#stack drabble

[hoetachi]

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

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

➠ drabble

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

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

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

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

thud

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

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

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

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

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

“do you enjoy bein’ human, honey?”

[tojisteddy]

Just thinking about sitting in Smokes lap while he smokes.

cw: 18+ mdni, mild smut, modern au, age gap, pet names, daddy used once.

The music is always playing from the speakers around his house, weather is be blues or jazz, neo soul or 70s r&b. He sits on the back porch with your perched sideways in his lap so he can see your brown skin in the glow. The older man’s mocha brown eyes trailing all over you while he plays with your braids that he loves to pull on so much.

He’s waiting. For what exactly?

For you to finish rolling his cigarette.

Even though you can go and buy them from the store, something about his soul is genuinely old yet authentic. He’s not trying. He’d rather you or Stack do it for him (and Stack would rather you do it because hes told Smoke time and time again, theyre grown now and he should be able to do it himself). But he can’t, he’s not good at it, something about having being still and calm just for the few moments spikes his anxiety for some reason. A difference from his cool demeanor, that irrationality that’s always ready to pop out shows in that simple instant.

So he lets you roll for him, be it a cigarette or a blunt, he watches you to it like it’s second nature. Put the finished product to his plump lips and spark it to life.

“Good job mama, thanks.” He’ll exhale the tobacco, patting your thigh in appreciation.

Sometimes he’ll watch you smoke, the clouds forming between your two tone lips. Loves to shotgun whatever he’s smoking with you, brushing your lips ever to lightly and letting you blow the smoke into him.

Fucking adores how gorgeous you look. Your curls out of your face and enjoying the moment. Doesn’t laugh when you cough because you’re not used to it, simple corrections on how to smoke better, let it flow through you. Elijah just admires you even more, let’s you ramble on before kissing your shoulder blade. Gripping your waist and pulling you closer to cuddle into him.

And you adore how handsome he looks smoking, clearing his stress filled mind, the easy feeling taking over his body. It’s gentle, quiet as green eyes by Erykah Badu plays, the sunset basking on your skin.

And just maybe, he fucks you till your dumb right there, smoke blowing past you as Elijah watches from the side of his eyes your face contort in pleasure, your back to his chiseled abs, riding him in reversal. Your hands claw at his knees, hiccups and moans fill the air his eyes dance at the ripple of your ass against him with every bounce you make on his dick.

“Fuck- that’s it baby, fuck your Daddy so nice.”

a/n: something about Smoke is so sensual yet so soft to me, so dad bf, loving and caring, gruff yet understanding. idk.

most recent masterlist.

[cloveroctobers]

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

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

reference:

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

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

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

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

“What you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah.” Smoke shrugs.

Bo responds, “Alright then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which makes Smoke jerk his face back.

Damn it’s like that?

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

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

There’s a pause on the other line.

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

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

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

Funny how he always clocked you.

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

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

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

Smoke snorts, “Heard you.”

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

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

“Satisfied?”

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

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

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

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

Smoke’s silence is his response.

“Well hennyway…what you up to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have I ever lied to you?”

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

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

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

“Thank you! Give a brotha some credit.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So sleep tight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you about to become a father?”

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

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

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

“Say less.”

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

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

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

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

“Give T my love.”

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

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

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

“Negro you called me—

“I don’t care, hang up.”

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

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

[bonniethebookbunny]

Stack x black!reader

Reader works as a translator for the Italians in Chicago.

I saw post on here theorizing that Smoke and Stack pretend to be one person in order to fool the I wish and the Italians based off how they dress. I like that idea a lot but not for this little blurb.

The Smokestack twins meet with a member of the Italian organization on a weekly basis during the first couple of years working for them.

The Italians have translators & interpreters in all races because it loosens the person they're dealing with. You were hired by the Italians because you were black and and spoke Italian. You didn't want any trouble but the pay was good and gave you some protection.

When you met the twin for the first time you breath catches. They ooze danger and paired with their looks you're drawn to them. But because of your job you keep your head down and refrain from seeking them out. You don't want any trouble.

After weeks of translating contracts, orders, plans and more for and during these meetings you've noticed a bit more about the twins. Smoke is was level headed and even though he took charge more often he was ... withdrawn. You'd once seen him on your block, watching some kids run around. The grief pouring off of him was intense. You resolved not to touch that with a ten foot pole.

Stack on the other hand was like a root fire. Cool and collected on the outside with sarcasm and snappish comments hinting and the raging fire underneath.

You'd seen him around with of your neighbors late at night or early in the evening. You were slightly tempted but the rare fights you'd barely glimpse but hear all about the next morning gave you pause.

Almost a year after the twins came to your side of Chicago they were steadily amongst some of the Don's more trusted associates. Your were asked to attend a dinner party for the associates and the twins were attending. After a night of sticking to the shadows you notice Stack staring at you from across the room. When your eyes meet your face feels like it's on fure but you can't look away. He drains his drinking before walking towards you and you swallow hard.

Any chance of you slipping under his notice just went up in flames.

[cuti3-p13]

Songbird

SHORT DRABBLE with sammie and remmick.

Long fields of cotton seemed to stretch out endlessly under the cool moon of the Delta. The chatter from folks crossin’ round from town to town, sellin’ crops and whatever else they had picked in a long day's work had died down as the shadow of dusk swept around. Even the cicadas were quiet, nothin’ but chirps here and there.

Something else awoke in the dark, though. Something ancient. Remmick emerged from where he hid from the hot Mississippi sun, wiping dirt off his arms and running a had through his hair.

He could feel something calling him. An ache in the night. A pull from his chest.

Down the dirt roads a few miles away there was a boy strummin’ on his guitar like his soul depended on it. Sweat beaded at his brow as he sang, and boy did he sing. He sang like he was runnin’, like he was flyin’ far far away. He sang like if he didn’t his heart would stop.

And Remmick could feel it. He could feel it like he’d never felt anything before. It ached like a memory he didn’t even know he still had.

Remmick stumbled on uneven feet towards the sound, growing louder and sweeter every step he took towards the boy. From the shadows, Remmick could see the boy, his face as sweet as the notes he sang.

Sammie sat near the wheat fields, propped up against a great oak tree strumming the guitar in his lap. His eyes were closed, and his face was tilted up to the heavens, like he was singing to God himself.

Like a songbird, he mused.

Remmick bit the tip of his finger. He brushed some dirt from his hair.

“Hey there.” Remmick gripped his suspenders and stepped from the shadows, plastering a friendly smile on his face. “I couldn’t help but notice your playin’. You’ve got some talent, sugar.”

Sammie looked stricken. His back went ridged and his fingers twitched on his guitar. Somethin’ was off about this man, and it wasn’t just that he was white. He cleared his throat and avoided Remmicks hungry eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

“I- I ain’t here to start trouble, I just wanted to hear ya play…” Remmick trailed off, waiting for a name.

Sammie cleared his throat and clenched his jaw, standing up slowly from where he sat. “Sammie.” He said shortly. “Sir.”

Remmick licked his lips and chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Ah, ain’t no need for the ‘sirs’, we all friends here.” Sammie narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped back.

“I was about to head home, my pa’s expectin’ me so…” Sammie trailed off and slung his guitar over his shoulder and began to walk slowly backwards, eyeing the strange man warily.

Remmick frowned. His songbird wanted to leave already? “We ain’t even got to play together yet.” He said, his voice carrying a slight whine.

Sammie gave him a tight smile, and his eyes flickered around. “Maybe another time.” He said, and Remmick ate his voice up like honey, clinging to every word.

“I’m countin’ on it, Songbird.” Remmick whispered, biting his lip as he watched Sammie walk back to his wooden house. Remmick wondered what he was going to taste like.

[localfanficlover]

I’ve got my Sammie drabble I’m almost done with, and I’m planning on doing a Bo Chow one next. I would love y’all’s request for stories and different characters that you’d wanna see!

It’s out y’all

[hoetachi]

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

drabble

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

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

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

knock

knock

knock

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

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

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

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

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

there he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[tojisteddy]

Hate The Club | cw: 18+ mdni, >1k words (probably) modern au, angsty but happy end, situationship, tipsy!smoke, no use of y/n, avoidant!reader, love confession.

or: Smoke tries to get you to go home with him.

Elijah could see you from across the club.

The space was with bodies moving to the music, chatter and alcohol. Something he should’ve been used to at this point in owning a few spots along with his brother, Stack. But something had changed when he met you— no- started fucking with you.

That need to feed off the energy of people enjoying themselves didn’t cut it anymore. Not when he could get a smile as bright as the sun from you, not when he could hear the almost harmonious voice and laughter erupting from your stomach, feel the curve of your hips grinding on his to the music, that look of want and yearning swirling in your mocha brown eyes. And not when he could feel the warmth of your velvety walls of your cunt taking in his cock in your apartment, your pretty face screwed up in pleasure.

He had everything he wanted in the tip of his fingers.

But emotions ruin everything, don’t they?

The man was never good at expressing his feelings directly, he was forced to grow up a little more and sooner than Stack. When things went to shit, he swore to handle it, which lead to him being closed off, more reserved. He couldn’t get his words out to reach you like he should have.

Which lead to you looking for that communication else where.

Which lead to Elijah crashing out.

No man coukd step foot anywhere near you with him starting something, taunting an idiot for even thinking about getting their hands on you. Fueling more arguments between the two of you, hate fucking in the car, beating someone busted and blue in the ally way while Stack stood close by, shaking his head at all the foolishness.

Beating around the bush was Stacks job, not Smokes— so what the hell was the problem?

It came to a hilt.

You called it quits.

More than serious that time. And Smoke didn’t fight it, didn’t try to confess his truth— that he longed for you so bad that it hurt, that he would’ve gave you the world if you’d ask. Just let you make that distraught look, mentally begging, ‘please Elijah.’

But you threw your bag over your shoulder at his silence and cold look, eyes blurry with tears and a shaky breath, letting the door slam behind you.

He couldn’t stand the idea of seeing you after that.

Scared of the face you’d make when you saw him, said ‘no’ to everything he was invited to or make up an excuse that he had plans already. Couldn’t even be at the clubs during the night just in case he ran into you. Your circles were too close on top of all that, and you were still close with Stack. He’d hear about you doing big things, a new and better paying job, how you’d gone on a couple dates, thinking about changing your wardrobe.

He knew his twin was simply rubbing it all in his face.

It irritated him more and more— he had to witness you in all your glory, just one more time.

So he watched from across the club, alone, lets his eyes dance all over you, long braids cascading down your back, breasts sitting perfect in a cropped shirt and over sized jeans hanging off your hips as you moved to the beat of the song from the balcony of the second floor. You were an Angel, his in his head, Angelic as you swayed to the beat of the song he didn’t even know.

If it wasn’t r&b or blues, he didn’t really care for it.

You didn’t have a care in the world, your friend though, Eva, caught him, a smirk growing on her glossed lips as she whispered in your ear. You didn’t move though, not at first, still dancing, then a glance over the shoulder. And he stood on the first floor, handsome as ever, tattoos all over his arms, a fat blunt in between his plump lips.

Right on que, the dj said his name, giving him a shoutout which made everyone cheer. But that was the last of his worries, there was no point in even coming if he couldn’t get the chance to see you like he was now.

He swore that would be it. Smoke could control himself even when he was across the room from you. Right?

But one drink turned into another, two drinks turned into four, maybe a round of drinks for everyone on the top floor— dumb move?

Elijah would worry about it later.

Self control out the window, he wanted you, had to have you— yearned to drown himself in the thought of you. That liquid courage finally hitting his throat, he adjusted his clothes, making his way through the crowded room to get to you.

Your friends were both at the dance floor, still dancing the night away, whilst you took a seat on one of the couches alone, legs crossed over the other, scrolling away on something Smoke couldn’t make out and nodding to the music.

He called your name as soon as he got in ear shot.

Your eyes flickered up, and your breath caught in your chest. You gulp down whatever was in your chest— want? fear? worry? pride? heartbreak?

A mixture of it all.

“Been a while, hasn’t it Elijah?” You inquire. He takes a seat next you, eyes still misty in the being that you were.

Angelic, heavily, everything and more—

“I been around.” He finally speaks.

A ghost of a smirk is on your lips, you close your phone, looking around the room, “ ‘S that right?”

No, not right. Not right at all.

You both knew that. But you didn’t push, why would you need to? He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his.

Least, that’s what you thought.

You sigh, eyes closing, “What’d’you want Smoke?”

There’s a beat, that push— it’s enough for him now— heart pounding while he fumbles on his words that have sat dormant on his lips for too long—

“I missed you [+], more than anythang, I missed ya. Couldn’t stand bein apart for you.”

You scuff, shaking your head, this is stupid. Letting him even talk to you after the state he left you in was stupid. “No you don’t.”

It’s his turn to shake his head, “I ain’t just talkin [+], you know what I say in this moment is the truth-“

“—You’re drunk and just. fuckin. talkin.” You’re trying to convince yourself that you won’t fall for his words— no one’s words so easily.

“We had fun. that’s it, that’s all. Let’s move on.”

And Smoke hates the way you’re brushing this all off like it’s nothing. Words too clouded, yet they hold weight. Smoke smacks his lips, “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” You finally look him dead in the eyes, eyebrow raising, “Like how you talked to me the last time we talked? I’m only bein fair.” You shrug.

His nose flairs, just a bit, but he relaxes at your words, willing to confront them head on, “So we both went ‘nd lied to ourselves then. Me with how I felt about you and you on the state of the relationship.”

“I never lied-“

“—So you tellin me that ‘keeping it casual’ was fine with you? That you never had feelings for me?”

It was something you wanted from the beginning, Smoke never in his life did one off relationships like this, not once. Didn’t like the idea of someone else being with you, but if that’s what you wanted, he’d oblige. He’d agree to anything when it came to you. He just didn’t know where his head ended up going, maybe he was tired of fighting over you. Maybe he didn’t want to overstep. Hole you in. But that’s what you needed. A reminder of where you should be.

“I don’t- I don’t know-“ you stammered, but it’s faulty.

Smoke scuffs, his hand going to your waist to hold you still, he whispers in your ear, “Now yer lyin again. ‘Nd ‘m not matchin ya this time.”

His breath tickles your ear, and you can’t help but squirm, heat rising all over you, “I care about you [+], want you more than you’d ever know. My heart has always been with you, and it haunts me when yer like this.” His large hand travels down ward, making you shudder. Got your thighs then to your back, pulling you into his lap.

He lifts your chin with his fingers, cupping your beautiful face, “Let me take you home, leave all this hidin bullshit here with all her friends ‘nd these strangers. Get you alone, prove to you I’m the man you’ve been wantin this whole time. The man you’ve been needin. Show you how important you are t’me.”

Your heart skips a beat, setting your pride aside, and letting him entangle himself in you as soon as he gets you in his home

a/n: kinda abrupt ending, but I wanted this to be short and sweet. is this proof enough that saw Kehlani live 3 times? I love Hate The Club real bad. Sorry if this is bad I don’t proof read and this is off of vibes.

most recent masterlist.

[cloveroctobers]

home life with them! | multi 🏠

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

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

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

~ KEVIN ATWATER ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kevin shrugs, “You love me, though.”

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

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

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

~ DANTE TORRES ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ ELIJAH SMOKE MOORE~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~ ELIAS STACK MOORE ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Behind my back? You deadass?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which had you looking at the invisible camera.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma, I’m workin’ on it, damn.”

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

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

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

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

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

“So…that means Halloween?”

“Ah-ha! You got jokes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp, “You’re so nasty!”

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

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

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

FIN.

[jupiterpiss]

RAHHHH HEY TWIN I read the ex one shot and I laughed my ass off, kudos to you. I wanna know what your take would be on a modern Remmick. Like, what kinda person he would be? Is he still a fucking loser (yes) or is he a fucking weirdo (also yes)? Anyways your page is AWESOME. Keep up the good work!

THANK U THANK U!! AHHH lowkey ass takes causeeee I never gave modern Remmick any thought. He just seems too out of place with modern times I have no clue how to place him.

Well yes! He is a weirdo freak even in current times. He still makes people uneasy and feel odd and creeped out and.. you get the point.

This one is a toughie ngl.. cause I hardly put my thought to modern him. Lowkey.. I only ever think of him making it the 70’s (maybe the 80’s??) but past that idk. BUT! I do think he wouldn’t change a crap ton… how he coaxes people out would be very different tho.

Like he would 100% use Facebook market place. I’m not joking, he would be The facebook marketplace final boss. He would scam people alll the time on there.. like not in terms of giving shitty items but literally not having the item at all, he would just be leading them to their death. But it’s doesn’t work super well because where he leads people is always super weird.

Like what do u meannn you can only meet at night?? And in a fucking random empty alley?? NO BRO GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!! Most people back out because the times and the spots to meet just get creepier and creepier. Like.. yuck wtf why would I meet you in the middle of the woods at 2 a.m for a fucking scooter? wtf??

BUTTT sometimes he gets a bite. Someone who is just a little toooo naive, a little too clueless and not self aware. Maybe they have too much trust in humanity, or are stupid. Or maybe have a death wish he doesn’t know, wtv. But when they show up, middle of nowhere where, with some random pale guy breathing a little bit toooo hard, with NO SCOOTER MIND YOU.. they realize how bad they fucked up.

And he eats them. Couldn’t be me.

Not toooo long ago I saw someone (or someones.. it was several people it was a whole comment section LMAOO) talking about who could break the veil in modern media.. and Beyoncé was in the convo.

Yes. Yes she would and he would love her to the point of tears I’m not joking HAHAHHAAH. Like he would be a massive Beyonce fan, he’s NOT here to play. Hell.. he would try to get her, try to get her talents but would fail miserably. Now he’s on a watchlist (kinda.. he scrammed and they can’t find him) and can’t show his face anywhere on the internet. That’s what you get when you try to intrude yourself into OTHER PEOPLES SPACES AND STEAL THEIR TALENT YOU DICK.

He would also love Michael Jackson.. cause duh his music is fire, andddd I don’t really think he would enjoy hyper pop. That shit would piss him off LMAOO he would be standing there, listening like “wtf is this bs.. back in my day-“

I don’t think he would say back in my day actually, I don’t think he remembers it at all. He actually has to go to museums and shit just to get a glimpse of what he use to have. The years start to really catch up, and a person can only remember so much before it becomes fuzzy. Also cause who in the fuck WOULD remember that far back? Yes he’s not human.. but still he kinda is. He still has human characteristics and qualities, and his brain would still have some semblance of a human one so he would probs have shitty memory as well.

Aside from Facebook marketplace.. he’s a man who is NOT connected to any other form of internet. Like at all. Doesn’t know the slang very well, doesn’t know any memes or shit. Doesn’t even know what the fuck a meme is. That’s not to say he’s completely disconnected from, he needs some understanding cause.. uhhh duh he’s around enough to know what’s kinda in, and he needs to prey upon people. So he knows how to talk in a modern sense.. but memes and shit? Nah.

Movies and tv shows.. meh. Here and there, usually he finds shit through other people’s memories. actuallllllyyyyy I saw somewhere ELSE that he would like derry girls.. cause uh Irish duh. And he wouldn’t find that from some teenager’s memories and would probably find it funny. Would he look for it? Maybe? If he knew how otherwise nah. He would probs ask them if they could show him where that memory is from.

THOOOOO i do think one thing he would realllly like with modern times would be how people express themselves. All the different music, the intertwining of cultures, people becoming more open with their dress wear.. all that, he would probs find interesting. Especially coming from a time where all of that wasn’t necessarily allowed, or even considered, it would probs be jarring at first. BUT it would be nice to see. I also wanna say that for Stack and Mary.. anyone wonder how they viewed all that change? How diversity slowly became welcomed over time, and how people could openly love who they wanted? Like they must’ve been thrilled but does anyone think at some point they were jealous they didn’t get to experience that any sooner, or when they were alive? Idk. Just a thought.

Also.. he wouldn’t like trump. Why? You know fucking why. The whole sinners cast (Aside from Joan and Bert.. duh) would be against Trump I SAID WHAT I SAID.

[firecooking]

"Allô monsieur!"

"Zaffre would you quit that? You're going to get me sunk!"

"Stop being so sour! It's a sunny day!"

"Wait until Captain Zero hears that you're still causing crashes. It'll be dry dock for sure."

"Boo on Capitaine. You're stronger than some ice."

[titaniasfairy]

gonna try and write for the twins, lmk if you guys like it and want more!!

[katsuyuswritings]

Hi,

I love your fanfics , could I request a Lynette x g!p fem reader ? Maybe reader being a new Lyney friend and Lynette just felt for her ? (Smut would be great if possible)

Thanks.

the first meeting. - drabble

cw/tw; fluff/suggestive, and lynette's love at first sight <3, intentional lowercase, shy/lynette

"you arrived," lyney said. "y/n, this is my sister lynette."

as the light hit your skin, it felt like an old romance movie. lynette's heart raced as you smiled at her. "hello," you started. there was pureness in your tone, it kept lynette speechless. she simply smiled at you as you both made it into their home. "please excuse my sister," he started, glaring at lynette. "-she's quiet when she's around new people." "that's alright!" you said, and she smiled at you softly. "I'm lynette, by the way." she says, still smiling at you. that pure smile she gave to you shocked lyney, she wasn't like this around people. he shook it off as they showed you around. the way her eyes dart onto yours as you were alone made her heart race.

alas, you were alone with her. she couldn't keep her urges, she faces you. "then again, you're really pretty." she says, it made your heart flutter. "thanks —" she grabbed your hand and kissed you. excitement filled the room, you were confused, but you let it happen. she climbs on top of you as you made out without her brother (lol), shock died out as she inserted her tongue into your mouth. she pulled away, giving pureness a break as she rested on your lap.

"you'll be mine someday." lynette smiled.

[rambunctioustoons]

Chore List

Completing chores is already difficult, good luck getting to 'em with your newly acquired animatronic roommate.

Words: 1,272 Chapters: 1/?

[hoetachi]

YOOO THE URGE TO WRITE FOR STACK IS HAUNTING ME

[tojisteddy]

Smoke can’t sing. Or is it that it won’t come out.

Something along those lines, it just don’t fit him right. or is it that shaky feeling his gets, the uneasiness, the uncertainty about what will come out. He hates it. The man can dance just fine though (only when he’s in a good mood for it), could listen to blues or jazz or 70s r&b all damn day, nod his head, tap his fingers or feet to the beat, silently grumble the lyrics like an old man.

But singing, even humming— it just don’t feel right.

But it’s different with you.

You, your entire being is a sweet melody, a finely tuned guitar Elijah wants hear again and again, and again. You hum so beautifully while doing mundane tasks around his house or your apartment, filing down your nails, scrolling on your phone, looking for your pair of glasses in an attempt not to freak out again, or full on singing around the apartment when the right song comes on it. Trying to outsing the artist on their own song.

And the older man is simply mystified by that.

Not just your love of music, but how you let it overtake you, swaying your hips to the beat, two stepping if it feels right, closing your eyes and bouncing around, shaking ass— grooving. He loves it. Shoot, he loves you.

And ever time he witnesses you in all you glory, he falls in love with you all over again. Deeper, stronger, the non legato, a decent down the keys of a piano— ever falling in love with you.

His dark mocha eyes watch from across the sitting room, As Long As I Got You by The Charmels playing from the speakers, your at on the couch across from him, fingers tapping your exposed curled legs, humming along to the chorus, skimming through some magazine you’d use for a vision board later on.

“Know a lil somethin ‘bout music, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes flicker towards him who sat in a wife beater and sweats, smoking of course, a small smile grown on your lips, you shrug, “A lil bit, I guess. Not a lot.”

He gives you a curt not, but speaks again, “Fell in love with you again, thought I’d letcha know this time.”

You’re taken aback for a moment, the older man is always so straight forward, before the heat reaches under your skin, hiding your smile in your magazine. “Thanks pa, I love you too.”

He gives you a grunt in response, his eyes already closed, his body twitching every now and then, but relaxed nonetheless, enjoying the quiet evening, wrapped in the comfort of music with you.

a/n: not the draft I wanted out first but oh well. Something, something, I love dadbf!smoke, something, something.

@cremeful’s headcanon. Big ups to her.