#vampire!stack

[goddessofthundathighs]

Light My Fire

Summary: Lyric engages in a bit of self-care to decompress from a stressful week, only to be interrupted by Stack and his insatiable appetite.

Suggested Listening(s): Chicago Boy x Ari Lennox, Speechless x Beyoncé

Pairing: Vampire!Stack x Black OC (Lyric Aucoin)

Warning(s): 18+, MDNI, This is porn with some plot sprinkled in

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I was randomly scrolling Tumblr last night and came across the above gif, which inspired the title. It's been a minute since I wrote some smut & ya know, sometimes you need to get ya soul snatched by a 130-year-old vampire. (Lyric, I'm living vicariously through you, girl!) There were a few girlies who asked to be tagged in my Heathens fic that I added here as well. I hope this holds y'all over until I finish that.

♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️

Needed some Ricolas, stepped in CVS

Saw you in the corner, I was lookin' a mess

You didn’t notice Jason was instigatin'

I wanna bring you closer, tired of waitin'

Tired of waitin’, ooh

The forgotten AI speaker plays faintly in the background. The Bondage Sex & Cheerios playlist featuring Ari Lennox’s sultry voice was the perfect soundtrack to Lyric’s current task. Breathy moans slip past her lips as her burgundy curls stick to the back of her neck, damp with sweat and satisfaction. The air is thick with heat and the heady sweetness of her latest fragrance obsession: KAYALI Sparkling Lychee. The scent of juicy lychee, sweet vanilla, and sugared amber clings to her skin like the satin sheets tangled around her thighs, a testament to the work she’d been putting her body through for the last 30 minutes.

She exhales deeply, her fingers gliding down her stomach like they had a map to a hidden treasure. She needed this. A recalibration after surviving another week of being the smartest bitch in every room she entered.

Monday had been back-to-back labs. Tuesday, a grown man had cried over a broken grow light like it was a dead pet. By Friday, she’d survived two pop-up dispensary events, a tense meeting with her supplier, and a DM from a Tinder fling that read simply: “you up?”

She was not then.

But now she was. Wide awake. Lit up from the inside out, toes curling and jaw slack. Her breathing syncs with the pulse in her ears. She doesn’t rush the finish. This is a slow burn. A drawn-out love letter to herself written in soft gasps and low whimpers.

Said listen, baby, I know that I'm speedin' up this vibe

Is you gon' judge me if I fuck you 'fore I catch this flight?

No freakin' worries, I just want to get you comfortable

I need you now, but I don't wanna get your feelings broke

Her latest sex toy haul had proven successful. She’d finally given in to temptation and purchased the viral rose toy she’d seen all over Twitter. Its soft petals press snug against her clit, gently suckling her pearl with deadly percision. Not too much, not too little. Just enough vibration and focus to make her thighs tremble and her toes curl. She squirms against the sheets, hips grinding ever so slightly, like her body was trying to meet the toy halfway. Every nerve in her body buzzes like static.

She was right there. So close she could taste it, feel it rising in her like a heatwave. Her stomach clenches. Her spine arches. Her thighs start to shake. And then…

Let me tell you ‘bout this

Super fly, dirty, dirty

Third coast muddy water

Shawty pop that pussy if you wanna

Alexa springs to life without warning, her chirpy tone slicing through the air like a blade. Lyric groans dramatically, regretting every life choice that led her to this moment. The bass to Big K.R.I.T.’s Country Shit thumps hard like it knew what she’d been doing seconds ago.

“Bitch,” she mutters, dragging the back of her hand across her flushed chest as she sits up. Her mound still aches, lips swollen and begging. Her fingers hover over the screen like it is a landmine, and like an idiot, she answers.

“Whaaaaat?” she whines, voice thick, breathy, and unbothered by the fact that she is still glistening between her thighs.

Stack’s face fills the screen, lips twisted in a smug smirk. The glow of the streetlights cast him in shadow, but she could still make out his outfit. Signature maroon hoodie, gold chain, and that eternal ‘fuck-you’ confidence only 93 years of immortality could breed.

“Well hello to you too, Sunshine.” His tone drips with faux annoyance. The sound of heavy boots echoes through her speakers. He’s walking, eyes still that deep violet, evidence that he’d just finished feeding. “What took you so long to answer the phone?”

“I was busy.”

His smirk deepens as he climbs the steps to her building, moving like the night bent around him.

“Doing what?”

“Why?” she screeches, sliding a hand between her thighs in an effort to discreetly finish her mission. It wasn’t discreet enough.

“Babygirl if you was playing wit ya pussy just say that,” he teases, silver fangs glistening in the moonlight.

Lyric rolls her eyes so hard they nearly get stuck. “Goodnight, Elias.” She hovers her thumb over the red button, eager to return to her unfinished masterpiece of self-care.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he laughs, voice crackling with heat. He could see it. Her pouty lips, barely-there robe, the look of irritation and arousal bleeding together on her face. His dick throbs in his jeans. This woman would be the death of him, and he was already undead.

“I wrote something,” he says quickly, walking faster now, determined. “I want your opinion.”

Lyric’s interest flickers, but barely. Her thighs shift as her hand inches toward her rose toy, pink and blinking like a tiny little haloed demon.

“Can it wait until morning?” she pouts, grabbing the toy like it was a lifeline. “I really need to finish this.”

“It’s a poem,” he says, now right outside her apartment. “And it ends with me tongue deep in your soul.”

Her thumb freezes. He couldn’t be. Goddamn him.

“If you’re at my door, knock once and shut up.”

“If?” he grins. Then, black. A second later. Knock. Once. Just like she’d instructed. She stares at the door, toy still humming in her hand. This man was about to ruin her night. Again. And she was going to let him. Because sometimes self-care means letting the vampire in.

–

Do you think of me when you touch yourself?

The question is barely audible, but Lyric heard it loud and clear. Echoing in the back of her psyche like a never-ending song. She wants to curse herself for being here in this moment, trapped in his powerful gaze once more. She watches almost helplessly as he stalks towards her, fangs twinkling in the dimly lit space. He’s since ditched the hoodie, allowing her to stare at his bare, tattooed chest lustfully. His chest had always been one of her favorite things about him.

Do my words caress your mind the way my hands used to caress your body?

Committing every dip, curve, and dimple to memory

His voice is hypnotic, slowly luring her back into her most vulnerable state. He was the flame and she the moth, constantly drawing her into his aura, to use anyway he saw fit. 

I’ll ask again, do you think of me when you touch yourself?

Do your thighs still shake at the thought of me diving in

Plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss 

Exploring parts that you didn’t even know exist

Do you think I can still make you cum from just a kiss?

Do you?

Her eyes flutter closed, and she’s instantly transported back to their last sexual encounter. His body towering over hers, Cuban link chain thumping against his chest as his member thumped that sweet spot inside of her. 

“Stack..” 

Her moans were breathless as he continued to do the Lord’s work on her body. He looked down at her and flashed a devilish grin. 

“That’s not my name, Sunshine. Now say ‘ahh’.”

Do you still taste me on your tongue?

Does my essence linger on your senses?

Triggering earth-shattering orgasms as your mind replays all that I’ve done to you between those sheets

Her breath hitches, palms sweating the same way they did when he crossed her path for the very first time. He was different now. His once smooth, chestnut skin was now riddled with tattoos, a testament to how much he liked the way the times had changed. Instead of the slicked down do of old, he now sported a low, tapered fade. Immortality had been good to him.

“God he’s beautiful,” she muses to herself, finally opening her eyes to see him standing directly in front of her. 

Do you still scream my name as you bring yourself to completion time and time again?

Willing your fingers to work double time to make your love rain down the way I used to 

Do you?

He smiles and she freezes, knowing full well he meant what he’d said about being tongue deep in her soul when he was done. Before she could process the action, he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up until their eyes lock. 

“I asked you a question, Sunshine.”

Do you think of me when you touch yourself?

Her throat is dry and wanting. She doesn’t answer with words, instead, she kisses him like her body had been aching for this exact chaos. She bites his plump lower lip hard enough to taste a hint of copper. It was different, but she liked it. He groans. Loud. Animalistic. He walks her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She falls with a gasp, and he follows, kneeling between her thighs, spreading them like scripture.

Where you been baby?

Waited for you all day

Waited for you to use the key

That opens my place

My heart starts trembling

As I hear your footsteps pace

Lock opens, doorknob turns

There appears your face

Beyoncé’s siren-like voice coos from the speaker as Stack presses kiss after kiss to her inner thighs like he’s laying offering to his goddess’s altar. His grip is rough, possessive. One hand anchors her leg over his shoulder while the other is splayed possessively across her stomach, holding her still because he knows she’ll try to run once he gets started.

His tongue flicks against her skin in lazy, teasing circles, dragging hot trails over the sensitive crease where thigh meets pelvis. Her hips twitch, desperate for contact, but he just chuckles against her. The vibrations make her shiver. Her fingers clench the couch cushion behind her head.

And when he finally reaches her dripping center, tongue dipping into her like a starved dog, Lyric sees stars. Not metaphorical stars. Not cutesy cartoon ones. Real ones. Galaxies behind her eyes. Pulsars in her chest. A blinding cosmic explosion behind her ribs as his tongue circles her clit, slow and deliberate, like he’s drawing sigils for a spell only her body can complete.

Speechless, all I can say is

Yes (Yes), yes (Yes), yes (Yes)

All I can say is

Yes (Yes), yes (Yes), yes (Yes)

He groans into her, and her hips jerk.

“Fuck, Stack!”

Her voice cracks, high and breathy, one hand flying to the back of his head to push him deeper into her sex. He grabs her thighs tighter, grounding her, eating like she’s the last meal before a century-long famine. Her legs fall open wider, trembling. Her eyes roll back, mouth slack as his tongue works her with surgical precision, lapping, sucking, flicking until the coil in her belly is so tight it feels like she’s going to spontaneously combust.

Then, without warning, he does it. Stack sinks his fangs into the supple flesh of her thigh, eyes fluttering closed at the sweet taste of her blood on his tongue. Lyric explodes in his mouth, clutching his head with both hands like she’s drowning, legs shaking as her orgasm rips through her like lightning. He doesn’t stop. He slows down just enough to ride the wave with her, kissing her through the aftershocks like he’s sealing a promise in the mess between her thighs.

He stands, admiring the sight beneath him. Lyric lay on the couch, beautiful sable breasts heaving as she pants. Her soft curls now a mess of frizz atop her head. He licks his lips, relishing in the delicious cocktail her blood and cum made. He presses a soft kiss to her temple before taking her spot on the couch. He allows her to rest against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back to ground her.

“Still think of me when you touch yourself?” he asks again, voice low and smug.

She doesn’t answer. She’s already asleep. Dripping. Dreaming. And completely ruined.

TAGS: @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @soufcakmistress @thickemadame @blackpantherismyish @kumkaniudaku @youreadthatright @post-woke @chaneajoyyy @kissmyafropuff @empressdede @melodyofmbaku @blktinkerbell @turbulentvoids @writerbee-ffs @jasssdee1 @cerya @hearteyes-for-killmonger @theegoldenchild @theogbadbitch @honggihwa @dashhoney25

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Stack's Lesson" Teaser...

Stack's Lesson by Uzumaki Rebellion

Characters: Elias "Stack" Moore, Ruby Evers (Teenaged Black OC), and Mary.

Warning(s): Mentions of Hoodoo, Supernatural Elements, Violence, Death, The Usual Vampire Shit, and Angst. Post-Sinners movie.

Summary: Fourteen-year-old Ruby Evers's parents haven't come home from Club Juke. Left to fend for herself and her two younger siblings, she investigates what happened to them and the other missing sharecroppers who partied the night before. As dusk looms, Ruby discovers two dangerous predators hidden inside her family's chicken coop.

Author's Note: Ruby is the young girl Smoke met at the beginning of Sinners.

"Black leaves on the Mississippi river

Black leaves in the Mississippi fire

Black leaves in the Mississippi choir

Black leaves on the Mississippi land

And we've got God and cotton

We've got sons and daughters

We've got grit and glory

We've got mama's stories

We've got strength like towers

We've got hope and power"

Kirby – "Black Leaves"

Mama didn't come home.

Poppa neither.

Fourteen-year-old Ruby Evers waited by the bedroom window early Sunday morning, as her younger brother and sister slept near her feet, piled onto one old mattress on the floor. She scratched her leg, irritating a spider bite that appeared fiery red on her tawny skin.

The window faced the path her parents would take to get home from the old sawmill. Poppa carried mama off in their horse and cart looking so handsome. He even wore his tan church vest and matching bow tie. Mama fixed her hair up, uncovering it from the pale blue and white gingham cloth she usually tied her thick braids up with. She took the braids down and added some purple pansies to look fancy for the night. They were so nervous when Ruby came home with her aunt from town and she told them about Smoke Moore paying her cash money to watch his liquor truck. He ended up giving her five whole dollars for doing a good job. She would always remember his lesson about knowing her worth in the world.

Word spread about the men who tried to thief them in broad daylight, but their concern soon shifted with excitement once they heard a new juke was opening that same day. They still had cotton quotas to fill, but the temptation to hear good music from the preacher's son was too delicious to pass up. Tongues also wagged about Pastor Moore's notorious cousins sweeping into town with money to buy the old sawmill outright from an old peckerwood like Hogwood. They wanted to see the transformation of the place themselves.

Glancing at her siblings, she wondered what to fix for them if mama didn't come home.

John-John, her nine-year-old middle brother, mumbled in his sleep. Her seven-year-old baby sister, Mae, stirred under a threadbare blanket. Ruby left the window and padded barefoot into their kitchen area where she piled wood into the iron stove. She struck a match and lit some kindling to boil water for grits. There were a few leftover biscuits from their supper the day before, but they'd gone hard. They would eat them anyway along with some day old boiled eggs, and then do their chores until their parents returned.

Worry poked at Ruby's belly. Her parents had never been gone overnight before together. She wandered over to their sleeping room to check the bed again. It hadn't been slept in all night.

Mae ambled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and looking around.

"Where's Mama and Poppa?"

"I dunno. Go put on your clothes and get John-John up."

"I'm already up," John-John said, pulling on his overalls.

Ruby rubbed on his puffy hair and tugged on her sister's two braids.

"Y'all go feed the chickens, and I'll clean up in here. When the grits are ready, I'll call ya."

The children nodded and scampered out the front door. Ruby dressed quickly, made up their bedding, swept the floors clean, and checked on the water. She stirred in the grits and set out plates on the kitchen table. Once the cooked grains were at the right consistency, she whipped a spoon with butter through them, and then pulled the pot off the fire.

"Ruby! Ruby! Midnight is running around out here by hisself!" John-John hollered.

Ruby wiped her hands on her dress and dashed outside.

Midnight, their coal black gelding, ran in an agitated circle near their small tenement garden.

"Whoa, Midnight…easy boy," Ruby said, raising her hands to get him to calm down.

Where was the cart and their parents?

Midnight had broken his harness away from the cart. Maybe the wheels hit a rock, and the cart fell over, injuring her parents. Ruby led the horse to his enclosure and closed the gate tight. She ran down the path the horse would've come from and didn't see the cart or anyone else in the distance. Hoofing it back to their home, she gestured to her siblings.

"Come on in here and eat," Ruby said.

"Where's Mama and Poppa? How come they not here with Midnight?" Mae asked.

Ruby hustled them into the house and scooped the grits on their plates with the biscuits and unshelled eggs.

"Eat," she said.

She ate with them, trying to look at ease, but her heart rate elevated and tension strained her shoulders. After the children cleaned their plates of every single grit and biscuit crumb, she herded the younger ones over to Miss Emmie's home. The elderly woman often cared for younger children while the teens and adults worked the fields.

Miss Emmie stood at her clothesline. She beat rugs of dust early before the temperature rose.

"Miss Emmie, can you watch John-John and Mae today?" she asked, holding up one dollar of the money she earned from Smoke.

"Where you get that money from?"

Miss Emmie took the dollar and turned it over in her hand, making sure it was actually cash and not plantation scrip.

"I earned it. They ate breakfast already. I'll be back later today. Can you feed them again before I get back?"

"Where you goin'?"

"Mama and Poppa didn't come back last night. Midnight came back without the cart. I think somethin' happened to 'em."

"They went to that juke?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Emmie sucked the teeth she still had left in her mouth.

"Maybe I should go get Ben to go look for you."

"That's alright Miss Emmie, I can do it myself. No need to bother Ben on his day off."

"You shouldn't be around no juke joint."

"Yes ma'am, but I'm worried."

"Oh, Lord. Ben!"

Emmie shouted toward her ramshackle cabin. A six foot tall scrawny man with a lazy eye trudged outside.

"Momma?"

"Ben…carry Ruby over to that old sawmill. She's looking for her parents. You can pick up a pound of rice and a pound of pinto beans for me on the way there. Get six chicken tamales for our lunch later. And some penny candy for John-John and Mae. I'm gonna watch them while you help Ruby look for Alice and Roy. Can you remember all that?"

She handed him the dollar Ruby gave her.

"I'll remember."

Ben spit into the dirt and pocketed the money in his trousers. He tucked in his faded shirt and headed back into the house.

"Lemme get my shoes on," he called out to them.

"John-John…Mae…y'all go on inside," Emmie said.

Ruby hugged her brother and sister.

"Be good and I'll be back as soon as I can."

The children nodded and headed indoors.

Ben stepped back out and pulled a straw hat over his head.

"C'mon, Ruby," he said.

She followed him around the side and watched him hitch an old mule to a wagon. He helped her climb onto the front seat and he joined her, holding the reins. He whistled, and the mule began pulling them on their way.

Ben didn't talk, and Ruby didn't engage in any type of conversation. Her mind cleaved onto anything her parents might have said that may have indicated not coming home before they departed. There was no mention of giving other folks a ride or stopping off anywhere. If Poppa was too drunk to guide the cart himself, Mama would've left him behind and come home alone to check on them. The pit of her stomach ached.

In town, Ben pulled up to the Chow's Grocery store on the colored side and tied his mule. Ruby jumped down and sat on a small bench in front of the store to wait. She noticed Lisa Chow pacing the front of an unopened business. Lisa's face appeared blotchy and pink, streaked with tears. Roughly a dozen Chinese adults surrounded her, their expressions fretful. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying hysterically.

"I don't know where they are!" Lisa shrieked. "They didn't come home from that juke joint!"

Ruby's heart lurched in her chest. Another set of missing parents who went to the juke. The pain in Ruby's belly nearly bowled her over as she started breaking into a profuse sweat. Something bad happened.

Ben called over another man they both knew who worked on a riverboat. Calvin was a fisherman and knew everyone in town.

"Cal, what's goin' on?" Ben asked.

Calvin scratched his shaggy head and sighed.

"I don't quite know. I was supposed to drop off a new load of catfish, but the Chows ain't showed up to pay me. I've been waiting out here since eight. Lisa out here sayin' they never came home last night."

"Did you go to the juke?"

"For about an hour after they opened, and then I left early. Had to get up and check my traps at five this morning."

A cloud of dust kicked up in the street as the town sheriff sped off past them. Several other vehicles followed him.

"Something is up," Ben said. "C'mon Ruby, let's get over to that juke."

He helped her up into the wagon again, and they followed the dust of the sheriff's car.

His mouth ached.

Moving his jaw a bit, Stack licked the inside of his gums, searching for residual blood. He didn't like the taste of it hours later, nor did he delight in the pieces of flesh caught between his teeth where he ripped apart Annie's throat.

He opened his eyes.

Annie.

She had been the key he needed to get his twin to join the hive. Smoke chose to kill her instead.

Yet spared him.

He rolled over in the dense straw that covered him and Mary.

The woman who turned him into a lost soul slumbered in a deep, trance-like state, looking like a corpse in need of a casket. Blood smeared the lower half of her face. She didn't seem to mind the traces of slaughter they committed against innocent people. Her rabid mouth had been gluttonous, as if a bloodlust frenzy was second nature to her. He looked at her closely. She slept like a sated baby.

Stack's eyes longed to close. His body floated just under lucidness. He fought it as an internal alarm system kicked in. Two things he became aware of: the warmth of humans and the scent of their blood.

A young boy and girl had stepped into the chicken coop, their chatter bringing his consciousness to the surface. Mary stayed asleep.

Chickens clucked, and the children tossed feed all over the floor, some of it striking the thick straw covering Stack and Mary. Luckily, a large tree kept the coop shaded from the sun piercing through the wood slats. Stack kept still and listened. The young ones ran out quickly, and he heard the fearful neighing of a horse. After that. Silence.

"Are they gone?"

Mary opened her eyes. The sickly paleness of her skin covered in blood told him how his life would be from now on.

Still hiding in the shadows with her.

Always killing.

Never satisfied. Never truly free.

The rest soon come....!!!

[tio-trile]

Hey Lil Sammie

Bonus filter version that I liked:

[femcel-yonce]

They shipping Loustack on twt and I lowkey need it badly

[itsaaudraw]

we’re all sinners

[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.

[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

[thevelvetwhispers]

Elias 'Stack' Moore — SINNERS Masterlist

@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

[blumoonbow]

So SINNERS was a movie huh? (I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for weeks)

[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

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"Sinners" (Ibeji Series) Masterlist"

A Gathering of Waters (Sinners movie prequel) HERE.

Choose One (Set in Chicago, Chicago, pre-Sinners movie) HERE.

In Your Arms Tonight (Set in Club Juke) HERE.

Stack's Lesson (post-Sinners movie) HERE

Soon come...

A Gathering of Locusts

Tupelo Honey

And more Smoke X Annie, Smoke x Black Female OC, Stack x Black Female OC soon come!

[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

[jastervhett]

Sinners (2025)

…What it looks like when you get a pair of Jordans®….

Sinners (2025)

[innorality]

All I’m saying is don’t let Stack get access to a mirror when he’s fucking you. Especially if it’s right opposite the bed. You’re gonna look up and see him flexing his muscles

oh he is a menace.

at first you didn't think much of it. he insisted on installing a mirror in front of your shared bed for some reason, and you agreed because why not? you didn't care about no mirror, and he was satisfied, so it was a win-win situation.

now, what you didn't expect, was for him to fuck you while facing said mirror. stack and his weird antics. but still, not that out of the ordinary.

and while he was rearranging your insides with his goddamn skilled hips, rolling against your ass at a pace that had you drooling against the mattress while he kept a hand on your lower back, your eyes landed on your own reflection.

you looked disheveled. and with the way he was fucking you into the mattress? completely expected.

then your gaze landed on his reflexion. he was looking straight at you.

and you swear you felt his cock jump inside you when you made eye contact.

"you like what you see, sugar?" he went a bit faster, a bit harder. his voice dripped like honey and your arched your back, a wave of neediness suddenly hitting you. "mhm!" you hummed, not having enough energy to say anything. "yeah? you do?" and then he's bringing his right arm up–

and he starts flexing.

he's fucking flexing.

"you like that? you like me?" he was, once more, craving validation. and you happily gave it to him—moaning out praises and compliments, which made him fuck you more vigorously.

truly a win-win situation.

bonus : he was very sad after becoming a vampire because him being one meant not being able to see his reflexion in the mirror anymore......

[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)