Under Their Roof | Five
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: Blood, HEAVY Smut.
Word Count: 3636
Pairing: Elijah 'Smoke" Moore X Annie X Black Female Reader (feat. Elias "Stack" Moore)
Y/N stood at the sink, scrubbing the dishes like theyâd done her wrong, the soapy water splashing against her wrists. Each harsh scrape of the sponge was less about grease and more about trying to scrub away the lingering heat from what happened at the dinner table. No matter how hard she worked, the memory clung stubbornlyâhis touch, his glanceâplaying over in her mind like a song she couldnât turn off.
Moments AgoâŚ
She glanced toward Stack, certain it was his hand despite him being caught up in laughter with Slim. But the gentle touch on her leg movedâsliding slowly upward, past her kneeâand she realized it wasnât his. Her eyes shifted to the right side of the table, where Smokeâs left hand was nowhere to be seen, tucked casually beneath the surface as if idle. When her gaze met his, she caught something unfamiliarâa faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sly, almost teasing smile as he stole a quick, deliberate glance her way.
Y/N forced herself to keep her composure, careful not to draw any eyes her way. She focused on her plate, chewing slower, willing her expression to stay neutral. Across the table, Annie chatted easily with Sammie, though Y/N caught her watching now and then.
Then she felt itâSmokeâs hand, steady and deliberate, sliding up her leg. Her lashes fluttered before she could stop them. The ease with which his fingers slipped under her dress, like heâd done it a hundred times, sent a rush straight through her. His palm cupped her thigh, broad and warm, before his fingers began their slow climb, brushing the edge of her underwear.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek, shoveling another forkful into her mouth to mask the small sound that threatened to escape. Her eyes widened, heat curling in her belly.
âAngel, you okay over there?â Slim asked, glancing her way.
She swallowed hard, forcing a nod. âMhm,â she managed, her voice low and steady, even if her pulse wasnât.
âIâm good. Justââ she forced a faint smile, âthe gumbo reminds me of my family back home. I just miss them.â
Slimâs gaze softened. âWell, I understand, suga. I understand.â He gave her a nod before turning back to Stack, picking their conversation right back up.
It was perfect timingâbecause thatâs when she felt it. Smokeâs fingers, slow and sure, pressed against the fabric covering her. His middle and ring fingers moved in a lazy, deliberate rhythm, massaging her through her underwear like he had all the time in the world.
A quiet shiver ran through her, her left hand slipping beneath the edge of the table to catch his wrist, as if she could anchor herselfâor stop him.
When her eyes found his, he was already looking at her, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
âYou better not stop me, Miss Carter,â he mouthed, the silent dare landing like a spark between them.
Y/N tried to keep a straight face, but then had to hide it by looking out the window after feeling him yank her right thigh more apart, making him slip his fingers rubbing her exposed clitoris even more.Â
Annie noticed the couple as she ate her food and asked, âElijah, sweetheart. How is your food?â Everyoneâs eyes were now on them, and Y/N began to stuff her face to calm herself. Smoke met eyes with his wife, saying, âIt is very good. Itâs niceâŚâ Thatâs when he slipped his thick fingers inside of her, making her heart stop as they slowly began to stroke her. Smoke looked into Y/Nâs eyes and said, âand warm. I can go for seconds.â Y/Nâs mind was a stormâevery nerve ending on high alert, every thought tangled in the danger of the moment. Inside, she was screaming, but on the outside, she kept her composure, fork lifting to her mouth in a slow, steady rhythm.
Then Smokeâs fingers quickened, his movements still subtle enough to stay hidden under the table. The change in pace sent a jolt through her, and she gripped the edge of her chair, nails biting into the wood. Heat curled low in her belly, building fast, too fast.
She turned her head, hiding her face by staring out the window just past Smokeâs shoulder. Her eyes fluttered, breath catching in her chest, and for a split second her vision blurredâedges going soft, her gaze threatening to cross from the intensity.
But the sharp weight of another presence cut through her haze.
They werenât alone. Someone elseâs eyes were on them. Watching.
Stackâs gaze wandered across the table and landed on her. He caught it instantlyâthe subtle bite of her bottom lip in the reflection of the window, the slow, shallow rise of her chest, and the faraway look in her eyes that wasnât meant for anyone here to see. He had to think of something to stop the moment.
âI could go for dessert,â his voice slid in low, smooth, but carrying weight. âMiss Doll⌠mind gettinâ me a pretty olâ slice?â
Her head turned toward him, eyes blinking fast as if yanked out of a trance. The legs of her chair whispered against the floor as she pushed back. She smoothed her dress down with deliberate care, palms pressing to fabric that still held the ghost of his brotherâs touch.
âWho else would like some cake? I also made ice cream earlier. Vanilla,â she asked, voice light and evenâbut the faint tremor beneath it didnât go unnoticed.
One by one, they all answered, laughter and chatter filling the room again. But her gaze snagged on Smoke before she turned, a flicker of heat and warning passing between them in silence.
Stack didnât look away. He watched her retreat toward the kitchen, plates balanced in her hands, posture straighter than usual as if holding herself together. His eyes shifted to his brother just in time to catch itâthe way Smoke, lazy as sin, drew his fingers to his mouth, the tip of his tongue dragging slowly over each one as though savoring. He didnât hurry. Didnât hide. Only when he was done did he reach for his napkin, wiping his hands clean like it was nothing at all.
Stackâs jaw flexed.
Y/N had her sleeves rolled up, forearms damp from the last of the dishwater, the kitchen smelling faintly of gumbo and sugar. She stacked the last of the leftovers in neat rows, then pressed her palms to the counter, taking a deep breath to quiet her racing thoughts.
Footsteps padded in behind herâmeasured, unhurried. The weight of them didnât feel familiar, but the scent did. That warm, clean blend of tobacco, whiskey, and cedar.
âHello, Stack. Are you headinâ out soon?â she asked without turning, still focused on the towel in her hands.
âMhm,â came his low hum. âI wanted to make sure I said gânight⌠and to thank you for dinner and dessert. I enjoyed it very much, Miss Doll.â
When she finally looked over, he was leaning on the far side of the counter, elbows planted, eyes steady on hers like he had all the time in the world.
He looked as though he had something else on his tongue, but instead just smiled. âMiss Doll, are you excited to start work at the juke joint next week?â
âYes,â she said, her lips curling slightly. âYes, I am.â
âGood. I canât wait to see you around more often.â His grin deepened. âI hope you got some party wear tucked away somewhere. The dresses you wear now are to die fuh, but at the juke joint⌠you gotta look the part.â
âI think I can find somethinâ.â She dried a plate carefully, but her hands fumbled slightly, betraying her composure.
Stack noticed. Without asking, he stepped around the counter, close enough for her to catch the heat from him, but leaving space between them. He took the plate from her hands and reached up to place it in the cupboard. She watched the easy way his broad shoulders moved, the casual flex of his forearms as he worked alongside her.
When he looked down again, his gaze caught hers. âMiss Doll⌠you have some big olâ eyes.â
Her brows lifted. âAre you making fun?â
His grin was lazy, certain. âNo, not at all. Theyâre the most beautiful big olâ eyes I have ever seen.â
Her mouth tilted into a smile she couldnât hide. He reached up, slow and deliberate, pushing a loose curl back behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips left a trail of warmth across her skin.
For a moment, they simply stood thereâbreath mingling, neither one willing to break the stillnessâuntil a voice called from the other room.
âStack Boy, you ready to head on out?â
âIâll be there in a minute,â Stack answered, eyes never leaving hers.
âGot damn it, Iâm ready for bedââ
âNigga, fuck you and that bed. Take ya black ass to the car, wait for me, and kindly shut the fuck up,â Stack shot back without even glancing toward the door. Slim stared, muttered under his breath, and shoved his hat on before tipping it toward her.
âGood night, Angel Face.â
âGood night, Slim,â she replied softly, watching him leave.
Her attention drifted back to Stack, who was still standing in the warm lamplight, hat in hand. âIf you need anything,â he said, his tone quieter now, âdonât be afraid to give me a call. My numberâs in the telephone book in the living room, Elias Moore.â
He set his hat on, tipping it toward her before turning for the door. She followed him to the porch, lingering in the frame as he stepped into his car.
Before he drove off, his voice rolled out into the night. âGânight, sweet, beautiful Doll.â
âGood night⌠Elias Mooreâ, she said in a soft voice making him grin to himself.
She felt her lips curve as she lifted her hand in a small wave. Only when the taillights disappeared down the street did she close the door, the scent of him still faint in the air.
It was the morning after breakfast, and the Moores had gone for the day. Y/N was sweeping the front porch, the bristles whispering against the wood while the sun warmed her shoulders. The scent of magnolia drifted lazily on the breeze, mixing with the faint tang of dust she was chasing off the boards. She hummed a tune too familiar to her heart, letting the notes wrap around her like an old quilt.
âSure do recall that tune,â a voice called from behind.
She jumped, hugging the broom to her chest like it was a shield. Sammie stood there, grinning wide, holding back a laugh that tugged at his dimples.
âLord, Sammie, you near scared the life outta me.â She hurried down the steps and gave his arm a pinch sharp enough to make him yelp.
âNow, now⌠for a gal so young and easy on the eyes, you sure pinch like one oâ them old church matrons,â he teased, rubbing the spot.
She swatted him, more playful than mad. âWhat you doinâ here bugginâ me? Ainât you supposed to be off with Mr. Moore and ânem?â
âNot until two,â he said, holding up a pair of trousers in his left hand like a peace offering. âI wanted to see if you can fix something for me. Iâll pay you.â
She eyed the tear running along the outseam, then glanced up at the puppy-dog look he was giving her. She rolled her eyes. âLet me get my sewing kit. Câmon in.â
Sammie trailed after her into the living room, that spring in his step making him look younger than his years. She returned with her sewing kit, settling beside him on the settee.
âThe ladies at the juke love me,â he said with a careless shrug as she inspected the tear.
âThen why they ainât fixinâ your pants for you?â she asked, threading her needle.
âBecause I wanna spend time with my best friend.â
Her hands paused mid-stitch, and she gave him a sidelong look. His smile was the same one he had when he was a boyâwide and earnest, the kind that could tug you right out of a sour mood. Y/N and Sammie had been five years apart, but sheâd babysat him more times than she could count. Theyâd been a pair ever sinceâchurch choir, long walks, whispered secrets in the pews. She loved him like a brother, and heâd sworn when they were younger that heâd always be around to look out for her.
âWhat was that song you were singinâ out there?â he asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
ââSugar in My Tea,ââ she murmured, eyes on her needlework.
âMm. I remember that. You still got a real pretty voice. Least, from what I recall. Maybe we could get on stage together sometime.â
She looked up just long enough to catch the hope in his eyes. âSammie⌠I donât think I can.â
âWhy not? I know folks would love you. Some of them already do.â
âI donât sing anymore.â Her voice softened, the words heavy. âHavenât sung since baby girl got sick and started losinâ her voice.â
The air between them shifted. The sound of the ticking mantel clock suddenly felt louder.
Faith Carterâsixteen, stubborn as she was sweet. Born with the odds against her, the doctors saying sheâd be lucky to see her first birthday. But Faith had proved them wrong for years, right up until the illness caught up with her. In and out of the hospital, voice fading to a whisper⌠Y/Nâs throat tightened just thinking of it.
Sammie noticed the way her shoulders drew in, like she was bracing herself. He cleared his throat, trying to nudge them back into lighter waters. âYâknow, I missed you as a babysitter. My folks tried to find someone like you, but they couldnât.â
Y/N glanced up, smiling despite herself. âWho did they end up with?â
âPlenty tried. But there was one gal⌠obsessed with Stack. I mean crazy. Sheâd sneak into his room at night, try to fight other girls over himâhell, I think she even kissed him once. Or maybe moreân once.â
âI think Stack told me about her. Do you remember her name?â
âSomethinâ with an M. Marjorie⌠Michelle⌠no, Madison⌠Maybelle⌠Margaretââ
âAlright, alright, best stop âfore that brain oâ yours works itself into a fit.â She chuckled, giving his knee a gentle tap.
But Sammie didnât lean back this time. Instead, he scooted a little closer, his gaze holding hers in a way that felt⌠different.
âSo, will you do it?â Sammie asked, leaning in with that boyish persistence that made it hard to tell if he was twenty or twelve.
âDo what?â she asked, brows drawing together though she kept her eyes on the stitch.
âSing with me at the Juke Joint. Please, Y/N.â
âSammie, I saidââ
âPleeeeeeeeease,â he dragged it out until his voice cracked like a child begging for penny candy.
Y/Nâs hands moved quicker over the tear in his trousers, needle flashing in the light, as if speed alone could shut him up. âFine,â she said finally, sighing through her nose. âI will think about it, Sammie. Think.â She made sure to hit that last word with enough weight to warn him not to push it.
Too late.
All at once, Sammie let out a triumphant holler and wrapped his arms tight around her shoulders, nearly knocking the sewing kit from her lap. He peppered her cheek with rapid-fire kisses, loud and smacking, like he was determined to make up for all the hugs heâd missed since childhood.
âBoy!â she gasped, swatting at him with one hand while trying to protect her stitches with the other. âYou act like I done agreed to marry you!â
He just grinned against her cheek, refusing to let go, and she could feel his laughter rumble against her shoulder. She could only imagine the circus heâd make if she actually told him yes.
The door creaked open.
Annie stepped in, one hand on her hip, brows arched so high they nearly vanished under her headscarf. Her gaze flicked from Y/Nâs flushed face to Sammieâs arms wrapped around her like a lovesick octopus.
âWellâŚâ Annie drawled, lips curling into a smirk. âAinât this somethinâ.â
Sammie froze, lips still half-puckered like heâd been caught stealing candy from a jar. Y/N shoved at his chest, heat flooding her cheeks under Annieâs stare.
âIt ainât what it look like,â Y/N said quickly.
âMhm.â Annie leaned on the doorframe, clearly enjoying herself. âThatâs exactly what folks say when itâs exactly what it look like.â
Sammie grinned, unbothered. âEveninâ, Annie. You want a hug too?â
Annie rolled her eyes. âBoy, the day you catch me lettinâ you kiss on me is the day I give up coffee.â
He finally let Y/N goâthough not without one last squeeze that earned him a swat. Annie strolled in, still smirking.
âI step out five minutes and come back to yâall carryinâ on like folks canât walk in here,â she teased.
âI was just fixinâ Sammieâs trousers,â Y/N said flatly, holding up her sewing needle.
Annieâs gaze slid down to Sammieâs waistband and back. âMm-hmm⌠is that what they call it now?â
Sammie laughed so hard he had to lean on the chair. âSee? This is why I canât be around you, Annieâalways twistinâ things âround.â
âTwistinâ?â Annie gasped in mock offense. âI didnât twist a thing. I just walked in and saw you two close together, her with a needle, you grinninâ like the cat that caught the canary.â
Y/N pressed her lips together, but the corners still curled upward. âIt was literally a loose stitch, Annie.â
âOh, sugar, I believe you,â Annie said sweetly. âI just donât think anybody else will.â
Sammie clutched his chest. âSee? Now sheâs ruined my good name.â
âGood name?â Annie chuckled. âBaby, you ainât had one since you was born.â
Y/N giggled, hiding behind the pants, but Sammie snatched them away. âIf yâall ladies are done, I gotta meet the men at the joint. Iâll see yâall later.â
After his goodbyes, Annie lingered, watching Y/N clean up. âMiss Carter, when were you gonna let me know you sew?â
âOh, I thought Sammie wouldâve mentioned it.â
Annie stepped closer. âCouldâve been cominâ to you this whole time instead of leavinâ the house. You think you can alter a dress? Lost a little weight, now Iâm swimminâ in it.â
âOf course. Iâm done with chores, and Angelinaâs sleepinâ.â
âPerfect. Letâs get startedâneed it for tonight.â
Annie let Y/N pull her upstairs, sewing kit in hand.
An Hour Later
Fabric gathered under Y/Nâs fingertips, the sewing machine whirring in steady rhythm. Annie paced, eyes fixed on the woman bent over her work, tongue peeking out in concentration. Something stirred in Annieâs chest, but she waited for her moment.
âSo, darlinâ,â Annie began, voice casual. âWhyâs a pretty thing like you not hitched yet?â
âJust been busy takinâ care of my family. Havenât had the time.â
âHowâs it feel beinâ back in Mississippi? No regrets?â
âOh, not at all. Itâs nice beinâ back where I learned everything. Folks have been real kindâBo, Cornbread, Slimââ
âAnd Elias,â Annie cut in.
Y/N paused, glancing over her shoulder to see Annie still lounging in her robe. She went back to work. âYes, heâs been nice.â
âDarlinâ⌠heâs nice to all the pretty new girls. Smooth talker. Slick. I love my brother-in-law, but you best be carefulâheâs the type to butter you up, get what he wants, then toss you out like yesterdayâs paper.â
The front door creaked open downstairs. Y/N barely registered it, mind spinning on Annieâs wordsâuntil her finger slipped.
âAh!â She jerked back, clutching the sore spot.
Annie crossed to her, calm as water. âStay still. Close your eyes. Deep breath in⌠now let it out.â
Y/N obeyedâand felt lips close around her fingertip. Her eyes flew open to find Annie, gaze locked and intense, sucking gently at the wounded skin.
Shock. Confusion. Heat. All tangled together.
Annie kissed along her fingers, up her wrist, her lips warm against bare skin. Y/Nâs breath hitched. The machine sat silent as Annieâs mouth found her arm, inching upward.
Their eyes metâY/Nâs half-lidded, Annieâs hungry. âI see why everyoneâs so nice to you,â Annie murmured. âItâs those eyes.â
Then her mouth crashed onto Y/Nâs, tongue sliding in, taking control. Y/Nâs instinct to resist melted into the rhythm of the kiss. Neither noticed the figure stepping into the room.
Annieâs hands slid to Y/Nâs back, tugging her closer, fingers finding the zipper. The sound of it sliding down was nearly drowned by a low, familiar grunt.
Y/N pulled away, breathless. âMr. Mooreâthis isnâtâ I was just helping Miss Ann with her dressââ
But Elijah stepped forward, jacket gone, pants half-unbuttoned, eyes dark with intent.
Annieâs hand found Y/Nâs lower back again, her voice a low whisper in her ear. âDarlinâ⌠looks like weâve got company.â
-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














