Synopsis (one shot) : seven years later, nothing prepare his heart to bury his soulmate. Is human life that less expensive ?
C.W : use of racial slurs, violence, death, heavy angst, revenge
Songs : Say yes to heaven, Lana Del Rey, People help people, Birdy —
Seven years. As Stack confidently assured, were not enough for Delta to forget about them.
He was right. To whom that might concern, they were terrors, heroes or simply trouble kids.
Not for her.
Smoke was anxious. Only imagining holding her gaze after all these years terrified him. Yet, it didn’t explain why every soul here, including his own blood prevented him from crossing the road to her house.
“It’s been a month. I need to see her.”
Stack had been told the truth as soon as they had arrived. Cowardice held him tight and he couldn’t confess the reality to his brother.
“Stack I’m taking the truck.” Smoke uttered, picking his blue hat from Bo Chow’s counter
“Elijah.” Stack caught his twin’s shoulder firmly. “I’m sorry.”
The chow stayed mute, uncomfortably — Grace’s eyes lowered.
The crowd in the convenience store emptied gradually without bringing the tense silence with them.
“What’s gotten to you, Stack? Come on nigga, it’s been a month. I must see my wife, I can’t keep listening to your ca—”
“She’s gone.” Grace shouted, interrupting — her tears washing down the floorboards.
Stack bit his lower lip, accepting any wrath coming to him.
Nothing arrived. Instead, the wrist he was holding started trembling. Tremors crawled through Smoke’s entire body. He widened his eyes, brows furrowed, then abruptly he pulled his pistol out of the holster, holding it sharply toward the Chinese woman.
“What you said?”
“Last year, an epidemic of malaria stormed in Delta…she…”
The gun slammed the ground and Smoke was running already. He started his truck — the engine coughing once and twice before giving.
Knots tightened his stomach — intestines twisting and twirling.
His fingers trembled on the steering wheel, heart pounding fast and loud in his chest.
His Annie. Gone? What a joke.
With flexed jaw and gritted teeth, he hit the gas — deaf to the complaints and curses of the kinfolks.
“ANNIE—!” Smoke cried, yelling high as soon he put a foot on the swampy pavement leading to her shack. “Woman I’m calling you—” his lips stayed suspended, heart sinking in his empty, hurtful stomach when he cut his eyes to the garden — right beside the little rock he had made for their late little girl. “No…NO— NO”
He fell, knees embracing the muddy earth. Tears welled down his cheeks, uncontrollably while his shaking fingers grabbed the blue scarf and pearls necklace : “please baby. Wake up. Please…”
Smoke begged and cried — snot and tears confusingly mixed on his tortured face. “I’m home mama. Please, you slept a lot already…” he leaned over, forehead touching the mud, lips whispering to the earth. “I get it. I learned my lesson…so please…PLEASE—”
He began digging through the ground frantically — dirt caking his nails. Passengers stopped in their walking, hushing among them about the twin who had gone mad finally.
“Smoke—! Stop.” Stack rushed out his car, cupping his brother broad back with his arms.
“Get the fuck off me! I’m taking my wife back, STACK LEAVE ME ALONE”
Stack tightened his embrace, kneeling behind his twin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Smoke.”
“No… you all tripping.” Smoke lost it. He crashed his head on rock holding the clothes and jewelries together. “Annie is just putting a little trick on me…right baby?” His lips fluttered the swampy grassland again before he cracking. “How…why…why her? Why now?”
Stack had no answer to give. He just held the pieces of his brother without interrupting his lamentations.
The next days were nightmarish. Smoke craved answers. He barely got up from bed, living a phantom reality where his Annie was still alive.
“What happened?” He asked plainly as soon as he opened Bo chow’s store.
“Smoke…listen…”
“Bo chow. What happened to my wife.”
“The malaria epidemic, it was deadly. Folks living in south of the town didn’t make it because of the swamps..and we tried to get her some help but they all refused to…” Bo wiped his forehead with a cloth. “Pretending that their medicines couldn’t help her kin. They asked us for exorbitant amounts of dollars we didn’t have…”
Dollars?
Dollars fucking bills were the price of his wife’s life?
“I see.”
“Smoke, I’m sorry we—”
But he had already left.
Smoke passed by those crackers infirmaries, their greenhouse, taking in all details, his mind running miles.
When the night came, he couldn’t sleep and as he stood up from the mattress, a breeze caresses his spine with a soft voice gushing close to his ear : Elijah.
Precipitately he turned around, painful relief claiming his heart : “Annie—”
Nobody. Nothing except the wall. And the crickets under the moonlight, singing him lullabies.
“I’m alone Ma’. I can’t hold you anymore.” He cupped his face, drowning his palms with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so—sorry.”
His breath ragged, spasms invaded pores of his body.
Elijah. Don’t go there. Papa, don’t go there. The breeze talked to him again, swiping her languishing voice in his ear.
Smoke spun again, following the brittle sound of her ghostly voice. He cut his hands in the air, grabbing the void : “I’m here. I’m right here. Why can’t you — why won’t you —”
Cold wind was the only lover to embrace tonight. Yet, somehow her magnolia scent still nudged his nostrils. He staggered toward it, arms wide open, hands shaking.
Sunday nights used to be tender and lovely. When she wasn’t the one preparing Jars and potions, he was the one busying with woodwork. Nevertheless they always had found a way to get in each other’s touches.
Not this Sunday.
“I can’t — I can’t find you mama. I can’t —” his voice cracked down the middle. “Where are you, where are you —” his knees gave out, letting him fall down on the floor — face ruined with tears and snot, eyes so red they threatened to cry blood.
He turned his head a full circle, still reaching. Everywhere and untouchable all at once.
“This ain’t real.” He snapped. “What they put in that damn ground ain’t you.” His features severed and relaxed madly. “You too hardheaded to let something like malaria take you.”
Papa, I’m happy. Don’t let sorrow blighted you.
“Why are you speaking in my head while all I crave is your body to embrace? Please Annie. Please, you punished me…enough…please…”
Monday morning came and immediately was followed by the night. Stack was suspicious, worried about Smoke’s mental state.
His twin barely shared words with him.
Reason was, his mind was somewhere else.
Dollars, right?
Smoke counted stacks of money, carried the bag of it with him, under the dark clouds’ glares.
The town was asleep when he cracked bullets between eyes of two white men who were smoking in front of the infirmary.
“Niggers ain’t welcome here. Get out. Go die somewhere else.”
The middle age spiteful man didn’t have chances to uttered another slur, Smoke’s gun already hit his temple.
With his free hand, he threw the bag on the counter and growled. “Count it.” Jaw flexed, gaze unreadable, fist tight on the chamber. Smoke hit the man with the hammer, bleeding him. “I said. count those fuckin’ damn dollars.”
The cracker obeyed. His roasted pink skin reddening uglier.
“We— listen…I can still—”
“How much innit?” Smoke spat.
Mouth wide opened, drool almost leaking from his lips, the white doctor couldn’t hide the terror and greed dancing in his greenish eyes “8000$”
“Good money right? Real american motherfuckin’ dollars.” Smoke pressed his lips tight, grimacing of anger.
“Look my guy…there some mis—”
BANG.
The bullet traveled through the white skull — right from his temple, where Smoke had positioned the pistol.
“She was worthier than that.” Blood splashed on Smoke’s shirt, splattered on his cold face when he pulled another trigger on the doctor’s chest. Then his abdomen, two on his face.
He fisted pack of bills, crouched and stuffed them brutally inside the deadman’s mouth. “You want it? Right? Those American dollars bills? Come on take it.”
Smoke’s vendetta last all night.
It was with broken ribs that Stack finally found him — hidden behind Annie’s shack, holding her blue scarf.
“Come on Smoke. We ain’t dying there.” Stack held his half-dead brother by the shoulders. “Just get in there.” He positioned him in the back of their truck. “We outta town. Come on, you can make it.”
Lies.
Few miles away, when they finally free themselves from their assailants. Stack parked right beside a giant tree and opened the truck’s roll-up door.
“Let, get you some water, Sm—”
Words died in Stack’s throat. He approached his twin’s calm and shut face.
Elijah was cold, a cocky grin drawing his lips — fingers loose around the blue fabric.
“You got your head on her fat ass tits, right now huh.” Stack mumbled, draping his brother with a canvas tarp.
I genuinely can not stand when there’s a black character in a TV show, especially if it’s a black woman character and she’s shipped with a well-known (male) character that’s beloved by the fandom, but the fandom treats her horribly.
I’ve seen this with every fandom I have been in, and each time it aggressively gets worse. For example, Damon and Bonnie from The Vampire Diaries. I have not read the books, but I have been told they did get together in them, and if I am not mistaken, I believe Ian was at least interested in the idea of Bonnie and Damon being together. When watching the show, you can see the chemistry; it just rubs off on each other. Yes, everyone knows Damon is a problematic character, but when he cares, he cares hard, and that especially goes for Bonnie. I wish the writers (Julie Plec) weren’t cowards and allowed us as an audience to see that side of their relationship blossom.
Then, with Mel and Jay from Arcane, the disgusting things I have seen this fandom do, the lengths that they go to treat Mel as an abuser in the relationship? To treat Mel as trash and not a character with complex qualities, just like everyone else in the show. Which is why I will forever side-eye any and every JayVik shipper. I do not care if you’re not the one perpetuating the stereotypes on Mel, but you being a shipper and seeing fellow shippers be distasteful; the least you can do is call them out on their behavior and make sure you’re not a safe space for them. Some fanfic writers have the nerve to write her as some aggressive black woman, and even Jay as aggressive sometimes, and Victor as the docile, could never hurt a fly character. Which is wrong, it’s disturbing, and it is racism.
Many fandom spaces are full of misogynoir and people who do not care to unpack their ignorance, even pick up a book and see why that is. Two authors I could easily recommend to people would be Bell Hooks and Toni Morrison. You have to do the work on unlearning racist and misogynistic behaviors because it is so deeply rooted in fandoms and other communities.
Whenever a black person decides to ship a black character and a non-black character together, I have seen many non-black people try to correct them, saying, “Oh, they’re just friends, he/she wouldn’t date them.” Are you the writer of the show? No, so what makes it right for you to police that person?
This goes with The Bear fandom and how people treat sydcarmy shippers. Why is it so shocking to you that people ship those two characters together? I personally haven't seen the show fully, but from the many clips I've seen of those two, I can see why people ship them, and even if I couldn’t, it's still not my place to police a person if it’s not doing any harm to anyone, or even the characters.
A lot of people love to humble black shippers and characters and force us into a box of some sort. While their counterparts get a safe space to be themselves.
With the Bridgerton fandom and their mistreatment of Michaela Stirling. It’s not just lesbianphobia, it’s racism, it’s misogyny. I see a lot of white lesbians and non-black lesbians in general forget to mention that racism plays a big role in why people want Michael Stirling and not Michaela Stirling. There are people in this fandom who will use AI and turn Michaela back into a man, but only a white man. As if the Kilmartin and Stirling families aren’t full of black people. I’m not interested in excuses either because more racism will go dismissed.
A lot of people don’t care to realize that if these problems do not get called out in fandoms, then we’ll have a situation like the Percy Jackson fandom and The Flash. As someone who grew up with both of those things, I am extremely tired of seeing the mistreatment of the actors and their characters. You don’t care about black women, you don’t even care about the character, you just want to insert yourself in these situations because of another character you love. A lot of white people have that problem, and we see it a lot in BookTok. I have seen it all my life.
For a long time, Faith had thought Will was the kind of person who was always meant to disappear. Always drifting somewhere just out of reach.
But every time he leaves, he somehow always finds his way back.
Back to the job.
Back to the people who refuse to give up on him.
Back to her.
Amanda Wagner’s elderly, bisexual ass loves wearing a fit harder than diamonds, telling Will and Faith to solve the case, then leaving on a witty remark.
Summary: After CeCe dies, Sharon and Daniel have a much needed talk.
Hey! Thank you for your request. I haven't written Sharon before, so this was fun to do. It ended up as a Sharon and Daniel fic (cause their friendship is my favorite thing) but I hope you enjoy!
It had been three hours since CeCe’s funeral. Most people had left by now, filtered out slowly after offering their condolences. Even Robin had left, tears slowly falling down her face as she walked to her car.
The only person who hadn’t left was Daniel, who was still sitting on a bench near the graveyard, his gaze fixed on where they’d just buried CeCe only hours before. He hadn’t moved since then, his legs feeling too weak and unsteady to carry him.
Besides, why would he want to leave? His wife, the woman he loved most in the world, was gone. She was here. He wanted to be with her.
The sun was starting to set as the funeral had been in the late afternoon as that was CeCe’s favorite time of day. She loved going on evening walks before sunset when it was still light out, but the temperature was starting to drop and it was quieter outside.
Daniel wanted to spend one more quiet evening with her.
He didn’t look away from the grave until he heard footsteps and then somebody sat quietly beside him. Daniel didn’t need to look up to know it was Sharon.
Sharon had only left an hour ago, just enough time to head home, change and stop by Daniel’s place to get him a change of clothes. She knew he needed time but she also knew what happened when she left Daniel alone with his thoughts. Especially his grief.
“You don’t have to be here,” Daniel said eventually, voice hoarse.
Sharon ignored him, her gaze also on CeCe’s grave. “She was an amazing person. One of the best I know. You're lucky to have had her, Daniel. Don’t you forget that just because she’s gone.”
Daniel nodded, a small and shaky thing. “I shouldn’t have let her go for so long.”
Sharon hummed. “Maybe not. But if you haven’t you wouldn’t have had Anna. Life works in mysterious ways, we both know that.”
Daniel didn’t respond, and Sharon didn’t speak again. She just reached over, grabbing his hand and holding it.
Sharon had seen grief a hundred times over. She had been a nurse after all. She’d seen people watch their loved ones die quickly, she’d seen them watch it happen slowly. She’d heard the cries of parents holding their dead kids and the screams of people losing their spouses. Sharon wasn’t a stranger to grief as much as she wished she was.
It was always harder when it was people you knew, people you loved grieving. Sharon had watched CeCe die as much as Daniel had, she’d seen the life fade from her dear friend's eyes and had been helpless in stopping it. She’d been a nurse and all she could do was watch as it happened and hold Daniel when it happened.
Sharon didn’t think she’d ever forget the call she got the day CeCe died, the way Daniel’s voice had cracked on the words before he could really say them. But Sharon had known and all she could do was come over to their house, and hold her friend as he sobbed.
Now here they were, sitting side by side as the sun set behind them with nothing more than the sound of the birds and the trees in the wind surrounding them.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without her,” Daniel said eventually.
Sharon sighed. “You take time off and you grieve. Then when you're ready, you come back and keep doing the job like she would’ve wanted you to. You keep being a father to those girls of yours and keep showing up because it’s what CeCe would’ve wanted you to do.”
“You know, I’ve said those words to dozens of patients over the years but hearing them now they feel impossible to follow.”
“Well you can keep that in mind for next time then. One day at a time, Daniel. Just one day at a time.”
“One day at a time.”
And when the sun finally set, they walked slowly back to Sharon’s car. Neither said anything, but they didn’t need to. Sharon drove home, stopping for food on the way even though neither would eat it. She let Daniel crash in her guest bedroom for as long as he needed to, knowing she couldn’t stand to go back to the place he’d shared with CeCe this soon.
They’d get through this. One day at a time, side by side.
So thanks to the one Chicago Podcast now my hopes for this season just got higher, I just love this little details they'd talked about in this short bit of the podcast, and the little backstory on Hank's past and his relationship with Goodwin, so good guys.
Survivor - Destiny Child (the song gave me the idea of the tension at the end.)
A/N : again, sorry for the mistakes and typo. I read it twice but you never know :’)
—
“Mayoral election?” Annie exclaimed, stupefied.
Not that she doubted Smoke capacity to run for it, but that man never been the kind to speak in front of crowd or organize a rally, that’s why she was wondering where the idea came from.
“I’m the one pushing him to do so.”
She jerked her head back to Stack — who was leisurely slicing his steak in two —
“He is director of one the most prestigious bank in town. Elijah is a good leader and to be honest this city needs something new. Someone who can help them with their real problems.” Stack continued, glancing between his brother and her.
The happiness was sour. Annie couldn’t help the bitter taste in the back of her throat. With everything happening at once : Ajani, Kimmie, her work ethic on spot to be stained… she was afraid.
Generally one didn’t need a clean plate to run for the city, at least when their hair slick and complexion pale. Unfortunately for him, Elijah didn’t match the description. And Annie had the impression that her little misadventures at The Palace would not be of great help.
“Come on, little sparrow. You done eating? Let uncle Stackie get you to bed, aight?” Stack interrupted the silence, addressing Tiana who exhaled of relief : the tension in the dining room had grown far too unbearable.
Both left the table, letting the burdensome atmosphere hang between the divorced couple.
Across Smoke, her plate untouched, Annie guilt continued to rise, higher and higher. She realized that Elijah’s new ambition could be sabotaged if her not so fabulous secrets ( those both knew) came to light. If that tribal dude found about Smoke’s application, he will do everything possible to ruin it.
Annie’s stomach growled, however she had lost appetite.
“What’s in your head?” Smoke uttered, holding her soon-to-be glassy gaze.
“Nothing. I’m a bit tired. Your steak delicious.”
“You haven’t touch it.” He straightened, walked over and crouched to her level.
From where he was leaning, Smoke heard her heartbeats pounding hard and harder in a relentless rythm. He stretched his arm, reaching her hand, flat on the table then mingled his fingers with hers.
The clock’s ticked, accompanying her foot drumming under the table. She didn’t need to be ashamed, they were divorced and never had she thought about rekindling their marriage, until now. What happened with Ajani was a mistake, a disaster.
And now this disaster was coming to knock at her door, bringing down the man she loves and her family.
“Mama look at me.” Smoke smoothed his finger on her chin, turning her head aside. The chandelier’s light bathed in her sugar-melted colored eyes, sharing tales her mouth couldn’t tell.
Smoke reduced the inches between them, swallowing her personal space until his forehead rested against hers. Annie hiccuped, catching her breath. A shiver ran down her spine when she felt the warmth of his large palms cupping her face.
“Everything will be fine.” He murmured, his hot breath caressing her skin. “With you by my side. I know, everything will be fine. No matter what happens.”
“This is politics Elijah…”
Smoke shook his head with a caring beam lighting his features, then he banked aside and forward, his lips and nose fondling the hollow of her neck.
“All pass or die tryin’ baby.” He retorted gravelly. “That’s being said, my attention is not on papers tonight…” He stroked his nose up all along her neck to her ear and groaned with a rough and randy voice. “I want you.”
Annie’s body reacted immediately. Her breathing stopped then started raggedly, palms moistened with sweat, heartbeats slammed ferociously against her chest, saliva flooded her mouth, dousing her tongue of craving and the butterflies roaming around in her stomach grew thick and legions.
She curled her toes on the wheelchair’s footrest when Smoke tongue began drawing circle patterns inside her ear. She squirmed, rubbing her thick thighs together, her stomach warmed up as he kept nibbling on her lob.
“Elijah…” she whimpered lushly. “Not there, your brother…Tiana…”
With grace, he sloped her head back, his palm cradling it. His lips turned from her ear to the top of her neck, bruising passionately her skin — Annie felt her skin tighten around his tongue the his lips sucked every single erogenous spot of her neck.
Smoke’s hand paced under Annie’s camisole cloth, palming and squeezing her heavy breasts. Her nipples hardened under his touch, twitching between his thump and index. Her whole body sagged, sultry, her pussy pulsed with arousal, folds breathing in and out.
Her feverish sobs suffocated when Smoke caught her lips, smashing her mouth with urgency. Annie responded to his kiss with a renewed fervor : his tongue brushing her lower lip. She hilted up, seize his shirt and anchored herself onto him.
She bit him.
He smeared his lips against hers, requesting access.
When she parted slightly, he took the invitation and nestled his tongue with hers while toying her erected buds.
Annie arched and winced immediately, the pain so intense she regretted it.
“Shh…there there. I’m here mama. I got you…” Smoke drank in her pleading eyes then held her back and thighs before lifting her off the wheelchair.
He gave her a peck on the edge of her eye then grinned cockily. “I’m taking you to bed.”
With Annie smoothed in his strong arms, Smoke shouted audibly enough for his Amazon box to hear “Alexa shut the light please.”
He might’ve forgotten his brotherly babysitter upstairs.
And she might’ve decided to not bringing up her concerns tonight.
Some great decisions, honestly.
The full furnished guess room welcomed them with automatic gold warm light. Smoke carefully laid Annie on the immaculate , freshly made bed and crawled atop of her. He cautiously lifted her leg and settled it around higher his waist, her bare thighs rubbing against his side.
Annie face said it all : her faintly parted lips, dilated irises, shallow breath.
Greedily slow, Smoke pulled her camisole off, spilling her tits free, her brown areolas darkening even deeper, nipples swelling sensually. “An angel…are you even real…?” He whispered, hunching over to taste her breasts.
She smelled of vanilla infused with sandalwood and a back scent of honey. “So sweet…” Smoke groaned, his mouth full, tongue lapping her bud before swallowing her tit again. He swirled around the wet and swollen flesh, slurping, nipping. Annie’s intoxicating voice sang, mewling. The melody of her whimpers turned him on, igniting, intensifying his heat.
His pant swooshed, crotch growing untamed and heavy. Smoke’s pulse quickened, mind turning foggy and desperate while he kept sipping on her.
He must take his time.
Fuck— she’s still fragile, he needed to—
“Take me papa…show how much you love me.” Annie purred close to his ear. With a soft effort she bucked her hips up, rubbing against his strained huge length. “Fuck— you’re so hard…” Her eyes glazed over his engorged cock shuffling against her mound.
The last straw of Smoke self-control Loosened. He released her peak in a wet plop, making her soggy breast wiggle.
Under him, Annie sagged overwhelmed of pleasure, her trembling thigh wrapped around his waist sloped down on the mattress, spreading.
Smoke grazed down, flicking his tongue across her moistened chest, then her belly, slowly descending. His free hand gripped the hem of her skirt and hiked it up. Annie clenched her thighs, warming up the sticky juice dousing her drawers already.
“Be a good girl.” Smoke grunted, burying his face between her legs. He tucked her panties aside and stroked her flushed, viscous folds with his flared nostrils. “mmmh smelling sweet down there Ma’”
He fluttered the meat of her big swollen clit with the point of his nose teasingly, then flick his tongue up and down on her labias, tasting the juice between her large and small lips.
“E—Elijah…Fuck—” she cried, spreading her thighs more apart. “You eating it so good daddy…”
Annie whined, irises rolling up leaving her gaze blank and dizzy. She arched her back deeper uncaring of the pain, bucking her hips to give him a more delicious access to her pussy.
Smoke’s throbbing dick kept growing fat and fatter threatening to burst out of his pants. His tip chafed achingly against the zipper, boxer damp with his hot pre-cum.
He dipped his tongue into her entrance, thumping her button.
Annie’s whole body shuddered, her deep brown skin glistening with sweat despite the air conditioner. She clutched his head, guiding him further.
“Yeah— that’s way…oh God— ‘lijah…”, she panted, her breathing coming out strangled.
Smoke continued feasting on her, tongue roaming all over her folds, lips smearing against the edges of her sensitive lips. “So delicious.” He groaned, thumping, twitching her clitoris harder.
“Plea—please baby…I want you…inside…” She begged, her big breast swelling with unmeasurable arousal.
“Mmh? You want me there Ma’? That pussy mine?” Smoke growled, shoving two fingers inside her slicking wet cunt.
Then, he opened Annie up, gaping her tight vagina before pumping his soggy fingers in and out of her creamy pussy.
Her bucked hips followed his thrusts relentlessly. She whimpered libidinously, grabbing her own engorged breasts and rubbing them together. The friction teased her milk, that spurted out wildly, squirting on her belly and all over the sheets.
Smoke straightened up as he added a third finger, pounding Annie cake to the hilt. His soggy doused fingers grazed against her grained inner walls — the ones that tautened around him like vice.
Again, he leaned over her chest, licking the milk spilled on her skin.
“Come here papa, let mama feed you” she purred, bouncing her tits — milk droplets dripping on his face.
Smoke grunted in response, hungrily looking at her. She wouldn’t have to tell him twice.
He squelched out his fingers out of her creamy gushy pussy, nestled comfortably just atop of her chest, bent down and took the wiggling breast in his mouth, sipping her milk.
He squeezed her breast, with one hand cradling her back. Annie moans rose loud and high-pitched. Her fevered eyes glazing over him, lips parted.
The ache between her thighs pulsed with unsatisfied hunger. Her vagina pumped in and out around nothing, catching the air before queefing it out lewdly.
“Mmmh…mmmh” Smoke whimpered, drinking. His hand on her back glided down to grip her big and soft ass. The free other one rushed to his crotch. He nearly broke the zipper, spilling his massive erected cock free.
His length hung weighty between his legs, sticky and soggy of pre-cum.
He didn’t take time to remove entirely his pants and dampened boxer. He swayed, positioning himself correctly and pushed in, filling her pussy with his length until he hit her g-spot.
Smoke’s thrusts were slow at first, penetrating Annie languidly, then he quickened his pace,slamming his hips against her, cock swelling bigger inside her, grazing her inner walls.
“You’re mine.” He grunted roughly, releasing her breast, milk trickling down from the corner of his mouth. “You’re all mine Annie.” He pushed her hips backwards, shoving his cock deeper,driving into her faster — each pounding, baking cream out her pussy.
“Ye—yess Elijah I’m all yours…Fuck— I’m goin’ to—” she bit her lips, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Come for me baby…” he groaned as she gushed, pumping his cock out with her overflowing orgasm.
Nevertheless, Smoke grounded himself in, thrusting his penis back further to the hilt.
Mouth opened, eyes rolled back in head, Annie panted, her breath shallow and hot. She grip his shirt tightly as Smoke’s climax hit its momentum. He shoot an overwhelming amount of cum, full in her womb, his cock jerking inside.
Annie squirmed, arching her back.
Smoke grunted huskily, “Gnn fuck you so tight—”
He burst his release in shockwaves, draining, milking himself inside her uterus.
“Shit— Elijah” Annie quivered, her body seized by uncontrollable spasms. Her water broke a second time as her pleasure intensified more and more. She squirted, gushing his dick out — her sweet juice rinsing his veiny length.
Her legs fell off flat on the mattress, totally boneless.
Smoke straightened up on his knees, taking matters in hand. He jerked off his still erected penis and ejaculated on her belly and boobs.
“I guess old man still got that shit in him huh?” He groaned smugly.
“Damn— so that was it?” Annie grinned, amused.
Their playful banter was interrupted by a voice rising in the living room.
“Thankfully I’m the one down looking for glass of water. That bed pretty loud huh. Better fix that!”
Stack.
Both Annie and Smoke rolled simultaneously their eyes before bursting into laughter.
—
A encounter with Jamal was not on Kimmie bingo’s card today. Not after all the bullshit that happened.
She was supposed to get this surgery done, take her ass home — directly this time.
Thinking about that night gave me chills
At least she knew now that Smoke had a twin. Not like it was an important information anymore.
“So where I’m supposed to discharge you?”
“You haven’t change.” The dread locsed man muttered, passing his hand over the passenger seat’s window.
“Well, I didn’t plan to drive the man who cheated on me with my friend, somewhere actually. So again where you drop off, Jamal?”
“Don’t worry bout it. If you cool with it, you can drop me at ** ** street.”
Wait. That’s my neighborhood.
“So you were stalking me.” She asserted, hitting on the gas. This late night, the traffic was more light and there was no risk to get arrested for driving past the speed limit.
“What? You living there?” Jamal asked casually, his eyes on the rear view mirror.
“Hopefully not for a long time.”
“Why? you been requested to move?”
“I want to do it on my own actually. I’m not going to tell you shit bout my life though.” She hissed firmly.
“Fair.”
Arf. This conversation was so frustrating. That man dared to tell her she didn’t change but he is the one who still the same. Answering with two characters words like he couldn’t afford more.
Five years ago, that was the same bullshit he told her after she broke up with him. Fair, I’m sorry.
“Tch.” Kimberley sucked her teeth. “The case of your mom…it’s happens a lot? Last time I remembered, she wasn’t that frail.”
“It’s all started when she found out my father had a side-chick. She the one taking care of Dante and Asmah…”
His youngest siblings. Kimberley recalled.
“She realized that all the money dad earned went to that woman. He didn’t bother giving pennies for Erik medicines and that nigga died.”
Erik was Jamal older brother. At the time they were dating, he was the one actively taking care of the whole family alongside his mom.
Kimmie was still at university at the time and she often took time to examine and prescribed him some pain relievers and health care advices.
Erik didn’t deserved to die.
Jamal was still hurt, she could tell. That’s why Kimmie swallowed her venom. She was dying to make a reflexion about why cheating is awful and he did that to her.
Instead she drummed on the steering wheel, her eyes on road and said : “I’m sorry. You’ve been through hell. My condolences for your brother.”
“I’m sorry too.” Jamal turned his gaze back to her, staring at her profile. “For everything.”
“Cut it out. You never be into smart and ambitious women. You always preferred them busty and empty-brain.”
“You busty too. Is that meant ya stupid?”
“I’m a surgeon Jamal.”
“Everyone can learn biology.”
Kimberley laughed snootily, arching a brow.
“would love to see you try then.”
“I do know some things.”
“Like?”
“Your anatomy for example.” He whispered, cockily. “You can drop me there.” He continued, pointing out a spot.
Kimberley was so stunned she barely realized she had entered the zone of her neighborhood.
“You so—” She started.
“Thanks for my mom…and the drive. Come around before moving out the neighborhood.” Jamal said, sliding the Club’s business card on the dashboard. “In memory of old time.”
He then climbed off the vehicle and started walking away.
Kimberley slammed her forehead on the wheel. “Goddamn Kimberley. Ain’t been a minute we agree on leaving niggas alone.”
She sighed and restarted the engine.
—
The sun beat down the next day at the Moore house. Annie was still sleeping while Smoke and Tiana were getting ready to go.
“Five minutes little miss. Hurry up.”
“Okay— okay pops !” The little girl shouted from upstairs.
Smoke adjusted his tie and walked in the guess-room.
Annie was still sleeping, her red-pink bonnet hanging loose aside.
Smoke didn’t mean to wake her up but she opened her eyes anyway.
“Morning…” she yawned, her face still puffy of sleep.
“Hey gorgeous.” He sat close to her side and gave her a peck on her forehead. “You ain’t brush your teeth, you got no kiss.” He said playfully.
“Lame…” Annie trailed off, faking a pout. “Come close, you wanna smell my breath?”
“Oh. Please no ! They need me alive at work actually…”
“Shut up.” She laughed, squeezing her eyes.
“I called a nurse. She’ll soon come over, help you clean, cook for you and take you to your physiotherapy appointment…aight?”
Annie nodded.
“Good girl.” He smooched her lips this time. “I know you are stressed about this mayoral race. Don’t think too much into it. Let it rain, snow or storm, you’ll always be my go or not. If you say yes, it is. If you say no, no it would be. I love you.”
She flustered, shy. “I love you too.”
He smiled at her one more time then closed the door behind him.
Both daughter and father left the house, and Annie remained all alone.
She wanted to give a call to Karin, asserting the situation at the Palace, however she would not risk her friend’s position because of her own personal reasons.
She sighed loudly, staring at the ceiling.
“I guess, only time hold the future now. At least let me send a mail with the medical justification for my absence.”
At the palace, rumors flew like bugs, about Annie Kennedy potential resignation. Whether it was true or not, the gossip mongers didn’t care enough to filter out.
The new rules regarding employees shifts, responsibilities and presentation were so strict, some people started regretting the old CEO.
“Yes Morgan finally lost his damn mind.” A front-desk receptionist beside Karin mumbled
“I can’t work this damn much, but at least the pay worth it…we did have a short notice though…” another one replied.
The clean lady who, month ago shared her concerns about Morgan’s new direction — weather he planned to sell the company or not — was walking out the lobby. She wasn’t wearing her usual uniform, had her bag and an envelope in hand, her shoulder sagging.
Karin darted her eyes left and right, making sure no manager was around and crossed the place to help the old woman with her belongings. “Ms. Henrietta, give me this.” Karin took the bag. “What— where are you going?”
“Mrs Williams gave me a notice. I had been fired. Apparently they renewed the people and she wants me to rush me in retirement…”
That racist hag.
“But— but that’s mean you’re going to rest more, right?”
“Oh little Kae.” The old black woman beamed, lovely. “You are such a nice girl. Unfortunately the pay retirement check ain’t much. But you right.” She smoothed Karin’s arm. “I feel bad leaving you all though.”
“We love you Ms. Henrietta.”
The two women shared a hug,m. Karin called and paid a can for Henrietta before rushing back inside the lobby.
She missed Annie.
Surely her friend would be safe from that mass dismissal.
“Listen this, apparently it because of economic reasons that they are firing everyone.”
“That’s what I heard too. Apparently the director had decided to start a new page for the palace. Thanks God I didn’t receive any notice.”
Instinctively, Karin opened her mailbox, checking for any formal announcement. Nothing.
She barely sighed of relief when the phone rang.
“Welcome to The Palace, how can I help you today?”
“Ms Dolores? It’s Mr. Morgan, could you please come to my office a moment. Thank you for your time.”
“Of course sir.”
It’s not like he gave her any choice anyway.
Karin took the elevator to Morgan’s floors. She nervously walked through the corridor until she reached the threshold of his office. She knocked twice and waited.
“Please come in.”
She pushed the door open and headed inside.
The space was well decorated and clean. Shelves lining the walls with folders and book and beside the CEO desk there was a picture of graduation — surely displaying young Morgan.
“Sir.”
“Please, have a seat.”
Karin sat nervously while Ajani kept his features cold and firm, browsing through his computer and paperwork.
“You might have heard about the upcoming changes, I along the council are forced to take.”
Karin didn’t replied.
“Well. With the restructuring plan unfolding, we happened to value talents and hard workers. I saw your profile and although the position had been offered to many of you. I considered important to tell that, you Ms Dolores had surpassed our standards and expectations. That’s why we would love to dignify your accomplishments and efforts with a promotion to host manager.”
- Herizen Guardiola (28, Cuban-Jamaican. The Get Down (2016))
- Rachel Zegler (24, Columbian/Polish. West Side Story (2021))
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took an hour to make this list that includes the age, ethnicity (of some) and fit credit. I will continue edit it to add the period dramas/ credits that I found specifically from the 1800s to early to mid 1900s. pls check the heritage of these face claims just in case I’m wrong. but feel free to use! look forward to seeing them in your stories.
Preview: “Please,” Annie whispered, mortified. “Don’t—don’t make me do that—”
“Ain’t making you do nothing.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Just correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.”
Word Count: 2.8k
Warning ⚠️: They're not a trio. But everyone eats eventually 🤪
A/N This is for @othermotherchild and all the other folks who requested this. Thank you for the inspo and trusting me to bring your visions to life. Enjoy.
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Annie was sitting at her vanity, pinning up her hair, when she heard Smoke come home.
His footsteps on the stairs were steady, purposeful. She watched in the mirror as he appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the gala—black suit, crisp white shirt, looking every bit the man who commanded respect wherever he went.
“You bout ready, angel?” he asked, moving into the room.
“Almost. Just finishing my hair.”
He came to stand behind her, and she watched him in the mirror as he pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket.
“Got something for you,” he said, setting it on the vanity in front of her. His eyes watched her expression, a smile tugging at his lips.
Annie’s breath caught, a smile spreading across her face.
The box was deep blue, clearly expensive. She opened it with careful fingers.
A necklace. Diamonds arranged in an intricate pattern, delicate but striking. The kind of thing that cost more money than most people saw in months.
“Elijah,” she breathed. “This is—it’s beautiful.”
“It’s gon’ match your dress.” He picked it up, the gems catching the light. “Here. I got it.”
Annie lifted her chin as he draped the necklace around her throat, his fingers brushing her skin as he worked the clasp.
“There,” he murmured, his hands resting on her shoulders as they both looked at her reflection. “Perfect.”
It was perfect. The stones gleamed against her dark skin, elegant and striking.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Mm.” His hands slid down her arms slowly, then back up. “Speaking of… I heard somethin’ real interesting today.”
Annie’s stomach tightened at his tone. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” His fingers traced along her collarbones, just above the necklace. “Ran into Marcus Webb. He mentioned you was by his shop last week.”
Her heart started pounding. “I—yes, I stopped by—”
“Said you was bartering with him.” Smoke’s voice was casual, but his hands had stilled on her shoulders.
“Something about your herbal remedies in exchange for… what was it? Some fabric? Some special buttons?”
Annie swallowed hard. “It was just—I wanted some lace. For a project. And Marcus said his wife’s been having trouble sleeping, so I offered to make her some of my chamomile blend in exchang—”
“Now why…” His hands slid back up to her neck, fingers playing along the edge of the necklace. “Why would you need to do that?”
“It was just—”
“When you have a husband,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, his breath warm against her ear, “who can pay for it?”
“I didn’t think—”
“When your husband has given you money for it?” He continued. His fingers traced along her throat, not tight, just… there.
Present.
“I give you an allowance every month, don’t I?”
“Yes—”
“You got access to all the accounts,” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and despite everything, Annie felt heat pool in her stomach.
“So explain to me, angel. Why you bartering like some woman whose man can’t provide for her?”
“It wasn’t about the money—” Her voice came out breathier than she intended.
“No?” His hands slid down, fingers trailing along the neckline of her dress, the tops of her breasts. “Then what was it about?”
Annie’s eyes fluttered closed. “I just… I liked the idea of trading. Of using something I made to get something I wanted.”
“Something you made.” His hands continued their slow exploration—along her sides, her waist, back up. “Like those folks are worthy of the things you make with your own two hands.”
“Elijah—”
“You see how that looks?” His mouth was at her neck now, lips brushing her skin between words. “My woman. Trading her goods like she ain’t got a man taking care of her. Like she gotta hustle for fabric and buttons.”
“That’s not—” She gasped as his teeth grazed her pulse point. “That’s not how it was—”
“How was it then?” His hands splayed across her stomach, pulling her back against him. “Explain it to me, sugar.”
“I just wanted—” Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid higher, thumb brushing just below her breast. “I wanted to make something. To trade something I created—”
“Mm.” The sound was almost a growl against her throat. “And how you think that makes me look? When people see my wife trading herbs for notions? What they gon’ think about the kind of man I am?”
“Nobody thinks—”
“Everybody thinks, baby. You know that.” His hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress, and she bit back a moan.
“Everybody watching. Everybody talking. And now they’ll be talking about how Elijah Moore’s woman out there bartering.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Are you?” He turned her around to face him, and the look in his eyes made her thighs clench. “Are you really?”
“Yes—”
“Then tomorrow,” he said, his voice firm despite the heat in his gaze, “we goin’ to Marcus Webb’s shop. Together.”
Annie’s eyes widened. “Elijah—”
“You gon’ cancel whatever deal you got with him. And I’m gon’ pay for whatever it is you wanted.”
His hand came up to cup her face. “In front of everybody. So they can see that you don’t need to trade nothin’. Because your husband provides.”
“Please,” Annie whispered, mortified. “Don’t—don’t make me do that—”
“Ain’t making you do nothing.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “Just correcting a misunderstanding. Making sure everybody knows you taken care of.”
“That’s gon’ to be so embarrassing—”
“Good.” He leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, until she was breathless. “Maybe the embarrassment will help you remember next time. Will help you think before you go making deals behind my back.”
“I wasn’t—it wasn’t behind your back—”
“You ain’t tell me about it, did you?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, pulling back. “Ten o’clock. We goin’ together. Wear something nice.”
“Elijah—”
“That’s the end of it, Annie.” But his voice was softer now, and he kissed her forehead. “Now finish getting ready. We got a gala to get to.”
He walked out, and Annie sat there, staring at her reflection.
At the expensive necklace around her throat.
At the desire in her body from his touch.
At the trapped look in her own eyes.
~The Next Day ~
Annie wore a dove gray dress with white gloves, hair pinned up neat, looking every inch the respectable wife of a successful man.
She felt sick the entire drive to Marcus Webb’s shop.
“Smile, angel,” Smoke murmured as they walked up to the door. “You look like you headin’ to a funeral.”
The bell chimed as they entered, and Marcus looked up from behind the counter, his expression shifting when he saw who it was.
“Mr. Moore,” he said, straightening immediately. “Mrs. Moore. Good morning.”
“Morning, Marcus.” Smoke’s hand was firm on Annie’s lower back. “We here about that arrangement my wife made with you.”
Marcus’s eyes flicked to Annie, then back to Smoke. “Oh. Yes, sir. The chamomile blend for some lace and—”
“There’s been a change of plans,” Smoke cut in smoothly. “My wife won’t be trading her remedies. Instead, I’ll be purchasing whatever she needs. Cash.”
“Oh.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Of course, sir. That’s—that’s no problem at all.”
“Good.” Smoke looked at Annie. “Show him what you wanted, baby.”
Annie wanted to die. Two other women were in the shop, pretending to browse but clearly listening to every word. She recognized one of them—Judith Hayes, known for spreading gossip faster than wildfire.
“The ivory lace,” Annie said quietly. “And the pearl buttons.”
“Excellent choices,” Marcus said, moving to get them.
“Your wife has wonderful taste, Mr. Moore.”
“I know she does.” Smoke’s hand stayed on Annie’s back, possessive and warm. “That’s why I make sure she has access to the best. Don’t I, angel?”
“Yes,” Annie whispered.
Marcus wrapped the items carefully while Smoke pulled out his billfold—thick with cash, more than necessary, making a point.
“How much?”
“Oh, it’s—let me see—” Marcus calculated quickly. “Twelve dollars total.”
Smoke pulled out a twenty, set it on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Sir, that’s too much—”
“For the inconvenience,” Smoke said smoothly. “And to make sure we all understand—my wife don’t need to trade for nothing. Anything she wants, I provide.”
“Yes, sir. It’s very clear.”
“Good.” Smoke picked up the wrapped package, handed it to Annie. “Anything else you need while we’re here, baby?”
Annie shook her head, neck hot.
“Then let’s go.” He nodded to Marcus. “Good doing business with you.”
As they left, Annie could feel Judith’s eyes on her back. Could practically hear the story being formed—how Elijah Moore had come in to pay for his wife’s purchases, how he’d made it clear she was taken care of, how he’d shown everyone who was in charge.
In the car, Smoke’s hand found hers.
“See?” he said quietly. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Annie stared out the window, the package in her lap feeling heavier than it should.
“You understand now?” he continued. “Why I needed to do that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” He squeezed her hand. “Next time you want something, you buy it. Because your husband makes sure you got the money for it. You understand?”
“I understand.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “That’s my girl.”
And Annie sat there, the expensive necklace from last night still around her throat, and wondered why being taken care of felt so much like being owned.
By the time they got home, Smoke’s mood had shifted—satisfied, pleased. He pulled her into the kitchen, pressed her against the counter, kissed her until she was breathless.
“You looked so pretty in that shop,” he murmured against her mouth. “Standing there in that dress, wearing my necklace. Everybody knowing you mine.”
And despite everything—despite the embarrassment, despite the control, despite the way her independence seemed to slip further away every day—Annie’s body responded to him.
Because that was the most confusing part.
She hated what he did.
But she loved him when he did it.
—-
Annie’s fingers twisted in her lap uselessly. As they always did when Smoke fed her.
“What’d you get into today, doll?”
“Spent some time working on my cinnamon rolls.”
His mouth ticked up.
“You likin’ that good cinnamon I got you then?”
She smiled and hit him on his chest.
“It’s real nice. Smells—different than the normal one.”
“Mhm. I’ll have to keep picking it up for you then.” As if cinnamon from across the seas was plenty. Like flour or sugar.
“Another expensive thing you’ll keep spoiling me with.” She said with disapproval.
“You deserve it. You worth every penny and more.” He had that look in his eyes. The one that scared Annie a bit. That deep devotion.
Then he held the fork to her lips once more.
Annie had long given up fighting Smoke’s obsessive tendencies. He was always… intense. She knew that. But the longer they stayed together, the worse it got.
Yet still she tried.
“Was thinking… of goin’ to the beach with the girls this weekend.”
She watched him grip the fork tighter.
“No.”
“Elijah you —“
“I said no.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.” She deadpanned.
“Don’t need to. I look like the type of man that lets his woman run around in public half naked?”
“Smoke, it’s just a bathing suit—”
“Exactly.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “And every man on that beach gon’ be looking at you in it.”
“They not gonna—”
“Annie.” He set the fork down, turned to face her fully.
“You think I’m stupid? You know how men think. You know what they see when they look at you.”
Her stomach twisted. “So I’m just supposed to stay here? Never go anywhere?”
“You can go plenty of places. Just not half-dressed in front of strangers.”
“Pearl and them are going—”
“Pearl and them ain’t my concern. You are.”
“This ain’t fair.”
“Life ain’t fair, angel.” He picked up the fork again, held it to her lips. “Eat.”
She turned her head away. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Crossing her arms.
His hand caught her chin—not rough, but firm. Turned her face back to him.
“Don’t be childish,” he said quietly. “You need to eat.”
“I said I’m not—”
“And I said eat.” His thumb stroked her jaw, gentle despite the steel in his voice. “I ain’t gon’ ask again.”
Annie’s eyes filled with tears, but she opened her mouth.
He fed her the bite, watching her chew, his expression softening slightly.
“There you are,” he murmured. “See? That ain’t so hard.”
The humiliation burned in her chest.
Later that night, Annie tried again.
“What if we compromised?” she said as they got ready for bed. “What if I wore something more… modest? A swimming dress instead of—”
Smoke didn’t even look up from unbuttoning his shirt. “We already talked about this.”
“No, you talked. I ain’t get to—”
“Because there ain’t nothing more to discuss.” He turned to her now, and something in his expression made her step back.
“You think I’m bein’ unreasonable? You think I’m too controlling?”
“Yes.” She hissed.
“You rather be with a man that don’t give a damn?”
“I ain’t say that—”
“You ain’t have to.” He moved closer, and Annie’s back hit the vanity. “But let me explain something to you, angel. Every day, I make sure you safe, make sure you provided for, make sure nobody even thinks about disrespecting you.”
His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
“And you wanna go parade around in front of strangers? In a bathing suit? Where I can’t protect you? Where any man can look at you, think about you, want you?”
“Smoke, it’s not like that—”
“It’s exactly like that.” His voice was soft now, almost tender. “And the fact that you don’t see it? That’s exactly why I gotta be strict with you. Because you too sweet, too trusting. You don’t understand how men are. How the world is...”
“I understand—”
“No, baby, you don’t.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But that’s alright. That’s what I’m here for. To understand for both of us. To keep you safe even when you don’t realize you need keeping safe.”
Annie’s throat was tight, eyes shinning with tears. “I just wanted one day. One day with my friends.”
“And I gave you an alternative.” His hands moved to her shoulders, rubbing gently. “I already told you. Why they can’t come here? I got you a creek on the property. It’s private. Quiet. And it’s safe.”
“Smoke, it ain’t the same!”
“It’s gon’ have to be the same.” His voice hardened. “You ain’t goin’ to no public beach ass naked.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can and I am.” He pulled back, started finishing unbuttoning his shirt. “Discussion’s over. You wanna invite your friends here for a swim day, that’s fine. But you ain’t goin’ out there half-dressed where I can’t see you.”
“So I’m a prisoner now?”
He turned sharply, and the look on his face made her flinch.
“A prisoner?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “A prisoner. In a house I built for you? Wearing clothes I bought you? Eating food I provide? That’s what you think this is?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, you said it. So let’s talk about it.” He moved closer, and Annie pressed back against the vanity. “A prisoner don’t got her own house. Don’t got her own bank account with money in it every month. Don’t got a man who worships the ground she walks on and would kill for her without thinking twice.”
“Smoke, please—”
“A prisoner don’t got choices, Annie. But you got choices. You can invite your friends here, swim in private, be safe. Or you can pout about not getting your way like a child.”
Tears spilled over. “Stop it. Please.”
His expression shifted immediately, softening. “Don’t cry.”
“Then stop making me cry!” She snapped annoyed at herself for showing weakness.
“Then stop workin’ my nerves!” His voice rose, and she sobbed harder. He ran a hand over his face, exhaled hard.
“Ion like making you cry, angel. You know that.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?” She whispered.
“Why you keep pushin’?”He cupped her face in both hands, made her look at him. “You keep trying to do things that ain’t safe, Then I try to protect you, you act like I’m the villain.”
“You are smothering me,” she whispered.
Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, controlled expression.
“I’m goin’ to bed, Annie.”
“Smoke—”
“I’m goin’ to bed.” He stepped back, turned away. “I’ll sleeping in my study tonight. Wouldn’t want to… smother.”
He walked out, and Annie was left standing there, crying in their bedroom, feeling like she’d done something wrong even though she wasn’t sure what.
Chapter 2 >>> Coming Soon.
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A/N This is part 1 of 3 chapters. You know me, working and posting everything but what I'm supposed to be posting. I do want to say, I promise, I will write every submission, nudge or recommendation ya'll send my way. It may take me a little time, but I'll defintely do them. I don't take ya'll for granted. Thank you for your patience with me <3
If you want to know how this story will go check out the original post HERE.
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