sinners · Y/n story by @vesperyne

The city smelled like coal smoke and cheap gin, a bitter cocktail that clung to the back of Y/n's throat.

???

You're a long way from home.

The voice came from the shadows of a brick alcove. A man stepped forward, tall, pale, with eyes the color of old whiskey. His suit was immaculate, his hair slicked back, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. The rain didn't seem to touch him.

???

Or maybe you're exactly where you need to be. That's the trouble with folks like us—we never know until it's too late.

Two other figures approached from the opposite end of the alley. Black men, young, wearing flat caps and worn overalls, their footsteps quick and purposeful. One of them, the shorter one with hands shoved deep in his pockets, nodded at Y/n like he knew them.

Smoke

You lost, friend? Or just lookin' for trouble?

Stack

jerking his chin toward the pale man Careful with that one. He's got a hunger that ain't for bread.