#stack ff

[writerbee-ffs]

Lost Soul

Modern Vampire Stack x Reader(s). Three Generations of black women.

“The eyes are the windows to the soul...”

He had seen those eyes once before. He had fallen for their warm brown hues—tones that reminded him of a simpler time, a version of life before death had touched him. Those eyes made him feel alive in a world where he had long since stopped living. They had once belonged to her, but now… they belonged to someone else. Still, they stirred something deep in him, something ancient. When he looked into them, it was as if his soul—lost for centuries—had finally been found.

Elias “Stack” Moore had been turned in 1932. After the Juke Joint tragedy, he walked the world alone, never letting anyone close. Why would he? He had watched his twin brother, Elijah, die. His lover, Mary, shattered by the guilt of turning him, never recovered. Every bond he formed unraveled in death or abandonment. He remained untouched by time—skin still supple, frozen in the prime of his 30s, even as the decades wore on.

Then he met her in 1992. ShaNiece. She changed everything. With her, life felt worth living—until it wasn’t. Her death tore that hope away.

For years, he drifted, a soul half-buried, until 2025. That’s when he saw her again—not ShaNiece, but someone who felt like her. Solana. There was something hauntingly familiar in her gaze, in her presence. She awakened something in him he thought was lost forever.

What Elias didn’t know was that their connection ran deeper than memory. It was fate—waiting, watching, circling back.

Mini Series. Unsure of how much it will consist of. Just enjoying writing again so here I am… writing!

A Sinners FanFic by WriterBee

[nikilaudasgayson]

Max Verstappen breasting boobily

[dollerin]

VOICE OF AN 𝓐𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳 stack moore.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝑳𝐔𝐃𝐄 ─── you’ve got one hell of a talent, everyone knows that except for the notorious, stack. but he may be the one to get you your very first gig when he finds out. he says you shouldn’t let your gift go to waste, you’ve got the voice of an angel.

elias ‘stack’ moore x f. reader romance strangers to lovers physical touch 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝗐𝖼. 𝟣.𝟩𝗄 ─── 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒

part 2 available here

The old restaurant smelled of tobacco smoke and the pork chops that were being made in the kitchen, the aged wood scent lingering with it. It was crowded, per usual, but you didn’t mind—it meant you and your mother were getting business.

Fridays were usually the busiest anyway, people getting off of work, needing a good meal and a drink to wash down their rough week. Some work all day in the field and want to run away from the trouble of the other folks out to get them. And then there were others who just wanted to dance.

No matter where they were from, you served them anyway, a smile always on your face. Though working and serving for your mama wasn’t ideal, it was a start—a start to your dreams. And you were okay with that.

You weaved through the tables and small crowds of dancing elders, placing plates in front of people and collecting the empty ones. This was nothing new to you, so it came like second nature.

The music in your mama’s joint wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t fast, either. It was the perfect tempo for people to groove along and for you to begin humming to yourself as you cleaned off empty tables. The band that played were a few good family friends that agreed to play there every night, no pay required. Every once in a while, you join them. Sometimes they played popular blues songs, other times they played the songs that you wrote yourself, and knew all the lyrics to. Now, of course, the audience didn’t know the songs but they didn’t have to. Your voice was what captivated them.

By now, it was a regular thing for someone to come up to you and request a song—or just ask you to go on stage so they could hear you. All you could ever do was nod your head and bashfully agree as you walked up.

But tonight, it didn't happen. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe it was because your mama needed some extra help, with the amount of folks that piled into her restaurant. Your cousin—the only chef that she had at the moment, was sick so she was forced to do all the cooking by herself, instead of helping you serve.

As you continued to hum to yourself, the music still echoing throughout the restaurant, the bell on the door jingled. Your back was turned, but you heard footsteps as another customer came in. They didn’t ask to be seated, though.

You glanced behind you to see that they’d taken a seat at the bar, but then you did a double take once you saw who it was.

Some people whispered to each other, but they didn’t dare make eye contact with the person.

Stack.

One of the famous Delta twins. Dressed in that red hat that sat low, hiding his eyes a bit.

You turned back to the task at hand, not wanting your staring to be too obvious—though it probably already was. You could hear him shuffling in his seat at the bar, the sound of his lighter flicking and him inhaling a bit.

You continued working as if he weren’t there, humming along to the music. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

Soon, the music ended on the stage, leading everyone to applaud before the band started their next song. Some of them walked off the stage, taking a bathroom break or a sip of water. You continued humming to yourself, even as the music was gone.

“Y/N! Hey!” Someone called out to you.

Your head popped up, seeing one of the band members headed right toward you.

“Hey,” you smiled.

“You wanna c’mon for our next number? It’s your favorite,” he said.

“What? ‘Down Hearted Blues’?” You asked, quirking your eyebrow.

The man chuckled, “You know it.”

You thought about it for a moment, his constant ‘c’mon’ had made you want to go up there and grab that microphone. But you weren’t so sure if you’d do that tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know, sir—“

“Go on up there! You know everybody love yo’ voice!”

You shook your head, hiding the bashfulness on your face.

He turned around to the rest of the restaurant, raising his voice for everyone to hear, “Aye, y’all, don’t y’all love lil’ Y/N’s voice? Don’t ya’ love when she sing for us?”

They all paused what they were doing to agree, the area erupting with applause and cheers. That didn’t make your case any better, if you were one of them white folks, you would’ve looked like a tomato by now.

Your smile grew as the people’s focus was now on you, encouraging you to head up on that stage.

“C’mon, Y/N, sing for us!”

“I wanna hear some good ol’ blues tonight!”

“Girl, if you don’t get up there—!”

After a moment of them all trying to persuade you at once, you drop the cleaning towel on the table you were standing at. You walked through the crowd again, walking toward the stage with loud cheers behind you.

The smile on your face never dropped, even as you got to the center of the wooden platform.

Stack was tucked into the back of the restaurant still, remaining in his seat at the bar. He took another drag of his cigarette, waiting to see what all the ruckus was about—what the big deal was about one voice.

People took their places at their tables and some stood around as the instrumental of your favorite song began to play. You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the lyrics began to flow out of you.

Were there folks watching you all around the restaurant? Yes.

But you could feel a certain pair glued to you. Like they couldn’t move. Like they didn’t want to move.

You sang out, your voice drifting throughout the restaurant like a harp played in the moonlight. You clutched your chest, reciting the lyrics as if you had lived by them.

Stack looked up at the platform from beneath his hat, the cigarette sitting between his plump lips. They curled up at the corners, a smirk playing on his face as he listened to you. He could’ve sworn he died and came back when he heard, nodding his head slowly in approval and enjoyment.

You twirled to the side of the stage, your long work dress flowing with you as you fell in love with the music all over again. People not only loved you for your voice, but for your performance. How you let the chords flow through your veins. The music was you.

As the band began to reach the end of the song, you smiled out to your little crowd, seeing all them send cheers your way.

You made your way off of the stage, hugging some of them, others kissing you on the cheek.

“Alright, y’all, I gotta get back to work now,” you laughed, cheeks burning from your wide grin.

They all let you get back to your duties, still cheering you on from afar, but not wanting to hear any fuss from your Mama.

You walked back to the table you were at before, grabbing the dirty towel to place in the basket full of other used cloth.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” a voice said from behind you.

You turned to see Stack grinning at you, sly look plastered on his face, per usual.

“Um, hi?”

“Hi,” he repeated. “I don’t mean to bother, but… that was you singing up there?”

You nodded.

“Mhm.”

He smiled, gold pieces on display. His eyes scanned you for a moment before speaking again.

“Just wanted to let you know I enjoyed it. Sounded like an angel sent from heaven.”

You raised your brow, slightly, “Thanks.”

He moved a hair closer to you, eyes never moving from yours.

“I’m offerin’ you a spot down at this here Juke Joint.. You know the SmokeStack twins?” He asked, eyes shimmering in the restaurant’s dim lighting.

“Yeah, I heard of em’. What that gotta do with a Juke Joint?”

“We openin’ one. Right here in the Delta.” He said proudly.

You folded your arms, not responding.

“So? What you say, huh?” His voice lowered, his words only heard between you both.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, “I don’t know.. I don’t understand what I would be gettin’ outta this.”

“Well,” he ran his tongue over his lip. “Thirty cents an hour. And a front-row seat to this here pretty face. Can’t beat that.”

Something about his little comment made your stomach tumble, but you straightened your stance.

“Still not hearin’ what this’ll do for me.”

He sighed, looking around for a moment before turning back to you.

“I meant it when I said you got a voice on ya, pea. Voice like that don’t come ‘round often. Why don’t you come on out? Show folks what the blues s’posed to feel like?”

You kept your eyes on him, thinking for a moment. You didn’t know if this was just a way for him to keep persuading you to come so he could try and take you home—or what. But he had a point. How would you ever get to where you wanna be in life, with your gift, if you don’t show it to folks outside the restaurant?

You tapped your foot, trying to make a decision.

“I…” you started, looking down at your scuffed shoes.

He hummed, waiting for your response, leaning down to follow your gaze.

“You in or what?”

“Lemme talk to my Mama. See what she says, she might—“

“You a grown-ass woman, what you talkin’ bout’, askin’ your mama?” His eyes scanned you again, lips twitching like he was holding back a grin.

“She might need my help,” you finish your sentence, cutting your eyes at him. “It ain’t easy runnin’ a restaurant all by yourself, now.”

Stack gave a short nod, hand coming to his pocket, shifting around it. He pulled out some cash—real dollars, not just coins. He grabbed your hand from your side, placing the paper right in your palm.

“That gon’ cover one night for y’all?” He asked, already knowing the answer as you stared down at the money, mouth agape.

“I— You—“

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow night, then? Bring some of your mama’s platters, hear?”

And with that, he tipped his hat, showing off the gold in his mouth before turning to the door.

꒰ ≧ ̫ ≦ ꒱ྀི : decided to split this in two parts !! :) first sinners fic.. kinda nervy tho.

[kittykia]

ryan gave the main couples song headcanons

ex-factor by lauryn hill was stack and mary's song

by your side by sade was smoke and annie's song

yall think he got dedicated playlists/songs for characters?

[freshcut-chetney]

I know Veilguard cc only lets you give your character a mid caboose so we're in a drought but we have Got to stop pretending some of these asses are good

[fantasticalleigh]

no resolutions bc resolutions are for punk ass dweebs but i have a massive massive tbr and to watch list that i have been ignoring for too long now and 2024 is going to be the time to tackle it.

i'm the kind of person who rarely ventures out to find a new show to watch and sticks to their comfort shows (GBBO, Seinfeld, Bridgerton, etc.,) and movies and only watches new media if i KNOW i will love it because i am very stingy about how i spend my time to a fault. well, no longer!

[savanir]

Finding Andy (Curry)

Danny zips around the massive dark aquarium with a net carefully snatching up all sorts of colourful marine life before going up and gently depositing them in smaller tanks that Sam prepared.

"You do realise this is extremely illegal, right?"

"Taking these poor endangered fish from their homes is extremely illegal. We're righting a wrong here Danny, and you still owe me one"

Danny sighs and goes back down but keeps talking.

"I just don't want to be accused of stealing again"

"Tucker got us covered, we'll be fine. You just keep fishing Danny, I think we're almost done. "

Danny carefully goes through the dark depths of the aquarium again and it's then that he sees a much bigger shape dart away from him.

Sam said this entire thing was filled with poached endangered marine wildlife so everything in it needs to be retrieved. Aka, Danny goes in pursuit.

It takes some doing but eventually Danny gets a hold of it and it's worryingly little girl shaped.

He holds the little girl in front of him and just kinda looks for a second at this squirmy child that can apparently breathe underwater.

"Sam! Sam, holy Fffffffuudge"

"What!? What??"

"There is a baby in the aquarium!" He holds up the squealing little red head who has apparently decided what's happening now is funny actually.

"A baby!?"

"In the aquarium!" He points down at the water.

"Why is there a baby in the aquarium!!?"

"How am I supposed to know?! Maybe these weirdos accidentally fished up one of Aquaman's people?"

"Oh my god, we need to bring her back!"

"How the ff-frick-" the little girl giggles and goes, "Fik!" Making Danny wince,  "-are we supposed to do that, I don't know where Atlantis is at Sam"

"Call the justice league?"

"Didn't they disband again not too long ago?"

"... shit, you're right"

Danny rushes to cover the little girls ears while hissing, "language" and Sam slaps a hand over her mouth.

"Sorry..."

Danny floats in a circle above the water bouncing the child who seems fascinated with his glowing white hair, "Okay, okay, here's an idea. Jazz has her drivers license. We'll do an impromptu road trip to the east coast"

"... yeah, sounds good, let's go"

Sam holds the little girl as Danny stacks up all the tanks filled with fish and they quickly leave the premises.

"Can I just say I love you hair little miss, Naturally dark red? if only I was that lucky."

The now empty tank is surrounded by a gaggle of awkwardly shifting henchmen.

"So who is gonna tell the boss we lost the princess?"

[writerbee-ffs]

“Art Thou Forgiven” A Sinners Fanfic

You’d always admired your Daddy’s love for music. Sometimes you questioned if he actually loved it more than he loved you but you were sure that was your Momma’s doing. Her and Daddy were always bickering about something. Mostly because of music and how it managed to take him places that never had any room for her to be apart of. He’d tell her that the music was his escape. A place that made him happy because living in the souths of Mississippi and working for the white man wasn’t a place you wanted to stay grounded in. Just like Daddy loved his music, you loved someone equally important but just like Momma, you hated the life they chose and how it never included you…

The Mississippi Delta, 1932

The sun beamed on the back of your neck as you made your way towards the market. You silently crused yourself because why the fuck wouldn’t you grab the hat off your kitchen table before walking in the thick Mississippi heat.

You let out a slow breath as you walked inside of the Chow’s market anticipating the cool air. Grabbing basket, you nodded towards Lisa, Grace and Bo Chow’s daughter, who was working the register. She gave a half uninterested smile continuing to check customers out.

You strolled through the aisle slowly just so you could take in the crisp air a little longer. You would often hear the ‘welcome’ bell from the door ring as you walked around.

“Daaaaaaaddy?!” Bo’s daughter yelled just enough for him to come from sliding out of the back.

“What?” He questioned throwing his hand towel out of his hand.

Making your way towards the dry goods in the back section, you heard a familiar voice. “Bo Chow” Your ears perked up as your head ducked towards the lower parts of the seasoning.

“Look at what the damn cat dragged in.”

You dropped the basket making your way to the exit of the market. You didn’t want to look back because if one was in town that meant the other one wasn’t too far off.

“Lil Slim.” You’d always hated the nickname but when folks around town saw you they knew exactly who you belonged to. Thee Delta Slim. You adorned the same features from your cocoa skin, full lips to you brown sleepy eyes. “Don’t make me call you again, woman”

You halted in your tracks before turning slowing, kicking up dust in the process. You met his gazed as you sauntered towards him. “Elijah?” You let out more as a question. “I see you’re back in town”

“Elijah? Damn Lil Slim first name basis?” He looked you up and down taking another pull before flicking the blunt from his lips. You know I saw you runnin’ out that damn store like you seen a ghost or sum shit..” Rolling your eyes slightly, you moved from his eyes to his hands due to the rustling. “I bought up that lil’ basket on my way out. Call it a gift…”

“I’m just fine, Smoke.” You pursed your lips tightly together so he wouldn’t notice the lie that had left your lips. “The devil never gives gifts only favors.” You wanted to hurt his feelings so he could leave you alone like he did 7 years ago.

“Take this bag, woman.” A chord hadn’t even been struck by your words. He was use to the sass flying out your mouth. He’d grabbed your hand swiftly dropping the straps into your palm. “I’ll be seeing you, Lil Slim.”

He jumped in his truck without another word. The engine purring as he made his way down the dirt road.

*

“(Y/N)! I’ll be back girl. Gots to go down to the station and make a lil money before tonight’s show at the club.” He’d kissed your cheek, smelling of corn liquor, before walking out the door.

You were too hot and tired from your walk back to disagree long enough to stop him. Slim might have been making money but you only saw it in the form of a bottle turnt to his lips. You sat on the small sofa gathering yourself before making your way to the kitchen. This had become a routine on your days off from working. Making a market run, cleaning up a little and cooking something heavy for Slim to put on his stomach after a night of drinking and caring on down at the club.

You wanted more for yourself but after your Momma had passed on and the Moore men leaving, you felt the need to try to get closer to Slim because he was all you had left. Ol’ drunk and all.

You let up all the windows trying not to get the smell of catfish frying in your hair. A couple of hours ago, your best girlfriend had invited you out to this new Juke Joint earlier after hearing some dudes talking about how some other dudes got shot over trying to steal liquor from the owner. You were a little worried about going but you needed to let your hair down and have some fun.

*

You could hear the music as you and Pinky pulled into the lot full of cars straight towards the middle to show off her brand new gift. Pinky, also known as Priscilla, was your best friend that loved to show off the gifts that her husband bought her. Since she hated her much older husband she was always down to cut loose. Her husband knew how she got down but apparently he did the same. That was their business and you never asked too many questions but always listened when she needed to talk.

“(Y/N), don’t that sound like your daddy on that harmonica?” She smiled taking your arm to loop around hers. “Ooou it’s hot in here tah’night.”

“Well don’t y’all look like some mighty fine woman?” Another familiar voice. “How you doing, Lil Slim?” He smiled helping you after Pinky into the threshold of the club. “Delta in hea’ got these people feelin’ good.”

You smiled giving him a slight hug taking in the full atmosphere. “Doing good, Cornbread. How’s the wife?” “You in here working the door?” All he could do was nod and tell you that she was doing well before you were whisked away to the bar.

“Now what we drinking, ladies?” The bartender asked going back and forth between you and the gentleman sitting at the end.

“Whateva’ they asking fo’.” Although they were twins, you could always tell them apart. You didn’t even want to look up but you also wanted him to know he didn’t have any effect on you anymore. Neither of them did. The bartender had passed rounds of moonshine with fruits inside.

“SJ” He grinned flashing that fancy smile your way. He knew how much you hated “Lil Slim” back in the day so he’d decided to call “SJ” short for “Slim Jr”.

“Hello Elias” You grumbled “How you doing?” You asked pulling yourself from the bar after taking the drink in one gulp. You shimmied onto the dance floor with a random man. You really didn’t care how or what he was doing these days. Last you heard the SmokeStack twins had went north to cause trouble.

You kept your feet moving no matter the song. You’d even witnessed Sammie and your damn Daddy playing a couple of songs together. You noticed everything in the joint. You’d been taking mental images of the night’s festivities and how everyone seemed to be freed by their burdens. How they came in letting loose and feeling good.

“Why’d you sto-“ you turned to ask the guy you had pretty much held captive to avoid Elias from coming your way.

“Stack, this your woman?” The man was already a foot away from you surrendering you to the devil himself.

“Scary ass nigga” You spat looking up at him. “You love messing up a good thang, don’t yah?” All he did was grin at you showing a glint of gold. That sly smirk had gotten you in so much trouble in the past. “Well?” You questioned releasing the shawl that matched your dressed perfectly onto a near by chair. “You gon ask me to dance or what?”

There it was. You giving into him without him saying a word. That was how it went with you and them. Elijah was a giver while Elias loved to take.

“Damn SJ” he spun you around placing your back against his chest. “You not so lil no mo’” you felt him touching your hips adding pressure to his grip. “Seven years did you some good.”

“Hope this isn’t your attempt to get me in some back room, Stack.” He guided your hips into a slow grind. “Half of these Mississippi Delta women have their eyes on you and Smoke. Won’t you go grind on one of them”

As soon as those words left your lips, she’d approached them attempting to cut in.

“Well well…if it isn’t Little Miss Slim” Her southern drawl was laced with venom. “Not so little anymore are we” She smirked. “Maybe you should go cool down with a drink, honey. You’re looking parched”

You couldn’t understand her issue with you. You knew her and Stack would mess around every now and then but everyone knew that their relationship wasn’t serious. Never would be and never could be.

“That’s (Y/N) to you” You smiled as you slowed your hips down. Elias still behind you. “It’s a beautiful night. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other and here you are ready to cause drama” “I thought you white women were supposed to be classy?” You couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t hate Mary but you hated how out of character she could be around Elias or Stack as she loved to call him.

You had already understood that Mary and Stack’s relationship wasn’t serious purely based off of it being forbidden. She was a white passing dainty woman and he was a black man. This world would never accept it but that was the danger was the foundation of it. Elias was the one that had pursued you. He’d always say you were different and too damn independent for your own good. You could read him like a book and he could do the same. Neither of you ever acted on your feelings but you both knew that there was something there.

“S’cuse me?” Her face went pale as you felt Elias’ lips smiling into your neck.

“Stack, you gon let her talk to me like that?” She’d moved on to fighting with him. She knew better than to keep going on because eventually you would get tired and get physical.

“What you want me to say, woman?” He let you go but you stayed in between them. “I told you to stay the fuck away from me at that station.”

“Mmmh…” “Well make me leave then, Stack!” She muttered. They bickered completely ignoring your presence as if you’d somehow managed to become invisible in seconds.

You had had enough of their bickering before it started. You made your exit looking for Pinky so you could leave and make it home so you could make sure Slim didn’t pass out on the floor instead of his room.

“Lil Slim, you seen Stack?” Elijah asked as you were walking around the area.

“I’ll tell yah if you take me home?” You smiled attempting to make a way. “You know you can’t let your hopeless friend be stranded and walking home in these parts at night.”

His hard exterior softened but he never smiled. You could tell he was thinking it over. You knew he wouldn’t let you walk at night but after finding out the Juke Joint belonged to him and Elias, you knew he had to be here for the business.

“I’ll have Stack do it.” “Last I seen Pinky she was making her way to the back with Preacher talking about ice cream.” He shook his head a little confused as he moved towards the crowd.

“He was arguing on the dance floor with Mary last time I saw him!” You called sitting at the bar again. You knew they had probably moved on from the argument into each other pants but who were you to care. He wasn’t yours.

*

After arguing with Elias the whole way, you’d finally made it back to your place. Turns out him and Mary had did more than argue just like you knew they had.

“What’s on your mind?” He spoke cutting the engine looking towards you. “Thinking about us?”

You looked over at him, pulling the shawl closer to your body. “Stack, you and Mary are meant for each other. All you do is lie and cause trouble.” You were hurt and he knew. You were tired of being second to her when it came to him. You couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Stack?” Was all he mustered up before touching your thigh. “Mary ain’t got shit on you, SJ. You know that, right?” He rubbed circles into your thigh with his finger. “Mary ain’t the one that i want to make it back home to when I’m away.”

“But Mary gives you what you want?” You’d never had sex. You wanted to save yourself for your husband. That was thing yah Momma had drilled into you. ‘Don’t no man want a ran through woman.’ A part of you hoped that would be Elias but he was too caught up in the high life and the web that Mary had spun around him to notice you and cater to your body in that way. “It’s fine, honey.” Your lips curved into a tight lipped smile. “You’ll always belong to Mary and the streets. There’s nothing wrong with it. Just don’t get hurt messing with ha’” You surrendered grabbing up your purse while you touched the handle of the door prepared to get out.

“But Mary ain’t the one who’s got my heart, (Y/N)…” He grab your thigh catching you off guard halting your movement. As you looked up at him you were met with his deep brown eyes staring at you softly before laying a kiss on your lips. “I miss you. I love you.” He mumbled against your lips. “My heart belongs to you, woman.”

You couldn’t get caught up with him. He’d left and never made things official with you. You were holding out for a miracle from the devil . And you were tired of waiting. “Mary and Smoke have your heart equally. There’s no room for me in it.” You looked down, “Take care of yourself, Elias.” You muster up taking your exit.

[thursdayg1rl]

thats it im just emptying my chemistry folder and putting it in my bag

[hug-your-face]

“For far too long, Americans have paid more for prescriptions drugs than any major economy,” the White House said in a statement. “Today, Medicare has for the first time selected 10 drugs for negotiation. Seniors paid $3.4 billion in out-of-pocket costs for these drugs in 2022.”

The move is expected to cut costs for some patients but faces litigation from the drugmakers and heavy criticism from Republican lawmakers.

(source: Al Jazeera)

Do! ✊ Not! ✊ Let! ✊ Republicans! ✊ Back! ✊ Into! ✊ Power!

PLEASE give your vote to the backward, moderate, confused, OLD FART Dems in 2024 and THEN push like hell for radical progressive stuff during a 2nd Biden term.

Because if you abstain, or "vote your conscience," we won't be able to push for anything. Because we'll be living under a single-party authoritarian rule.

Absolutely wild that this is presented as something the drug companies are doing and not a law that the Biden admin passed.

[dollerin]

𝑫𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄 stack moore.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝑳𝐔𝐃𝐄 ─── after getting a gig out at the juke joint, you’re exposed to a world full of blues and the love of your people. so many people dancing in front of you, and singing, it’s like you’re in a dream. but the way stack looks at you.. that’s even better. he said you had the voice of an angel — now the whole juke joint knows it too. and for the first time, you’re not hiding your gift. but it’s not just about the music anymore… not when stack’s eyes follow your every note like a man already falling.

elias ‘stack’ moore x f. reader romance strangers to lovers physical touch 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝗐𝖼. 𝟤.𝟫𝗄 ─── 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒

part 1 available here

“Mama, you don’t understand. This could be my big moment!” You sat on the edge of your bed, your mother in front of you with her arms crossed. She wore her tattered apron, the one she wore when she was trying new recipes.

“Oh, I understand just fine, honeybee. Better than you think.”

She stood with one hip popped out, weight balanced on one side—the way she’d stand when you wanted to do something she didn’t trust.

“So, why can’t I go? He invited me, Ma, don’t you think it’s a lil’ rude to not accept somebody’s invite?” Your voice high-pitched now, eager to convince your mama to let you go.

She’d been going back and forth with you ever since you even mentioned the idea of steppin’ foot in that juke joint. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate your gift, no, she adored it. It was Stack, who she didn’t trust. Said he was an ol’ dirty gangster, who was known to go around bargainin’ and gamblin’ with people like it was nothin’.

You tried and tried again—explaining to her that you didn’t give two pennies about Stack. You just wanted to get out, breathe that good Mississippi air. Sing a little, and dance til’ your feet hurt. Of course, she was like any mama that worried over her baby. And she definitely worried about you. You were a bit headstrong, yes. Independent? No doubt.

But she knew how delicate your heart was. How sweet you were. And she also knew that folks in this world will take advantage of somebody like that.

“I don’t want you steppin’ foot near that place, Bee. Not with them twins around. You know I don’t trust ‘em, and neither should you.” Her answer was firm but unchanging. You knew there was no convincing her.

You mirrored her now, folding your arms, sitting back on your bed as you turned to look out the window. The sun was going down now, time passing on.

Her gaze on you softened, “Maybe we can go into town one day, and I’ll cook a lil’ something for everybody. You can sing then.”

You turned to lay down on your side, your back turned to her as the remaining bit of the sun gleamed through.

“That ain’t the same.” You grumbled, your throat tightening.

─────────────────────

Nightfall came, and the house was still. You could hear the faint sound of crickets singing outside of your bedroom window as you peered back at your reflection in the dusty mirror.

The satin-bronze dress clung to your figure, gliding with every step you took. The back of the dress dipped low—skimming just above the curve of your spine.

You exhaled shakily, staring at what you were wearing. It wasn’t anything you’d ever worn before. You were so used to seeing yourself in oily work clothes, used to your regular five-chore skirts. But this felt like a reward. A glimpse at finally becoming a woman. Not the little girl your mama always thought you were.

You turned to the side a little, eyes trailing along the curves of your body. You were in awe—of the way the gown hugged you just right. How grown you looked. How bold you felt.

You pulled yourself away from the mirror for a moment, remembering that you only had so much time to be at this joint—the opening already started. Scrambling to sit on the side of the bed, you quickly grabbed the only pair of low heels you had, slipping them on your feet.

You stood up slowly—knowing how the floorboards were in your mama’s house, grabbing your work dress from the floor. The money that Stack had given you was still inside of the torn pocket, still rolled up the way he’d handed it to you.

You sighed, grabbing it from your pocket before leaving your room.

Your heels clicked quietly against the floor as you headed into the kitchen. Your mama was knocked out, snoring in the old rocking chair she always sat in after work.

You bit your lip nervously as you passed her on your way to the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. The money was placed on the counter, right by the stove where Mama would see it when she woke up.

You grabbed a napkin and pen from the wooden jar, scribbling a small note:

Stack wanted you to have this for the restaurant. It’s enough to stay closed for a day, maybe two. Get some things fixed up around there. I love you. I’m sorry. - Your Honeybee.

You set the pen down softly, pushing the note toward the money. You took one more look at her before pushing the screen door open and stepping into the warm night.

─────────────────────

You heard the blues before you saw the door. That deep, gritty hum rolling out like smoke from the cracks. People’s cars were settled in front of the porch, some just walking in. You followed behind them, your eyes lighting up as you looked all around you.

Folks were laughing outside, admiring each other, drinking and such. It was almost like you were back at the restaurant, but this was wilder. More free.

As you stepped up to the door, a man with overalls spoke to you, “Ain’t you look like a lil’ queen tonight! That dress slick as molasses, girl. Don’t let nobody step on it.”

You smiled fondly, lowering your head as you thanked him quietly.

As you entered through the front door, the music became louder. It wasn’t just something you could hear, you could feel it, too. All around you. Humming in your bones, chasing down your spine.

You gazed about, in awe. The joint was filled with men and women, all dancing about, singing together, without a care in the world.

You stepped in further, cautiously, watching everything around you. It was like a dream. Not one your mama or anyone else could pull you from.

The bar seemed a bit empty, only a few people coming up to ask for a refill on their drink but no one lounging around. Everybody was up and moving.

Walking toward a stool and sitting atop of it, you had no plans to really get anything. You’d never drank before, and even now, you were afraid to. The building was filled with the smell of whiskey & gin, along with fried catfish cooking in the back.

A woman from behind the bar smiled over at you, almost as if she’d seen you before, but you didn’t recognize her. You just gave her a small wave, too shy to speak.

You sat there quietly, letting the music speak to you. Voices rose and fell like waves, dancers spun through the streaks of golden light. For a moment, you felt yourself loosening up, forgetting what you were so nervous about. But then you felt the shift.

You couldn’t say what made you look—but it was something. A prickle along your neck, maybe. Like somebody thinking about you real hard.

And sure enough, across the room, leaned lazy against a post with smoke curling from his mouth—his hat tipped. Stack. He saw you. And Lord, he looked like he liked what he saw.

Your breath caught in your throat. You looked out at the crowd, then back at him again, like maybe you weren’t seeing right. But he was still there. Still watching. Eyes not moving one inch, just resting on you like he was taking it all in. Seeing something he’d been waiting his whole life for.

He pushed himself off the post, walking toward something. You turned away quickly, hoping to God he wasn’t coming to speak to you. Not now. Not while your heart was beating out of your chest.

You didn’t even know why you felt so pulled to him. You hardly knew the man—had only heard about him from folks in town and your mama’s constant grumbling anytime the twins were in the newspaper for another one of their doings.

Hoping to calm your nerves and your heart rate, you kept your eyes trained on the scratched bar top. The music faded, the crowd matching the volume of it as a voice interrupted everybody’s conversations.

“Alright now, yall,” Stack drawled. “I got a lil’ somethin’ special in honor of the juke joint opening. In honor of the Blues. Somethin’ a lil sweet.”

A few whistles came from the crowd as they all waited for Stack’s little surprise.

“She got a voice on her.. more pure than any song I done heard.” He said.

You looked up, heart flipping. His eyes found yours again.

“C’mon up here, girl,” he nodded at you, grinning slowly.

And so, you did. Standing from your spot at the bar, hands coming to smooth out your dress as you walk toward the platform.

People turned to watch you, some ‘ooh-ing’ and whistling again. You climbed the small steps to the stage, standing where Stack was. He had joined the crowd again, eyes still on you.

You nodded at the man that was playing on the piano, “Play anything you’d like.”

You knew nearly every Blues song there was—so whatever he decided to play, you’d know it like the back of your hand.

The first chords played and you shifted nervously on the platform, looking past the crowd. You knew better than to look anyone in the face. That’d only shake you up more.

But then you opened your mouth.. and it was as if being nervous was the last thing on your mind.

The first note was gentle—soft as a cloud. It floated out of you like this was the moment it’d been waiting for.

A hush fell over the joint. Some people stopped their conversations to sing along, some slow dancin’ in a corner. It was like an angel had landed right where they stood.

Your voice carried through the joint, yearning and aching. Not forcing it. Not pushing. It poured out of you naturally, telling a story. The kind of story that made people fall in love and lean in for more.

As the tune continued, your body began to sway, just enough to feel the rhythm in your hips. The warm light caught the satin of your dress as it glided with you.

When you hit the last note, you held it—just a second longer than you meant to. And then, silence.

But the silence lasted a mere second. The applause was loud—people hollering, smacking tables and the clinks of glasses. You blinked, looking around you to see them cheering for you. This wasn’t anything like when you performed at your mama’s place. It was more.

You stepped off of the stage carefully, folks still clapping, some nodding at you with a proud look. You beamed at the praise, your heart racing but for a good reason.

Before you could settle somewhere, Stack was in front of you again. Like the first time, but his hat was nowhere to be found.

“Now what I tell ya?” He grinned, eyes dancing.

You rolled your eyes, not being able to hide the big smile on your face.

“Oh, stop it.” Your cheeks went warm for a moment.

He didn’t say anything right away—the sounds of your laughter fading slowly. The grin was still there, but softer now.

“I meant it,” he said after a beat. “You got a gift.”

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, hoping that it would cool down the warmth in your face.

“Don’t go runnin’ off just yet,” he added, his voice low, warm. “Stay a while. Let folks get used to bein’ in the same room as you.”

You bit back another smile, glanced up at him again. “Is that you askin’ or tellin’?”

His eyes lingered on yours. “Bit of both.”

─────────────────────

Not long after your little show, you and Stack were sat at the bar as he cracked jokes with you and told some stories about him and his brother.

“You mean to tell me, y’all was working with Al Capone?” You laughed in disbelief as Stack told you about their time in Chicago.

He chuckled, “Yeah. That so hard to believe?”

“Not really. Not with the way yall be actin’.”

“What’s that ‘posed to mean?” He asked, smirking. You gave him a knowing look, before shaking your head.

Silence fell over the both of you again, but it didn’t feel like tension. Just.. something heavy. Something waiting to be undone. The piano continued in the back, the crowd singing to each other and the sound of shoes against the floorboards as they moved with each other.

But then you spoke again, turning to Stack. “Why’d y’all leave anyway? I mean, 7 years a long time.”

Stack’s gaze remained on you but you could see the shift in his demeanor.

“Some stories ain’t worth retellin’, pea.” He swallowed hard, looking down at the glass in his hand. He swirled the cup around a bit before downing the last bit of whiskey that sat at the bottom of it.

You pressed your lips together, giving him a nod. Not wanting to linger on the topic any longer, you shifted in your seat.

“So, what’s that taste like?” You hinted toward the drink he had.

He looked at you again, brow raised. “You ain’t ever drink before?”

You shook your head, and Stack let out a low, guttural laugh.

“See, this why you gotta get up out that restaurant sometime,” He shook his head.

He called out to someone at the bar, asking for something light.

“What’re you doin’?” You asked, giggling.

“Gettin’ you a drink! It’s on me,” He smiled, flashing that gold grill. Your stomach was doing every flip you could think of in that moment.

When the drink came, you took the glass, twirling it in your hand nervously. Stack nodded at you, telling you you’d be fine and that it wasn’t that bad.

You took a swig of it, the whiskey slightly burning your throat as you swallowed.

“Oh, good Lord—“ you gagged, coughing. Stack was cracking up next to you, taking the glass away.

“Yeah.. maybe drinkin’ ain’t yo’ thing.” He drank some of the whiskey himself before pushing it away to the other side of him.

The music had slowed again, an old tune playing, like one your grandma would’ve had playing on a Sunday morning. It seemed like the air became warmer, cozier, as your laughter died down.

“Come on,” Stack said, standing as he removed his jacket with a grin. “Dance with me.”

“What?” You huffed out a small laugh.

“‘What?’” He repeated. “It ain’t right sittin’ here, a night like this—pretty as you is—and you ain’t dancin’.”

You shook your head in disbelief, watching him drape the jacket over the stool. He began walking to where the crowd was, beckoning you over.

You rose from the stool with a smile you couldn’t hide, crossing the floor to take his hand.

As he pulled you to the center of the floor, you leaned in, teasing.

“You sure you know how to dance?”

Stack smiled, his hand coming to rest on your back, “‘Bout to find out.”

He held you gently, like he was afraid that he’d break you. Like you were the most delicate thing in the world. You both swayed with the music, the sound taking over your bodies.

You were pressed so close to him—your chest against his as he held you. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced before.

For a moment, you were too afraid to look up at him, gazing out at everyone else that danced with their partner.

But then, you felt him pull you in closer—if that was even possible.

So you looked up, meeting his gaze as he watched you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Why did you do this? I mean, you hardly know me,” you whispered, eyes searching his face.

“Guess I’m just a fool for a pretty voice,” he smirked down at you. You bit back a smile, shaking your head.

“Nah, but I just.. saw a star. One worth shinin’.”

You looked at him, your eyes softening, searching for any signs that he might’ve been playing with you. But you couldn’t find ‘em. He was serious.

“You really think I’m a star?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Ain’t what I think, pea,” he murmured. “It’s what I know. What I see.”

For just a few more seconds, you both continued to sway together. The feeling of his hand on your back was grounding, his fingers dancing down your spine. The scent of whiskey lingered on his breath and cigarette smoke on his clothes, but his eyes were as clear as day. Focused on you.

Then came a loud voice from across the room, resembling his.

“Aye, Stack!” Smoke, Stack’s brother, had came from the back of the joint, his voice cutting through the moment. “Get yo’ ass over here ‘fore Slim drink all our damn gin!”

Stack was hesitant to leave you, his hand still holding just as close as before.

“I think you’d better go,” you said quietly, squeezing his arm lightly.

He hummed, stepping back slowly like he didn’t want to forget the moment you were having.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go sneakin’ off, now,” he said, flashing that grin before jogging over to his brother.

And just like that, you were left smiling like a schoolgirl in the middle of the joint, the music still carrying over as you swayed to your own rhythm now. Warm, dizzy, and full of something new.

🌺: part 2 finally out !! not proofread, but hopefully ygs enjoy :))

[sh4nksslvt]

Espionage and Eavesdropping

You just wanted to surprise your Yonko boyfriend with something sweet. Shanks, however, misunderstands everything and thinks you're hiding a lover aboard.

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, chaotic

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You should’ve known better than to try anything secretive on a ship full of pirates with nothing better to do.

But here you were, crouched behind a stack of rum barrels in the ship’s lower deck, notebook clutched in one hand, whispering into a den den mushi like you were planning a military coup.

“I just need it by Thursday,” you hissed. “And don’t forget the edible glitter! It has to sparkle like Shanks’s ego.”

The den den mushi blinked at you slowly, mimicking your furrowed brows. “Sparkle. Got it. Any other unreasonable demands?”

“Make it look dangerously romantic, but also incredibly cool.”

“Sounds like you want a wedding cake without the wedding.”

You paused. “…Don’t say that out loud. He’ll hear it and assume I’m trying to marry someone else.”

And two decks above you, curled beneath a conveniently placed hammock and eavesdropping like a man twice his age, Shanks the Red-Haired Yonko of the Sea, whispered into his own den den mushi.

“I think they’re marrying someone else.”

“What?” Benn Beckman’s voice was dry.

“I just heard them say ‘don’t say that out loud, he’ll think I’m marrying someone else.’ That’s exactly what someone who’s definitely hiding an affair says, right?!”

“Shanks—”

“I KNEW they were too beautiful to be loyal.”

“You’re the most dramatic man on this ship.”

“I’m going to fake my own death and see if they cry.”

The misunderstanding began three days ago, when you asked Lucky Roux to quietly sneak into town and pick up something discreet and delicate. You’d given him a long list with unnecessary glitter stars and bold underlines, swore him to secrecy, and told him, “Tell no one. Especially Shanks. Not even if he’s dying. Especially not if he’s dying.”

Unfortunately, someone else heard that.

And Shanks? He took it personally.

Now you were organizing a surprise celebration for his birthday (which he had claimed he didn’t care about, like a liar), enlisting crew members with the stealth of a sea cat, and every time Shanks looked at you, you panicked like a criminal caught red-handed.

So of course he thought something was going on.

You���d whisper to Yasopp, run away from Hongo, disappear for hours, and dodge Shanks with the finesse of someone avoiding a breakup talk. He started following you in secret, wearing a cape and fake mustache, hiding behind crates that were nowhere near his size.

Benn walked past him one day and muttered, “This is why we can’t have normal relationships.”

Day Four.

You were on the main deck, whispering into your notebook.

“Benn’s distracting him with fake wine. Hongo’s handling the fireproof sparklers. Yasopp is swearing on his son’s life not to tell. I just need to—”

“—tell me who you’re seeing.”

You jumped so hard you nearly tossed the notebook overboard.

“Shanks! What the hell—how did you sneak up on me like that?!”

He was squinting suspiciously, arm on his hip, shirt loose, and hair windblown in a way that made him look far too attractive to be pulling this level of paranoid nonsense.

“I have connections,” he said ominously.

“Okay?”

“Lucky Roux saw you give a note to a pigeon.”

“First of all, it was a cake-ordering pigeon, and second—wait, that’s not the point. What?”

“You’ve been sneaking around. Whispering into things. Saying suspicious phrases like ‘don’t tell Shanks even if he’s dying.’ What am I supposed to think?!”

“That I’m planning something nice?”

“That you’re cheating!”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Cheating? Shanks. Darling. Love of my life. Who on this ship could I possibly be cheating on you with?!”

He pointed dramatically toward the horizon. “Someone from another crew! A beautiful stranger with a strong jawline and a charming laugh—”

“That’s literally you.”

“Wait. Is this a reverse surprise? Am I the stranger?!”

“No!” you laughed, smacking his chest. “I’m planning a surprise party for you, you idiot!”

“…Oh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you… spy on me?”

Shanks hesitated. Then lifted one leg onto a crate like a theater actor mid-monologue. “I’ll have you know I was on a noble quest for truth, love, and the prevention of heartbreak.”

“You wore a mustache and tried to climb the rigging, didn’t you.”

He coughed. “Irrelevant.”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “Unbelievable. You thought I was cheating, so you started counter-spying?”

He nodded solemnly. “It was a matter of pride. Also, Benn said if I was wrong, I owed him all my sake.”

“…And were you wrong?”

Shanks looked at you. Then at the crew. Then back at you.

“…Maybe. But in my defense, you are very suspicious when you whisper.”

Cue Party Day.

Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unnecessary disguises, the party was perfect.

The deck was transformed with string lights, stolen silk drapes, a truly dangerous amount of glitter, and a cake shaped like his own face (your idea, obviously). A very confused seagull in a bowtie delivered the final decorations.

Shanks walked into the surprise party pretending to be shocked—even though he’d definitely heard the band warming up from below deck—and laughed like it was the greatest moment of his life.

“You did all this for me?” he beamed.

You crossed your arms. “Yes. Even though you accused me of having a secret affair.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I would cheat on me for you, so I get it.”

“…That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I’m handsome.”

He kissed your cheek before you could argue, then pulled you onto the dance floor—barefoot, wild, and surrounded by pirates singing off-key. At some point, Lucky Roux accidentally ignited the fireproof sparklers (which were not fireproof), and Benn had to douse the deck while muttering about retirement.

You and Shanks ended the night lying on a picnic blanket made from stolen tavern tablecloths, eating leftover cake straight from the tray.

“Next time you plan a surprise,” he mumbled, mouth full, “just… tell me it’s not a secret affair.”

You poked his cheek. “Only if you don’t go full spy-movie mode again.”

He smiled. “Deal. Unless you start whispering to birds again. Then all bets are off.”

The next morning, you woke to find Shanks crouched on the figurehead, holding a long telescope and muttering, “The pigeon is back. I repeat. The pigeon. Is. Back.”

You dragged a pillow over your face and groaned.

Some things never change.

[thevelvetwhispers]

Smoke & Stack — SINNERS Masterlist

@melodyofmbaku — her house, her rules [smoke X annie X stack]

@rdmasevi — bloodlines & blues

@prcttyfairies — the devil comes across an angel

@prcttyfairies — crazy in love

@jazziejax — from the same cloth

@jukeboxsweethearttt — make 'em earn it [smoke X sister reader!oc X stack - cw: incest]

@prcttyfairies — mississippi delta

@ughdontbeboring — let me in

@jazziejax — jumpin' [part 1 2 3 4]

@aviawrites — anastasia antoinette

@yassbishimvintage — welcome to chicago

@writerbee-ffs — art thou forgiven

@artsninspo — sunrise and ashes

@starliis — milk & honey [part 1 2]

@freshbakedbreadstick — of traits and closets

@tallulahneale — dear diary

@luna-thecreator — smoke & stack [headcannon]

@melodyofmbaku — pour me another lie [smoke X annie X stack]

@theethighpriestess — heartless

@yamst3rdamctrl — a vampires lust

@passionxwrites — summer romance [part 1 ]

@bxunyx — double trouble

@blackbaddiewithafattie88 — wwyd: smoke & stack [part 1 2]

@ingeniousmindoftune — smoke & sin

[bxunyx]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬

Pairing-ModerndayAU-Elias*Stack*Moore x Black reader

Summary-you meet stacks family

A\N-Instead of working on my smoke ff i decided to write stack since I haven’t done it in a while

You swore you weren’t nervous. But the second you pulled up to Smoke Moore’s house—a mansion draped in security cameras, low-rumbling music, and enough high-end cars to pass for a dealership—your stomach did a flip.

Stack reached over and squeezed your thigh, that cocky smirk on his lips. “Relax, baby. They not gonna bite.”

“You said that about your damn dog,” you muttered, adjusting your dress. Tight. Short. Stack-approved. “And he still barked like I owed him money.”

He laughed, head thrown back. “That’s ’cause King can smell fear. Just like my family.”

You shot him a look. “Not funny.”

Stack just leaned over and kissed you, slow and full of heat, like he had all the time in the world to ease your nerves. “You my girl. They gon’ love you. And if they don’t—who gives a fuck? You with me.”

That should’ve calmed you. Instead, it made your heart race worse.

⸻

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐭

Smoke’s backyard was damn near a block party.

Music boomed from oversized speakers, smoke curled from a grill manned by a guy who looked like he could break bones with one hand and flip ribs with the other. Bottles of D’USSÉ and Casamigos lined the bar. Women laughed. Kids ran around. You clocked more than one Glock bulge under fitted shirts.

Stack guided you through the chaos like it was nothing, dap-tapping guys with gold chains and hand tattoos. But the moment y’all hit the patio, it felt like the music dimmed.

There he was.

Smoke.

Stacks’ older brother. The name carried weight in the city. Gunshots stopped when Smoke walked into a room.

He stood beside the grill, shirtless under an open designer button-up, arms covered in tattoos, puffing on a cigar. And next to him, Aliyah.

She was beautiful. That kind of “soft but don’t try me” beauty. Lace front laid, nails sharp, her little waist snatched in some designer two-piece. She clocked you the second you stepped up.

“Oh, so this the one you keep sneakin’ out for?” Smoke said to Stack, looking you up and down. He turned to you. “You got a name, pretty girl?”

You held your ground. “(Y/N).”

“Mm.” Smoke nodded slowly. “Cute. You from around here?”

“Uptown,” you said carefully.

Aliyah raised an eyebrow, sipped her drink, then gave you a slow once-over. “You rich-rich, huh?”

You smiled tight. “I am.”

“You got any priors?” Aliyah asked, crossing her arms, curious now.

“Just heartbreak,” you said smoothly. “But I’m sure your husband knows all about breaking people.”

Smoke let out another laugh. “She bold.”

Aliyah finally smiled, a slow, approving smirk. “I like her.”

Stack damn near lit up like Christmas. “Told y’all.”

⸻

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

You were sitting on the deck with a plate of ribs and baked mac, catching your breath, when another voice spoke from behind you.

“You know you’re the first girl he ever brought around.”

You turned to see Sammie, all gold teeth and babyface charm, a blunt in one hand, red cup in the other.

“Is that supposed to be comforting or a red flag?”

He laughed. “Could go either way.”

Then came the other one—Delta Slim. Smiling, tall, old drunk. “Just don’t hurt him,” he said, looking you dead in the eye. “Stack acts tough, but…he loves hard. And stupid.”

You raised your brow. “And I don’t?”

Sammie whistled. “Ooooh. She feisty.”

Delta grunted, smiling. “She good.”

That’s when Stack came up behind you, slid into the seat beside you, and threw an arm over your shoulders.

“Look at my girl makin’ friends,” he teased.

“Your girl got hands,” Sammie said. “Aliyah told me she almost squared up with that one chick by the cooler.”

“She bumped me on purpose,” you said.

Stack grinned. “That’s my type.”

⸻

The party was still going, but you’d stepped away for a moment. The beat of the music thumped through the ground, bass rumbling in your chest as kids ran around with Capri Sun and adults swapped shots like currency.

You were leaning against the balcony railing off Smoke’s upstairs den, nursing a drink Sammie mixed for you—heavy on the liquor, light on the warning.

Stack slid up behind you, arms coming around your waist like he couldn’t help it. “You good?”

You nodded, watching the scene below. “Yeah. Just needed a second.”

“Too much South Side energy for your uptown blood?” he teased, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled. “No. Just watching. Thinking.”

“’ Bout what?”

You pointed with your chin. “Them.”

Below, across the backyard, Aliyah was curled up on Smoke’s lap under a canopy, laughing at something Sammie said. Smoke was holding her like the world might try to snatch her at any moment. His hand was on her thigh, protective. Possessive. But soft. Like he knew her in and out, and loved all the ugly, anyway.

“They been like that all night,” you said. “Even when she talks shit to him—he still looks at her like she hung the moon.”

Stack followed your gaze, jaw ticking like he was thinking deeper than he wanted to admit. “That’s Smoke. Always been like that when it came to her. Don’t matter what’s goin’ on—some raid, some drama, some fuck-up with one of the crews—Aliyah come in the room? Everything else fades out.”

You took a slow sip of your drink. “She holds him down.”

“She built him up,” Stack said, tone low. “Back when he was still wild as hell. Back when he ain’t have the name he got now.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “You ever want that?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What? A ride or die?”

“No. That kind of love. That…safe kind. The kind where it feels like y’all against the world.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping. “You think we ain’t already there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because maybe you hadn’t thought about it that way.

Maybe you’d gotten so caught up in the diamonds, the drama, the “are we or aren’t we” energy he carried like cologne… that you didn’t notice he’d already been showing up like you were his.

“Smoke wasn’t always soft with her,” Stack said, eyes fixed on his brother. “They fought. Loud. Walked away, came back. But he never let her go. Even when she tried to leave, he followed.”

You bit your lip. “And you?”

He smiled slow. “I don’t plan on lettin’ you go either. So, run if you want, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to face him fully. “You don’t even know if I’m staying.”

Stack cupped your jaw, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then why you still here?”

You didn’t have an answer.

Didn’t need one.

He kissed you slow, the kind of kiss that said he already knew.

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲

You leaned against Stack’s Range Rover as the night wound down, watching the glow of the backyard fade into soft streetlights. Stack stood in front of you, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You good?”

You nodded, surprised by how good you felt. Welcomed. A little roasted. But solid.

“They’re a lot,” you murmured.

“They’re mine,” he said. “And now…so are you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Then I guess I’ll have to hold my own.”

He kissed you slow, heat humming between you even under the moonlight.

From the porch, Smoke’s voice boomed, “Y’all bet not be makin’ me no uncle tonight!”

Stack flipped him off without breaking the kiss.

You laughed.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe this chaos—chaos-this wild, loyal, dangerous family—might just be home.

As you and Stack got ready to go 

Aliyah caught your eye across the yard, a sly little grin tugging at her glossed lips. She raised her cup to you like a silent I see you.

You smirked, raising yours back.

Because if anybody understood what it meant to love a Moore boy—dangerous, loud, loyal, stubborn—it was her.

And tonight? You realized you might just be starting to understand it, too.

[soulsnatcha3000]

Second Glances

human!remmick au x black fem oc

Summary: Liana has been a good wife to a man who stopped noticing. When the quiet, observant new neighbor moves in, she doesn’t mean to get close—but Remmick sees what her husband never does, not anymore. One conversation turns into many, and soon, the lie isn’t where she goes—it’s where she feels like home.

Warnings: Mentions of marital strain and emotional neglect, romantic tension, implied infidelity, slow burn, southern cultural references, heavy themes of loneliness and longing

a/n: hiii, I’ve been thinking about this all day and had to start writing it! Im also working on the preacher boy ff requested by @thugger-wugger (here) and the Remmick x Bo Chow x oc ff. Imma make this a series!

I’ve got plans to get to the other requests too—it might take a little time, but I promise they’re coming!

until then I hope you all enjoyed reading this!

chapter 2

✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡ ✦ ✦ ♡ ✦ ♡

Liana folded his shirts the way he liked them—sleeves tucked in, collars crisp, stacked in color order. She set them in his drawer without a word. No thanks. No glance. Just the sound of the closet door shutting behind him.

She didn’t expect much anymore. A nod at dinner. Maybe a goodnight if he wasn’t too tired. But every now and then, something inside her ached loud enough to remind her she was still in there—beneath the routine, beneath the silence.

Ever since the accident, she’d hoped he’d open up, that something would change. A year had passed, but the gap between them only widened. He was still the same—quiet, distant, lost in his own world. And she? She was just there, waiting for something to spark again, but it never did. He shrugged her off, and she wondered if that was what she deserved. Everyone else seemed to get his attention—his work, his friends, his own unresolved grief. But her? She’d become just another part of the background.

Her husband hadn’t always been like this. They’d once shared a closeness, a warmth that made their small home feel like a world of its own. But ever since the accident, the distance between them had only grown. It had been nearly a year now—long enough for her to stop hoping he’d open up, long enough to wonder if she was merely a shadow in his life.

She couldn’t blame him for the way things had changed. People grieve differently, and the accident had been traumatic for both of them. But every day felt like a slow unraveling, like a thread being pulled from something that had once been whole. And now, with every quiet meal and unspoken word, it felt like that thread was about to snap.

That afternoon, she noticed the moving truck across the street. Someone new, finally. The house next door had been empty for months, lawn overgrown, porch sagging with disuse. Now, a man stood on the curb in worn jeans and a grey t-shirt, lifting boxes like it was nothing. He looked… serious. Not unfriendly. Just quiet, like the kind of person who listened more than he talked.

She couldn’t help but watch for a few moments. The unfamiliarity of it all, the newness, the hint of something fresh that she hadn’t felt in so long, made her pause. She never expected much of the world outside anymore, but maybe—just maybe—it was time to take a step beyond the silence.

It was the small things, like this—watching the man work, noticing the way he moved with purpose—that made her realize how much she’d shrunk back. How much she’d let her own life grow stagnant. And yet, when she looked back at her own front door, the echo of her husband’s absence weighed heavier than any moving truck ever could.

She wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending.

Maybe it was time. Time to finally acknowledge that this marriage, this routine, might not be enough anymore. Time to admit that she was already living in a divorce without ever signing the papers.

Later That Day

The clock ticked slowly, marking time as the day moved on in its usual silence. Liana had cleaned, organized, and puttered around the house as she always did. Her husband came and went, absorbed in his own world, his quiet disregard for her presence like a background hum.

And then, just as she was finishing up dinner preparations, she heard a knock at the door.

She wasn’t expecting anyone. But when she opened it, there stood Remmick, his posture just a little stiff, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing there. His hands were empty, but his eyes held something warm—a curiosity, maybe, or maybe an unspoken question.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low, the British lilt in his accent smooth and grounding. “Sorry to bother you, but I realized we never properly introduced ourselves. I’m Remmick, your new neighbor.” His eyes flicked briefly to the house behind her, his gaze soft but calculating, as though reading the space between them.

Liana blinked, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of this man at her door, the same one she’d seen through the window earlier. Her stomach tightened, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“Oh,” she finally stammered, forcing herself to sound composed. “I’m Liana. Nice to meet you.”

Her heart skipped in her chest, but she tried to focus on the casualness of the moment, forcing herself to stay calm. “We haven’t had a chance to say hello yet.”

Remmick’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes briefly scanning her face, studying her in a way that made her feel seen. It felt odd, but not unpleasant—like someone paying attention to the details that others might overlook.

“I thought I should introduce myself before the whole neighborhood gets to know me,” he said with a half-smile. “Plus, I could use some help with figuring out where the best place is to grab some food around here. Any recommendations?”

Liana hesitated, her mind racing. Should she invite him inside? Offer to help him settle in? Would it be too forward?

But before she could respond, her husband appeared at the door, walking down the hallway from the living room. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure why she was talking to the neighbor. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“This is Remmick,” Liana said, trying to keep her voice steady, feeling an odd lump in her throat. “He just moved in next door.”

Her husband’s response was distant at best, just a quick nod of acknowledgment before he turned back to head inside. No introduction, no real interest in either of them. And that was the moment it hit her.

She had been standing here, so eager to engage with Remmick, so hungry for something, anything that felt real. But the person she’d once shared everything with hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge the new man who’d just entered their lives. The realization cut deeper than it should have.

Liana took a breath, ready to change the subject, but then something clicked. She had caught the slight lilt in Remmick’s voice, that rhythm of his words, something that reminded her of conversations she’d overheard in the past, something distinctly different from the local cadence.

She tilted her head, her curiosity bubbling to the surface. “Are you Irish?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

Remmick blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden question. He blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I am,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “From Dublin. How’d you know?”

Liana smirked, crossing her arms. “It’s the accent,” she said, a little more confidently now. “I’m not an expert or anything, but it’s hard to miss.”

His grin widened, the light in his eyes flickering with something that felt warm, inviting. “Fair enough. I suppose it’s a bit more obvious when I’m actually speaking, huh?”

Liana laughed lightly, feeling the tension ease just a little. For the first time that day, she didn’t feel like she was just playing a part. She wasn’t pretending to be something she wasn’t for her husband’s sake. Remmick had cut through the usual static, just by being himself. And, damn, that felt good.

Her husband, now standing at the doorway, cleared his throat, but Liana didn’t look his way. She didn’t need to. She didn’t want to.

“Well,” Liana said, shaking her head slightly, “if you ever want some recommendations, I’m happy to help. I know all the good spots around here.”

Remmick’s eyes softened, his voice lowering just a little. “I’ll take you up on that,” he said with a sincerity that caught her off guard. “Tomorrow then?”

Liana nodded, feeling something in her chest twist as she gave a slight smile. “Tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, the brief, fleeting moment they shared lingered in her mind. His presence had felt real, something tangible in the midst of all the quiet that had taken over her life. She closed the door behind her, standing there for a long moment before she shook her head, pushing away the thoughts that kept resurfacing.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the second she turned around, there he was—leaned against the counter like he hadn’t just acted like a damn ghost five minutes ago.

Liana crossed her arms. “You know you could’ve tried to engage with him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t know meetin’ new folks was at the top of my to-do list.”

She gave him a look. “He’s our neighbor, not a stray dog. You could’ve said something. Shown the man you got some sense.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “Right. Never are.”

He sighed, already pushing off the counter like he was done. Like that was the end of it. “You’re reading too deep into it, Li. It’s not that serious.”

“It is when it’s every damn thing,” she said, heat in her voice now. “Not just today. Every day. You been walking around like you don’t live here. Like I don’t live here.”

He stopped in the hallway, didn’t even turn around. “Ain’t like I asked for all this.”

Liana paused mid-step, her back toward him, hand still on the fridge door. She turned slowly, squinting. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, all tired breath and no eye contact. “Just sayin’. I ain’t the one asked you to fold my shit or play hostess or act like this house is some damn showpiece. You the one doin’ all that.”

Her mouth parted, and for a second, she couldn’t even speak. The words hit her in the chest like a slap.

“I’m sorry—what?” she said, voice sharper now. “You act like I’m out here beggin’ for gold stars. I do it ‘cause it’s what you’re supposed to do for someone you love. But I ain’t seen you lift a damn finger or even thank me in—God knows how long.”

He finally looked up, his face set. “You act like I’m the villain every time I breathe.”

“Nah,” she said, stepping closer, fire rising now, “you act like you don’t even see me. Like I’m some ghost floatin’ through this house, just cookin’, cleanin’, takin’ care of shit—and for what? So you can keep pretendin’ like that accident didn’t mess us both up?”

He flinched at that, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s been almost a year. A year, and you still shut down on me like I’m askin’ you to relive the whole thing every time I try to talk.”

He set the towel down with a sharp flick. “I talk to people.”

“Yeah,” she snapped, “everybody but me.”

The silence between them crackled—loud, hot, stifling.

She crossed her arms. “No. You just let me stand there, lookin’ stupid, tryna be polite while you can’t even fake interest in someone new movin’ next door. God forbid you pretend to give a damn about something.”

He scoffed and turned away, and Liana stood there, jaw tight, pulse hammering. She wasn’t yelling. But she felt like she could’ve.

Like her whole body was one deep breath away from breaking.

Silence. Again. The same kind that had been filling their house for months—thick, choking silence. The kind that said everything without saying a word.

She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’m not gon’ keep beggin’ you to show up.”

And with that, she turned away, jaw tight, eyes stinging. She didn’t even realize her feet had taken her out the kitchen to the living room and right back to the window until her hand was already moving the blinds.

And there he was.

Remmick. On his porch, sipping something from a mug, arms folded like he was thinking deep about something.

Liana exhaled, low and slow. “Mm,” she muttered under her breath, lips curling just a little. “My goodness that man is fine…”

Then she caught herself, straightened up. “Girl, get it together.”

——————

That night, Liana went to bed without another word. No resolution. No warmth on her side of the bed. Just the hum of the ceiling fan above her and the dry, distant sound of crickets chirping through the open window. Her husband hadn’t even bothered to say goodnight. But then again, he rarely did anymore.

She lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, eyes dry. Nothing left to cry about.

The next morning, sunlight pushed through the gauzy curtains in long, golden strokes. Liana stirred beneath the covers, body heavy, mind numb. But the rhythm of routine—the one she’d lived in for years now—eventually tugged her out of bed.

She made the bed first, corners tight like her mama taught her. Dusted the shelves in the hallway, wiped down the kitchen counters, watered the thirsty plants that sagged in their terracotta pots. The bathroom faucet still squeaked when she turned it on, and she made a quiet note to remind him to fix it. Again. Though she knew he wouldn’t.

By the time she got to folding laundry, the heat had already settled into the house like an uninvited guest—thick and slow. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and made her way to the bathroom.

She took a lukewarm shower, letting the water slide over her skin and wash away the sour taste of yesterday. She took her time—washed gently, scrubbed her skin soft, brushed her teeth until her mouth felt fresh again. She oiled her scalp and moisturized her legs with cocoa butter, letting the scent rise like something holy.

Her box braids—neat, waist-length, and dark as coffee beans—were gathered up into a high ponytail to keep them off her neck. No fuss, just practical. She checked the mirror once, then turned away.

She didn’t bother dressing up. It was too damn hot for all that. She slipped into a faded ribbed tank the color of sage and a pair of soft, worn-in denim shorts. The kind that hugged her hips without trying too hard. Her gold hoops went in out of habit. A swipe of gloss to keep her lips from cracking. That was it.

Liana slid into her sandals, grabbed her canvas tote from the hook by the door, and stepped out into the sun.

The air hit her like a wall—thick, buzzing, the kind of southern heat that made you feel like you were walking through molasses. The town was still waking up. A few folks already out on porches, rocking slow, sipping sweet tea from mason jars, flies buzzing lazily around them like they’d made peace with the annoyance.

She climbed into her car and rolled the windows down, letting the wind touch her face as she eased onto the road. The radio played low—some old soul tune humming through the speakers. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular. Maybe the market. Maybe the café where the cobbler tasted like something her grandma used to pull from the oven with bare hands.

Anywhere that gave her space. That let her move without questions.

And as the streets rolled by—storefronts she knew by heart, sidewalks cracked by time—Liana felt it settle in her bones

She wasn’t in a rush. Not today.

The place was small, cozy, the kind of spot with real wood tables and sunlight that warmed your skin through the front windows. A little chalkboard by the door read “Peach Cobbler’s back.”

And then, she saw him.

Remmick.

Liana smiled to herself.

He was posted up at one of the tables on the patio, coffee in hand, shades on, leaning back like he’d been waiting on her and didn’t mind one bit.

“You punctual or just greedy?” she asked as she walked up.

He grinned without missing a beat. “Little of both. You came, though. That’s what matters.”

“I said I’d take you,” she said, pulling out the chair across from him. “I ain’t in the habit of sayin’ things I don’t mean.”

He raised his cup in a small toast. “Duly noted.”

She ordered her coffee and a biscuit from inside, then came back out to join him, settling in with a soft exhale. The morning sun was bright but not unbearable yet, and a slight breeze stirred the air just enough to make it tolerable.

“So,” he said, sipping. “You the type to start with breakfast or dessert first?”

She tilted her head. “Ain’t even ten yet and you talkin’ cobbler?”

“I’m just sayin’—priorities.”

She laughed, warm and real. “We gon’ do both. But we’re startin’ here, ‘cause this biscuit about to change your life.”

He leaned in like he was ready for the sermon. “That so?”

“Trust me,” she said, breaking the biscuit in half. “This right here? It’s strawberry jam with hazelnut spread.”

Remmick leaned back in his chair, giving the biscuit a skeptical once-over like it might bite him first. “Strawberry jam and hazelnut?” he repeated, tone flat.

Liana didn’t flinch. Just tore off her piece and popped it in her mouth. “Trust me. You’ll live.”

He snorted, still staring at it. “You sure? Sounds like somethin’ a kid made by accident.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

He finally took a bite—hesitant at first, then slower as the taste hit. He chewed in silence, chewing like he didn’t wanna admit it was good. Then, with a deadpan shake of his head

“…Nah, that’s proper, that is.”

Liana smirked. “Mhm. Thought so.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, still chewing. “Still sounds mad, though. You ever think maybe you got strange taste?”

“Only when I’m dealin’ with you.”

That pulled a laugh out of him—low, rough, honest. He leaned in, elbow on the table. “Yeah? Could be worse.”

They shared their food, passed bites back and forth, talked in between sips of coffee. She told him about her favorite hidden spots in town, the ones tourists didn’t know to ask about. He listened, not just hearing her but paying attention—and that felt rare.

Every now and then, his knee bumped hers under the table. Not on purpose, but not exactly by accident, either.

They stayed longer than planned. The sun climbed higher. Her coffee got cold. But she didn’t rush. Neither did he.

Eventually, she glanced at the time. “Alright, next spot ain’t too far. You still got room?”

He stood with that slow, easy confidence of his. “Absolutely. Lead the way.”

And just like that, they walked off down the sidewalk together, the summer heat curling around them, the day just beginning.

✿✿✿✿✿ ✿✿✿✿✿ ✿✿✿✿

⋆˚✿ y’all come back now ✿˚⋆

[embrosegraves]

𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕕

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader The season starts and it's a relatively calm affair, until it's not. Some things can be predicted while others show up like an unwanted Force Ghost from Star Wars.

Warnings: As per, explicit language and grammatical errors. I'm limited by the emojis i can use on my computer so if you see a Oceania World emoji, it's because theres no aussie flag :'(

i'm gaslighting everyone into thinking that the tweets have no dates or timestamps. they don't exist i don't know what you're talking about.

also, for the sake of the plot, anybody can see your ig story even on priv accounts :D

series masterlist | previous part | next part

BahrainGP

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oscarpiastri First race with redbullracing and a P7 in Bahrain. Pretty proud if I do say so myself tagged: redbullracing, yn.horner, danielricciardo

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redbullracing Absolutely MEGA drive Oscar 🔥😎 -> liked by author

fan1 Starting the year off strong 💪💪

fan2 Oscar looks so much happier already 🥹

SaudiGP

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redbullracing The faces of two BOYS who thought it was a good idea to wake Admin up at an UNGODLY hour

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fan5 FELT OMGGG

oscarpiastri It was well past noon don't even -> redbullracing "it wAs WeLl pAsT nOoN" stfu 😒

maxverstappen1 but I got a coffee peace offering -> redbullracing uhuh, a 'coffee' offering. -> redbullracing IT WAS DECAF -> max33verstappen the though counts???

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oscarpiastri Ruben let me use (steal) oscar's phone so i can expose the memes oscar sends to the RB groupchat. yw - redbullracing admin

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yn.horner #op81 stans, this is who your pookie is??? -> oscarpiastri when I catch you -> yn.horner "when i catch you ricky. ricky when i catch you"

redbullracing ayo rubenholtt is a real one frfr -> rubenholtt you promised me double coated timtams what was I supposed to do? -> oscarpiastri maybe not let them use my phone and just buy them urself?? -> rubenholtt yeah nah

maxverstappen1 why are they just me and charles? -> charles_leclerc I would like to know as well ☝️ -> oscarpiastri uuhhhhh -> oscarpiastri 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

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oscarpiastri I couldn't let logansargeant be the only '23 Rookie hosting a podcast this year (Admin held me hostage to include that last pic 🙃) ((also, first ep coming soon!)) tagged: danielricciardo, aussiegrit and redbullracing

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logansargeant welcome to the club bro 😎 -> oscarpiastri you 🤜🤛 me

redbullracing only the coolest kids host podcasts 🔥😎 -> redbullracing also you weren't held hostage, you were ✨persuaded✨ -> oscarpiastri whatever helps you sleep at night

maxverstappen1 I thought I was the rb driver with a podcast?? -> oscarpiastri okay?? Logan and Alex both have a podcast? -> maxverstappen1 they're on the same podcast????? -> oscarpiastri your point?????????????????? -> maxverstappen1 ???????????????????????????????????????? -> yn.horner girls girls, you're both pretty -> oscarpiastri omg you think we're pretty? 🤭🥰 -> maxverstappen1 omg both of us 🥰🥰🥰 -> yn.horner oh ffs

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yn.horner We don't tolerate cheating in this household tagged: oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, gplambiase

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christianhorner behave -> yn.horner wdym? I'm a saint compared to some people

oscarpiastri I won uno fair and square -> maxverstappen1 still can't believe you stacked two +4s -> oscarpiastri 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

fan45 Red Bull Admin is the cuntiest admin of them all -> yn.horner I try my very bestest for you guys 🥹🥰

very upset at how long this took for me. incredibly frustrating to have everything planned out and then have nothing get done because of writers block but here it is regardless

I sincerely hope that you guys are enjoying the series and that you can forgive how tardy this update is.

(I'm not gonna be home for a bit so I will repost with the taglist when I get back <3)

Love you all so much 🫶🫶