yarsia-writesxx

[yarsia-writesxx]

RIP Adriana Smith, and fuck the people who forced her on life support, and fuck Georgia lawmakers while we’re at it

[yarsia-writesxx]

Saints and sinners

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore x Serena Saint

Summary: Serena and Sammie were practically inseparable when they were little. He's play his instrument in church while Serena sang in the choir. But one day she had to move away without warning. Now she's back....What happens when she is recruited by stack to sing at their jukebox joint?

Warnings: a little SMUT, Cursing

Part 4

MINORS DNI

Sammie lifts Serena onto the table with effortless strength, his hands gliding up the curve of her hips, thumbs tracing slow, circles that make her shiver. He steps in close, claiming the space between her thighs like it's his right. Their mouths crash together—messy, desperate, full of need. There's no patience, no pause. Just heat. Just hunger. His hands move over her body like he's memorizing every inch, rough and eager, until they stop at the edge of her underwear. He lingers there, breathing hard against her mouth, both of them trembling with everything they haven't said but feel anyway.

Serena gasps against his mouth, her chest rising and falling. "Keep your foot there at least ," she murmurs, voice thick with anticipation and heat. Sammie drops to his knees in one smooth, fluid motion, his fingers brushing along the hem of her  dress like a promise. He looks up at her—eyes dark, wild, and burning with hunger. "I want to try something," he says, voice low and rough, thick with desire.

Her heart slams against her ribs. The moment teeters between surrender and sense.

Serena places a trembling hand on his shoulder, trying to steady her breath. "Wait... hold on," she says, cheeks flushing as the spell thins just a little. "I walked here. Let me clean up first."

Sammie watches her, chest rising, eyes locked on her like she's the only thing that matters. He doesn't push. "You're beautiful," Sammie breathes, his voice low, thick with desire. His eyes stay locked on hers—dark, unblinking, full of hunger. "I just want to taste you... let me."

Serena barely nods—barely exists in anything but the heat between them—before he moves. He slides down slowly, deliberately, disappearing beneath the hem of her dress like he's diving into something sacred. His hands grip her thighs, then slide up, slow and possessive, wrapping around her waist to anchor her in place. His touch is worship—firm, reverent, like she's a hymn he's memorized and finally gets to recite. Sammie’s lips graze her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, a silent promise that he’s nowhere near finished.

She gasps, biting her lip to contain the moan rising in her throat. Her fingers slide into his hair, tugging, pushing, guiding him deeper. Her breath comes faster, hips arching instinctively, chasing his mouth, the rhythm of his tongue. He draws her out with each flick of his tongue, each shift of pressure, learning her like he’s spent years dreaming of this moment.

Her legs tremble, knees buckling beneath the overwhelming pleasure. She locks them around his head, thighs tight against his cheeks, holding him there—not because she has to, but because she can't let go.

Her back arches. A whimper escapes. His name spills from her lips like a prayer on repeat.

And Sammie? He doesn't stop. He groans against her, lost in the taste of her, in the feel of her falling apart in his hands. He holds her like he owns the moment—and he does. Serena tilts her head back, eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting on a shaky exhale. The music from the juke joint fades into background static—the world narrowing to his touch, his breath, the low sounds he makes as if he's the one being wrecked.

"Sammie..." she whispers, the name falling from her lips like a secret or a plea—she's not sure which. He hums against her, the vibration pulling a moan from somewhere deep in her chest. Her fingers slide into his curls, tightening as the tension coils in her body, slow and sweet and inevitable.

"Let go," he murmurs into her skin. "I got you."

The words undo something in her. "Oh God..." she whimpers, back arching as waves begin to crash through her. Her voice is barely there, breathy and broken, but full of surrender. He answers her with a firmer grip, a deeper pull, as though her unraveling is the only thing he's ever wanted. When she finally shatters, she doesn't cry out—she exhales it. A trembling moan that shakes through her limbs, her hand still tangled in his hair, her body quaking in his hold.

Every inch of her is his to unravel.

"Oh fuck"

....

Pearline steps into the juke joint, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and slow-dragging blues. Her eyes sweep the room — dim lights, worn velvet booths, a haze of bodies swaying like they've got nowhere else to be but here. "No wonder she was excited," she mutters, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she moves toward the bar, the bassline syncing with the sway of her hips.

Behind the counter, Grace is moving like clockwork — slinging drinks, flipping bottles, her dark lips curled into something between a smile and a warning. She catches Pearline approaching and leans in, wiping down the bar with a well-worn rag.

"Can I get you something?" Grace asks, voice smooth like whiskey over ice. Pearline props an elbow on the bar, tapping her nails with lazy rhythm. "Just lookin' for Serena," she says, eyes glancing toward the back. "You know where she's at?"

Grace pauses — just for a beat — then answers, "Serena? Oh, she went off with a boy. He pulled her away not too long ago."

Pearline nods slowly, that smirk returning, a little sharper now. "Well then... how 'bout an Irish beer?"

Grace chuckles softly, already reaching for the bottle. "Now that, I can do."

....

Stack walks around the jukebox joint looking for his cousin when he stops by the storage room after hearing a noise.

Inside, Serena throws her head back, breath hitching. "P-Preacher boy... please don't stop," she moans, voice thick with heat and desperation. "Boy found that button, didn't he? I knew he had it in him" stack says grinning as he listens in. "Hey. Smoke wants you." Grace says coming up behind him. "Check out my little cousin." Stack says before walking away causing grace to lean in to listen. Grace hums at the sounds before walking away.

...

Serena's hair is a little messier now, lips a little redder, eyes shining with a smug kind of satisfaction. She's got that unmistakable "I just did the deed" glow — and she's not hiding it.

She tosses a lazy smile a smooths out her hair, then adjusts the strap of her dress like it's nothing, but the strut in her walk says otherwise. Sammie follows behind, jaw tight, hand grazing her lower back like he wants everyone to know. Giving Sammie one last kiss, she makes her way to the stage. She grips the mic, lips brushing it like a secret. "Hope y'all don't mind if I give you one more..."

The room answers with whistles and claps, but Serena's eyes are already locked onto the bar — more specifically, on Pearline. Her smile curves wider.

"'Course... I can't do this next one alone," she purrs, eyes never leaving hers. "Pearline, honey... why don't you come show these folks how it's really done?"

Heads turn. Grace's brows lift as she pops the cap off another beer. Pearline lets out a soft breath, amused and unbothered. She finishes her sip, slides off the barstool with slow grace, and makes her way toward the stage.

"Ooh, ooh"

“....Mm-hm, mm-hm..."

“....Mm-hm, mm-hm"

Serena starts out humming as she sways her hips seductively. Sammie watches her in awe as she dances.

"Oh, pale moon rising over the pines, come

Lawd away until the sun does rise

Leave the day by the, by the door, I don't

Care if sun don't shine once more"

HE SAID LET ME TASTE IT!!!!

LAWD😩😩😩😩

Also this was my first time doing smut soooo

Tags: @cup1dedd @motheroffae @emberindigocymbee @sailurmewn @marley1773 @heyyimmisunderstood @mmaira18 @melaninqueen04 @christinabae

[yarsia-writesxx]

Been blocking everyone who posts fanfic or ships Sammie and Remmick.

It's absolutely vile and disgusting that there are people who could even remotely imagine them together.

Like, did y'all even watch the movie or do you just enjoy pissing black people off?

[yarsia-writesxx]

SINNERS LIKE US

Sammie “Preacher boy” Moore x Sofia (oc)

Stack x black foc!

Summary: Sofia, a gifted singer, now lives with her controlling husband, Louie, and her sister Estelle. While Sofia struggles to reclaim her voice and independence, Estelle works as a seamstress, trying to distract herself from a certain Moore brother

Warnings: none

Part 1

"Wade in the water......"

"Wade... in the water children"

"Wade in the water....."

".....Gods gonna trouble the water"

Sofia sings softly as she plucks each cotton boll from its root. The sun shines high, its heat pressing against her skin. She pauses to wipe her brow, then keeps moving, her hands never slowing for long. A low engine growl broke the stillness.

The old pickup rumbled down the dirt road, dust trailing behind it. It came to a slow stop near the edge of the field. Sofia didn't look up at first—just kept singing, head low beneath her faded straw hat. "Is that little Sofia?" a familiar voice called out. She pauses mid-reach, finally lifting her head. Her eyes met his—older now, but the same smirk beneath the years.

"Ain't little no more," she says evenly, brushing sweat from her brow. Stack chuckles as he shakes his head. He then leans out the window. "Ya sista here?" He questions causing Sofia to turn to him, her gaze traveling from his dusty boots to the slight twitch in his jaw.

"Inside," she says curtly, jerking her chin toward the house without another word. Then, without waiting for a reply, she turns her back and bent once more to the cotton—resuming her song like nothing had happened. "Stay here I'll be back" Stack says to Sammie before putting the truck in park and climbed out, boots crunching the dry earth as he heads toward the house.

....

The screen door creaks as Stack steps inside, removing his hat as he crosses the threshold. The air inside is a little cooler, laced with the scent of lavender, simmering stew, and years of memories pressed into the walls. A low hum of old gospel trickles from the kitchen. "Estelle?" he calls, his voice smooth, low, familiar.

She appears from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Barefoot, wearing a worn cotton dress, her curls wrapped in a headscarf. She doesn't smile. Doesn't flinch. Just leans in the doorway with steady eyes. "Elias Moore," she says flatly, placing her hands on her hips. Stack grins and tilts his head. "Now I know you missed me, woman."

Estelle lets out a short breath through her nose, unimpressed. "The devil shows up when you least want him, too."

He laughs, slow and lazy, tipping his hat in mock surrender. "You always had a sharp tongue, Estelle. Sharper now than it was back when you used it to whisper sweet things in my ear."

She moves to the stove without a word, stirring whatever's bubbling in the pot, her back to him now.

"That was a long time ago, Elias."

"Don't feel like it," he says, his voice softening just a bit. "Not when I see you."

Estelle turns slowly, resting the spoon against the edge of the pot. "You come here to stir up trouble, or you come here for something real?"

Stack slides his hat onto the table.

"Maybe both."

....

Meanwhile as Sofia continues her work Sammie doesn't move instead he stays in the passenger seat, eyes locked on Sofia—quiet, unreadable. Something about the way she sang, how she didn't look back, held him in place. Sofia could feel the stare burning into her back like the sun itself.

"You gonna keep starin', or are you actually gon' say somethin'?" she calls out, not bothering to turn around. "Oh—sorry, ma'am. I was... just enjoyin' your singin'." Sammie stutters sheepishly, flustered. Sofia hums softly, wiping her hands on a rag as she works. "I've seen you somewhere before," he says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. She pauses, then turns to face him, letting her eyes wander over him slowly. "Maybe," she replies, a faint smirk curving her mouth — just enough to draw him in. That was all the invitation Sammie needed. He climbed out of the truck, curiosity already getting the better of him.

"You sing, don't you?" he asks as he approaches, watching her closely. "Sometimes," she says, coy and cool, not giving too much away. He nods, intrigued, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "I'm Preacher Boy," he says, offering a hand.

"Sofia," she answers, glancing at his hand before taking it. He holds her hand gently, repeating her name like a lyric he wanted to memorize. "Sofia," he says, savoring it, then brings her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Mmm. Beautiful."

She pulls her hand back with a slow, graceful motion, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Hmm. I'm married, by the way." She says raising a brow, lips curling in amusement as she gently pulls her hand away. "Happily?" He questions, grinning as he looks at her up and down. A soft laugh slipped from Sofia's lips—low and dangerous. She gave him a slow once-over, eyes lingering just long enough.

"Ooo... careful, boy. You might bite off more than you can chew." She says as she bends down to pick up her sack, slinging it over her shoulder, but as she turn to walk away, Sammie steps in front of her, hand raised. "Hold on now.... Stack, my cousin? He's openin' up a juke joint." Sammie says making her narrow her eyes a bit. Stack wasn't her favourite person if anything she'd prefer smoke. Stack left her sister too many times but for some reason she keeps taking him back.

"Stack? Openin' a juke joint?" Sofia repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Actually... I can see it," she adds, rolling her eyes just enough to make her opinion clear. Sammie grins. "Him and Smoke, together. Thought it'd be nice if you sang there."

Her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, the compliment softening her just a bit. Before she can reply, the screen door creaks open behind them. "I think that's a great idea," Stack calls, stepping down from the porch like he owns the dirt beneath his boots. "What you think, lil' Sofia?"

Sofia rolls her eyes again—this time, silently—but the irritation is all over her face. She turns toward Sammie instead and gives him a smirk. Then, without sparing Stack another glance, she hums as a response before walking away. "Maybe I'll see you tonight?" Sammie calls after her, a note of hope in his voice. She throws him a glance over her shoulder—half smile, half warning.

"Maybe."

Tags: @cup1dedd @motheroffae @emberindigocymbee @sailurmewn @marley1773 @heyyimmisunderstood @mmaira18 @melaninqueen04

[yarsia-writesxx]

los angeles, ca 2025

[yarsia-writesxx]

Support women. Listen to women. Elect women. #JasmineCrocket

Authoritarian men are selling fear that is so pathetic, the groomed MAGA chumps are the only ones biting.

[yarsia-writesxx]

Republicans are well aware when NOT to call the National Guard when their groomed electorate are committing atrocities during an insurrection planned and activated by their leadership.

[yarsia-writesxx]

SINNERS LIKE US

Sammie “Preacher boy” Moore x Sofia (oc)

Stack x black foc!

Summary: Sofia, a gifted singer, now lives with her controlling husband, Louie, and her sister Estelle. While Sofia struggles to reclaim her voice and independence, Estelle works as a seamstress, trying to distract herself from a certain Moore brother

Warnings: none

Part 1

"Wade in the water......"

"Wade... in the water children"

"Wade in the water....."

".....Gods gonna trouble the water"

Sofia sings softly as she plucks each cotton boll from its root. The sun shines high, its heat pressing against her skin. She pauses to wipe her brow, then keeps moving, her hands never slowing for long. A low engine growl broke the stillness.

The old pickup rumbled down the dirt road, dust trailing behind it. It came to a slow stop near the edge of the field. Sofia didn't look up at first—just kept singing, head low beneath her faded straw hat. "Is that little Sofia?" a familiar voice called out. She pauses mid-reach, finally lifting her head. Her eyes met his—older now, but the same smirk beneath the years.

"Ain't little no more," she says evenly, brushing sweat from her brow. Stack chuckles as he shakes his head. He then leans out the window. "Ya sista here?" He questions causing Sofia to turn to him, her gaze traveling from his dusty boots to the slight twitch in his jaw.

"Inside," she says curtly, jerking her chin toward the house without another word. Then, without waiting for a reply, she turns her back and bent once more to the cotton—resuming her song like nothing had happened. "Stay here I'll be back" Stack says to Sammie before putting the truck in park and climbed out, boots crunching the dry earth as he heads toward the house.

....

The screen door creaks as Stack steps inside, removing his hat as he crosses the threshold. The air inside is a little cooler, laced with the scent of lavender, simmering stew, and years of memories pressed into the walls. A low hum of old gospel trickles from the kitchen. "Estelle?" he calls, his voice smooth, low, familiar.

She appears from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. Barefoot, wearing a worn cotton dress, her curls wrapped in a headscarf. She doesn't smile. Doesn't flinch. Just leans in the doorway with steady eyes. "Elias Moore," she says flatly, placing her hands on her hips. Stack grins and tilts his head. "Now I know you missed me, woman."

Estelle lets out a short breath through her nose, unimpressed. "The devil shows up when you least want him, too."

He laughs, slow and lazy, tipping his hat in mock surrender. "You always had a sharp tongue, Estelle. Sharper now than it was back when you used it to whisper sweet things in my ear."

She moves to the stove without a word, stirring whatever's bubbling in the pot, her back to him now.

"That was a long time ago, Elias."

"Don't feel like it," he says, his voice softening just a bit. "Not when I see you."

Estelle turns slowly, resting the spoon against the edge of the pot. "You come here to stir up trouble, or you come here for something real?"

Stack slides his hat onto the table.

"Maybe both."

....

Meanwhile as Sofia continues her work Sammie doesn't move instead he stays in the passenger seat, eyes locked on Sofia—quiet, unreadable. Something about the way she sang, how she didn't look back, held him in place. Sofia could feel the stare burning into her back like the sun itself.

"You gonna keep starin', or are you actually gon' say somethin'?" she calls out, not bothering to turn around. "Oh—sorry, ma'am. I was... just enjoyin' your singin'." Sammie stutters sheepishly, flustered. Sofia hums softly, wiping her hands on a rag as she works. "I've seen you somewhere before," he says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. She pauses, then turns to face him, letting her eyes wander over him slowly. "Maybe," she replies, a faint smirk curving her mouth — just enough to draw him in. That was all the invitation Sammie needed. He climbed out of the truck, curiosity already getting the better of him.

"You sing, don't you?" he asks as he approaches, watching her closely. "Sometimes," she says, coy and cool, not giving too much away. He nods, intrigued, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "I'm Preacher Boy," he says, offering a hand.

"Sofia," she answers, glancing at his hand before taking it. He holds her hand gently, repeating her name like a lyric he wanted to memorize. "Sofia," he says, savoring it, then brings her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Mmm. Beautiful."

She pulls her hand back with a slow, graceful motion, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Hmm. I'm married, by the way." She says raising a brow, lips curling in amusement as she gently pulls her hand away. "Happily?" He questions, grinning as he looks at her up and down. A soft laugh slipped from Sofia's lips—low and dangerous. She gave him a slow once-over, eyes lingering just long enough.

"Ooo... careful, boy. You might bite off more than you can chew." She says as she bends down to pick up her sack, slinging it over her shoulder, but as she turn to walk away, Sammie steps in front of her, hand raised. "Hold on now.... Stack, my cousin? He's openin' up a juke joint." Sammie says making her narrow her eyes a bit. Stack wasn't her favourite person if anything she'd prefer smoke. Stack left her sister too many times but for some reason she keeps taking him back.

"Stack? Openin' a juke joint?" Sofia repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Actually... I can see it," she adds, rolling her eyes just enough to make her opinion clear. Sammie grins. "Him and Smoke, together. Thought it'd be nice if you sang there."

Her lips twitch into a reluctant smile, the compliment softening her just a bit. Before she can reply, the screen door creaks open behind them. "I think that's a great idea," Stack calls, stepping down from the porch like he owns the dirt beneath his boots. "What you think, lil' Sofia?"

Sofia rolls her eyes again—this time, silently—but the irritation is all over her face. She turns toward Sammie instead and gives him a smirk. Then, without sparing Stack another glance, she hums as a response before walking away. "Maybe I'll see you tonight?" Sammie calls after her, a note of hope in his voice. She throws him a glance over her shoulder—half smile, half warning.

"Maybe."

Tags: @cup1dedd @motheroffae @emberindigocymbee @sailurmewn @marley1773 @heyyimmisunderstood @mmaira18 @melaninqueen04

[yarsia-writesxx]

Sinners Masterlist

Sammie “preacher boy” Moore:

Saints and Sinners

Summary: Serena and Sammie were practically inseparable when they were little. He's play his instrument in church while Serena sang in the choir. But one day she had to move away without warning. Now she's back....What happens when she is recruited by stack to sing at their juke joint?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 (coming soon)

Sinners like Us

Summary: Sofia, a gifted singer, lives with her controlling husband, Louie, and her sister Estelle. While Sofia struggles to reclaim her voice and independence, Estelle works as a seamstress, trying to distract herself from a certain Moore brother.

ONE

TWO (coming soon)

Elijah “Smoke” Moore:

Sinners among us

Summary: Agnes, Annie's sister in blood and magic, moves back to Clarksdale Mississippi to reunite with her sister.

Sneak peak

[yarsia-writesxx]

Saints and Sinners

Sammie 'Preacher boy' Moore x Serena Saint

Summary: Serena and Sammie were practically inseparable when they were little. He's play his instrument in church while Serena sang in the choir. But one day she had to move away without warning. Now she's back....What happens when she is recruited by stack to sing at their jukebox joint?

Warnings: LONG chapter

Words: 1325

Part 3

Sammie and Serena get lost in the rhythm, their bodies moving like the music was made just for them, but then the song begins to fade. Everyone claps at Sammie keeps his hand on her waist. "You gon play?" She questions turning to Sammie. "You gon sing?" He questions back making her chuckle. "We'll see where the night takes us" Serena says shrugging teasingly knowing she was going to sing. The lights shift, and the crowd's attention turns as Slim steps onto the stage, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

"I been hearin' about one particular young man all day," Slim says, his voice smooth and playful. "Supposed to be a real bad blue man. Pretty boy. Where you at? Come on in, man." Slim says as the crowd erupts with laughter and cheers as Sammie and Serena break apart, breathless and smiling. She gives him a quick, encouraging look, her eyes shining with something warm and electric. "My little cousin, y'all. Watch this," Stack calls from offstage, pride thick in his voice.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Tell em who you are." Slim encourages as Sammie takes the stand. "I'm Sammie Moore," he says, eyes sweeping across the room before landing briefly on Serena, who watches him with a soft, knowing smile. "I'm a sharecropper from the Sunflower Plantation. Folks call me Preacher Boy, on account of my daddy bein' the pastor. I wrote this song... for him." Sammie says picking up his guitar and putting it over him.

"Something I been wanting to tell you for a long time .....It might hurt you, hope you don't lose your mind.... Well, I was just a boy, 'bout eight years old.....You threw me a Bible on that Mississippi road...."

Sammie sings as he begin to play his guitar.

"See, I love ya, Papa, you did all you could do

They say the truth hurts, so I lied to you

Yes, I lied to you

I love the blues"

Annie and slim nod their heads to the beat.

"Mm-mm

Oh, mm-mm

Hey"

"Come on, somebody move your feet now!" Slim calls out with a grin, his fingers dancing across the piano keys. Serena locks eyes with Sammie across the room, a playful spark between them. Slowly, she starts to sway, letting the rhythm pull her in.

"Somebody take me in your arms tonight, alright

Somebody take me in your arms tonight

Yeah, yeah

Somebody take me in your arms tonight..."

The crowd lets out an impressed ooooh, the energy in the room shifting as Stack leans back into the haze, a smug smirk curling on his lips. But Serena's not paying attention to any of it—she's still moving, caught in the music, eyes only for Sammie.

"Hmmm

Somebody take me in your arms tonight"

As he sang, dancers from every corner of time and style began to fill the floor.

African tribal drummers, their deep, resonant beats echoing like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Nearby, shamans adorned in feathers and beads move in trance-like dances. Ballerinas glide gracefully, their tutus shimmering in the low light as they pirouette and leap. Dancers representing the cultural heritage of Chinese immigrants began to dance demonstrating their artistic form. 90s hip-hop crews slide in, popping and breaking, sneakers squeaking, graffiti colors flashing in their gear. That was just some of them. This whole experience looked like something out of a dream.

"Somebody, take me in your arms..."

He sang, his voice soaring into a powerful, trembling high note that seemed to hang in the air. It was so powerful it was like the roof caught fire. Serena stares in disbelief. This was a new side she didn't know existed. Since when can he sang like that.

Inside the juke joint, Sammie's voice filled every corner, lifting spirits and pulling hearts together. The crowd swayed, lost in the music's raw power, completely unaware of the shadow lurking just beyond the cracked front door.

Outside, in the thick night air, a figure stood—still, silent, eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness. Drawn by the haunting melody spilling out like a siren's call, the vampire watched with hunger masked behind a smirk.

As the last note of Sammie's song fades and the cheers swell through the room, Stack steps into the spotlight, clapping with a proud grin stretched across his face. "If y'all thought that was somethin'," he says, his voice rising over the noise, "just wait—'cause there’s more to come”

He pauses for effect, letting the anticipation build.

"Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for Ms. Saint herself—come on up, Serena!"

The crowd bursts into cheers and whistles as Serena's smile spreads slowly, lighting up her face. She glances at Sammie, who gives her a subtle nod, admiration written all over him. With a confident sway in her step, Serena heads toward the stage, ready to claim her moment.

And just like that, the room shifts again—this time for her. She grips the mic stand, eyes smoldering. Her voice cuts through the room—low, raw, magnetic.

"I put a spell on you..."

"...because you're mine."

She sings as she begins to dance. Slow, deliberate sways. Her hips roll in time with the rhythm. Her hands slide up her body like she's conjuring the spell in real time. Her voice rises—

"Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do"

".......You better stop the things you do"

She walks slowly up and down the stage, hips swaying. The rhythm is slow, bluesy—every note deliberate, every breath sultry. She turns, tracing the curve of the mic stand with her fingers like a lover's touch.

"I ain't lyin', no, I ain't lyin'...

"...You know I can't stand it..."

".....Your runnin' 'round...."

Sammie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. His breath hitched, chest tightening as heat coiled low in his gut. Their eyes met—fierce, magnetic, unblinking. She held him there, steady and bold, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. Then, with a sultry purr that dripped like honey, she leaned into the mic and said:

"You know better, daddy..."

"...I can't stand it, 'cause you put me down..."

"...Yeah, yeah..."

Serena doesn't break eye contact. That smile? Dangerous. Confident. The kind of smile that knows exactly what it does to a man like him.

She steps down from the stage—slow, graceful, commanding. Her hips sway in time with the sultry rhythm still playing behind her, each move intentional, every step dripping with tension.

The spotlight tightens, framing her like she's the only one in the world. Like she's descending from the heavens—or maybe rising from something far more sinful. The room fades. The music dims. It's just the two of them now. She stops inches from him as the song ends. Her breath is warm against his face. Her perfume? Sweet, impossible to ignore.

Sammie doesn't move. Doesn't blink.

Then—he grabs her hand.

Firm. Intentional. No room for questions.

He pulls her through the haze of the juke joint, weaving past tables, bodies, and staring eyes. Gasps and voices trail behind them like smoke:

"Sammie!"

"Aye, Sammie!"

"Hey, preacher boy!"

He ignores them all. His grip tightens, pace quickening. Serena doesn't ask where they're going—she just follows without hesitation. By the time they reach the storage room, Sammie doesn't even touch the doorknob—he slams her back against it.

Their mouths crash together. It's fire and fury, tongues clashing, breaths stolen. His hands roam—her waist, her back, her hair—like he can't decide what to worship first. Serena moans into the kiss, her fingers fisting the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, deeper. It's messy. Urgent. Like something they've been holding in for far too long.

He finally tears the door open, dragging her inside.

SLAM.

The door slams shut behind them. They're breathing heavy, lips kiss-bruised, and eyes locked in the dim light.

Next chapter promise 😏😏😏

Tags : @cup1dedd @motheroffae @emberindigocymbee @sailurmewn @marley1773 @heyyimmisunderstood @mmaira18

[yarsia-writesxx]

if you're black, reblog this

[yarsia-writesxx]

Yall I had to do it!!!!

[yarsia-writesxx]

Confessions

Summary: Beth is forced to keep an injured person who was dumped on her daughters bed for a gang member. What happens when she invites a certain friend who is a doctor.

Warning: none

Rio x black! Fem oc (Elaine)

Elaine was gently wrapping a bandage around the young boy's arm, offering him a reassuring smile. "You're going to be just fine, okay?," she says softly, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. The child, no older than seven, sniffles but managed a small, brave nod. Just as Elaine was about to grab a lollipop from the nearby jar, her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She glanced at the screen and saw Elizabeth flashing across it. Her heart skipped slightly—Elizabeth rarely called unless it was something important.

"Hey," Elaine answers, keeping her voice low but warm, still mindful of the child sitting beside her. "Elaine..." Elizabeth says her voice , cracking slightly."I—I need to talk to you."

Elaine's eyes immediately sharpens with concern. She glances at the boy, then at the nurse nearby, silently signaling that she needed to step away. The nurse nods, placing a gentle hand on the child's back, leading him toward his waiting parents. Stepping into the hallway, Elaine presses the phone closer to her ear. "Elizabeth, what's wrong? Are you okay?" She questions, There was a long pause on the other end, followed by a trembling breath. "No... I'm not." She answers.

Elaine's grip on the phone tightened. She could feel the tension in Elizabeth's voice—the barely contained emotion. Something had happened. Something serious. "Where are you?" Elaine asks softly, as she begins looking for her things.  "Home. Can you come?" Elizabeth says as her voice drops into a whisper. Without hesitation, Elaine nods, though Elizabeth couldn't see it.

"I'm on my way."

...

"In here," Elizabeth says, her voice low and tense as she leads the crew into her child's room. She pushes the door open, her hand trembling slightly. "Will you tell us what's going on? This is seriously freaking me out," Ruby whispers, her eyes darting around the room. Elaine steps in first, but the moment she opens the door fully, they all freeze. Lying on the floor in front of the cradle is a man, blood pooling beneath him. His chest rises and falls faintly, barely clinging to consciousness. "Oh, my God," Annie breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hand flies to her mouth in shock. "Who is that?" Ruby hisses, her voice sharp with panic. Elizabeth swallows hard, glancing at them before slowly shaking her head. "I... I don't know."

The women turn to her, their eyes wide with disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know?" Elaine asks, shooting Elizabeth a pointed look as she kneels down and sets her medical bag on the floor. Elizabeth takes a shaky breath, rubbing her hands over her arms. "I'm serious. I came back from the grocery store and he was just... here." She gestures weakly toward the bleeding man. "I'm guessing he's, like, an associate of that guy." Her voice lowers as she points at the body slumped against the wall—a man clearly dead, his eyes vacant and lifeless.

Ruby groans, dragging her hands down her face. "Oh, come on. I thought we were done with this."

Elaine's head snaps up. "Wait—what's going on here?" Her eyes narrow as she looks between the three women. "Someone want to fill me in?"

The room falls into an uneasy silence as the three mothers exchange uneasy glances. "Hello? I'm not talking to myself," Elaine snaps, her voice firm. "If you want my help, I need to know what the hell I'm walking into."

Elizabeth exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "We robbed a grocery store," she blurts out, her voice flat but unsteady.

Elaine's eyes widen. "You what?"

Ruby winces while Annie shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Elaine's piercing stare. Elizabeth shrugs weakly, as if saying it faster would somehow make it sound less insane. "Yeah... and a gang member found out. Now he wants us to pay him back. So, we're doing jobs for him."

Elaine blinks, momentarily stunned. She glances at the unconscious man on the floor, then back at Elizabeth. "You've got to be kidding me." She shakes her head slowly, exhaling sharply through her nose. "You bitches do too much," she mutters under her breath, already pulling out gauze and disinfectant. But Elizabeth's face falls, her expression clouding with guilt. She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip before speaking. "That's not all..." Her voice wavers. "And then... God, this sounds so crazy even saying it out loud."

Annie's eyes narrow. "Spit it out, Liz."

Elizabeth's throat bobs as she swallows hard. Finally, she admits, "I... I offered to do another job."

The room falls deathly silent. Elaine's head snaps toward her, her eyes wide with disbelief. Ruby and Annie stare at Elizabeth as though she's grown a second head. "What?!" they all shout in unison.  "So you asked for this?"Ruby questions as she steps forward, her voice dripping with accusation. Annie lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head with a bitter smirk. Elizabeth's eyes flash with frustration. "It's not like we don't need the money!" she argues. "We all still need it."

Annie snickers under her breath, but Ruby's eyes narrow. "So you asked for this?" she repeats, her voice sharp with disbelief. Annie, unable to contain herself, lets out a full-on laugh, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

Elaine, meanwhile, stares at Elizabeth, her hands briefly stilling as she processes the insanity. "You've seriously lost your damn minds." Elaine says. "No. Obviously not this," Elizabeth snaps, her eyes narrowing at Ruby. Annie suddenly bursts into laughter, unable to hold it in any longer. Her cackle echoes through the small room, making Elizabeth whip her head around.

"Shh!" Elizabeth hisses, glaring at her. Annie slaps a hand over her mouth, still grinning behind it. "I'm sorry," she mumbles through her fingers, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "I just can't believe it's you and not me. Come on, this is insane." She shakes her head, stifling another giggle. Elizabeth crosses her arms, scowling. "Look, I just said that we would possibly—possibly—if the circumstances were right, pick up another load of the fake cash." Her voice rises defensively. Ruby's eyes widen, and she throws her hands up. "You volunteered us?!" she exclaims, her voice shrill with disbelief. "What is wrong with you?!"

Elizabeth huffs, her expression tight with frustration. "It's not drugs. It's paper. I mean, it's literally just paper," she argues, trying to justify herself. Ruby glares at her. "You can't sign people up for criminal activity like it's a damn bake sale," she snaps, shaking her head in exasperation. Elizabeth opens her mouth, about to fire back, but then clamps it shut, suddenly at a loss for words. Elaine, who has been watching the exchange with growing irritation, lets out a sharp sigh. She gestures toward the unconscious man with a wave of her hand. "Okay, while you two figure out your life choices, I'm going to tend to the bleeding guy on the floor." Her voice is dry with sarcasm as she strides over, kneeling beside him and pulling out her medical supplies. She presses two fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. It's faint but still there. Without looking up, she asks, "Do you at least know his name?"

Elizabeth exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "No. I just... found him like this," she admits, her voice strained. Elaine's eyes flick up briefly, her expression flat. "That means you need to change your locks or something," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. Slipping on a pair of sterile gloves, she peels back the blood-soaked gauze, revealing the torn flesh beneath. Her throat tightens for a brief moment, but she pushes the reaction down, focusing on the task.

"You're going to be okay," she murmurs softly, though she knows he can't hear her.

She grabs a cloth, dabs at the blood, and cleans the wound with quick, precise movements. The man stirs slightly, a faint groan escaping his lips, but he doesn't wake. His face is pale, slick with sweat, and his chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Elaine reaches for a roll of bandages and begins wrapping the wound. Her hands move swiftly, applying firm, steady pressure to stop the bleeding. She layers the bandages tightly, her gloves stained with his blood, but she doesn't falter.  "I bet he does, right?" Annie says, pointing at the unconscious man. The other women glance at him, their eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion.

Elaine finishes tightening the last bandage, but as she shifts to adjust his position, her fingers brush against something hard beneath him. Her brow furrows, and she carefully reaches under his body. Her hand closes around the object, and she slowly pulls it out. The moment the item comes into view, all four women instinctively step back. "Shit, it's a gun," Elaine mutters, holding it away from herself with two fingers, her face twisted in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" Ruby hisses, wide-eyed. Annie crosses her arms, still staring at the gun. "Does he have a phone or something?" she asks, her voice low but firm. Elaine carefully sets the gun down on the dresser before reaching into the man's jacket pocket. Her fingers close around a phone, and she pulls it out. Without saying a word, she walks over to the others, holding the device in her palm. Ruby leans in slightly, her voice hushed but eager. "What's the last number he called?"

Elaine squints at the screen, scrolling through the call log. "Uh... let's see..." She frowns, then deadpans, "Technically? Papa John's."

Ruby shoots her a flat glare. "The last person, Elaine," she snaps. "Right, right." Elaine nods and resumes scrolling. Her eyes narrow slightly as she reads off the names. "Mom... Mom... Mom... Mom... Mom..."

The women exchange glances, their faces scrunching with confusion. "Oh, my God," Ruby whispers. "Why didn't he just go to his mom's?"

Elaine doesn't even look up, still scrolling. "Mom... Mom again... and Mom... oh, and guess what? Mom again."

Elizabeth shakes her head, her voice dry with sarcasm. "I know, seriously."

Then Elaine suddenly stops. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she tilts the phone toward the light to make sure she's reading it right. "Huh... Mom and..." Her voice trails off. Her eyes lift to the others, her expression shifting to something more serious.

"...Rio."

[yarsia-writesxx]

Somebody please request someone or something I will not let yall down!

[yarsia-writesxx]

Saints and Sinners

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore x Serena Saint

Summary: Serena and Sammie were practically inseparable when they were little. He's play his instrument in church while Serena sang in the choir. But one day she had to move away without warning. Now she's back....What happens when she is recruited by stack to sing at their jukebox joint?

Warnings: tension

Part 2

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty path as Serena walks toward the little house at the edge of town. The porch creaks beneath her sandals, the old boards giving under her careful steps. Before she can knock, her father's voice calls out from inside.

"That you, baby girl?"

"It's me, Daddy," she says, pushing open the screen door.

That day her momma left with her, Serena thought she'd never see her father again. The shouting, the slammed door, the packed suitcase—it all felt so final. But her father made an effort. Showed up every chance he could, no matter how far it was or how late the hour. Her mother, as angry as she was, granted him that—said she didn't have to see his face all the time,so it's alright . And he used that small opening like it was gold.

Inside, her father sits in his worn armchair, a soft blanket over his knees and a well-thumbed book resting on his lap. The room smells like tobacco and old pine. He looks up with a tired smile. "Don't you look more like your mama every time I see you," he says, motioning her over. Serena bends to kiss his cheek and settles on the footstool beside him. "How you feelin' today?"

"Oh, I'm still breathin', so I suppose I can't complain," he chuckles. "Reverend came by, brought the paper and talked my ear off about the Good Lord."

"That does sound like him," she says, laughing. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a wrapped bundle. "I brought you some of Miss Lydia's peach pie. Said it might sweeten your mood."

"That woman's pie could raise the dead," he grins, already reaching for it. "How ya been daddy?" Serena questions. “Oh, same ol', same ol'. Glad you came by," he says, eyeing her with curiosity. "But what you really come for?"

Serena smiles, caught in the act. "I came to see you, of course... but I ran into Stack and Sammie on the way." Serena says sitting across from her father. "Ah, the Moore boys," he says, chuckling as he settles back. "How's that Stack? Last I heard, he and his brother was in Chicago or somethin'."

"He's fine, Papa. Doing real good." She hesitates for a second, messing with her dress. "Actually... Stack and Sammie invited me to see their new place. The twins bought a juke joint."

"A juke joint, huh?" he says, raising his eyebrows as he nods slowly. "Yeah," Serena replies. "They asked me to sing for them, and I think I'm gonna go. I just need to stop by Pearline's first."

He smiles, the pride evident in his eyes. "You always had a beautiful voice. I'm sure you'll do just fine. Just promise me you'll be back at a reasonable time—you know how I worry."

Serena beams, excitement lighting up her face. "Great, thanks, Papa!" she says, getting up, kissing his cheek before hurrying to the door.

....

Serena makes her way to Pearline's house, her heart tapping out a rhythm faster than her steps. The porch is warm beneath her feet, and as always, she lets herself in.

Inside, Pearline is curled up on the edge of her bed, painting her toenails and humming along to the radio. The scent of coconut oil and fresh linen floats through the room. Pearline glances up. "Hey, you. Back from your daddy's?"

"Yeah," Serena says, closing the door behind her. “How is he?” Pearline questions. "He's good. Said the Reverend talked him to sleep." Serena as words making pearline chuckle, then narrows her eyes, catching something in Serena's expression. "Okay... what is it? You got that 'I done did something' look."

"It's nothing like that it's just preacher boy invited me to sing as this new juke joint his cousin opened up" Serena says making Pearline blink in confusion . "Preacher who?" She questions. "Preacher boy. Sammie," Serena says with a grin. "Oh right the guy you introduced me to today" Pearline says making her nod. ""I wanna do it," Serena says, her voice softer now. "I really do. But I ain't got nothin' that says 'I belong up there.' Most of what I got says 'I belong behind a pie table at a bake sale.'"

Pearline marches over to her closet with a mission in her step. "Lucky for you, I been waiting for an excuse to let this dress out again."

She pulls out a deep red swing dress, smooth as satin and catching the light just right.

...

Sammie looks around the room, searching for a certain someone."Everything good?" Slim asks, coming behind Sammie. Sammie startles, then gives a quick, jerky nod, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. "Yeah... yeah, just waitin' on someone."

Slim raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Someone, huh?"

Before Sammie can reply, the door swings open. Serena steps inside, her eyes sweeping over the room with quiet wonder. "Wow... it's beautiful," she murmurs to herself, unaware that Sammie has already spotted her.

A slow grin creeps across Sammie's face as he watches her. Undressing her with his eyes, he shifts his weight, brushing his jacket back just enough to look smooth without trying too hard. Serena finally notices him and strolls over, tilting her head.

"Ya mama ever tell you it's rude to stare?" she teases, one brow arched. Serena was wearing a red dress with a layered, design. The top layer appears to be made of a sleek, satin, fabric. Underneath, there's a sheer, lace 3 bodice with embellishments that seem to be small stones or sequins. Sammie looks at her up and down and grins, eyes never leaving hers. "She did. But she also said if you see something beautiful, you'd be a fool to look away."

Serena arches a brow, amused. "That right?"

"Of course" Sammie says making Serena smile. "So, you here to dance," Serena challenges, stepping a little closer, eyes locked on his, "or just stand there makin' a habit of starin' at me?"

Sammie's smirk deepens, head tilting ever so slightly. "Depends," he says smoothly. "You want me to dance, or keep admirin' the view?"

Serena bites back a smile, clearly amused. "You talk a lot of game."

"I play just as good," Sammie fires back without missing a beat. That makes Serena laugh—soft, surprised, a little impressed. She reaches out and slips her hand into his. "Alright then, smooth talker. Let's see if your moves match your mouth."

Sammie lets her lead him onto the dance floor, his grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The moment they reach the crowd, he spins her with practiced ease, then pulls her back against him, his hands settling low on her hips. Her back molds to his chest like they were meant to fit. They move in rhythm, slow and deliberate, each sway laced with unspoken promises. Sammie’s breath catches as he watches her hips roll against his, sending a slow burn through his veins. She has no idea what she’s doing to him—or maybe she does. His fingers tighten slightly on her waist as he leans in, his lips brushing her neck, soft and slow. A kiss here. Another there. Her skin is warm, her scent dizzying. He hears her breath hitch just slightly, and it almost undoes him.

This woman… she’s dangerous. And Sammie’s never wanted danger more. She doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans back into him, her head tilting just enough to give him more access to her neck. It’s permission—and a dare.

Sammie’s lips ghost over her skin again, slower this time, letting the moment stretch like a wire pulled tight. One spark and it’ll snap. Her hand slides back, fingertips grazing the side of his thigh before resting there, anchoring herself—or maybe him. His jaw clenches. Every part of him is screaming to close the distance, to press in closer, deeper, more. He lowers his mouth to her ear, his voice barely a whisper. “You keep moving like that,” he murmurs, “and I’m not gonna make it through this song.”

She turns her head slightly, just enough for her lips to brush his jawline. “Maybe that’s the point,” she replies, voice low, teasing—but her eyes say otherwise. There’s fire in them. A challenge.

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