#Withered Red Rose

[threewaysdivided]

Doing horrid things in the Danny-Sam retrospective chapter 😈

[nevis-the-skeleton]

The white rose is the symbolism of purity of feelings, harmony and hope. The red rose is the symbol of unreasonable love, the passion.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

ok so while watching joey's s1 and just rewatching s1 in general, i was looking at the items in the circle surrounding the dragon egg where shrub is meant to be sacrificed and they are. they’re interesting.

now, quick refresher on what i'm talking about: right after sausage goes good again, xornoth steals the dragon egg and puts it in this summoning circle type thing with the plan for joey to kidnap shrub and impale her on a dripstone spike above the egg. when the blood gets on the egg, some magic makes the blood corrupt the egg and now the dragon is cool.

the summoning circle is surrounded by eight items that are, in order: a netherwart block, a wither rose, a nether star, crying obsidian, a piece of crimson wood, a salmon, a magma block, and a red nether mushroom

and the items gem replaces them with are equally interesting: a red mushroom, a cod head, a gold block, wheat, a redstone block, an amethyst shard, a sea lantern, and a red tulip

the things she replaces them with are things she takes from her allies and herself, because the spell she's using says she needs things that are important to the people of the land. the gold block is scott's, the amethyst is gem's, the wheat is pearl's, the tulip is katherine's, the mushroom is shrub's, the cod head is from jimmy's place, the sea lantern is lizzie's, and the redstone block is fwhip's. an important note to ME is that almost everyone she takes these items from is involved in the fight, except for fwhip, lizzie, and jimmy. fwhip's involvement with the xornoth plot is pretty interesting to me but i'm not gonna get into that here, and unfortunately, i don't know enough about jimmy and lizzie's lore and their whole deal with xornoth to comment on them but that's NOT REALLY THE POINT LET'S MOVE ON!

the things placed there by xornoth are just basic ominous nether stuff, for the most part. even the wither rose, which i usually associate with a certain alliance, can just be seen as an ominous thing. katherine does use them for her pit of death, and i vaguely remember the corruption turning some of her flowers into wither roses, through i'm not certain that actually happened or if i'm making it up. the point is that there is one REALLY WEIRD outlier there. the salmon. and the fact that gem brings not only a cod head into this but something FROM fwhip as well, and replaces the salmon with the thing representing her makes me think this like?? has to be an intentional fwhip reference??

so here’s my thought here and like. look i recognize i'm biased towards Everything about fwhip but hear me out. i think it’s possible that, before sausage betrayed them, xornoth was planning on having both sausage and joey kidnap someone, either to ensure someone died and the ritual succeeded, or as a sort of distraction, ensuring that the attention of anyone coming to stop them would be split. (to be clear, when joey is first shown the area, the ritual is already set up. this was done in ADVANCE, and sausage's betrayal was pretty recent.)

he tells joey that the sacrifice HAS to be one of the emperors, and while he doesn’t specify why he thinks shrub is the “perfect” choice i personally think it’s pretty clear.

xornoth just like, flat out doesn’t like her. i mean he doesn’t like most people, but he’s got personal beef with shrub.

she doesn’t have anyone who would go looking for her. joey and her talk about it when he kidnaps her just an episode earlier- shrub says herself the only people who might come looking for her are her dogs. and she wasn't even wrong! if it’s shrub that’s missing, there’s far less chance anyone will notice, and far less chance anyone will interrupt.

i truly think exor just enjoyed making people target their friends/family. sausage at one point says that xornoth was making him “kill people i wasn’t supposed to kill” (in reference to fwhip and gem). he isolated his followers as best he could. shrub was joey’s only friend, especially after sausage left.

so with those three reasons in mind. who do we think sausage might’ve been tasked to kidnap…?

THAT'S RIGHT BABY THE SALMON’S THERE CAUSE FWHIP WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE! (and i would say the crimson mushroom was shrub’s symbol in all this but that's not my point)

now, let’s look at the reasons i gave for why shrub was chosen: xornoth didn’t like her, no one would’ve noticed she was gone, and she was joey’s only friend (emotional turmoil)

i’m gonna come back to reason one for fwhip, but let’s touch on two and three real quick. i truly don’t think people would’ve noticed fwhip was gone until it was too late. gem was his closest friend after sausage left the wra, and even they didn’t cross paths super often. he was a pretty isolated person. as for causing sausage emotional turmoil- yeah, duh. we already know how much he cares about fwhip and that he didn’t really want to kill him from the remark i mentioned earlier. and the only were people in that same circle for sausage were pearl and gem. pearl is her own beast- xornoth could barely take her in a fight so let’s be real he KNOWS sausage couldn’t. and gem is. ok we’ll get into that.

now, circling back to reason one: hatred. xornoth doesn’t like any of the emperors, let’s be real, but the ones he hates the most seem to be shrub, scott, and gem. obviously he can’t kill scott, and shrub is already involved in all this, so why wouldn't he have sausage kidnap gem? she would fulfill the friend requirement too, like i mentioned! well, it’s simple.

look at how well it went last time, lol.

also, gem is a lot more social than a lot of the other emperors, especially fwhip, and is deeply involved in scott and katherine’s research in defeating xornoth. someone was gonna notice she was missing FAST. look at how quick jimmy showed up last time (i know he wasn’t looking for them but like. still. come on.)

also, i think the reason for kidnapping fwhip instead of gem is very important here: gem was always going to notice the dragon egg was gone and was always going to go looking for it. and not only did she notice, she saw xornoth take it. she was always going to figure out where he’d taken it and try to stop him, and i think exor was perfectly aware of what could possibly distract her from the egg long enough to perform the ritual.

her brother. fwhip was the perfect pawn to keep sausage under his control and gem distracted in the event of a fight, and i just. i think this could've been the original plan had sausage not betrayed them, and now i'm rotating the possibility at light speed in my brain. please play in this space with me.

[occatorcreator]

Wither Rose Blue is lots of fun to draw, but she shouldn’t be the only one with the neat outfit!

So we have: Pumpkin Second, Mushroom Red, Golden Apple Yellow and Melon Green!

[m1ssnovember]

Beautiful, barbarian bloodline

[angela-art13]

'Withering Rose' published in as.alive.journal 's (on IG) first issue 🥀🌙

I love this piece a lot 🖤

[stormynoelart]

Portland, OR

Summer 2024

[fallingbadstarr]

[numbattery]

OH MAMA

Little poison ivy sketches cause I haven't posted in a while!!!

[samispretty]

[daycourtofficial]

Blood moon in Autumn

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 1.3k | warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

Summary: fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series, however this can be read as a standalone. @writingcroissant actually gave me the idea for this so everyone say thanks Tori 🥰

Death was imminent, you were sure of it. Every fiber of your being ached, the pain emanating from your lower abdomen through the rest of your body. It felt like someone was stabbing you with a rusted, dull knife, the blade carving out your insides slowly at their leisure.

You heard your bedroom door open and close, footsteps coming towards the bed. You groan in greeting as the steps get closer.

“Just leave me here to die, Er.”

A soft chuckle makes its way to your ears, despite the layers of blankets you are burrowed beneath, the blankets not offering you the comfort you so desperately crave.

“You’ll be remembered for even in death, your flare for the dramatics never faltered.”

You push your face from the blankets, allowing your face to be seen. You scowl towards your mate, his smirk making you want to push him from the window. You take in the sight of him - he had changed into more relaxed clothes since you saw him last. Gone is his formal jacket, a deep red velvet with golden leaf embroidery. The garment would make anyone look like court royalty, but on Eris it made him look positively radiant, as if the fires of Autumn truly originated from him, as if the apple orchards and the crops found their nutrients from him. You loved when he wore it, your fingers tracing the fine embroidery along the lapel as you would straddle his lap, grinding softly-

You groaned, the idea of moving so much making you nauseous and slightly dizzy.

Now he wore a loose, billowy shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual brown trousers covering his toned legs. If it were any other day, you’d devour him. Any other day, you’d pull him directly into bed, pushing his clothes off of him, neither of you leaving bed until you slipped his shirt on to grab the two of you some pastries.

Instead, the sight of him made you slightly annoyed - he seemed fine as he set down a tray on the table next to you. He was fine this morning when he rose, having to tend to some things before returning. You were dying, and he was perfectly fine. You groaned, shifting to sit up on your elbows. “What’s this?”

“I believe those of us who leave our beds call it ‘food’.”

His smirk disappears at the pillow that hits his feet. He sends you a withering glare that just makes you scoff. “That could have hit the tray of coffee I made for you.”

You perked up at the sound of coffee - you were sure the warm liquid would at least distract your insides. Or at least provide you some comfort.

You’d take anything at this point.

“Did you make the coffee? Or did you just prepare the tray?”

“What difference does it make? Coffee is coffee.”

“Well, if Jora made it, then I aimed perfectly for your feet.”

“What if it was my coffee?”

“Then I would have aimed for the tray.”

He gives you a withering stare, his fingers halting their movements. “Now that’s no way to treat your mate who lovingly made you coffee.”

You squint your eyes, “if it’s my mate that’s making the coffee, it’s more of an assassination attempt than love.”

“You wound me, my love.” Despite your grievances, he continues preparing your cup exactly as you like it.

“Is the wound fatal?”

“Perhaps.”

“I shall pay my respects at your funeral, then. With my next husband.”

His eyebrow quirks as he rests the cup on your side table before he rounds the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets on top of you. He crawls in behind you, his body heat causing you to melt.

“Next husband?”

“I will get lonely. Besides, the hounds need a male’s touch. They’ll grow soft under me.”

“And who is this next husband? Is he capable of this?”

Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he slides his arm around your waist, his palm lying flat over your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading across your skin. Your skin began heating under his touch, and you moaned at the relief he provided you.

“If he’s not, he’s not worth it. Perhaps one of your brothers will be capable. Lu, maybe?”

Eris growled at the teasing, your friendship with Lucien a constant sore spot for him amidst his rekindling relationship with his youngest brother. He hated to admit it, but he seethed with jealousy watching you interact with Lucien, the way your conversation would flow easily.

A life of regrets and Lucien takes several of the top five spots.

“Lucien would make a terrible husband. You’d never see him - he spends all day brushing his hair.”

“I like a well-groomed male.”

“The noises his eye makes would keep you up all night.”

“I think you’re getting us confused. The whirring would soothe me to sleep.”

He buries his face into your neck, mumbling, “you are not marrying Lucien.”

“Alastor, perhaps?”

You clutched onto Eris’s arm, the heat providing you some relief. You nuzzle your head into his bicep, and he blows out a hot breath, “if I die, and you are unable to continue alone, marry outside of my family, leave my brothers out of your marriage pool.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

“Not Azriel.”

You huff, “well if I can’t have a Vanserra or Azriel, I’ll stay alone forever.”

“I prefer that alternative.”

“I will rule Autumn alone. Just as Beron would have liked.”

You spin in his arms, pushing his shoulder down so he’d lay on his back. You crawl on top of him, laying so every inch of you is touching him in some way. Not an inch of space exists between your bodies. You poke his ribs, urging him to start heating up. He ignores you, so you start tugging on the bond between you two.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t they teach that in the war camps they call villages?”

“I’m dying, I think the Mother can forgive my lack of virtues.”

He huffs, but starts warming his skin to better provide comfort. You groan, laying in silence with him for several moments, the heat a comfort to the constant pain.

A few moments later you roll, your back laying across his chest.

“Ah,” you sigh, the pain in your lower back lessening at his touch.

“You’re spinning like game over a campfire.”

He rests his hands on your lower abdomen, the warmth making the stabbing pain into a dull ache.

You sigh at the contact, practically melting at how he soothes your muscles.

“I want to go bathe but that requires movement and leaving this bed.”

Eris laughs into your hair, but you hear the water running in the bathroom. You groan just thinking about how soothing the water would feel on your joints. You breathed out slowly through your nose, preparing yourself for the trek across the room.

You rolled off of Eris, and before you could get off the bed, Eris moved from behind to in front of you, his feet landing softly on the floor.

“Care for a ride?”

You nod, and his arms sweep you up.

“I think this is my preferred method of travel.”

“Perhaps this is how you will tour Autumn, hm? I shall carry you throughout the lands.”

You laugh as he sets you down, helping you remove your clothes. He must be warming the air somehow, because you don’t feel the chill of the air when your clothes are completely off. He helps you into the water, which you melt into immediately. You close your eyes, laying back in the tub, the porcelain a nice surface to lean against.

You’ve completely forgotten about Eris’ presence until you feel him nudge your shoulders forward, his lean body slipping behind you into the tub. His legs stretch besides yours, and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“There’s no way my next husband will be as helpful as you are.”

He breathes out through his nose, “I fear you can only marry down from here. A pity, truly.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

Thanks for reading 💕

[threewaysdivided]

[Banner credit: @purpleyin's WIP Wednesday Series]

For this WIP Wednesday I have realised that I am likely going to have to kill a darling from one of the later chapters about one of the darlings I have killed in Deathly Weapons.

This was one of the earliest (2016-era) future segments I drafted for DW and while the core of the idea will likely stay I am sad to see the words go, so I shall immortalize them here.

Under the cut for people who wish to completely blind-read:

They’d seen each other at their best and at their worst.  The beauty, the ugly... and somehow they’d still liked each other.  Cried and laughed, shouted, made up, played pranks, butted heads constantly, stolen each other’s homework and saved the world.  A friendship that was so much more than a friendship.  That went beyond goofing off and hanging out at the Nasty Burger - that became secrets and loyalty and trust, picking each other up, patching each other up, blood, sweat and tears and family in everything except DNA.  Just like Tucker.  But with Sam there were times when there was something more again. Times when the light would catch her hair, or she’d laugh, say something ridiculously snarky and, despite being the most proudly dark person he knew, make everything so much lighter somehow.  The way she’d turn up with some stupid, harebrained activist agenda and a scheme that would go horribly awry and cause him all kinds of headaches and frustration – ghost-related or not – and he’d promise himself that it was the absolute last time he’d ever let her talk him into this... and then she’d show up the next week with something equally crazy and he’d somehow end up agreeing again.  The way she seemed to just know when things were bad or he was getting down and would come at him and not buy any of his fake smiles or excuses and just keep going and going until he was moving too.  How she could be so judgemental and so accepting, so harsh and so gentle at the same time.  The tiny little quirks he’d never noticed until they were on the run and practically living in each other’s pockets.  That night, a few days after the incident, when she’d though he was asleep – how she’d come and sat on the edge of the bed and her hand had been on his knee and her expression had been so incredibly soft and warm and scared.  And then, of course, the way she’d blushed the second she realised he was awake and threatened to kick his hide if he didn’t wake up in time to help make breakfast.  And how he’d been too afraid to say anything because she was his best friend and what he had with her was already so amazing and if it was just him and he tried something and it pushed her away or made things angry or awkward he wouldn’t be able to stand it. 

[ataraxiaspainting]

Black and Blue.

Yan Blade x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Blade has a habit of leaving swords on his opponents’ graves. You have a habit of picking flowers near those who are dead. Unfortunately for you, those two things combined had you meet the immortal Stellaron Hunter for the first time.

Warnings: Yandere themes, descriptions of past violence, and implications of a future unhealthy relationship/stalking.

Word Count: 700.

*~*~*~*

“Why… are you staring at me?”

Your body isn’t well covered, Blade notes as he steps a bit back to take in the full sight of you. Your arms are paler than the snow here.

One of your hands grasps the stems of the flowers you had just plucked from an important resting place. It’s deep and just as old as Blade is judging by the crumbled stone bricks and withering vines yet none of the winter elements seem to cover it. Someone or some people must keep it clean to honor the dead. 

Your grip is so tightly that the thorns have dug into your skin and have started to make you bleed. Aside from the roses, your wounds and Blade’s eyes are the only bright red things in the vicinity. 

The clouds of Morana haven’t set in a long time. They cast over this planet like a mist so thick Blade had trouble navigating himself to the top of this mountain. The humans here have angered the long-fallen Aeon, causing her to seek revenge on her people.

It isn’t the first time an Aeon has made sure their followers have tragic fates ahead. Blade knows, and so do people that the Xianzhou have long removed from their historical records.

“You’re a thief,” He replies, his voice slow and steady – afraid that you will run if he is too harsh. “This grave belongs to the late Caterina the Great.”

“Flowers only grow here and nowhere else,” You reply, your tone less scared but more annoyed now. Perhaps you have realized that Blade isn’t from Morana. “It’s too cold down there. This is the only way I can pay for food without stealing it. Please understand…”

He only hums as he listens further, yet he only tries to make sense of his emotions in this present moment.

Is this pity he feels?

No. It’s something else.

Something not like pity, but relatability. 

You have been through plenty; it is as obvious as a fact like a dog’s nature is to be loyal. Your clothes are tattered. You’re shivering from having no warm place to go. But unlike when he was a wanderer with nowhere to go and nothing to hold but his sword, you could die in so many ways here. Someone can have you executed if there are other witnesses to you stepping on a war hero’s grave so carelessly. The elements can freeze your bloodstream if it gets too cold. The mountain itself can have a tree fall on you like your fallen Aeon put all of her hatred into a singular action and positioned it at a singular person. 

The old sword is pushed into the snow in front of your bare feet, and you stop speaking.

“Be more careful next time,” Blade says. “You’ll get hurt if someone sees you.”

He points and you follow his gloved finger. 

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Take the sword,” He orders, and then quickly removes his gloves. He puts them in your palm. “It’s old. It should be enough for a while.”

“Do you mean… sell it?” You are bewildered.

“If that is what you wish, go ahead.” Blade then removes his jacket and sets it on your shoulders. “Or use it to defend yourself. I am not familiar with Morana culture, but you most likely are. Trust your gut when making this decision.”

He’ll follow you after, he decides. For a while. Maybe forever, if Kafka doesn’t allow you on the ship.

[its-avalon-08]

Can we have some hurt comfort with Lando Norris. Like Lando and her haven’t been spending a lot of time together and when he is free he’s spending all his time gaming or golfing and reader is feeling like he doesn’t love her anymore because of that.

But happy ending.

brick on my heart (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluffy ending

Y/n sat perched on the edge of the sofa, a half-finished cup of tea growing cold in her hand. The television broadcasted a pre-race interview, Lando's face filling the screen. He was animated, talking strategy with a practiced ease that had become a trademark. But the excitement in his voice didn't translate to his eyes. They held a weariness, a hollowness that mirrored the growing emptiness in her own chest.

Across the room, Lando was hunched over his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The rhythmic click-clack was the only sound in the once-lively apartment, a stark contrast to the playful banter and movie nights that used to fill their evenings. Y/n had planned to surprise him with dinner - a gourmet pasta dish she'd spent the afternoon perfecting. Now, the aroma just mocked her, a forgotten promise of connection in the sea of Lando's single-minded focus.

A notification chimed on his phone. He glanced at it briefly, a fleeting smile tugging at his lips before he returned to the game. Y/n's stomach lurched. Was it a message from a teammate, a sponsor, or maybe even a fan? It certainly wasn't from her. The silence between them, once comfortable, now felt suffocating.

She rose silently, pushing the untouched pasta towards the back of the fridge. Lando didn't react, his eyes glued to the screen. Maybe a part of him registered her movement, but it didn't translate into a question, a "Hey, where are you going?"

Y/n retreated to the bedroom, the sting of unshed tears pricking her eyes. She picked up a book, the worn pages offering a refuge from the cold reality of their apartment. But even the fictional world couldn't hold her attention. The echo of Lando's laughter from a past game night played on a loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of what they'd lost.

Later that night, when Lando finally emerged from his gaming trance, he found Y/n curled up asleep on the bed, the untouched book lying on the floor beside her. Her peaceful slumber masked the storm brewing within. In the dim light, he didn't see the silent tears that stained her cheeks, the growing distance between them, or the love slowly withering in the absence of his attention.

The Monaco sun beat down on the bustling paddock as Y/n followed Lando, his pace brisk and focused. Conversation was a forgotten luxury, replaced by the rhythmic crunching of gravel beneath their feet. As they passed by the Red Bull garage, Daniel Ricciardo gave Y/n a bright smile and a cheery, "Hey there, sunshine!" but it fell flat. His usual banter felt forced, his eyes lingering on Lando's oblivious form.

The McLaren garage, once a haven of laughter and shared excitement, now felt cold and sterile. Mechanics scurried around, their greetings to Y/n polite but perfunctory. Lando disappeared into a briefing, leaving Y/n awkwardly adrift in the sea of racing paraphernalia. She found herself drawn to the relative quiet of a secluded balcony overlooking the track. Leasing her back against the railing, she allowed the weight of her unspoken words to crush her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of the sleek cars below.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice startled her. Carlos Sainz, his usual smirk replaced by a worried frown, stood beside her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Y/n choked back a sob, shaking her head mutely. Carlos, ever perceptive, understood. Without a word, he enveloped her in a warm hug, his strong arms a comforting presence against her shaking frame. The tears came then, hot and uncontrollable, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

"Lando?" he asked gently, his voice barely a whisper.

She shook her head again, the effort to speak a betrayal. Carlos held her tighter, a silent promise of understanding hanging in the air. He wasn't just her brother's teammate; he had always been a confidante, a protector.

Exhausted from the weight of her unspoken pain, Y/n leaned sleepily against him. The rhythmic thrum of the engines below served as a lullaby, a distant echo to the storm raging within her. When Lando finally emerged from his meeting, searching for Y/n, he found her fast asleep on the couch as Carlos lay a blanket over her.

The sight hit him like a physical blow. The worry etched on Carlos' face, the vulnerability in Y/n's sleeping form, it was a stark reminder of his neglect. Shame burned in his chest, replacing the usual pre-race nervousness. The starting grid, once a symbol of his ambition, now seemed insignificant compared to the love he felt slipping through his fingers.

The checkered flag fell, signaling the end of the grueling Monaco race. Lando, his face flushed with exertion but a triumphant smile playing on his lips, emerged from his car. He scanned the crowd for Y/n, his heart sinking when he spotted her standing stiffly at the edge of the podium.

He jogged towards her, expecting a celebratory hug. Instead, she offered a weak smile and a forced, "Congratulations, Lando."

His smile faltered. "Hey, you okay?" He reached for her hand, but she subtly pulled away.

"Yeah," she mumbled, staring down at her feet. "Just... tired. I think I'll head back." She knew about the post-race party, the usual celebratory affair Lando relished. She didn't want to be a burden with her heavy heart.

Lando's stomach twisted. "You sure? I could—"

"No," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Go celebrate. I'll see you later." She turned and started walking away, her steps heavy and defeated.

Lando watched her go, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. This wasn't right. He needed to talk to her, to fix this. He glanced at his car, then back at Y/n's retreating figure. With a determined sigh, he changed his mind.

He caught up with Y/n outside the paddock, keys jingling in his hand. "Change of plans," he said, his voice firm. "You're coming home with me."

Y/n looked up, surprise flickering across her tear-filled eyes. Too tired to fight him, she simply nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. The silence on the drive home was thick, pressing down on them like a heavy fog.

Once inside the apartment, the silence shattered as Y/n finally broke. The dam holding back her emotions crumbled. "Lando," she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears, "you don't love me anymore. It feels like there's nothing left in here," she clutched her chest, a gesture mirroring the hollowness she felt inside.

The raw pain in her voice hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He saw the hurt etched onto her face, the love he had taken for granted slowly fading away. Tears welled up in his own eyes.

"No, Y/n, that's not true!" he rushed out, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything. This season… it's been chaotic, it's swallowed me whole, and I… I was stupid. I didn't realize how much I was neglecting you, pushing you away. Y/n, listen to me. I know I've messed up, big time. But that's no excuse. The truth is, I've been so focused on winning, on proving myself, that I completely forgot what truly matters. And that's you."

He sank to his knees in front of her, his head bowed. "

Seeing you walk away after the race… it hit me like a ton of bricks. You looked so… empty. And the worst part? It's my fault. All this time I've been chasing trophies, podium finishes, while neglecting the biggest prize in my life – you."

"The late nights spent gaming, the hours practicing golf, the quick goodbyes for training… I never realized how much I was pushing you away. I took our love for granted, assumed you'd always be there."

"But you're not just a trophy girlfriend, Y/n. You're my teammate, my confidante, the person who makes me laugh even after the worst race. Seeing the hurt in your eyes… it tears me apart."

"Please, believe me when I say I love you. More than anything. I know my actions haven't shown it, but you're the sunshine in my day, the calm in my storm. I can't lose you. This season can wait, the sponsors can wait, the races can wait. But you? You're irreplaceable. Please, Y/n, believe me. I can't… I can't lose you."

Y/n, witnessing his genuine remorse, felt a flicker of hope rekindle in her chest. She knelt down, gently cupping his face in her hands. "I love you too, Lando," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But we need to fix this, together."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. Relief and gratitude washed over him. "We will. I promise. No more neglecting you. No more letting the racing overshadow our lives." He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "We'll race together, laugh together, love together."

Y/n smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. This time, it wasn't a tear of sadness, but a promise of a new beginning, a love strong enough to weather any storm. In the quiet of their apartment, they held each other close, their tears mingling, a testament to a love that had been bruised but not broken, ready to face the future together.

[m1ssnovember]

You don’t get rid of depression.

Depression gets rid of you

- MissNovember

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl…daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

“Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

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