im so obsessed with sinners right now and i’ve had a couple of ideas floating around! one specifically has been driving me NUTS
reader being in a committed relationship with smoke, but sometimes her eyes drift to stack. smoke isn’t oblivious, but he also isn’t mad. maybe he arranges a little blindfolded “who’s touching you right now” with stack for his lady, just a one (or two) time thing!
Dude, YES SAME, I have been going nutso for sinners since it came out and I need to gush!!! I cannot, will not shut up LOL. I loooved this ask, thank you thank you, keep em coming hehe 😈
Smoke x Reader... x (Stack)
Warnings: Spice, blindfolds, wandering eyes, committed relationship with Smoke, ambiguous relationship with Stack
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Being with Smoke is everything you’ve wanted and more in a relationship. He’s dependable, calm and collected, and follows through time and time again. When he commits, he commits. You feel lucky every night you get to share your bed with him.
He makes you feel secure and safe in your relationship, and you trust him entirely.
And yet, despite how perfect and content you feel in your relationship with Smoke, every now and then you can’t seem to keep yours eyes off of his brother
They’re equal parts handsome in a literal, identical sense, so it’s unsurprising that you’d also find Stack attractive. However, that small fact does little to ease your guilty conscience
A night of dancing with your front pressed against Smoke’s firm chest, and all the while you’re staring over his shoulder to where Stack is grinding with some girl
Sitting on Smoke’s lap while both twins play cards at a table, and your eyes can’t help but track the way Stack’s throat bobs when he swallows his whiskey neat
Waiting in the car while Smoke and Stack handle business with Bo, unable to keep your eyes from glancing between both their asses
You tried your best to keep your eyes away from Smoke’s equally attractive brother, and yet at every opportunity you drifted them in Stack’s direction without meaning to
The worst part of it is…Smoke knew. He had to.
Smoke was not a foolish man—he kept tabs on every situation. You need to be vigilant when you work with risky money. He read social cues, picked up on subtle body language, and watched for signs of shady business. It’s what allowed him to command a room.
All this is to say, you knew that he knew.
And, if you weren’t convinced before, you definitely were after you caught Smoke staring right towards you… Caught in the act while you eyed the bulging veins on his brother’s forearm, lining up a shot at the pool table
You expected Smoke to have confronted you about it earlier. You expected him to get angry, defensive, accusatory, and jealous even.
It was no small stressor as you waited for him to bring it up in the following days
Yet, your reckoning did not come to you in angry words, but in the anticipation of them.
“Close your eyes darlin’,” Smoke spoke in that familiar, even tone—calm and collected as ever. But you knew he knew, and it unnerved you. You watched him loosen his tie, swallowing nervously.
His eyes narrowed at you, and with a twitch you realized he meant business.
“I said, close your eyes.”
You had little choice but to obey. Your nerves were firing off as your eyelashes fluttered closed. You heard the click of his shoes on the wooden floorboards, stepping closer in your direction.
You jumped slightly as you felt his fingertips against your throat—a ghost of a touch, so light that it brought goosebumps to your flesh.
Your breathing became shallower and more labored as you felt his knuckles trace delicately up to your jaw…and then the gentle brush of fabric as he used his tie to blindfold you.
“Can’t have your eyes wandering,” his voice was husky in your ear, and you knew without a doubt that your moment of reckoning had come. He knew.
Being unable to see brought with it an elevated level of sensitivity—the gentle, yet firm, feeling of his hands leading you to the center of the room. The warm fanning of his breath against the back of your neck. The sound of a door across the room opening and softly clicking shut.
A second pair of footsteps approached you, and you realized with a growing sense of anxiety and exhilaration that another had joined your company.
And then, another pair of work-worn hands touched against your arm, and you audibly gasped.
“My,” you heard Stack’s breathy laugh, recognizing it immediately. “Sensitive, aren't they?”
“Mm hmm,” Smoke agreed gruffly, his voice strong and poised. He had complete control over you and the situation at hand.
For a moment, no one spoke. You waited with baited breath as you heard the sound of fabric rustling. Someone was moving. Who?
You felt a large hand grab at your hip, and you jolted, startled. The hand coaxed you as if soothing a spooked animal, trailing up your side and stopping along your ribcage.
“Who’s touching you right now?” you heard Smoke’s deep and commanding voice ask from behind you. You were certain if you leaned a few inches back you would bump into his broad chest.
“I d-don’t…” you stuttered out, unsure of how to answer, too tightly wound and agitated to risk a guess. What would happen if you were incorrect?
The hand on your ribcage disappeared, leaving behind a warmth that made the air in its absence feel cold. Then, a sharp nip at your earlobe…a punishment for taking too long.
“Smoke!” you yelped, knowing that had been him.
His dark chuckle sounded so close to your ear that a shiver ran up your spine. Something molten was already beginning to form in your chest. “Very good,” he praised.
You heard a low whistle directly in front of you—Stack, enjoying the scene in front of him.
You didn’t dare reach out for him. You didn’t have to, because within a moment he was pawing at your thigh, squeezing the plush flesh there. Bold, explorative, eager.
“S-Stack,” you choked on his name, and you didn’t need to see to know that his typical devilish smile was spread across his face.
“Don’t think you’ll need to train 'em for too long,” Stack spoke lowly to his brother. “Seems like they learn better when their eyes are closed.”
And Smoke mumbled his assent with his teeth against the nape of your neck.
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Summary: the daughter of a Baptist preacher is secretly running around and dating the famous Elias 'stack' Moore. They met due to her father running an integrated church. Her father would die and go right to heaven if he found out what his "pure" daughter was doing with Elias - not because the differences in race, but because Elias had been the one to corrupt his innocent little girl.
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, slight corruption kink, reader is a specific race for plot purposes, oral(F receiving), blasphemy, rough - ish sex, dirty talk, religion, forbidden love, secret relationship, slight choking.
A/n: Send in Sinners request!❤️
MasterList ML2
The Delta settled into the kind of summer evening that carried the smell of warm earth and river water. Cicadas screamed from the trees, and the last streaks of orange faded behind the cotton fields. Elias "Stack" Moore leaned one elbow out the window of Elijah's borrowed Ford, a crooked grin pulling at his mouth as gravel crunched beneath the tires.
“Don't scratch my car” Smoke had warned.
Stack had answered with nothing more than a laugh. The truth was, he hadn't borrowed it for a joyride - not really. It had been seven long days. Seven days since he'd seen her smile. Seven days since he'd heard her laugh. Seven days was entirely too long.
Word traveled quickly through the neighborhoods of the Delta. By supper, somebody had mentioned pastor Bailey was leading a week-long revival in Tennessee. Elias didn't need to hear another word. It would certainly be rude to leave a young girl all by her lonesome for a week - now, wouldn't it? The smug basterd even couldn't stop himself from grinning as he zoomed past the little white church - “if only that preacher knew”
If only the preacher knew the man that singlehandedly corrupted his precious, sweet little girl, set in his pews every Sunday. Elias didn’t believe in sin - at least not the kind he preached about from the pulpit. He believed in the curve of a woman’s waist, the taste of cheap whiskey, and the thrill of doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to do.
Pastor Bailey was no fool, but there were things he didn't know - maybe that was for the best. The widowed pastor had arrived from Baltimore with his daughter years earlier with ideas that most folks around the Delta called dangerous. He preached that every soul stood equal before God. Black, white, poor, or rich. - It didn't matter. He believed that we were all gonna live together in peace when we got to heaven, so might as well learn together too.
His congregation reflected it too. People whispered and others threatened. The Klan certainly hadn't appreciated the message and above all the pastor possessed two qualities in abundance - faith and absolutely no fear. Everybody knew the bible on his desk was there to save anyone's soul if willing. They also knew the loaded shotgun within arm's reach was there to protect his congregation. His belief in the 2nd amendment was just as strong as the Klan’s twisted and disgusting mindset.
Smoke respected a man who practiced what he preached, especially when that preaching came backed by equal measures of scripture and shotgun steel. Pastor Bailey was a dangerous kind of holy man - soft-spoken, gentle-hearted, but with a spine of pure iron. He protected his flock like a mother bear, willing to trade scripture verses with bullets if necessary.
Truth be told, Elijah and Elias only started attending because Annie insisted. “Boy,” she'd told both twins, “the Lord's been good to you whether you admit it or not”
Elias had rolled his eyes the entire first service - hell, he would have fallen asleep if Annie hadn't smacked that flashly fedora off his thick skull. But he had remembered every second of that day anyway. The preacher had been halfway through a sermon about judgment when Elais' attention drifted.
Not to the pulpit, but to the second pew closet to the front - she was sitting beside Grace Chow of all people. She had that pink bible opened to Revelations like a good little girl.
She looked like an angel, her profile soft and innocent, simple pale blue dress and her hair pinned back. She listened like every word her father spoke mattered. Then she looked up and caught him staring. Before his brain could catch up with his mouth, Elias gave the most flirtatious wink he'd ever given to any woman. And instead of looking offended she'd blushed - actually blushed and gave him the cutest smile he'd ever seen. And that smile hadn't left him ever since.
If only the preacher knew Elias Moore had singlehandedly corrupted his daughter - Took her. virginity inside that very church no less.
The memory of it still made him grin like a fool - that stolen hour between Wednesday night Bible study and the late service, when he'd backed her against the choir loft the day she wore that prim little dress. He didn’t believe in blasphemies or purities, but he believed in the way her legs had wrapped around his waist and the way she’d bitten his shoulder to hold back her cries.
Goddamn, that girl had learned fast. He'd taught her how to touch him, how to take him deep, how to ride him until they were both shaking and desperate. She had learned that the things her daddy preached about as sinful - greed, gluttony, lust - felt an awful lot like heaven when Elias was the one administering them. He’d taught her where to press her fingers to make her back arch and that being a "good girl" didn't mean being silent.
The thought alone was enough to make Elias shift in his seat as he navigated the winding roads. Dust swirled around the crimson car as he pulled up to the Bailey house. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purple and gold. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, running his thumb over his bottom lip as he stared at the front door.
That house was the definition of wholesome. The porch was swept clean, lace curtains in the windows, and a swing rocking gently in the evening breeze. It was the home of a God-fearing man and his beloved daughter, the absolute sanctuary of Southern propriety.
It was also the residence of Elias' personal addiction. He climbed out of the car and quietly shut the door. There was only a lamp glowing in the window. He stepped onto the porch and gave the screen door the gentlest knock he could manage. He heard the floorboards creak inside. His heart did that annoying little stutter it always did around this house, like some kind of twisted religious experience. He adjusted his collar - damn thing feeling too tight suddenly - and ran a hand over his jaw. He'd washed up. Smelled like Bay Rum cologne instead of the usual cigarette and Irish beer.
A moment later the door opened just enough for one bright e/c eye to peek through. “Elias” the whole door swung wide and her arms were around his neck. The sweetest greetings he's ever received. Not even Smoke was ever that happy to see him - and they were twins.
Elias caught her smoothly, one hand splaying out across her lower back as he pulled her flush against him. “Well, hell,” he murmured softly, nuzzling into her neck without a single care - thank the lord she didn't have neighbors. “Miss me, Baby?”
“course,” Y/n pulled back, but didn't break the connection. Her tiny hands curled into that burgundy vest that framed his body so well. “thought you gone and forgotten about me”
“Never happen, sweetheart.” Elias caught her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. His expression was shamelessly soft - a side of him absolutely nobody else got to see. Not Smoke, not Sammie, not Annie. Just her. “A man doesn't forget his obsession”
That word made her shiver - she liked being Elias' obsession. She liked being the only person who could make Elias Moore act like a lovesick fool, the only person who could make him knock politely instead of just letting himself in. She was the reason he washed the whiskey off his breath and ironed his shirt.
“Missed you,” she said and looked up at him with those sweet eyes like he hasn't ruined her billion times over. “You really drove all this way just to see me?”
“Every Mile,” Elias said, dipping his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to her neck before slipping his hands into his pockets. He leaned against the doorframe casually, trying to play it cool - like he wasn't halfway across town to spend one night with her. “Your daddy leave?”
“this mornin' for Tennessee,” she smiled as those sweet little eyes took a quick scan up and down his body. It's scary to think how her mind works like his now.
His suit jacket was long gone and he was wearing that pale red dress shirt and burgundy suit vest over that muscular chest of his. He still had that red tie tucked in behind it, but it was loose at his neck. “He'll be gone all week” she said as her slim fingers loosely gripped his tie and pulled him closer by it.
He let her reel him in without an ounce of resistance, stepping across that sacred threshold like he owned the place. Her little hand fisted in his silk tie was the only leash he’d ever accept. “A whole week,” he murmured, smirking down at her. “Lord have mercy on my soul”
“Guess we'll be praying for forgiveness Sunday” she smirked.
“Don't hold your breath, baby,” Elias laughed low in his throat, moving his hands to grip her waist and kick the front door shut with his heel. The sound of the latch clicking felt heavier than a gavel strike. “If the Good Lord heard the things I’m planning to do to you all week, he’d strike me dead before I even made it to the amen”
Her fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along his jaw, feeling the rough scratch of stubble - he hadn't shaved this morning. “Would you die happy?” She stared up at him with that sweetness that usually made him want to ruin her something fierce.
“Die happy? Baby, if I died with your name on my lips, I'd be the happiest sinner to ever cross that river” His hands tightened on her waist, lifting her effortlessly to sit on the dining room table. He stepped between her thighs, leaning down so his lips brushed against hers.
He kissed her slowly, reverently, treating that innocent mouth like the most holy thing in existence. The contradiction was lethal - a man dressed in expensive suits and danger, absolutely worshiping the preacher's daughter. His hands slid up her thighs under her skirt, ruining her decency before they even started. “My good girl,” He murmured against her mouth. “My sweet, wicked girl”
She sighed into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist to drag him impossibly closer. The heat of his big palms against her inner thighs was enough to make her head spin, completely bypassing any Sunday school lesson she’d ever learned. “Elias” she shuddered, fingers curling into his vest.
Elias tilted his head and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against hers with that practiced, sinful skill that made her toes curl. He kissed her like a man starving, like a man who would burn the whole damn town to the ground if it meant he could keep tasting her.
His hands were already working their magic, sliding under her skirt with zero hesitation, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her panties. He wanted them gone. He wanted her bare and spread for him on this very table where her daddy said grace. The blasphemy of it made his cock throb painfully against his slacks.
“P-please... Elias” y/n said softly - begging.
There was something devastatingly beautiful about the preacher's daughter begging for sin right in the center of her father's dining room. “Shh, baby,” He soothed against your neck, hand sliding down to grip your thighs possessively. “Just let me take care of you, alright?” He whispered as he dropped to his knees between your thighs.
Elias hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, slowly dragging them down her legs and pressing a reverent kiss to the inside of her thigh as he tossed them aside onto the pristine rug. He looked up at her from his knees, resting his chin against her inner thigh, eyes dark and worshipful. “Open up for me, sweetheart”
It was the ultimate surrender - a sweet, innocent girl parting her legs for sin itself. Y/n leaned back on her hands, spreading her thighs obediently, exposing herself completely. Her daddy would have a coronary seeing his daughter bare on the table like this. Elias looked up at her like she was the altar and he was the man meant to worship.
“E-Elias”
“I know, baby,” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “I know” His hands slid up her legs, spreading her wider as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against her center. The first lick was slow and deliberate, savoring the taste of heaven. His stubble grazed her sensitive skin, making her head tilt back as she let out pleasurable whine.
The sound made his cock twitch hard against his slacks - preacher's daughter whimpering like a sinner in his mouth. He used his thumbs to spread her open wider, exposing every delicate fold like he was studying scripture. His tongue dipped low first, tracing her perimeter before teasing the slit. He wasn't rushing. Never rushed with her. Every moan she gave was earned.
“Elias,” y/n shuddered, her hips arching as her fists curled into the collar of his shirt. “D-don't stop... Please don't stop”
Like he could ever stop once he had her taste on his tongue. Like he wouldn't burn in hell happily if it meant he could eat this sweet pussy all day. He groaned against her, the vibration making her gasp his name in prayer. He flattened his tongue and licked her slowly, thoroughly, worshipping her clit like a holy sacrament. Her legs shook helplessly, those pretty thighs trembling against his ears. This was his church, his altar, his religion - burying his face between the preacher's daughter's legs. He sucked gently, drawing a high, broken whine from her throat as her hips arched desperately and utterly ruined.
The vibrations of his groans hit her clit directly and made her back arch off the table. Stubborn little thing - she was already close and he could taste it, sweetening rapidly. His tongue worked her with the patience of a man who had nothing but time, nothing but this week to worship at her altar.
“I need to come,” y/n begged desperately. “P-please, I'm so close, Elias”
“Then come, baby” He could feel her tightening, her walls fluttering around his tongue as he pushed it deep inside her, fucking her with his mouth while his thumbs pressed against her clit. Preacher's daughter came apart like shattered glass, beautiful and desperate. He caught every tremor, every gasp, every moan that wasn't for God but for him.
He sat back on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning smugly as he watched her catch her breath. She looked utterly debauched - hair messed up, skirt hiked up, face flushed, mouth parted. He kissed her inner thighs gently before standing up between her spread legs. He unbuttoned his vest slowly, giving her access to his shirt buttons. “Unbutton me” he commanded softly.
Her fingers shook slightly as she obeyed, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands. He helped her push the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his chest - hard muscles, beautiful dark skin, and the faint scars that told stories that he could never bring himself to tell her.
But she traced every scar unconsciously - one across his ribs, another near his collarbone. Each one a testament to a life she'd never fully understood, but craved. He watched her face, letting her memorize every inch as his chest heaved slightly. Her fingers traced down to the V-line of his torso dipping into his slacks.
“B-bedroom,” her voice was breathlessly soft - desperate. Her soft gaze met him. “please”
He didn't need to be told twice. The way she looked at him - needy, desperate, wanting him like he was her personal salvation - made his cock ache. He gathered her up effortlessly, carrying her bridal style through her daddy's house. Up the stairs, past the family photos, past the Bible verses framed on walls, and into her bedroom.
Her room was exactly how he remembered - soft pink walls, lace curtains, smell of rose and mint - her daddy would be proud. His cock throbbed as he set her down on her bed, taking in the pretty details. Like the Bible on her nightstand with flowers pressed between pages and the teddy bear that rested against the bed frame.
“Elias...” y/n whispered. “P-please. Make love me, ruin me”
Those words - fuck. Something dark and possessive swelled in his chest at the vulnerability in her voice. This good girl wanted him to mark her up, wanted her daddy's perfect daughter fucked senseless in her bed.
“I always do” He murmured as his belt hit the floor with a clatter before kicking his slacks off, followed by his boxers, leaving him bare and heavy, his cock flushed and hard against his stomach. He crawled over her, palms on either side of her head. He lowered himself to press a heated kiss against her throat, right over her frantically beating pulse. Then he reached behind her back, finding the zipper of her dress and dragging it down with agonizing slowness. The fabric fell away, leaving her bare on her soft sheets. Only thing left was the small golden cross necklace resting between her breasts. He hovered over her, his cock throbbing against her stomach, trapping her in his shadow.
“Spread your legs, baby” He murmured against her neck, his voice rough with desire.
He watched her obey, his eyes darkened as he took in the sight - soft thighs parted, pink pussy glistening with arousal, innocent body ready for his sinful touch. He reached down, gripping his cock and rubbing the head against her wet folds, teasing her entrance.
“Elias, P-please!” she whined.
“Shh, baby... I got you” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips as he slowly pushed inside her. Her walls clenched around him immediately - tight, hot, perfect. He groaned into her mouth as he filled her inch by inch until he was seated deep inside. “Fuck…”
“Oh, God. Don't ever stop” She moaned, biting her lip as her nails made little crescents into his back. He started to move slowly, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in deeply, grinding his hips against her clit. He watched her face, committing every soft whimper, every flutter of her eyelashes to memory.
“I'll fuck you every day until your father finds out. Until he knows his precious daughter is taking a black man's cock like a whore” Elias snapped his hips this time, his body slamming hers with increased ferocity.
The blasphemy of it made her gasp - his words were filthy, wrong, sinful. But her body betrayed her, clenching harder around him. He hit that spot inside her that made her toes curl, grinding against it deliberately.
“And you know what he'll say, huh?” He fucked her faster now, making the bed creak. “He'll say, 'My babygirl is lost - she's fuckin’ the devil.' And you know what I'll say?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear.
“I'll tell him his daughter found a better salvation,” He slammed into her particularly hard, making her cry out his name. His hand wrapped around her throat - not squeezing, just holding, claiming. “A salvation that actually satisfies her. I'll make you scream my name instead of praying to heaven”
His cock hit that spot again, making her vision blur. He angled his hips to grind ruthlessly against that spot, watching her eyes roll back. Her pussy fluttered violently around him, sucking him in deeper. “Only thing listenin’ to you is me,” He moved faster, driving into her with sinful precision, ruining her for anyone else. “Who makes you feel this good?”
“You!” she choked out, her back arching violently off the mattress as her nails clawed down his back. “feels so good”
The bed creaked and moaned in protest as he hiked her thigh higher up his hip and fucked her harder, unable to hold back anymore. He was defiling the pastor's baby girl in her own bed, using her body to worship at his own personal altar of lust. “Come for me, baby” He demanded hoarsely, grinding against her clit.
He rolled his hips sharply against that sensitive spot inside her, forcing the orgasm out of her violently. Her entire body seized, back bowing off the mattress as she screamed his name, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. He fucked her through it, whispering filthy praises, ruining her completely on her floral sheets.
Elias groaned as her tight heat milked him, triggering his own release. He swiftly pulled out, emptying his load all over her plush thighs with a guttural curse that would make her father faint. He collapsed over her, both of them panting heavily, his sweaty forehead pressed against hers. “That's my good girl”
Her chest heaved, heart hammering against her ribs. She was ruined - absolutely ruined. Her father's daughter, coming on a sinner while her Bible sat five inches from her hand. She looked at Elias - sweat glistening on his dark skin, cock still half-hard and leaking onto her thighs, looking like the devil himself.
He leaned down, capturing her swollen lips in a messy, dirty kiss, stealing the air right from her lungs. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his dark eyes boring into hers - possessive, unrepentant. “God ain't watching you now, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the cross around her neck. “I am”
“will you protect me always?” she whispered.
“Until my dying breath,” He swore without hesitation. “I’ll worship you, and kill anyone who ever touches you.” He brushed her nose with his. “You’re mine, baby. Not God’s. Mine”
He pulled away to look at her, his gaze softening as he took in her flushed face and sated body. He slowly cleaned her up with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket, wiping away the evidence of their release. When he was done, he pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest as he lay back on the twin sized bed that was barely big enough for the both of them.
His hand rubbed circles on her back. He felt like a criminal in a sanctuary - his very presence a blasphemy against everything in this room. Yet he couldn't deny the weight of her body against his. This woman. This girl who should've been praying to a God and not a man like him. And somehow - some way - she loved him.
I DID THIS LAST SATURDAY!!! Ya know I'm a damn sucker for Western/Midwestern/Southern/Appalachian Vampires! (All the great sybolism for assimilation, racism, appropriation etc; I LOVE THE EYES SO MUCH IT'S LIKE A REFLECTIVE CAT EYE FOR NIGHT VISION AND SO MUCH BETTER THAN RED CONTACTS; FUCKIN GENUIS-)
And now, yall are getting Remmick and maybe some Stack content in ur future whether u like it or not.... Especially Remmick. I see a tragic unhinged vampire that looks similar to Bo Sinclair or Severen Van Sickle and I simp ♡ Like, I have A TYPE now! They got that face and lore and personality? I'm done for lol (I dont rlly crave Smoke and Sammie in a non PG way; they aren't my type. I like my messy loser boys and dangerously reckless charming men)
My Remmick HC:
To start...
- This is our man's energy he brings to the function
Yall have to accept this about him.
Spoilers ahead!!
- He thinks he's the funniest person ever. He just says shit to make himself giggle atp. The type to laugh at his own jokes before anyone else does
- More a hc of the vamps in general; like Near Dark vampires that after feeding they're euphoric. It's why he acts so unhinged everytime he just bit someone or is about to; It's not as much 'his true self' as much as 'that boy is high/drunk' and its so often it might as well be his real self lmfao
- Also thinks he's so suave, charming and cool like CLEARLY why WOULDN'T the Juke Joint catch his vibe and let him in? 😒🤔 (Pretty Fly for a White Guy ass vampire) He's the embodiment of a dorky cool loser in the best way because he's so bad it looks good.
- Wipes out all the time when he's landing from flying especially near sunrise. He just makes it look like it was 'on purpose' like 'Oh, I rolled because that looks neat'...No. He missed.
- Has a really old, dark, sadistic fucked up sense of humor
- My hc is he's Fae. Fae and vampires are actually pretty damn similar in a lot of folklore and so many Fae rules were in this movie! (Don't take gold, don't tell them your name, don't dance in a fairy ring/circle they create are just a few of the rules I saw broken in the film)...And that means he can't lie! Now, idk if this is Canon or just fun HC bc I highly highly doubt the Choctaw killed his wife (Unless he was truly being vague and if you pressed he'd have to admit 'English' rather than 'Choctaw' like he's trying to manipulate with...Like he's not lying just being so vague it is a lie.)
- If there ever WAS a wife with that ring he wears while human; he did love her and wears that ring to remember not only her but their heritage ♡ Might even have immense guilt over how she died.
- His most 'true' songs that are HIS were *Rocky Road to Dublin* and *Will ye go, Lassie go?*
- Hot-take: He did not want Sammie as solely a tool like I've seen so many say. He wanted Sammie as a forced friend with benefits to ancestor connection after so much loneliness. He wanted forced kinship both with his ancestors and other vampires. He says "I want your stories, I want your songs...And you gonna have mine." That's a union of two people even if it's toxic, power imbalanced, etc It's like a friend that's also using you while being friends. Man wanted VIP access to the spirit world/his ancestors and Sammie was the cool rockstar he wanted to be friends with.
- He doesn't do this for power. His whole shtick is he's lonely even if he goes about it wrong. For roughly 1300 years he's been utterly alone and separated from his heritage, culture, people and modern Irish don't count as we see with the 1911 ship incident. He did NOT create the Hivemind vampires for power. He truly wanted 'family' and failed over and over from the ship in 1911 with Irish Immigrants to God knows how many more times before and after.
- He is/was Pagan and they really do believe, especially during times of druids, in nature and spirits and love and unity. So again, he TRULY THINKS the hivemind is natural and all 'one love'...He says "They told stories of a God above and a devil below, and lies of a dominion of man over beast and Earth. We are Earth and beast of God. We are woman and man. We are connected, you and I, to everything."....Why? Because he's saying people and animals and nature are connected and no one race of man rules all. That man and woman are connected and all people are as well. He genuinely believes that his 'gift' is a way to bring people together how they 'should be'. That wasn't a lie. When a hivemind Mary says 'we're gon' kill every last one of you'...Well yes, because to die is to become them. It wasn't a threat but a fact. And Remmick even calls it 'sweet merciful death' or something along those lines....He's not killing them for fun or power even if it does come off that way. He's killing them to offer his 'gift' and to have a better world (He literally says this and I truly do not think he's lying there) even if that better world is just HIS world and he has a damn God Complex.
- His spit is toxic. It's thick af and venomous and probably will kill you, subdue you, or is part of the turning process (Bc there was no reason for it to be that goopey; I gagged lol)
- He code switches to get whatever he wants. Aka the fake Southern accent and using whatever words or stories will get him in (Switching from the Tribes proper name to the slur of the time bc he realized it's what that couple wanted to hear)....Not necessarily lies but definitely switching word useage or tone. We see him switch up to what he knew would gain sympathy from racist. (I mean it was that or be killed out in the sun lol)
- Hot-Takeish: He's so old, from a time period where heritage was discriminated as much or more than skintone, that he is ignorant and gets mistaken for outright racist especially in the area and time he's in. Even by a modern lens take, when he really is not. Probably first learned American segregation and racism through skintone from the Klans couples minds as well as Smoke and them at the Juke Joint. Because he was in Europe UNTIL 1911: That's canon. So he wasn't here during Civil War era or the Height of Slavery and who knows how present he even was for over a millennia in Europe. That "Oh, because we're ✋🏻" while pointing to his skin was genuine; like a relic learning a modern take that probably dumbfounds him for a hot minute. (Then he sings his lil appropriated song and Smoke stops him before the slurs and now I'm wondering if he rolled with it so they'd come out to beat his ass bc he knew it would be irksome OR if he was just going by what the Couples minds knew and used it without context?)
- He HATES Christianity with a passion even if he reluctantly memorized verses!!! He might even be violent if he met an Irishman who was Catholic, or even worse, Protestant because for him it's like seeing the damage the opressors did and seeing your own ppl erase themselves. Would go into a passionate angry rant about Christianity like Lestat did at Louis house in IWTV. Eyes glowing, fangs lengthening, accent coming out-
- Drools easily. Like, maybe when his teeth lengthen it hurts the gums and he can't help it but...Turned on? Drool. Hungry? Drool. Angry? Drool. Excited? Drool. He's like a wet mouth dog istg
- He is the embodiment of nothing else to lose AND hurt people, hurt people. He feels lonely, rejected, isolated, for CENTURIES...Centuries. He hears Sammie play and he is one track minded and messy to get to see his ancestors/people no matter who it hurts
- Is 100% faking that southern accent and can fake most accents but his Irish brogue comes out at times
- Used Cantonese and the Travelin' song JUST to freak the living out bc he knew they'd know 'Hey, I'm so powerful I used Bo amd Stack's memory so you might as well join me'.
- His true form is similar to the bat form of Dracula's in the 1992 film...Some ppl swear they hear wings flapping in the final scene AND we see his ears pointing a tad, nails lengthening, teeth sharpening and as old and powerful as he is ESPECIALLY if he's based on Abhartach;....Oh yeah, that creature is grotesque under his boyish human face and we ALMOST saw it when Sammie hits him with the guitar
- Remmick shows he is musically inclined himself and it's my HC he himself was a Filídh as a human. Turned by being tricked by the Fae, turned by losing hope/being consumed with grief or turned by being bitten. And that Sammie, as a Griot, would've turned into a Remmick and not part of the hivemind OR one step above them somehow had he been bit.
- Can control who is part of the hivemind and who isn't. Joan and Bert? He had complete control with how much they had to put their prejudice aside to be near Black ppl. Oh yep, he had those two on one helluva tight leash. Bo? Pretty much complete or close to it control to lure Grace. Mary? Controlled but not completely because she still picked Stack on her own as her first victim (...Was that Remmick in Mary's mind riding Stack- 😦👀) Stack? I actually think he was the least controlled and that being turned really is like euphoria/drug that clouds the mind and he saw 'vision' / opportunity to use vampirism to their advantage. No different than opportunities they took in Chicago. And we saw Mary lost the hivemind over Annie's death so either he ONLY has control when they're freshly turned/young and weak willed against the venom in their veins OR he picks and chooses based on who bucks him the most.
- Can read minds, read moods, smell fear, smell death, smell disease, smell sex/horniness (FUCK...I would've died.) sees spirits, sees the thinning viel, see the past, might even see the future (Even if he missed ya know getting killed by the sun lol)
- Speaking of, he might sleep normal like Near Dark vampires, might burrow underground...Or he might sleep like The Lost Boy vampires by his batfeets from a ceiling 🦇
Romantic + Some NSFW HC:
- Wants to merge with you. Wants to be you and you him. Wants to become one soul to fuse and be chained to walk the Earth together forever. To move through the world as each others other halves...THERE IS NO HALF-ASSED COURTSHIP! Nope, if he truly wants you, he WILL move with conviction
- He is HORNY. Idc his offer to Grace was outta pocket lmfao he is down bad. He'd probably shudder violently and moan if you jerked him by the hair or slapped him
- Codependency and possessiveness soooo bad in a relationship...ANY RELATIONSHIP! Even platonic he seems like he'd be the 'we gotta do everything together' type
- He only dominates at first when you're still hesitant with him or if you want him to but at his darkened rotten heart he is obedient for his loves
- He is needy and clingy and desperate to please. He may act on top of things but if he thought someone he shared a connection with was mad or upset with him? Que the big blue (Red?) puppy eyes and doing anything to change their mind
- Would be a toxic ass and use his hivemind abilities on a vampiric partner to 'persuade them' to not be in a mood/angry/hurt. Just for minor annoyances/them ignoring him... Almost cheeky in a way even if his partner/mate glares afterwards similar to Jasper in New Moon with Bella in the hallway
- If you asked him not to control you? Done. I'm so serious, he really is not some egomaniac in my HC he's just so damn weird and use to rejection he forces things to be loved. Like, his ego is he thinks he's helping not that he's above anyone. He is so lonely and he'd be like a Gomez Addams to a partner. Just express discomfort with the idea of him controlling your mind before turning (or after maybe?) and he won't.
- Praise kink. Has dog energy like you tell him he's 'good' and his preening (might drool) like some dumb happy dog you just called a 'good boy'. Tell him he's good during sex and he moans loudly. Eager to please.
- Is a switch with a sub lean. If he doesn't love you; he'll dom you. He'll push your legs back, mock you, pound into you. If he adores you though it's over for that creature. He will let you do just about whatever you please so long as you love him
- Traditional old-fashioned courting. Even after you turn; flowers, poems, serenading you, getting you meals/blood.
- FREAK. Drooling freak that would lowkey get off on pain and most kinks.
- Nuzzling. Nuzzles more than he kisses; almost like a creature (Technically is one)
- Idk how he sleeps but you gotta be wrapped up in his arms.
- Is so protective of you it's borderline possessive and controlling in a mother-hen way. You're his only true person, hivemind or not, and he CANNOT live without you. If something happened to you he'd be devastated and he cannot lose his people twice. He just can't.
- Sings Gaeilge to you all the time. Letting your head rest in his lap after a long night. Running his clawed fingertips over your scalp after a feeding and sings a song only he knows in his old mother's tongue that brings you both comfort
- Your pleasure is his pleasure. He could give you sexual/physical pleasure and get nothing in return and still be satisfied seeing you unravel beneath him from oral to a massage; as long as your sated
- Purrs (It's more like a growling groan that vibrates his chest) when you run your fingers through his hair, scratch his back or massage his shoulders.
- Picks you up to fly short distances with you; even if sometimes that's grabbing you by the shirt or arm in an emergency and him complaining you're deadweight in that position (He made you hit multiple branches on the way lol)
- If you're turned, he shields you from the sun with his own body out of pure instinct. You're the first one he grabs and tries to find shelter for; his own hide be damned.
- Gives you humans to drink with a proud look of a provider and predator.
- If you're human, you won't be for long lets be real. But if you are? He's extremely careful with you. Going easy on you and drooling at how damn good you smell to him. (Might graze his fangs teasingly over your flesh as a 'things to come' type of gesture)
🩸 Bloodlines & Blues
Stack × Reader Fem (OC Vampire, sister of Remmick)
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🔥 Blood and Blues
Stack and Smoke × Reader Fem (poly relationship)
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🌑 The Long Night
Remmick × Reader Fem (dark romance)
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🕯 The One Who Asked
Remmick × Reader Fem
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🧛 Crimson Pact
Smoke and Stack × Reader Fem (vampire AU)
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🌫 Salt and Smoke
Smoke and Stack × Reader Fem
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Smoke most definitely has PTSD from his time serving in WWI, but also from his history with violent men—his father, the mobsters in Chicago, and even himself to some extent
He’s hyperviligant, constantly on high-alert and in a state of anxiety. Keen observation is as much of a defense mechanism as it is good for business. He picks up the subtle details and social cues most wouldn’t—like the twitch of a finger towards a gun holster, or the sound of anger in someone’s steps.
His trauma response is triggered by any sort of conflict—including even small doses of healthy confrontation. His brain associates conflict with anger, and anger with violence.
Before and after moments of conflict, his hands tremble violently. The only thing that seems to stop the shakes is tobacco. Stack usually rolls the cigarettes due to his shaking hands.
Despite the trembles, his muscle-memory overrides his trauma response and enables him to shoot a gun with perfect precision and mental fortitude. But it comes at a cost.
He distances himself mentally for his work, shutting off his emotions in lieu of a controlled, icy vacancy. He becomes a machine, burying the man so deep under frigid apathy that it is frightening.
It can be hard to bring him out of it and back into himself, and he may be distant for days after a job. So while effective for business, it is detrimental to his condition.
The smell of gunpowder and antiseptic can occasionally trigger episodes on a bad day, as well as sounds that imitate gunfire.
Episodes include trembling, flashbacks, sweating, heart palpitations, numbness and tingling in the hands and feet, and trouble breathing.
During an episode, he’s silent, and his expression goes vacant… Only those closest to him recognize his tells—body gone rigid, clenched jaw, and distracted by the onslaught of memories behind his eyes
Smoking is the only thing that steadies him. He never goes anywhere without his tobacco or his gun tucked into his belt. They are the guard rails that keep him from plummeting over into the abyss
Sometimes he has nightmares, and he’ll wake up gasping for air in a cold sweat. His nightmares are almost always of his father, and it takes a lot of hushed words and soft touches to convince him he’s not in that evil house anymore.
One of his biggest fears is that he’s grown to be exactly the kind of violent man his father was… Flashbacks of his father are the most brutal on his psyche, because he hates being reminded that he was glad to kill him.
Smoke will likely go his whole life thinking he’s violent and unwell man—that his ptsd is a sickness he inherited from his father. Ptsd was not formerly recognized as a mental health condition until the 1980s, and so his substance abuse is his only way of managing his hyperactive stress response.
Part of the reason he is so adamant about keeping up the appearance of a calculated, strong, and unaffected man is because he doesn’t want to be labeled as one of those WWI veterans who have ‘shell shock,’ as these folks were often dismissed as lunatics, labeled as cowards, or of possessing a weakness of the mind.
So he smokes like a chimney, and keeps the worst of his demons hidden away in the recesses of his mind, silently suffering while the worst moments of his life replay like a skipping record in his head.
Hi sorry if this is real late i have a request for sinners where its the reader/oc(whatever your more comfortable with) is the daughter of annie and smoke (daughter!reader/oc dies like annie and smoke and reunites with the cute little family in the after life) or stack and mary (daughter!reader/oc ends up getting turned and lives with her parents after shes turned) and how it would progress through the night at the juke joint
Aww this is such a cute ask 🥺❤️ Familial bonds can be so, so special, I hope I did this justice...
Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, horror, death, vampires, and violence... It follows the beats of the movie, so spoilers if you haven't watched it
Parental! Annie & Smoke:
The last time you’d seen your father, you’d been a child. You were old enough to vaguely remember his face, but young enough to feel robbed when he left for Chicago. You tried to make sense of his leaving, but struggled to. Your mother tried to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault he left…but that he’d loved too deeply and lost too much.
You didn’t fully believe her until the day Smoke returned, bearing flowers for the grave of your baby sibling and whispering tender things into Annie’s ear.
You wanted to be angry with him…but you were just so happy to have your father back. You loved him infinitely more than you resented him for leaving.
And so, you go along with your mother and help him prepare for the opening of the Juke Joint. You enjoyed getting to spend time together as a family, setting up the glasses at the bar and making up for lost time.
You’d never seen Annie smile so wide as she and your father danced to the sweet music. You felt giddy to have your family whole again.
It had been the happiest day of your life—until it wasn’t.
The white strangers on the doorstep of the Juke Joint soured the mood with their eerie uncanniness. Your parents were rightfully wary…for after not much longer, the carnage had begun.
As Annie took charge and went about arming the party with garlic water and wooden table legs sharpened into stakes, you dutifully obeyed her every order. You were well-aware of your mother’s capable and experienced work in hoodoo, and were more than able to aid her however she needed you.
But the night unfolded into a bloodbath.
Good friends died. Hideous monsters, mere echoes of the human form, swarmed you in teeth, claws, and bloody gore.
You felt the earth freeze over into an eternal darkness the moment your mother’s spirit left it. You screamed in pure agony, clawing your way across the wooden floorboards to where your father had a stake plunged through her chest. Tears streamed down Smoke’s face, the expression of a broken man.
You didn’t make it more than a few feet before you were swept up into the jaws of a vicious creature, all torn flesh and bloodied fangs. You scratched at the beast who had once been a man, trying to tear free where he’d swallowed a chunk of your shoulder.
You wrestled it to the floor, and felt a glass shatter under your weight. The beast writhed and screamed as its skin burst into blisters and violent boils, before it finally released you and ran, scratching chunks out of its own burnt flesh.
You gasped and gurgled as you laid in the puddle of blood, glass, and garlic water. Your hand trembled violently as you felt the missing chunk of flesh at your neck, and it came away drenched in scarlet. You were dying…
Your father, god where was Smoke? You cried out for him, cried out for your dead mother, but you were alone in chaos around you.
You didn’t have much time…you could feel the dizziness overcoming you as you rapidly bled out. You found in that moment you were not scared of dying…but you were terrified of never seeing Annie again.
And so, with your last bit of strength, you wrestled the gnarled, sharpened piece of wood from your belt. You lacked the energy to stake yourself, so you let gravity do the work for you. You held it straight up against the floorboards and rolled yourself onto it, piercing yourself through the chest as your weight bore you down, an agonizingly slow descent.
Time fell away from you. Pain became numbness before even that too disappeared. You were weightless. You were nonexistent. Just a dim flicker of consciousness in the wide expanse of nothingness.
But then you felt a hand enclose around your own, and your eyes opened once more. Sunlight and warmth kissed along your skin, now unmarred and clean. You felt incandescent joy as you beheld the soft brown eyes of your mother.
You clung to her in a tearful embrace, whispering over and over how you loved her. You wept at the sight of the baby at her breast.
You welcomed your father come morning. And for the first time, you were a family, entirely whole and together again.
And love was all that remained.
Parental! Mary & Stack:
You always shared your mother’s anger towards the man who’d left you both behind. He had abandoned you, discarded you like pieces of trash to escape north to Chicago.
And then he had the nerve to show his face again, many years later, when you’d already grown up without any help from him.
Mary had come home from the train station raving about Stack, about how she’d seen him and how they’d fought. It was your idea to go to the Juke Joint together to confront him.
You needed to see his face, just once—the face of the man who’d left you and your mother behind.
Little did you know, this entire time he’d been trying to protect you both from the cruelties of a world that would never understand. The way he looked at you when he first saw you—he recognized his features upon your face. His expression was one of unbridled affection, and it was as if you’d hung the moon and stars.
And so, despite wanting to hold onto that ugly resentment for a little longer…you forgave him. For the first, and possibly only, night of your life, you could laugh and dance freely together as a family.
You let him twirl you as you giggled, watched him love your mother openly—knowing that with the dawn, this would all be gone.
Only, it wasn’t…for the three white strangers had come a-knocking at the door…
They’d been dismissed by your uncle, but your parents felt there had been an opportunity missed. So, Mary kissed you on the cheek and left the Juke Joint to go speak to them outside.
Only, she’d been gone an awfully long while… So, you went looking for her.
The air was cool and humid as you stepped outside. The sound of music spilled out from the Juke Joint, adding to the ambience of the night. You called for Mary, hoping to find your mother somewhere nearby.
But as you rounded the last row of parked cars, you saw her face down in the gravel, a pool of blood around her head and shoulders. You screamed, careless as you ran to her side. You fell to your knees and the sharp rocks bit into the skin there.
You sobbed, cradling her head to your breast as you tried to tuck the blood-matted hair away from her face. She was dead, you knew it deep in your soul.
But then her eyelids fluttered, and she stirred with a soft mumble. You held your breath, sobs still wracking through your body as you leaned in, trying to hear her faint breathing… and suddenly her jaws were around your throat and your cries were cut short.
You enjoyed sharing everything with your mother—there was a brand-new intimacy as you shared one heart, mind, and soul. You would never have been able to live happily as a family come dawn…but now you had an unimaginable opportunity. You could all be together, forever, without the heartache and suffering of society’s ire…
All you had to do was save your father… and how could he resist Mary, when she was invited back inside, looking so pretty? When she coaxed him into the backroom, promising one last night worth remembering?
It was pure bliss to be of one heart, knowing that your time together never had to end…
You escaped into the night amidst the chaos and bloodshed that soon overtook the Juke Joint.
Doomed to live forever in the shadows of the night without the promise of another sunrise…but even the darkest existence sounded like paradise so long as you could be a family.
