#LoveHappiness&Me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berberriescorner · 1 year ago

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Hello! Stoping by to tell you I love your Husband/Father!Rio mini series. I know you don't take request, but was just wondering if you plan on giving us anymore glimpses of this cute little family? I love the way you write them. Hope you're doing okay and feeling better.

I'm doing okay, love. Good days and bad days, but I'm pushing through. Thanks for asking💜! I hope you're doing okay as well!

You're in luck, love bug! I cooked something up for them just the other day. The idea came to me, and I just had to get it out😆. I had planned to post it the other day, but I just didn't have the energy.

When I tell y'all this was the most frustrating mood board I've ever worked on🙄. I had it exactly to my liking and went to save...nothing happened. I tried everything before giving in and hitting the refresh button. Lost all my progress and had to start from scratch. That being said, enjoy, comment, and stop being scary with that reblog button😆🧡!

Inspired By💜🧡:

“It Be Your Own Blood”

Snickers filled the room, making way for the side eye your husband gave his two eldest daughters. His eyes moved at a snail’s pace before landing on you. Rio kissed his teeth as he watched your shoulders bounce up and down in silent giggles. You did everything to hold the laughter in, but his reaction made it difficult.

“Ain't a damn thing funny about any of this, mama,” he rasped.

Rio groaned as a tiny hand collided with his thigh. Sucking in a frustrated breath, he looked down, eyes settling on your third and youngest daughter.

“Daddy! You said a bad word. You’re not getting any dessert tonight. Gon’ miss out on all da candies,” she scolded, finger wagging in his direction.

“Alright, little miss thing. You're about to lose candy privileges as well. Are you supposed to be putting your hands on other people,” you reprimanded.

Her head tilted to the side, confusion written on her face. Big amber-colored eyes stretched with realization. “Sorry, Daddy,” she offered in a sweet baby voice.

“It's all good, baby girl. Daddy ain't mean to say a bad word.”

Rio noticed you and the two oldest rolling your eyes, hands flying in the air.

“Now, what I do?”

“These babies got you wrapped around their fingers.”

Just as Rio was about to argue your point, baby boy piped up, reminding him why he was irritated in the first place. The agitated toddler yanked at his pant leg. They eyed one another as his cute, chubby little hands stretched toward your husband.

“Bae! Up!”

Laughter filled the room once more. You locked eyes with your husband. He side-eyed you as he picked the bossy toddler up.

Your husband nodded towards the chubby tot, “This is what I’m talkin’ about. These little goons talkin’ to me crazy.”

Rio’s brown orbs stared into identical eyes. “Aye, listen, little dude. You’re my mans and all, but you gon’ stop with this bae mess. Can you say Daddy?” Rio pointed at himself and enunciated slowly, “Daddy.”

The little tyrant giggled, shook his head no, and shouted, “Bae!”’

“Listen, little man, we ain't about to be roaming this neighborhood, decked out in the finest of costumes, with you hollering bae at me every five minutes.”

His little feet kicked as he bounced in his father’s arms.

“Baebaebae,” he retorted, doing a little jig.

“How old was little mama when we finally got her to switch back to daddy from bae?”

“Christopher, baby. He's in his terrible twos. Baby boy’s going to do what he wants. Don't fight it, bae-.”

“You do realize you're the problem. That's why I like it when you call me da-.”

Your hand connected with the back of his head softly. “Christopher!”

“I’m just saying, sweetheart. You got my boy over here thinking that’s my name. Put Daddy on repeat, and maybe he’ll get it right. Use my other nickname more often. Papa–that I can rock with.”

“You do realize the more you fight it—he’ll continue to say it, right?”

“All these kids are petty like their momma. It be your own blood, for real. I thought you was the homie, son,” he teased the babbling toddler.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. At least people will know not to try them,” you sassed.

Rio’s face lit up at that. “You right, mama. Come, kiss Daddy,” he demanded.

“Baebae!”

“That’s opp behavior, son. Do better,” he chuckled as he rubbed his hand across your growing bump.

He kissed, leaving a playful bite on your bottom lip as his free hand grabbed a handful of your round, plump derrière. “I love this green dress on you, mama. I’m feeling this—what are the ladies callin’ them these days? Bust down middle parts,” he quoted. Rio stared at you lustfully, “That honey blonde lookin’ good on you, darlin’. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear, “Wear it to bed tonight.”

“Calm yourself, husband. The children are present.”

Rio bit his lip, nodding his head in appreciation. “Who are you dressed as this year,” he questioned, stealing another kiss.

“Pregnant Beyoncé, duh! You know this is giving very much Queen Bey. Don’t play with your girl. You ain’t gotta worry, b-Papa.” You twirled strands around a finger, biting your lip, “This is an install. You have plenty of time to enjoy her in private.” Leaning closer, finishing in a mumble, “Can’t wait for you to come up with a name for this alter ego.”

“You need to bust out the red joint again. I’m anticipating a visit from Red Ryder soon,” he insisted.

Clearing her throat, the eldest child brought you two back to more important matters. You chuckled, “Sorry, loves. Let’s revert to more important topics such as these beauties.” Pointing at each child, oldest to youngest, you explained their costume. “Please believe if I’m going as momma Bey, you gotta have Blue and Rumi. Then we have the beautiful Little Mermaid—Halle Bailey’s version, of course, and last, but most certainly not least—Sir Carter.”

“Mama, is this why you got me dressed in black tie? Let me guess—.”

“Yep! You Billionaire Hov. You’re not a businessman. You’re a business, man!” you boasted, popping your tongue. “Minus the cheating, of course. You know not to play with me. Sorry, Bey! Shade but no shade.”

“BAE!”

“Let’s go before this little menace says it again,” Rio sighed. “Everybody got their Halloween buckets?”

He looked toward the oldest, and she took the words out of his mouth, “Make sure you hold your sister’s hands. I know, Daddy.”

Rio continued, “Remember-.”

“Always say Trick or Treat, be polite, and don’t hustle anybody for extra candy. Daddy, we got this, chill,” she finished once more.

His head tilted to the side as he mumbled, “Got a response for everything. Stop laughing, mama. She’s not that funny. Everybody, come on. We out.”

Did you cackle? I hope so😜! Rio, wifey, and children are such a trip😆. Please be sure to show your girl love, my sweet babies💜🧡.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

Tagging some lovelies💜🧡:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @starrynite7114

@nightlywords7 @fineanddandy @rio-reid-whoreee

@novaniskye @that-one-anxious-mango @1andonlytashae

@blkbutterfly816 @lovedlover @vanityinvenus @librarian1002

@banana123pudding @fezcosonlylove @sunshine-flower

@invisiblegiurl @astoldbychae @percosim @amorestevens

@alertyoulikeitsamber

#berberriescorner #berberries asks #i love my mutuals😍#daddy rio #asks open #follow up #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!reader #rio x reader #rio x you #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls fanfiction #rio good girls #good girls rio #spotify #queen bey and 'nem #black writer

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oklcmc · 3 years ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀،̲،̲⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓 [𝟏𝟖+]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀゛⠀So I’m askin’ God for help，⠀⠀⠀Lord， I’m just a G and I need her，I didn’t treat her the way that she was meant to be treated ‘cause Lord，I did her wrong and she’s gon’ leave!⠀〟

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა summary：⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀in which the ultimate mistake of fezco’s life leaves him vexed and instead seeking refuge in a recurring dream with a once responsive illusion of his grandmother.⠀⠀⠀‘’

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა word count：6，502

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა pairing：fezco ❪conor angus cloud hickey❫ ✕ black!dentistry undergraduate!female oc ❪taylour dominique paige❫

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა forewarning：this imagine will contain use of drugs and alcohol，extreme angst，strong language and implicit infidelity. fluff emerges somewhere in the end. read at your own discretion.

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა fun-size playlist：i. jagged edge - walked outta heaven，ii. tory lanez - walked out，iii. sg lewis - warm，iv. tory lanez，ashanti - a fool’s tale ❪running back❫，v. omarion - ice box，vi. faith evans，mary j. blige - love don’t live here anymore，vii. toni braxton - talking in his sleep，viii. beyoncé - pray you catch me，x. b2k - sleepin’，xi. frank ocean - if i’m in love，xii. trey songz - made to be together，xiii. frank ocean - got the keys，xiv. justin bieber - runaway love，xv. lucky day - over，xvi. frank ocean - try，xvii. the carters - lovehappy. yes，this is sequenced! ‹𝟹

໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝․․⸝⸝꒱ྀིა author’s note：⠀⠀⠀‘’⠀⠀⠀hello my sweet babies! i wanted to very，very quickly state that fezco’s character in this imagine is going to be sort of complex compared to the kind of light you’re probably used to him being cast in. i wanted it that way to be reminder that no one’s perfect. we all either made or are going to make mistakes in this thing called “life，” and it’s up to us to learn from and mend them just as he’s doing in this.

secondly，don’t be shy on clicking the “follow” action，sharing your critique under my work or by use of my inbox or simply reblogging it! it has been extremely tough，especially as a black author， trying to gain exposure for my craft these past few yrs with my return to this app. i’m not attempting to use this as a crutch either. i know i’m a relatively slow writer or notorious perfectionist，to put into other words，and i’ll always stand on this， but i’m extremely grateful for each and every like，reblog or follow that i’ve gained thus far! i won’t stop ‘til i’ve received my proper recognition. all of this is to say， support a black author today! not just for the month of black history，but year round! thank you so much and happy readings to you all!⠀⠀⠀‘’

East Highland · Late October

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓

⠀⠀⠀𝓣he rather hefty parts and pieces of the Graco Hadley brand 4-in-1 Convertible Crib and Changer being aureoled by the dim light of the shadeless lamp upon the 5-drawer chest on the frigid oak floorboards before him bare striking similarities to just what kind of turmoil brewed within his love life these past three months.

Dismantle.

That was merely ever the terminology that his mind could zero in on as his ocean blue eyes skimmed over the “Storage and Care” portion of the manual. Damn shame heartbreak wasn’t a part of the description. Maybe then he’d have it all together just how he’d envisioned it to be, but he instead sat slouched against the oak footboard of his King size panel bed the very second he allowed the extended piece of paper to slip from his fingertips and sweep off into the shadows of the bedroom by use of the desk fan.

His head tilted back against the footboard before his low eyelids fluttered from the effects of his three-month binge in dark liquor, Xanax and his preferred strain of indica. Normally he’d be the one supplying the addicts, but now he could sense himself progressively morphing into one and not just in an inebriated fashion.

It was evident within his lack of self-dignity, his lack of attentiveness when it came to his circle of close friends and immediate family members and even the negligence of his own former business ventures. If it weren’t revolving around them then he hadn’t really seen a point in entertaining it.

He snatched the half-empty Hennessy V.S. brand of cognac up by it’s glass handle on the floorboards next to him before going to take yet another effortless swig from it. The warm liquid came surging through his glacial system like chiseling away at a block of ice and like any passing day over the course of the past three months, he could finally feel himself come alive again, even if only for a second.

Finally, he had found the courage to move from his place on the hardwood flooring, reaching his free hand back for the perimeter of the footboard and using it in assistance to hoist himself up on his own two. His body swayed with his turn as he faced towards the bed in which his 13-year-old brother, Ashtray had then rested upon.

He had drifted off in the midst of lecturing his only legal guardian and luminary on just what kind of negative impact he bought upon him and those around them in the span of the last three months yet again. If it weren’t about the sales plummeting in their local convenience store or illegal drug distribution due to no one taking him seriously at his age then it was about his best friend, Rue Bennett’s relapse and if it weren’t about that then it were about him being a better support system then he’d ever be due to the fact he’s the only one still allowed to keep in close contact with the mother of his child these days. Ashtray was mainly running this shitshow himself, and what did the expecting father have to say for himself? Nothing.

Though the feelings that Ashtray were vocally expressing to him were probably logical, it had only been flowing through one ear and out the other as he guzzled more liquor. This wasn’t the him that mostly everyone grew to love, but a hallow shell of what was.

Nevertheless, he still found the courtesy to yank his comforter over his resting sibling after an exhausting twenty-hour shift at the convenience store before staggering his way over to his chest of drawers to retrieve his pack of Black & Mild Cigars, Butane torch and the 4D ultrasound photo of him and his baby mother’s 36-week-old offspring that he received through Ashtray. With these items, that including his preferred brand of cognac, he found himself stumbling his way into the only room within the townhome that still seemed forbidden to step into, and that was his Grandmother Kitty’s bedroom.

There was an unexplainable draft whisking the air. Something similar to that of his heart which still hadn’t failed to make the hair on the nape of his neck rise.

The only light being emitted was from the floor lamp crammed into the corner next to her hospital bed. The only sound being generated were from the machines keeping her afloat.

He swore he hated to see her in this vegetableesque state. He wanted someone to converse with this late at night without passing judgement. Someone who would be straight forward with him about his wrongdoings without a tactic following soon after. That someone was Grandma Kitty.

The floorboards croaked with each step he took further inside the rather dim room in order to reach her bedside. One clumsy miscalculated step ended with drops of Hennessy staining the fabric of her quilt and his forest green cable knit sweater as his closed fists sunk into the side of the mattress in which she rests upon in order to prevent further damage.

Sure, the bed had shifted over an inch or two from it’s initial placement, but no harm had truly been done. You could always leave it up to him to be dishing out apologies though.

“I’m sorry, grandma,” He slurred, his chin tucking into his chest as tears whelmed in the brim of his eyes. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry!”

He couldn’t quite comprehend how he reached this breaking point within his life or how it begun even. Things that were ranked at an all-time high in his serotonin were suddenly beginning to plummet rather vastly and now he was left to apologize for things he genuinely had no control over. The spill, coming to his grandmother’s aid a second too late when she collapsed in the bathroom at ten years old and even the events that took place leading up to the breakup with his long-term girlfriend dated back only three months ago. It all hit the fan at once and he had no idea on how to stop the blades from turning this time around. It was time he faced the music.

Feeling less than empowered as a man for finally casting his emotions over his grandmother, he found himself scampering his way to the opposite side of the bedroom where a window resided, leaving behind the 4D ultrasound photograph of his offspring.

The thought of it was nonexistent, even when he went to place all the items left cradled in his arms, that excluding the pack of Black & Mild cigars, on the overbed table responsible for holding his grandmother’s medication before he snatched the rather thick fabric of the drapes of her window back.

Lightning branched across the murky night sky, illuminating the small town of East Highland in it’s hues of purple and blue, a roll of thunder following shortly after it’s initial appearance. Torrential rain commenced, tapping at the rooftop of their townhomes as his tears mirrored that emotion.

“Why so blue, Snowflake?” Her Italian Harlem drawl ran as deep as he last remembered it to bed as an adolescent.

He wasn’t at all startled by this, more so comforted as the overfamiliar sound of her continuously striking her thumb against the wheel of a Zippo brand lighter until it ignited added on to his nostalgia. The blaze guided his gaze in the direction of where an young phantom of Marie O’Neil— Grandma Kitty, if you will— rested. She took the place of her elder vegetableesque equivalent on the hospital bed, one leg propped up even in her typical attire of business casual flare leg pant suits, cotton button-ups and bloody stiletto pumps. Now that was the Marie O’Neil he knew.

The pungent aroma of nicotine laced the air. The smell had always lingered there, no matter how many times he’d attempt to try and smother it with Febreeze brand air freshener. It became another faint memory that he and Ashtray had grown immune to with each passing day.

“I fucked up...” He finally owned up to the reason he was in that position to begin with, his forehead gently falling against the frigid windowpane just as another bolt of lightening split the night sky, this time reflecting against his porcelain skin.

“Okay, so you stuck your dick in someone and thought you wouldn’t end up with a baby,” Marie sputtered on her cigarette in her usual unapologetic demeanor until she went to pull back from it and hunch her shoulders. “Big deal. You know I’ll take care of it for you.”

“No, grandma,” He simply shook his head, recollecting all the outcomes of his grandmother correcting his wrongdoings for him in the past. There was nothing she could say or do that would reverse this. It was his to undo. “This is... It’s so much deeper than that.”

“Intrigue me.”

“Guess who passed their midterm Biochemistry exams?!” Zhané Richardson, better known as “Bébé,” an dentistry undergraduate and expecting mother, busted through the steel doors of her newly purchased luxurious estate. Clad in her muave medical scrubs, the gift of a pink Christian Dior Book Tote she received from her high school sweetheart which was now responsible for keeping her MacBook Air and textbooks, swinging from her forearm alongside her Pandora brand charm bracelet and more vivacity than she assumed she would have after an eight-hour course at only a solid six months.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐒⠀⦂⠀* ZHANÉ ⅋ FEZCO’S⠀╱⠀crib.

She posed with amusement, one foot remaining planted on the doormat outside while the other remained planted on the zebra print entrance rug inside as she held on to the door’s handle for support with a goofy smile playing on her full lips, just anticipating her boyfriend or his baby brother’s greeting, but nothing to her dismay.

That’s weird, she thought, sitting upright before going to step further inside and shutting the door behind her. She could’ve sworn she seen his car parked out in the driveway.

“I knew I would! I told you guys I would!” She babbled gloatingly, slipping out her Nike Air Max Plus “Atlanta’s” and neatly placing them aside before going to step down the short set of steps to access the open living room area where she’d carelessly fling her designer bag onto the shrink wrapped love seat alongside the jacket of her scrubs. “Bring out the sparkling wine! It’s time to celebrate! Oh, and sense you guys did help me with my studies, dinner’s on me tonight! No ifs, ands or buts about it, Fez! I think the baby wants ramen.”

Hearing no calculated objections from her partner as she normally would whenever she offered to pay for something, Zhané continued her lap throughout the first floor of the home, thinking she’d come up on a surprise of some sort, but she instead stood in the middle of the custom kitchen with her hands atop of her growing stomach.

This had to have been some type of practical joke being played by the two. It wasn’t often that it happened nowadays, especially with her being pregnant, but she could sense it coming a mile away.

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” She huffed, her irritation becoming more evident as she once again waddled past the family room and formal dining room areas in order to reach the L-shaped staircase that would lead her way to the second floor where the master bedroom was and the straight staircase that would lead her to the lower level where the recreation room was. “Babe?! Ash?! Where are you two?!”

Although the recreation and fitness rooms were often occupied by the two when it came to a friendly competition of billiards going down or even blowing off stem while pumping iron, Zhané’s intuition routed her up the L-shaped staircase on account of the eerie silence that followed shortly after her calling. The house was almost ever this quiet in the evening time which raised her suspicions even more.

Zhané had reached the second level of the house cradling her stomach with merely an ounce of oxygen left in her petite frame to continue further on down the mezzanine leading to the ajar double doors of her bedroom. It seemed as though the more her dark brown feline eyes zeroed in on her destination, the more it’d seem to distance itself away from her.

The sun began to set over East Highland through the foyer windows to the left of her which had only made it easier for Zhané to make out the silhouettes moving in sync through the flickering candlelight striking against the right flush door of her bedroom. Their panting was damn near deafening as she moved with stealth towards the door way, each step she took across the plush carpet left an temporary imprint. Tears whelmed up in the brim of her eyes, her throat tightening around her airway, making it almost impossible to breath as she went to push the doors open to reveal another woman besides herself mounted in her man’s lap, in her brand new bed and all she could bring herself to utter was a single name.

“Fezco...”

“... She’s been gone for three months now, grandma. She cut all physical contact from me completely. I call, text, send gifts and even drop by the school every now and again, but she still rejects me. I mean, I get a few photos and letters through Ash sometimes, but it doesn’t compare to actually havin’ her wit’ me. I’m tired of not being able to come home to hear her voice or being able to kiss her. I feel like a child that’s lost at seven!” Fezco exclaimed, circling the armchair by her bedside before going to fall back in it with a slump.

His grandmother laughed softly, watching her grandson fidget with the carton of Black & Mild cigars he had within his grasp for a bit before he proceeded to open them, slip one out, lazily place it between his chapped lips and politely signal for her to ignite it for him which she obliged to do so.

“Sounds like you’ve been bitten by the love bug, Snowflake,” The cigarette still burned between Marie’s fingertips as she went to pick a piece of lint from her tongue. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Hell yeah,” He answered without hesitation, smoke escaping his nostrils. “I can’t picture my life without her. This is a woman I’d lay down my life for, her and our unborn child.”

“Well while you sound so confident within yourself, I’m not your fairy godmother. I can’t just wave an magic wand over your head and expect for things to revert back to normal. I very well wish that I could, but Snowflake, this is reality. You’re going to have to get with Zhané face-to-face and tell her how you really feel.”

“How am I suppose to do all that when all she does is pull away?” Fezco sighed out, rubbing his fingertips along his thumping forehead.

“Fezco, if it’s meant to be then she’ll come around and she’ll forgive you.”

With this advice, Marie O’Neil stood up from her spot on the bed and planted a gentle kiss upon her grandson’s aching forehead before making an exit from the bedroom, leaving him alone to relish in that very thought yet again.

The overfamiliar and repetitive buzzing of an silenced iPhone located within the kangaroo pocket of his Karl Kani brand hoodie caused the ginger to peel his heavy eyelids open from a recurring dream.

He sluggishly went to sit upright in the armchair situated at his grandmother’s bedside; briefly rubbing his eyes in closed fists before going to stretch his arms above his head although the ache of being hunched over in an uncomfortable position for such a long period of time was still evident within his lower back. As if that weren’t enough, his head still pounded and his mouth had almost immediately ran dry as a result of his hangover.

He fished through the pocket of his hoodie in order to retrieve the active cellular device. He squinted his watering eyes and batted his full lashes at the beaming screen until they finally focused in on the caller ID.

Bébé.

His heart palpitated and his palms had broke into a cold sweat at the full-screen live photograph of him and his long-term girlfriend sharing an affectionate kiss in the master bathroom of their new home just a few months ago, a photograph he hadn’t seen in several months. He had premediated this very moment so many times before that he ran out of the right words to say once going to accept the incoming call on the last buzz.

“Zhané?! Bébé, I’m here! Everything alright?!” Fezco greeted with panic laced within his drawl.

“Uh, hello! B-Bonjour! Is this... Freshco?” The smart remark he was preparing himself to hear blare through the transmitter from his girlfriend had turned into a masculine voice greeting him in their broken English instead.

“It’s Fezco, man. Who’s this? Why do you have my girl’s phone? Where is she?” Fezco spoke calmly though his nerves were shot to hell as he stood up from his grandmother’s bedside and went to raid the kitchen area for his desert eagle and car keys.

He was never too trustworthy with new people entering Zhané’s life, especially ones he never even met. He was planning to make an example out of what would happen with this one had he stepped out of bound during this conversation that they were holding.

“My apologies. I Pierre, Zhané doula.”

Zhané had been fixated on natural childbirth, midwives and doulas since her first trimester when Fezco gifted her some Pregnancy & Care books from Barnes & Noble alongside that expensive Christian Dior brand tote she used for dental school and charm bracelet to put her mind at ease some when everyone else, including her parents, assumed she was being dense for actually falling through with an unplanned pregnancy with someone of his caliber. “Trailer Park Trash,” is what they’d call him and his baby brother often, but it hadn’t phased him. Not even once. He remained respectful whenever they’d come around and made sure that Zhané hadn’t held a grudge towards them because of it. “You only get one set of parents, Bébé,” Is what he’d say through her fits to get her to actually look at the bigger picture. He never thought she’d actually fall through with it, especially with a male doula, at that.

“I thought only woman do that shit?” Fezco scratched at his buzz cut with the barrel of his gun, trying to make sense of it all until it registered in his mind of who this call was actually pertaining to. “Wait, what’s wrong with Zhané and the baby?!”

“I won’t exactly say anything wrong, but she insist for me not to call parent, so that where you come in. She in labor after you friend, uh, Ruby Bennett? Make unexpected visit at le house? Moi guess she come in handy because she le one who inform me. I must urge you to get here soon as possible, ‘cause... Moi no think she can hold much longer.” His warning was soon followed by a bloodcurdling scream that had Fezco practically yanking the device away from his ear while simultaneously batting his full lashes in disbelief that a sound like that was even capable of emitting from another human being.

“What do you mean ‘Much longer?!’ You couldn’t call me any sooner than this?! You mean to tell me that she’s having it there?!”

“If you mean home then... oui!”

“Alright, man. You just make sure that she doesn’t bring my child into this world without me being present. I’m on the way.”

“I try my best. Hurry, and please drive safe!”

Hearing the overfamiliar beeps of a call ending on his smartphone, Fezco tucked his desert eagle in the waistband of his black pants and his phone and car keys back into the pouch of his hoodie. He treaded to the back of the townhome, this time to wake Ashtray with a few light slaps to his face.

“What, you asshole?!” Ashtray groaned, his slit eyebrows knitting together in irritation while his eyes remained shut.

“Ash,” Fezco rattled his baby brother’s body until witnessing his eyes peel open. “Ash, it’s time. Zhané’s having the baby.”

Echolocation became pivotal at that given moment in Fezco’s life. He became reliant on the continuous swooshing resonating off the high-mast lighting poles planted on either side of the deserted highway and the tires of his Dodge Charger Hellcat gliding against the sleek road, draining in through the parted windows rather than the state of his own subconscious as he pressed his foot on the pedal of the gas to accelerate.

The waxing gibbous moon, the forewarning of a speed limit and even the clouds of smoke cascading from his Black & Mild had only became specks in his tunnel vision. Lucky Daye’s “Over” playing at a low volume over the stereo had set the tone for the night and was drawing him right back into a shameful recollection of his girlfriend once again.

There was no other terminology besides mortified to describe Fezco’s emotions in that moment as he stood in the middle of their master bedroom, surrounded by sealed cardboard boxes in only a pair of boxer briefs as he restrained the love of his life while his fling made a run for it. In all their years of dating had Fezco seen Zhané so upset over a situation and it frightened him, but only because he was oblivious on how to annihilate her temper though it was logical. Selfish as it may sound, this couldn’t be where it ended.

“Let go of me, Fezco!” Zhané shouted through a weep, her legs flailing in midair as her overlay simultaneously went digging into his forearms which were tightly wrapped around her underbust.

“Not until you calm your ass down! You’re not gonna put my child’s life in fuckin’ jeopardy over some petty shit, real talk!” Fezco bellowed.

“You choose now to be fuckin’ concerned about us?!” She sneered through a laugh, still struggling to break past his restraint until she took notice to how he wasn’t budging and finally broke down in his arms. “I promise I’m not going to do anything, Fez, just please let go. I need to catch my breath...” She wept.

Her plead had almost sounded like a double entendre to him as he hesitantly went to turn her loose.

He watched her movements intently as she sat upright from her previous position and went to smooth out the new wrinkles within her uniform before facing him with a soft expression plastered on her face. Even through fresh tears, Fezco thought she was beautiful.

“I never meant to hurt you, Bébé—” His cliché apology was cut short when her hand went flying across his face, ‘causing his head to whirl in a totally different direction. He could sense that one coming.

“Fuck you!” She croaked through clenched teeth, a hard swallow and violent shove following soon after.

“Okay, I deserved that,” He nodded, peering back into her glossy eyes. “Can you at least give me a chance to explain myself?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my breath. It won’t change the fact that you’re a cheater or the fact that I’m leaving your sorry ass.” Her words were venomous, seeping into his nervous system and turning his body rigid with panic by the second.

She turned her back on him yet again, but not before he went to grab ahold of her wrist.

“Don’t walk out on me, Bébé...” His voice quaked with desperation, causing her to be overcome with stillness. She had almost felt sorry for him until reflecting on the fact that he was in their bed with another woman besides herself not even a few minutes ago.

How pathetic, she thought.

“I said let... Go... Of... Me!” She grimaced, snatching away from him before going to carry out her failed plan from earlier.

Zhané bought the sputnik chandelier and track lighting of the walk-in closet to life by use of a switch before entering with raging fury in search of her Louis Vuitton Virgil Abloh Monogram Mirror keepall with Fezco hot on her trail. Only she’d know he wasn’t going to give up on her that easy.

“Y’know, you can be really self-absorbed sometimes, Zhané.” Fezco stood on the opposite side of the closet’s island, watching as she struggled to grab one of her keepalls from the top cubby though she shouldn’t have been reaching above her head to begin with. He knew just as much as she did, but he wasn’t about to expedite the process of her departing from him by volunteering to help her. He was hoping that his words would do all the damage control needed. He was desperate enough to say anything to get her to stay and work it out.

“As if I don’t have every right to be, Fezco,” She mocked, absentmindedly tossing any item belonging to her inside the open bag. “Spare me the excuses. I think I’ve had enough of those for one night.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d want to throw a good thing away. Everything we worked so hard for. A better life for Ash, a better life for us,” He approached her, reaching for the bag clenched within her hands. “I can’t let you leave like this, Bébé.”

“Then you fuckin’ leave, Fezco!” She shouted, her bottom lip quivering as she shoved the bag into his chest. “I can’t stand the sight of you right about now! You make me sick! Just pack your shit and go!”

“If that’s what it’s going to take to gain your trust back again then so be it.”

“Good! Leave your key on the kitchen counter when you’re through.” With these words exchanged, Zhané exited that closet a woman scorned.

“What’s got you zoned?” Ashtray questioned from the passenger seat, reeling Fezco back in from his flashback.

“Family feud, man,” Fezco drawled, shaking his head. “Just family feud...”

Fezco and Ashtray had both successfully managed to storm the estate they were once allowed to call their “New home,” a quarter past one o’clock in the morning with their hearts in their mouths. To say that they were apprehensive about coming a second too late to the arrival of their daughter or niece was an understatement. To make matters even worse, Rue was right there anticipating theirs.

“I ain’t got time for your shit tonight, Rue! I’m dealing with enough as is. Whatever you’re lookin’ for, you ain’t gon’ find it here.” Fezco had only glanced over at the teenager he called “Family” as they rushed towards the staircase.

Frantic and clad in her usual attire consisting of an oversized graphic T-shirt, wrinkled slacks, solid black crew socks and a pair of tatted Converse. Rue was sweating profusely, her disheveled hair clinging to the pasty flesh of her face and neck while her eyes were damn near sinking into her skull as her lengthy arms hugged at her petite torso tightly.

She was going through drug withdrawals and destroying everything within her path in order to get her next fix. Zhané just so happened to get hit in the crossfire. Never mind the nativity of her own God daughter.

“Listen, Fez, all I need are a couple oxies to get me through the night and I promise, I’ll be out you and Bébé’s hair for good. I’m so sick, Fez! Look at my eyes, Fez! I need something! My mom and Gia have been drivin’ me up a fuckin’ wa—” Rue babbled belligerently, her clammy hands flailing every which way during her speech as Fezco had only halfway listened. She knew he had heard enough when he had turned to face her once reaching the second floor of the house.

“I just said that I don’t have it, Rue! God damn! What are you not getting?!” Fezco shouted, his face softening shortly after as he pointed in the opposite direction than what they all were walking in. “Go home, Rue.”

“Okay...” She whimpered, gripping onto the glass baluster, and it had almost sounded convincing to him. “Make it opiates and we have a deal.”

Damn, was she an hell of an actress.

“Ahh!” Him and Ashtray exhaled deeply before continuing their journey to the open master bedroom at the end of the hall with the addict hot on their trail.

The sporadic bursts of screeches and heavy panting resonating from their destination caused for them to pick up their feet quicker in order to get there.

Fezco, being the first to split the bedroom door, rushed past the crammed powder room and walk-in closet area leading to the master bathroom in the nick of time to witness Zhané hunched over the perimeter of the raised platform Jacuzzi bathtub in only a pink Nike brand sports bra and her usual worn knotless box braids thrown up into a messy bun. Even with the windows cracked open to circulate some type of air and a glass of ice at her side, beads of sweat still formed at her hairline and the curve of her discolored lips all the while her usual bronze complexion had become far more pasty than Rue’s. She had been in active labor for going on five hours now thanks to her and had finally felt the urge to want to push.

“Bébé—” Three months without seeing her and all Fezco wanted to do was comfort her in her time of need, but all of that was halted once an unfamiliar face came into view.

Pierre Louis was an artist and doula deriving from Nice, France whom Zhané had met while doing her monthly grocery shopping at the local Whole Foods Market. Who would’ve thought that a simple lesson on the benefits of consuming dairy while pregnant on the same aisle would draw them this close?

He was model thin, standing at an intimidating 6′0″ with dewy skin, shoulder-length locs, oversized ears and a chiseled jawline, charming smile and bedroom eyes that most would’ve died for! He was the epitome of a work of art. No wonder Zhané dug his vibe so much.

“Freshco, is it?” Pierre inquired, sticking his hand out.

“It’s Fezco, man,” Fezco corrected, grabbing a hold of his hand before giving it a firm shake. “I’m not sure what y’all got going on, but I’m just here to check in on my lady.”

“Oui, of course—”

“Keep that cheating son of a bitch and dope fiend away from me!” Zhané managed to shout through a contraction.

“Woah!” Ashtray gasped from behind Fezco, cocking a slit brow at Zhané‘s new demeanor while Rue’s face twisted in it’s usual animated fashion whenever shit was going left in her life, now being the perfect example.

“That’s not fair, Zhané. That’s my baby just as much as it is yours!” Fezco shouted, attempting to push his way inside the room, but Pierre had stopped him from doing so at the sound of Zhané straining.

“Please! She go through a lot right now! Bébé crowning!” Pierre exclaimed, pushing at Fezco’s solid chest until he was standing on the opposite side of the threshold with his family again. “We no want to cause her anymore stress, so just wait here ‘til I tell you we finish, oki?”

“Whatev—” Fezco was cut short with the door being slammed in and locked in his face. “Want me to call the ambulance?!”

No response.

“I think I’m gonna be sick!” Rue heaved, clutching at her churning stomach yet again.

“Go sit your ass down, Rue!” Fezco bellowed, shoving the small waste basket sitting beneath Zhané’s vanity into her chest before dragging her frail body out into the open space of the bedroom and forcing her down into the zebra print chaise lounge as she began hurling up her guts. He had, had enough of her antics for one night.

He fell back onto the ottoman in front of the chaise with his pounding head falling into his hands while Ashtray fell back onto the neatly made King size bed before whipping out his iPhone.

“Ay, this the same bed you fucked that bitch on?” Ashtray inquired, his eyes remaining glued to the screen of his iPhone.

Fezco kissed his teeth, picking his head up to glare over at his baby brother with animosity.

Really? At a time like this?

“What?!” Ashtray exclaimed with his shoulders hunched.

“And if it was?” Fezco shot back in a monotone cadence.

“Then I don’t want to be lying in it.”

“You already are...”

Though fabricated, Ashtray kissed his teeth and wasted no time standing up from the bed and going to sit in the desk next to it instead.

Bloodcurdling screaming and the occasional encouraging “Push!” emitted from the bathroom often. They adapted to it rather vastly though Fezco would still find the urge to want to go knock and see if everything was copacetic, but then there was Rue, even in her ill state, reminding him that it was best to let Pierre do his job.

Five minutes of impatiently bouncing his legs had turned into ten minutes of pacing the carpet and after an additional and much-needed 15-minute smoke break out on the balcony, Fezco could no longer contain his apprehension.

“Ash, you’re the closest person to Bébé right now besides that fake ass Basquiat in there. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go see what’s happenin’?”

“Man, I ain’t going to look at that shit!” Ash remarked, nonchalantly flicking his wrist in his older brother’s direction as he leaned on the back legs of the hardwood chair that he was situated in. “I got a weak stomach as is. We all better off waiting out here if you ask me.”

Of course, he of all people would say this.

The door to the bathroom creaked open and out walked Pierre, wiping his wet hands off with a hand towel, causing all three of the occupants left in the bedroom to stand at his attention for the report on Zhané they were about to receive.

“Zhané deliver healthy six-pound bébé girl!” Pierre announced, causing them all to verbally rejoice.

“C-Can we see her now?” Fezco asked, clasping his hands together before bringing them up to his pursed lips.

“Oui!” Pierre responded, extending his hand out towards the open bathroom door. “I go make phone call now!”

Prior to giving birth to a healthy six-pound baby girl, Zhané was unfulfilled by all the turmoil that was transpiring within her life. There was Fezco’s affair debacle followed by her snobby parents’ consistency of wanting to see her fail rather than succeed in life and to make make matters worse, her grades in dental school were beginning to slip.

It all came at her so fast that she didn’t know when to slam on breaks until Pierre entered her life with clarity. He was heaven sent, constantly reminding her that this too shall pass, and it had. The sight of her baby girl; petite, red-headed with light eyes and speckles covering her tawny skin from head to toe was most rewarding. The very sight of her drove her to tears. Though what Fezco had done to them was unforgettable, Zhané had no reason to hold animosity towards anyone anymore, not even her own parents. She felt she had a reason to live again.

Seeing Zhané still situated in the tub, admiring her greatest creation of all, Fezco lightly tapped his knuckles against the bathroom door in order to garner her attention before he, Ashtray and Rue entered.

“Hi.” Zhané greeted the trio gutturally, twitching a smile in their direction as tears stained her flushed cheeks.

“Hi.” They all responded in unison, Rue extending a weak wave.

“Are y’all going to continue standing at the door or are you going to come meet her?” She giggled.

They gravitated towards her, some being slower than others, just to get a look at the newest edition of their family.

“You wanna hold her?” Zhané asked, glancing up at Fezco whom had his clammy hands tucked within the front pockets of his pants.

“Oh... N-Nah,” Fezco quickly shook his head, glancing down at his Air Jordans. “I’ll probably drop her.”

“It’s your daughter, Fezco. Don’t be ridiculous,” She nudged her head at the empty platform next to the tub. “Sit.”

Fezco obliged, sitting on the platform before holding his hands out for his daughter’s arrival. It seemed surreal that she was finally here.

Zhané placed the swaddled infant into her father’s arms, adjusting her head into a more comfortable position.

The very moment Fezco laid eyes on the yawning infant was the moment he discovered the true definition of love again. The feeling of wanting to guard someone with your life’s dependency and also get your act together while doing so though you had only met their acquaintance less than a few minutes ago came full circle. He just couldn’t believe they both made something this beautiful.

“You did great, kid. She’s beautiful,” Fezco cast his emotions unapologetically, batting away a few tears, causing them to drip onto the receiving blanket that she was wrapped in. “Just like her momma,” He looked to Zhané who gave him an empathetic smile in return. “Bébé, I’m so—”

“I know, Fez...” The truth of the matter was that Zhané had some apologizing to do herself, but she didn’t want to take this moment away from their child. After all, it was her special day. “Let’s just focus on her for now. She’s going to need that more than any of us.”

Fezco simply nodded in agreement, leaning in to peck her lips to which she hadn’t protested against him doing so though she could distinguish the Black & Milds lingering on his lips. That was yet another discussion for a later time.

“Damn, Bébé, your genes didn’t stand a chance!” Ashtray commented, causing laughter to commence between each and every individual in attendance.

“Oh, hush, Ash!” Zhané giggled, going to adjust the pink cap on the resting infants head, causing her to slightly stir in her sleep. “She needs a name...”

Fezco reflected on the recurring dream he had of his grandmother earlier in the night and took it as a sign.

“We’ll call her Marie... Little Marie O’Neil.”

Zhané understood the gravity of the situation and hadn’t questioned it, but instead embraced it.

“Marie... I think she’ll grow into that one perfectly. I love it, baby.”

They shared one last passionate kiss before the flashes of an ambulance truck in the distance of their estate began to cast in through the open windows of their home. They were finally back at one, only this time with some minor changes to get accustomed to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀paulo goude as 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐈𝐒

⤷ occupation：artist and zhané’s doula

#┃⠀･｡ﾟ☆⠀〝i just want some dick.〞⠀⠀╱ ⠀⠀꒰⠀𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬╱𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬╱𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬╱𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬╱𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.#black authors #black writers #poc writers #euphoria #fezco #fezco x oc #fezco x reader #fezco x y/n #fezco x black!oc #fezco x black!reader #angus cloud #taylour paige #angst #fluff

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