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yelenasbraid · 3 days ago

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maintaining professionalism pt. 1 — joe burrow

mini series summary — She’s a witty, stubborn athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals. He’s the star quarterback who can’t take his eyes off of her. The more she works with him, the stronger the magnetic pull. She’ll do anything to maintain professionalism, and he’ll do anything to get the girl.

chapter summary — it’s the first day of offseason workouts, and joe has the ultimate pleasure of working with you.

warnings — fem!reader, general grumpiness, hints of pining, teeny bits of enemies to lovers, not proof-read

tags — @starsinthesky5 @definitelynotdomanique @majestic87 @joeyb1989 @belleann23 @wickedfun9 @hannahjessica113 @kravitzwhore @musicforsnoopy @burreauxss @noeesd19 @grandpeachpersona @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @joeyburrrow @joeyfranchise @starkeyswomen @wellwellhereiam @xbriexx @grittysbiggestfan @dboanalagoaaoo @kazsbrckkers

note — this is so long overdue oh my god i’m so sorry

Offseason, 2024

THE BEAUTY OF WAKING UP EARLY was the sunrise. That was it. The purple, orange, and yellow hues that painted the sky were a highlight, but the sluggish, heavy feeling in your bones wasn’t.

It was the first day of offseason workouts. After months of being off, enjoying the ability to sleep in and lounge around your apartment, getting up at 6am wasn’t fun. While you loved your job, the early mornings weren’t it. Especially because half of the Bengals players were morning people.

You rolled out of the warmth of your bed, the coolness of your bedroom nipping at your skin. Your toes curled as you walked into the bathroom, your arms hugging yourself. Your mind was fuzzy, drifting to your agenda today as you brushed your teeth, brushed your hair, and got ready for the day.

The worst part about being an athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals was the fact that the quarterback was sculpted by the gods. It was annoying. It irritated you beyond belief. Joe Burrow, at least, wouldn’t be bothering you this early. He wasn’t a morning person, thank God.

You slid a Bengals baseball cap over your head, grabbed your bag and walked out of your bedroom. You grabbed your keys, and walked to your car.

The drive wasn’t bad. It was quiet, the sunrise helping with your sour mood. You pulled into the stadium, parking your car. You usually were one of the first people there. It happened once, and now it was habit.

You got out, grabbing your things and walked out of the parking lot. You noticed one other car: Joe’s. You should have figured he’d be there early. In the three years you’ve worked with the Bengals, Joe showed up to practice every single day, early. He was at workouts crazy early. With his wrist injury, and him being officially on rehab, him being early didn’t surprise you.

You walked into the facility, enveloped in the coolness of the air. You walked silently past several rooms, several offices, until you reached yours on the second floor. It was small, no windows, but it had a desk, chairs in front of it, and a small table for your coffee machine.

You barely had time to set your stuff down before a knock came to your door.

“Hey, uh, I had a question,” your eyes flicked to the blonde, 6’4, lady-killer of a quarterback. He was dressed in his Seinfeld sweats, a baby pink hoodie adorning his body. He looked soft, not like the quarterback who everyone was afraid of.

“It’s 7 in the morning Joe, and I just got here, what is it?” you asked him, pulling your laptop out of your bag. He knew you were sour in the mornings, and he’s learned to not take it personal.

“I’ve been looking for KT tape, you have some?” he asked you taking a step into your office. You were a KT tape enthusiast. You used it all the time whenever you did sports in high school, and you saw the benefits of it.

“I should,” you hummed, opening the drawers of your desk, “why, do you want to use some?” you asked, pulling out several rolls.

“No, Tee mentioned wanting some,” he answered, and you flicked your eyes back up to him. Your eyebrows raised, a small scoff leaving your lips.

“Tee isn’t here for another 30 minutes,” you told him, “so why couldn’t he come and get some?” you asked. The best defense against finding Joe attractive was being too uptight, borderline mean. You took professionalism seriously, and it was stressed when you were hired.

“He asked me to have some ready,” he answered. You were a hard-ass, and in the mornings he knew better than to ask stupid questions. Any time he knew better than to ask stupid questions. He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his eyes glued to you, not paying attention to how the light of the room hugged your body, or how your clothes outlined your muscles.

“Right,” you replied, “well I’ve got several types. Extra strength, half-pieces, full-length pieces, extra long pieces,” you listed, your fingers flitting over the different rolls you had.

“He never said what he needed,” he shrugged. Your eyes flicked up to his, your eyebrows raised.

“You’re proving my point of why he should have come up here,” you retorted, grabbing an extra strength roll and tossing it at him. Joe caught it with ease, his eyes still on you. He knew he should have just told Tee to see you himself, but Joe was stubborn too. He wanted to see you.

Maybe he was regretting that a bit.

“He asked me to, did you want me to say no?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t think Tee would have thought that would be a weird answer,” you quipped back, crossing your arms over your chest. The relationship you had with Joe was a weird one. There were times you got along perfectly with him, and other times, your attitude drove the bus.

“Whatever, I’ll be sure to let him know to tell you thank you for your time,” Joe sassed, and you rolled your eyes. As he walks out of your office, you couldn’t stop your eyes from watching the muscles in his back ripple, or how his ass fit perfectly in those shorts.

You needed to seriously get a grip.

—

He honestly didn’t understand why he kept going back to you. You were good at your job, that was the truth, but you were a hard-ass. Your biting words, the way you looked him up and down, it drove him crazy. Yet, he still found himself going to you out of everyone for help.

“I ain’t gonna lie,” Tee stated as they walked to the practice field, “she might have an attitude, but she’s a damn good trainer, Joe.”

“I know,” Joe sighed, swinging his helmet, “just why her?”

“Man, if I knew how feelings worked, I’d be the smartest man in the world. I wish I knew, but I don’t,” Tee clapped him on the shoulder as they walked onto the field, the hot sun beating down on them. His eyes first found you, as they always did. You talked with some of the other trainers, and he caught a laugh. An actual laugh escaped your throat, and it was the most intoxicating sound he’d heard.

“You’re down bad, ya know,” Ja’marr spoke up, and Joe just playfully shoved him.

“I am not,” Joe defended, but Ja’marr wasn’t wrong. Despite the attitude you seemed to only give him, he kept coming back to you. His mind was filled with the image of you, and he hated it. He shouldn’t be focusing on you, a damn athletic trainer. He needed to be focused on rehab, on getting back to 100%. It didn’t help that you were there, watching him, tempting his eyes to drink in every curve and every contour.

Joe continued his march up to the field, his eyes flicking away and flicking back to you. There was just something about you, how you carried yourself, how fearless you were when it came to putting men twice your size in place. He didn’t know what it was, but he was drawn to you.

“Burrow,” his head snapped up, meeting your eyes. He shook himself out of his stupor, walking over to you, swinging his helmet as he did so. He was changed out of his Seinfeld sweats and hoodie, now in shorts and a compression tank top. Did he know what he was doing? Probably.

“What’s up?”

“First thing, how’s your wrist?” you asked him, crossing your arms over your chest. He forced his eyes to keep on your eyes, not wander down to the muscles in your arms, or how your thighs looked so perfect in your shorts.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged off. It was fine, he’d been cleared by his surgeon and his physical therapist to throw again. He felt fine.

“Just fine?” you asked him, and he could see the way your eyes dialed in on him, trying to see if he was lying. You knew he had a nasty habit of shoving away his physical feelings for the betterment of his performance. Because that makes sense.

“I’m doing splendidly, fantastically, amazingly, fine,” he was being dramatic, and he gave you a very dramatic look too. You rolled your eyes, the sass that Joe had making its way into your conversation. It was funny, if you were honest with yourself. His attitude wasn’t always a nightmare to work with.

“Better,” you chuckled as you shook your head. There was something about him, but you also knew that Joe had that effect on people. He was attractive, he was talented, and he knew how to use both of those aspects to his advantage. The coaches also knew, and they strictly told their athletic trainers and other female staff members to not engage romantically with the players. You didn’t need to read between the lines that tightly to see they meant specifically Joe Burrow.

“Secondly, about your recovery plan," you started, your eyes peering into his, "you're starting out slow today, throwing a grand total of 20 yards."

His eyes narrowed. He didn't like that he was having to limit himself, to rein himself in from being who he was before the injury. He worked his jaw, chewing on his bottom lip. He knew better than to argue with you, than to not follow the plan that you spent writing.

"Only 20?" He asked, his brows furrowing. You looked at him, seeing the subtle defiance in his eyes. You knew that he was used to being at practice, fully participating. You were aware that this was frustrating for him.

"Yes, only 20," You told him, turning around to walk towards the trainer's tent. He followed you, ducking under the tent. He understood that he needed to follow the recovery plan that he put into place, that it was pertinent to his recovery and his performance.

"Fine," he shrugged, setting his helmet down, his body shortening the distance between you. You didn't move, but your heart was pounding. You caught a whiff of his cologne, the sweet musk of it. You nodded your head at him, grabbing a ball and walking him out of the tent to the field.

—

Practice went smoothly. Joe threw as much as he could, testing your patience as much as he could. He walked back over to the bench, grabbing a water bottle from your hands. Huffing, he took a long swig. You took a sip of your own water bottle before you packed up the bag, shoving footballs and packing up water bottles.

His eyes couldn't help but wander. Your shirt clung to your body with the sweat on your skin, your shorts hugging your thighs even tighter. He shook his head running a hand through his hair. You were his athletic trainer, the relationship he had with you was supposed to be strictly professional. It didn't help that you matched his attitude, that you were confident, and it also didn't help that you were very easy on the eyes.

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine #maintaining professionalism #mini series

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mypussytasteslikeharibo · 2 months ago

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Tight plans

Summary: Viktor buys Reader a nice little (lacy) present. They discover it while Viktor is still working hard at the lab. Maybe they put it on to see if it fits.

No gendered pronouns used for reader. Afab reader. Not proof read, no guarantee for quality oops

Notes: I'll probably do a part two, depending on how fucked my time management and sleep schedule is going to be the following week. Sorry about the language, I'm not a native speaker. My English professor would be disappointed at my use of inverted sentence structures. I'm sorry. You'll see me again next semester still. Anyway, have fun everyone! Hope you'll never be able to wear tights again :)

It's not unusual for Viktor to be home late from the lab. He's always working hard, that's what you love about him. His attitude towards his passion and his great mind to match it make him as endearing as he's always been to you.

What IS unusual though is the present sitting on your bed. No special occasion. Did you forget your own birthday? No. You might be getting slower but not that slow. Maybe it's meant for someone else. But you throw that idea out of the window as you're holding a small card in your hands, spelling out your name and signed by your loved one with a Love, Viktor.

Well. As it's not an anniversary, and there's not been any big, big news about his or your work either, you decide to just open it. If it was a bomb then Viktor probably had his reasons to blow you up anyway.

You unravel the bow on top of the golden present, hands slightly shaking in anticipation. You wonder what could be inside? Maybe it's the earrings you've looked at longer than necessary at the shop three weeks ago, or a useful tool for your work in the lab. Even though that would not require a bow as decoration. It would've been enough to just... Lay it on your desk and let it find it's way to you while you're working.

But no, it is instead... A pair of tights. Well even with winter on the way, these tights are not made for cold weather or even day to day going out, no matter the season.

Made of black net, with an artistic rose pattern on the back of the calves and sitting at an angle that makes the seam disappear into your ass, these tights can only have one use.

They're... sexy.

A shudder runs through you. There has to be an explanation to this.

Yes, you and Viktor have been together for a few months now and it's going amazing. He's affectionate, he's gorgeous and he understands you better than anyone else in this whole city, if not world. You love even his droopy morning faces or his annoyed expressions when he comes home frustrated after an unsuccessful lab day. But what you love most, right now at least... Yes, well, it's the sex.

You've been with people before and you've had great sex before. But for Janna's sake, the way this man makes you quiver under his body while he fucks into you like a machine built only for one purpose and one purpose only, it drives you insane. He isn't rough but loving in a way that still makes you see stars for the next hour.

So you are not only confused at the reason for this kind of foreplay but also incredibly and utterly horny about it. The thought of Viktor having to shop at a store and pick out this pair of tights specifically for you, paying for them with his hard earned money while he thinks about you and the way you would look in these tights... Him having to plan when and where to give these to you and ultimately deciding on leaving them on the bed while he's at wor-

He's at work. He's at work, knowing that you'll be home earlier than him. He knows that you will unpack this present as soon as you see it, knows that you get too impatient otherwise. And he counts you opening it without him, alone. In your bedroom, right in front of your bedroom mirror. He's thinking about you, seeing these tights and figuring out all of his plans, even playing along with them.

He knows that you will put them on and he knows that you will be waiting for him at home.

Your pussy pulses.

To think that this is the same man that couldn't hold your hand without getting crimson red ears four months ago.

A shudder runs through you. You don't even know what to do. Viktor could be home anytime but he could also stay at the lab for two more hours. It would be nonsensical to put on these tights without him here, just walking around in them without him there, knowing that he pictures you in them but doesn't see them until he's finished at the lab-

Ah, yes.

That makes sense.

It is slightly cool in the apartment when you take of your clothes bit by bit. It's not that you're freezing or anything. You're cold but it's not uncomfortable, it's... ironically, very hot.

You can feel your nipples getting hard underneath your lace bra.

You've put it on since you've had plans of your own on your way to Viktor's place. It doesn't help that your skin feels overly sensible right now. The thought of Viktor thinking about you at this very moment and what you could be doing in his bedroom without him there to observe...

It drives you crazy.

It tingles at the spots where your bra meets with the sensitive skin of your nipples. You can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second, pulsing to your heartbeat. All you can think about is Viktor, his hand on your lower stomach, your tits, your throat, the other directing itself to your burning core, only waiting to be touched by his calloused hand-

You snap out of it, panting. You've not even finished undressing, let alone putting on the beautiful pair of tights driving you crazy right now.

You wonder what his reaction will be. Before you lose yourself in thought again, you decide to finally let this pair of art decorate your body as you wait for the artist to arrive.

You bunch up the fabric until it reaches the toe end of it. Slowly, you let the toes of your right foot enter the smooth net. It stretches beautifully around your foot and spreads up your calves. As it reaches your knees, you see how the pattern paints the back of your calf with black roses and thorns. They follow your hand up to the start of your thighs, as you become a hot mess again.

It is as thought they are his hands wandering over your body. His eyes following every movement your hands make up your body, landing on your inner thighs and the burning desire waiting between them.

What a cruel man to do this to you.

You continue. The tights crawl up your thighs as you enter with your left foot. The same torturous process plagues you until both ends off the tights have reached your hips. At this point you've reached the part where the tights should end and close at your waist.

Instead they continue.

They're not normal tights.

Pulling them further up, you realize that these tights also double as a lace bra. They are as see-through as the rest of the tights but they also repeat the pattern from the calves in the stomach, leading up to your breasts. So you take of your own lace bra, letting it fall to the floor as you don't expect Viktor to have a problem with that later on. He would probably be too distracted to notice anyway.

As you lay the fabric down onto your breasts, one by one, you shiver from the sensation. The pattern and the lace of the fabric stimulate your hardened nipples and make you yearn for a hand similarly stimulating as the pattern, smelling of cologne and freshly brewed coffee.

The fabric closes in the middle of your breasts, creating an oval hole on your stomach. Not only does it look incredible, it also grants easy access for... Later activities.

As you put the straps of the tights on your shoulders, you turn to the mirror standing in the corner of the bedroom. The view makes you gasp. Not only that you feel so hot and ready to be banged against all surfaces of the apartment, you also look unbelievably lewd. It's not something you're used to but it makes you feel powerful. Like you're a goddess waiting for her pray to seduce. Letting your eyes wander across your breasts, your stomach, your hips you turn to look at your ass, which looks fucking burning hot.

But you also notice the hole cut into it.

Hm.

You can feel how wet you are without touching yourself. The anticipation is wrecking your body apart. How much longer is he going to take to come home? You can't walk around like this for hours. It would drive you to the brink of insanity.

You run your hands down your breasts, your sides, your stomach. You can barely touch your thighs before your knees buckle. As you turn your ass to the mirror again, your hands follow your direction. You massage it, feeling the net prickle at your skin and sending irritating shock waves towards your wet pussy. It is driving you bananas.

You bend forwards, looking back to your ass. As you actually see how wet and hot you are between your legs, you clamp your knees together from all the arousal. How can this little piece of fabric make you feel this unbearable way?

As the mirror stands directed towards to bed, you get up on the edge of it on all fours. Bending down your head, shoulders and upper back to the soft plush of Viktor's bed, you look back towards the mirror again.

Wow.

You've never seen yourself in this kind of state before. As you're only hearing your heart beat and your own panting, you don't even register the door keys turning in the front door.

"My fucking god."

You sit up out of surprise.

"No, no please stay like that! My love, you are simply..."

He sighs from endearment.

"...enthralling."

You blush. How come you still blush at his compliments seven months into dating?

"Well-" you lay down your upper body again. "-you were the one who chose and bought this for me, correct?"

You spread your legs just a little wider.

"Frankly, I feel like I should thank you for this gracious present."

You lock eyes with him while running a finger down your dripping pussy.

"How may I repay you, Darling?"

A/n: Hope you enjoyed this small... Whatever this is :) I'll try to do a part two soon. Hopefully ruined your night with this open ending, let me know if so. Love you xoxo (no, I don't have any lacy underwear to give you)

#arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x you #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane fanfiction #arcane #league of legends #fanfic #fanfiction #voyerurism

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uzumaki-rebellion · 1 month ago

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Preview.... "Lick Back 2"

Lick Back 2 by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Angst, Domestic Drama, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Blood & Violence, Drug References, AITA!Terry Richmond.

Summary: Terry Richmond didn't expect to become a father over night. A surprising photo in the mail reveals that an illicit affair he had with a married woman eleven months ago resulted in a baby girl named after him. Ecstatic to be a new dad, he races to South Carolina to reunite with Nova, and bring their new family to Louisiana for Christmas. Unfortunately, Nova's estranged husband Jordan has different plans.

Preview Word Count: 3.6K

Arriving in full on Christmas Eve! Tell a friend! Part 1 HERE.

youtube

"I took one look at you

And it was plain to see

You were my destiny

With you I'll spend my time

I'll dedicate my life

I'll sacrifice for you

Dedicate my life for you"

Method Man & Mary J. Blige—"You're All I Need"

Terry Richmond couldn't stop looking at the eight by eleven color photo he received in the mail.

Terrina Richmond.

He had a daughter. A two-month-old baby girl.

His mind raced with so many chaotic thoughts. He'd had an affair with a married woman and she left him to salvage her wreck of a marriage in South Carolina. Terry spent months trying to forget her, poured himself into his work, and blotted out the memory of Nova Patterson.

The last time they made love, he nearly broke the bed, pulling out his best erotic moves to keep her. By his calculations, that was when he impregnated her. They loved each other, but ultimately, he had to let her go. She belonged to someone else and already had an infant son. Who was he to prevent a reconciliation of a family?

He worked day and night, taking on extra hours, even requested deployment overseas to get away from Nova haunting him with her beauty, kindness, and intelligence. He wished the world for her, but couldn't bear to be in the states knowing he couldn't have her.

The big bosses denied his request. They wanted his skills building up their elite soldiers in Oceanside. Make more war machines. Oorah.

Terry booked a flight to Charleston the moment he hung up the phone with Nova. An hour later he still sat on his couch wondering who to confess his shocking news to. His first inclination was to reach out to his family, but he wasn't ready to explain the circumstances of fathering a child with a married woman to his parents just yet. His closest friends Von and Bethany were next in line, but he could already hear Bethany chewing him out for being no different than Jordan, with Von nodding his head in agreement. Telling his homegirl Angie would only result in a flying fist socking him in the jaw.

He had accrued ninety days of leave time that he planned on using up for Nova and Terrina. His godson Junior, too. He stroked his chin. Junior would become his stepson now. A bonus child. Nova gave him purpose. He had a family to care for.

Terry cancelled his flight.

Nova would have a ton of things to bring back with the children. He would drive there instead of flying and rent a U-Haul cargo trailer in Charleston. Nova could take what she wanted and he would buy anything else she needed once they returned to Oceanside. He glanced around his condo. They could stay in his place until the lease ended the following summer and then look for a new home big enough for the four of them.

Four.

How strange. He woke up that morning a single man living a solitary life. Now he was responsible for three other people. He wanted to marry Nova as soon as possible, that way he could get them on his health insurance. Terry grinned. He moved like a man with a plan.

Packing more clothes for an extended trip, the reality sank in further. He was a father. He stopped to look at his daughter again. She had his ears. Funny how he hadn't noticed it before. Terrina's eyes struck him first, but then all the other little details jumped out. She was his mama's color. Terry got his eyes from his maternal grandmamma and his ears from his paternal grandpa. Terrina repped both sides of his family like him. He sat down on his bed and rocked his body, staring at her picture like it was going to disappear if he stopped looking at her.

That was his baby girl.

Nova carried her while enduring the stress of an unraveling marriage. His woman needed peace and a home fit for a queen. He was determined to give it to her. Texting his parents, he sent them a quick message that he had to postpone coming to Louisiana because of work.

He stopped by his local coffee shop and loaded up on an egg white breakfast sandwich and coffee. Hitting the road by noon, he headed east after texting Nova that he was driving and would arrive in Charleston within two days. She sent him another picture of Terrina and Junior. He smiled so hard in his truck after taking a restroom break. Junior was nearly two years old, and it shocked Terry that he didn't look like Jordan anymore. The boy had Nova's face dipped in milk chocolate. He noticed that she'd typed the names Terrina and Novan. He typed the name Novan with a question mark. A minute later, she sent a message that she legally changed her son's name to hers. His nickname was Van-Van. Yeah, she was really done with Jordan if she yanked his son's name away from him. That shit was tough.

"My baby girl will never have that problem," he muttered, heading onto the freeway again.

Terry drove non-stop, only taking breaks when the truck needed gas. He loaded up with a bunch of Big Macs from McDonald's in Dallas, and his heart started beating wildly. Sitting in the parking lot, he inhaled deeply several times and listened to one of his meditation apps. On the verge of a panic attack unless he spoke to someone about his sudden anxiety at meeting his daughter, he called Bethany and confessed everything.

"I'm sitting here freaking out, Bethany. I just want to get to South Carolina and see Nova…hold my baby, but right now I'm losing it. Cuss me out, yell at me, I don't care…I just needed to talk to someone I trusted who knows me…knows I wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone on purpose. Not even Jordan."

Bethany gave a long sigh. He waited for a shrill tone to rip his ear apart.

"Terry, I have to be honest with you. Nova called and told me everything a month ago."

"She what? A month ago?"

"Don't be upset. She was scared and didn't have anyone supporting her. Her family flipped out…Jordan's family flipped. Jordan is on a downward spiral. It's a shitshow out there…but I promised her I wouldn't say anything until she was ready to face you. Go easy on her, okay?"

"I'm glad she has you," he finally said after a long pause.

"You should be glad to have me, too. I should kick your butt, though."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything about her…and me."

"Didn't have to. I already knew something was up. I just hoped you two would've ended it quietly without all this blowback. You make a pretty baby, though. She looks just like you and your mom."

"I'm nervous Bethany…a little scared. I'm thrilled to have Terrina…it's just…I'm halfway across the country ready to uproot Nova from her hometown. Am I doing the right thing for her and the baby? I mean…she has Junior…Van-Van. Can I take him away from his father like this?"

"She reached out and wants you to come for her. That's all you need to concern yourself with. I'll let her tell you herself what's been going on, but that is your family now. Jordan should be an afterthought in your mind."

"I want to marry her."

"Get her out of Charleston first. Text me when you get there."

"Does Von know?"

"No. This is something he needs to hear from you when you get back."

"Thank you for being there…for the both of us."

"You have a darling little two-month-old who needs her daddy. Drive safe, Terry. Love you."

Terry sat in the truck, feeling better. Bethany didn't hate him. He texted Nova despite the late hour in her time-zone.

He started the truck and drove closer to his love.

Terry sat in a parking lot of a Target store in a town just outside of Charleston on Sunday morning. He wanted to buy gifts for Nova and the baby, but the store didn't open until seven. The weather was already hot, and he rolled the windows down to wait three hours. He contemplated waiting at a Jack in the Box parking lot, but there were two cop cars there and the last thing he wanted was to attract the attention of the police outside of a fast-food joint at four in the morning.

He spent time on his smartphone looking up all the things he had to do legally to establish paternity. DNA test. Filing the results with the court. It would probably be a hassle to take Jordan's name off the birth certificate, but Terry would spend whatever money it took to pay all court fees to do so. He'd need to get a lawyer in Charleston to navigate everything.

The store opened, and he grabbed a cart, rolling it to the children's section. There was no sales associate around to ask about sizes, so he looked at infant clothing that claimed to fit newborns up to two months. He bought a fancy box of chocolate for Nova's grandmother who she stayed with after leaving her brother's home. Flowers for Nova. Baby balloons. A clunky-looking Captain America action figure for Van-Van. It took him a minute to find the Black one. Sam Wilson. It was going to be all Black everything in their household. Terry paused in the toy section. He imagined his life being like Von and Bethany's, raising two children and being happy. Von always went home to a happy wife and happy children. Sending up a prayer to God, he wanted to provide the same life for Nova and his new family.

He paid for everything at check-out and rolled his cart out to the truck. Bethany was right about Target. You can't ever go inside and come out with the one thing you went in for. He spent over two hundred dollars on all kinds of toys for his daughter and bonus son.

Terry smelled like long hours on the road and stopped at a café to purchase a blueberry muffin that gave him access to the restroom. He washed up, brushed his teeth, and changed into fresh clothes he carried in a backpack. By the time he hit the road again, he was ready to face his future. Following the directions on his GPS, he admired the old buildings and the slow pace of Charleston's southern charm. That went out the window when a palmetto bug flew into the truck. A goddamn flying roach. Hell nah!

He rolled up his windows and put on the air conditioner. The directions showed that he still had an hour to reach Edisto Island. He leaned into the steering wheel once he started crossing the McKinley-Washington Bridge that led to Nova. The Dawhoo River below him looked like mysterious black water. The tannins seeping out of decaying trees turned the water a dark tea-color. Nova once explained that the word "Edisto" meant "black" and was also the name of the indigenous people who lived there, including her Gullah kin, from way back.

His heart palpitated, and he started breathing faster when he reached the street where Mrs. Mariam Walker, the matriarch of Nova's family lived. He smelled the heavy scent of the sea and the river. The house was only a few blocks away from Edisto Beach. Everything around him had been built by Gullah hands. Homes. The bridge. Docks. Churches. Everything.

He passed Mrs. Walker's house because there was no parking available on both sides of the street. Making a U-Turn, he found a spot where a driver left in a brown van. He glanced over at the large white house with the double stairs leading to another stairway that led up to a semi-wrap-around porch. Several older Black men and a couple of men Terry's age stood on the porch looking his way. They built the old house high to avoid flooding, and it seemed like it should've been on a heritage museum tour. He typed into his phone.

I'M HERE.

He put on a stoic expression to face Nova's male relatives. They probably weren't thrilled to see him approaching the house.

The front door flew open and Nova dashed out. She ran down the top stairs first and waited on the landing, her eyes searching the street. When she fixed her gaze on him, she covered her mouth and jumped up twice before running down the left set of stairs, hurtling forward like a comet to greet him. He moved so fast people could've sworn he had wings on his feet like Mercury.

"Terry!" she cried out.

A bunch of women exited the house to watch them.

The moment Nova reached him, he lifted her up high. She hugged his neck so tight that she almost cut off his circulation. He set her down, and they held each other. Embracing her was like having a missing puzzle piece slipped back into its proper place. It was hard to look at her without the tears in his eyes making it difficult to see. She trembled in his arms and every hitched breath she took tore at his heart. He had been a fool to let her go. Sparing another man's feelings in a wasted act of nobility cost him time with the woman he loved and a daughter he hadn't met yet. Lying to Jordan about not sleeping with Nova had been the wrong choice to make eleven months ago. He should've come clean and faced the music back then. It cost him his own happiness. Cost him sharing the journey of Terrina's birth.

He touched and smelled Nova's fragrant hair. She still carried the scent of sugar cookies and strawberries on her skin. Her cornflower blue wrap dress sat snug around her figure. Having babies just made her look enchanting to him.

"Told you…told you I would come the moment you needed me," he said.

She nodded, and they pressed their foreheads together.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

She burst into tears. He rocked her in his arms, saying her name over and over.

"Are the babies inside?" he asked.

"Van-Van is with Jordan for the weekend. Terrina is inside with my mother and grandmother."

Nova wiped her wet face and puffy eyes.

"Ready to meet your daughter?"

He laughed out loud, and then bit down on his tongue gently to keep himself from leaking more water out of his eyes. He wiped his face and glanced at the welcoming committee on the porch.

"Mawmaw cooked a big Sunday breakfast and invited the family over to see you," she said.

"See me, or beat my ass?" he joked.

Nova's eyes welled up. He stroked her arms.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Bethany told me you're having it rough here. I gotta take that weight off of you. I'm the one who got you pregnant…I'm the one who'll fix all of this, too."

He kissed her forehead. She kept her cute pixie cut and fixed her baby hairs to look like curling ocean waves. He rubbed her back. She rested her head on his chest, unable to look at him.

"Terry…I didn't know she was yours. Jordan and I got back together, and I tried to put you away in my heart. He started messing up out here…I left him…but I still thought she was his. I wasn't hiding her from you…I wasn't trying to keep her a secret from Jordan, either. I didn't realize until after she was born that she wasn't his. I was so frightened of what would happen to me and her when everyone found out what I did. People in my family called me a whore…and Jordan…"

She wept. He soothed her as best as he could.

"Just think about us…okay? Hold on to us and I promise, Nova…things are going to get better."

"Okay."

She wiped her nose and inhaled deeply to calm herself down. He clasped her hand in his, and she walked him up the steps. Her family members held paper plates of food and hushed their talking as Terry looked at them.

"Everyone, this is Terry…Terry Richmond. Terrina's father."

"We can see dat. Can't miss his chirren at all."

The other relatives tittered under their breath. An older woman in her eighties pushed a walker and Nova's family parted to give her room so her eyes could track Terry up and down. She had slightly wrinkled, dark pecan-brown skin and gray hair clipped short. Mariam Walker…Mawmaw.

"I see una have no shame coming here after putting a baby in her the wrong way."

"Mawmaw," Nova whispered.

"Ma'am, I'm not here to upset you. I want to meet my daughter and be with Nova."

"Be with Nova?"

Mawmaw sucked her teeth and pointed at Nova with an accusatory finger.

"Look ya. Dat is a married 'ooman. You a comeya, messing up the peace of dis family."

"Ma'am, I don't mean any disrespect—"

"Tie yuh mout!" Mawmaw shrieked.

A female relative stepped forward.

"Okay now, Mawmaw…my Lord, let the man get inside the house first before y'all put all they business in the street. Hi Terry, I'm Cornelia…Nova's aunt. People call me Nella. Come inside. Mawmaw is going to fuss no matter what you say."

Nella walked toward the screen and opened it for Terry. She was forty-ish, heavyset, and a shade darker than Nova, but had the same sparkling brown eyes.

"I have some things in the truck to bring in," Terry said.

"Go get 'em, then," Nella said with a warm smile.

Terry walked back down to the truck with Nova. He collected the flowers and gave them to her. Her face brightened up with the full, colorful bouquet in her hands. He grabbed the balloons, Terrina's bag of baby clothes, and chocolate, then headed back to the house with Nova by his side.

"This is for you, ma'am…Mawmaw," he said.

Mawmaw looked at the big box of expensive Godiva chocolate shells, and her eyes widened; surprised that he was giving her something.

"He tryna butter her up," one of the older men snickered.

Nella waved for him to keep moving.

"Tote all that in here, Terry, c'mon now. Can't let these no-see-ums in the house."

Terry glanced at Nova.

"Mosquitos. The ones here will eat you up and you won't even see them," Nova said.

He grinned hard enough to show his gums.

"They've been eating me up since I got here."

Nova led him inside the quaint living room filled with old, cared-for furniture and several sizes of intricately woven tan baskets with dark brown geometric patterns woven in the detail that decorated the corners. The interior smelled of good southern cooking and something else, something that the west coast didn't quite have yet: the odor of history. His hometown in Louisiana had it. All the south and the east coast had it in abundance. Compared to the south, the west was still young and feeling its oats.

Old family pictures cluttered a mantle, and so many people were crammed inside that it made Terry feel like the Jolly Green Giant. He definitely was the tallest person there. His eyes were drawn to a large painting above the mantle of elongated ebony figures showcasing men, women, and children dressed in clothing from the 1930s with blue-black skin and featureless faces. The painting seemed to be the focal point of the room that gave it a cozy feel rooted in a proud lineage.

Three women Mawmaw's age sat on a couch wearing their good Sunday wigs. They scrutinized everything on him. Somewhere out back, the excited voices of children playing added a comforting noise.

Nova took the bag of clothes from him and set them on an empty chair.

"Hello…I'm Terry, pleased to see everyone," he said.

Mawmaw shuffled in with her walker and Nella helped her sit down on an old rocking chair.

"Dis him," Mawmaw said to the ladies on the couch.

Nova introduced him to everyone present. He became eager to make a good impression despite the hard stares and thin-lipped expressions from the elders. All he needed was a knife to cut the simmering animosity in the front room. A giant bible sat propped open on a bookstand next to Mawmaw's rocker. A huge brown lacquered cross hung next to a picture of a tawny Jesus on the wall behind her seat. Terry took in the context clues and understood quickly that he was in a serious religious household. That meant their situation would never be acceptable to MawMaw. The matriarch's frigid brown eyes stared him down like she was going to turn him into a pillar of salt.

A baby's cry interrupted the family showdown.

Mawmaw's eyes immediately softened, and she tried to stand up too fast, almost losing her balance.

"My great-grandbaby is calling for me," Mawmaw said, or at least that's what Terry made out.

The shrill cry shattered the peace again, and Terry felt a lump grow in his throat. He imprinted that sound to memory. That was his daughter. His first time hearing her.

Nella gently pushed Mawmaw back in her seat.

"Bring ha," Mawmaw said.

"Mawmaw…Terry needs to see his baby. He come three thousand miles. Man is probably tired and hungry rushing here. Let him have his time alone with Terrina," Nella said.

Nova placed her flowers on an end table near one of the older adult men sitting in the room and grabbed Terry's hand.

"Come…she's back here," Nova said.

Her eyes were shiny with pride and love.

They moved past family members who ogled his height and muscular build. His body looked big and battle ready from all of his military training. Moving through a short hallway, they skipped past two other bedrooms and made their way to the last one.

A.N: Hope you enjoyed the preview! Be ready for more on Christmas Eve! This one will be a little longer than Part 1, but I don't think y'all mind! One of the best ways to support Black fanfiction writers that doesn't cost a dime is to reblog & comment. We thrive off of kind words to keep us going, and it's always great to extend our reach to new readers. In 2025 I'm making more of an effort to get my stories out to as many Black women as possible. We are in our #RestEra and deserve nice things to come home to for our reading pleasure. Okay, off to finish this thing. It's already over 18,000 words, lol!

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