POV: Peter's Daily Bugle staff Zoom meeting is taking Way Too MF Long™ for MJ, so now Mr. Parker is fighting for his life to maintain composure in front of the laptop webcam, while MJ (fresh out of the shower) stands just out of webcam view and silently tempts Peter w/ his goodies 🍒🍆.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 • 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 • SinnersAU • Elias 'Stack' Moore x Black!OC Lorene Booker, mentions of death of immediate family members, mental health struggles, descriptions of drug usage, spiritual symbolism, arguing, Introductions!, etc.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After the Smoke Stack Twins come home, another born but now, a stranger to Mississippi makes her trek back home, only to find that nothing is how she left it.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k❣
𝐀/𝐍: Diving into my take on the Sinners world. Showing a different side of some well-known characters, and writing a love song to Black Music. I hope you enjoy.♡
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“𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈?”
“What does it look like I’m doin’?” She raises the scissors with a nod of her head, attitude spilling from her lips. The other, clearer-minded woman smacks her teeth and reaches to Rene’s hand, grabbing the scissors with no regard for their sharpness.
In a gruff turn of mood, she throws the shears to the vanity table, Lorene jumping from the obscene thud it produced.
“What the fuck, Nellie?” Rene pushed back on the small chair she sat in, feeling the particular give of the aged legs.
“No, don’t go looking for someone to blame. Don’t you have that gig at the juke tonight?”
Lorene watched her sister’s eyes, confused as to how she knew about it… and how she forgot.
“Maybe…”
Nellie looked around at the mess Rene had made. Coca dust still fresh on her vanity, and her drawers all frayed from her frantic search. She knew her sister needed help. But when she got to avoiding and hiding out like this, it made it hard to want to find that help.
“Rene, it’s getting late. Let me take you to my place, get you dolled for tonight. You’ll have to show the twins it was a good idea getting you back here.”
The sorrowful young woman furrowed her brows yet again, confusion finding her through her upset. Who?
“Twins?”
“…Yeah…”
“Nell, what you talkin’ bout?” Nellie cut her eyes, glancing around the room yet again as she tried to wrap her mind around things. What else didn’t she know?
“Lorene, the twins brought you home after I told Stack that you sang with Billie. Told him it’d be a good idea to get you in their juke to help with their grand opening.”
“Who is Stack?”
“You didn’t see a man? Deep brown skin, ‘stache, always got on a suit… fine as can be?”
“Yeah, he drove me home from the train. Told me his name was Smoke.”
Nellie chuckled at the girl before her, shifting her weight as her feet were beginning to howl from her shoes.
“Stack, is his twin brother.”
♱ ♱ ♱
“It’s bout time to go, Stack. This my third time calling ‘ya, I ain’t gon’ call you no mo’.” Smoke’s gravelly tone could be heard throughout the place. It once belonged to their family, before he had to put an end to it. Wasn’t much love anyways.
“Nigga don’t rush me. I done got you right, now it’s my turn.” Stack’s brighter voice caused his southern twang to turn his words a little differently. And though he always had that infectious, bold energy about him, his pain still clung like smoke on hair.
When all he heard was silence, he dropped the blade he used to groom his beard into the sink, hearing it thud onto the cloth he laid there. Clean hands ran over the smooth skin, the shadow reminding him of the years lost. The years spent chasing until he ended up right in the beginning of the circle he crafted.
Right in the same space.
His mind wouldn’t let him forget. Most everybody he ever loved had to leave him. His mother, his pops, and now, Mary.
He didn’t want it that way. But he knew better. Knew it’d be naive to believe that they could have the happy-ever-after talked about in story books. So, he didn’t allow himself to get wrapped up in hope.
That meant he was alone now. Well, in most ways that counted.
He still had his fair share of… pleasure. A little moll that stared too long, one that took her dress off a little too early, very little conversation, avery wet mouth.
But as the years pushed by, he found himself wanting more. Maybe a kid, maybe a few… a wife? He wasn’t completely sure what it could look like. He never really saw it. But that didn’t stop him from fantasizing.
Finally, after shrugging on his button down, his tie, tie clip, vest and then his suit jacket, he smoothed out the finely pressed fabric. Everything was right, pristine for their opening night. And it would be one for the books.
♱ ♱ ♱
The floor of Club Juke was already swelling when she got there. But she didn’t mind. She would usually go unnoticed in a packed juke joint; when hands were filled with a drink or a little ass, it was easy to miss a woman you had never met. She was hoping it would be the same tonight.
She had let Nellie curl and lay her hair, a neat part down the middle, ‘to accentuate her features’, as Nell said. Her brows were left alone, a bit thick in width but light in density, so she didn’t look as crazy as she felt. And her lips were painted in Carmine Red, bright as all hell.
Lorene wore her finest fur, and tucked her chin under the line of luxury, hoping that she wouldn’t be recognized, nor singled out before her turn.
Nellie sauntered into the juke, her little sister in tow as they made it past the large man at the door. She heard her sister greet the man with a bit of chatter, but she didn’t pay much attention as her mind had been pulled from the euphoric lull of the drugs she had taken earlier. It wasn’t like they were meant to last forever, but usually, her high could linger for most of the day.
It would have, if it wasn’t for the hot plate Nellie put in her face. A steaming plate of crunchy fried chicken, greens seasoned to perfection, fragrant rice and too-sweet cornbread from Nellie’s best friend and neighbor filled her belly all too well. So much so, she was starting to regret the savor.
Rene smiled softly as she made it past the man herself, and then into the beautiful golden lights of the juke. She almost forgot how gorgeous and warm of an atmosphere they were.
Her sister led them to the edge of the bar set up, and Lorene leaned against the sturdy wood as she laid her eyes upon any body she could.
“Gonna get us some whiskey.” Nellie nearly shouted over the humming guitar of a boy she didn’t recognize. The party was live with his rich tone, and she felt the smile steady across her lips still.
“Okay.” She nearly mumbled, patting her pockets for a giggle. The woman at the bar, all put together and dazingly gorgeous, handed the lovely lady before her some gold for the liquor, smiling politely before she glanced over at her sister.
Nell watched Lorene as she grabbed a small metal case out of her coat pocket and opened it beneath the discretion of her fur cuffs.
“Rene!” She whispered a shout at the woman, seeing her laser her eyes in her direction.
“I know you didn’t bring none of your…stuff into this juke.”
Lorene waved her off with less than a care, grabbing a doobie from her case and shutting it quickly.
“It’s just a cig. Stop bumpin’ ya gums.” Before her sister could reply, she was pulling her beloved matchbook from her pocket and sparking a flame to light her sorrows away.
The first puff in was like fresh air, reviving her more favorable mood. And after that, she breathed every inch of the cig in until there was barely anything left.
“Next, we have a very special someone.” She heard the voice of Mississippi’s own Delta Slim, and her eyes wandered to the stage in awe. “She from here, y’all. Miss Lorene, please come up to the stage.”
All eyes looked around the room for the woman, and she glanced at her sister for her drink.
“This got my honey in it?” She asked with a hint of the growing confidence she felt on stage. Nellie took a deep breath as she looked over her sister’s face.
“Yeah…” She breathed out somberly, watching as her sister grabbed the glass of whiskey and honey to down it before her song.
It didn’t take long for her to strut up to the step of a stage, and even though she looked around for one, she didn’t need a mic.
“Evenin’ everybody.” She greeted the crowd, her enchanting, honeyed voice calling silence to befall the building. It was as if church was in session, and she was the pastor.
“My name Lorene Booker, but some of y’all may know me by Miss Lorene. I’ come to sing a.. l’il tune that’s been on my heart if that’s okay.” A few hollers from the crowd reassured her. ‘That’s alright wit’ me.’ And she began.
𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆
𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚, 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆
𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆
𝑩𝒖𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒓, 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒆
𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒘
𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐
Every eye in Club Juke was stuck on her like paste. Her voice threatened the club’s stability, as she stretched the notes out. She sang the song slower, hauntingly, vibrating through the walls and the cracks in the floor.
So much pain, so much soul. Stack was no stranger to the things that could craft a tone so true. Some of the partiers sipped on their whiskey, or wine, and watched on with glazen eyes.
Stack watched as she swayed her hips barely, her slender curves easy to focus on. Others, further in the back, whispered about the slower tune, wondering if this meant the end of the night.
His lip tucked between his teeth. But it wasn’t simply attraction, something else had caught him right where he stood and wouldn’t let go.
His eyes watered, glossed all the way to the brim of his upper lashes, yet, the tears didn’t fall. He stood, still against the frequency, tuned into every inflection of her voice.
“Aye, Smoke! I ain’t know y’all was slowing it down like this.” A random voice he could have recognized —if he paid it any more mind— complained on the side, and he heard his brother’s change in breath.
“We not.” As quickly as he had focused on the woman’s timbre, his gaze shifted to his brother. And just as their steps aligned, Stack held his arm out to stop him in his tracks.
Smoke almost rose up at him, cursed him for letting something so off theme take charge of the night. But when he saw the warm, solemn look on his brother’s face, he looked back at the stage to take in the woman for himself.
𝑵𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕
𝑰𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒚
𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚
𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰𝒇 𝑰 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅
“She’ a looker, ain’t she?” Smoke ventured, lifting his brow as he side-eyed him brother, checking for a smart response.
“Yeah,” He nearly whispered. “A pretty black canary.”
As she finished the song, she heard applause erupt from every edge of the mill, causing her eyes to well up.
“Oh,” She hid a silent cry in a whisper that feigned shock. “Thank y’all. Enjoy your night.”
The talented young woman sauntered off the stage swiftly, yet deliberate enough to serve as an acceptable exit. Everyone else turned to one another to comment on the show she put on, and within the next few minutes, Slim was calling someone else on stage to play with him.
All the bodies present in the juke went back to their own interests, their own lives. But not Stack.
Lorene leaned up on the bar edge once again, calling at the beautiful, yet mildly mysterious woman who tended it. She found herself letting her eyes run along her plump arms, her flush bosom, and then she looked elsewhere.
“A whiskey, please. Thank you.”
The sound of energized footsteps coming towards her snapped her right out of her thoughts, then, her sister’s face was right in front of hers.
“That song really pulled at you, huh?” Nellie spat, her face grimacing yet her eyes cold as stone.
“Nellie, what is it now-”
“It’s always, you ain’t have and you felt this. You’ not a damsel, Rene!” Nell’s voice got a little loud, and Lorene stood upright, her eyes widened as she peered at her sister.
“Nellie I really don’t wanna do this here.” She tried to bring her down, held a hand out for her to take if she was willing. She wasn’t.
“No! Tell me what was so bad about our life… your life.”
“You ain’t even tell me Pops died! I had to find out by coming home to an empty cabin.” A tear rolled down Lorene’s face, her lip quivering as she let a crack in her facade show.
“I ain’ get the chance to know that my Pops left this earth, years ago!”
“Ladies…” The full figured woman behind the bar called out to them, but they both ignored her.
“Maybe you would’a got my letters, if you wa’nt holed up in New York bein’ a tramp.”
It didn’t take much for the words to process, and Lorene wasn’t gonna stand around to take more. Her feet shuffled out of the old mill, into the cold fall night.
She didn’t get far, just walked up the dirt path until she found a bundle of logs. Unsure at first, of their sturdiness, she pushed her hand into the logs, feeling no give. Then, she sat on them, wrapping her arms around her body for some warmth.
All those years gone. All the time it took for her to get comfortable in her voice after their mama passed. All to be reduced to a floosie by her own sister.
It made her sick. How Nellie could count her out; forget to send well wishes and bid her luck on the road. She met some with getting introduced to Billie. But, that’s where it ended.
She wished her sister knew of all the things she struggled with. But, she wouldn’t tell her. Especially not now.
As the thought passed her mind, her chest stung, eyes began flooding with the feeling that welled in her. How could her sister not see how those words could hurt her so? She didn’t want to feel it anymore. Tried gulping down her sorrows and sought to hum over them.
That didn’t stop the tears from coming.
Just as she felt the dam breaking, she rushed to her coat pocket, desperately pulling another cig from the small ornate case she carried. After grabbing her matchbook, she tried to strike a flame.
Hands cold and trembling, she tried again, and again…Then, she just gave up, throwing the worn match onto the harsh cracked soil.
“Need a light?”
Instantly, she reached her hand up to wipe the tear from her face. Smoothly, she peered up, her eyes wide in the direction of the voice.
And there he was, fine as can be, the spitting image of his brother, staring down at her. She batted her lashes, vision clear as ever.
“Yes, thank you.”
Stack wedged his bottom lip under his teeth, his mouth curling around the toothpick that rested between both lips. With a hand cupped around the budding flame, he lit the end of her cigarette thoroughly. She watched his eyes as he did so, pulling away when her herb was burned to her liking.
As she took in a deep puff of the medicated smoke, she took him in too, looking him all the way down to his premium leather loafers. When she looked back up at his face, he held a smug grin, his grill gleaming in the night.
“So, you the he-man I been hearing about all day.” She commented, breathing out a soft cloud. His smile got wider.
“Mhmm.” He kept their stare solid, while he took his toothpick from his mouth to speak.
“And you ‘bout as pretty as an angel. Got a voice like one too.” He eyed her fur coat that hid a bit of her form, and then his eyes lowered to the long black skirt she wore with it that hugged her thighs just right.
“You mind if I sit?”
“Go on ‘head.”
Silence cooed at them as they each gathered their thoughts, Lorene taking a pull of her cig. Stack threw his toothpick to the side, getting comfortable on the sturdy logs beneath them.
“Thats was ya’ sister, right?”
Lorene takes in a deep breath.
“Yep.”
“What’s the story there?”
The pretty woman lets out her breath in an audible sigh, putting her vice back between her lips.
“Just a big misunderstanding. Nothing you need to worry your head about.”
“Hmph, how long you back hea’ for?” He watched Lorene’s side profile as he waited for her answer. She blew out another cloud of smoke, twisting her lips so that it missed him.
“I’on’ know.”
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I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎
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