A Perfect Match
Elias “Stack” Moore x black!fem!reader
a/n: okay so i finally got around to writing a sinners fic…took me almost a year but i finally wrote it chile. also i’m ngl, whenever i see mbj, i get a lil irritated bc he’s fine asf and i know i can’t have him lmao. anyways, i had this idea during my nightly scenario before bed, hope y’all like it!! i just had to add some more loverboy!Stack into the mix! Just a fluffy little fic, before i get into the weeds of a smut piece…enjoyyyy😗🫶🏾
wc: 1.8k
There could be a lot said about Elias “Stack” Moore. He was hardheaded, a slick talker, and dangerous. Keen on having all his suits tailored to perfection, he nevver stepped out without the matching tie and pocket square, tie clip, hat—every element meticulously chosen.
Some nights you’d finish your entire night routine, nestling yourself right into the covers ready to finally get some sleep after a long day, just for your husband—who’d probably had an even longer day—to keep you up with his antics.
“How you feel about this one baby?” He asks, stepping out of your shared closet with a silky red tie in his hands.
“Looks like the ten other ties you’ve shown me, Elias,” you huff, trying to keep your smirk down, knowing that’d get him a little frustrated. He took the little details very seriously. And right on schedule, he kisses his teeth and sends a pointed glare in your direction before retreating back into the closet.
“No vision,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
“I should lock you and that vision of yours in the damn closet so I can get some sleep,” you grumble, just wishing he’d just get in the bed already.
“You know you can’t just lock all this pimpin’ in the closet, pretty girl,” sending a sly grin with a wink in your direction, he turns out all of the lights, finally putting his outfit planning antics to bed for the night.
Stack even made sure his brother, Smoke—who couldn’t care less about what he was wearing unless the job got done—was put together. Because in Stack’s words, “I have a reputation to uphold,” and “If you got my face you gotta look the part.” He practically considered it his “duty” to stay fly. So naturally, when you two got together, he did the same with you. Despite your countless objections, he was insistent on having some of your dresses custom made, making sure he had the best seamstress in town—who just so happened to be your mother—have a nice pocket square and tie made out of the extra fabric. In fact, Stack was your mama’s best customer—always insisting on damn near doubling whatever she asked for, which was already too low in his opinion. He was never one to turn down an opportunity to remind everyone that you were his, and most importantly, that he was all yours.
You had one more fitting for the dress Elias commissioned your mother to make over Sunday dinner a few weeks back, and he was more than willing to take you. Already heading into town to handle some business with Smoke, your husband brings you along to drop you off at your mother’s shop. But that plan was on the verge of falling apart since he practically held you hostage in the car. Trapping you with “just one more kiss baby” after every kiss. And even then, if you so much as thought about touching a door in his presence, he’d throw a fit. It wasn’t until you reminded your oh so affectionate husband that all the ladies in the shop, including your mother, along with everyone walking down the street could see you two and that his brother would come looking for him if he was late, that he stopped coming in for more kisses. And not to anyone’s surprise, only the threat of his brother got him moving right along.
You blissfully spent the next two hours in your mother’s shop. You’d gotten all the best gossip, taking a mental note of all the details and questions you’d bring back to Stack, who to his credit, always patiently listened and indulged in whatever gossip fell into your lap. You went back and forth with your mama, insisting she could bring the neckline down just a little, huffing and puffing that you were grown and married, until she begrudgingly gave in. You got to recount bits and pieces of your married bliss, the two younger girls in the room hanging onto your every word as if you were reciting the best fairytale ever written. And you even managed to successfully dodge any questions related to why you’d been married for a little over a year now with no baby Moore on the way. You’d consider the day a success.
“And I don’t know why I need a new dress. Elias said it’s for when he takes me dancin’, but we just went out last weekend,” you reason, trying to figure out what he was up to.
“You know that boy love to spoil you Y/n,” one woman pipes up, stopping her work on the garment in front of her to give you a knowing look.
“Maybe he wanna—,“ but before the young girl could even finish her starry-eyed guess the small bell above the front door rings, forcing everyone’s attention in that direction. And speaking of the devil, in walks your husband with a toothpick between his teeth and a smile brighter than all the stars combined.
“Well ain’t you just prettiest thing the Delta done ever seen,” Stack muses, pulling the toothpick from between his teeth and taking in your red clothed form. Your cheeks immediately warm up at the grandeur of his compliments. It didn’t help that you were front and center in the room, standing right on the small platform with the threefold mirror staring right back at you.
Walking further inside, he takes the structured hat off of his head and greets all the women, stopping to properly greet your mother with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Ain’t she so pretty,” he adds, stepping right up to your side, taking in the dress that was in his signature crimson, it hugged your body perfectly, the delicate pattern catching the light just right. The unanimous hum of approval from all the ladies only makes your cheeks hotter.
He then lifts your left hand in his and plants a delicate kiss to your jeweled ring finger as he admires you through the mirror in front of you.
“Hell, all of Mississippi ain’t got shit on you,” he breathes out, taking all of you in one more time.
“You better watch that mouth Elias,” Mrs. Bea grumbles from your right side, causing your mother to snicker behind you—already being somewhat used to his potty mouth.
“Now how you doin’ Ms. Bea,” Stack beams sweetly, peeking out from your side to flash the golds in his mouth to the older woman across from him.
“Doin’ fine. Would be better if you stopped all that cussin’,” she shoots back, causing you and everyone in the shop to erupt into laughter.
“Now I can’t make no promises ‘bout that ma’am,” Stack truthfully confesses.
“Plus ya girl right here love it when I cuss real good,” his eyes are locked squarely on yours, a sinful glint blooming behind them. By now, your husband is grinning from ear to ear, the dimple on his left cheek on full display. You were just itching to poke it if that meant he’d stop.
“Boy you better stop, you know this girl gon’ burst into flames,” your mother snickers, placing the last pin in place for alterations. Was everyone out to get you right now?!
“Alright baby, you can go take this off, should be done by the end of the week,” she adds, helping you down from the platform alongside Elias.
“Thanks mama,” you softly breathe out, the corners of your mouth curling up into a gracious smile as you squeeze her hand. She reciprocates with a soft smile and sends you off on your way to go change.
“Need some help Mrs. Moore?” He offers, his voice laced with nothing but sin and a smirk plastered across his face to match. Your head immediately whips in his direction, eyes screaming, begging for him to stop. You step in closer to him, palms planted on his chest, eyes searching his for any hint of sense.
“Can you wait outside for me, I’ll be right out. I promise,” you whisper sweetly, gripping onto his suit lapels, smoothing out the crisp edges. While you were trying to be firm, you couldn’t stop yourself from your senses being pleasantly overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne mixing with the tobacco from his cigarettes.
“Nah, I’m good right here babygirl,” Elias pokes back, enjoying the way he was making you blush.
“If you go wait in the car, I’ll be real sweet to ya when we get home,” you lean up to whisper right in his ear, softly and ever so slightly pressing your body against his, knowing his ultimate weakness was you.
“That’s all you had to say, woman,” your husband beams, lightly wrapping a hand around your forearm and planting a small kiss to your lips before stepping away from you. You send a wink his way before turning towards the changing rooms, Ms. Bea following behind you, giving Stack a pointed look—almost daring him to watch you walk away. And he still did anyway.
“And before you even ask, I already set aside some extra fabric for that tie and pocket square of yours,” your mother informs, cleaning up her workspace.
“You know you my favorite mother-in-law right?” He proudly asks, earning a couple laughs from some of the women in the room and earning an eye roll from your mother.
“Gotta be able to match my favorite lady,” he proudly states, his smile softening at the thought.
“I’m gon’ get out y’all’s way now. The missus wants me gone I suppose,” Stack continues, feigning hurt as he carefully places the hat back on his head.
“I’ll see you on Sunday,” he finishes, giving your mom one final hug and kiss to the cheek and making his way to the door, sending a small wave to the other women in the room.
“That mean I’ll see you at church too, right?” Your mom quips, already knowing the answer.
“I don’t know about all that now,” your husband laughs, shaking his head as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hot Mississippi air.
You can hear the ladies chatting back and forth as you carefully take off the dress in progress and put your original outfit back on.
“He sure is some trouble, that Elias Moore,” one woman grumbles, eyes looking towards your mother as she gets her own alterations done.
“But ain’t he just so sweet to her?” A much younger seamstress sighs, completely entranced with yours and Elias’ love story.
“That he is,” your mom replies to them both.
“But they a perfect match, that’s for sure,” she continues, looking out of the window to see Stack leaning against the car puffing at a cigarette and a bright image of your smile whenever you’re with him etched into her mind.
And you in the dressing room, hearing all the chatter, were fighting back the widest smile—the kind that hurt a little if you smiled for too long. Because it was true—you and Elias were a perfect match.
✿Masterlist✿
