#Elias ‘Stack’ Moore

[seaglassdinosaur]

The affection between Black men in Sinners!

Smoke and Stack hugging and saying ‘I love you’ before they part ways in the corn field

Stack’s excitement and cheering as he listens to Sammie’s music while the two of them cruise down the road.

Delta Slim playing with Sammie and mentoring him by explaining the historical and spiritual significance of music to their community.

The way Smoke and Delta and all the others place their bodies in between Sammie and Remmick when the cards are laid before them, holding out an arm to stop Sammie from sacrificing himself; insisting that they’re going to die before they let Sammie leave through that door.

The protective and desperate way Smoke clutches onto Sammie in the final act; Remmick burning up in front of them and Smoke wrapped around Sammie to shield and comfort him and provide another barrier between them and the vampires just in case.

Stack showing up, telling Sammie he’s been following his career the whole of his life, collecting his albums because that’s his little cousin! He’s known him, they’ve known him, and isn’t it amazing to see how far he’s come?Supporting him from a distance, but supporting him nonetheless.

The option Sammie is given at the very end, and the way his choice is honored. Because as much as Stack (and Mary) love him, theirs is not a possessive love. It’s the selfless kind, that they will not try to hold onto Sammie past his time, but instead make sure he knows how important and loved he has been in life.

[fckwritersblock]

I Never Told You (part 1 )

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader

Description: ( unedited af ) You and Stack have been in love for what feels like forever, but neither of you has had the courage to speak up. Stack is convinced that your heart belongs to Smoke, and as for Smoke? He’s exhausted from trying to show you both that the love you seek is right in front of you.

Word count.: 3,852

A/n: this was originally one part, but I thought it’s a break it up into two because when I tell you, it’s getting a longer and longer 😭 I don’t wanna rush the way I want it to end but the way I’m craving these Sinners fic and I know some of y’all are too. I thought it would be nice to drop it now. Couldn’t contain my own excitement 😂

Part 2 - What I Should’ve Said

Enjoy ! 🩷

As soon as you stepped off the train, a smile broke across your face. The familiar sights and sounds of home wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You were excited to finally be back, but a flutter of nerves danced in your stomach at the thought of seeing your sister for the first time in ages. Yes, you guys had written to each other, and she had tore your ass a new one in a few of them letters back home bout to running off with the twins without a word. Nevertheless, you knew regardless of how upset she may be with you, she’d always welcome you home with open arms. You missed your sister. You also missed the twins, who you were eager to reunite with. It had been almost a year since you’d all been together, and just thinkin' about Stack made your pulse quicken.

Steppin' aside so other boarding the train would have access to the front door, you made your way toward the center of the station, your eyes scanning the crowd. You were sure Stack knew you was comin' at this time, so you had a feelin' he’d be lurkin' around here somewhere. Just then, you heard it—a voice that sent a thrill of nostalgia through you. You turned around, curiosity piqued, and there he was, front and center.

But your heart sank a little when you noticed the woman standin’ in front of him. Fair-skinned and confident, she had that undeniable charm—Mary. Of course she would find him, you thought bitterly.

You watched as Stack’s gaze followed her, a solemn look crossing his face as she walked away. You should’ve known he’d seek her out the moment he arrived. You’d bet money he could find her in a crowed room, without fail.

You loathed Mary.

It wasn’t a secret. You couldn’t stand her presence and that gnawed at you deep down. It wasn’t just jealousy; it was that gut-wrenching belief that Stack cared for her more than he did for you. He looked out for her in a way that was different from how he looked out for you. The attention he gave her was the kind you had secretly longed for, and judging by the way he stood there, it seemed nothin' had changed.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Old habits die hard, huh, Stack?” you snarked from behind him, the playful edge in your voice barely masking the hurt you felt.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes in resignation. He knew he was caught.

He didn’t even have to turn around to know it was you. Stack could tell by the sound of your voice that you was pissed, especially with the faux sugary sweet smile you wore when he finally faced you. That, and when you were at him, it was the only time you called him Stack and not Elias.

Turning around to face you he could barely contain the smile that wanted to break out.

It had been a year since the two of you had seen each other, but for him, it felt like a lifetime. For six years, y’all had traveled the world together. You had taken care of him and Smoke, watchin' their backs, makin' sure he stayed outta trouble. You had put up with his antics for so long, and he’d never understood why you stuck by his side. That was until you decided it was time to carve out your own path, to prove you could stand on your own.

So you left them. You left him. You promised to return within a year or come runnin' if he called.

But Stack didn’t call.

He figured you didn’t want him to. Not really. A part of him was upset with you for abandoning him. He knew Smoke had written to you a few times, and he tried not to let the green-eyed monster show. Smoke would tell him when he received a letter, sometimes even havin' one for him too. Stack never wrote back, but he always read the ones you sent for him. Several times in fact. He wanted to know how you were, what you had been up to, even if he fronted like he didn’t care. You were miles away and all he wanted was you near..

And now you were back, standing right in front of him, looking as breathtaking as ever. The sun-kissed brown skin of yours practically glowed in the light. The apples of your cheeks rounded as you smiled, dimples showing, and the curves of your hips called out to him as he admired your frame in the flowy yellow dress you wore. It reminded him of your favorite flower, magnolias, and coincidentally, yellow was his favorite color on you too.

You were home for him, and you didn’t even know it.

“It wasn’t even like that, Bam,” he said, tryin' to brush off the tension and butter you up with the nickname he gave you.

“It never is, is it, Stack?” you shot back, crossin' your arms, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Come on now, after all this time, that’s the mood you wanna get off on?” He hand taken a few steps toward you and grabbed your hand.

“A brotha can’t get no love first?” He flashed you a smile he knew you couldn’t resist.

Despite yourself, your smile grew bigger as you felt the warmth of his presence pulling you in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sinking into the comfort of his embrace.

“I missed you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you melted against him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied, his words a gentle way of sayin', 'I missed you too.'

“Who’s this?” you asked, eyeing the guitar-totin' boy standin' next to them after you two finally pulled apart.

“The boy,” Stack replied, nodding in his direction.

“The boy—Little Sammie, is that you?!” you exclaimed, shocked.

“Miss Y/n?” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

You laughed, pulling him into a warm hug. God, he was all grown up. You used to help his ma look after him and his siblings sometimes, and you even sang in his daddy’s church for a while. That was until you started hangin' out with Smoke and Stack more and stopped goin' to church. You didn’t want to hear no sermons about how the devil had his hands on you and how you needed to come back to the Lord.

It was a bittersweet feeling, thinking about how much you missed them and how much Sammie had grown. You could see he still had to get his head on straight, but it warmed your heart that he was still playing the guitar Stack had given him.

“Well then, there will be plenty of time to catch up later. You boys finish up here. I’ll be in the car,” you announced a beat after pullin' away. You knew they was up to no good.

“Little Sammie, help Stack with my bags, will ya?” You pinched one of his cheeks playfully before giving the other a quick kiss, treating him like the youngin' he still was in your eyes.

“Oh and drop the ‘Miss’.” He stared after you, bewildered, as you walked past Stack, givin' him a wink while you patted his chest slowly, draggin' your hand away.

“That’s really Y/n,” Sammie said, still in disbelief, causing Stack to chuckle.

He hadn’t seen you since he was a boy, and he couldn’t believe how different you were now. You were just a teen girl girl in his eyes back then, but now you were a grown woman—an extremely attractive one, at that.

“She’s—”

“Way too much woman for you to handle, lil nigga,” Stack stated matter-of-factly, a smirk playin' on his lips.

Not too much for me, though, he thought to himself, wordlessly pickin' up both suitcases and handing his little cousin one. You would probably fit real pretty in the front seat of his ride right about now, knowin' you and those pretty pick pocketing hands of yours had already snatched the keys from his coat pocket.

“Well, are you?” Sammie quizzed.

“Am I what?” Stack frowned slightly.

“Handling it?” The corner of Preacher Boy’s mouth twitched just a little, and Stack knew the younger man could tell you were vexed with him, and he wasn’t handling shit.

“Bring yo ass on, smart ass.”

As a result of those endless hours of travel, you were exhausted. You hadn’t gotten much sleep on the train, not wantin' to doze off around strange white folks. Your father had raised you and your sister to always be aware of your surroundings. After hearin' Delta’s wild stories about the men he knew from the side of the road, you needed a moment to decompress. So, you let the sounds of Sammie’s guitar and the rhythm of the car rockin' gently lull you into a well-deserved rest.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but soon you felt somethin' soft brush against the side of your face.

“Bam,” you heard softly as you began to stir.

“Bam.” This time you felt a poke to your cheek.

With a soft groan, you opened your eyes to see Stack standin' outside of the car, looking at you with that soft smile that always made your heart race.

“There’s my girl.” He smiled down at you.

“What you want, Elias?” You tried not to blush at his words.

“We made it. Come on.” He extended his hand for you to take.

You took it, pullin' yourself up to stand. Prepared to jump over, he surprised you by lifting you up in the air out of the back of the car.

You squealed, caught off guard as he held you slightly above him. You looked down at him for a minute, and he slowly set you back down, your body sliding against his.

“Thank you,” you said bashfully, pretendin' to fix your hair in the mirror.

He stood directly behind you, just close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his smirk in the car mirror.

“Anytime.”

“I—” you began, but were cut off by another car pullin' ahead. Once you noticed it was the truck Stack had said Smoke was in, you started walking quickly toward it. Stack told you the two of them had to split the work and that Smoke had a few stops and you knew it wouldn’t be anywhere else, but to see Annie. It was one thing for Smoke to be gone; of course then, he and Annie couldn’t be together. But while he was home, he wouldnt go anywhere without her.

“Annie!” You called as soon as your older sister came into view.

“Y/n?” Annie couldn’t believe her eyes as you ran toward her the biggest smile on your face.

“Surprise.” You spoke tearfully, as you slowed down taking the last few steps before crashing' into your big sister. You embraced her tightly, the two of you holding onto one another as if the other would disappear if you let go.

“Look at you.” She ran her hand up and around your face, cuppin' it affectionately.

“Look at you.” You repeated, mesmerized by your sister’s loving eyes.

Eyes that always looked at you with understanding, compassion, love, and support. Annie didn’t always agree with the choices you made, but she always supported you in choosin' your own destiny.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again,” she fussed, swattin' lightly at your butt.

“Stop, girl, I’m grown,” you laughed, spinning around in a circle to dodge her playful swats.

“Girl, I don’t give a damn.” Annie fixed you with a stern look. “You’re still my baby sister. You don’t just run off and leave me without notice like that. You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry, Annie. It’s not that I wanted to; I just—” you paused, searchin' for the right words.

After a moment, you realized you didn’t need to say much. Annie would understand.

“Mine doesn’t have a mojo bag; he just has me,” you said, your voice wavering, knowin' she would know you was referring to the more reckless twin.

She smiled and nodded in understanding. You stood there for a little while longer, embracing each other, tryin' to wipe the tears from each other’s eyes, gigglin' like school girls as you did so.

“We’ll take more later ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Pullin' away, you angled your body a little more to the left to finally get a good look at Smoke.

“My girl!” he said with a small smile of his own, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey Smoke.” The two of you wrapped your arms around one another.

You missed the way Stack’s jaw clenched as you embraced Smoke. The latter didn’t as he grinned at his twin. It was an asshole thing to do, but he couldn’t help it. He had been watching the two of you pine after one another for years. If Smoke had a dime for every time he tried to convince his brother that you felt the same way about him that he felt about you—or to get Stack to confess his feelings for you—boy, he’d be rich.

It was your last night in town, and the three of you went out. You were currently dancin' with some random nigga from round the way. Stack watched you like a hawk, grillin' the hell outta the man who had your attention. Smoke couldn’t do anything but laugh at his brother’s expense.

“Nigga you got it bad,” he said with a chuckle.

“Shut up, bitch. You got it just as bad for her sister,” Stack shot back.

“Sho’ll fuck do. Don’t give a fuck who knows either.” Smoke shrugged blowing a cloud in Stack’s direction.

“Yeah, whatever.” Stack muttered, takin' a sip of his beer.

“Mmhmm, whatever shit, nigga. Could be you out there dancin' with her, tryna cop a feel. Instead, you’re here,” Smoke teased.

“It ain’t like that with us, Smoke.” He denied.

For the life of him, Smoke couldn’t understand why Stack was in denial about you. It was like he was purposely standing in his own way, unwilling to accept a good thing.

“Have I ever been wrong about a woman tryna throw her pussy at you?”

“Nah,” Stack grumbled, his defenses slowly crumbling.

“Aight then, nigga. Listen for once.” Smoke said, playfully mushing the side of Stack’s head as he stood up to head to the bar.

“Aye, watch out.”

“Girl follows you around the world, and you still questionin' shit,” Smoke called over his shoulder.

He could only shake his head at the memory. Smoke swore dealin' with y’all shit was gonna put him in an early grave.

Once the two of you released one another from the hug, you walked back toward your sibling, and Smoke did the same.

“You good, man?” Smoke asked, knowing full well he wasn’t. He just wanted to see if he was ready to be honest with himself.

“Yeah, uh, I’m good.” Stack cleared his throat before repeatin', “I’m good.”

“Good.” He patted his brother on the back. “Now let’s get to work.”

Now, you knew you was comin' to work, but you ain't expectin' to be put through the wringer! As much as y’all got on each other’s last nerves during the setup, it was all part of the charm. Smoke being the bossy one, always puffin’ up his chest like everybody ain’t already know he ran the place; Cornbread, with his big ass, ain’t stop complainin' 'bout how heavy them boxes was; Delta always droppin' “back in my day” stories like they was gospel every five minutes. And Stack? He was slick, finessin' Preacher Boy into doin' part of his work in the name of “respectin' your elders.”

Not to mention you, Grace, and Annie, makin' one little complaint 'bout the heat, which led to Bo shakin’ up a bottle of beer and lettin' it spray all over y’all like a makeshift sprinkler system to “cool y’all off.” But this? This was the stuff you cherished. These were the moments you missed. After hours of busting your backs, the grand opening was here, and the party was in full swing.

You found yourself wrapped up in Stack’s arms, your back pressed against his solid front. The sweet sound of southern blues wrapped around you like a warm embrace. Ain’t nothing like live music from home, and tonight, the air was thick with rhythm. Effortlessly, your body flowed with the beat, swayin' in a circle until you found yourself once again meetin' Stack's chest. One of his arms hung loosely around your waist, his fingers barely grazing your skin, followin' the pace of your movements like it was second nature.

“So, this is new,” you teased, glancing back at him.

“What’s that?” Stack’s voice was low, his eyes glued to the way your hips moved, like he was tryin' to memorize every curve.

Stack thought you was downright gorgeous, and it drove him crazy. He wished he could tell you every single day how beautiful you were. Your body? It made his heart race. Big hips, thick thighs, and those legs that seemed to go on for days. That dress you wore? It gave him a perfect view of your curves, and he found himself lost in thoughts he shouldn’t be havin’.

“You dancin' with me,” you said louder, breakin' him outta his daydream.

“I’ve danced with you before,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his tone.

You leaned your head back further, givin' him a smirk. “Not like this.”

Stack’s grip around your waist tightened, the two of you still swayin’ to the music. “What’s this?” His breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine that you tried your best to ignore.

“Like you tryna work your way into my drawls,” you shot back, playful but with a hint of seriousness.

“And if I am?” he shot back, spinning you around so you faced him, his gaze intense.

You were momentarily stunned, your eyes searchin’ his for any signs of this bein' a joke, you arms now loosely around his shoulders.

“Smoke told you.” you said, his words heavy like a weight on your chest, but it felt more like a statement than a question.

You knew Smoke couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it came to his brother. Stack had ditched you and Smoke for the night to run off with some floozy and you were hurting bad. Especially after the way he had been flirting with you day after day. After an attempt at drowning your feeling in a bottle of whiskey, you had confessed your undying love for Elias Moore to his other half after the world became a bit too blurry. The truth came spillin' out like vomit, then afterwards, literal vomit. You could curse the ground Smoke walked on for lettin' it slip.

Stack watched as the gears turned in your head, his eyes dropping to your bottom lip, which you had pulled between your teeth. He chuckled softly, still swayin' with you, but the tension was thick.

“Smoke been tryna tell me for years,” he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

He wasn’t sure if he was talkin' 'bout Smoke tryin' to get him to accept his own feelings or the ones you held for him.

It was the way you cared for him. In every way. You checked on his well being constantly. The effects of the war on smoke were clear. He had his issues and one of them Stack always took care of. Rolling his cigarettes, making certain shit easier for Smoke every chance he got. Stack was the suffer in silence type. No I didn’t know the trauma he had suffered. He preferred everybody think he was OK. But you saw right through him. You seem to be able to tell every time something took him back there the lifeline you’d reach out of your hand, holding his gentle caresses to the top of his hand, which is the tiniest of squeezes that will bring him back and remind him that he was here and safe and with you. Stack was the type to suffer in silence, keepin' his struggles close to his chest. But you? You saw right through him. You could tell when something haunted him, and each time, you’d reach out, holdin' his hand, givin' him that gentle squeeze to remind him he was safe with you.

You were everything to Stack.

The air between you two shifted, thickening with unspoken words and feelings.

“When did it click?” Your heart raced, the world around you fading away.

Y’all had stopped movin’, probably the only two still in the crowd of people dancing and signing having a time.

“The one you left.” Stack admitted, feeling a bit guilty for only realizing how deep his feelings and love for you really were.

Speechless you pulled away from him completely, mouth opening and closing as you stuttered trying to find the right words to say. Overwhelmed with emotion and not quite sure what to do with yourself you turned around to scurry away when he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on now. Why you runnin'?” He was holding you again, bobbing his head around trying to catch you eye as you avoided his.

“Elias, you drunk,” you said, your voice shaky.

“Baby, I ain’t had a sip of liquor,” he replied, his grip on your chin gentle, forcing you to look at him.

Big brown eyes searched yours, filled with a truth that made your heart swell with love.

“Y/n,” he started, but just then—

“Stack!” Smoke’s voice cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter.

You two pulled apart at the sound of his brother calling.

“Let me holla at you for a minute,” Smoke beckoned, clearly oblivious to the tension hangin' in the air.

You could see Stack was ready to protest, but you stopped him, gently cupping the side of his face in your hands. Stack might not have been running off liquid courage, but you had dug deep for some courage and found enough bravery to push through.

You pressed a soft kiss to the side of his cheek, and then another right next to the corner of his mouth, lettin' your lips linger just a moment longer.

“Go. We’ll talk later,” you assured him, pulling away with a grin as you turned to find a seat at the bar y’all had been swayin’ next to.

It wasn’t long before Stack's arms wrapped around you from behind.

“Count on it,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck, sending warmth flooding through you.

You flushed at the feeling of his lips on your skin, that deep baritone voice igniting a fire you didn’t know you had.

You couldn’t wait until later. But unfortunately, later never came.

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐈𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - What started as a simple night out turns into something a little more complicated when new faces and old ties mix under the summer heat.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, flirtation, tension, heavy Southern vibes

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - I’m so glad you guys liked this story! I was so nervous to post, especially this one in particular. I’m was so shocked by the feedback, reactions and the LOVE. I’m so happy you guys are enjoying this, I’ve never written for Michael B. Jordan, though I’ve been reading about him since I’ve been on this site, but still. I’m so glad that you guys love this, stay with me as I get through these and the rest of my stories…

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,940+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

The block party on Vernon Street was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of grilled meats and the rhythmic beats of early hip-hop. Laughter and chatter filled the neighborhood as families and friends gathered to celebrate the return of Smoke and Stack, most just wanting an excuse to party. Children darted between adults, their laughter mingling with the music, while the adults swayed to the nostalgic tunes.

Smoke and Stack moved through the crowd, exchanging handshakes and hugs with familiar faces. Their presence was magnetic, and others could tell the difference from when the boys first left. They were men now, and were drawing attention from all corners of the block. As they approached the cooler, a familiar voice called out.

“Well, if it ain’t the Moore twins.” Sinclair said, her smile as bright as ever. She wore an orange halter top that popped against her brown skin, low-rise jeans, with her hair styled in loose curls that framed her face.

“Sinclair!” Stack exclaimed, pulling her into a warm embrace. “How you doing, girl?”

“Oh, I’m as good a can be.” She smiled, pulling away from the embrace and looking up at him. “Y’all still causing trouble?” She teased, her eyes twinkling at the two as she crossed her arms.

“Only the good kind,” Smoke replied with a grin.

“Pleased there was never a good kind with y’all.” She quipped. “Good for you, maybe.”

“That’s what we meant.” Stack stated before laughing, causing the girl to laugh and smack his arm. Their laughter died down into fond smiles and soft gazes, Elias and Sinclair eyeing each other in particular. Smoke looked between the two, before he let his eyes drift as he felt the conversation about to shift.

“How you been, Claire?” Stack asked, leaning against the fence near the cooler, while Smoke sat on a milk crate, next to some men shooting dice. Sinclair let out a small a sigh, putting her hands in the back pockets of her right jeans, looking anywhere else but his eyes. “Nothing much.” She shrugged, but from the nervous laugh she let out at the ends and the way she divided eye contact let Stack know she was t telling the full truth. “I mean, if you can count having a baby as nothing.” She’s shrugged.

Stack eyes widened a bit at that, blinking as he looked at the girl before him. “A baby?” He asked, and his voice was a bit soft, low, as if the subject was something fragile and foreign to him. His heart then pinged in his chest, a sharp and quick thump, before it dropped to his stomach.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if this was her way of telling him he had a child after their one close encounter the night before him and Smoke is and left the Sip.

When Sinclair nodded, he licked his lips, reading his stance of the fence to stand straight, looking down at the girl. “Damn, that’s crazy Claire.” He said, keeping a calm demeanor in the face of his slight panic. “When did this happen?” He asked.

“About a year after you guys bounded, freshman year at college.” She explained, and Stack could almost drop to his knees and praise the sky at her words. He gulped as he blinked, trying to calm his heart that was still seating from the potential bond she could’ve dropped. But that was all covered up with a simple nod.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy. His names Tyson.” She said, and now this time, Stack could be more happy for the girl, a small smile drifting onto his face. “That’s crazy, Claire. Congratulations.” He said, placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her.

“Thank you.” Sinclair said softly, a small smile on her lips. “Now enough about me, tell me what you were up to in Chicago, big money.” She quipped, smiling up at him, looking up at him through her lashes, and that was a look Stack was not unfamiliar with. Which caused him to smirk as he leaned back into the fence.

They continued to chat amiably, reminiscing about old times and catching up on the years that had passed. Sinclair’s laughter rang out as she recounted a particularly embarrassing story from their youth, causing Stack to chuckle and shake his head.

As the conversation continued, Juicy and Mary emerged from the Hall home, their presence immediately drawing attention. Juicy’s black halter top with white lace detailing accentuated her curves, and her dark wash Baby Phat jeans hugged her hips perfectly. Her French tip toes stuck out from her black wedges that added to her height and her voluptuous shape, as well as the boot cut pants. Her stomach pudge peeked out confidently, adorned with a gleaming belly ring. Her dyed blonde highlighted curls cascaded down to her neck in a fluffy blowout, catching the light as they moved. Mary, equally stylish, wore a sequined butterfly top and low-rise jeans, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

They lingered by the porch, surveying the lively scene before them. Juicy’s eyes scanned the crowd, landing briefly on the twins before she turned to Mary.

“I’m gonna grab a drink and talk to Sinclair.” She said, her voice casual. “Kk.” Mary said, her eyes already on someone in the crowed that she seemed to want to sink her teeth in.

As Juicy approached the cooler, one of Martin’s friends couldn’t help but stare. The men were sat at a table, and his eyes caught the perfect view of a tattoo on the side of her hip. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, getting distracted from the game of spades. Martin noticed and frowned, turning to his sister.

“Man, go in the house and put some clothes on.” He said, his tone disapproving as she waved the girl over to the crib.

Juicy looked over at him after she picked up a peach Faygo from the cold ice waterz her face was frowned before she rolled her eyes at him, unbothered. “Boy, shut up.” She scoffed.

“I’m serious, Ju. You out here dressed like you grown or some.”

“I am grown, nigga.” She hissed, placing her free hand on her hip as she looked down at man with a deck of cards in his hands in a baggy black T-Shirt.

“Yeah, whatever. You just want attention.” He said, shaking his head before going back to the game, placing a card down on the table. Juicy turned her lip up at him, her eyes doing a quick survey of the men at the table and about. “I don’t want nothing from any of these bums out here you call a homeboy or whoever the fuck else. I came here to speak to Sinclair about Me and Mary going to Dwight’s later.” She snapped at him, her lip still turned up at him as she moved her hands as she talked, her manicured pointer finger grazing over the group of men. Some of the guys around that heard her let out their own sounds of discontent, but nothing crazy since her brother was sitting right next to her. And it seemed that Stack and Smoke were the only ones not bothered by the girls words, Smoke’s eyes dragging over her figure as he tipped his head back to drink his grape soda. Stack looked over at her from his place near the fence, a smirk in his lips at her bold words.

“Leave her alone, Mar.” Sinclair playfully interjected from next to Stack, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Yeah, can you leave me alone? I wasn’t even talking to you.” Juicy added, her tone sharp. Stack’s smirk grew wider as he looked at her, his tongue subconsciously tracing over his bottom lip as he eyed her.

Juicy then turned to Sinclair, her expression softening. “I need to borrow the car tonight. I’ll put gas in it.”

Sinclair hesitated for a moment, slightly squinting he eyes at the younger girl. “You better put glass in it.” She said, causing Juicy to smack her lips. “Didn’t i just say that? It’s my car too, Claire.” She said, crossing her arms. And besides the way her doing so pushed her breasts together and up, the twins noticed her plump lips had formed a small put as she spoke to her sister. They also began to notice that Juicy had grown into a bit of a boujee brat since they left. And that wasn’t a complete turn off to either of them. Sinclair then nodded her head over to the house. “Keys are in my purse on the couch.”

Juicy smiled, her grin radiant. “Thank you, Claire.” She said sweetly, puckering her lips in an air kiss before switching away from them, not sparing anyone a single glance. As she walked away, the twins couldn’t help but watch her, their eyes following her every move, especially the way her hips moved from side to side. Smoke and Stack shared a glance, holding eye contact for mere seconds and fully knowing wha the other was thinking. They shared a single and subtle nod before going back to the party.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The sun in the key began to dim and the music had softened into something slow and familiar—Frankie Beverly and Maze playing low over a radio someone left by the porch. Most of the crowd had either filtered to their cars to chill or leaned into the vibe with drinks and smoke in-hand. The air was thick with that Mississippi humidity, but Juicy didn’t seem to mind.

She was perched on the edge of the porch railing, one heel kicked off, sipping on water from a bottle through a straw to not mess up her makeup. Drinking water in the first place to come down from the buzz she felt from her and Mary’s earlier pre-game. Her curls had grown puffier from the heat, and her lip gloss was faded where she sipped through the thin plastic, but it was still shining in the glow of the porch light. She flipped lazily through a magazine she pulled from Mary’s purse, something she always carried the newest edition of. The light bouncing off her glasses, which she pulled from her purse and slipped on.

Smoke spotted her first—leaned up against the hood of a car in front of the Hall family yard, his arms folded, eyes cool. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched her while the men around conversed. Juicy didn’t look up at first, too focused on the gossip section of the magazine, but when she did look up, she saw him already headed her way.

He didn’t say a word when he reached the porch, just leaned against the porch rail beside her, looking down at her from above, as she looked up at him.

“Thought you mighta dipped by now.” He said, voice deep and low. His gaze intense as his eyes trailed over every inch of her face.

Juicy smiled a little, eyes bouncing from the paper in her hands and up into his serene eyes. “Nah. Mary got caught up with some scrub over there.” She said, gesturing over to the girl that was giggling at something a dark skinned man with cornrows said to her, caught in the trance of her laugh. Smoke didn’t even look at where the girl was pointing, his eyes trained on he as her eyes drifted away from him.

He simply hummed. “You look different.” He said.

That got her attention. She looked back over at him, smirking. “Good different or bad different?” She asked with a tilt of her head, subconsciously nipping at her bottom lip. Smoke’s eyes didn’t waver from her face. “Good.” There was a pause as his eyes jumped down to her lips before looking her back in the eye. “Grown.” He nodded.

And that single word settled heavy between them. Juicy raised an eyebrow at him, taking a slow sip from her water as she tried to hide her smile. “Well… it has been about, almost, seven years.” She shrugged.

“I ain’t forget.’ He replied, gaze sharp, but not unkind. “I remember you used to sit on this same porch with that blue bubblegum Stack got for your from the machine down at Phonso’s, scraped knees after falling from his bike for the fourth time cause he drives like a bat out of hell.” He explained with a fond smile, causing Juicy to duck her head as she felt heat creep up her neck. “And you was always talkin’ loud and with your hands, you two arguing about something he told you.”

Juicy chuckled. “Yeah, we ain’t have to reason to argue, but me and you did.” She said, giving him a playful once over. “You used to steal my freeze cups and act like you ain’t do it.” She said, moving to push his arms playfully.

A flicker of a smile threatened the corner of his mouth, looking at the girl who gazed up at him. His gazed trailed her up and down, taking in her form as she sat on the porch. When his eyes made its way back up to her face, he caught her eyes, that twinkled in the dwindling sunlight at him. “You still loud?” He asked. And he could see the way the glint in her eye changed. And it did, because one thing Juicy no longer was, was that shy and self-conscious girl her mother turned her into. She knew she had things abut her that guys loved, and she grew to find the beauty within herself, on her own. And now it seemed that her “new look” was catching the attention of a gut she’s had a crush ion since she could remember. At least, that’s what she thought.

“Sometimes.” She teased, brushing her curls behind her ear, playing subtly into what she thought she saw within him. “Depends on who I���m around.” She said softly, giving him a slow blink as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Smoke didn’t answer. Just looked at her like he was trying to figure something out. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was charged. Both of them could feel it, as it was exchanged between their eye contact.

“I’ll see you around, Juicy.’ He finally said, pushing off the railing. And she watched him go, heart knocking slightly against her chest. He didn’t look back once��but she could feel that his energy lingered.

Almost an hour later, she was back on the porch, both heels kicked off now. Her legs were crossed as she sat on the porch swing, sort of lying down as she swayed back and forth, when Stack strolled up with a plastic cup in hand and that devil-may-care smirk he always wore like a cologne.

“Well, well, well.” He drawled, stopping in front of her with a slow once-over. “If it ain’t my little Juicy fruit. You’ve changed so much, ma.” He said, grinning as he leaned against the porch banister, looking down at her. Juicy gave him a look, moving her eyes away from her pedicure that she was focused on as she hummed to the music. “You still talk too much.” She deadpanned, living her foot up as she looked back at her toes, thinking if she needed another color or not. Stack watched her, how unbothered the girl seemed to be by him as she analyzed herself.

“And you still like it.” He fired back smoothly. “You always did, you know that.” He said before, eyeing her as he sipped from his cup, looking at her over the rim. Juicy’s eyes trailed back over to him as she crossed her legs, ignoring the pulse she felt at her center at his words. She rubbed her lips together, spreading her gloss while Stack continued. “That outfit—mm.” He hummed. “That outfit of yours is a but disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful?” She asked, raising a brow. And her irritation that was rising was clear to the both of them as she blinked at him.

He nodded as he leaned closer, eyes dragging down her legs and back up again. “Yeah.” He said. “To every man at this party that ain’t got a chance.” He smirked. Juicy laughed at that, loud and unbothered, shaking her head. “Boy, you ain’t changed not one bit.”

She grinned, cheesing at him. “Still slick at the mouth.”

“Why would I change when I know you love me no matter what?” Stack grinned, resting his arm on the porch rail beside her. “No change been doin me just fine.” He said. Juicy simply tilted her head at his words, taking his appearance in. She didn’t know what to say to him, because she knew he was right. She had been smitten for Stack for a very long time, even if it was never said. And Stack used to indulge the girl up until the day he left. Their bond went far beyond what most could understand, but when they were younger, she helped Stack more than she knew. Stack did the same. He studied her, all slow. Juicy just hummed. “But you?” Stack started. “What was that earlier, huh? Juicy in Juicy? Baby, when was you gon’ tell me that you were a brand now?” He asked her jokingly.

The girl rolled her eyes but smirked. “Don’t gas me.”

“I ain’t. I just tell it how it is, ma.” He tilted his head. “ So what you been up to since I been gone? I know you ain’t been in no trouble. You was never trouble, I was, but you grown now.”

Juicy let out a small sight, shaking her head. “Nah.” She said shaking her head. “Not me. Not yet.” She chuckled. “Just been doing anything a young girl like does.”

Stack quirked a brow at that. “Like what? Don’t tell me you got a lil boyfriend or something. You talkin’ to anybody?” He asked.

Juicy narrowed her eyes. “Why?” She asked, tilting her head at him.

“’Cause I wanna know what I’m up against.” He smirked. “Who ass i gotta beat about you, ma.” He said. But before she could answer, Mary hollered from inside for her to come help look for her purse. Juicy blinked away where ever the current conversation was just going as she stood up, slipping back into her heels with a sway.

“I’ll see you around, Elias.” She said softly, blinking at him before she moved away.

Stack watched her walk, eyes glued to the way her brown skinned back moved under her top. “Lawd have mercy…” He mumbled o himself, looking at her until those wide hips left his sight and entered the home.

The night went on and the party fizzed out to other parts of the city for the people who didn’t want to go home but had to get the hell out of the Hall yard. Smoke sat on the couch later that night, across the street inside of his old home. He remembered the little girl who used to knock on their door for extra to borrow sugar, or see if they had chips. Who used to cry quietly on Sinclair’s bed when her parents argued in the next room. And now? That girl had gone. She stood taller now, with a body that demanded attention—and a confidence that made it dangerous.

He didn’t like surprises. And Juicy had just become one.

In a room down the hall, Stack was laid out on a bed, arms behind his head, still thinking. He could hear the television that Stack watched in the living room, and as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but to think of the girl he saw earlier, and the way she was dressed now. He had to admit, she was attractive, and the way they spoke to, he took that as an invitation of something she wanted. And he liked a challenge. Always had. And something about Juicy’s energy? That little attitude, the way she didn’t fall into his rhythm so easy—but played into nonetheless—it got under his skin in the best way.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

It was a day later and house was lazily buzzing with the glow of the afternoon sun. The TV inside of the Hall family home was humming some rerun in the background as Juicy and Mary sprawled across the worn couch. They were both flipping through their phones, exchanging idle comments about people’s outfits from last night, when Sinclair called out from the kitchen.

“Juicy!” She yelled.

Juciy rolled her eyes but nonetheless called back out to her. “Yeah!” She yelled back, getting a shove in her leg by Mary’s foot, who looked away from her phone to something that caught her eye on the television. Juicy turned her lip up at her but only settled to nudge her back. Sinclair walked out from the kitchen and looked at the girls on the couch. “Can you run to the corner store for me real quick? I gotta keep an eye on Tyson.” Sinclair’s voice was half-pleading, half-commanding—the way it always was whenever she needed a favor.

Juicy groaned softly, head falling back against the couch dramatically. “Okay.” She agreed immediately, even though her slight annoyance was clear as Sinclair move back to the kitchen. “Can I go in the car at least?” She asked.

Sinclair poked her head around the corner, her expression already set. “Only if you fill the tank up.” She stated.

Juicy sat up with a loud sigh, already knowing she was beat. “Man, I ain’t tryna spend my whole check from the shop on gas.” She muttered under her breath, tossing the ouch blanket onto the couch cushion ext to her. “Fine. We’ll walk.” She said, subjecting the other girl into a walk in the heat.

It wouldn’t too bad, she supposed. The sun was high and hot, but the store was just a few blocks away, and a little walk might do them some good. Plus, they could grab ice cream while they were at it.

Juicy and Mary made their way down the cracked sidewalk, the summer heat bouncing off the pavement in lazy waves. As they neared the corner store, they spotted a certain man and his homeboys posted up against the brick wall in front of their cars, laughing and talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring the store owner who was yelling at them to stop loitering.

Juicy rolled her eyes. Of course they were here, she thought.

The store owner finally threw his hands up and stormed back inside, giving the crew a full view of the two girls as they approached.

Donavan, the man dressed in a bulls jersey over a white t-shirt with baggy jeans, didn’t hide the way his eyes slid over Juicy, slow and deliberate, biting his bottom lip like he was seeing her for the first time instead of the thousandth. His boys chimed in too, whistling and throwing out comments, the usual noise that came with being two girls walking through the neighborhood.

“Aye, Ju, let me holla at you.”

“Wassup, Mary? With yo fine ass.”

“Damn, Juicy, when you gone let a nigga get some?”

Juicy sucked her teeth with a disgusted look on her face, swinging open the store’s door with a hard shove as she ignored them, letting the cool air from the store hit her skin. Mary grabbed a small cart and immediately went to the mental list Sinclair had given, while Juicy stayed by the freezer section, scanning for a good ice cream cone.

She was crouched low, comparing brands and prices, when she heard the bell over the door chime again.

She looked up—and of course—there was Donavan.

“Man, you just gon’ act like you don’t see me?” He said, flashing that same crooked grin he used back in high school, ignoring the looks from the man behind the counter.

Juicy stood up slowly, closing the freezer door with a tap of her hip. “I saw you.” She said flatly. “I just ain’t been impressed so far.” She shrugged. Donavan chuckled, swaggering closer. “Aw, c’mon now, Ju. You used to light up when you saw me. What happened to that lil’ smile you used to have for me?”

“First of all, don’t call me Ju. We ain’t cool like that, and tell them niggas you hand with the same thing.” She said, looking up at him with a smirk. “Second of all, I grew up, nigga.” Juicy said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like you shoulda been did.”

“Damn, Juicy, why you gotta be like that?”

“Cause I can.” The girl said, sassily tilting her head at him.

Donavan laughed again, undeterred by the girls bratty attitude. “You still fine though.” He stated, looking her up and down. “Still got that lil’ mean mouth on you too. Bet you still sweet underneath all that tough talk though, huh?”

“Oh, and I bet you would love to know that.” Juicy said softly, not hiding how her sultry she her tone was as she spoke to him. Donavan couldn’t hide his grin, causing Juicy to shake her head, fighting the little smirk that threatened her lips. He was charming, she’d give him that, but she knew better. Knew what lurked behind that smile.

Donavan wasn’t an ugly guy, far from it. And he could be sweet at times, but there was multiple reasons Juicy couldn’t go for him. One of them being that he was a rival of her brothers and she didn’t like that gang and selling drugs shit at all. She stayed far away from it. Secondly, his persistent flirting was a bit much. He’d been pining after her since junior year of high school, and she had to admit, she was playing hard to get at first. But Donavan was far from a saint. He was a harlot, and damn near every girl in the neighborhood has had a piece of that, and that’s not how Juicy rolled.

Before she could come up with a retort, Mary called from the bread aisle, “I’m done, Ju!” She said before she began walking over to them.

Donavan’s attention shifted immediately, his eyebrows lifting as he took in Mary for the first time. His grin widened.

“Well damn.” He said under his breath, eyeing Mary from head to toe like he was picking out dessert. “Wassup, Mary. How you doin’?” He asked, smirking at the girl. Mary turned her face up at him, while Juicy rolled her eyes, before both girl simultaneously scoffed at is audacity. They ignored him and made their way to the counter with their items, Juicy grabbing their ice cream cones last minute. The clerk began ringing them up when Donavan swaggered over and slapped a wad of crumpled bills on the counter.

“I got it.” He said, flashing a quick wink at Juicy. But the girl snatched the money up without hesitation and shoved it right back into his chest. “We don’t need that.”

Donavan smirked, amused by her defiance. “It’s not about what you need, shorty. Take what you want.”

“We don’t want it either.” She said sharply, pulling out the cash Sinclair had given her, quickly sorting through the bills before handing it to the clerk before the man could even finish telling her the total, and she was right on point with the amount.

She and Mary grabbed the bags, and Juicy snatched up their cones as they made their way to the door, Donavan trailing behind them like a stray dog.

“Why you still actin’ stuck up, Ju?” He called after them, loud enough for half the store to hear.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that? Don’t play with me Donavan.” Juicy snapped.

“Man, back in high school you used to eat up the way I talked to you. Now you too good, huh? Cause you in college and shit? Or is it ‘cause of them little fake ass jobs you got now? That lil’ beauty shop money got you actin’ brand new?” He went off, and Juicy was not hiding the way she rolled her eyes at him, scoffing at the man’s pissy attitude. She was about to whirl around, ready to cuss him out, but before she could get a word out, two familiar figures were walking up the pavement toward them.

“Hey, Smoke, hey Stack.” Juicy called out brightly, more than happy for the distraction from the aggravating man behind her.

The twins immediately clocked the situation—the girls, Donavan standing too close, the tension thick enough to cut.

Smoke’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he nodded at her. “Hey, Ju.” He said. While Stack lifted his chin in greeting too, his lips curling into an amused smirk when he caught Donavan’s posture stiffening.

The silent acknowledgement between the men was heavy. They weren’t strangers to each other—and they sure as hell weren’t friends. Though Smoke and Stack had only gotten back two days ago, they were apparent to the things that’s changed since they’ve been gone. Donavan now controlled his brothers, Demetrius, territory. Said main being locked up. And Smoke and Stack were not good friends with Demetrius at all, so much so that it meant Donavan had a problem with them. They were speculated to had something to do with him going to jail, conveniently leaving for Chicago a week after that big altercation at MO’s spot, which led to his arrest.

Smoke’s gaze slid past Juicy to Donavan, cutting and assessing. “What you doing here?” His voice was calm as he spoke to the girl, but there was something under it, something harder.

“Pickin’ up some things for Claire.” Juicy said, clueless to the silent war playing out behind her.

She gave a bright, casual smile, holding up the little plastic bags like proof. Neither Stack nor Smoke looked away from Donavan though, both of them standing a little more solidly now, like they were ready for whatever might happen next.

Donavan licked his lips, sizing them up, but said nothing—just chuckled low and turned back toward his crew loitering outside.

Smoke was the first to speak once the tension in the air settled, offering an easy way out. “Y’all need a ride?” He asked, nodding towards the bags weighing down Juicy and Mary’s arms. “We just stopped for gas and some woods. We can drop y’all off.”

Juicy glanced at Mary, who shrugged, her arms full. They really didn’t feel like walking back, especially not with Donavan hovering like a damn gnat. “Yeah, sure,” Juicy said, her voice casual but thankful.

Stack, ever the quieter one, fished the keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of Juicy. “Here.” He said, a slight teasing glint in his eye. When Juicy went to grab the keys from his hands, a smile on her face, he snatched them back, looking down at her. “But be careful with the silver Beemer, ma. Don’t scuff her up.” He said. Juicy sucked her teeth, snatching the keys from him without hesitation. “Boy, it’s not like I’m gon’ drive it.” She sassed, giving him a quick, annoyed look.

And Stack couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of her, admiring the way her brows pinched together and her mouth tightened into a small, perfect frown. Those glossed lips shining in the sun, looking extra plump and kissable whether a frown watched its way onto her face. The way she looked up at him, lashes fluttering despite her irritation, did something to him.He let out a small breath, shaking his head at her. “You lucky, girl.” He said under his breath with a grin, placing the keys firmly into her palm.

As Stack handed off the keys, Smoke was still watching Donavan, who hadn’t moved far from the sidewalk. His stare was heavy, daring, but when Stack walked past him and followed Smoke inside the store, Donavan finally peeled his eyes away with a quiet scoff.

Juicy and Mary didn’t waste time. They carried their bags across the lot and slipped into the BMW, bags in laps, ice cream cones still slowly melting in hand. The interior was spotless, smelling faintly of new leather and the sweet, lingering scent of someone’s cologne. It felt way too fancy for them to be sitting in it with grocery bags and dollar store cones. They hadn’t been waiting long before the twins came back out. Smoke slid behind the wheel, tossing the woods and lighter onto the dashboard, while Stack circled to the passenger side. As Stack pumped the last bit of gas into the tank, Smoke adjusted the mirror — and that’s when he caught it.

Juicy, in the backseat, lazily licking at her strawberry ice cream cone. Her tongue swept slow and deliberate over the pink scoop, a tiny bit dripping down the side. She leaned forward slightly to catch it with her tongue again, completely unaware of the way the simple, innocent action had locked Smoke’s gaze. He didn’t mean to stare — really, he didn’t — but damn if she wasn’t making it hard not to.

He shook himself free of the trance when Stack climbed back in, twisting the cap onto his water bottle. Smoke pulled out of the lot and headed back towards their part of the neighborhood, the smooth purr of the engine humming under them.

As soon as the tires hit pavement, the questions started.

“So,” Smoke began, his voice casual but carrying an edge. He looked at Juicy through the rearview. “That nigga botherin’ you?”

Juicy blinked at him, caught mid-bite of her cone. “Who?” She asked, genuinely confused.

Stack turned slightly in his seat to face her, resting his arm against the door. “Donavan.” He clarified, his voice low. “You know… Mr. Tryna-Mack.” He said before scoffing at the mere mention of the boy, who he himself addressed with a purposeful corny nickname.

Juicy rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Please.” She scoffed. “He been tryna talk to me since junior year. Ain’t never gon’ happen.”

Mary snorted beside her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He was real bold today, though.” She added. “Damn near droolin’ when he saw her.”

“Yuck.” Juicy grumbled.

Smoke’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel, though he kept his tone light. “You tell us if he don’t get the message.” He said, voice a shade deeper. “We can handle that.”

Juicy smiled a little, amused at their protectiveness but not taking it too seriously. “I’m good.” She said, leaning back against the seat. “Ain’t nobody worried about Donavan ass.” Stack then glanced at her again, eyes sharp but amused. “Well, you should be worried about lettin’ that ice cream melt all over my damn seat.” He said, turning his head to glacé black at her. “And Claire’s groceries.” Mary teased. Juicy stuck her tongue out at him, making Mary laugh, and the tension in the car broke into something easier, more familiar. Smoke refocused on the road, but his mind wandered — mostly back to that image of Juicy, licking strawberry ice cream, entirely too sweet and dangerous for her own good.

And Stack? He couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his mouth, stealing another glance at Juicy as she chattered with Mary in the back. She was fire and thorns all wrapped up in something too pretty to touch — but damn if he didn’t want to.

And maybe, soon, he’d find a reason to get a little closer.

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[afroslacks]

So Good Part 2/?

(I need better gifs smh)

Sugar Daddy! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

I open my eyes to sunlight blinding my vision.

“Rise and shine, beautiful,” Elijah says in a playful tone, knowing I’m not much of a morning person but enjoying my suffering nonetheless.

“It’s too early,” I groan, turning my head into the pillow, dreading getting out of bed.

“Girl, it’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Elijah replies as he watches me complain from his standing position, still in his pajamas from the previous night. The man has always been an early bird and a night owl at the same time. It doesn't make any sense. I know it's mainly due to his job and how proactive he is. Smoke is the type to wake up early to get a workout in, and I know this because I’ve seen him do it multiple times in the months I’ve known him.

As I continue to wallow in bed at the thought of getting up, I suddenly feel a harsh slap on my ass, jolting me upright. I slowly turn to glare in annoyance at my sugar daddy as the blanket slides down my figure and pools at my waist.

“What the hell was that for? I’m awake, just like you wanted,” I say, feeling betrayed.

“You ain’t moving fast enough for me,” he replies as he leans down over my body in bed, a smirk on his handsome face. Placing a hand under my chin to tilt my head, he says, “Don’t look so mad—you’re too pretty for that,” then pecks my lips. “Also, go downstairs. Breakfast is ready. I’m gonna work out, and then I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Walking away, he gives me a chance to stare at his muscular back—the same one I’ve had the pleasure of scratching up every time I gave him some of my cookie.

Moments later, I make my way downstairs to see that he did, indeed, make breakfast: eggs, bacon, grits, waffles, and a side of fruit. I make myself a plate before sitting down for thirty minutes, enjoying breakfast as I watch television.

Time goes by before Smoke appears from his home gym—sweaty and all—with a gold chain to match, as if he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Good. Thank you for feeding me,” I reply, smiling.

“No problem, baby. I’m trying to make sure you have something other than one bag of chips and water,” he jokes. Smoke has always been a firm believer that I need to take care of myself properly. And for some reason, he thinks all I eat is snacks and barely any nutritious meals, like the madman he is.

But I let him have it, because sometimes I do feel light-headed.

“Anyways, I’m gonna disregard that comment, because I don’t respond to fake news,” I cut in playfully, rolling my eyes.

Smoke walks toward me before arguing, “Or, you know I’m right, as always—because you don’t eat enough when you're not with me.”

I wave a hand in his face. “That’s not true. Where do you get that from?”

He ponders, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know how you scarf down food like crazy when you’re with me.”

He caught me there—but I’m not gonna tell him that, because then he’s right. Half the time, I don’t even think about how hungry I am until he reminds me. It's annoying, because then he asks me a bunch of questions, like he’s my dad or something.

“Whatever. I’m done talking about it. Let’s table that discussion for the day,” I suggest, feeling tense all of a sudden.

Elijah just stares at me for a minute before agreeing.

After we both get ourselves ready for the day, Smoke tells me he has to stop by his company to handle something—and then he’s all mine for the rest of the day. We drive through the city in his black Porsche, his hand permanently resting on my thigh. I think he can be clingy at times—in the sense that he always wants to be near me or touching me. But he says, “I just want to touch you, baby.”

It makes me melt in all the best ways.

After the Porsche is parked, we walk hand in hand into Joint Company, which is the name of his business, co-owned by him and his twin brother Elias “Stack” Moore. Even though they are identical twins, they act completely differently—so it’s easy to tell them apart. Stack acts hot-headed and reckless. Smoke, on the other hand, is reserved and level-headed.

To me, it’s a no-brainer who I’d choose.

Also, Stack likes white women who want to Black themselves. They’re so down with the brown, it’s all they want to be around.

The receptionist greets Elijah as he walks by.

“Hello, Mr. Moore. It’s nice to see you, sir,” she says, while my hand stays snug in his grip.

“Same to you, Pearline.”

Riding the elevator is a short trip. He still refuses to let go of my poor hand, so I lean into his side and kiss his neck, brushing against his gold chains.

“I’ll try to make this business talk as quick as I can. Bear with me,” he promises, leaning his head to the side to give me more access.

I rub my hand across his belly. “It’s alright, baby. You know I have nowhere to go today. I’m all yours.”

The doors glide open to reveal the company floor—employees scattered across desks, doing their jobs as usual. The twins run a successful and smooth-sailing business, so they don’t have too much to worry about when it comes to their staff.

We make it to his office. We open the door to see Stack waiting. He turns around as the door opens.

“Well, look at this—my brother and his favorite girl,” he greets with a smile, flashing his grill.

I wave softly. “Hello, Stack.”

Smoke breaks away from me to greet his brother with a warm hug.

“What’s so important that you called me in?”

Stack chuckles. “It’s all business. More than usual with you today.”

Smoke smacks his lips. “You pulled me away from my time off, so yes.”

At that comment, Stack stiffens slightly, sensing his brother’s annoyance.

“Alright. Leave her here, and let’s go into my office to discuss business.”

Both twins are gone for about an hour before Smoke returns to find me seated on his couch, phone in hand. I look up as I hear the door open.

“Sorry for the wait, baby. We had to straighten some stuff out, but it’s done now,” he apologizes, sitting next to me.

I put my phone down and lean closer. “You’re all mine now?” I ask.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replies with a look of longing in his eyes—like he hates being away from me.

At that look, I place my hand on his neck with a simple but firm grip.

“What’s the matter, Eli?” I ask gently.

“I just see peace when I look into your eyes.”

At that comment, my heart flutters at his confession. His beautiful brown eyes never leave mine as I press my forehead against his.

I place my lips on him deeply, causing him to groan from deep within his chest. Large hands firmly grip my waist, pulling me onto his lap while my hands wrap around his neck.

The hands rub up and down my back as we fight for dominance in each other's mouths. I pull away for a second to breathe, wishing I didn’t have to. Smoke just stares at me, eyes hazy, then forcefully pulls back into his mouth with pecks to start before kisses get deeper again.

“Smoke, we can’t do anything crazy in here,” I mutter between kisses. “Baby, we can do whatever we want; I’m the boss, remember?” he replies, not giving a fuck about the people outside the office. My hips start to grind on him as we continue. 

Elijah’s pants continue to get tighter, and his bulge gets hard under me. His hands grab one of mine from his neck to slide it towards the top of his pants. “Look what you did to me, lil mama,” he rasps, pulling back to intensely look into my eyes. I blush at the discovery, feeling a sense of pride at my accomplishment. “That’s not my fault, you just don’t know how to control yourself.” I jok,e trying to lighten the mood, hoping he’ll take it easy on me.

He shakes his head full of waves before replying “I didn’t do shit and we ain’t leaving until to take of it” he promises 

Wordlessly, I undo the buckles of his belt and unzip his pants, sliding my hand underneath his boxer briefs to wrap my hand around his length.

Slowly grazing past the pubic hair, he sighs as he leans his head back, exposing his neck in relief. “I barely got started, and you’re already acting like you’re in heat,” I joke. “Don’t start teasing,” he grits out, groaning as I start sliding my hand up and down the length.

His moaning and groaning are music to my ears.It's always funny when Elijah talks smack to me as if I don’t have the balls. “Oh would you look at that moaning like you’re my bitch” I taunt feeling a little cocky.

His breathing gets heavy at my words; he's unable to respond. Feeling overwhelmed but enough at the same time.

He’s always been the dominant one in the relationship he also enjoys it when a young thing like yourself shows him up at his own game. There’s also a level of trust and intimacy in letting you take control because he feels at ease, especially with you.

So I continue stroking him as I lean in his ear, “You can act all tough in front of everyone, but I just want you to know I’m just as capable of turning you out. No matter how much you think you have over me.”

I run my other hand over my chest, tugging on my gold chains. You lean back to hold eye contact with him as you bring him closer to pleasure and release. His stomach starts to feel tight as he gets closer, “I’m gonna-” he starts before you interrupt,“It's alright, I’ve got you,” then he releases with a grunt. 

His hand pulls you closer so you’re against his stomach and exposed length, his breathing is slowly coming down as he feels the afterglow.

Elijah starts kissing your forehead and rubbing your back, wanting to get you closer. Processing how overexposed and vulnerable yet comfortable with you in the intimacy that you shared, “As soon as you’re done collecting yourself, we can get out of here,” You say in a soft voice

A/N : I'm sleepy but, I was inspired to write. What do you think? I also appreciate all the love and support! Furthermore, the random reblgs with the memes had me dying. Anyways, see you later>

[leopar6eyes]

TW!! SPOILERS FOR SINNERS!!!

all of them, same time.

credit: svdy12

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Hallelujah Heat (2)

Summary

In a small Mississippi Delta town steeped in scripture, reputation, and whispers, Ise Bakersfield has always walked the righteous path as the preacher’s only daughter. Pressed skirts, quiet Sundays, and eyes that cast down low. However, something or rather someone has come to stir the fire within her.

Stack "Elias" Moore is Magnolia Lane’s smooth-talking neighborhood bad boy. It all starts with lingering glances on her porch and soon becomes a heat that haunts her thoughts. What begins as innocent avoidance quickly turns to dangerous curiosity. Their worlds aren’t meant to touch, but temptation knows no bounds... and Ise is about to find out what happens when desire dares to cross the line.

Characters: Ise Bakersfield (OC) x Stack " Elias" Moore

Warning: Vulgar Language, Sexual content, Mention of M*sturbation, Angst, Slow Burn & More..

Chapters: PART(1), PART(3)

NOT EDITED

The front door creaked as Ise slipped into the house, the scent of rain-soaked wood and old hymnals greeting her like a memory she hadn’t asked for. Her shoes squelched softly against the floorboards, soaked from the mud path leading home. Her fingers clutched at the edges of the heavy denim shirt draped over her shoulders—Stack’s shirt—the fabric still radiating his body warmth, or maybe it was her imagination, still humming from his touch.

The house was quiet, dim, the only light a soft golden glow seeping down the stairwell from her parents’ bedroom.

Then her mother’s voice rang out sharp and clear, slicing through the hush. “Ise? That you?”

Her whole body went still.

“Yes, ma’am,” she managed, her voice small, barely covering the wild thump of her heart.

Her mother was upstairs, probably in her brother's bedroom her parents. It's where she did most of her sewing now that Leroy was no longer here. Ise could hear the familiar metallic clink of scissors against the desk, the soft brush of fabric being pinned into place.

“You got caught in that rain, didn’t you?” her mother called again, not stepping out. “Make sure you dry yourself off quick, so you don’t get sick. Then bring me the buttons and that fabric you got from the shop.”

“Okay,” Ise answered, forcing her feet to move. Her eyes darted nervously up the stairwell. One more second, and her mother might appear at the top with sharp eyes catching Stack’s shirt before Ise could hide the evidence of where she’d really been.

She fled down the hall, clutching the shirt tighter around her, the soft scent of him clinging to her like smoke.

Once in her room, she closed the door and pressed her back against it, breathing hard. The rain had darkened her curls into spirals, now clinging to her cheeks and neck. Her dress stuck to her skin, cold and damp.

And yet—she was still burning inside.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the denim shirt, bringing it closer to her face. Faint traces of cologne, tobacco, and something earthy rose from the fabric, flooding her senses. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. But she couldn’t help how she shivered, not from the chill, but from the memory.

Dear Lord… that kiss.

His mouth had tasted like honey and heat and defiance. The way he’d cupped her face like he was afraid to break her. The look in his eyes was dark, intense, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered..

Then came the voices.

Two strangers passing by, cutting through the trees near the shack. Their laughter loud, unbothered. Her breath had caught mid-kiss, as she had frozen. She pressed a finger over her mouth gently, silently, like a secret protector. They stood there, unmoving, hearts pounding against each other like drums.

If those men had come any closer…

Her father’s voice echoed in her ears, a phantom carried on guilt and memory.

“The world don’t offer mercy to preacher’s daughters who slip.”

That’s what she’d grown up hearing.

Be obedient. Be pure. Be proper.

Be someone worth marrying.

Be silent.

However, tonight she hadn’t been silent. She’d kissed Stack like her soul had been starving for it.

Tears burned behind her eyes as she peeled off the denim shirt, her hands trembling. She looked around her room frantically. Where could she hide it? The closet? Too risky. The hamper? Not safe. Her mother always checked the laundry.

Under the mattress.

She quickly folded the shirt, careful with the sleeves, and tucked it beneath the edge of her bed, smoothing the fabric down like pressing a secret into the earth. She let the mattress fall with a soft thud and stepped back, breathing hard, watching it like it might still give her away.

But the room was still.

She sank down to the floor, pressing her back to the wall, knees drawn tight to her chest. Her soaked dress clung to her skin like guilt, and the cool air raised goosebumps on her arms. She couldn’t tell if the shivers were from the cold or the chaos inside her.

What am I doing?

She felt like she was splitting into two girls.

The girl her daddy preached about. Who wore her skirts long, her voice soft, her head bowed. The girl meant to find a godly man and host the women’s prayer meetings. The good daughter. The example.

And then there was this girl.

The one who kissed a boy in the rain. The one who let her heart break rules. The one who wanted.

She rested her head on her knees, trying to quiet the storm inside her. Her fingers tingled. Her lips still buzzed. She wanted to forget, and yet she wanted to replay it a thousand times.

And the worst part?

She didn’t regret a damn second of it.

The comforting clink of silverware on ceramic filled the small kitchen, mingling with the scent of stewed okra, black-eyed peas, and cornbread warm from the oven. Ise sat quietly across from her father, who’d just come home from work, his face still tired but alert in the way that meant he had things to say. Her mother moved about the kitchen, wiping down the counter, then finally sitting down to her own plate.

The rain had dried up outside, but the storm still clung to Ise in other ways. She wore a clean cotton dress, her damp curls pulled back into a loose braid. Stack’s shirt was long hidden under her mattress upstairs, but her skin still buzzed with the memory of it on her back, the scent of him lingering in her senses like a warning.

Her father cleared his throat, folding his napkin with the kind of precision that said this ain't small talk.

“I heard from an old friend today,” he began, reaching for his glass of water. “Willie Robinson. Used to preach out in Memphis before his stroke. Said his boy’s lookin’ for work—said he’s been havin’ a rough go of it lately. Can’t find nothing steady, so Willie asked if I could help.”

Her mother glanced up, interested now. “That boy must be grown by now. Last time I saw him, he was no taller than my knee, runnin’ around in johns.”

Her father nodded, swallowing a spoonful of peas before continuing, “Name’s John. He’s about your age, Ise. Maybe a year older.”

Ise looked up at that. Just for a second.

“Anyway,” her father went on, “I told Willie I’d help. The church always needs a hand—roof’s still leakin’, back steps need repairin’, and Lord knows the garden could use another pair of strong arms.”

“That’s good,” her mother said. “Be nice to have another young man helpin’ out.”

Ise felt a shift in the air before her father even said the next part. He leaned slightly forward, speaking in that calm, persuasive tone he used when delivering a sermon.

“I also told him you could help John get settled in,” he said, locking eyes with Ise now. “Show him ‘round the church, help him get familiar with the work. You’re already up there most days anyway.”

There was a pause. The only sound was the soft scrape of Ise’s fork against her plate.

He kept going. “He’ll be stayin’ behind the church. That old shed still standing strong—it’s got space enough. Tomorrow, I’ll move the cot and some blankets out there so he’s comfortable.”

Ise’s stomach churned. She forced her voice to stay steady. “You already said yes to all that?”

“I did,” her father replied, not unkindly. “Willie’s a good man, and his boy needs help. We’re called to do what we can.”

Ise’s hands tightened in her lap. Of course we are. And yet, it stung that he hadn’t asked her first. Like her time wasn’t hers to begin with.

“Yes sir,” she said quietly, eyes on her peas. She didn’t trust herself to say more.

Her mother seemed to sense the shift. “Ise, you’ll be alright. It’s just showin’ someone the ropes. Helpin’ a man find his feet. You’ve always been good at that.”

But it wasn’t about being good at it.

It was about the way her father said "he’s about your age" like that meant something. About the way everyone in the church whispered over potlucks and peach cobbler about who the preacher’s daughter might marry one day. About the fact that this wasn’t the first time he tried to steer her.

Does he think if he picks right, I won’t fall the wrong way?

She glanced up again, her father already moving on, discussing the shed repairs and who could help bring the tools over. Her mother nodded, already mentally organizing what supplies they’d need.

Ise stayed quiet. Her mind was already elsewhere. From Stack kiss, to the denim shirt under her mattress and now John. A stranger who was now a part of her father's plan.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Three days later..

Three days of focused work, quiet meals, and long hours under the Southern sun. Ise had kept herself busy helping her father clean out the old church shed, sweeping dust off the floorboards, washing the windows with vinegar and newspaper, and laying down clean sheets for the cot they’d placed in the corner. Her daddy was determined to make the space decent for John’s arrival, and Ise... well, Ise welcomed the distraction.

She hadn’t been on the porch in days. Not during the golden hour when Stack was usually leaning on the banister couple houses down, not during the warm breeze of late evenings when the fireflies glowed and the neighborhood porch lights came on. She kept her head down and her hands moving, and part of her thought that was a good thing.

Kissing Stack on that day in that shack, with the storm outside pounding against the roof had been dangerous. Too dangerous.

That kiss lingered like honey on her lips. It wasn't just the thrill or the way his mouth felt against hers; it was the way her body responded, like she'd been waiting on that moment for years. But they had nearly been caught. The voices of those two strangers passing outside had scared her stiff. That fear still hadn’t left her chest. The heat of it, the shame of what could’ve happened, or worse.. who could’ve found out.

She’d promised herself to let it go. He wasn’t good for her. She wasn’t good for him. She had too much to lose.

Today was John's arrival.

The family had gotten dressed early. Her mother wore her best green hat despite the sun, and her father had shaved clean for the first time in two weeks. Ise wore a light cotton dress, pale yellow and modest, her curls tucked under a scarf. She sat quiet in the backseat of the car as they made their way to the station.

When they arrived, the platform was buzzing with passengers and families hugging goodbyes or waiting with flowers. The train hadn’t come yet.

Her father looked at his pocket watch, frowning. “Running late,” he muttered.

“Like always,” her mother added, adjusting her purse. “These trains never on time in the summer.”

Ise nodded quietly, trying not to let her thoughts drift too far, but that when Ise heard it. The sharp, melodic cry of a harmonica farther down the platform. She turned her head slightly.

“Step right up, step right up — this Friday at Lil’ Water’s Juke! Come get your groove on!”

Her stomach dropped. That voice. She knew that voice.

Her eyes darted over her shoulder, and there he was — Stack — standing next to an older man blowing the harmonica like the Devil himself was paying him in whiskey. Stack's voice rang out bold, smooth, magnetic, pulling eyes and ears from every direction.

He was dressed in a dark pinstripe three piece suit. He was wearing that same cocky, crooked grin that made her want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath. And then his eyes found hers.

A slow, devilish grin stretched across his lips like he knew all her secrets.

Ise snapped her head forward, heart pounding like thunder in her chest.

“You okay, baby? You’re sweatin’ somethin’ fierce. Hope you not comin’ down with fever,” her mother said, worry in her voice.

“I’m fine,” Ise answered too quickly, then softened her voice. “It’s just the heat. I—I’m gonna splash some water on my face in the bathroom.”

Her father nodded. “Go ahead. Just don’t be long.The train could pull up any minute.”

Ise nodded and hurried toward the bathroom, refusing to glance in Stack’s direction, but she felt his eyes on her back. She moved quickly, slipping past clusters of waiting passengers and old folks fanning themselves.

Stacks watched her disappear toward the bathroom. He finished his pitch, gave the harmonica player a quick pat on the shoulder, and walked casually, slowly, in the same direction. He was careful not to draw too much attention. He leaned casually against the wall near the ladies bathroom, hands in his pockets.

When Ise stepped out moments later, her skin was cool, but her nerves were still on fire. Before she could make it more than a step or two, a strong arm reached out and gently pulled her to the side behind the old brick column where the shadows swallowed them.

“Boy—!” she hissed.

“You missed me?” Stack whispered, eyes gleaming.

“What’re you doin’?! You crazy?”

“Maybe.” He leaned in close, his breath brushing the shell of her ear. “You been hidin’ these last few days. I thought I did somethin’ wrong.”

“You didn’t,” she said too fast. “I just been busy helpin’ my daddy.”

“You been avoidin’ me.”

Her jaw clenched. “No. I've been busy.”

“You really gon’ act like that kiss didn’t happen?” Stack asked, folding his arms across his chest. His grin was lazy and teasing, like he already knew her answer.

Ise stiffened, hands pressed behind her to the brick, her chest still rising and falling fast. “What kiss?” she said coolly, arching a brow. “You mean that little slip-up in the shack? That was nothin’. Just a moment. Nerves, maybe. Heat of the storm.”

He stepped in slightly, tilting his head. “Funny. Didn’t feel like nothin’ to me. Felt like a whole lotta somethin’.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms to mirror him, though her posture was tight, like she was holding herself in place. “You got a big imagination.”

“ I am your imagination.”

“You're so full of yourself,” she said, trying to push past him, but he blocked her gently, his arm a cage, his presence intoxicating.

“You ever kiss someone and taste somethin’ so good you gotta take a second to catch your breath?” he asked, his voice a whisper now. “That was you.”

Ise’s throat dried. “Stop—someone could see—my parents—”

“I know,” he said softly. “You care what they think. But me? I ain’t never gave a damn ‘bout what folks say. Still…”

He brushed a knuckle along her jaw, sending shivers down her spine.

“…I’m mindful. I know you got somethin’ to lose.”

Her breath hitched.

Then he leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing hers but not quite.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout it since the shack. How you melt against me. How your lips trembled on mine.”

“Stop talkin’ like that,” she said, breathless, shaking her head.

“Why?” he teased. “You scared? Or you scared you want me to say it again?”

“Shut up, Stack.”

“Make me.”

Their eyes locked. Heat pulsed between them.

“Are you done?!”

“Nah,” he smirked, inching closer again. “I ain’t done. “Cause now all I've been thinkin’ ‘bout is when I’m gon’ taste you again. Real slow this time.”

Her eyes darted around, panic and heat battling inside her. “My mama’s just feet away,” she hissed. “If she sees us—if she hears—”

“I get that.” He softened just a touch, like a flame dropping low but still burning. “ But don’t act like this don’t got you twisted up.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, his lips close enough to stir the curls at her temple. “Don’t act like your thighs didn’t tighten around me. Don’t act like you ain’t still feelin’ it every time you blink.”

Her breathing quickened. Her body betrayed her. Not just by remembering the kiss, but by aching for another.

“You ran last time,” he said, low and deep. “But you ain’t gonna run forever. When you ready…”

He leaned down, brushing his lips near the curve of her neck, not touching, just close enough to make her pulse jump.

“…you’ll come to me.”

Then he stepped back. Just like that. Cool as anything. Ise stood frozen, chest heaving, her blood a riot in her veins. She glanced toward the platform. Her mama was already looking around.

“I gotta go.”

“Go on then,” Stack said, that damn grin still playing on his lips. “But you’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout me.”

She turned without another word and rushed back to her parents.

Ise reached her parents just in time for her mother to say, “There you are, baby. You alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ise said, smoothing her dress, trying to breathe normal. “Just needed a minute.”

Her mother gave her a side-eye, but let it go.

A shrill whistle sliced through the humid air. The train.

It rumbled into the station, loud and steady, wheels grinding against iron. Steam hissed from beneath it like a dragon exhaling, the scent of coal and hot metal drifting through the air. Folks gathered their things, children sat up straight, and church fans stopped moving.

Ise watched as the train came to a stop. The conductor stepped down, calling names, calling cities. Businessmen in suits, women in hats and gloves, a soldier in uniform pour out of the door. Then she saw him.

John.

The ride back from the train station was slow and quiet at first. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting an orange tint across the dusty road. Cicadas buzzed from the tall grass, filling the silences between conversation.

Ise sat in the back seat beside John, her hands folded in her lap, her spine stiff against the leather cushion. Her parents were up in the front. Her father drives, while her mother humming faintly to herself.

John shifted beside her, trying not to stare but doing it anyway. He was tall, broad in the shoulders, with skin the color of rich molasses and a face that had both boyish charm and the sharpness of a man who’d seen just enough life to know how to carry himself. His suitcase sat between his boots, and a worn duffel was tucked by his feet.

”Appreciate y’all picking me up. Your father’s been real generous helping me get settled.”

he said, breaking the silence with a light tone,

She gave a short nod, her eyes fixed out the window. “You're welcome.”

He chuckled softly. “Not much of a talker, huh?”

“I talk. Just not when I don’t feel like it.”

That made him smile, but he didn’t push further. “Fair enough.”

They rode on, the gravel popping beneath the tires, the scent of hot earth and summer leaves drifting in through the window cracks. After a few minutes, John tried again.

“Your dad says you’ll be showing me around town, helping me get situated at the church.”

Ise’s lips pressed together. “I guess so.”

He turned slightly, angling his body toward her without leaning too close. “I don’t mean to be a burden. I’ll figure things out pretty quick. I’m good with my hands, and I don’t spook easy.”

“That so?” she said flatly.

He smiled again, this time slower. “That so.”

From the front seat, her father interjected, “John’s roof is gonna need patching and the windows needs fixing. Ise knows the place inside and out, so she’ll show you what’s what.”

John nodded. “Appreciate that, sir.”

Ise’s mother turned slightly in her seat to look back. “You hungry, John? I made supper. We’re eating before Samuel takes you over to the church.”

“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t had a real meal since Memphis.”

Her mother smiled at that. “Well, you gon’ eat good tonight.”

John smiled politely, but his eyes returned to Ise. “You cook too?”

Ise finally turned to look at him, her gaze sharp, unreadable. “I help. When I want to.”

A small pause, and then John gave a low chuckle. “You always this sweet?”

Ise didn’t miss a beat. “Only to people who don’t ask dumb questions.”

That earned a laugh from her father, who slapped the steering wheel lightly. “She get it from her mama.”

John held up both hands, a grin spreading across his face. “Alright then. I’ll tread lightly.”

Ise turned back toward the window, hiding the small, almost unwilling smile that tugged at her lips. He wasn’t like Stack didn’t carry that same wild edge, that reckless spark, but something in John’s calm confidence made her feel like she was being watched with real intention. It unsettled her, but she reminded herself: this was just a favor her father was doing for a friend.

The smell of cornbread, fried chicken, and sweet onions filled the small kitchen, where laughter and clinking silverware echoed off the walls. The table was full—bowls of okra, a platter of hot biscuits, and a pitcher of iced tea sweating through its glass.

John sat with his back straight, shoulders squared as if still riding the train. His “yes, ma’ams” and “thank you, sirs” came easily. He passed dishes, complimented the food, and answered Ise’s father’s questions like he was in church. Ise noticed he didn’t eat like someone trying to impress,he ate like someone who appreciated the meal.

Her father was all smiles. “You know, Ise knows just about every board and nail in that old church,” he said, spooning beans onto his plate. “She’ll be good company while you get to work.”

Ise didn’t look up from her cornbread. “We’ll see.”

John glanced her way with a short smile. “Long as she don’t mind a little dirt and sawdust, we’ll get along fine.”

Her mother chuckled. “Oh, she can get her hands dirty when she wants to.”

“That’s right,” her father added. “She just need the right reason.”

Ise’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. Her eyes slid to her father with a look that said: don’t push me.

He just smiled into his greens.

John caught the strange silence and looked between them, confused but polite. “Well, I’m grateful either way. I came here to work. Whatever else happens, happens.”

Ise finally met his eyes, cool but not unkind. “Good mindset to have.”

John nodded once, unsure if that was a compliment or not.

The conversation moved to stories from her father’s youth, talk of town politics, mention of the church’s roof and a leaking pipe. Ise listened quietly, her mind half-present. Across the table, John fit in easily. Too easily.

Her father wanted her to see what he saw: a good man. Hardworking. Respectful. Solid.

But Ise wasn’t looking for “solid.” She wasn’t looking at all.

The last thing she needed was some tidy man from Memphis with good manners rushing to find a young thang to give his last name too. Ise was not trying to be someone's homemaker doll just yet. There was more she wanted to do and see in this world.

After dinner, her mother packed leftovers and her father gave John details about the shed behind the church. Ise decided to slip out onto the porch.

The night air was thick and fragrant with jasmine. Crickets sang from the grass, and far down the road, the faint hum of blues music drifted in from someone’s open window.

She leaned against the railing, arms folded.

She felt him before she heard him.

John.

He came out with two glasses of iced tea and offered her one.

“Figured you might want something cold,” he said.

She accepted it but didn’t say thank you.

They stood in silence a moment before John spoke again.

“Your folks seem like good people.”

“They are.”

“You’re... not exactly what I expected.”

She raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. You’re quiet, but you look like you got a lot going on in that head of yours.”

She sipped her tea. “Better than being loud with nothing going on.”

He laughed under his breath. “Fair enough.”

She didn’t return the smile. “Let me be real clear about something, John. My daddy might be hoping for something between us, but I ain’t.”

John blinked, surprised, then recovered. “I hadn’t thought about that, honestly.”

She nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Then she pushed off the rail and walked back inside, leaving John on the porch, watching the stars, his smile fading into something thoughtful.

Later that night.

The house had settled into its nighttime stillness. Her father’s deep voice and mother’s soft laugh had long been swallowed by the hush of sleeping walls. Ise stood in front of her mirror in the low glow of her bedside lamp, her fingers undoing the small buttons on her blouse, slow and distracted. She had smiled through dinner, offered pleasant conversation, even bowed her head during grace. Her mind… her mind had never made it to the table.

It stayed behind.

At the train station.

With him.

Stack.

Her breath caught in her throat just remembering the way he’d pulled her aside with that bold kind of ease that shouldn’t have made her stomach flutter. The bathroom door had barely clicked shut before his fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her into the narrow space between the freight crates and the wall. The scent of him smells like tobacco, musk, and sugar.

Her legs pressed together instinctively.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear with words that haunted her every time she blinked.

“I've been thinkin’ ‘bout is when I’m gon’ taste you again. Real slow this time.”

Ise gripped the edge of her vanity to steady herself as the memory slid through her body like silk over bare skin.

She stepped out of her skirt, let it fall to the floor. Her nightgown waited on the hook behind her door, but she didn’t reach for it yet. Instead, she walked barefoot to her bed, heart fluttering with anticipation, fingers twitching with knowing.

She knelt beside her mattress, lifting it slowly and pulled out the denim overshirt. Her fingers trembled as she brought it to her face, pressing her nose to the collar. God. It still held the heat of him, like the fabric refused to forget his touch. She inhaled deeply, greedy for it, for him. She wrapped it around her shoulders, then slipped beneath the covers.

The weight of the shirt settled over her like a phantom of Stack arms. Her thighs rubbed together under the sheets. Her body ached in that low, pulsing place that made her feel breathless and wanton.

He wasn’t supposed to talk to her like that.

She wasn’t supposed to want it.

But she did.

She wanted the sound of his voice in her ear, rough and slick like molasses. She wanted his fingers skimming the inside of her thighs, wanted to feel the scrape of his stubble against her neck, her chest, her—

Her hand slid slowly down her belly, hesitation curling in her breath, but the desire won.Her fingertips found heat beneath the cotton of her panties. A gasp slipped out.

She closed her eyes and imagined himnstanding over her, shirt undone, tongue wetting his bottom lip, that wicked gleam in his eye that said he knew exactly what she needed.

"Nice and slow. Show me how sweet you can be.."

She moaned softly into the pillow.

Lord help me.

“God, why does he smell so good?” she whispered, voice catching in her throat. “This ain’t right.”

"Bet you moan real pretty when no one’s around, huh?”

“Stop it…” she whispered now to herself, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Stop thinkin’ ‘bout him.”

But she couldn’t stop.

She wanted to hear him say her name again in that cocky, raspy way. She wanted to feel those callused fingers trace the inside of her thighs.

“Fuck…Stack.” She sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingertips continued to brush where she ached, and her body shivered like a struck match.

“Jesus…”

"Let me show you somethin’ sweet, preacher’s girl."

She whimpered.

She could hear him, feel him, smell him. It was all too much. Her body trembled with want, hips rising slightly, searching for that edge.

“Stack…”

The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it. Soft, breathy, soaked in lust.

Her climax crept in like a slow wave. Then crashed hard, shaking her from the inside out. She cried out against the pillow, muffled and breathless.

Stillness returned slowly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, muscles soft and warm. She stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling. Shame hovered at the edges of her high, but it didn’t touch her yet. Not while the ghost of his scent clung to her skin.

Beneath the sheets, Ise whispered to the shadows, “God forgive me...”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Two days later...

John had settled into the small shed behind the church. It wasn’t much. It had bare walls, a cot, a nightstand with a rusted lamp, but he didn’t complain. He unpacked neatly, kept his boots by the door, and rose early with the sunrise. If he missed Memphis, he didn’t show it. He got right to work, hammer in hand, following Ise’s father around like a respectful shadow.

That morning, as the day began to stretch hot and bright, Ise’s father handed her a folded bill and a short list written in pencil.

“Take this into town,” he said. “Need you to pick up some boards and sealant. Ask for Ruben, he’ll know what we need.”

Ise wiped her hands on her skirt and reached for the keys that dangled from a nail on the wall. She was already imagining herself in the driver’s seat of the pickup truck, wind tangling her braids, sun heating her forearms through the open window.

But her father’s voice cut through that dream.

“John’ll be driving.”

Her hand stopped short of the keys. “What?”

“He knows how to drive a stick. And I want him to get familiar with town anyway.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and forced a smile that barely covered the sharp twist in her gut. “Right.”

John stood near the doorway, wiping his hands with a rag. “Ready when you are.”

She didn’t answer. Just grabbed the list, shoved it in her pocket, and stomped past him out the church door.

By the time they were in the truck and pulling onto the dirt road, she still hadn’t said a word. John glanced over at her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You always this quiet, or just when I’m around?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not I wanted to be the one driving.”

He laughed, a deep, easy sound that grated on her nerves more than it should’ve. “Didn’t mean to steal your joy.”

“You didn’t steal anything,” she snapped, arms crossed, staring out the window. “Just had a different plan in mind.”

“I get that,” he said, and for once, there wasn’t a smirk in his voice. “But I’ll make it up to you. Next run, you drive.”

She cut him a side-eye. “You don’t need to make anything up to me. We’re not friends.”

John blinked, not offended, but surprised. “Did I say we were?”

She didn’t answer.

They rode in silence for a stretch, the gravel humming beneath the tires. Fields passed on either side, dotted with wildflowers and leaning fences. The air inside the cab was thick with heat and the scent of dust.

“Can I ask you something?” he said finally.

“If I say no, you gonna ask anyway?”

“Probably.”

She sighed. “Then go on.”

“Why do you seem so... mad about me being here?”

That made her turn her head fully, her expression unreadable. “I’m not mad.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I just don’t like surprises.”

John’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel. “Well, I’m not trying to be one.”

She scoffed lightly and looked back out the window.

“I know your daddy’s hoping I’ll be something I ain’t,” John said after a moment. “Some kind of answer to a question I never asked.”

Her eyes flicked back to him.

“But I ain’t here for that,” he added. “I’m just here to work.”

She studied his profile—his strong jaw, the curve of his brow, the sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t like Stack. There was no mischief, no fire. Just a steady presence.

She wasn’t sure if that was a relief... or lack of interest .

“I appreciate the honesty,” she said.

He smiled again, this time not cocky but warm. “I figure we’ll get along fine. Long as you stop looking at me like I kicked your dog.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “You didn’t kick anything.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s keep it that way.”

They pulled into town just as the sun reached its highest point. Ise’s mood had lifted only slightly, but she had to admit he wasn’t trying to trap her in anything. At least not yet.

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought of Stack grin at the train station or the promise in his voice when he said she’d come to him when she was ready.

The sun hung low, casting long amber streaks over the town as Stack flicked his cigarette and leaned against the faded brick wall outside the corner store. The day was slow, full of grit and sweat. The Mississippi heat clung to everybody's skin like a second layer. Cornbread and the rest of the crew were sprawled out nearby, talking trash and slapping down dominoes like they had something to prove. Laughter cracked the air like firecrackers. Music buzzed faintly from someone’s open window. It was an ordinary afternoon, just like any other.

Until it wasn’t.

Cornbread paused mid-laugh, his eyes squinting across the street. “Ain’t that Ise?” he said, pointing with his chin. “Who’s that man she with?”

Stack didn’t react at first. He didn’t have to. Someone else chimed in, “Her old man letting her out with a man now? Must be something in the water.”

That’s when Stack looked up and there she was.

Ise. Stepping out of the pickup truck, her green sundress clinging to her waist in the breeze, her thick hair braided into two. Stacks’s eyes didn’t flicker, didn’t show a thing, but inside, something shifted.

She was standing next to a tall man with clean clothes and Sunday manners all over him. He was smiling at her like he was already halfway in love. Talking soft. Close.

Stack didn’t know him.

But he knew what he was looking at.

He drew in a long pull of smoke, held it in his lungs. Ise smiled and laughed at something the man said. It was polite, not flirty, but even that was enough to crack something under his skin.

He exhaled slowly.

“She ain’t yours,” he told himself.

And she wasn’t.

Hell, she couldn’t be. Sweet-faced and well-kept. The kind of girl who sat in the front pew every Sunday and helped her mother bake pies for the church picnic. The kind of girl who wasn’t supposed to let some juke-joint wanderer kiss her with his hand braced beside her hipscand his mouth pressed hot against hers.

But she did.

She tastes forbidden.

She didn’t know he was watching. Ise and the man headed inside the hardware store, talking low, walking side by side. Stack turned his gaze away just as she disappeared behind the door, but his thoughts followed.

He knew he should pull back. She wasn’t for him. Never had been.

Not with her daddy up at that pulpit every Sunday, preaching about sin and temptation like they were the same damn thing. Not with her mama watching like a hawk, praying Ise didn’t end up with some boy who wasn’t cut from holy cloth.

The way she’d scurried off from him at the train station, lips still warm, pretending nothing happened.

He should’ve let it go right then.

Should’ve looked at her like any other pretty girl in town and left it at that.

But he couldn’t.

There was something in the way she looked at him before she caught herself. It's like she felt something too.

He'd known about her beauty long before they’d exchanged a single word. Ise had always stood out. She was quiet, with eyes too big and too knowing. She walked like she was taught to be seen and not heard. At least, that’s how she was a few years ago.

But lately…

She’d been watching him.

Quick little glances when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. She paused by her porch when he stepped outside for a smoke. Her gaze lingered too long to be innocent. That’s when Stack started seeing her differently. Not as some preacher’s girl with clean nails and curfews, but as someone yearning.

She looked soft on the outside, but there was heat behind her eyes. Curiosity for something she wasn’t supposed to want.

He’d played it cool at Cornbread’s party when he slipped into the kitchen. Him flirting and teasing her as he watched her squirm with that mix of desire and denial. Then came their shared kisses in the old shack. In that moment, Ise kissed him like she couldn’t breathe without it.

Then she ran. Pretending like nothing happened. He couldn’t blame her. Not really.

She had everything to lose. A reputation. A name. Parents who watched her every move and would burn the world down if they caught wind of her fooling around with someone like him.

He flicked ash off the tip of his cigarette, watching the ember flare.

Stack couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way her breath hitched when he got close. The soft sound she made when they kissed and the way her lips trembled but didn’t pull away.

He hadn’t imagined it.

And he sure as hell wasn’t done.

“You playing?” Cornbread muttered beside him, not looking up from the dominoes. “Or does someone catch your curiosity?

Stack arched a brow. “Nah. Just watchin.”

Cornbread gave a slow, knowing smile. “Uh huh. Just be careful with all that watchin.”

Stack kept his face neutral, cool as the breeze, but inside, something locked tight in his chest.

Cornbread knew.

How much, Stack didn’t ask.

Didn’t matter because Ise wasn’t as untouched as she looked. Not to him. Not anymore. She could play house with church boys and smile sweet for her parents all she wanted.

But sooner or later?

She will come to him and he will be waiting…

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Two days later….

The summer sun was finally starting to bleed out of the sky when Ise stepped through the screen door of Charlene’s house. That old familiar scent hit her instantly. Peanut oil and a hint of talcum powder mixed with the sweet aroma of pound cake cooling on the counter. Even though it had been over a year since Charlene left for Spelman College, everything in the house still looked the same. The crocheted doilies, the faded floral sofa, the little ceramic angels on every shelf.

But Charlene wasn’t the same.

Not anymore.

Now she had that city shine. Her hair was in a new style. Shorter, layered, and shaped into a soft halo that framed her glowing face. Even the way she walked had changed. Her hips swinging with a kind of casual confidence Ise couldn’t imitate if she tried.

They were upstairs in Charlene’s bedroom, where time felt like it had paused. The same velvet pink walls. The same vanity with its peeling gold trim, but now there were new things too. Like records from up north, perfume bottles shaped like women’s silhouettes, and a stack of letters tied with ribbon beside the bed.

Charlene flopped down, propping herself up on her elbows. “Alright, catch me up. What’s been going on around here? What’s the juke joints lookin’ like these days?”

Ise joked. “Girl, my daddy would burst into flames if he even thought I was at one of those places.”

Charlene burst out laughing, throwing her head back dramatically. “Uncle really don’t let you do nothin’!”

“That’s an understatement.”

Charlene rolled onto her side, her voice softening. “I swear, you’re like a bird with its wings clipped.”

Ise looked down at her hands, fingers clasped in her lap. She didn’t want to admit how much that felt like the truth.

She’d wanted to go to college too. Had even been accepted to a small women’s seminary in Georgia. However, after her brother was drafted, everything changed. Her father said she was needed at home to help with her mama, to help keep the church running, to be his good, God-fearing daughter. That was all she had tried to be.

But now, watching Charlene move with freedom, hearing the faint trace of blues music humming from the little radio in the corner, Ise felt something twist deep inside her chest.

“How about the men?” Charlene asked, stretching. “They still slow as ever?”

Ise scoffed. “Girl, I don’t know about these men.”

That much was true, but it was also a deflection. Only one man had caught her attention.

Stack.

She could still hear the way he said her name. His voice teasing, low, slow like molasses. She could still feel the weight of his eyes on her, the ghost of his laugh brushing against her ear, and the taste of that kiss. The one she had started. The one that made her feel something dangerous and wild and not holy.

Nobody knew about that and nobody could.

“Still not curious?” Charlene asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Not really,” Ise said quickly, too quickly.

Charlene stared at her for a beat, then gave a slight smirk and let it go. “Mmm-hmm.”

Then her face lit up again. “You know what? You need a night. Just one. Stay here tonight, and when my parents go to bed we are sneaking out. Hit a joint, hear some live music. Just like old times, but better. We’re grown now.”

Ise’s mouth fell open. “Girl. No. I can’t. If my father finds out…”

“He’s not gonna find out,” Charlene said smoothly. “Just leave it to me. I’ll call him and ask. Say we’re up here talkin’ about God and college and scripture or whatever he wants to hear. You know I got the voice for it.”

Ise couldn’t help but laugh. “You ain’t right.”

“Come on! You’ve been cooped up, servin’ the Lord and scrubbin’ floors like it’s your job. Don’t you want to feel alive again? Just one night. One good song, one drink, one dance where nobody knows your name.”

Ise hesitated. Her stomach fluttered.

She did want that.

She wanted to make her own choices, even if they were the wrong ones. She wanted to stop being good even if just for a little while.

She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay the night.”

Charlene screamed. “Yes! Finally! The good girl cracks!”

Ise shook her head, smiling in spite of herself.

Charlene sprang into action. “I’ll go ask your folks. Just need to figure out where we’re goin’.”

Ise was about to shrug when something flickered in her mind. The memory of Stack yelling out a name at the train station

“Lil Water’s Juke Joint,” she said softly.

Charlene raised an eyebrow. “Lil Water’s? Huh. Thought you ain’t know no juke joints.”

Ise stiffened. “Oh—I just… overheard somebody talkin’ about it. At the station the other day.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Charlene didn’t sound convinced, but she didn’t push either. “Alright then. I’ll call Lucinda, see if she wanna be our ride. I’ll tell her to park a couple houses down. We go through the back. You still remember how to sneak?”

Ise nodded slowly, pulse quickening.

She wasn’t sure what was pulling her more. The idea of stepping out into the night like she’d never done before, or the thought of seeing him again. Either way, she knew she was inching toward something that couldn’t be undone.

Some part of her buried deep beneath the good daughter, the obedient girl wanted to get burned.

The night air buzzed with heat and the thrum of crickets as Lucinda’s car rolled to a slow stop a few houses down from the glowing hum of Lil Water’s Juke Joint. The old coupe rattled like it was holding in a secret, the bass of the blues spilling out from somewhere up the road, heavy and sultry like honey in summer.

Ise sat in the back seat, heart galloping behind her ribs. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she could already feel a hundred warnings from her father echoing through her chest. Nothing good happens after dark. Be mindful of your reputation. Your body is a temple.

But in this moment, her temple had been painted red.

Charlene had pulled out one of her going-out dresses from a suitcase lined with silk scarves and perfumes. The dress was deep plum, hugging Ise’s curves like it had been sewn just for her. Sleeveless, with a low back and just enough shimmer to catch every flicker of moonlight. Charlene had curled her hair into soft, bouncing waves and dusted her cheeks with something red. A touch of gloss on her lips, and for the first time in her life, Ise looked like the kind of girl who could make a man forget his name.

When she turned toward the mirror, Ise didn’t recognize the woman staring back.

“Lord have mercy,” Lucinda said from the front seat, peeking over her shoulder with a grin. “Preacher’s daughter turned fox in one night. The Lord work fast.”

Ise blushed, tucking her curls behind one ear.

Charlene leaned over and gave her hand a squeeze. “You look beautiful, Ise. And free. That’s all I wanted.”

The girls stepped out of the car, their heels clicking on the gravel road as they made their way toward the juke joint. Lil Water’s sat nestled behind a stretch of pine trees, its red neon sign flickering like a secret it was daring you to tell. The building was old with clapboard wood stained with smoke and sweat and years of dancing feet—but alive. Music oozed through the walls, slow and dirty blues, thick with soul and seduction. Laughter, clinking bottles, and the scent of fried catfish wrapped the air in something rich and forbidden.

The front porch was crowded with men with hats tipped low, women swaying like wind, hips moving in rhythm to music that could make the moon jealous. A man on a stool strummed a guitar, his cigarette burning slow between his lips.

Charlene leaned in and whispered, “This is exactly what you needed.”

Ise nodded, though her body was tight with nerves.

As they stepped through the door, the world changed.

Inside was a different kind of church. Dim red lights glowed like embers over wooden floors slick from years of dancing. The band onstage played behind a haze of smoke, their rhythm dirty, low, full of suggestion. The crowd moved as one. Laughing, grinding, swaying in a heatwave of temptation. No shame. No judgment. Just bodies chasing rhythm.

Lucinda had already disappeared into the crowd.

Charlene grabbed Ise’s hand, pulling her toward the bar. “Come on. First round on me. After that, we let the night take us wherever it wants.”

Ise nodded, barely hearing her because she felt him.

Stack.

He hadn’t even touched her, but his presence crawled over her skin like silk and smoke. He was leaning against a post near the back nursing a glass. He was dressed in black suit and with that same sly grin, a toothpick dangling between his lips. His eyes found her immediately and locked onto her like she was the only thing in the room.

And when he saw her in that dress, his grin faltered just a bit.

Ise looked away, heart thundering.

He didn’t come to her. Not yet. He just watched. And somehow, that was worse.

Charlene passed her a glass, something dark and strong. “Drink up, cousin. Tonight, we’re living.”

Ise took a sip, the burn crawling down her throat like fire and God help her, she liked the heat.

She had no idea what the night would become.

But she knew this:

She wasn’t the same girl who had walked into Lil Water’s Juke Joint and the look Stack gave her from across the room promised things no good girl was supposed to taste.

Ise was already hungry and she wanted Stack to be her meal.

Smoke curled from darkened corners, swirling into the rafters with the lazy rhythm of a slide guitar. Bodies packed the dance floor, sticky with sweat and heavy with desire, moving like shadows under dim light bulbs that flickered and hummed. The place smelled of whiskey, perfume, and heat. Everything that made a night unforgettable and a morning full of regret.

Stack stood at the post in the back, half-lost in the haze, nursing a glass of gin. His polished shoes were crossed at the ankle, his hat tilted low over his brow as he watched the night unfold. Clean lines, sharp suit, and a stare that cut through the smoke. Stack wasn’t just part of the scene. He was the scene.

Then the door opened and Stack felt it before he even saw her.

A hush, a slight shift—like the joint itself held its breath.

Ise.

She stepped in slowly, uncertain, flanked by Charlene and another girl he didn’t know. However, Stack's eyes didn’t move from hernot for a second.

She looked nothing like the preacher’s daughter she was supposed to be.

Ise’s hair was curled, her lips painted in a shade meant to tempt, and the dress she wore clung to her body like it had been made just for sin. The dress was dark red.

Red was his favorite.

Soft curves and unsure steps. Stacks saw the nerves beneath the surface, but he also saw want. Buried deep, maybe even from herself, but it was there.

He smirked into his glass.

She didn’t know how to carry that look. Not yet. But Lord, she wore it well.

Most folks would see a sweet, well-raised girl who had no business stepping into a place like Lil Water’s, but Stack had seen more than that. There was a fire beneath all that innocence. It was confirmed that day in the shack. It wasn’t him who kissed her first, It was her who moved the first chess piece.

She kissed him like it was a mistake, then fled like she’d sinned. But he knew better. There was a crack in her mask. A hunger that slipped through.

Now, here she was dressed for trouble, but trying not to look like it. Watching the dancers sway, pretending she didn’t notice the stares, or the way Stack’s gaze pinned her from across the room.

She could fool herself if she wanted to, but Stack saw it clear as day.

Ise wasn’t just curious.

She was aching for something wild. Something she’d been told her whole life she couldn’t touch.

Stack was going to be first to make her go crazy.

[fastasyoucant]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ elias ‘stack’ moore | bonded 2.4k.

synopsis. seven years after leaving without a word, elias comes to jackson, mississippi to come see you. and he’s not going to leave you again.

content. nsfw. reader cheats. vampire elias. biting. erm evil elias? idk. manipulation(?) blood mention. n word use. not proofread.

elias was the first man you’d ever been with, he taught you everything you knew. how to fight, scam, and talk slick.

all of that didn’t matter to you. you wanted to be with him. not to be him.

occasionally, he’d come to jackson, just to see you. there were no dates set, he came and went as he pleased.

when he had left for chicago without saying how long he’d be gone, you figured he had moved on.

you decided it’d be for the better to move on too.

you met a nice man, steven, a year older than you. he had a stable job and kind words. you liked him, but he wasn’t elias.

even so, you didn’t need to be offered anything special. not if it comes with the same terms and conditions.

he was supposed to pick you up and drop you off like he does every tuesday night. you kept looking out the window, waiting to see his car or him at least.

you wandered through aisles, pretending to tidy up to kill time.

fifteen minutes went by, still no steven. you were getting worried now, considering that he was rarely this late. you had no way of figuring out where he was, but he could hold his own.

just like you hoped, steven arrived. he knocked on the door rhythmically. it was odd for him to do but you were glad he was safe.

you ran from the aisles to the entrance, grabbing the keys.

“steven! where the hell were y-“

your body ran cold, feeling your hands start to shake.

it was stack.

standing right there in front of you like he never left.

“you still workin’ at yo mamas sto’?”

‘this nigga…’

you thought to yourself. stack really had the nerve to show up on your doorstep.

you didn’t know what to do. should you hit him? scream at him? shut the door in his face?

“elias,” you sighed.

“i know you ain’ standin’ right in front’a me. after not sayin’ a damn word to me for a whole seven years, that’s the first thing you gon say?”

you watched him laugh in your face. stack proved to you that he was the same person he was seven years ago. chicago didn’t change him at all.

“chicago ain’t teach you shit.”

you tried to shut the door but he placed his hand on it. laid his palm flat, pushing it back to keep you from closing it.

“ain’ gon’ let me speak tuh yuh?”

“stack, getcho hand off my momma door.”

“allat chicago bullshit was jus’ temporary. i won’t gon’ leave you forever.”

was he really going to sit there and lie? he must’ve lost his mind somewhere up north.

he let go of the door, reaching for a toothpick in his shirt pocket. he popped it in his mouth, keeping his eyes connected to yours.

elias’s outfit was sleek, expensive. just like how he liked all his clothes. he was charming in them; they were part of his scheme.

“seven years is a mighty long time,” you said, your accent still as thick as he remembered. “smoke still wipin’ yo ass?”

“he won’ doing that—“

“don’t sit here and lie to me, elias. your brother is always watching over you.” you took a breath.

“elijah is a good man, ain’ no doubt about it. but you uprootin’ that fast. don’t show me you know anythin’ about bein’ independent.”

he bit his lip, holding a slick comment that he knew you’d shoot down. it was hard to win with you, when you were right, you were right.

“it was good seeing you, stack.” you closed the door, watching him stand there without trying to fight his way in.

part of you was mad that he didn’t try harder. not that you knew if you’d take him back, even if he had.

you wanted him gone by the time steven came but he was still standing there. he was waiting for you to come back out.

“you need tuh go back on tuh clarksdale or wherever the hell you feel like goin’ for another seven years.”

“why i gotta do that?”

“you gon get arrested for loiterin’.”

“so you gon’ let them take me?”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at the question. you walked right into it. you held back a smile, realizing that he wasn’t going to leave without getting something.

“aye, you still got dem cracker jacks?” elias eyed down one of the shelves in the store.

you looked behind you then back at him.

“if i give you some, will you go on somewhere?”

stack nodded, watching you walk over to grab a small box of candied popcorn.

“you ain’t gon’ let me in?”

“stack, i’m closing— it’s late…”

“jus’ fo’ a few minutes… like old times?” he snatched the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it to the ground. like he already knew you were going to say yes.

you rubbed your forehead before inviting him in.

“come on… don’t get too comfortable.”

you yanked the door open for him to come in. he followed you in, closing it behind him.

“it still look the same in here.”

“you know my momma ain’t got money for renovations.”

he wandered around while you stayed by the counter, eyes never leaving him. noticing how he towered over shelves just like he had before. you weren’t sure what to make of it. the fact that he left would make anyone blow a fuse, but stack had that effect.

he could shoot you in the toe and have you dance for him the next day.

you tried not to fall into his game but you were only human.

“you still sleep in that back room?” he walked over to the counter, leaning on it beside you.

“sometimes.”

“yo’ momma told you tuh stop?”

“she tells me a lotta things… she said you won’ good for me neither.”

you saw stack look over at you, he looked back down at his hands toying with the popcorn box.

“maybe she was right.”

you finally looked over at stack, finding that he was looking at you again. his eyes were big, begging you to listen to him.

“you left me, elias. you don’t get tuh act like that. you walked away— took what you wanted and left.”

“i thought if i stayed, it’d ruin yuh.”

“so you think picking up and leaving wasn’t going to?” your voice stayed the same, no matter how frustrated he made you.

“all them christmases, all them birthdays… nothing.” you chuckled, wiping the stray tear that you couldn’t keep from welling over. your hand trembled against your cheek, and stack saw. of course he did.

“you think that ain’ kill me? every time i tried tuh forget you… i heard you in my head. i came back fo’ you. it won’ nobody else i wanted to see.”

you weren’t expecting him to say that, but you were glad he did. you also had to take what he said with a grain of salt.

“you gon’ let me make it up to you?” stack said.

you didn’t say anything to him at first. you were trying to see past the pretty clothes and the smooth talk. trying to see if that boy who used to love you like the world was ending was still there.

“you really came back for me?”

“ain’ got no other reason to show my face ‘round jackson.”

you searched his eyes, almost like something was struggling not to break through. you stepped forward, reaching for his face. his cheek rested against the inside of your hand.

he exhaled deeply, huffing out a sigh that he had been holding for a long while. you rubbed your thumb against his face.

you moved closer to him, pulling him in at the same time. you kissed him and he tasted of tobacco and sugar. just like you were used to.

elias’s hands spent no time getting his hands on you. he wasn’t in a rush. he kept his hand resting on the small of your back, preventing the edge of the counter from digging into you.

as the kiss deepened you forgot about steven, he hadn’t shown up yet— and you were too drunk on elias to notice.

he kissed along your neck, taking in your scent. becoming intoxicated along with you. your arms went around his neck to keep him closer.

“you smell so good, baby.” he groaned against your skin. he started to pull your dress up, slow, like he was savoring the moment.

his lips trailed lower, kissing the open area of your chest. your hands went to the counter, tossing your head back. he was taking his time and every touch burned your skin light fire. he kept your dress bunched in his fist, his other hand caressed your heat over the fabric of your panties.

“tryna act like you don’t miss me… you still get wet just like the first time i touched you.”

you ignored him for a moment, hating that he was right. it didn’t take long for him to get your attention as his hand slipped into your panties. he felt how slick you were, slipping two of his fingers inside you. he curled them, watching as you folded forward.

“mhm… i know— ain’t nobody touch you like this… not like i do.” he grunted in your ear, thrusting his fingers into you. your hand flew up to his shoulder, gasping into his mouth when he kissed you again.

your hips rolled against his hand, chasing the climax that was inevitable. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers curled again. your walls tightened around them.

“elias…” you yearned, cupping him through his felt pants.

“i know… turn around f’me.” he murmured, he removed his digits and licked the juices from them.

you turned to face the register, placing your hands back on the cool surface. you felt him hike up the dress around your waist and pull down your briefs. “you alright?”

“yeah…” you whispered, desperate for him to be close to you again. you listened to his belt unbuckling, how fast he was lower his pants.

“spit, baby…” he snaked his hand around to your mouth. you didn’t hesitate, you let it drip into his palm like he asked. he wrapped his fingers around himself right after, stroking before lining himself up with you.

he slid into you slow, making you feel every inch of him like it was a promise. your knees buckled feeling his cock stretch you out. “you still fit me,”

his pace built, like he was trying to carve himself back into your body. the counter creaked beneath you while you gripped the wood.

he fucked you like he was making up for every second he was gone. his rhythm hard and steady, he filled you up good. your low moans echoed through the store.

he leaned down, his chest rested against your back, his handing reaching around to grab your breast. “shit… i forgot how good you feel.”

he slammed into you when he felt you clench around him. you listened to the sound of his groans and the whimpers that managed to slip through the cracks. you weren’t silent yourself, you were making all the pretty sounds that he missed.

“fuck— elias.”

the hand that once cupped your boob, came down and began working your clit as he fucked you. you could barely stay on your feet, buckling under him.

“just like that- right there…” you huffed out, barely leaving space between your words. your walls ached around him, aching to belong to him again.

“i gotchu, baby. you got it— cmon…”

as you felt the heat build up in your abdomen, stack went faster. your vision began to blur as he slowed down, he rolled his hips into you. you shuddered feeling his each vein slid against your inner walls.

you came quicker than the words could come out. your body jolted against the counter, your voice breaking into an aching cry. he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. the grip he had on you turned into bruising as he fucked you through it, chasing his own edge.

then you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

your whole body seized; from pleasure, confusion, and the weight of the situation. your hand came up to brush your neck, you look at the blood dripping off the tips of your fingers.

he sighed satisfactorily, leaving your blood on his mouth. he pulled up his pants, not caring about you helping him finish.

“jus’ needed a lil’ taste.” elias taunted.

your breath shook, panic rose in you. “so you bit me? you fuckin’ bit me?”

“it’s gon’ go away.” he shook his head, his eyes began to glow.

if you didn’t think he was crazy before, you thought so now.

you felt your body to begin to give out. “you need tuh leave. cause i got somebody… somebody comin’ tuh pick me up. he-“

“what he gon’ do? i know it won’t that scrawny ass nigga ridin’ in that cadillac…”

“stack.” you were becoming more disoriented from the bite. it took control over your limbs, causing you to fall down to your knees. you looked disheveled, your panties around your ankles and hair uneven.

but you didn’t ignore what he said, he knew steven. you don’t know how he knew but he did. you stared up at him, his words sinking in.

“cause he ain’ comin’… i saw his memories. that fool should’ve never laid a finger on you…”

you pressed your palm to the floor, trying to lift yourself up but your muscles refused. the bite made you sluggish, dizzy, like your body wasn’t yours anymore.

“i told you… i came back fo’ you. won’t no man gon’ keep you from me.” elias bent down after fixing his belt buckle.

your limbs were water, and your mouth couldn’t form the words fast enough. that didn’t stop you from your protesting. “you think you can waltz up in here, take what you want- markin’ me like a fuckin’ dog.”

“i’m markin’ you cause you mine. ain’t no goin’ back after a bite like that.” he muttered, standing up again.

you attempted to push yourself from the floor again, but the room shifted again. you collapsed to the forward, seeing your blood flow onto the tiles.

your eyes found him one last time.

he stood over you, as if there was nothing wrong about this. like he hadn’t torn your life in two.

you parted your lips to speak, but it was too late; your world was already slipping, being swallowed whole by the dark.

all because you let him back in.

[silkandsoul]

Made of you and me

-just a small lil writing about smoke and his pregnant wife, it’s all fluff because i feel that after watching sinners, its what’s needed. it had me sobbing. 🥲

“i wish i could be there with you, honey. mornin’ sickness kicking my tail these days, i think our little one tryin’ to kill her momma.” you said, to a already occupied smoke—hands on the swell of your belly, eyes glazed over in awe at the innocence you both created. it messed with his mind sometimes, how he could be apart of something so beautiful—something so divine and precious all at once.

his mind could not comprehend nor decipher, how he out of all, would be the one to witness such a scene—a pure product of love come from the woman who held his heart right in the palm of her hands. the woman who put him at ease so effortlessly, the woman who gave him the love that most begged for. and in that love, she healed what would take years, in seconds.

“mhm, she just loves you as much as i do. that’s all.” he sighed, all that once leeched on him removing itself with you in the bounds of his arms. he held you and your daughter like fragile glassware—mindful but he would be lying if there was no urgency underneath. he wanted to hold you, roll around in your essence til sun up and when tomorrow comes he would do it again. and after that? again. even in the silence, he could suffice knowing that his heart and his soul were right there with him. the only place to be. the only place that mattered.

“this ain’t no way to treat the one you love smoke, she’s ready to get up out of here.” you laughed and he could not help but to laugh too—the sound bouncing off the walls and right into his heart. “we still got some mo’ months, she gotta wait til her dad get back. we gotta deal.” he joked, but his eyes let you know that just maybe, they did have a deal. it wouldn’t surprise you at all, she was a daddy’s girl even in the womb. you could picture it now, him and the little version of him causing you more trouble but even more joy.

“a deal without my knowledge?” you sassed, a smile on your face even though you feigned offended. and you swore you could feel your precious respond to his sentiment, moving so seamlessly that if you blinked you would’ve missed it. as if to say, “yes momma, without your knowledge.” smoke chuckled heartily, his heart swelling with happiness and pride. that’s my girl. was all he could think, his bundle of light had his back and that was all that mattered. you didn’t even have to face him to see the smirk on his face or hear the thought in his head, rolling your eyes before he could even get a word.

“double teamin’ already, my baby knows the drill i see.” he gloated and you scoffed, met with a kiss on your cheeks and then your hand. you melted in his affection, more than you would’ve liked to admit—he was your weakness. but the bitter betty in you still prevailed. “nu-uh, that ain’t fair. im your mama and you ain’t even got my back? this smoke and the smokette? he don’t get up at night to feed you, i do.” you said, disbelief in your voice at this grand union. how could she betray you like that? give her father the upper hand to peacock on her mother that he’s the favorite? you could only shake your head at them both.

he smiled and kissed your cheek again, “and who brings the food for them nasty cravings of yours?” he said, making your eyes go wide. oh how dare he? it was the truth—very much so, she had you eating things that you knew were certainly atrocious, if not worth being jailed over. but still, it was his child that had you mixing the worst of the worst together for your consumption. he didn’t mind though; despite the questions in his mind he never gave you hell about it. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t even find it cute.

“tuh, that’s yo daughter that got me eating all crazy. don’t make me put you on the couch elijah.”

[chaneajoyyy]

Mary was gonna get her man one way or another, marriage be damned.

[simplymessingaboutinboats]

.👬🏿

🚬I love you, brother.

🩸Love you, too

🚬Be careful.

🩸I will.

[chaneajoyyy]

🙂‍↕️

exposure check for michael b. jordan (smoke and stack)

source - joshcourt

[fckwritersblock]

What I Should’ve Said (pt.2)

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader

Description: TBA

Word: 3,023

A/n: I can’t even describe how surprised and happy I am, by the support and love you guys showed to part one. I am extremely obsessed and in love with these twins, and this is exactly what we all mean when we say we want to pair of Jordans, Amen?

AMEN!

Tag list: @capswife @marley1773 @kxllanxtdoor @berlinswifey @thegreatlibraryofalex @httpsangelsstuff @lovereadingfanfic @li-da-savage @reci1996 @nbanenefrmdao @theonekaysstuff @kpopslur @fjssdfb @zane2408 @saik-k @childishgambinaax @k4kashin @keliwel

Part 1 - I Never Told You

Elias?” You mumbled, staring at the scene in front of you in horror.

Blood. All the blood. It was all you could focus on—the crimson liquid seeping from the side of Stacks’ neck, painting the ground in a gruesome tapestry of life and pain. Stacks, who was withering on the ground, struggled to move, his body twitching as if trying to fight against the inevitable.

The next thing you heard were gunshots, sharp and echoing in the air, as Smoke lit Mary up, each bullet finding its mark in her body. Just when you thought the chaos couldn’t escalate further, she dropped to the floor, only to rise again, defying the laws of life and death. Your ears were ringing from the close proximity of Smoke’s gunfire, but all you could see was Stacks.

As you inched toward him, desperate to reach him, Mary bolted toward you, pushing you out of the way with a force that sent you sprawling to the ground.

Hastily, you scrambled to your knees, crawling as fast as you could toward Stacks, your heart racing.

“Elias!” You screamed, horror twisting your voice.

There was an entire chunk of skin missing between the top of his neck and shoulder, a gaping wound that made you feel sick. Without a second thought, you tore off your shawl and pressed it against the injury, your hands trembling. Smoke, his face a mask of fury and fear, lifted his twin brother slightly, cradling his head in his lap.

“She fucking bit me, baby,” he coughed out, his mouth stained with blood, each word a struggle.

“Smoke, what do we do—?” you stammered, panic creeping into your voice.

“Fuck, just hold it!” he barked, his own desperation evident as he tried to help you stem the flow of blood from Stacks’ neck.

“I’m sorry,” Stacks wheezed, the sound barely escaping his lips. You felt one of his hands tap your elbow weakly.

“I don’t care! I don’t care about anything else; I just need you to stay with me, okay?” You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you kept pressure on the wound with one hand and reached down to hold one of his.

He squeezed your hand back, but only for a moment. You felt his grip loosen, and that arm fell limp, a chilling realization settling over you like a dark cloud.

“Elias, please!” you cried, your voice breaking as fear clawed at your insides.

“I love you,” he said, looking you dead in the eye, his gaze piercing through the pain, though his own eyes were mere slits now.

“I love you, big brother,” he murmured this time to Smoke, the words a whisper of tenderness amidst the chaos, before a gurgling sound escaped his lips, followed by an eerie silence.

“Elias?” You called, your heart racing, but there was no response.

“Elias!” You shouted again, desperation flooding your voice as you shook him gently, hoping against hope for a miracle.

But he was gone.

The world around you faded into a blur, the sounds of gunfire and chaos dimmin' as the weight of loss crashed down upon you like a heavy shroud. You felt a coldness seep into your bones, a chill that had nothin' to do with the night air—it was the icy grip of despair.

“Elias…” you whispered, his name hangin' in the air like a haunting melody, a promise left unfulfilled.

You couldn’t move. All you could do was stare at your hand clutchin' his. His hand was quickly turnin' cold, life leavin' him with every passing second.

Smoke's face twisted in agony as he cradled his brother, the bond of twinhood shattered in an instant. You could see the rage buildin' within him, a storm of emotions that threatened to erupt at any moment, ready to lash out at the world for takin' his brother away.

“Smoke, we have to move the body outside,” you urged, your voice shaky.

“Ain’t nobody touchin' my brother,” he seethed, fury and heartbreak intertwining in his words.

Coverin' your mouth to choke down another sob, the reality that Stack was no longer here played on a loop in your mind, a cruel reminder of what you’d lost.

“Y/n, you too, baby,” your sister said gently, rubbin' your shoulders, tryin' to coax you into movin'.

With trembling hands, you reached out, runnin' your fingers softly over his forehead before pressin' your own to his. You closed your eyes, wishin' for one last moment, one final chance to tell him how you felt.

“I should’ve told you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, “I should’ve told you how much you mean to me.”

Your lip trembled as you leaned over, placing a tender kiss on his forehead, a goodbye you wished you didn’t have to say. Annie helped you up and out of the room, her grip firm yet comforting.

You paused at the doorway, lookin' back at Stack one last time, the sight of him still feelin' unreal.

“Come on, y/n,” Annie urged, her voice gentle yet insistent. You turned your gaze to your sister, who could see the hurt and pain in your eyes. Her heart ached for you and for her lover. Tears flowed freely down your face.

“I didn’t get to say it back, sista,” you whispered, the weight of your unspoken words hangin' heavy between you.

Haint.

That’s what your sister thought it was, but you all quickly found out she wasn’t too far off.

See, a Haint, in plain terms, was a malicious ghost. Restless spirits who, for some reason, hadn’t moved on.

But no.

No Haint would be handled between you and Annie, but vampires? That was a whole 'nother beast.

This was another type of evil you weren’t equipped to deal with. Not one that wore the face of the person you loved. When you saw him walkin' back up to that front door, lookin' alive as if nothin' had happened, givin' you that signature smirk, gold ones shinin’ like it was any other day, you were floored. You wanted nothin' more than to reach out, grab him, and make sure he was real.

Once Smoke closed the door, it stood still in front of it, unmoving. You prayed this was all a joke. You prayed Stack would just walk through that door and tell you that everything was gonna be okay.

But that didn’t happen.

You weren’t sure how he knew you were still on the other side of the door while the others were further away, tryin' to come up with some sort of plan, but you began to hear him whisper your name.

Or did you?

You weren’t sure what was real or fake anymore, and it was startin' to drive you mad. The voice of one of your very best friends askin' you to open up, plead in' with you, tryin' to assure you that everything was okay and nothin' was as bad as it seemed.

“Bam.” You shut your eyes tight as the sweet, silky voice of the man you loved coaxed you from the other side of the door.

“Elias, please,” you whispered, your voice tremblin' with confusion and longing.

“Open the door for me, Bam.”

“Just… I don’t understand,” you stammered, your heart racin' as it fought against the logic of your mind.

Your brain knew the truth. It wasn’t him. But your heart didn’t care, and right now, the two were at war with each other.

Everything you and your sister had grown up knowin' about magic and creatures that go bump in the night—it was all real, and it was literally at your front door. Yet, your heart struggled to see anything but Stack.

The man you had fallen so deeply in love with when you were just sixteen—the man you were still hopelessly in love with now. Except now, there was no longer a livin', breathin' Elias, but rather somethin' undead.

Vampire.

“Just open up for me, and I promise you, everything is gonna be okay, baby.” His voice flowed like honey, each word drippin' with the kind of sweet reassurance that used to melt your heart.

“Elias…” you breathed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, a fragile whisper that barely escaped your lips.

“Open the door, Bam.” This time, his tone was still gentle, yet there was an undeniable firmness to it that sent your heart racing, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

“I can’t do that,” you sniffled, not bothering to conceal the hurt that laced your voice. “It’s not really you, ‘Lias.”

You pressed your forehead and hand against the door, wishing for nothin' more than to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, to bring him back to you in any way that you could.

“But I am, Y/n. It’s still me, girl. There’s only one me, baby.” He joked in that familiar way that made your heart swell, even now, even in this twisted moment. “I’m just… better now. Everything is so much better.”

From the outside, Stack leaned against the door, his forehead pressed against the same spot where you stood, as if he could feel your presence through the wood, tethered to you by an invisible thread.

“No fear, no pain. Shit’s just beautiful.” You listened, entranced, as he went on, his voice smooth and enticing, painting a picture of a world where everything was normal. “And you’re beautiful.”

Mary, who had originally stood by giggling, enjoying the show of what she thought was her man trying to gain entry into the juke joint, recoiled at his words, her expression shifting from amusement to disbelief.

The hive mind they had formed once connected to Remmick allowed her to see into Stack’s thoughts as well. It wasn’t what she thought it would be.

Inside Stack’s mind…

Once he became part of the hive, she assumed his deepest, most inner thoughts would be of her—of their love, their connection.

But what was funny was that the bond they shared was nothin' more than the connection of two people who loved the same person back.

See, while Stack may have loved Annie, he breathed you.

It changed the landscape of her emotions as the vampire form tried to reason within, but deep down, she knew.

Stack was never really hers.

He was yours.

He always would be.

“You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful—on the outside and the inside,” Stack spoke convincingly, his tone a mix of charm and desperation that echoed in your chest. “And you and I? We will be together. No problems, no worries.”

Your fingers played with the latch on the door, the metal cool against your skin. You knew you couldn’t invite him in, but wouldn’t it be okay if you just looked at him? If you could see him, talk to him face-to-face, maybe you could reason with him. Fix him.

“We want you,” Stack said from the other side, his voice dripping with longing, like a lover’s whisper in the dark. “I want you.”

“But Stack—” Mary tried to interject, her tone tinged with concern, but one sharp look from him silenced her instantly.

“Shut up, bitch,” he seethed, the darkness that filtered into his voice made you recoil, snapping you out of the trance you didn’t even realize you were in, the warmth of his charm replaced by a chilling edge.

“I just want you,” he repeated, urgency creeping into his voice, raw and desperate. “It could be me and you.”

“Now open the fucking door!” Stack screamed, the sound of his fist slamming against the wood made you jump back, colliding into Smoke, who you hadn’t realized was standin' there, along with the others—watchin' you with sad, worried eyes as you broke down.

Smoke gently took one of your hands and squeezed it tight, his other hand resting on your back, guiding you away from the door toward Annie, a protective shield against the darkness.

“Come on, sister. You got to stop torturing yourself.” Annie’s voice was low and steady, filled with concern that wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“Get the fuck on outta here, Stack!” Smoke threatened, takin' your place at the front door, ready to protect you from whatever darkness loomed on the other side, his stance firm and unwavering. “Fo’ I give you the pain you lookin’ for.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve already won,” Stack said, his voice dripping with a mix of confidence and something darker, leaving a chill in the air that seeped into your bones.

You struggled to catch your breath, disoriented and unsure how you ended up in the back of a car. The vehicle felt foreign, likely belonging to someone who had come to enjoy the evening’s festivities, not knowing what they’d fall victim to.

The world around you faded into a blur, drowned out by the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.

You blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from your mind. Each time you shut your eyes, the horrific memories of the last half hour flashed before you like a relentless slideshow.

Grace. Taunted by Bo before she snapped, letting the horror in.

“Bam.”

Those of you who remained inside the juke joint were doing your best to arm yourselves before the undead descended upon you, ready to invade your sanctuary.

You blinked rapidly, feeling tears swell in your eyes, the last wave of grief crashing over you as you closed them tight.

You watched Delta sacrifice himself, as you felt Mary’s claws sinking into your abdomen, her whispers echoing in your mind at the memory of her claiming him as hers, before being suddenly thrown away from you.

“Bam.”

All you could do was watch as Smoke hovered above Annie, who had spared you a glance. She was muttering words you couldn’t understand; your ears filled with a deafening white noise.

A moment later, you watched your sister’s husband drive a stake through her heart. You could feel her essence leaving this plane, taking a piece of you with her as she slipped away.

“Bam.”

Everyone was gone. The people you grew up with, the ones you loved—they were all dead or turned to the undead. You looked down, the vision of your hand blurring in and out of focus as you felt something slick coating your fingers.

Blood.

This time, the blood on your hands was yours.

“Come on, Bam, look at me.” A voice said softly.

You blinked hard, your vision clearing as you finally focused on the face before you.

“Elias?”

A feeling you couldn’t quite describe washed over you. You were torn between wanting to scream and shout or attempting to run away, even though deep down, you knew you were in no condition to do so. You should be scared of him, but you didn't have the energy to feel fear. You were dying.

The air around you was thick with dread, the acrid smell of smoke and blood mingling in your nostrils, a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed the night. With your last few moments in this lifetime approaching fast, you considered it might be a blessing to lay eyes on the face of your soulmate one last time.

With a shaky hand, you reached up, caressing the side of his face gently, yearning for the warmth that once radiated from him.

Stack let out a sigh of relief, the sound echoing in the stillness. You had been in and out of consciousness for what felt like an eternity as he picked you up and carried you away from the madness.

Stack looked down at the spot you’d been holding, your dress now darkened with blood, a stark contrast against the fabric.

The scent of you flooded his senses, and he couldn’t help the drool that pooled in his mouth, salivating at the thought of how you would taste. Yet, he fought against his new nature, focusing solely on you.

“Did you mean it?” you choked out, bringing his attention back to your face, your voice a fragile whisper.

“I did. I do.” He confessed, relishing the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a youngin’. I’ll always want you, even if you don’t want me.”

You looked into his glowing red eyes, filled with sincerity, and a pained laugh escaped your lips, tinged with irony.

“Even undead, your insecurities are screamin’,” you smiled, your teeth stained with blood. Your fingertips caressed his skin, grateful you could finally see him one last time. “I never wanted Smoke, Elias. I only ever wanted you.”

“I ain’t ever been nobody’s but yours, Y/n.” His rough voice whispered, filled with longing. “I will always be yours. I just need you to stay with me.”

You thought about it. Everyone else you loved was already gone, and you felt a hollow emptiness where your heart was supposed to be. You were on the brink of death yourself.

“C’mon now. I need to hear you say it. Tell me you wanna stay.” Stack pleaded, feeling your heartbeat slow beneath his fingers. He cradled your head in his hands, desperate for you to focus on him.

He wanted you to stay with him forever, but he didn’t want to take away your choice. He had taken enough from you tonight already.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Your thumb ghosted over his lip, and even half-dead, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him one last time.

Did it have to be the last time?

“I wanna stay,” you whispered through half-lidded eyes.

It was then Stack kissed you, kissed you the way he had pictured so many times before. You reciprocated, both of you ignoring the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. When you pulled apart, he kissed your forehead a few times before resting his on yours. He then took your hand in his, kissing your palm, then your wrist.

“It’s gon’ be alright, don’t you worry. I got you.”

Then he bit you.

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Modern AU | Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC & Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore | Modern AU

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Lines blur on a hot summer day when Juicy finds herself caught between what feels good, what feels right, and the one man she hasn’t figured out how to let go of—yet.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!!! Suggestive content, intense romantic tension, strong language, heavy makeout, handjob, spit, slightly emotionally vulnerable conversations

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 😛, also, this was originally going to be one chapter but I had to split it up into two, so the next chapter shouldn’t take this long. Okay, I’ve been going to multiple graduations, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy this, I love hearing from all of you and appreciate your feedback greatly. Thank you for reading and leave a comment PLEASE!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 11,854+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢

Juicy sat still as stone beneath the blazing sun, her gold-rimmed shades shielding her eyes—but not her thoughts. They were loud. Loud enough to drown out Mary’s chattering, the splashes from the pool, and whatever song was thumping low through somebody’s boombox across the yard. Her arms were folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up in a way she didn’t even realize, her glossed lips set in a tight pout, eyes glued—though she pretended not to be—to the mess unfolding across the pool. Smoke was still entertaining Anika like he had no home training and no memory of the things he said just last night. The nerve of him.

And though Juicy would never let him—or anyone else—see her bothered, she was. That same little ache was blooming in her chest again, heavy and sour, until she heard a voice smooth as satin, dipped in just enough trouble to make her heart skip.

“Well, well, well.’ Stack drawled, his skin catching the sun as he walked up, a slow smile tugging at his lips as he locked eyes with her. “And what could possibly be wrong with the princess on this fine-ass day?”

His voice was teasing, but warm and low enough to cut through all the noise clouding her mind. Juicy turned her head slightly but didn’t lift her shades. Not yet. Her lips curved into a slow, reluctant smile, the first real one she’d cracked since that little display Smoke put on. She had an idea.

“Nothing.” She said, voice soft, nearly sweet.

Stack grinned, pleased by the answer even though he knew better. He lowered himself onto the end of her lounge chair and she didn’t stop him. In fact, she sat up slowly and scooted down just enough to close the space between them. One of her legs curled behind him on the chair, the other planted on the ground beside his, practically cocooning him in her presence. Her warm cheek rested on his shoulder like a pillow, the glitter on her skin catching in the sunlight and dusting across his skin like fairy dust.

Stack blinked.

Damn. He wasn’t sure what spell she was casting, but he was more than willing to fall under it. His hand drifted to her knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking over her skin as he tried to play it cool. “And what’s got you all touchy-feely today?” He asked, dipping his head slightly to try and catch a better view of her face. But with her shades on, she was still unreadable.

“Nothing.” She said again, but there was a softness to it this time. A little breath behind the word. Then came the quiet sigh.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, turning it just enough to rest her chin there instead, her lips mere inches from his ear. She tilted her face toward him slowly, until their eyes met through her tinted lenses. When she slid the shades up from the bridge of her nose, those big brown eyes blinked up at him, glossy and deep and full of something he hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

Longing. Need.

“It’s just that…” She whispered, trailing off before she gathered the nerve to ask, “Are we not gonna talk about last night?”

Stack’s stomach dropped at that, but in the best way.

That mouth of hers. Those eyes. The way she said it so damn softly, like he was the only person in the world who knew her secrets. The same girl who used to clown on him in front of the crew was now cuddled up next to him with her lip gloss shining like diamonds and her perfume all sweet and floral. He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t go right back to the night before. Her on top of him on her couch. Her hands on his chest. The way she looked at him when she said his name.

Stack cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the lounge chair, eyes darting to the side to make sure nobody caught on to the sudden rise in his shorts. The last thing he needed was someone’s auntie at the pool giving him the side-eye while sipping her wine cooler.

“Damn, girl.” He muttered under his breath, lips curving into a lopsided grin as he shook his head. “You tryna make a man lose all his composure in public?” He asked.

Juicy giggled, low and sweet, hiding her smile behind her fingers like she hadn’t just turned his whole damn world upside down with that soft pout on her lips. She smelled like vanilla and coconut.

“So?” She asked again, her voice lower now, just for him. “We not gonna talk about it?”

Stack tilted his head, brushing his fingers up and down her thigh in slow, lazy strokes, his touch deliberate, his eyes half-lidded. He watched the way her skin pebbled under his fingertips, goosebumps rising despite the summer heat.

“I mean…” He drawled, voice thick as honey. ‘What you wanna say? You wanna talk about how you kissed me? Or what was finna happen on the couch if Sinclair didn’t walk in?”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but her smile deepened, her cheek pressing to his shoulder again a magnet attracted to metal. She wasn’t tryna revisit Sinclair or what stopped them—she was focused on what happened before that. What almost was. “You kissed me first, Stack.” Her voice was soft but certain, like she wanted that part on record.

He chuckled, his thumb stroking circles against her skin. “Okay, but you kissed back.”

Her heart thudded loud and deep in her chest, an echo in her ears. But she didn’t shy away. “I did.” She admitted, turning her head just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers now tracing slow, absentminded patterns across the muscles of his back. Her nails grazed over his skin, light as air. “And…I’d do it again.” She mumbled softly.

And she meant it.

What had started as a petty distraction—a way to keep her eyes off Smoke across the pool with that raggedy little pick-me Anika—had quickly turned into something else. She wasn’t thinking about them now. Not when she was wrapped around Stack like this, not when his scent—the heavy musk of his cologne and cocoa butter—was messing with her head.

Stack looked down at her, eyes heavy with something deeper. Her words lingered in the air between them like the humidity. His flirting made him swallow hard, caught off guard by her honesty, but he was not about to let the moment slip through his fingers. “We can do that whenever and wherever you want, darling.” He charmed, his country drawl deepening, slow and rich like molasses.

Juicy grinned at that, humming low and sweet, rubbing her hand against his bare back again, taking her time now. She liked the way he said ‘darling’, like the way he talked to her. She liked that she brought it out of him. “Okay…but first.” She teased, shifting forward until her chest pressed lightly against his thigh. “You have to let me apply this sunscreen to you.” She said as she leaned across him, her arm stretching toward her oversized straw beach bag with the bamboo handles. Her body curved against him perfectly, warm and soft. Her plump chest brushed his leg, sending a jolt of awareness through his core.

Stack groaned lightly, trying to distract himself from the feeling of her. “Baby, I’m Black, I don’t need no sunscreen.”

“Everyone needs sunscreen, Stack.” She said, pulling the bottle from her bag with a triumphant grin. “Don’t believe everything that you hear.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, I can say the same for what you’re sayin’.” He stated, causing Juicy to let out a small laugh. She sat up straighter now, her glasses pushed high on her slick, honey-colored bun as she gave him a pointed look, brows arched. The glare had bite, but it only made him grin. “You just wanna rub all on me.” He accused playfully.

Juicy laughed, cracking the cap on the sunscreen bottle. “I don’t need an excuse to rub up on you.” She said, voice sliding into something velvet and slow, a little seductive. She squirted a dollop into her palm, rubbing her hands together as Stack watched, captivated. “Do I?” She asked, cocking her head as if he didn’t already know. She paused, her hands outstretched and coated in lotion, sunlight bouncing off her golden-brown skin. “You already said it.” He replied smoothly, smirking.

Stack licked his lips and leaned forward a bit, ready as she began rubbing the lotion into his back. Her touch was firm but tender, working the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles. The heat of her hands, the closeness of her body—it was intimate in a way that felt almost too much for public, but neither of them cared. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring the feel of her fingers trailing over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath her touch.

Juicy took her time, fingers sliding over his shoulders and down his spine. She didn’t miss the way he sighed quietly, or the way his body leaned into her just a little more. She was pouring all the affection she wasn’t sure how to say into her hands.

And across the pool, Smoke saw it all.

Anika had left moments ago, said something about needing another drink, or fixing her lipstick, he didn’t know. He didn’t even care, but now she was gone, and he had a clear view of Juicy and Stack.

His brother. His girl.

He didn’t feel jealous. Not exactly. This wasn’t the kind of thing that stirred that in him. But still—he couldn’t look away.

There was something about the way Juicy was taking care of Stack that got to him. The soft looks, the lingering touches, the genuine laughter. It wasn’t just flirtation—it was something deeper that he could see lingering between them. And she looked good doing it all.

Her skin shimmered under the sun, glinting with flecks of glitter from that perfume Mary had gifted her for Christmas—the one he remembered because she always saved it for days she wanted to feel extra pretty. She had her legs wrapped around Stack’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Stack looked…happy. Soft, even.

Smoke stared for a moment longer, his drink halfway to his lips, then slowly turned his attention away.

Whatever that was between them, it was unfolding whether he liked it or not.

And Juicy didn’t even notice Smoke looking. Not anymore. She was too busy rubbing lotion into the warm skin of the man holding her.

The sun hung in the sky, golden and sticky like honey, casting a soft white sheen on everything it touched. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine, grilled ribs, and the unmistakable sweetness of Juicy’s perfume that still clung to her skin like dew. Her fingers were slick with sunscreen, the coolness of the lotion stark against the warm curve of Stack’s back as she rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles. “Damn,” Stack murmured, his voice lower now, raspier. “You gon’ take your time or you tryna get me worked up on purpose?”

Juicy smiled, her lip gloss catching the sun as she leaned in closer, her lips a breath away from his ear. “What if I am?” She whispered, rubbing her palms over the dip in his spine, down to the V of his waist before gliding back up again, her movements just slow enough to make his jaw clench. “Is it working?”

Stack exhaled, his hand flexing against his thigh. “You playin’ a dangerous game, baby.”

“I’m not playin’.” She said, moving to his arms now, turning slightly so she could kneel on the chair beside him. She lifted one of his arms by the wrist and began coating his bicep in smooth strokes, fingers gliding over muscle like she was memorizing the shape of him. “You the one who wanted me to do this, remember?”

“Correction.” Stack said, watching her through hooded eyes. “You insisted. Said it was medically necessary.”

“It is.” She grinned, biting her lip as she moved to the other arm. “Skin cancer don’t give a damn about how fine you are.”

He chuckled at that, low and amused. “So I’m fine now?”

“You been fine.” She replied with a shrug, smoothing the lotion over his forearm, teasingly running her thumb along his wrist. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Too late.

Stack was already halfway gone, trying his best to sit still while her fingers trailed over his skin like a slow-burning fuse. And Juicy—Lord, Juicy was taking her time with it. When she shifted in the lounge chair in front of him, her knees brushing the outside of his thighs, he damn near forgot where he was. Her touch was slow, circular, and she moved with deliberate care because she didn’t want to rush. She wasn’t sure when she started enjoying this more than she should’ve. It was just sunscreen, she told herself. Just sunscreen. Nothing more.

But by the time she made it to his arms—one thick and relaxed against his thigh, the other resting behind him—Stack had turned his head slightly, catching her in profile. She was focused, biting her bottom lip as she rubbed the lotion into his bicep, her long nails grazing him lightly.

“Let me take you out.” He said, not even leaving room for disagreement within his demand.

Juicy’s fingers froze for a half-second, her eyes snapping up to his. “Huh?”

“Let me take you out on a date, Journee.” He said, his voice smooth and firm, calling her by her real name.

Her laugh came out soft, breathy, almost involuntary. It caught her by surprise, because everything hit her at once. The use of her real name, which felt like something sacred now, something intimate. The weight of his words. The idea of a date, like this—whatever this was between them—was turning into something real. Something intentional. All while her hands were gliding over his warm, tattooed arms, trailing over words and symbols inked into his skin. Her fingers didn’t stop moving, almost like she was trying to distract herself from what he just said. Or the way he was staring at her like she was all he could see.

She reached for more sunscreen, rubbing her palms together, readying to press them onto his chest when he caught her wrist gently.

“You not gon’ answer me?” Stack asked, low and soft, his thumb brushing slow against the inside of her wrist. Juicy stilled as the air between them thickened. She looked at him fully now, the shimmer of her body mist glinting in the sun as her lip gloss caught the light. Her voice came quieter this time, more careful. “Wait… what?” She asked. “Are you for real?”

“Yes.” He said without pause, his eyes locked on hers. They flickered between her brown eyes and her full lips, searching her, but not pushing. Juicy looked at him for a long second, trying to find a tell of some joke, some smirk, some sort of game, but there was none. His face was relaxed, his expression soft. His eyes were the kind of gentle she wasn’t used to. The kind that made you feel seen and touched without even laying a hand.

“Stack, are you serious?” She asked, her voice rising just slightly with disbelief.

“Yes.” He said again, slower this time.

“Stack.”

“What?”

“Stack?!”

“What?!”

“Oh my goodness.” Juicy giggled, her grin finally breaking wide. “Yes! Yes, I’ll go on a date with you!”

“Good.” Stack said with a quiet smirk, his grip on her wrist still light but possessive. Like he’d been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn’t want to let it pass.

Juicy’s first instinct was to hug him—throw her arms around his neck and squeal into his ear like a high school girl in love. But then she remembered the lotion. Her hands were still slick with it. “Oh.” She mumbled with a laugh, shifting back and placing her hands finally on his chest. She swallowed, biting her lip again, this time to keep from gasping, because her hands were now gliding over his pecs, smooth and warm and strong beneath her fingertips. She rubbed slowly, deeply, letting her fingers wander along the defined ridges of his abs. His tattoos stretched beneath her palms, and she traced them subconsciously as she worked the cream in, taking her sweet time now. More than necessary.

Stack leaned back on his hands, chest bare to her, letting her explore with her touch. Juicy was on her knees in the chair, leaning over him slightly, and neither of them noticed the rare glances being thrown their way across the patio—the tension between them was its own kind of gravity. It pulled every glance, every passing whisper, into silence.

But Stack only had eyes for her.

He watched her like he was studying sunlight through stained glass. Tracing her every movement, cataloging every little breath and blink. Her cheeks glowed under the heat, her curls pulled back with just a few tendrils stuck to her neck. And her lips—sticky, glossed, and irresistible—kept pulling his eyes back again and again.

She looked up once, catching him staring, and her breath caught. “What?” She whispered.

“Nothing.” He said, lips curling. “Just tryna remember this.”

“Remember what?” She asked, laughing nervously.

He tilted his head. “The moment you said yes.” He smirked. Juicy’s smile faltered into something softer, and she pressed her palm flat against his chest, her thumb brushing just under his collarbone. “You’re so smooth.” She quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m serious.” He said, not smiling this time.

“I know.” She whispered.

Stack didn’t say anything after that. He just kept looking at her, the muscle in his jaw flexing slightly as her palm lingered against his chest. Her fingers, still slightly slick with sunscreen, stayed pressed against his warm skin like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. Maybe she didn’t want to. Juicy’s lips parted, and she tilted her head, her eyes skimming over his face, then down his chest again, and then back up to those low-lidded eyes watching her like he had nowhere else in the world to be.

Her heart was thudding against her ribs so loud she was sure he could hear it. The sun had started to dip a little lower now, casting soft amber light across his skin, making the edges of his tattoos glow like they were lit from within. She’d never seen a man look like that—like a damn dream, golden and real all at once.

She looked down again, hand dragging slowly across his chest, brushing over his left pec with more care than she even realized. Her thumb traced the edge of one of his tattoos like she was memorizing it by feel alone. She didn’t know when it had turned into something so intimate, but here they were, breathing in each other’s space, heartbeats lined up and unspoken things passing between them like static.

Stack’s hand moved up and caught the curve of her waist. His fingers didn’t grip, they just rested there, his thumb brushing lazily over the bare skin just above the waistband of her low-rise shorts.

Juicy swallowed as her eyes met his again.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She asked, voice soft, flirtatious but a little breathless.

“’Cause you’re beautiful.” He said easily. “’Cause I been tryna look at you like this since I met you. And now I can.”

Juicy had no words for that. Not at first.

She just blinked, eyes lingering on his, her breath catching somewhere in her throat. A slow smile tugged at her lips, different from the giddy one earlier. This one was heavier, like she couldn’t believe how soft she felt in that moment. How seen she felt. “You gon’ kiss me or something’?” She asked with a playful tilt of her head, her voice low and thick.

Stack leaned in just a fraction, close enough that his lips were a whisper away from hers. “I told you I was takin’ you out first, didn’t I?”

Juicy laughed softly, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she leaned back slightly. “Boy, you so corny.”

“You still like it though.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes with a grin, her hand still resting against his chest, now feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. “Yeah… I do.” She mumbled.

Stack’s thumb brushed slow over her waist again, his eyes on her lips for a beat too long. They stayed like that for a moment, suspended in that sweet, sticky tension of summer, wrapped in heat and hope and everything new. Juicy let her fingers drag down the center of his chest before finally pulling away, smirking as she reached for the sunscreen bottle again—partly to reset the moment, partly because she needed to do something with her hands before she gave in and climbed into his lap.

“I missed a spot.” She murmured.

Stack smiled, leaned back again, and let her hands find him once more. The air between them was humid and heavy, buzzing like the heat that shimmered off the concrete in waves. The lotion was nearly gone, but Juicy’s hands hadn’t stopped. They moved slow, deliberate, her fingers tracing across Stack’s skin like she was learning him by heart. Stack sat there stiff as stone, his posture and his pants, trying not to let the way she touched him show on his face, but it was no use. His jaw was tight, his breathing was low, and his eyes were glued to her like she was the last sweet thing earth had to offer.

Then, just when he thought she might keep going—maybe slide her hands even lower, maybe straddle his lap, maybe finish what she started—Juicy leaned forward, close enough for him to smell the peach gloss on her lips and the cocoa butter from her palms. She bit her bottom lip and dragged her eyes over his face like she was pulling something from him. Slowly and thoroughly, as if this was all a game and she was five moves ahead.

“I have to use the bathroom.” She said softly.

But it wasn’t the words. It was how she said it. Her gaze bounced between his lips and his eyes, heavy-lidded and warm, and Stack just… froze. Caught in the way her voice melted into the sticky summer air. Like he was under some kinda spell. She slid off the lounge chair, slow and smooth, her thighs brushing his as she stood. Then the sunglasses, those big, dark brown shades she slid on with practiced ease. She slipped her feet into her gold-and-white Baby Phat wedge flip flops and started walking, hips swaying in that hypnotic rhythm she was famous for.

Stack didn’t even register she was gone until she looked back at him, over her shoulder, over the rim of those shades. Her lips parted just enough to catch a glimmer of sun on the gloss, and her fingers flexed outward, an unspoken invitation dangling in the thick summer air.

That’s all it took.

He stood up fast, heart thudding somewhere near his throat. His long strides caught up to her quick, and when her hand reached back for his, he took it without hesitation, his fingers curling around hers like it was second nature. His eyes dropped as she led him toward the community center. He couldn’t help it. All legs and hips and that little sway she had that made his thoughts scatter.

He didn’t care where they were headed. Wherever Juicy was taking him, he was going. Happily.

But as they crossed the pavement, just a few feet from the double doors of the center, Juicy’s eyes caught someone.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the corner of the building, half in shadow, half in sunlight. A cloud of smoke curled up from his lips, the blunt burning low between his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, but sharpened the second they landed on her.

And time seemed to slow.

Stack didn’t see it. Didn’t feel the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his hand. Didn’t notice the way her spine straightened or the quick rub of her lips together like she was steadying herself. But Smoke noticed. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t double take or anything. He just watched them, his expression unreadable beneath the haze of weed and heat.

His eyes slid from Juicy’s face to her hand in Stack’s…and then back up again.

And for a split second, there was a flicker of something. It wasn’t jealousy, it wasn’t anger. It was just acknowledgment that he saw her. That he saw them. And maybe he understood exactly what was happening without needing to hear a single word.

Juicy held his gaze briefly, long enough for the silence to say what neither of them would. But she continued, pulling Stack inside with her.

Whatever guilt she should’ve felt—it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because she didn’t care, at least that what she tried to tell herself. Or maybe it was because Smoke didn’t look hurt at what he saw. He didn’t have a look of shock or betrayal on his features.

He just looked… hungry.

Like maybe, if Stack hadn’t been the one she reached for, he would’ve been. And that thought sent a thrill through her chest, pooling hot and dangerous in her belly.

Stack, still unaware of the exchanged glance, followed close behind, admiring the curve of her backside, the sway of her hips, the way her skin glowed in the fluorescent hallway light. He didn’t care where she was taking him.

Juicy smiled to herself as they disappeared into the building. She didn’t stop pulling him until they reached the narrow hallway just before the bathrooms, the area cooler and quieter, nothing but the bass of the cookout music thumping faintly through the walls behind them. The air smelled like deodorant and faint traces of perfume.

Stack barely had time to blink before Juicy spun around and pushed him—hard—against the wall. His back hit the smooth brick plaster with a soft thud, knocking the wind out of him just enough for surprise to flash across his face.

“Damn, girl—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Juicy pounced like she’d been holding herself back for too long, and her mouth crashed into his with a hungry kind of urgency that made his whole system stutter. Her lips were soft but firm, glossed but not sticky, and she kissed like she meant to take something from him—like she was claiming it.

Stack’s brain stalled, but his body didn’t. Instinct took over.

His hands slid to her waist, strong palms gripping the soft and plush curve of her sides to steady her. Mostly because she was coming at him so wild and fierce, he needed to hold her close just to keep up. She moaned softly against his lips, and something about the sound shot straight through him.

He groaned low in response, right into her mouth.

That’s when he lifted her. His strong arms slid beneath her thighs, hoisting her like she weighed nothing. He never broke the kiss, not once, as he turned and walked her backwards, careful but eager, until her back hit a different stretch of wall, tucked away near the bathroom doors. Secluded enough.

Juicy clung to him, her hands buried in the back of his cornrows, fingertips rubbing at the base of his neck like she could soothe the fire she was feeding. Their kisses grew louder, messier, the wet sounds echoing softly down the hall. But they couldn’t hear it. They couldn’t even bring themselves to care.

They were completely wrapped up in the feel of each other.

She whimpered when he ground her into his crotch—his bulge pressing against the thinnest part of her bathing suit skort, right where she throbbed for him. He swallowed the sound, capturing it with his mouth, deepening the kiss as her legs tightened around his waist.

Stack’s hand slid to her ass, gave it a firm squeeze that made her center clench and her toes curl. If they weren’t careful, they were gonna cross a line. Hell, they already had. The heat between them was boiling, and the way she rocked her hips into his made it damn near impossible to stop.

But then—a pinch.

A building pressure.

Beneath the haze of lust and adrenaline, reality tapped on Juicy’s shoulder with increasing urgency. Her eyes fluttered open, lips still locked to his, but her body was waving a red flag.

She had to pee.

She broke the kiss, panting against his lips, her head falling back just enough to catch her breath. Stack, still caught in the moment, leaned forward to follow her, trailing kisses along her jaw, his breath hot against her skin.

“Stack…” She sighed, voice breathless, trying to gather herself.

He hummed low in response, mouth still busy at her neck, hips still grinding like he couldn’t help it. Like it was second nature that moment they got like this.

“Stack, wait.” She said, firmer this time. Her hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to push him back a bit.

His lips paused. His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned back, eyes dazed and lips swollen from kissing. “Huh?”

“I have to pee.” Juicy said, squeezing her thighs together instinctively around his torso, her voice half serious and half laughing at the ridiculous timing of her own body.

Stack blinked, clearly trying to process through the fog of hormones. His eyes scanned her face, took in the smudged gloss, the flushed cheeks, the slightly wild look in her eyes. She looked wrecked—and it was all him.

A crooked smile curled at his lips.

“Oh, baby…” He murmured, tilting his head. “That’s not pee.”He smirked devilishly, leaning in close. “I’ll show you how to do that later, just let me—”

“No, Stack, for real!” Juicy laughed, smacking his chest, her voice breathless but serious this time. “Move! I gotta piss!”

Stack groaned like the universe was out to get him. “Damn.” He muttered, reluctantly easing her back down to the floor, hands lingering longer than they needed to.

As soon as her feet hit the tile, she was already stepping away, adjusting her skirt and heading for the girl’s room just a few feet down.

But just as she reached for the bathroom door—

Smack!

His hand connected with her ass in a sharp, playful hit that made her squeak and spin around, eyes wide.“Stack!” She hissed, glaring at him. But he just gave her that damn grin, the one that had to have the girls in Chicago ruin their lives for just a moment with him. “Damn, Juicy.” He said, eyes trailing from her backside up to her smirking mouth like he had every right to look. “You know I hate to watch you go, but I’ll gladly watch you leave.”

He backed away, slow and easy, like he had all day. And just before ducking into the men’s room, she caught a glimpse of his trunks, the clear outline of his problem straining hard and proud.

She rolled her eyes with a sift scoff but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips.

Juicy rushed into the bathroom, her knees nearly buckling as she slammed the stall door shut. Her heart was still racing, but for a whole new reason now—and not just from the way Stack had her melting into that hallway wall mere seconds before. She could barely breathe from the intensity of his kisses, his body, the way his hands gripped her thighs like he couldn’t stand to let her go. But now… she really had to pee. And it was killing the vibe.

When she was done, she took a moment at the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. Her lip gloss was smudged, her curls slightly tousled from where Stack’s fingers had gripped the back of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes still blown from the heat of their moment. She exhaled, straightened her halter top, and smoothed down her mini skirt. With a soft laugh at herself, she pushed out the bathroom door, still warm from Stack’s touch.

But she didn’t make it far.

The hallway was quiet now, almost too quiet. As she rounded the door, the air seemed to shift into something heavy and tense.

There he was, the man himself.

Smoke.

He was leaning against the wall like he had been waiting.

Her steps slowed. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze on her when she exited the bathroom, the way it crawled up her skin like wildfire. He said nothing, but everything about him was loud and demanding. His posture, his presence, his silence. She didn’t look at him for long. After she let out a small breath at seeing him, she felt the heat rise in her throat, her arms folding defensively over her chest as she turned her face slightly, staring at the far wall like it held the answers as to why he was suddenly in her space.

He didn’t move at first, just kept looking at her. His tall frame blocked the hallway, his shadow swallowing the corner whole. Juicy could feel the way his eyes raked over her, from her lips to her legs, and the same skirt Stack had bunched around her hips not even five minutes ago.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she raised her head and met his eyes for a second, her voice dry but biting. “Can I help you?”

Smoke’s voice rolled out low and rough, like gravel over velvet. “What’s up with you, huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as he stepped forward. She didn’t flinch, but her jaw tightened. The heat of his nearness pulled at her like gravity. “Your games won’t work, Juicy.” He said.

She scoffed. “Oh, now I definitely don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned on her heel to brush past him, the tension crackling between them like static. Smoke didn’t stop her. Not physically. But his voice followed her like a shadow.

“You flirting with Stack.” He began, causing Juicy freeze mid-step, her back to him “All up on him, rubbing on him, whispering to him.“ He continued. “It’s not doing what you think it is.”

Her fist clenched, nails biting into her palm as she turned around slowly, her face sharp with fury. “And neither is you talking to Anika.”

That made him pause.

He stared at her for a long moment before a smirk curled across his lips. He laughed softly through his nose, like she was amusing. “Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Smoke.”

He stepped forward, his eyes cutting into her. “You’re jealous that I spoke to Anika.”

“I’m not jealous of a damn thing.” She snapped.

But he ignored her as he kept stepping until the distance between them was nearly gone, the scent of his cologne mixing with the sweat on her skin and whatever was left of Stack on her lips.

“You know, I didn’t even know her name before you said it.” He murmured. “I don’t give a damn about that girl. And you’d know that if you stopped reacting for two seconds and just calmed the hell down.”He snapped. Juicy opened her mouth to argue, but Smoke cut her off, voice sharper now, eyes burning into hers. “You trying to make me feel some type of way with Stack was a waste of your time. ’Cause I know how you feel about me. I see how you feel about me. And you kissing on Stack doesn’t change that. Doesn’t change how I feel about you either.” He shrugged.

Juicy’s heart thundered in her chest. He stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching as his voice dropped to a husk. “Seeing you up on my brother didn’t do nothing to me… ’cept give me a front row seat to how hot you get when you’re trying to prove a point.”

Juicy’s lips parted, her breath shaky.

“So go ahead.” He said, eyes dark and sure. “Just ‘cause you’re with him don’t mean you’re not mine. And just ‘cause you’re with me don’t mean you’re not his.”

She could only blinked, stunned.

“It’s been this way for a while, Juicy. And it’ll keep being this way. Until one of us figures out how to stop loving you.” His eyes softened, just a little. “And that ain’t happening. For a long time, not for me.”

Juicy didn’t know what to say. Her anger had drained, replaced by a strange ache in her chest. Smoke had always been intense, but this was something else. This was… raw. Emotions she’d never had to deal with, things she’d never thought he would ever say.

She was still trying to gather her thoughts when the sound of a sink shutting off echoed from behind the bathroom door. Then it creaked open, and Stack stepped out, wiping his hands on his trunks.

He stopped cold at the sight of them—Juicy cornered, Smoke towering, both of them staring at each other like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Stack’s voice cut through. “Hell goin’ on here?”

Juicy blinked fast and turned away, suddenly breathless. Her feet moved before her brain did, her wedges clicking quick down the hallway as both men watched her retreat.

Stack’s eyes followed her for a second, then turned back to his twin. “The hell did you say?”

Smoke leaned against the wall again, calm, like the storm hadn’t just passed through his chest. “Nothin’ she ain’t already know.” He said. “She just finally admitted it to herself.”

Juicy rushed out of the building, heart still pounding in her chest from whatever that moment had been. She didn’t stop to check if anyone noticed, didn’t pause to let the warm summer air cool her down. Her sandals slapped against the pavement as she beelined back to her lounge chair, a sigh slipping through her lips the moment she dropped into it, like a weight being let go.

Mary sat in the chair next to hers, legs crossed and a glossy magazine propped in her lap, the same one Juicy had been reading earlier. She looked up, immediately catching the faraway glaze in Juicy’s eyes.

“Aye, what’s up with you?” Mary asked, folding the magazine shut and turning in her chair with concern laced under her playful tone.

“Nothing.” Juicy responded flatly, sliding her gold rimmed sunglasses back down onto the bridge of her nose before lying back, her head tilted toward the bright sky. The air was thick with chlorine along with a faint scent of grilled meat floating over the pool area. But Juicy didn’t notice any of it. Not now.

Mary furrowed her brows, watching her for a second, but didn’t press. She knew Juicy well enough to know that if she didn’t wanna talk, she wouldn’t. So she turned her focus back to her magazine, flipping a page with an acrylic click.

A few minutes passed, a soft summer breeze blew through the trees, rustling the umbrellas and pool floaties. The sun had shifted slightly, casting a golden sheen over everything. From the corner of her eye, Juicy noticed two familiar shapes emerging from the building. Smoke and Stack.

They weren’t being subtle either—eyes trained directly across the pool, right at her.

Still, she kept her gaze upward, acting like she hadn’t noticed. Her whole body was tensed like a live wire though, her chest tight, lips pursed and hand fidgeting with the thin strap of her bikini top. Their area had gotten more crowded, people swarming around the life guard chair, someone trying to flirt with Megan, others leaning over the fence and their bags strewn around. It was noisy and chaotic—but not enough to drown out the presence of the twins as they made their way over.

Smoke dropped himself casually at the end of Juicy’s lounge chair, while Stack took his time, leaning coolly against the tall lifeguard chair like a king surveying his court. Juicy’s lips tightened but she didn’t say anything. She just stayed laid out, arms crossed over her chest, legs stretched long and golden in the sun, pretending the sky was more interesting than the weight of their gazes.

It wasn’t until Mary broke the silence that Juicy finally stirred. “Oh, girl, I almost forgot!” She said suddenly, closing her magazine and shifting closer. “I overheard Shante talking, and turns out, Donavan and Anika broke up because he supposedly got another girl pregnant, right?”

Juicy tilted her head slightly toward her friend, lips still tight. “Right…” She said, low and distracted.

Smoke shifted, placing her legs into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Juicy glanced down at the feeling of his palms on her skin. Warm and familiar. She didn’t say anything, but her jaw flexed. Mary noticed it too but powered on, already locked into her gossip.

“Well come to find out, that was a lie. Anika cheated on him. But guess with who.”

“Who?” Juicy and Stack asked in unison, a beat of accidental harmony. The chubby girl looked up at him, be he seemed just as engrossed as her.

Mary leaned in, voice dropping like she had government secrets. “Antwon.”

Juicy’s shades shot up as she gasped, leaning up on her elbows. “Our Antwon?” She asked, disbelief written across her face.

Mary nodded eagerly. “Yup.”

Juicy gasped again, hand to chest like her pearls had just been clutched. The twins on either side exchanged looks before focusing in on her. “What do you mean, your Antwon?” Stack asked, narrowing his eyes. His gold chain glinted in the sun as he looked down at her.

Juicy rolled onto her back again, meeting his stare with a smirk. “Not like that. Y’all know Antwon. Everybody knows Antwon. He got me and Mary into clubs, concerts, we even went on a road trip to Florida with him once. Mary, you remember that?”

Mary grinned wide, eyes sparkling with memory. “Hell yeah. That was fun as hell too. Ooo, do you remember that white boy who ate—”

“No! I don’t!” Juicy hissed, cutting her off sharply. Her eyes widened slightly as she darted them between the two men. Mary caught on to the hint and fell quiet.“Oh, yeah… me neither.” She mumbled, flipping a page in her magazine like nothing happened. “Can’t believe she cheated with Antwon.” She mumbled, bring the conversation back.

“Wait—what were you about to say?” Smoke asked, tone lighter, but his curiosity clear.

“Yeah, me either.” Juicy said quickly, waving off the moment like it didn’t matter. “I mean, I thought he was too square for her. She sort of has a type.” Her eyes drifted toward Smoke deliberately. “No offense to you or anything.” She snarked with an upturned lip in disgust. Smoke didn’t respond with words, he just smirked and tapped her leg.

“What white boy?” Stack pressed, not letting it go and he was a bit annoyed that he was begging ignored.

Mary spoke again, trying to pivot back. “I heard she only did it ‘cause Donavan cheated first. I guess this was her way of getting even. That, and for always flirting with you.”

Juicy’s head snapped toward her. “Excuse me?”

Mary blinked innocently. “Flirting with you all the time.” She repeated. “He does it right in the girl’s face. Remember when you worked at Waffle House last year? He’d be in there every damn day.”

“That’s because the auto shop was right next door. You know that’s where his brother used to hang. And you were in there every day too.”Juicy countered.

“I was there for free food. He was there to see that ass in them True Religion jeans.” Mary grinned.

“Oh, so you weren’t there for me? And is my ass my defining quality now?”

“It’s one of your best.” Mary said with a wink.

Stack chimed in at the same time, “It’s the most prominent.”

Juicy turned and gave him a full glare, but he just grinned at her, his gold tooth glinting, completely unbothered. She flipped him off with a lazy hand and turned back to Mary. “Don’t say it like that. I worked there for two weeks.”

“And you apparently couldn’t survive without me.”

“Anyways!” Mary said loudly, cutting them off. “Those two weeks you did work there, he was up in there with Anika trying to get at you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”Juicy muttered, sliding her shades back down.

“That’s ‘cause you’re oblivious unless somebody pours it on thick. That’s why you flirt so boldly.” Mary said, eyebrow raised with precision.

Juicy turned to look at the two men next to her. Smoke was already watching her from behind her glasses while Stack raised a brow thoughtfully, then nodded in agreement.

Juicy scoffed in disbelief, dragging a hand over her face.

“I just hope Antwon knows what he signed up for,” Mary added. “I would hate to defend my good friend by laying hands upon that New York City street rat.” She hissed the insult with venom, casting a sharp glance across the pool toward Anika, who was laid out on her stomach, ass perched like a billboard ad.

Juicy followed her gaze, lips curling in disdain. The memory of Anika talking to Smoke earlier flashed across her mind like lightning. Without a word, she pulled her legs from Smoke’s lap and gently pushed him away with her feet. He let it happen, grinning like he knew exactly what was on her mind.

Before he could say anything, Stack broke the tension.

“Juicy.” He said, voice low and slow, syrup-thick and sweet as a ‘issippi drawl.

She looked at him, her head turning lazily, curiosity flickering behind her glasses. Her lips stayed in that soft pout she always had when she was trying to decide if she was irritated or not.

“Can you go get my shirt outta my car?” He asked, almost too casually. Her gaze narrowed a bit, searching his face. “Back seat, behind the passenger.” He added, eyes holding hers with a bit of challenge. “You’ll know which one.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t just a request. It was a demand with a flirtatious flair. Like an invitation wrapped in something silky but toxic.

Juicy let out a slow sigh, already halfway annoyed, halfway entertained. She pushed herself up from the cool edge of the lounge chair, brushing imaginary dust from her thighs, the hem of her skirt rising with the motion.

“You got two working legs, Stack.” She muttered.

“Yeah.” He said with a grin, eyes never leaving hers, “But I got you, too.”

Smoke let out a low chuckle, deep and rich like the rumbling of a distant engine. Mary popped her gum, watching the exchange with raised brows, eyes bouncing between them like it was her favorite TV show. Juicy didn’t say anything for a beat, just stood there, hand on her hip like she was giving him one last out before she really got mad. When Stack simply smirked, smug and warm and cocky, she huffed, holding out her hand.

Stack reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to her in one smooth motion, letting them land in her palm.

She stared at him for a moment longer, lips twitching like she might smile if she weren’t so annoyed, then turned on her heel with that signature switch in her hips—the one she didn’t even know she had.

She walked across the gravel and out the gate toward the car parked a bit out of plain sight. Only the folks at the cars could see her now, not the ones chilling by the water.

The summer heat kissed her shoulders as she reached the familiar beeper keychain, unlocking the car with a soft chirp. She opened the door and leaned into the back seat, immediately spotting the black wife pleaser folded messily behind the passenger seat. Reaching for it, her fingers brushed the fabric—cool against her warm skin.

That’s when she felt it. A hand on her lower back.

She gasped, whipping around fast and swinging without thinking. Her palm connected with someone’s chest, and a familiar laugh followed.

“Damn!” Stack chuckled, wincing a bit but still grinning like the mischievous man he is.

“What the hell, Stack!” Juicy snapped, swatting him again, this time on the arm.

“I’m sorry!” He said, still laughing, holding up both hands like he was surrendering. “Relax, girl, damn. You got a bit of a much on you”

“You had me come all the way out here just to follow me?”She asked, her voice tight with disbelief.

“Yeah.” He grinned, leaning his back against the car with his arms folded and that same soft, unreadable look in his eyes.

“For what, Stack?” She asked, arms folded now, the heat and tension settling into her bones. “To get me alone or some?”

He tilted his head slightly, dark braided curls brushing the male of his neck. “Yeah.” He repeated, the word quieter this time.

Her breath was caught at that one word. “For what, Stack?” She asked again, softer now.

“I wanna know what Smoke said to you earlier.” He said plainly.

That threw her then, and she only blinked before her eyes fell to the shirt in her hand. She sighed, voice dipping low. “It’s… complicated.” She muttered:

Stack shifted, facing her fully now. “Try me.”

She looked up at him, really looked at him. The way his eyes softened when they were just the two of them. The brightness behind them, always shining a little extra when he looked at her. It did something to her—something she wasn’t sure she had words for yet.

She let out another sigh and moved to sit on the foot panel of the car door, body half-twisted toward him, the metal hot beneath her.

Stack slid into the back seat, legs dangling out, watching her with a kind of focus that made her fingers tremble as she picked at the gems on her nails. She hesitated, her mouth opening to speak but no words coming out as her bear beat increased. Then she decided to just finally come out and say it.

“I like you, Elias.” She said, eyes moving up from her fidgeting hands to search his. Her voice was small but steady.

Stack blinked at her before a slow grin spread across his face. “Okay.”

She bit her lip, starting at him before she pressed on. “Like, a lot.” She blinked at him, her heart banging behind her ribs. “Like… I wanna be with you.” She admitted.

Stack didn’t move for a beat. Then, his large hands reached out and covered hers, stilling her fidgeting. His skin was warm, grounding. “That sounds like music to my ears, mama.” He said, voice low and smooth, like velvet to her skin. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ma have to show you a few things.” He grumbled as he leaned in. Juicy laughed softly, shy and breathless, even as his lips met hers. He kissed her slowly. Pocketed kisses that were quick but tender, like he was tasting each one before giving her the next. And in between each one, he pulled back just enough to look at her. Really look at her with her long lashes flush against her cheeks.

Juicy kissed him back, nerves fluttering in her stomach like summer fireflies. But the next part—the next part tangled her up. “I also feel the same way for Elijah.” She mumbled, barely audible.

Stack blinked. His face didn’t fall, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He just sat there, quiet.

“I’d understand if you don’t—”

“I don’t care.” He cut in.

She looked up, startled. “What?” She asked, brows furrowing.

“I said I don’t care.” He repeated. “I mean… I don’t mind that you feel the way you do about Smoke. As long as you feel how you do about me like you said. That’s what matters to me.”His voice was steady. But instead of relief, Juicy felt the ache in her chest grow.

“I thought that would help.” She whispered, “but it only makes things worse.” She whined, placing her hands over her face.

Stack leaned forward, amusement clear on his face as his hand slid along her back, fingers trailing over skin exposed by her halter top. “Aw, and why’s that, mama?” He murmured, lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

“Because now I gotta choose.” She said softly, eyes glossy. “And that’s something I never wanted to do.”She said as she leaned forward and placed her cheek against his thigh, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a hug.

Stack stroked her back in long, gentle circles, quiet for a moment.

“You don’t have to choose.” He said finally.

Juicy lifted her head slowly, eyes full of question.

“What?”

He smiled down at her, soft and unguarded. “I mean it. I ain’t askin’ you to pick. I’m askin’ you to be real. With me. With him. With yourself.” He stated.

She stared at him, heart thudding hard.

“I already know how I feel about you. And I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Juicy’s throat tightened, her fingers curling in his lap. The world around them faded into the hum of summer—the distant pool splashes, the low drone of 112’s “Cupid” playing from someone’s speaker. But in that moment, all she could hear was her heart and his voice, intertwining like a melody she never wanted to end.

She lifted her head from Stack’s lap slowly, brown eyes glimmering with uncertainty, the same way they always did when she tried to guard her heart but didn’t really want to. “What?”

Stack smiled down at her, easy and entirely unbothered. It wasn’t the cocky kind of smile he usually wore. It was soft and honest. Vulnerable, even.“I mean it.” He said, his voice low and steady, like it had been rehearsed in his chest for weeks. “I ain’t askin’ you to pick when I already know I got you.”

Juicy’s heart thudded so loud in her chest, she swore Stack could hear it. She just stared at him, her lips parted like she wanted to say something but forgot how to speak. His words hit somewhere deep—somewhere behind her ribcage, tucked under all that sassy-girl bravado she wore.

“I already know how I feel about you.” He continued, brushing a knuckle down her jawline. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere, baby. So, if you don’t mind it… I sure as hell don’t.”

That last part melted something in her. Something tight and tangled in her chest. Her fingers curled in his lap, picking at the edge of her acrylics like she could fidget the feelings away. The moment thickened around them, time slowing to a crawl. The world outside—Smoke, Mary, the pool, the music, all of it—faded into a muffled hush.

“Really?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone, soft as breath. “I meant what I said. I don’t care about the rest. I care about you.”

“You don’t mind?” She asked again, still trying to wrap her head around it. Her voice was higher now, tinged with disbelief. As if love that easy—love that open—was too good to be true.

Stack chuckled, and it was low and warm, wrapping around her like a hug. “No, baby, I don’t.”

And something in her broke open.

“Oh, Stack.” She breathed, her whole body softening as she looked at him like he’d just handed her the moon. And before she could talk herself out of it, she moved. Pounced on him again like she had earlier in the hallway—only this time it wasn’t playful. This time, it was desperate.

Her lips crashed onto his with heat, hunger, and the kind of reckless passion that made her forget they were in the back of his car and not in some steamy and searing dream. She pushed him into the leather seat cushions, and the car creaked softly beneath their bodies.

Stack let out a surprised grunt, caught off guard for all of two seconds before instinct kicked in. His hands gripped her like he’d been waiting to, one large palm immediately claiming her bottom while the other slid up her spine, pulling her closer. Juicy kissed him like she was starving, like he was the only thing that could satisfy her craving, and Stack responded by letting his mouth part just enough for her tongue to taste him.

When she finally pulled back, both of them panting lightly, her hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Her eyes were wild and soft all at once, pupils blown wide, lips swollen. She looked at him like she couldn’t believe he was real. “I could just eat you.” She groaned hungrily, breathless, before diving back in, lips finding his again like she was scared they’d disappear if she stopped.

Stack moaned into her mouth, a deep, possessive sound as his hands roamed, mapping every curve of her like he already knew them by heart. Her thighs straddled his lap fully now, riding the heat between them as his fingertips slid beneath her skirt, brushing against the small of her back. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“I been wantin’ this.” He muttered between kisses, his voice husky. “You don’t even know, baby. Every time you walk past me with those damn hips swingin’, or when you laugh with that hand over your mouth like you shy—”

“I am shy.”She whispered against his lips, smiling, her hips slowly rocking against his lap.

“Not with me.” He grinned, dragging his mouth along her jaw to kiss at her neck. “Never with me, baby.”

She whimpered at that, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth worked a slow, open kiss beneath her ear. Her body arched against him, her back curving like she was offering herself up, and Lord, if Stack didn’t look like he was about to pass out from how sweet she felt on top of him.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” She whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him, breath shaky. “I’m tryna be good but you make it so damn hard, Elias.” She whined.

Stack smirked, dragging her lip between his teeth before letting go. “Don’t be good then.”

That broke her.

She kissed him again—messier this time, much needier. Her arms looped around his shoulders as if holding him tighter could erase the confusion, the guilt, the ache in her chest about Elijah. But for now, there was only this. Only him.

Stack's mouth was a trail of fire on her skin, his lips and tongue leaving a path of goosebumps as they explored her collarbone, her neck, her shoulders. Juicy's breath hitched, her pulse racing like a wild animal as she arched into him, her body crying out for more. The heat between them was a living thing, an inferno that licked at their nerves and made their limbs tingle with anticipation.

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his hardness press against her center, and a soft moan escaped her lips, a sound that was part plea, part invitation.

"You feel too good to be real, baby…" Stack growled against her throat, his voice a gravelly rumble that sent shockwaves through her as his hands gripped the flesh of her ass.

Juicy's nails dragged lightly across the nape of his neck, eliciting another groan from him, a sound that was pure, unadulterated longing as his hips bucked into her, his hard never pressing against her clothed clit, inciting a sharp moan from her. He was her tormentor and her savior all in one, and she was utterly at his mercy.

As his hand dipped further beneath the waistband of her shorts, she froze, her breath catching in her throat like a bird trapped in a cage. She placed a soft but firm hand on his chest, stilling his movements, her heart pounding wildly.

"Wait.” She whispered. Her eyes locked with his, and she saw the surprise flicker in his gaze, but no annoyance, only a hint of curiosity and a world of unspoken questions. Stack blinked, pulling back slightly, his lips still grazing her collarbone, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. "What is it, Juicy?" He asked, his voice a low, concerned murmur, laced with a hint of confusion. "You okay?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, her cheeks flushing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "I—I don’t wanna go all the way yet.” She admitted, her voice soft but certain. "Not till we’ve had our first date. I want it to mean something. Not just the heat of the moment and hormones. I want it to be real, Stack. I want you to want me for more than just this."

He sat up more, the tension in the car shifting as he processed her words, his eyes never leaving hers.

A slow, boyish grin spread across his face, a grin that held a thousand promises and a touch of mischief. "You mean to tell me this ain’t real?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something more profound, something that made her stomach do a series of flips. Juicy narrowed her eyes playfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "Stack, you know what I mean.” She said, brushing a stray curl out of her face, her hand trembling slightly. "I just... I want to take our time. I want to build something real." She admitted.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alright, I get it. You're killing me, though, ma. First the couch yesterday, then the hallway, and now this. You're killing me, you know that?" He said, his grin never wavering, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, something that looked a lot like affection.

Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw, her breath hot against his skin. "Well, said I wanted to wait on sex.” She whispered. “Didn’t say I couldn’t help you in other ways.” She says, her voice a sultry promise, a tantalizing tease. Stack went still, his eyes darkening with surprise and interest, his breath hitching slightly. "Didn’t you just say wait?" He asked, his voice creeping on amusement.

"I did.” She confirmed, her smile innocent but her tone anything but. "But not for everything."

He blinked slowly, licking his lips as if he needed a moment to process the weight of her words. The look he gave her was intense, a look that promised a world of pleasure and one that made her heart race and her body ache with longing. "You sure about this, Juicy?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire and need.

She nodded, her eyes smoldering with want. "If you’re okay with it.” She said, her voice a soft.

A tense pause lingered between them, thick with desire and anticipation. The air was electric, charged with a tension that was almost painful, almost unbearable. Stack exhaled deeply.

"Damn right I’m okay with it.”He muttered, his voice low and reverent.

Juicy just smiled. She took her time, savoring the moment and the look in his eyes. The feel of his body beneath hers and the sound of his ragged breaths. Her fingers danced along the waistband of his sweats, a teasing, tantalizing promise of things to come. The music outside shifted to something even slower and more sensual, another old-school groove made for moments like this.

She could feel the anticipation building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sweats, feeling him spring free, hard and ready, a testament to his desire and his longing for her. Her mouth practically watered at the sight of him, hushed dick thick throbbing in need. She took in a sharp breath as a rush of liquid dotted the center of her bikini, she could feel it. Just the sight of him set things off in him.

Stack's breath hitched, a sharp sound. His eyes never left hers, even when hers moved. He never wavered, never broke contact, as if he was afraid she would disappear. That this was all a dream, a fantasy, a figment of his imagination. "Juicy.” He whispered, her name a prayer on his lips, a plea.

She leaned forward a bit as her eyes made their way back to his, looking up at him through her lashes with her head still angled down. And he watched as her mouth opened slightly and a trial of clear saliva dribbled out.

He took in another breath, closing his eyes briefly at the feeling of her spit hitting his dick. He opened them again, just in time to see Juicy lick her lips, her eyes still trained on his face. She took his member in to hand, her grip firm, and she began to move her hand slowly, a torturously slow pace that was designed to drive him wild as she worked her slick around him. A smirk played on her lips as she felt him respond to her touch, as she felt his body tense and watched his muscles coil under his bare chest.

She was in control, and she loved it. This dynamic and sense of power was new to her and she loved it. The look in his eyes, loved the feel of him in her hand, loved the way he reacted to her touch.

"Like that?" She whispered, her voice low and sultry as she tightened her grip on him a bit. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief, a dangerous combination that was guaranteed to drive him wild.

Stack could only nod, his throat tight with anticipation and need as his adman apple bobbed. "Yeah, just like that.” He managed to rasp out, his voice a low in a desperate sound. His hips lifted slightly to meet her strokes, a silent plea for more, for something faster, something harder. He hummed as the feeling of release built up in his core, and Juicy leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin and her voice a low, sultry murmur. "I want you to feel good.” She said, her words a declaration of her intentions, of her desires and needs. "I to make you feel good. Want you to know how much I want you, even if we're taking this slow. I want you to know that I care about you." She continued.

Stack's hand found her other one, his fingers lacing through hers on his lap, his grip tight, almost desperate. His other one found her wrist and he guided her, showed her exactly what he liked, exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. He clearly just wanted to hold onto her, to ground himself as he felt his pleasure build. Their combined touch in a symphony of pleasure that was almost too much to bear.

The increasing pace, the ragged breaths, the desperate moans, the world outside fading away, the car becoming a place of pleasure and ecstasy.

"Juicy," Stack groaned, his voice a low, desperate sound as he struggled for control of his desperate need for release. "You're driving me crazy. You feel so good, baby. Mmm, fuck, I can't get enough.” He groaned.

Juicy smiled against his neck, her lips soft and warm as she placed gentle, reverent kisses on his skin, her hand never stopping its delicious torture, never wavering, never slowing, never stopping. She could feel his pleasure building, could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps and his heart pounding wildly against her hand, his body begging for release.

Stack's grip on her hand tightened, his fingers digging into her skin, his body tensing. "I'm close.” He warned, his voice hoarse with need. "I’m so close, baby. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop." He pleaded desperately in between the wet kisses he placed upon her lips.

Juicy increased her pace, not taking her mouth away from his as she hummed in pleasure, her strokes sure and steady. "Let go, baby.” She whispered, pulling back to place her forehead against his. “Let go for me.” Her voice a soft, commanding but pleading, as she held his eyes, their face mere inches apart.

With a final, shuddering groan, Stack did just that. His back arched off the seat, his muscles tensing and his mouth open in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Juicy held him tightly, her hand never stopping, while her other hand gripped his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh.

She felt it, the hot, pulsing release, the evidence of his pleasure spilling into her hand, coating her fingers. It was a testament to his ecstasy, a symbol of their connection. She slowed her movements, gentling her touch and soothing him as he came down from his high, her eyes never leaving his. Her gaze was soft, her expression tender and her heart full.

Stack's chest heaved, his body slick with a thin sheen of sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked at her, his eyes still blown and dark with pleasure. He then smiled, a slow, lazy, satisfied smile that made her heart flutter.

"Oh, Juicy.” He murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. "That was... incredible, baby.” He sighed. “You are... incredible."

She smiled back at him, her heart swelling with content, though there was an air of mischief still there in her smirk. She held his eyes as she brought her hand up to her lips, and slowly licked her fingers clean, tasting his essence. Savoring him and committing the moment to memory.

Stack's eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he watched her, his body responding to the erotic sight as he dick twitched against his stomach and a soft groan escaped his lips. "Fuck, Juicy.” He whispered, her name a reverent of his admiration.

She smiled, a slow and seductive before she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a soft, gentle, tender kiss. Stack kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, his body still trembling with the aftermath of his release, his heart pounding, his soul soaring.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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[afroslacks]

What if I made a fic about Michael B Jordan and reader dating as they navigate fame? Would you guys read it?

[chaneajoyyy]

😮‍💨😮‍💨

Forgot this one 🥴😍

[brownsugarcoffy]

The Vine Between Us (5)

Summary

Annie left the Mississippi Delta with a broken heart and a full-ride scholarship, determined never to look back. Now a celebrated professor in Chicago, she’s called home to care for her mother—and the last thing she expects is to run straight into him.

Elijah "Smoke". Her first love. Her first everything.

He disappeared the summer after graduation, leaving only unanswered calls and a goodbye she never got. Now he's back in town, running a moody, magnetic blues lounge with his twin brother, playing late into the humid Southern nights like he’s pouring his soul out just for her.

Annie wants to hate him. She wants to forget the way he made her feel. But one look from those stormy eyes, and she’s seventeen again. Burning, aching, and lost in the man he’s become.

He left without a word. But now? He wants to finish the story they never got to end.

Characters: Annie x Elijah " Smoke" Moore (Modern AU)

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Mention of Abuse, Vulgar Language, Sexual content & more...

Chapters: PART (1), PART (2) , PART (3), PART (4)

NOT EDITED

The sun cracked over Mississippi like a slow yawn. Golden light sliding across the treetops, catching the dew that still clung to grass like glitter. Somewhere, a rooster crowed, and the world kept turning, but inside the modest brick house on Walnut Grove Road, Smoke was standing in his kitchen barefoot, staring into nothing.

His house. Paid for with his own hands.

Two bedrooms, one bath, and a wide front porch with peeling white railings and a crooked swing that creaked when the wind blew right. It wasn’t fancy, but it was his. A symbol of every hard-earned dollar, every late night he hustled behind that lounge, and every early morning, he kept grinding instead of folding.

Inside, it smelled like strong coffee, lemon oil, and the faintest hint of Egyptian musk from his cologne still hanging in the air from when he’d showered and dressed. The soft voice of Sade record Kiss of life play spun low in the background, the scratch of vinyl threading through the silence.

Smoke leaned against the counter, fully dressed but still unsure.

His hand rested on his keys, but his mind was somewhere else.

Annie.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. That look she gave him last night. It was measured, cautious, but open. The way her voice dropped when she said “Just one date.” It had stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

It terrified him.

It thrilled him.

He hadn’t been nervous like this since he was a teenager. Sneaking with her to the greenhouse just to hold her hand and listen to her talk about dreams too big for their little town. However, wasn’t that boy anymore. He was a man now. One with his own house, his own business, and a love still lodged deep in his chest like it never left.

He was going to show her that.

He just had to get past his nerves and his damn brother.

BAM BAM BAM!

The sound of hard knocks rattled through the old screen door like somebody was tryin’ to break in or deliver a package with attitude.

Smoke, still nursing the last few swigs of his black coffee, squinted at the front door through the living room archway. The sunlight was barely warming the porch steps, and already somebody was testing his patience.

He opened the door slowly, eyebrow already cocked.

“Stack, what the hell you doin’ on my porch this early?”

His twin brother stood there grinning wide like he had fresh gossip and nowhere else to be.

“Don’t start nigga” Stack said, brushing past him like he paid rent. “I told you last night. I’m helpin’ you get ready. It’s date day, and this is a full-service brother situation.”

Smoke looked down at his watch.

“It’s not until six.”

“And it’s 9:45,” Stack countered, sliding off his sunglasses. “You act like we ain’t got a whole man overhaul to do.”

Smoke blinked. “You sayin’ I need an overhaul?”

“I’m sayin’ Annie deserves a man that dresses like he ain’t just rolled out a jazz club in '1945.”

Before Smoke could clap back, Stack was already halfway up the stairs like a man on a mission. “Let’s see what tragic collection you’ve been hiding in your closet, Mr. Comfortable.”

Smoke muttered under his breath, shutting the door. “This nigga gon’ make me smoke two packs before noon.”

He took his time climbing the stairs, his cigarette already perched between his fingers as he entered his bedroom. The morning light poured in soft through the window blinds, hitting the room in golden slices.

Stack was knee-deep in his closet, already tossing shirts on the bed with surgical disgust.

“No. No. Hell no. Smoke—what is this?” Stack held up a faded brown shirt like it had personally offended him.

“That’s vintage.”

“That’s dusty.”

Smoke leaned against the doorframe, watching the chaos. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling through his nose.

“You know,” he said coolly, “most brothers bring coffee when they show up early. Maybe some eggs. You brought judgment and shade.”

“Nigga I brought style,” Stack shot back, pulling a pair of slacks off a hanger and holding them up like a tailor in disbelief. “These pleats? This what you wear when you give up.”

Smoke chuckled, finally stepping into the room and sitting down in the old leather desk chair near the dresser. “You actin’ like I’m goin’ to prom. It’s just a date.”

“With Annie, bruh. Ain’t no just about it.”

Stack tossed a shirt onto the growing “no” pile and kept digging. “You only get one shot at a second chance. You need to show up lookin’ like the man she’s been tryin’ not to think about.”

Smoke smirked and shook his head, watching his twin tear through his clothes like he was building an altar. “You flashy as hell. Always been.”

“Nigga. Damn right!” Stack said proudly. “I’m the sparkle. You the smolder. Together, we unstoppable.”

Smoke laughed and leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. “I swear, you missed your calling. Should’ve been a stylist for them R&B videos.”

“Still got time,” Stack said, holding up a sleek black shirt and nodding in approval. “Now this… this could work. Clean. Fitted. Smooth.”

Smoke leaned forward, tapping ash into the tray. “I told you, man—I ain’t worried about no fits. I just wanna show her who I am now. That I ain’t that scared, foolish boy who left.”

Stack turned, a rare seriousness on his face. “And you will. But listen...don’t underestimate the power of a first look. Let her see what she been missin’. Inside and out.”

There was a beat of silence, soft Motown still playing faintly from the stereo downstairs. Smoke nodded slowly.

“Aight then,” he said. “Show me how to look like the man she’s been missin’.”

Stack grinned. “Thought you’d never ask. Now take that shirt off nigga. We startin’ fresh.”

Smoke laughed again and flicked his cigarette into the tray. “If I end up lookin’ like a backup dancer for Ginuwine, I’m blamin’ you.”

Stack winked. “You wish you had my glow.”

Stack turned from the closet, holding up a pair of pants he’d finally approved of, and narrowed his eyes.

“Alright,” he said, tone already suspicious, “so where you takin’ her?”

Smoke, now pulling off the black shirt he had on, paused for half a second, just long enough to raise suspicion. “Horseback ridin’.”

Silence.

Thick, judgmental silence.

Then Stack dropped the pants onto the bed like they’d betrayed him. “Nigga! Hell no! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Smoke turned slowly, one brow lifted. “What’s wrong with that?”

Stack looked at him like he’d grown a third ear. “Horseback ridin’? On a first date? Elijah, this ain’t no cowboy movie. And Annie? She ain’t wearin’ no boots with spurs and a ten-gallon hat. Lord…”

Unbothered, Smoke grabbed two bottles of cologne off the dresser and began sniffing between them, cool as ever.

“I ain’t tellin’ you the whole plan,” he said, a smug little smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Horseback’s just one part.”

Stack clutched his chest like he needed a fan. “Oh, so now nigga got a whole itinerary? What’s next, huh? Y’all throwin’ clay together like them people in that ‘Ghost’ movie?"

Smoke chuckled low, spraying a light mist of cologne onto his neck. “ Nigga.You done?”

“I ain’t even started,” Stack snapped, flopping onto the bed like a judgmental auntie at a family reunion. “What if she allergic to horses? What if she fall and bust her ass? What if her wig fly off in the wind?”

“She don’t wear a wig, Stack.”

“I’m just sayin’!”

Smoke shook his head, amusement glittering in his eyes. “Look. Jericho, that cat from the lounge last night? He owns that big ol’ farm off Old Highway 12. Acres of land, real peaceful. He opens it up to the public sometimes, but I called in a favor. Got it all to ourselves today.”

Stack blinked. The jokes paused. He sat up a little straighter. “Wait. You got a private farm reserved? For y’all to ride horses on?”

Smoke nodded once, solid. “Just me and her. No crowds, no chaos. Just peace, nature, and a whole lot of time to show her I ain’t the same man who let her go.”

Stack stared a beat longer, then gave a low whistle. “Damn. You really pulled out the grown man playbook.”

“Told you. I ain’t playin’ this time,” Smoke said, smoothing his beard with a fresh stroke of the comb. “She mean too much.”

A grin broke across Stack’s face, more proud than playful now. “Okay. Okay. I take it back. You got this. I mean..barely, but you got this.”

Smoke smirked in the mirror. “Keep doubtin’ me nigga, and I’ll make you ride the horse in my place.”

“Oh, hell no! Ain’t enough cowboy hats in Mississippi to make that okay.”

They both laughed, the room warming with a rare and unfiltered brotherhood. Years of pain, silence, and struggle hadn’t stolen this from them. Not completely. And right now, the lightness felt good. Easy.

But beneath it, Smoke’s heart thumped wild.

Not from nerves.

Not from fear.

From hope.

Tonight, he planned to give Annie a piece of his heart wrapped in something real. Something soft but certain. And he was going to show her exactly why she should believe in them again.

The Mississippi sun was melting into the trees, streaking the sky with gold and fire as the Moore twins walked the gravel path leading to the town park. The kind of humid, heavy evening where everything felt slower.

Elijah, fourteen and nervous, tugged at the stiff white collar of his button-up. It was his only nice shirt he own. The one they usually saved for church or funerals. His hands were clammy, his stomach doing flips like he was about to step in front of a judge instead of a girl.

Beside him, Stack walked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Same age, same face, but everything about him was louder, bolder, slicker.

“You gon’ strangle yourself with that collar,” Stack said, slapping Smoke’s hand away. “Quit fidgetin’. You actin’ like you meetin’ her daddy, not Annie.”

Smoke sighed. “You sure this don’t look stupid?”

“It looks fine. You clean, you don’t stink, and your breath smells like peppermint. That’s all you need at.” Stack glanced over with a grin. “Well… that and game. Which is why you got me.”

“Oh Lord,” Smoke muttered, already regretting bringing him along.

“Rule number one,” Stack said, raising a finger dramatically, “you gotta hit her with a compliment right out the gate. Don’t wait. Don’t hesitate. Soon as she step out the car, hit her with it.”

Smoke looked skeptical. “What I’m supposed to say? ‘You look nice’?”

“Hell no,” Stack said, appalled. “You tell her, ‘Annie, the sun mad tonight… ‘cause Naomi Campbell just walked up in the park.’ Boom. Done.”

Smoke frowned. “That don’t even make sense.”

“Don’t matter,” Stack said, tossing a Jolly Rancher into his mouth. “It ain’t about logic. It’s about confidence. You say it like you mean it, and she’ll be blushin’ all over them pretty cheeks.”

Smoke gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like you rehearsed that in the mirror.”

“Maybe I did,” Stack said with a smirk. “Point is, you got this. Annie like you. Anybody with eyes can see that. And you might walk around all quiet like Daddy when he sober, but when you talk to her? You light up.”

Smoke’s smile faded just a little at the mention of their father, but he didn’t say anything.

They crossed the corner where the street met the edge of the park. The sound of summer surrounded them. The kids laughing, grills sizzling, the buzz of the projector being tested at the drive-in screen set up across the grass. It was movie night, and half the town had come out with lawn chairs and coolers.

“I’m meetin’ Keisha over by the bleachers,” Stack said, adjusting his collar like he was about to walk into a photoshoot. “She said she saved me a spot on the blanket. Brought Twizzlers and everything.”

“You look like you brought too much ego,” Smoke said, eyes scanning for Annie.

“I’m just tryin’ to make a memory,” Stack said with a wink. “You should too. The first date’s important. It sticks with you.”

Smoke was about to respond when he heard the familiar growl of an old pickup rolling up. His pulse skipped.

The beat-up green truck pulled into the dirt lot by the basketball courts. He knew that truck. Everyone did.

Annie’s daddy.

Stack elbowed him. “Game time, Romeo.”

The passenger door opened, and there she was. Annie Baptiste, in a soft blue sundress with little white flowers and white sandals that showed off her painted toes. Her curls framed her face perfectly, catching the last of the sun. She stepped out with that calm grace she always had, like nothing ever rushed her.

Smoke’s breath caught.

Stack leaned in again. “Say it.”

“What?”

“The line, man. Naomi Campbell!”

But Smoke ignored him, taking a step forward as Annie turned toward them.

Her eyes found his almost immediately, and she smiled soft, bright, and just for him.

That smile made Smoke feel like maybe he didn’t need to say anything at all.

And just like that, everything else faded in the background. The sound of the crowd, the buzz of the projector, even Stack’s teasing.

At that moment, there was only her.

And the beginning of something he knew would stay with him for a long, long time.

The soft clink of a belt buckle brought Smoke back to the present. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring into the mirror, his fingers frozen mid-loop. His mind had drifted back to that summer evening, that baby blue sundress, and the way Annie smiled like he was the only boy in the world.

It had been years, but the memory sat fresh on his chest like it happened just last night.

He finished buckling his belt, his movements slower now, a little more thoughtful.

Funny, how one smile could follow a man for most of his life.

Stack, now stretched out on the bed with his phone in one hand and a bottle of cologne in the other, didn’t notice the shift in his brother’s mood.

Smoke pulled on his tan boots, clean and rugged while let out a soft breath.

“She was somethin’ else back then,” he said quietly.

Stack glanced up. “Annie?”

Smoke nodded, still tying his laces. “First date, I was nervous as hell. You remember that night?”

Stack smirked. “Do I? I gave you all the lines. You still ain’t use ‘em.”

“Didn’t need ‘em,” Smoke muttered with a crooked grin. “She smiled at me and I forgot the whole damn speech.”

Stack chuckled. “Yeah, she always had that power over you. You was walkin’ ‘round like a baby deer for a week after.”

Smoke didn’t deny it. He stood and grabbed his favorite watch from the dresser. The worn leather band hugged the edge of his snake tattoo, inked and curling down his forearm like it had always belonged there.

“That’s more like it,” Stack said, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off Smoke’s shoulder. “Now don’t forget this—”

He reached over to the nightstand and clipped the thin diamond chain around Smoke’s neck. It caught the light just right, subtle but sharp. “That necklace still hits, especially with that clean white trim shirt I picked.”

Smoke glanced at himself in the mirror. Stack had styled him casual, but polished. Crisp white short-sleeved button-up trimmed at the collar, dark Levi denim that fit just right, and those tan boots that made him look like he walked straight out of a GQ spread… if GQ featured Mississippi men who could build a deck and break a heart in the same day.

Stack grinned proudly. “You look good, bruh. Like a man who’s about to get his woman back.”

“You sure I don’t look like I’m trying to hard?”

“Nah,” Stack laughed. “You look like Elijah Moore. The grown version. Rugged and fine. Annie gon’ be speechless.”

Smoke straightened the collar slightly. “Long as she don’t laugh, I’ll take it.”

They both chuckled, and the air warmed with that rare, easy joy that only came from years of surviving hard times together.

But under it all, Smoke’s heart was pounding and not with fear this time, but something heavier. Hope.

He glanced at the clock.

“This time,” he murmured, more to himself than his brother, “I’m doing it right.” Tonight, he planned to show Annie just how serious he was.

Stack gave Smoke one final approving nod. “Alright, Mr. GQ. You ready.”

Smoke adjusted the collar on his white shirt once more, then reached for his wallet and keys on the dresser. “Almost. Gotta run a few errands, with final touches and whatnot.”

Stack raised a brow. “Final touches? Man, this date soundin’ like a proposal the way you plannin’ it.”

Smoke shot him a dry look. “It ain’t a proposal, but I ain’t leavin’ nothin’ to chance. I got somethin’ to prove.”

Stack folded his arms, his tone teasing but sincere. “She gon’ see it, bruh. She already do.”

Smoke looked over, paused a beat, then gave a nod of appreciation. “Thanks.”

Then he clapped his brother on the back. “That said… as much as I love you, Elias, you gotta get the hell up outta my house.”

Stack burst into laughter. “Damn nigga, I can’t even ride with you? Be your date’s stylist in case her earrings clash?”

“Hell no nigga!” Smoke said, already moving toward the stairs. “This is solo mission territory. You done your part. Now go home, change your own damn clothes, and stop tryna live vicariously through me.”

“Whatever,” Stack grinned, grabbing his phone and sliding it in his back pocket. “I’ll expect a full report by midnight.”

“Don't wait up,” Smoke called behind him. “I’m tryna make her forget what time it is.”

Stack shook his head, laughing to himself as he followed his brother out. “Lord have mercy. This man tryna bring romance back.”

Smoke stopped by the door, keys in hand, a crooked grin spreading on his lips. “Nah. I’m tryna bring me back.”

He stepped outside into the sun, heart beating fast, ready to spend the rest of the day making damn sure Annie Baptiste remembered exactly who Elijah Moore was and what he was worth.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The house creaked soft beneath the weight of the Delta heat. Outside, cicadas whined like power lines and the air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle and clay. Inside, a ceiling fan ticked lazy overhead while sunlight poured through the kitchen window in golden streaks.

Annie dragged herself in, bonnet crooked, eyes still puffy with sleep. She was barefoot in an old Jackson State T-shirt, moving like someone who got in just a little too late.

At the kitchen table, her mother sipped sweet tea from a cloudy Mason jar, a thin brow arched without saying a word. Her reading glasses sat low on her nose, and a worn copy of Essence Magazine lay folded beside her plate of toast and peach preserves.

"Bout time you came out that room," her mother said without looking up. "Sun been out so long I thought it gave up on you."

Annie yawned, grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge. "Good afternoon, Mama."

"Mmhm," her mama hummed. "So... how was it?"

Annie turned, cautious. "How was what?"

Her mama lowered her glasses and gave her a pointed look. "Don't act brand new, Annie. You went out to the Cypress Lounge last night, didn’t you?"

Annie blinked, lips twitching into a guilty smile. "I did."

Her mother smirked slightly. "Mmhm. With Pearline, right? You told me. Said you were just going to catch up."

"And that’s what we did," Annie replied quickly. "Hung out at the bar, saw Cornbread still bouncing folks at the door, danced with a couple fellas, watched Lil Sammie tear that stage up. That boy can sing."

"What about Stack? How is he doing?"

Annie chuckled. "Caught up with him too. He’s doing good. Looks like he got it all together now."

"Uh huh. And Elijah?" her mother asked, too casual.

Annie hesitated. Took a long sip of water. "What about him?"

"Don’t play with me. You know damn well what I mean."

"We talked," Annie admitted.

"Just talked?"

"And he asked me out," Annie added with a sigh, bracing herself.

Her mother straightened in her seat. "Oh? And when is this date happening?"

"Today at six."

Her mother leaned back, eyes studying her like an x-ray. "Lord. And you said yes?"

"I said one date," Annie clarified, holding up a finger. "One."

Now her mama leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms, lips curling into something amused and knowing. “And you know where he takin’ you?”

“Nope,” Annie said, popping the ‘p’ with a sigh. “Didn’t get that far in the conversation. Just told him to pick me up by six.”

Annie took a slow breath, shoulders lifting slightly. “I don’t know what I still feel, Mama. But I figured… if I said no without even tryin’, I’d regret it.”

Her mother stared at her for a moment, then smiled soft. “Fair enough. Just be careful with that heart of yours. It’s strong, but it’s still yours to protect.”

“I will.”

“And put some lotion on them knees before you go anywhere. Looking like you been wrestling in flour.”

“Mama!”

Now freshly shower and all lotion up, Annie stood in front of her open suitcase, arms folded under her chest, eyes narrowed like she was staring down a personal enemy.

Clothes were everywhere draped over the chair, hanging halfway out the drawer, even tossed across the little fan box she brought from Chicago.

“Okay,” she mumbled, pulling out a lilac sundress and holding it up to her body, “this says church picnic… not first date with the man who broke your teenage heart.”

She tossed it onto the bed and sighed, reaching back into the chaos.

“Do I go casual-cute? Or prim and proper? Or... grown and sexy?”

She stopped mid-rummage, narrowing her eyes.“No. Not sexy. He ain’t gettin’ the wrong idea. This ain’t that kind of party.”

She yanked out a short white romper with gold buttons and studied it in the mirror. “Mmm... This says I’m a walking daydream, but also says please touch me, and he don't need that kind of encouragement.”

Toss.

She bent over and found a baby blue halter top. Simple. Clean. Then she saw the light denim shorts tucked underneath it like they'd been waiting on her to remember who she was.

She held them both up.

“Now see... this says, you missed this. It says, I been doing just fine without you, but also you might wanna try again just to be sure.”

She smirked and stepped into the shorts, adjusting the waistband so they hit just right. She slipped into the halter top and turned to the mirror.

Her short curls, freshly set in rollers all morning, bounced free around her face like polished springs. She leaned closer and fluffed the sides.

“Annie,” she told her reflection, “you better not fall for a damn word he say. But you will look good while you ignore him.”

She clipped on her silver hoops, smoothed the hem of her halter, and opened her jewelry pouch. Her fingers lingered on the soft velvet box containing her diamond tennis bracelet.

“Daddy ain’t spend no thousands for it to collect dust.”

She fastened it to her wrist, then slipped on her white strappy sandals. Not too high. Not too flat. Just enough to show off the fresh white polish on her toes.

With one last look in the mirror, she gave a quick twirl, then stopped herself.

“Okay, girl. That’s enough. We ain’t tryna give him a reason to breathe heavy.”

A glance at her phone showed 5:42 p.m.

Her stomach did a little nervous flip.

“Alright, Lord. Be a breeze and a boundary.”

Annie had just finished adjusting her silver hoops when her phone buzzed on the nightstand, screen flashing: Pearline

She smirked, picking it up and sliding her finger across.

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?”

Pearline’s voice came through loud and nosey.

“Girl! I been waitin’ all day to call. You ready for your little secret date?”

Annie walked over to the mirror, fluffing her curls one last time.

“First of all, it ain’t secret. Second of all… it ain’t that deep.”

Pearline laughed.

“Oh, so we lyin’ today? Okay. Cool. Let me lie too. I'm not eatin’ peach cobbler right now straight from the dish.”

Annie laughed despite herself. “You a mess.”

“Mmhm, and you lookin’ cute, ain’t you?” Pearline said, all knowing. “I know you ain’t letting that man pick you up lookin’ regular.”

Annie looked at her reflection and shrugged, though her smile gave her away.

“Just threw something on.”

“Lies. I bet you in them little shorts with your legs out, skin glistenin’, bracelet sparklin’—lemme find out you out here tryna ruin that man.”

Annie grinned wide, looking down at the bracelet on her wrist.

“I just wanted to remind him who he lost, that’s all.”

Pearline sucked her teeth. “Oop! She got her foot on his neck already.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Annie said with faux innocence. “I’m just goin’ on a date.”

“With the same man you said you wasn’t even checkin’ for last night. Now look at you—heart racin’, tryin’ to act cool, talkin’ ‘bout it ‘ain’t that deep.’ Girl, please.”

Annie flopped onto the bed, the sound of her laugh soft and breathy.

“You right. I’m a little nervous,” she admitted quietly.

Pearline’s tone gentled. “Aww. You got butterflies?”

“Not butterflies,” Annie muttered, fiddling with the hem of her halter top. “Maybe just… a breeze.”

Pearline laughed again. “Whatever it is, I hope it go how you want it to. And if he act up, just call me and I’ll pull up with a belt.”

Annie giggled. “Please don’t. I already got enough pressure just tryna look like I didn’t spend all day gettin’ ready.”

“Well, mission accomplished. You ready.”

Before Annie could respond, she heard tires crunching in the gravel outside.

She stood up slow and walked to the window, peeking through the blinds. Her heart did that annoying flutter again.

“He here?” Pearline asked.

Annie took a breath.

“He here.”

Pearline’s voice brightened.

“Alright then. Go be cute. Call me after. I wanna know everything from the appetizer to the kiss goodnight.”

“Girl, goodbye!” Annie laughed and hung up, her stomach now officially dancing.

She slipped her phone into her purse, glanced at herself one last time, and whispered: “You got this.”

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The Mississippi sun was just beginning to dip when Smoke’s truck rumbled into Annie’s gravel driveway. The heat of the day had softened, casting the sky in a warm haze of gold and blush. Smoke rested his arm against the open window, tapping the steering wheel slowly, eyes trained on the front porch.

Everything was set. He had double-checked the details of the date before leaving the house. Jericho had everything in place, the horses were saddled, and the spread for dinner was chilling on ice. All that was left was her.

He climbed out the truck and started up the porch steps. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open.

There she stood.

Annie.

She wore a light blue denim short set that hugged her hips just right, with a blue halter top tied behind her neck. Her short curls framed her face, bouncing softly as she moved. Silver hoops glinted beneath the porch light, and her diamond tennis bracelet shimmered on her wrist. The white sandals wrapped around her feet like silk.

Smoke felt the air leave his lungs.

"Evenin'," she said casually, arms folded under her chest.

He took a slow glance, eyes lingering on the curve of her thighs, the slope of her waist. Goddamn. She was always fine, but tonight? She looked like a memory wrapped in something dangerous.

"Evenin'," he returned, his voice lower than he meant it to be.

Annie arched a brow. "You just gon’ stare or you wanna tell me where we headed?"

Smoke smirked, leaning against the porch rail. "Nah. You’ll see when we get there."

She rolled her eyes but followed him down the steps toward the truck.

He opened the passenger door for her, stepping back as she climbed in. As she passed him, his gaze couldn’t help but drop to the curve of her behind, the way her skin glowed in the falling light. He caught himself and looked away, but not before the image settled deep in his chest.

Annie noticed. Of course she did.

Once he was in the driver’s seat, they sat in silence for a minute. The tension was thick, not hostile, but heavy. The kind that sizzled.

"So," Annie said, adjusting her bracelet, "this whole thing… you been planning it a while?"

Smoke kept his eyes on the road. "Not long. Just wanted to do it right."

She nodded, eyes forward, then turned to glance at him. “You really think a date gon’ fix all that old mess between us?”

Smoke didn’t answer right away. He shifted in his seat, flexing his hand on the wheel.

“Nope.” he said finally. “I don’t think one date will fix anything. But I do think one night can remind you of what’s worth fixing.”

That shut her up for a second.

He glanced over at her. She was biting the corner of her lip.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said.

“Like what?”

“Like you know me.”

Smoke grinned. “I do know you. Better than you think. And I remember the look you give when you tryin’ not to fall.”

Annie scoffed, looking out the window. “Boy, please.”

But her voice lacked the bite she probably intended.

And Smoke felt something stir in his chest.

Tonight wasn’t about perfection. It wasn’t even about forgiveness. It was about possibility. About standing in front of the only woman who ever truly saw him and trying, just once more, to be enough.

And maybe, just maybe… to breathe again.

The soft hum of the truck’s engine filled the space between them, and windows rolled halfway down to let in the thick Mississippi breeze. Cicadas buzzed lazily outside, and in the background, a low crackle played through the truck’s stereo as the opening piano chords of “Breathe Again” by Toni Braxton drifting in the air.

Annie sat with one leg crossed over the other, her short curls bouncing just slightly with the motion of the road. Her scent—something sweet and warm, like vanilla and coconut—was driving Smoke half mad. He kept his eyes on the road, but he could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye.

“You not gon’ tell me where we goin’?” she asked, her voice light, but with that familiar edge.

Smoke grinned. “Nope.”

Annie raised a brow. “You know, I don’t usually get in cars with men who won’t tell me where they takin’ me.”

“Well, good thing I ain’t just any man.”

That earned him a soft chuckle. “Still got that mouth, I see.”

Smoke glanced her way, just long enough to drink her in—those bare shoulders catching sunlight, her skin glowing, her legs looking like temptation incarnate under those light blue denim shorts. He gripped the wheel a little tighter.

“You know you wrong for wearin’ that,” he muttered.

Annie smirked. “Wearing what?”

“That whole outfit. Lookin’ like a sin and a half before sundown.”

She laughed, turning her face to the window to hide the faint blush rising in her cheeks. “I just threw somethin’ on.”

“Uh huh. You threw it on just right.”

A moment of quiet passed between them. The pine trees blurred by outside, the road stretching on, humming beneath the tires. Smoke drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

“You look good, though. Real good,” he said after a beat.

Annie turned back to him, her expression unreadable. “You always were good at compliments, Elijah.”

“I ain’t complimentin’. I’m speakin’ facts.”

She didn’t answer right away. Then:

“This don’t change anything, you know,” she said. “One date don’t mean I’m forgettin’ everything that happened before.”

“I don’t want you to forget,” Smoke said calmly. “I want you to remember. Then I want to show you who I am now.”

Annie went quiet again, the weight of his words settling in the air like dust.

After a moment, she looked over at him. “So what happens if I don’t feel nothin’ after this?”

Smoke gave her a slow, side glance and smiled. “Then I’ll let you go. But you’ll feel somethin’. I promise you that.”

Annie rolled her eyes, but there was a slight curve to her lips now. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrected, easing the truck around a bend. “Big difference.”

The wooden sign for Jericho’s farm came into view up ahead, partially hidden by the trees. Smoke slowed down, his heart picking up speed.

Annie squinted through the windshield. “This ain’t no restaurant…”

“Nope,” he said.

“You takin’ me to a damn farm, Elijah?”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk, turning down the gravel path.

Annie shook her head, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “This better not be no foolishness.”

He chuckled. “It’s not. You trust me?”

Annie looked over at him again. The pause that followed was long and loaded.

“…I’m tryin’.”

Smoke nodded, the gravel crunching under the tires as they pulled closer to the open pasture. The sun had dipped just enough to cast a golden glow over the field, and two saddled horses stood waiting by the fence, along with a small table under a tree draped in white linen and a vintage record player sitting beside it.

Annie blinked. “Elijah…”

He put the truck in park and turned to her fully now. “Just wanted to give you somethin’ you’d remember. Even if this is the last time I get to.”

For a second, Annie didn’t say a word. She just stared out the window at the quiet setup completely caught off guard.

She turned to him slowly, arms crossed. “You planned all this?”

“I told you I wasn’t playin’.”

Annie opened her door slowly, sandals crunching against the gravel. Smoke came around to her side. He tried not to look, but he did. His eyes tracing the curve of her behind as she walked ahead of him. It made his mouth go dry.

She turned around with a raised brow, clearly catching him.

“Mmhm,” she said. “Better stop starin’ before your retinas burn out.”

Smoke smiled. “Too late. You blinded me years ago.”

“You cheesy.”

“You like it.”

She didn’t answer that, just stood there, watching as he stepped ahead and nodded toward the horses. “Come on. Let’s ride.”

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

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