivals could go back to competing. And if Amazon tried to keep the loss-leader going indefinitely by "cross-subsidizing" the losses with high-margin profits from some other part of its business, rivals could sell those high margin goods at a lower margin, which would lure away Amazon customers and cut the supply lines for the price war it was fighting with its discounted products.

That's what the model predicted, but it's not what happened in the real world. In the real world, Amazon was able use its access to the capital markets to embark on scorched-earth predatory pricing campaigns. When diapers.com refused to sell out to Amazon, the company casually committed $100m to selling diapers below cost. Diapers.com went bust, Amazon bought it for pennies on the dollar and shut it down:

https://www.theverge.com/2019/5/13/18563379/amazon-predatory-pricing-antitrust-law

Investors got the message: don't compete with Amazon. They can remain predatory longer than you can remain solvent.

Now, not everyone shared the antitrust establishment's confidence that Amazon couldn't create a durable monopoly with market power. In 2017, Lina Khan – then a third year law student – published "Amazon's Antitrust Paradox," a landmark paper arguing that Amazon had all the tools it needed to amass monopoly power:

https://www.yalelawjournal.org/note/amazons-antitrust-paradox

Today, Khan is chair of the FTC, and has brought a case against Amazon that builds on some of the theories from that paper. One outcome of that suit is an unprecedented look at Amazon's internal operations. But, as the Institute for Local Self-Reliance's Stacy Mitchell describes in a piece for The Atlantic, key pieces of information have been totally redacted in the court exhibits:

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/02/amazon-profits-antitrust-ftc/677580/

The most important missing datum: how much money Amazon makes from each of its lines of business. Amazon's own story is that it basically breaks even on its retail operation, and keeps the whole business afloat with profits from its AWS cloud computing division. This is an important narrative, because if it's true, then Amazon can't be forcing up retail prices, which is the crux of the FTC's case against the company.

Here's what we know for sure about Amazon's retail business. First: merchants can't live without Amazon. The majority of US households have Prime, and 90% of Prime households start their ecommerce searches on Amazon; if they find what they're looking for, they buy it and stop. Thus, merchants who don't sell on Amazon just don't sell. This is called "monopsony power" and it's a lot easier to maintain than monopoly power. For most manufacturers, a 10% overnight drop in sales is a catastrophe, so a retailer that commands even a 10% market-share can extract huge concessions from its suppliers. Amazon's share of most categories of goods is a lot higher than 10%!

What kind of monopsony power does Amazon wield? Well, for one thing, it is able to levy a huge tax on its sellers. Add up all the junk-fees Amazon charges its platform sellers and it comes out to 45-51%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

Competitive businesses just don't have 45% margins! No one can afford to kick that much back to Amazon. What is a merchant to do? Sell on Amazon and you lose money on every sale. Don't sell on Amazon and you don't get any business.

The only answer: raise prices on Amazon. After all, Prime customers – the majority of Amazon's retail business – don't shop for competitive prices. If Amazon wants a 45% vig, you can raise your Amazon prices by a third and just about break even.

But Amazon is wise to that: they have a "most favored nation" rule that punishes suppliers who sell goods more cheaply in rival stores, or even on their own site. The punishments vary, from banishing your products to page ten million of search-results to simply kicking you off the platform. With publishers, Amazon reserves the right to lower the prices they set when listing their books, to match the lowest price on the web, and paying publishers less for each sale.

That means that suppliers who sell on Amazon (which is anyone who wants to stay in business) have to dramatically hike their prices on Amazon, and when they do, they also have to hike their prices everywhere else (no wonder Prime customers don't bother to search elsewhere for a better deal!).

Now, Amazon says this is all wrong. That 45-51% vig they claim from business customers is barely enough to break even. The company's profits – they insist – come from selling AWS cloud service. The retail operation is just a public service they provide to us with cross-subsidy from those fat AWS margins.

This is a hell of a claim. Last year, Amazon raked in $130 billion in seller fees. In other words: they booked more revenue from junk fees than Bank of America made through its whole operation. Amazon's junk fees add up to more than all of Meta's revenues:

https://s2.q4cdn.com/299287126/files/doc_financials/2023/q4/AMZN-Q4-2023-Earnings-Release.pdf

Amazon claims that none of this is profit – it's just covering their operating expenses. According to Amazon, its non-AWS units combined have a one percent profit margin.

Now, this is an eye-popping claim indeed. Amazon is a public company, which means that it has to make thorough quarterly and annual financial disclosures breaking down its profit and loss. You'd think that somewhere in those disclosures, we'd find some details.

You'd think so, but you'd be wrong. Amazon's disclosures do not break out profits and losses by segment. SEC rules actually require the company to make these per-segment disclosures:

https://scholarship.law.stjohns.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3524&context=lawreview#:~:text=If%20a%20company%20has%20more,income%20taxes%20and%20extraordinary%20items.

That rule was enacted in 1966, out of concern that companies could use cross-subsidies to fund predatory pricing and other anticompetitive practices. But over the years, the SEC just…stopped enforcing the rule. Companies have "near total managerial discretion" to lump business units together and group their profits and losses in bloated, undifferentiated balance-sheet items:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/bartlett/public-purpose/publications/2021/dec/crouching-tiger-hidden-dragons

As Mitchell points you, it's not just Amazon that flouts this rule. We don't know how much money Google makes on Youtube, or how much Apple makes from the App Store (Apple told a federal judge that this number doesn't exist). Warren Buffett – with significant interest in hundreds of companies across dozens of markets – only breaks out seven segments of profit-and-loss for Berkshire Hathaway.

Recall that there is one category of data from the FTC's antitrust case against Amazon that has been completely redacted. One guess which category that is! Yup, the profit-and-loss for its retail operation and other lines of business.

These redactions are the judge's fault, but the real fault lies with the SEC. Amazon is a public company. In exchange for access to the capital markets, it owes the public certain disclosures, which are set out in the SEC's rulebook. The SEC lets Amazon – and other gigantic companies – get away with a degree of secrecy that should disqualify it from offering stock to the public. As Mitchell says, SEC chairman Gary Gensler should adopt "new rules that more concretely define what qualifies as a segment and remove the discretion given to executives."

Amazon is the poster-child for monopoly run amok. As Yanis Varoufakis writes in Technofeudalism, Amazon has actually become a post-capitalist enterprise. Amazon doesn't make profits (money derived from selling goods); it makes rents (money charged to people who are seeking to make a profit):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Profits are the defining characteristic of a capitalist economy; rents are the defining characteristic of feudalism. Amazon looks like a bazaar where thousands of merchants offer goods for sale to the public, but look harder and you discover that all those stallholders are totally controlled by Amazon. Amazon decides what goods they can sell, how much they cost, and whether a customer ever sees them. And then Amazon takes $0.45-51 out of every dollar. Amazon's "marketplace" isn't like a flea market, it's more like the interconnected shops on Disneyland's Main Street, USA: the sign over the door might say "20th Century Music Company" or "Emporium," but they're all just one store, run by one company.

And because Amazon has so much control over its sellers, it is able to exercise power over its buyers. Amazon's search results push down the best deals on the platform and promote results from more expensive, lower-quality items whose sellers have paid a fortune for an "ad" (not really an ad, but rather the top spot in search listings):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

This is "Amazon's pricing paradox." Amazon can claim that it offers low-priced, high-quality goods on the platform, but it makes $38b/year pushing those good deals way, way down in its search results. The top result for your Amazon search averages 29% more expensive than the best deal Amazon offers. Buy something from those first four spots and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average, you need to pick the seventeenth item on the search results page to get the best deal:

https://scholarship.law.bu.edu/faculty_scholarship/3645/

For 40 years, pro-monopoly economists claimed that it would be impossible for Amazon to attain monopoly power over buyers and sellers. Today, Amazon exercises that power so thoroughly that its junk-fee revenues alone exceed the total revenues of Bank of America. Amazon's story – that these fees barely stretch to covering its costs – assumes a nearly inconceivable level of credulity in its audience. Regrettably – for the human race – there is a cohort of senior, highly respected economists who possess this degree of credulity and more.

Of course, there's an easy way to settle the argument: Amazon could just comply with SEC regs and break out its P&L for its e-commerce operation. I assure you, they're not hiding this data because they think you'll be pleasantly surprised when they do and they don't want to spoil the moment.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

Image: Doc Searls (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/docsearls/4863121221/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[cloveroctobers]

one of these — 3. Alex Cross [Winter Prompts]

A/N: Where is the content for Aldis period?!!! I’ve been waiting since underground (2016) Him and Edwin will always be appreciated around here! Anyways I’m here with some fluff because it’s already winter in my mind and that’s usually what I try to write more of during this festive yet ugly cold weather. Enjoy some sweetness and foolishness? 🤍

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Snow down the back of the neck, 1. forced to plan and execute a Christmas feast.

WARNINGS: language, stress of the holidays, & fluff.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

A soft sigh of satisfaction falls past your lips just as you’re closing your famous pot roast into the oven to do its thing for the next few hours. Your balled fists go to your hips as you stand up straight in front of the closed oven, a small smile playing on them before it’s wiped right off.

It’s a biting cold sensation, wet and slushy as it’s drips down the back of your neck and rolls beneath the collar of your house coat. Hissing you whip your body around, hand reaching up to wipe off the remains of the snow racing to get down your spine. You’re half expecting it to be the kids who did this accidentally but the deep chuckle of laughter brings a glare to your face.

“Alex, You play too much!” You hold the back of your neck, trying to wipe it dry with the cotton of the robe.

The man is pulling off his insulated gloves, white teeth gleaming against the contrast of his pretty umber skin, “Mornin’ baby. I’d say I don’t play enough since you volunteered my services to that boiled egg head motherfucker across the street…when you know I don’t like that man.”

You huff, tugging the ends of your silk bonnet over your kitchen, double-checking to make sure none of the snow touched that area because if it did? Your fiancé just might have to be worried about getting ran over by you instead of the reindeer. “See…if you would have just asked before you gave attitude and walked off, you would have known that it was nana mama who did that, not me.”

Alex blinks with a raise of his brows, “Now why would she do that?”

“She’s friendly with the guy,” you shrug, “She’s even invited him over to the big feast later on.”

“Oh hell naw.” Alex frowns with a shake of his head, “It’s bad enough I had to listen to how cheap he is about not calling a snow company when he’s got benefits as a vet. Not only that, his lonely ass talks a lot of shit and dont nobody want to hear that in their own home.”

You scoff, “Well good luck telling nana mama that. Also you can’t just uninvite someone���especially on Christmas.”

Alex quickly titled his head, “We didn’t though and that’s nana mama’s problem.”

It was your turn to raise your brows, “It’s gonna be your problem if you don’t approach it right when you’re speaking to her.” You point the kitchen knife at the taller man who stares blankly at the utensil before you turn to place it into the sink, “Also you owe me an apology for assuming.”

Alex lets out a dramatic sigh as he stomps over to you, arms locking across your shoulders as he brought his lips to your ear, “I’m sorry for doing you like that. Yet…I’ve never seen you jump that high since that one time you thought you saw a mouse but it was nana mama’s wig.”

Your elbow goes right into his ribcage, making him groan and loosen his grip on you, followed by a cough of laughter. “You think you’re so funny but you and I both know that I lost my contacts that day. And clearly you lost your mind trying to mess with me when we’re being forced to do this feast.”

“Aw c’mon…I thought it would get a laugh outta you…and originally to get my lick back,” Alex admits with his hand resting on the side of the top of his torso while you simply roll your eyes but would later appreciate the honesty. The bearded man reaches out to you again, hands fighting to intertwine with yours as he starts to sing off key, “So shouldn't I realize, You're the highest of the high. If you don't know, then I'll say it, So don't ever wonder.”

It’s your turn to groan as Alex brings his cool lips to the warmth of your neck, placing a kiss there after trying to woo you with his terrible singing. That was one of his favorite tunes to sing to you and thankfully he hasn’t had any of that brown liquor or else this would be ten times worse.

When Alex is peppering your face with kisses, trying to sway you into his arms, your resolve breaks some despite you still trying to push him off of you. Being in his embrace was one of your favorite places to be, especially when it took time for you two to get here. Alex was big on physical touch. It all started out as nothing, meeting him at DC’s staple spot, Ben’s Chili bowl, with John before it actually turned into something. You weren’t necessarily in the streets or looking to date someone with kids, initially you were just open to keeping things casual and Alex was still healing with the tragic passing of his late wife.

It took work, the both of you had walls up but it’s been awhile since someone showed you that they were deserving of your time. Alex just loved to learn that he was running through your mind all day—his words of course—and had no issue putting the work in once he realized he was able to love again. You gave this a chance—although leery at the beginning—because you saw the good in Alex Cross. Saw his heart for what it is and finding that you liked being able to be part of it.

He shows you everyday why you should be…even if he had to get a little vengeful by putting some snow on you for something you didn’t do but that will be dealt with.

“I bought you something,” Alex says pulling his chin from on top of your bonnet and digging into his jacket pocket, “If you were wondering what was taking me longer than usual to get back…I snuck out to your spot, waited in line a little bit to get those peppermint bark cookies and those nasty ass gingerbread cookies for the kids too.”

You actually spot the smiley brown cookies, after peering around Alex’s taller frame, resting on the island counter.

A grin finds its way to your face as Alex holds out the wrapped dessert in festive paper and red ribbon to you. Christmas was always your favorite holiday and you raved about these cookies last night in bed saying that they would give you strength to do this large feast. It was all nana mama’s idea since you know, church folk like to get to talking but act like they don’t.

It’s not like the older woman ever needed to find something to talk about but she didn’t appreciate the ladies hinting that her own household couldn’t get down in the kitchen. Christmas Eve was spent at the church for a couple of hours and then Christmas Day was supposed to be a little more smoother where everyone did their own thing in their own homes but this year just had to be different.

Alex finds himself grinning too, watching the custom Pearl and oval engagement ring (which was given to you six months ago) glimmer against your finger as you plucked the cookies from his grasp. You’re making quick work unraveling the cherry and mistletoe decorated paper to take a bite of the peppermint cookies and hum.

“How is it?” Alex questions, already taking the hint at the sight of your eyes closing, “Everything it’s cracked up to be?”

Opening your eyes you nod, “Better than last years.”

“I think that’s just the baby talking,” Alex smirks as his hands go to your hips, softly running his thumbs against your sides.

You scoff, “You’re acting as if I’m deep into this pregnancy.”

You actually weren’t that far along into your second trimester. It wasn’t ideal being pregnant during your wedding so you were absolutely okay with pushing the date back to 2026, enjoying your timeline together the way it needs to be on your shared terms.

“I mean—

“Don’t start, Alex. You’re already on thin got damn ice.” You warn, pointing a finger at him.

He laughs, “Not snow?”

You’re shoving him out the way but he easily moves with you, still laughing.

He dips his head, “Can I get a bite, though?”

“Of this ass.” You flick your hand making Alex frown.

“…That’s not the insult you think it is.” He comments, hands shifting to grip your backside.

Rolling your eyes at his grinning and kissing the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, he lets you go just as you say, “John-Sam said don’t forget the smoked ham hocks for the greens.”

Alex whips his head to look at you, “Huh?”

“Yup.” You sigh, already knowing where this was going but decided to shift the conversation, “Can you take out the glazed ham nana mama made and set it aside so we can warm it back up in the oven once the roast is finished? My back’s a little achy today.”

Alex nods letting you know he’s heard that part, “Yeah of course, you should relax and let me handle everything else…but let’s run that back. I was making the black eyed peas since John deliberately left the greens yesterday and we had to settle for Kayla’s fuck ass green bean casserole.”

You can’t help but to snicker at that.

You were still shocked that John actually brought Kayla to dinner, although you figured out what was going on before John even told Alex. It just seemed like a fling to you but you honestly didn’t think Kayla was John’s type for the time that you got to know him but you minded your business.

Shrugging you say, “I don’t know. He texted saying something came up but he would still be here tonight.”

Alex is shaking his head, palms resting on the counter in annoyance, “What does that mean? If it was already made then why would I have to prepare the whole dish? Who am I, Anthony Hamilton all of a sudden? John’s the main one who claims he makes the best greens when we know that’s a lie! It’s solid but…This motherfucker right here.” He scowls.

“Okay,” you say around a bubble of laughter, “you got one more M-FER to drop before you owe some coin to the Samuel L. Jackson jar.”

Alex scoffs as you rest your hand on top of his, “It’s fine. You’ve pulled off a lot in shorter amount of time. It’s about to be eight, you can do this.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to.” Alex mumbles, “Now I got to go downstairs and get them from the deep freezer. They’re about to stink up the whole house while I clean and soak em. I wasn’t trying to get into that today. Something simple, mostly leftovers. The sisters won’t even know the difference. I should call John up right now—

“Nope,” you say, “You’re supposed to be on your best behavior.”

He side eyes you, “Says who?”

“I do. Baby does. Nana mama and the kiddies.” You reply listing off all the people he deeply loved as you step back from the counter, “…And just look it at as payback for attacking your pregnant wife to be. See how the lord works in mysterious ways? God don’t like ugly.”

Alex’s round eyes were almost buldging in annoyance as you fight back laughter, taking another bite of the cookie and chewing smugly. “The only ugly motherfucker I know is John.”

“You’re wrong for that and that’s not correct.”

“Hold up, Whatchu say?” Alex’s stepping towards you now as you laugh, escaping the kitchen.

Alex shakes his head in annoyance as he tosses his head back, staring up at the ceiling before deciding to let out some laughter but mostly in disbelief. He catches you around the corner, peeking around the fridge. He raises his brows in question at you regardless of how cute you appeared.

“I love you.”

Which almost instantly melts his irritation away, “I love you too, baby.”

“Be good.” You lightly warn, “Help yourself to a cookie.”

“…Which one’s?” He smirks after glancing away from the desserts and eyeing you up and down.

“Bye Alex!” You scoff, disappearing from his sight.

The both of you end up mirroring similar smiles on different sides of the house.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Continue with my winter anthology prompts here.

[campbellthompsonwrites]

The Trilogy is now complete!!!

Launch Date 1st March for Crosshairs!!

Kindle edition available for pre-order:

UK link to kindle store: https://amzn.eu/d/bVxeiR8

US link to kindle store: https://a.co/d/g2UmIvk

Paperback will be available from 1st March (you can't pre-order the paperback). Apologies for the price of the paperback... I make very little money off it, it's all amazon and print costs.... my advice, buy the digital version (or get Kindle Unlimited where you can download it for free).

[r0semultiverse]

Y’all are aware we probably have to keep it in the top 10 overall into at least the 19th right? One business day after initial intended marketed advertised release supposedly. Then we should be good unless Mark says otherwise.

[speedygal]

Aldis Hodge as 'ALEX CROSS' in Amazon Prime's 'Cross'

[luckydiorxoxo]

[paprikaries]

"I put a spell on you" _ sketch wip Fanart: Alastor the radio demon (hazbin hotel by spindlehorse studio/Vivziepop/Amazon) So... I found the dolldivine Sailor Moon dress up game. And I couldn't resist! Now this is my canon explanation about why Alastor was missed in episode 4.

[pier-carlo-universe]

Nel primo volume della serie Bree Taggert, Melinda Leigh firma un thriller potente e personale, dove l’indagine diventa un viaggio nella memoria. Scopri di più su Alessandria today.

[katurdayss]

i don't know if anyone is watching Cross, but Isaiah Mustafa busting through the window to DMX's X Gon' Give It To Ya is fucking amazing *chefs kiss*

[tiajk]

Amazon reader (cross guild version)

images from @charliethechandelure

warnings: Buggy being bullied, strong amazon reader, fem! reader

A/n: this made me jump up in joy

tagged: @0alk0msan

masterlist

– They’re all down bad for you as much as they are for each other

– Mihawk thinks your skills with swordsmanship him and zoro are exactly the same

– Buggy wants you to be in one of his acts but you kindly let him know that your not really interested in the circus

– Your the sweetest to buggy sure crocodile and mihawk are nice to him in there own way but he needs actual plain and have someone to be able to confide in

– so with that buddy gets daily hugs from you and when you compliment him and he thinks your lying you use your lasso of truth to assure him that you would never lie to him

– Crocodile has to warm up to you at first he’s a bit hesitant about a strong person like you because he js has trust issues

– They all love that they have you as a friends bc they’ve seen you in battle and your pertrafrying to them when you upset or angry

— if you somehow have interactions with the straw hats with them (you do) they aren’t surprised but there surprised that you keep in contact with them still

— crocodile definitely calls you princess all the time because of who you are and your position

— Buggy does appreciate your honesty with everything he’s happy that your not mean to him and saves him whenever crocodile and mihawk bully him like a child

— Crocodile does doesn’t like when you always have water on you so that you can hug him

— Mihawk does challenge you sometimes only for training purposes when you beat him he’s astonished but also turned on slightly

— When they all learn your not just a normal amazon but the princess of thyemiscira they kinda freak out

— Crocodile will go calling you princess no matter what

— Mihawk doesn’t really have an reaction to you being princess but he does respect you more from it

— Buggy oml he’s fascinated mostly because of the treasure. ur when you tell him that he won’t be able to find your home because it’s hidden he gets sad but gets over it because he has you

— I cannon that you would be a warlord but if your not then thats cool too

— they definitely use you as scary dog privilege and when i mean they i mean buggy he can fight but he likes having someone else do it for him

— But in the end they love you and you love them

[soft-persephone]

Something Real

MDNI // E // WC: 9.5k // smut, oral (w receiving), glove kink?, hand kink if you squint, John talks you through it // masterlist // rough drafts // AN: I had a time getting this one started, but as hard as it was, I also had fun and I may make it a series. Who knows?

Imani rushed down the block, flying past the few pedestrians that were up at this particular twilight of dawn. 

Raw adrenaline coursed through her veins as each leg collided with the concrete below her feet, jolting her with such force to her goal. 

She snuck a glance behind her to see he was getting closer.

Fuck. 

He was catching up with her. She couldn’t let him get any closer. Barely a minute ago he was nowhere in sight and now he was gaining up on her.

Diggin deep within herself, Imani mustered up whatever strength she could find in her body, grunting with force, she somehow gained speed. 

You train for this, she told herself. This is what you do, its who you are, no random fucker on the street is going to take that away from you. You were going to live and you were going to win. 

Just a few more seconds and she’d be at her shop, and she could finally escape. She would win and be free.

“Aye!” from the corner of her eye, Imani saw a blur of black wool rush past her to who was behind her.

What the?

Another man was rushing towards her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t, but he was just as fast, going step for step with her. 

He slowed down when she did, reaching out to grab her, by the shoulders. Instead of her usual sloppy slow down, she collided face first into his chest.

“It's okay now.” his velvet tone flooded her senses, “you don’t need to keep running. We got him.”

Oh God.

Imani frantically tapped at his chest with the palm of her hand when she saw his friend in the dark wool coat handcuff the man running after her.

“N-n ugh- no.” she gasped for air, half choking when she couldn’t breathe in enough, “no.”

“Alex!” Elle waved him down, quickly shifting her attention once he started to jog over, “NO!”

“What do you mean, no?” Alex huffed shortly, the condensation of his breath filling the space between them as he shoved the man to the side, so he wouldn’t be near her, but he could still hold onto him. “We arrived here, just to see this man chasing a woman who looked scared out of her mind. We can ask him questions once we get downtown.”

“A race!” Elle explained, as she turned her phone around, so he could see she was livestreaming on instagram, “she was scared of losing a footrace.”

“A footrace?” The man holding Imani scrunched his face as he held her back some to look at hers. She nodded, her chest still falling up and down.

“I wasn't doing nothing!” The man finally spoke up for himself. “It's just a thing  Citrusly does.” He huffed, shaking his head, “you beat the owner in a footrace, you get free drinks for a month. She’s only here Tuesday morning’s  5am to 6am for it.”

Imani felt like she could breathe a little better once Alex uncuffed the man.

Alex’s expression shifted to something more guarded, but not quite pleased or relieved, slightly sorry, but only slightly. He uncuffed the man and pushed him. 

“Get out of here.”

“Fucking cops.” the man muttered, brushing off his clothes.

“I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” Imani put her hand on his shoulder, looking him over as she would have done if the situation was dangerous, which it was not, but she had a business to run, and right now there were lots of phones recording them.

“I’m fine now.” He beamed at her. His body language shifting. 

“That's good.” she squeezed his shoulder lightly, giving him a polite smile, praying it didn't give him any ideas, “because accidental arrest or not, I still won, so you don't get the one month discount.’

“Mani!” Elle scolded her, but she ignored it. 

“Are you kidding! I totally would have had it, if that man didn't tackle me!”

“He tackled you three steps away from the shop door.” You pointed at Alex’s cop accomplice, “this man didn't grab me until I stopped running which was at the shop door.” she waved her hands up as she finished proving her point, “You lost.”

The onlookers cheered and laughed, some going back inside and others going on about their day as she attempted to console a sore loser.

“Tell you what,” Imani put her hands together in front of her, “As an apology, because of my friend’s actions, I’ll give you a drink and a pastry today for free, on me.”

The man, Donnie, she just learned his name was, nodded. He had a sweet smile that went well with his light brown eyes and freckled face, a few spots on his cheeks much whiter than the rest of him. You would have been all over him in high school, but right now, you weren’t  so sure if you were up for anything with anyone.

“I’d really like it if I could also get,--”

“No more no less.” Imani interrupted with a playful smirk and a laugh. “That’s my final offer.” she licked her lips, ignoring how his eyes followed the movement. “Take it or leave it.”

She bounced back and forth on her heels, laughing softly and averting her gaze at Elle who looked at her like a disappointed mother. She ignored the smirk on Alex’s face and the coy look on his friend’s

“Alright.” Donnie relented, even taking a step back. When did he even get so close? She wondered. How did she let that happen? “But I'm challenging you again next Tuesday!” he pointed at her, smiling.

“I’ll always be here.” Imani opened the door for him and waved him off with one more smile. 

“Damn,” a rich voice called behind her as the door was taken out of her grasp and swung open wider, “mm mm mm, that was cold blooded.”

Imani huffed through her nose, praying she didn’t jump from how he startled her. 

“Right,” Alex chuckled, pushing past her in the shop. 

“Tell me what you’ll say if the same person asks you out on the same day every week, but you keep giving the same answer each time, and they can’t take the hint.

Imani shook her head and made her way behind the counter to make everyone's usual.

“Every Tuesday?” Officer stranger asked.

“And Mani’s too stubborn to actually say yes.” Elle Huffed, “He’s nic–”

Imani took the opportunity to raise the pressure of the steam wand to cut her off, blowing  a cloud in front of her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

“I’m not falling fo–”

Imani did it again. 

“Will you–”

She did it again, but this time only for a second the sound getting softer as she gently changes the texture of the milk to something silky and smooth.

“Sorry, I was actually making a drink  that time.” 

Imani placed it  in front of her. “This one’s yours.”

“Giving her a look, Elle took her drink and left to go to the usual table. Before she could ask Alex’s friend what he wanted, he was already following her.

“Does he—“ Imani turned to Alex.

“He will eat and drink anything you put in front of him," Alex deadpanned with a hint of a grin. “He greedy as hell.”

Imani will always love her best friend Elle, but she was doing the absolute most, and so was Alex.

She  and her friend have been close since college. Truly the sister she’s  always wanted, so when she finally got the guy she’s been obsessed with since high school, it sucked that they didn’t get to spend as much time together as they used to, but Imani was a big girl, and she knows she can handle not being first in line anymore. 

She’ll settle for two.

But right now, number two was confused on why it was so important for them to meet the best friend, that was more of a brother, to the new number one, the man her best friend was dating. 

“Just to be clear, I’m not the one in a relationship with Alex, right?”

“Mani!” Elle warned through gritted teeth. 

Imani raised her hands, backing off. 

“You are my family and you’re important to me,” Elle put a hand on Imani’s shoulder, “just like John is to Alex.”

Imani wanted to fold in on herself. 

She looked up at the ceiling to avoid Elle’s gaze.

“And as your family, I’d like to know where you have been in the last week. You weren’t answering  your phone and no one had seen you anywhere. Is it because of what comes up in two days?”

“No, I’m fine.” Imani shook her head,” I just needed some time alone with my thoughts. Is it healthy, probably not, but I know what I want, and I just needed to take that time.”

“So you're okay?” Elle asked softly. 

“I was in my apartment. I just chose not to pick up any calls.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and averted her gaze from everyone for a moment. They were all looking at her now, and she didn’t even know what else to say. 

Fuck, Elle for doing this to her. 

“Okay.” Imani hoped it didn’t come off as short as it sounded to her. All she could feel was her face burning and her ears muffling everything from how hot her head was getting. She shrugged off her jacket for good measure and took a large sip of her drink. 

“John,” he held out his hand, breaking the ice first, “Sampson.” He said as she shook it. 

“Imani.” She half smirked and  waved a hand in an obvious gesture, since Elle has done nothing but call it out every five seconds. 

“You have a last name, Imani.”

“Nope.”  She said, popping the p.

“It’s Lounds.”

“Like The Lounds Enterprise Lounds?” He raised an eyebrow. 

Imani smacked her teeth and leaned back, crossing her arms. 

“Now why’d you have to go and tell him.”

“So you’re his semi-estranged daughter he doesn’t like talking about.” 

“We’re not estranged.” She huffed, “I just make my own money.”

“And how’s that working out?” he chided. 

“John, don't start with her. Once she gets started, she won’t stop.” Elle smiled as she gave her input, failing to hide her smile as she did. Not quite a master at 

“Good.” Imani beamed, grabbing a cinnamon roll and picking it apart as she ate it.

“Aye,” Alex frowned, “you're wasting a perfectly good common roll.”

“It's a habit,” Imani said with her mouth half full, “it’s a test for texture. Jimmy taught me. I've been doing it all week and now, whenever I eat a pastry, I pull it apart .

Imani talked on, going into detail about texture and doughs and mouth feel as she watched John grab a muffin. 

Interesting. 

She laid out an assortment, just like she did when she met Alex here the first time. Who had a knack for picking out which one was the sweetest just by looking at it. 

Muffins could be sweet but they weren’t sweet like other things. He must be normal about them unlike his friend.

“Slow down Sugar,” John brushed his hands of crumbs, “it ain’t going nowhere.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“It’s a nickname.” Elle mused.

“Sweet tooth.” Was all Alex said, focused on getting the rest of the cinnamon roll in his mouth. 

Well that explains it. 

“Why are you dressed like a  Gangbanger from LA?” The John Sampson asks.

Imani looked down at her clothes, picking at the fabric of her Dickies jacket and pulling the oversized sleeves over her hands. 

“They were Deonte’s.” She licked her lips before smiling slowly. “He was from LA and he did live that type of life at some point, but I- I think something happened and he used the last of his money to fly out here,” her chest used to feel tight when she talked about him. It used to make her shake and take her breath away, but now. . . not so much, “so he was uh- I think that’s why he was homeless when I met him.” She nodded, feeling like that was enough for now. 

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay,” Imani smiled softly, “I like talking about him.” She said in a half whisper, thinking of her long lost friend. 

No one said anything so she felt the need to interject, or rather Alex and Elle had heard all this stuff before, but the opportunity to show someone else Deonte as she  knew him, to share who he really was with anyone who listened, she’ll never pass that up. 

“He left all that behind once he got here, I helped him get on his feet. . . let him stay with me. . .save up for a new place, but there wasn’t any need for that. We got so close and the housing market was shit, so I. . .  somehow, convinced him to stay with me.” She gently cleared her throat, “for good I think.”

“That’s when he started the nonprofit with you?” John graveled, his  interjection startled her. She blinked at him for a moment, remembering she had an audience. 

“Y-yeah.” She smiled. “How’d you know that?” She leaned forward, but kept her hands in the sleeves of the too big jacket, “people don’t usually know that.”

“I make it a habit to keep up with things that benefit my community.” he took a non communal sip of his drink before tilting his head and squinting at it with a low short hum, “ You two did good work.” he shifted his attention back to her, “  You,  do good work.” 

Imani’s shoulders fell with a tension she didn't know was there. His dark eyes reflected a glimmer of. . Joy? A sort of complement of  reverence she didn’t quite understand. 

She searched his eyes, the feeling overwhelmed her, but she let it. She couldn’t stop the way she held his gaze and searched for more, eagerly taking as much as she could get in that moment, but then she realized what it was. 

He was proud of her, of Deonte and the work they did together, and the work she kept doing after his death. 

A feeling her father long since neglected to give her. A feeling she forgot she used to devote herself to once she removed herself from her father’s influence. 

“You don’t like saying thank you either, Imani?”

She inhaled sharply, leaning back in her seat. 

“I- I uh.” 

“Most people say thank you when they get a compliment.” He said casually, but there was something in the inflictions of his voice. How the colors of his tone would sway and flow across a spectrum like a musical scale. Going from something light, casually rich, and pleasant to something low and imposing. 

A skill she’s sure he’s picked up to properly reprimand and deal with the criminals he may catch, his less than agreeable coworkers who had reservations about black people and what they should and shouldn’t be doing in America, but she was no criminal, there was no danger, and she decently wasn’t a racist pig. 

So why use it so flippantly?

Her mind felt foggy, but she knew not to ask.

“Say thank you.” He took a sip of his coffee. Imani watched him intently, confused in her sudden stupor, her eyes following the micro expressions on his face, his hand, soaking in the way the leather of his gloves creaked and strained as he moved. How his tongue darted to reach  the foam of  the latte that settled on the hairs of his upper lip, catching in his beard. 

“Thank. . . You.” She averted her gaze, ignoring how tightly her legs were pressed together. 

“Leave that girl alone.” Alex drawled, breaking the spell, “she’s trying to have a heartwarming vulnerable moment and you keep messing with her.”

John rolled his eyes. 

“And you need to take some notes, so you can learn to do the same instead of bottling everything up until you explode, motherfucker.” 

Imani winced and let out an “ooh.”

“You gon’ let them gang up on me like that?” He glanced at Elle in mock offense.

“He’s right though.” She took a conspicuous sip of her drink. 

“Don’t do him like that,” Imani fiddled with the hem or her sleeve, feeling normal and letting her hands out of the jacket, “everyone grieves differently.”

“Exactly,” Alex held out his hand in a fist, not putting it down until she bumped it, “unh, that’s what I’m talking about. We gotta stick together.” 

 “Stick together as what?” John smacked his teeth. 

“Dead partner club.” Alex said matter of factly. 

Imani nodded in agreement. 

“I grieve different.” She said in a partially nasally tone and pitched her voice lower. “Huh.” 

“What?” Elle looked at Imani as if she was being an embarrassment, again.

“None of y’all listen to Kendrick?” Imani shrugged back.

“Is that hat an artist of some kind? Is he one of the rappers you like to listen to?”

“Elle, do not play with me,” Imani bristled. Because they’ve been friends for how long? And she still wants to act  brand new whenever she brings up the goat.

“See, this is why Jannie thinks you’re old and I’m not.”

Alex bit back a laugh, but John let it fly, not having to worry.

Elle shook her head, not taking the bait because they were in mixed company, but if it was only the two of you, she would have definitely taken it there. 

“Anyways,” she said pointedly, “I need a favor.”

Imani laughed through her nose. 

“Shoot.” was all she said, Elle already knew she’d do anything for her. 

“I need you to accept your invitation to Jonesy’s  dinner party with me and—“

“Ugh,” Amani loudly scoffed and downed the rest of her drink. Grabbing her water and refusing to look up at Elle, “anything but that, Please.”

“It’s just for one night.” She urged, there will be lots of amazing people and you’ll even find more donors for your organization. It’ll be amazing event for networking.”

“Okay,” Imani frowned, “fine fine fine.” She kept saying until Elle stopped talking. “I don’t care. I’ll just go.”

This was more than a hopeful answer for her. Ellle softly squealed. 

“You’ll like this one. I promise.”

“Please don’t,” Imani scoffed into her drink, “I don’t want you to be known as a liar off something like that.”

“I think that’s our cue to go to work.” John downed the rest of his coffee and tapped Alex on the shoulder.

As Alex bundled back up and kissed Elle goodbye. 

Imani watched as John stood and fastened his coat. 

“Are you okay?” Elle brought her out of her daze. They were long gone and out the door but she was still looking out, “You seem out of it today?”

“Y-yeah,” Imani muttered into her glass of water, “just thinking about Deonte.” 

________

Fuck. Imani cursed to herself. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

She paced back and forth on the sidewalk. 

She hoped  her eyes weren’t too red. It was a bit ago and it took her a while to get here, so maybe it’ll wear off before dinner starts. She just needed to get over it by then. 

Her usual stuff was gone and she frantically kept calling her main guy until he was able to come through, but he had everything but what she usually buys from him. 

Going against her better judgment, she settled for what he had and it was way too strong and it felt way too different, and now everyone was going to know she was high and she’ll embarrass herself, and they’ll hate her forever. Then Elle wouldn’t  want to be her friend anymore, and her Dad will find out, and he’ll cut her out of his life and from the family forever. 

“Fuck!” She shouted into the night air, searching for some reprieve. 

“Mani?” 

“Oh,” she softened some at the sight of her friend, “hey.”

“Are you alright? I brought the gummies you left at my house.”

Oh right. 

She did ask for Elle to bring it. That’s where it was. 

But it was too late. She was already on some other stuff and she had to smoke it and worry that none of it stuck to her skin. 

“No, I’ll be alright without it, but thanks.” She took it and hid it in her purse, and that’s when she saw the little baggie of pills.

Fuck, she was screwed. 

In addition to T seeing her have a mini panic attack he have her the pills free of charge, insinuating she take them. 

“They’re real anxiety pills and shit. People use ‘em just to feel good, but you may want to see a Dr to actually get them prescribed. Let me know if you need something stronger or not as strong, and I’ll hook you up. Take care of yourself.”

Imani closed her purse. 

She’ll just wait until the weed wore off and she wasn’t high to take one, she might not even need it at that point. 

“Imani, let’s get out the cold and inside already.”

Huh?

Imani blinked. 

Alex and Elle were giving her odd looks at the door. 

“Sorry, I zoned out.”

She followed them. 

She needed to pull herself together. She’ll get busted at any point if she keeps this up.

“You guys made it!” Jonesy kissed her and Elle on the cheek. Alex held out a hand for him to shake, but Jonesy pushed his hand away, going straight for the hug. 

“Oh we know each other better than that, Alex.”

“Uh, yeah.” Alex patted Jonesy on the shoulder, politely putting an appropriate amount of space between them. 

“Your coats can go in this closet here.” Jonesy pointed, “Make yourselves comfortable. You all know your way around the place.” He flashed them with a smile and a slight wave, “I’ll let everyone know when dinner is ready.”

“WOW, you look gorgeous Imani!”

“Thank you.” Imani pretended to be flattered by the backhanded compliment. 

Since Deonte’s death she’s developed a nasty habit of wearing his clothes and adopting a lot of his personal style into hers. The extravagant more feminine outfits or even her own particular  style of streetwear was seen less and she wore more dickies and carhartt than anyone in her old circle  had ever seen in their life. 

“Are you planning on returning to the court anytime soon?”

“No, I left my tennis days behind me, I fear.” She chuckled lightly and moved on, making sure not to be rude.

Five more interactions and twice as many more comments about her long silky dress that hugged her curves and how the color complimented her skin, Imani felt like she had a little more control of her senses. A sense of herself had begun to return to her.

“Come here.” A velvety low voice resounded in Imani’s head, and a hand firmly grabbed her and dragged her into a half hallway half corner. 

Was that God? Some sort of Angel punishing her for everyone to see, making her an example of his divine punishment?

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Imani gasped  half a beat after he spoke, her eyes widening as she came face to face with John. 

He grabbed her face in one hand, his thumb and forefingers  slightly digging into her cheek as he moved her face up, down, and side to side. 

“Weed.” She managed to squeak through her squished lips. 

“You sure it’s just that?” He let her go, pulling up a little baggie in front of her face. 

“H-how did you?” 

“Don’t worry about that.’ He steeled. “Answer my question.”

Imani blinked, piecing together her thoughts to remember what the question was again. 

“I’m fi—“

“— no you’re not. Your friend asks you to come somewhere as a favor and you decide that’s the perfect time to get high.”

“That’s not it.” Imani hissed. “Let me answer.”

He held her gaze, but shut up. 

Good. 

“I smoke to take the edge off of being here, not to be out of it completely. Although sometimes, you do need to get that high.” She ignored the disapproval on his face and continued, “I left my usual stuff at Elle’s, so I made a quick irrational decision to take something  else, even though I knew it wasn’t going to go well because I refuse to be  here sober.”

“Doesn’t explain these pills.”

“They're back up—“

“They’re a crime.” Imani flinched at the bite in his voice. “I could arrest you just for having these. You already admitted they were yours.” 

“I just—“

“John, you made it!” Elle’s warm soft voice filtered out between them. 

“This is why we don’t bring you nowhere. Can’t show up anywhere on time. Don’t take your coat off and shit.” Alex shook his head, saying the last part lowly so no one around them could hear. 

John didn’t spare them any pleasantries and Imani must have looked as panicked as she felt, so much for being discreet. 

“What’s going on here?” Alex's expression fell, his brows drawing close and his mouth falling shut into a firm line to match John’s.

John silently flashed the bag of pills before stuffing them back in his pocket. 

“Your friend is high, out of her mind.”

“Is that why you said you didn’t need the gummies?” Elle turned to look her in the eye, but Imani turned, not wanting her to see the look on her face. But Elle stepped closer, gently grabbing her shoulders. 

Imani kept her gaze cast to the side. 

“Mani,” Elle whispered, “what did you do?”

“I called Tony and he didn't have what I wanted, so I had to take what he had and then he recommended these pills  he said  they was for anxiety or something like that because apparently he thinks I have it or that something’s wrong with me  and offered to be my unofficially psychiatrist or some  shit but then advised I see a real one if I took these and felt like they helped but I wasn’t going to take them unless the weed didn’t work which it isn’t so once it wears off I’m taking them but I can’t now because he took them so I—“

“Mani, breathe.” She sighed. 

 Imani hated that sound, and she  hated the look on her friends’ face even more. . 

“I’m sorry.” It spilled out of her mouth. “I just wanted to feel comfortable in my skin. I didn’t want to be here.  I just want. . . I hate how they look at me.”

“It’s okay, Imani.” With a tissue, she didn’t see her pull out her purse, Elle dabbed at the tears she wasn’t aware of, “let’s just get through tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” Imani urged, desperate to show her sincerity. . Her mind not letting her come up with anything more thought out, everything she was feeling felt messier and harder to describe. 

“I know, I know.”  Elle cupped both sides of Imani’s face and brought her forehead to hers. 

“Let’s talk tomorrow okay.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and Imani gave her one back on hers. “No excuses, Elle added.” A smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“If I have to hurt Jimmy to make time for you to be with me this week , don’t get mad at me for it.” Imani smiled back. 

“And I won’t.”

Imani nodded, for some reason feeling better.

John didn’t look like he approved any more or less, and Alex’s face seemed unreadable to her. 

“Can I have my drugs back?”

“No.” John said seriously without missing a beat.

Imani rushed to him and pulled at the front of his shirt. 

“You can keep the pills. I just need the other stuff that’s in there.”

If she remembered correctly, there might have been some shrooms and a bit of weed left.

He pried her hands off his chest.  

“Are you seriously asking a cop if you can have your illegal substances back?”

“No, I'm asking a cop if I can have the  legal substances back that happen to be in the bag with the illegal ones.”

“You mean you’re illegal ones.”

“Please.” She stepped into his personal space and rested  her chin on his chest, craning her neck up as she did so she could look him in the eye.”Please can I just have the mushrooms back?”

“Oh just the mushrooms?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes!” Imani leaned back from him. Happily grabbing at his arms as they rested at his sides. 

“Well I’m that case,” He started to move  his hand  and Imani immediately stepped back to accommodate him,” no.” He shrugged his coat off his shoulders and straightened his blazer on his body. 

“John, don't antagonize her.” Elle lightly chided.

Alex nodded in agreement. A hint of amusement in his eyes. “Elle’s right, don’t antagonize her John.”

Imani slumped forward, letting her cheek rest on his chest as she pouted.

“What are you doing?” John said, too exasperated to even let out a sigh, ignoring both  Alex and Elle.

 His display of emotion was a delightful anomaly to Imani. How could he look so upset but nonchalant at the same time? 

“I’m not moving until you give them back.” She huffed through her nose.

“Then I guess we better get comfortable.” He murmured in a low peeved voice, flooding her senses with its bass and depth. She could listen to him speak forever. 

“Mani, no.” Elle hissed. “Get off him.”

“He has my drug—“

Alex lowered himself so he was at her level and could get in her face. “Get. Up.” He said through gritted teeth, his tone sending a chill down her spine.  

Imani  rose to stand straight, but she was not happy about it. 

He didn’t  leave her any room. She tried to step past him, but he took one forceful step forward, backing her into John’s chest. 

“Act like you have some sense.” He pointed in her  face. 

“No one told you to do these drugs and no one told you to bring them here. Be grateful John, or me, isn't  arresting you in front of your friends and dragging  you out that door.”

“I—“

He  wordlessly gave her a look, daring her to speak and interrupt him.

Imani shut her mouth.

“If you’ll do what I say, then you’ll do what he says, do you understand me?”

Imani nodded silently, not wishing to provoke him further. 

He patted her cheek and then backed up to take his place by Elle’s side. 

“You aren’t my fucking Dad.” She muttered under her breath. 

“What was that?”

“I said you aren’t my—“ 

“Dinner is ready!” Jonesy popped around the corner with a smile. 

On instinct, Imani plastered a smile on her face and shifted her body language to something casual that suggested polite conversation. 

“Thank you, we’ll be right there.” She slightly bowed her head. 

“Oh,” Jonesy paused, his brows raising, “when did you and John get so close?”

Imani was no longer resting onto his chest, but she hadn’t removed herself from his personal space. While she would no longer lay on him as he stood, she settled for resting her hands on his lower half, close to his pockets. 

She’s been attempting to ease them in his pocket and take her drugs out, but he either smacks her hand away or grabs it before squeezing very tightly until tears pricked her eyes, so she just kept them there in case there was a small window he wouldn’t notice her hand slipping into his pocket again. 

“We haven’t.” Was all Imani said, her smile unwavering. 

Adding to her amusement, John stayed silent behind her. 

She watched out the corner of her eye, as he discretely moved the bag from his pants pocket to the one  inside his jacket. 

Fuck. 

There goes plan A.

“Everyone to their seats.” Jonesy declared loudly, his voice filling the room before scurrying off with a terribly concealed grin. 

Imani was very familiar with dinner parties at Jonesy’s house. He was a stickler for order and had a flair for presentation, decoration, and all things that went into being a great hostess.

One of those things he never budged on and will always obsess over to every minute detail, is the seating arrangement. 

Childish as hell to some, and by some, mostly her, the seats were often set by a system only he understood, something about the structure to set up the perfect flow of conversation, so they never lulled and no one was ever bored. 

Imani had the same seat around the same people each night, but not this time. 

She was by John, Imani and Alex at a completely different spot by the head of the table. 

The fuck?

They were practically at the end. 

When Imani brought Elle, they were placed closer to the head but not there directly. Imani would be on the left and Elle would be on her right. 

She peered down the table to glance at Alex and Elle once more. 

He was on her right. 

Imani’s brain struggled to put the pieces together.

“Imani,” a blond woman who had a clearly younger and equally  blonde man stuck to her side. He fawned over her every movement, but the hollow glint in his eyes was off putting.

 A forced  display of desire? Or was he really that bad at hiding how much he hated the woman who was undoubtedly paying him to be here? “I heard you were investing in restaurants? What a cute adventure.”

“Not investing,” Imani took a careful sniff of her green beans before taking a bite, the accent of almonds in some type of balsamic glaze? Went really well together, a perfect way of combining flavor and texture, but the green beans were undercooked, making the dish crunch unpleasantly in her mouth, “I own a cafe and I’m slowly making my debut into the fine dining community here in DC. There’s this chef– Jimmy Raines, who reached out after visiting my cafe and trying one of my pastries. He—“

“So it’s true?” She smiled thinly, smirking, “you’re actually making food in these places? You aren’t just investing?”

“Well I, for one,  think it’s wonderful,” a brown skinned gentleman next to her interrupted, “Imani is truly exemplifying how she's the best of us each and everyday, and if she figured out a way to get income from her hobbies, then I say brava.” 

Imani gave Sharvesh a quick smile of thanks, but turned her attention back towards her plate. 

There was the option of Chicken or Pork Chop, and she went for both. 

The chicken was perfect, but the porkchop was dry, even more so  disappointing, they both were seasoned the same. The flavours were not too compelling, not even in a garlic powder onion powder way of simple and good, Only salt and pepper, but they weren’t that high quality in cuts that warranted such a simple flavor palette. 

They at least could have been basted or crusted in some type of herbs. 

The only good thing had to be the potatoes.

Fondant, to be exact. 

She made a mental note to ask Jimmy to teach her how to make them. 

“May you pass the potatoes down, please?” She had to have more, her stomach felt like it opened a portal and transformed into a bottomless pit that would never get full. 

Before she could put her fork down and take the platter, John had already reached for it, his arm more than long enough to reach over for it before she could. 

Wordlessly, he puts some on her plate for her before adding some more to his owne, 

Imani thanks him softly, and digs in, not wasting any time. 

“Can I have them back now?” Imani leaned towards him to whisper in his ear. 

“If you behave.” Was all he said in between bites of his food. 

Sighing, she takes another bite of her chicken. 

Sharvesh directs his attention towards her, ready to say or ask something else, as he takes the platter back, but John interrupts him. 

“You mind passing the chicken down here too?”

“Of course.” His shoulders drop some, but he complies, recovering with a quick smile. 

They were going dish per dish, plate for plate. If he wanted something, she also wanted that something and vice versa.

Dessert was atrocious and she couldn’t fight the indignant sound that came out of her mouth. 

It was some type of… peach cobbler inspired thing. . . Shaped cylinder made up of layers. The peaches were clearly canned, insipid, and flavorless, overwhelmingly covered in fructose. The layer of crust was dry and it fell apart in the mouth in the worst possible way. The only good thing  about it was the scoop of ice cream on the side. A terrible choice for the presentation, but at least something about it was edible. 

“Can I have your ice cream?” Imani said a little too loudly. The disgust in her voice is clear and easy to pick out  in her semi inebriated state. 

Imani was seconds away from loudly complaining, before John pinched her side faster than she could speak. 

John leaned towards her, and dropped his voice. “This is not behaving.” he hushly growled in her ear with more bite than she could physically comprehend. He wouldn't dare openly glare at her, but the threat in his voice made up for what his face could not.

She swallowed, ignoring the chill that ran down her side and the knot of warmth that quickly raced through her lower belly. 

Imani flinched away from him. Unable to fight the fear that he might do. . . Something. 

The look on his face and tone of his voice made her think of a look she remembered a mother giving her child in public one time. 

Apparently, she is acting out. 

“How was dinner? It was nice wasn’t it?” Elle questioned as they stood around once more for cocktails. 

“Don't ask a question and not give someone a chance to answer.” Imani scolded into her cup without looking up. “And then don't give your answer first.” 

“Well someone’s clearly sober.” Ellle half singed in a soft voice. “How do you feel?”

Imnai frowned, pondering.

“Upset. . . but not like, disappointed.” She licked her lips. It would be mean to say it out loud , but she couldn't fight the nagging voice in the back of her head. The thought of saying it, seeing her say it, and all the possible reactions of the words once she said them, were starting to become its own beast. The thought of not saying it at all begins to eat away at her and she now has to say it.

“Upset. . .dinner was, well it wasn’t terrible but it could have been better.”

“You and John practically ate half of everything?” Alex’s brows drew together.

“That was mostly potatoes and the. . “ She turned towards John who was scarfing down one of the “dessert cocktails, “what was the vegan dish?”

“Red pepper chickpea souffle’.”

“Hot hummus.” Imani nodded matter of factly.

“Definitely sober.” Elle said with a shake of her head and a smile.

“I’m sorry,” Alex interrupted, looking concerned, “are we just okay with Imani being rude as hell for no reason.”

Imani’s face felt like a child’s would if they’re parents told them no after they asked for ice cream. Her cheeks puffing in another pout.

“It's not on purpose.”

“She was raised to be emotionally unavailable and is learning to express herself emotionally.”

“Elle!” Imani said shortly in warning.

“She left her feelings wheel at home.”

Imani opened her mouth to defend herself, but quickly closed it in realization.

Elle was doing this on purpose. Why? 

“Ain't nothing wrong with trying to better yourself.” John interrupted out of nowhere. “The right way is always better than self medication.” he tossed his drink on the nearest tray as it went by. “But what do I know? It's not like I got a degree in psychology or anything  fancy like that.

“Nigga, done read two books sand thinks he knows something.”

Imani laughed, rolling her eyes.

They said their goodbyes and grabbed their coats, shuffling back out into the chill of the night air.

“Mani!” Elle called out.

She turned, the wind whipped at her face. The snowflakes falling into her lashes slightly obscured her vision,“Yeah?!” She called back.

“John’s taking you home.”

And he did.

“There are more things than drugs that can take the edge off” he was so close, his words rumbled against Imani’s face, pulling at something within her  and making her pussy throb. 

Her tongue felt thick as she licked her lips. 

“Like what?”

Like what included Imani’s bare  back to his still dressed chest, watching his leather clad fingers rub torturously slow firm  strokes against her clit. 

“Please. . . “ she whimpered, throwing her head back into his chest, her smooth bare  legs shamelessly spreading wider, straining against his pant legs. 

She attempted to grab his offending hand with hers to do something, anything, but he stopped her, restraining  her hands against her chest in a tight grip.

“I’m so close.” She tried again with a sniffle. His deft fingers found a way to circle the sensitive nub of her clit even slower, before sliding off down her lips and into the wet center of her pussy. He curled his fingers in an equally slow pace, fueling her desire and bringing her back to the edge. Driving her insane, but nowhere near what she wanted. 

“Look at you,” he trailed firm sloppy kisses down her neck before coming back up. Imani Relished the feeling of his lips. Craning her head back into his chest so he could trail them along her jaw. 

He pulled his fingers out of her pussy to hold her chin back, her arousal pooling between them on the bed and what was left of it on his fingers trickled down her face as his lips locked onto hers in a backwards upside down kiss. 

She keened into his mouth as he wantonly pushed his tongue past her lips to slide his tongue against hers. 

“I wonder what sound you’ll make after you taste yourself on my tongue.” He added another finger and started sliding them in and out of her at a faster pace. 

“Oh,” she softly let out. 

He brought his other hand to her clit, letting go of his cruel grip on her hands. 

She immediately brought them to his arms, squeezing tightly at his sleeves, but she wouldn’t dare stop him, not while she felt so good. 

His finger glided across her clit at a steady cruel pace. With each stroke of leather against her puffy nub she gushed around his other fingers that slid in and out  of her pussy. His thick long fingers were filling her up. 

“Look at you,” his voice was hot  and low as it brushed against her ear,  “all that talk, but you do just what I want you to.”

“Please,” she strains, somehow straining her legs wider. He responds by curling his finger into her, digging her out and hitting a spot she didn’t know was there. Her hips chased the movent, and he didn’t stop her, letting her fuck herself onto his hands.

“And you ask so sweetly” his rich dulcet tone was a song in her ear she didn’t want to end. She’d let it get stuck in her head forever. 

“You wanna cum for me?” He added another finger not waiting for her to respond. 

Imani mewled, blinking away a stream of tears as they stung her eyes. 

His words pulled at something within her. The desire had her body ablaze, but his request was adding a foreign feeling into the mix. Tinging her desire with another burning emotion that electrified her nerves and filled her with something akin to bashfulness or fear, but it was a fear colored with an excitement for more that she would never admit, unless  he made her, and something told her he could. 

He pushed down on her clit. 

She cried out against the movement, her hips jolting foward in shock, but pressing against his hands just as much, increasing the impending pressure, causing her to leak onto the hand that was sliding in and out of her. 

“Cum for me.” 

And she did. 

Her legs jolted and tensed, as she spilled into his gloved hand. 

Before she could let out any moan, he snaked his head around her to swallow any and every sound in a kiss, his beard danced against her cheeks as he did. The slide of his tongue on her matched the movements of his hand buried in her pussy as he buried them inside her, coaxing  her through her orgasm.. 

Once over, he eased from behind her. 

Imani layed back onto her sheets with parted lips. Watching with hooded eyes as John stood over her. 

She swallows the lump in her throat as she watches him enveloped his own gloved fingers  past his lips, lapping as much of you as he could off them. 

When he slid his hand out his mouth, something in his face changed, making her body flush with even more heat. The thin sheen of sweat  on her body started to burn, unable to catch up with her ever flowing desire and the man who caused it. 

He tugged roughly  at  his gloves and threw  them on her nightstand. 

Her hips dipped in the bed as she watched him unbutton his shirt, revealing the expense of flushed dark brown skin overflowing with a warm undertow of gold. 

She pant for  more, her tongue threatening to lathe out her mouth at the sight.

She needed her mouth on his skin. 

The smirk he gave her as he shoved himself out of his pants sent a jolt through her body. 

“Keep those legs open. I want to taste you.”

And taste her he did. 

Imani shoved at his head as much as she could, pushing with all her might, but he ignored her and latched his mouth on her more firmly, sucking hard at her clit. 

His bare hands felt even better, but she couldn’t take it. 

Her lips were sore and puffy and her clit was aching. 

Each push and pull of his finger inside of her brought another tear to her eye, and his mouth on her clit only made her keen and whine at the pain, but her pussy had other thoughts. 

What she registered as pain and too much, her body only felt an override of pleasure. 

Her legs strained open, pathetically begging for more and giving him easy access. She gushed and flooded his tongue with each cry, whine, and whimper. 

“Please, please, please. . .” Was all her brain would let her say through her cries of ecstasy and tears. 

“I’m giving you all I got baby,” he added a third finger, his voice against her puffy pussy making her squeeze each and every one of them, unbearably filling her up more than her mind could comprehend, “what more do you want.” 

He switcher from sucking on her clit to lathing it with his tongue. Swiping with slow firm movements. Her hips follows each one. With his tongue hitting her clit just right, his fingers stuffed snuggly inside her, and his beard scratching oh so pleasantly at her sensitive overstimulated skin, she came again without warning, 

He hummed against her, making the feeling that much more euphoric and that much more unbearable. 

He pulled his fingers out of her. As they slid out, they were followed by a hot sticky stream of her arousal. 

“You’re so creamy.” He kissed her inner thigh, smearing the mess she was making further along her body, 

He pushed his tongue in her, his beard scratching overwhelmingly at her pussy. Wet, sloppy sounds and matching slurps filled the room as he continued to eat her out. 

Imani clutched the back of his head, pulling at his hair. She’d had enough. She couldn’t take anymore and she needed to put a stop to him now or else he’d kill her. . She’d be surprised  if her knuckles weren’t raw and split in the morning from how hard she was pulling, but it only encouraged him, 

He moaned into her, making her whimper and lose her grip,

“Please. . “

She didn’t realize it until he was looking at her through her legs that she had came again. 

He looked half crazed. A hunger so deep and intense, she had to avert her gaze, but her eyes were  back on him once he made his ascent towards her. Without looking away, he crawled over her body. 

“Come here.” He said like velvet, leaning down, he trapped her in a hard kiss. Haunting her senses and  pushing against her further, swiping against her mouth more intently than he had the entire night. 

“Mmh,” she whimpered in between kisses. They were soft and keening. 

When she had made one particularly drawn out mewl his hips pushed against hers, causing his dick to smear precum against her lower belly. 

 “Mmmmm.” He broke the kiss in satisfaction. “Keep that up.”

He moved her to her side, putting one  of her legs around his waist as he settled behind her on his side. 

“You ready?” He smirked against her ear, kissing her right below it. His breath was hot. 

She shook her head into the sheets, straining her eyes shut in worry. 

If he wasn’t holding her, she’d collapse into the bed, and her pussy was worn out and tired. 

“Oh, you can take it. Don’t be like that.” The gentleness of his voice was in contradiction with the cruel way he rubbed his dick through her folds. Holding one hand at the base, he meticulously and cruelly swayed it from side to side before smacking it against her pussy and then repeating the action. 

“Mhm,”  she  whined in protest, “stop.”

“See, “ he ignored her, "you can,” he pushed inside of her without warning, “take it.”

Imani couldn’t remember the last time she felt so full. She couldn’t  remember the last time she wanted someone to fill her up. He was opening up a desire she forgot she had. 

He started with slow languid thrusts. 

“Damn, baby.” He moaned in her ear. “Damn—“

She clenched around him, making him swear. 

He thrust into her harder and she keened, her walks opening back around him.

“Just like that, keep taking it,” he graveled in her ear, “you take me so well.”

Imani mewled, squeezing tight against him once more. 

His hips snapped harder, pushing through how tight her pussy was holding onto him. 

“Fuck. . .” She moaned softly. 

His hot chuckle danced on her skin as she swore for the first time tonight. 

“You like that baby.” 

She let out a drawn out moan.

“You like when I tell you how good you're doing? Like when I tell you how good you take this big fat dick? That you let me fill you up like this? Dig you out?”

He licked his lips before kissing along her neck. 

His beard rubbed deliciously against her skin, the satisfying scratch heightening her senses. 

She let out a long string of incoherent noises, unable to talk back. 

He smirked into her  neck as he pushed her onto her belly, snapping his hips into hers at a grueling pace, her walks desperate to keep as much of him inside as they could. 

Without wanting, she snaked her hand around to grab his head and pull him closer.

“John.” She moaned.

His duck jumped inside her. 

“John.” She called out again. Her voice was soft and strained with need. 

A need for him. 

John had plenty of women who wanted him, who threw themselves at him, and sometimes it was women he may have wanted just as much, but he can’t call how many of them needed him. Not like this. Not this much. 

That wasn’t his style. That’s not who he was. That’s not how he got the name Two-John.

But tonight, he’d let himself be needed. 

But only for a moment. 

Mustering up the last of his strength, he thrusts into her harder, faster. 

She went limp under him. Her hand slipped out of his  hair and beside her head. Not taking any chances, he grabs her hands and refrains them above her head. Her pussy throbs around him and he makes a mental note of that. 

She whimpers, keens, and mewls, and shuts up.

Freeing him of thoughts of being needed. 

“You like it rough too?” He slowed down, thrusting as hard as he could with each stroke, letting her feel every inch from tip to base.

“Cum on this dick baby. Cum for me.” 

He enveloped her neck with his teeth, biting hard. She moaned  into his mouth and he moaned as he felt it vibrate in his lips. 

By some unforeseen power, she did. Imani came just when he told her too. 

She squirmed in his mouth. But as his hips slowly moved her through her orgasm as he also came down from his, she attempted to move her neck but he wrapped his hand around her throat as he bit her again,  squeezing firmly. His other hand grabbed at her hands, leaving her at his mercy. 

He let go of her neck, lapping at the intentions of his teeth before moving to her collar.

As her pussy painfully throbbed, snd the sting on her neck followed suit, an odd sensation like she was being punished washed over her as she settled down.

“John.” She called out again.

It seemed to pull him out of his trance. 

However, he didn’t move his mouth off of her without one final clench of his teeth. She whined, shuffling against his grip and the feeling of his dick softening and the condom inside her.

He peeled himself off her.

Imani felt an odd sense of Deja vu as she watched him with hooded eyes as he moved above her once more that night. 

His chest rising and falling heavily under a thick sheen of sweat. 

She had had one to match, her skin sticky as well, but she was so exhausted her lungs failed to rise and fall in her exertion. She only pant silently into the air. 

John was going to tell her he should go. 

Grab his clothes and make an exit.

But he couldn’t stare himself from her gaze. Those big brown eyes and puffy round cheeks, tugs at something within him he thought he buried  long ago, but if it did occasionally  come out it’s grave, he knew how to fight it back down into the pit where it belonged, but it wasn’t until now, after he came, did he realize he fucked up. 

“You got a bathroom?” He needs to focus on something. Focus on a task until he could find a way to leave you. 

“Other side.”

Her artsy open plan loft was off putting. 

There were no hallway walls. Every room bled into the other except for  the one extra room downstairs and the bathroom. 

He’s confident the single room above that looked over every  size of the loft, that also had no surrounding walls, was your bed. 

He grunted once he finally found the bathroom and the lined closet. Running warm water over it he made his way back. 

There were plants galore, art and other knick knacks  littered everywhere in an organized mess. An island? Oversized bar cart? Whatever it wasproudly displays an espresso machine and equipment and tools he didn't understand. 

If it’s a bar cart, it’s a waste to not have  a proper alcohol display, but to each their own. 

“If that’s your room upstairs than this is—“

“Yeah it’s Deonte’s room.” She interrupted him, fidgeting as he cleaned her up. He tried to look into her eyes and gauge where her head was at, but she kept averting her gaze. 

“Can we not talk about it?” The softness of her plea startled him. 

Reminiscent of a tone he’s heard Elle use ever so often with Alex, but not as headstrong or demanding. It was insecure, panicked, and vulnerable. 

He nodded, wordlessly climbing into bed. 

He froze as she instantly moved against him, cuddling into his side and wrapping an arm around his waist as he laid on his back. She snuggled up against him as if she belonged there, and for half a second, it felt that way. 

Unable to find an excuse, he stayed.

But as she  drifts to sleep, he keeps thinking what exactly he got himself into. 

Fucking a woman in her dead exes bed, a woman who hadn’t had sex with anyone since his death three to four years ago, sharing a moment he knew was just sex, but what did she think it was? 

But he remembers her other suitors.

 The way Elle complains when she blows off or intentionally ruins the dates she sets Imani up with.

How Elle makes side comments whenever she brushes off a guy who hits on her and asks for her number, and he settles, drifting into a sleep as deep as hers because if anyone wanted a relationship less than he did, it would be Imani Louds. 

He was sure of it. 

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taglist: @megamindsecretlair @nerdieforpedro @blackpinup22 @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @unknownpinner @jedinightsister @m1sk1n3

@kemkem101 @savvysav1 @professionalm1sandrist

@bbyxgall @blackpinup22 @sweettea-and-honeybutter

@brattyfics @blowmymbackout @cherrypoppers1

if you notice any errors, please let me know. My brain hurts and i have no beta readers.

[quigroigne]

“the problem with being a cockeyed optimist, with apologies to rogers and hammerstein”

this show is fucking phenomenal