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uzumaki-rebellion · 2 months ago

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In Your Arms Tonight by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Adult Language, Speculative Elements

Summary: Annie has been asked by her estranged husband Smoke to provide hot food for the opening of his new juke joint in Clarksdale. After seven years apart, their passion and love for each other hasn't waned, but Smoke learns the hard way that leaving his wife alone for a long stretch of time doesn't mean other suitors haven't been chomping at the bit to be with her in his absence.

Word count: 7.2K

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"Somebody take me

In your arms tonight, alright

Somebody take me

In your arms tonight…"

Miles Caton – "I Lied to You"

Oh, he was mad.

Big mad.

Full lips all bunched up in a pout. Eyes more narrow than a sewing needle stitching a hemline back in her house. Fingers gripping the rolled tobacco cigarette tight.

Annie Moore watched her estranged husband Elijah "Smoke" Moore pretend to act unbothered on the second-floor, looking down at the mighty fine juke joint he and his twin Stack cobbled together in a day.

That big nigga was fuming up there, all on account of Beau Willie approaching her for a plate of fried catfish, and her mama's red rice recipe carried all the way over from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

There was plenty of fish to fry, pots of greens to stir, fried potatoes to season, and plenty of people to buy plates and eat them in Club Juke.

Annie wiped her brow with a folded towel next to the fryers and pretended not to notice her man hawking her from above. She gave Beau Willie two big slices of white bread with hot sauce, and pointed out the Irish beer, and Italian wine available to purchase with it. Her best friends Millie and Alberta helped cook and serve, and they all tapped their feet to the music swirling throughout the transformed sawmill. Two of Millie's older daughters stood nearby, watching and learning, and every now and then, the women would let them cook a batch of fish and sell some plates. Grace Chow the grocery store owner, also helped serve and sell liquor while gossiping with them.

"That man keep starin' at you, he gonna have his eyes fallin' outta his head," Millie whispered.

Grace giggled. Annie rolled her eyes and popped the cap of Beau Willie's beer with a bottle opener for him. Handed him the drink.

"There ya go, Beau Willie. You enjoy all that and come back for more when you ready," she said.

"You know I'll be back for your cookin', Annie. Every time," Beau Willie said with a voice deeper than the Mississippi River.

Brawny and handsome, Beau Willie worked the cotton fields like most of the colored people inside the juke. He was her first boyfriend. The first boy to ever kiss her.

Delta Slim belted out some tunes on his harmonica and tickled the piano keys, and Lloyd Allen played the lead guitar. The dancing crowd added the extra percussive beats. Preacher Boy Sammie stood next to the legend and played along with his guitar respectfully, not trying to outplay his elders, just keeping the rhythm steady with his strumming. A fiddler and two sibling banjo players waited offside for their turn to perform.

Annie served a few more plates and propped herself next to Grace against the counter filled with liquor bottles and high-priced hooch. She rightfully assumed Smoke and Stack stole all that shit. Smoke came to her house with pockets so fat and full of cash that she knew he'd been up to no good again. Wasn't no need to question or fuss with him about his criminality. He was going to do what he wanted.

A soft shiver went up her spine.

Lord, that man put it on her earlier that day! Twice. It was like old times with them. Argue and fight, and then fuck the disagreement away.

An undercurrent of disappointment simmered in her blood for his abandonment of their marriage after the loss of their baby. He begged her to run off to Arkansas with him after they robbed several banks in Clarksdale, and she refused to leave their baby behind in the ground they buried her in. That gravesite was holy, and she didn't want to leave her kin behind either. Smoke grew bitter about his pain. Selah, their baby girl, had meant everything to him. He couldn't wait to be a father and the first time he held her, the tears wouldn't stop flowing. They never stopped flowing after her death.

Annie did all she could when Selah grew sick. Asked every ancestor she knew by name and then some for help, wrung her hands with High John the Conqueror root as she beseeched God to grant her one holy favor: save her daughter from a too soon homegoing.

It wrecked Smoke.

He turned bitter, surly, and prone to drinking all day and night. The resentment in his eyes when she could cure ailments in other people, but not her own child, festered like an infection full of pus in his spirit. He said not one word to her, even though she sensed that negative energy clinging to him.

Her sorrow buried itself in her chest and she stumbled around each day numb for many months. They were not good to each other. He got it in his head to leave, like going away would banish Selah from their collective memory. She cursed him out. Beat her hands on his chest. How could he up and leave their child? Who was going to take care of her grave? Talk to her? Let her know they loved her beyond the veil of life?

He didn't skip off in the night when he left. That big gorgeous man looked Annie straight in her face and told her he couldn't stay. If he did, he feared he would turn into his father. A sullen, abusive man.

"Go on then," she said, "You scared to handle your feelings like a man, then leave. I'll stay and honor her and make a life with this pain."

He winced, and she turned her back on him, prepared an herbal remedy for a customer who was due to come by that day.

Smoke left her.

She had the community's support and sympathy. Built a business using the conjuring and medicinal skills she learned from her grandmother and Smoke's mother, Taiwo, both Hoodoo women. Taiwo nurtured her growth of knowledge until her passing two years ago. Annie stayed rooted in her power and fierce determination to keep her people thriving in Clarksdale.

She snuck a sip of the good hooch and squeezed her eyes shut from the burn that scorched her throat.

"Ooh, wee! That is some strong corn liquor," Annie gasped, patting her chest.

Millie cackled and sipped it like a pro, the moonshine sliding down her gullet like water.

"I don't know how you do that," Annie said with wonderment on her face.

"Y'all can't be drinking up the supply," Smoke said.

Annie jumped at the sound of her husband's voice. He'd moved in stealth down from the top floor to the main one. Grace wandered off to check on her husband, Bo.

"You ain't paying enough to be worried about me taking a drink when I want one," Annie joked.

"Thought I paid you in other ways that ain't got nothing to do with cash money," he teased, sliding his tongue across his top lip.

Millie smirked and lifted freshly cooked fish from the fryers and dumped them on some paper to drain. Annie wiped her hands and called one of the teen-aged girls over from the back to take over her spot.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Going to mingle and let people know we got a hot batch ready. Why you stressing me?"

"As long as you're doing that and not flirting with customers."

"Flirting with who?"

Annie put a hand on her hip. Eyed him up and down.

Smoke glanced around. The crowd wasn't paying attention to him.

"Summa these menfolk might have some amorous intentions toward you that they shouldn't," he said.

She slanted her head and waited for him to continue. He snuck a glimpse of her chest. Annie wore her good bra tonight. Her breasts sat high like mountain peaks and looked voluptuous in her new velvet green dress with the few sparkly sequins she sewed into it. She gave enough cleavage with her beads falling down the center of her breasts guiding inquisitive eyes to the Promised Land. Green was Smoke's favorite color on her. Every man watched her work the floor all evening looking like a Hoodoo queen.

Her heavy hips and high riding backside cast spells on other men as she passed them by, and that worried Smoke in that sexually charged environment. Just because they made love hours ago didn't mean he had her safely tucked in his pocket. And he knew that. He'd been gone much too long to think other men hadn't plotted to scoop her up. It was one thing for her to be out of sight/out of mind while he was up north and not faced with other suitors pursuing her. Quite another to witness it full on in person. That's why he chased the back of her dress every chance he got when she went to wandering in the juke.

His reconciliation with her was still tenuous. By his facial expression, she knew he was having flashbacks of sticking his thick dick in her deep, gushy pussy, and he worried that some other man would dare to wet his dick in it, too. It kept him on his toes. Territorial. He'd already shot two men who tried to steal his liquor when he first arrived in town. If a man tried stealing his wife's pussy…there'd be a funeral in the morning.

Smoke didn't answer her question any further about flirting and cut his eyes away from her face. She slunk around him, draped her arms across his shoulders from the side, and stared up into the brown eyes he once gave their baby girl.

"What you worried about, Elijah?" she purred playfully.

"Ah, woman, get on and handle your business."

He tried to act nonchalant, but his eyes darted back and forth to clock anybody waiting to approach her when she moved away from him.

She kissed his cheek and sauntered off, glancing back to catch him watching her. Sure enough, three other men did the same, grinning at the seductive way she swung her hips. They looked elsewhere when Smoke turned their way, going in the opposite direction of her.

"How you folks doing? We got some fresh fish hot and ready. Some Creole potato salad, too! Don't be shy about getting seconds or thirds…hey Earline! I love that dress on you! Shake it, sis! Casper, let some other fellas get a chance to dance with her…hey Ora Lee! I ain't seen you out in a long time, girl!"

Annie circled the extensive building interior. Smoke's twin brushed past her on swift legs with Mary tailing him in her expensive pale satin dress. The juke stayed turned up, with Delta Slim leading the charge. People drank, ate, and had a damn good time.

Smoke stayed watching her, and she decided to ruffle his feathers.

"Oscar, don't you owe me a dance?"

She tapped a man's shoulder, and he showed all his teeth, so happy to hold her hand and swing her out on the floor. Her left arm casually rested on his slim shoulders, and he loved the feel of her near him.

"Aw, Miss Annie, I been waiting all night for a chance to dance with you."

He was only a couple of years older than her, searching for a wife, and he'd been pestering her to go out even though she told him she was still married…for seven years straight. With no word from Smoke, she started keeping company with Oscar briefly two years ago, but the bones she threw after their third picnic date told her they were not evenly yoked. They also told her Smoke wasn't dead. And if he wasn't dead, he was bound to come home someday. She let Oscar down easy, but he never gave up hope. He dated around, but yearned for her still. It showed in the way he held her while they danced. Annie kept it short and chaste.

"Thank you," she said.

"Why you running off, Annie? You think I'm scared of that runaway husband that showed up out the blue?"

She grinned.

"I got more fish to cook and some money to make," she said.

"Don't be shy coming my way again," he said, winking at her.

His buddy had a different idea.

"Nigga, you oughta be scared. Them Smokestack twins ain't to be tested if you want to stay healthy. You ain't hear about them fellas that tried to steal from Smoke today?" his buddy said.

Annie slipped away from the conversation and checked on Smoke, who still stood up high overlooking the railing. Lips poked out again, but he wasn't taking the bait.

She returned to her post after using the privy outside and washing her hands. Stack's trickster self found himself caught in the middle of a heated conversation within a circle of young women who didn't look happy with him.

"What I miss?" Annie said.

Alberta nodded over toward Mary, who sipped a glass of wine at the far end of the food table, watching Stack like he'd vanish into thin air if she didn't keep her eyes glued to him.

"Stack called those ladies field bitches, and they heard Mary say she'd beat up every one of them over him," Alberta said.

"Oh, Lord," Annie sighed.

One woman wagged her finger in Stack's face and spoke loud enough for Mary to hear.

"Her mama was a field bitch too!"

Millie went over to help get the argument under control. Stack looked somewhat remorseful, but maybe it was because the darker Black women were lighting his ass up. They didn't play that shit.

Alberta inched closer and lowered her voice.

"You see that gal right there? The one fussing the most? She's Grace Latimer's niece. Her sister Jessie left town seven months after Stack left. He was messing with her and Mary at the same time. They say she had two of his babies. Twin girls. Her people carried her off to Pittsburgh and got her married up quick. They were too scared to confront Stack about it. Now that's a rumor, so don't go telling folks you heard that from me."

Annie studied the young woman cursing Stack out.

"Does he know he has children by Jessie?" Annie said.

"Like he would care if it's true. He a rolling stone, that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he got a heap of babies all over the states the way he sweet talks women out they drawers."

Annie glanced over at Mary again. She stayed watching her great love with twisted lips and heat in her eyes. Annie felt bad for her. It made her wonder about Smoke. Were there babies out there in Chicago with his last name attached to them? No, she would've known. Felt it. Her small bag of bones would've told her as well. She prayed for that man to come back home safe, and he did. Took him a long time, but she had him back for herself.

Stack smoothed over the argument, apologized, let the women have free drinks on him, and they rolled their eyes and went about their business partying. He shuffled away to join the rougher men gambling with their Chinese guests in a back room, his gold-rimmed teeth gleaming. Mary huffed loudly, then flounced off into the crowd.

"Whew, I don't want that kinda love coming after me," Millie said, "She sticking to him like a haint in the graveyard."

"She shouldn't even be here," Alberta interjected. "He keeps telling her to go, but she won't leave. What if that sheriff come 'round here to check this place out and they see her? Ain't enough bribery money in this world to keep them crackas from killing him or us if they think she white. Her too. God rest her mama's soul, but she ain't doing us no good being here," Alberta said.

"She knows, but she don't care," Millie said.

Annie fixed plates quietly.

"Annie, maybe you should talk to her. She listens to you. She your play cousin anyway," Millie said.

"Ain't nothing I can say to her that will change her mind. Y'all know I'm married to Stack's other half. I loves me some Smoke, so I know what she's feeling inside. Can't explain it to y'all what it's like being in love with a Moore man. They cut from a different cloth."

"Oh, so they be up in them guts having y'all speaking tongues then," Millie teased.

Annie guffawed and grabbed onto her friend's arm to hush her. The women laughed together and Annie sighed afterward.

"All they got is this one night," Annie said. "We're safe enough in here with our people. Stack gotta decide what he gonna do with her on his own is all I'm saying. I'll talk to her in a little bit. But we got work to do."

Annie supervised the cooking, fanned herself, and chatted up the patrons buying liquor. She couldn't stop grinning at everything and everybody. The festive atmosphere hadn't been in Clarksdale like that for years. People needed the release from toiling in the fields and their troubles.

She took another walk to cool off. The sweat between her breasts and thighs got to her. She fanned herself down in a corner and gazed at the dance floor where folks stomped feet and threw hands up in the air.

The scent of tobacco wafted near her nose.

Smoke found his way next to her. He handed her a small mason jar half-filled with wine. He held another for himself.

"For a job well done," he said.

They clinked the jars together, and she sipped the white wine. He did the same after tossing his cigarette. The sweet liquid tasted good. Not too dry, nor overly sweet.

"You look beautiful, Annie. I meant to tell you that before we got here…but we got busy and…"

"Thank you," she said.

He took their empty jars away and handed them to a young man walking past and asked him to drop them off over at the liquor table to be washed.

"Would you like to dance, Mrs. Moore?" he asked her.

"I would love to, Mr. Moore."

A faint perceptible smile turned up one side of his mouth. She delighted in the rare sight of seeing his dimples. One would think only Stack had them with the lack of smiles Smoke gave freely. So stingy.

He threaded his fingers with hers and purposely walked to the center so everyone would see they were together. The strut in his step gave away his pride at having her by his side. If other men didn't take the obvious hint that she was back with her husband, the gun openly displayed on Smoke's side would deter them.

When he pulled her in close for a down home slow drag, her breasts rested on his wide chest where they were meant to be. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and those muscular ones of his circled her waist. He'd taken off his tweed jacket and the heat from him gripped around her as tight as his arms. They rocked their bodies together and his eyes latched onto hers.

Smoke didn't need words to speak what he felt. He snaked his hips and pressed into her tight.

Love looked right into her eyes through him. So raw and intimate. She almost had to turn away from his intense gaze.

"Baby, you're the finest woman in here," he whispered in her ear.

He let the tip of his tongue swipe the shell of her ear and spoke her name slowly, like an incantation. The hair of his mustache tickled her face the way she remembered, and he rubbed on her Rubenesque shape. Smoke loved him some full-figured women and although she had been a slender teenager when they first met at a church revival gathering, he took one look at her mother and saw the future of what Annie would become. It probably helped that she'd grown plump round titties already, but he'd zeroed in on her like a hummingbird to nectar.

His prediction came true. She filled out in the hips and rump. Her breasts turned buxom. He became an ass man and a lover of big tits.

Smoke liked how snug they were against him in that moment because his dick already poked at her through his trousers. She slid a hand down and palmed that third leg.

"Hey, now," he said, looking around.

"You think your dick the only one hard out here?" she said.

He lowered his hand on her waist and slapped her ass.

"Play around with me, woman, and I'm liable to take you in a room upstairs and bend you over again. You want me to make another big mess inside you?"

Annie covered his mouth with her hand, shushing him.

He pulled it away.

"What? You can talk dirty to me, but I can't give it right back to ya?"

She threw back her head and beamed, feeling tingles all over from the raspy tone of his voice. He gently placed his lips on her neck and sucked on it while stroking her bare arms. His fingertips ignited her flesh and when he finally kissed her, she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue against his. Her heart thumped with the excitement of their lips touching and fired off sparks everywhere on her body. When the man started lifting and separating her ass cheeks, kneading them like he had biscuits to make, she had to shut him down, or else he'd take her right there on the dance floor.

"I gotta get back to work, Elijah—"

"Mmm hmmm."

She pulled his hands away from her backside reluctantly. He slapped her rump again playfully.

"When we get back home, I'll get them big legs around me again," he teased.

He grabbed onto his dick and showed her the bulge ready for her. She waved a hand to shoo him away, but he held her from behind and pressed his temple against hers, swaying to the music. He gently tugged on the soft abundance of her belly and held it while putting his tongue in her ear again.

"You my woman, understand? My wife."

"Yes."

He patted her rump, and she meandered over to the food, playing with her protective haint blue beads, and giving herself time to collect her thoughts about Smoke. She grinned until her cheeks hurt; her husband's touches still lingered over the skin of her arms and midsection.

"Love looks good on you, Annie," Millie said.

Annie patted her friend's hand and calculated the amount of food left to cook. Plates were moving, but the liquor not as quick while folks danced. They would have to lower prices on the booze. Smoke wouldn't like that. The man wanted to make a profit, not break even…or worse. Surveying the crowd, if Club Juke could maintain its current capacity week after week, they would be alright.

She checked the trays of uncooked fish left. Not enough. Millie and Alberta noticed it, too. There was a tub of extra fish on ice in Smoke's truck.

"We need to get the rest from the truck…Hampton, come help me bring the fish in," Annie asked a young man standing idly by the table watching the dancing.

"I can get it for you, Annie," Beau Willie said.

He tossed a bottle of Irish beer into a waste bin.

"That's alright Beau Willie, Hamp can help me—"

"I got it," he said.

He headed out the side door, and Annie followed. She paused at the door's threshold and glanced over her shoulder. Smoke and Stack spoke to each other on the landing of the stairs leading to the second level.

She slipped outside and the balmy fall air felt hot and sticky on her skin.

"The truck's over there," she said, pointing.

He ambled over and she followed behind him.

A crow sat on the truck. Annie stared at it. The bird's eye shine announced its presence. It was odd to see a lone crow like that at night. Normally they did communal roosting hidden away. They preferred safety in numbers, and the anomaly of seeing one crow wide awake and watching her sent Annie's intuition into overdrive.

A pale white moon attracted her attention, and she turned to look at Club Juke in its entirety, surrounded by dense trees. The music bubbled out from it, and so did all the laughter inside. They were isolated from everyone in Clarksdale. The sawmill was the perfect property to buy.

The crow kept watching her.

It stretched its wings with a couple of loud flaps and then settled into observing her and Beau Willie. She touched her beads. The crow seemed familiar to her, like from some dream she had recently, one that woke her up in the middle of the night panting. Smoke had been in the dream with her. It had been so real that she could smell his skin and the cigarette smoke on his clothes. The crow spoke to her like a friend in that dream and told her not to worry. Her man was coming home soon.

Annie shook her head. Focused on the task at hand.

"It's up in there, Beau Willie," she said.

He pulled the tarp back and climbed onto the truck. He picked up the heavy tub of fish Smoke bought from Bo Chow and left it on the edge before jumping down on the ground.

"Thank you for helping me," she said.

"No problem, Annie. Always happy to help."

Beau Willie peered at her with softness in his deep-set eyes. Recently widowed, he cared for his four young children with his mother's help. His grown face still held the boyish charm she fell for as a teenager.

"Annie, can I ask you something personal?"

"What?"

"Is he staying for good this time?"

Annie wiped the back of her neck and turned to head back. He clasped her hand and held her in place.

"I'm not tryin' to be disrespectful to your husband. We both know who he is and what he does. You deserve better, Annie. Someone who won't run out on you when things get tough or even when bad things happen. I loved you first. He stole you from me—"

"Nobody stole me, Beau Willie."

"Then why him? Huh?"

"You and I were so young when we dated. You had plenty of girlfriends after me and married a good woman—"

"They weren't you, Annie. I've had you in my heart for a long time. If he doesn't stay this time like he didn't before…then give me a chance to rekindle us. I can give you a family already. I work hard…look after my kin. I ain't never stopped loving you. Even when you chose him over me, I held you here…"

He touched his heart.

"He's my husband. What you want, Beau Willie, is what I caint give. Maybe…maybe if Smoke never came back…maybe if he'd been killed or thrown in prison and stuck on a chain gang for life…maybe if something like that happened…our bond would be broken. But that man is a part of me and planted so deep in my soul that there ain't nothin' that you or any other man in that juke can say to change my mind different. I would walk through hell with him. Do you hear me?"

"He already put you through hell, Annie. Left you all alone, for all those years—"

"But he back now," she said, shifting her weight onto one foot.

She hated Beau Willie in that instant. He had the audacity to bring out the niggling twinges of doubt into her mind about Smoke.

The click of a revolver behind them snapped them to attention.

"You heard her, Beau Willie. I'm back now. I suggest you take that fish into the juke and stay the fuck away from my wife," Smoke said.

Beau Willie blinked rapidly and stepped back from her.

"No need to have that out, Smoke," Beau Willie said.

"Why not? I come outside and see another man propositioning my wife to leave me, and what am I supposed to do? Let that shit fly? I should blast holes in you right now, but I got a business to run. Pick that fish up, nigga, and go."

Beau Willie glared at Smoke. He didn't dare look at Annie again. Smoke aimed the gun at the man's head.

"I can take you out clean or painful. Your choice," Smoke said.

Beau Willie lifted the metal tub of iced fish and trudged back into the juke.

Smoke holstered his gun and faced Annie.

They stared at one another in silence.

"How much you hear?" she asked.

"Everything."

Her tongue worried the roof of her mouth as her eyes welled up.

"You really staying, right?" she said.

"You let that nigga get in your head?"

Annie closed her eyes. Tilted her head back slightly so no tears would fall.

"I'm staying," he reassured her.

She nodded her head once, afraid the knots in her stomach would find a way to take root in her chest.

"You believe me, dontcha, baby?"

"Like you told me back at my place. I believe what I can see," she said.

She left him outside and returned to the makeshift kitchen to oversee the cleaning of the fish. Smoke did his rounds on the floor, and she fought the anxiety of worrying about him and his plans. Her grandmother always told her people showed you who they were, and she could believe in what Smoke did. Not what he said.

Delta Slim beckoned for Sammie to take center stage with pride in his voice. The young man was finally getting his chance to sing.

"Tell them who you are…" Delta Slim said.

Sammie shyly and sweetly introduced himself, and Annie couldn't help but smile at how precious he was to the Moore family. He was her family, too, and he glanced at her briefly. She nodded her head for him to show the world his gifts and Sammie started singing something he never shared before and the hairs on her neck and arms raised up.

Immediately, a tunnel vision warped her reality and Annie pushed out her breath to keep herself from having a panic attack and passing out.

Sammie.

His guitar.

Annie stared at the walls as Sammie wailed out the blues with Delta Slim perched on stage like a proud Poppa. She could see the people shouting and encouraging Sammie to let loose, and when he held a long note, his voice ripped through the ceiling and Annie sensed there were more people in the sawmill than the ones she could physically see. Some unseen entity darted past her skin, touching her like bird wings fluttering in the air. High above, perched on a rafter, the crow from outside gazed down at her. The surge of power in the room engulfed the entire juke.

Smoke looked in her direction, just as shocked by the music and Sammie's voice and also by the triumphant way the people danced. Grace and Bo also twirled in time to the blues music that wrapped everyone in a cloak of revelry and freedom to be who they be.

Annie gasped, wildly overstimulated by the unseen. She touched the top of her head, feeling the sensation of an overwhelming presence.

It freed her.

She locked eyes with Smoke far across the room and he strode forward, zigzagging through the crowd on a direct path to her. The weight of Sammie's music slowed everything in her mind down and her husband's movement seemed even slower. She moved from around the counter and lunged for him, pushing through sweaty people, needing to get to her man.

Smoke reached for her, and she cradled his face.

"I need you. Here with me," she said.

"I ain't going nowhere."

Their lips crashed together, tongues battling to subdue the other in a frenetic exchange of energy and desire. He entwined their fingers and pulled her through the crowd, heading for the stairs. The music had risen to a crescendo that vibrated on her skin with an intensity that should've burst into flames.

Smoke pulled her up the stairs and into a room that he used for himself, that he planned to make his office if the juke proved profitable. He slammed the door shut behind them.

He spun her around and helped her take off her dress, unhooked her bra, and pushed her onto an old cot covered in a coarse blanket. Smoke undressed quickly, and the music rose through the floor.

"Somebody take me…in your arms tonight…!"

Sammies mature voice thundered below them.

The only thing Smoke had on was the mojo bag she made for him and his metal dog tags from the war. His dick pointed at her and dripped pre-cum. He barely gave her time to pull off her panties before his erection parted her slick labia and sank into her.

"Oh…Jesus!" Annie shouted.

Her man was down in that bottom.

He cradled her breasts and stretched his mouth around her areola, sucking to his heart's content. She wrapped her thighs around him and he gave her more of the deep dick she'd been craving for seven years.

"This is my pussy," mumbled into her ear.

The weight of him smothered her in scorching heat and his steady heartbeat.

He dropped to his knees and spread her legs, licking his wide tongue against her labia, giving extra tender care to her clit. Daddy was hungry and made her a sopping wet mess. He took his time until there was nearly a puddle under her.

"Turn over," he said, helping her move into the position wanted.

She placed herself on her hands and knees. He plunged his tongue inside her entrance and she squealed. Rubbing on her ass, he stood and inserted that thickness between his legs back into her, grunting and cussing up a storm. Her pussy felt exquisite to him by the sounds he moaned out. She was as hot and gushy as he wanted. He angled himself so he could watch her titties hang and smack together with each powerful thrust. Annie was so wet that her pussy sounded like it was having its own conversation taking his dick in the small room.

He climbed on the cot with Annie and pulled her onto her knees. She spread her thighs wide. He took back shots, holding her arms behind her, and Annie's tits bounced like crazy, forcing throaty moans from him. The pounding of the rhythm below them matched the pounding Smoke gave her pussy. The frenzy of his dick going in and out pulled lustful cries of pleasure from her lips. He palmed her breasts and rolled his fingers across her big nipples.

"You coulda been getting this pussy all the time," she said.

He clutched onto her tits, squeezing them, before gripping her arms tight, delighting in her titties shaking and arousing him more.

Annie squeezed her walls around his girth and he shouted her name.

"Pussy so good…Annie…"

She took control and pulled away from him.

"Whatchu doing? I need that shit…" he gasped.

She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. Her thighs spread and wedged against his hips. Her breasts rested on his chest. He fondled them and stared up at her.

"I love you, Elijah. I never stopped loving you. All these years…I never once wanted any man the way I wanted you."

He thrust up, and she snapped her eyes closed. He stretched her like no other, and it felt incredible.

"Elijah…"

He thumbed her clit, allowing the slick wetness from her pubic hairs to coat the button every man wanted to push on her since Smoke had been away. She lowered her head and kissed him. His lips were so fluffy and soft against her mouth. The taste of her pussy there pleased him. He licked his lips as she tasted herself.

"I love you…hear me, woman? I love you. Don't let one of these niggas get killed tryna take you from me."

"No one can take me from you."

"You sure?"

She stopped moving.

"You think I'd want anyone else?"

She spread her hands on the wide planes of his chest. Traced two fingers down the path below his belly button of soft hairs that led to the wild pubic bush surrounding his dick.

He didn't answer, trusting the sincerity in her eyes.

"All I ever wanted was you…just you, Elijah. And when you left me…"

He lifted himself to face her and held his hands around her waist and backside.

"Shhh…shhh. Don't cry, Annie. Baby, please…I don't ever want to make you cry again. I promise."

He kissed away each teardrop that fell from her eyes. The soft pecks built up her confidence in him and she breathed easier. His voice stayed soft.

"I told you I missed you and wanted to be with you…I also want us to try for a baby again. Build our family," he said.

"You do?"

"Yes. That is…if you want that, too."

She hugged him tight.

"I do…I do!"

She wept so hard her eyes blurred. Smoke gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart nearly burst with joy.

Annie rocked on him, pleasuring herself and him. Smoke held her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

"Oh…damn…Elijah…you're making me…oh Jesus!"

Annie came hard, and it rocked her world. Smoke massaged her breasts and watched her face transform with the rapturous climax. He grazed his teeth across a nipple and she shuddered, exalting in the sensations cascading all across her skin.

"We can try for a baby right now," he said.

He flipped her back over onto the small cot and she yelped as he tossed her legs over his biceps.

"Will you let me put another baby in you, Annie?"

"I sure will," she gasped, nearly out of breath.

His dimples melted her. He got down to business, too. Touching her skin all over, kissing her throat and whispering words of love in her ear. He licked on her nipples and stared at her fullness.

"Touching you is like touching the beauty of the night sky, Annie. You my jewel…my most precious thing in this world. Without you…I ain't fit to live."

"Hush now…"

"Nah, I want you to hear me."

"I want you to show me."

He grinned and pumped that thickness into her slowly, letting her feel every inch. Her mouth parted, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Ooh…Elijah…baby…"

Her pants came faster, and the groans from him aroused her to new heights. He hunched over her and every muscle flexed for her. Their sweat mingled and his strokes curled her toes. He lowered her legs and thumbed her clit, watching his dick go in and out. His lips poked out and his face carried a serious expression.

She recognized that look.

He was about to cum.

"Annie…baby…I'm getting close…"

She fondled her own breasts, and it created more tension for him. His eyes darted from her pussy to her tits. The way his eyes narrowed, she knew it was going to be a big load.

"Annie!"

"Yes!"

"I'm cummin'!"

He threw his head back and roared her name, his thumb faithfully rubbing her clit until she spilled over into a new release. His dick throbbed inside her and she matched the pulses squeezing her walls around him to milk every drop of cum.

"Fuckkkk!"

His hoarse cry drowned out her whimpers of pleasure. Her pussy kept throbbing around him until the last surge of her orgasm quieted down enough where she could move again.

"Elijah?"

His eyes watered. Tears fell down on her. The tone of his voice trembled.

"I'm sorry, baby…for everything…"

"My love…it's okay…you're here with me…we're here together," she said.

"I can't give you back those seven years…"

"Shhh…stay with me here…in this moment… in the right now."

He twisted his head to the side in shame. She pulled it back to look at her.

"We here," she said

He kissed her forehead.

Smoke snuggled around her until they were in a tight spoon together. He played with a breast and listened to her breathing calm down. The music below them kept going and Annie didn't want to leave his arms ever again. She shifted her position, and Smoke rested his head on her breasts. Stroking his hair gently, she snatched that tiny moment of peace for themselves, forgetting about everything and everybody in the juke.

Annie cleaned herself up as best she could with the buckets of water Smoke brought up from a well out behind the juke. No one paid attention to him or questioned why he needed to tote water and clean rags upstairs. He cleaned himself up, too, and they rejoined the dancing below.

She floated.

Making love to him grounded her and pushed away any doubt.

He was going to stay with her.

She hoped they had conceived a little one. Lord knows he put enough semen in her over the course of a day to open a whorehouse. She laughed at the thought.

Smoke made his rounds, checking in on everything before he slipped his hand over hers to dance one more time.

She nuzzled her face against his cheek, pulling an open smile from his face. It was such a shock that even Delta Slim had to look twice to make sure it was real.

She hooked her arms around her husband's neck, swayed with him in time to the music and their own internal rhythm. Part of his mojo bag peeked out from his vest. She touched it. Early that morning, she had fed it, prayed over it, recharged it with her love and that of her ancestors to protect him.

"Blood of my blood…bone of my bone…," she whispered.

"You putting a root on me, woman? I told you… I'm home for good. Forever," he said.

"Forever ever?" she teased.

"For always."

"Ashe," she affirmed.

"What that mean again?"

"And so it is."

"I like that."

"Me too."

"Annie?"

"Yes, Elijah?"

"I love you."

He kissed her softly. Kissed life back into her.

The music played on, and for a few hours, it did seem like forever.

A.N.:

Wanted to put out a short Smoke/Annie fic to practice getting Annie's voice for another fic. I plan to write more about these two. How they met. Had their first child etc. This short is connected to my "Choose One" longer fic. You may recognize a speculative figure lurking in the story if you've started reading "Choose One." Enjoy!

Taglist:

@marley1773

@amethyst09

@mitruscity

@readingaddict1290

@issimplyaamazinggg

@eyeknowmywrites

@kitesatforestp

@fd-writes

@soufcakmistress

@cherrystainedlipsbaby

@tclaybon

@thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel

@bartierbakarimobisson

@cpwtwot

@shookmcgookqueen

@yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78

@the-illlestt

@terrablaze514

@l-auteuse

@amirra88

@jimizwidow

@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy

@sweetestdream92

@purple-apricots

@blackpinup22

@hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq

@writerbee-ffs

@chocolatedream30

@childishgambinaa

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

@soufcakmistress

@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@retroxvailles

@cydneyrenee4

@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

@childishgambinaax

@gopaperless

@bombshellbre95

@tchallasbabymama

@musicisme333

@sister-winter73

@nccu-rnc

@sj206260358

@blmcd57110

@griot-of-wakanda

@xsweetdellzx

@nayaesworld

@carlakeks

@anaiyaflys143

@klutzylaena

@christinabae

@writerbee-ffs

@novahreign

@cosmicautomatonshark

@thedondada05

@wheresthecaptaincrunch

@pocahunatt

@blackgaladriel

@chrisevansmentee

@@nebulamilkyway

#smoke x annie #sinners fanfiction #sinners movie #michael b. jordan #wunmi mosaku #Elijah “Smoke” Moore #Hoodoo Annie Moore #smoke and stack #smokestack twins #sinners 2025

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straycatj · 2 months ago

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Not Rocky, only sucky — A record of the unauthorized use of my photo in Oliver Clegg’s work

This article documents the events surrounding the unauthorized use of one of my photographs in a work named Rocky by Oliver Clegg, from the initial discovery through to the current situation.

Please consider this a formal report for those who have supported me.

September 7, 2021

I posted a photo of my cat Kofuku and Mr.J.

At the time, someone even made a pixel art version of it, and many people enjoyed it together.

January 2023

A kind follower sent me a mention to a post introducing a “work” by Oliver Clegg.

Clegg later claimed he had tagged my Instagram, but in fact he had created a brand-new tag called “straycatmrj.” This has also been documented.

By that point, someone had already annotated his work via Hypothesis, raising questions about his use of materials.

February 2025

The traced work resurfaced. I began an investigation.

That same month, I consulted a lawyer through an initiative supported by Japan’s Agency for Cultural Affairs:

Bansou.Support – a legal support service for copyright infringement and similar issues on the internet.

I was informed that:

Because the image is viewable online from Japan, this constitutes copyright infringement under Japanese law.

In my case, this use clearly does not fall under fair use.

My rights are protected internationally under the Berne Convention, regardless of the creator residing in the United States.

April 2025

Once again, I saw another traced work posted.

The uploader promptly removed the post and even issued a follow-up to explain the situation. I deeply appreciate their response.

However, the traced image continued to be reblogged.

I decided to follow through on my prior consultation and contact the gallery representing Mr. Clegg.

April 30, 2025 (JST)

I contacted the gallery directly.

A lawyer had advised that “this kind of issue is often treated seriously as a matter of credibility by galleries, so it’s worth contacting them.”

However, I received no response—perhaps because I am merely a Japanese individual blogger.

May 3, 2025 (JST)

I sent a follow-up message, stating that unless I received a response by the close of business on May 6 (EDT), I would make the findings public.

May 7, 2025

With no reply, I published the facts and timeline on Tumblr.

Many people offered support. However, I also witnessed comments that ignored all legal context, and some individuals spread false assumptions and slander.

Such baseless speculation only reveals more about the mindset and behavior of those making it.

I would like to take this opportunity to again express my sincere gratitude to those who responded respectfully and supported me.

May 8, 2025

24 hours later, with more response than expected, I published a follow-up thank-you note in the form of a reblog.

May 9, 2025 (Night)

60 hours later, I discovered that the relevant Tumblr tags were no longer functioning.

I suspected a technical issue—or possibly a report by someone connected to the other party.

I contacted Tumblr Community Support, and they responded promptly, stating that the issue had been resolved and would be reflected within 24 hours.

Shortly thereafter, the tag search functionality returned to normal.

May 10, 2025

72 hours later: search results had shifted.

Tumblr Search When searching for the artist’s name, I noticed that the specific work featuring my cat no longer appears in search results.

Google Image Search The image now appears to be filtered under SafeSearch.

Once again, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who supported and stood with me.

Thanks again to everyone who helped clarify the origin of the image.

(This post may be useful to those researching digital appropriation or copyright boundaries in art.)

#猫 #cat #straycatj #oliver clegg #art theft #cat art #copyright infringement #digitalrights #not rocky only sucky #i love tumblr #thanks tumblr #art controversy #documentation #case study #ethics in art

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gottencents · 4 months ago

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15 Minutes- Sophia Laforteza

pairing. actress!sophia x ceo!reader

synopsis. At a star-studded YSL Oscar After Party, actress Sophia shares a passionate kiss with secret girlfriend, CEO Y/n, sparking rumors and media frenzy as everyone wonders about Sophia's iconic lips and the true nature of their hidden relationship.

the night was young, but the YSL Oscar After Party was already buzzing with excitement. It was the most anticipated event of the year, drawing Hollywood’s brightest stars into one glamorous, glittering space. Champagne flutes clinked, celebrities mingled, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the promise of celebration. The room was alive with energy, but Sophia couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as she stood at the edge of it all.

Sophia, a well-known actress with stunning performances under her belt, had spent years building a career based on both talent and beauty. Tonight, though, it wasn’t her acting that had people’s attention—it was her lips. Full, plush, and undeniably captivating, they had become her trademark. Fans and beauty enthusiasts alike speculated endlessly about the lip gloss she used to achieve that perfect pout, but Sophia had always kept the details a closely guarded secret.

The only thing more famous than her lips, perhaps, was Y/n.

Y/n was the enigmatic CEO of a tech empire, a woman with power that seemed to radiate from her very being. Tall, composed, and effortlessly cool, Y/n was the kind of person who didn’t need to say much to make an impression—she simply had it. When she entered a room, people took notice, drawn to her magnetic presence, her sharp suit, and her confident demeanor. And tonight, Y/n was no exception.

Sophia had always admired her from afar—respectfully, of course—but tonight, something felt different. She found herself watching Y/n more than usual, her eyes following the way people gravitated toward her, laughing too hard at her jokes, trying to get her attention, maybe even hoping for a moment of closeness with the unreachable woman. And each time Sophia saw someone move toward Y/n, a strange pang of jealousy stirred within her.

Why was she feeling this way? Was it because Y/n was so damn alluring? Or was it something more?

Sophia wasn't sure, but the answer seemed to grow more apparent with each passing minute. Her stomach tightened as she watched a well-known actor—someone Sophia had worked with in the past—move toward Y/n, leaning in a little too closely and laughing a little too hard at something Y/n said. The actor’s hand brushed against Y/n’s arm, and Sophia’s heart clenched, an unexpected wave of jealousy rising in her chest.

“Hey, you good?” a voice called from beside her, pulling her from her thoughts.

Sophia turned to find Daniella, one of her closest friends and a fellow actress, standing there with a concerned look.

“I’m fine,” Sophia said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just... long night, you know? Too many people.”

Daniella raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “You sure? You’ve been staring at Y/n all night.”

Sophia froze, her cheeks flushing slightly. She hadn’t realized it was that obvious. "I wasn’t staring, I just—"

“I know you, Soph,” Daniella cut her off with a knowing smile. “It’s okay, we can talk about it later. But, seriously... have you seen the way she looks at you?”

Sophia blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Daniella shrugged casually. “I mean, the woman’s basically trying to undress you with her eyes. It’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes. Trust me, I’ve been watching her watch you all night.”

Sophia could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if Daniella was joking, or if she really had been watching Y/n like that, but the idea of Y/n looking at her in that way made her stomach flip.

"I don't know about that," Sophia muttered, shaking her head.

“You’re not fooling me, Soph,” Daniella laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Just saying, if you're interested, I think she might be too.”

Before Sophia could respond, she noticed Y/n standing alone by the bar. The crowd seemed to have shifted around her, and she now had a rare moment of peace. It was her chance.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia excused herself from Daniella, who gave her an encouraging smile before disappearing back into the crowd. As Sophia walked toward Y/n, she felt a rush of anticipation fill her, her heart beating a little faster with each step.

When Y/n saw her approaching, her lips quirked into a smile that sent a shiver down Sophia’s spine. It was a slow smile, one that seemed to suggest a secret—something they shared that no one else knew about.

"Sophia," Y/n greeted, her voice smooth and calm as always. "I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you might be hiding somewhere from all the chaos."

Sophia couldn't help but smile back, though there was a nervous edge to it. "I don’t like parties like this," she said, offering a half-smile. "But it seemed like the right thing to do after tonight's... events."

Y/n’s eyes softened, and she took a small step closer, closing the distance between them. “You don’t have to pretend to like it, you know. I can tell you're not enjoying yourself.” There was a subtle teasing tone to her voice.

Sophia chuckled nervously, glancing around the room before returning her gaze to Y/n. “It’s not that. I just... There’s so much attention on you tonight. It feels like everyone wants something from you."

Y/n tilted her head slightly, as though intrigued. "And you don't?" Her voice lowered, and Sophia could have sworn there was a hint of challenge in her words.

Sophia swallowed, caught off guard. “I don’t know. Maybe I do,” she admitted quietly, her eyes searching Y/n’s face for any sign that this was some kind of game.

Y/n’s lips parted slightly, as if considering something. “It’s okay to want something from me, you know.” Her voice was softer now, more intimate.

Sophia felt her heart rate quicken. Something about the way Y/n was looking at her made her feel exposed, like they were standing alone in a world that had suddenly gotten much smaller. “Maybe I want something from you,” Sophia murmured, leaning in just a little, her fingers brushing against Y/n’s hand as they spoke.

Y/n smiled, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “What if I told you that I’ve been wondering about your lips all night?”

Sophia blinked, surprised by the unexpected turn of conversation. “My lips?” She laughed nervously. “What about them?”

“I’ve been wondering what lip gloss you’re wearing,” Y/n replied, her voice low and almost teasing. “You know, the one everyone talks about. The one that makes your lips look... perfect.”

Sophia felt her cheeks flush. It was true that her lips had become something of a signature, but the thought of Y/n noticing them made her feel almost shy. Almost.

“You’ll never know,” Sophia teased, a playful smile on her lips. “It’s a secret.”

Y/n's expression shifted from playful to serious in an instant, her eyes darkening. “I don’t think it should be,” she whispered, stepping even closer to Sophia. She raised her hand, her fingers gently brushing against Sophia’s lips, tracing the curve of her bottom lip before lingering there.

Sophia’s breath hitched at the contact. The way Y/n’s fingers lingered on her lips sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her pulse racing. She could feel the heat between them, the weight of the moment.

“Maybe I’ll find out for myself,” Y/n murmured, her voice thick with desire. And before Sophia could react, Y/n’s lips were on hers.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement drawing Sophia further into the moment. She felt Y/n’s fingers slide into her hair, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, turning hungry and desperate. It was everything Sophia had been waiting for, everything she didn’t know she needed. The world around them seemed to blur and fade as they moved together, the only thing real in that moment was the heat between them, the way their lips met with a perfect familiarity.

Sophia’s hand traced the line of Y/n’s jaw, her fingers brushing over her lips in return. She could taste the champagne on Y/n’s breath, feel the warmth of her skin, and for the first time that night, she felt completely alive.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads leaning against each other as they tried to catch their breath.

Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper. “That’s what I wanted to know.”

Sophia’s lips parted, still stunned by the intensity of the kiss. “What?”

Y/n smiled, a little mischievous. “Your lip gloss. I had to find out for myself.”

Sophia chuckled softly, her fingers lingering on her lips. “I think you’ve found out more than you bargained for.”

Before either of them could say anything more, the flash of a camera caught them off guard. They turned in unison, only to find a photographer from the party snapping a picture of them, their faces still close from the kiss. The moment was caught in an instant—a headline in the making.

Sophia’s heart dropped into her stomach as she realized what had just happened. Within minutes, the pictures were everywhere. Tabloid sites had picked up the story, the headline reading:

“Y/n Tries to Find Out Sophia’s Lip Gloss Secret—And Gets a Whole Lot More.”

The gossip was relentless. People were buzzing about the kiss, wondering about the nature of their relationship. No one knew that Y/n and Sophia had been dating in secret for months—no one except for a select few.

Later that night, Sophia was scrolling through her phone when a text from Daniella popped up.

Daniella: So... how does it feel to have your lips trending on Twitter?

Sophia couldn’t help but smile at the message. She traced her fingers over her lips, the feeling of Y/n still lingering on her skin. She knew this was just the beginning of something much bigger.

Sophia: It feels... exciting.

And deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before they would no longer be able to keep their secret.

#cents works #katseye sophia x reader #katseye x reader #katseye #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #sophia laforteza #katseye sophia #katseye sophia x fem reader #sophia x fem reader #sophia laforteza x fem reader #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw

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quins-heart16 · 2 months ago

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A GLANCE OF FATE

LANDO NORRIX AND FEMALE READER(ELSA)

Rumors were everywhere.

Lando had been spotted on holiday with Magui and a few close friends—sun-kissed skin, casual strolls through beachside towns, dinners under string lights, and shared laughter. They looked like a couple, acted like one too, but neither had confirmed a thing. The world watched and speculated, obsessed with every glimpse, every comment, every story.

But the truth? Lando wasn’t sure what they were either he felt like something was missing and he always felt that way with many others that’s why he hadn’t made things official for along time with also others no one was ever official.

So, when the season picked up again, he dove headfirst into his world of speed—back to early mornings, fast laps, travel bags, and hotel rooms in new cities every week.

It was in Italy that it happened.

A quiet morning in a charming café tucked between cobbled alleys of Florence. He was tired, jet-lagged, craving nothing but caffeine and peace. But peace wasn’t what he found.

She was.

She sat near the window, draped in elegance. A silky white dress hugged her petite frame, her dark skin glowing under the sun filtering through the lace curtains. Her heels were Louboutins—classic red soles peeking from under the table—and a white hat shielded her face, shades covering her eyes as she read a newspaper, legs crossed in a duchess slant. She looked like something out of a movie, the kind of woman who turned silence into art.

Lando froze ,didn’t blink. He couldn’t.

In that moment, the noise, the world, even the racing… it all faded into silence.

And without a word, without knowing her name, her voice, or anything about her—he knew.

That’s my wife.

Not a crush.

Not a fling.

Not the pretty face in a passing dream.

Something in his soul whispered it—quiet, certain, eternal.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was meant.

She felt like home he hadn’t stepped into yet.

He ordered his coffee and chose a table directly across from her.

For the first few minutes, he didn’t even sip. He just watched. Quietly. Respectfully. Intrigued.

Then it happened.

As if drawn by an invisible string, she lowered her newspaper, then slowly slid off her sunglasses. Their eyes met for the first time.

Warm brown meeting icy blue.

And she smiled.

Soft. Shy. The kind of smile that says I see you too.

It was a shy smile, soft and graceful, like a secret meant just for him. Lando’s heart stuttered.

Lando sat still, completely undone. Then, she rose. Gracefully. Bag over her shoulder, heels tapping like a gentle drumbeat on the floor, and just like that—she was gone.

——————————-/———

Days passed. But her face? Her smile? They stayed with him like a song he couldn’t stop humming.

Back in Monaco, in the grand lobby of a waterfront hotel, life moved on. But fate, as it always does, had its own plans.

Lando was walking past the front desk when he heard soft crying—childlike and frightened. He glanced over and saw her.

In a simple blue sundress and nude heels kneeling in the middle of the marble floor, cradling a little girl who looked about three years old. The child’s tiny hands clung to Elsa’s arm, her cheeks streaked with tears.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?” Elsa asked gently, brushing the girl’s curls back and offering a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your mummy.”

Lando stopped in his tracks. His heart tugged.

Elsa stood out in a crowd effortlessly, but in this moment, she wasn’t the elegant girl in the café. She was warm, real—kind. The way she calmed the child, speaking softly, stroking her back, glancing around to spot any sign of a panicked mother—it was instinctual.

Then he saw it: a woman rushing forward in distress, calling the little girl’s name.

Elsa stood up, gently nudging the child toward her mum, who swept her into her arms, tearful with relief. There were grateful thank yous, promises to never let the child out of her sight again, and Elsa just smiled, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Lando, still watching, knew better. It was everything.

He waited until the woman left and Elsa stood alone, adjusting her bag.

Now or never.

He stepped forward.

“That was pretty incredible,” he said, his voice low, eyes fixed on her.

She turned slightly, surprised—but not startled.

“Oh… she was scared. I just did what anyone would do.”

He shook his head, smile teasing at his lips. “Nah. Not everyone would kneel down in the middle of a hotel lobby in heels like that and calm a three-year-old like a Disney princess.”

She laughed softly, and Lando felt the air shift. That smile again.

“You’re the girl from the café in Florence,” he said quietly.

Her brows lifted, amused. “You were watching me?”

“I tried not to. Failed miserably.”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with gentle curiosity. “So what now?”

He stepped a little closer. “Now? I ask for your name. Then your number. And if I’m really lucky, maybe your favorite kind of coffee.”

She smiled again, warm and open. “Elsa.”

“Elsa,” he repeated, as if it was already his favorite word. “I’m Lando.”

“Lando nice name “ she says with a small smile

And then she handed him her phone number as per his request.

Lando walked away later that evening knowing one thing for sure:

He wasn’t just thinking about her anymore.

He was chasing her.

And this time, it had nothing to do with racing.

#lando norris x reader #tiktok imagines #f1 imagines #trending #my fyp #lando norris x black!reader #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #tumblr fyp #fashion trends #viral trends #f1 imagine #imagines #lando norris imagines #f1 fanfic #fem reader #lando norris #ln4 imagine

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naffeclipse · 7 months ago

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Lone Mistletoe

Reader x Rich!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

This request was made by the darling @deliasmoothie for a little Christmas date centered around her Rich Boys AU and a reader who owns a bakery! After a late closing, the reader gets a visit from millionaire heirs Sun and Moon and a reminder that they have a very special evening planned. The lovely artwork is done by @deliasmoothie as well! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

———

You’re late.

You scramble to put away the dough that will rise softly through the night in the storage area. The clatter of baking sheets echoes over the faint jingle of Christmas music which plays in the entrance of the bakery. Gathering bags of empty flour that were left undisposed, you throw those into giant waste bins and rush to clean off counter tops before muttering under your breath that the front needs to be swept lest customers enter tomorrow morning and find dirty floors.

A glance to the clock quickens your already frantic heart rate. You should already be out the door, dressed for a fine night of dining and whatever plans your dates may have. Oh, you’re going to be disappointing.

A nervous perspirant begins under your pits as you frantically fly through closing chores. Your employees would usually be more than happy to finish everything up without you, but one called out for the day citing a family emergency, and the other needed to go home early for the sake of a sick child. You are left to stack up the jars of ginger spice and vanilla used in gingerbread men and Christmas cookies respectfully and set them where they belong.

The minutes turn into half an hour. You’re going to melt into a puddle on the floor but you won’t allow another mess to be made when you just finished sweeping. Snagging your phone after leaning the broom against the wall, you begin punching in a quick text of explanation and apologies when the front door opens with a soft jingle from the welcome bell.

You curse under your breath. You should have locked it by now if your mind wasn’t cutting through the checklist of things needing to be done.

“I’m sorry,” you call out as you walk to the counter. “We’re closed—”

You stop short, the breath caught in your throat.

Two handsome animatronics stand in the lobby of your bakery. Among the Christmas decor of candy canes stuck to the window and boughs of holly hanging along the walls, they stand in glamor and confidence.

One animatronic sports a crown of sun rays around his head, sharp and brightly yellow, with a grin to match. His pale blue optics lack the sunglasses he would so often sport during summer. He wears a stylish long coat of red, with a white shirt sporting a high collar, and brown slacks, all done in a bold and daring style. The other holds a crescent marking upon his face, half silver, half dark, with a deep blue nightcap trailing down his back decorated in stars. He dons a black coat, simple yet striking, and a deep blue turtleneck sweater and dark trousers. They share matching figures of lithe limbs and slender waists, their clothes accenting every handsome part of who they are.

Your dates.

Most importantly, the heirs of a national billion-dollar company.

“Sweetie pie?” Sun laughs with equal affection and concern. His blue eyes are wide upon you. “Are you alright?”

Your hand immediately flies to your hair. It is a mess of wisps and strands escaping from the messy bun you had it pinned into today.

Moon looks around the shop, his brow quizzical, as if searching for a threat before his gaze rests on you. His expression softens.

“Sun, Moon? What are you two doing here?” Your attention slips past them to the open windows. You quickly rush forward. They step apart to let you fly between them, and watch as you quickly yank down the blinds and lock the front door.

They can’t be seen here. Your bakery is small, hardly a blip on the map, and people don’t know who the heirs are dating—though the tabloids have speculated who their newest beau may be.

You made it clear to Sun and Moon when they first asked you out for a little coffee date over this very same counter that you would go with them because you enjoy their company, not the names they carry nor the fortune they hold. The public, however, will assume the worst: you’re in it to make your bakery known and catch more sales. Or perhaps, the opposite. The heirs are lording over you with their black credit cards, enticing you into their demands.

Neither is true. Regardless, you don’t want them spotted here with you, alone.

You turn around and huff a breath, pushing a wisp of hair back from your face.

“Cinnamonroll, you are late for dinner, and the restaurant is only a few blocks from here.” Moon steps forward, his hands reaching for you. His pale pupils track you with a gentle study. “We were concerned.”

You keep trying to power walk back behind the counter but another set of arms stop you gently.

“Sweetie pie, breathe for a moment.” Sun stands over you. His hands hold your arms gently, keeping you in place. “It’s alright. They’re not going to withdraw our reservation.”

He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You flush, bowing your head slightly. This was not how the evening was supposed to go.

“I’m sorry.” You confess what happened throughout the day, losing your employees one by one until you were left to close.

“Do you need any help?” Moon steps closer. He brushes a hand against your cheek. When he draws his touch back, you find pale flour on the tips of his silver digits. His grin is mischievous but sweet when he chuckles. “Messy little treat, aren’t you?”

A deep pink fills your face as your heart swoons within you.

“No, no,” you shake your head fiercely, “I mean—I’m done, I just… Can you give me a few minutes to get ready?”

“Of course,” they answer in unison.

You look between both of them, a sweetness filling your mouth as your shoulders lower in relief. You dust your hands together. With that, you fly behind the counter and to the upper floor where your apartment is located.

Dinner is waiting.

Dinner is, as always, incredible. You’re not sure how Sun and Moon find the most delicious—and expensive—restaurants but they manage to surprise you each and every time. Of course, you almost fall out of your chair when the bill is brought and Sun flips out a sleek, black credit card without glancing at the numbers to resume asking about your thoughts on the holiday season—and how you would like to spend it. Moon in the same fashion orders a few desserts for you to try at your leisure while candlelight softly flickered over the table.

Now, you walk softly between them, both of your hands occupied by long and large digits cradling your gloved hands. The air nips at your nose. Snow litters the park plaza as around you, people skate on an ice rink set before a towering Christmas tree and couples huddle close together, sipping hot cocoa.

You have to crank your neck back to take in the majestic glow and glitter of the decorated tree in the pitch black evening. Lights twinkle like starlight and golden garland wraps its thick, evergreen limbs. Tinsel shines like silver against its emerald dark hue. Ornaments, large and painted in rich blues, greens, and reds, hang to the edges.

Sun and Moon shelter you in their warmth. Their coats, made of fine material with brand names that look far too French and expensive to be something you ever hope to possess, drape against you. Sun lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. Moon rubs your palm, ensuring you keep warm despite the frigid night.

To your relief, no one seems to notice them. Of course, it helps that you and your dates are swallowed up in scarfs and hats, but you find yourself prickling with slight anxiety while glancing around. It’s the same nervousness that has plagued you throughout the entire evening.

You feel your best when you’re alone with Sun and Moon, with no eyes upon you, judging and deeming what is right and what is wrong. All you know is that it feels good when you hear them laugh or they ask you how another busy day was at the bakery.

That should be all that matters, but your self-conscious fears are a niggling thing in the back of your mind.

Moon shares a glance with Sun, who gives a slight nod. He then suggests taking a walk further down the park, where there are less people gathering under the light of the tree and watching the ice skaters.

You’re more than happy to.

A few little shops are sprinkled along the path turning deeper into the snowy covered park. Moon asks if you would like hot cocoa or a new pair of ice skates. You politely decline. Sun says they might need to buy you a new coat since you’re shivering so much, but again, you shake your head with a smile.

They like to give. This is not a manner of ego and flaunting, but a manner of kindness, you’ve learned.

The soft silence is muffled by the white frost decorating the ground. Moon and Sun clutch your hands a little tighter whenever patches of ice pop up along the sidewalk. In the peace and stillness, your eyes fall upon a snow-white arch down the path you take. Hung in the center of it, tied with red ribbon, is mistletoe.

Your ears warm despite the sub-zero temperatures. Glancing between your dates, you nervously rub at their fingers. Sun and Moon slow, their eyes landing on the very same plant.

“There is something we can give you, sweetie pie,” Sun declares as he begins to stride forward, pulling you along with him.

“Oh, Sun,” you try to protest while struggling to hide your flustered tone. “What if someone sees?”

“It’s only us, cinnamon roll,” Moon rolls low over his tongue. “Don’t worry.”

You blush fiercely. Reaching the white arch, Sun and Moon stop. Your heart beats heavy within you while softly, Sun face faces you. Moon slips behind you, his touch resting on your hips. You begin to warm despite the chill, afraid you look pink from head to toe.

You trust them both. A certainty clings to you that you are safe in the quiet of the night and the cold of the snow so long as you have them.

Sun cups your cheek in his palm. His gaze glimmers gently while he leans in closer. You find his hand and tuck it over your heart, clinging to his fingers as if you’re afraid to lose him. Maybe you are.

But every thought within you fades when his lips touch yours. He pushes gently into your affection. A slow pull of his mouth teases you before he returns to reassure you that he is here to stay. You taste him. Confidence and want burn together in how he effortlessly strokes your cheek and tilts your head slightly in his soft fervor.

Pulling back, he sighs while brushing his thumb over your lips. You hold his gaze despite the heat in your cheeks.

His hands rest on your shoulders. Moon, however, gently twists your hips until you’re facing him. Sun’s hands remain on you, falling down your spine.

Moon’s gaze is warm and heated in the dark. Under the mistletoe, he leans in closely as he takes your chin in his hand. Head tilted up slightly by his touch, your lips part. He leans closer, hovering above your mouth while his eyes study the shape of it.

His optics close as his mouth claims yours. You follow into the sweet darkness, your head tilting back at his firm but rich affection. He pushes and pulls against you as steady as the tide. His other hand remains on your hip, stroking you softly underneath the layer of your coat.

When he breaks the kiss with reverence, you breathe out mist. Floating upon a hazy, sweet cloud, you drift between their celestial bodies as they cuddle you close under the mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas,” they whisper to you, one voice in each ear.

You hum a happy sound.

“Merry Christmas.”

#naff's writing commissions #rich boys au #get yourself two boys who will spoil you rotten!#they really just want to give you everything <3 #naff writing

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revelboo · 3 months ago

Note

Megatron be liking Reader biting him, glad Reader is fighting back now, having 3 huge alien robot husbands must be exhausting, all having drama going on pretty sure their the talk in the cons cafeteria (if they even have one)

🤣 They have a rec room, and speculation on whatever’s going on with the Meg’s weird warnings along with Soundwave and Starscream’s current beef is their favorite subject

Everything Is Alright Pt 148

Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• That little lick of pain heats his lines, driving him crazy. Those blunt teeth of yours sinking into his lip hard enough to make him bleed energon and it’s a delicious thrill, your anger so addictive. Do you ever let the other two see this side of you? Bets you don’t, bets you hide it from them, acting soft and docile. Likes that thought, that this is only for him. Your head lifts, lip smeared with energon and his mouth crashes back against yours, not letting you get away as his hips pump against you.

• Nails digging into the mesh of his neck as his mouth slides against yours, tasting the burn of energon on your tongue. Not showing him away, but pulling him closer. Gasping against him when he tugs one of your thighs up, allowing him to go a little deeper, shifting his angle until you’re coming apart again with a ragged cry. Feel him shudder against you, excess slicking your thighs as his lips brush your cheek. “I’m not,” you begin, trying to catch your breath as he presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth, the tender gesture making you even angrier. “I’m not going to be a damn toy.”

• Laughing at your angry tone, he hooks his hips to make you gasp and shove at him. “No, you aren’t, are you,” he growls, the words not really a question as he cups your cheek. After the Autobots are defeated, after he’s rooted out all treachery, you’ll have a place at his side. Feared and respected. But for now? You’re much too vulnerable and have to be protected. Lifting up off of you, his spike slips free, leaving a damp trail against your thigh as he sits back on his legs to admire you. The way you look sprawled on your back, breathing still ragged, face flushed and angry. Beautiful with his slick on your thighs, in you. Stiffening at a soft rap at his door, he leans to slide a servo over your cheek and smiles when you smack his hand away, seeing your expression grow pinched and knowing you just hurt your hand even if you won’t admit it.

• Baring his denta at Shockwave’s blank stare, Starscream flares his wings further. Ignoring Soundwave sliding between him and Megatron’s door to knock then disappearing inside even as annoyance lifts through him. Because you’re his. You were his first. But he’s not willing to turn his back on the scientist and the threat he poses. Wondering what exactly Shockwave is remembering that’s making him fixate on you. What memories you’re triggering and why.

• Turning his head respectfully as Megatron wipes down his spike and hides it away, before turning his attention on you, Soundwave vents. Has no idea what happened between you two aside from interfacing, but you’re angry and Megatron is far too amused. Provoking you deliberately? Crossing to you, he produces a cloth from subspace and reaches for you, only for Megatron to grab you by an ankle and tug you to him, using the cloth he’d cleaned himself with to clean you as you swear at him. Making him certain the warlord has been antagonizing you again. Like a sparkling with a favorite toy. Watching you kick Megatron in the jaw with an angry shriek, he doesn’t bother to interfere. Not when their leader is grinning in delight. Enjoying making you angry on purpose.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #starscream #soundwave #megatron

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mashtatosworld · 5 months ago

Text

back to you

an unofficial sequel to 'everything i wanted... with you'

summary: in which its a choice

warnings: mentions of alcohol

You were no stranger to the red carpet.

The flashing lights, the carefully curated answers, the way interviewers pried just deep enough to stir headlines - it was all part of the game. But tonight, as you stepped onto the carpet in a gown that shimmered under the camera flashes, something in the air felt different.

Maybe it was because you were presenting one of the awards. Maybe it was because you were eager to return to the music scene yourself.

Or maybe it was because he was here, too.

You had avoided the subject of Kwon Jiyong for years, dodging questions with well-practiced ease. It was easy considering he'd stepped away from the fame. But tonight, he returned to its light.

"y/n!" A reporter called, mic outstretched. "You're presenting tonight. How does it feel to be giving the awards this year, rather than accepting them?"

You smiled, your media training was like a reflex. "It’s an honour. I'm just happy to be here and support the new wave of talented artists."

The reporter nodded, then tilted her head slightly. “What about the more seasoned musicians? Like your ex partner, GDragon. Are you here to support him?”

Your fingers tensed around the clutch in your hand. Here we go.

"I'm here to celebrate great music," you said smoothly.

"Sure, but - GD’s album is deeply personal. Fans have speculated for months,” The reporter leaned in, as if you were co-conspirators. “He wrote it about you, didn’t he?”

You could have lied. You could have laughed it off, guided the conversation elsewhere.

But instead, you exhaled and said with a tight smile, "You’d have to ask him."

Not a denial. Not a confirmation. But unfortunately, it was the burning arrow that sent the internet into flames.

'y/n reacts to being asked if GDragon’s album is about her - her face says it all!'

By the time you took your seat inside, it was already trending on twitter. Your publicist was most likely somewhere tearing her hair out. But you refused to let it ruin your night.

Until they announced Album of the Year.

The moment Jiyong’s name was called, the room erupted into applause. You clapped too, measured and composed, even as your pulse pounded against your skin.

Jiyong rose from his seat, hugging Youngbae before making his way to the stage, bowing respectfully even to his juniors. He moved with haste, his expression unreadable as he accepted the trophy.

When he reached the mic, he started with the usual gratitude - to his team, his fans. He looked uncomfortable, standing up there alone, and you wondered if his frantic eyes were searching for a familiar face.

But then, at the very end as he went to step away, he hesitated.

A heartbeat of silence stretched as he glanced over the audience.

"And in case you were still unsure…" A slow, almost amused smile tugged at his lips. "Yes, the album is for you."

The room reacted. A collective applause. A few scattered murmurs. A roar of cheers.

You froze mid-clap, your hands barely coming together before you quickly resumed, expression schooled into something neutral. But it was too late. The moment had been caught.

The camera had panned to you and your barely concealed reaction, the way your fingers twitched against your dress as you avoided looking into the intrusive lens.

And just like that, speculation turned into confirmation.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The Afterparty:

You did your best to ignore the endless buzzing of your phone.

The venue was packed, laughter and music filling the air as glasses clinked in celebration. You made your rounds, congratulating fellow artists, sipping champagne, pretending you weren’t being watched.

But eventually, your eyes found him.

Jiyong stood near the bar, his posture much more relaxed, his fingers holding a burning cigarette. He was mid-conversation with someone, but the moment your gaze landed on him, he glanced up - like he had been waiting.

You didn’t hesitate.

With quiet, deliberate steps, you crossed the room.

Jiyong turned fully toward you, watching as you stopped in front of him. His lips parted slightly, as if he had something to say-

And then you spoke first.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Seven months later:

The set of ZIP Daesung carried its usual warmth - soft lighting, easy laughter, and the comfortable energy of old friends.

Jiyong sat back in his chair, dressed in a pale pink shirt and matching hat, a soju bomb in hand. Youngbae leaned beside him, while Daesung - ever the lively host - grinned mischievously at the camera.

"Alright, alright," Daesung steered the conversation, barely holding back a smirk. "We’ve talked about the tour, we’ve talked about the album - but let’s talk about what’s next."

Jiyong grinned, shaking his head slightly. "I’ll probably take a break after the tour."

Daesung hummed knowingly. "Uh-huh. And what about outside of music?"

Jiyong rolled his eyes, but there was amusement there. He tilted his head slightly, fingers tapping against his knee. "There’s… a lot to look forward to."

Youngbae let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

Daesung turned dramatically to the camera. "Okay, since he wants to be shy - congratulations to our hyung Jiyong on the tour and on, uh… some upcoming big changes in his life."

The room erupted into positive cheers.

Jiyong exhaled a quiet laugh, gaze flicking to the side as if someone just out of frame had caught his attention. His expression softened for the briefest second, and when he lifted a hand to partially cover his face, his eyes met yours.

For years, his fingers had been adorned with heavy rings, stacked bands of silver and gold, each one a symbol of a life that had once felt both extravagant and unattainable.

Now, there was only one.

A single, simple gold band resting on his fourth finger.

No more placeholders. No more waiting.

Daesung, grinning, tapped the table knowingly. "Last chance before the fans come for me."

Jiyong turned the ring between his fingers, considering. Then, finally, with a quiet, content smile -

"I think the music will say it for me."

Youngbae smiled, shaking his head. "You’re not getting that answer for your channel, hyung."

Daesung threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation. "I tried, okay, VIPs?" He sighed dramatically, then suddenly gasped, eyes widening as he looked past the camera. "Oh! How about we just have y/n as my next guest? The fans would love to see her after months of ...resting,"

Your eyes widened, lips parting in silent protest. You shook your head frantically behind the camera, arms instinctively crossing over your stomach, fingers curling against the fabric of your carefully selected oversized sweatshirt.

Daesung smirked and avoided your pointed glare as he continued, voice light, teasing - "She’s been very busy lately, after all."

Jiyong chuckled under his breath, gaze flickering toward you before he took a slow sip of his drink.

The clip went viral within the hour.

Because Jiyong didn’t confirm anything outright.

But he didn’t deny it either.

The absence of all the other rings, the presence of just one - a simple gold band, settled on his finger like it had always belonged there - was answer enough.

And then, there was you.

Daesung’s playful words, Youngbae’s knowing smile, the way Jiyong’s gaze flickered off-camera - straight to where you stood. The way your arms folded over yourself, a quiet, protective gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

The pieces were all there.

For years, your story had been one of hesitation. Of missed moments, of what-ifs.

But not anymore.

Now, there was no question.

And as Jiyong smirked, lifting his glass in an unspoken toast, it was clear.

Some things were worth keeping just for yourselves.

For now.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

they wasted no time reuniting 😛

*glimpse of their reunion that night posted here to my lover...

for @multifanxtvshows

i happily take requests! in fact, i love inspiration so thank u

#gdragon #kpop #kwon jiyong #kwon jiyong x reader #bigbang #gdragon x reader #mashtatosworld

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