#and then just did not record them for over a month | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coichii · 2 days ago

Text

LIGHTS ON ✭

—(🎧)—> the first flight went smooth, landing swiftly in Melbourne on a layover to Sydney to visit your wonderful long distance boyfriend. when the cold, wintery weather freezes up, turns out it’ll be a while before you see him again.

pairing - longdistance!bf!felix x fem!reader

genre - fluff & comfort (what a shocker)

word count - 1.8k (yk how I said it was gonna be rlly short..nvm! I was thinking like..barely 1k☠️)

warnings - cursing & that’s it!

series note : hello !! welcome to part six of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “lights on” by Tyler, the creator. enjoy <3

Seeing your long distance boyfriend after what felt like years despite it only being months was blissful.

You always missed him. Missed his warm smile, adorable freckles, kind & loving words, and everything more. Missing him was all you did at this point.

So when you got a text from your boyfriend last month saying he’ll pay for your ticket to come visit him and his family, you couldn’t have been more happy. Ecstatic even.

You’re not surprised when you find yourself smiling at nothing on the flight to Melbourne, looking out the window at the beautiful, vast ocean of waves.

The excitement bubbled in your stomach. It’s always so nice to visit him and his family. His mother is always so caring, his father is funny and kind, and his sisters are entertaining and hilarious.

You loved seeing him most of all though. His warm kisses that you missed resonated on your cheek as you thought about him, warmth rising on rosy red cheeks.

You always visited him around this time, when the rain froze into snow. You remembered how he would always wrap his warm scarf around your neck, pulling you into his warm side.

“Plane is now descending into Melbourne. Please at this time, fasten your seatbelts and put up your food trays.” A voice over the intercom sounded, filling your heart with even more excitement.

It would be only a matter of time before you see him again.

◂—♥︎—▸

“What! What do you mean our flight is delayed!” A voice, angry bellowed from beside you. Delayed? What do you mean the flights delayed?

“Sir, calm down. As soon as the blizzard passes, we will board and take off for Sydney.” An attendee ushered, going back to talk with other worried staff.

Now that you think about it, you haven’t picked up your head from your phone much since you arrived, nor have you taken in your surroundings really.

You spare a glance to the side with a huge window and your eyes widen in shock.

The sky, runway, honestly everything, is completely white. All you see is snow absolutely overrunning the airport.

Yeah, there’s no flying in this.

Beep beep! Your phone sounds as you process everything. Looking down at it, you see an incoming call from felix and pick it up.

“Hey baby! How’s everything going!” You hear his voice on the other end of the phone. “You’re about to start boarding, right?”

“Ha.” You dryly chuckle. “It just got delayed. There’s a horrible blizzard...” You explain, voice trickling off at the end.

You play with your hands nervously as the people besides you get nervous, calling their families and telling them they won’t be able to make it intime for Christmas.

It’s hard to not let it get to you, causing you your own form of anxiety. If you can’t see him this holiday, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

“Oh, that sucks, baby. I hope it clears up soon.” He pouts. You can’t see it of course, but you can hear it in his voice.

“Yeah I know. Sorry about it though.” You mumble, guilt sinking in. It’s been forever since you’ve seen him and he’s the one who payed for your ticket. This is the worst case scenario at this point.

“Hey, no no. Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” His voice was soft and reassuring, comforting you from your mind, which was slowly drowning you in guilt.

“Okay, ba-“ you were cut off by the sound of a speaker. You look around to find an atendee standing with a mic in her hand, an uneasy look on her face.

“Unfortunately, it is loooking like this plane won’t be taking off until tomorrow.” A collective groaning was heard. “Please come check in and we will offer our complimentary rooms to stay in.”

You were in complete shock, and so was everyone else. Until tomorrow? Could the weather actually be that bad?

“Hey, love? What’s going on?” He asked, weirded out by the sudden cut off of your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Uhm, no.” You replied, voice quivering slightly. “We have to stay overnight, I’m going to be so late.”

He notices the shiver in your voice, heart breaking at the sound of a slight sniffle. He knows you hate disappointing him, and he wants you to know that you’re not.

“Hey, angel. Don’t you worry about it, it can’t be helped. We’ll still be waiting for you, okay?” His warm voice felt like a comforting blanket being placed over your shoulders, comforting you in a secure and safe hold.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, baby. I’m sorry, I love you.” You respond as your cheeks turn red. You try to convince yourself it’s the bitter cold rushing in from the outside, but you know better.

“Don’t apologize, y/n. I love you too, good night, sweet girl.”

You hang up and make your way to your room, slamming your luggage that you had received onto the wall before plopping down on the bed.

Man, you can’t wait until this plane can take off.

◂—♥︎—▸

Turns out, you’re going to have to suck up those wishes.

You woke up this morning to absolute pandemonium. Angry people shouting at any staff member they saw, spewing their anger for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“How are we supposed to go home if the flight is cancelled?” A young woman’s voice screamed, and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Cancelled?? Wait wait wait… that can’t be?

“We apologize for the inconvenience.” A robotic voice started over the speakers. “All flights departing have been cancelled until further notice. Please prepare to leave within the next twelve hours.”

You can’t believe it. You need to leave within twelve hours. Not only are you not going to be able to visit, but your stranded in a foreign country for who knows long just because of some stupid snow.

You can feel the tears swelling up in your eyes, them beginning to slowly tip over your bottom eyelid.

You go to the only sense of comfort you have left; Felix.

“Hey, baby!” He chirps, the phone only having to ring twice. “On your way?”

“I wish I could say that.” You dryly chuckle, and he can immediately tell that it holds no humor behind it.

“Baby? What wrong, is everything okay?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“It’s cancelled. I don’t know what to do or where to go, Lix.” You voice cracked, tears rolling down harder as your breathing unevened.

“Hey, listen. Everything is going to be okay. You can get a hotel and get the closest flight out of there, but don’t cry please. It’s all going to be okay.” He tried to comfort, but it mostly ricocheted off of you and fell on deaf ears.

“I’ll try the hotel, but the first flight to Melbourne is sold out, I heard about it before I called you. I’m stuck here.” Your voice trembles, the feeling of hopelessness creeping its way up your spine.

It feels like being in a forest at dark, owning a compass but it not spinning around the way it does. It feels like nothing is going to save you.

“My love, I need you to listen to me.”

Your ears lock on to his voice, paying the upmost attention to the soft yet firm tone of his words.

“Everything is going to be okay. You’re going to get yourself a hotel, and I’m going to figure something out for you soon, okay? You’ll be fine, I promise you.”

You can feel his words warming up your stomach like a pot of hot soup; comforting and home like.

And that’s what he always felt like to you.

◂—♥︎—▸

Knock knock knock! The loud sound echos off the hollow wooden door of the room.

You had booked a room at a nearby hotel, noticing multiple familiar faces from the airport staying there as well. It was a little tricky, but you eventually got settled at a room on the 3rd floor and hoisted all your luggage up there.

You must have fallen asleep there, because the time all of a sudden jumped from 11am to 5pm from when you had layed your head down.

Cautious, you make your way to the door, not forgetting to peer through the peephole first.

And then, you saw him.

“Felix!! Is that really fucking you?!” You shouted, heart blasting with joy and love after you opened the door. You practically shoved your body into him, laughing at a slight ‘oof’ sound he made when he hit the back wall.

“Yes it’s me, darling.” He coos at your incoming tears before quickly moving to wipe them away.

“H-how’d you come here so fast?” You whimpered, checking and touching his face as if to check if he was real and not a made up figment of imagination.

“I came just as soon as you hung up, i told you I’d figure something out, didn’t I?” He explained. You observed the love sick look in his eyes, wondering how somebody could be such an angel.

Wondering how you got so lucky with him.

“I’m so happy baby, I seriously love you so fucking much.” You said, finally letting go of him and ushering him into your cramped room.

“I love you too, princess. It was no problem.”

“No problem? The drive is eight hours!” You chucked, cuddling into him from where he had taken a seat on the small couch.

“Well, yeah. But it’s worth it for you.” He whispered, stating this as if was just some small thing he had did hold the door open for you.

But it was so much more. No one had ever shown you that they cared for you like this.

Ever.

“Let’s take a rest here for the night then we can go back to Sydney, yeah.” He suggested, and you jumped.

“Wait wait, you’re still taking me to Sydney? You don’t think that’s too much for you, babe?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern.

“No, silly. You came here to see me and my family and that’s what you will do.” He giggled, pressing kisses over your cheeks and smiling at your reddening face.

All you could do was look at him, the most fond, loving look in your eyes.

Wow, this is definitely the man you’re going to marry.

#stray kids #skz x reader #skz #straykids x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #felix skz #felix x reader #felix fluff

70 notes · View notes

familiarscars · 2 days ago

Text

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 23

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Sitting on the hard concrete platform of your cell, you were scheming every possible way to kill Noah when he crossed your path. From plucking out his hair with tweezers to tearing out his guts with your nails.

All the humiliation you endured when you were approached and locked in this smelly square, he was going to pay back double, with interest. It was a surprise to you when the police stopped you just a few meters from your house. They had received a report that the car you were driving was stolen, and since you had no idea where the paperwork was, you had to go with them.

The Jaguar was registered in Gerard's name, of course. Noah couldn't possibly afford a month of a car like that when he was still paying off the damage you had caused to the other vehicle. While it was impressive that he had borrowed a car to cross the city looking for you, you couldn't help but think about how dirty he had played after your departure.

“Hey!” the guard called out in a dragging tone as he unlocked and opened the cell. “You’re free to go.”

“Finally!” You stood up from where you were sitting, planted your feet firmly on the ground, and tossed your hair back.

Standing at the reception, waiting for your belongings, a shadow covered the light from the lamp when he positioned himself behind you, causing immediate tension in the guard. From the irritated clearing of his throat and the absolute silence, you knew Jolly wasn't happy about being woken up in the middle of the night.

“I want to go back to my cell…” you whispered to the guard, leaning over the counter.

“Not happening.” He handed you your belongings with a barely contained smile, and you shot him a narrowed look before grabbing your phone, purse, and keys, turning to face Jolly’s serious gaze, which immediately made your shoulders shrink.

Still silent, he walked ahead toward the station doors, and your hurried steps, despite wearing heels, managed to keep up. You hated when your best friend stayed silent for so long—perhaps because you knew exactly what would happen when he finally spoke.

“Honestly? I’m almost afraid to ask how you ended up here.” Jolly shook his head as he adjusted himself in the driver’s seat.

“Jolly…” you admonished, pretending to be offended. “This time, I really didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Then how did you go from an awards ceremony—where, oddly enough, you behaved all night—to a police station hours later, wearing your ex-boyfriend’s jacket and accused of stealing your record label owner’s car?”

“Noah Sebastian.”

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He rolled his eyes with a groan, banging his head against the steering wheel. It wasn’t the best moment, but you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how absurd the situation seemed when viewed from the outside.

“I’m not going to tell you again to be careful with these games you and he play. If someone leaked this or took a single photo, you know exactly how the next few days will unfold, don’t you?” he warned, spinning the steering wheel with an indignant tone. “He went after you, didn’t he?”

“Yes…” You sank into the car seat, biting your lips. It was complicated to bring up his name without recalling every detail of the bar still etched into your brain—like the scent of him on your skin.

“I could say something, but I think I’d better stay quiet.”

“I actually care about what you have to say, Jolly.”

A string of insults? A harsh dose of reality? A mix of mockery about your situation? It was inevitable to guess what he was about to unload, but no matter what it was, he had a way of making any word sink in and stick, often breaking through your stubbornness.

“So I’ll ask just one question, and I want you to be as honest with me as we always are with each other in all our conversations, okay?”

You nodded without taking your eyes off his side profile, tight-lipped as he dodged cars on the fog-clogged road.

“Do you honestly think that allowing any kind of intimate moment last night won’t make things worse between you two?” He threw the question while stopping at a red light, and out of the corner of his eye, Jolly noticed your face shift as you looked away toward the dashboard. “I’m not talking about you; we both know how you’ve handled the breakup since it happened. I’m talking about him…”

“He wanted it just as much as I did.”

“Of course he did, girl!” he retorted, snapping you out of your reverie. “He hasn’t thought about anything else since you left, and last night, you handed him the perfect opportunity. But I’m talking about what happens tomorrow. Noah will wake up alone again. He’ll see that the problems between you two still exist and that he didn’t solve everything with a snap of his fingers like you made it seem. That’s the part that worries me, you get it?”

The light turned green, and you pressed your fingers together as the car moved forward once more. Jolly was right; you would treat it as a mistake that shouldn’t have happened. As difficult as it might be, you’d try to keep moving forward. But for him, the weight of that night, layered atop the hurt he already carried, was far greater.

Hurting him with an impulsive act had never been your intention. But the magnetic pull that drew your bodies together in that moment spoke beyond reason, as if, for that fleeting time, there were no endings, no anger, no pain, no lies, or anything bad that had driven you apart.

In the end, it was just you and him.

Him and you.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed him…” you said softly, almost embarrassed, as you picked at the loose skin around your nail. A wound formed there, but you kept pulling until the trail of blood stretched longer. “But it’s not just his body I miss, Jolly. I miss my friend Noah, you know? I miss staying up all night talking nonsense with him, hearing him laugh until he chokes, sharing a space with him where the energy feels different, singing truly with him, composing, sharing ideas, making plans…”

You didn’t know what it was like to make long-term plans anymore. You had never pictured yourself going so far before him. It was usually Noah who injected confidence into your veins, who pushed your mind to believe it was worth living longer. You just wanted more time with him and begged the universe every day to extend it.

But now that plea was useless. You didn’t know how to use that time alone.

“I know how you feel. I miss my friend Noah too,” Jolly said for the first time in a more melancholic tone, keeping his eyes on the road. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him swallowing hard, as if struggling with something. “The same one who insists he died almost two years ago.”

With the silence of thought that situation brought to both of you, Jolly reached your street and stopped in front of your house. You took a deep breath as you glanced sideways at the road leading to the front door, dark due to the absence of street and porch lights.

"Are you okay staying here alone tonight? The guys and I are spending the night at the studio. You could keep us company; I’m sure anything there is more comfortable than this house..." he said, his eyes comically wide, drawing a smile from you.

"I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow. I definitely won’t be productive at the studio at this point."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "You're gonna miss out on pizza."

You let out a quick laugh and shook your head at his sarcastic remark. Jolly said goodbye with a light touch to your hand, and you closed the passenger door, holding your belongings and high heels in your hand as you made your way to the entrance.

The drizzle kept hammering against the asphalt, each cold drop serving as a soundtrack to your uneven steps. The shoes in your hand felt as heavy as if they were made of lead, but something else began to unsettle you: a creeping sensation that something wasn’t right.

It was when you reached your front door that you noticed it was ajar. Your heart raced. For a moment, you stood still, staring at the small dark gap between the door and the frame, trying to rationalize. Had you forgotten to lock it? Could the wind have pushed it open? But deep down, you knew neither of those made sense.

The unease rose in your chest like a tide. Your trembling fingers touched the damp wood, carefully pushing the door open. The sound of it scraping against the floor echoed in the darkness, sending shivers down your spine. Inside, the house was completely dark, except for the faint light from the street casting long, distorted shadows on the walls.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, its flashlight trembling along with your hand as it lit up the hallway ahead.

"Hello?" Your voice came out weak, almost swallowed by the heavy silence.

No response.

Every step you took seemed to echo louder than the last. The air inside the house was still, suffocating, yet there was something about it — a presence you couldn’t quite pinpoint. The flashlight swept over furniture, corners, slightly open doors, but revealed nothing beyond shadows and silence.

You checked every room. The living room was untouched, the couch exactly as you had left it. The kitchen was empty, but the cabinet doors seemed strangely ajar, as if someone had rummaged through them.

"Is anyone here?" you tried again, your voice slightly steadier but still met with no reply.

Your chest tightened, fear beginning to blend with anger, a natural reaction to the vulnerability you hated feeling. You climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking beneath your weight. Upstairs, you checked the bedrooms, the bathroom, even the hallway closet. Nothing.

Finally, you stopped in the center of the house, clutching your phone as if it were your only line of defense against the void. Your breathing was quick, almost gasping. There was no one there. There was nothing.

And yet, the weight in your mind remained, as though something invisible was watching you. You tried convincing yourself it was just your imagination, that the ajar door had been a mistake, and all of this was the result of an overly long night.

You turned off the flashlight, the phone’s light vanishing and plunging the house back into darkness. The silence now felt even more oppressive, almost deafening.

And still, the feeling that you weren’t alone refused to fade.

The next day, the weather seemed gloomier, and you barely slept due to the paranoia implanted in your mind that someone had entered your house while you were away. After torturing yourself with those thoughts for hours, you finally dozed off just minutes before your alarm went off.

Showered and dressed, you yawned while hurrying down the stairs to head to the studio. If this was the life you had, it was up to you to at least try to make things right, even if just a little. That included pretending you cared about this project.

Not for the label. Not for that idiot Noah. Least of all for yourself. But your friends deserved for the band to still be taken seriously, for their dreams and efforts not to go to waste.

They believed in you and hadn’t let go of your hand even when everything fell apart. It was only fair to push this forward for their sake. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t done this before—finding yourself in places you didn’t want to be.

On the sidewalk near the studio, you slowed your pace, letting yourself drift into thought. In truth, you were reflecting on how it would be to face him after everything that happened the night before.

But he landed you in jail by the end of the night, you thought. Though that was just a detail, as at that moment, you were trying to channel your energy into a different kind of memory.

It had been a while since you’d felt him, since you’d been so close and exchanged anything other than insults. With the growing distance, you’d gradually gotten unused to Noah’s physical presence. You’d forgotten what his touch felt like, the texture and natural scent of his skin, the way he worshiped and knew your body as if he lived to study every part of it.

All of it resurfaced in seconds as your memory returned.

You didn’t want to think a single night could change everything between you or erase over a year of suffering—it was impossible. But part of you thought about clinging to it as soon as you stepped through the studio gates and heard his voice.

Noah was out of tune, and you dared to say his voice was dragging as if being there was a huge sacrifice. Dressed warmly despite the studio not being that cold, he had drooping eyes that betrayed a sleepless night and seemed utterly distracted as the guys discussed sound adjustments.

“Sorry I’m late…” you said, drawing attention to yourself.

“It’s not like it made much of a difference,” he replied, sharp-tongued as ever.

“I think I did make a difference if you consider the tone you’re singing in. Need help?” you countered, challenging him.

“I need you to stop interrupting the rehearsal.”

“Great! Then you won’t mind if I head back home to watch a series and do my nails?” you retorted, narrowing your eyes with a fake smile as you walked toward him.

The guys slumped their shoulders in dismay, realizing how close the exchange of barbs was to turning into a real argument. You had left home determined not to give the devil a voice, which included avoiding trivial fights with Noah—even if he was begging for attention.

Slowly, you stepped up onto the short stage and adjusted yourself behind your microphone, your fingers tapping on it as the intro began.

“If you think you’re getting away with your stunt last night…” you muttered, glancing at him sideways.

“Try something, and I’ll make sure you spend more than a night in jail, you pickpocket!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“You should be ashamed to call me a thief when your wallet had twenty dollars, and the car wasn’t even yours!” Your attempt at whispering seemed to fail with every sentence.

“Twenty dollars you didn’t return.”

“It’s the fee for putting up with you!”

“I thought your services were a bit pricier.” He shot back, amusement lacing his voice as he watched your chest puff up in fury.

“GO TO HELL, JERK!”

Noah only tightened his fake smile at you before turning back to adjust his microphone and start singing. Fine. You’d just broken your promise not to let him get under your skin today.

During the song, you focused on your part but couldn’t ignore his unusual behavior. Noah was breathing harder than usual during breaks, his voice still fluctuating, and he couldn’t hit all the notes, needing your help to complete them.

By the end of the first song, you saw him stop and rest his forehead against the microphone, leaving a strange feeling lingering over you.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“Just a headache.”

“How long have you had a headache?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s keep going,” he said, lifting his gaze and motioning with his chin for the guys to move on to the next song.

“I think we should stop for today.”

“If you want to stop, you can just leave,” he snapped, his tone curt as he began the intro to the next song.

Noah couldn’t keep up the rhythm, not even until the chorus, when his body leaned forward, and his fingers pressed against his temple. Everyone stopped immediately, and you set your microphone aside to help him to the couch.

The pain he was feeling clenched his jaw, and his teeth were so tightly pressed together that you could clearly hear them grinding.

"Hey!" You called out as you crouched in front of him, and in a sudden motion, he grabbed your hand. Noah was gripping it too tightly, perhaps causing some pain, but you didn’t care.

"My head hurts so much I can't see," he groaned, his voice a near-painful rasp.

"Let’s take him to a doctor," Ruffilo appeared, concern etched on his face, but Noah tightened his grip on your hand and shook his head.

"No, I don’t need a doctor."

"Alright, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to..."

"What?" Jolly interrupted. "We don’t even know what the hell is wrong with him, and you're just going to listen to him?"

"Rehearsal’s suspended for today. I’ll take him home once he’s better."

You gave the order without turning to face them, your thumb never leaving his skin for even a second. In that moment, your heart felt like it was racing; you needed to be certain of where you were standing, as if afraid.

Afraid of truly losing him.

The boys, confused and irritated by your decision, left the studio. You remained there, crouched, waiting for him to lift his head while fighting your own uneven breaths.

"I know you hate headache medication, but since you don’t want to see a doctor, I don’t see another option." You shrugged with the suggestion, and he just groaned.

"I’m just really stressed. There’s nothing a doctor can do for me unless it’s a lobotomy." He rolled his eyes, and you smiled.

"Hey, but that’d destroy most of your memories, I’d imagine. Do you really want to forget everything?"

Noah paused for a few seconds, as if he needed extra time to process your words through the sharp pain. He seemed to drift away, and gradually the force he was using on your hand subsided, leaving a cold air between you.

"Just the last nine years."

Your smile vanished as quickly as the thought hit you. You could barely feel the pins and needles in your heels; the burning in your chest was stronger.

"Makes sense," you muttered, pressing your lips together slowly. "Memory loss is the least of it in cases like this. You’d basically become a vegetable—your brain wouldn’t work anymore, nor your basic functions..."

"Not much different from how I live now."

You swallowed hard when you heard his raw words and saw his downcast gaze, the weight in your throat growing as he leaned closer to your face.

"I made a deal with Gerard. I’d sell him three singles, and he’d shorten the band’s contract," Noah exhaled the information with the limited air in his chest. "Just because I wanted to get rid of you once and for all."

"You tried to betray me and ended up having to put up with me even more in the fine print," you said, shaking your head.

"Consequence."

"How can you keep being so selfish, acting like you’re the only one who suffered through all this? Like you’re the only one who ended a relationship, the only one who was hurt, the only one who loved, Noah!"

"Because I’m the one who lost the most in all of this!" he snarled through tears, leaning his face closer to yours. Noah pointed at his own chest, his labored breathing visibly unstable. "You never needed me to live, so your life goes on. But I always needed you—I made you my life!"

"Just because we handled it differently doesn’t mean I loved any less or that my life’s been better than yours. It just means I’ve gotten used to sweeping pain under the rug."

You responded, wiping under your eyes.

"I told you, you wouldn’t last a day living in my shoes. That’s what I was trying to avoid when I protected you."

"Protected me from your own lies and the horrible person you become every time you break a promise."

"Look at that—we’re not so different," you challenged, locking your eyes onto his. "I was broken by you too. I saw you turn your back on me, I saw you lie, Noah. You just forget the feeling when it’s not happening to you!"

"I wanted it to hurt you as much as it hurt me," he said weakly.

"But before you ever knew that pain, I’d felt it countless times, my love."

He shook his head slowly. His trembling hand hovered near your face but retreated, as if pulling back from an action he couldn’t bring himself to complete. Both of you were crying at the same pace, and you remembered the conversation in the car.

The impact of the previous night was different for you than it was for him: where you saw hope, he saw memories of failure.

He seemed trapped in an internal struggle, wanting to console you but convinced he was no longer worthy of that role.

Both of your tears fell in silence, and you couldn’t tell if it was the despair of the situation or the memory lingering between you. The conversation in the car. The words that had left their mark.

"I don’t know what to do anymore, I... I don’t know," his voice came out fragmented, almost a whisper, as he pressed a hand to his chest. Then you realized.

Noah’s breathing was too fast, irregular, as if he couldn’t find enough air. His chest rose and fell erratically, his hands trembling like leaves in the wind. He brought a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut, but the motion only made him look even more lost.

"Hey, hey, Noah, look at me," you said, trying to stay calm but feeling panic rise within you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to anchor him, but it was like he was far away, unreachable. "Breathe with me, okay? Just... inhale, slowly."

He shook his head, still clutching his chest. "I... I can’t... I can’t!"

The ground seemed to vanish beneath your feet. He was having a panic attack, perhaps the worst you’d ever seen.

"Noah, listen. I’m here. I’m here, okay? You don’t have to do this alone." But it was as if your words couldn’t penetrate the veil of agony surrounding him.

You picked up your phone with trembling fingers, dialing the record label’s medical support and describing his condition as clearly as you could. Seconds felt like hours as you waited, trying to keep him focused, trying to hold back the chaos consuming him.

When they arrived, you could hardly think. They placed him on a stretcher, and you held his hand the entire time, ignoring the questioning looks. All that mattered was that he felt he wasn’t alone.

At the hospital, the waiting was torture. You paced back and forth, images of the previous night blending with guilt and fear. He was in a room with the doctors, and you were there, not knowing if he would come out of this stronger or if this was his breaking point.

"Always at the crime scene," said the devil.

"We seem to have that in common," you replied, rolling your eyes and stopping at the reception desk to face him.

Chewing gum and crossing his arms, Gerard couldn’t have looked more amused.

"What happened to that brat this time?"

"Panic attack," your voice was serious. "Do you know if he’s had anything like this recently?"

Gerard thought for a few seconds, making a ridiculous pout.

"Not that I know of."

"Strange, this attack seemed way too intense for a first time. Noah didn’t even seem surprised... he didn’t even want to come to the doctor."

"Because he knows it’s nonsense," the man shrugged, continuing to chew the never-ending gum in his teeth. "But of course he wouldn’t be surprised. You stress the poor guy out all the time just by being around. No wonder he’s falling apart."

"Surely it’s not the working conditions or the pressure you put on us. Of course, blaming me is easier."

He laughed, waving a hand as if you’d told the funniest joke, but you remained serious, arms crossed and frowning.

"It’s the most obvious thing. No wonder he didn’t refuse the label’s strategy to dissociate his image from yours," Gerard noted, raising his shoulders. "Noah isn’t that stupid."

"What are you talking about?"

"Playing dumb, are we? Haven’t you been paying attention to the news lately? Little by little, people are talking more and more about his appearances with Scarlet, and fans are confirming theories that the two of them are together."

You stared at Gerard for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

"He hasn’t denied a single one of them," he continued. "In fact, he thought it was a good idea that his name is now being tied to someone less... well, you know."

"How can you be so pathetic?" you countered. "Noah doesn’t have all his wits about him, but a PR romance..."

Your words died in your throat when you glanced across the reception and saw the girl with voluminous red hair approaching the room’s entrance.

"He’s desperate to put an end to you..." Gerard continued. "Are you going to say it’s a lie?"

No.

You weren’t going to say it was a lie.

Not after what you’d heard at the studio.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

43 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 3 days ago

Text

lonely christmas

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'alone'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 526 words | cw: angst | tags: flashback, pre-steddie, wayne munson is a gift, could be read as steve pov to this

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Steve calls Wayne.

It’s almost Christmas, and he doesn’t know if Eddie is gonna make it home, and he doesn’t want Wayne to feel alone.

He could call Eddie and ask but…well, he can’t call Eddie.

They haven’t spoken in so long, it would feel weird for him to call just to ask if he was going home. If Eddie wanted him to know, he’d know.

Wayne is his usual self, complaining about everyone being so fussy about his injury, wishing Steve could visit, giving the same speech he did last week and the week before and the-

“You know, it would mean the world to me if ya came to visit for Christmas,” he says. It hits Steve right in the gut, in a special place he’s started calling the Munson Corner. They’re the only ones who can leave bullet wounds behind. “I know it’s last minute, but if you could get out here, I’d love to have ya.”

Steve hems and haws, laughs about never finding a flight in time that would actually take off. Wayne lets him repurpose the same excuses he’s used for months.

“Alright, well I best be off to bed. You call me on Christmas Day, or I’ll fly to you.”

Steve agrees because he doesn’t think Wayne’s joking. The man hates flying, but he’ll do it to prove a point. Stubborn as a mule.

When he hangs up, the silence in his apartment is deafening. There’s a blanket of dirty snow on the ground, and there’s clouds in the sky letting him know there’ll be more when he wakes up.

The faucet in the kitchen is dripping again, but the landlord didn’t seem too concerned about it last time Steve reported it. Maybe he won’t care until the winter’s over and the pipes are no longer at risk of freezing.

His music has been paused for an hour, even before he called Wayne to check in. He doesn’t think pressing play will help curb the ache in his chest.

There’s no noise coming from across the hall, which is a clear sign that the kids are being put to bed or everyone’s still out. The twins are usually playing wall ball in the hallway until bedtime, but today was suspiciously silent.

The only light on is the one above the oven and the lamp beside his couch.

He opens his call log on his phone and scrolls. He knows the exact date he last spoke to Eddie on the phone. He knows exactly how long the call was without even looking at the record.

He knows how difficult it was to hang up with the sinking feeling in his stomach that it would be the last time they spoke.

His finger hovers over the call button.

Eddie might answer. He might not. He might be happy to hear from him, or he might tell him to never call again.

The faucet drips. A door closes down the hall. A light outside flickers as it turns on, illuminating the empty street below.

Steve’s gotten used to being alone.

But he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being lonely.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie holiday drabbles #stranger things #steddie events #steve harrington x eddie munson #alone

30 notes · View notes

kmomof4 · 23 hours ago

Text

A Very Memorable First Date

Here is my second Winter/Holiday Bingo offering!! I'm crossing off 2 squares this time - Peppermint Mocha Latte and Christmas Carols/Music.

This fic was inspired by a Facebook post I saw back in July that told about Jay Leno going into the audience to hear about worst first date experiences. The lady who told this story won, as I'm sure you'll see why.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this second bingo offering and let me know what you think!!!

Thank you to @jrob64 for her beta services (also for reminding me to post... since I had forgotten 😳😬) and to @hollyethecurious for continuing the bingo shenanigans through the holidays!!

Without further ado... here we go!

Rating: T

Words: Almost 1800

Tags: Holiday Bingo Fic, Holiday Fluff

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

A Very Memorable First Date

Christmas Carols/Music and Peppermint Mocha Latte

Killian Jones slowly and carefully maneuvered his classic SS Chevelle along the narrow two lane road leading down the side of the mountain. He had just enjoyed a day of skiing on a delightful blind date with one Miss Emma Swan. The date had been set up by their coworkers David and Mary Margaret Nolan after months of nagging the both of them, once Killian moved to town last summer to start teaching sixth grade at Mary Margaret’s elementary school.

They’d had a great day, and Killian was already thinking about what they could do for their next date, if she consented to go out with him again. Her smiles and laughter today, as well as the utter lack of awkwardness and easy conversation between them had him thinking that she’d be amenable to the prospect. When he dropped her off at her home in a couple of hours, he’d be sure to ask her before he left her company.

But now, he glanced over and smiled as she exclaimed delightedly, turned up the volume on the radio, and began belting out Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer along with Gene Autry at the top of her lungs. Killian joined in and her wide grin whenever he added the little tags in between the lines just made his heart soar. It was all he could do to keep a lid on the happiness bubbling up inside him from the wonderful day they’d shared.

“Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, reindeer, had a very shiny nose,” they sang together. “And if you ever saw it, saw it, you would even say it glows, like a lightbulb. All of the other reindeer, reindeer, used to laugh and call him names, like Pinocchio. They never let poor Rudolph, Rudolph, join in any reindeer games, like football.”

Emma looked over at Killian as they sang together, taking in his ridiculously handsome profile, and berating herself that it had taken her this long to consent to David and Mary Margaret setting them up. If she’d known what she was missing, she would have gone out with him before he’d even settled in properly to their moderately sized town near the Maine and New Hampshire state line. But, to be fair, Mary Margaret’s track record with trying to set her up had not earned her a gold star in Emma’s book. It wasn’t until her boss David, Mary Margaret’s husband, threw his support behind Killian Jones, that Emma decided to take a chance.

And was she ever glad she did. He had completely blown her away. He proved himself a gentleman at every opportunity - opening the door for her, helping her onto and off the ski lift (all while keeping his hands where they belonged), pulling out her chair for her when they ate, and engaging her in scintillating conversation without dominating it. She’d never enjoyed a more perfect first date in her life and she sincerely hoped he asked her out again soon.

As they finished singing along to Rudolph, Emma became aware of a growing problem.

She needed to go to the bathroom.

The road they were on was treacherous, switchback after switchback, as they descended the mountain heading home, which was still a couple of hours away. And even the Maine state line with the Welcome Center and a bathroom wouldn’t be reached for about an hour. Emma swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it that long. She glared at the empty cup in the cupholder in front of the dash. She really shouldn’t have had that last peppermint mocha latte for dessert after dinner.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and Killian looked over at her.

“You alright there, Swan?” he asked.

Emma grimaced. “Ummm…” she hedged.

“What is it?”

“I might need you to stop soon,” she admitted, peering out into the night. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Oh,” he replied, mild astonishment coloring his voice. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he drove and handed it to her. “See if we’re near any town where we can stop.” He already had his map app open, so she zoomed out to see if there were any towns between them and the state line.

No such luck.

Killian grimaced this time. “I can try to speed up a little, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference getting us to the Maine welcome center. Do you think you can hold it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, if you can’t, I’ll just pull over,” he promised her. White Christmas sung by Bing Crosby was coming on the radio now, so they both started singing along to try and distract Emma from her growing predicament. By the end of the song, she knew it was hopeless.

“Nope,” she informed him. “Not going to make it. Pull over.”

Killian drove a little bit further - about halfway between the two switchbacks so he’d be seen by any cars coming up in front of him or down the mountain behind him - and carefully pulled over on the side of the road.

Emma opened her door and looked down. There was nothing for it. She had no choice - it was either wet her pants, ruining Killian’s leather seats and humiliating herself, or get out in the snow and hope she didn’t step off the road into a drift that would swallow her whole.

“Stay as close to the car as you can, Swan,” Killian said. “I’ll keep it running for you.”

Nodding, Emma stepped out onto the asphalt, and shut the door carefully behind her. In the silence of the woods, she didn’t want to trigger an avalanche. Shimmying her way toward the back of the car, she finally stopped and pulled her pants down, resting her naked backside against the metal of the car.

Her relief was instantaneous once she relaxed enough to do her business. When she was done, she tried to straighten her legs.

Uh oh, she thought.

She couldn’t move.

She was frozen to the side of Killian’s car!

“Killian!” she whisper shouted, reaching behind herself to try and knock on the door. Her door opened suddenly and she heard Killian’s voice from inside.

“You alright there, Swan?” he called. “What’s taking so long?”

“Help!” she cried. “I’m freezing my butt off here! Literally!”

A moment later, Killian appeared at her side from around the back of the car. As soon as he saw the problem, his eyes widened comically.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she warned him, though without any real heat as she couldn’t keep her own laughter contained.

Killian pressed his lips into a thin line to try and keep his own laugh inside, but her own small giggle as she spoke made it impossible and he burst into laughter, prompting her to join him. Their mutual mirth broke the ice of the situation - pun definitely intended - but Killian still needed to figure out a way to free Emma.

They needed something warm to pour on her bottom in order to unfreeze her from the metal. He carefully went around her to her door to see if there was anything left in her cup. His cup of coffee was long gone, but perhaps she still had a little bit left, though he couldn’t remember her taking a sip for quite a while.

Yep, her cup was just as empty as his was, which meant there was only one way to free her. He crawled back out of the car, scratching at the spot behind his ear that always itched when he was nervous or embarrassed.

“Well, Swan,” he began, “I have bad news, good news, and… somewhat good news. I think. I hope. It depends on your point of view, I think.”

Emma raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “As long as my butt is unfrozen, I don’t much care about good news, bad news, or anything in between. But whatever we do, it’s got to be quick. My legs are not going to hold me up much longer.”

Killian nodded decisively.

“Alright then,” he said. “The bad news is both of our cups are empty, so we can’t use our drinks to unfreeze you from the vehicle. The good news is that I can still get you off of there, but the other news is that…” Killian scratched behind his ear again, terribly embarrassed about saying this out loud.

“What, Jones?” Emma asked, her impatience bleeding through.

“I’m going to have to uh… ah… relieve myself, to uh…” He vaguely gestured with his hand, but Emma took his meaning.

No wonder he was so uncomfortable.

Emma took a deep breath, and bit back the hysterical laugh that wanted to burst out of her.

“Whatever it takes, Jones. I won’t look at you if you won’t look at me.”

“As you wish, Swan.”

Emma could hear Killian’s zipper being pulled down as she turned her head away from him and tried to arrange her clothing so that he wouldn’t accidentally hit any of them. Suddenly, she felt a warm splash against her bottom and a moment later, she was free and nearly fell head first into the drift in front of her. Killian caught her by the shoulder before she did and made sure she was stable before letting her go and putting himself back to rights.

He handed her a bunch of napkins that he’d retrieved from inside to clean herself up with.

“You can turn around now,” she said, once she’d wiped herself off and pulled her pants back up.

Killian looked at her, his face resembling a ripe tomato all the way to the top of his pointed little elf ears. He smirked at her.

“Some blind date, huh, Swan?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she agreed, with a chuckle.

“Come on,” he said, opening her door for her. She settled into her seat as Killian shut the door behind her. Once behind the wheel again, he continued driving slowly and carefully down the side of the mountain.

Now singing along to Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, they were able to put the whole embarrassing ordeal behind them.

~*~*~

Ten Years Later

“Tell us a bedtime story, Papa!” Seven year old Liam and five year old Hope called as they flew down the stairs and climbed into their father’s lap.

“A true story!” Liam said as he settled down comfortably.

“Of course, my cygnets,” he agreed, putting his arms around them both. He leaned back in the recliner and stroked his chin in thought. “Hmmm,” he mused for a moment. “Have I ever told you the story of mine and your mother’s first date?”

The End

~*~*~

See why that lady's story won? Thank you for reading and sharing!! I'd love to know what you think! Merry Christmas!!!

#a very memorable first date #winter holiday bingo #krystal writes

24 notes · View notes

soft-persephone · 2 days ago

Text

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 him catching up with her.

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. Sheh 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 you.

“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 you. 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 of 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 you 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 brows 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?”

“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 of steam 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.

“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 you could ask Alex’s friend what he wanted, he was already following her.

“Does he—“

“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 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 you 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.

“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?”

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 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 ut 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 and 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, but she was no criminal and there was no danger.

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 movements of his face, his hand, soaking in the way the leather of his gloves creaked and strained with the movement. 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 you 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 and grabbed her water, not looking 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 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.”

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.

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.

#alex cross #Cross #Fanfiction #x black reader #John Sampson x black original character #John Sampson x OC #John sampson x black OC #x original female character #x black original female character #x fem oc #x black fem oc #isaiah mustafa #amazon prime #2024 #Isaiah Mustafa x reader #black writer #black fanfiction

17 notes · View notes