#while I really just blanked lol

[johnnyshrine]

★ 098 // "Prayer Candle"

[blue-slates]

I think what's getting me about the ending, more than how bittersweet they are is just that (endgame spoilers lool)

There's just no trust. Whoever the player sides with (and you HAVE to side with one of the them, no way out for you) just illustrates that Verso and Maelle don't trust that the other will follow through if they decide to listen.

Maelle can't trust Verso to not destroy the painting while she's gone to recuperate (and she's right). Verso can't trust Maelle to actually leave the painting after ostensibly fixing things up. (and how long would that even take? A day? A week? A year? Real world time or canvas time?)

And it makes me think back to their final relationship conversation, where Verso can either lie or be truthful about whether he let Gustave die. I was bothered by how subdued Maelle's reaction was, and eventually chalked it up to her putting it behind them. For context I chose to tell her the truth.

But I think whatever you chose, Maelle had already made up her mind about what Verso was capable of, and what she was planning to do with her life. She had already figured out that she can't trust him - he had already left everyone Lumiere to die instead of giving her Alicia's letter, telling her that shes' Alicia. (Maybe at first she still wanted to trust him. She understood why he did what he did, but by that point she asks about Gustave, she's made up her mind) And she'd already proven that, when push comes to shove, she's not going to listen to what Verso has to say, even about him not wanting to be alive anymore. Killing Alicia was a kindness to her, but she didn't let Verso even say goodbye. Yeah, it was her (Alicia/Maelle) decision, but to Verso it must've felt like he didn't matter.

He was just another portrait of her brother she couldn't lose.

And it kills me that they couldn't trust each other enough to reach a compromise, but they'd already made their decision long before their fight.

[kalosian-woods]

Clemont is just really funny in general i think. he's just like that, realistically theres so much to unpack about him;

he made an entire invention where he spoke to the mayor and was spread out across the town of the uni he was in which he got in at the age of maybe like 8.

he's a gym leader. he lost his gym to his invention,

there was the slightest chance he could've been mind controlled.

his bag is a bag of holding

he can't run

his entire mental state is the way it is because of a single mistake that wasn't even his fault

There's so much to unpack about him and the creators were like; "yeah anyways!"

okay but seriously, i think we as a fandom neglect the fact that if it wasn't for Clemont's anxious(???) paranoid(???) quick thinking(???) overly prepared(???) he probably he would've gotten mind controlled. like what was up with that.

-⚡(you can call me clem anon! its also just really funny and the fact that i've so far only exclusively talked about him makes it even funnier. electric anon is okay too !)

Clemont is his own bag of holding lol, there really is SO MUCH with him and I'm shaking you on the shoulders rn clem nonnie. Please. How is it possible that there is so much to him as it is. I need to study him under a microscope.

With the first point, that always made me laugh in a way lol. Him at the age of possibly eight created a power source slash Electric Pokemon recharger for a whole town/city. The mayor has noticed his efforts. This is before he is a Gym Leader, and this is the place where he made the promise to Shinx (a promise that he broke, not by any fault of his own, but by the very thing that brought them together in the first place).

The way he actually just straight up lived in Prism Tower, or at least that's how it felt, along with Bonnie. Their father is in the same city with a house but they won't bother with that and he doesn't bother them until they are MIA for at the very least a few weeks if not months. His reasoning for being a Gym Leader is to wield Electric Types from every region and become an Electric-Type Trainer that the world has never seen. The fact that he can be this ambitious with battling gets me (and also his learning from school carrying over c':)

His bag is also a mechanical marvel (not Volcanion, sorry). His Aipom Arm has only malfunctioned once (1 time), and he's easily able to lift Bonnie into the air with it. Also we never see this beyond the first ep but it has an inflatable airbag??? That is actually safe and comfortable to land on even with the everything in his bag as it is.

Even after the whole series and after everything they've ever went through, he still cannot run. Only one time he has ever sprinted ahead (in this realm/dimension) and that was to get to a festival about Zapdos of all Pokemon (and maybe that inventing fair as well??). No one comments on it beyond that one moment. He's also tried to make shoes to help him go up hills quicker but he never tried that one again lol (he forgot he even had it until Serena mentions the monorail, in which also, wow. this gang i swear).

That's actually one of the saddest parts (and something I can totally relate with). The way that we see him so happy and open with Shinx beforehand, ready to learn and be hands on and playing outside even with all the work that he had. And then we hear about how he lost his Gym, how his Pokemon disregard his words and his invention doesn't see him as worthy or strong enough, and it really is him just living out a nightmare of his own making in a way. His fear from back then keeps haunting him with the mistakes that he makes now, and even after meeting with Luxio again you can see the way he just... accepts that he's no longer wanted or forgiven. He's fine with it. He rather everyone have a better life than he does. Just,, he needs a hug. Lots of them.

HELP PLS you've said exactly what I've been thinking off this whole time!! Geez, I thought I was alone in thinking that we brush off whatever happened to Clemont in 'The Needs of Many!' like I get that we lose Greninja, but hello? He got straight-up kidnapped right in front of our eyes! He was going to be made into a superhuman (which has some very very worrying connotations beyond what is already happening). He too was blasted by the Mega Evo Energy, and even if he did resist the mind control, there's got to be other effects as well. If his friends weren't OP and reckless as they were he would've actually been carted away to who knows where and it would've been a matter of time until his preventive measures were found out. And the way he already had a counter against it, against the beam specifically (and for it to be able to work without any issues) is also so sad and worrying in a way?? It's definitely paranoia to me, it was very specific (more than usual, anyways), small enough to hide and easy enough for him to grab. Poor boy :(( I need to just sit down and think every time I remember this is an ep that exists because they just went ham with it, didn't they??

[rosefires20]

The one thing that gets me about the Lord of the Rings movies is how much they fail Faramir's character but manage to really show Boromir's specifically in the extended cuts.

Faramir gets so little time in the movies compared to how much he gets in the books. He is genuinely such a good character in the books and I adore him so much. He has one of the best lines in the series as well that really captures some of the larger themes of the peace.

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend." - Faramir in The Two Towers

He is genuinely such a kind man, and in the books, you see that through his actions but also the actions and words of everyone around him. In the books, you get Beregond and Pippin's interactions and conversations where Beregond talks about how much he admires and loves Faramir as his captain and how much he trusts him. Beregond's love and dedication is part of the reason why Denethor's plan to burn him and Faramir alive gets delayed long enough for Pippin to go and get Gandalf and return with enough time to save Faramir at least.

The movie fails so hard because they have Faramir and his group take Frodo and Sam forcefully to Osgiliath and he has a moment with the ring. In the books, before even knowing for sure that Frodo had the ring, he said he would not take it. When it is revealed, he completely denies it and aids Frodo with food and shelter for a bit. The scene of him rejecting the ring especially with the knowledge that it got to his dearly beloved brother is so good and so core to Faramir's character which drives me nuts with how it went down in the movies.

In the books, you also get most of a chapter dedicated to Eowyn and Faramir and their healing journey. There, you also get to see how kind and loving Faramir is as a person with how he respects and interacts with Eowyn. Just god. He's such a good example of the series's gentle masculinity. He parallels Aragorn a lot in it especially since Aragorn is the one who is meant to be king while Faramir had the hearts of the people.

[freaky-flawless]

Me to myself at the beginning of the year: Okay! Gonna be a lot more mindful of how many dolls I get this year.

Me a few months in: Buys 6 dolls in the span of 3 weeks.

[bmpmp3]

quick test with the slightly busted sv2 launch LOL KEEP IN MIND this is not an actual render, im using liam's trial ver so i recorded my computers audio output FHDKSJHKFSd its not as compressed sounding in engine

i'll wait until the real launch (?) to see if theres any last minute fixes that were supposed to go out with it before i go into the good and bad in detail but 1) the separated vocal mode controls rule <3 and 2) the freehand pitch drawing is kinda fucked </3

[reticent-fate]

i Need you to understand that i am just a simple little digimon redemption machine

the squeaky lil gazimon that serve etemon on the server continent? get those critters some beef jerky and cat toys

devimon from adventure? that's a friend waiting to happen

i see milleniummon and i go "that's a friend right there, get the lads some fruit salad"

kurata can suffer in digihell but i'll take his gizmon, they're cute

i just think they're neat

-sky

[fiepige]

I'm still working on my Venom!Hobie fic btw but for some reason my comprehension of English is significantly reduced whenever I try to write 😭 I'm constantly looking up words to make sure they actually mean what I think they do... so yeah it's taking a while but I haven't given up!

[bunni-bun]

dora maar on repeat kinda day, y'all know what that means (not really lol)

[sysig]

How fucked up would it be if gaster and the dreamers had a genuinely really good relationship in fell! Handplates but then shit hit the fan they turned cruel? Especially if gaster had an abusive family life before, I know from experience that if you were in a shit situation with abusive people, manage to leave and find new people only for them to turn just as bad as the last, it really fucks you up and can often make you feel like you’re at fault.

Sorry about the kinda dark question but I enjoy a bit of angst

Nothing wrong with a bit of angst lol

While I do prefer the Fell-from-the-start interpretation, I can see the appeal of torturing Gaster having the Fell be more of a Thing That Happens - an expression of persisting grief that the Dreemurrs can't pull themselves out of, and eventually grow into the shape of, and that feeling radiating out of them to the rest of the Underground like poison. How desperate Gaster would be to return to Before, and blaming himself because if he'd just been Better, maybe he could have saved them. Throwing his all into "fixing" them, to reclaim what's been lost

It's an interesting thought :)

[saltomortal]

im gonna explode

[dollivication]

ᥫ᭡. IF THEY GOT A HOLD OF YOUR PANTIES ᥫ᭡.

ᢉ𐭩 ft. hwang in-ho/player 001/the frontman, seong gi-hun/player 456, thanos/choi su-bong/player 230 , kang dae-ho/player 388, nam-gyu/player 124

ᢉ𐭩 cw: nsfw, perviness, panty-sniffing, masturbation, nam-gyu cussing you out/insulting you LOL??, fairly icky stuff, dirty fantasies, fem!reader. gooner activities. mdni

ᢉ𐭩 a/n: doesn’t take place in the games but… if you want to interpret this that way you can LOLS. sorry if it seems rushed i was very eager to take this out...

HWANG IN-HO/PLAYER 001/FRONTMAN

-honestly? he’d probably find it very endearing how you still maintain your style underneath all your clothes.

-he uses this as a better insight to your tastes. mentally noting down your preferences as he properly looks at the pair in his hands, turning the article of clothing around with a watchful gaze and rubbing it between his fingertips to feel the texture.

-lacy or simple? noted. silky or cotton? he’ll keep it in mind. dark or pastel? he’ll make sure to keep an eye out for something similar. he wants to know every aspect of your character, and this serves as the perfect chance. “How cute..” he’d muse.

-doesn’t judge whatsoever. after all, they belong to you, that by itself is a blessing. that being said, he doesn’t exactly have a need for them as he much prefers the thing that wears them. he prides himself on his self-control. you could not catch him acting like a hormonal teen.

-at the most, he’ll give them a tiny sniff, brushing his lips against them and flick the tip of his tongue out just to give himself the daily dose of your smell and taste, smiling to himself as he intakes the scent and flavor. but don’t worry, he puts them right back where he found them without ever telling a soul. <3

SEONG GI-HUN/PLAYER 456 (S1)

-his mind goes blank. does this make him a perv? well, probably. does he really care? somewhat. he wouldn’t have much of an explanation if someone walked in on him at that moment.

-just stares as he ponders what to do with them. he could put them down, pretend it never happened—it’s not like he had any bad intentions.. but an opportunity like this doesn’t come around often. and it’s been years since he had anything to properly give him a release.

-kind of has an inner battle over whether or not it’s worth actually being a dirty old man for relief or being a respectable one and giving up on this opening. yet of course.. he’s only human. and he just wants you so much :( !!

-pretty much uses your panties to muffle himself, sniffing at it like a dog whilst rutting slowly into a pillow. of course, the thin undergarments could only do so much in the face of his needy little sounds <3

-panting heavily, letting out grunts as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please.. Please..” his face almost looks pained with a slack jaw and furrowed brow, hands grasping at the pillow beneath him to try and ground himself. (it doesn’t work, because he quickly begins to pick up the pace.)

-gasps when he finally climaxes, burying his face even deeper into your underwear to the point he might suffocate himself all while shooting out his seed over his pillow. feels pretty disgusted in himself and guilty after he comes down from his high, pouting a little at the mess he made. still, he can’t deny how blissful it felt. it was almost like you were right there with him…. </3

-keeps your panties. yeah, hopefully those weren’t your favorite pair—because they’re his now. he’ll return them at some point, but until then, if you ever exasperatedly tell him about the loss, gi-hun will keep his mouth shut and play the oblivious. >.<

THANOS/CHOI SU-BONG/PLAYER 230

-he looks like an immature highschool boy with the way he marvels at your panties, as if he hasn’t been in previous sexual flings and one-night stands where he has most likely witnessed all kinds of undergarments. and yanked them off…

-i guess the only reason why he’s so fascinated is because they’re yours. no way in hell you’d ever willingly give a pair to him—did you really think he wasn’t going to savor every moment of this? this is heaven served on a silver platter.

-it starts off as a joke for thanos, stretching the elastic waistband in various degrees and angles while giggling. maybe even uses them as a slingshot. he never imagined that he’d find himself in a position like this, you know? this is the type of shit you’d see in crappy rom-coms.

-all that runs through his head is something along the lines of “Hell yeah.. Nice.” UNTIL it finally occurs to him that, holy shit. he’s actually got your panties in his possession. the way he looks around to see if anyone’s by (despite obviously being alone) is damn well near cartoonish.

-wastes no time in lowering his pants to his knees, biting his bottom lip as he wraps a hand around his cock. he’s hard almost instantly, the thrill of doing something so filthy behind your back making his dick twitch and expel tiny drops of pre-cum.

-“Oh, fuuuck.. Mhm..” his words are shaky and border on a breathy chuckle, pumping his dick while raising his other hand to his face. takes sporadic sniffs of your panties, bunching them up in his palm whenever a particular stroke really made his hips buck.

-His head will roll back, his motions lazy and unhurried while he kicks and spreads his legs out. his voice is husky as he grunts out incoherent curses, gradually speeding his hand up before he eventually shoots out warm ropes of cum, letting the strands coat his fingers in short spurts.

-“Mannn...” he’d grumble, quite miffed by the fact that he was gonna have to clean up when the flow stopped. but he immediately cheers up, seeing that your panties were free from the spill. that meant he wasn’t gonna have to discard them just yet!!

-also keeps your panties and acts like he doesn’t know anything if they’re ever brought up in a conversation. he thinks of them as his personal lucky charm, which of course he won’t give up until he actually has to. but at that point, he’ll just try to get his hands on another pair and so on.. silly little addict :3c

KANG DAE-HO/PLAYER 388

-having been the youngest brother of 4 sisters, its safe to assume that he’s probably had similar occasions whilst doing laundry. bras, panties, he’s most likely handled them at least once throughout his life while being surrounded by women.

-thats not to say he doesn’t still get a little bit shy, even as an adult. its mostly out of respect more than it is embarrassment. he understands that underwear is meant to cover women’s privates, he’s been taught not to view them in a sexual light. but that’s because it came to family. there, underwear was just that—articles of clothing to literally wear under.

-this is a much different situation: being accidentally exposed to the type of undergarments his crush puts on. with the way he fumbles with your panties, you’d think they were sizzling hot and causing burns. poor dae-ho doesn’t know what to do !!

-especially not when his pants feel a little tighter than usual. his free hand will shoot down, try to adjust the tent forming with a tiny frown on his face. “Don’t be gross, Dae-ho. Cmon..” he’ll scold himself in a hushed whisper, but his body clearly having other plans.

-he’ll start to panic, desperately trying to make his boner die down. he swears he isn’t a perv, honest! he just can’t help but think about how good you’d look teasing him in them, rubbing your clothed pussy against his dick…!

-yeah, he’s got it bad. the imagery would make his dick stir that much more, practically throbbing as he hesitantly sneaks a hand beneath the waistband of his pants. “Shit, I’m so sorry—” he’d gasp out an apology followed by your name, his warm palm finally coming in contact with his aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the base.

-dae-ho’s eyes would flutter, his adam’s apple bobbing as he’d begin to jerk off at a moderate pace to the thought of you, wanton moans falling from his parted lips. he would swipe the pad of his thumb over his leaking tip, the motion causing a high pitched mixture of a whine and grunt. “Oh, god..”

-can’t help but to give your panties little licks, the taste of your cunt making his hips buck into his hand. the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm creeping up accompanied by a tugging guilt began to form tears in his eyes, nothing ever actually escaping yet threatening to.

-his back arches when he cums, thighs trembling as his digits tighten around your underwear, holding the pair close to his chest as he groans. “Yes! Oh, please, I love you—” his voice would tremble, practically breaking off into a small cry. his warm cum coats his hand, the latter continuing to give weak strokes until he’s unable to produce anymore.

-the moment he regains his composure and he realizes what he just did, he’ll be so disappointed in himself :( washes his hands with soap like 4 times, as if it’ll get rid of his dirty little misdeed. gosh he feels so pathetic…

-tells NO ONE about the endeavor, and leaves your panties where he found them. he’s going to have a lot to think about. (◞‸◟)

NAM-GYU/PLAYER 124

-one word: shameless.

-for some reason, nam-gyu just won’t fess up to the fact that he probably does genuinely have a crush on you. that’s absurd, he doesn’t do that kiddie shit! so, instead he’s making it his duty to find every possible way of throwing you off. because it’s funny. and what better chance does he have than right now?

-so what if this makes him a creep? hopefully you’ll take it as a sign to stay the hell away from him after this. (he says, anyway. a part of him actually hopes you’ll enjoy what he’s about to do and come back for more… he’s just,, strange like that.) he doesn’t think twice about taking his cock out from his boxers.

-the only one to actually USE your panties to jerk himself off. he tells himself he’s doing it out of spite, furiously pumping his veiny dick as he bites into the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach that jumped with the contrasting nip of the cool air on his warm skin.

-“Stupid bitch. See how you fucking like it,” he’d growl, pausing a few times to frustratedly tuck strands of hair behind his ear whenever they’d get in his face. has no problem being loud, letting out groan after groan with every intention of getting caught. walk in on him, why don’t you? see how pissed off you make him feel. how fucking pent up he is for you.

-“Gonna cum all over your face,” nam-gyu’s threats would flow with no particular party on the receiving end. only the thought of you on your knees tending to him. doesn’t care that he probably looks like a lunatic while guiltlessly talking dirty, his balls drawing up at his own filthy-natured words.

-saliva would begin to seep into his shirt’s hem, his pace unrelenting as he fists his cock into your underwear, his other hand curling and uncurling whenever his pleasure spiked. he’ll swallow thickly as the knot in his lower stomach begins to form, squirming slightly in his spot in a visible attempt to chase his climax.

-he’ll align the inner crotch area perfectly along his length, his head tossing back as he finally lets go, your panties easily catching the globs of semen that shot out. “Fuck yeah.. Take it, take my cum.” he’d grunt, eyebrows furrowing while sinking his teeth deeper into his top.

-breathes heavily upon seeing the sticky and foggy white liquid cause an evident dark patch on your panties. with a self-accomplished smirk, he’ll tuck himself back into his pants, releasing his shirt from his mouth as he pinches the waistband of your cum-soaked panties with the tip of his index and thumb, keeping it a distance away from him. he has just the thing for you.

-nam-gyu will actively seek you out, bringing along the end result of his.. work. once he finds you, he’ll toss it right at you, not caring if you were in catching-range or not.

-“Just a little something from me to you. Enjoy the gift, yeah?” he’d give you one of his sly smiles, eyes twinkling with the typical hint of mischief before walking off without even waiting for a reply or reaction.

-well, at least you got your panties back, right? <3

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[ramonathinks]

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished. 

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one. 

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person. 

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.” 

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.” 

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that. 

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months. 

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke. 

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.” 

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried. 

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago. 

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful. 

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand. 

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?” 

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself. 

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t. 

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before. 

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him. 

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial. 

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him. 

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him? 

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in. 

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid. 

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water. 

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?” 

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events. 

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more. 

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud. 

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum. 

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you. 

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.  

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his. 

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body –  focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you. 

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation. 

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling. 

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves. 

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you. 

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response. 

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs. 

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.” 

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered. 

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow. 

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other. 

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.” 

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex. 

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews. 

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too. 

[poisonofthepaint]

Day After Tomorrow - Part Two

read part one here! part three here!

a/n: here is part two, i hope u enjoy!! the next part will be the last part. i'm having a lot of fun writing these, thanks for all the likes and reblogs on the first part!!!

content warnings: age gap between jack and reader, reader spills hot coffee on herself but it's nothing serious, lots of me repeating phrases i think lol, that's all!

Today, you woke up with a mission. You would not go to work tired. You would be prepared this time. Prepared for Jack Abbot. You wake up at 2:30 A.M. this time, and you get ready like it’s a regular hour of the day. You still don’t know if he’ll even come in. Yesterday, you spiraled when you allowed your brain to think. If he doesn’t come in, you also thought of a million excuses for him. It doesn’t have to be because of you! It could be that he is piled up with emergencies, he’s stuck in surgery, maybe the time got away from him. 

You get to work and try to slow yourself down. You’re anxious, pacing around. You know if you finish all your tasks early, you’ll just be waiting around for him. You count the money in the drawer three times. You clean every spot on the espresso machine twice. You brew the coffee with exact precision. You fix your hair more times than you can count.

You look at the clock on the wall. 4:00 A.M. You glance at the door and remind yourself to look away. You are trying so hard to not be disappointed. You don’t want to put your hopes and dreams into this man. You didn’t know him. But God, you wanted to. You had replayed the conversation in your head until you could mark it down to the minute it happened. You thought the way he looked at you before he left. How he seemed like he didn’t want to drag his eyes away.

You sigh and shake your head, opting to make yourself another London fog, hoping the drink will summon him. You try to distract yourself, but there really is nothing else to do. You don’t get any customers this early, Jack was the only one. Since your coworkers were in the back, you had no one to talk to. You check the clock again, 4:10. You sigh, trying not to feel disappointed.

But then, it comes. The bell on the door rings. It feels like Gabriel’s horn just blew. He walks in. You smile, and think maybe you shouldn’t. You wanted to be cool today, but you couldn’t help it. He actually came.

“It’s nice to know you’re a man of your word.” you say as he walks over to the counter.

“Course I am,” he says. Jack smiles too, a small one, but it’s a smile.

“Do you just want another coffee?”

“Yeah, I do. And your number, if that’s not overstepping.”

You blank. The lack of sleep catches up to you in three seconds, tops. Your brain falters, you try to remember how to form a sentence, “Yes.”

He deadpans, “Yes, it’s overstepping?”

“No!” you basically yell. You clear your throat, try again, “No, not overstepping. Yes, I’d like to give you my number.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles, shaking his head, laughing a bit, “Had me scared there.”

“Sorry, it’s early.”

“Right, yeah,” you can tell he doesn’t believe you for a second. You can tell he knows you're nervous. 

You decide you don’t want to be perceived anymore, and turn around to pour his coffee. But your hands are shaking. The pot slips a little, meaning you pour some of the freshly brewed, very hot coffee, on the hand that was stabilizing the cup.

“God, ouch!” you say.

Jack looks like he wants to jump over the counter. “Let me see.”

You turn around slowly, holding your hand. You decide to trust the doctor and let him take a look.

When he touches your hand, it’s like the burn amplifies, and your face feels as hot as the dark brown liquid that you just spilt everywhere. “I’m used to it, I’ll be fine.”

He lets out a sigh and shoots you a look that says, let me check it over thoroughly. You wonder how long he’ll spend touching you, you don’t know if you want it to end. 

He has your injured hand flat in one of his, while the other is slowly flipping your hand over, softly touching everywhere the coffee spilt. He gives your hand two, small pats, and lets go slowly.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Cool water if the burning feeling doesn’t go away.” 

You nod, bewildered, awestruck. You stand there like an idiot before remembering that he still needs his coffee. You pour the old cup out into the sink beside you, and throw it in the trash. You get him a new one since the coffee had spilled on the outside of the cup too. You pour the new one extra carefully, making sure to not spill it again. Although, you kind of wish you could, if it meant that Jack would touch you again.

“Will you let me pay today?” he says, a bit exasperated.

“You just gave me a free examination, obviously this is a fair trade.” 

He scoffs. Throws a five in the tip jar, just like he did last time.

You hold out the cup to him, he takes it, letting his fingers brush yours as he does.

“And the other part?” he asks. “I don’t see your number on here.”

“You know, we do have cellphones now. You could take yours out and I’ll give you it. Or do you want me to write it on a napkin for you?”

He laughs again. Just like the ones you’ve been thinking about from two days ago. “Old fashioned, remember?”

He sets the coffee on the counter and grabs his phone out of his back pocket. It’s an iPhone with a matte black case. He taps around on it for a second and then hands it to you. You put your number in, and your name in the first name spot. He watches you with intensity. You don’t even see him, but you can feel it. Can feel his dark eyes watching you. You glance up and meet them. You don’t break eye contact as you hand the phone back. 

He looks down at the information and then shuts his phone off, putting it back into his pocket.

You decide that you’re done being nonchalant. “I’m glad you came back.”

Jack nods, “I am too.”

You figure that you’ll need to get to know him a little bit better for him to give you a little bit more than that. He remains his mysterious self, but you’re glad you got a little bit of verbal reassurance. 

You smile, laugh, shake your head and look down. “You know, for a second I thought I had just imagined you, because you came and went so fast.”

“That’s one way to tell me I’m the man of your dreams.” he smiles smugly.

Your face gets hot again. This time, you can’t make eye contact.

“Very smooth,” you try to joke, but your voice sounds rough. Your throat is getting a bit dry from the flirting.

Jack laughs, you keep count in your head of how many times this makes. You wonder if you’ll ever stop doing that. “Listen, I do have to get back today. But I'll text you with plans, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” you say, looking up at him now. You didn’t want to miss any more chances to see him.

“Okay, see you. And be careful with that coffee!” he points at you, eyes quickly looking down at your hand.

“Will do, Doc.” 

He looks crushed. His brows furrow, and he swipes his palm down his face. you want to understand why this name always seems to get to him, but you can't come up with any reasons in your head. He leaves the same way he did before. Backwards, slowly inching towards the door. Once he leaves. You look at the door for at least a minute, wishing he’d come back. When you finally tear your aways away from the metal entrance, you realize he left his cup of coffee on the counter, and didn’t even take a sip out of it.  You almost can’t believe it. He really did just come here for you this time, not because he needed any extra caffeine.  

You spend the rest of your shift about the way you spent the one before: out of it. You checked your phone more times than you care to admit, and googled what time night shift doctors got off. You were done trying to convince yourself to not spiral about it, because it was real, and it was happening. A doctor was going to text you and make plans for a date, and that was all that mattered in your mind at this moment. 

Your shift was long, and busy, but this time, the crowds of people couldn’t drag Jack away from your mind. Every customer you served, you thought about him. You imagined his face there instead, thinking about him being at the end of the long line. You got an order for a small black coffee and you peered around the cafe, trying to see if he came back.

When your shift ends, you check your phone again, and this time, there’s a text from an unknown number. 

Does Friday at 6pm sound good?

[starcrossedxwriter]

Still Standing Part 2 (Smoke x Black Reader)

A/N: Ummmm a bit late but here you go for all my Smoke girlies! 💙💙

Read part 1 if you haven't already!

Warnings: This is a reader fic (not Smoke x Annie - unless you wanna read it that way! I just love this gif (sue me lol), SMUT, DNI, mentions of violence and abuse.

*** The love between you and Elijah was forged one silent moment after another. He did not capture your heart with clever words and long winded soliloquies. He did with his presence. His ability to exist in utter stillness. His steadiness. Storms could be raging around him, designed to rattle, shake, and scare him. But none of it worked. 

He never rushed. 

And when he struck? It was with perfect precision and control. 

It’s what made him Smoke. Lethal and unforgiving. Merciless. 

But it was also what made him Elijah. How in his childhood silence, he watched everything about you. And showed you the depths of his understanding of you in the most exact ways. As if he studied you long enough to learn your soul. 

How he brought you your favorite flowers for the first time once on a whim. A fact he knew not because you ever told him, but from noticing which flowers you spent the longest tending to in your garden.

How he endured being yelled at by your mama for staying too late when a storm was headed in. All so he’d be allowed to spend the night because he knew thunder frightened you. He’d stay up with you working or talking, holding you through the worst of it. You found out what it felt like to fall asleep in the warmth of his arms that way, only breaking apart if you heard the creaking floorboards of your mama coming to check on you.

It was the way he held you close to his chest after you bandaged his cuts and bruises after their father’s beatings, knowing you needed the reassurance that he was alright. 

You had long stopped allowing yourself to fantasize about what it would feel like to be cocooned in his silent focus again. To be loved by a man as devoted and singular as he. 

But at this moment, his silence was not the calm you once dreamed of returning to the heart of. It was thick, prickly with the tension of everything bearing down on both of you like a ton. Trauma, lost time, lingering questions, concern. 

When he walked out of the barn some time later, his energy felt as if someone had dropped all the weight of the world onto his back. Blood splattered across his crisp white shirt, only interrupted by his charcoal vest. He did not say a single word to either of them as he slid his jacket back on. Stack whispered something in his ear as he passed him a rolled cigarette.

It was about you, you knew when Smoke’s eyes flickered over to you before climbing into the passenger seat. You imagined it was just to share what you’d said or done while the two of you waited, which had been nothing. Nothing that you knew would still be of interest to your husband. 

You‘d allowed Stack’s gentle arm to lead you to their car and climbed into the backseat without a fuss, not uttering a word to your long lost brother. You just stared blankly with bloodshot eyes at the barn entrance, chewing your lip raw, body trembling as a small piece of you deflated every time the door opened and your husband did not emerge. 

Stack had attempted to engage you in conversation, he could never stay quiet for too long. But even that could not thaw you out. You were not sure you even really heard him. Every brain cell was occupied with thoughts of him.

Your blank expression was not from a lack of things to express. But from the sheer overwhelm of too many questions and discussions.  

What did he do to Red? 

How the fuck were they back here? 

Why were they back here?

Why did he leave you?

Would he leave again?

But it was folly to ask a single one to either brother. Stack was, rightfully so, far more terrified of his big brother than you so you weren't going to be able to pry a word out of him that Smoke did not want you to know. And when Smoke wordlessly climbed into the passenger seat, you knew he was not going to answer a question until he decided you were alright. All your questions about him would have to wait. 

You and Stack could almost see his internal spiraling as Stack drove them a few miles home. You could feel him agonizing over what almost took place, what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. You could feel his focus on you the entire ride. Every few minutes, his head tilted toward the backseat.

With only the corner of his eye, he examined you. How you anxiously chewed your lip, how your arms cradled around yourself, how you sat trembling but so stiff despite the exhaustion etched in your eyes. 

You felt every millisecond glance, each one helping him understand what you needed to feel the depths of his love and devotion. 

That tension rattled around you three until you reached your home. Stack helped you out, a relaxed grin taking over his features. The years away aged your husband a bit more than his brother. You wondered when he last smiled? Elias smiled all the time and always made sure you were too, even if it was while you rolled your eyes at him. But Elijah, smiles were rare for him. Laughter too rare. You imagined Elias and you were the only two people on Earth blessed enough to witness either. 

It showed even in how they settled around your kitchen table, Stack leaning back in his chair without a care in the world. While Smoke sat but remained on high alert, sitting straight as if someone tied a board to his back. Always watching, always examining. 

You busied yourself to fix them both something to eat. The same prickly silence expanded like air to fill your quaint kitchen. You felt his eyes following you in every motion and movement throughout your kitchen. Here, he was not regulated to side glances in the car. Here, he could consume you like the most riveting novel, memorize how your body changed in the last eight years. 

You placed Elijah’s porcelian bowl down first, the man merely nodding. 

“Thanks, darlin’.” His gratitude reflected sincerely in his eyes despite his lack of movement. His fork remained untouched, his body rigid as steel. His eyes decidedly cast on you. 

You raised your eyebrows in a brief challenge. No husband of yours was going to sit at your table and not eat a proper meal. And the attitude starting to form as your free hand rested on your hip communicated just that. 

But he remained unbothered as he continued smoking, consuming his drugs of choice. Tobacco and you. 

This man of mine, you thought to yourself. Stand-offs such as this were far too common Being one of two people Elijah trusted came with the honor of being the person he trusted to care for him. But it had to be on his terms and only when he deemed it necessary. Stubborn as hell when he wanted to be. And today, he wanted to be. 

But you couldn’t fathom loving anyone else. 

You imagined he often had similar thoughts about you. 

“If that nigga won’t eat, I sure as hell will. Specially if that’s yo gumbo?”

Stack’s words ended your staring match in defeat, forcing you to move on to hand his brother his food. 

You remembered the last time you made their favorite meal, a family recipe from Louisiana that had been passed down to you. You made it for them on their last birthday in the Delta, before they left for Chicago. The first of many birthdays you expected the three of you to celebrate in you and Elijah’s home.

“Yea. I get the urge to make it every once in a while. Made it before Hattie’s. Helps remind me of home, I guess.”

In the last eight years, the memories of that last birthday were a buoy at sea you clung to, filling you with the joy the days alone depleted. You remembered Elijah, Elias, Mary, Grace, and Bo sitting around your table, smiles bright, laughter loud, bellies full with all of the twins’ favorites. You remembered Elijah’s gentle hands sliding around your waist to pull you into his lap as you passed him, your body exhausted from a long evening of hosting and an even longer day of giving him the birthday he deserved. And every time you tried to get up to pour someone another drink or fix him or Stack another bowl of gumbo, he’d gently tighten his grip forcing you to rest against him.

You remembered thinking that this was exactly what you wanted the rest of your life to be. 

You and Elijah would grow old in the home he built to your exact specifications. With every passing birthday, your walls would grow full and vibrant with the memories of the life you built together; your furniture would become more and more loved and worn with time as the gathering spot for your family; your house would become louder and more rambunctious with the children you’d have together. 

You remembered thanking the ancestors for that day, for how profoundly in love you were with your present and the rich future you saw with Elijah and this chosen family you had together. It had not been much. In your world, your people were not afforded much more than 'just enough.' But to you, it was everything.

The first birthday without him forced you to contend with the reality that such a coveted dream was barely clinging to life. Was it dead and lost to you forever? Everyone around you believed so. Or would your Sun return and breathe life back into your universe and future? At first, you held onto that hope that you could get everything you once had back again. But with every passing birthday, the dream lost its color, lost its sharpness and clarity as it slipped farther and farther away from you. And so did home, forcing you to cling to every fleeting memory and wisp of it that you could. 

Your eyes lifted from your hands to glance at your husband, his eyes squarely set on you as if he knew what home really meant. 

Him.

“Them ghosts you be talkin’ to might be onto somethin’.”

You jokingly hit him upside the head with your towel before returning to the stove. You knew the twins didn’t believe in the same powers you did. You didn’t believe in what they did either. But there was respect on both sides, acknowledgement that all of it worked together, somehow and someway. That their individual ways had their place in this world and why, against all odds, the three of you were still standing. 

“Heard you takin’ care of crackers cross town now?” Stack asked in between bites, his bowl vanishing faster than light itself traveled.

You waved your hand, dismissing the concern you already heard laced in his tone. You did not need to turn around to feel your husband’s gaze intensify against your skin.  

“Remind me to kill Grace tomorrow,” you muttered in annoyance. “Just a couple of the wives… one of ‘em Geraldine works for is from somewhere down in Louisiana. She likes her healin’ a bit stronger than the medicine them white doctors use.” 

“Just be careful, aight? Met a lot of white folk n they all trouble.” 

You chuckled, your eyes glancing from the towel in your hand to his brother who was still laser focused on you.

“You know mama used to say the same bout you two. ‘Always trouble with the SmokeStack twins’” 

"'N whatchu think?” 

“Trouble ain’t all bad. There’s good trouble in there too if you can find it.”

“And the SmokeStack twins? What kinda trouble we to you?”

“The kind that makes it worth it.”

Elijah’s hand stilled, his cigarette halfway to his mouth as he recalled the first time you told him that. The night Smoke was born and became the world’s, and Elijah became yours. Though, if you let him tell the tale, he was yours long before you caught on.

“Mama, please. Somethin’ could be wrong. He don’t live far.”

Two days. You hadn’t seen Elijah in two days. And that was just so unlike him. For over two years, you spent almost every day together, even if he just stopped by for a few moments.

With your increasing responsibilities in your home and grandmother’s shop, Elijah’s presence was the stolen sweet moment in long, aching days. A sacred ritual. As your granny became too sick and her work fell to you, Elijah always seemed to know exactly what you needed when he stopped by. Some days, he would just come by to help you finish whatever task your grandma and mama set you to. Sometimes, he’d take on the task himself to give you a brief respite in your garden. And some days, he'd convince you to let him whisk you away to sit on the bank of the river or under the shade of a tree. And he let you lay your head on his shoulder and he let you just be.

And you tried to be the same for him. 

You gave him your hand to squeeze when he needed to talk about his father or worry himself about how he could protect his brother, as if they both weren’t just boys themselves. You bandaged up his cuts and wounds privately, giving him the space to be in pain and vulnerable. You held him as he shared his fear that the talk around town would be true. That he and Elias were doomed to be as rotten as their father was. And you told him every time he needed to hear it that he was so much more of a man than his father could ever be, that they would survive him.

Without even noticing, he’d become everything to you. And the sweetest boy - who captivated your thoughts when you should be focused on so much else - had no one to check on him. No one to know or care if something was wrong with him or his brother. All they had in this world was each other… and you. 

If you did not go, who would? 

“You can wait till mornin’. Sun goin’ down, n Elijah lives too far to go now.” 

“But mama-” 

“Stop all that back talk now,” your daddy called from his perch on your porch. 

“One more word bout it n you won’t go tomorrow either. How about that?” 

“Yes ma’am,” you grumbled, deciding it was better not to push your luck. 

“N I keep tellin’ you I don’t want you anywhere near his daddy or his house. I’ll let you go over tomorrow to check on em if it’ll get you to quiet down bout it n do your work in peace but then the twins gotta come here.” 

“Elijah won’t let his daddy hurt me.” The conviction in your voice was unwavering.  

“Can’t stop him from beatin’ the hell outta his own flesh and blood. Don’t see how he can protect you. From his daddy or anyone else for that matter. Even himself.” 

You stilled, turning your head to her. 

“I don’t need protection from Elijah. Why would you even say that? He’s a good boy, mama.” 

“He’s a good boy now, Y/N. But we all know who his daddy is…” 

“Elijah ain’t his daddy. He’s just him. N he’s a good friend to me, mama.” 

Your mama shook her head and turned around to return to the stove. “You know I have eyes too, Y/N. I see the way that boy looks at you. N’ I see the way you look at him."

"N what way is that?" you asked defiantly.

"The way I looked at your daddy when we first met. Actin like you ain’t sweet on each other. It’s friendship today, yall too young for much else. But in time, it won’t be friendship. 'N not all good boys grow to be good men, Y/N.” 

You shook your head in disbelief at her words. You tossed down your towel. “I know him, mama. You keep sayin' I got a gift but you don't trust that I know him? I know what I need to know."

“Quit hasslin’ that girl, Evie," your father jumped in, saving you the beating with a switch your mother would unleash if you kept pushing her. Even if you were technically right.

"You wasn’t listenin’ to Mama Mabel when I started comin round either. She just like you. Young, stubbon, n in love.” 

“We’re not in love,” you tried to interject when your mama cut you off. 

“Aint the same thing at all. We was grown, not two kids chasin’ after each other. That boy ain’t no good. Everybody in town know it. Why you think you’re the only one that spends any time with the twins?” 

“Cause you raised me to do right by people who do right by me. N Elijah does right by me, helps me. Why ain’t that enough for you?” 

“She right, Evie. N nothin’ you say gon’ change her mind n you know it,” Your father stood tall, his broad shoulders and frame taking up the door frame into the kitchen. 

“I guess errbody in this house know better than me, huh? Like I ain’t the mama n I just don’t know shit,” your mama ranted as she angrily stomped back into your parents’ bedroom. 

You bit down on your lip, your anxiety at upsetting her clashing with your gratefulness for your father for defending you. You understood it was your mother’s job to be concerned and protective but what you felt for Elijah? It was not some childish infatuation. And you knew he felt more for you. 

“Do me n you a favor n don’t push it again tonight, aight? I’ll make sure she lets you go tomorrow.”

He leaned down so you could peck him on the cheek, too tall for you to reach even when you stretched. “Thank you, daddy.” 

Tomorrow had never seemed so distant, as if they were asking you to wait ions not hours.

You’d get up at first light to check on him, you decided as you laid in bed. Elijah was an early riser anyway so he’d be awake. You made a plan to sneak over a few pieces of cornbread for them for breakfast too. Seemed like they only ate well at your or Mary's house and they had not been around in days. It would not be much but you could convince Elijah and Elias to come over for dinner once you saw them. 

You tossed and turned into the night, sleep difficult to sustain as worry consumed you with every passing moment. The wind against your window, the calls and rustles of nighttime critters called out to you, begging you to break your mother’s rules altogether and race to him. 

Something was wrong. You could feel it. 

However, despite your age, you knew this was not the world for reckless choices, not for people who carried your skin tone. Reckless choices led to death and harm, harm you were forced to confront daily.

So you tempered yourself. The morning. At first light. You’d be safe and you’d make sure he was too.

A soft thud against your window disrupted your fitful tossing and turning. You glanced over your shoulder, deciding it must’ve been a small bird or something running into it. However, before your head could fall back onto your pillow, you noticed a hand knocking on it again. 

Who on Earth would be at your window? 

But you knew it could only be one person. 

“Elijah.” You whispered it as a prayer as you catapulted yourself out of bed. 

Your nightgown swayed around your feet as you tiptoed to your window. Something warm nestled in your chest, loosening the sharp talons of concern enough for you to breath again. 

You gently pushed open your window, the clouds bathing you both in darkness. As your eyes adjusted, you could see Elias’ frame leaning against the house a few feet away.  

“Elijah! You know it ain’t safe to be out in the middle of the night. You two alright?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered, his voice more unsure than you ever remembered it being. “But he needs you.” He paused, hesitating for a second before his eyes fell down to his hands. “I… need you.”

Your eyes misted, three simple words steamrolling you like a train. You knew since your first meeting two years ago that, in some complex way, Elijah needed you as you needed him. But he never asked for it, never explicitly said the words.

But here, in a voice as uncertain and broken as you’d ever heard him, he asked for you. And there was not a world in which you would deny him. 

A shift in the clouds bathed them in moonlight, his bruises and the dried blood splattered across his shirt. You did not need to be able to see Elias to know, if Elijah looked this bad, his state was far worse. 

You clenched your eyes. You knew something had been wrong. You reached your hand through the window, cupping his cheek briefly as your heart splintered for him and his brother. How could anyone hurt them like this? They deserved so much better. 

His head nestled softly into your palm as if it was the first comforting touch he had felt in far too long, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Your thumb whisked it away as he sniffled, clearly trying to hold it all inside. 

“You got me, I promise. Meet me at the shop door.”

A look of guilt formed on his face. 

“Yo mama? Don’t wanna get you in trouble.” 

“Sleep. But I don’t care.” 

He pressed a kiss into your palm, your heart fluttering. 

This boy… your mother’s words of warning floated back to your mind. She had been so wrong. Whatever this was was so much more than friendship already. You were not certain you could live without him. You tentatively leaned forward and pressed your lips to where your palm had just been. You had never kissed him before but it felt right, like what he needed to know you would choose him, be there for him, every time. 

“Come round to the front, okay? I’ll be right there.” 

You grabbed your granny’s shawl, which she has given to you shortly after falling ill, wrapping it around your shoulders. You quietly snuck out of your room and down the hall to the shop attached to your parents’ home. 

You were quiet, praying your mama and daddy stayed sound asleep for a while. 

You held open the door, both staggering in, Elijah leading Elias to the bed while you turned to light a few candles.

With a candle in hand, you started to rush toward Elijah but a minuscule jerk of his head forced you to change course. Elias first, always. 

As you approached them, you had to muffle a gasp. While their father had always done his worst, this seemed beyond even that, their bodies bloodied and bruised to a degree that should send their father straight to a county jail. Blood caked around a poorly patched wound on Elias’ head, which you figured accounted for the blood splattered on both their clothes. 

You were so focused on their injuries that you did not even notice the pistol held tightly in Elijah’s hand. 

Elias’ head hung low, a certain shame and despair settling around him that you weren’t accustomed to. His signature smile gone and the mischievous glint in his eyes completely extinguished.

Your finger lifted Elias’ head as you gently pulled the bandage off his forehead, the young man hissing in pain.  Your breath was sharp as you took in the gash on his head. 

“What he hit you with?” No one’s hands could produce such a wound. He hesitated. “You can tell me,” you whispered. 

You were not as close to Elias as Elijah, of course, but as you fell in love with Elijah, a more sisterly love similarly bloomed for his more talkative half. 

“Pistol whipped me. H-He didn’t mean it… tho,” Elias offered slowly, his voice breaking slightly as his hand lifted to wipe away a tear. “He was ju-...“

You glanced over at Elijah whose eyes seemed to soften for a mere moment with guilt before settling into something far harsher.    

“I know. But let’s worry bout you for a while. Not him, hmm? Let me bandage this up right so you can get some rest. Then we can talk bout the rest in the mornin.’” 

“Will it scar?” He asked quietly, a fear you often heard with injuries to people’s heads and faces. 

“I think I can preserve your good looks,” You offered with a grin as you grabbed everything you needed to clean him up. “This gon’ sting a bit.” You paused for a moment before adding, “You know even with a scar, Mary would think you’re still the better lookin’ twin.” 

You tucked your legs under you as you worked, cleaning his wounds and bruises with intense care. Your words about Stack’s crush, Mary, lightened the load weighing him down. His body perked up ever so slightly and he gave you the tiniest half smile. 

“Ain’t nobody thinkin’ bout Mary,” he muttered, unconvincingly. 

You merely nodded with a skeptical look on your face. “Uh huh, I’m sure nobody is. You know… she’s sweet on you too. Too shy to say it, maybe but she asks bout you all the time. Like today when I ran into her at the store.” 

“What she say?” he asked far too quickly. 

You giggled, even Elijah cracking a smile that made your heart soar. 

“Thought nobody was thinkin’ bout Mary?” You teased playfully. “Just asked if I’d seen you round. Told me to tell you hi if you both came by.” You lifted his head to study it again before nodding. “Head wounds bleed an awful lot but you don’t need stitches or nothin’. Keep it covered, don’t mess with it, n’ it shouldn’t scar too bad. Got some salve for the cuts and bruises."  

“Thanks, Y/N.” 

“Of course, Elias. I’m just sorry you…” You stopped yourself,  they never needed or wanted anyone’s sympathies. “Just sorry. How bout you lay down while I tend to this one?” 

“If he’ll let you.” 

“I think he’ll let me. I got the magic touch. But I’ll need you if he gives me any trouble. I’ll grab you another blanket.” 

However, when you turned around, Elijah had already pulled another out and sat it beside you. 

Of course he knows where we keep the spare blankets. 

You draped the extra blanket over him, gently ensuring it covered his entire body. Your hand rested on his shoulder for a brief moment before you turned to grab the few things you needed to care for Elijah.

“Thanks.” 

The word was soft, almost inaudible, but you heard and felt it all the same.

“You’re welcome. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” 

You gestured for him to follow you to your bedroom. You snapped the door shut, knowing you’d be in a world of hurt if your mama caught you with a boy in your room. But you’d accept whatever punishment she doled out. Caring for Elijah would be worth every minute. 

“Shouldn’t be in here. Your mama will…” 

“I told you, I don’t care bout none of that Elijah,” you offered as you went to sit your burning candle on your nightstand before turning back to his rigid form by the door. Now able to truly focus on him, you saw it. His pistol. 

The gun should’ve scared you, should’ve made you call for your daddy to talk to him. But you found that you were not in the least bit scared. All you saw in his eyes was exhaustion. Not anger, not rage… not an intent to cause harm. Just a weariness you were only familiar with in the eyes of the elderly, people who were haunted by too much.

It wasn’t fair. 

“You’re worth every bit of trouble I’ll be in.”

Your words seemed to almost startle him as if no one had ever considered him worth sacrifice. You could tell he almost could not process such an idea, such consideration and devotion directed at him. 

“Thanks for takin’ care of him,” he offered lowly as you closed the space between the two of you. 

“Don’t gotta thank me. He’s gon’ be alright. So you gon’ put that down ‘n let me take care of you now?” 

The old pistol shook as soon as you drew his scattered attention to it, likely for the first time since they stepped into your home. Now, no longer under the eye of his younger brother, the cracks in his iron wall started to show. 

Your hands slowly cradled his face as he tried to avert his gaze, his eyes glassy from tears he refused to let fall.

“Elijah… you’re safe now.” 

Silence. You did not repeat yourself, did not rush him to move or surrender his weapon or soul to you. That was not the way with Elijah. No, you just stood still beside him in the silence until he felt safe enough to move or speak. 

“I… I needed it,” he finally whispered, his words barely audible. “H-he wasn’t gon’ stop. H-He was j-just gonna keep on hurtin… N’ Elias… he- I thought he was-” his words splintered as he finally spoke life into whatever brought them to you. “I had to do it.”

You did not miss the implications in his words, how he spoke about his father as he was - not how he is. You foolishly assumed the blood had been Elias but now the look in his eyes told a very different story. Your eyes clenched shut for a moment, your head bowing in sadness. Not for the loss of his father’s life, he did not deserve to live given what he did to his own sons. But for what Elijah was forced to do to be safe, to be free. 

 “H-he hit em with it n… I… took it. I d-didn’t even think… just had to. Y-You gotta believe me, I didn’t… h-he was gonna-” 

Your hand moved to grab his free one as his sentences broke apart into pieces, frantic and erratic. He pleaded his case but you did not need to hear it. You saw what his father was capable of so you knew exactly what he feared, what your small corner of the world would believe. 

“Breath for me, Elijah.” You helped him take deeper breaths, your hand moving to his chest to ensure his heart rate slowed back down a bit. 

“I believe you, I know what you had to do, Elijah. But hey, look at me,” You gently lifted his chin so his solemn brown eyes were set on yours. His free hand gripping your hip to bring you closer to him. “It’s just me here. Just your girl. N I promised to be good to you so… you don’t need that in here, not with me.” 

He said nothing, an internal battle raging so loudly around him that you could almost hear the debate. To acquiesce the weapon would force him to confront what transpired, what they lost throughout their childhood, and what they lost today. And you did not know if he was ready for that just yet. But you’d stand here as long as it took for him to rest. 

“You can put it down. Just for while? Let me take care of you, Elijah. Please. Put it down for me, baby.” 

At your pleas, he lifted his hand, allowing you to pry the weapon from his fingers. It pained you to move from his presence, even for the few seconds it would take to stow the gun somewhere safely. In those few seconds, the tremble in his hands spread to his whole frame. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whispered as you rushed back up to him, enveloping him in the most tender hug you could muster. 

You could feel his surrender. First, of his body as he went slack, falling heavy and fully into your embrace. His legs gave way to his weight like paper beneath him, forcing you both onto the weathered wooden planks of the floor. 

Then, of his heart as he shifted you into his lap. He intertwined your bodies so tightly, you no longer were certain where he began and you ended. No space for the ancestors between you as you clung to each other as if you were the rarest of air. 

And his last and most vulnerable surrender of his soul as the dam finally burst and tears fell and sobs bubbled to the surface. 

Neither of you spoke, time simply slipped past you both without conscious thought because every thought was wrapped up in your private cocoon. You just allowed him the space to feel it all privately, and stayed exactly where you were so he knew he’d always have comfort. He’d always have you. 

Eventually, he shifted to look at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with the emotional and physical exhaustion of the day. Of his life. 

“Didn’t mean to… I’m sor-” he started to say but you would not hear it or accept it.

“Don’t apologize to me. Whatever you need, I’m here. You wanna lay down?” 

He nodded softly, allowing you to extrapolate yourself from his arms long enough to get off the floor. You led him gently to your bed, both of you climbing in without thought or hesitation. Your bodies were chaste but the energy around you cracked with intimacy, yearning, need. You kept a gentle hand on his arm while you laid facing each other. 

It was improper, you both knew, but you were not sure you cared. You were not sure you would have even been able to rest if he were too far from you. 

You often found yourself searching for Elijah, finding his presence in a crowded room before anyone else's. You did not quite understand it, how instinctual it felt to be near him. But it was the strongest you’d ever felt tonight, this irresistible pull to be as close to him as possible, decency be damned. 

“You think it makes me like him? Like everybody say?”  The words were so faint but the weight of them, the fear in his voice let you know if he had been scared to ask it, scared of the answer. “T-that I was able to… maybe I’m a monster too.” 

“No.” The sudden blaze in your eyes was fierce. "Never wanna hear you talk about yourself like that. He was the monster n you saved yourself. Freed yourself n your brother from him. That's all that matters.” 

“N you? You not… scared of me cause of what I did?”

“I could never be scared of you, Elijah. You’re my best friend. You hurt him to defend someone you love, defend yourself. N that’s brave… that’s strength n courage. N that tells me everything I need to know about your heart. Your soul. N the kinda man you’ll be.”

He seemed skeptical, even in the darkness. So you continued, taking his hand and bringing it to your chest, “I know who you are, Elijah Moore. You’re a protector… you’re loyal, devoted, kind, gentle. You could never be a monster… Not to me.” 

His hand rested tightly on your hip. Your bodies inched closer to each other, Elijah’s lips capturing yours. The first brush of his lips was light as a feather before he pressed in. Slow and deliberate as everything Elijah did was. 

If someone had stolen your heart right then, you imagined its glow would eclipse the moon. In his arms, you felt flooded with such light that you could shine as bright as the Sun outside. You’d never been kissed before, never felt the fire of another’s touch quite like this. But it was surreal, magic as if the ancestors had blessed this stolen moment.

You loved this boy. And he eliminated any confusion or doubt you had that such a love was reciprocated. It was and it was the sweetest freedom this world had to offer. Your soul felt as if it could float away with Elijah Moore and no one and nothing on this Earth could stop you. 

You whimpered as he pulled away, your body jerking forward in a bid to reclaim his lips. He rested his forehead against yours, pulling your body so you were flush against his chest. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. “Don’t know what’s next… what Elias n I gon’ do but I know I want you around. That I wanna be more than good to you as a friend.”

“I love you too, Elijah.”   

When you returned to the present, you realized you were not the only one who retreated into the past. That memory played like a film in both your minds, the only oblivious one seemed to be Stack who was contently rolling a cigarette, wanting for one of you to speak.

“Or at least one of you is,” you cleared your throat and threw him a teasing grin, desperate to stop the tension from rising to a boil. “Ancestors haven’t given me the final verdict on you yet, Stack.”

“I’ll just have to have a talk with em, then?” 

“They don’t respond to threats,” you reminded him with a playful grin. “Don’t think you’ll get very far.” 

“My powers of persuasion have evolved over the years, lil sis. They even work on you now.” He gracefully threw his hat back on his head as he stood, handing the cigarette he had been rolling in between bites of food to his brother. 

However, this time, he rejected it with a slight shake of his head as his hand reached for his pipe, still in the window sill where he always kept it. 

He caught your eye, which had softened at the exchange. Stack still rolled for him, not out of habit or kindness. But out of necessity. You hoped, when he first returned home from the war, that the tremors were temporary. That one day, he’d be able to do something other than hold a gun with a steady hand. Even though he’d proclaim, for your benefit, his gratefulness at being one of the “lucky ones.” 

“Just an unsteady hand n bad dreams,” he’d say. “Nothin’ worth cryin’ over. "

But you knew, back then, that he did not feel lucky when you examined the resigned and defeated look that haunted his eyes with every tremor. The pang of sadness in yours to see him struggle with a pain your gifts were not enough to heal, a pain that made you question whether all your prayers and work to keep them safe had been enough. 

Stack merely chuckled and handed over his lighter. “See nothin’ round here’s changed. Gonna grab a few hours of shut eye,” he gestured toward the spare bedroom in your home. 

“Go head. Smoke that o-“

“On the porch, I know I know. Whatever yall bout to do… just don’t be too loud. I need my beauty rest.” 

Before stepping outside, he walked up to you and pulled you into a tight hug. You were surprised at first before you leaned into it earnestly. He was not Elijah but there were wisps of comfort in Stack’s embrace, tendrils that wrapped around you with warmth and comfort. 

“You aight, lil bit?” His voice low as his own eyes examined you, reviving a nickname you'd once prayed would be left in the past.. 

The lighthearted smile on his face took a moment to reach his eyes, replacing the flash of real concern you spotted within them. As loyal and protective as his brother when it came to you. You had not realized just how much until now, but you had missed him so much too.

“Yea I’m ok. Think that twin of yours’ll believe me?” Your voice dropped a bit to a fake whisper, grinning as Smoke rolled his eyes. He always claimed you and Stack were “conspiring” to tease him, gang up on him. 

He chuckled before placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Not a chance. Just glad we were…” He stopped himself, glancing at Smoke before allowing the unfinished words to settle in your kitchen as calmly as an off note on a piano.  

It felt wrong to remember it here. Breath life into it here. But you knew you would have to. Elijah would not allow you not too. 

“Me too,” you answered simply. “Thanks. And for bringin’ this one back to me in one piece.” 

“Anythin’ for you. Night,” he squeezed your hand one last time for good measure and clapped Elijah on the shoulder before disappearing out your back door. It creaked in the night air, a tense symphony to the long-awaited private reunion with your husband. 

You watched the door until it shut with soft finality. Restlessness, itchy and uncomfortable, spread in your chest as you two stared at each other. You glanced down at his plate, food still untouched. 

“How long?” 

Your eyes bored into him, not uttering a single word. Stretching and twisting his patience but you never particularly cared about that when your mind was focused on his well-being. When was the last time he even ate a real meal? Your eyes flickered his bowl and back up to him in a pointed fashion. A demand from his wife, one you knew he would not refuse. Elijah grunted his exasperation before eating two heaping spoonfuls to appease you.

Not enough to relax you but just enough to loosen your lips. 

“How long?” The new edge in his voice felt just as sharp and quick as a blade. Reiterating. Demanding. 

“Couple months. Hattie can’t stand on her feet for long anymore with her back. You know my brothers, they can only guard the door n try to fuck every girl that walks through it. Hattie said, ‘Needed somebody charmin’ n pretty to serve drinks n they ‘bout as charmin’ n pretty as rattlesnakes.’” 

He took another bite off his plate, your body slowly easing back into the counter Elijah’s hands crafted for you. This maddeningly sweet dance you two weaved since you were children. A battle of wills and instincts between a caretaker and a protector. Two sides of the same stubborn ass coin. But when you both demanded answers but also required care? It was a battle to see who would surrender control and lean into vulnerability first? 

Often, you succumbed first, soaking up the healing aura of Elijah for as long as you could spare. It had taken so long for him to convince you that it was not selfish to need him. To put yourself first. That it was not a burden to him as you feared, it was a privilege. 

But you were not sure you were ready to crumble just yet. You did not know whether you wanted to fall into his arms and weep, curse the ground he walked on for abandoning you, or just run into your bedroom and sob. And you knew he would push and force you to make a decision sooner rather than later. It was inevitable but you could buy yourself some time.

“But there won’t be a charming soul left in the family now when Hattie gets her hands on me for breakin’ all those bottles.” 

“Stack’ll talk to her in the mornin. Give her money for the liquor.” 

“Thank you. She got a softer spot for money than me.” 

“Everybody got a soft spot for money ‘cept you.” 

“I just know it don’t get you nothin’.” 

“Gives you freedom.” 

“No kind that’ll last. Real freedom ain’t tethered to somethin’ someone can take from you.” 

You bowed your head as your body leaned into the carved back of Stack’s former chair, silence surrounding you. It felt so familiar, countless minutes turned to hours spent in this kitchen while you worked or cooked and Smoke just sat with you. He just existed with you, let you talk his ear off or sit in utter silence. Whatever you needed in that moment, while he existed in your peace. 

“You alright?”

“Suppose so. Still standin’.”

“Been a minute. But you know that ain’t what I asked, darlin’.”

He knew no one understood him like you, understood the intention behind every word he spoke like you did. Often, he did not need to say anything at all. 

“I’m fine. It happens.” 

“Some other nigga put his hands on you?” His eyes flashed with red, his hand instinctively twitching toward his gun. 

“No, no. That ain’t what I… just that you know, men gettin’ drunk n too handsy at a juke ain’t exactly anythin’ uncommon. Shook me up a bit but no sense dwellin’ on it.” 

He said nothing, infuriating silence loud pounding your kitchen like the bass in the juke joint. 

“I’m fine, Smoke.” You attempted to reiterate. 

His hand paused as he started to bring his pipe up to his lips. You let out a sigh and cursed under your breath. 

Smoke. The fatal tell. If you used his moniker in this house, he knew one of two things were true: He was in trouble or you weren’t ready for him to be Elijah. Because there was no hiding with Elijah. Your love demanded authenticity, it demanded truth. Your deepest joys and purest happiness to the agonizing sorrows and terrifying vulnerabilities. In each other’s arms, there was no pretending.   

You tried to deflect, push the conversation back onto him before he could pick at that thread further. 

“You gon’ tell me why you came back? What trouble you and that fool out there brought back with you?” 

“No trouble this time.” 

“There’s always trouble chasin’ Stack. Which means there’s always trouble chasin’ you.” 

“No trouble chasin’ either of us. We did what we needed in Chicago, now we back.”  

“Why? For how long?” 

“For you. Only reason to come back. Now… you gon’ keep standin’ over there or come here so I can take care of you?” 

You raised your eyebrow, communicating that you were not ready to fall into his arms so quickly regardless of what he saved you from. He left you. You accepted it, you understood it, you justified it. But you would not pretend that it had not broken something in the depths of your spirit, leaving you lost without a piece of your heart for years.

And being back in his presence made every bit of it bubble up again. All that love, all that righteous rage, all that agony. You felt it. Those endless nights you laid awake sobbing resigned to living with the knowledge that - despite the depths of love you held for him - you weren’t enough to keep him here. The knowledge that life would be duller, so much darker without him and you'd just have to learn to live with that.

If you were going to open the floodgates again, let all the love you stored for him flow like waters through the Delta, you needed to know he was not just passing through. You needed to know that when the sun rose at dawn, he’d still be there. And when the sun would rise the next day and every day after, he’d still be here. With you. 

You wished you were strong enough to withstand such torment again. But you wouldn’t. Seeing him again, even wrapped in his silent steadfast energy again, you did not think you’d be able to survive without him again. So you needed to know he was not planning to abandon you again, that he was going to put in the effort to earn your trust.

“What if I don’t need you to take care of me anymore? Been takin’ care of myself fine… Tonight excludin’,” you muttered, acknowledging the miniscule raise of his eyebrow at your words. “But hardly your business to tell me I need takin’ care of when…” you stopped yourself, turning away from him in frustration and shame at what almost crossed your lips. You didn’t want to still be angry. Your fingers curled into a tight fist to stop yourself from unleashing all that suppressed hell and outrage on him. 

“Say what you gotta say, baby. I can take it.”  

“You… you left me here. Abandoned me here alone. Broke your promise for eight years." 

Your eyes glistened with tears, all that devastation threatening to boil over along with all the love you were struggling to maintain control over. There was not one without the other in a love like this.

”What if I’m still mad about that?” Your voice fell quieter, back to chewing your lip. “What if I’m still mad at you? What if I… hate you?”

The word did not even feel right directed at him. But that was what most women and men whose spouses ran off into the night felt. Hatred, deep and boiling, all consuming. Isn’t that what everyone would tell you to feel? To scream and curse him for leaving and then sauntering back as if nothing had changed. Some part of you desired to feel that, to just be angry. Anger was easier than confronting the hurt, all the nights you questioned your love, your worth. All the time lost without the person you could not live without. 

He tilted his head as he blew out a billow of smoke. He sat it gently by his ashtray, never taking his eyes off of you. 

“I’d deserve it. N I’ll spend every day of the rest of my days provin’ that I’ll still be good to you… like I promised.”

He stood up, slowly closing the space between you with calm and assured steps. He stood before you and all you wanted to do was touch him. Your hand twitched, desperate to rest on his chest, feel his hard-earned muscles beneath them, but you tightened a hand around your arm to stop yourself. Your body swayed as if his aura compelled you forward, a captivating drug enticing you to just surrender to him. You almost forgot why you were resisting. 

His hand cradled your cheek, a content sigh escaping without warning at his touch. Soft. Warm. Healing.   

“Yell at me, curse me… give me your worst, Y/N, for as long as you need, darlin’. I’ll take it. I’ll own it. Cause I love you. Never stopped lovin’ you. You get to be mad at me all you want. But I know he hurt you.” 

“N-No, he didn’t. You made sure of that.”

“Just cause he ain’t leave a bruise, don’t mean he ain’t hurt you, baby. Ain’t that what you told me?” 

“Hate when you repeat my words back to me,” you grumbled. 

“I know you do, baby. Can’t help that you’re always right.” His hand gently tilted your head so your eyes were focused on him. You knew he could see it all. The anger, the heaviness, the sadness… the guilt and shame. 

“I just wanna take care of you, like you’ve always done for me. If you’ll let me? Please.” 

His voice was the soft embrace of a prayer, the steadiness of a summer rain shower. You could see the warm fog that was him encompassing you, slowly eating away at the walls you erected when he left until there was nothing standing between him and your soul. 

In the contemplative silence, he retreated to his chair, sitting with his legs spread wide. An action that communicated your agency, that it was your choice whether to seek his comfort, seek his love. His words were a plea you could easily refuse. You could walk away, curse him as he suggested, and leave him alone at your table to feel a fraction of the rejection you did. 

But how would that heal you? You wanted to feel whole more than you wanted to be prideful. And only his anchoring spirit and tender touch could stitch you back together this time. 

Your steps toward him were tentative, each step increasing your courage. However, you stopped yourself just before he was at arm's length. He’d wait as long as it took, you knew. A natural nurturer and protector falling in love foretold some challenges. You each required patience, and a certain degree of coaxing, to strip yourselves bare. It was difficult, even with each other, to reveal the pieces of yourselves that were composed of glass, not steel. The pieces too fragile for another soul to hold. 

One final question. And you knew you couldn’t surrender without an answer. Because in those eight years, in that abyss of heartache, you had become more like glass than he remembered. And you would not withstand the blow of him leaving again, not if this was not permanent.

“You leavin’ again?” 

His eyes filled with sincerity, whatever was left of the boy you fell in love with and the man you married shining through. 

“Next time I leave you, it’ll be to leave this world. I’m not goin’ anywhere again.” 

His words loosened out the knot in your stomach, forcing you to nod. You had no other excuses, no other reasons not to feel everything the night conjured, every emotion consuming you. 

You stepped in between his legs, your hands gingerly resting on his shoulders as you stared down at him. His hands gripped the soft curves of your hips to bring you as close as humanly possible before perching you on his thigh.

Your hands slid up to cup his face, his beard tickling your palms. Your eyes stung as you just stared at him for a brief moment.

“Elijah,” you whispered his name like a blessing as your entire body finally gave in, sagging into him as you finally felt the weight of the last eight years. 

His broad hands tightened you to his hardened chest. If you leaned in any further, you’d be living in his skin. This was more than you could have dreamed. The callouses of hands against your skin, the soothing rise and fall of his calming breaths, his reassuring familiarity of his scent.

So perfectly him.

His natural musk from a long day in the Mississippi heat. The lingering hints of citrus in his cologne. The sting of gunpowder from defending your honor. Even the fading bite of copper from drying blood. Richly weaving the soothing scent of a man fiercely devoted to you. The soothing scent of home. 

And with every moment in his arms, it became harder to hold the rushing waters back. Your poorly constructed dam fracturing with every second he held you. Because this was the one thing time was not powerful enough to diminish. Elijah remained forever your healer, forever the one place you could retreat to feel everything. And you were his.  

“Look at me.” 

You did not heed his instructions, your body tensing against his from the shame.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You’re ok.” 

His patience. Steady and calm. He rubbed soothing circles against your back, he whispered assurances in your ear until you pried yourself out of his neck to look at him. 

“There’s my girl,” he whispered, his smile brighter than you’d ever seen it, a smile that reminded you he was your safe haven. 

The tears that welled up in your eyes immediately spilled over as they met his concerned ones. You tried to wipe them away but he stopped you. 

“I-I told him no, Elijah. I-I told him I w-was still yours. H-He just w-wouldn’t listen ‘n I got scared. N I j-just froze. I’m s-sorry. B-but I didn’t want him o-or that. You b-believe me, don’t you?” you stammered, your voice cracking as sobs threatened to escape your throat. 

You did not realize how your fingers dug into his jacket, gripping the wool fabric tightly as you begged him to understand. 

His hand massaged the base of your neck, the spot where all your tension resided, as he held your gaze to him. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Don’t apologize to me. Ain’t your fault. That the only time? He hurt you before?” 

You could see the anxiety and concern in his eye, the fear that the answer would be no. That all the threats of violence he left in his wake had not been enough to protect you from the realities and evils of many men. Abandonment forced you to question much about your marriage over the last eight years. But one truth you could not deny was that Elijah would unapologetically turn their corner of the Mississippi River into a graveyard to avenge you, to punish any other man who thought they could harm you and live to tell the tale. 

“Yea, only time.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Only time, I swear. Red is… was harmless, I thought.” 

He held your gaze for a singular moment longer than he needed before he allowed your eyes to fall away from his and he buried his face in your neck. 

“Only harmless man is a dead one,” he muttered into your supple skin.

“Well I imagine he very harmless now then?” 

“And restin’ for eternity at the bottom of the Mississippi River. No nigga in this town gon’ be a problem for you again. I know what I did ain’t how you wa-“

Your intention was to assure him that all you felt was gratitude for his actions. But the first brush of your lips against his set your soul ablaze. Whatever self control you believed you possessed vanished, you were as wild and untamed as flames as your hand cradled the back of his neck, the other clutching tightly to his suit. A carnal need to bring him closer than you’d ever been before.  

You held it back as long as you could, held onto the fraying threads for as long as possible. But they were broken and you needed him. More than a hug or kiss or sweet words. You needed him to strip you down and heal you from the inside out. 

Frantic. 

Desperate.

Hungry. 

Elijah did not often let you take the lead, did not often allow you dominance in the bedroom. But today, he allowed your lips and tongue to do whatever they craved. To consume him. 

It only ended with a need that superseded the desire flooding you. The frustrating human requirement to breathe. 

You rested your forehead against his, chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. 

“Thank you, Elijah.”

If you had not been on his lap, Elijah would have been hard-pressed to hear your words. your voice so soft, vulnerable, and sweet, everything he was not. You had never done that before. Specifically thanked him for his violence when it served you. Fussed at him for doing it against your wishes? Sure. Offered him a kiss shortly after fussing that he knew meant thank you, a reluctant understanding of how their world worked? More than once. But to utter the words? This was a first. And the only way he could think to properly acknowledge it was with a soft kiss. 

Slower. Measured. Intentional. As all things Elijah did was. His hands shifted your waist, turning you so you naturally straddled his lap.

“What do you need, darlin?” 

You sniffled. You allowed the comfortable silence you were accustomed to with Elijah to fill your space, calm the storm raging in your heart and soul. Slowly, those winds stopped lashing against your skin, the thunder quieted and you could find clarity again.

He was the only balm your soul needed, the only one that would work. 

“I need your hands to be the ones I remember touchin’ me… not his.” 

You knew the meaning was not lost on him, a quick flame of lust lighting in his eyes before he tempered himself. 

“You sure?” 

“Never been more sure of anythin’.” 

And that was all the permission he needed. In a fluid motion, he stood, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, his hands gripping your ass, as he walked you to your bedroom. He could not see a thing as he kissed you, his legs moving off instinct to your marital bed. 

He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, his strong arms shedding his suit jacket before he sank down to his knees before you. He stared up at you with the reverence of a man staring at his reason for being. 

“You know I dreamed about you every day?” His steady low voice felt as smooth as honey, as calming as a soft summer breeze, against your soul. He kissed the top of your thighs as he pushed the cerulean blue silk fabric of your dress up.

“Your laugh, your smile, the way you feel in my arms… how you taste, your moans. Tried to come back to you so many times.”

“Why didn’t you?” You breathed out, everything in you aching for him. 

“I was a fool, baby. N I’ll spend every day makin’ it up to you.” 

His teasing touches proved he still knew how to expertly play the instrument that was you. Fine tuned to perfection, he knew every inch of you intimately. And the music he created? It summoned more than mere pleasure. It was a magic all its own, strengthening the glittering threads that connected your souls. In him, you saw the past. The present. And a new future.  

His fingers hooked into your panties, your hips lifting just enough for him to pull them off. You expected him to discard them to the side but instead he brought them to his nose, inhaling the scent drenched into the fabric. His eyes fell closed as he inhaled, a shuddering breath escaped him as if the scent of your slick injected him with new life. And then, he discarded them with a cheeky wink in your direction. 

His hands gripped the meat of your thighs, spreading them widely to reveal his promised land. He licked his lips, his eyes focused on the essence leaking from your folds, already creating a mess at the zenith of your thighs. You knew his intention by the glint in his eye and you instantly became aware of how long of a night it would be. Smoke could stay head down between your thighs for hours, unsatisfied until you were boneless. Until your brain was a vacant plane of yearning and pleasure. 

“I missed you too, baby. Lay back for me, darlin.” 

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer to the edge of your bed as you leaned back on the soft quilt. You did not lay down fully, choosing to prop yourself up on your elbows. Eye contact was an aphrodisiac for you both. To see the other in their most human element, so uninhibited. No one who knew you both would call you reckless. Tempered, steady, patient. But in these four walls, you could be wild. Watching him uncoiled something in your gut, unlocking a new altitude of pleasure to reach. 

His eyes locked onto yours as his tongue communicated what he did not have the words to. 

His agonizing remorse. 

His unyielding reverence. 

His everlasting devotion. 

His unquenchable thirst.

All for you. 

He poured it all into every stroke of his fingers into your weeping heat, every lick of his tongue against your sensitive button. You felt like a person gasping for air, every cell in your body struggling to consume him after being without it for just too long. 

“Elijah! It’s… too much!”

“That’s right, scream my name, baby. Missed hearin’ you scream my name.” He detached himself from your flower long enough to gift you with a soft nip to the inner thigh before returning to his favorite meal. 

It was almost too fast, how quickly you found yourself dangling from the edge of the cliff. The rocks rough against your palms as an oasis of bliss invited you to lose all control in it. But you found your brain would not allow you to let go, not just yet. You tensed as you inched closer to the point of no return but it did not feel as simple as it once was to give into him. 

“You can let go, baby. I’ll be here, I’ll catch you. Cum for me, sweet girl.” 

Some called you the witch, but what was he? What spell did he cast that gave him such control over you, mind, body, and soul? Only he could command your body to such a degree? That every barrier crumbled at his assurances, his word? That he knew the layers of your soul so intimately that he knew his actions had shaken your trust, your foundation. And that one night would not erase that. But it was proof that he would offer whatever assurances you required, as often as you desired, to knock down every barrier your brain erected. Brick by brick, for as long as it took to earn your forgiveness again.

“Fuck! Fuckkkk! I c-can’t… Elijah!” 

Your head fell back in ecstasy. Shuddering, shaking, breathless. The meager orgasms you gave yourself paled in comparison to what his skills provided. This was more than a reunion. It felt like a renaissance of your love, a revival of the sheer extent of joy he gave you space to feel. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Fuck, you taste too good. So sweet,” he lapped up your juices hungrily, sending continued jolts of pleasure as you fell back fully onto the comforter. 

“Elijah… please,” you moaned, your body twitching away from him from the overload of pleasure. 

Your curls had fallen out of the updo you had created for the night, your eyes half closed lazily as your hand rested on your chest. You just needed to catch your breath. You were lucky these days if your orgasms moved you with the strength of the creek near your home. Elijah’s were the force of the ocean, knocking you right off your feet. And yet, you did not know if you actually wanted him to give you reprieve. 

You were exhausted. But the chant building in the back of your mind was so much louder. More, more, more. 

And frankly, far more enticing. 

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” 

“Please… I need you.” You would rest plenty amongst the ancestors one of these days. As for tonight? Your words were colored in desperation to be filled to the brink. To feel everything your body harbored and release it into the world.

You watched as he stood up, just long enough to shed the rest of his suit. It accentuated his hard-earned muscles, taunt and straining against his thick physique. But as delectable as it looked on him, it would look far better on the floor. 

He unbuckled his pants, his eyes never leaving yours, as he pulled them off. 

You licked your lips, your eyes glossing over with lust as you took in his manhood. Hard, thick, and leaking just enough that you wanted to ignore the ache between your legs and steal a taste. You missed the weight of him against your tongue, the salty taste of his cum. But you knew he was not going to let you steal that treat just yet. He was as desperate to be inside you as you were for him to be. 

Your logical brain snuck to the forefront for a single moment, showing through in the faintest flicker of fear buried underneath fogs of lust in your eyes. His girth. Even when he made a sport of bending you over every surface in your home day after day, the stretch could still take your breath away. But eight years without him? Without nothing more than a finger or two? You would need him to take it a lot slower than he remembered.

Would that bother him? 

“See what you still do to me, darlin? How bad I need you?” 

His hand slid down your thigh as he kissed you before gripping your hips. He lined himself up with your weeping entrance. However, he paused as your body tensed beneath him, anticipating the sharp pain of his thrust. 

“What’s wrong, darlin?” 

“N-Nothin’.” 

“It’s somethin’. You wanna stop? We ain’t gotta-” 

“NO! No!” You almost shouted, Smoke holding back laughter at the aggrieved look on your face at the idea that you’d ever want this to end. You glanced up at him with your perfect doe eyes and whispered, “It’s not that. It’s… silly.” 

Elijah shook his head as he lazily rubbed his tip along your entrance, coating it in your juices and teasing you. “You ain’t never said nothin’ silly to me. I ain’t movin’ till you talk to me.” 

Maybe we do hate him, you seriously considered for a moment. When all you desired was a hiding place, the man you fell in love with would never allow you to wallow in darkness. It was why you fell in love with him, even if you hated it sometimes. 

“I just… haven’t been with anyone since you left. Not like this, anyway. N I remember what you like. Just… may need you to go a little easy on me at first, baby.” 

“Worried you can’t take me, baby?” The heat of his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged against your neck. His touch was so featherlike, you questioned whether he was actually touching you. “Cause I know you can. My girl can take me. Just relax n I’ll go as slow as you need.” 

A lesser man would’ve just sheathed himself in your heat without consideration to the hesitation in your muscles. He likely would not have even noticed. But not Elijah. 

He sucked at a sweet spot on your neck, his greatest discovery on his many voyages of your body, to add bursts of pleasure to the painful sting as he pushed inside you. 

“Shit, shit, shit. Elijah… i-It hurts,” you cried out at the familiar stretch of being filled by him. 

“Deep breaths, darlin’. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

He kept his eyes on you as he sank deeper and deeper into them, and you. You breathed through it, feeling every inch of him fill you again, your soft whimpers and moans instructing his pace. When he bottomed out inside you, he held you there for a few moments, letting you adjust to it.

Your eyes connected for a moment and it felt as if the world cracked open around you. Everything else sifted away like sand. There was no him. No you. Just a love so eternal, it floated you above to the heavens before gently guiding you back home.

“Fuck. You’re takin’ me so well, darlin.” 

For Smoke, you knew slow only meant cautious. His strokes remained as deliberate and powerful as you once remembered. However, today, he maintained a pace that forced you to remember what every inch of him felt like. 

His grip on the meat of your hips was tight as if he worried something would steal you from right beneath him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked into you with controlled precision, his entire being focused on bringing you pleasure.  

“Yes! Shit, Elijah! I love it, I love it.” 

“You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy, baby? I can tell this fuckin’ tight pussy missed me, darlin’.” 

“You f-feel soooo good, Eli… don’t stop. Ah!” You cried out at the uncomfortable stretch in the back of your thighs as he brought your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him fuck you deeper. 

A litany of curse words flooded your room as you felt him deep in your guts as he fucked you slow and hard. Your eyes rolled back into your head as every stroke forced you deeper into your mattress. 

“No nigga gon’ touch what’s yours n what’s mine again, you understand? You’re mine.” His words were punctuated by the loud slaps of skin as his hips hit the back of your thighs with every thrust. “Tell me whose you are, baby?” 

“I’m yours!” You panted, your heart fluttering like a sea of swallowtails in the wind at his declaration. And there was no one else’s you’d rather be.  “I l-love you. Fuckkkk, I love you.” 

You felt as if time slowed down for you or perhaps you were too enthralled in each other as he showed you the secrets of this universe time after time after time. He had no reason to rush as he moved you from position to position and forced you to feel every moment in each one. You screamed his name over and over again as he fucked you with abandon. 

The closer he came to, what you knew would be his last release for the night, he had lost all control. Your body fell into his as he pounded into you, your thighs giving out while you rode him. Your body breathless and utterly spent. But you both were chasing one last high, the perfect explosion of euphoria that would allow you to collapse in a heap of limbs until midday tomorrow. 

“Eli… baby.. I-it’s too much. I c-can’t…” 

“Don’t run from me, darlin’. You can take it, pretty girl. Last one for me,” he demanded, the vibrations of his voice enthralling you like a spell you could not withstand. 

He pounded into you, your pussy clenching around him as you felt your orgasm build. 

“Where you want it, darlin’?” He asked, his words accentuated with grunts as he bounced your body up and down on his dick.

You could barely formulate thoughts, your mind a canvas with his name painted over and over again. You just wanted to feel him. You were spent, your body maxed out and you still craved more? To feel every single thing he could offer? 

“Inside me, baby!” 

“Don’t say that shit to me, Y/N.” His voice was a lethal warning. A dangerous proposition that you both knew would unleash a feral side of Elijah, a man possessed. 

But that was exactly what you wanted. What you needed. 

“Need you to fill me, baby. Please,” you unabashedly begged into his ear, tears streaming down your face from the force of his strokes.

“Gonna fuckin’ flood this sweet ass pussy, fill you with my baby. You’d like that? Keep you in here, safe, round n pregnant?” Every word accompanied his most powerful strokes of the night, reaching places you believed to be anatomically impossible. 

But you asked for this, demanded it actually. And you did not have an ounce of regret. 

You crashed first as a last particularly deep thrust sent you tumbling off the summit. Your toes curled as he thrust into you final time, your orgasm only continuing in waves as you felt him fill you with warmth. 

Your orgasm faded slowly as you felt him pulsing like a heartbeat inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He held you against him for a few moments, giving you both a moment to get your boots solidly planted on solid Earth. But there was also some small part of you that just did not want him to move, did not want this moment to end even though it lasted all night. 

He let you feel him deflate inside you, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as he held you close. You whimpered when he finally released himself from your warmth, shifting your boneless frame into a new position. 

“Stay right there, baby. Hold on.” 

“As if I could go anywhere,” you muttered lazily, you imagined your legs would work about as well as a newborn baby’s. 

Your eyes started to fall shut in the few short moments it took him to grab a wet towel to clean the mess between your thighs. Once he was satisfied, he lifted your body and repositioned you so you were resting on your pillow. 

Elijah walked around to his side of the bed, everything on his nightstand exactly as he left it. He had been so worried, scared that he would not recognize you or this place when he returned. He would’ve understood it, accepted it. He left, not you. But it would’ve been a difficult hurt to reckon with. 

Time ensured that things had evolved. You had grown older, wiser, as he had, more slick at the mouth like Stack than he remembered. But the core of you, the girl he fell in love under a live oak tree? She was still standing, still as steady, vibrant, and uniquely her as he remembered.

Smoke had seen all the jewels and all the suffering this world offered its hands. He’d traveled every part of this world with his other half to find it, the amount of money or power to feel like no one could have power over them again. But no trucks filled to the brim of money could make him feel a fraction of the freedom you did. He had not needed to go searching for more when he had you and his brother. That was everything that mattered. 

He slid into his side of the bed and immediately brought you into his chest. Muscle memory. Your soft brown eyes opened long enough to savor one last look at him before sleep consumed you. Your fingers played in the coarse hair of his beard as he brought your thigh to drape over his, allowing you to be as close as possible. 

“Never thought I’d have this again. Thank you for comin’ back to me,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Don’t thank me. I shouldn’t’ve left. N I’m sorry. But I’m gonna make it up to you like I said.” 

“I know you will, Elijah Moore,” you grinned at him. “But don’t think we ain’t still havin’ that fight tomorrow,” you warned. 

He would gladly fight with you all day if that was what you needed to heal, to move forward. 

“I don’t expect nothin’ else.” 

His lips curled into a rare smile, not his half one. But a true smile, as small as it was, it flooded your world with the light of the Sun. Decades with him and your heart still skipped a beat when Elijah Moore smiled at you. Your eyes welled up with tears as you savored the moment. 

“Still make you cry that easy, huh?” He teased. “With just a smile?” 

You gently swatted at his shoulder in faux annoyance. “Thought you’d given me your last smile a long time ago, I guess.” Your hand rested on his chest as he held you. “I missed it.” 

“I’ll always give you a smile, Y/N. And my shoulder,” he winked at her, an ode to their history. Rich and long it was, but it still felt like yesterday. 

He opened his arms, inviting you to snuggle into his chest in your preferred sleeping position. Your cheek rested against his chest, the light thumbs of his heart lulling you to sleep. A sigh of relief and contentment escaped your lips as you settled against him, his arms tightening around you.

Sleep came easier than it had in eight years. You were finally home.

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A/N: It's 2 am, idk who I think I am being up this late but when I tell y'all I was on a ROLL hahaha anyway, this became so much longer than it should've and took too long (sorry!) butttttt had to do big daddy justice hahaha

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!

Also I got a lot of the tags but not everyone! So sorry!! I'll update when it isn't 2 am lol