bee ✧ 19 ✧ he/they ✧ blk reposting (mostly m reader) stuff for ppl to read
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Coming back so late with a sinners obsession, sorry
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it really frustrates me to think about how people are inevitably going to take Remmick’s one (1) singular statement about how much he resents the way the Irish were colonized and forcibly converted to Christianity and use it as fuel for “actually he had a point” and “he was right actually” and “he’s not really the villain here” posts, when the whole point is that Remmick is, through the vampiric hive mind he’s creating, forcibly assimilating people into yet another manipulative and parasitical system. he doesn't value the cultures of the people he assimilates—notice how all the vampires he turns dance to his culture's music using his culture's dances, and how he only uses the languages or knowledge other vampires have to offer when he needs to manipulate someone. Remmick is extremely transparent about the way he sees the people he turns as resources to exploit.
he’s perpetuating a cycle that he claims to hate and resent, and I think the movie is pretty damn clear about the fact that he doesn’t see anybody as valuable or useful to him except as prey and as pawns—otherwise he would just, you know, focus solely on people who actually consent to being turned. but he looked sad in that one scene and he’s an apparently attractive white cis man so people are gonna bend over backwards justifying all the harm he did.
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That was the last sunrise I ever saw. Perhaps the kindest thing the dark gift has given me. // It was the last time I saw my brother. It was the last time I saw the sun. It was the only time I ever felt free.
Interview with the Vampire (2022 - ) // Sinners (2025)
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empty words, emptier prayers

Sammie Moore x male reader
You and Sammie have had an unspoken agreement since your first encounter, “we stay hidden, we stay safe”, but ol’ preacher boy can’t handle hidden. Quite frankly, neither can you.
Warnings: hurt/no comfort, mention of homophobia (time period accurate), unhappy ending, allusions to sexual behavior (not explicit), breaking up, a dash of religious guilt, leaving him behind
A/N: NOT BETA READ!! While reader’s race is not explicitly stated, this leans more towards poc reader. Also I have not written anything in a while so i’m trying to dip my toes back in, please bear with me. The woman mentioned in the story can be interpreted as Pearline, but she is never referred to by a name.
wc: 1.4k
It was your turn to clean today. That was the deal you made with Sammie and his father. Every night before service, you swept the floors, dusted the windows, wiped down the pews. Anything the pastor needed you to do, you did it swiftly. That was how you met Sammie, and that’s how you’d known him for the past two years.
Something wasn’t quite right today though. You could feel it. The walls of your sacred place felt smaller, the heat made your clothes cling to your skin, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the door. You knew Sammie would be coming eventually, despite the fact you’d been ignoring him all week, he knew he could find you here. Exactly where he left you.
The incessant sound of the broom on the floor was interrupted by the quiet creak of the doors. You paused, like your body was trying to decide whether or not it’d betray your mind. You started sweeping again, hoping the sound of the bristles would be louder than the thrumming of your heart.
“I ain’t seen you in town this mornin’, figured you’d be here instead.” Sammie sighed. His voice was dripping with caution, like one wrong tone could set you off. “Listen baby, I don’t know what I did wrong,” he breathed out, “but I promise that if you tell me, i’ll fix it.”
You didn’t have to look at him to know he was barely keeping composure, you could hear the shake of his voice, the nervous tapping of his foot. You released your grip on the broom, like it was somehow keeping you grounded. Then you finally turned to look at him.
“Sammie, I done told you not to call me that, not in this place.” The small act of saying his name made your throat burn, and he could tell, he could hear the guilt dripping from your lips already.
“That’s all you got to say to me?” He questioned, but it came off more desperate than he’d planned. He took a few steps forward, but still not close enough to touch you. “You been avoiding me all damn week, and that’s all you wanna say?” It sounded like he was pleading, pleading for a real reason for your distance, a problem that he could fix. Sammie knew though, he knew why you’d been gone, but he wanted to hear you say it.
You clenched your jaw, gnashed your teeth together so hard you thought they’d break. You couldn’t decide if you really wanted to do this, confront your biggest fear. This was the man that you loved, but looking at him right now won’t doing nothing but making you burn up.
“I fucking saw her,” you finally spoke, voice trembling, “I saw how you looked at her.” You forced yourself to make eye contact with him. “Trust me I know you ain’t do nothing Sammie, but it made me realize something.” Your hand was balled into a fist, fingernails digging into your skin.
“Baby, we both know I didn’t do nothing with that woman, so what could have possibly realized?” Sammie stepped forward again, his fingers grazed your wrist, like he was asking for permission.
You looked down at his hand, you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, not now.
“I can’t give you what she could give you Sammie,” you choked out, “it don’t matter how much I love you, if i can’t give you this one thing.” You pulled your hand away from him.
“What the hell you talking about?” He pulled your arm back to him. “You the only one I want, what could possibly not give me baby?” Sammie’s voice was trembling now too.
“I can’t give you honesty Sammie, I just can’t.” You could feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes. “I don’t mean that I been lying to you, but I been lying about you Sammie, n’ to me that’s just as bad.”
It hurt, having to keep y’all’s relationship a secret, knowing you loved that boy with all your heart. Ever since you first met him, when y’all had your first kiss down by the creek, when he played his guitar for you in secret and sang songs that he wrote just for you. Even when y’all did things in that little church that no two men should ever be caught doing. Sammie Moore had seen you, touched you in ways that nobody else ever would, and all you could say was that y’all were friends.
“Baby, I don’t blame you for that,” his hands cupped your jaw, “I know better than anybody how dangerous this could be if people knew.” Sammie turned your face to his, he wanted to look you in the eyes.
“It’s so hard Sammie, knowing that I want you so damn bad, but I can’t never have you.” You met his gaze, he had tears building in the corner of his eyes. “I want everybody in this town to know that you’re mine, but I know it’d be a lie.” You pulled away from him, you couldn’t feel his skin for one second more. “People already got more than enough reason to kill us Sammie, but if they found out what we are, what we’ve done,” you turned to the podium behind you, “they’d string us up on some crosses before I could even say that I love you.”
“Baby, that don’t scare me none, please you-” Sammie was starting to ramble, trying to think of something to reassure you, but he knew the truth just as well as you did.
“Sammie, please, I can’t control myself when you call me that,” tears started flowing down your face, “if I can’t control myself then I can’t keep us safe.” The burning in your throat was becoming unbearable. “If you get hurt, I don’t know how i’m gone live with myself.”
Sammie couldn’t speak. How was he supposed to console you when everything you were saying was the same fears he had.
“You think me being with some woman, somebody that ain’t you, isn’t gonna hurt me?” Tears streamed down his face now too. “Knowing that you’re in my reach but I can’t have you?”
“That’s why I gotta go Sammie,” you broke down, “If I stay with you any longer it’s just gone get worse, and I love you too damn much to allow things to get worse for us.”
“No,” his eyes widened, “no, no, you can’t leave baby,” he was tripping over his words, “I’m ‘bout good as dead if you’re not here with me.”
“You won’t be dead though, you’ll be alive and safe, and that’s all I want for you,” it felt like you needed to gasp for air, “even if I ain’t there to see it.”
Before you could say another word Sammie had grabbed you by the face. He kissed you like he was hungry, hard and slow. It was like he was begging you to stay, trying to convince you of something y’all both knew was coming.
You turned your head away, pushed him back, anything you could to make him come to his senses. Both of you had tears staining your face, reddened lips and puffy eyes.
“I’m sorry Sammie,” you whispered real low, “but I can’t stay.” Your hands were shaking beside you. “I’m gone go somewhere you can’t find me, ‘cause I know damn well you’ll come lookin’.”
“But I love you,” he breathed out, like the air was forcing itself out his lungs, “more than you could ever know.”
You placed your hand on his chest, you could feel his heart racing. You couldn’t tell if you or him was shaking worse.
“That’s what’ll get you killed baby.” You forced a smile at him. Then you lightly, pushed him to the side and walked towards the door. Despite how tight the walls felt earlier, the walk to the door seemed like eternity. You could no longer find comfort in this building.
“Wait,” Sammie’s voiced stopped you, “please take this with you, even if you take nothing else.” He placed something cold in your hands before lightly kissing the corner of your mouth.
You gripped the piece of metal in your hand. Then slowly creaked the door open, and walked out. It seemed like walking at first, but before you knew it, your feet had broken out into a dead sprint, and you couldn’t force yourself to stop.
Y’all both knew that if you stopped running, you’d never leave, and Sammie wouldn’t have let you.
A/N: I hope this is alright for my first fic back, I wanna write some more so if anybody wants to share some ideas or tips i’d be open to it! Thank you for reading!
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Her Songbird
(Annie Moore x fem OC)
Trigger Warnings:
(queer heartbreak, emotionally charged reunion, religious trauma (briefly mentioned), internalized homophobia, heavy angst, past emotional abandonment, second chances, unresolved feelings)

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You left Clarksdale with nothin’ but a guitar slung ‘cross your back, one suitcase stuffed full’a dreams too wild for this town, and a heart heavy with all the things you ain’t never did say.
And you left Annie with even less.
Just a note.
Folded up real small, like that’d make it hurt less, tucked in between her favorite records like it’d soften the blow. You scribbled it quick, hands shakin’, chest poundin’ like a freight train.
Annie,
This town ain’t big enough for me and my voice both. I’m sorry I ain’t braver.
Yours always,
— Lila
You ain’t sign it like goodbye. But Lord, it was.
Three years gone by. Maybe four. Time don’t move the same when you’re runnin’. You sang your way through every backroad bar and sweat-drenched stage from Jackson down to Baton Rouge. Sang ‘til your throat burned raw and your fingers bled. But no matter how loud you got, her name still cut through.
Then June rolled back ‘round.
That thick, breathless kinda Mississippi June—the kind that makes the air stick to your skin like sin. And just like that, you was back. Boots hittin’ that same red dirt. Guitar case in hand. No fanfare. No phone call. Just the kinda homecomin’ ghosts make.
Smoke was standin’ out front the juke. Clocked you with them slow eyes, gave a nod like he been waitin’ on this. Didn’t say a word. Just stepped aside.
Inside smelled like bourbon, sawdust, and sweat. Floor still hummin’ with bass. Same old place.
And behind the bar—Lord—there she was.
Annie.
Laughin’ at somethin’ Stack said, curls wild, head thrown back. She still shined like a damn sunrise. But when she saw you? That light dimmed. Slow-like. Painful.
She ain’t move. Ain’t smile.
You crossed that room like you was walkin’ a tightrope over fire.
“Hey, Annie.”
She looked you over like she couldn’t decide whether to kiss you or kill you.
“Heard you been singin’ down in Lafayette,” she said, voice cool as creek water.
“Somethin’ like that,” you murmured. “Didn’t last.”
“Nothin’ does.”
That hung in the air, thick as smoke.
“I left somethin’ here.”
She raised a brow, sharp. “That so? What’d you leave?”
You ain’t blink.
“You.”
And there it was—that flicker. That little stutter in her breath. She covered it quick, but you caught it.
She didn’t move, just stared at you like she was sortin’ through every year you’d been gone, weighin’ if you was worth the ache.
“You left me with ghosts and bottles,” she said, voice flat. “All you gave me was a damn note.”
Your throat was tight when you spoke. “I thought leavin’ might hurt less.”
“Then you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout hurt.”
You laughed, low and bitter. “Ain’t the first time I been told that.”
She tilted her head, eyes narrow. “You still sing?”
You nodded.
“Then get up there,” she said, chin jerkin’ toward the stage. “Let me hear if I was worth comin’ back for.”
You ain’t argue.
You sang like your soul was bleedin’. Like every note had a piece of her name in it. And when you looked down and saw her leanin’ there, arms crossed, tryin’ like hell not to feel a damn thing—you knew.
You’d always been hers.
The last note faded. The crowd roared.
Annie turned her back and walked away.
You found her in the back hallway, where the shadows clung tight and the air smelled like sweat and cheap cleaner. She was leanin’ against the brick wall, arms folded, jaw tight.
You stepped close.
“Annie…”
“You don’t get to say my name like that.”
You swallowed.
“Like what?”
“Like it still belongs to you.”
That cut deep.
“You think I wanted to leave?”
“You did leave.”
“I was seventeen. Mama said singin’ was a sin and lovin’ a girl was worse. You think I had a real choice?”
She pushed off the wall, eyes flashin’. “You had a choice. You just ain’t choose me.”
Silence thick as summer heat.
You looked at her, eyes stingin’. “I ain’t never stopped thinkin’ ‘bout you.”
She laughed quiet, bitter.
“You think it’s easy forgettin’ the only girl ever looked at me like I was worth somethin’?”
You reached out, fingers brushin’ her wrist. She didn’t pull away.
“I messed up,” you said, voice low. “But I ain’t runnin’ no more. Not unless you tell me to.”
She stared at you hard.
“You still got that song? The one you wrote in my notebook back when we skipped school?”
You smiled, soft and sad. “Yeah. Always kept it.”
She breathed deep. Voice catchin’.
“Sing it. Not for the room. Not for the crowd. Just for me.”
So you did.
You sang that old tune, the one you wrote with her head in your lap and your heart already crackin’. Just a verse. Soft as cotton.
When it ended, she kissed you.
Slow. Steady. Full of all the years lost and every word y’all were too scared to say.
She pulled back just a breath, her voice shakin’ ‘gainst your mouth.
“You best not leave again.”
You pressed your forehead to hers.
“Ain’t goin’ nowhere, sugar. Not this time.”
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I hope y’all enjoyed! Thank you to the person who requested ❤️
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“JOLENE, I’M A WOMAN TOO” , stack x reader.
summary — ❝ i can easily understand why you're attracted to my man. but you don't want this smoke, so shoot your shot with someone else. ❞
warnings : strong language, violence (threatening), gun mentioned, alcohol use, sexual references, verbal insults, mary slander.



[ꪆৎ] was having herself a good time down at the juke joint. her belly was full from that fresh batch of catfish annie had just pulled from the fryer; crisp, golden, seasoned just right. she’d even snuck a few sips of liquor from her man’s cup when he wasn’t looking, the warmth of it humming in her chest. the place was alive tonight, packed wall to wall.
sammie’s voice boomed over the crowd, deep and rich, weaving through the smoke and laughter like a sermon of rhythm and blues. the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and excitement. it was exhilarating, felt like home. folks were swaying, stomping, clapping, hips rolling to the rhythm of his song.
everything felt just right, until she heard her name.
mary.
“is that little mary?” she heard cornbread yell out and immediately came to an halt. she wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, but when it came to mary, she was all ears. that girl was like a fly that wouldn’t quit buzzing around your kitchen — still hung up on her stack. there’d been more than a few run-ins between them, and each time [ꪆৎ] had tried to keep her cool. but tonight, she was fed up.
elias somehow sensing some shit was finna go down, appeared behind her. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asked, his voice low, eyes already scanning the room like he knew who the problem was. she turned slowly, locking eyes with him. “stack,” she said, voice flat and sharp, giving him a look of get her before i do. he let out a knowing chuckle and pulled the toothpick from his mouth, giving her backside a rough tap as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “i know, i know. i got it.”
stack wasn’t about to let it get ugly, not in front of all these folks, and especially not when he knew his woman didn’t play that. if mary didn’t leave on her own, one or both of them was looking to catch a bullet before the night was over.
[ꪆৎ] watched as stack made his way toward the entrance. she scoffed under her breath, shaking her head, then turned on her heel and made her way to the bar. the mississippi humidity clung to her skin, mixing with the slow simmer of anger already creeping up her spine. sliding onto a barstool, she fanned herself with her hand, though it did little to help.
her jaw clenched tight and eyebrows scrunched together. just the thought of mary trying her luck again made her skin itch. “need a drink?” came annie’s voice, smooth and matter-of-fact. [ꪆৎ] looked up to find the older woman standing behind the counter, a bottle of good whiskey in hand, the kind they didn’t pour for just anyone. she didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod, her fingers drumming anxiously on the bar top in a rhythm she barely noticed.
annie poured a glass, slid it across the counter, and gave her a look ; one full of shared understanding. wasn’t the first time a triflin heffa tried to sniff around one of the smoke-stack twins. and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.
she took a slow sip of the whiskey, letting the burn calm the storm in her chest. or trying to, at least. the joint around her pulsed with laughter and music, but her focus was drawn to the front door, past the crowd ; where stack stood talking to her. their voices were low, but every now and then a word or two slipped through the rhythm of the joint.
“i was just... stoppin by,” mary said, her voice syrupy-sweet, the kind of tone women like her used when they were up to no good. [ꪆৎ] paused mid-sip, her ear twitching in their direction.
“you know i always had a soft spot for you, stack,” mary continued, a little louder this time, like she wanted [ꪆৎ] to hear. [ꪆৎ] set her glass down a little harder than intended. annie didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow, ready to step in if needed.
before she could make the decision to waltz over there. she heard stack let out a long sigh, voice laced with irritation. “mary, this ain’t the time or the place. i suggest kindly you get the fuck up outta here before i get one of these field bitches to do it for me. or better yet, get [ꪆৎ] to handle yo ass, you know she been itching for the right moment too.”
that should’ve been enough. but of course, it wasn’t.
mary let out a loud scuff, obviously feeling like somebody. “i’ll beat up every bitch in here and you know it.”
that did it.
[ꪆৎ] stood up slow, eyes never leaving the shadowy outline of the two at the door. her pulse thumped in her ears, the whiskey mixing with heat and rage. she didn’t shout, nor stormed ; she moved graciously through the crowd like a woman on a mission. 
annie just shook her head, muttering under her breath, “lord help that girl … she don’t know who she messing with.”
the crowd parted for [ꪆৎ] like it always did. some out of respect, others out of fear, but most just knew better than to stand in her way when she moved like that. her dress swayed with each step, graceful but sharp, the small pistol tucked in the folds at her thigh brushing against her skin like a silent reminder. the music didn’t stop, but the energy in the room shifted, low murmurs stirred, a few folks, cornbread included backed away from the door, sensing the storm brewin.
stack turned just in time to see her coming, jaw tightening. he didn’t move, he knew better than to interfere when she had that look in her eye. he wasn’t scared of his woman, but he was scared of his woman. this was between her and mary now.
mary, still too full of herself to read the room, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “so now you sending your little guard dog to the door?” she spat, chin raised.
[ꪆৎ] didn’t respond right away. she stepped up to mary, slow, eyes scanning her head to toe like she was sizing up trash on the side of the road. then she spoke, voice calm, but low and mean.
“you come to my man’s place of business, looking the way you look and talking nonsense you can’t back up. thought i wasn’t gon show, huh?” her louisiana accent thickening with each word she spoke. mary’s smirk faltered, just a little. “i ain’t scared of you. you hiding behind a man that i already had.”
[ꪆৎ] let out a soft laugh, humorless, deep, dangerous. her head tilted slightly, curls brushing her shoulder as she took one deliberate step closer, causing mary to shift her weight back instinctively. the scent of her perfume sharp and sweet in the thick air between them.
“that so?” she said, voice low and rich, louisiana accent wrapping around each word like molasses. “you had him, huh? must’ve been real forgettable, since he don’t even look your way no more.”
mary’s eyes narrowed. “he still remember.”
[ꪆৎ] nodded slowly, pressing her lips together before replying. “maybe. a man remember trash when it stank long enough. don’t mean he want it back in his house.”
a few folks nearby let out a low “mmm,” like they just bit into something hot and juicy. even stack looked down at his feet, fighting back a grin he knew better than to let show.
mary’s smirk had fully dropped now, her jaw tightening. but [ꪆৎ] wasn’t done. “you got two good legs, mary. use em. cause if i take one more step, neither i nor elias gon be responsible for what happens next.”
mary stood frozen, the fight in her chest but no wind to back it up. she opened her mouth like she wanted to throw another blow, but the silence around them told her loud and clear. she needed to take her ass on.
she huffed sharply, her chest rising with wounded pride, then spun on her heel with a dramatic flick of her hair. her heels struck the ground with angry rhythm, each step echoing her bruised ego as she stormed away from the joint, shoulders stiff with false dignity.
[ꪆৎ] slammed the door shut, then exhaled slowly, adjusting her dress. “yall can go back to having fun”, she said with a wave of her hand. that was all people needed to hear to get back in they groove.
she glanced up at stack, “lets go home. i’m tired of playing with these little ass girls.” he didn't say a word, just took her hand like he always did, following the fire that never steered him wrong.
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Peas in a Pod
Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader
Warnings - swearing, fluff
Word count - 4814
a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :)

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.
“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind.
It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you.
You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead.
As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you.
You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.
It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.
When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be? You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.
You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you.
Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.
“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.
Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.
You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.
“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.
You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.
“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.
“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”
A loud laugh leaves Stack this time.
“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”
Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod.
After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea.
Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.
You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.
“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”
“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”
“Unfortunately,” you smile.
“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”
Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”
“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.
“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.
“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”
“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”
“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”
The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.
“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.
“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.
Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.
“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.
Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”
When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”
“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.
“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.
“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.
Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.
“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”
“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.
You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.
Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.
“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”
Oh.
“And what if I had plans?”
You don’t.
Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”
“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”
“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.
“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”
“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask.
You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.
“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”
“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.
Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.
“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”
“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.
“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.
“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”
“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.
And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.
You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”
“Now, that’s just wrong.”
~
Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack.
And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?
You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.
“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.
“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.
“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”
“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”
“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”
Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.
“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“
“Not birth, it was more like-“
Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”
“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”
You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.
Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed.
Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”
“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”
“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”
You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.
“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”
“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the phone out of my night.”
-
The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene.
Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.
Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.
“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.
You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”
“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”
Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.
Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”
“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.
Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.
The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside.
Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.
“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.
“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.
“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.
“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.
Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”
You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.
When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.
“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you.
You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.
“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.
“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say.
This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.
Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.
“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.
You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”
Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.
“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.
“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”
“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.
“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.
Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen.
Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.
It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.
Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally.
You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.
Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.
After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.
You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building.
You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.
Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.
“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.
“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”
“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.
There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.
“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence.
“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.
“What are you up to these days?”
“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”
“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”
“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”
Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”
“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”
You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.
Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”
“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.
Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”
The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building.
You wish you had brought a fan with you.
Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you.
You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.
“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”
Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”
“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.
“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”
Your heart flutters.
“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch.
Damn.
“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.
“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”
“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter.
“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.
“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”
“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”
You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you.
“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.
And there goes your breath.
“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”
“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”
Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”
Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.
You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”
Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.
“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”
Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town.
“I’m sure she does.”
“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”
“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”
“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.
“And if I’m right?”
“What would you like in return?”
You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”
Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”
“So, who is it?”
Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”
“You think you’re funny, huh?”
Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.
“You.”
You.
You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”
“I am, Pea.”
All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once.
“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him.
Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.
“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him.
Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”
“But you gave it to me.”
“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.
Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”
Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks.
Like what you see? Check out my masterlist :)
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i know i shouldnt be suprised but sinners being out for less than a week and already tumblr is fandomifying and 'poor wet pathetic cat'-ifying the main white man villain of the movie is so... disapointing??? like did the fucking point of the movie really go over your heads that badly or are you just willingly ignorant and stupid?
AND BEFORE ANYONE STARTS; im not saying you cant like remmick, he's a very interesting character, a great villain, and jack o'connell gave a great performance playing him, nor do i care if you think hes sexy, I think hes sexy
but i think to come out of a movie where vampires serve as a metaphor for how black american communities have the life sucked out of them by white people via cultural appropriation (remmick wanting to use sammie's gift to summon his own ancestors) and forced assimilation (all the turned vampires singing and dancing along with remmick's irish folk song and dance juxtaposed with the blend of cultures during sammie's song in the juke joint) and for your main take away to be 'aww the main villain is just a misunderstood sadboy' or 'idc abt the atrocities he looked sexy doing them (when the atrocities in question were racism)' then youre just being so disengenuous and antithetical to the whole point of the film?
and dont come at me with the 'let people enjoy things' bullshit, sinners is a movie FUNDAMENTALLY about racism and racial dynamics in the united states, and i do think focusing on your little y/n x [whiteboy of the month] fics and 'hes so babygirl' posts do actually stunt your own critical engagement with the message this movie was trying to convey to its audience
i think its also a disservice to remmick's character; the moral nuance that comes to light when you consider his position as an irish immigrant to the US, a victim of the colonialist british empire just like the black main cast (although in a very different way) and how, whilst his desire to reclaim his ancestry and heritage is understandable and even relatable, his pursuit of sammie and willingness to kill literally everyone else at the juke joint is allegorical for how, regardless of their own marginalisation, white people will prey upon and steal from black culture(s) and destroy/disenfranchise black communities to serve their own interests, and the movie is NOT subtle about this either, delta slim literally lays it out for us "white folks like the blues just fine, they just don't like the people who make them"
idk im yelling into the void here, the ppl im complaining about are never going to give a shit about racism or even just critically engaging with art when theres a new cute whiteboy to write fluff and angst about, but its just soooo annoying to see, yet again, how fandom spaces, which SHOULD be about uplifing and celebrating art in all its diversity and complexity, once again is nothing more than people ignoring anything that actually makes them have to confront reality and filing off the serial numbers to slot characters into pre-determined fanon molds so they can pump out incorrect quotes and coffee shop AUs en masse until the media iliterate heat death of the universe
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Annie: There are legends of people born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death; conjuring spirits from the past...and the future. In ancient Ireland, they were called Filí. In Choctaw land, they called them Fire Keepers. And in West Africa, they were called Griots. This gift can bring healing to their communities. But it also...attracts evil....
Sinners (2025)
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small rant regarding sinners
i don't even post but the sinners fandom is already festering.
i dont mind there being a lot of remmick fics, i read some myself. i was excited to see people interacting with black culture except they aren't. instead they've pushed us aside in a movie that revolves around our people, our culture, and our influence. a lot of y'all are doing exactly what the movie warns about in fact.
i saw the movie on saturday and since then i've already seen:
- complete misinterpretations of the movie
- stack x smoke incest, stack x smoke x sibling reader
- SO MUCH sammie x remmick
- daughter of plantation owner reader
- thirsting after bert, a literal klansman
- an underwhelming amount of black reader but so much irish or white american reader
- white saviorism and/or inserting a white character where they don't belong
- overwhelming amounts of smut with zero ties to the plot
- lack of interaction with black characters despite the majority of the main cast being black
dark fiction is one thing but pure ignorance and racism is a whole different thing. i also understand y'all are allowed to ship whatever you want but there are certain power dynamics that cross the line especially in the context of the movie and the history behind it.
please consider how you interact with media surrounding sensitive topics like this even if it is fiction. just my two cents.
#sinners#sinners x reader#sinners x oc#remmick#remmick x reader#smokestack twins#smoke and stack#smoke x reader#stack x reader#bo chow#smoke x annie#sinners movie
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Watched the trailer… this man needs to flash us. 😩 he is a papi
Has me ovulating fr fr (not even a woman.)
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why is all the sinners content on discourse on here primarily about remmick and NOT the black main character 🤨 how tf did y’all colonize this?? i’m so sick of y’all already.

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Ello~! I was wondering if I can make a request with Mohawk Mark X Starfire Male Reader! Just thinking about them interacting makes me think it’d be cute and funny, especially if Mohawk Mark’s the first person Reader meets and Reader kisses him to learn his language ^_^
LOST STAR

pairing mohawk! mark grayson x (tamaranean/starfire) male reader
when a tamaranean crash-lands on earth with his powers locked behind strange cuffs, the last person he expects to meet is mark grayson—mohawk, piercings, and all the attitude of a pissed-off superhuman. but after a very unconventional first encounter (involving lips, language barriers, and zero personal space), the two find themselves tangled in something neither expected. now mark’s stuck babysitting an alien who follows him like a lovesick comet, touches him like he’s something sacred, and looks at him like he’s the entire damn universe. worst part? mark’s starting to like it.
taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

the sky was a lazy blend of orange and pink, the sun sinking low behind the rooftops and stretching the shadows of trees and telephone poles into long, crooked fingers across the quiet suburban streets. mark grayson—invincible, not that the name really mattered—was sprawled on the edge of a rooftop, one leg swinging idly over the drop while he chewed on the inside of his cheek. bored. so stupidly, mind-numbingly bored.
nothing ever happened in this dump at this hour surprisingly. no rampaging villains to put through a wall, no collapsing buildings to prop up last-minute, not even a damn bank robbery to spice things up. just the same old houses, the same old people, the same old nothing. he sighed, tilting his head back. maybe he should just bail—go home, flop onto his bed, and finally read the new issue of seance dog that had been sitting on his desk for two days.
he pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders, ready to take off—
"invincible."
cecil’s voice crackled through the earpiece in his right ear, sharp and no-nonsense. mark groaned, tapping the device. "what."
"we’ve got an unidentified object approaching earth at high speed. trajectory puts it landing in your area. intercept and assess—neutralize if it’s a threat. you know the deal."
mark’s lips curled into a grin. finally.
he barely had time to glance up before something streaked across the sky—a blur of green and purple, moving way too fast to be a meteor, way too alive to be space junk. it slammed into the park across the street with a boom that rattled windows and sent birds scattering in panic.
mark didn’t hesitate. he kicked off the roof, the air whipping past him as he dropped down, landing hard enough to crack the pavement near the smoldering crater you’d left behind. dust swirled in the air, thick and choking, but as it cleared—
there you were.
and oh, this just got interesting.
you were… colorful. like, stupidly colorful. not in some tacky, neon way—more like the kind of vibrant that made mark’s brain stutter for half a second. your skin was a warm, sun-kissed gold, like you’d been dipped in honey and left to glow under some star. your hair—wow, your hair—was a wild mess, strands floating slightly as if gravity had given up trying to tame it. and your eyes. bright, glowing green, like two emerald suns blinking up at him, dazed but sharp.
mark’s gaze dragged lower, slow and deliberate, drinking in the sight of you like he’d just stumbled across something precious. yeah, you were built like him—lean but layered with tight, coiled muscle, the kind of body that spoke of battles fought in zero gravity, of limbs trained to twist mid-air and strike like a comet. but where mark was all rough edges and impatient energy, you were polished. sleek in a way that made his throat feel weirdly dry.
your outfit didn’t help. deep, royal purple—the kind of color that shifted in the dying light, almost metallic, like liquid amethyst poured over your skin. it clung to you perfectly, hugging every dip and curve of your frame, leaving your arms bare and flexing, biceps tensing as you tested the cuffs. the fabric looked smooth but impossibly tough, like it could take a hit from a plasma cannon and barely singe.
then there were the details—the silver metal sleeves encasing your forearms, running from wrist to just beneath the swell of your bicep. sleek violet boots, fitted like they’d been forged onto you. and that collar—high, armored, framing your jawline and flaring over your shoulders like some kind of alien royalty. it gave you this… presence. like you hadn’t just crash-landed in a park. like you’d meant to make an entrance.
mark’s lips quirked. space prince. a really pissed-off one, judging by the way you were glaring at your restraints.
interesting.
mark's eyes dropped to your wrists, where thick, pulsating cuffs glowed with an eerie violet light. they weren't just restraints—they were alive with foreign tech, humming like a trapped wasp nest, their surfaces crawling with strange, liquid-metal runes that shifted under his gaze. you groaned through clenched teeth, the veins in your biceps standing out as you wrenched against the cuffs which were flashing brighter in response as if mocking your efforts. a frustrated snarl ripped from your throat, one that made the hair on mark's arms stand up—there was something distinctly predator about it.
"well, well," mark drawled, his arms crossing over his chest, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his bicep. "looks like earth's got itself a new intergalactic tourist." his lips curled into that trademark smirk, the one that usually made people nervous. "let me guess—not the welcome party you were expecting, right?"
your head snapped up at that, those glowing green eyes narrowing. for a second, you just stared at him like he'd grown a second head, your nose wrinkling in a way that might've been cute if not for the dangerous glint in your eyes. when you spoke, it was like listening to a storm given voice—words that rolled and crashed in impossible rhythms, some syllables sharp as broken glass, others smooth as molten gold. the sounds curled through the air between you, carrying the scent of ozone and something distinctly not-of-this-world.
mark blinked, his smirk faltering for half a heartbeat. "uh. yeah," he said, shaking his head as if that might dislodge the foreign sounds from his ears. "no idea what the hell you just said."
your expression darkened, those glowing eyes flickering like a dying neon sign. he saw the exact moment you gave up on communication—your jaw tightening, the muscles in your shoulders coiling like springs. then, in a burst of motion so fast it left afterimages, you were gone. one second you were there, kneeling in the smoldering crater, the next you were nothing but a comet's tail of emerald and amethyst streaking upward, the shockwave of your takeoff sending dirt and debris spraying in all directions. the air where you'd been shimmered with displaced energy, the scent of burnt ozone hanging heavy in your wake.
"oh, hell no," mark growled, the words tearing from his throat as he kicked off the ground hard enough to crater the pavement beneath him. the air screamed past his ears as he shot after you, his mohawk flattening against his skull from the sheer velocity.
the chase was a goddamn lightning strike—you moved like starlight given form, all emerald and violet streaks against the twilight sky. you banked hard around a skyscraper, your restrained hands somehow not slowing the fluid way you carved through the air, dipping between buildings with impossible grace before rocketing toward the distant tree line. mark gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, pushing his limits to match your speed. you were quicker, yeah, but he was all stubborn rage and earth-born grit, refusing to let some cuffed-up alien outfly him in his own damn city.
the forest came up fast—too fast. the two of you crashed through the canopy in an explosion of splintered branches and shredded leaves, the scent of pine resin thick in the air as you skidded to a stop in a small clearing. dirt and debris sprayed outward from your landing, the impact sending small creatures scattering into the underbrush. you spun to face him, your cuffed hands held in a defensive position despite the restraints, those glowing green eyes burning like solar flares in the dim light. your chest heaved with each breath, but your stance never wavered—balanced, dangerous, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
mark barely had time to flash that infuriating smirk before you lunged.
your first strike shouldn't have been possible with bound hands—a vicious, glowing green haymaker that left afterimages in its wake as it rocketed toward his jaw. mark barely ducked in time, feeling the superheated energy of your fist singe the tips of his hair as it passed. he countered with a sharp jab to your ribs, but you twisted mid-air with impossible flexibility, your knee coming up in a brutal arc that connected with his diaphragm. the impact lifted him clean off his feet, all the air rushing from his lungs in a pained "oof" as he skidded backward through the dirt, his back slamming against an unfortunate sapling that snapped in half from the force.
"the hell—?!" he wheezed, his vision swimming as he struggled to draw breath. his ribs throbbed where you'd hit him—that shouldn't have hurt so damn much. why the hell do your hits feel like freight trains?
you didn’t let up. another punch—sharp, precise—aimed for his ribs. a spinning kick that nearly took his head off if he hadn’t ducked in time. every movement was fluid, calculated, like you’d spent years mastering how to fight even with your hands bound. mark blocked what he could, arms stinging from the impact, but damn, you were good. not just strong—trained. like someone had carved you into a weapon and set you loose.
"alright, enough," he growled, finally snatching your wrist mid-swing, his fingers locking around the smooth metal cuff. you snarled, muscles straining as you tried to yank free, but he held firm, his grip unrelenting. "i’m not trying to fight you, dumbass!"
you froze. your chest heaved, sweat glistening along your temple, those glowing green eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his pulse stutter. for a heartbeat, neither of you moved—just the sound of ragged breathing between you. then, slowly, your glare softened into something uncertain, almost curious. you huffed, nostrils flaring, before your gaze flicked down—to his lips.
then—
you lunged.
mark’s brain short-circuited. one second, he was glaring at you, ready to snap another insult—the next, your mouth was on his, warm and burning, like kissing sunlight given form. your lips were softer than he expected, but there was a roughness to it, a desperation that left him dizzy. your scent flooded his senses—something wild and electric, like ozone and crushed juniper berries.
he didn’t even realize he’d started kissing you back until you pulled away, and god, his body moved before his brain could catch up—chasing your lips in a hazy, instinctive daze, as if you’d stolen the air from his lungs and he needed it back.
you broke the contact with a quiet smack, licking your lips like you’d just tasted something fascinating. your tongue darted out, slow, deliberate, as if savoring the flavor of him.
"there," you murmured, your voice smooth now, laced with an accent that curled around the words like smoke. the glow in your eyes flickered, satisfied. "now i can understand you."
mark just stared, his lips still buzzing with the phantom warmth of yours, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. he could still taste you—something sweet and foreign, like starlight given flavor. "...what the fuck."
his hand rose slowly, the back of it dragging across his mouth in a rough gesture, like he could wipe away the lingering sensation. it didn't work. "what the hell was that?" his voice came out strangled, higher than usual.
you blinked, your glowing green eyes wide with sudden concern. the way your brows knitted together was almost... cute. damn it. "i am sorry," you said carefully, each word deliberate like you were testing how they felt in your new tongue. your head tilted slightly as you spoke. "my people... we learn speech like this." you raised your cuffed hands slightly, fingers brushing your own lips in demonstration. "lips must touch. to know words."
mark's face burned hotter. "so you just- what, kiss people to talk to them?"
"yes." you nodded earnestly, then hesitated. your nose scrunched as you searched for the right words. "but... not for... pleasure? only learning." you gestured between the two of you. "now i understand you. but your face..." your hand hovered near his cheek, not quite touching. "you look... burned? did i hurt you?"
"no, i'm not- that's not-" mark sputtered, running a hand through his mohawk in frustration. he could still feel the shape of your mouth against his. "it's just... humans don't usually do that, okay? we learn languages the boring way. with books and shit."
your glowing green eyes widened, the light in them pulsing faintly with genuine surprise. "that sounds... very slow." you said it with such sincere, heartbreaking pity—like mark had just confessed he still walked everywhere instead of flying—that his lips twitched despite himself, a choked laugh threatening to escape.
mark groaned, his calloused palm dragging down his face hard enough to briefly distort his features. "unbelievable," he muttered through his fingers. "welp, there goes my first kiss. first alien i meet, and they're a total weirdo."
your head tilted slightly to the side, those luminous eyes blinking once, twice. the movement was so distinctly not human—too smooth, too precise—that it sent an odd shiver down mark's spine. "weer-dee-oh?" you repeated carefully, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off your tongue. your nose scrunched adorably as you tested the syllables. "this is... a bad thing?"
the innocent question, paired with your utterly serious expression, finally broke mark. a sharp bark of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. "oh my god," he wheezed, shoulders shaking. "you're killing me here." he waved a hand vaguely in your direction, struggling to compose himself. "no, it's just- yeah, okay, maybe a little bad. but mostly... you're just different. in a... in a way that makes my brain hurt."
you considered this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "then i will be... careful with your brain." you said it with such grave sincerity that mark had to bite his lip to keep from laughing again.
the sudden crackle of cecil's voice in his earpiece nearly made mark jump. "invincible. report. was that explosion our new visitor?"
mark sighed, pressing a finger to his ear. "yeah, yeah. we're all good. turns out tall, glowing, and stab-happy here isn't actually—hey!" he interrupted himself as he caught you twisting your wrists violently against the cuffs, your teeth gritted in frustration. without breaking his conversation, he reached over and snapped the remaining restraint like it was a stale breadstick. "—isn't actually a threat. just... real enthusiastic about first impressions."
"you're telling me you've made peaceful contact with an unknown extraterrestrial in under five minutes?" cecil's dry tone could've withered flowers. "should i alert the press about your stunning diplomatic skills?"
"shut up," mark muttered, pointedly ignoring the way you were now staring at him with those big, glowing eyes—like he'd just saved your family and your cat instead of breaking some stupid cuffs. your fingers flexed experimentally, green energy already crackling around your freed hands. it was... distracting. "look, they're harmless. mostly. just... really into the whole kissing thing."
a beat of silence. "...i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that."
"good call," mark said, watching as you shook out your wrists, that ridiculously grateful expression still plastered on your face. he pointedly turned his back, feeling his ears heat up. "anyway, we're cool here. no invasion today. probably."
"your confidence is overwhelming," cecil deadpanned. "anyway, bring them to headquarters immediately—the guardians and i will want to assess this situation properly."
"what? no, he's fine—" mark started, but cecil cut him off.
"that wasn't a request, grayson. headquarters. now." the line went dead with finality.
mark groaned, turning back to see your stupidly earnest face. "stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "it was just some cuffs."
you blinked, then smiled—slow and bright like a sunrise. "to you, maybe." your newly freed hand reached up, almost hesitantly, to brush against his arm. "to me... it was everything."
mark's stomach lurched violently, like he'd just missed a step going downstairs. that uncomfortable warmth spread from his chest up to his ears, burning under his skin. oh, this was so not good. with a sharp turn, he pivoted on his heel, deliberately facing away from you so you wouldn't see how flushed he'd become. "anyway, we gotta move. looks like we're taking a field trip," he muttered, voice rough around the edges as he started walking a little too fast.
you blinked, your glowing eyes widening slightly as your head tilted at that perfect, infuriating angle that made your hair sway. without hesitation, you floated after him, keeping pace effortlessly. "field... trip?" the words sounded foreign in your mouth, your accent wrapping around them curiously.
"yeah," mark grumbled, dragging a hand through his mohawk. he could already imagine the interrogation—cecil's piercing stare, the guardians' skeptical looks, and god, if his dad got involved... his shoulders tensed at the thought. "to meet my coworkers. and my boss." he shot you a sideways glance, trying to sound casual as he added, "try not to kiss anyone this time, okay?"
you gently shook your head, the motion sending little emerald sparks dancing through your hair. "there is no need to worry." your voice was soft but certain, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "i won't kiss anyone else other than you."
mark's steps faltered. he whirled around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "what do you mean by that?" his voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.
you looked at him with mild surprise, those luminous eyes studying his flustered expression with open curiosity. "i meant that i'll only ever kiss you if i needed to learn more of the language." a small, knowing smile played at your lips as you added, "though, i doubt i'd need to."
mark's brain short-circuited. the way you said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact—left no room for argument. that uncomfortable warmth in his chest bloomed hotter, spreading down to his fingertips. he swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.
oh. he was so completely fucked.
(≧∇≦)ノ☆
mark absolutely hated this. hated how you floated after him everywhere like some glowing green shadow. hated how you’d tilt your head at every little thing—vending machines, pigeons, traffic lights—like they held the secrets of the universe. hated most of all how cecil had dumped babysitting duty on him with that infuriating smirk. "just keep him out of trouble, grayson. how hard can it be?"
it was impossible. you were a walking disaster wrapped in purple uniform. yesterday you’d tried to "help" him stop a bank robbery by smiling brightly at the thieves and asking why they needed the money, as if you were going to try out to talk-no-jutsu them into not doing the crime anymore. the day before, you’d somehow set a hot dog stand on fire because "the meat tubes smelled sad and wished to be free." and now? now you were hovering two inches behind him as he tried to buy coffee, your chin practically resting on his shoulder as you stared at the cashier with terrifying intensity.
"dude. personal space," mark grumbled, elbowing you back gently. you didn’t move—just blinked those stupidly big eyes at him and whispered "the small human is giving you paper with numbers. is this a threat?"
mark’s eye twitched. "it’s called money, space case." he shoved a twenty at the cashier before dragging you away by your wrist, ignoring how your fingers immediately curled around his like some overgrown, alien puppy. "we’ve been over this. no interrogating minimum wage workers. no ‘investigating’ trash cans. and for the love of god—" he yanked you back as you started drifting toward a police horse, "—no trying to communicate with earth animals!"
you pouted, all soft lips and wounded dignity, your glowing eyes shimmering with genuine concern. "but the furry one looked lonely."
mark's stomach did that stupid, traitorous flip again—the one that made his ribs feel too tight. he hated that most of all. hated how you'd somehow woven yourself into every fucking corner of his life these past four weeks. you were practically living at his house now, curled up on his couch like some exotic housecat whenever his mom made tamaranean-friendly snacks (which she learned for hours from your instructions). debbie adored you, always saving the snacks just for you, laughing at your terrible attempts at earth jokes. even his father—stone-cold nolan grayson—had started giving you those barely-there smiles when you correctly answered his space trivia questions.
the guardians treated you like some precious child they had adopted. darkwing let you fiddle with his tech. war woman sneaked you candy. even cecil, the human embodiment of a migraine, had gruffly admitted you were "tolerable and nice for your own good." everyone loved you. and mark? mark was so, so fucked.
what he hated most were the nights. those quiet, vulnerable nights when you'd slip into his bed after nightmares about your crashed ship, wearing nothing but his stolen seance dog hoodie (now permanently smelling like starlight and something sweet) and those stupid black boxers that rode too low on your hips. you'd curl against him like a contented star, your warm fingers tracing constellations across his cheekbones, his collarbones, the hard planes of his chest—always to the rhythm of that damn song he'd first introduced to you. he never told you to shut up whenever you would hum or even sing the tune, not because your voice sounded nice or anything, but because it just so happened to be his favourite song. your humming vibrated through his skin, your breath warm against his neck as you studied him with that reverent gaze, like he'd hung every fucking star in your sky.
mark would lie there, barely breathing, his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. he'd focus on keeping his muscles relaxed, on not shivering when your fingertips brushed his nipple accidentally, on pretending he didn't notice how your thigh kept sliding between his in order to tangle your limbs with his. and if his cock stirred in his sweats, thick and heavy with want? well. that was just biology. didn't mean anything. couldn't mean anything. because if you realized he was awake, if you saw the desperate hunger in his eyes, if you felt the way his hips twitched toward your touch—
it would ruin everything. and mark couldn't lose this. couldn't lose you. so he stayed still, stayed quiet, and let you have these stolen moments—even as they slowly drove him insane.
(≧∇≦)ノ☆
"i've always been curious about these tiny little metal things on your face." your voice was soft with wonder, fingertips hovering just above his skin like you were afraid he might vanish. slowly, so slowly, you traced the silver buds by his eyebrow, following the curve like it held some cosmic secret. your touch drifted down, feather-light, to brush the labret piercing at the bottom of the corner of his lip. when your thumb accidentally grazed the fullness of his bottom lip, mark's breath hitched—just for a second. "why did you get them?" you whispered, glowing eyes searching his.
mark had learned many things about you these past weeks. like how you were practically made of starlight and touch, always finding ways to connect—a hand on his arm when laughing, fingers threading through his when nervous, your entire body pressed along his back when curious about what he was doing. at first, it had been shy little brushes, like you weren't sure you were allowed. now? now you draped yourself over him without hesitation, leaning in close to whisper terrible jokes in his ear just to feel him shake with laughter.
("you know," red rush had said once, smirking as you clung to mark's arm like a vine, "most humans don't just... climb their friends like jungle gyms."
you'd just nuzzled into mark's shoulder, completely unbothered. "but mark isn't most humans." and damn if that hadn't made his chest feel too tight.)
mark had thought about setting boundaries. once. for about five seconds. then you fell asleep on his chest during movie night, and the idea evaporated like morning dew.
now, with your fingers still tracing his piercings, mark swallowed hard. "dunno," he muttered, trying (and failing) to sound casual. "thought they looked cool, i guess." a beat. then, softer: "my mom cried when i came home with the first one."
your glowing eyes crinkled at the corners. "i think they're beautiful," you murmured, thumb brushing his lip again—and okay, that was definitely on purpose this time. "like... constellations. but on your skin instead of the sky." your other hand came up to cradle his jaw, your touch warmer than any sun. "may i...?"
mark's heart was doing that stupid pounding thing again. "may you what?" he breathed, already leaning into your palm.
instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing the softest kiss to each piercing—first his eyebrows, then the corners of his mouth. when you pulled back, your smile was brighter than any supernova. "now i'll always remember how they feel," you whispered, like it was some precious secret.
mark was pretty sure his lungs had forgotten how to work. "you," he croaked out, voice rough like gravel, "are such a weirdo." but his traitorous hands were already dragging you closer, fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as his forehead fell against yours. the words came out thick with something he wasn't ready to name—something that burned in his chest whenever you looked at him like that. and god, that smile—the one that lit up your whole face, the one that was only ever for him—it sent a wave of heat crashing through him, turning his cheeks and neck an embarrassing shade of pink that matched the sunset bleeding through his bedroom window.
"is that still a bad thing?" you asked, already shifting like this was your rightful place. in one smooth motion, you straddled his thigh, your legs bracketing his like they were made to fit there. your arms looped around his neck with practiced ease, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape like you'd done this a thousand times before. mark's breath hitched as your weight settled fully against him—the firm press of your ass against his thigh, the way your biceps flexed under his fingertips, the heat of your bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. and fuck, if he didn't focus real hard on the ceiling, he was going to lose his mind over the unmistakable press of your cock against his stomach, barely concealed by those stupid thin boxers you always stole from him. he was just wishing you didn't notice the raging boner in his.
mark swallowed hard, his own traitorous body responding in kind. "no..." he managed, voice muffled as he buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the scent of starlight and his own shampoo on your skin. one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close like you might disappear. "not with you." his lips brushed against your pulse point, the words spilling out in a whisper he couldn't take back. "never with you."

exactly 4.6k words, i'm honestly a tiny bit impressed lolol. anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this one-shot! i'm not gonna lie, i didn't know where i was going with this but yeah :]
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