#elias drabble

[hoetachi]

YOU KNOW GOOD GIRLS WHO DON’T COME OUTSIDE GET THEIR FAMILY TURNED? — E. (STACK) MOORE

drabble

➠ mulan’s input; what if stack turned your family function into a vampire kickback like the toxic ex he is. shout to homebody by rob49 that inspired this

➠ c/w: stack is just a silly toxic vamp ex

you sat completely zoned out, blood tacky all the way up to your elbows. your juicy tracksuit? done for. no amount of shout could fix this. ‘this for real can’t be happenin’ you thought, but hearing your kid cousins playing ring around the rosie around the dead mailman—while chanting "shabooyah roll call"—nearly made you bawl. half your family is undead and it’s all because of—

knock

knock

knock

you slowly raised your head and stared at the front door like it owed you money. this was the third time someone had come up trying to ‘sweet’ talk you into letting them in: “y/n you bein’ stingy cuz!”

“oh she think she eryka badu or some shit, wit’ her crystals and incense and shit”

“come let me in! it’s hotter than the devil’s nutsack out here girl!”

you pushed yourself up off the floor with a groan, bracing against the wall as you limped down the hallway—leaving a streaky, bloody handprint along your auntie’s once-pristine beige wallpaper.

bass thumped from outside, rattling the drywall like even the house was trying to escape. you placed a steady palm on the wood and said a small prayer before turning the tumblers of the lock and pulling the door open

there he was.

bloody lips wrapped around a blunt passed to him by one of your undead older cousins. stack looked you dead in the eye as he flicked the lighter to life, lit the end, and took a long, slow pull. when he exhaled, his head tilted back in bliss, like the chaos behind him was a beach day

another cousin fired up a bluetooth speaker on the porch, and stack let out a loud howl when the track dropped. “boy if you don’t turn that shit up!” he laughed, gold fang flashing before redirecting his interest back to you

“you done with that fake spiritual rage you get when mercury in gatorade or whatever the fuck you be talkin’ about” he asked, slowly sauntering toward the doorway, making you lean back more in the house. “even in death you ain’t shit” you muttered back shaking your head in disbelief “you turned half my family into your undead mini—”

he raised one finger—just one—and the urge to snatch it clean off at the knuckle almost made you leap at him. “hollon’ baby, my favorite part comin’ up” he announced with a glint from his gold fang,

“you my baby huh?” he grazed a tongue over his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded probably from the blunt. “you know good girls who don’t come outside get cheated on?” he smirked curling his fingers toward himself, beckoning like sin.

“i hope jacob black real so he can come eat yo ass,” you huffed, slamming the door so hard the frame shuddered

you heard him exhale dramatically on the other side, “you really gon’ let spend eternal damnation with mary ass?! y/n!? baby?!” he yelled from behind the wood, banging forcefully against it. you glanced at the busted microwave clock blinking on the half-destroyed counter. “2:03?” you muttered. “lord, please let his crispy ass burn by 7.”

[cloveroctobers]

tell your homeboy’s goodnight *trend* | sinners !

warnings: language ofc + modern times! + men being vulnerable?

reference:

SMOKE: if you can actually get him to do it then gold stars for you! If you showed him this trend, you would have to analyze his face to see a smidge of a smirk playing on the corner of this mouth but after the video is over he’ll look you dead in the face and say, “I’m not doin’ that shit. No.” Eventually he’ll break and do it, he could blame it on the alcohol (he always handled himself well no matter how much he indulged in) but really it was to please you. You’re lounging on the couch together and the first one he calls is: Bo Chow. His wife, Grace—that you’re alright with—is actually the one to pick up the phone before relocating around their home to bring the phone to Bo.

“Smoke Moore! How y’all doin’ tonight?” Which is a typical response from his good friend.

Smoke dips his head, “Straight. Look I ain’t gonna hold you, I just wanted to call and tell you goodnight.”

The line goes quiet for a moment before Bo chuckled, “Okay…? Goodnight. You feelin’ alright?”

“What you mean?”

“I appreciate the love and everything but this ain’t like you. A simple text would have been just fine…which I know you know. You are a man of few words, which is why I’ll ask again? You feelin’ alright tonight?”

You’re snickering on the other line, shielding your face from Smoke’s glare before he answers, “I’m feelin’ grand. What? It’s a problem to wish the homies goodnight?”

“He been drinkin’?” You can hear Grace comment in the background.

Smoke sucks his teeth as Bo tries to shush the woman who vocally bites back that she won’t be silenced.

“No, it ain’t no problem. Is it a crime to check in with you?”

“Nah.” Smoke shrugs.

Bo responds, “Alright then.”

The line goes quiet for another beat until Bo throws in, “So…are you gonna head over here and tuck me in too or is that it?”

Which makes Smoke disconnect the call immediately, leaving you and Bo a hollering mess.

It took persuading but Smoke decides to call one more person: Delta Slim.

“Yellow?!” His voice picks up on a fifth ring, almost making Smoke hang up long before that.

It’s loud on the other end, making the both of you believe he’s still out living his usual night life.

Smoke clears his throat, “What’s goin’ on, unc?”

“Same shit different day. What you want, Smoke?” He calls over the music but the both of you can hear the thud and shuffle of his steps as he takes his place somewhere quieter, “You need me for OT or sum’n?”

Which makes Smoke jerk his face back.

Damn it’s like that?

Yes he was a man always about his business but was his calls always about that?

“Nah, you know your schedule well,” Smoke speaks, “I just wanted to tell you goodnight.”

There’s a pause on the other line.

“You what?” The both of you can picture Slim’s round eyes widening and dipping his head to make sure he heard you better, “I know I ain’t hear that right.”

“Yeah you did,” Smoke continues on, “It’s important to tell your people goodnight since ya know, shits never promised and all that.”

Slim hums, “That sound like some bullshit your lady put you up to.”

Funny how he always clocked you.

“Woooow.” You couldn’t help but to interrupt, making the older man laugh it up as the both of you can hear him then taking a swish from his flask.

Smoke laughs too, “These women always got us up to something huh?”

“I know that’s right.” Delta Silm agrees just as you shove Smoke’s shoulder, “I respect it though. That one got her head on right so keep her close. You on the other hand? Don’t bring that bullshit to me over the phone no more, ya hear? You got something to say to me, say it with your chest when you see me in person.”

Smoke snorts, “Heard you.”

“Alright now,” Slim says, “Y’all enjoy the rest of your night and I’ll see you at the spot next shift.”

You both bid Slim a goodnight, leaving you with a dramatic sigh as Smoke lolls his head on the couch towards you.

“Satisfied?”

You smile as you shift to place your head right in his lap, already having a good night of your own as Smoke drags his fingers along the slope of your body, bringing you to a peaceful slumber in his hold.

STACK: he’s always with the foolishness so yeah he’s down! The first person on his list is obviously his big bro, Elijah Smoke Moore.

“Yeah, stack.” Smoke answers, already sounding annoyed.

Stack snickers as he sits across from you at the dining table, “Hello to you too, man.”

Smoke’s silence is his response.

“Well hennyway…what you up to?”

“Just got in with Annie, why? What did you do?”

Smirking to yourself, you continue doom scrolling while Stack scoffs to himself.

“Nothing. I’m just calling to say I love you and goodnight.”

Smoke deeply sighs to the point you can feel it came from deep in his soul, “Aight, out wit it. Fuck did you do, Elias?”

Stack can’t help but to laugh, “So I can’t get that same energy back? Word?”

“You’re being mad weird right now, skippin’ around the questions and shit, so no you can’t.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“If I had to put you and Tony Montana in the same room, nigga I’d be rich.”

Stack points out, “You damn near already are!”

Smoke laughs a little at this, “You’re not wrong man.”

“Thank you! Give a brotha some credit.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So sleep tight?”

“Yeah, yeah and don’t let the bullets bite and all that.” Smoke rolls his eyes although Stack is grinning, “…Love you too and if I find out you got into some shit by the morning…I’m on yo ass.”

And stack is met with the dial tone, his dark eyes flicking to yours. He shrugs as he flashes a dimpled smile your way, grills shining in the orange glazed dining room, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought. Annie must have gave him some so he wasn’t in that much of a funky ass mood.”

Which makes you toss a blueberry right at the tip of his nose.

His last suspect—or uh—call goes to Cornbread.

His voice is groggy on the other line, “You’re lucky I didn’t let your ass go to voicemail. This better be good.”

“Oh my bad, were you sleeping? At nine o’clock on a Friday? I was just calling to say goodnight, grandpa.” Stack leans his elbows onto the table, peeking over at you, knowing that he had a natural gift of pushing peoples buttons.

Cornbread doesn’t hold back, “I got a pregnant ass wife who’s nesting but also wants to travel all over the place for things we don’t really need but the baby’s got to have it. Did you know that i drove—what should have been a hour and a half drive—but took two hours with traffic outside the city going to different stores to look for some dumbass pickle chips? So yeah I’m in the bed and I don’t need no shit outta you.”

“Damn, you ain’t got to be so pissy about it.”

“Are you about to become a father?”

“Nah…but maybe you should start looking into some nursery rhymes to keep your blood pressure down or sum.”

“Alright…” Cornbread shifts in the bed, letting the phone rest in between his neck and shoulder as he clasped his hands together against his torso, “remind me next time that I see you, I’m knocking your ass out.”

Stack can’t help but to taunt, “Your big ass gon’ have to catch me first.”

“Say less.”

“Now that you’re done venting like I’m your fucken diary, are you gonna wish me sweet dreams?” Stack grins.

“I hope Freddy Krueger lights yo ass up. Tell the missus I hope she has the best of dreams and I pray for her every night having to put up with you.”

Stack knows Cornbread is hot now, “Aw thanks, love you man. It’s gonna be alright.”

His next response is actually surprising, “I know that! And I may love you too, been dealing with you long enough.”

“Give T my love.”

“That I won’t do. Nobody know what you got.”

Hold up now?! Your side eye is strong although you know of Stack’s womanizing past and how disrespectful he and cornbread could get towards one another, yet nobody ever wants to hear that as someone’s significant other.

Stack shakes his head at you directing his next words At Cornbread, “Fuck off my line.”

“Negro you called me—

“I don’t care, hang up.”

“You can’t bully me, stack. You hang up!���

You’re just about to reach over the table yourself and hang up the phone, tired of their usual bickering. Instead you just get up from the table yourself, getting on the phone with one of your girlfriends, leaving the two children men at it.

[softtoxin]

cold embrace

yandere prince/reader

summary || prince elias, heir to the throne, finds himself enamored with his new wife, especially after she gives him an heir of his own.

warnings || yandere content, unhealthy relationship, arranged marriage, smut, mentioned pregnancy, they have a baby girl, choking (on prince), dubcon, bc reader doesn't really like him lol, piv, a smidge of breeding

he stares at you as though you are a piece of meat.

it's an uncomfortable feeling, especially at night when you're trying to find sleep, your back facing him. elias' blue eyes glued to your figure, as it often was. it always had a physical feel to it. you could almost feel something running over your body as you shivered under the thick canopy of his bed.

after the birth of your daughter, things only got worse for you.

for most future kings, they wanted a firstborn son, or as many sons as possible. elias had never spoken on his feelings about children, but you knew the lords and ladies of court had their own opinions on you ever since your precious girl was born.

little amalthea was the spitting image of her father. her olive skin, facial features, and dark auburn hair made that clear. she had your eyes, but her temperament was similar to elias' as well. she was such a quiet baby, but the sweet little smile she gave you whenever you walk into a room never fails to melt your heart. amalthea was the apple of your eye. you wouldn't choose having a son over your sweet little girl, but this made the whispers burn even worse some days.

"i do not care for boys," elias says one night as he hands over your daughter to the maid. you preferred to keep her cradle next to your bed where you know she's safe, but on nights like these, elias never fails to rip her away from you.

"... pardon, husband?"

"if you feel so insecure about not giving me a son," you freeze, glancing at the door as elias closes it loudly. he doesn't even give you a chance to say goodnight to your daughter, and you always end up feeling like a ball of anxiety every time he does this.

"you can just give me more children."

elias unties his nightclothes, his dark eyes focused on you as he becomes bare enough for you to instinctively look away. you hated him, truly. it would have been easier if your father had married you to a more dominant, cruel man. you were used to cruelty. elias, however, was perhaps a bit... odd.

"i don't care either way," he groans, falling before you, his auburn hair falling over his face as he shoves up the fabric of your gown. he always preferred you to be bare, much to your disdain.

you feel the heat of his cock as he humps against your thigh, his hands moving to reach into the drawer beside the bed. the familiar clink of elias' favorite chain makes your stomach drop as he wraps the course metal around his own neck, forcing open your fingers and making sure you had a steady grip on the leash part. elias breathes heavily, his lips pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before he leans up, his cock bullies itself into you, the oil he applied before making the slide easier.

a sound of pleasure leaves elias as he forcefully humps against you, his hands curled up in the pillows behind your head as he fucked you.

prince elias had such an odd depravity about him. he enjoyed being hurt by you, you realized this on your wedding night. he made no effort in masking his masochism, and you were thrown right into his dirty schemes.

no time to adjust. no time to ponder if this was a normal thing for a man to enjoy.

no time to breathe.

"tighten your grip."

even as his olive skin flushes deeply, he orders you. his smooth voice, usually so cold and barren, becomes raspy and high-pitched as the chain chokes the air out of his lungs. he likes this, you can tell from the short thrusts he makes, his eyes crossing as you slightly pull at the leather of the leash.

elias always becomes more soft, intimate, and kind in these trysts of yours. he enjoys making eye contact with you as his cock throbs in your cunt.

disassociating isn't a possible outcome for you anymore.

it's wet now, you realized as elias arches his back, whimpers being choked out of him.

you try your best to block out his sounds, but it's hard when he's being so loud.

"please... please... please..."

you don't realize you're begging, but your husband hears you, drool falling down his chin as he wildly thrusts his cock inside of you, almost seeming euphoric as he sobbed out, the sound resonates in your room, the banging of the expensive headboard making you feel sick.

elias is a sick man, you think, but you're thankful he wasn't in the mood for a whipping tonight.

[pyraomen]

゛ᢉ𐭩 ⸝⸝⋆ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 — “you so fuckin greedy for me”

꒰ babydaddy elias “stack” moore x black!fem reader. established relationship. 18+ possessive, breeding kink, filth, stack’s nasty ass mouth. ꒱

yall were supposed to be done.

your legs was shaking, thighs was burning, your voice gone from the way you’d been begging him to slow down — only to cry when he finally pulled out, leaving you empty and aching.

stack would of thought you’d been tap out by now. should’ve let him clean you up, let him roll over and light his joint like he usually did. but no, you wanted more.

you tugged at his wrist, still trembling, still raw, still messy from how he put it down.

“eli put it back in”, you whined. he raised an eyebrow in surprise, chest still rising and falling heavy, his hand still sticky where it cupped your thigh. “what?”

your lip wobbled as you shifted closer, eyes glossy. “please. put it back in.”

stack blinked slowly. his head tilted to the side and he smirked slightly, golds on display. “you so fuckin greedy for me”, he murmured, dragging his fingers down your slightly full belly, tracing lazy circles around your skin.

“didn’t i just tell you that’s how you gon end up pregnant again?” you huffed, hands gripping his biceps, pulling him closer towards you. “i don’t care”

that made him pause. his jaw clenched, that little muscle flexing like he was holding himself back. “you can’t just say stuff like that, mama”. his voice warning, but soft, like he was trying to stay calm but already folding for you.

you felt him twitch against you, “you serious baby?” your lips parted to say something, but your brain was too fuzzy to let out words. you nodded.

his head dropped to your shoulder as he sunk back into you. small moans coming from the both of you, since it wasn’t long before the last orgasm.

his breath was hot against your neck as he left sloppy kisses, grinding into you slowly. “you want me to leave you full, huh? walkin round carryin my baby. a reminder to everyone you mine.”

you let out small babbles of agreement, bucking your hips against his, chasing the heat that curled deep in your belly.

“say it”, he demanded, lifting his head, his eyes low and golds flashing. “say you want me to nut all in this pussy and put another baby in you.”

you didn’t hesitate. “i want it, elias. i want you too.”

that broke him.

“fuck mama.” he groaned, his rhythm picking up, harder, deeper, meaner, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. “so fuckin reckless. you love when i do this to you.”

your hands scratched his back, your body arching into his like you couldn’t get close enough.

between his words and the way he was hitting your sweet spot, your body was on fire. “them titties gon be heavy again. fuck you gon look so beautiful.” he was rambling now, the possibility of you pregnant again taking over him.

you sobbed his name, clinging onto him as your orgasm ripped through you. “look at you”, he whispered, fingers rapidly flicking at your clit to make you gush again. “so fuckin messy. this pussy so greedy, wetting my dick all up and still not letting me go.”

you were fucked out of your mind, no words came out. all you could do was let him chase his high and take what he was giving you.

his heavy balls was soaked as they slapped against you with each thrust. “i’m bout to nut mama.” you whimpered at the feeling of him swelling inside you.

he snarled as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, hips pressed tightly against yours. cum spilling inside your womb exactly the way you begged him to.

A/N : i’m not sure if i like this🫩. i’m just practicing my writing of smut yall idk. pt2 of “happy father’s day” coming soon.

[cod-dump]

more avatar/call of duty au:

----

Price's clan being one of wanderers, people who never had much family, orphans, those affected by the RDA's destruction of Pandora.

The clan took in many who were alone, Price being one of these orphans who was raised, his own clan being killed off by sickness. Price eventually became someone the People looked to and valued, He wasn't Olo'eyktan but a warrior.

Ghost being Reef Na'vi raised by the Forest Na'vi of Price's clan. He's very notable to the RDA scientists for this and they always wondered how he ended up with the Forest Na'vi instead of with another reef clan.

While Ghost is rather large he's very agile and quiet. Unsurprising he's the best swimmer out of the clan and did a lot of fishing and gathering from waterways. He does miss the sea but hasn't made the effort to return, rather stay with Price and the clan that took him in.

----

The Ghost Clan are Forest People, living in the plains primarily. Elias moved them there, after the forest they lived in for generations was burned down. That is where his mate died, and his children and people will not suffer the same fate.

They live in caves, sometimes in tree groves. They move often, the hunters do. The children, elderly, live in their most secure camps. Elias' sons spent their lives in the forest until their early teens, then being moved to the plains.

Hesh took on the role of Logan's shadow. He's very protective over his brother and is quick to jump to his defense. Logan was much too curious to stay where it was safe, so Hesh didn't really have a choice on leaving his brother alone.

----

Graves' avatar mercs are primarily Forest Na'vi, but he's been investing in Reef avatars. Graves has his own avatar, this avatar being one of the older ones that were first developed for the Avatar Program. He funds a lot of it, meaning Laswell often has to listen to him.

[beheldandcompelled]

Elias always found excuses to touch Jon.

When Jon was first hired, Elias welcomed him with a soft touch to his elbow. He saw Jon's arrival as his gift from the web and had to reach out, almost to see if it was real. Jon wasn't a fan, but let it slide.

As Head Archivist, Jon met frequently to go over progress reports with Elias, who'd often find a way to touch Jon's arm. Jon started finding a weird comfort from it, knowing he was in good standing when Elias found an excuse to make physical contact.

After the discovery of Gertrude's body, Jon's paranoia escalated. Elias read Jon's mind, learning that his slight contact was enough to bring him out of a spiral. Jon would barge into his office, blaming the staff for any reason at all for any suspicious acitivities in the Archives. Elias would stand up, thank him for his time, and place a hand lightly on Jon's back to guide him out the door. He felt the worry in Jon's mind ease, and he knew his Archivist had no idea why.

Jon's powers grew so strong so quick. Every time he accidentally compelled someone, Elias rewarded him with physical contact. His touches were always subtle, a pat on his back, a light touch to his arm, or on rare occasions he would find a way to move Jon's hair out of his face. Reading into his mind, Elias saw Jon still had no idea why he was so comforted by the gestures. But he knew they told Jon he was good. Even after Elias confessed to killing Gertrude and Leitner, Jon still sought out Elias' approval.

Not being able to touch his Archivist while in prison was torture for Elias. He saw that Jon's hair had gotten so long, and he was desperate to comb his fingers through the unkept mess.

When Elias revealed to Jon how perfectly his plan worked, what he made him, and he couldn't touch him, it almost soured the bringing of their new world.

Elias watched Jon make his way to London, seeing how beautiful he'd become. It still hurt that he was so out of reach. When Jon finally woke Elias up, he couldn't help himself but to reach out and touch his Archivist.

Of course Jon finally returned the contact. And although it was Elias' last moments in his perfect world, it finally felt complete.

[hoetachi]

MONEY CAN’T BUY WHAT? — E. (STACK) MOORE + L. DU LAC

➠ mulan’s input; this for my baes @ichigosluvrr & @blond3ang3l because they understand my type of man!!

➠ drabble

this was getting strangely scary, well on your behalf it was. your eyes felt like they were gonna eventually bounce right out their sockets if you continued watching them outdo each other

“mon cher… you don’t think this ridiculous in any sorts?” lestat— who you kindly lathered your ego with compliments on well you sang tonight— rolled those artic hues with budding frustration as his “business” partner, louis who was currently going rake for rake with another fella. “not in the slightest” louis replied, his voice low, carrying that same intense look that had caught your attention earlier—flustering you enough to wonder if he was actually trying to call you with his mind

a deep, gravelly laugh cut through the tension at the table, “oughta listen to ya’ massa, boy,” stack drawled, flashing a golden grin that was equal parts charm and challenge. “ya’ gon’ lose ya’ life tryin’ to keep up with me.” stack—who had you giggling like a schoolgirl when he walked up with the energy of a longtime fan meeting their idol—winked and clicked his tongue at you, smooth as silk.

you watched as louis’ jaw clenched and unclenched before he threw out his wrist, revealing a watch you knew could buy your father’s house three times over “oh mista du lac, you don’t need to do—"

thud

“—all of that” as that very watch now rested pretty on the wads of cash both men been throwing since they both approached you. “mon chéri! that’s your favorite watch!” lestat stared baffled at him. you shared the same wide-eyed, concerned look, equal parts flattered and alarmed.

louis tilted his head toward you, calm but smug. “one date, chérie?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

you didn’t even get a chance to collect your thoughts before stack tossed a set of keys in the piles. “all red. brand fuckin’ new bugatti type 50 coupé” stack nodded graciously, taking your gloved hand and lightly pecked your knuckles

“…i think i’m in love” you muttered as you fanned yourself quickly. “here’s the keys to the azeala” louis tossed on the table next to the lavious car keys

“wanna own ya’ own juke joint in anotha’ state, baby?” stack asked casually, lounging deeper into his seat like he wasn’t throwing generational wealth around. your head snapped back to louis just in time for him to place a neatly sealed envelope on top of both sets of keys. “beloved, i’ll give you co-ownership of the azeala” stack leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, lips curling into a knowing grin

“do you enjoy bein’ human, honey?”

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

last minute changes - e. pettersson (xmas drabble)

summary: some last minute changes to christmas travel plans leads to the realisation that it's your first christmas together

warnings: swearing, brief mention of someone injured from a car crash, fluff

word count: 1.9k

Elias woke up a little lonely, the spot on your side of the bed cold under his touch and the sun streaming through the small yet entirely disturbing gap between the curtains. With his aching muscles from the game yesterday, waking up in a bed by himself when he’d become so accustomed to you still sleeping, he felt a little sad.

He didn’t know why; it might have had something to do with the the fact that it was nearly Christmas and he knew that in a few days he’d be left in a cold apartment by himself, completely devoid of your presence and knowing he’d have to face endless questions from his family because everyone was bound to ask about you – he most definitely was not looking forward to that. Of course, he’d still celebrate with everyone, even invite a few of his teammates, but it felt like an absolute joke that he’d met you earlier this year and that you’d already had plans to visit your family in Montreal (not that he could blame you in any way). 

It sort of felt like one thing after another, and not even the team’s point streak could numb the little ache and tightness in his chest.

God, when had he become so soft? 

He supposed it was when he met you; you spoiled him with so much care and affection that it felt like someone had ripped out his soul the second he stopped receiving it.

He rolled his eyes, huffing and turning his head to face the door so he didn’t have to look at the empty side of the mattress — which had very quickly and swiftly become your side. 

He could hear your voice down the hall, his heart rate picking up at the way it seemed to get closer by the second, anticipation humming through his veins. He peeled open his eyes, too warm and too snug to even contemplate moving because — fuck, what were you doing up at 7.41 on a Sunday morning?

You didn’t work on Sundays and he didn’t have a game: days like that were for lie-ins and breakfast in bed.

“Okay, thank you.” You rounded the corner, ending a phone call as you poked your head into the bedroom. Almost instantly, Elias felt himself perk up. His eyes opened wider and he raised a questioning brow as you wandered over to him in a pair of socks and your PJ’s and a hoodie, placing your phone on the bedside table, “Good morning.”

You took a seat on the edge of the bed, leaning a hand on the other side of the mattress so you could look at him properly. 

He shook his head, not saying anything and you couldn’t help the furrow that seemed to fight its way between your brows at his reaction. He was on his back, the duvet pulled right up to his chin and not smiling but not quite frowning.

He wasn’t giving much away, and even though you knew it was meant to be perceived like that, meant to get you to ask a question, you still fell for it.

“No?” You asked, quirking a curious and mildly amused brow.

Elias usually wasn’t much of a talker in the mornings, at least not until he’d eaten and had a drink and a few minutes of quiet, so this silence wasn’t unusual. In fact you’d come to expect it in the last ten months.

He shook his head again, before patting the mattress next to him with an expectant gleam in his eye, his hand lifting the duvet up slightly.

“I can’t, I need to talk to you about something.” 

His jaw clenched at your words and you had to look away briefly to stifle a smile behind your hand, and when you looked back at him there was something a little harder in his gaze, a recognition that your tone meant something more serious than protests for show instead of an excuse to touch the other even more (he’d drag you under the covers and pin you down for longer cuddles and you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy it).

“We can talk. Just get in first, I’m cold.” 

You eyed the duvet pointedly, clearly sceptical about his reasoning, but you’d found you had a rather difficult time of ever saying no to him, especially when it was something as soft as this. So you climbed over his gangly limbs, not bothered to shed your hoodie before sliding under the covers from where Elias had lifted them up for you, and you found yourself rather comfortably on your side facing him.

Except the second your eyes seemed to focus on him  too close, you both breathed a laugh and backed off a little – but not too far. Still: close enough that you could feel just how much of his previous statement was a lie; he was practically radiating heat, and it barely took a matter of seconds before your chilly clothes were warming up.

He sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but before you could inquire as to the change of attitude, he beat you to it, “Now it’s a good morning.”

“Did Quinn get this treatment when you lived together?” You teased, unable to help the way your cheeks warmed – and not from a change in temperature.

Elias rolled his eyes, “He wishes he did.” 

“Sure.”

“What did you want to talk about?” The smile seemed to slowly fade off his face as he changed the subject, eager to get it out of the way so he could put his conspiracy theories behind him.

You swallowed, feeling a little nervous, “I got a phone call from my parents this morning at about half-five–”

“You’ve been awake since half-five?” He echoed, a concerned urgency in his eyes as he clearly zeroes in on the more pronounced bags under your eyes.

Because of the adrenalin, you hadn’t initially felt the exhaustion of only getting four hours of sleep, but now the high had worn off and you were wrapped up in bed, you could begin to feel the telltale tingle of the need to sleep start to kick in.

You just nodded at his question, “And my mom’s sister got into a car accident, and she’s fine, but she’s broken, like, an ankle and an arm, so she can’t do everything by herself, and my parents are now in Levis looking after her, which meant if I got on a plane to Montreal there’d be no one there.” You snuck a glance at Elias out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he’d managed to catch onto where you were headed, but he remained pretty stoic – and you rather had the feeling it was to not get his hopes up, “And instead of changing my flight to Québec City, my mom suggested I stay in Vancouver for Christmas and that my parents would both fly down here for New Year’s instead, and by that time, my Auntie’s friend should be there to look after her.” 

There was a fractional twitch to his eyebrow.

“I just wanted to run that idea past you–”

“Yes, please.” 

You blinked.

Elias was smiling now, but actively making an effort to try not to smile too much by sucking on the inside of his cheeks, and the scene was just so odd that you couldn’t help laughing at him.

“You don’t even know what I–”

A toasty hand clamped over your mouth and you smiling into it, watching his eyes shut dramatically, “You don’t have to say anything for me to know what you were about to ask.”

He opened his eyes, removing his hand before you had the chance to lick his palm, “What was I going to ask?” You asked, pulling the duvet up higher from where his motions had dragged it down, the cold air now seeping back under your hoodie.

“You were going to ask if you could spend Christmas with me.” He shrugged, “And right now that just sounds like…” he sighed, “The best thing ever.”

At that admission, warmth seemed to seep into your bones and you pressed your face further into the pillow to hide the blush you were sure had just absolutely rampaged across your features. You didn’t think it was possible to have the tips of your ears burn after that simple statement from Elias.

“Just right now?” You murmured, watching the way he seemed to frown even with his eyes shut; the corners of his eyes crinkled in distaste and his mouth quirked downward, before he opened his eyes once more, seeing the teasing smirk on your face. At that, he seemed to relax.

“All the time.” 

You swallowed nervously. Somehow Elias always had the ability to make you feel shy and render you speechless through his honest words. They always felt like a surprise; you’d be doing a load of washing and the last thing you’d be thinking about was what Elias thought of you in that moment, but he’d walk past and sing you compliments like he couldn’t help himself.

It made you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“Are you sure everyone else will be okay with me crashing Christmas?” 

Elias blinked, “The guys love you and my family won’t stop asking about you. If anyone has an issue they can get the fuck out of my house.”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at that, even despite the smile tugging on your face as Elias rolled onto his back, an arm around your shoulders tugging you into him. Your eyes seemed to close of their own accord, almost burning because of how tired you were.

Elias seemed to notice, dropping a kiss to the top of your hair and threading his fingers through the strands, twirling gently, the repetitive motions soothing you deeper into the pull of sleep.

“I’m gonna stay here for a bit longer.” You mumbled into the soft cotton of his top, feeling him tug the duvet further up to tuck it under your chin with a tender care that made you smile.

He laughed softly to himself and you looked up at him, a little confused, “Stay forever.” He whispered jokingly.

You shook your head, unable to mirror the infectious cheesy grin on his face, “Geek.”

Whenever you sat him down for a mandatory film night (“You mean you haven’t watched ‘Notting Hill’?”), he always seemed to find opportunities to reference his favourite quotes, and you couldn’t quite figure out if that was because he enjoyed the film or if he was teasing your enthusiasm a little.

Either way, you weren’t really complaining.

He placed a palm on your head, encouraging you to put your head back down on his chest, “Nerd.”

You moved the arm curled under your chin to drape across his torso, using the leverage to hug him closer, but before you could even consider retaliating to his comment, the palm on the back of your head moved to cover your eyes. The warmth and added darkness seemed to elevate your fatigue even more.

“Best Christmas ever.” Elias mumbled, his chest rumbling as he spoke softly so as to not disturb you too much.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind it would be your first Christmas together.

[cloveroctobers]

home life with them! | multi 🏠

A/N: because being booed up can be fun & this is just a quick little thing I’ve been thinking about and decided to write for shits and giggles tbh!

WARNINGS: language, usage of the n-word, fluff, bickering, talks of intimate moments, Mary being delusional, & modern times with Smoke & Stack?

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.

~ KEVIN ATWATER ~

Slow Sundays were a thing in your household…except it really wasn’t with Kevin?

Usually it’s his only day off and sure he may lay in bed a little longer with you propped up on his chest but when the man was ready to work? There was no stopping him.

Basically he was like that parent that loved waking your ass up on a Saturday morning with the vacuum cleaner and old jams bouncing off the walls, except in this case…it was a Sunday!

Majority of the time he would let you sleep in, might even start off a little quiet but you should have known that was short lived and him trying to soften the blow by pressing lingering kisses at your brow and squeezing your shoulder before he let go of you.

“Babe! Have you seen my—oh my fault I found it.” — as if he hadn’t been knocking stuff over in the room for about five minutes now, always apologizing each time as you tried to sleep.

He’ll get some laundry going, even throw a few of your pieces in too—although you may have had more time to get through your laundry during the previous week—the man is just considerate like that.

“Babe, whatchu want for breakfast? My famous pancakes or something else?” He’ll question poking his head back into the room. You’ll lift your head out from over the covers, if you’re not a morning person (like me) that look says it all.

Eventually you’ll make your way to the kitchen, the aroma of food luring you out. Your attempts to sneak up on him, hugging him from behind and burrying your face in his back always makes his heart swell. He knows your footsteps well and it’s pros of being a cop, so you sneaking up on him? Never works in your favor but sometimes he doesn’t mind playing along.

Definitely the type to stop what he’s doing to press his hand on top of yours as you hug him.

“What you want to do today after this house work? Movies? Dinner at the diner? Head to Kim and Adam’s? You need to make a grocery run for something?” He’s ranting as if last Sunday wasn’t ridiculously busy.

You’re seated at the island counter pressing your cheek into your hand just gazing at him, “I just want to look at you, flash.” You say giving him that old silly nickname since he used to be on a track team in his high school years and you were postive he’s done a lot of running around in the IU…which is always a little funny to picture with his long legs.

Kevin shares the same look of love in his doe eyes as he looks up and over at you after flipping a pancake over, “Well in that case…I’m all yours if you want me, you got me.”

“There’s never a day that I don’t…even when you wake me up too damn early on a Sunday.”

Kevin shrugs, “You love me, though.”

“That I do.” You sigh but perk up as he slides you a bowl of cut up fruit.

Kevin presses his teeth over his bottom lip with a smile, “Feelings mutual, baby. Now you eat up, we got a day ahead of us.” He starts, easily picking up on the blank look you send him, “I promise it’ll be a good one. Not too much.”

You hum as he comes around to smack a kiss against your cheek, squeezing at your hips.

~ DANTE TORRES ~

Dante’s not much of a tv person, never has been but when he starts dating you and divides his time between yours and his childhood home, he starts to be? Sort of.

You quickly learn during your sleepovers that he doesn’t do much sleeping in the first place…even if you end up tangled through the sheets and put through a mattress…the man hardly sleeps.

He’ll nap at best and when you question him about it, he tells you he’s always been that way, always had trouble with insomnia since he was a kid. There were countless times where he would stay up at night to make sure he didn’t hear his step-father hurting his mom. His sleeping habits got even worse once he ended up in juvi.

Ofc it broke your heart and you always told him he was safe here with you. This he knew but it still felt nice to hear it.

He found it odd the first time he stayed over, learning that you liked to sleep with the tv on. You peered over at him before climbing into bed, “I’ve been in this place by myself at night for awhile…I need the noise as a distraction. When it’s too quiet, it makes me anxious.”

Which lets Dante know that you’re not that much different at all. “Guess that means I need to be over more.” Before he fully enters the room, making you smile at the thought.

You’re into those trashy dating reality shows, where you’ll give your own commentary, really getting into it like his ma when she’s watching those soaps. Dante finds it humorous himself, watching you get all riled up at the couple where the other half just found out their significant other tried to gaslight them after finding out they were cheating.

“Can you fucking believe this guy?! He’s GARBAGE.”

“Absolutely.” Dante quietly says with a nod of his head as you look over at him, “He shows no respect.”

“Thank you!” You exhale before flopping back against your pillow as Dante is up on his elbow staring more at you than the screen.

You’re aware of it, it’s something he’s always done and at times it did make you self-conscious but when you were slightly distracted you just viewed his eye contact as sunlight.

You tune it out once you’re so deep into a show, looping your arm with Dante’s as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before focusing back on the show with you.

Some months later into your relationship, you end up with a cat (or any other house animal if you’re allergic or don’t like them)…much to Dante’s surprise. Yes you mentioned getting a pet before in the early stages of dating and even showed him the one you really wanted but it was a good two hour drive away. He didn’t actually think you would end up having a spur of the moment…that was more his thing.

“I…guess that means the girls weekend trip went well then.” Dante comments, looking at the odd looking feline that made it’s self comfortable on his spot on the couch.

It’s rocky at first, the lykoi cat (that you named Britain after the film “An American werewolf in London”) tried to get used to the home and Dante. Yet it loved you…as it should!

Britain even started to piss on Dante’s white shirts. The first time he stole it from one of the lounge chairs Dante tossed in your room.

“What’s his problem?” Dante questioned with a deep frown as he held the stained shirt up, “I’ve been nice to the guy since he’s got here and all I got in return is a scratch to my hand, my shirts ruined, and hissed at when i stay over and try to hold you at night.”

Your attempts to hide the bubble of laughter in your throat does not go unnnoticed as you wrap your arms around Dante’s neck, “Don’t take it too personal honey, he’s just a baby.”

You already planned on getting a bunch more white tees and leaving them here and out of reach from the kitten.

“Well I was your baby first.” Dante mutters as you laugh, running your thumb over the tattoo on the back of his neck.

Dante soon comes to a understanding with the Lykoi. He’s saying at your place but you’re at an event for your friend and just let him know that you’re on your way home for the night. He realizes that you left the tv on in the living room and turned it off with no sign of the cat. This time.

Dante’s upstairs, already undressed for the night and set his timer estimating what time you should be here and when he would go back downstairs. Dante decides to turn the tv on in the room, getting caught off guard as Britain hops onto the bed and turns into a loaf at the end of it.

After a few moments of silence, the cat meows looking over its shoulder at Dante and Dante cautiously changes the channel, earning more meows until he finds something he likes.

“Wooow.” Dante laughs to himself after the cat goes quiet and he hops into bed, ready to text the guys about this since they already witnessed the nasty scar on his hand from the wolf looking feline.

That same scar (which resulted in stitches) he got when he turned off the tv one night in the living room where you fell asleep with the cat nearly sleeping on your head.

Dante gets comfortable on the bed, clasping his hands on top of his head shifting his gaze from the screen and the cat, making sure to keep his feet away from Britain as well.

When Britain gets up to stretch, Dante holds his breath as his yellow eyes pour into his hazel ones. The lykoi is on the prowl, taking cautious steps and Dante would really hate to have to harm your cat with a lamp if he decided to claw at his face this time!

Instead the cat purrs taking a spot right on your pillow, meowing as he turns his attention back to the tv.

Dante with his guard still up slowly relaxes when the cat moves again, nudging its head against his shoulder, demanding pets.

Which he ends up giving, “Oh we’re homies now, huh?”

Leading to the pair falling asleep together with the tv on.

Leaving you a smirking mess as you snap a picture once you get home, already finding it odd that Dante wasn’t downstairs waiting up for you.

This would be your new screensaver…until you realize the two bastards were up watching your show without you.

~ ELIJAH SMOKE MOORE~

“We really about to go to this dumbass party?” Smoke asks you for what felt like the millionth time, standing behind you in your walk in closet, after putting the custom made necklace he got for you one Christmas around your neck.

You laugh in the mirror, “Of course we are, it’s for Stack.”

Smoke rolls his eyes, “It ain’t even that nigga’s birthday—even though he think it is. And trust me, I would know.”

You snicker, “Didn’t we promise…RSVP to this thing a month or two ago?”

“I never promised nothin’. I helped with the set up and planning along with Bo n’ them, that should be good enough.”

“Not you complaining about having a night out to support your twin’s success! We’ve been homebodies ever since you put this baby in me.” You turn around pouting a little as you play with the collar of Smoke’s shirt.

It’s true, ever since y’all got married you’ve been on the go. Now with your first baby on the way, the both of you definitely slowed down.

Smoke had no problem showing you the world just enough to share one once he knew you were his. It wasn’t easy getting him to open up due to the trauma of being a vet along with his childhood and all that but you were a light in his world that he wanted to keep close.

He preferred roadtrips whether that meant he drove or catching a train or hell even cruises he was cool with! He was not big on airplanes and none of that air shit. Which meant you were limited for certain destinations but one day you were going to get him on a plane.

Being at home was no thing to Smoke since he already co-owned a very busy successful club with Stack that started in their home town back in Mississippi. (Which was now looked over by Bo and other trusted workers but the man was still about his business. If there was an issue he couldn’t handle over the phone then he was there!)

Stack managed the second club in Chicago mainly and just started his own brown liquor brand: Clark Striker which was the reason for this night out.

You and Smoke resided in Tennessee (with a property managing business) and made this special trip out to Chicago for stack. You knew how much Smoke loved Stack, that was his baby brother after all and he would do anything for him…he just preferred not be around a few of his friends he’s made out here.

Smoke lifts his chin, “Who even gon’ be there?”

“Me,” you laugh, “All you gotta do is focus on me. And you know we can always use the truth of me being pregnant to slide whenever we want.”

Smoke grinned at you then as you did a spin for him in that dress. You were in your second trimester, the first had you sick as a dog with a bad attitude but your second? Had you beaming with a burst of energy. You looked as if you were ready to tear it up on the dance floor already, having plenty of playlists as you started getting ready three whole hours before this function was even supposed to start.

Smoke found it unnecessary and barely needed a hour to get ready. He knew how to clean up well and Stack always told him he had him to thank for that or else he would, “still be walkin’ around this bitch like G.I. Joe. You not gonna embarrass my ass.”

“You embarrass me every day, nigga so what’s your point?” Smoke would snap back as Stack rolled one up for them to share, while they sat on the back patio together.

It was a rule, any smoking would be done outside of the house. You did not want your house smelling like that. It also applied to you too if you were a smoker—unless you were down for edibles instead then it was free game.

It brought you pride whenever someone visited and stepped into your shared home with smoke, that people were not only impressed with the architecture (s/o to Terry Richmond’s contracting and building company: Timberline Ridge Renovations) but the way it always smelled so good.

Of course smoke knew how much appearance was important, especially for events and owning multiple clubs. Yet he was also comfortable in his own damn skin and if anybody had a problem with it, he would take it up with their kneecaps.

You informed after getting a notification on your phone that sat on the cabinets which contained your other jewelry, “C’mon James St. Patrick, the traffic is picking up a little bit on the main route.”

“Then we ain’t goin’,” he starts up again and catches your eye, “That route. I’ll find another.”

Ofc he would! He always found secret ways and sometimes they always felt longer. When it came to trips, smoke was always looking for different directions with less people, best deals, and professional customer service or else things would be said.

Making sure the both of you had every thing and receiving a call from stack on your way out, who asked where y’all were at, “It ain’t no surprise y’all didn’t leave the damn house yet. Stop being whack and get your asses here.”

Having a house in three different states was a lot, to the point Smoke even considered selling your smallest one in Chicago or turning it into a Airbnb (you didn’t want anybody living in your house—smoke wasn’t the only stubborn one—and stack had no problem looking after it even with smoke’s bs demands) but you both made it work.

“You sure you got everything, woman? Cause we know you’re sometimes forgetful and then I got to come back.” Smoke states as you left the front door open, standing on the steps as he got ready to set the alarm.

You scoff, looking up from your phone after texting some friends that you two were leaving now, “Don’t work my nerves, Elijah. You’re just looking for any excuse to stay here. Four hours won’t hurt us too much.”

Smoke sets the alarm and makes sure the door is locked, plucking the gift bag you were obsessing over for him to hold instead, “Who said four? I thought we compromised on two. The good thang is you’re not drinking so it won’t be a full shift tonight.”

Scrunching up your nose, you take his hand nonetheless as you go down the steps together. It was no secret, once you got drunk that meant you loved to dance. Now you were on a cleanse and wouldn’t be indulging in that brown liquor but would sip on a pretty mocktail.

“Keep throwin’ shots at me and Ida-May will learn just how mean her daddy is being to her mama. Keep it up.” You sass as you hop up into the “family car.”

Elijah snorts to himself, placing the gift bag by your legs but not without placing his hand on your belly and whispering, “Don’t listen your your mama girl, it’s all lies—you know she crazy already just from livin’ inside her don’t cha?”

A kick is felt right against his hand, making him grin wildly while you suck your teeth, already convinced those two would team up against you.

“Let’s go already.” You order while Elijah stands up with a dip of his head.

“Yes ma’am,” he responds closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side but not without glancing at your house, smiling to himself at this lifestyle, before getting into the car.

~ ELIAS STACK MOORE ~

“Sign here.” You can hear just as a KAYTRANADA track on a shuffled playlist faded out.

You spent the last hour working out downstairs in the gym.

“Didn’t I just tell yo ass we didn’t order nothing?”

Which automatically made you pause a upcoming song, making quick work of walking around the corner to the front entrance of your home.

The mover just got finished saying your name, after shuffling through papers and you grinned as you stepped up behind Stack who spun at your presence.

Plucking the clipboard from one of the movers you quickly scribbled your name down, apologizing for your man’s behavior.

Confusion was clear on Stack’s face who began folding his arms and mean-mugging the man that sized him up before he spun around to bark orders at the other workers.

“Mind tellin’ me what the hell is goin’ on?”

You’re all grins as you hold out your arm pushing Stack back against the wall and also stepping out of the way as the head man popped back into the home.

“Dinning room is just towards the back there across from the kitchen.” You told the head mover who nodded his head, peeking around the home—which didn’t sit right to Stack—because wtf was he plotting?

Bouncing on your toes you say, “I’m gonna take a shower while you play nice with the movers.”

“That’s coo and everything but what they bringing into the house? Which I know nothing about.”

“Oh that’s just our new dining table that you’re going to put together.” You respond with joy in your tone, “Annie, Uncle Slim, and I went and picked it out weeks ago, it was on back order because I switched to a different wood that was imported from somewhere…I can’t remember. All I know is that it matches better with the emerald green walls we got going on in that space.”

Stack scratched at his nose now, laughing a bit in disbelief but not really because he knew his girl as his grills were flashed at you while he did so, “Were we not supposed to pick that shit out together?”

“And the day we were supposed to, you got a call the night before and booked a ticket back to Clarksdale that same morning for what? Five days. Business is business right? So I handled ours here.” You went to pat his face, smug smile on your lips now.

Stack snatched your hand from his face and gave you a warning look but you’ll be damned if you feared a man.

“Behind my back? You deadass?”

“Just like you allowed that bitch into our home that day and she thought she could walk out of this house untouched.”

Stack held his head back in annoyance puffing out air from his nostrils, “You still actin’ like I asked Mary to bring her ass here when I don’t even know how she got our address.”

Probably snooping through Annie’s phone if you had to guess.

You met Annie and the Moore twins at Annie’s establishment actually. They just moved in from Mississippi but the twins were already familiar with Chicago. Smoke barely liked staying here in the first place but it sounded like they needed to get out of the delta.

Annie was originally from New Orleans, which didn’t take long for you to guess. Smoke was actually trying to convince her to move back there but she was content taking “vacations” there instead. Her beauty shop also consisted of oils, incense, and some home products. Annie Moore was a true boho goddess who practiced hoodoo.

When you met Stack, you were in there getting your hair done and he was ready to cut up as soon as he laid eyes on you. Making Annie interrupt as you sat with her homemade conditioner and steam treatment. “Boy, if you don’t get out of her face before I mop the floor with yours!”

That didn’t stop stack from kissing your hand and winking at you, saying he was sure he would see you soon. And every other appointment you had, you did.

This relationship wasn’t a breeze by any means and part of it had to do with Stack’s ex, Mary. Who couldn’t let him go despite the amount of times he told her he’s moved on and didn’t want her ass no more.

He even told you, “Not that I asked but Sammie told me that Pearline told him that Mary s’pposed to be datin’ some dude that looks like the dude who played in get out.”

Which had you looking at the invisible camera.

Mary even had the nerve to show up to your house and barge her way in. She didn’t expect you to be home, coming out of the half bathroom by the living room, which resulted in a beat down after she also had the audacity to wave her fingers at you, asking what was for dinner.

You didn’t have a dinning table for almost two months so you did the honors.

“And I also asked you if she was going to be a problem, for you handle it back when she was blowing up your phone, before she pulled that shit that she pulled. Regardless…I’m letting that go and finding my happiness in a much better table anyway. So get to it, Bob the builder.”

You’re ready to head upstairs as you see the men taking their time carrying boxes up the steps to your home.

“Got me fucked up. I got your Bob the builder, alright.”

“What was that?” You spun on the steps with a wicked look in your eye which Stack had no problem matching.

Stack gave a mocking grin, “I said I gotchu, girl.”

You took your sweet ass time in the shower too, not that stack expected anything different. Your routines were always as long as ever plus he had something to keep himself busy.

When you got back downstairs to the main floor, you let out a sigh of satisfaction at the sight of your new dinning table.

You mumbled to yourself, “Where are the chairs?”

“Ma, I’m workin’ on it, damn.”

You didn’t even notice stack lounging underneath the table on the other side, almost making you jump out of your skin.

“You did good baby,” you encourage as you watch him crawl out from the table to wipe the sweat off his forehead and kick the hammer to the side, “Want me to order from that East African spot you like for dinner?”

With your phone already out you pulled up the site to order online for delivery. Knowing his usual order of Luwombo you made sure to include what he vocally said, “And extra Injera and Boo sauce. Put it on my card.”

“Nope this one is all on me. The table was on you.” You wink over at him while Stack snorts out a laugh, knowing he should have expected that. And doesn’t bother to argue this time.

After confirming the order with no other added items, you walk over to the kitchen to hydrate the both of you. Meeting Stack in the dining room, which he leaned against he takes the drink from you, “if I don’t get to the chairs, I’ll definitely get to them next weekend.”

“So…that means Halloween?”

“Ah-ha! You got jokes.”

You smile as you sip on the sweet tea, “No, baby it looks great, just like i knew it would.”

“Yeah?” Stack questions as he looks back at it, running his hand over the material, “You made a solid choice if I do say so myself, I’ll give you that. Now how about we test it out?”

You frown, “How if we don’t have any chairs?” Missing the look in stack’s eyes and the lick of his lips as he reaches out for your waist.

Stack shrugs, “Ain’t no thang. I lay back and you just get on top.”

“Ohhhh,” you drag out catching on, “So now you want me to do all the work and then blame me when the table ends up broken, again?”

Stack smirks, “I didn’t say you had to bounce on it. My face is also the perfect seat.”

You shove him, sharing a laugh, before Stack is pecking your lips and letting a hand grip on your backside. Breaking away from him you point a finger at him in warning, while he bit down on his bottom lip before nipping your finger.

“We have like thirty-forty minutes until the food gets here, don’t we?” Stack was still trying to persuade you, making you laugh once more.

You nod, “Yes! That’s the perfect amount of time to get started on one of the six chairs.”

“Got damn, six!?” He raises his brow while you sip at your tea with a smirk, “Oh hell no you’re tryna work me to the bone, gal.”

You snort moving to take a seat at the small back table by the windows that had the view of the backyard, “When have you ever been afraid of a little work, Elias?”

“I think I’d be a little less afraid with that cat on my tongue instead of this brew.”

You gasp, “You’re so nasty!”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He clicks his tongue at you, pulling out a chair by the island to relax for a bit, daring you to tell him to get back to work.

The both of you playfully glare at each other, until stack cracks first, pecking his lips at you before turning his attention back to his phone and you gazing out the window.

𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.

FIN.

[softtoxin]

elias + humping is like amazing holy crap

and it's his favorite thing to do!

if you, his precious, sweet wife, didn't enjoy penetration or found it painful, elias would be completely content just humping away at your leg like a stupid mutt in heat <3

the thing is, elias is just so pent up all of the time. the courting period was like constant blue-balls for him! elias is a prince, though, he had to uphold his reputation for his family's sake. the moment he marries you, you're immediately thrown into elias' weird kinks and desperate, hot nights. you're his sweet, precious girl, but elias has the tendency to corrupt anything innocent.

that being said, elias can just be clingy in the bedroom. yes, he enjoys being hurt by you, of course he does. however, elias treats you so gently, never getting rough with his sweet girl. as long as you go along with his whims, which include allowing elias to fuck his cock in between your plush thighs, he's content. he's not one of those prince's that are obsessed with trying to have as many heirs as possible, just one is fine with him.

and if you don't particularly enjoy your trysts with elias, that's fine too!

he can always just hump you while you sleep, if it's all the same to you <3

he's 100% that usher meme lol

[litmot-archived]

Dear Mom

Elias x Reader

Elias stands on the roof, peeking through his trusted telescope lens. August is his favorite month. The constellation most important to him hangs high in the sky, and as he lets his gaze linger on the eight stars making up Sagittarius, he cannot keep the memories of his mother from overwhelming him.

He misses her — so much.

He wishes you could have met her. He wishes she could have had the chance to meet you, the person dearest to his heart.

At least with her constellation above him, he can pretend she is watching over him, observing you from afar.

[cod-dump]

More Avatar/Call of Duty now that I thought about it even more:

The Ghosts would be a whole clan, no avatar drivers. They're incredibly adaptive to the RDA's intrusion to their land and after a few of their people were killed, their Olo'eyktan Elias (will figure out Na'vi names on a later post) decided he will learn the Sky People's ways in order to fight them off. Fight fire with fire.

He would do this after Hell's Gate as the RDA attempt to expand their reach across Pandora.

The Ghost Clan is aggressive towards humans, especially after Elias lost his mate and Tsahík of their clan. He became very protective of his sons as well and like most of the youth of the clan, they were trained on human weapons since very young.

Rorke (taking inspo from the game) was a young warrior who was curious, even obsessive, over learning about the RDA. He would end up getting captured while he led a hunting party purposely into the RDA's reach, all to hopefully learn more about them.

Elias had a choice to either save the hunting party or go after Rorke. He chose the hunting party and Rorke never forgot or forgave him for being abandoned.

Rorke would abandon his Na'vi ways. The RDA experimented on him and severed his queue, forever isolating him from Ewya and the world he allowed himself to be taken from. Growing mad, Rorke would set out to destroy his former clan, for revenge to allow himself to become one with the Sky People.

[r0ckboi]

Have a little Magnus Archives headcanon drabble that’s been in my notes for a long time.

John’s first eye showed up near his throat after he had taken a statement from someone, he compels people to talk about their traumas so it showed up near his vocal cords, he was obviously very confused considering he doesn’t do sex. So where the hell had it come from? After a few days, it faded and didn’t show up again until the next statement but there were more this time. He had no time to worry or think about it, considering there was a murderous worm lady after everyone. The bruises soon started to just be there no fading or the constant dull throb associated with bruises, they were just there. It of course hurt to poke them but not in the place where it was on his skin, instead his eyes would burn with the feeling as if someone was poking them. He was going to ask Elias about it but when he walked into his office he saw the scars on his face. They were shaped like eyes and opened where previously they had been just a thin line in odd places. The question of the bruises faded on his tongue as he saw one of the eyes in Elias’s skin look towards him, and even though there was no pupil, it seemed to have suddenly become focused. Elias looked at Jon smiling, the eyes shaped scars were still opened, and peering into Jon, like he could see his soul.

𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥𖢥

I kinda ate with this one ngl, and it's just been sitting in my notes for the past year, lol. This features a little headcanon of mine of how I feel the eyes appear differently based on the achrivists vs other vessels of The Eye. I might go into it a bit more and attach it to this post but idk  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

[simpletoymaker]

☆. REFLECTIONS ON A CERTAIN MAN. @miratenebrarum

⍵ . Its lips curl up, grin on its face could almost be considered sweet, as saccharine as any one of the many, many treats dear Ms. Sweetie was so terribly fond of.

     A bit too much like them, perhaps. Their smile kind and warm at first glance, yet longer one's gaze lingers, the more... uncanny it may seem.

     He was preparing a bouquet, little pink butterflies made of ribbons, kraft paper, and glitter fluttered around her, perhaps brought from her. She glanced down, was there a hole in his sternum ? It was difficult to tell. Well, it wouldn't have been important either ways.

     Flowers, each one a different color, each one a different texture, scent, flavor. Some more exciting then others, but it was a good mix of variety, for stagnation was the death of all things good in this universe and others.

     Ick. Stagnation.

     Oh, what a horribly cruel concept.

     Never changing. Always staying the same. Boredom was truly the height of torture. Which was why he cared so much about making wondrous toys to entertain and delight !

     ...Or was it for money ? For diamonds and gold ? They couldn't quite recall and, frankly, it couldn't find itself too interested in that train of thought at the moment.

     Where was I ? Ah, right. He'd been thinking on stagnation, a fitting topic, all things considered, their eyes falling to the bouquet in their hands and the gift box still open on the table.

     ...A gift, for a certain particular someone who'd caught their attention and still hasn't decided to join its wonderful company.

     He wasn't a fool. Master of them, perhaps. But he knew why he kept finding themselves going to visit that little quaint facility during her free time  ( if such time existed ). Why they kept sending little gifts and trinkets, even when he knew only one of the many who'd see it would truly appreciate it.

     Ah, it was a tale as old as time. The quaint feeling of clouds and hell all wrapped around in a neat little pink heart shaped box. The playground crush, letters snuck underneath desks and gifts left in lockers.

     Oh dear, she'd forgotten about Valentines that year, hadn't she? Or rather, she'd been busy with far more important matters. Dr. Wondertainment's Valentines Exclusive Limited Edition series of candies and toys wouldn't produce themselves, after all !

     It was partially certain that they'd been someone — something — else at the time as well. Which brought him back to the present  ( what a silly concept to play along with ).

     He smiled as wrapped a lovely pink ribbon around the gift with gloved hands that may or may not have been scarred and stitched on — who's keeping track, really ? — and finished the last touches of his bouquet.

     This little curiosity of theirs had outlived its expectations, as much as something could, when reality was ever fluid. And wasn't that the point ?  It never knew what she would be, moment to moment, ever faithful servant to the whims of the masses.

     Yet the forces around Elias Shaw were proving to be more stubborn. It was unexpected, and the unexpected was such a wonderful change of pace.

     Dr. Shaw, Dr. Shaw, Dr. Shaw. He was like them, in some ways and in no ways at all. Ever changing, always the same. Perhaps that what made it curious in the first place. Dr. Shaw was quite the perfect candidate for a sideshow attraction, oh. How they would have loved to have him as part of her company. Ah, but I digress.

     Dr. Shaw, quite the lovely toy it'd found in the middle of boring business. Something they could enjoy playing with until the inevitable day they got bored or blinked, finding themselves unable to recall a thing or feel an ounce of the warmth and sparklers currently dancing within their chest.

     If they were honest, he'd expected it to have happened long ago. And yet, Elias continued to prove himself quite the anomaly, a play of words it couldn't help but be amused by. Ah, Elias. Their dear, dearest Elias.

     It should tell him one of these days, how much she was doing for him. How they'd been holding back those beautiful temptations to whisk him away or give him a show so dazzling, he couldn't help but agree to join it. A desire so characteristically childish, to want to have and to keep.

     But. But, Dr. Wondertainment™ was a responsible company, even if they knew how to have fun and not be a dour stick in the mud, thank you very much. She couldn't disappoint her fellow members of the board  ( whenever they came back from whichever existence they're in currently, if they existed at all )  by playing such silly little pranks on their business partners.

     So. Gifts and visits it would be, for now.

     With a chuckle, it added the final flourish to her signature on the yellow-pink card he'd put admits the honey-dripping flowers. Closing his eyes, clicking his heels three times, and wishing upon a star or two, he sent the package on its merry way straight to Elias' office.

     Thinking on future problems was such a bore, who cared if things fell through ? Bridges were built to be crossed only once they were crossed, after all, and the current present was so much more new and enticing. One must live within the moment and embrace the next, not steal it prematurely, to truly enjoy life !

     Which gave him the most wonderful idea for a potential future product... alas, it would have to wait until after Easter. Oh, they should have never signed that contract with that overgrown bunny...

Dr. Wondertainment's Fantastical Flavorful Flower Frenzy™ !

Dearest Elias Shaw. A new product of mine, hasn't hit the markets yet, so no need to have those friends of yours get themselves all in a tizzy— by the way, how have they been enjoying my recent line of Dr. Wondertainment Back-To-School Power PermaErasers™ ?  I did notice that they purchased my entire stock !  And as always, do let them know I'm grateful for their patronage, even if I do think it's rather selfish. Ah, but look at me go, making this all about business.

Regardless of all that, I thought you might enjoy this prototype. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it next time I see you ㄷ|:)

Yours truly, Dr. Wondertainment.

[beheldandcompelled]

Requesting 4 and 41 in the prompt list for JonElias o7 Bonus points if you make it vampires

You get Jon/Jonah both vampires

and Jon/Elias-- Jon's the vampires

definitely not inspired by the kiss or the sword or anything

Send me a drabble!

4.

“Lay back and relax.”

Jonah’s command rings loudly in Jon’s ears, his body complying before his mind even registers the request. 

With Jon now laying on his back, his body relieved of tension– Jonah’s legs straddle his hips. Jon sighs, enjoying the pressure. The comforting thought that Jonah’s with him. 

Jonah’s lips ghost the skin ofJon’s neck. Jon shivers when Jonah’s mouth reaches below his ear. 

“Let me make you feel good, darling.” Jonah’s breath is hot on Jon’s neck. Jon closes his eyes, letting his eyes close. He hears Jonah’s fangs extend before he continues. 

“Then we may feed.” 

41.

“That was never my intention.”

Elias says, standing against his desk with folded arms and his usual wide grin. Jon glares, feeling his own petulance. He pulls Elias close. 

He had just told Jon he’d never meant to make him a monster. 

Jon wants to argue. Jon wants to prove Elias wrong. 

Jon smells him, noticing the bits of exhilaration in Elias’ blood. He tests a theory, extending his fangs and softly grazes Elias’ neck with his teeth. 

Elias shivers, the smell grows stronger. The sound of blood pumping grows louder. 

“Then you just haven’t seen what I can do.” 

[destinedtobeloved]

Kristen meets Takeshi for the first time at Alcatraz. He has the same face as Ryker- almost the same smell (minus shitty soap and the rancid floatation gel), the same clothing- everything.

But she looks into his eyes and they are different. His facial expressions are different, and the way he moves is different. It makes her cringe.

They meet, and Takeshi Kovacs scowls and scoffs and makes snarky comments and Kristen almost wants to yell, 'fuck you and fuck this case, and why can't you just be who I wanted you to be?' but when she looks into his eyes, they aren't mean or filled with malice like she had expected, contrary to his venom-filled words.

His eyes droop and are filled with a sadness not even 250 years can clear from a heart that isn't even yours.

'I don't think your mean,' she whispers to herself quietly when she finds him sprawled on the ground in the alleyway, his body slick with sweat, a strange aura surrounding him.

And she looks down at him, frowning when she sees his goddam pretty face again, and she cries later that night for the unfamiliar expression of confusion that's plastered there when he sees her.

'You have sad eyes.'