#IC //: 𝐕

[revunant]

“This is not permission for you to cover him in tiny penises.”

@bleedinghearth.

[namedvesta]

— 𝐕.

[in case you're wondering how I've been thinking of you lately]

[tealbeats]

@agonizedembrace | con’t.

[ TEXT: Parasite Eve. 💜 ]: I need you to see me for what I have become.

[ TEXT: Parasite Eve. 💜 ]: I don’t know who else to turn to. I’ll…give you a location. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.

It wasn’t often that Ezreal would reach out to Evelynn—Not to mention this late at night when most people would be asleep. There was always something about Evelynn that made Ezreal nervous—perhaps even afraid, but over all he was never…Terrible to her. When it came to being friends with someone outside of their respective groups, the two were acquaintances at best. He had better luck in general talking to Kai’sa or Ahri—Even Akali, then he did Evelynn. Ezreal had stuck his nose into her business and had to deal with Abel & Robin because of it, but regardless, he needed her help.

Perhaps his text message came off as cryptic, but he was t about to pop off about becoming a creature of the night over a text message. She might think he was clinically insane—or just ignore him. He couldn’t tell the guys—No, no. He couldn’t worry them about this either. These factors continued to point themselves to Evelynn being someone he could trust with this—Ezreal’s hood was pulled over his head as he waited for her to meet him, clawed hands fidgeting with each other as they met in the pocket of his hoodie.

As soon as she greets him, he blinks up at her from his hood, citrine hues now switched over to a deep red colour as he glances away. “…Hey.” Sharper, more pointed canines glinted in the light as he spoke; when he went to look at her again he could see that he expression had changed, the tone in her voice much different then what he had ever heard from her. He shifts uncomfortably in his spot—Tired, hungry—the hunger scratching at the back of his mind like a monster dwelling inside of a closet, trying to escape. He’s surprised at the lack of questions, but relieved at the same time.

As she beckons him, he moves closer, still having a difficult time looking at her. Perhaps it was shame? Or fear of himself? Either way… “So...You can show me stuff? Cause...I—I’m at a total loss!” It was difficult not to be a little bit frantic in his situation—like an animal who lost its way.

“I’m totally freaking out, Evelynn—I don’t know what to do, I can’t control myself—I’m scared I…Don’t wanna hurt anyone…”

[sagnaevi]

❛ My my ⸺ what have we here? I never would have thought someone like you would indulge blasphemy, to spit on the name of god. It was you, no? The one who called me. ❜ A dozen eyes are set on the divine creature; twisted, broken - fallen into despair and contempt for the heavens. Those wings are torn... What a sad little thing. The demon, without shape, ever-changing and ambigious ⸺ terrible, approaches through a thick fog of engulfing darkness; morphing through many aspects as he sorrounds the dewinged angel. An intruiged smile spread across the obscured feratures of the demon; through the black abyss, only the glowing red eyes are seen. Something horrible must have befallen this broken bird, for him to call him forth. A contract can be made, an unholy pact between angel and demon. A beautiful and delicious feast awaits him; a feast of no comparion, a feast unheard of. The hunger rears it's wicked head inside the demon - craving, demanding. ❛ Well, then... Shall we get started, little angel? ❜ /@iiryoku

[zorkaya-moved]

navigation: death under waxing moon.

This verse alternates the spoken canon about the sorcerers & curses outside Japan being almost non-existent.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐝. 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝.

Title: Ice Queen  Age: 28 years old, July 27th, Leo Ancestors: Chernobog and Morana (sorcerers turned vengeful spirits) Grade: Special Grade Innate Technique: Death In Winter

To speak simply and to, later on, write it better in another headcanon, Zarina’s cursed energy transforms into ice, she is able to create a variety of tools and even ‘living’ and ‘acting’ figures such as animals or even humans. Her technique can also apply either ‘stagnation’ state or ‘fragile’ state on her enemies but only one at a time due to complications of such technique. 

Domain Expansion: Eternal Slumber of Death;

Full description: TO BE UPDATED.

Incantation: All are equal before Death.

Heavenly Restriction: Inability to use the fire-related techniques passed down in the family in exchange for enhanced ice technique; emotional detachment in exchange for control of emotions and cursed energy. 

Binding Vow: Limitation of cursed energy based on ‘chains’ (accessories). Zarina binds her powers and her cursed energy based on how many accessories she wears (she wears 9 at all time but may wear 10 to fully be seen as if a normal person), each accessory limiting ten percent of her power. 

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒.

o1. The main history behind this verse: Background information and the story.

o2. The curse of Morana: the ancestry, the relation, and the effect on Zarina’s life as a sorcerer.  TO BE REWRITTEN/UPDATED.

o3. Morana’s Doll: What will happen when the seal breaks down? How will it affect Zarina? Why is she in such hurry? UPDATED.

o4. “I’m glad Gojo Satoru was born.” What does this phrase mean?

o5. Morana's Doll: The location of the doll at the beginning and middle of the manga. (TBA)

o6. (Ten) Nine limiters of powers: What are Zarina's 'limiters'? How do they affect others' perception on her power level and what they do to her powers?

o7. Reputation: How others view Zarina? What others whisper about her? What information is fully available from her reputation?

[motorcyclemaverick]

general tags go here !!

♡ • (   ooc .  )   /   *   𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐆 𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐕.  //

♡ • (   ic .  )   /   *   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄'𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐀.  //

♡ • (   ans .  )   /   *   𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐂 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃.  //

♡ • (   rb .  )   /   *   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓.  //

♡ • (   hc .  )   /   *   𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒.  //

♡ • (   abt .  )   /   *   𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓.  //

♡ • (   aes .  )   /   *   𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒.  //

♡ • (   sp .  )   /   *   𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄.  //

♡ • (   aud .  )   /   *   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎.  //

♡ • (   vid .  )   /   *   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇.  //

♡ • (   vis .  )   /   *   𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄.  //

♡ • (   fc .  )   /   *   𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄.  //

♡ • (   dm .  )   /   *   𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄.  //

♡ • (   am .  )   /   *   𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄.  //

♡ • (   dyn .  )   /   *   𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘.  //

[vlturevlans]

tag setup !

ooc: mun posts visage: haitham gifs/art/etc ic: in-character interactions verse: any verse other than the main one — will be specified promo: promoting others <3 prompts: dialogue and inbox prompts/games/etc hcs: headcanons musings: aes, posts, funny things that are hayicore bonds: for mains / exclusives ! inbox: replies to asks

[jazziejax]

𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐕

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

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Juicy thought she could play it cool, but between Smoke’s games and Stack’s hands, she’s caught in a heat she wasn’t ready for. Good things there’s a pool party to keep things chill….right?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild sexual tension, lots of kissing, suggestive dialogue, jealousy, light cursing, let me know if I missed anything!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - my wifi is bugging….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 13, 867+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the rooftops of the neighborhood, painting the sidewalk in streaks of orange. The old wood of the Hall family porch creaked gently beneath their weight, and the heavy scent of weed hung in the air, thick and warm like the summer itself.

Mary lounged in the wicker chair, her curls pulled up high with a pencil sticking out the back. Smoke, ever the picture of calm, sat on the porch swing in a man spread, puffing on w joint with one tucked behind his ear. Stack, sat on the porch floorboards, legs laid out as he rolled the blunt between his fingers with the same precision he used on car engines. Juicy rocked gently on the porch swing, wearing a cropped Baby Phat tee and cotton shorts that hugged her hips just right, her glossed lips pursed as she blew smoke toward the sky from the blunt Smoke passed her.

They didn’t say much—just passed the blunt, breathed in the heat and let the wind do what little it could.

“Hey.” Mary spoke suddenly, flicking ash from the joint onto the rim of the pot by her foot. “Y’all heard about that pool party over at the rec center tomorrow? I think Tyrell and ‘nem throwin’ it. Word is they got a DJ this time.”

Juicy let out a soft hum and pulled her legs under her on the swing, already imagining the scene. Shirtless men with water guns, music blasting, somebody bringing their cousin who couldn’t dress, and the ice cream man pulling up just in time to cause drama.

“I ain’t heard about that.” Smoke replied, voice smooth and distant, like he already knew where this was headed.

“Well, we’re going.” Mary declared, gesturing between her and Juicy. “I told Megan we’d slide through for a bit.”

Stack gave a little grunt from his place on the floorboards. “Damn. Guess we’re goin’ then.”

Juicy perked up at that, turning toward the boys with a grin. “Y’all coming with us?”

Reluctant nods came from both twins—mild annoyance coated in curiosity. Juicy smirked, satisfied. “Well shoot.” She said, pushing herself up from the swing with a small bounce. “Now I gotta get myself together before tomorrow.”

Smoke arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What you mean ‘get together’?”

“Gotta get my nails done, toes, hair—maybe pick out a new suit.”

Stack lifted his head just a bit, blinking up at her through lashes thick as trouble. “Didn’t you just get your nails done last Friday?”

Juicy tilted her head, one hand on her hip. “Yeah, but I need something new. You know I like my designs. Everybody’s already seen these.”

Stack didn’t even smile. He just exhaled a stream of smoke and said. “Only you payin’ attention to that.”

“Oh, and apparently you too, stalker.” She shot back, a little giggle slipping out before she could catch it.

Stack turned his head fully toward her now, blowing smoke through his nose with that same calm, hungry gaze. “You wish I stalked you.”

Her breath caught for just a second, her lip curling up in surprise. “You’d like that.”

“I would.” Stack said smoothly. “You’d like that.”

Juicy’s eyes widened, a soft gasp leaving her lips. “What? Nuh uh.” She muttered, half-turned away, trying to play it off. “Well… I’d probably be flattered. But I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

That’s when Mary stood up and stretched, letting out a little groan. “Let’s go, Ju. You know if we don’t get there soon, we ain’t gon’ get a spot.”

Juicy followed, snatching her bag off the porch railing. The girls headed toward Missy’s car, Mary jangling the keys as they walked down the steps.

“Where y’all goin’?” Smoke asked suddenly, his voice sharper than usual. It wasn’t the question—it was the way he asked it. Watchful. Protective.

Juicy turned around with a pointed look, her lips shiny and slightly smirking. “Uh! You’re stalking too. Is that y’all’s thing now? Stalking me?”

“Yeah.” Stack said without hesitation, that devilish look in his eye. Smoke stayed quiet, but his eyes stayed on her, low and unreadable.

“Where?” He asked again, tone clipped now.

Juicy rolled her eyes a little at his shift. “I told you! I gotta get my nails did. Now you’re making me late to a walk-in appointment I haven’t set yet.”

Her arms folded across her chest, the attitude sliding into her tone before she even noticed. She glanced between them. Smoke’s stoic stare, Stack’s crooked smirk, and added quickly, “And no, we don’t need a ride. We got Missy’s car. Are we done here?”

There was then a pause, brief, but heavy. Smoke didn’t say anything. His gaze didn’t soften. That familiar warmth he usually reserved for her had gone cool, and she felt it in her chest more than she expected.

Stack, though… Stack had the nerve to look entertained. He liked her sharp tongue. He liked how her voice pitched up when she got annoyed. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips when he said, “Yeah. We’re done.”

Juicy didn’t even know what to do with the flutter in her stomach, but she gave a little nod and turned away, making her way down the steps with Mary.

Once they slid into the car and Mary started the ignition, she cut her eyes at Juicy.

“They keep a tight leash on you.” She said, adjusting the rearview.

Juicy scoffed, twisting her mouth and buckling her seatbelt. “I guess they try to do that since Martin can’t, but no. I keep a tight leash on them. They don’t run me.”

Mary just laughed and pulled out of the driveway. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, girl.”

As they drove away, Juicy dared one last glance back at the porch. Smoke was still sitting, still watching, his eyes unreadable under the glow of the setting sun. Stack was now leaned against the banister, mouthing something to his brother—but she didn’t need to hear it to know.

They might not run her.

But they were running through her mind all the same.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The nail shop had the unmistakable scent of acrylic and coconut oil, the low hum of fans swirling semi-cool air through the room as the girls settled into their usual pedicure chairs. A wall-mounted TV played 106 & Park on low volume, the sounds of a summer hit barely audible over the buzz of foot files, laughter, and idle chitchat. Juicy and Mary were regulars at Tipz & ToeZ, a pink-and-white storefront tucked between a beauty supply and an old fried fish joint.

They knew their techs by name—Tina and Mimi—who already had their tubs filled with warm water by the time they walked in. Flip-flops slid off, pants rolled up, and legs dipped into swirling bubbles. As Juicy sank back into her seat with a satisfied sigh, Mimi leaned over and plucked at her ankle.

“You let too much time go,” Mimi teased in her usual sing-song tone. “Nail polish chipping.”

“Girl, you act like I walk barefoot in the streets,” Juicy joked, giggling. “That’s just my summer hustle feet.”

The girls chuckled, falling into their usual rhythm of gossip, neighborhood news, and hushed complaints about Mimi’s cousin who borrowed her car last week and came back with it smelling like weed and disappointment.

After a lull in the conversation, nothing but the click of tools and splash of water filling the space between them, Mary tilted her head slightly and peeked at Juicy from the corner of her eye. Her voice came soft, hesitant, but laced with intent.

“Do you like…the twins?”

Juicy’s brows furrowed. “Of course I like the twins,” she said, her voice light with a laugh as if the question was ridiculous.

Mary didn’t budge. “No, I mean like, romantically.”

The smile then dimmed from Juicy’s lips, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart skipped the way it always did when Smoke looked at her just a second too long, or when Stack said something slick that she pretended not to hear. Her mind stuttered through a thousand versions of what if, but she tried not to let it show.

“Oh.” She said finally. Her voice was softer now. Smaller.

She turned to Mary and met her eyes, the air thick with something unspoken. “No.”

“No?” Mary echoed, her brow lifted.

“Yeah, no.” Juicy replied quickly, brushing the idea aside as if saying it fast enough would make it true. “I mean, they’re attractive. Anybody can see that. But I don’t think…nah.” She tried to sound convincing, even if she was talking more to herself than Mary.

Mary wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I think they might have it for you.”

“For me?” Juicy blinked, startled.

“Yeah. Especially Smoke. I know Stack’s always flirting, but that boy flirts with every girl, hell, and probably with his reflection in the mirror. Smoke though? He don’t look at nobody the way he look at you. It’s like you the only girl in the world to him.”

Juicy’s stomach flipped, warmth blooming in her chest despite herself. But a part of her wilted too—the part that heard Stack’s name tossed out like he was just playing a part. Like he didn’t mean some of the looks, or those slick little comments that lingered longer than they should’ve.

“I don’t know.” Juicy murmured, letting out a shaky breath and laughing it off like she wasn’t falling into a spiral.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Hey, there’s no shame in trying. I get it. You’re scared it’ll mess things up for your friendship. But if a fine-ass man like that looked my way, girl, I’d dive headfirst. Even if it’s just to fuck.”

“Mary!” Juicy hissed, looking wide-eyed toward the techs working on their toes.

“What? I’m serious,” Mary whispered, grinning.

“Oh, I know you are.”

Mary waved a hand like she was swatting a fly. “Anyway, I only asked because Monica told me Anika’s been sniffing around. Says she’s on the hunt since her and Donavan broke up. Again. Says it’s for good this time but we all know that’s a lie.”

Juicy rolled her eyes. “That girl’s always on the hunt. She’d prowl her way into a church function if she smelled cologne.”

“And Yalonda said she don’t even care which twin she gets. Just wants one.”Mary added, her lip curling in disgust. “Like, what kind of thirsty behavior is that? Not even caring which person you want, you just care that they’re sexy so you’ll take either. This isn’t a damn store.”

Juicy hummed in agreement but didn’t say much. Her chest felt tight, the thought of other girls sizing up the twins—her twins—leaving her strangely defensive.

“I mean, if I had to pick…” Mary trailed off, her voice laced with mischief.

Juicy turned to her sharply, caught off guard. “Pick?”

“Yeah. I think I would choose Stack. Stack’s more rugged, bold. I like that. Smoke’s too chill for me. He’d probably make me second-guess myself every five minutes.” Mary laughed, then grinned. “But if I was greedy—which I am—I’d swoop up both and leave these bitches mad as fuck.”

Juicy blinked. Her heart pounded again, louder now, her cheeks warm.

“Who would you choose?” Mary asked innocently, turning to face her with that knowing look.

“I—uh—I don’t know,” Juicy muttered, glancing down at her feet. Tina was painting her toes a soft, pastel yellow, but she couldn’t focus on that. “That’s a hard question.”

“Girl, just answer.” Mary groaned. “It’s just us. I ain’t about to go runnin’ to them with your secrets.”

Juicy took a long breath, let it out slowly. She thought about Stack’s grin when she got annoyed. About Smoke’s eyes watching her like they saw things she didn’t even show. She thought about how her heart never picked a side. And then she said it, quietly, like it didn’t mean everything.

“Both.”

Mary’s eyes widened, a big smile breaking out on her face as she leaned in. “Both?”

Juicy didn’t answer.

Mary gasped dramatically. “Juicy!”

“What? You told me to answer.” Juicy shrugged, still avoiding her gaze, but her lips twitched into a small, guilty smile.

“I know, I just didn’t know you were such a freak like that.” Mary grinned. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m not a freak.” Juicy said with a small smirk as she leaned back in the seat before turning to look at Mary. “Just why have one when you can have both?”

Marin’s grin widened as she looked at her best friend next to her, the sweet and innocent Juicy almost unrecognizable as she looked at her. And she couldn’t stop her grin from widening, almost in pride.

“Exactly.”

As Tina began the second coat on her toes and the shop filled with the chatter of another customer walking in, Juicy leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling fan above them. Her heart was still racing, but her smile—subtle and soft—lingered. Summer was just getting started.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline as tires rolled to a gentle stop at the curb. The cicadas still singing under the thick and sticky veil of southern summer heat that was finally softening into something a bit more bearable as Mary’s car pulled up to Juicy’s driveway. The street was dim, the soft yellow of porch lights glimmering against humid air. Mary turned to Juicy with a knowing smile, her glossed lips shining faintly under the dome light of the car. The AC had been blasting the entire ride, a faint trace of the nail salon’s lavender lotion still lingering in the air. They were both loose-limbed from their pedicures and still giggling over Mary’s bold claims and Juicy’s reluctant confession.

“Alright, babe,” Mary said, slipping the car into park and turning in her seat with a knowing grin. “Don’t act brand new next time I bring up the twins.”

Juicy rolled her eyes with a laugh, already gathering her little purse and salon flip-flops. “Whatever.”

“You know I love you, girl,” Mary said, leaning in. They exchanged their signature goodbye—cheek kisses, one on each side, exaggerated and dramatic. “Mwah. Mwah.”

“I’ll call you later.” Juicy said, pulling the door shut behind her.

“You better.”

Juicy stepped out into the warm evening air, her eyes lazily drifting across the street. Only one car was parked in the twins’ driveway and her chest gave the smallest deflated sigh at the sight of the familiar cutlass absent. Either they were both out, or—more likely—Smoke was gone. Not that she was disappointed. Not really. She turned her attention to her front door, keys already in hand.

Inside, her house welcomed her with the cool hush of an AC unit humming low and the faint scent of lemon cleaner. She slipped off her white flip-flops with the little rhinestones and flexed her freshly done toes on the cool tile. Her body relaxed, ready for a shower and some water—only for her ears to perk up at the unmistakable sound of the TV murmuring in the living room. She blinked, her brows furrowing as she padded softly across the hardwood floor.

When she turned the corner, she froze.

There on her couch, sprawled comfortably like he paid rent, was Stack, the glow of The Wayans Bros lighting up his face in flickers of sitcom chaos. Remote in one hand, legs stretched, and a bag of chips resting casually on the armrest. The volume was low and he turned his head lazily just as she stepped in, both of them locking eyes beneath the dim yellow hue of the side lamp. The air shifted immediately.

“Hey.” He said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey.” She replied, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching your TV.” He barely even looked sheepish, starting it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And Juicy just let out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head as she walked further into the room. “I can see that.” She said saintly. She didn’t ask for more than that. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was easier to just… accept the warmth that settled in her belly at the sight of him there. Comfortable and at ease like he belonged there normally. It was nice to see.

Stack leaned forward a bit, his eyes skimming over her. “Let me see the nails.”

Juicy arched a brow but held her hands out, fingers spread. “They’re just French tips with a little bling. Nothin’ wild.”

“Yeah.” He said, taking her hand, turning it slightly to catch the light. “But they’re not your usual.”

She tilted her head. “You know what my usual is?” She asked with a small smirk, and Smoke copied her grin as he raised his eyes up to meet hers. “I pay attention.”

Her smile twitched wider at that. He let her hand go, but his gaze didn’t move far.

“Let me see the toes.” He added casually, though there was something in his voice that sent a flicker up her spine.

Juicy laughed again, but leaned back against the couch, swinging her legs into his lap with a teasing look in her eyes. She wiggled her toes, freshly polished with the same glossy French tip, tiny gems them as well.

“Be still.” He murmured with a grin, wrapping his hands around her ankles and lifting one foot to examine it like it was art. His fingers were warm against her skin, rough in all the right ways, and it sent a low, subtle shiver up her legs as he handled her feet like it was the most natural position for them. “You like?” She asked, her voice dipping low, almost instinctive. Soft. Sweet. Sultry.

Stack’s eyes lifted to hers, his smile slower this time, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I love.”

Juicy’s breath hitched just a little, and it surprised her. She tried to mask it with a smile, but there was something about the way he was looking at her now. Like she wasn’t just he and Smoke’s childhood friend or the neighbor or the girl he teased sometimes for fun. There was a weight to his gaze.

His fingers moved in slow, absent circles over her arch, rubbing without thinking, like it was second nature. She shifted slightly, trying to keep her breath steady, but the tension in the room was undeniable now. The TV might as well have been turned off.

The room went quiet, the TV nothing more than background noise now. The air thickened, their energy humming beneath the surface like static before a storm.

“Is… Smoke mad at me?” Juicy asked suddenly, voice quiet.

Stack looked up, his brow lifting just slightly, which emptied her to continue. “He seemed a bit irritated at the way I was acting earlier.” She added, eyes dropping to her lap. “I guess I was being a little…much.”

“Yeah, you were a brat.” Stack said plainly. Juicy frowned at his words, her lips pushing into a pout. “I know.” She sighed. “And I don’t know why.”

“Because you’re spoiled.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock offense. “I am not spoiled!”

Stack chuckled. “Yes you are, Juicy.”

She moved to protest again, but he lifted a finger, silencing her with a teasing smirk. “You’re the youngest girl in your family. You did everything mommy and daddy dearest wanted, no matter how wild they acted back then. To them, you were the good one. The golden one. Compared to your drug-dealin’ brother and your teen-mom sister, you look like a damn angel.”

Juicy wrinkled her nose but wasn’t sure if she could even fully deny it.

“I blame me and Smoke.” Stack continued, rubbing slow along her heel with one bad while the other toyed with her anklet. “We used to do whatever you said. No matter how crazy it was. Then it rubbed off on everybody else. Mary, Missy… hell, even strangers do what you say.”

“Well.” She said sassily. “You could’ve said no.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “And see that pout? Oh baby, you know I couldn’t.”

He lifted her foot and placed a kiss on it—quick, but lingering enough to make her toes curl. Juicy giggled and half-kicked him, not hard, more playful than anything.

Silence fell again, warm and full.

“But no, he’s not mad at you.”Stack finally said. “At least, not for long. You know how he gets when people don’t listen.”

“Yeah, I know how you both get.”Juicy said with a small roll of her eyes. “You just be glad I like that attitude you give me.” Stack said, gaze sharpening just slightly. “Or else we’d have some issues. Issues I’d have to fix, real quick.”His tongue swept across his bottom lip slowly, and Juicy’s breath caught in her throat. She shifted, thighs clenching slightly, something that Stack caught and made him grin.

“You got real soft feet.” He murmured, eyes dropping again.

“I know.” She said, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies blooming in her chest.

“You get ’em done for someone?”

Her eyes searched his face, trying to figure out if it was a joke or something more. “You.” She said after a beat. Stack eyes made their way back to his, his brow lifted slightly. Juicy simply smirked, letting the words hang in the air. “And every other fine man who might be watchin’.” She added.

Stack laughed then, that low and deep sound that made her knees feel weak even though she was sitting down.

“Well.” He said, setting her feet gently back in his lap, “You definitely got my attention.”

Their eyes locked again, and this time, neither of them looked away.

The TV flickered in the background, forgotten. The ceiling fan hummed low overhead. But all Juicy could feel was the heat between them, thick as the summer night outside, and just as electric.

Stack’s fingers lingered just above her ankle now, the circles slower, heavier. Like he was remembering the feeling of her soft skin under his. Juicy swallowed hard, the thrum in her chest matching the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, blowing out warm air that didn’t help cool her flushed skin.

Stack hadn’t said anything since his last comment, but his eyes were still on her. And his gaze was so heavy and intense that she felt a heart eat start at the lower part of her body. He didn’t stare at her in that way boys used to look at her when she walked by in low-rise jeans. He did it in that way that made her feel seen. He was peeling her open with a glance, figuring out where to press, where to touch, how to unravel her.

Juicy sat up a little, her legs shifting so her calves rested across his lap instead of just her feet. A bold move, maybe. But it was hot. And his hands were warm. And that look in his eye made her forget how to second-guess herself.

“You good?” Stack asked, his voice low, like velvet soaked in heat.

Juicy nodded, slow. “Mhm.”

He raised a brow, but the corners of his lips tugged into a knowing grin. “Alright then.” His hands moved again, this time sliding from her ankle to her shin. His thumb brushed the curve of her calf, just slow enough to make her squirm. She looked away for a second, then back at him, only to catch his eyes already there—watching her reactions. He was closer to her legs now, and he watched as she took a sniff, and the way his eyes closed briefly had her wanting to clench her thoughts together.

“You smell sweet.” He stated as his large hands rubbed against her legs, squeezing her thick calf every now and then. “This the lotion they put on you at the salon?”1 He asked, voice playful, but the rasp in it gave him away.

Juicy licked her lips. “No, it’s the one I carry with me. Gotta stay soft.” She shrugged.

That earned a chuckle, low and deep, and his fingers didn’t stop moving. Now they were tracing the line behind her knee, then higher. She felt her breath hitch, but she didn’t stop him. Her body was humming. Like her skin was remembering the nights she used to dream of this exact thing and pretend she didn’t.

“You tryna drive me crazy?” He murmured, his fingertips brushing along her thigh now—just below the hem of her little shorts. It was light. Barely there. But it lit a fire under her skin.

“I thought I already did.” She replied, voice dipping, almost shy but not really. Stack smiled. That slow, lazy smile that said he liked where this was headed. His hands slid further north, one staying on her thigh, the other moving to her waist, like he was trying to anchor her and set her on fire at the same time.

“Juicy…”

She looked at him, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips. “Yeah?” She asked breathlessly.

“You ever think about us?” He asked, thumb stroking just under the band of her shorts.

Her heart thumped. “Like what?”

His gaze was heavy now. Weighted with meaning. With memories of all the late nights they’d danced around each other, shared jokes a little too flirty, lingered in the same room just a little too long. “Like this.” He said simply. “Like… me and you. No frontin’ or nothin’ like that. Just us.” He said, and the way he was speaking, that soft voice like he was begging, had Juicy’s heart beating hard within her chest.

Juicy’s throat felt tight, but she nodded. “Yeah… I think about it.” She said, her eyes wide and twinkling as she stared into his eyes. “Me too.” His hand drifted further, palm cupping the outside of her thigh now, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip. “All the time.”

His touch turned more confident, the tease of it replaced with intention. He leaned in slightly, close enough for Juicy to smell the faded cologne on his neck—something warm and woodsy that clung to him even through the heat.

Her hand found his chest, soft at first, then gripping the front of his white tank like she needed something to hold on to. Stack leaned forward, his mouth brushing her shoulder before his lips pressed there, then higher—up her neck, slow and deliberate.

“You want me to stop?” He whispered, his voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.

She shook her head, breathless. “No…”

That was all he needed.

His hands moved with more purpose now, dragging her closer until she was nearly straddling his lap. One arm hooked around her waist, the other dipped lower, beneath the hem of her shorts. She felt his hand explore the curve of her thigh, the hush between them thick as the moment stretched.

Then… he slid further, his fingers brushing against her clothed heat. Then he pressed against her, his large fingered rubbed her through her panties.

Juicy gasped—quiet, startled, but far from unwilling. Stack’s eyes never left hers, watching every flicker across her face, gauging her every breath and reaction as his fingers moved in slow, deliberate rhythm. His mouth brushed hers, feather-soft, like he was asking for permission even as his hand spoke for him.

She gripped his tank tighter, her eyes fluttering shut as she subconsciously, slowly rocked her hips against his hand.

And in the sweltering quiet of that summer night, Stack got to work—steady, focused, and with the kind of confidence that told Juicy he’d been waiting a long time to do this right.

The air felt heavier now—thick with something unspoken but deeply understood. Juicy’s breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could hear was the slow hum of the fan and the soft rustle of Stack’s hands as they moved against her skin.

He kissed her again. This time just beneath her jaw, then down to her collarbone, letting his lips linger. Like he was memorizing her. His hand, still tucked beneath the waistband of her shorts, moved with a deliberate rhythm that had her thighs tensing and her hips subtly shifting, almost involuntarily. A slow, languid ache built low in her belly, and her fingers slid across his cornrows, gently tugging at the long end as if to ground herself in something.

“Stack…” She breathed, barely able to get the name out.

He looked up, eyes hooded and warm, his smile crooked like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You good?” He asked, the rough edge in his voice betraying how much he wanted to keep going.

She nodded—maybe a little too fast—but she couldn’t help it. Her voice was soft when she answered, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

That smile deepened, and he kissed her again, this time on the mouth—slow and full, with tongue, like he wanted to make her forget any man who ever kissed her before.

Stack’s hand was slow and sure, trailing up the outside of Juicy’s thigh with the kind of care that made her nerves hum. The couch beneath her felt too soft, too warm, like it was melting beneath them, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears louder than whatever was still playing on the TV. His fingers moved with ease, confident and patient, making her body respond before her brain could catch up.

Juicy let her head fall back as Stack nipped at her neck, her breath coming out in shallow little sighs, eyes fluttering shut. Every inch of her felt like it was waiting on him—like her whole body was leaning into the moment, breathless and trembling.

Then—

Click.

The sharp sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the air like a lightning bolt. Juicy’s eyes snapped open just as Stack’s hand stilled beneath the soft cotton of her shorts. For a beat, neither of them moved, suspended in disbelief.

The door creaked open, and Juicy practically leapt up, pulling her shorts down as if they’d betrayed her.

Stack sat back with a groan that was barely audible, raking a hand over his face as Juicy scrambled to look like she hadn’t just been caught on the edge of sin.

Into the doorway stepped Sinclair, her arms full with a sleeping Tyson slumped against her shoulder, his little curls damp with sweat. She didn’t step fully into the living room, but her gaze drifted—just for a second—over to Juicy, who stood awkwardly next to the couch with her curls a little too messy and her tank top slightly askew.

Sinclair didn’t say anything, but one brow arched ever so slightly.

“Hey.” Juicy said quickly, voice too high. “Y’all back already?”

“Mm-hmm.” Sinclair hummed, tired but alert. “Tyson crashed on the way. Figured I’d just carry him up.”

Stack stood up then, brushing his hands on his jeans, and Juicy caught the faintest smirk playing at his lips, like he found the whole interruption funny. “I’mma head out.”He said casually, his voice warm but cool. Not too rushed, but not slow either.

“Yeah… okay.” Juicy said, following him toward the door, trying to smooth out her curls as they went.

Sinclair disappeared down the hall without a word, but Juicy could feel the suspicion lingering in the air. She knew she probably wasn’t going to get questioned later but whatever just happened would linger between them until it was bright up again.

The porch light buzzed faintly as she stepped into the doorway while Stack stepped outside. The warm night wrapped around them like a slow, sticky blanket. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the faint scent of grilled meat still hung in the air from someone’s barbecue earlier.

Stack turned to her, hands slipping into his pockets, his tall frame backlit by the porch light. “You alright?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Juicy rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. “I was, until somebody got me caught.”

“You wasn’t caught.” He murmured, stepping just a little closer. “She ain’t see nothin’. ’Sides… you the one that got all flustered.”

“I was not flustered.” She argued, eyes narrowing.

“You are flustered.” He leaned in even closer now, his voice low and lazy like syrup on a hot day. “Still got that little red blush right here…” He tapped her cheek lightly, and Juicy swatted his hand, but not really. They both laughed softly, the kind of quiet, private laugh that was meant to only be shared between two people in close quarters.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed lightly over her chest, watching him. “I’m grown.” She said, her usual sassy attitude coming back as she smoothed what we gloss she had left on her lips.

Stack’s gaze flicked down to her lips—quick but not shy. And then back up to her eyes. “Trust and believe I know that.” He said, his eyes training over her again. Juicy bit at the inside of her lip at that, looking up at him. “I should go.” He said, but made no move to leave.

“Mm-hmm.”Juicy hummed, still watching him with those big, round eyes. “You should.”

And yet… neither of them moved. The space between them tightened like a rubber band stretched too far. Then, without warning, Stack leaned in.

His lips found hers—warm, full, and hungry.

Juicy didn’t think. She just melted into him, her arms coming up to rest against his chest as his hand slid around her waist. The kiss deepened fast, hot and breath-stealing, like all the tension from earlier had been waiting for permission.

Then his hand, so bold and certain, slipped lower, gripping her behind in one smooth motion.

Juicy gasped into his mouth, the sound soft and shocked, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he might float away if she didn’t.

Stack broke the kiss then, just barely, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavy.

He looked down into her face, those dark eyes searching hers. She looked wrecked in the prettiest way—lips parted, cheeks flushed, her curls wild, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

He kissed her again, quick and tender, right on her slightly open mouth. Then his hand slid slowly from her behind, the warmth of his touch still tingling against her skin.

“Have a good night, Juicy.”He said softly, his voice lower than before. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and whispered, “Goodnight, Stack.” She said, but she wasn’t even sure the words made it past her lips.

She watched him walk down the steps, his tall frame cutting through the quiet of the street until he crossed over to the porch across from hers. He didn’t look back, not before she went quickly slipped inside and shut the door, pressing her back against it. Her hand went to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

She stared up at the ceiling for a second, completely dazed. Then, finally, the words slipped out in a breathless, disbelieving whisper.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The morning sun had just begun to stream through the gauzy curtains of Juicy’s bedroom, casting a warmth across her floor. The summer air was already thick with heat, promising a sweltering day ahead. She stood near her dresser in nothing but a black tank top and her favorite pair of boy shorts, the soft cotton clinging to her curves in all the right places. Her hair was up in a bun with a silk scarf wrapped around the base, though a few strands were curling down the side of her face as she rubbed sunscreen onto her arms. The scent of coconut filled the room, mingling with the faint trace of her vanilla perfume.

She paused mid-rub, her eyes drifting toward the door as she remembered something.

Sinclair.

She needed to tell her sister about the pool party. Dropping the sunscreen onto the vanity, she wiped her hands on a towel and padded barefoot down the hall. Tyson’s door was slightly ajar, but she walked right past it, heading straight for the largest room in the house. Sinclair sat cross-legged on her bed, meticulously going through Tyson’s diaper bag, organizing bottles and wipes like she was preparing for war.

“Hey.” Juicy called softly, catching her attention.

Sinclair looked up from a pack of baby wipes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Juicy stepped further into the room, her bare legs brushing against the side of the bed as she smiled down at the toddler who sat surrounded by soft toys, babbling to himself. “Mary and I are gonna hit the pool party at the rec center in a few. Martin might be there, so I thought maybe you and Ty could slide through. Make it a family affair.”She said, reaching down to scoop up the baby.

Tyson squealed with delight, giggling as Juicy peppered his chubby cheeks with ticklish kisses. The baby’s laugh was contagious, filling the room like sunlight.

Sinclair’s smile was tentative. “Uh… yeah, I can see if we can do that.” She said, but something in her tone held hesitation. “It’s just that—”

Knock knock knock.

A knock at the door cut her off.

Sinclair raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get it.” She said quickly, gently placing Tyson back on the bed before heading down the hallway.

She didn’t ask who it was, didn’t pause, didn’t peek cautiously through the side curtain like she normally would. It was almost like she knew who was there form the knock alone, even the presence.

As she pressed her eye to the peephole, her breath caught. There he was. Those familiar full lips she knew better than her own name, framed by the smooth lines of a face she could spot even in a dream.

She opened the door, slow and unsure.

Smoke stood on the other side, tall and still and undeniably handsome, his expression unreadable but his eyes glued to her.

“Hey,” He said, voice low, intimate.

“Hi.” Juicy’s throat tightened, her breath catching. It was the first time they’d seen each other since her impulsive outburst yesterday. She’d sent two texts last night, trying not to sound too desperate, but they’d gone unanswered and call her an over thinker but know she didn’t know where they stood.

“Can I come in?” Smoke asked gently, watching her closely.

Juicy blinked, shaking off the trance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on in.” She said, stepping aside.

He moved past her into the house, his presence immediately grounding, immediately consuming. She shut the door behind him and took his hand without thinking, leading him down the hallway to her bedroom. The house was still and quiet, Tyson’s babbling just a murmur in the distance.

Once inside, she closed the door behind them. Like he’d been here a thousand times, Smoke crossed the room and sat on her bed, picking up one of her pink decorative pillows and resting it against his knees. His eyes scanned her slowly. Her bun, her bare arms still glistening with sunscreen, the tank top that hugged her chest just tight enough for him to see the curve of her nipples underneath, and the boy shorts that left little to the imagination.

She stood with her hands on her hips, heart thudding against her ribs. “You mad at me?” She asked, lips pouted.

Smoke shook his head. “No.”

“Well…”She dragged the word out, tilting her head.

“…Were you mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, baby.” He said, that low rasp in his voice drawing her in like a magnet.

That last word—baby—settled right in her chest and melted whatever walls she’d tried to put up. She exhaled softly, stepping forward until she stood between his knees. Her arms wrapped around his torso, pulling herself closer to him. “You didn’t answer my messages.” She murmured, her voice small and vulnerable. “I thought you were mad after what I did yesterday.”

Smoke’s arms slid around her waist, grounding her. His hands rested gently on her lower back, fingers drawing soft circles there.

“I wasn’t ignoring you.” He said. “After you dipped out to get your nails did, I had to handle some business. Came back late and crashed. I was tired.”

Juicy lifted her head just enough to look him in the eye, glancing down at her hang as she toyed this his gold chain. “So you weren’t mad at me? Not even a little?”

“Baby, no.” He repeated gently, then his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shorts, teasing the bare skin of her hip. “But you better never talk back to me like that again.” He added in a low, commanding voice. “Or else you’re due for a punishment. Am I understood?”

A sharp thrill ran down her spine at the firm warning.

“Yes.” Juicy answered breathily, her thighs instinctively pressing together.

“Mmm, good.” Smoke said before leaning in to kiss her, slow and possessive, his hands traveling downward to rest on the curve of her ass. His words and touch made her heart skip. She felt a slick warmth pool between her legs at the way he claimed her without even needing to undress her.

“I been thinkin’ bout you.” He muttered, lips brushing hers. That thick sexual tension, so thick it could choke, melted into something else—still hot, still heavy—but now softer. Sweeter and longing.

She kissed the corner of his mouth with a feather-light touch. “I missed you.” She confessed, voice tight with emotion. Smoke tightened his hold with another soft him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that, tangled in each other’s limbs, in a moment so intimate it felt like time slowed. The outside world ceased to matter. All that existed was this boy she’d grown to crave and the way his body molded perfectly to hers.

Juicy’s chest tightened, her heart blooming into something dangerous. Something real, and that she wasn’t sure she ready to name, but couldn’t deny.

“I was worried.” She whispered, afraid to say it out loud. She practically spoke the words into his mouth since didn’t want to pull away, but he didn’t seem to mind as his around her tightened.

Smoke tilted her chin gently, thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “You don’t have to be. I’m here.”And for a second, she believed him. Fully and completely. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, touching the warm skin of his stomach. Her voice was soft. “You better come to that pool party later.” She said.

Smoke smirked, that lopsided grin she both hated and loved curling on his lips. “I might pull up. Depends on how good you look in that swimsuit.”

“Oh, I’m gon’ look good.” She grinned, tilting her head. “So you better be there.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Then I’ll be there.”

And just like that, the tension returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncertainty or doubt. It was anticipation. It was summer heat, sticky and sweet, and the thrill of knowing something good was coming.

Before they could Steele back into the heat of their moment, Sinclair knocked twice before easing the door open, her hand resting lightly on the knob as her eyes scanned the room. The first thing she noticed was Smoke, sitting casually on the edge of Juicy’s bed like he’d always belonged there, while Juicy was bent slightly at her dresser, sifting through clothes. Her back was to the door, unaware of her sister’s entrance at first.

Sinclair paused mid-step, almost doing a double take when her gaze landed on the man lounging comfortably in her baby sister’s bedroom. “I didn’t hear you come in.” She said slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit, like she couldn’t decide whether she was suspicious or surprised. Juicy, halfway through tugging open a drawer, turned and blinked. Her brows pulled together at the same time Smoke’s did, the pair of them mirroring each other like they were already synced without trying.

“He knocked a few minutes ago.”Juicy replied plainly, but her voice held the faintest trace of dry amusement. She stood up straighter, one hand still resting on the dresser as she looked back at Sinclair.

Sinclair’s eyes darted between them, then shifted toward the floor as her toddler son, Tyson, who came bumbling in with soft patters of his feet and the sweet sound of baby banter falling off his tongue. He wore a lopsided grin, his little hands reaching for whatever was nearby—his mother’s jeans, the air, the bed frame—giddy from just being seen.

“Oh, yeah.” Sinclair muttered, rubbing the side of her forehead as the memory finally clicked into place.

“Damn. I think the mom brain is starting to get to you.”Juicy said with an arched a brow, lips twitching with a small smile.

“Yeah, me too.”Sinclair let out a low sigh and adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Anyway.” She started, a hesitant note sneaking into her tone. “We might pull up to the pool later, but first I’m taking Ty to see Mom and Dad.”

Juicy’s expression shifted, just barely. She was careful, giving her sister nothing but a sharp nod, her mouth set, and a blink. “Oh.” She said with a quick uptick of her chin. “Okay.”

But there was a new stillness in the room. One that Smoke picked up on instantly, his eyes flicking from Juicy to Sinclair. Something unspoken had entered the air. Sinclair’s eyes stayed on her sister for a moment longer, trying to gauge the exact temperature of her reaction. Then she spoke again, casually.

“They haven’t seen him in a while. And neither have I, so…” She trailed off with a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance, but even Tyson seemed to slow in his babbling, sensing the shift in his mama’s voice.

Juicy hummed, soft and brief, not looking directly at Sinclair as she turned back to her drawer. “Okay.” She repeated, her tone light but not warm. Her hand paused over a folded orange swimsuit, fingers tapping the fabric once before picking it up. Smoke didn’t say a word. He sat still, observing, but his jaw flexed slightly, like he could feel the tightness forming under her skin.

Sinclair gave a weak smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. She nodded once, lips pursed. “Alright.” She said, stepping back toward the doorway. “See y’all later.”

Juicy finally looked up again, flashing a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “See ya.” She waved.

Then her gaze dropped to the little boy now holding onto the seam of his mother pants and grinning up at her with his two tiny bottom teeth showing. Her whole face softened.

“See ya, Ty!” She grinned, leaning down a little to wiggle her fingers in his direction.

“Say, ‘See ya, TT,’” Sinclair cooed in that syrupy baby voice as she leaned down beside him. But Tyson only giggled at the attention, waving his hand in a messy arc and showing off those same little teeth like he knew he was the moment.

Juicy laughed softly, the sound light and brief, but Smoke could tell her mind wasn’t fully in it. She was still stuck in whatever thoughts Sinclair had stirred up.

Sinclair gave her sister one last look, her eyes lingering a second longer than necessary on the man behind her. She clocked the way he sat—comfortably, as if this wasn’t his first time in that room. And something about that seemed to settle, or unsettle, in her chest. Then, without another word, she stepped out, gently guiding her son with her, and pulled the door shut behind them with a soft click.

Silence bloomed in the room like smoke after a match strike.

Juicy stood there, still holding the swimsuit, but her shoulders had stiffened. Smoke watched her quietly for a moment, studying the way her jaw tensed ever so slightly, the way her fingers gripped the bright orange fabric too tightly.

He didn’t speak right away. Just let the moment breathe. The silence between them was the kind that said a lot without either of them needing to say a damn thing. Summer heat curled in through the open window, thick and lazy, stirring the edges of the sheer curtains and gliding across her skin.

“You alright?” Smoke asked finally, his voice low, careful.

Juicy blinked like she’d just come out of a daze, turning to face him with a quick nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Smoke didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push—not yet. Instead, he let the moment sit. Let the tension hum like the faraway cicadas outside. He didn’t say anything for a second, just tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

She gave him a softer smile then, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just surprised me is all.” She pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser, sifting through neatly folded swimsuits. “I didn’t know she was going over there.”

Smoke leaned back slightly, palms pressing into the mattress. “You not cool with that?”

Juicy shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “I mean… it’s whatever. It ain’t my business.”

But the edge in her voice betrayed her. Smoke caught it.

“She told you about taking him over there?”

“Nope.” Juicy popped the ‘p’ as she pulled out a swimsuit—bright orange with gold detailing—and tossed it onto the bed without looking at him. “But like I said, it’s whatever.”

Smoke nodded slowly. He didn’t push, just watched her for a beat longer. “Your folks… y’all not on good terms?”

Juicy paused again, her hand resting flat on the dresser, nails tapping rhythmically. The pause stretched out a little too long before she answered.

“We cool. Just… history, you know?” She said vaguely, grabbing a pair of shorts to go with the swimsuit. “It’s nothin’ new.”

Smoke hummed low in his throat, but didn’t press further. He could feel the wall going up in real time. Whatever the story was, she wasn’t ready to unpack it right now—not with her sister freshly gone and her mood already shaken.

He stood, walking up behind her slowly. “You don’t gotta pretend with me.” He said, voice softer now. “You don’t wanna talk about it, fine. But don’t do that ‘I’m fine’ shit.”

Juicy looked at him over her shoulder, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she gave a small smile—this one a little more real.

“Noted.”She murmured.

Smoke leaned down, pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Good.”

For a while, they stood like that. Quiet. Though everything unspoken still buzzed beneath the surface, but neither one of them needed to say anything. Outside, the world was still alive with chatter, sprinklers, and the faint bass of someone’s car rolling down the street.

Juicy finally pulled herself away from the stillness, tucking the different swimsuit options and shorts under her arm. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She said, tilting her head toward the bathroom. “Don’t peek.”

A slow grin began pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I ain’t say nothin’,” He murmured, voice rich and playful as he moved and sat back down on the bed. “I’ll be here.”

She raised her brows at him with a small laugh, disappearing into her bathroom with a soft click of the door behind her.

She gave him a quick glance before disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind her. And as soon as she was gone, Smoke leaned back on his hands again, his gaze drifting toward the closed door.

Something in her sister’s visit—and Juicy’s too-calm reaction—lingered in his chest like smoke that wouldn’t quite clear. Whatever it was, he figured it wasn’t just history.

It was something more.

And he had a feeling that it wasn’t done showing its teeth.

Inside the bathroom, Juicy peeled off her tank top and shorts, stepping into the cool lining of her black-and-white gingham bikini set. The top had a halter neckline that hugged her curves just right, and the matching mini skirt hit high on her thighs, barely grazing the bottom curve of her cheeks. It was more fashion than function—more for looking good than getting wet. She had no intention of swimming today. Just a little sun, a little music, a little flirtation. Maybe a drink or two, maybe a little dancing. And with Smoke around… maybe more of the last one.

She smoothed down the skirt, adjusted the top, then stood back to glance at herself in the mirror. Hair still fresh from her wrap the night before, she slicked her high bun back with her fingers, adding a pair of gold hoops to finish the look. A swipe of glittery gloss, a spritz of body spray that smelled like coconut and vanilla, and she was done.

When she stepped back out into the bedroom, Smoke sat up a little straighter. His mouth opened slightly like he was about to say something slick, but no words came—just a long, appreciative glance that traveled from her glossy lips to her honey-toned thighs.

Juicy caught it and smirked. “What?” She teased.

He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “Ain’t nobody even gon’ make it in the pool wit’ you lookin’ like that.”

Juicy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the little blush that crept up her neck. She crossed the room to grab her sandals, bending just a little too slow when she picked them up, and when she straightened, Smoke was still watching her.

“You tryin’ to be funny.” He said, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“I’m tryin’ to be fine.” She replied with a wink, slipping on her sandals and tossing her purse over her shoulder.

“Mission accomplished.”

They shared a grin as well as a laugh, something more easy and light, as if yesterday’s tension had been blown away with the breeze rolling through the window. Whatever that conversation had been, it didn’t follow them now. This was a new rhythm. A new beat.

As they headed out the door, Smoke opened it for her. “After you, Miss Juicy.”

Juicy giggled, flipping her silk scarf, which she now wore as decoration, as she passed. “You gon’ call me that all day now?”

“Yup,” He said, trailing behind her. “Miss Gingham if I’m nasty.”

She swatted at him as they walked down to his car, laughing. The heat had crept up since the morning, and by the time they got in, the leather seats were already warm under her thighs. She shifted, adjusting her skirt with a little tug.

The drive through the neighborhood was quick, familiar streets lined with porches and sun-faded cars, kids running through sprinklers and old heads playing dominoes under shade trees. Mary’s block was alive with the sound of a Saturday in May.

As they pulled up to the curb, Juicy leaned out the passenger window, scanning for her friend. She barely had time to blink before the screen door flew open and Mary burst out onto the porch, her high ponytail bouncing behind her and her gold sandals clacking against the wood steps.

“Y’all ready?!” Mary shouted, waving both arms like they hadn’t seen her in years. Her swimsuit was loud and proud, a bright yellow with white flowers, and a sheer cover-up that fluttered behind her as she jogged down the walk. “Let’s gooo, I been waitin’ since eight o’clock!”

Behind her, Missy stood on the porch, arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. She was still in her house dress, a phone in one hand and the news paper tucked under had arm. She raised her hand when she spotted the car.

Smoke leaned a little, giving her a respectful nod after a quick blow of the horn in greeting. Juicy lifted her fingers in a wave, and Mary grinned, turning around to blow her mom a kiss.

“Be good!” Missy called, though her voice held no real warning. “And tell Sinclair I said hey!”

“I will!” Mary and Juicy called back.

The woman waved one last time, then disappeared inside with the slow creak of the screen door behind her.

Mary slid into the backseat, breathless and already pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her bag. “Okay. Playlist ready? Vibes set? Let’s go, I need to feel fine today.”

Juicy turned in her seat, grinning over her shoulder. “You always fine, girl.”

Smoke laughed softly, pulling off from the curb as the music kicked in, Ashanti’s ‘Rock Wit U’ floating through the speakers like the soundtrack to a perfect afternoon.

The sun was high now, casting long shadows and soaking the world in a white gold. And with Smoke behind the wheel, Juicy in the front seat in her barely-there skirt, and Mary gassing herself up in the back, everything about this moment felt exactly right.

Summer had never looked better.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

The car rounded the corner and dipped onto the long gravel road leading to the city pool, tires crunching beneath the heat. The closer they got, the louder the music became, the bass vibrating through the thick, humid air like a heartbeat. Juicy leaned forward in her seat, peeking out the windshield as she caught sight of the blue glint of water and the crowds already swelling behind the black barred fence.

Smoke nodded toward the commotion. “Stack said he’ll meet us here. He on his way now.”

Mary perked up in the backseat, tugging her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Oop—Stack comin’? Say less.” Her voice danced with excitement, and she reached for her strawberry-scented body oil, giving her legs a quick gleam.

Juicy glanced at Smoke, smirking. “So this really gon’ be a thing, huh? Y’all going everywhere with us?

He shrugged, amused. “I just drive the car. I don’t ask no questions.

Mary rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Please, you always ask questions.” Then she leaned forward between the seats, grinning. “But thank you for the ride, Mr. Chauffeur.”

“You welcome.” Smoke replied coolly, pulling into a shady patch near the edge of the lot. He cut the engine and leaned back in his seat, watching the scene unfold beyond the windshield. He then furrowed his brows, looking over at Juicy. “Dwait, didn’t y’all ask us to come?” He questioned.

“I thought you didn’t ask questions?” Juicy asked as she popped a piece of him in her mouth, smiling at him as Mary hopped out of the car to get the party started.

Despite the official Parks & Rec flyer calling it a “Family Fun Day,” the vibe was anything but kiddie. Sure, there were toddlers splashing in the shallow end and a few aunties under the pavilions eating BBQ on Styrofoam plates, but most of the crowd was teens and twenty-somethings, all fresh fits and flip-flops, drippin’ with baby oil and bottled water, posted up in every corner of the pool area with red solo cups.

The scent of grilled hot dogs and chlorine mixed with the blare of Chingy’s ‘Right Thurr’ booming through a set of old speakers someone had dragged to the edge of the pool deck. It was hot, it was loud, and it was everything summer was supposed to be.

Juicy opened her door and stepped out, the sun immediately warming her legs. She tugged her mini skirt down on instinct, though it didn’t do much. The fabric barely covered her, and when she turned, Smoke’s eyes flicked upward. She caught him.

“You lookin’?” She asked, hands on her hips.

“I ain’t say nothin’,” He replied, voice smooth as syrup.

“That’s not what I asked you.” She shot back with a wink, then reached into her purse to pull out her lip gloss. “Just know I seen it.”

Smoke chuckled low in his throat, closing his door and nodding toward the gate. “Let’s go before it get too packed. Some lil boy already doin’ flips by the ‘No Diving’ sign.”

Sure enough, as they stepped through the open gate, a boy with plaits came sailing through the air in mid-cannonball, splashing a group of girls who screamed and laughed while holding their phones and purses above their heads. A tangle of floaties bobbed along the edges of the pool, and people were posted up on every available inch of concrete—some laid out on towels, others perched on plastic lawn chairs with drinks in hand.

Juicy spotted a mutual friend of her, Lamont, almost immediately.

He wasn’t hard to miss. Shirtless in red trunks, chain swinging against his chest as he grinded behind some girl in a lime green bikini. One hand held a red cup, the other was suspiciously low on her waist, and he looked like he hadn’t seen a lifeguard whistle in at least twenty minutes.

Mary laughed when she saw him. “Lord, Lamont really acting like he ain’t on payroll.”

“Girl, he never act like he on payroll,” Juicy said, adjusting her hoops. “He only work here for the free hot dogs and attention.”

Up in the high chair, their homegirl Megan sat post, stoic as ever with her arms crossed, and clearly unamused. Her mirrored shades hid her eyes. She tapped her whistle once, loudly, then pointed at the boy gearing up to dive again.

They walked deeper into the party, weaving between coolers, foldout chairs, and sunbathing bodies. Juicy felt the eyes on her immediately—she always did—but today, with the sunlight catching her skin and the black-and-white gingham hugging her like it was made just for her, she felt it too. She wasn’t trying to swim. Wasn’t here for the water. Just the vibe. The music. And maybe the way Smoke’s hand brushed the small of her back every now and then as he guided her through the crowd.

Mary skipped ahead to greet a few friends already camped out by the edge of the pool, but Smoke and Juicy lingered by one of the empty loungers. He gestured to it, offering it like it was her throne.

“You tryna sit, or you gon’ stand here and let the sun hit you like a sexy model on a magazine cover? Cause I wouldn’t be mad at it if you stood in front of me.”

Juicy rolled her eyes and sank into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Magazine cover, huh?”

“Yeah, girl. You’re my Jet Beauty of the Week.” He said smoothly. “But better.”

She laughed, tipping her head back, and for a second, everything else disappeared—the splashes, the laughter. It was just them.

════════════ ⭑.ᐟ ════════════

Juicy lounged like she belonged in a music video. Her legs glistening from the shimmer lotion she dabbed on earlier, ankles crossed, chin tilted just enough to keep her glossed lips in the sun. Her magazine was open across her lap, pages fluttering in the breeze, catching her on a spread of luxury heels. Delicate strappy numbers from Jimmy Choo, those Miu Miu platforms she’d been eyeing since March, and some throwback Gucci slingbacks in cherry red. She licked her thumb and flipped the page lazily, humming along to “Frontin’” as it poured from the speakers set up by the snack stand.

Mary, meanwhile, was perched up next to her in the chair beside the lifeguard chair where Megan sat post—legs swinging, sunglasses halfway down her nose as she leaned in to whisper.

“No, like—he really tried to play in my face.”Mary said, voice low but clearly animated. “He called me from a random number and said he was at his grandmas. I called back a day later and some bitch named Tamika answered.” She scoffed.

Megan sis the same, disgust tracing her features. “He bold and dumb. That’s a deadly combo.”

“He’s a clown.” Mary muttered, adjusting her top. “What’s wild is I really liked him for a second. Like, I was plotting playlists for this man in my head. That’s how far gone I was.”

“Playlists?” Megan echoed, horrified. “Girl.”

“I know.” Mary groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I almost burned a CD.”

They both gasped dramatically in unison, and that was what caught Juicy’s attention. Her gaze shifted over the top of her magazine, brows lifting. “What? I wanna know.”

But neither girl responded. They just stared past her, toward the pool’s entrance, mouths parted in small, stunned expressions that leaned more into irritation than awe.

Juicy, never one to be left in the dark, lowered the glossy pages and followed their line of sight.

And there they were.

Anika and her crew.

Like clockwork, the pool gate creaked open and the temperature seemed to shift. The girls stepped through like they owned the pavement, all matching energy but not outfits. Anika’s hair was freshly pressed, as always, bouncing with every calculated step. She wore a coral bikini that looked expensive, her top tied perfectly above a flat, glistening stomach. Her girls followed close behind, equally beat—each with a fresh press, glossy lips, designer shades, and earrings that sparkled like the pool itself.

Their heels clicked against the concrete, like a warning shot.

Juicy turned her lip up slightly.

They were beautiful, no doubt. But that little flash of insecurity never even got the chance to rise—not after what Mary had whispered to her at the nail salon yesterday. About how Anika had openly talked about wanting to fuck either Stack or Smoke, like it was a game of eeny meeny miney hoe.

So Juicy didn’t gape like the others. She just squinted, unimpressed. “They not even dressed to swim.” She mumbled, flipping through her magazine with one hand and shrugging to herself.

Mary, without missing a beat, said, “Neither are you.” Glancing over at her.

Juicy’s eyes cut sharp to the side, a little grin curling at the corner of her mouth even as she rolled them. “And?”

Mary tilted her chin like Exactly, and turned back to Megan.

Juicy sighed and folded her magazine carefully, placing it in her chair. She stood, smoothed down the hem of her gingham mini skirt, and sauntered across the hot concrete until she reached the edge of the pool. It was packed—teenagers doing cannonballs, couples lounging waist-deep, kids with floaties. But she found a spot and slipped her sandals off, dipping her freshly-pedicured toes into the cool water.

She lowered herself until she was perched on the edge, knees drawn up, arms crossed as she turned back to Mary, who watched from afar like a proud big sister.

“Is this good enough?” Juicy asked, sass dripping off every syllable.

Mary stood from the lifeguard chair, smirking. “Nope.”

Before Juicy could respond, Mary marched over and without hesitation, slid right into the pool. A soft splash echoed, water rippling around her as she dunked everything but her hair. When she emerged, she slicked water down her arms and looked up with a wide grin.

“You gotta have more fun, girl.” She called.

Juicy answered with a very matter-of-fact middle finger, flashing her acrylics. Mary cracked up, kicking away and floating backwards into the deeper part of the pool.

Juicy couldn’t help but smile. Not the tight-lipped kind she reserved for strangers or polite moments, but something softer and much more easy and natural. Even in the middle of a party, with Anika’s clique parading around like they were filming a music video feature and the sun beating down like a spotlight, she still felt good. Still felt wanted.

Juicy let her legs sway gently in the water, toes flexing as they sliced through the shimmering blue. The sun warmed her skin, and the air smelled like cocoa butter, grill smoke, and chlorine. Her elbow rested lazily on her knee, her chin tucked into her palm as she scanned the poolside crowd with a dreamy kind of smile. Laughter rose in waves around her. Somebody hollered across the deep end. Girls squealed when a boy cannonballed too close.

Juicy’s eyes wandered, taking it all in—the summer buzz, the unapologetic joy of being young without weighing responsibility as if right now. For once, she wasn’t worried about how she looked or who was watching as she enjoyed the setting around her.

Until she saw Smoke.

He was crouched near the back corner where a group of guys surrounded a towel spread with bills and dice. Martin and a couple of his boys were laughing, talking shit, slapping palms between rolls. And Smoke was in his element, white wife pleaser clinging to his back, gold chain swinging low as he leaned in and watched the dice tumble.

Then he scooped the money up with one hand, the other brushing against his waves. He then glanced up and caught her in the middle of ogling.

His smirk deepened, shifting from cocky to slow and dangerous. His eyes roamed lazily, pausing at her bare shoulders, her shiny thighs, the subtle bounce of her curls in the heat. He looked like he was remembering things he shouldn’t be thinking about out in the open.

Juicy’s breath caught. Her lips parted slightly before she caught herself and looked away, cheeks warming as she let out a soft, involuntary laugh. That was all Smoke needed. He licked his bottom lip slowly and turned back to the dice game, but not before letting that smirk linger in her direction a few seconds longer than necessary, even if she wasn’t looking at him. He knew she felt the weight of his gaze.

She shook her head to herself, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks.

And then the gate creaked open again.

Juicy glanced up just in time to see Stack walk in, and if Smoke had her heart skipping, Stack had it full-on backflipping.

Unlike his brother, who stayed in his tank top, Stack came shirtless, and Lord—he knew what he was doing. The sun kissed every inch of his chest, his abs sculpted but not overdone. His torso glistened a bit, but she knew it wasn’t likely from the lotion or oil he slathered on before leaving the house, she could see the sweat beads he built up over time out in the Mississippi sun. Though the sheer did make the tattoos on his triceps pop, as the muscles flexed with each step he took. His black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking just above.

Juicy sucked in a quiet breath.

Jesus.

She didn’t even try to look away. How could she, when he walked with that kind of confidence. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily as he chewed gum, one hand dragging over his jaw before they landed on her.

And he smiled.

Stack didn’t bother to hide the way he looked at her. His gaze dropped, lingered on the way her thighs spread against the concrete, the glint of her new belly ring catching the sun— a tiny gem that matched the brightest star, little gold rays hanging. He didn’t even pretend not to notice the way her top lifted when she leaned back, or the way her lips parted ever so slightly at his gaze. She looked so good, he almost turned around and left, just to come back in again for the drama of it.

She had on something soft today, he realized. Not just her outfit, but her. The makeup, the lotion, the faint shimmer on her collarbones. Maybe it was the memory of last night, of his hand gripping the round of her ass while they kissed under the light of her porch. Maybe it was the way she said his name like a secret she wasn’t ready to share, breathing into his mouth as his hands exploded under her shorts. Either way, she was glowing, and he felt every bit of it hit him in the chest.

He winked.

And Juicy practically melted. She fumbled her gaze back to the water like it had answers, heart thudding as if the sun itself had reached down and tapped her on the shoulder.

Stack moved on toward his brother, the two of them meeting halfway with a dap and a shoulder bump. Juicy couldn’t hear what they said, but the way they laughed together, easy and familiar, made her stomach twist. It was strange, watching them like that—like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t kissed one of them in the dark the night before.

Like she hadn’t kissed the other one in broad daylight this morning.

Her fingers curled over the edge of the pool, nails tapping lightly. The music thumped on behind her, girls laughed, somebody cracked open a soda nearby—but her thoughts had narrowed to one singular sentence, loud and clear.

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into.”

And no amount of summer sun was gonna answer that for her.

By the time Mary had slinked back to the spot Juicy at the edge of the pool, her body was soaked and glistening, water droplets clinging to her skin like diamonds under the sun. Her pony was slicked back, her bikini clinging to her curves as she dropped beside her friend with a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Girl, that water feels so good.” She said, wringing a bit of water from the end of her pony tail as she leaned back on her elbows. “You better stop being cute and come float with me.”

Juicy smiled faintly, her attention still half-watching the crowd. “I’ll think about it.”

“See? That’s your problem now. Always thinking about something.” Mary teased, nudging her with a damp foot. “Loosen up, it’s a pool party, not a courtroom.”

They both laughed softly, that lazy, sun-drunk kind of laughter, the kind that only came when your skin was warm and your stomach was full of the content of the splendid afternoon.

But the someone walked by and ruined it all.

Her heels clicked lightly against the pavement, despite the pool setting, and her glossy lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk as she passed the two girls.

“Hey, Juicy.” Pearline said, voice syrupy-sweet with just enough venom beneath it to sting. She barely paused, her eyes flicking over them with a casual kind of shade.

Juicy just looked at her, chin lifted slightly. Her mouth stayed closed, her eyes cool and unimpressed. Pearline didn’t wait for a response—didn’t need one, apparently. Her smirk deepened like she expected it.

Mary blinked after her, eyebrows furrowing. “Well damn.” She muttered, loud enough to be heard. “I’m here too, but okay.” She scoffed, causing Juicy to finally let out a soft laugh, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ain’t nobody worried about ole girl.” She said, physically waving her off.

Mary hummed as she side-eyed the woman that walked away from them. “Not since she switched up soon as Anika rolled in with that fake ass Fendi, a different accent and a fresh silk press.” Mary said, shaking her head as she thought about how it all blew over. “Tragic, really. Anika can’t even speak Spanish and she’s supposed to be half Dominican. That was, like, all of her appeal.” She said, more to herself now as she scoffed.

Juicy didn’t answer right away. She was too busy watching Pearline strut away, heels clacking. That same old ache stirred in her chest, that old mix of resentment and something else—something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name.

She and Pearline hadn’t talked since junior year. Not since Pearline switched up on her, started rolling with Anika like she’d been born in Queens herself. Like she hadn’t once shared Kool-Aid in Juicy’s granny’s kitchen, or whispered about first crushes under the oak tree in Mary’s backyard. Or gossiped with them at the Friday night games.

And Mary knew. Mary had been there for the fall. For the way Juicy cried that night after Pearline left them at the dance, choosing Anika’s afterparty instead, not before leaving a nasty note and some hurtful words to the chubby girl. She’d been there when Juicy admitted that it wasn’t just about friendship—it was heartbreak. The kind that came when a person knew too much about your body, your laugh, your secrets. Pearline wasn’t just a best friend.

She was Juicy’s first almost. Something she’d never try aging after the hurt she faced.

And maybe that was why Juicy didn’t say anything now—just stood, brushing off her thighs as she grabbed her phone.

“I’ll be back.” She said quietly.

“Where you going?” Mary asked, concerned.

“Bathroom.”

Mary nodded, letting her go without pushing. She watched her friend disappear into the crowd, her expression softening. She knew what day this was turning into.

Juicy crossed the pool area quickly, dodging wet feet and floating beach balls, slipping into the public restroom near the concession stand. The moment she stepped inside, she grimaced.

The air was damp and sour. One of the sinks had a paper towel shoved in the drain, and water pooled on the floor like the aftermath of a middle school fight. The stalls were questionably clean, one of them with a door that hung off the hinge.

Juicy stepped back, shaking her head in disgust. “Yeah, no.” She mumbled to herself, turning right back around.

The better bathrooms were inside the main building, where the events coordinator worked and the lifeguards took breaks. She’d been in there once before—clean tile floors, working soap dispensers, and air conditioning. She needed that now.

She opened the back door and stepped outside again, sunlight smacking her full in the face as the bass from the music rattled the patio furniture. She squinted against the brightness—and that’s when she saw it. Juicy hadn’t even made it three steps back outside before the sight hit her square in the chest like a punch she wasn’t ready for.

Her steps faltered.

Anika.

She was walking—no, floating—across the concrete pool deck like it was a runway. Her long legs glistened with cocoa butter under the Mississippi sun, her flowy blouse flaring behind her like a flag of war. Her glossy lips curled into a slow, practiced smile as she made a beeline straight toward him.

Smoke.

Juicy stopped, dead in her tracks, eyes narrowing beneath her oversized Dior shades. Her fingers curled around the edge of her phone, the plastic digging into her palms as she watched the scene unfold in front of her like a movie she didn’t want to star in.

Anika reached him first, tilting her head in that way that always seemed rehearsed—chin dipped, lashes low, like she was some music video girl. In her manicured hand was a red solo cup, and she extended it to him like it was a gift.

And Smoke took it. He didn’t even seem to hesitate.

And that smile she knew so well—the one that tugged at just the left side of his mouth, the one he gave her that time—it was there. But it wasn’t for her.

It was for Anika.

Juicy’s stomach twisted so hard she felt dizzy.

She couldn’t hear what was being said, not from across the pool, but she didn’t need the words. The body language told it all. Anika touched his arm, ran her fingers down it with a softness that was far too familiar. And Smoke—he let her.

He didn’t pull away. He didn’t step back.

Whatever he said made Anika laugh—loud, hand to her chest like he’d just told the funniest joke on Earth. Her laugh was sharp, but Smoke didn’t flinch, he simply looked at the woman before him.

Juicy stood frozen, legs locked, sunglasses slipping down her nose. And for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She swallowed hard and turned, walking stiffly back to her lounge chair. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck, but it wasn’t from the sun.

Mary glanced over from her seat, noticing her face immediately. “Girl. What happened?”

Juicy dropped down beside her, yanking her towel across her lap and pushing her shades all the way up to hide her eyes.

“Nothin’.” She said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Mary blinked, followed her line of sight. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“And he’s talkin’ to her?”

“Yep.”

Mary let out a long whistle. “Oh, she was t playin’.”

Juicy didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because from where she sat, she could still see it all—the way Anika leaned against the fence, the way she kept angling her body so Smoke had a full view of her chest every time she flipped her hair. And worse, the way he looked.

Relaxed.

Entertained.

Interested.

It made Juicy’s throat tighten. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper.

Just this morning, he was grabbing her by the waist in her bedroom, whispering things in her ear that made her knees weak. She thought—hell, she felt—like something was building between them. Slow. Intense. Real.

But now he was out here laughing it up with a girl who wore matching designer bikinis and had two-toned highlights like they were still in a 702 music video.

And all Juicy could do was watch. It’s what she always did. What she bad grew accustomed to do.

“You good?” Mary asked again, voice softer this time.

Juicy forced a smile, but it barely held. “Course I am. Why would anyone be? I ain’t worried about no dude.”

But she was. And she hated herself for it.

Because no matter how hard she tried to sit still, her eyes kept flicking back to them. Anika was talking with her hands now, and Smoke was nodding, sipping whatever was in that damn cup. His gold chain glinted in the sunlight as he gave a smile again.

And maybe that was the part that stung the most.

He didn’t look mad anymore.

Didn’t look bothered about her walking away yesterday. Didn’t look like he even remembered.

She watched Anika press a hand to his chest—flat palm, fingers splayed like she was claiming him—and Juicy’s body tensed.

Maybe he really was feeling her. Maybe Smoke really was the type to flirt up a storm and move on the second a girl made him work too hard. Maybe all of their tension, all the flirting and teasing and late-night phone calls, meant more to her than it ever did to him.

She clenched her jaw and leaned back in her chair, trying to act like she didn’t care. Like she didn’t just see the boy who made her heart beat faster let another girl touch him like he was hers.

But inside, she was fuming.

And worst of all—hurt.

The kind of hurt you can’t even name out loud, because it’d mean admitting you care more than you said you did.

So instead, she crossed her arms. Pressed her lips into a hard line. And kept her eyes forward, pretending like she didn’t notice when Anika threw her head back in another laugh.

But she noticed.

She noticed everything.

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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[revunant]

There is a cat at the door.

One of those large, majestic, squirrel-tailed breeds, though it's hard to tell with what a sorry state the poor thing is in. It's scrawny, and matted, and possibly even mangy, with frazzled whiskers and torn ears and a scar over one of its eyes. It sits patiently, paws gathered neatly and squarely, its ragged tail wrapped around them.

Despite its apparent condition, and despite being, again apparently, alone, the cat is purring like a motorboat, eyes squinted affectionately shut. Let's hope someone around here has a packet of Dreamies on hand.

[sagnaevi]

That day... The sound of harrowing screams and warfare, had drowned out his own voice - screaming for somebody - ANYBODY - to help him, to help his brother. The sudden collapse in the sand had swallowed his little brother whole; revealing a chasm so deep - there was no way to get out without tearing oneself into pieces. Kakavasha never left the chasm's edge. He stayed, prayed to Mother Goddess and tried everything to reach down to his only living sibling - without being swallowed as well. Everything is going to be all right, Vasha! A mantra that he repeated, perhaps moreso to keep his own heart from breaking, than anything else. Eventually, what he had hoped to be their salvation, but turned out to be his damnation, found them - found him. They took Kakavasha away; kicking and screaming until his lungs were sore. He pleaded for them to help his little brother out of the deep hole, but his tearful wishes were thrown and grinded into the burning sand.

Everyone died that day - everyone except him, well... Not phyiscally. Something crucial within disappeared that day, together with his family. You are born blessed by Giathra Triclops, Kakavasha. You've brought rain to our people, Mother Goddess' luck is with you, always. It was laughable. Could it be considered luck if everyone he ever cared about died around him? Is it considered lucky to keep living in this perpetual nightmare that is reality? For years, Kakavasha was sold and traded; used and abused by the masters who bought him. For years, a shield of preservation was built around his heart. For years, he lost pieces of himself in order to survive.

The IPC really weren't any better than his old masters. They saw he could be made useful, so they gave him some credits, clothes a new name and a titel - a job - but not freedom. They did not take him in out of any sense of duty towards the people they were supposed to help. No no. The IPC were all about gain and profit - nothing in this world came for free, and everything has a set value. Even Kakavasha, now known as Aventurine, had a pretty little pricetag on his life. 60 tanba, or 60 credits. A pathetic value, just like how his existence is pathetic in the eyes of this whole galaxy. If he had not been useful to them, he would have been sentenced to death for the murder of his former master. Funny how justice is rewarded with injustice.

He was sent to Penacony, to carve a path for the IPC to reclaim the dreamscape from the Family. A big mission like this, and they chose him for the job? Hah - guess his all or nothing attitude was the perfect fit. The Planet of Festivities - where dreams came true. Sure, if a life within a dream could be considered true. Everything in here reeked of false glory and happiness. Nothing here is honest - it honestly doesn't take a great liar to notice that. If nothing here is real, then, why - inthe hotel corridor to his room- does he stand face to face to something so hauntingly familiar? A fragment from his past which this world should not know about? Is he hallucinating? Neon depths, as vibrant and beautiful, as cursed as his own, greeted him, as if staring into a mirror's reflection.

❛ V... Vasha? ❜ He asked in a hesitant whisper; mouth dry as the desert of Sigonia - the air in his lungs seemed to be replaced by burning dust. A crack formed in his shield. A crack which threatened to let out the imprisoned trauma and gried which he had locked away for so many years. ❛ Is this some kind of sick joke? Very funny. ❜ He scoffed, holding onto his shield - as if his survival depended on it. If he reached out, would the mirror shatter?

Kakavasha...

Huh? He hadn't heard that name since....

K̷a̶k̶a̶v̴a̸s̴h̵a̴!̴ ̵H̸e̸l̶p̴!̵ - his brother's cries for help.

The mirror shattered. Aventurine stood there in shocked silence, unable to even move a finger, unable to even breathe in the face of his long-lost sibling. His family. The one he believed to be dead. Alive?? How?? Why??? No, no, no, no- that's not right! This isn't right! Haha, because of Vasha is alive, then- all this time... He...

Warmth trickled down his cheeks, as his vision grew blurry. Huh...

❛ You're- ❜

/ @sagnaevi plotted starter.

It had been devastating that day, where Vasha had lost it all. It had been among cries, bloodshed and screams of pain. It had been in the unforgiving desert, where life had always been lived on the edge, with a prayer on one's tongue and eyes with barely hidden sorrow and fear. Vasha still remembered the pain of digging his fingers into that rocky wall and the scream that had left his throat as he had called for his brother, who had been helpless against the way that the earth had swallowed him. He remembered the way skin tore from his fingertips and how nails broke as he wailed and begged for mother Gaiathra Triclops to save him and perhaps she had. For a few hours later, he had crawled up from the crack; bloodied, broken and hollow. All he had seen, as far as his eyes could see had been bodies ⸺ a sea of them and... so much blood. The golden sand had looked like it had been colored red and despite that, Vasha had walked, walked and walked, until his legs had given out. That had been, when men, dressed in black, had found him ⸺ at his lowest; lost and so very alone, with a heart too broken to be put back together as he whispered Kakavasha under his breath over and over, like a broken prayer while eyes, red from crying endlessly, gazed at nothing in particular. It was years later, when he had walked through that space station, where one of the IPC's HQs were, that he had spotted that man, who had been a perfect mirror image of himself - who had, awoken a physical reaction and made the Avgin almost yell out that name, that he would never forget even after so many years. However, before he had been able to, pain had blossomed from the back of his head and everything had become dark. Once he had woken up, he had been surrounded by low rank IPC workers, who had looked quite concerned, most likely, due to someone of his status simply having "passed out". Vasha had felt off, from the moment that he had woken up, though, that hadn't stopped the man from demanding answers. Answers were given, answers that had made the IPC officer feel immediately like something wasn't right. Something just hadn't added up, which was why, Vasha had decided, from that day, to go undercover, to look for a truth, that might just be nothing, but a hopeful wish.

It turned out, it was not simply a hopeful wish, which had made the IPC officer's world turn upside down. They had... kept it from him, the fact that Kakavasha was.... It had filled the Avgin with rage and immense sadness that he had been used like he had. And yet... he was used to it and should not have expected anything else, for after all, they had used his blessing for years, without any sign of stopping. However, how could he have known, when he had been told that he, was the only Avgin left, since that day, where his entire world had crumbled. He had went on mission after mission and never seen his brother once. Now, he realized why he had never gotten proper promotion and why, he was never requested to go to the Strategic Investment Department, despite having gained a rank high enough to be allowed. The IPC took him for a fool and he was going to show them, who were the real fools.

His search had lead him to Penacony, the Planet of Festivities, it was here that he finally saw... him. A sad smile appeared on perfect features as unmistakable eyes gazed directly into the ones, that was a perfect mirror image of his own. How pretty the colors were and yet, doomed from birth. His voice refused to leave and for a few seconds, Vasha merely stood there, silently.

❝ They... kept you from me... all these years.. ❞

his voice sounded choked as brilliant hues became glossy, making it clear, how much this was effecting the younger as Vasha tried not to breakdown due to the emotions that had laid so tightly within his chest, for these years.

❝ Kakavasha... ❞

The familiar name, that hadn't been spoken, outside his dreams since that day, escaped as tears, without permission, ran down fair cheeks, no longer able to be contained due to everything that was happening. For so many years, he had been so, so very alone, only to now realize that he never truly had to, but had been forced to, by the very people that he had worked for, since he had been able to. He had done so many unspeakable things, things that he could no longer take back, none of which they had ever deserved.

[tealbeats]

I’m gonna bullet point his silly little vampire verse because I’ve been talking abt it with a few people here and there and its on my mind so

Ezreal got turned by complete accident. He took a shortcut home late at night once and got ambushed. He became someone’s meal, but they didn’t seem to suck him dry, and just left him. Ezreal woke up several hours later, overwhelmed by a strange hunger and the sound of several heartbeats within a large radius of him, as well as many intense smells.

Ezreal’s first instinct was to go home or to feed. He went home, locking himself in his room. He felt cold and hungry, but on the way home, food wasn’t appealing to him. He tried to google his symptoms, thinking he was sick until til he looked at his mirror and didn’t see his reflection.

Ezreal has accidentally killed 4 people from feeding because he ‘starved’ himself and went after the first person that crossed paths with him. He doesn’t remember doing it, but he remembers the aftermath of each one and forces himself to believe it was just a nightmare. This is also because he has no one to teach him how to live like this.

He doesn’t show up in mirrors but he shows up in photos and videos, but his image has almost a slight blur to it, as if it’s out of focus.

Ezreal’s eyes are gold during the day but go red at night.

He’s cold all the time. He’s basically dead, that’s normal.

The heightened smells and sounds are very overwhelming. He’s afraid of being derived as a monster and tries to keep it on the down low as much as possible.

Ezreal’s strength and speed has increased. He still probably can’t take on guys like Sett or K’sante, but he can hold his own better than he used to. He also can’t control it yet and probably ripped a door off of its hinges by mistake or something.

Ezreal is a day walker so he can go out in the sun without dying. (:

[sagnaevi]

❛ Quite frankly, watching how you approach potential trouble is amusing, ❜ he muses, devilish smirk ever present - gleeful. Red is a wonderful color, when tainting an impeccable marble floor. ❛ The end result, most delightful. ❜ Sebastian, frisky - unbotherd - take a hold of his maste's hands; clad in blood-soaked gloves. Crimson depths peer with unyielding intruige into golden gems, excitement linger behind the perfectly crafted mask. A decisive and confident mater made something stirr within the disguised murderer. The beauty of human disdain for eachother, at full display. Sunday never ceases to impress. With a gentle breath, he removes those dirtied gloves. ❛ Shall I go find a new pair for you before I clean up this little mess? ❜ /@iiryoku ( Sunday )

[zorkaya-moved]

JJK VERSE ORIENTED — REPUTATION ACROSS NON-SORCERERS AND SORCERERS.

*This headcanon may be rewritten in some ways but the general information remains.

This headcanon has following four separations:

Political protection.

General reputation from both sides.

Prime minister of Japan / Government of Japan (Non-sorcerers).

Jujutsu Headquarters and Jujutsu Society.

POLITICAL PROTECTION: Unlike certain presences in Japan, Zarina Sokolova is allowed to do many things but she is also not allowed to do others. What does it mean? Let’s start with the fact that Zarina has political protection from both the Japanese government and jujutsu clans within Japan. 

It means that she cannot be killed by those two factions: jujutsu sorcerers and the prime minister to keep a good relationship with the Russian government. This protection for political reasons comes from the fact that the Sokolov family is the leading family in Russia as both part of the government and also the leading jujutsu family in the country. Zarina’s presence in Japan was first made known to the Prime Minister of Japan before it was made clear to the higher ups of jujutsu society. 

Why? The Prime Minister of Japan wanted to use skills that Zarina Sokolova was bringing with herself: information gathering and further political discussions regarding the work of two countries together. Trade, politics, economics, and more. Thankfully, such talks were moved a couple of weeks after her presence in Japan to calls with her father Oleg and her brother Victor. 

Her political affiliation also prevents her from being a teacher at Jujutsu High, be it Tokyo or Kyoto. She is allowed to visit the premises but she isn’t allowed to work there full time due to her affiliation and busy schedule. She is allowed to give classes if it’s requested but she cannot be a full-time teacher, no matter what is proposed.

GENERAL REPUTATION: In general, both politicians and jujutsu sorcerers know that Zarina is a spoiled and indulgent woman who does her job well. She is known as someone who - if her interests are met - will deliver the best results. People whisper about her as if she’s someone who is both easy to get and not, a paradox in the making. Someone who is desirable yet picky, spoiled yet professional when requested. Bold, shameless, and unpredictable in how she might behave. They say her unpredictability depends on how entertained she is. It’s common knowledge that she does not enjoy the nickname of ‘spoiled princess.’ 

Another part is that Sokolova is known, in general, as someone who can do work and can do it well if the price is met, but she is also known as someone who is very… skittish. She is a mystery and people don’t know what she thinks or what she’ll do next. 

However, many older politicians and jujutsu sorcerers don’t have high views on her due to her being a woman and her more flirtatious reputation. Some people tend to doubt her successes and say that she has a team with her that acts on her behalf and that she doesn’t do any jobs herself. There are also talks that she is all talk and no bite, which is either met with nodding or met with laughter from those who know better. 

PRIME MINISTER OF JAPAN / JAPANESE GOVERNMENT (NON-SORCERERS): The Prime Minister of Japan is much better aware of the darker shady dealings that aren’t connected to jujutsu society. Specifically, when it comes to the underworld and darker dealings of non-sorcerers. He is well aware of what deep web Zarina is connected to without knowledge that she is one of the leading operators of everything he’s heard of when it comes to the Russian mafia. 

The Prime Minister also uses Zarina’s presence in Japan for his own personal requests that come in as shady dealings from information to murder and annihilation of anyone who he wants out of the picture. This is something that is only between Zarina and the Prime Minister as it concerns non-sorcery and something that doesn’t touch jujutsu society at all. Sokolova only takes operations and missions for Japanese government if it is approved by her own family, which doesn’t happen a lot as she keeps her schedule open for jujutsu society the most, but it happens enough to keep her away from - as an example - becoming a teacher at Jujutsu High. 

Several government officials of Japan have Zarina on speed dial both because they want to get on her good side because of what affiliation with her opens for them in terms of political and informational weaponry. Many government officials are known to be smitten by her, which causes her to attend many parties and gatherings. 

The Prime Minister has hired Zarina for several missions in a couple years such as assassination and information gathering. Naturally, no crime has been connected to her or the government. 

JUJUTSU SOCIETY OF JAPAN: Now when it comes to Jujutsu Society of Japan, they are fully aware of the fact that Zarina Sokolova is a Special Grade sorcerer but they were met with surprise when meeting her the first time. The higher ups expected her to have a similar presence to Satoru Gojo or Yuuta Okkotsu, but she lacked any powerful energy and any showcase of power. She was polite and charming, but they also noticed a trace of danger in her words.

Higher ups personally do not want to speak with Zarina more than they need to due to how they seem to get tongue tied or cannot refuse her words, which leads her to gain certain favors. This caused higher ups to avoid meetings with her to the best of their abilities until it’s required. She is seen as dangerous to them mostly through face to face meetings when it comes to verbal discussions. 

What the higher ups know is that Zarina Sokolova is not allowed to fight full force until they wish to annihilate the region they send her to. She is not allowed to enter crowded areas to fight special grade curses until headquarters let her due to the possibility of having high casualties. They received such documentation from Russia upon her entrance, providing her services to the higher ups and showing them that the reason for her ‘weak’ outer appearance is due to her power limitations. In general, the higher ups see Zarina as someone who can be used as a weapon if they need her assistance but they have never witnessed the true extent of her powers and they have never been notified about it as it’s a technique of a family from another country which they couldn’t find full information on. They are aware it's connected to ice, they are aware it's affecting cursed energy, but they are unaware of details. 

Additionally, Jujutsu Headquarters are also aware of her extensive skill set in fighting. Specifically, when it comes to fighting curses and her ability in hunting other sorcerers. Many jujutsu sorcerers call her ‘Silencer’ due to how her technique seems to affect all who step close to her. “Silencer” also comes in as a nickname when it comes to how after fighting with her, there is silence left behind, which corresponds with ‘annihilation’ mentioned prior. She is treated as a weapon, as a beast to unleash when they need to. They are quite confident that she will never betray them and that she will be on the side of humanity. 

When it comes to others Jujutsu Sorcerers below higher ups and three great clans, they are aware that Zarina is a capable sorcerer of Special Grade rank, but they also are aware that she prefers using cursed tools instead of her technique. She is known as someone with great potential and bright intelligence, but they are also aware of her... skittish personality. Some of the sorcerers whisper about how Zarina Sokolova never works in a team but they are unaware of the reason why. She is known more as a lone wolf than anyone else.

They are fully aware that she is searching for Morana’s Doll, but after casualties with Suguru Geto and the appearance of Sukuna, they stopped assisting Zarina with the search due to how tied their hands are. 

Altogether, many see her as a powerful yet dangerous tool without knowing the reason for her search for Morana’s Doll aside from ‘it will be destructive to Japan.’ 

[asimplearchivist]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓽

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍, 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓] [ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] summary ✨ ⤏ in which lucario and grovyle attempt to assuage eliana's concerns. pairing(s) ✨ [tba] word count ✨ 2.3k a/n ✨ [header credit] | [divider credit] ⤏ this is a shorter chapter, but be patient—there's more to come! :) ✨ MASTERPOST ✨ ✨ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ✨ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ✨

Eliana found the entire idea incredibly difficult to believe.

“Grovyle…” she began incredulously, “…you’re openly admitting that Dusknoir deceived you when you brought him back to the future..even if he, supposedly, had a sincere change of heart at the last second, after trying to murder you—to steal and possess your body in order to trick us again, no less…you still trust him?”

“He helped Celebi and I to stop Primal Dialga from destroying the Passage of Time on top of Vast Ice Mountain, which would have destabilized the paralyzed future all over again and would have completely undone your work in restoring Temporal Tower with the Time Gears,” Grovyle confirmed. “I don’t claim to truly know what ultimately caused him to change his mind, as he’s yet to share that information with me, but he rescued me and was almost killed as a result for revolting against Primal Dialga. Although grievously wounded, he battled with us to the very end, and he disappeared alongside us until we were restored.”

Eliana frowned at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Grovyle was being truthful, of that she hadn’t even the foggiest of doubts—he was virtually incapable of lying to her. Mental manipulation was out of the question, because Lu would have long since solved any issues with that since he was able to read Pokémon’s auras…her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “And you’re vouching for him, too?”

“He hasn’t had a malicious thought since he’s lived here with Grovyle and Celebi,” Lu confirmed, sharing a brief glance with the wood gecko Pokémon. “Believe me, Eliana, I was just as suspicious and as skeptical as you are. It took a long time for Grovyle and Celebi to talk me down from chasing him right on out of Treasure Town. It took even longer for Dusknoir to rebuild my trust and faith in him, and longer still for me to even allow him to make reparations for what he’d done, but…we’ve made peace, and I’ve forgiven him.”

Eliana scowled. “Even though he’s tried to kill all of us on multiple occasions to save his own skin.”

“You recall how he treated us when he first arrived to Treasure Town?” Lu pressed, brow rising. “With kindness and generosity and compassion? How he rescued us expecting nothing in return? All the time he spent teaching us and allowing us to pester him?”

The painful memories that surfaced in the back of her mind caused Eliana’s throat to tighten—she remembered all too clearly her untainted and wholehearted conviction that Dusknoir had truly been great, and more than worthy of the title. She swallowed and cleared her throat, shaking the frissons from her pelt. “While he was leading us on so we wouldn’t expect him to drag us to execution posts?”

“That was before he realized who you really were, Eliana.” Lu tilted his head forward to peer deeply into her eyes. “Every second of that devotion was real. He sincerely cared about us. He had—and still has—a good heart. His fear drove him to do terrible things, yes—he’ll be the first to admit how much of a coward he was, and will just as quickly assume that responsibility as well as the guilt that overwhelms him in retrospect—but, for what it’s worth, that true side of him has emerged, and he’s a completely different Pokémon now.”

Lu was also a terrible liar—it had been a dead giveaway, the very few times he’d ever tried to fib to her, when he’d fail to meet her eyes as he spoke in a demure and shaky voice. Now he met her gaze head-on, completely assured of what he said. (Eliana almost wanted to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn’t trapped in another illusory nightmare.)

“You can’t honestly expect me to just drop everything and let bygones be bygones after he spent so long being the most rotten Pokémon alive,” she told them flatly. “There’s no telling everything he did under Primal Dialga’s orders.”

“Eliana,” Grovyle said gently, “we understand. I couldn’t sleep in the same room as him for months. Even now I’ll wake and startle when I see him, strictly on instinct. He knows, and he’s doing his best to make amends—almost to a fault, in my opinion. I can’t tell you all the good he’s done since we’ve returned to the mainland. We can’t walk through Treasure Town without running into someone he’s helped personally who wants to stop and thank him.”

“You don’t think he’s playing the long game this time?” she growled. “Waiting for all of you to truly relax so he can come in and betray you all over again with the lowest chances of failure? Why wouldn’t he want to finish the job?”

“No one can ever know things like that for certain,” Lu acknowledged, “but based on the last few years, he’s given no indication of reverting back to his old ways. You don’t have to forgive him, and you don’t have to trust him—but please believe us that he’s earnest, at least.”

Eliana sighed, glared out of the window to her right—the sun had long since slipped under the horizon, plunging the sky into pitch darkness save the full moon spilling mercurial light upon the landscape and the stars sprinkling the farthest reaches—and tried to resolve the tumult in her mind. Her time running from him in the future as a human combined with her time as an Eevee once he’d revealed his true colors could not be ignored. But, for the sakes of Lu, Grovyle, and Celebi (who she had no doubts would have eradicated Dusknoir on the spot had he shown any further signs of ill intent and wouldn’t have hesitated to do so given the prolific bounds of her abilities), she—reluctantly—decided to tolerate the ghost-type’s presence…for the time being.

“…All right,” she acquiesced, “if you’re both certain, I’ll…be patient. But I will take care of him if he takes one step out of line.”

“We know. We would do the same.” Grovyle, too, glanced outside, as though to assess the time. “…I should probably head back to the bluff. We’ve an early start tomorrow since we took some jobs to the north of here a good ways.”

“Go get some rest, old friend,” bade Lu, “and take that basket with you. I had Chimecho provide extra for all three of you.”

“You needn’t keep feeding us, you know,” said the wood gecko Pokémon wryly, although his eyes shone with gratitude. “We are perfectly capable of keeping our own larder stocked.”

“Just bring the basket back for a refill,” Lu dismissed with a toothy grin. “Best of luck to you.”

Eliana’s heart rose to her throat as Grovyle stood. He stopped to give her another tight and long hug, which she returned wholeheartedly. She blinked away the burning in her eyes as he pulled away.

“I will see you once we return,” he promised her softly, lithe form lingering close—he didn’t want to leave, either. “We can discuss your situation going forward then. Rest well.”

“You, too. Be careful,” she murmured. “Don’t get lost.”

“I won’t.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. Then he grasped the basket, hefted the handle over his lithe shoulder, and slipped out of Lu’s office. The door shut with a punctual thud in his wake and the silence that followed was hollow.

Lu set his basket, emptied by himself and Eliana once he and Grovyle had convinced her to eat, to the side and rose to his feet. “You can stay in the Guild’s guest wing for now,” he said, “until you decide what to do. We’ve refurbished it a bit, so it should be more comfortable.”

Eliana nodded and followed him silently through the dimmed, sleepy Guild. The somewhat hidden stairwell that led to the basement containing the larder and the aforementioned accommodations for privileged guests within the sentry tunnel was cool and damp, as it always was after a recent rain, but once Lu stopped at the end of the tunnel and opened the door leading into the extra room, a flush of warm, dry air swept over her.

True to Lu’s word, the room had indeed been altered. Updated furniture kept the place from feeling too sparse, but the same hearth merrily crackling in the end of the room illuminated the floors and walls enough that it didn’t quite feel like the buried burrow it was. A new, vivid, plush, woven mat covered the packed dirt floor, and a fresh straw bed had been fashioned in the furthest corner in the warmest spot. The narrow bracket of shelves next to the respective spring-fed wash and drinking basins nearest the door had been fully stocked not only with food, but also basic items and more personal ones that Eliana quickly recognized—her Treasure Bag and Wonder Map, a hefty sack of her own money, as well as a small locked chest within which she had kept her belongings while they’d lived at Sharpedo Bluff. Lu had obviously anticipated her arrival well in advance to go to such lengths to have the place prepared thusly.

“You’re spoiling me,” Eliana whispered, smiling shakily. She’d about had it with the tears that day, as exhausting as it had been.

“I’m making sure you have everything you need,” he told her, shaking his head fondly and slipping an arm over her shoulder to tug her into his flank. “This room could be yours, if you wanted. I’d considered taking you on as an official consultant and assistant, if you wanted to. Chatot handles the administration, but it would be helpful to have someone with more hands-on experience. The apprentices can be quite a handful sometimes.” He huffed softly. “But don’t make a decision right now. I really shouldn’t have even brought it up, but I’m just so excited that you’re finally home, I…”

“It’s all right,” Eliana told him, tilting her head up to gaze at him warmly. “I’m glad you considered me for the position. I’ll start thinking about it.”

“That’s all I ask—there’s no pressure, of course.” He chuckled. “You may want to retire from all this nonsense, after all.”

“We’ll see.” Eliana hesitated, then dropped her chin and scuffed her foot along the weave of the rug. “I’m…sorry, you know…about getting carried away earlier. I didn’t mean to cause a scene and embarrass you.”

“I almost attacked him on first sight, too,” he said mildly, “and you didn’t embarrass me. I had hoped to warn you before he got there, since I thought Magnezone would keep him occupied for longer, but…I don’t think the others will hold it against you. It was a big adjustment for them, too. You reacted in a way for which no one could possibly fault you—including Dusknoir himself.”

Eliana frowned with a flat, low hum at that and slipped away from Lu’s grasp, stepping over to the drinking fountain to relieve her thirst.

“That’s why he didn’t fight back, you know.”

She glanced at her partner from out of the corner of her eye while she lapped from the cold, fresh water.

Lu’s face was creased with empathy as he grasped the silver bow tied around his neck with both paws, his blunted claws wringing the thinned fabric—the first indication of his old anxiety she’d seen all evening. “He didn’t try to stop you, I hope you realize that. He just acted in self-defense to keep you from hurting yourself.”

The recent impression of his unnaturally cool and massive hand coiling around her middle and nearly engulfing her whole torso all the way to her spine made her stiffen. Her entire body didn’t quite fit into his palm anymore, but he could still crush her if he wanted to.

…Yet he hadn’t. She’d bitten him before he could have, but…

“Don’t entirely reject the idea that he’s capable of redeeming himself just yet, Eliana,” Lu murmured pleadingly. “Please.”

“…I won’t,” she caved, turning and watching the flicker of amber firelight play over the lines in Lu’s face. He looked simultaneously younger and older than she remembered. “For you. And for Grovyle.”

Some of the fretful tension drained from his rigid form at her admission. “Thank you. I can’t demand that you give him a second chance, but…I’d ask that you at least try.”

Unable to give him any further verbal confirmation, she nodded instead.

He returned the gesture, smiled, and stepped back into the doorway. “Don’t hesitate to come get me if you need anything,” he said, “anything at all.”

“I will,” she replied.

He stopped, the edge of his mouth tightening.

“I won’t hesitate,” she amended with an irresistible chuckle, “and I will come get you.”

“All right,” he accepted, curling his paw around the door latch. “Good night, Eliana.”

“Good night,” she returned with a smile.

He replicated the gesture, then the door shut with a soft click as the latch lurched into place and secured her inside. The earth muffled any noises Lu would have made climbing back up into the next level, and the only company Eliana now had was the fire rasping at her back and the gentle trickle of water passing through its natural course towards the town’s reservoir.

It struck her suddenly, then, that this would be the first night she would spend alone in nearly a half a decade.

Eliana swallowed roughly, walked over to curl up onto the warm, soft bed that still smelled as though it had been bathed in sunshine, and squeezed her eyes shut to avoid their stinging.

She dreamed of perpetual darkness so dense it could be felt, and of pale, outstretched hands.

[grellsaw]

⸻ ❝ Grim Reapers must remain neutral between God and humans. they are strictly forbidden from intervening in or influencing human affairs. Their principal job is to check each dying soul's Cinematic Record, or kaleidoscope of memories, one by one, to determine whether they deserve to die. ❞

↳ #𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑺𝑨𝑾 is portraying &. writing as 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐅 from the KUROSHITSUJI ( black butler ) franchise. penned by malikai. this character self-identifies as a woman. any transphobia against said character will result in instantaneous block. this blog is 21+ and not spoiler free.

navigation links ~ ! ⸻ * about . * ask memes . * carrd . * promo . * headcanons . * dragon age . credit ~ ! ⸻ * icons .

⸻ ❝ 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑰𝑬 .

@akumanomorii . // . @acollapsar . // . @gwg0ry . // . @crownshattered . // . @sebaelis . // . @aurea-oculos . // . @swrdmaid

⸻ ❝ 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 &. 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 .

𝐈 . as aforementioned, any transphobia will result in a block. this includes racism, homophobia, antisemitism, and any sort of other discrimination against minorities. be a generally courteous person, not an ignorant loudly proclaiming prejudice.

𝐈𝐈 . activity is sparse. real life comes first. with that in mind, be aware my silence is due from external means. tumblr writing is not my obligation, it is a side project and/or hobby.

adding onto this, i tend to reply slowly to both IC and OOC interactions. my real life outranks writing in my priority scale. please do not push me for replies, it worsens my anxiety &. it will lead to socially distancing from said individual. nothing against the person, it is an innate bad habit.

𝐈𝐈𝐈 . i openly ship. if i have an idea for romantic chemistry, i may reference it. however, i will not push it upon another, nor would i appreciate others pushing their characters onto me.

𝐈𝐕 . no, you are not spamming my inbox. always send prompts or memes. i wholeheartedly welcome it. so long as there is no anonymous hate sent, my inbox is open to all.

𝐕 . i am an adult. i presume most of my followers are. please act your age; any drama, vague-posting, harassment will result in an instantaneous block. this isn't twitter, you're not a vigilante seeking justice. resolve your issues privately.

i do not like to block people. however, when it concerns perpetuating drama on the dashboard, inciting harassment toward other writers, i disavow. i will hard-block you. regardless of what contents it has, i do not want the additional stress in my life. if you intend to reblog callouts, please tag them appropriately with "cw drama" or "drama".

𝐕𝐈 . if you intend to block me out of the blue, please inform me why out of sheer courtesy. this is not an enforced policy, it is more-so my wanting to understand why. i will not be offended if you choose not to.

𝐕𝐈𝐈 . Normally I do not mind, but if you refer to me as your “friend” after having only 3 separate conversations and nothing personal entailing them, then we are not friends, we are acquaintances. furthermore, if you begin to "love bomb" ( read the definition here ) me on our first interaction, i will be wary of your intentions. i do not assume said person harbors malicious intent, it comes from previous experiences wherein love-bombing resulted in built-up resentment from unresolved conflicts not imparted on both sides.

TO CLARIFY: that does not mean i am unreceptive to establishing friendships, this is entirely false. there is a lot of nuance when it comes to online interactions &. setting social boundaries. i welcome people to directly message me on here or on tumblr ! this guideline simply exists solely to help un-blur the line between what constitutes a friend from an acquaintance. a friend knows who you are outside the screen; there is consistent, constant interaction off tumblr. whereas an acquaintance is when both parties have tangible interactions, only knowing each other at surface-level.

[deliriodegrandeza]

vera's  been  having  a  new  fantasy  as  of  late.  it  always  started  the  same  way:  she  takes  him  to  a  rental  house  by  the  beach,  one  they  never  saw  before  and  never  would  again,  barely  furnished.  all  it  needed  was  a  queen  sized  bed,  big  enough  to  fit  them  both  and  their  dirty  little  secret  --  for  a  couple  months  now  eve  stopped  being  his  secret  and  became  hers.  she'd  slip  a  tranquilizer  into  his  wine,  not  enough  to  put  him  out,  only  to  make  him  too  dizzy  to  be  able  to  tell  what's  real  or  not.  would  tie  him  to  the  bed,  like  she  used  to  before  it  became  too  boring,  let  the  moonlight  filter  through  the  blinds  and  the  dozens  of  red  candles  bring  a  red  tint  to  the  room.  let  me  dance  for  you  now,  sometimes  she  suggests.  he  closes  his  eyes  and  when  she  tells  him  to  look  he  finds  eve.  sometimes  she  climbs  into  his  lap  and  kisses  his  neck  and  temples  and  jaw  and  he  starts  dizzily  mumbling  eve's  name  after  detecting  his  lover's  perfume  on  his  wife's  skin.  no,  darling,  only  me.  she  remembers  the  first  time  he  noticed  the  other's  scent  on  vera's  skin,  the  shock  and  uneasy  on  his  eyes,  and  thinks  she  likes  it  better  in  her  fantasy.  unaware,  helpless.  she  always  liked  him  better  in  her  mind.  sometimes  she's  on  top  of  him  and  he  looks  up  to  find  them  both,  one  next  to  the  other,  watching  him  down  like  a  two-headed  monster  about  to  eat  him  up.  sometimes  eve  hands  her  the  knife  that'll  kill  him,  sometimes  she  kills  him  herself.  sometimes  she  doesn't  show  up  until  vera  needs  help  disposing  of  the  body,  but  she  always  knows  the  right  thing  to  do.  she's  practical  with  it,  and  looks  particularly  beautiful  with  her  elbows  deep  on  the  man's  blood,  leaning  closer  and  giving  vera  a  small  kiss,  you've  done  quite  well.  she's  very  fond  of  that  particular  fantasy  these  days.

more  than  once  did  she  think  of  simply  doing  it  the  last  week;  his  throat  has  been  laying  particularly  exposed  in  bed  every  night.  his  scotch  sits  unnattended  on  his  desk  for  so  long  in  the  evenings.  he's  so  lost  in  thought  every  morning  in  the  balcony  that  it  wouldn't  be  a  surprise  if  he  fell  off  one  of  these  days.  she'd  call  eve  then;  i  did  it.  i  didn't  have  a  choice.  you  need  to  help  me.  in  her  fantasy,  eve  comes  every  time.  it's  in  times  like  this,  when  so  unalarmed  and  unbothered  the  woman  dismisses  her  urgency,  that  vera  wonders  if  she'd  come  after  all.

⠀⠀vera:⠀⠀please  .  (  she  scoffs  minimally,  lets  her  hand  rest  on  the  curve  of  the  woman's  neck.  )  thomas  is  no  perry  .  if  anything  ,  this  town  will  hold  a  parade  the  morning  after  he  dies  .

if  the  amount  of  people  he  terrorized  in  this  city  was  to  speak  for  itself,  more  of  its  citizens  would  benefit  from  his  death  than  mourn  it.  she  wonders  if  painting  herself  as  the  widow  would  change  their  perception  of  her.  up  until  now,  he  was  the  insufferable  magnate,  and  she  was  just  his  mediocre  wife  that  lucked  out  and  found  a  rich  man  to  call  her  own.  maybe  they'd  find  sympathy  for  her  in  their  hearts.  maybe  they'd  just  stone  her  out  of  their  perfect  city  now  that  her  only  redeeming  quality  was  in  a  coffin.

⠀⠀vera:⠀⠀and  we  are  surely  not  celeste  wright  .   (  arched  eyebrows,  the  tip  of  her  nails  brush  the  length  of  eve's  jaw,  and  chin,  until  her  arms  fall  crossed.  )   are  you  fucking  with  me  ?  is this waiting for the right time or just you trying to trick me out of doing this ?  you  know  i  only  like  the  mind  games  i  know  the  rules  for  .

right on the fringe of monterey’s tasteful society, eve lived: never enough seen to be known, also never seen enough to raise suspicion. her dark maroon clothes and elegant gloves didn’t fit the beachy aesthetics, where dedicated mothers spent the days fighting about garage sales and drinking at noon and absent fathers only showed up when it was time to show off, so she was smart enough to voluntarily stay away. aside from the lucky patients with weekly appointments in the rustic-like office, people hardly saw her. fun was only allowed when miles away from the city, and always very carefully. night time, her time.

it was in one of her getaways that she met the man who quickly lost his name and became vera’s husband in her mind. like every man who knows he shouldn’t be doing that, he approaches her curiously, forging innocence. have we met before? eve didn’t think so. except for some of his nights, she didn’t want anything other than uncompromised fun: a cuffed man automatically can’t bother to cuff her, even if he wants to, so she perfect plays the ingenue part. she glances over the wedding ring tan line, chuckling at how one could let such a detail slide; pretends she doesn’t know why he is so secretive; watches him answering her calls in a cold tone; accepts his gifts and wonders if he is the kind to buy the exact same kind of jewelry to both of his women. 

he gets to their fourth month together when the game becames too boring and she has her first thought of ending it all for good. the married man who wants to keep both was a never story that pleased her, and being confused for the other woman only served to fuel her despise. that man would be gone by two weeks, if much.

and then she accidentally meets him at a monterey restaurant, one of the rare occasions she decides to stay in the city. he is accompanied by his beautiful wife, busy being a wonderful husband, when his vision focus changes and suddenly his night is ruined: the mistress is only two tables away, enjoying her wine and thinking of a movie to watch later, when she notices his eyes on her. the wife and the mistress use the same bracelet, the one he got after a especially long business trip. it doesn’t take long for him to come with a brand new idea: she could do some couple sessions with them. cash only, obviously. she accepts it, but only to be able to analyze her: what happened on vera’s mind when she was there, answering eve’s questions about her marriage problems and what she thinks she did wrong? did she ever want to answer for her husband? it’s you, vera answers in a cheap fantasy. you are what he did wrong.

she doesn’t follow vera’s plan for him, but rather for her, the wife. it would have been to easy to dismiss the couple as patients and never see any of them, leaving them alone to solve the drama, but eve is enticed with how easily she suggests the deadly plan, how she doesn’t seem to hold any grudges over the therapist and mistress herself. her morbid and nearly scientific curiousity was definitely leading her to an abyss, but eve was willing to jump this time. “never said anything against it,” she doesn’t back down from vera’s touch, looking her straight in the eyes while talking, “but we just had a whole murder trial happening in this city. you don’t want a perry wright situation, do you?”