princess!

From the book of young hoe: Thou shan’t wear a coat if it doesn’t match the fit.

When most people met Smoke, they automatically assumed that they knew what type of woman he would gravitate towards. When they envisioned Smoke’s significant other, they pictured a woman who was modest, quiet, and poised. What they weren’t expecting was you. 

Now, no one would ever step to Smoke and openly say anything unkind about you. Not unless they wanted to be packed up like a can of sardines. Because one thing Smoke didn’t play about was you. 

Smoke meets you at the gas station of all places. He notices you almost immediately. It’s really hard not to notice you in your short dress that clings to your curves like it’s painted on, or the loud clacking from your heels that are definitely a safety hazard. 

Or maybe it’s the warm and sweet vanilla perfume that wafts past his nose and lingers in the aisle as you pick up snacks. Smoke assumes that you must be coming back from a night out based on how you look. Your movements are a bit sluggish, but still graceful as you pick up a bag of Hot Cheetos. 

You seemingly don’t pay attention to any of the patrons inside the gas station, whose eyes follow you like bugs to a porch light. You blow large bubbles with the gum in your mouth before popping it to repeat the cycle. 

Smoke hates the way that his body instantly reacts to feeling your presence behind him. Your scent overwhelms his senses like you’re imprinting yourself into every atom of his being. 

He spares a glance at you once he pays for his things. He finds that you’re already staring at him with a pretty smile and mischievous eyes. You wave your pretty manicured hand at him before stepping up to the counter. Smoke chuckles lowly before waving back to you and heading outside to pump his gas.

You slide the snacks across the counter as you smile flirtatiously at the associate, “Azim, how you doing, baby?”

Azim blushes under your gaze, “I’m doing good, my darling. Was it a good night out?”

“It was amazing, my girls and I danced all night. Free drinks too,” you reply, blowing another bubble. 

Azim starts bagging up your items before peeking back up at you, “I’m glad to hear you had such a good time. Anything else you need, my dear?”

“Let me get $20 on pump five.” 

Azim types the amount in the register before giving you your total, “That’ll be $21.00, my love.” 

You smile at him, “Azim, I know you’re undercharging me.” 

Azim waves you off with a soft chuckle, “You know you’re one of my favorite customers. I have to take care of you. Family discount.” 

You tap your card on the reader before smiling and blowing a kiss to Azim, “You’re the best, Azim. Let me know when your wife is making some more of that baklava, so I can come through.” 

“I’ll have her make you a special batch. Come by on Sunday,” Azim calls out to you. You reply with a quick ‘thank you’ before walking out to your car. You spot Smoke standing at his car, pumping gas, along with a few other guys who are crowded around one car. 

Truthfully, Smoke could’ve been done pumping his gas, but he chose to pump slower in hopes of catching you coming out of the store. 

You open the door to your car to throw the snack bag on the seat before moving to start pumping your gas. It’s not lost on Smoke how cold it is outside, and you, in your tiny dress, don’t even seem to be phased by it. 

In fact, you keep pumping your gas and blowing bubbles like everything is copacetic. 

Unfortunately, Smoke’s not the only one who notices how pretty you look tonight. The guys surrounding the car all wolf-whistle and make noise as they catch you passing by. Smoke can see the predatory look in their eyes as they drink in your appearance. 

His body immediately goes into protector mode. Feeling bold, one of the guys starts to yell out in your direction, “Aye ma! Aye ma! Lemme holla’ at you!”

You roll your eyes and keep pumping your gas. You chose to ignore the ignorant man, who clearly doesn’t have any home training. 

It appears that audacity is on sale as the man yells out to you again, “Aye, girl! I know you hear me talking to you!” 

Still, no response from you. 

“Well, fuck you too then, you stuck up bitch!” 

Smoke doesn’t know whose head snaps over quicker—his or yours. He can see the anger filling your pretty face as you finally stop chewing your gum. 

“Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face with them cheap ass clothes and that fake-ass Cuban link. Wanna-be-rap-ass nigga,” you yell back. Smoke and all of the other men are stunned momentarily by the ruthlessness of your words. 

The wanna be who you just insulted doesn’t take the lashing well. Smoke catches the ugly expression that overtakes the man’s face as he moves around the car to start making his way to you. His homeboys have enough sense to try to stop him, but he roughly shrugs them off. 

Just as he’s about to make his way to you, Smoke stands directly in his path. The older man squares his shoulders and glares down at the younger man. The height difference, combined with Smoke’s quiet disposition, creates a sense of unease in the young man’s demeanor. 

“Nah, don’t get shy now. Whatchu’ was planning on doing, young buck? You thought you were about to put your hands on her?” Smoke questions, stepping up to crowd the boy’s space. 

The man in question opens his mouth to start stuttering. Smoke frowns, “Nah, don’t start stuttering on me now, boy. Tell me whatchu’ was planning. You wanna act bad in front of your boys, so let’s talk man to man. You wanna press her? Nah, you press me now, nigga.”

The man swallows harshly as Smoke can see the tremors racking through his body as he finally starts to recognize Smoke.

He holds his hands up, “S-Smoke, I ain’t meant nothin’ by it, man.”

“You ain’t mean nothing by it? Seems like you had your mind set before I stepped in front of you. You wanted to be a man when you were about to put your hands on her, but you ain’t a man now that I’m in front of you.” Smoke steps forward so the only thing that the young man can feel is his presence. 

He lowers his voice, “You listen to me, and I want you to listen real good because I don’t repeat myself. You ever talk to a woman like that or approach her like that again, ima beat yo’ ass as yo daddy should’ve. If I see you planning on pressin’ another woman, I’ll break every bone in your fuckin’ body and have you sippin’ on yogurt for the rest of your life. Don’t get yourself put on a t-shirt, boy. I’m sure Ms. Coretta ain’t prepared to put you in a casket. We clear?”

The young man is now openly shaking as he sees the darkness in Smoke’s eyes. It’s like he’s looking at something inhuman. He nods his head, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Smoke,” He responds, fear lacing the edge of his tone.

Smoke nods, “Now, I believe you owe her an apology.”

The boy looks in your direction, “I’m sorry, Miss. It won’t happen again.”

Smoke looks at him again, “Now, get the fuck out of here.” The young man scurries away with his homeboys in tow. Anyone in town knows that the Smokestack twins are the last men that you want to have beef with. 

Smoke turns to you before walking over. You blow a bubble before popping it, “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

Smoke smirks, “Yes, I did. What were you planning on doing if I hadn’t stepped in or been around?” 

You shrug, “I was planning on getting him with this bear mace.”

Smoke lifts his eyebrows, “You know that’s illegal.”

You blow another bubble. Pop! “So is harassment, but these niggas act like the First Amendment entitles them to a response from me.” Smoke chuckles in response. 

You look at him, “So it’s Smoke, I reckon?”

He nods, “S’just a nickname. My real name is Elijah.” You hum while still chewing on your gum. You’d vaguely heard of the Smokestack twins. Anybody this side of the Delta had heard about the two men, but you rarely paid attention when people would go into detail about them. 

You only cared for gossip when it was something that intrigued you. Two men who put fear in the hearts of men in the South didn’t intrigue you. Yet, with Smoke standing in front of you, smelling like a grown man, you were now thoroughly intrigued. It didn’t help the fact that he was fine in a way that gave 90s. 

Smoke catches your hand on the gas pump, “Let me finish pumping your gas for you. It’s freezing out here.” 

You step to the side and let Smoke take over. Who were you to deny the services of a man being courteous to you? Smoke takes a moment to look at you up close. 

You smile before leaning on your car, “You wanted to pump my gas so you could stare at me?”

“M’just wondering where your jacket is,” Smoke comments. 

“At home, it didn’t go with my outfit,” you respond as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“So catching pneumonia in the ass is worth the fit?”

“Yep, you haven’t ever heard the saying ‘fashion is sacrifice’?”

Smoke chuckles, “Can’t say I have. Now, would you pretty please go sit in the car while I finish pumping your gas?” 

You roll your eyes before smacking your glossed lips, “Fine, since you’re so worried that I’ll turn into a popsicle.” You open your door before sliding into the seat. From his view, Smoke can see you typing on your phone. He finishes pumping your gas and places the gas pump back on the handle.

He closes the cap as you turn on your car. You roll down the window just as Smoke steps closer to lean down. You flash another pretty smile at him, “Thank you again for your help, Mr. Smoke.”

“Just Smoke for you, sugar. Or Elijah. Whichever you prefer.”

“Hmm..I guess I’ll call you, Elijah, then,” You said, still chewing on your gum. There’s a beat of silence that’s filled with your soft chewing and music from your radio. 

You lean closer to him, “Are you going to ask for my number now?”

“You know I’m too old for you, right?”

You blow another big bubble and pop it, “So? I like my men a little seasoned. Just hand me your phone.” Smoke slides his phone from his pocket and unlocks it. You start typing your number in before calling yourself. You save his contact and slide his phone back into his hand. 

“Do you always give your number away at the gas station?” Smoke questions. 

“I give my fake number out all the time. You should feel lucky that you have my real number,” You respond, flashing another cute smile at him. Smoke admires the way that the light dances across your skin and the faint glitter that he assumes is from some lotion. 

“Consider me honored. Drive safely and let me know when you make it home,” Smoke states, looking you straight in the eye. 

You smack your lips, “You checking for me already, old man?” 

“I’d just feel a lot better knowing that you got home safely.” 

“I’ll text you then, Elijah.” With that, you smile before rolling your window up. You drive out of the parking lot with Smoke watching your car. 

He enters his own car and sets off to go home.

Later in the night, when he makes it home and showers, he’s lying in bed, and he hates to admit that he’s waiting for the text from you. Finally, his phone vibrates in his hand, and he sees your name appear on the screen. 

You

*image attached*

I made it home safely

Smoke eyes the picture for far longer than he’ll ever admit. His gaze scans across your baby blue pajamas and the matching bonnet. A cute smile graces your lips as you snap the picture. 

Elijah

Let me take you out tomorrow for brunch.

You

Straight to the point, I like you. 

I guess I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for you😉

Elijah

I promise it’ll be worth it. 

You

It better be. I’m not afraid to leave you at the table by yourself.

From that moment, you became Smoke’s old lady, and everybody knew not to cross you unless they wanted him on their necks.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt take the clothes from the dryer and put it in a pile; you’ll get to it later

The age difference between you and Smoke takes a little bit to get used to on both of your ends, but honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact, you keep Smoke on his toes every day that you’re together. It’s within the second month of your relationship that he learns that you’re a “young ho” as you had so affectionately put it. 

“Why you calling yourself a hoe?” He asked, a frown covering his handsome face.

You roll your eyes, “It’s not like that, Elijah. It’s more of a reclamation of a word for a positive cause.” 

“What I tell you about rolling your eyes?” 

You resisted the urge to do it again. The last time that you’d rolled your eyes at Smoke, he’d turnt you every way but loose in the bedroom. 

He chose not to elaborate on your new self-proclaimed title. He learned very early in your relationship that you were a real stubborn brat when you wanted to be. He liked to play the part of annoyed, but inwardly, he loved how much you tested his patience. 

Smoke was one of those guys who had a real strict program, and that program was applied to you, but he often let you off scot free most of the time. Stack would even fuss at him because of how spoiled Smoke had you. 

The next day, Stack and Smoke are sitting at the kitchen table together while you’re vacuuming in the living room. You cut the vacuum off, and Smoke expects you to walk up to the wall to take the cord out. 

But you don’t. Because young hoes don’t do that. Instead, you grip the cord and rip it out of the socket before dragging the piece over to you. 

Smoke and Stack both watch you. 

“Aye, why didn’t you just go pull it out?” Stack asks.

You smack your lips, “Why would I make all of those unnecessary steps when I can just do it my way?” You wrap the cord up and hook it onto the vacuum before leaving the living room.

Stack turns to Smoke, “You would end up with a young hoe.”

“So you know about it too?” 

“Yeah, it’s this new thing on Twitter and TikTok. Girls talking about stuff that young hoes typically do. Her ripping that cord out of the wall was a prime example.”

Smoke does typically watch you. It’s a habit, really, but now, he watches you closer for your young hoe habits. 

He comes over to your house on a Sunday and finds that you’re finishing up your laundry. You grab the warm clothes from the dryer in one big swoop and deposit them on the chair in the corner of your room. Smoke watches as you walk away without folding the clothes. 

“Baby, you just gone leave them right there?” He questions, looking between you and the pile. 

“Yes, Papa Bear, I’ll fold them later,” you respond. He wants to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that you’ll fold them, but he has to keep an eye on you. 

Turns out, he should’ve let the doubt win.

When he comes back over the following day, the clothes are still sitting in the chair. Wordlessly, he goes over to the pile to start folding the clothes into neat sections for you. He even goes the extra mile to place them in their appropriate places. 

You give him a surprised look when you come into the room, “Aww, Papa Bear, you didn’t have to do that.” You press a big kiss against his lips, your lip gloss staining his lips, but quite frankly, he loves the sensation. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Smoke is able to catch more of your young hoe antics when it comes to clothing. You volunteer to put his clothes in the washer because you love taking care of your old man. 

To his honest defense, Smoke believed that you could handle the task, and truthfully, you could, but just in your own way. He stands up from the couch to go grab a water from the fridge. Once inside the kitchen, he catches sight of you in the laundry room with his dirty basket of clothes.

Now, Smoke is a man of habit. There’s a precise way that he likes to have things done. Which is why he’s honestly gobsmacked when he watches you load the clothes into the washer without separating any of them by color.

To top it off, you grab his expensive laundry detergent and pour way more than what’s required into the washing machine. You turn the machine on, step back with your hands on your hips, and have the nerve to look proud. 

You turn and catch sight of him staring at you in the kitchen. He fixes his mouth to comment, but chooses not to when he sees the bright smile on your face. 

You point at the washer, “Look, I got you all fixed up.” 

Smoke can’t find it in his heart to take this moment from you, so he just smiles in response before walking over to press a long kiss against your lips. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Now, Smoke is old, but he didn’t think he was that old. But by the way that you’re looking at him and the ironing board, the nigga starts to feel like Morgan Freeman. 

“You don’t know what an ironing board is?” 

“Nigga, I’m not daft, I know what an ironing board is. I’m just trying to figure out why you would need one. Just iron on the bed.”

Smoke cuts his eyes in your direction, “No, the creases won’t hit the same.”

“Anyways. So what do you need this disinfectant spray for?” You ask, holding up the white bottle. 

“Baby, that’s starch.”

You frown and turn the bottle in your direction before reading it. You try to hide the embarrassed look that crosses your face before you hand the bottle back to him. You walk over to the ironing board that is still folded and fumble with it. 

You look genuinely perplexed by the fact that it won’t stand up. Anyone else would be annoyed, but Smoke finds it cute. You look at him with that whiny pout on your face, “Your ironing board is broken. Probably because it’s from the 90s.” 

Smoke chuckles before taking the ironing board from your hand and standing it up correctly. You look at each other in silence before you nod, “I got it loosened up for you. You’re welcome.”

With that, you walk out of the room, and Smoke figures it’s best to just let you have the win. 

Besides, his baby girl gets whatever she wants when she’s with him. 

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt use Apple Pay for literally every expense. We don’t use physical cards or cash anymore.

Smoke is old school.

He still carries around a wallet of cash and his debit cards. He only sets up Apple Pay on his phone because you insisted that it was more convenient. 

It is, but he won’t admit that to you. For you, you never have to pay for things when you’re with Smoke. In fact, he finds the audacity of you paying for anything outrageous. On the small chance that he isn’t there with you, he makes sure that you have the funds available for your needs. 

When he tries to hand you his card, you genuinely look perplexed, “What’s this for?”

He squints, “For you to buy your stuff. No limit.”

“That’s cute, Papa Bear, but I don’t even carry my own card around. I use Apple Pay for everything,” You said. 

“Just add my card to your Apple Pay, then baby,” Smoke orders, sliding the card in your hands. 

“Okay, thanks, baby,” you said, kissing his lips a few times. In response, Smoke slides your body into his lap and watches as you type the card into your Apple Pay and save it. 

This isn’t the only incident involving money with you and Smoke. You’re about to head out for a night with your girls when he stops you. 

“Come here before you leave, baby,” He demands from the couch. He and Stack are watching the finals while you go out.

“Sup ugly,” You state, slapping Stack on the neck. He frowns and twists around to pop you back when you step out of the way. 

Y’all are about to engage in another childish fight until Smoke glares at you both. Stack smacks his lips, “You better get yo girl before we be outside tussling.” 

“Ima mace you too,” You quip, as you walk to Smoke’s side of the couch. 

“See, I don’t even wanna play with you because I know you’re serious,” Stack states before turning his attention back to the TV. 

Smoke runs his eyes up and down your body in the two-piece set. Your body shines from your rigorous body care routine. He grips your waist, “You look good, babygirl.” 

“Thank you, Papa Bear,” you respond, leaning down to kiss him. From behind him, Stack makes gagging noises while you stick your finger up at him. 

As you pull away from the kiss, Smoke grabs a couple of bills from his wallet and slides them over to you. 

“Uh, I don’t need this,” You said, a faint whine at the end of your tone. 

“Yes, you do. Your little Apple Pay can’t cover everything. What if your phone dies? You need to be prepared just in case. Here. Take a few quarters, you might need to call me from a pay phone,” Smoke explains. 

All of the argument leaves your body because he’s right and you know it. You slide the bills and change in your purse before leaning down to press your lips against his again. This time, however, you slide your tongue inside of Smoke’s mouth while his hand goes to your neck. 

“Man! Y’all gone with all of that,” Stack yells from his end of the couch. 

You and Smoke part with a few additional pecks. A honk from outside lets you know that your friends are here. As you go to leave, you peck Smoke’s lips again, “I love you, Papa Bear. I’ll text you updates throughout the night.” 

You start walking towards the door until Smoke clears his throat, “Grab that coat on the way out, babygirl.”

You huff and throw your head back, “Elijah..it doesn’t go with my outfit!” 

He gives you a hard look, and you stare back. For a solid minute, you both keep the staring contest going as Stack moves his head back and forth between the two of you.

Smoke goes to stand when you hold your hands up, “Chill! Chill! I’m getting it.” You grab the jacket and hold it up as if to say, “See.” 

In return, Smoke smiles at you, “Good girl. I love you too. Make sure that you text me.” 

Stack laughs, “Aha…my brother got you in check.” He turns and feels like he has the last word. He doesn’t catch you creeping up behind him until you lean down to whisper, “stupid hoe” in his ear and slap the back of his neck again. You’re already out the door by the time that Stack gets off the couch. 

He frowns and crosses his arms. 

Smoke takes a sip from his drink, “Y’all are some children.”

Later in the night, Smoke periodically gets updates from you about your location and condition. You send him tipsy pictures from the club bathroom. It’s not too long before he gets a notification from your Instagram saying that you’ve posted to your stories. 

Smoke chuckles at the picture, but he’s glad to see that you’re having a good time with your girls. Some people assumed that since you liked to go outside, it would be a turn-off for Smoke, but it was quite the opposite. 

He liked the fact that you were young, carefree, and enjoying your life. He’d never try to nag or change who you were. In fact, being with you taught Smoke that he needed to let loose a lot more and enjoy the moment. 

Hours later, he hears the sound of a car door closing and watches from the porch as you walk back to the house. You pout pathetically upon seeing him, “My feet hurt. Can you carry me, Papa Bear?”

Without hassle, Smoke scoops you up into his arms and carries you into the house. He waves at your friends as he closes the door. Your head lolls to the side as you lie on his shoulder. 

Smoke looks down at you, “You still with me, baby?”

“Mhmm.”

He raises an eyebrow, “So you gonna carry me up these stairs?” 

“Yeah, I got you, baby,” you grumble back. Smoke laughs to himself at your antics. Even in your tipsy state, you still swore up and down that you were the Incredible Hulk. 

Arriving inside the bedroom, Smoke gently sets you down while grabbing a big t-shirt for you. 

He helps you with getting out of the heels and your set. “Lift your arms for me, baby.”

You oblige as he slips his t-shirt over your head. He goes to the bathroom to grab some micellar water to help you remove your makeup. 

You grumble in sleepiness. 

“I know, baby, just a little bit more,” He coos to you gently. Once he’s finished cleaning your face, he tucks you away under the blankets. He slips your bonnet over your hair.

“It’s hot,” you whine from beneath the covers. Smoke walks over to the fan, flicks it on, and turns it in your direction. He’d never heard of someone sleeping with a fan on until he started dating you. 

He slips beneath the covers and pulls your body into his side. You cuddle your body more into his hold, “Thank you, Papa Bear. I love you.” 

“I love you too, babygirl,” Smoke replies, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

As he listens to your steady breath, Smoke rationalizes that there’s nothing better than being here with you.

If Stack were here, he’d clown him real bad, but Smoke doesn’t care. He’d gladly go out and get your name tatted to show how down bad he is for you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt play the music about the guns and drugs, but shalt not participate in said activities

Smoke watches you in amusement as you pretend to shimmy in the living room, as “Off the Leash” by Gucci Mane blasts through the space. When he first met you, he’d assumed that you would like a lot of lover girl music, which you did. 

But more often than not, you were listening to music about drugs and guns, even though you were hands down a law-abiding citizen. The song changes to “All There” by Jeezy, and you start hyping yourself up more. 

You walk over to Smoke and start rapping the lyrics in his face, while grabbing money from his wallet to spread it down your arm. 

“So you’re a dope boy now?” Smoke asks, subtly nodding his head along to the music. 

“I’ve been trappin’ out here, Smoke,” You respond. He raises his eyebrows at the change of name, but continues chuckling as you make gun gestures with your hands. 

“So that means I should go get you a gun of your own now?”

You ball your face up, “No, thank you. You know I don’t like guns. Plus, I’d just be a menace if these niggas tried me.” You prove your point by making gun noises like you’re shooting

You really weren’t a big fan of guns. Even with the gun that Smoke kept in his house, you always made sure that he had it locked away, far from your sight. You didn’t even like the idea of him being near a gun, and he was a whole trained veteran. 

You take your phone out and start typing. You glance back at him, “I have a hair appointment tomorrow, so I may be MIA for a while.” 

He nods, “Okay, I’ll send you the money to cover it.” 

You lean down to press a kiss against his cheeks, “Thanks, Papa Bear.” 

When you mentioned getting your hair done to Smoke, he doesn’t expect you to be gone for that long. He checks your location, which states that you’re still at your braider’s house. 

His phone buzzes with a text from you. 

Babygirl♥️

Be home soon. 

I can’t wait for you to see my braids🙂‍↔️

He lets out a sigh of relief at the message. One thing that was always true, Smoke could be a bit overprotective, but it was only because he knew how the world operated. He knew how cruel people could be, especially to someone like you. 

You were smart and observant, but Smoke just preferred to be around to look out for you. In his mind, you were all bubble gum, sunshine, and sweetness. He’d hate to see someone trying to snuff that light out of you. 

Thirty minutes later, Smoke hears your car pulling into the yard. You get out, casually sipping on your Stanley Cup and walking to the house. 

He opens the door to greet you. You connect your lips to his while gripping his shirt, “Hey, Papa Bear. I hope you weren’t waiting up for me.”

“I was,” Smoke said, closing the door behind you. 

He goes to sit on the couch and crosses his arms, “What took you so long?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “It was mostly the braid length. You know I like to get my braids long.” You do a quick turn to show the braids off, and Smoke’s gaze travels down to how long they are. The braids’ length ends just below your butt. 

You turn back to him with a wide smile, “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, babygirl, I love them. You look beautiful as always.” He means it. There’s not one moment when Smoke isn’t thinking about how beautiful you are. 

Later in the night, he oils your scalp at bedtime. In return, you apply a clay mask to his face as he waits for it to dry. 

Quite honestly, Smoke had never been well-versed in skincare. That just wasn’t his thing. Now, he kept himself up and always kept his skin moisturized, but stuff like skincare was more up Stack’s alley. 

Since dating you, Smoke has a whole skincare routine that you and he do every night. He’s always had pretty good skin, but since being with you, you've elevated his skin to a new level. You both stand side-by-side at the sink, washing the masks from your faces. Smoke scoops you up to sit on the counter and grips your backside in his hand as you apply his serums and moisturizer for the night. 

You peek up at him through your lashes, “You so handsome, Papa Bear.” 

You grab his chin in your hand and pull his face down towards yours. Smoke’s lips engulf yours in a passionate kiss as he tongues you down. He slides your body closer to his as he fully steps between your legs. You roll your hips into his as his bulge presses against your wet core. When he steps back slightly, you whine in response while pouting. Smoke chuckles darkly before gripping your thighs to pull you off the counter. He effortlessly carries you from the bathroom to the bedroom and deposits you on the bed. 

He leans down on the bed to cover your body with his. He grabs both of your wrists in his hands and pins you to the top of the bed. He frowns when he moves one of his hands and hears a crinkle. Smoke looks up and grabs the item. A bag of Hot Cheetos crunches in his hands. 

He looks down at you while you give him an innocent grin. It’s only when he looks up that he notices all of the extra items in the bed like candy, your iPad, both of your chargers, and your Stanley. 

He’s about to open his mouth to comment when you stop him, “Before you start with all of that, I need this. These are my essentials. Don’t be trynna reach across me to eat my snacks either.”

He gives you a blank look, “I’m trynna eat you now, but if you want to keep the snacks on the bed…”

You move quickly to put the snacks and other items on the nightstand. 

You open your legs with a soft smile, “Okay, I’m ready.”

The only thing Smoke can do is chuckle, but he still gets on his knees regardless. His back may protest, but he’ll never give up the chance to put his mouth on you.

From the book of young hoe: Thou shalt not take any BS.

It didn’t take Smoke a long time to figure out that you were a bit of a hot head. In your honest defense, you just weren’t the type to hold your tongue, especially when something felt like disrespect. Which is why he often found it amusing when you and Stack would argue because you’d match his brother bar for bar with insults. 

However, it was all love between you and Stack. You were the younger sister he always craved having, so he’s delighted to have you around more often. 

As Smoke’s old lady, as he likes to refer to you as, your invitation to any family functions is automatically secured. You knew your spot was secured when all of Smoke’s aunts and uncles hit him with the famous, “That’s you, nephew?” 

You stood in the kitchen with Ardelia, Smoke, and Stack’s mother as you both conversed. 

“I’m so happy that you could come today, and you look so pretty,” Ardelia said, nodding her head in appreciation.

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore,” You said, grinning widely. 

“Ah, now what I tell you about that. None of that, you can call me mama.” 

You smiled even brighter at her comment. Ardelia had been nothing but welcoming to you since Smoke introduced you for the first time. You were nervous that she wouldn’t be accepting of you, especially with the age gap, but she referred to you as her daughter-in-law all over town. Now, a few of Smoke’s other family members weren’t as accepting of you, but they wouldn’t ever say it aloud. But you were well aware of the whispered comments.

‘He’s bringing that lil’ girl all up in here. She still got milk behind her ears.’

“He outta be ashamed. Bringing her around here when he could be back with Annie.’

‘Look at her outfit. Any shorter and them shorts will be some panties.’

’I heard she just with him for the money. Jill from down the street said she got a pattern of jumping from man to man and using them for money.’

‘Lord, that’s a shame!”

You rolled your eyes and took it on the chin. The last thing you were about to do was start an argument with Smoke’s folks, especially in his mama’s house. You knew how a lot of people viewed you, especially with how you carried yourself. There’d been rumors all over the place that you were a relationship hopper, which was far from the truth. You just weren’t the type to stick around in a relationship, especially if it didn’t serve you. 

Growing up as a little black girl in the South, you recognized that many black girls weren’t taught how to date. Most girls here felt that if they dated someone, they had to tie themselves down to the person forever. It was often frowned upon if you were dating more than one person or exploring your options. 

No, exploring your options was only something that was reserved for men. 

The fact that you weren’t the type to stick around in dead situations or entertain men made you stick out like a sore thumb in the community. They couldn’t stand to see a black woman standing strong in her boundaries. They would never catch you apologizing for that. 

You walk outside and sit next to Smoke, who is surrounded by a few of his uncles and cousins. It’s at that point in the evening when the conversations shift to more controversial topics, and the new school vs old school duke it out. 

You were already rolling your eyes as Marvin, one of Smoke’s cousins, opened his mouth to speak. He was the physical embodiment of red pill alpha male content. 

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t want my Queen out here degrading herself on these apps by posting seductive pictures and doing OnlyFans. I mean, look at the state of female rap, all they talk about is their pussy and what they can get from men.”

A few of the older traditional men hum in agreement. 

You frown, “Well, isn’t that a bit contradictory, Marvin? Men rap about pussy all the time. There isn’t one rap song that you can give me that doesn’t consist of some line of a man talking about all of the women that he’s slept with or the degrading acts that he makes her perform. To add onto your point, you’re complaining about the women making content, but you fail to realize that there wouldn’t be a market if men weren’t paying for it. Sounds like smart business women capitalizing on a rising market.”

Marvin cuts his eyes at you. You can see the irritation rising in his eyes, “See, I’d expect you to say that. You’re one of those new school women. You don’t have traditional values. A real woman knows her place in the home. She should be preparing the home for her King to come home to. She shouldn’t be out here selling pussy.” He glances over in Smoke’s direction, “Dang, cuz, you really switched things up with this one. At least Annie was taking care of her man.”

Marvin sits back in the chair, clearly pleased with himself. Beside you, Smoke hardens, and everyone can catch that look of murder in his eye. He’s about to address the situation when you place a hand on his chest. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got it. Marvin, I don’t take pseudo-intellectual men like you seriously. You be the same niggas hollering about being an Alpha male and you ain’t even graduated from community college. Last time I looked in the mirror, my breasts and vagina were still there, so I think we got the real woman part covered. You keep trying to take jabs at me about being a low-value woman when, last time I checked, I got two degrees under my name, and I’m well on my way to my third. Let’s not forget the high-paying job, and I own my house. We can go band for band if you want to.” 

You pause and snap your fingers, “I forgot, you don’t have a job, so your bands wouldn’t even match mine. What’s your occupation again? Wait…you’re still building your little YouTube with the ten subscribers, all of whom are your homeboys who can’t keep your dick out of their mouths. You keep talking about pussy, but baby boy, you wake up every day and look at a pussy in the mirror.”

You sit back in your chair with a demure smile. The backyard is silent as everyone turns to look at Marvin. He storms from the chair and walks towards the door. You all listen as his car pulls out of the driveway. 

“I like this one, nephew,” Tony, Smoke’s uncle, comments as he clinks his cup with yours. 

Smoke looks over at you in concern, “Baby, you good?” 

“Yeah, ain’t nobody stressin’ over Marvin. I know my worth, and I know what I bring to the table. I’m not about to let anyone feel like they pressin’ me.”

“Good, but I’ma still beat his ass later on for talking to you like that,” Smoke states, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“Thanks, Papa Bear.” You lean over to press your lips against his. You resist the urge to deepen the kiss because you still have to be respectful in front of his family. 

“Anytime, baby, you know you mean the world to me. Nobody in this world is ever gonna disrespect you while I’m around.”

Before you can comment, Stack leans over to dap you up, “That last line was a bar. Let’s go put that down in the studio.”

From the book of women: Always show respect where respect is due.

Annie Boudreaux. Formely Annie Moore. 

You’d met Annie in passing a few times, and you liked her well enough. You both got along, seeing as you were both important women in Smoke’s life. To others, they wondered if it bothered you that Smoke’s ex-wife still came around to family functions, but truthfully, it didn’t. 

You understood how important Annie was to Smoke and their shared history. It’d be selfish if you asked him to stay away from her. That didn’t mean that Smoke was taking advantage of the situation and disrespecting you. He’d always be open and let you know that he was going to see Annie. You’d always kiss him and bid him on his way. 

Today was the first time that you’ve ever set foot in Annie’s yard.  

You walk slowly towards the side of the house where baby Anais Moore’s headstone sits. You note the fresh flowers sitting at the headstone, no doubt from Smoke’s earlier visit in the week. You set down your own bouquet before willing away the tears that follow. 

Smoke talks about his and Annie’s little girl from time to time, but only when the moon shines low in the room, and you can’t see his tears falling. He’d laid his head on your chest and whispered all about his daughter, while you remained silent and rubbed at his head. 

“She was so beautiful and tiny. I was scared of holding her the first time,” He laments. 

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. You wish that you could take away all of the pain, but you know that nothing ever quite soothes the ache of losing a child. 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” Annie comments from her place on the steps. You catch her eyes as they clock the flowers that you placed at the baby’s grave.

“I wanted to come visit you, and I needed to ask for your help with something.”

Annie gives you a long look before ushering you inside the house. She pours you a glass of tea as you sit across from each other on the couch. 

“So what brings you by?” Annie questions. 

“Can you teach me how to make that gumbo dish that Elijah likes. He mentioned that it’s one of his favorite meals, and I wanted to do something nice for him,” You said, nerves coloring your voice. 

Your wide eyes meet Annie’s, and you’re honestly scared that she’ll tell you no. Instead, she chuckles, “You came all this way to ask me how to make a pot of gumbo for Elijah? Come on, silly girl. You must really be in love.”

“I am.” 

For another beat, you both look at each other, and Annie runs her eyes across you. Unbeknownst to you, she can see the pink swirls radiating around your body with all of the love that you have for Elijah. 

She gestures for you to follow her to the kitchen, where she begins taking out all of the ingredients. She turns to you, “Go pick me some of those bell peppers from the garden.” 

You nod before setting out to the garden, where Annie has an assortment of fruit and vegetables. You navigate towards the bell peppers as you pick out the best ones. Inside the house, you hand the peppers to Annie as she washes them off. 

“I love your garden. I always wanted to grow one,” You said, leaning against the counter. 

“Tell Elijah. He’s good at starting a garden,” Annie responds. She ushers you forward as she grabs the flour and cast-iron skillet. 

“Now the roux is the most essential part of the gumbo. You mess up the roux, you might as well throw the whole pot away.” 

Together, you and Annie work hand in hand to craft the gumbo the way that Smoke likes it. Annie lets you take over for the most part, while she gently guides you. Soon, you’re both sitting at the table sharing a bowl of gumbo over rice and laughing like old friends. 

“Next thing I know, Stack is running out of the house. Yellin’ about some voodoo,” Annie states, to which you laugh loudly. 

Your laugh calms after a few minutes when you catch Annie staring at you. 

“Thank you,” She states. 

She doesn’t have to explain what she’s thanking you for. You already know. You slide a hand across the table as you tangle your fingers together. 

“I really appreciate you, Annie.”

“Likewise.”

She doesn’t mention that she can read your palms with your hands touching like this. She chuckles internally. She hopes that you’re ready for some twins in the future.

When Smoke gets home later in the day, he’s surprised at the familiar scent that wafts across his nose. For a minute, he wonders if Annie is inside the house with you. He walks inside the kitchen and takes note of you standing in front of the stove, stirring away at a familiar pot. 

You and Smoke are so in tune with each other that you sense him as soon as he enters the house. You turn around, “Hey, Papa Bear, take a seat.” 

Smoke sets his work bag down and takes a seat at the table. You fix his bowl of gumbo just the way that Annie mentioned he likes, along with a piece of cornbread on the side and a glass of tea. He takes a second to look between you and the bowl of gumbo. He notes the similarities in the gumbo, “You makin’ gumbo now, babygirl?”

“Mhmm..I had a little help from Annie today. I wanted to get it just the way that you like it,” You said, moving to fix your own bowl. 

“You visited Annie today?” 

“Yeah, you mentioned that her gumbo was always your favorite, so I went by to ask her how to make it for you.” You shrug at the end of your sentence like it’s no big deal, but to Smoke, it means the world. 

Before you can take a bite of your gumbo, he grabs your hand in his. 

“Thank you. You know I love you, right?” He said, eyes glistening under the light. It means a lot that you went out of your way to ask Annie how to make his favorite meal. 

“I love you, too, Elijah,” You respond before connecting your lips to his. 

As you both eat, Smoke eyes your empty ring finger and figures that he may need to change that pretty soon.

After the meal, Smoke offers to wash dishes, but you shoo him away.

“Just sit down, you’ve been working hard all day. It’s just a few dishes,” You said, turning the water on. 

Smoke expects you to plug the sink and let it fill up with soap and water, but you do the exact opposite. You keep the water running as you wash each dish one by one under the hot water. 

“Baby, you could’ve just filled the sink up,” Smoke comments. 

“Ew, I don’t want all of that food touching my hands,” You shoot back. 

Smoke decides to drop it and continues watching you wash the dishes. He already knows that he should expect the water bill to be higher this month. From the looks of the empty paper towel roll, he might have to just invest in the big pack from Costco.

From the book of young hoe: Always listen to Papa Bear.

It’s one of those nights when you and your girls are going out again. Smoke opts to stay in, but he’s already made sure that your purse is packed with all of the essentials. He knows how forgetful you can be. 

The sound of your heels clicking brings his attention to you as you walk into the bedroom. He hadn’t paid much attention to your outfit. You always did your makeup first before putting on your outfit, and then you’d give him a little show before leaving. 

Now, Smoke’s gotten used to some of your more risque clothing choices. Shoot, when he first met you, you were wearing a dress that had him drooling. He isn’t one of those guys who likes to police his woman on what she’s wearing, but he is very possessive of you. Smoke knows that you’re a baddie, so why would he stop you from being that?

However, he has to draw a line with this outfit, if you can even call it that. 

Smoke coughs past the smoke and snuffs out the joint that you rolled for him. “What you got on?”

You smile at him through the mirror, “It’s cute, right? I found it the other day!”

You had taken the definition of mini skirt to a whole other level. You’re well endowed in your backside, which hangs out of the skirt. You bend forward to check your makeup, and Smoke almost falls out. 

He frowns at you, “Go change. You ain’t leavin’ the house with that on.”

Naturally, the pout crosses your lips, “But why?” 

“Baby, I ain’t finna have these niggas out here eyeing my woman, and I’m not around.”

You huff in annoyance, “Elijah, it’s not that deep. It’s not even that short.”

He eyes the skirt again with a glare on his face. If he could set the skirt on fire, he would. 

“It’s not up for discussion. Go change into something else.”

“No.”

Smoke’s head whips around so fast that you’re surprised that his neck doesn’t break. That dark look crosses his face, “Babygirl, you sure you wanna cross that bridge with me? Take yo’ pretty ass back in there and get changed.” 

The urge to be a brat weighs heavily on you tonight. You square your shoulders and look him dead in the eye, “Nope, I’m wearing this.”

A honk sounds from outside, and you move to grab your purse. Smoke is openly glaring at you and challenging you, “You leave out of this house, I hope you prepared for the consequences later.” 

You shrug, “I’ll be back later on. I love you, Papa Bear.” 

With that, you walk your pretty self out the door, even though your stomach tingles with anxiety. As you step into the car, your homegirls turn to look at you. 

“Girl, Big Daddy Smoke let you out of the house wearing that,” your friend, Leilani, asks. 

You smack your lips, “He was making a big deal of it at first. Telling me that I need to go change. He don’t run me.”

Your friend, Omi, smacks her lips, “Sis, he gone tear you up when you get back. You know them old heads don’t play about all that.”

“It’s fine, y’all. He’ll be okay when I get back.”

“He gone kill her when she gets back. I’m puttin’ a sign on you that says ‘Dead lady walking.’ You might as well gone get your coochie ready,” your friend, Keisha, quips. 

When you all make it to the club, it’s turnt as usual. You and Stack lock eyes as you pass his section.  His eyes flicker down to your skirt before he starts shaking his head. He ushers you over, “You gotta be one of the craziest people that I’ve ever met. Does my brotha’ know you outside like this?”

“Yes, Smoke doesn’t run me. I can wear what I want,” You state, a frown crossing your face. 

Stack laughs. Not one of those low laughs, but the loud and annoying types. 

“Whew, I’m scared for you, girl. But I’ll keep an eye on you. Have fun now before you get home,” Stack said, continuing to laugh. He lets you and your girls come into the section with him and his boys. You know that it’s so he can carefully watch you. 

Whenever you go to get a drink, Stack stops you and goes to the bar himself. You and your friends go to hit the dance floor when Stack holds his hand up. 

“Oh my gosh, Stack, move!” 

Stack smacks his lips, “I’m just looking out for you. Gone dance, but if I see any nigga gettin’ too friendly with you, I’m on him like white on rice.” 

You give him a thumbs-up before following your friends to the middle of the floor. You’re having the time of your life and twerking like you aren’t on borrowed time. Stack keeps his eyes on you at all times like he’s watching a toddler, which he thinks may be true. He takes his phone out to record a video of you to send to Smoke.

Stack

*video attached* 

Don’t stress yourself out. I’m keepin’ an eye on her.

But I know you got something planned when she gets home.

*Smoke liked your message*

Stack takes a sip from his whiskey, “Lord, she in danger.” 

By the end of the night, you’re all danced out and sweaty, but overall, you consider the night a win. Stack offers to take you home and ushers you into the car. Your friends snicker because they know that Smoke is punishing you tonight. The only one oblivious to the fact is you. 

Pulling into the driveway, Stack turns to you with a smirk, “Good luck.” 

The lights are all off in the house except the porch light. Smoke stands under the porch light like a serial killer. You turn to Stack with a grim look, “Maybe, we should back out of the driveway really slowly.” 

“Nope. You wanted to be grown. Now, you gotta face your actions like a big girl,” Stack said. 

“I’m blinking twice for help. I’m telling a trusted adult!”

Stack shrugs, “Too bad I’m not a trusted adult.”

“Trick..” you mutter before opening the door to exit the car. Smoke nods his head at Stack, who reciprocates. 

“I’ll see you in a week,” Stack jokes, before backing out of the driveway. 

Like a scared deer, you walk unevenly to the porch where Smoke is still standing. As you approach, he blows out a big cloud of smoke before throwing the joint down and stubbing it out. You stand in front of him, “Hey…”

Smoke doesn’t say anything, but simply steps to the side to let you inside the house. You swallow loudly as you walk inside the house. The only sounds are the distinct chirps from the crickets outside, along with the subtle clicks of your heels. You and Smoke make your way to the bedroom. You go to grab your pajamas when Smoke stops you, “Didn’t I tell you to change earlier?”

You turn slowly to face him, “Yes, you did.” 

“And I told you that if you left this house, there would be consequences, but you didn’t listen, did you?”

“No….”

“Come here,” Smoke demands, voice soft. He doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across. 

You stay rooted in the same spot, partially aroused and partially scared. Smoke chuckles darkly, “You still ain’t learned? You know I don’t like to repeat myself.” You scurry over to stand in front of Smoke as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Stand right there,” Smoke orders. He walks off to rummage through one of the drawers. Your eyes widen as you see him procure one of his good ties. The heat from his body wafts onto yours as you become hyperaware of him standing behind you. Smoke grabs your hands in his and skillfully wraps the tie around your wrists so that your hands are bound behind your back. He tugs at the knot and hums in satisfaction. 

You try your hand at seeing if you can move and find that you can’t. Smoke moves to stand in front of you as he glowers down at you. He steps closer to press his chest against yours. For a moment, a soft look crosses his face as he cups your face in his hands. He leans down to connect your lips, and you moan at the taste of whiskey that lingers on his tongue. 

Smoke pulls back from the kiss as his eyes run across you. He trails his hands down your form until his cupping your backside in his hands. “You could’ve stayed home and modeled this lil’ skirt for me, but you wanted to go and show off what’s mine.”

You go to open your mouth to protest, but Smoke stops you, “I didn’t say I was done talking. Since you wanted to be a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” You let out a squeak when Smoke grabs you to throw you on the bed. Your body bounces before it settles. 

Gripping the corset in his hands, he cleanly tears it down the middle until the material falls away. You gasp in surprise as the cool air hits your nipples. Flipping you onto your stomach, Smoke hikes your hips up and flips the skirt over. 

He tugs your head back, “You owe me. You can either take my hand or something else.” 

The last time Smoke spanked you, you were left shaking on the bed. It was either his hand or one of those leather belts with his name on it. You were screwed either way.

“Your hand,” You said. 

Smoke nods, “Let’s tally up how much you owe me. 10 for the outfit plus 10 because I told you to take it off and you back-talked. Also, an additional 10 because you still left.” Your wide eyes meet his as you turn to face him, “But daddy, that’s thirty.”

Smoke chuckles, “Glad to see you can count, darlin’.” 

The first hit sends heat flooding through your body, along with feeling your cheek ripple under his hand. The second hit sends a flood of wetness to your panties. By the tenth hit, the tears are already running down your face. How were you supposed to count through twenty more?

Your entire backside is on fire once Smoke delivers the last hit. You’re fully shaking and hiccuping into the sheets, but you can’t deny how turned on you are. By now, you’ve soaked completely through your panties, which Smoke clocks. 

He takes two fingers and runs them up and down the soiled material, “My dirty baby. What am I gonna do with you, baby? You don’t know how to listen now.” 

“M’Sorry, Papa. I’ll listen to you next time.”

“I know you will because I’m gonna make sure that you do.” He flips your body around and grips your panties as he tears them clean from your body. Smoke maneuvers your body to the headboard before going to grab another tie. He loops the tie through the bedpost before securing your hands to it. 

Smoke walks over to the closet and rifles through it for a few seconds. You lift your head to get a good look, but his shoulders block your view. He walks over with a long metal rod in hand, “Do you know what this is?”

You shake your head. He laughs lowly, “It’s a spreader bar. I’m gonna put your legs in these cuffs, and you won’t be able to move.” Sitting at the edge of the bed, he removes your heels one by one before throwing them carelessly to the floor. He places your ankles in the cuffs and secures them. Smoke moves to stand in front of the bed as he grabs the metal in his hands. He can already see your glistening folds as your slick pools beneath you. 

He moves your legs from side to side, “See, this is a special bar, I made it myself. Every time you move babygirl, it’ll spread your legs more.” He jerks the rod, which loudly clicks as your spread apart more. You look at him in surprise. 

He grabs the box that he set on the bed and opens it. Your old man is a sex fiend, apparently, as he lifts various forms of vibrators out of the box. Smoke moves to your open legs and dips his fingers inside of you to collect your slick. 

He brings his wet fingers up to his mouth to suck your juices from his fingers. He takes one of the vibrators in his hand before the tip across through your wet center. You shiver at the sensation of the tip dipping into your entrance. 

“This one is special, babygirl. That special spot that I’m always hitting…well my little friend is made to specifically reach that spot.” He pushes the toy inside of you as you gasp at the fullness of it. 

Smoke coos gently at you as your wet eyes meet his, “There we go, baby.” He clicks a button, which brings the vibrator to life inside you. Smoke pushes the toy in and out of you as your walls cling to it. 

Your eyes widen when he holds up another toy, “My other friend is for that lil’ pearl up there.” He trails his fingers through the curls that cover young mound until he reaches your clit. Your body arches into his touch as he casually rubs small circles around your clit. 

“Please…” you whine into the room. 

“Please what, darlin’? I need you to be more specific,” Smoke said condescendingly. 

Your mind is venturing into that mushy territory where you don’t know what you’re asking the man for. 

He smirks, “You don’t even know what you’re asking me for. That’s alright. Take care of my other friend for me while I get done smoking.” 

He attaches the curved toy to your clit and clicks a button, and it buzzes to life. Your first reaction is to move your body. You wither across the mattress, pleasure consuming every inch of you. You go to move your legs, only for the spreader to click and spread your legs further. 

You gasp. 

Smoke chuckles before moving to sit in the chair in the bedroom. He grabs his early discarded blunt to relight. He inhales the smoke into his lungs as he casually watches you suffer. 

Smoke casually taps the button on his phone, which increases the vibrations on your clit and inside of you. Your back arches from the bed as your release climbs higher. 

Just as you’re reaching that sweet release, Smoke taps the button and turns the vibrators off. A loud whine leaves your mouth, “Please let me cum, Papa.” 

Smoke blows the smoke from his nose, “Since you asked so nicely…”

He eases up the level of the vibrators to the fullest level. A loud screams erupts from your mouth as your walls clasp around the toy and your orgasm consumes your body. 

Smoke leans forward, “That’s one. Give me about four more and we’ll call it even.”

You turn your head to him in disbelief. Before you can protest, he turns the vibrators back on. 

You’re a mess of cum, sweat, and tears. Exactly how Smoke prefers you. 

Your brain is complete mush at this point and you can feel the puddle that had formed beneath you. Somewhere between the second and third orgasm, you’d squirted. 

Smoke turns the vibrators off and throws his phone on the chair. He walks over to you and pulls your ruined face to his. Your expression shows how far gone you are. He lightly taps your face, “You still with me, babygirl?” 

Your tongue lolls around in your mouth, “Mhmm, Papa.” 

“So you can give me one more?” 

“Mhmm.”

He unties your hands from the bed. He runs his hand across your wrists and kisses them gently. Smoke pulls the vibrator from your core and observes the cream that forms around the base of the toy. He flicks his tongue out to slurp some in his mouth. 

Smoke pulls his shirt over his head before dropping his boxers. You eye his hardened dick and as tired as you are, you still need to feel him inside of you. 

Smoke lays down on the bed next to you and pulls your pliant body across his lap. He points his tip at your swollen entrance, “Go slow, baby. Papa will take care of the rest.”

You lower your pussy down onto his dick as you whine into his shoulder. You shudder as you feel his large tip brushing against that spot inside you. 

Smoke grabs your hips in his hand as he gently bounces you up and down on his dick. You turn your head to connect his your lips to his. Smoke slides his tongue into your mouth and gently sucks at your tongue. 

He gives a particular thrust that sends fresh tears to your eyes. “I know, it’s too much baby, but you’re doing so good for me. Cum for me one more time, babygirl.”

You nod weakly. 

Smoke plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting roughly into your body. Loud, wet noises fill the bedroom as your walls clench around his length. 

“M’coming Papa. Right there..”

Smoke feels his own balls tightening as his release nears. He smashes his lips onto yours as your orgasm hits. He swallows your moans into his mouth as his own orgasm starts.

Smoke holds your hips firmly to his as he fills you up. You shiver at the feeling of his 

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he always appreciates how you keep the house super dimly lit and cozy— you would never guess that it’s a bright, sunny 7am; save for jack frozen in the front doorway as he takes in the soft vanilla smell of the house & his girl. he’s torn between ducking his head down into your chest in sleepy release, or sweeping you into his arms and getting a whiff of his favorite shea butter lotion up close.

“hi baby, you sleepy?” he’d coo, as if you worked a gory, draining 12 hour shift. putting his bag down & trying to make his uncomfortable hobble seem normal; even though he knows the prosthetic has rubbed him a bit raw tonight. you lead him to the couch, and he sits with a crack in his knees & an old man groan that has you clenching your thighs the tiniest bit.

now this part, is your favorite. getting to kneel in front of jack as he begins to decompress, palms flat on his thighs as you gaze up at him while he vents. every so often his hand comes down to smoothe over your hair, or squeeze your cheeks so your lips pucker for a quick peck. your hands soothe his strong thighs as you nod along, wanting him to feel seen and understood and appreciated. a tap to your cheek and a docile “c’mon, up” usually signifies that he’s ready for the bedtime routine.

standing, you follow behind him to your shared bedroom, his strong hand on your wrist as he sighs. you can physically see the tension leaving his body the closer you get to the bed; can see his gait faltering as he progresses up the stairs, but pretends it’s always an easy feat.

what follows is jack’s favorite part— the routine of you fixing up his shower as he sits on the bed and finally rids himself of his grating prosthesis. your sweet little hum as you turn the shower on, lining up his soaps and folding his towel on the toilet seat. jack pausing the minstration of massaging his knee to close his eyes, and just take it all in. nothing ever changes here; no fast pace, life or death scenarios. just the woman he loves, humming her favorite sade song & fussing over her grumpy man. tale as old as time, but it still manages to catch his breath— guide him into the comforting embrace of an early morning & a screwed up sleep schedule waiting to be replenished.

grabbing the crutch by his bed— jack’s never been one for a wheelchair, and absolutely refused a cane when you suggested it, he retreats to the bathroom clad only in his tight fitting boxer briefs. on the topic of canes, jack claimed he didn’t need another reason to “feel like a dirty old man around you;” though you will admit, he was smiling when he said it.

& so he showers, but not before greeting you with a small, tired nod & grabbing your waist with a “hey, gimme a kiss.” leaning into him and giggling as one kiss becomes two, and a deeper third. you’re pulling back with a grin, a warning of “jaaaack” on your tongue as he smiles. “alright, alright,” smacking your ass as you leave him to shower.

after 20 minutes, he emerges from the steamy bathroom, towel around his waist and droplets on his chest. the soft light of a candle warmer illuminates his strong arms, one hand gripping the bridge of the crutch as he gazes at you. you lay in bed, gooey and loving, anticipating the dip in the bed. you’ve already slept a good 6 hours. but anything for jack, anything for jack.

sliding into bed, placing the crutch by his bedside table, jack grunts as he settles. first on his back, his tummy rounding as he breathes. he takes in the soft sheets, the warmth of you next to him, the steady buzz of the air conditioner he fixed last week as you watched.

thinks of the tight little tank top you had on, and the sleep shorts riding up your thighs. the sweat on your chest as he laid you on the floor, right next to his tools, and cooled you down with a sharp, crisp blow on your inner thighs. he’s smiling to himself as you look over at him in curiousity.

smiling, jack lifts up his arm, a silent signal for you to slide under. you do, like clockwork. the same song & dance each night, but what willing participants. he pulls your hand to rest on his heart, eyes growing droopy, lip slightly downturned with exhaustion.

Chapter IV: How’s The Family, Jack?

Jack Abbot has always been terrible with his work-life balance. Even though he’s scheduled for the night shift, he frequently finds himself listening to the police scanner and showing up on the day shift. His therapist had long made a point of telling him that it was unhealthy to be listening in on dispatch calls, but Jack’s always been a bit stubborn.

Okay, maybe a bit is underselling it. Jack Abbot is as stubborn as an ox. Which is why, it surprises absolutely no one when he shows up on day shift to help out with a car pileup. Once the chaos dies down into a somewhat of steady flow, Jack settles at the front desk next to Dana and Robby as he charts. 

Jack pretends not to see the looks that Robby and Dana are both throwing him. He finally looks up and gives Robby a hard stare as the other man raises his hand in defense. 

“So, how’s the family, Jack?” Robby asks, finally breaking the tension.

Jack raises a questioning eyebrow before looking between Dana and Robby, “What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that you’re a happily married man, Abbot. There are also rumors of a certain cutie pie calling you Dada. Wasn’t that the word, Rob?” 

Robby nods, “I believe that’s the word I heard, too, Evans. So I guess we’re both wondering why you were holding out on this secret family from us?”

Jack shrugs, “I’m not holding out on anything. S’just not anyone’s business. But since you’re both very nosy, you remember the mom and kid that came here two months ago when she had the flu? Well, I’ve kind of still been seeing both of them.” Jack looks down at the computer as he thinks of you and Nova. His two girls. 

He feels the funny fluttering in his chest at thinking of the pseudo-family day that you, he, and Nova had the other weekend. He’s also still reeling from the gut-wrenching kiss that the two of you shared. 

Robby scans Jack’s expression and clocks how soft Jack looks once he’s mentioned you.

“When you say seeing them both, do you mean that you’ve been going out on family dates?” 

Jack rolls his eyes, “They’re just casual outings.” Even as the words leave his lips, they sound wrong. The outings that he was having with you and Nova were anything but casual. They meant something to Jack. He knows that there’s a large part of him that wants to protect the sacredness of his unit with you and Nova. He doesn’t want too many prying eyes on this. He just wants to enjoy this for what it is. 

“Doesn’t sound too casual if the kid’s still referring to you as her father,” Dana quips, as she looks at Jack over the bridge of her glasses. 

One point for Dana Evans. 

He shrugs, “I don’t know, it’s just kind of stuck, and I don’t really mind it either.” 

It’s Robby and Dana’s turn to lift their eyebrows at Jack. Dana takes her glasses off to stare at Jack, “Whoa, Abbot, you telling me you’re having baby fever this late in the game?”

Robby chuckles, “Look, we’re not trying to ruin your dynamic. We’re asking strictly as your friends if you’ve fully thought this all out. I mean, not only are you dating the mom, but the kid has a strong attachment to you, too. That means you’re a significant part of her life now. I just don’t want to see you or that little girl get hurt. You need to be sure that it’s what you want, Jack.” 

Jack takes a second to digest the words. Robby’s valid in where he’s coming from. He thinks back to the conversation that he had with you the other night. Jack knows that he’s serious about his relationship with you and Nova. There isn’t a doubt in his mind that he wants to stay close to both of you. 

Before Jack can reply, Robby’s called to handle another case. He claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder while giving him a soft smile. It’s only Jack and Dana at the desk, and she’s still giving him an inquisitive look.  

“Well, what’s the verdict, Abbot? You in or out?”

“In. I care about them both a lot. I wouldn’t do any of this if I were confused about my feelings. I want to be in Nova’s life, and I want to be in her mom’s life as well.” 

Dana smiles at him as she slides her glasses back on, “Well…welcome to fatherhood, Jack.”

You move around your apartment as your friend, Zara, plays with Nova. Zara tickles Nova’s sides as she giggles loudly. 

Zara looks up at you, “So you and hot doctor daddy are supposed to be going out this Friday?”

“Yeah, are you still good to watch Nova?”

Zara nods, “Yeah, girl, I wouldn’t let you miss your opportunity to get your back blown out.” You both peer over to Nova, who’s happily chatting away with Bun Bun.

“Girl, nobody’s getting their back blown out,” you respond, picking up Nova’s favorite blanket and folding it.

“Booo! Sis, when’s the last time you’ve been on a date or let a man put you through the mattress?” 

It doesn’t take you long to calculate the time frame. You and your vibrator are very familiar with your dry spell. “Not since I found out that I was pregnant with Nova.”

Zara almost breaks her neck turning to you, “Girl, that’s long! I know your coochie is crying for a little love.” She whispers the last part so Nova can’t hear her. 

You chuckle and roll your eyes, “She’s just fine, I have the appropriate tools to help her.” 

Zara stands from the couch and moves to stand in front of you, “Trust me, the tools are great. My rose toy and I are best friends, but trust me, it doesn’t beat the sensation of having a hot man pressing his body against yours. From all of the things you’ve told me about Jack, he sounds like he’d be really attentive to you and your needs.” She gives a wink at the end of the statement. 

You have to admit that you know she’s right. It’s been a while since you’ve been intimate with someone. The sex between you and Nova’s dad was passionate and enjoyable. However, once you became pregnant and he expressed his disinterest in fatherhood, you’d cut the intimacy off quickly. 

But you didn’t doubt that Jack would be attentive to your needs. Just with how careful he was with his hands, you imagined that he’d place that same amount of care and attention to bringing you to release. A shiver crawls up your spine at the thought.

Zara smirks, “You’re already imagining it. Listen, I’m not saying rush into anything that you’re not ready for. I’m just saying, have fun on your date with Jack. It’s your time to be you and not just Nova’s mommy. Don’t forget that you deserve to have some time too.”

A long sigh leaves your mouth, “I know. It’s just, I’ve gotten so used to being Nova’s mommy. It feels nice to have someone desiring me in that way, you know?”

“Of course. You’re entitled to that feeling.” 

Nova walks over to you and Zara and holds her arms up. You laugh softly before scooping her up in your arms. You press a kiss to her cheek as she giggles, “Mama, m’hungry.”

“What are you in the mood for, lovebug?”

“Mac-n-eese,” Nova responds, flashing her dimples at you. 

“Okay, pretty girl, do you wanna help me?” Nova nods her head as you walk to the counter and set her down. Zara stands nearby, making Bun Bun float in the air as Nova giggles. You grab all of the ingredients from the fridge as your phone vibrates on the counter. 

“Your man is calling you,” Zara teases, holding the phone up. You’re the least bit surprised at Jack FaceTiming you. He’d grown more comfortable with FaceTiming you and Nova, especially before he went in for his shift. Upon hearing the phone ring, Nova perks up and tries to stand to reach for the phone. 

Zara places a hand on her hip while guiding her to sit down, “Calm down, little girl, before you fly off this counter. You sure do love your Dada.” 

Nova excitedly grabs the phone and slides a finger across it to answer. She screams happily as the phone connects and she sees Jack’s face. “Dada!!” 

On the other end, Jack’s heart melts at the sight of his little Nova. He scans his gaze over her little puff balls and her chubby cheeks, “Hi, babygirl, you look so pretty. What did you do today?”

Nova starts to think before looking back at the phone, “I color and build blocks. I play outside with Kylie.” 

“Woah, you were very busy today! Did you and Kylie have a good time, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm, Dada.” 

“That’s amazing, sweetie. Have you been being good for mommy?”

“Mhmm, Dada, I’ve been really good. Mama makes mac-n-eese! Dada want mac-n-eese?” 

Jack lets out a gasp, “Oooo, that sounds amazing. I can’t have any mac-n-cheese tonight. I have to work really late, but I’ll call you before you go to sleep, okay?”

“Otay, Dada. Kiss.” You and Zara watch as Nova puckers her little lips and presses them to the screen. She lets out a loud mwah as she seemingly gives Jack a virtual kiss. Zara looks in your direction with her hand on her chest. She mouths, “So sweet” as she pretends to faint. 

Jack is in the same predicament as he feels like his heart is about to burst from cuteness overload. He wants to stuff his head in his pillow and cry tears of happiness at Nova’s love for him. 

Nova smiles at the phone before frowning, “Dada, kiss back.”  

You cover your mouth as the laugh leaves you because you know that Nova means serious business. Jack chuckles softly from his end of the phone, “M’sorry, sweetheart. Here, Dada will kiss you now.” You almost burst into tears as Nova holds the phone up to her cheek, and Jack moves to “give her a kiss.” He lets out a loud, dramatic mwah, to which Nova giggles loudly. 

“Thank you, Dada,” Nova said, smiling down into the phone. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Is your mommy around?” Jack asks. 

Nova nods before sticking the phone out to you, “Mama, Dada wants you.”

“Thank you, lovebug,” You respond, grabbing the phone from her hand. When you turn the phone to face yourself, Jack is already sitting there with a soft smile on his face. 

“Hi Jack,” You said, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You look gorgeous,” He states, biting gently at his lip. 

You laugh, “I’m wearing a big t-shirt, and my hair’s a mess.” 

“Honey, you look beautiful to me no matter what you’re wearing. In fact, I think motherhood makes you look sexier.”

Zara’s head perks up at this, and she moves closer to listen to you and Jack. Jack catches sight of Zara as she peeks over your shoulder. You turn your head and laugh, “This is my best friend, Zara. Zara, this is Jack Abbot.”

“Ahh, so you’re the new daddy,” Zara quips. Your jaw drops, and Nova adds a “Dada” from the back. Jack smirks at the phone, “I guess I am.” 

You look between him and Zara, “I’m going to move the phone before you both start conspiring against me.” 

“Boo, no fun. Come on, Nova. Let’s give your mommy and daddy a little alone time,” Zara said, flashing a quick wink at you and Jack. She grabs Nova from the counter and starts making silly voices. 

You turn your gaze back to the phone, where Jack waits patiently. You both stare at each other silently as a shy smile crosses your face. 

“I can’t stop thinking about our date and the kiss from the other night.”

“One kiss and he’s hooked already,” You tease.

“Sweetheart, I was hooked on you the moment that I saw you sitting in my ER,” Jack states.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I saw you that night. I wanted to ask for your number, but I know it’d be inappropriate, but it seems like fate…or rather Nova brought us back together.”

You can’t contain the smile that crosses your face at his words. Just as you’re about to respond, Nova walks in and tugs on your shirt, “Mama, me and Bun Bun hungry.”

“Okay, lovebug, mommy’s gonna finish your Mac-n-cheese. Say bye to Jack.” You kneel so that she can get a direct view of Jack.

“Bye bye Dada. See you later,” Nova states, waving her hand at Jack. She holds Bun Bum up to the camera, “Bun Bun say bye, Dada.”

Jack waves you to the camera, “Bye, babygirl. Bye Bun Bun. I’ll call you before you go to sleep, baby.” 

“Otay, Dada,” Nova said, turning the phone and puckering her lips again. Jack chuckles but obliges as they both share a virtual kiss to each other. 

As you turn the phone back in your direction, you give Jack one last smile, “Bye, Jack.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow, “Daddy doesn’t get a kiss from mommy?”

You can’t help the flood of heat that surges through your body. This man was doing ungodly things to your libido, and he’d only kissed you one time. 

You lower your voice, “Maybe, Daddy will get a kiss if he’s on his best behavior Friday.”

“Scout’s honor, sweetheart,” Jack replies. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I look forward to it. Have a good evening. Call me before you put Nova to bed, I want to say goodnight to both of my girls.”

You nod in agreement before the call ends. You can’t contain the goofy smile that comes across your face and how you just stare off into the distance.

“Oooo…you got it bad, girl,” Zara comments from the doorway. 

Truthfully, you were definitely down bad for Jack Abbot.

Friday rolls around quicker than you and Jack anticipate. He’s so nervous that he calls Robby in for reinforcements. 

“Okay how do I look?” Jack asks as he stands in front of Robby. 

“Do a quick turn for me,” Robby comments from him spot on the couch. Jack turns and quickly faces Robby again. He gives him an expectant look. 

“You look great man. I’d date you,” Robby teases.

Jack rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately, we’re already married for life.”

“I’m aware. Which is why I’m a little hurt that you’re choosing to replace me,” Robby states with faux hurt. 

Jack chuckles as he spritzes cologne over himself. Robby watches as he fluffs his hair again. “Jack, if you fluff it anymore, she’s gonna think you rolled out of bed. Relax man, it’s gonna go great.” 

“I know. I’m just nervous. I haven’t dated much since the divorce.” 

After Jack’s divorce from his ex-wife, Klara, he didn’t think that dating would ever be in the cards for him again. With much encouragement from Dana and Robby, he tried his hand at a few blind dates, but they never went anywhere. 

Jack’s phone buzzes from the bed. He picks it up and notices you contacts flashing across the screen. He answers the phone just as he puts the phone up to his ear, “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hey, I have some bad news. I have to cancel for tonight,” You announce solemnly.

“Are you and Nova okay, sweetheart?” Jack questions as he moves to grab his keys.

“Oh, we’re fine. My friend, Zara, who was planning to babysit has a stomach virus, so she can’t watch Nova. It’s a little too short notice for me to ask anyone else to watch her. I’m really sorry, Jack,” you explain. 

Jack exhales upon hearing that you and Nova are okay. “You don’t have to apologize to me, honey. I hope that Zara feels better. Do you need me to send Robby over to check on her?” 

Robby raises his hands upon hearing his name. 

“No, she’s fine. She said the worst was over. I was just really looking forward to this date with you.”

Jack thinks it over for a few seconds, “What if we bring Nova with us?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. We can still have our date, we just add Nova to our date. You get her all dolled up and we’ll go together,” He suggests. 

The other end of the line goes silent for a second. “You’d really be okay with taking her with us?” 

“Sweetheart, I meant it when I said that I wanted you and Nova. She means a lot to me now, so it’d be an honor if you would let me take you and her on a date tonight.” 

You sniffle, “I’d like that a lot, Jack.” 

He smiles, “Good, now do you mind if I ask Nova if she wants to come?”

“Sure, just second.”

He hears you walking before you start speaking, “Hey Nova, Jack wants to ask you a really important question.”

“Hi Dada!”

“Hey there lovebug. Now Dada has something very special he wants to ask you. Would you like to come out tonight with me and mommy?” 

“Mhmm, I spend time with mama and Dada.”

“That’s right, baby. You, me, and Mommy are going to have so much fun tonight,” He answers. 

“Yayy!!” 

Jack feels his heart clench at her excitement, “Okay pretty girl, you and mommy get all pretty, and I’ll be there to pick you up in a little bit, okay?”

“Otay, Dada.” 

Jack hears Nova passing the phone to you, “We’ll see you soon, Jack.” 

“See you soon, honey.” 

The line ends as he turns back to Robby, who’s watching Jack with a wide smile on his face. “What?” Jack asks.

“Brother, you’re far gone. You might as well get married. That was hands down the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I almost started crying,” Robby explains.

That soft looks crosses Jack’s face again. Robby hasn’t seen that look on Jack’s face in a long time. 

“I really care about them, you know? I know it seems really quick, but it just feels right. They feel like home,” Jack explains. 

Robby stands from the couch and crosses the room to pull Jack into a hug, “I’m happy for you man. You deserve this.”

“Thanks Robby.” 

“No problem. Now go pick up your girls.”

It take Jack a total of twenty-five minutes to get to your house. It would’ve been twenty if he hadn’t stopped to pick up another bouquet for Nova. 

He walks up to your apartment building and waves at the doorman. He rides the elevator up to your floor and he can feel the nerves beginning to settle within his body. 

He pushes them down as he knocks on your apartment door. You open the door and Jack feels like the breath leaves his body. 

Jack scans his eyes up and down your frame. He appreciates the way that the black dress hugs your body and your skin glistens under the light. A gold chain sits perfectly between your cleavage. 

“Sweetheart, you look beautiful,” Jack comments.

“Thanks. You clean up pretty nice, Dr. Abbot,” You state, running your fingers down Jack’s chest, but lingering where he has a button undone. 

You give him another sly smile, “Come in.” He clocks the double meaning but follows you nonetheless. 

Jack shuts the door as he walks behind you. “These are for you.” He hands you the bouquet of roses. 

“Thank you. These are gorgeous.” 

As you put the flowers in the vase, you smile at Jack, “Little Miss Nova is waiting to make her grand entrance.” You turn slightly, “Nova, Jack’s here.”

Jack waits patiently, but keeps his eyes on Nova’s bedroom. Soon, the little girl walks into the living room in her pink dress with her hair in two puffs, and big pink ribbons adorning both. 

“Oooo..look at my pretty girl. Give us a twirl, Nova,” you said, smiling at your pride and joy. Nova smiles at you and Jack before doing a little twirl. 

Jack think that he may need to invest in a heart monitor with how much that Nova gives an overload of cuteness. He walks closer and kneels in front of Nova. 

“Hi, babygirl, look at you. You and your mommy look so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Dada,” Nova replies before throwing her arms around Jack. He squeezes her back just as tightly before pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her hair. 

He pulls the flowers from behind his back, “These are for you, the most prettiest girl in the entire world.”

Nova looks down at the flowers and smiles so wide that her dimples appear, “Thank you, Dada!” She turns to face you, “Mama, look. Flowers!”

“I see! Why don’t you bring them over here so I can put them in water. That way they can live for a long time.” 

Nova nods her head and hands you the flowers. You make quick work of placing the flowers in appropriate vases as Jack and Nova talk to each other. 

Once you’re done, you grab Nova’s jacket as the three of you exit your apartment. Nova turns to Jack and raises her arms. Jack scoops her up and settles her in his arms. 

You watch as she gives him a soft smile and her eyes have stars in them as stares at him. Similarly, Jack gives her the same look as he turns to look at you. He holds his out, which you take. Jack laces his fingers with yours and pulls you close. 

It’s not lost on either of you how much you look like a family. No one would ever suspect that you’d met this man less than two months ago. 

When you make it out to Jack’s truck, you groan slightly, “Shoot, I forgot Nova’s car seat.”

“Already covered,” Jack states. You give him a confused look until he opens the back door of the truck to reveal a car seat. 

“When did you buy a car seat?”

“I bought it earlier this week. I figured that since I was planning on having you and Nova around more for our little adventures, it’d be nice to invest in a car seat, so you don’t have to worry about taking her car seat out of your car.”

Wordlessly, he places Nova in the car seat and buckles her up like he’s been doing this for ages. She hum happily and smiles at him. Jack reaches around her to hand her his iPad, “Here you go sweetheart, something to keep you preoccupied on the way over.”

“Thank you, Dada,” Nova replies, already tapping away on the iPad. 

“You’re welcome, babygirl,” He answers before closing the door gently. He turns to you and finds you still staring at him stunned.

“What?”

“You’re an amazing man, Jack.”

A blush creeps up Jack’s cheeks before he moves to open your door for you. As you step up into the truck, he holds a hand close to you so that your dress doesn’t rise up. Once you’re all buckled up, Jack comes around his side to enter the truck. 

He quietly checks over you and Nova before smiling in satisfaction. 

The drive to the restaurant isn’t very long. Nova had managed to find YouTube and was singing along to Ms. Rachel. 

As Jack pulls in front of the restaurant, you notice the valet rounding the truck to grab the keys. It’s only when the three of you are entering the restaurant that you understand how fancy the place is. 

Jack has his hand on your back while he carries Nova. The hostess looks up at the three of you with a smile, “How may I help you today?”

“We have a reservation for Abbot,” Jack responds. He doesn’t even realize that he’s subtly squeezing at your waist. You can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin. 

The hostess ushers the three of you to the table and brings a high chair for Nova. Jack gently sets her down as she looks around curiously. 

“This is really fancy, Jack,” You state. 

“Yeah, I wanted to go all out for my first date with these really pretty girls,” He responds with a boyish smile covering his lips. 

“Trust me, we’re already impressed by you.”  

You turn to Nova, “Isn’t it so pretty here, lovebug?”

Nova smiles at you, “Mhmm mama, really pretty.” 

You and Jack pick up the menus, and he can see that you’re hesitant at the prices. He reaches across the table to grab your hand, “Order whatever you want, honey. Don’t worry about any prices.”

He smiles at you before looking down at his menu. When the waitress comes to the table, you order salmon for you and Nova while Jack orders a steak. 

Jack turns his gaze to you, “How has work been?”

“It’s been good, we have a new installation for an Indigenous artist that’s releasing her new project. You should come by some time,” You respond. 

“I’d like that. I don’t usually have a lot of time outside of work, so I don’t get to enjoy this city as much as I’d like to.” 

“Why is that by the way?” 

Jack sighs, “I guess, I really just got caught up in working, especially after my divorce. My therapist’s been trying to get me to work on setting more boundaries.”

You nod, “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but what happened between you and your ex-wife?”

“It’s fine, you can ask. It was a combination of factors, but mostly our inabilities to stop being workaholics. We just weren’t finding time for each other and we realized one day that the spark just wasn’t there. We tried for a little bit, but we both felt it was best to go our separate ways. It was clean and amicable though,” Jack explain, taking a sip from his water. 

“Where is she now?” 

“She’s remarried. Got a few kids. She seems happy, which is what I always wanted for her.” 

“And have you tried dating again?” 

Jack chuckles, “Briefly, Robby and Dana set me up on a few blind dates, but nothing really stuck. I tried some dating apps.”

You smirk, “Jack Abbot on Tinder and Hinge. Color me surprised.”

You both share a laugh until Jack shakes his head, “The novelty of swiping left and right didn’t feel too enticing, so I abandoned all accounts years ago. What about you? Any notable relationships or dates?”

“Nope, don’t get me wrong, I’ve entertained the idea a few times, but no one ever special enough to meet Nova. I just don’t want to confuse her or have different men coming in and out of her life, you know?”

You and Jack both peer at Nova, who’s focused on the coloring sheet that the waitress brought her. She had her tongue poked out in concentration as she colors the pony on the page. 

Jack’s eyes flicker to you, “I know what you mean, she’s a special kid. It’s good that you’re so considerate of her.”

“Dada look!” Nova said, holding up the picture to Jack.

“That’s amazing, sweetie. You’re so talented.” 

“Dada, picture.” 

Nova and Jack both look down at his phone before he laughs softly. He opens the camera app and points it at him and Nova. They both smile at the camera and make funny faces as Jack snaps each picture. 

After their impromptu photo shoot, the food arrives to the table. You reach over to chop up Nova’s salmon.

“Thank you, mama.” 

“You’re welcome, lovebug.” 

The three of you eat with idle conversation flowing as Nova entertains you and Jack with stories about Bluey and Bingo’s adventures. Jack catches her looking at his steak and giving him a smile. 

He cuts a piece of the steak and slides it over to his plate. He laughs to himself as Nova copies him with putting the steak on the fork and eating it. 

“That was actually her first piece of steak,” you point out. 

Jack gives you a surprised look, “Oh, I hope you didn’t mind me giving her a piece.”

“Not at all. I’m glad to see that she’s trying new food and by the looks of it, she likes it,” you state, watching as Nova continues to eye Jack’s steak. 

Without hesitation, Jack cuts the rest of the steak into pieces before sliding half to Nova. She smiles, “Thank you, Dada.” 

“Anytime, sweetie.”

After the meal, Jack pays the bill and guides you and Nova from the restaurant. 

He turns to you both, “Do you guys want to go get ice cream?”

Nova perks up, “Ice cream!!” 

You and Jack chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He drives to the nearby ice cream shop and holds the door open for you both. 

You all sit together once you get your respective ice cream cups. Nova’s has a mountain of sprinkles and gummy bears because Jack insisted that she get whatever she wants. 

“I’ve never been a mint chocolate chip girlie,” You announce, looking down at Jack’s ice cream.

You chuckle, “Sweetheart, are you judging my ice cream?”

“Yes! You might as well be eating toothpaste!” Jack laughs loudly before staring at you, “You’re missing out. Here, I think you may change your mind.” 

He slides the cup over to you. An idea pops into your head and you decide to roll with it. “Maybe, I didn’t want to mix my spoon with your ice cream. Wouldn’t it be better if I just had some from your spoon?”

Jack swallows harshly before nodding, “Yeah, you’re right. We wouldn’t want any cross contamination.”

You smirk, “You know best, Dr. Abbot.”

Jack looks down at the spoon before dipping it into the ice cream and holding it out to you. You lean forward and slide your lips along the spoon. Jack feels his mouth go dry when he sees a peek of your tongue gliding across the ice cream. Your glossed lips look amazing as you give him a heated look. 

You slide the spoon from your mouth, “Hmmm…you may be right. It’s better than I remember.”

Jack looks down at the spoon, which now has your lip gloss around it and some ice cream left. Wordlessly, he slides the spoon into his own mouth. 

He nods, “I think you’re right. It definitely tastes a lot better.”

The eye contact between the two of you doesn’t break. God, you really want to kiss him.

Jack drives you and Nova back to your apartment. You both catch her head lolling to the side as she tries to fight her sleep. 

Jack parks and rounds the truck to help you down. He moves to the back to scoop Nova up in his arms. She immediately lays her head down on his shoulder and he smiles at seeing her chubby cheeks pressed so comfortably against him. 

“She really does like you,” You comment as you both step onto the elevator. 

Jack rubs a comforting hand across Nova’s back, “I really like her too. I like her mommy just as much.” 

You smile and lean closer to his side. Your faces nearly touch, “Nova’s mommy likes you a lot too.” Before Jack can close the distance, the elevator dings. 

You open your apartment door as he walks in with Nova. He passes her over to you and she stuff her hand into your curls for comfort. It’d been a frequent habit of hers ever since she was born. 

Nova lifts her head, rubbing at her eyes. She glances at Jack, “Dada, bedtime story.”

Jack looks to you for permission, to which you nod, “Let me change her into her pajamas, then we can read her a story together.”

Jack nods and feels the anticipation rising in his chest. He never thought that he’d get the opportunity to read his kid a bedtime story, but the fact that Nova wants him to send a wave of emotions throughout his body. 

You appear soon and gesture for Jack to follow you. He enters behind you into Nova’s room where she’s laying in her pink bed. She has Bun Bun tucked into her side. 

You and Jack sit on each side of her bed. She smiles at you both. Her mommy and daddy are both here to put her to sleep. 

“Okay, sweet girl, what book are we reading?” Jack questions, keeping his voice soft. 

Nova looks at you both, “Goodnight, Little Bear.” You move from the bed to her bookshelf to grab the book. You pass it over to Jack and you both sit at the top of the bed next to Nova. 

Nova cuddles close to you and Jack as he starts reading. The soft lull of Jack’s voice, along with you rubbing at her hair has Nova drifting off almost instantly. She struggles to keep her eyes open until Jack makes it to the last page. 

You lean closer and press a kiss to her cheek, “Goodnight, my lovebug. I love you.”

“Night night, mommy. I love you too.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. She holds Bun Bun out to you. You press a kiss to Bun Bun, “Goodnight Bun Bun, mommy loves you too.”

Nova turns to Jack, “Night night, Dada. I love you.”

Jack feels his heart steel inside his chest. He can feel the tears stinging at his eyes as he tries to will them away. He gives you a look, and you smile softly at him. 

“Goodnight, my Nova. Daddy loves you too,” Jack whispers back. He presses a kiss to her other cheek. Just as she’d done to you, Nova holds Bun Bun up and Jack presses a kiss to the stuffed rabbit, “Night Bun Bun. Daddy loves you.” 

Seemingly content with everything, Nova closes her eyes and her soft snores enter the room. You move to turn on her big night light, which illuminates stars across the room. 

Carefully, you and Jack exit Nova’s room. You leave the door cracked open in case she needs you later on. You and Jack walk back into the living room. 

He wipes at his eyes. 

“Are you okay, Jack?”

He smiles before sniffling, “Yeah, it’s just….I never thought I’d be able to have something like that. Thank you for allowing me to be here with you and Nova, sweetheart.”

You move closer, “Thank you for being present. There hasn’t been a moment where I doubted your intentions, Jack.”

Jack steps closer to you. He looks down at you before bringing a hand to the side of your face, “I care about you, sweetheart, a lot. I wake up every day, waiting for the moment when I get to see or talk to you and Nova. I’m serious about this. About us.” He takes a second to pause, “Would you be like to be my girlfriend, sweetheart?”

A wide smile crosses your face, “There’s nothing that I’d like more than being your girlfriend, Jack.”

That same wide and goofy look crosses his lips. You both look at each other before he leans down to press his lips against yours.

There in your kitchen with your baby girl sleeping a few feet away, you and Jack Abbot officially became a couple.

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"You okay, Jack?"

Jack shrugs, shifting Chubby in his lap. It’s a children’s book---"

"Da...beeee."

She smacks the book again. His hands grip its spine.

Da can mean any of a number of things. It's usually reserved for Jack, but it's an interchangeable demand, really. She uses da when she wants something opened or given to her. But if you know your daughter as well as you think you do, you're sure it's her demand for Jack to read the damn book right now.

"Alright, alright. I'm picking up the pace. Here we go."

Jack opens the book. The first page is the paper bear standing in a nursery, holding his arms out to his cub.

"Daddy’s arms are big and strong."

His voice comes out low and steady, a little raspy from the long day and the way Chubby keeps curling her toes against his forearm. But that's just your guess.

"They hold me when the day feels long."

You slow in your folding when Jack clears his throat and turns the page quickly. The next picture is worse for him.

The dad bear is carrying the cub through a storm, holding an umbrella over her. She's smiling, and her papa is looking down like the only thing that matters is that she's dry.

Jack stares at it.

Well. Fuck the bear.

Chubby whines, impatient. "Mmmm."

"I’m getting there. Be patient. See? When the thunder rolls and the skies turn gray..."

Jack swallows.

"Daddy keeps the fear away."

...He needs to check the thermostat again. It's too hot in here. He'd open the window if it wasn't a safety risk. He'll just have to be warm while getting jumped by a ten-dollar book from Target.

Daddy keeps the fear away. Ha. What a stupid fucking lie to put in a baby book.

He doesn't keep the fear away. He installs too many cameras and gets mad that there are still blind spots. There shouldn't be. But Dad doesn't keep the fear away. He's full of it, just like he's full of his own shit.

"Jack, keep going."

"I'm letting her process the material."

Jack's chubby excuse shifts in his lap, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. Her hand finds his thumb as she fusses, cause she has processed nothing but the fact that his voice has stopped.

Jack turns the page. It's a bedtime scene of the bear and cub in a rocking chair, not unlike him and Chubby in the glider right now.

This is so fucking cruel. You're cruel. He reads the line in his head.

Daddy’s voice is low and deep. It sings me safely into sleep.

No. No, that’s not—

Jack sighs heavy. Chubby tips her head back against his chest, her eyes just as heavy with sleep.

"Daddy's voice is..."

...He can't.

"Daddy's voice is low and deep. It..."

The rest doesn't come. He hates this book. He hates the stupid papa bear. He hates that his breathing turns shallows enough that you stop what you're doing.

"Hey, you don't have to finish it."

"I can read a damn book for infants. It's just..."

"I know you can, doc."

God. He'd rather have kiddo argue. Your faith in him is more murderous than the little doubt you have.

He looks down at the daughter you've given him again. She blinks slower. He forces his voice back into place.

“It...it sings me…”

No. His voice is all the worst parts of him trying for protection, but it's been cruel, and it's snapped. It's made you flinch. His voice is the thing she'll copy, if he isn’t careful.

You cross the nursery and put warmth on his shoulder by settling your hand there.

"Let me?"

There's no point in not letting you, is there? He hands you the book, his movement is stiff.

You sit on the arm of the glider, one hand coming to rest on the back of Chubby's head. She blinks up at you. You smile. Jack tries to disappear into the chair while still holding the weight of your little girl.

"Mommy's got you. Daddy’s voice is low and deep. It sings me safely into sleep."

Your voice is soft and pretty, and that's why neither of you understands why her little face trembles into a whine, the one that always comes before her wail. Jack, for a moment, thinks she's just tired.

Yeah, me too.

"Oh, sweetheart--"

But Chubby turns in Jack's lap towards him, twisting clumsily as she grabs at his shirt.

"Daaaaaa!"

Your and Jack's eyes meet when she fusses harder.

"Daaaaaa! Da...BEE-DA!"

"...I think she wants Dada, right now, Jackie."

Apparently. Not the softer, perfect voice. She wants awkward pauses and his stupid-as-hell commentary? Why?

Because she knows you're perfect and wants you sometimes as much as she knows Jack as himself and wants him all the same?

Why?

Jack takes the book back, and his hands are not steady when he does. You slide off the arm of the glider, kneeling beside it instead, resting your cheek against his knee.

Chubby settles the second the book is back in his hand, though she keeps one fist locked in his shirt to make sure he doesn’t attempt book abandonment again.

...Two girls he doesn't deserve, loving him anyway. What else is he supposed to do but do whatever they want? Least he can do.

Jack clears his throat.

"Alright, I’ve got it. It sings me safely into sleep."

Chubby relaxes, just like that. He stares down at the top of her head before turning the page.

It shows the papa bear kissing the cub's forehead with a moon in the window. It's too sentimental, aggressively so. And no, he's not just thinking that cause looking at it makes him feel like his organs out falling out through his sternum.

"Daddy’s hug is where I stay…"

His voice catches again. You kiss his shin.

"In dreams until the morning day."

He almost gets through it in a way where he's confident enough to make a promise. I'll be here forever. But..he knows better. He's seen too many parents leave without meaning to. How many families have been ruined by a heart suddenly stopping or a car running a red light? He can't promise anything.

He presses his lips to her head.

"I'll be here for as long as I can be. That'll be enough mornings."

Baran had loved this museum since she was roughly fourteen years old and miserable on her middle school trip to D.C. She had gone to a nice enough school that they could afford to do an afternoon stop in Pittsburgh on the way home, and Baran had wandered into the museum half-asleep and walked back out feeling rearranged. There were many things about Pittsburgh that, now 40, she tolerated rather than loved. But this place had stayed in her bones.

Kaveh, unfortunately, was seven. He was usually a fantastic sport, but there were only so many oil paintings a child could stare at before he felt he'd seen them all.

Still, every Saturday Baran asked, “Do you want to come with me today, joonam?”

And every Saturday her sweet boy said yes.

She always let Kaveh lead when they visited the museum because there wan’t a single exhibit she didn’t enjoy and she had learned really quickly that if he felt he had control over what they were seeing, the longer he was able to last. 

Usually, this meant they ended up in the sculpture hall. Kaveh adored the tall, skinny statues there with his entire little heart.

“They look silly,” he would whisper loudly, staring up at the long bronze limbs and dramatic poses with complete delight.

And every single visit, without fail, he would eventually turn to Baran with barely-contained excitement and say, “Māmān, take a picture.”

Then he’d plant himself beside the statues and imitate them as seriously as possible, long face, arms thrown awkwardly into the air, knees bent at impossible angles as Baran gleefully snapped his photo.

Kaveh was bounding back to her side and standing up on his tip-toes to see the fruit of his photo shoot. She was showing him the latest one, his nose wrinkling with pleasure at his own performance, when his head snapped to the side with the speed of a small animal catching a scent.

Baran had about half a second of confusion before he pulled in a breath and used every bit of it:

“DOCTOR Y/N!!!”

Baran jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone.

“Kaveh—”

Too late.

Across the gallery, you turned around and Baran’s heart sunk through every floor of the museum. It seemed like an awful collision of her two worlds that she very carefully kept separate.

She knew you in fragments that didn’t belong in a place like this, your scrubs and tired eyes after a long shift that always softened when you saw her, you padding through her kitchen at night, stealing water from the fridge like you lived there too, you half-asleep against her shoulder, breath warm.

She also knew how your voice sounded when it went all high-pitched and breathy, whimpering pleas of her name in her ear as your hands scraped down her back, her kissing your neck—

And now there you were. Dark jeans, a soft cream sweater with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, a tote bag from a college Baran had never heard you mention, rings stacked on your fingers that caught the gallery light. Your hair was different than she'd ever seen it. You looked soft.

She watched your expression move through confusion and arrive at something warm and surprised and delighted.

"Hi, Kaveh," you called across the gallery.

Kaveh was already moving. He crossed the room at a pace that was technically not running because his feet were not fully leaving the floor at the same time, but was in every other sense running. You crouched down to meet him and he wrapped his arms around your neck without preamble, without hesitation, the way children do when they've decided about a person.

"You're here!” he beamed.

"I am here," you laughed, settling back on your heels with your arms resting on your knees, completely unbothered by the contact with the museum floor. "What are you doing here, little dude? Are you an art guy?"

Kaveh pulled back and shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "Māmān likes it a lot more than me though. But she says it's good for my brain."

"Smart woman, your mama."

Baran had crossed the gallery at a more appropriate pace and arrived to find you already looking up at her, easy and warm, not making anything of it.

"Dr. Al-Hashimi."

"Dr. Y/L/N." She heard how formal it sounded and internally winced. She cleared her throat and softened her tone. "Small world. I'm sorry about the ambush."

"Please don't be," you beamed, standing. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all morning."

You had met Kaveh twice before and Baran had kind of freaked out both times (you knew good and well she didn’t really want you two interacting, didn’t want to blend whatever fuck-buddy situation you had going on with the version of her life she was presenting to her son) but both interactions had been really, really lovely. You’re not sure what you did to earn Kaveh’s adoration, but you were glad you had it as the adorable little boy beamed up at you, staring at you like you hung the stars.

Baran, standing slightly to the side, was also looking at your face. For completely different reasons. She took in the different style of your hair, the jewelry she hadn’t seen because it was kind of a pain to wear rings at work, the tote bag with your college insignia — a school Baran had not known you attended, had never heard you talk about, another piece of the woman she hadn’t had yet.

There were so many pieces.

“Are you here alone?” Baran heard herself ask.

You smiled. “I am, embarrassingly enough. I just like it here.” You paused. “Mom-son date?”

“We come most Saturdays,” Baran said. “When Kaveh is persuadable.”

“It’s an awesome hangout spot,” you nodded warmly, trying to will your heart to stop fluttering. Baran looked so… touchable? Something about her was calmer, more settled, and you wanted to soak it in like a sapling begging for just a drop of water to sustain it, but she was here with her son. And you were just a friend. Barely even that.

“Well, it was lovely to see you both,” you started to turn, “I hope you—”

Kaveh latched onto your arm, eyes going big with sudden sadness. “Wait, are you going?”

You froze, mouth falling open a bit, and your eyes shot to Baran. Sure, you liked her company and loved her son, but you knew this woman had boundaries and you never took that personally. 

“Um, well, Kaveh—”

"Don’t go yet because we are looking at statues and you can join us," Kaveh said excitedly. "Do you want to see?"

You blinked. Your eyes still searching Baran's face. 

It was sweet, Baran realized. She allowed her head to tilt, a warm smile to come across her face.

"Yes," she said warmly. "Join us. We could use the company."

Huh. You shook of your shock and replaced it with an eager nod of your head.

"I'd love to," you replied, a similar smile pulling at your lips. "Show me."

—

You fell into step beside her at an easy distance, and Baran noticed that too — the careful inch of space you maintained, not crowding her nor presuming that the invite meant she, all of the sudden, wanted you on top of her.

You talked to Kaveh mostly, crouching when he pointed at things, asking him questions that took his opinions seriously, which made him stand a little taller each time.

"That one is super sad," Kaveh pointed at a bronze figure with its head bowed.

"Hm," you studied it. "What do you think he's sad about?"

Kaveh thought about this. "Maybe he lost something."

“Lost something?” Baran prompted.

“‘Cause his head is down, Māmān,” Kaveh replied. “He’s lookin’ for it.”

It surprised a laugh out of you — real and unguarded, bubbling up from your chest and floating out into the high-ceilinged room — and Baran's eyes went straight to your face.

She'd heard you laugh before. But not like that. Not with nothing behind it but the simple fact that something delighted you.

She looked away before you could catch her looking.

She was noticing things she had no particular right to notice. The way you paused longest in front of the landscapes. The small private smile when something caught you, unannounced and unperformed. The fact that you knew which paintings were which without looking at the placards.

Initially she had been bracing herself for some level of awkwardness bred from the reminder that you existed in a different compartment of her life, one that didn't belong here under the high windows with her son. But you hadn't made it awkward. You just looked very content not to be alone on a Saturday, and it made her heart twist.

She felt herself begin to unknot.

"You come here often?" she nudged you with her hip as you walked again, and didn’t miss the way your eyes twinkled at the contact.

"Most weekends I'm not working," you tilted your head at the room around you. "There's a painting in the next gallery I've been coming back to for about a year."

"Which one?"

You smiled a little. "I'll show you when we get there."

In the decorative arts wing Kaveh grabbed your hand to drag you toward a suit of armor, and you let him, and Baran watched your face when he pressed his small nose against the visor to peer inside. The expression you wore was so soft, so unself-conscious, that it caught her off guard.

She had long wondered what you were like when you weren't managing anything at all, be it your poise at work or your manners in her apartment or your ecstasy in her bed. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was exactly what you looked like laid bare. 

—

They reached the end of the last gallery with the slow inevitability of a good afternoon running out. Kaveh had gone boneless against Baran's side around the second hour mark, dragging his feet and clinging to her arm, suddenly non-verbal.

You crouched down to him. "It was very good to see you, Kaveh. Thank you for the statue tour."

"You can come next Saturday," Kaveh offered, hand reaching out to fiddle with the neckline of your shirt.

Baran watched your face. She saw you almost smile  and then she watched you catch it and smooth it over.

"That's a very kind invitation," you said carefully, to Kaveh, but you were still looking at her.

The restraint of it was so practiced and so deliberate that it nearly hurt. She had put you here  in this careful, curtailed space  and you had stayed in it without a word of complaint, because she'd asked you to a few months ago. Please don’t ask about my ex-husband, please don’t ask about my son. You had nodded and respected it ever since, because that was the kind of person you were.

She had an empty afternoon ahead of her, but you were full of so many little pieces that had started to crack away from your skin and fall into her palm just over the course of an hour. She wanted more. She wanted every shard until she could build your full mosaic.

"We were going to get lunch," Baran said. "There's a place around the corner Kaveh likes."

She paused, small and deliberate.

"I would like it if you came."

Baran watched the surprise dance across your eyes even though you tried to remain nonchalant. You were a very smart girl and she knew you understood exactly what she was actually saying. This was very different from when you would brush shoulders in the hospital, or when your phone would buzz with a "Are you free tonight?"

"Are you sure?" you asked softly.

"Very sure," she said, then raised her brow with a smirk. “Do I have to say please?”

You looked at her for a beat longer, something soft and open moving through your expression, and then you smiled so large it changed your whole face.

"Okay," you said. "I'd like that."

Kaveh grabbed both your hands at once, one each, and lurched forward without ceremony.

Baran let him pull her out into the light.

—