#stack x vampire!reader

[faestunna]

i am a SUCKER for soft domestic headcanons, so i’m intrigued to know what you think for stack!!

PAIRING: elias (stack) moore x vampire!reader

WARNINGS: modern!elias, vampirism (blood, death), just fluff :)

A/N: waittt cus idt i’ve seen any elias/stack fluff so im all for this!! i kept it as vampire!stack and vampire!reader in modern times, hope that’s okay!

masterlist

Now, Elias may play around a lot, but he is, above all else, a gentleman.

First date? It may be basic, but he’ll take you to one of the finest restaurants in the city while you wear a new dress he just bought for you. That man spoils you.

He can’t bring himself to go back to Chicago after he last saw Sammie play, but he’ll tell you all sorts of stories about Capone and managing to fool both of the most notorious gangs in town.

At first, he doesn’t talk much about Elijah. Refers to him as Smoke, and you initially assume it was a business partner, but once you’re close enough, he tells you everything about that fateful night.

How he still sees Elijah’s face in his dreams. How he can’t even see his own brother’s face in his reflection anymore. How the last thing he has of him is a faded photograph.

But the two of you have a sweet life in the city. You’ve got a shared apartment that you’ve turned into the perfect sanctuary.

It’s definitely hard living away from the sun, but that just means that the daytime gives you two an entire day in bed. The black-out curtains drawn closed, maybe a candle or two lit for comfort, and the two of you lazily lounging in between the sheets.

I don’t even have to say where that leads to…

And since he is a gentleman, he has a habit of bringing home dinner. He’ll be gone for around an hour or so, but then a knock rings at your door.

“How’d you get this one?” You’ll ask quietly as he leads your unsuspecting guess to the kitchen.

He never has a real answer. Always just give you that grin and says, “Told ‘em I got a real pretty woman at home for them to meet.” You don’t question him much after that.

Elias is a gentleman!! Meals will usually mean there’s a big mess in the kitchen, but he’ll always insist, “Nuh-uh, baby. You go get cleaned up, I’ll take care of this.” One steaming shower later, and you come back to a nearly pristine place.

Naturally, nighttime is your favorite with him. It’s the only chance you two can freely roam, and most of the time, you don’t even pay any mind to the delicious scents of passerby’s. “You smell that?” You ask with a hungry smile, but the two of you have been around long enough to control yourselves.

And Elias loves to see you in the moonlight. He’d burn the whole city to see you in the sun, but he can settle for the silvery glow against your skin. The two of you casually stroll the streets, hand in hand, in sweet silence.

Sometimes, you’ll be out the whole night. There’ll hardly be anyone else around, apart from a few taxis and teenagers breaking curfew.

It’s a sweet life you have together. It may not be ideal to most, and, sure—it can get a little lonely not having anyone else—but at the end of the day, you know in your soul that he’s all you need.

[melancholymetropolis]

“Stop pretending that you hate me,” Stack said with a smug grin.

“I’m not pretending.”

I let the words fall upon his ears like a cracked glass on the floor. His face dropped. The smile was long gone and a look of pain flashed across it. Stack looked as though I shot him in the chest. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he flicked the cigarette bud from his fingertips. He closed the distance between us in three long strides. My back was pressed against the brick wall of the shop before I could blink. The pain on his face morphed into anger so hot it made his skin burn. 

“You don’t mean that,” he spat, looking me dead in the eye.

 Stack tried to make himself bigger, more intimidating. A lackluster attempt to scare me, but it hadn’t worked. Not only were we a few inches shy of the same height, but I could see right through him. I knew Stack before he was Stack. 

When he was just Elias.

“Y/N,” his voice was a warning. Danger in his tone, but it didn’t phase me. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

“Get out of my way, Stack,” I said, in a low tone. A desperate attempt to hide the pain in my voice. The stitches of an old wound was beginning to reopen. “I have work to do.”

His eyes poured into me just used to. Filling my head with stupid assumptions that only left me heartbroken in the end. I thought about how he set my dislocated shoulder in place; it must've meant he liked me. How he acted as my left hand for weeks until the pain went away; that must've meant he cared about me. The way he hunted down the man who did it and made him pay… must've meant he loved me. Only me.

But, that wasn't the whole truth.

“So that's why you never replied to my letters,” Stack replied, eyes still searching my face. “Still angry about Mary, huh?”

I dared to stare back at him. My gaze like cold rain to his heated gaze. I refused to slip the mask and embarrass myself in public like she did. He wasn't worth that. Not anymore. Not after seven years. 

I was better than that.

“Not really,” I said with an air of indifference. “I was a little preoccupied to hold a grudge.”

As if summoned, a squeaky little voice cut through the tension. Making Stack freeze on impact. Something he hardly does.

“Mommy?”

My sweet baby girl tilted her little head up at us to assess the situation. Her deep brown eyes searched the potentially dangerous stranger before flicking back over to me, in a caged position. A look of irritation, or disgust briefly graced her face. She narrowed her eyes at Stack and crossed her arms against her chest. Madeline was not afraid of anything. She was always the kind of child to look danger in the eye and laugh.

"Is that ugly man bothering you?" She said, staring directly at Stack. "Should I call daddy?"

An orchestra of emotion appeared on Stack's face. He seem to be both deep in thought and confused at the same time. Like he working out something profound. It took him several seconds before he came to.

"How old are you?" He asked Madeline, jumping right into the conversation.

"I don't talk to strangers," she tilted her in defiance, earning a smile from me.

Good Girl.

Stack, then, turned back to me. A desperate look in his eye; silently asking me the same question. Though he couldn't bring himself to the vocalize it. A look a true fear and hope on his face.

I used his trembling expression to my advantage and slipped from his arms. I took Maddie's hand and steered her away him.

His eyes drilled into my back, but he didn't dare move a muscle. He couldn't. He didn't to make a scene, or worse, alert everyone else of an open secret.

My baby survived, while my cousin's, Annie, didn't.

-----------------------------

a/n: watched sinners and I had to whip something up. let me know if you would like a part two! drop a comment if you would like to be on the taglist, if this becomes a series.

@lov4gor3

--------------------------

Part II

[innorality]

stack x reader (sinners)

cw : biting, blood, spit-play, no protection + finishing inside (I love stack sm yall)

"f-fuck.. stack!" you moaned out, your hands trembling in his firm grip against the table that creaked with every movement of his relentless hips.

you back was flat on the table while your legs were wrapped around his slutty fucking waist— fuck, you could drown in the sight of him.

becoming vampires did have a lot of downsides, but the pros were fucking heavenly.

he had more stamina, more force, more speed. your sex life? upgraded for as long as a dagger doesn't get in that pretty little chest of his.

"shit– sweetie.." he lowered his head, nuzzling in the crook of your neck. "you smell so fuckin'..." he trailed off, and you felt his dick twitching inside of you as he inhaled your scent.

his thick cock battered your insides, turning you into a limbless puddle of pleasure. his free hand—the one that wasn't holding both of your wrists—trailed down your body and onto that puffy little clit of yours. "I wanna- fuck.. wanna make you cum.." his fangs bared, "'cuz.. when you cum.. your blood- shit.. your fuckin' blood.."

and he feels like he's about to cum himself.

his balls tightened at the sound of your honey-coated voice dripping out your swollen lips, moaning his name, at the sound of your heart pounding faster by the second, at the sound of your blood rushing to flow in your veins.

he rubbed your clit faster, pinching and slapping it every so often, and when you finally climaxed, it hit you like a rocking ball.

it took you by surprise, to be honest.

one second you were listening to your demonic boyfriend ramble about your blood flow when you came, and the next, an overwhelming wave of pleasure filled your senses. and you didn't know if it was the fact that your senses were heightened aswell, or if he just fucked you that good, but you swear that you saw the pearly gates of heaven for a moment.

your velvet walls came clamping down on him, cream coating his length with every greedy thrust he made. he watched your tits bounce up and down as your body moved with his like a fucking ragdoll.

"s-shit.." was the only word he could even think of uttering when his eyes bored back down to where the two you connected, and he saw the amount of gooey cream that you coated him with and he just can't help himself–

"f-fuck baby– im-" and he's biting down on your neck. hard. hard enough to draw blood, hard enough for it hurt. the pain felt delicious, and you only ached for more, so you fought through the overastimulation and overall need to just lie down, got a hand out of his wrist lock, and pushed him even deeper on your neck.

and shit, he thinks he might just die. the smell of taste of your blood, the feeling of your oozing pussy around him, the deafening sound his tip made everytime he hit your cervix... it all catches up to him.

he cums. hard. his abs clenched like he was having a seizure and he whimpered. you vampire ex-soldier boyfriend just whimpered in your ear. "f-fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck- why do you feel so fuckin' good, baby? shit.. bet you wanna- bet you wanna taste yourself huh?" and he quite literally fights gravity to bring his head back up. you parted your lips obediently and suddenly, a stream of a mix of your blood and his drool dripped down from his mouth to yours.

you swallowed as he pulled out, feeling his sticky cum dribble out of your still clenching hole, panting.

maybe this new vampire life wasn't so bad, after all.

[fckwritersblock]

I Never Told You (part 1 )

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x black reader

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

Word count.: 3,852

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

Part 2 - What I Should’ve Said

Enjoy ! 🩷

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

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

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

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

You loathed Mary.

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

Oh, how wrong you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Stack didn’t call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s—”

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

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

“Well, are you?” Sammie quizzed.

“Am I what?” Stack frowned slightly.

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

“Bring yo ass on, smart ass.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll take more later ya hear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, watch out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were everything to Stack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n,” he started, but just then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[brownskincheyenne]

Bruh I’ve never seen this before in a relationship on screen ! The hurt , the pain, the love , the understanding , the forgiveness, the eternal feeling ! Especially between black folk that look like me ! The closest I’ve seen this was piper and Leo on charmed and I Stan their relationship to this day .. but annie & smoke feel different ! It feels like the marrow in my bones ! You know ! Like that hymn that comfort you ! It feels like the grace that God gives idk !! I love them !!!

[thevelvetwhispers]

Elias 'Stack' Moore — SINNERS Masterlist

@euon111a — smokestack blues

@crystalgemcrusaders — til death do us part

@writerofautumnnights — a dance with the devil

@livingmybestfakelife — love rollercoaster

@rdmasevi — blood & blues

@aviawrites — love bites

@fckwritersblock — i never told you [part 1]

@fckwritersblock — what i should've said

@cloveroctobers — act right

@raysogroovy — lead astray [part 1]

@notapradagurl7 — his woman

@mrsknowitallll — soon as i get home

@luna-thecreator — glint and gone

@coldeforprez — is it the way

@solastarr — ms. notsoindepentdent

@willyoubemycherryy — no guidance | fyt

@saudad3 — private photoshoot [prison!au]

@boujaeelibrat — dan

@kumkaniudaku — creatures of the night

@pyraomen — jolene, i am a woman too

@bxunyx — mr. wrong

@enticingmelanin — the reckoning

@szatears — fashion killa [modern!au]

@bananafieldnotes — outta control

@spencersmopbucket — daddy's girl

@mereyapalais — les retrouvailles

@theethighpriestess — light my fire

[rdmasevi]

Bloodlines and Blues

Title: Bloodlines & Blues: A Sinners fanfiction

Pairing: Stack and Smoke x reader fem ( Vampire )

Warnings: None

Summary: a tale of forbidden love, eternal longing, and the complex dance between predator and protector.

The scent of aged wood and spilt whiskey lingered in the air as the juke joint pulsed with life. Smoke and Stack Moore, the twin brothers who had returned from Chicago, had transformed the old sawmill into a haven of music and mirth. Their cousin Sammie’s guitar sang tales of sorrow and hope, drawing souls from miles around.

I watched from the shadows, the dim light casting a soft glow on my pale skin. As a vampire who had roamed the earth for centuries, I had seen empires rise and fall, but nothing captivated me like the raw energy of this place. And nothing drew me in like the twins.

Smoke, with his brooding intensity, bore the weight of past traumas. His eyes, deep pools of pain and passion, met mine across the room, igniting a spark neither of us could deny. Stack, ever the charmer, approached me with a grin, his playful banter hiding a depth I yearned to explore.

Our connections deepened over stolen moments and whispered conversations. With Smoke, I found solace; with Stack, exhilaration. They were two halves of a whole, and I was caught in their gravitational pull.

But darkness loomed. Remmick, the Irish-immigrant vampire, sought to exploit the very essence of this place. His arrival brought chaos, turning friends into foes and lovers into monsters. Mary, Stack’s former flame, succumbed to the curse, her transformation a harbinger of the battles to come.

As the juke joint became a battleground, I stood by the twins, revealing my true nature. Together, we fought against the encroaching darkness, our bonds tested and strengthened amidst the bloodshed.

In the aftermath, with the sun rising and the horrors of the night behind us, we found solace in each other. Smoke, Stack, and I—three souls intertwined by fate, love, and the eternal dance of night and day.

My main masterlist

[yassbishimvintage]

Welcome to Chicago

A/N: The First installment of Sinners fanfic enjoy

Sinners Masterlist

Chicago 1926

The SmokeStack twins have made their claim to the city. Fresh from war and from Clarksdale,Mississippi. Stack, the ever so charming one. Looked around the city and smiled at his brother Smoke.

Stack adjusted his hat, the brim low over his eyes, but that smile—sharp as a razor and twice as dangerous—cut through the cold Chicago wind.

"Smell that, Smoke?" he said, his voice smooth like molasses but with an edge of iron. "Opportunity. This city don't know it yet, but it belongs to us now."

Smoke, broader in the shoulders and quieter by nature, just lit a fresh cigarette, the match flaring against the dark. He took a long drag and exhaled slow, watching the smoke curl into the sky like a signal.

"Ain't nothin' here but dirt and death, Stack," Smoke muttered, his Mississippi drawl still thick despite the months up north. "Same as back home. Just colder."

Stack laughed, that easy, dangerous laugh that had gotten them out of trouble more times than Smoke could count. Or into it.

"Nah, brother. This ain't Cocksdale. This is Chicago. Where dirt turns to gold if you got the stomach for it. And we? We got stomachs full of war and sin. These city boys—they ain't ready for Smoke and Stack."

He slapped his brother’s back, eyes already scanning the streets lined with flickering lamps and the distant thump of jazz clubs. The Outfit ran things now, but Stack had plans. Plans that started with blood and ended with empire.

"Let’s make our introduction," Stack grinned. "Real polite-like. And then we'll take everything else."

Stack looked around and he saw her. She had the pinned up curls. Skin just like honey. 

Stack's smile faltered—just a flicker—but in a man like him, even a flicker meant something.

She stood across the street, framed by the golden haze of a streetlamp and the shimmer of rain slick on the pavement. Pinned curls neat as Sunday morning, but her eyes? They had Saturday night written all over them. Skin rich and warm, like honey poured slow.

She wasn’t looking at him, not yet. But Stack, he already knew. Knew the way trouble smelled sweet before it burned you.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, half to himself.

Smoke caught the shift in his brother’s stance—the stillness, the sudden quiet—and followed his gaze.

"Don't even think about it, Stack," Smoke grunted, flicking ash to the gutter. "We came for business. Not for some city girl to put a noose 'round your neck."

But Stack, he was already stepping off the curb, hat tipped back just so, that crooked grin sliding back into place like a loaded gun.

"Brother," he drawled, "sometimes business starts with a pretty face."

And the city, big and mean and cold, seemed to hold its breath as Stack crossed the street, heading toward the honey-skinned woman who just might change everything.

Stack adjusted his collar, smoothing down the lapels of his coat as he closed the distance. His boots clicked against the wet pavement, each step slow, deliberate—like a man who had all the time in the world and planned to take it.

Up close, she was even more dangerous. Eyes sharp, like she’d seen men like him a hundred times and knew exactly how they fell. But still, she let him get close enough to smell the faint perfume on her skin—jasmine and something darker underneath.

"You lost, soldier?" she asked, voice low and smooth, like a record spinning late at night when the bar’s almost empty.

Stack let that grin spread, all charm and teeth. "Depends who’s asking."

She arched a brow, cool but not cold. "Annalise." She didn’t offer a last name. Didn’t need to. The way she said it made it sound like a promise and a warning all at once.

"Stack," he said, tipping his hat just a little. "And that big fella back there, that’s my brother, Smoke."

Annalise’s eyes flicked past him to Smoke, then back. "Cute names. Like a bad omen."

Stack chuckled, deep and warm. "We’ve been called worse, darlin'."

She shifted her weight, one heel tapping softly against the ground. "Well, Stack, you might want to watch your step. In this city, pretty boys with Southern smiles tend to disappear before they can unpack their bags."

Stack leaned in just enough, voice dropping to a murmur. "Good thing I didn’t come here to unpack. I came to claim."

Annalise held his gaze a beat longer, then smiled—not sweet, but sharp as a knife’s edge. "You’re gonna need more than charm for that."

And just like that, Stack knew—Chicago wasn’t the only thing he wanted to get his hands on.

-

Stack's smile was easy, but his eyes stayed sharp as razors. He tipped his head, watching her like a man sizing up a card table before placing his bet.

"Tell me what you do, pretty lady," he drawled, voice smooth like good bourbon.

Annalise's lips curled, just enough to show she wasn’t impressed—or maybe she was, but she’d never let him know it.

"I sing," she said simply, letting the words hang there between them like cigarette smoke. "At Le Mirage down on State Street. Maybe you’ve heard of it."

Stack’s grin widened. He hadn’t, but he liked the way she said it. Like the place belonged to her, or maybe like she owned every man who stepped inside.

"A singer," he mused, tilting his head. "Figures. A voice sweet enough to get a man killed."

Annalise’s eyes flickered, something colder there now. "Sweet don’t keep me alive in this city, sugar. Knowing when to shut my mouth does."

Stack laughed low. "Well now, ain’t that a shame. I was hopin’ to hear you sometime."

She stepped in a little closer—close enough that Stack caught that jasmine scent again, but her words were cool enough to freeze the air between them.

"Maybe you will. If you last long enough in Chicago to see Friday night."

Then she turned, curls bouncing as she started to walk away, heels clicking against the wet street. But just before she disappeared into the dark, she glanced back over her shoulder.

"Le Mirage. Midnight show. Don’t be late, Stack."

And just like that, she was gone—leaving Stack standing there, grinning like a fool, already knowing he was in deeper than he planned.

Behind him, Smoke muttered, "I told you. City girl’s gonna get you killed."

Stack just chuckled, eyes still on the spot where Annalise vanished. "Maybe, brother. But what a way to go."

Le Mirage hit them like a punch of heat and brass the second they stepped inside. Smoke thick as fog curled around the red velvet curtains, and the thrum of a stand-up bass rolled through the floorboards. The place was packed wall-to-wall: city boys in sharp suits, gang men with fat rings on their fingers, and dames dressed like every night might be their last big score.

Stack’s eyes swept the room, hungry, sharp—searching for that honey-skinned woman with the pinned curls.

But she found them first.

A soft voice, right at his shoulder. "Didn’t think you’d show."

Stack stiffened, then turned slow. And there she was—Annalise, dressed in midnight blue that caught the dim light like the surface of still water. Her pinned curls were perfect, but her eyes? They glittered with something wilder now.

"Couldn’t miss your show," Stack said, that grin sliding back into place. "Smoke and I, we got front-row curiosity."

Smoke grunted behind him, already sizing up the exits and the muscle leaning by the bar.

Annalise’s smile was small but knowing. "You boys are a long way from Mississippi. And you’re already in deeper than you realize." She leaned in, voice dropping low so only they could hear. "You made waves just by walkin’ in here. The kind of waves that get men followed home."

Stack’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed, just a hair. "That a warning, darlin’?"

"It’s a fact," Annalise said, straightening up. "And facts don’t care how pretty you smile."

She stepped back, smoothing her dress, and nodded toward the stage. "Enjoy the show, Stack. But keep your head on a swivel. Le Mirage—it ain’t just for music."

Then she was gone again, slipping through the crowd with the grace of someone who knew exactly who was watching—and wanted them to.

Smoke muttered under his breath. "Told you. Trouble."

Stack just licked his lips, that fire lighting in his chest. "Yeah. But she’s my kind of trouble."

Up on the stage, the house band started to play, the lights dimmed, and somewhere in the shadows, men with cold eyes took note of the two strangers from Cocksdale.

And the night? The night was just getting started.

-

The lights dimmed until only the stage glowed soft and golden, like a secret whispered in the dark.

Then she appeared.

Annalise stepped into that light slow, deliberate, every move practiced to perfection. The room hushed—not because they wanted to, but because she commanded it.

Her dress clung to her like sin, dark blue velvet that shimmered with every sway of her hips. Her pinned curls caught the light just enough to make them gleam like a halo—an angel's crown, if angels had ever learned to smile like that.

And then she sang.

The first note slipped out like warm honey, low and smooth, wrapping around every man in the club and pulling them in closer.

"When the night falls slow… and the devil comes to dance…"

Stack felt it hit him square in the chest. That voice—it wasn’t just a song. It was a net, and he’d walked right into it with open arms.

Smoke shifted beside him, eyes scanning the corners of the club, catching the way certain men leaned in too close, the glint of steel at one table, the hard stares at another.

But Stack? He only had eyes for Annalise.

Because now he understood. This wasn’t just a performance. This was a ritual.

Every time she found a new admirer—someone bold or foolish enough to think they could touch her—she sang like this. Luring them in deeper, making sure they were well and truly tangled before the trap snapped shut.

Her gaze flickered toward him mid-verse, just a flicker, but it felt like a shot fired straight at his heart.

"You can call my name… but you’ll never stand a chance…"

Smoke leaned in close, voice tight. "We got eyes on us, Stack. Real eyes. More than one table. You feel that?"

But Stack didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because right then, Annalise hit that high note, her voice breaking just enough to make every man in that club lean in like moths to flame.

And Stack knew—deep in his bones—that she wasn’t just singing for him.

She was setting the stage.

For what, he didn’t know yet.

But it was coming.

And it had her name written all over it.

-

The final note of Annalise’s song hung in the air like a blade suspended mid-swing. The crowd erupted in applause—cheers, whistles, the clink of glasses. But beneath that noise, Stack felt it. That low, crawling tension. The kind that made a man’s shoulders go tight without knowing why.

Smoke was already shifting. "Doors just locked." His voice was gravel. "Did you hear that click?"

Stack blinked, pulling himself back from the spell Annalise had wrapped around him. He caught it now—the bouncers weren’t watching the crowd. They were watching him and Smoke. The ones at the back doors? Already standing shoulder-to-shoulder. No one was leaving unless they said so.

And Annalise—she didn’t go backstage like a regular singer would. No, she stayed right there at the edge of the stage, one hand on the mic stand, eyes scanning the room. Cool. Calm. Like she’d just lit the fuse and was waiting to see where the explosion landed.

Stack’s grin dropped. Finally.

Smoke muttered, "Told you this place wasn’t just for music. We walked into a goddamn cage match."

The band kept playing, a soft tune now, but Stack noticed half of them were watching the exits too.

Then they saw him.

A big man in a sharp pinstripe suit, shoulders like a truck, stepped out from the shadows near the VIP booth. Gold ring flashing on one hand, the other holding a cigar like it was a weapon. His face was a map of old scars and broken promises.

Dominic "Dom" Lucetti. Capo in the Outfit. The kind of man who didn’t come out unless there was business—and blood—on the line.

He clapped slow, eyes fixed on Stack and Smoke.

"Well, well," Dom rumbled, voice carrying over the thinning applause. "The famous SmokeStack twins. Fresh off the train from Mississippi, thinking they can carve a piece outta my city."

The room went still. Every patron suddenly more interested in their drinks. Even the air seemed to thin.

Stack straightened his collar, forced that old grin back on. "Didn’t realize we were so popular already."

Dom chuckled, dark and humorless. "You made ripples, boys. Big ones. And ripples turn to waves." He gestured around. "This? This is me... making sure the waves don’t get too high."

Behind Stack, Smoke’s hand hovered near his coat—where he kept steel.

And from the stage, Annalise finally spoke.

"Play nice, Dom. They just got here." Her voice was sweet, but her eyes—when they flicked to Stack—were sharp as cut glass.

Dom laughed, a low rumble. "I am playing nice. For now." He turned his attention back to Stack. "So here’s the game, Southern boy: you walk outta here tonight... maybe with a few bruises, maybe not. But you walk out only if you make me believe you’re smart enough to fall in line."

Stack's jaw clenched. He could feel Smoke tensing beside him, ready for the fight.

Annalise stepped down from the stage, slow and graceful, coming to stand between Dom and the twins. Not close enough to take sides. But just close enough to remind everyone she was the one who set this whole thing spinning.

Her eyes met Stack’s, unreadable.

The choice hung there, heavy as a loaded gun.

Play along? Or make their claim the hard way, fists and bullets?

Stack’s fingers curled into fists at his side.

Dom smiled wider. "Well? What’s it gonna be, Mississippi?"

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov@todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @brattyfics @notapradagurl7@gopaperless @jenlovey @nikkinik @novahreign @violetmuses @thevelvetwhispers @androgynousgaz  @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @abriefnirvana @marice23top @honggihwa @sarcasticbitchsblog @bangchansmami @tojisthique @marley1773 @cutypie112 @orchidwonder @desthefanatic @wheresthecaptaincrunch @childishgambinaax

[cxce15]

I just need to say this, even though I (thankfully) haven't come crossed it yet but why tf are some of yall writers on here so weird like.

How are some of y'all taking a movie centered around BLACK PEOPLE and then even the other characters they show some attention to are POC and turn it around to try and integrate white folks into the story

Look i know that there were white people who enjoyed the film and I'm not saying that yall can't be attracted to the characters

But to make a film centered around POC and their struggles/history about yall and your race just proves the point as to why people don't want yall in their spaces

This film wasn't made for you, and no matter how much you try to change it in your fics, it will never be for you

STOP COLONIZING EVERY DAMN THING YALL HAVE EVERYTHING BRO

[rspberryberet]

a few 90s!stack x black!reader hcs

- loves the music of this era, namely the genres of hip hop and r&b

- favorite rappers are outkast, biggie, and nas

- favorite r&b singers are janet, mary j, and new edition ( anytime, any place is one of his favorite songs that he’s dedicated to you )

- buys a tape of do the right thing ( the spike lee joint ) and JUMPS at the chance to try out the ice thing that mookie did on tina ( iykyk, look it up chile )

- sex is still as good as it was in the 30s, don’t playyy, probably even better because of all the new positions and toys that they’re coming up with

- can’t get completely on board with the radio and walkman shit, he still plays and collects records

- enjoys flashing his teeth at people to scare them off

- obsessed with playing street fighter

- still has to do shady shit for money involving gangs just like he did in chicago in the 30s but refusesss to sell crack especially in black communities

- definitely believes in the conspiracies about reagan funneling drugs into black communities

- his favorite invention of the past few decades by far is the cell phone, he loves being able to call you when he’s away

- loves the fashion of the era ofc, he’s a nikes guy but fucks with a good pair of reeboks

- equally loves the hairstyles of the era, pays for each one you get obviously. his favorite styles for you to get are the elaborate updos, ( like the ones in b.a.p.s ) he thinks it’s pure art

- has grills that fit over his fangs and got you some too obvi

[pyraomen]

current fic ideas . . .

DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS , tiana x sammie.

sinners au/crossover — tiana rogers (portrayed by pearline) is annie’s little cousin from new orleans. the shadow man approaches her with an offer she simply cannot refuse after she failed at opening her own business several times. she got a gift to sing, her own restaurant without the white man's permission, and her father brought her back to life. what might go wrong? quit literally everything, which forces her to flee new orleans and stay with her cousin in clarksdale, mississippi. where she meets the smokestack twins little cousin, sammie moore.

(based off almost there ; a twisted tale — contains horror aspects)

I’D RATHER GO BLIND , louis x stack.

sinners au/crossover — two men, born into sin trying to climb their way out. an empty shell of a man, louis de pointe du lac longs to see his brother one final time and to find a greater purpose in life than running a brothel. freedom, some may say but that word is foreign for louis. he doesn’t get a taste of it until elias “stack” moore. a man who believes he’s already found freedom, running wild with his twin and a woman that brings him nothing but trouble. the two end up in a tangled web of sin when a silent business partnership is formed.

(based off i’d rather go blind ; etta james — contains religious imagery and a smidge of gay denial, we all saw louis confession)

[melancholymetropolis]

“I heard the twins were back in town."

My husband’s voice floated about the room as he dried his hair. Bill was only wearing his pajama bottoms and his chest was bare. Stray droplets of water dripped from head, down his pecs and along his abs. I broke my gaze once he pulled a shirt over his bare skin, disturbing my view.

"They are," I sighed, rubbing lotion between my palms. "I saw Stack near the station, while I was picking up the shipment. Along Mary and Preacher Boy."

A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of her name from my lips. I had tried my best to avoid her at all costs. But, just like Stack, she wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She sent letter after letter to my house. Begging and pleading to have a conversation. Claiming that her guilt was eating her up something fierce and she could barely sleep. 

That was right after Maddie was born. 

She even tried to come over to my house, but Bill stopped her before she could get too close to me. Practically tore her a new one for disturbing my nap after nursing the ever-hungry newborn. 

I knew right then that I wanted to marry him. 

Through the mirror on the vanity, I could see him rise from the bed. His fingers pressed tightly together and a deep frown on his lips. He took small steps toward me, hesitation oozing from his being. Several deep breaths fell from his lips before he met his gaze in the mirror.

"He spoke to you, didn't he?" The look of sadness deepened to one of sorrow. Almost like his soul was aching at the statement.

“He did,” I said, massaging the cream into my neck. “But, your daughter called him ugly and sent him away with a glare.”

The smile turned into a sad smile at the statement. “Fearless little thing. She gets it from you.”

I hummed softly as he reached for the cream and took a dollop from the top. He rubbed it between his palms just like I had moments before. With a firm grip, he kneaded the lotion into my shoulders. My eyes rolled closed as I leaned into his touch and moaned. 

“Baby, I need to ask you something,” Bill said, after a silent moment. “Promise me you won’t be upset.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

I shot from the bench of my vanity and spun around to face him— causing him to stumble back a few steps. “William Chow, explain yourself this minute!”

He raises his hands in surrender and takes another step back. “Baby, you knew this would come up. You always said they would come back home eventually. Part of me thought that meant you wanted to see him again.”

“No,” I snapped back. “That meant that I would have to explain to your daughter why she looks damn near identical to an absolute stranger. Not that I was in love with him!”

“Y/N, we never talk about it,” Bill rebutted, his tone softer than mine. “Not since we first got married. You pretend like the man doesn’t exist and it has left me wondering a few things.”

“Like what?” I interjected. “I will take Maddie and run away with him?”

Bill flinched like I slapped him, but didn’t say a word. 

That was exactly what he thought I’d do.

A lone tear rolled down my cheek as my lip began to quiver. I turned my back to him and placed both palms on the edge of the vanity. A million thoughts swirled in my mind. Images of Stack laying his head on my chest, Mary gloating about how he did the same thing to her, Bill holding my hand during my delivery because Anne was too far away and my baby girl crying for the first time after 12 hours of labor. The vow that I made to her that I would choose a better daddy than her lying, cheating sperm donor. Someone that was kind, patient and full of love; ready to give it away at any moment. 

Someone like William Chow, Bo’s baby brother. A Malaysian immigrant turned baker, damn near identical to his kin with hair past his shoulders. His strawberry and cream donuts were all I ever craved while pregnant. I would gather as much change as I had to snag two at the end of the week, he would alway sneak me an extra one. Bill was the only one to speak to me after it became very obvious I was pregnant. The whole town knew it was Stack’s, since our relationship was hardly private. But, when he left, everyone treated me like spoiled goods. Barely made eye contact and snickered behind my back. Fearing that Stack would shoot them where they stood for looking at me funny.

But, Bill was not scared of any of that. Stack loved his strawberry donuts just as much as I did. Meaning, that Stack would rather cut off his own pinky than cross Bill or the Chow family. 

“After all this time, you still think he has a hold on me?” I whispered as another tear rolled down my cheeks. “After everything we’ve been through?”

“Honey, he can give you things I can’t,” Bill countered. 

The silent part hinted loudly: He could give you more children.

That was William’s only fatal flaw, if one could even count it as such. He was impotent. The possibility of having children together was slim to none, which was why he remained single all that time. Some women wanted a family and others needed a kind of pleasure only a certain an could give. But, that didn’t matter to me. Sex wasn’t a deal breaker for me. I had learned that sex didn’t mean love, nor affection. It was a simple pass time that felt good. It didn’t hold emotion, unless you wanted it to. And like an idiot, I held enough emotion for Stack and I both. Yet, it still wasn’t enough to make him stay. 

We had tried all kinds of herbs, old wives tales and remedies, but it hardly ever worked. His member would stiffen, but not long enough to really have fun. Still, I didn’t care. Bill more than made up for it with his mouth and fingers. He would have me screaming all the way to sunrise.

I turned to face him. I could see tears starting to form in his eyes. His tanned skin turned a faint red, as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his whimpers. Bill’s shoulders shook with sadness as his chest rose and fell rapidly. The sheer thought of losing me, of losing Madeline, was tearing him apart at the seams. I had never seen him cry until that moment and it broke my heart.

I took several strides over to him, leaving a foot of space between us. “Can I hold you, baby?”

“Please,” he sobbed, lifting his head.

I took a final step and pressed my body against his. My head resting on his shoulder and my arms hugging his upper back. Bill gripped my waist with a pressure that was almost painful, but it didn’t bother me. I knew he needed me close.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lose you two,” he whimpered into my hair. “I don’t  think I would survive, Y/N. I truly do not.”

“I would’ve been maggot food if it weren’t for your generosity all those years ago,” I said, rubbing his back. “No man was willing to marry an already pregnant woman. Let alone the broken possession of the Moore twins. Only you would talk to me. Not only talk, but smile. God, your smile would be like sunshine on a rainy day. It kept me warm for hours.”

Bill’s whimpering stopped, but his hold was still firm. “You don’t have to lie, Y/N.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Bill. Not once since we’ve met,” I said, drawing circles on his back. “I’m not about to start now. I love you far too much to let a criminal come between us.”

He pulled back gently and faced me. Tears streaming down his face, he looked at me like I was his entire world and it broke my heart. I brought a hand to his face and placed it on his damp cheek. He leaned into the palm and placed a hand atop mine. His eyes fluttered closed as a shaky breath fell from his lips. Bill's entire body relaxed at my unwavering presence. The floodgates were completely lowered as the tears continued to fall from his eyes. But I knew they weren't for sadness or desperation, like before. These were tears of relief and compassion.

“I love you, William Chow,” I said once our eyes finally met. “More than you'll ever know. More than I can put in words.”

“You are my world,” he replied, pressing his forehead to mine. “And Madeline is my sun. I would be dark and lonely without you both.”

A tear spilled from my eye, which he caught with his thumb and swiped away. His lips were on mine before I could blink. Our bodies pressed together so tightly we could crack an egg. He held me in his arms if I would disappear at any given moment. Kissed me like I would be stolen away from him. The action made the tears pour faster. Our hands gripped each other's clothes before the desire to tear them off struck. 

My hands slithered up his pajama top slowly. Fingers brushing his toned abdomen and structured hips. My touch moved from front to back— I dragged my nails against his lower spine. Bill shivered at my touch and moved his kisses from my lips to my neck. A gasp escaped my mouth as his tongue licked a sensitive part of my neck. A moan followed shortly after as teeth found that vein and dragged it across it. A lovely nip earned him another moan. His hand kneaded my soft rear as he sucked the delicate skin of my neck. His hips ground into mine and I felt his member between us. Stiff and ready to use. 

“Tell me how you want me, suga,” he purred in my ear. “My head between your legs.” Bill’s hot tongue ran across my ear. “You sitting that pretty pussy on my face.” He gave it a little nip. “Or, we see if the new herbs are really up for the challenge.” He ground his hips into me once more and I moaned loudly. 

“Yes,” I replied, breathlessly. “All of the above.”

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a/n: where did all of y'all come from?! i did not expect this but hey! i'm happy you're here! once again, let me know if you wanna be in the taglist. Smut will be in the next chapter.

also, bare with me. i might not be able to post regularly, but i will try my best to post often.

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Taglist

@lov4gor3 @marley1773 @thegreatlibraryofalex @beverly-991 @depressedandhornyfl @rollingraypurrr @mea-bby @heyyimmisunderstood @harleycativy @childishgambinaax @mskirara @bishhhitsaurion @daughterofapollo-7 @thickianaaaa @capswife @hrlzy @melodyofmbaku @skywalker0809 @asterizee @nooooonooooonooooo @jackierose902109 @wabi-sabi1090 @rolemodelshit @naebae14 @christinabae @thedondada05 @simpingfor-wakasa @lovesickbwnny @brattyfics @saintsir4n @abriefnirvana @tforpresz @sinflowersugar

[innorality]

reconciliation with stack after the argument (part one here)

(part two of the angsty post I made)

you felt silly, truly. you honestly could not believe yourself as you walked towards Club Juke, their club—his club, holding onto the fur coat he had formely stolen for you. when you walked out after the argument, you had sworn to yourself that you would forget about him for good. screw him and his perfect smile, his honey-coated voice and his warm, familiar embrace.

truth is,

you felt ill without him.

7 years. it's been seven years since you had last seen him, and now that he's finally back, you had this underlying feeling that you couldn't just scream at him and leave. you needed him too much.

your heels dug in the grass below your feet as you walked hesitantly, finally getting to the door where Cornbread was standing. "now, that's a face I haven't seen in a while. how you been, sugar?" his deep husky voice comforting you, you smiled. "I don't... i don't really know." your fingers tightened against the fur of your coat. "I get it. it's been a long time." he walked down the two stairs that separated the both of you, getting closer to you.

"stack told me about the argument. i told him that no amount of money could teach him how to properly talk to a woman. that man's a true pain in the behind, ain't he?" his hand landed on the top of your head, petting it while you giggled. "hell yeah, he is."

"don't work yourself up, sugar. get in there and have fun, yeah?" you nodded and he stepped back, letting you in.

the loud music that was being played by a local band hit your ears, but you paid no mind. you headed straight for the bar, and sat infront of grace who was already grabbing a glass for you. "didn't expect to see you here." she commented, "nobody did." you shot back. "beer?" she went for the bottle and opened it, "please." you nodded.

"hope you've got some real coins to pay. all we get from the people here are wooden ones." she poured you a glass and slid it towards you, but a masculine voice echoed from behind you, overcoming the loud music with ease.

"it's on the house, for her." you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "if stack says so," grace shrugged, walking towards another client, leaving the two fo you alone.

you couldn't even get a sip of your beer before his hands slid around your jaw, cupping your jaw. he leaned down next to your ear. "you came." he affirmed, as if to confirm it to himself. "I had to see the club for myself." "and?" "definitely not worth the seven years." he quickly pecked your cheek before letting go of you and sitting next to you.

"you're still on about that." he looked straight at you but you refused to give him the pleasure of seeing your eyes. "how could I not?" and he surrendered, "you're right. i'm sorry." that caught your attention. stack was never one to admit he was at fault, and that realization made you turn to him slowly.

"i'm sorry for everything. for disappearing. for being so superficial. for not writing. for not even saying goodbye." he scooted over next to you and grabbed your waist, closing the distance between the two of you. he pressed his forehead against yours and your gaze flickered down to his lips.

"I love you." he mumbled. "say that again." "I love you."

"again."

"I love you."

"one more time."

"I love you more than anything else in the world."

you bit your lip and chewed slightly. you were torn between smashing the glass cup that was next to you on his head, and kissing him like you needed him to breath.

"fuck." you sighed out, looking back up at his eyes. "what?" he chuckled. "I really want to kill you, as of right now. but I also really, really, want to kiss you." and he smiled wider. that damn smile. "they say the line between hatred and love is blurry like fog."

"don't ever leave me again, elias." and you saying his name like that made his stomach twist in adoration, he really fucking misses you. "never again, I promise." and finally, he leaned in to kiss you. he pressed his lips against yours and you mirrored him, your arms snaking around his neck to cage him in.

you were weak for stack.

you were weak for elias moore just as much as he was weak for you.

[risingoftime]

WHERE HE WAITS | LOUSTACK |

I heard your hearts dancing ᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: Stack Moore is the man standing between Louis and Lestat. Blood, business, and something far more dangerous than desire.

The smell of New Orleans was different than Chicago. It was sweet with rot and jasmine, steeped in music and magic. Stack didn’t like it at first. The way it made his cigarette smoke hang longer. But the city grew on him, like moss, like a wound you stopped minding.

Tonight was different from most nights for Stack; Mary had just left him, and he was on the hunt for the vampire responsible for the dent in the food supply. He was following blood. Not fresh blood, old blood. The kind that clung to walls long after the body was gone. He’d been in juke joints, card rooms, even back alleys behind brothels. But tonight, the trail led him to a narrow street with no name, where the gaslights flickered like they knew something was coming. And there he was.

All dressed in his Sunday's best, like mourning never left him. Candlelight spilled from an open window, catching on the edge of his cheekbone. He looked less like a man and more like a question with sharp teeth to Stack.

"You following me?" Louis asked, not turning his head. Just spoke it softly, like he already knew.

"I don’t follow. I hunt." Stack didn’t blink.

Louis let out a slow, bitter laugh. "You think I’m a meal?"

Stack stepped closer. "No. I think you’re what’s been leaving bodies all over the city. Just wanted to see if the bloodsucker wore silk."

"And if I am?" Louis turned then, his eyes were dark like the night sky.

Stack’s grin curled. "Then maybe I’ll let you teach me something." They stood there, the tension between them like a loaded gun. Louis stepped forward, hands behind his back like he didn’t need them to kill.

"You’re like us. The only way I was able to figure it out was now. I could feel your presence from a mile away," he said. It wasn’t a question.

Stack’s voice dropped an octave. "Well, I ain’t go flaunting it around like you do."

"Then you haven’t been paying attention."

And just like that, the street seemed quieter, waiting to see who would flinch first.

Louis’s eyes dragged over Stack slowly, like he was trying to read him, and his expression shifted between amusement and disdain. "I’ve heard of you, you know," Louis said, finally breaking the silence.

"Stack Moore. The man turning sweat and sound into gold. You manage that juke joint down the street."

Stack raised a brow, a bit taken aback by Louis's knowledge of you. "So you’ve been tunin’ to the gossip."

"Yeah, it seems my brothels are rather quiet these days. Yours, on the other hand…" Louis let his voice trail off, his gaze lazily roaming over Stack's imposing figure again with an interest he hadn't had in a while. The frustration building within him, courtesy of Lestat, needed an outlet. This moment felt like the perfect escape for the night.

He took another step forward, now chest to chest, close enough that Stack could smell whatever cologne Louis wore; it was undoubtedly rich and expensive.

"… is anything but."

Stack didn’t step back. “Business booms where people feel safe enough to do what they like to do in the dark.” Stack let out a small chuckle at the innuendo. "I’m just good at what I do. "

"I don’t doubt it," Louis said softly, "I’d like to continue this conversation somewhere less… uncovered."

Stack has heard of Louis de Pointe du Lac as well. It was a mouthful for him to recount his name, the Black people here were so pretentious 'bout shit like names. Where Stack came from, you just hoped that you would wake up to live another day. Stack leaned in slightly, testing the tension between them. "This is where you lure men into your lair, pretty boy? Talk numbers and slip in a little neck?"

Stack ran a hand into his pockets to grab a cigarette and a lighter. He lit it with ease, exhaling smoke from the corner of his mouth before continuing. "Just to let you know, I don’t usually take invitations from men in prettier shirts than mine."

"You think I’m trying to charm you?" Louis smiled, faintly at what Stack was hinting at.

"I know you are," Stack said, lips curling. "But let’s get one thing straight. I like pussy."

Louis walked deeper into the alleyway, his back turned as if Stack’s declaration didn’t bother him.

"And yet," Louis said, not looking at him, "you still stalk me!"

"Curiosity’s a hell of a thing." Stack laughed more to himself, as flashbacks of that night last year. The last time we could watch the sun, the last time he was with his brother. If only he hadn’t been so easily swayed by Mary.

"Temptation’s a hell of a thing too," Louis added. Stack was now trying to be in step with him; this wasn’t the point of his finding Louis. He was supposed to be telling him to get off his territory, not striking up a conversation.

"I live just a few blocks from here," he said without looking back. "One drink! You owe me for lost revenue."

"Just so we clear, I don’t owe you nothin’, not a damn thing." Stack hesitated momentarily, habitually brushing his thumb over his belt where his revolver was. "You always talk business this late?" he asked.

"Only the dangerous ones."

That got a grin out of Stack. "You think I’m dangerous?" Stack continued matching his pace, not because he was curious or cautious. But because Louis wasn't what he expected, and it's been a while since he ran into someone similar to him in more ways than most.

"I know you are," Louis murmured, stepping closer. "I can smell it on you. Violence, ambition… the kind of hunger that doesn’t die easily."

Stack’s jaw twitched. "You ain’t exactly soft yourself."

Stack hadn’t expected the vampire’s house to feel like this. The inside of Louis' house looked like a museum. Filled with decor that seemed as old as time itself. Velvet red drapes covered the windows, and the self-portraits of Lestat and Louis bore into Stack's soul with their inhuman stares. Their gazes followed them like hounds on a scent, sharp and unblinking. Candlelight flickered against skin, and the wineglasses glinted like blood.

Louis stood near the fireplace, his presence a strange blend of elegance and quiet threat. Stack swallowed hard. Something stirred behind his eyes, resentment maybe? Or was it desire, confusion, or interest? He looked at Louis, really looked. The way his mouth curled around danger, at the elegance wrapped around centuries of grief.

"…Fuck it," Stack muttered. "One drink."

Louis handed him the glass, their fingers brushing. "Good," he said. "Just one."

They both knew it was a lie.

taglist | @marley1773 @iheartamora @childishgambinaax @klssngss @sinnersappreciation @fadingbelieverexpert @carriemill @blankface333 @slugstarzz @king-cookiex @theelusivemidnighthoe @spicyscorpioo @xxx-aurora-swirls @riellarielle25 @z0mmba3 @remmickcherie @casarahsisland

[brownskincheyenne]

Everybody love Annie and smoke until it’s time to write fanfic 😭 it’s so many smoke x reader or smoke x you smoke x black female oc .. and then characters be the same as Annie with a different name 😭🤦🏾‍♀️

[rdmasevi]

Blood & Blues

Title: Blood & Blues: A Sinners Fanfiction

Pairing: Stack × Reader (OC Vampire, Sister of Remmick)

Warnings: Blood, violence, vampirism, emotional trauma, historical racism

Summary: The monster feel in love with the saviour.

The Mississippi night was thick with the scent of magnolia and blood. You stood at the edge of the juke joint's ruins, the embers casting a glow on the carnage left behind.

Your brother, Remmick, had unleashed his wrath upon this place, turning the joyous celebration into a massacre. As his sister, bound by blood and curse, you had followed him through centuries, but tonight, something changed.

Among the survivors, you noticed Stack, one of the twin brothers who had tried to bring music and hope back to this town. His resilience, even in the face of such horror, intrigued you. He fought not just with weapons but with an unyielding spirit, protecting those he loved. You had seen many men over the centuries, but none like him.

Drawn to him, you approached cautiously, revealing yourself not as an enemy, but as someone seeking redemption. Stack, wary yet curious, listened to your tale of a life overshadowed by your brother's darkness. You spoke of the burden of immortality and the longing for something real, something human.

In the days that followed, as the town tried to heal, you and Stack found solace in each other's company. He showed you the simple joys of life—music, laughter, the warmth of the sun. In return, you shared stories of the world, of times long past, and of your desire to break free from Remmick's shadow.

But peace was fleeting. Remmick, sensing your betrayal, returned with vengeance. The final confrontation was inevitable.Stack stood beside you, ready to face the monster that had haunted your existence. Together, you fought, and with a stake driven through his heart, Remmick's reign ended.

As dawn broke, you felt a weight lift. But the sun, ever your enemy, reminded you of your curse. Stack, holding your hand, offered a choice—to find a way to live, truly live, or to end it all. With a tearful smile, you chose life, not just for yourself, but for the love that had blossomed amidst the darkness.

Epilogue:

Years later, in a quiet town far from Mississippi, a blues musician named Stack plays a haunting melody. Beside him, a woman with eyes that have seen centuries watches, her heart beating in rhythm with the music. Together, they found a new beginning, proving that even in the darkest tales, love can write a new ending.

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