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Dec 28, 2025

Under Their Roof | Twelve

POV: You are a young lady in the 1930's who was hired by the Moore family to help around the house and be a nanny...but to your surprise, you may have to do more.

A/N: Okaaaaay, so this was gonna to be a small series that was inspired by a dream I had BUT this maybe a tad bit longer than planned.

Warning: Jealousy & Suspense, Tear Jerkers, ROMANTIC SMUT AND FLUFF

Word Count: 12K

Song Recommendation: Seance by James Black (Sinners Soundtrack)

Pairing: Elias 'Stack' Moore x Black Female Reader

After her prayer session, Y/N hurried through making a simple breakfast. Just as she sat down, the phone began to ring and before she could say anything, she heard “afternoon, Doll. Hope I ain’t disturbin’ ya none—but truth be told, a vision like you’s worth the interruption.” She grinned and said “hello, Mr. Stack. How can I help you today?”

“Well, Miss Doll, the men and I could use a hand. Do you mind comin’ down to the club?” Stack’s voice carried that easy smile of his, the kind that made her heart skip in spite of herself.

Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall—it was already close to one. “Is everything alright?” she asked, brows pinching slightly.

“Yeah, nothin’ wrong,” Stack assured, his tone almost playful. “We just need your help, Doll. Cornbread’s on his way to pick you up with Theresa and the twins. Make sure you wear somethin’ comfortable.”

She hesitated a beat, still unsure what they’d want with her. “Uh… sure. I can come.”

“Good. Very good. We’ll see you soon,” he replied, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice before the line went quiet.

When she set the receiver down, Y/N realized her cheeks were warm. She shook her head at herself, still confused, but hurried upstairs to change.

Not long after, the sound of a car horn drifted in from outside. Before leaving, she slipped into the nursery and leaned over the crib, pressing a gentle kiss to Angelina’s soft forehead. “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Your papa needs me.” The baby cooed and curled her tiny fingers around Y/N’s hand, and the gesture made her chest tighten with a fond smile. Carefully, she tucked the blanket back around her before easing out.

Downstairs, Y/N adjusted the straps of her dark denim overalls over a crisp white blouse. Her sturdy boots clicked against the wood as she pinned the last of her hair into a loose bun. She looked practical, ready for work, though she still carried her quiet grace.

Stepping out the front door, she spotted Theresa approaching with the twins in tow. “Hello, Miss Thomas. Hello, sweet peas,” Y/N greeted warmly. “Angelina’s had her breakfast and lunch. She had a little accident earlier, so I bathed her. She’s all clean and resting now.”

Theresa smiled, the twins offering a cheerful wave, and Y/N shared one last look with them before heading toward the car where Cornbread waited. With a small breath, she climbed in, still wondering what Stack and the others had up their sleeve.

The ride didn’t take long, and before she knew it, Cornbread was pulling the truck up to the front of the club. Y/N’s eyes widened the moment she stepped out—there were pickup trucks lined along the dirt lot, men hauling in crates, carrying tools, shouting to one another as they worked. The air smelled of sawdust, oil, and fresh-cut lumber, the promise of change hanging heavy all around.

As she walked beside Cornbread toward the entrance, her boots crunching against gravel, she glanced around in quiet awe. Inside, the place was alive with transformation. Booths now hugged the perimeter of the club, their cushions crisp and new. The wood—oak, she guessed—gleamed in the glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows, polished smooth like it had never been touched by years of wear.

Her gaze drifted to the bar, wider and sturdier than before, the oak top catching light like honey. Even the balcony above—once rickety and in danger of collapse—now looked solid and dependable, its railings firm and safe.

She let her eyes trace upward, and then froze. Three men stood together at the balcony rail, watching her. Bo, Smoke, and Stack.

For a flicker of a second, she was back in her dream—the one that had unsettled her so badly. The sight made her throat tighten. Smoke shifted first, his gaze cutting toward his brother. But Stack… Stack never looked away from her. His eyes were steady, locked, the corners of his mouth tugging just slightly as though he already knew what she was thinking.

“Miss Carter,” Stack called, voice smooth as molasses, “do us a kindness, Doll, and come on up here. We’re in need of your sweet assistance.”

Her stomach dropped. Oh, dear Lord… Her dream was unfolding before her very eyes. For a moment she glanced at Cornbread, almost as if asking him silently what she ought to do. He only gave a small nod of encouragement.

Drawing in a breath, Y/N smoothed her blouse with a trembling hand and lifted her chin. Then, with her heart thundering in her chest, she set her boots to the staircase and began the slow climb toward the men waiting above. When Y/N finally reached the top of the steps, she smoothed her palms against her overalls and tried to steady her breath. Bo was the first to greet her, tipping his head with an easy smile, the kind of smile that always seemed to linger a second too long. Smoke gave a curt nod, his expression carved from stone, while Stack’s eyes lingered just a little softer—warmer, though no less intense. “Follow us, Miss Carter,” Smoke said, his voice carrying that low command that left little room for questions. Without waiting for her reply, he turned and started down the hall, his coat shifting with his stride.

Bo and Stack fell in behind her, leaving her to walk between them. Y/N felt the weight of their eyes—one measured and cautious, the other shamelessly curious. Stack’s jaw ticked. He slowed his steps, just enough to glance sideways at his twin’s friend. He caught the way Bo’s gaze was trailing over Y/N’s figure, lingering in a way that set his blood to a slow boil.

Stack’s arm lifted suddenly, the back of his hand pressing against Bo’s chest, stopping him cold. Bo frowned, about to protest, until he saw the look in his brother’s eyes. Stack’s voice was low, meant only for him. “If you don’t stop lookin’ at Miss Doll like that,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass, “I’ll slit your throat clean and have Grace wonder where the hell you wandered off to.”

Bo’s eyes widened, a laugh slipping up his throat as though he thought Stack was bluffing. But then he caught the gleam in Stack’s gaze—dark, unflinching, dead serious. His smile faltered. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Stack,” Bo muttered quickly, lifting his hands in surrender.

Stack let his smirk curve, dangerous and knowing, before dropping his hand. He started walking again, his boots heavy against the polished wood. Bo exhaled hard, shaking his head before hurrying to catch up.

By the time the two men rejoined them, Smoke hadn’t even glanced back, but Y/N could feel the weight of something unspoken hanging in the air.

They walked down a narrow hall she could’ve sworn hadn’t existed a week ago. The air was cooler there, heavy, and Y/N felt her stomach tighten with every step. Stack, close behind her, noticed the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her blouse as they followed Smoke and Bo’s lead.

At the end of the corridor stood five closed doors, identical and waiting. “Miss Carter,” Smoke said, turning to her with steel in his eyes, “we need your help gettin’ these rooms in shape before we open. These are gon’ be the money-makers. But they need a woman’s touch. Whatever you need, we’ll fetch it.”

He opened the first door, and inside sat only a bare bedframe with a thin mattress. Y/N let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her chest loosening with relief. At least it wasn’t… that. Still, her brow pinched. Since when had she become their decorator? And why, of all things, did a hall like this even exist now? “You needed me for this?” Y/N raised her brow, watching Smoke look her up and down before she folded her hands neatly behind her back. Y/N stepped into the room first, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She paused, looking around at the plain walls, the lone bed, the bare window that poured in too much daylight. Her brow lifted ever so slightly as she turned back toward the men.

“We need some curtains,” she said finally, scanning the room again. “The window’s a good size, but without coverings, ain’t nothin’ private. Sheets too—somethin’ that don’t trap sweat. Maybe a few candles or dimmed lamps. A rug would tie it all together… deep, red-wine color. Set the mood.”

She crossed over and pressed her palm into the mattress before easing down to test it. The bed creaked beneath her. “Beds could stand to be softer, but… it’ll do for now.” She leaned back on her elbows, hair falling a little loose as she looked up at them. Stack tilted his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “So, Miss Doll, think we can get that all done in a few hours?”

Her gaze lingered on him through her lashes, heavy and quiet with meaning. It was that same look she’d given him once before—in the stockroom, when the air between them had turned sharp and dangerous. His heart skipped, dimples cutting deep as he smiled back. She sat up more and said “I think we can do it. Don’t you, Mr. Stack?”

“Bo, go in town and get everything Doll here wants, and add a bunch of roses too. Gotta make sure the room makes people do unholy thangs in front of the Lord,” Stack said, voice low and easy, his eyes refusing to leave her.

Bo cut a glance at Smoke, waiting for permission. Smoke’s sharp nod sent him on his way. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the three of them in that dim, unfinished room. Y/N smoothed her hands over the front of her blouse, pretending to busy herself as she looked around. Her gaze traced the bare window, the empty floor, and the lonely bed pressed against the wall. Already, she could imagine how curtains, soft sheets, and a splash of color could make it warmer—less like a trap, more like a place to disappear in.

She didn’t have to look at Stack to feel him watching her. His stare clung to her like heat, and the longer she kept her eyes on the walls, the more her skin tingled as though he were already touching her.

Then came the sharp clearing of a throat. Smoke’s voice, hard as iron, cut through the charged silence.

“Stack. Hallway. Now,” he muttered.

Stack’s jaw worked, irritation flashing across his features as he finally pulled his eyes off her. He nodded toward Y/N, a silent goodbye, before heading to the door. But just as he was about to step out, he leaned against the frame and glanced back. His dimples showed in a sly grin.

“You look real good there, doll.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and turned her back to him, hiding the warm berry of her cheeks. The moment the door closed, the air in the hallway shifted. Smoke was already waiting, arms folded across his chest. His eyes cut to his younger brother with a weight that made the narrow space feel smaller.

“You lettin’ your eyes talk too much, little brother,” Smoke said, voice measured but lined with warning.

Stack stopped in his tracks, his head tilting, hands slipping into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. “So what? Folks gon’ think what they think, anyways. Don’t matter to me none.” He leaned back against the wall, casual, but the glint in his eyes told Smoke he was pushing on purpose. “I like her, Smoke. Ain’t no crime in that. We both ain’t hitched or tied to anyone so why in the hell I gotta hide it?”

anyone so why in the hell I gotta hide it?”

“You know the life we live. You drag her into it, you’ll break her. She don’t deserve that kind of trouble.” Stack side eyed his brother and stepped closer to him. “Smoke, we haven’t lived that life ever since you started to do right by Ann. I like the damn girl, alright” he explained and Smoke looked him up and down. “She ain’t like the others, Stack. She got respect, carries herself different. You start treatin’ her like some side-play, you’ll ruin that. Don’t do that to her”, Smoke said and all Stack can do was roll his neck.

“For a nappy nigga that ‘pposed to be my fuckin’ blood, you sure don’t fuckin’ no me”, Stack said making his brother stand straight up. "That ain’t what this is, Smoke," Stack said, his voice low but steady, carrying a weight his brother wasn’t used to hearing. "You know me. I don’t chase every skirt that walks by smilin’. I’ve had my fun, sure, but I ain’t blind, and I sure as hell ain’t foolish. I know the difference between a woman you laugh with for a night, and a woman who makes you stop in your tracks without even tryin’. Doll ain’t like the rest. She carries herself with a kind of grace I don’t see often in this world. She looks a man in the eye and makes him feel like he gotta be better just to stand there. Don’t go confusin’ me for some fool that can’t tell respect when he see it, ‘cause what I see in her… it ain’t cheap, and it damn sure ain’t a fling.”

Stack paused, jaw tight, as if weighing whether he’d already said too much. His eyes softened, almost against his will. “Truth is, Smoke… she makes me think about things I ain’t never let myself want before. And if I slip sometimes—if it shows on my face—maybe that’s ‘cause for once in my life, I don’t wanna play it cool. I just… I like her. More than I probably should.”

Smoke didn’t answer right away. He just stared at his brother, eyes unreadable but sharp enough to cut. The muscles in his jaw ticked once, twice, like he was grinding down something he wanted to say but knew better than to voice. His hands flexed against his sides, fists that never quite closed.

Finally, he let out a short breath through his nose, more of a scoff than a sigh. “You talk too much, Stack,” he muttered, voice even but lined with heat. “Best keep your head straight. We got work to do—more important than daydreams.”

He turned then, shoulders stiff as stone, but not before Stack caught the flicker in his brother’s eyes—the kind of look a man gives when something precious is slipping out of his grip.

Stack watched him go, lips quirking in the faintest smirk. He’d pushed Smoke without even trying, and that told him everything he needed to know.

Soon, Bo arrived with everything needed, arms full and a couple of handymen trailing behind him with boxes and tools. Y/N stepped aside as they filed in, her eyes darting from the heavy rolls of fabric to the bundles of roses and the shiny brass rods meant for hanging curtains. The room that had been bare moments ago suddenly came alive with the noise of hammers, men’s voices overlapping, and the scent of sawdust and roses mingling in the air.

Y/N folded her arms, leaning against the wall as she watched. The transformation gave her a strange sense of pride, as though this space—though meant for something she didn’t fully approve of—was becoming hers too.

Bo carried the flowers in first, setting the buckets of roses on the floor near the bed. “Miss Carter, you sure ‘bout all this red? Feels like a sin just walkin’ through the door.”

Before she could answer, Stack bent down, plucked one of the roses out of the bucket, and turned to her with that charming grin of his. He held it out, the thorny stem balanced carefully between his fingers. “That’s the point, Bo. Folks comin’ in here ain’t lookin’ to pray.” Then, softer, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s, “To show how much they care about on anotha.”

The room seemed to go still. Y/N hesitated before taking it, her fingertips brushing against his as she did. She twirled it once, lips pressing together as though trying to hide the smile tugging at her mouth.

Stack’s grin softened into something genuine. “See? Already makes the place look better. Especially with that pretty smile of yours.”

Y/N shook her head lightly, amused despite herself. “Ain’t gotta spell it out, Stack. I know what these rooms are for”, Bo said but Stack only watched Y/N as she tapped the rose against her palm, eyes flicking toward the window. “And if it’s gon’ be done, it should be done right. No sense makin’ it look cheap”, she said, smooth like honey.

Stack leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “And you the only one who can make it right.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door creaked again. Smoke appeared in the frame, his shadow stretching into the room. His eyes swept over the men working, then settled on Stack… before landing on Y/N and the rose in her hand.

Her breath caught. Without a word, she set the flower back down on the table near the bed, as if it burned to keep holding it.

The workers exchanged uneasy looks, their tools suddenly sounding louder in the heavy silence. Bo cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… uh, reckon we’ll start with the curtains.” He motioned to the men, and they quickly busied themselves again, pretending not to notice the unspoken tension.

Stack’s smile faltered, but he didn’t look away from his brother. He noticed the way Smoke’s jaw twitched. “Somethin’ wrong, brother?” he asked, voice steady.

Smoke held his gaze for a long moment, unreadable, then simply turned his head and looked out into the hall. He didn’t answer, just stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.

Y/N exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath. She smoothed her skirt and busied herself with pointing at the window. “Make sure they hang high enough so it covers the whole frame,” she told the handymen, her voice carefully even. “Don’t want nothin’ peekin’ through.”

Stack watched her a moment longer, dimples tugging faintly at his cheeks, before stepping closer to her side. “Whatever Doll says, we do,” he murmured, loud enough for the others to hear.

By the end of the afternoon, the rooms were finished. The handymen had packed up and gone, leaving behind only the faint smell of polish and the sweet perfume of roses.

Y/N stood near the window, brushing her palms against the front of her blouse as she looked around. The curtains hung just right, the rug softened the floor beneath her boots, and the candles and flowers warmed the space. A small, proud smile tugged at her lips — it actually looked like something she had put herself into.

The door eased open, and when she turned, Smoke stepped inside. He shut it behind him, the sound of the latch falling into place echoing in the quiet room.

“It looks good in here,” he asked, his voice carrying that slow, heavy tone.

Y/N smoothed her trousers and nodded, her smile still polite. “Thank you, sir. You said it needed a woman’s touch. I tried to make it comfortable, but not too soft. Just enough for folks to feel at ease.”

Smoke’s eyes wandered over the curtains, the rug, the roses, and then finally settled back on her. “Didn’t figure you’d put this much into it.”

She gave a small laugh and shrugged. “Well, if you’re gonna have me do a thing, I like to do it right. Place like this oughta feel worth the money people spend.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His jaw shifted like he was holding something back, his stare locked on her a little too long. Y/N tilted her head slightly and added, gentle as ever, “I hope it’s to your liking, Mr. Moore.”

There was a pause, then his voice came rough and low. “Yeah… you got good taste.”

Y/N smiled at that, warm and unguarded. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He stepped further into the room, slow and steady, his boots dragging slightly against the rug she’d picked out. Y/N only turned back toward the bedspread, smoothing the fabric with her hand. “I think the red sets the mood without being too loud. It pulls everything together, don’t you think?” she asked, glancing back with an open expression.

Smoke was closer now, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the roses. His gaze was heavy, but Y/N met it kindly, no guard in her eyes. She had no reason to put one up — her niceness came natural.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his jaw twitching again. “It does pull everything together.” His words weren’t just about the room, and for a second his chest ached with it.

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing her blouse flat again, unaware of the weight in his stare. “I’m glad you like it. That’s all I wanted.”

Her voice was simple, sweet, and Smoke swallowed hard, wondering if she even knew what she was doing to him just by being herself.

Y/N stepped into the hallway, smoothing down her blouse, her boots clicking steady against the polished floor. She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and began walking toward the front.

Stack was leaning against the wall a few steps down, arms folded across his chest, watching her with that easy grin that always made her cheeks warm. He pushed off the wall as soon as her eyes met his.

“Well, doll,” he drawled, dimples cutting deep as his gaze lingered on her face, “looks like you done worked your magic in there. Place damn near glows with you touchin’ it.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head as she walked closer. “Don’t flatter me, Mr. Elias. Just curtains, candles, and a little bit of thought. Anybody could’ve done it.”

“Mm,” Stack tilted his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anybody maybe, but not like you.”

Her breath hitched, and before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps followed her out. Smoke emerged from the room, his broad frame filling the doorway. His eyes fell instantly on Stack and Y/N standing close in the hallway.

That twitch came at his jaw again, sharp and quick, before his gaze cut away. Stack noticed it. He always did.

“Everythin’ okay, twin?” Stack asked, his voice smooth but edged, daring.

Smoke didn’t answer right away, his eyes narrowing just enough to speak for him. Finally, with a low breath through his nose, he muttered, “I’m good, little brother.”

But Y/N felt it — the weight pressing between the two men, thick as smoke itself. She glanced between them, lips parting, unsure if she should break the tension or walk away.

Y/N cleared her throat, the sound small in the quiet hallway. “Mr. Moore, what time should I be back tonight?” Her voice was polite, careful, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness that she couldn’t quite hide.

Smoke’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto hers. It was sharp, unyielding, and she felt it like a physical weight pressing against her chest. “You’ll be ridin’ with us,” he said, each word deliberate, carrying a command she knew she couldn’t argue with.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be ready in time. Maybe I could ride along with Sammie and—” Y/N started, her hands flexing at her sides, but Smoke’s eyes darkened like storm clouds. His presence was sudden, suffocating, and the air between them thickened.

“You will be ridin’ with me and Annie. You have an hour to get ready. Need to be back here to rehearse with Sammie and the boys,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. There was no room for negotiation.

“But sir, it would be easier just to—” Y/N tried again, her voice faltering slightly, the tension in her chest tightening. Smoke’s jaw flexed, his expression hardening, and the faintest shadow of warning passed through his eyes. She swallowed and fell silent, her words trapped in her throat.

He stepped aside, a silent, unspoken sign for her to move. Y/N hesitated, glancing toward Stack, who stood a few steps away. She offered a small wave, a nervous, almost apologetic smile. Stack’s eyes flicked to hers, his expression softening into a faint, encouraging nod. But his gaze quickly shifted as he caught the way Smoke’s dark eyes lingered on him, sharp and unblinking.

Stack’s jaw tightened. He straightened his shoulders, heart racing with a mixture of frustration and desire. He had to figure out how to tell this woman—this woman who had his heart—that it was time for her to step out of the nanny role, step into something permanent, something that included him. He clenched his fists briefly, his mind turning over possibilities even as Y/N moved away, obedient but unaware of the storm of thoughts she left in her wake.

Every step she took echoed in Stack’s chest like a warning bell, reminding him that if he didn’t act soon, he might lose the chance to have her entirely.

The Packard eased down the narrow road, the evening sun cutting long shadows across the windshield. Smoke’s hand was steady on the wheel, his face unreadable as always, eyes fixed forward. Annie rode in the passenger seat, humming softly under her breath, one arm resting out the open window, her bracelets clinking as she tapped her fingers against the door.

In the back, Y/N sat upright, her hands folded in her lap. The leather seat was cool against her back, but the air between the three of them carried its own kind of heat—silent, pressing, unspoken. She glanced out the window, trying to keep her thoughts on the scenery rather than the two in front of her.

After a stretch of quiet, Annie turned her head just enough to look over her shoulder, her eyes sweeping over Y/N’s pressed blouse and pinned-up hair. “You look different, doll. Not like the girl that showed up on day one.”

Y/N gave a polite smile, unsure if Annie meant it as a compliment or not. “Guess I’m learnin’ my way around.”

Smoke’s fingers flexed once on the wheel, but he said nothing. His jaw shifted, tightening as if he wanted to say something but chose not to.

Annie let out a low laugh, flicking her hair back. “Mm. World’s full of folks learnin’ their way around. Some get lost faster than others.”

The comment hung sharp in the air, and Y/N caught herself straightening her back, her smile fading. She looked toward Smoke, almost expecting him to cut in, but he kept his eyes on the road, expression carved from stone.

Finally, Y/N spoke, voice quiet but steady. “Mr. Moore… why couldn’t I just ride with Sammie? We’re rehearsing with the boys anyway.”

Smoke’s eyes slid to the rearview mirror, meeting hers. For a heartbeat, it looked like he’d speak plain, maybe even soften. But then he looked away, back to the road. “You’ll be ridin’ with me and Annie. That’s how it’s goin’.”

The rest of the ride carried the weight of words unsaid.

Once the trio made it home, Annie watched the bathroom door click shut upstairs before turning back to her husband. Smoke stood in the living room with his pipe between his teeth, shoulders squared, eyes following the curl of smoke like he was avoiding her gaze. Annie leaned against the post, arms folded, studying him the way only a wife could.

“I ain’t stupid, Elijah,” she said, her voice calm but edged, stepping off the post and into the room.

Smoke finally looked her way, but before he could answer, Annie pressed on. “Why won’t you let Stack be with Y/N? They’re both good souls. It’s plain as day they got feelin’s for one another. So why stop them from even tryin’?”

Smoke’s jaw flexed as he drew on his pipe, exhaling slow. “Ann, baby… I know my twin better than any man breathin’. Stack loses his head when he’s smitten. He stops thinkin’ sharp, starts actin’ reckless. We can’t afford that — not with everything ridin’ on the club, on this family. Y/N around him like that? He’ll lose focus.” He shifted his weight, tone firming. “And if it goes bad between ‘em, it ain’t just heartbreak. It’s bad blood right in this house. I won’t risk it.”

Annie strode up and plucked the pipe clean out of his mouth. Smoke’s eyes cut hard at her, but she met them without a flinch. “Life’s already messy, Elijah. You think playin’ gatekeeper’s gonna keep trouble out? No, it’ll just leave both of ‘em hatin’ you for standin’ in their way. And that, my love, is its own kind of poison.” Her voice softened just a touch. “Sometimes risk is worth it — especially when it means someone we care about gets to be happy.”

Smoke sucked his teeth, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his whole frame humming with a stubbornness Annie knew too well.

“Elijah,” she said, planting her hands on her hips, eyes pinning him where he stood. “Let them be happy. You can see it same as I do — the way they look at each other.”

His arms crossed over his chest, cutting a hard figure, but his reply came quieter. “Baby… looks can be deceivin’.”

That was when she caught it — the flicker behind his eyes, a shadow of something more than excuses. Annie tilted her head, the faintest smirk pulling at her mouth. She set the pipe down on the mantle with a deliberate hand, then turned for the stairs.

“Sure are,” she murmured over her shoulder, leaving him in the smoke.

Soon, Smoke stood in an all black suit with a matching hat and Annie walked down the steps in her black gown to match her husband, taking her place beside him.

They waited another fifteen minutes before the sound of her heels tapped softly against the hardwood. Then she appeared — a glow in the dim hall, radiant as though she carried her own light.

Y/N wore an ivory-cream satin gown that skimmed her calves, the fabric gliding with every step. A tasteful slit traced up her right leg, offering just enough glimpse to make the dress daring without losing its grace. She paired it with delicate heels of the same satin, a shawl draped loose around her arms, and her grandmother’s gold-and-pearl set — earrings that caught the light, a modest necklace that rested perfectly against her collarbone. Her curls had been coaxed into a deep side part, tucked neatly behind her ear, framing her face in soft, luminous detail.

Annie’s breath caught before a smile broke across her face. She clasped her hands together in delight, eyes brimming with pride. For a moment, she was so swept away she didn’t even notice the change in her husband’s stance.

Smoke looked up — and for once, the stony mask faltered. His gaze traced Y/N slowly, reverently, though he didn’t dare move a muscle. His shoulders had eased, his chest paused mid-breath, and for the faintest instant, his heart skipped against his ribs.

“Darlin’, you look beautiful,” Annie said warmly, pulling her into a hug. “That dress was made for you… and you’re so brave to wear white.”

Y/N flushed, cheeks blooming pink as she murmured her thanks. Annie pulled back, still smiling, and finally cast her glance toward Smoke. His eyes had not left Y/N, steady and unyielding in a way Annie knew too well. That look — the kind that slipped through his armor — told her everything.

She cleared her throat, sharp enough to snap him out of the trance. He blinked once, jaw tightening back into place, and finally moved.

“Ladies,” he said flatly, holding the door open for them.

Y/N stepped past him first, the faint scent of her perfume brushing against him as she passed. Annie followed after, but not without one last look at her husband. His face was stone again, but Annie’s eyes caught the truth lingering in his — and she tucked the knowledge away, silent and knowing.

They soon arrived at the juke joint, the car tires crunching against the gravel as the headlights cut through the night. Annie was the first to step out, her wrist flicking gracefully as she reached back to help Y/N from the car. The two women linked arms, laughter soft between them, while Smoke trailed a few paces behind, pipe smoke curling faintly in the air as he exhaled.

Cornbread stood out front in a sharp black suit, his posture tall, eyes scanning the horizon like a watchman. At the sight of the ladies, his face cracked into a grin wide as sunrise.

“Well, well,” Cornbread boomed, his voice warm as molasses. Annie and Smoke nodded as they passed him, but Cornbread’s gaze lingered on Y/N. With a wink and a low chuckle rolling from his belly, he said, “Miss Carter, you look divine in that dress. I know someone who’d lose his damn mind seein’ you in that, suga.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she gave him a polite thank-you before stepping inside, heels clicking against the wood. The room was quiet still — the band setting up, waiters sliding tables into place, and faint notes from instruments tuning in the background.

On stage, Pearline spotted her and gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Well, well! Look at this angel of a woman,” she called, her voice carrying over the band. “You came just in time, Y/N. We gotta rehearse your number.”

Before Y/N could answer, Pearline bounded down, took her hand, and whisked her toward the stage with the kind of excitement that brooked no refusal. Y/N stumbled at first, laughing nervously, but quickly fell into step as Pearline pulled her beneath the lights. Slim gave a sharp whistle of approval, and Sammie just shook his head, grinning from ear to ear.

Meanwhile, at the back of the club, Smoke was speaking low and sharp to one of the guards. Stack had just come around the corner, rolling his sleeves.

“A’ight, listen close,” Smoke said, jabbing his finger at the man’s chest. “Ain’t nobody usin’ them rooms upstairs unless they paid, and I mean paid in full. You slip up, you answer to me — and trust, boy, you don’t want that smoke.”

“Yes, sir—” the man started, but his words cut off as his eyes drifted toward the stage.

“Who is that?” he asked, pointing.

Stack turned, half curious — then froze.

There she was.

Y/N stood at center stage, Pearline and two other women guiding her through the sway of hips and roll of shoulders. Her fingers traced up the microphone stand as she loosened, laughter spilling out of her like music itself. For a moment, the club’s dim lights seemed made for her alone.

Stack’s grin broke slow, unguarded, his eyes softening until they looked nothing like his usual sharp-edged smirk. His chest tightened, the air sticking in his throat as if she’d stolen it clean away.

“My future wife,” he whispered, the words tumbling out before he even thought them.

The club was soon open and folks began to pour in. The ladies and Y/N sang back up for Pearline for a few songs before the last song was done. Bo was being whispered to by Smoke before he looked to the stage and nodded. Right when Y/N and the girls were done, Bo was by the stage. “Miss Carter, Smoke said you have to work the bar until your number is up”, he said and she thought of why but decided to just not ask. Bo gave her hand to take but she just nodded and began walking to the bar. As she approached the bar, Annie looked in confusion. “Darlin’, you supposed to be with Sammie right now. Why you over here wit is”, Annie asked and Y/N replied “Bo came on got me. Said Mr. Moore needed me here until I sang.”

Annie looked towards the stage to see her husband talking to a guest and turned to Y/N as she waited on people with a smile.

“Y/N, darlin’, come with me. We need to talk”, Annie said and soon, Y/N and Annie were in the stockroom, door locked. Y/N stood there as Annie smiled and asked “Y/N, how do you feel about Elias?” Y/N had her hands folded feeling shy and timid but Annie approached her. Annie lifted her head to look at her and held her hands. “Y/N, you are safe here. I won’t tell a soul. I see how you look at Elias. How you blush and smile whenever he looks at you or talks to you. So, sugar, be honest with ya friend, Annie.”

Y/N look in Annie’s she felt her shoulders relax before turning her back and speaking as she paced the floor. “You ever feel like you been wanderin’ your whole life, Annie? Like no matter where you stand, you don’t quite belong? That’s been me. Movin’, bendin’, shapin’ myself to fit a world that never once felt like mine. But when Stack’s near… Lord, it feels different. It’s like walkin’ through the front door after a long journey—you breathe easier, your bones settle, your chest don’t feel so heavy. He don’t even gotta try, Annie. Just his presence makes me feel… home. And I didn’t think I’d ever find that in a person, let alone in him. It scares me, ‘cause once you know what home feels like, losin’ it… that’s a hurt you don’t ever heal from”, she turned to Annie and she saw Y/N’s eyes go glassy.

Annie held Y/N in her arms to comfort her and said “h, honey. You just told me right now without sayin’ the word—you found your heart in that man. And if bein’ with him makes you feel like you belong, then baby, that’s worth fightin’ for. Don’t let fear or promises keep you from what your soul’s already reachin’ toward.” Y/N felt Annie dab her tears away making her smile, then Y/N spoke more, holding her cry.

“Annie… I can’t. Even if every part of me… aches for him, I can’t let myself. You know the deal we made—me, you, Smoke. My family’s future is sittin’ right on the edge, and I can’t do nothin’ to tip it. One wrong move, one selfish slip, and everything I’ve been holdin’ together falls apart.

If I reach for Stack—if I let myself want him out loud—what happens if it all goes wrong? What happens if Smoke pulls his word back? My folks… they’ll be left with nothin’. No home. No safety. Just more of the same pain we’ve been runnin’ from.

And Lord help me, Annie… the thought of losin’ them terrifies me more than losin’ him. So I swallow it down. I smile when he looks at me, but I lock it all up inside. ‘Cause wantin’ him feels like playin’ with fire, and if I get burned, it won’t just be me who pays the price—it’ll be everyone I love.”

“Oh, baby girl…” she reached over, cupping Y/N’s hands in hers, voice soft but steady “…you don’t have to carry that kind of weight alone. You think lovin’ him makes you reckless, but it don’t—it makes you alive. You’ve been sacrificin’ yourself for everybody else for so long, you forgot you got a right to happiness too.

And listen—whatever happens with that deal, whatever happens with Stack—you won’t face it alone. I’m standin’ right beside you. Always. Don’t you ever doubt that.” Annie nodded at her and hugged her tightly knowing what she had to do. “Y/N, do me favor. Wipe ya face clean, and pretend we ain’t spoke, Just go the bar and I will make sure you are well taken care of”, Annie told her before she looked around the room, grabbing lemons and placing them in Y/N’s hand. “Go ‘head now”, Annie unlocked the door and smacked Y’N’s butt to make her start walking. Annie closed to the door behind her and knew it was time for her to start her mission.

She went ahead out and saw how crowded the club was, she noticed that Pearline and the girls were heading back to stage and signaled for Y/N to go up with a wink. She looked over at her husband and noticed that his eyes were on Y/N. The announcer stood on stage, ready for the song to end. “Well now, wasn’t that a swell number, folks? A real treat for the ears. But don’t go anywhere—’cause we’ve got somethin’ mighty special lined up. Let’s put our hands together and welcome back the lovely Miss Y/N Carter, bringin’ us another classic I know you all are gonna take a shine to.” The crowd cheered for her and that’s when Annie heard a whistle. She looked up to see Stack at the balcony watching over as he clapped and she hurried up the stairs. Y/N smiled as the man stood aside and off stage before she spoke into the microphone.

“Evenin’, everybody. Last week, I shared a song my parents wrote years ago. But tonight… tonight’s different. This one’s mine. It’s about love, about passion, and findin’ that one person who feels like they were meant for you. I hope y’all enjoy it.” She looked back at the girls, Sammie and Slim with the full band who all nodded and began. Slim caresses the piano’s keys, the heart of the arrangement. Upright bass, softly walked in quarter notes, very round and woody. The drums, a slow shuffle beat, whispery, almost like brushing sandpaper. Sammie on his guitar, foot tapping, played soft chord stabs on the backbeat or little bluesy fills and the sax… moaning gently.

The singers swayed as Y/N did with soft smiles as the music played for a bit. Y/N looked around the crowd, seeing everyone grab their loved one, even Bo and Grace. But her eyes were actually searching for his face. Meanwhile, Stack was swaying gently as Annie stood next to him. “Hey, sis. I saw you runnin’ up them steps. Everythin’ okay”, Stack asked looking at her as she placed her hands behind her. “Yes, Elias. I just wanted to ask you somethin’ before… y’know who gets in the way. While he is distracted”, Annie said as she nodded towards the stage, making them both watch Y/N.

Hooold me, baby… don’tcha turn me looose tonight 🎵

Mmm, hooold me, sugar… don’tcha turn me looose tonight 🎵

The moon’s up there grinnin’… an’ your eyes shinin’ soft an’ briiiiight🎵

“Elias, I want you to be honest with me”, Annie started, “how do you feel about Y/N?” Stack’s eyes flickered before they looked at his sister in law. Stack leaned against the railing, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bar, eyes fixed somewhere past Annie as if the words were too heavy to hold in. “Ann… I… I don’t even know how to say it right. Y/N… she—she’s like… like sunlight, Ann. Not just ‘cause she shines, but… she makes things feel alive again. When she’s around, I… I don’t feel restless. I don’t feel… like I’m always tryin’ to outrun myself. I just… I can breathe. And I… I want that, with her, all the time.”

When ya hand’s in mine, honey, it’s like a gentle rain 🎵

Ohhh, when ya hand’s in mine, darlin’, it’s like a gentle rain 🎵

Ev’ry heartbeat I’m hearin’… it’s whisperin’ your naaaame

He swallowed hard, the raw honesty cracking his voice. “I ain’t never cared like this. I ain’t never… wanted someone the way I want her. And it ain’t just want, it’s… it’s need, but not in a way that’s selfish. It’s… like she completes the pieces I didn’t even know were missin’.” The ladies joined into the chorus softly.

Ohhh, baby, I’m yo’s, body an’ sooooul 🎵

You’s my fire in the night, you make me whole 🎵

Don’tcha slip away, sugar, don’tcha make me cry 🎵

Hooold me, darlin’… till the morning sky 🎵

Annie stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on his forearm. Her eyes softened as she let him feel her calm. “Stack… baby… you can’t keep that locked up inside. You feel it so deep because it’s real. Y/N… she’s your heart calling you home. Don’t push it away. Don’t let fear take what’s yours. You both deserve to feel this—honestly, completely.”

Band’s playin’ low… piano hums like a lullaby 🎵

Mmm, band’s playin’ low… piano hums like a lullaby 🎵

I’ll sing for you, baby… till them stars fall from the sky

Stack’s jaw loosened, a breath he didn’t know he was holding slipping out. “I just… I’m scared, Ann. Scared that I’ll mess it up, scared that… anything could take it away from me.”

Ohhh, baby, I’m yo’s, body an’ sooooul 🎵

You’s my sugar in the dark, the one I hold 🎵

Don’tcha slip away, sugar… stay right heeere with me 🎵

Hooold me, darlin’… for all eterrrnity 🎵

Annie squeezed his arm gently, a small, reassuring smile tugging at her lips. “Then don’t wait. Don’t let the fear win. You tell her, Stack. Show her. Let her know what she means. Life’s too short for hesitation, baby. You got this. And also, I think she feels the same way.” Annie’s eyes landed on the stage, Stack’s gaze followed and he noticed that her eyes softly met his as she still sang.

Mmm… that’s right, baby… just you an’ me…

Stack nodded towards her and whispered, “Ann, I need a favor.” Annie smirked and looked up at him. “I’m listening, suga.”

The singing swelled again, filling the club with warmth and rhythm. Annie stood close to Smoke, her smile soft but mischievous. “Honey, may I have this dance?” she asked, extending her hand toward him. Smoke’s lips tugged into a rare smile as he took it, guiding her onto the floor where couples swayed in the glow of the stage lights.

As he kept his eyes on his wife, Annie’s hand slipped behind his back. Two fingers lifted in the air—a silent signal only Stack would understand.

Stack straightened his dress shirt and vest, heart pounding steady but eyes sharp as they tracked Y/N. He moved through the crowd with quiet purpose, the room around him fading until only she remained.

Y/N’s voice trailed off with the last line of her verse, and instinctively her gaze flicked upward to the balcony—but Stack wasn’t there. He caught Pearline’s eye and leaned in, whispering something quick. She grinned wide, winking as she cupped her mic. Sliding over to Sammie, she passed the message. A laugh rumbled from him before he nodded at Slim. A single glance was exchanged, then the band’s tune shifted.

The music melted into a playful, jazzy swing. The joint came alive, feet stomping, heads bobbing, laughter spilling into the air. Y/N blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing—until her eyes locked on Stack. He stood at the edge of the stage, hand outstretched, gaze unwavering.

Pearline leaned toward her ear, whispering with a sly grin, “Go on, girl. We’ll cover you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Her heart thudded fast, and before she could think twice, she moved toward him. “Stack, what is happenin’?” she whispered breathlessly, but his only answer was the steady grip of his hand guiding her away.

“Stack, what if—HEY!” she squeaked as he swept her off her feet, cradling her in his arms like she weighed nothing. Laughter bubbled in the crowd as he strode for the back hall with unshaken confidence.

Cornbread, leaning against a doorframe, let out a hearty chuckle. “One room for two,” he said, swinging the door wide.

The door clicked shut behind them. The sudden hush made Y/N’s pulse louder in her ears. Stack set her down gently on the bed, but before her words could form, he drew her back up to stand, his hand warm at the small of her back.

For a breath, he just looked at her—his eyes tracing every line of her face, soft with something unspoken yet undeniable. His thumb brushed her cheek, tender, reverent, as if he were memorizing the shape of her.

Then he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was slow, certain, and impossibly sweet. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t stolen—it was a confession, poured into her mouth without a single word. The world seemed to still, the muffled swing of the band outside fading away.

Her knees weakened as his other hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady, secure, cherished. The kiss deepened, not with hunger but with warmth—each movement deliberate, carrying the weight of all the longing they’d held back.

Y/N melted against him, her fingers curling into his vest as though afraid he’d slip away. But he didn’t. He held her close, the kiss lingering like a promise, like home, like the truth he could no longer hide.

Their lips drifted away from one another, making them look into each other’s eyes. He cupped her face in his hands and smiled softly. “Hey, Doll”. She smiled back. “Hello, Stack.” Stack tucked her hair behind ear and said “y’know, you look awfully good in white.” She smiled at his remark before asking “is that why you pulled me in here, baby. His face softened even more, look into her face. His voice was low at first, trembling just enough to show the weight of his heart. “Y/N… I ain’t never been good with fancy words, but I gotta tell you somethin’. I can’t keep it in no more. I’ve tried. I told myself I could be quiet, play it cool, but every time I see you, every time you laugh, every time you look at me… it’s like my chest gonna burst. I ain’t never felt like this before, not for anyone. Not like this.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers, and his hands flexed at his sides. “You… you make me want to be better. You make me see things I never noticed before, feel things I thought I’d never feel. And I… I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Not when I wake up, not when I sleep, not when I’m with anyone else. You’re always there. Always.”

His voice grew steadier, more urgent. “I don’t want no games. I don’t want no maybe’s or if’s. I want you—me and you, honest and real. I want the moments, the fights, the laughs, the quiet nights. I want it all. Y/N, I love you. Ain’t no other way to say it. Ain’t no hiding it. I love you. And if you let me… I’ll spend the rest of my life showin’ you what that means.”

He reached out slowly, almost afraid she might vanish, and whispered, “You’re my home, Y/N. You always been my home.”

Y/N’s breath caught, and her hands trembled slightly at her sides. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, matching the rhythm of his words. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything—but the weight of what he’d just confessed pinned her tongue.

Her mind raced. He… he loves me? He really loves me? She thought of all the stolen glances, the brief touches, the way he’d been there in moments she couldn’t even admit she needed someone. Every moment made sense now, like a puzzle finally falling into place.

“I… I…” she started, her voice soft and shaky. Her hands found themselves clutching the hem of her blouse, twisting it as if grounding herself. “Stack… I don’t know what to say. I… I’ve felt it too, you know. Every time you’re near… it’s like my chest can’t hold it all. But…” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders tightening. “There’s so much… I can’t just… I want to be with you so bad, baby. I want us to be happy, not hiding anymore. Not yet. Not without—without making sure everything else is safe first. My family… they gotta come home first. And the deal… it’s still hanging over us.”

Her eyes met his again, shimmering with unshed tears, and she gave a small, almost painful smile. “But… hearing you say that? Stack… hearing you say you love me like that… it’s everything I’ve wanted to hear. And I… I don’t want to run from it. I still have the deal with ya brother and Annie. I still haven’t found house yet for my family and then my daddy would be outta job-”

Stack’s hands tightened gently around hers, his voice low but steady, every word weighted with resolve.

“Y/N… I know what’s weighin’ on you. I know you’re carryin’ everybody on your back—your daddy, little Faith, all of it. But listen to me. You ain’t gotta do it alone no more. I’ll help your daddy find work, I swear it. I know folks, I can make sure he’s set, same as any man that’s worked his whole life deserves to be. And Faith… I’ll get her the care she needs, the best there is. Whatever it takes, I’ll see to it. She won’t go without, not while I’m breathin’.”

He brought her hand to his chest, pressing it against the steady thrum of his heart.

“As for Smoke?” He shook his head, jaw firm. “He’ll huff, he’ll puff, but he’ll get over it. He always does. But me? I can’t get over you. I can’t keep standin’ by watchin’ you give your whole self to everybody but me. I’ve waited long enough, and my heart—darlin’, it’s yours whether I speak it or not.”

His thumb brushed along her knuckles, tender against his rough hand.

“You ain’t meant to spend your days raisin’ somebody else’s young ones and bein’ my brother’s ‘reliever’. You’re meant to be happy, to sing, to laugh, to live. Quit this nanny work, Y/N. Let me be the one to carry that load for you. Let me take care of you, of your family. I’ll put food on the table, roof over your heads, shoes on Faith’s feet. I don’t want your daddy worryin’ about a job, I don’t want Faith sufferin’, and I don’t want you wastin’ your life takin’ care of everybody else but yourself.”

He leaned closer, his voice breaking just enough to show the depth of it. “I want you. All of you. And I’ll move mountains if that’s what it takes to prove it. Lemme prove it, baby.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came. Her heart thudded against her ribs so loud it drowned out the muffled music leaking through the walls. For a moment, she just stared at him, every promise he spoke lingering in the air like something sacred. Her hands trembled, and Stack caught them, his palms warm and calloused as they swallowed hers. He didn’t grip tight—just steady, just enough for her to feel she was safe.

He lifted her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a kiss there, slow and reverent, like she was something to be worshiped. “I mean it, Doll,” he whispered against her skin, his voice low, ragged with truth. “Ain’t nothin’ I said just words. I’ll do it all, and more, if you just let me.”

Her eyes stung, tears she didn’t mean to show brimming as she searched his face for even a flicker of doubt. There wasn’t any. He looked at her like a man who’d already made up his mind, like she was his home, his reason.

Slowly, Y/N stepped forward, closing the small space between them. She let go of the air she’d been holding and rested her forehead against his chest, her hands sliding up to clutch at the fabric of his vest. She could feel his heartbeat thundering beneath her cheek, steady and sure. “Stack…” she whispered, voice trembling, “I don’t know how to do this…”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him like he’d been waiting a lifetime. One hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling gently in her curls, the other splayed wide across her back as though anchoring her to him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, lingering there, his voice rumbling against her hair.

“You don’t gotta know how. Just trust me. Trust us.”

Her body softened, her breath shuddering as she melted into his hold. And for the first time in a long while, Y/N allowed herself to believe she didn’t have to carry everything alone—that maybe, just maybe, Stack meant every word with his whole soul.

She lifted her head, eyes glistening, her fingers still clutching his vest like letting go might break the spell. Her gaze searched his, looking for cracks, for any sign that this was a dream she’d regret. But all she found was the raw steadiness in his eyes—unflinching, patient, burning for her and only her.

Her breath caught. She let go of his vest and instead placed her hand flat against his chest, feeling the weight of his heartbeat beneath her palm. “Stack,” she whispered, voice trembling, “if I give you all of me… there ain’t no turnin’ back.”

He leaned down, his forehead brushing hers, his lips so close she could taste the promise in his breath. “Good,” he murmured. “’Cause I don’t want no half of you, Doll. I want every piece. Every scar, every fear, every damn dream you carry.”

The tears slipped free then, but she didn’t shy away. Instead, she tilted her face up and kissed him. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was slow, soft, certain. The kind of kiss that spoke of trust more than passion, of surrender more than heat. Her lips lingered on his, trembling at first until she felt him kiss her back with the same gentleness, like he was cradling her heart between them.

Stack cupped her jaw in one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear as it slid down her cheek. The kiss deepened just slightly, enough to tell her he meant forever, but not so much that it demanded anything she wasn’t ready to give. When they finally pulled apart, their breaths tangled in the hush of the room, his forehead rested against hers again.

“You see?” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers. “That right there… that’s all I ever wanted. You trustin’ me. Us.”

And for the first time in years, Y/N felt her chest ease, the weight she’d carried lifting just enough to let love settle in its place.

She leaned into his lips again, their kiss deepening with a sweetness that made her whole body hum. Her fingers moved with care, slowly unbuttoning his vest as if savoring each second, while his hand slid along the curve of her back, gently finding the zipper of her gown and easing it down. They paused, lips hovering, eyes locked—breathless but certain.

“You can have all of me, baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both fear and freedom.

A smile curved across his lips, soft but sure, and when she mirrored it, it felt like a promise passing between them. He lowered his head, pressing tender kisses along her shoulder as he slipped her strap down, every touch patient, reverent. She eased him out of his vest, letting it fall forgotten to the floor, her hands lingering on him as though reassuring herself he was real.

He caught her gaze again, never looking away as he eased both straps from her arms. The fabric slid down her body, pooling at her feet in silence that felt sacred. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones with the kind of trust that made his chest ache.

Stack’s answer came not in words but in the strength of his embrace—his right arm curling around her, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. She let out a soft gasp as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her arms tightening around his shoulders, holding him close. His mouth found hers once more, slower this time, deliberate, every kiss telling her what he couldn’t stop saying in his heart: that she was his, fully, and always.

As they made their way to the bed, Stack lowered her down with a gentleness that stole her breath. She sank into the sheets, her hair fanning against the pillow, and looked up at him through heavy lashes, her gaze soft, almost shy.

His eyes never left her. It was as if by keeping her in sight, he could keep her from slipping away, from being anything less than his in that moment. Slowly, he began to undress, taking his time as though he wanted her to see every part of him—not just his body, but his sincerity. His shirt slid from his shoulders, followed by his undershirt, both discarded carelessly on the floor.

He bent, sliding off his shoes, his hands never faltering, his gaze still tethered to hers. He moved to his belt next, the leather sliding free with a soft hiss before he let it drop beside the rest of his clothes. The sound made her laugh unexpectedly, a sweet, unguarded sound that slipped into a little snort.

Stack froze, surprised, before the corner of his mouth tugged up into a grin. That sound—so natural, so her—broke whatever tension lingered in the air. His chest shook with a quiet chuckle, and he shook his head, his voice low, warm.

“God, Doll… even now, you still find a way to make me laugh.”

She bit her lip, smiling as he unzipped his pants, and what she saw shocked her. Nine inches, thick, veiny, and cut. She began to think that he was really the baby and if they were even twins. She slowly began to crawl up to him, eyes on his partner in crime and pleasure. When she reached him, she began kissing it from the tip and noticed how it jumped. She smiled as she looked up to him, noticing how soft his was. She kissed from his V-cut down the shaft and began to kiss it until she reached his tip. She looked up at him again, swallowing his dick and making him wince in pleasure. As she began to please him with her mouth, he noticed how her back began to slowly arch, the most perfect arch he had ever seen. He sucked his ring and middle finger to lubricate them and reached behind her, massaging her clit, making her moan softly with his dick in her mouth still. He can feel how quick she had gotten and, boy, wasn’t he tempted.

They met eyes, still pleasing one another, and he said, “Baby, the things you do to me, you have no idea. I’m a patient man, the Lord knows I am, but I gotta feel how that pretty pussy is. C’mere.” He gently removed himself from her mouth and pulled her up, laying her back against the bed, and he crawled up her body, kissing it then her lips. “Let me know if you need some time. No rules, lemme know how I make you feel”, Stack said, his tip teasing her messy clit. Then she felt it as she grabbed the bed sheets. He slid into her easily and he groaned, feeling how tight she was. “My looooooooord, Doll. That pretty pussy is grippin’ me already”, Stack said, slowly stroking her. Y/N felt her nipples hardened, her body shuddering, and a tingling sensation going up her spine.

Stack looked into her face, eyes searching hers. “Mmm, baby, you feel so damn good. This is what heaven must be like”, Stack said, making her smile before kissing one another. The way he kissed her skin made her feel safe. The way he slowly stroked her was so gentle yet so dominating. “How I make you feel, baby?”

“Real good, baby”, she moaned as she held his face, and that’s when she felt it. His pace started to pick up, making the bed scrape against the wooden floor. “I feel you comin’, doll. Are you gonna come for me, baby”, he asked, as he groaned and grunted.

On the other side of the door, Cornbread sat there smiling to himself, knowing his good friend was going to make that girl fall in love with him and vice versa. Stack and Y/N kissed, moaning into each other’s mouths. Y/N feeling him stretch her and her pulling him in more, showing how much they really wanted this. She felt that familiar knot in her stomach, and her breathing became heavy; her fingernails began to claw his back.

“Go ‘head. Come for me. I can feel it. Give it to daddy, baby”, Stack said, before biting into skin. Her eyes began to cross, and she felt herself coming around him. “Ahhhhhhhh shiiiiiiit”, she moaned, making him smile and bite his own lip. Her body started to shake from the orgasm, but calmed as she felt Stack’s arms around her waist, still inside her, and sitting with her in his lap. She began to slowly move against his body as his hand slid up to her neck softly. “There you go, doll. I know you have more in you.” She started to bounce on him in a nice rhythm; he followed, and he looked over the side mirror. “Damn, we sho look togetha, doll. Look at you takin’ that dick. Is daddy dick good baby?”

What he saw almost made him come early. The fire in her eyes, burning into his soul, and her voice almost did it for him. “Yes, baby.”

“Yes, what? Tell daddy, doll. Use your words, baby.”

“Daddy’s dick feel so good.”

“Yeah, baby? I wanna hear you say it again.”

“Daddy’s dick is so fuckin’ good.”

“Then show me how good daddy’s dick is, baby”, Stack said as he felt himself getting his back to the bed. Y/N placed her left hand on his chest, his hands on her hips, and her riding him like she did in her dream. “Shit, the prettiest damn cowgirl I’ve seen. Ah fuck.” Y/N moved her hips in circles as she bounced on him as she was moaning, music to his ears.

His hands went up to her full, slightly sagging breasts and massaged her hard nipples, making him cream on his dick. “Ahhhh, shit. Look at you. Pretty pussy just gushin’, ain’t it doll? Give me all of it. Don’t hold back now.” Her moans began to echo through the room along with his groaning. “C’mere.”

Meanwhile, downstairs, the club was still thumping with life. The band kept the floor hot, folks laughing, dancing, glasses clinking. Smoke leaned back at the bar with Annie by his side, but something tugged at him—something off. His eyes drifted up to the stage. Empty.

Y/N was gone.

He frowned, scanning the room. The crowd was thick, but he caught sight of Grace pouring drinks, a couple of other girls running trays. No Y/N.

“Where the hell she at?” he muttered under his breath, low but sharp enough for Annie to catch. She followed the way his eyes darted, saw the tension building in his jaw.

Smoke pushed off the bar, cutting through the crowd until he reached Sammie and Pearline near the side. He grabbed Sammie by the arm, pulling him close, his voice tight. “Where’s Miss Carter?”

Sammie’s face twitched, caught off guard. “I—I ain’t sure, Smoke. Think she might’ve gone to the bathroom.”

Before Smoke could press, Pearline slid in quick, a too-bright smile on her lips. “Mm, no, I think I saw her headin’ toward the stock room.”

Annie stepped up beside her, folding her arms, steady but watchful. “Slim told me she slipped out back a minute ago.”

Smoke’s eyes cut between the three of them—Sammie’s nervous swallow, Pearline’s quick grin, Annie’s cool mask. He didn’t like it. Not one damn bit.

Without another word, he shoved past, marching toward the back, the weight of his suspicion heavy in every step. The three of them trailed behind, exchanging glances, each praying Stack had already moved Y/N far enough out of reach.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Stack had Y/N in a deep arch, them both looking in the mirror as he pounded into her. “Doll, you just don’t know what you do to me, woman”, Stack groaned, smacking her ass repeatedly. “I don’t know what sounds better, ya laugh, your voice, you singin’ or how you sound when I make you come over and over again.” He pulled her arms back to make her body raise up, kissing her neck and making moan and grin. Y/N was about to come and he looked at her face in the mirror, eyes on one another and Stack said "go 'head, baby. Everythin' gon' be all right now."

Smoke stormed down the hall, boots heavy against the floor, and flung open the bathroom door without hesitation. The harsh swing of it smacked against the wall. “Miss Carter,” he barked, his voice echoing off the tile.

Silence.

His nostrils flared. He grabbed Sammie by the arm and shoved him inside. “Look under every stall.”

Sammie froze, blinking. “Smoke, I—”

Before he could finish, Annie’s sharp shake of her head cut him off, her eyes telling him clear—don’t fight it.

Sammie swallowed hard and crouched, glancing under each stall one by one. The tension thickened with every empty space. Finally, he straightened, wiping his palms on his trousers. “No one, Smoke.”

Smoke’s jaw ticked, that muscle in his cheek jumping. He brushed past Sammie and Annie without another word, his eyes dark as he headed down the hall toward the stock room, each step heavier than the last.

Back upstairs, Y/N and Stack were in sixty-nine, his hard penis deep in her throat and her pretty womanhood on his mouth. As she rode his mouth, he was thrusting up into hers. Both moaning and pleasing one another. She started to use her saliva to massage his balls, making him smack her behind, her jolting and squirting in his mouth softly. He smiled to himself before latching on to her clit, fingering her and making her weak.

Smoke stopped in front of the stock room, his gaze sharp and calculating. He glanced at Pearline, who instinctively met his eyes. “What?” she asked, wary.

“Open the door,” Smoke said, his tone clipped.

“Smoke, this is—” Pearline started, raising her hands, but froze when she saw him level a revolver at her.

Annie’s eyes went wide, disbelief written across her face. Sammie stepped forward. “What the—”

A sharp smack from the butt of Smoke’s gun cut him off. He leveled it back at Pearline. “Open the door, now, woman. Don’t make me ask again.”

Pearline’s eyes flicked to Sammie, then reluctantly swung the door open, keeping a careful eye on Smoke. The group peered inside—but the room was empty, just the usual stock and neatly arranged supplies.

“Oops,” Pearline muttered, folding her arms and leaning against the wall, a faint smirk betraying her amusement.

Smoke’s jaw clicked audibly. He slipped the revolver back into its holster and pushed past her, his steps heavy with tension, the silence following him like a shadow.

Upstairs, Y/N lied her chest on the bed, Stack thrusting in her kissing her shoulder, listening to her moan. “Ugh, Y/N. You about to make me come”, he said biting in her skin, their sweat combining and all. His hand wrapped around her neck and he began kissing her. “I wanna feel it, baby. I won’t waste a drop, I promise, baby. Give it to me, please. Shiiiiiit”, Y/N said and smiled when she heard him grunt in response.

Outside, Smoke stalked ahead, Annie and Pearline at his sides, Sammie trailing behind. His eyes swept over the alley and the shadows, searching, restless. The longer he found nothing, the hotter his blood boiled.

He spun on them, jaw tight, voice sharp. “Y’all got me runnin’ on some damn goose hunt. Where the hell is she?!”

Annie folded her arms, chin tilted with that usual sass. “Honey, she been workin’ all night. That’s why she here anyway, right?”

Smoke sucked his teeth, his patience razor-thin. Just then, footsteps scuffed against the ground behind them. The group turned.

“Bo,” Annie sighed, exasperated. “What you need, suga? We a little busy.”

Bo glanced at them all, hesitant, before squaring his shoulders. “I know where Y/N is.”

The words hit the air heavy, pulling every eye his way. Shock flickered across Annie and Pearline’s faces. Sammie stiffened. Smoke’s eye twitched, a slow, dangerous smile tugging at his lips.

“Where?” he asked, voice low, deadly calm.

Upstairs, Y/N was on her back, Stack on top. They were almost there, feeling that certain feeling. Y/N moaned, softly biting his lip before they kissed. “I love you, Y/N.”

Bo,” Smoke growled, his voice like gravel, “she better be up here with that negro or I swear—”

Bo swallowed hard but kept climbing the steps, the others trailing behind. “I saw him pull her up here an hour ago,” he said quickly, eyes darting toward Smoke.

Smoke cut him a side-eye sharp enough to slice. Pearline arched a brow, smirking despite the tension. “An hour… hmmm. Impressive.”

Sammie shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Annie, but no one dared speak further. The wooden steps creaked under their weight as the group marched up, the silence thick with Smoke’s simmering rage.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched before them—dimly lit, lined with doors leading to the private sex rooms. The air was heavy, carrying the faint perfume and musk of what went on behind those doors. Smoke’s boots struck the floor hard, each step like a warning, as he led them down the narrow hall toward the truth he was dead set on finding.

“I love you, Stack.” And that was it, he grabbed her throat, making them both came together. Even with his release inside her, he gave a few quick thrusts before fully pulling out. He looked down at her sweaty body, seeing how tired. He kissed her skin, pulling her into a soft hug, kissing her lips as her eyes looked at him. “Hey”, she said, and he replied, “Hey, baby,” before kissing her lips.

Smoke stormed down the hall, blood pounding in his ears, until he spotted Cornbread leaned lazy against a closed door, arms crossed like he had no care in the world.

Cornbread’s head lifted at the sight of them, and his hand slipped behind him to rap three soft knocks against the wall. A signal. A warning.

“Smoke, what’s goin’ on ?” Cornbread asked, his tone calm but his eyes too alert.

“Who in there, Cornbread?” Smoke’s voice was low, dangerous, his jaw flexing like steel about to snap.

Cornbread shifted, glancing at the group crowding the hall. “Can’t say, boss. Ain’t nobody’s business.”

“It’s mine now.” Smoke’s words came out like a growl. “Bo says someone who ain’t supposed to be here dragged somebody else up here.”

Cornbread’s gaze cut sharp toward Bo, slow and menacing. “Damn… Bo, you snitchin’ summa beech.”

Before the air could settle, Smoke shoved Cornbread aside and gripped the handle. For a heartbeat, the hallway went still. Annie’s breath caught. Pearline leaned forward. Sammie’s eyes darted, wide as saucers.

Then Smoke flung the door wide open.

Inside—Slim. Butt-naked, tangled with his old lady in sweaty chaos. Her shriek ripped through the room as she snatched the sheets, Slim spinning around with wild eyes.

Pearline’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes near bursting. Sammie slapped his palms over his face. Annie snapped her head away. Bo froze. Cornbread bit back a laugh.

“WHAT THE HELL Y’ALL DOIN’?!” Slim roared, chest heaving, manhood swaying bold in the lamplight. “CORNBREAD, I TOLD YO’ SORRY ASS TO COVER ME!”

Annie snapped the door shut so hard it rattled. “That’s enough. Everyone downstairs—NOW.”

The group scattered fast, shame and shock tangling their feet as Slim’s curses echoed behind the door. Smoke stayed frozen, muscles rigid, the fury in his chest boiling hotter with every second wasted.

“See what happens when you go huntin’ ghosts?” Annie hissed low at him, eyes sharp. “Now move.”

Reluctantly, Smoke stormed off, boots stomping the boards, Annie close at his heels. She glanced back once, throwing Cornbread a quick wink.

Cornbread tilted his hat slow, waiting until the hallway emptied. Then, calm as ever, he turned and rapped twice on the wall beside him—the signal meant for another door.

A door Smoke hadn’t even checked.

Silence hung, thick as smoke. Then a voice inside stirred.

Inside, Stack’s head lifted. He glanced at Y/N sprawled in the sheets, breathless, glowing. “Well, Doll,” he murmured, a crooked grin tugging his lips, “looks like Smoke’s sniffin’ us out. Let’s get you washed up ‘fore he tears this whole place down.”

He pushed up from the bed, muscles aching, and looked down at her.

“Baby… I can’t feel my legs,” she pouted, lips quivering like she meant it.

Stack chuckled low, shaking his head. “That’s ‘cause I laid claim to ‘em.”

Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothin’, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carried her toward the bathroom, her laughter soft against his ear, the sound almost enough to drown out the storm brewing just outside the door.

-Sweet Babies-

@muse-of-mbaku @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @melanin-samii @theunsweetenedtruth @doux-ciel @unicornluvin8765 @vikkidc @wakandantings @thadelightfulone @mzamethystp @simbiann @tropicalsun10 @babydoll756 @notoriouslynay @vminax @quinsly @pinkdemolition @quietstorm-73 @chaoticcashfancroissant @bugngiz @chocolatedippedinhoney @yafavcocoa @lostgalaxies @mbakuwife @youreadthatright @babygotl01292003 @acceptyourselfloveyourself @madamslayyy @yoyolovesbucky @theogbadbitch @wakanda-inspired @bitchacho25 @toniilaney @wakandascrystal @girlsneedlovingfanfics @raysunshine78 @melodyofmbaku @hearteyes-for-killmonger @silenceisplatinum @thickemadame @shookmcgookqueen @heykillmongerluhme @fonville-designs @cutewylie @allhailqueennel @10bsatatime @nickidub718 @lildashofmelanin @allhailqueennel @amirra88 @hakunalive4eva @thickemadame @ghostfacekill-mongerv @girlsneedlovingfanfics @desire4ella @mogul93 @d1gitalb4rbie @underated345-blog @woahthatshitfat @fiercedeception @gold-3 @empressdede @harleycativy @adultinginheels @heartgirllover @transparentphantomface @cchampangemammii @brownskincheyenne @zunibugsiren @mimi2618 @amor33 @swatson06 @lovesbysblog @dollys-world224 @mbjswife @l-u-xwrites @itsspixiedusst56 @loveabledovee

jawn-wick

its James Blake* smh

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