#oc;; storm woman | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kumkaniudaku · 4 months ago

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Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected.

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first.

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -”

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?”

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -”

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?”

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?”

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?”

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.”

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.”

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen.

“Another round, brother?”

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.”

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.”

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket.

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?”

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.”

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly.

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.”

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes.

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her mother than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went.

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap.

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?”

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.”

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray.

“Any time.”

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them.

“I look crazy, huh?”

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.”

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?”

“Don’t start, TJ.”

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?”

“What? TJ? That’s your name.”

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.”

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.”

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.”

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction.

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far.

“Treece, I can do it.”

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?”

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.”

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?”

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.”

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?”

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend.

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.”

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.”

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.”

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.”

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.”

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly.

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression.

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.”

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?”

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?”

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further.

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.”

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.”

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off.

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony.

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together.

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance.

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs.

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.”

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.”

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?”

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.”

“TJ for you.”

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them.

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?”

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted.

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.”

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?”

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.”

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.”

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line.

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him.

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.”

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone.

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard.

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.”

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.”

“I fucked that up.”

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.”

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter.

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused.

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow.

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.”

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.”

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.”

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters.

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I’ll take it.”

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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citrustan · 6 days ago

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slipping through my fingers [5] (myg)

title: the storm-ish 1.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut

summary: you meet yoongi's fiancée for the first time and... don't care to get a good read on her. yoongi keeps upsetting surprising you.

warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] this one's frustrating, there's not much improvement regarding oc and yoongi, it gets worse actually. aand it's a teensy tinsy bit unedited bec j don't have access to my laptop rn.

"Here's the dining area!" Taehyung fakes excitement as he leads the party further into your home, "I set the table."

You crouch down, catching your daughter in a tight hug, “Hi, baby,” you whisper into Nao’s hair.

For a second, you could pretend everything was normal. Just you and your kid. No pink hair highlights.

But then you stood up and saw Yoongi standing awkwardly behind Naomi.

“Hey...” Yoongi greeted you softly. His eyes briefly met yours before flicking back to Nao, “Hyejin wanted to meet you, and, uh… she brought dinner.”

You forced a small, tight-lipped smile.

Dinner. She brought dinner. As if that made any of this easier. Still, you nodded once, knowing you had no choice but to go through with this.

Hyejin had walked into your kitchen by now, snooping around with curious eyes. She wants to know you so bad. Picking up a random iron skillet from the drying rack, she observes the room intensely.

She eyes the colour scheme you picked out for your whole house. It's plain but not bland, she notes. White. A little... woody. Vintage. Yet very colourful and so full of personality.

A lot of well-executed DIY projects, most likely done with your daughter--- a windchime, stained glass paintings, miniature clay figurines, jars of seashells, hanging jellyfish lamps, personalized ceramic plates and mugs with designs painted and characters sculpted onto them.

Hyejin finds you fascinating.

She noticed a bunch of crocheted tapestries. Similar to the ones in Yoongi's room. She had always found it an odd design choice in his home. But, it makes perfect sense in yours. And obviously, she finally understood where he got it from.

And she can't wait to finally get to know the woman who had her soon to be husband wrapped around her finger for years.

Yoongi never told her why you broke up but she intends to get that information out of the two of you today.

Suddenly snapping out of it, you speak stiffly, “Oh, um, thank you,” gesturing at the bags of food place on the coffee table.

Your eyes dart towards Hyejin, who was already gliding back to you sporting a bright, effortless smile.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, _____,” Hyejin smiled warmly, "Your home is lovely. You really are a true creative."

Whatever that means.

“I hope it’s okay I tagged along. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now. Yoongi never talks about you."

Oh!

That definitely didn't hurt.

You smile, not knowing what to say. Simply nodding, “Thank you. And sure, it’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine.

You still felt disrespected.

Taehyung’s brows raised slightly, but he didn’t comment either. Instead, he offered you a supportive smile from behind Hyejin and mouthed, 'You’ll be okay.'

You can only hope you would.

Yoongi knew how fragile you were, and how hard it was for you to see them together, but he had let this happen anyway.

Yet, you understood Hyejin too.

It isn't really her fault. You'd have felt better about it had this been your decision.

"Mimi, go wash up for dinner." Yoongi instructs his daughter.

Then Hyejin chimes in, "But remember not to get your hair wet! _____, do you have a shower cap she can borrow?"

Your mouth drops open a little and your ears start to heat up.

Who does this woman think she is? She's talking to you as if you're not Nao's MOTHER.

What the hell does she mean 'Do you have a shower cap she can borrow?'

That's your kid, not hers.

Not realising you were glaring at Hyejin, you forced out yet another smile. This time it was glaringly obvious.

"She has one. She knows where to find it. Don't you, Nao?" You smiled down at her fakely.

Your daughter grabbed at your dress, "Yeah. But it's okay if I don't use it. My school doesn't allow colourful hair. We'd get into trouble." She directed the last half to Yoongi's fiancée.

Oh, thank goodness it wasn't permanent dye. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Hyejin's smile drops a little but she recovers almost instantly. "Oh, wouldn't you want to twin with me though?"

Is this lady emotionally manipulating your kid?

You don't give Nao a chance to respond because you knew she'd never want to hurt anyone's feelings and you hate that she's pushed in a corner now. "Wash your hair, honey," you smile down at her sweetly, "Use mommy's shampoo if you need to."

Yoongi finally decides to intervene. "Or we could let Mimi make her own choice. She knows the consequences, and is smart enough to decide what's better for her."

And unsurprisingly, ever the diplomat (which is odd because he's literally a lawyer by trade), he won't take sides.

Sadly, he's wrong this time.

Your squint your eyes at him as if you can't understand him, "What consequences? There's a consequence. Just the one. And she already stated it. We'll get in trouble with her school."

Your anger is a bit misdirected when you demand your daughter to clean up, "Go wash your hair, Naomi. I don't want to see even hint of colour that's not natural."

Nao's eyes widen before she runs off pouting. She knew you hadn't meant to scold her but it still upset her.

This is exactly what you were worried about.

You look at Taehyung pleadingly, prompting him to check on Nao. He immediately complies and chases after her.

You weren't ready to deal with Yoongi's new life now because you knew you wouldn't be able to digest it. You did not want Nao taking the heat for something that isn't her fault. But you suppose that's inevitable because you still haven't learnt to process your feelings and emotions about Yoongi.

Also, in all honesty, you could've dealt with the school. It wasn't that serious of an issue. They aren't too strict on the appearance discipline, especially hair.

You're on a roll now though.

"And what the hell are you doing altering my daughter's appearance without consulting me anyway?" You don't know who you squeaked it at but it was definitely warranted for.

"She's my daughter too, _____." Yoongi speaks cooly yet firmly.

"Exactly. She's yours and mine. And I need to be part of every decision making process," you scoff frustrated, "I mean, how would you feel if Taehyung and I decided to chop her hair off? What if the three of us get... I don't know, bowl cuts?" You're on the verge of yelling.

Yoongi looks bewildered, "You wouldn't do that."

You record the time. This is the moment you think Yoongi finally understands you.

"That's the point, Yoongi!" You exclaim. "Of course I wouldn't because I'm not fucking stupid!" You place emphasis on 'stupid', "-and I respect you!"

The jab wasn't subtle.

"What are you implying? That Hyejin is? That I am? That we don't respect you?"

"Oh, am I wrong?" You raise a brow.

"It's just some hair dye."

"That's not the issue here," you suddenly point at his fiancée, "And why are you calling my kid Nao?"

Hyejin's eyes widen at the sudden attention. She looks to Yoongi for help.

Taehyung reemerges from Nao's room when he hears arguing.

He observes Yoongi's stance and his explosion radar goes off, "O-okay, why don't we just-" but before he could even try to diffuse the situation, Yoongi loses it on you.

"God, _____, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

A sharp pang hit your chest, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

He's never yelled at you before. He's yelled with you, around you, maybe even about you but never at you.

Moreover, he did not deserve to scream at you.

You wish you could just pout and run away into your room like your daughter had.

Instead you stand your ground and stare at Yoongi's face, challengingly.

Hyejin just stood back, a little bewildered. She's surprised Yoongi had it in him to scream this loudly. And he's the least angry, most stable person she knows. Though, she doesn't know how to feel about him treating you like this.

On one hand, she's elated that he's speaking in her defence. And on the other, she's worried she'd be on your bad side after this. And that you'd keep Nao from her. If she didn't have a relationship with Nao, she can't possibly continue being with Yoongi.

For a while, nobody said anything. Taehyung was too afraid to even breathe let alone say anything.

The two of you were like a pressure cooker.

And let's not get into what Yoongi said--- 'What's wrong with you?'

You'd like to know. Clearly, something must be wrong because you don't know why he'd marry a woman after months of dating but not you even after years of being together and even having a child with.

You watch as Yoongi's fiancée grasps his hand to calm him down.

There have been very few moments when you've wished you had one of your classic cream pies to smash in someone's face.

Now is one such instance.

And then it happens.

Your vision begins to blur.

Not wasting any time, you wrap your arms around yourself in a soothing manner and storm off into your room, refusing to break down in front of a stranger.

You wanted to make a good impression so badly but it was just too soon.

Yoongi swiftly shook Hyejin off of him to follow you but was pulled back by a strong arm. Taehyung.

He glares at the taller man before yanking his arm back, continuing after you.

Before you could slam and lock your door like a petulant child, Yoongi blocks it with his foot, "Stop."

"I don't want to talk to you." You assert.

"Then don't. Just listen to me." He suggests. More like demands. His face was stoic as ever with maybe a hint of discomfort and remorse now.

"Please?"

Outside, in the living room, Heyjin and Taehyung awkwardly lingered.

Taehyung breaks the silence, "You just had to do this now, didn't you?"

Hyejin doesn't reply but gives him a pointed look.

As much as she trusts Yoongi, she doesn't trust you and Yoongi locked in a room together. She noticed way too much passion for two people who've broken up.

Unfortunately having crossed way too many boundaries already, she can't help but just wait.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ rose blood by mazzy star ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: fuck tumblr for posting my half-baked chapter im literally so fucking annoyed i had to redo all the changes but it's whatever!

exhales

and i am still sorry for the delay! please let me know what you think; love it, hate it, can't stand it, can't live without it? tell me! bec i wanna hear all about it

(anf did you catch a subtle Gilmore girls reference 😋)

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neechees · 2 years ago

Note

Can it be one of your characters? How about Storm Woman?

Sure!!

Landscape by Florence & the Machine!

(Send ♫ + a character name & I'll give you a song that reminds me of them, give me two names for a ship song)

#oc;; storm woman #seraphimguts #justin and friends

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wintaerbaer · 1 year ago

Text

seven storms (jjk) (m)

summary: As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: forbidden love, angst, a bit of fluff, also a bit of smut

word count: 9.0k

warnings: ambiguous time periods, oc’s mom passed away when she was a child, parental strain and turbulent relationships, it’s not explicitly stated but bang sihyuk is oc’s dad, find the ‘seven’ reference, BRIEF SMUT (in the form of missionary, cowgirl, and implied unprotected, which you should not do)

a/n: this one is for the obs discord server, who came up with this plot and then flattered me until i agreed to write it lol

MASTERLIST // Read on ao3

It begins with a clap of thunder.

The dark clouds had rolled in quickly during your morning ride, the rain holding off on its looming descent even as the wind picks up and throws strands of hair across your face. You try to cling to every minute you have left before the downpour, savoring your alone time and the peaceful quiet of the morning. It may even be worth getting a little wet, you think as you watch the new stable hand effortlessly sling a bay of hale over his shoulder, for the chance to savor every moment of your daily ritual before the weather inevitably forces you back inside.

You love the simple pleasures of fresh air and the soft rustle of the grass.

Jungkook glances at you from afar as he continues his work, and even at this range, you can see his muscles shifting under the fabric of his shirt. It’s been roughly a month since your father hired him to tend the stable on your family’s estate, and while he hasn’t been unpleasant, giving you a friendly but silent nod each day as you prepare for your ride, he’s mostly kept his distance.

Today, however, is a different story entirely as a boom sounds out above your head. Your horse, a young stallion named Bam who is still being broken, startles at the noise and begins to nervously pace, tamping down the dirt under his hooves. The reins wrap tighter around your fingers as you attempt to take firmer control, but when a second crack emanates through the sky, the horse begins to buck in an attempt to throw you off.

The laws of physics cease to exist, time simultaneously speeding up and slowing down as you work to maintain your balance, clenching your muscles around the horse's back. A particularly violent whip of his head rips the reins free, and all you can do is try to flatten yourself to his back and hold on for dear life.

A pair of unfamiliar hands shoots into your peripheral vision, stroking firmly at the stallion's head and neck until he's easing back down, his erratic motions steadying until you can safely sit back up and face your rescuer.

"Are you alright?" His eyes scan your body for injury, moving from your face all the way down to your toes and back up.

You use the time to perform your own appraisal. The first thing you notice is that while he had immediately struck you as handsome when you first saw him around the property, he’s even more attractive up close: all soft eyes, perfect lips, and a tiny scar on his cheek that only adds to his allure. Add to that strong arms, broad shoulders, and a section of clearly-chiseled chest peeking out of his shirt, and you have to admit to yourself that you’re already halfway gone.

“Y/N?” His eyebrows dip as he frowns, clearly suspecting some kind of head injury as a result of your silence.

“You know my name.”

His expression turns quizzical at your bizarre answer. “I work for you. Of course I know your name.”

“You work for my father.”

“And you by extension.”

Your spine stiffens with rebellion. “I have no interest in bossing men around.”

“Why not?” He taps his knuckles on the saddle. “I see you come out to ride every morning. I could certainly tack up a horse for you in advance.”

“Because I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

His perfect lips curl at the edges. “I don’t doubt that.”

Your heart stutters a rhythm behind your ribcage, voice muted by the appearance of a dimple that dips into his left cheek. It’s not often you find yourself speechless, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it has you on the brink of a flight response; you begin to gently guide your horse back towards the stable, Jungkook walking at your side. To your surprise, he doesn’t stay quiet.

“So how long have you been riding?”

You peek down at him, but he’s not looking at you as he scratches the stallion under his muzzle. “Since I was five,” you say. “My father arranged for private instruction after my mother died. Thought I could use the distraction.”

You figured he already knew about your mother’s passing due to her absence from the estate, and his unfazed expression seems to confirm as much. Still, in a gentle voice he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t make her sick.” Another low rumble echoes through the sky, but Jungkook is prepared, already smoothing his hand over the Bam’s neck again. “What about you? How long have you worked with horses?”

He chuckles, and your belly warms. “Since before I could walk. I grew up on a ranch. Have probably spent more time around horses than people—not that I’m complaining.” A shrug pulls his shirt tight across his bulging shoulders. “Animals are better company, in my opinion.”

“You say while striking up conversation with a stranger.”

Pink blooms on his cheeks, but, to his credit, he recovers quickly. “Beautiful women are the exception.”

Heat rises to your own face, and you choose to ignore his comment as much as it has butterflies taking off behind your bellybutton. “I understand what you mean though. That’s why I’m out here every day.”

“You like the outdoors?”

“Very much,” you say. “The smell of the wind, the feeling of the sunshine on my skin and the earth under my shoes. I like to ride down to the sunflower fields and watch how they turn themselves towards the light. There’s a strange sense of kinship there.” You’re not sure what drives you to share all this with a man you’ve just met, but the way he nods along as if he agrees sets your heart at ease. “And the horses are, in fact, good company.”

He laughs again, tipping his head back to look at you. His dark hair brushes his forehead, jaw cutting so sharp a line that the temptation immediately hits to trace it with either your fingers or lips—you’re not sure which. You don’t even care if you’ll bleed.

It strikes you at that moment that you’re in a world of trouble.

The skies open up, the rain instantly pouring down in fat drops as you briskly rush your horse the rest of the way into the stable, Jungkook hot on your heels. You dismount once you’re inside and begin to untack the stallion, moving the reins up and over so you can remove the bridle first. Jungkook quickly steps in to help unhitch the saddle, and while you’d normally be inclined to make a fuss about how you can handle your own gear, you find that you much enjoy his quiet companionship. You like watching the way his gentle hands artfully work to simultaneously manage the equipment and relax the horse, giving the sense that he’s offering assistance only because he loves his work and not to patronize you as a woman (you’ve seen one too many men try to step in because they believe you to be incompetent).

Once Bam has been settled into his stall, you turn back to your companion and are met with big brown eyes already gazing at you, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“Thank you for your help today,” you say. “I may be an experienced rider, but that also means I know enough to understand that you likely saved me from an injury earlier. So thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He looks suddenly subdued, nervous now without the horse as a buffer. “And if I may be forward, I hope I made a good first impression. I wouldn’t want a beautiful woman like yourself to think I overstepped.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned beautiful women now. You speak with them a lot?”

“Not recently,” he says, dimple making another appearance. “Only one.” His voice drops a decibel, flirtation giving way to sincerity. “But truly, I do just like to help. I am sure you are perfectly capable, but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we always need to do it alone. If I can help ease a burden, then I would like to do so.”

Warmth floods through you like the rain currently running off the roof, and before you can even think about it any further, you find yourself nodding. “Very well.”

The smile he gives you brightens your day more than a hundred miles of sunflower fields ever could.

“I won’t keep you then.” He begins walking backwards towards the troughs where most of the horses have currently congregated. “But I do very much look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

You do, too. And when you show up to the stable the next morning (and the next, and the next), you already have a horse saddled up for you, a single sunflower resting on the seat.

Raindrops clatter in endless sheets off the metal roof of the stable, the ringing sound blending with the blasts of thunder and lightning overhead to mask your groans as Jungkook steadily thrusts into you.

It’s been three months since your flirtation culminated in you asking him to join you for a ride one morning.

Three months since he accompanied you down to the sunflower fields, pulled you into their depths, and kissed you like his life depended on it.

Three months since the rain became your closest friend, providing you the cover you need for your more intimate moments—such as this evening when you’d arrived at the stables to find him laying down a fresh layer of straw, the flex of his arm insisting that you needed him now.

The patter of the rain ensures his moans are for your ears and your ears alone.

“Do you think the horses mind?” he mumbles into the sensitive skin of your neck as he presses even deeper into you and steals your breath, his hands cupping your ass as he grinds his hips.

“I doubt it,” you gasp, digging your nails into his back. “They’ve kept secrets for me before.”

He laughs, and you relish in the feel of the vibration of his chest pressed to yours, as if the sound is being passed directly from his lungs to your heart. “Am I your secret then?”

“My favorite secret.”

He pulls back to look at you then with wide eyes. You don’t know when it happened, when he became the absolute center of your universe, but you also know that you’ve never been this happy in your life, never felt as whole as you do with him. So you stare at him right back, absorb every angle of his face as he brushes the hair away from your eyes and kisses you with an unusual delicacy in comparison to the rough pace of his hips.

“I love you.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, but your blood heats as if the words are brand new.

He rises up above you then, leans back so he can bend your knees to your chest and pound into you in earnest, and you’d swear the roof has disappeared and you can see every star in the sky. Galaxies swirl, planets align, and it’s not long before you’re falling over the edge and he’s following you with a deep groan—a harmony to the thunder that surrounds you.

The two of you collapse into a heap, and he pulls you into his side, your cheek pressed to his still-heaving chest. It’s serene, the consonance of his breathing alongside the tapping of the rain and the occasional snuffle from the horses.

“So, the horses are keeping secrets for you, huh?” It’s a quiet question, vulnerable as he gazes at you with tender devotion. The same stars you saw minutes ago twirl in his eyes. “Can I be told one?”

“Are you a horse?”

A breath of a laugh: “Well you’ve certainly ridden me before.”

He has a point there.

You hum to yourself as you think before asking, “What is your dream?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours.”

Calloused fingers trace patterns on your hip, a faraway look taking over his expression as he envisions some distant future. “To own my own farm,” he says. “I want to be my own boss. No more having to serve others.” A smile dances at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d be able to provide for my family—have a few kids and teach them the ropes, just like my dad did with me.”

Your brow dips in confusion. “You won’t inherit your father’s farm?”

“No, it’ll go to my older brother.” He squeezes your hip on a sigh. “If I want my own farm, it’s up to me to earn it.”

“You’ll do it,” you say, and you believe it with every fiber of your heart. “I know you will. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

It’s not a lie by any stretch. You’ve spent plenty an afternoon telling your father that you’re going to read out on the veranda as it gives you an inconspicuous way to watch Jungkook work. He’s diligent, tireless, and you’ve often used the need to bring him water as an excuse to go down and spend time with him, seeing the sweat drip off his forehead as he single-handedly trains and cares for the horses.

His eyes become glassy, a gruff clearing of his throat as he pushes the tears back and grazes his lips over yours in a gentle kiss instead. “Thank you.” But before you can deepen the kiss and distract him, he shifts ever so slightly away, a glint in his eye. “Now you.”

You puff a sigh into his chest—bold of you to think you’d be able to sneak one past such an observant stare. Still, your secrets don’t usually come forth easily, buried deep within the cavity of your ribcage so even you don’t have to dwell on them too long.

Something about those doe eyes, though, render you ever vulnerable.

“Mine is similar to yours. I want to be my own boss.”

His brows pull together. “No one would expect a lady like you to work.”

“Not for a job, for my life,” you say, irritation forcing the words from your lips now. “I don’t want my father to dictate the path my life takes. I want to choose it, whatever it is, for myself. To be in charge of my own fate.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, teeth dipping into his lower lip as he considers your words. It’s something else you’ve grown to love about him, the way he stops and thinks before he reacts. So unlike your father who has always been nothing but big emotions and snap judgments.

“What would you choose?” is the question he eventually comes out with, and the pads of his fingers trace the jut of your hipbone like he’s memorizing it.

Well that’s another matter entirely. “I don’t know. Just not what my father wants for me.”

“And what would that be?”

“To marry one of the rich dandies in town,” you blurt, and his hands still. “That’s always been the expectation that’s been set since I was a girl—that my family would arrange a suitable match for me.” You’re practically spitting now, anger simmering through you. “Suitable, of course, meaning wealthy.”

“Is that so bad?” He asks it quietly, insecurity poorly masked in the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. “Some people would do almost anything to be in your position.”

You scoff. “There’s more to life than money.”

“Like what?”

“Fresh air, sunshine, the smell of the morning dew.” You tap his chest with everything you list off, as if they’re all housed within the framework of his torso. “The sound of the rain bouncing off windows, the bright yellow of sunflowers after their first bloom, watching a foal get its legs under it for the first time. Love.” You press your hand to his heart with that one, feeling the strong beat of it under your palm. “That’s the greatest thing.”

He snags your fingers, bringing them to his lips and kissing each one in succession before his hand slips into your hair so he can join his mouth with yours. The kiss is slow, thorough, his tongue trailing along your lower lip with determination as he drags you across his body until you’re straddling him.

“You’re right about that,” he murmurs before gripping your waist tightly so he can push back into you, the rain pouring on and on.

“No!”

Your father stands up so suddenly that his chair topples over with a crash, Jungkook sitting across from him wearing a look of even-keeled surprise; his eyes widen a fraction, but his overall posture remains resolved and confident.

“You dare have the audacity to even ask—“ He chokes on his words, spit flying from the edges of his lips, before pointing a finger towards where you stand stunned in the corner. “And you! You’ve been fraternizing with this riffraff? After everything I’ve taught you? Everything I did to raise you? You go and choose to associate with this—this—“ You’re worried his eyes might fall out of his head with the way they bulge as he grasps for a word, vein in his neck visibly thumping as he finds it. “Lowlife!”

“You’re wrong!” you scream as Jungkook continues to sit quietly at the dinner table. You’ll be damned if you’d just stand by and allow him to be spoken about in that way. “He’s an incredible man. He works hard, he’s respectful, and he loves me, Father. Not because of my money, but because I’m me.” Your steps echo off of the tall, looming arches of the ceiling as you move closer to Jungkook. “And I love him.”

“No, no, absolutely not. You’re only twenty years old. You don’t even know what love is,” your father barks before turning his beady eyes on Jungkook again. “You’ll never marry my daughter. You do not have my permission nor my blessing. That’s final.”

“Father—“

“You’re also fired,” he spits. “You can say goodbye and that’s the end of it. I want you off my property.” Then he’s storming out of the dining room, leaving you and Jungkook in heavy silence.

It’s only a handful of seconds before Jungkook is rising to his feet and striding from the room and out the front door, you hot on his heels. The steady drizzle soaks your clothes in a matter of moments, but you don’t even feel the way they cling to your skin, focused solely on the man in front of you.

“Jungkook!” you call, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t turn to face you until you manage to grab ahold of his hand and tug.

You thought he’d be distressed, angry, perhaps even crying. Instead, you’re met with intensity, a fierce determination simmering under the warm brown of his irises as his gaze bores into yours and almost has you faltering.

“Jungkook, I…” You wring your hands in front of you, watch the rain run in rivulets off the ends of his hair. “We can make it through this. I can convince him—“

“You can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “Then we’ll run away together! I’ll come with you and we’ll—“

“No, Y/N.” He stills the frantic movements of your hands with his own, drawing you towards the warmth of his body until you’re nearly chest-to-chest. “I have no savings right now, no way to support the two of us. We’d be out on the street in a matter of days.” He shakes his head, brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “No. You need to stay here for now. But this isn’t the end of us, I swear to you. I am going to work myself to the bone—until I have nothing left to give. Until I can buy my own farm, my own house, and give you everything you need.” Your foreheads press together, drops of water clinging to his lips and drawing your eye as he speaks. “I will provide for you someday, love you to the best of my ability. Just give me time.”

The heavens open above you, the relentless downpour backed by the cacophony of the skies as you finally move to kiss him. He tastes of rainwater and sweat, the fragrant aroma of sunflowers and nights spent tangled together in the stables. You savor the feel of his lips against yours, commit to memory the way his tongue begs for entrance, the way you grant it with a groan that feels like both a prayer and a curse.

With a final, resounding crack, he’s pulling away as you cling to the rough skin of his fingertips until the very last fraction of a second, arms stretched to their absolute limit. And when he turns his back on you, shirt plastered to his skin, you’d swear you can hear the horses raging in the stable, the rumble of hooves and agitated whinnies ringing in your ears long after he’s disappeared from view.

The first letter comes on a Wednesday roughly six week later, written on carefully folded parchment paper in small, neat handwriting. It surprises you, coming from a man who spends all day tending horses and tossing around hay bales. You receive the letter from the carrier quietly, rushing it up to your room and waiting to read until the concealment of night has fallen and you’re confident your father has gone to bed.

My Love,

I must admit that I am not quite sure how long it has been since I last saw you. Perhaps only a handful of weeks, surely, but every hour, minute, and second has felt like an eternity. I miss you, sweetheart. I miss the sound of your laugh. I miss the way you’d look each morning, strolling down from the house with a bounce in your step and the early sunshine bouncing off of your hair. Or perhaps you are just that radiant. I would believe it, you know, that light emits from your very smile, and I know I feel warmer whenever I am around you.

Look at me; look at the man you've turned me into. I've always considered myself a simple being, glad to indulge in the dirt and physical labors of the outdoors, and yet you have me waxing poetic like one of the men in those romance novels you would always pretend to read on the veranda. (Yes, my dear, I noticed. Your stares are not so subtle.) I am lovesick, homesick, and it’s all because of you. Because my life truly began the day I looked up and saw Bam struggling with you on his back and just knew I had to help you (tell that dear beast that I miss him by the way).

Now, I must live my life forlorn, but not without purpose. Please know that I am doing everything in my power to get back to you, and I will not rest until I am holding you in my arms again. I have secured a job at a ranch several towns over; it’s good work with decent pay, and every cent that does not go towards the barest necessities is being saved for us. One day, my love. One day we will have a house and a farm, and I will be able to love you openly, with no need for secrets or the cover of rain.

In the meantime, just know how terribly I miss you, and though we are separated by distance, I hold you in my heart each day. On my way each morning from my lodgings to the ranch, I pass by a field of sunflowers. I know it cannot possibly be true, but it feels like every golden face turns towards me as I go, and darling, I’d swear I see you in every one.

One day, my love.

Until then, always yours,

J.K.

It becomes something of a ritual: while you used to spend your days out on the veranda pretending to read so that you could watch Jungkook from afar, you now settle on the front porch with a book each afternoon in the hopes of catching the local mail carrier. Jungkook’s letters come slowly but consistently every couple of weeks, and each time a letter does arrive, you spend the night drafting your own by candlelight to send back to him.

He tells you about his new job, how he’s working on a larger farm now with several other laborers. The veterans are kind to him and teaching him a lot, he says, and it eases the ache in your heart a fraction to know that he seems happy where he is and well taken care of. You write back about your favorite books that you’ve been reading and how the horses have been (you insist that you can tell Bam misses Jungkook too). But both of your letters are saturated with sentiments of love and how dearly you miss each other, reminding yourselves that every day that passes is one day closer to you two being reunited, whenever that may be.

Your father, meanwhile, proceeds as if Jungkook never existed, hiring a new stable hand who begins his work mere days after Jungkook has left. This man is middle aged, gray already streaking through his hair, and you can’t help but feel it’s a deliberate choice on your father’s part lest you fall for another lowly laborer. And though you know it is not his fault, you barely speak with the man outside of a few curt pleasantries when you go for your ride each morning.

You persist in your morning rides out of habit, but you find that they don’t bring you the same kind of joy that they used to. The grass isn’t quite as green, the air is often stifling, and the sunflowers droop where they used to stand tall against the blue skies. On one day, roughly six months after Jungkook’s firing, you’re once again forced back inside early due to rain, the storm dampening your already dreary mood. It takes a turn for the worst when you hear your father call your name the moment you step in the door and plummets entirely off a cliff when you trudge into the dining room to see a man sitting at the table.

Seokjin is not entirely unfamiliar to you—your families run in the same circles after all—but he is ultimately little more than a stranger, the two of you having only exchanged a handful of polite words at dinner parties and the like. All that you truly know of him is that he is the heir to the wealthiest trading company on this side of the country and that his father is expected to transition the entire operation to him over the next few years.

Even so, Seokjin greets you with a sense of intimate familiarity, standing at your approach and brushing his lips against the back of your hand before you can stop him.

“A pleasure to see you, Y/N, as always.”

You know that social etiquette requires you to return the sentiment, but instead, you find yourself looking between Seokjin and your father, trying to figure out his purpose here.

“What is going on?”

Your father grimaces at your rudeness but opts to ignore it. “Seokjin has come here with a rather exciting opportunity, Y/N, if you would take a seat and listen to him.”

However, you remain standing, spine stiff and wary eyes shifting to the man in front of you with his finely tailored clothes and perfectly combed hair. He, for what it’s worth, doesn’t cower under your stony gaze, maintaining an air of utmost confidence as he states, “Y/N, I would like for you to marry me.”

“No.”

Your answer is immediate and blunt, coming so quickly that Seokjin barely reacts—only the tiniest dip of his mouth as if he doesn’t believe he heard you correctly. But your father leaps to his feet, face red with shock and frustration.

“Y/N, you sit down and listen to the man.”

“I don’t need to listen,” you snap. “My answer is no.”

Seokjin registers your words then, face morphing into a deep frown of disbelief as your father hurries to intervene, grabbing you around the arm to pull you out of the dining room and turning on you the moment you are out of earshot.

“Insolent girl! That man will soon be one of the most powerful in the country—nay, the world! Do you understand the opportunity he is offering you? The life he is offering? How dare you refuse him!”

“Whatever life he is offering is one I want no part of,” you argue, pulling your arm from his grasp to wrap them across your chest. “I have no interest in being married to a man like that. I want to be with someone who loves me.”

He goes deathly still for a moment, drawing connections in his head until you see the moment the realization hits him. “This is about that lousy stable boy, isn’t it?”

You say nothing, only hug yourself tighter and try to swallow down the sudden lump in your throat.

“That’s it, yes? You’re still holding onto some hope that he will come back for you and what? The two of you will go off and live in some hovel? What could he possibly offer you?” he snarls. “No, Y/N. That vermin is gone. You have a chance—a real chance—at a future here, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw it away for the idea of some lower class scum.”

As his words sink in, a chill passes through your body that’s quickly replaced with a white-hot anger, your hands dropping to your sides as you straighten your back in defiance.

“Whether Jungkook returns or not,” you assert, “please be assured that I will never, ever, marry one of your suitors. I will die before I become a mere pawn for your business deals.”

Your father stares at you incredulously, eyes practically bursting from his head. “Business deals? I am looking out for you. So that you can live the luxurious life a child of mine deserves.”

“The life I deserve is the one which I want,” you exclaim. “And these rich dullards are not it.”

Final word given, you spin on your heel in emphasis and march off to your room, leaving your father to clumsily patch things up in the dining hall with a humbled and deeply befuddled Seokjin.

The letters stop two years in.

A month passes, then two, then three before you begin to really worry. Another four gone in a blink before you start to consider that you may never actually hear from him again.

For a while, you continue to write to him, thinking that at the very least, if he’s moved to a new job, someone from his old ranch may forward them along if they know where he’s gone to. But after a year of silence transpires, the mail carrier shaking his head at you each day as you rush to meet him outside your house, true dread sets in.

Your address hasn’t changed, which means that he’s stopped writing to you for some reason. Is it possible that he’s moved on? Met another woman perhaps and chosen to settle down? Or…could it be something worse? Your mind hesitates to even go down this path, the terror seeping into your bones, but the thought creeps in late at night when you’re at your most vulnerable that something may have happened to him. Work accidents, illness—any number of dangerous things could have taken him from you without you even knowing. Then again, he sounded healthy in his final letter to you, no word at all of him being ill, and you’d like to think he would’ve arranged for someone to contact you if some tragedy had befallen him.

You conclude, then, that he must have given up. And really, after years of hoping for a shift, for some change in fortune for your futures, you cannot entirely blame him. If anything, you just wish you had seen the signs sooner, sensed some kind of shift in tone that would have prepared you for his sudden silence. His last letter, though, had been much of the same—more updates on his ranching job mixed in with poetic phrases about his love for you. You read it endlessly, poring over the words for some indication that his feelings for you had waned, sitting huddled in a hidden corner of the stables as rain pounds down against the tin roof. Instead, it just makes your heart ache to remind you of love found and lost, his final words haunting you as time continues to drag on to your dismay.

As the months tick by, you keep your promise to your father, steadfastly refusing each suitor that comes to call for you: Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, and even Min Yoongi, who shows up in your dining room every evening for a fortnight before finally accepting your refusal. Meanwhile, you move through your days as if by design, going through the motions without feeling like you’re actually alive. Food is tasteless, your books void of thought, and the skies have certainly lost their color. You find that you actually prefer rainy days now, often taking walks through the drizzle and allowing the droplets of water to slide over your skin and caress you as he once did. Sometimes, it almost makes you feel as if he’s there beside you—memories of thunder and slick kisses enveloping your thoughts and soaking you from the inside out.

No fewer than seven years pass this way, with you haunting the premises of your home while your father begins to complain about you becoming a leech and a burden. You begin to question it yourself, wondering if it may be too much to waste away like this, when, three days after your twenty-seventh birthday, a discovery has you running from your father’s house and never looking back.

It’s another dreary, rainy day, and you, wanting to soak in the full effect of the emblematic weather as it pertains to your mood, have once again parked yourself on the front porch with a book. Your father passed you on his way out earlier, casting a scathing look that you didn’t even bother to grant any attention—you’ve long grown accustomed to his contempt and futile glares.

A little past midday, you glance up at the sound of a person approaching, their footsteps ricocheting off the front steps. Park Jimin comes to a halt under the porch’s cover, gazing at you curiously as if wondering why you are outside in this weather at all. However, if he finds your behavior strange, he doesn’t say anything, a choice which comes of no surprise to you. One of your father’s youngest business partners, you’ve always liked Jimin during the times that you’ve interacted with him. He’s quiet, polite, and has never made an attempt at courting you, always respecting the boundaries that many other young men have tried to cross over the years.

That being said, you’re inclined to at least offer him a greeting, acknowledging his presence with a mannered, “Hello, Mr. Park.”

“Good day,” he responds with a small bow in your direction. “Is your father at home?”

“No, he had to attend a business meeting with Mr. Kim this morning.” You frown as his face falls, a touch of panic widening his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

A delicate finger rises to rub at his temple. “Ah, I’m supposed to be finalizing a contract with Hybe Trading Company later this afternoon,” he says. “Your father told me to come pick up the documents beforehand.”

“He may be back soon,” you guess. Your father didn’t give an indication of exactly when he would return, but you do know his meeting with Kim Taehyung wasn’t supposed to last all day.

“I may not be able to take that risk.” He chews at his lip, thinking. “Is it possible that he left the contracts for me somewhere? Might you be able to check?”

Your jaw drops a fraction at his request—you could count on one hand the number of times that you’ve been in your father’s office. “I don’t think—“

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin begs. “We can’t afford to lose this partnership.”

The desperation in his expression has you acquiescing, and so you lead him inside and tell him to wait in the entryway as you head to your father’s office on the second floor.

The room is arguably the grandest in the house, with magnificent windows that give a full view of the estate’s grounds and tall bookshelves packed with your father’s collection of texts. The finest rugs protect the hardwood under your feet, and at the center of the room sits a monstrous yet beautiful mahogany desk with a plush chair at its back.

You move to the desk first, skimming the documents scattered on top for something that has the trading company’s name on it. But all you see are invoices, shipping records, and maps of different trading routes marked with your father’s notes, and lightly shuffling through the papers comes up fruitless as well.

The first desk drawer you open contains a series of highly-organized ledgers, so you quickly move on to the second, which has the same. The third drawer reveals a reserve of desk and writing supplies, while the fourth, finally, contains a mess of paper.

You rummage through the clutter, still not finding anything that seems to be the contract Jimin is looking for, and are about to give up when a stack of letters buried at the back of the compartment has you freezing, the small, neat handwriting chilling you to the bone.

Pulling the stack out with shaking hands, you quickly realize that there are a few dozen, all postmarked no more than two months apart between each one. Collapsing backwards into the desk chair, you read frantically, quickly realizing just how wrong you were about Jungkook giving up on you:

My Dearest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you, but I pray your letters were simply lost in transit…

I’m incredibly pleased to let you know that I’ve received a promotion. The owner of the farm, Mr. Lee, has taken a liking to me and has shifted me to a more considerable role with additional pay. I’m saving every bit I can…

My Love, I miss you deeply. And while your silence pains me to no end, I hope it is a mere misunderstanding. If you do not wish to hear from me ever again, only say the word and I will stop writing to you and remove myself from your life entirely, albeit with a heavy heart…

I still have some ways to go, but my savings are increasing exponentially, and I am learning more than ever. Mr. Lee has been teaching me about the business side of things and helping me make connections. What a wonder to have a boss who fully supports your aspirations! He insists he will be able to help me in my endeavors, and call me naive, but I believe it to be true. Rest assured, love, that I am steadfastly working hard for you, for us, and for our future…

My Darling Y/N, my heart aches to not read your words and hear your thoughts. But since you have not yet rejected me outright, I can only assume that your silence is involuntary or that it comes with deep hesitation. Whatever the reason, please know that I love you, I miss you, and I am not giving up on us unless you tell me so…

And finally, the shortest letter dated almost year back:

Y/N,

I don’t have the words to describe my feelings so I will keep it brief: I did it. If this letter finds its way to you and you wish to find me, I eagerly await you at our home…

The location is scribbled in a tangle of text, his usually neat writing askew as if he was shaking when he wrote it, and the words land with the force of a thousand bricks in your chest—the weight of seven years apart, the agony of your separation, finally culminating in this revelation.

The door to the office bangs open, and you look up, heart already racing with the discovery of the letters, to see your father looming in the doorway, face painted with rage.

“What in the hell are you doing in my private office?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, storming across the room and shaking the final letter in his face. “What is this?!”

He pales a fraction as he registers what you’re holding before stepping further into the room and slamming the door shut. “I should have burned them,” he sneers. “I did what I did to protect you.”

“From what?” You wave your arms wildly, anger and adrenaline winding their way through your limbs. “From happiness? From a man who has spent years working hard to be able to provide for me?”

“I have worked hard to provide for you! And I will not see my legacy be thrown aside for some silly crush!”

Steeling yourself, you pull in a steadying breath for courage. “Then you won’t.”

“And what does that mean?” your father scoffs, trying to look dismissive and intimidating, yet seeming smaller than you’ve ever seen him.

“You won’t see any of it. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

Time stops for a moment, your declaration holding the air in the room hostage as your father fully absorbs your words.

“You ungrateful idiot girl!” your father suddenly exclaims. “After everything I’ve done for you? Fine then! Go live with the dogs, with the filth and slime you apparently love so dearly. I have had it with your thanklessness and impertinence and will be relieved to have you from my sight.” He steps into your personal space, pointing a finger directly at your face so close that you can feel the heat of his ire radiating off of his hand. “But know this: the second you step out of these doors, you will never be welcomed back. Never.”

You waste only two seconds longer, locked in a stubborn stare-down with your father before you rip your gaze away and tear from the room with Jungkook’s letters still in hand. Rushing to your room, you gather his other letters from your desk and stuff them into a bag along with the modest sum of money you had accumulated in case you ever needed to run.

And then you’re a bird in flight, sweeping down the stairs and out the door with nothing but a simple, “Good day, Mr. Park,” as you pass an absolutely bewildered Jimin in the front hall.

The rain is cold and heavy as it soaks through your clothes and hair almost immediately, but you barely feel it—the freedom in your heart and the scribbled location in your bag more than enough to keep you warm as you charge towards home.

The house is beautiful.

Modest, compared to the mansion you grew up in, sure. But arguably more beautiful—with a compact two stories, white wood, and neatly painted green shutters. There’s a wrap-around porch overlooking the acres upon acres of farmland, and even through the rain falling in sheets and blurring your vision, you spy two rocking chairs sitting side-by-side under the awning.

It’s been a long two weeks of journeying to get to this spot, relying on the kindness of strangers to help you navigate to the location Jungkook had written down. Now, standing at the end of the dirt path leading up to what is presumably your new home, you think that you would do it all again in a heartbeat. The past two weeks, the past seven years, all worth it to experience the hope currently blooming in your chest like the sunflowers you spent so much time admiring in the past.

You’re trudging up the path, the dirt and mud smearing along your shoes, when a darkened figure steps out from the fields to your right, hand raised in greeting.

“Good afternoon, miss. Are you lost? I—” He grinds to a halt like he’s walked straight into a brick wall, eyes wide and lips parted as he absorbs the sight of you soaked and disheveled on his property.

“Y/N?” he says it like a prayer, like he believes you’re some kind of hallucination—a phantom come to haunt him through the haze of rainy memories.

You stare at each other through the downpour, and you find yourself studying him, observing the changes that have taken place in the time you’ve been apart. He’s taller and broader than you remember, shoulders stretching wide and drawing your gaze down towards biceps that protrude below his drenched shirt. The lines of his face have sharpened with age—losing some of the youthful roundness that had endeared him to you so quickly—but he’s still starry-eyed as ever, the charming young man from your memories undoubtedly gazing back at you.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, and the spell is suddenly broken. You surge towards each other, meeting in the middle with a flash of lightning. Your arms go around his shoulders, and Jungkook pulls you into him so desperately and with so much force that he lifts you right off your feet, your mouths coming together with a heated urgency.

He’s everything you’ve dreamed of, every desperate memory you’ve been clinging to come back to life. And with every touch, every pass of his hands over your body, you feel yourself rapidly coming back to life too—joy making its way into your lungs and through your bloodstream for the first time since you were twenty years old and kissing this man in your family’s stables.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips when you finally part. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

“You have no idea–”

“I do. Jungkook, I do.”

“You stopped writing—”

“My father,” you rush to say. “He intercepted the letters. I thought you stopped writing. Thought you gave up—”

“Oh, my love, never.” His hands rise to cradle your face. “I never stopped thinking of you. Never stopped dreaming of this.” He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring every movement of his lips against yours.

You shudder against his chest, the thrill of your reunion rattling your nerves just as a cool wind blows through, and Jungkook pulls back with worry.

“You must be freezing,” he murmurs sweetly. “Come. Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

With an arm wrapped around your waist, as though he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hand on you, he guides you the rest of the way to the house, up the front porch steps, and through the front door.

“Welcome home,” Jungkook says.

You’re met first with the smell of pine and cinnamon and an impossibly comforting warmth. The first floor is comprised of a wide-open space, with a small kitchen and dining room to your left and a sitting room to your right that has tall windows and a fireplace that is currently roaring. You move around the room slowly, taking it all in, and when you notice the vase of bright sunflowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, you just about melt to the floor.

“I know it’s smaller than you’re used to,” he sheepishly mumbles from the doorway. “But we can expand in the future—”

“It’s perfect, Jungkook.” And it really is, every panel and floorboard evidence of how hard he’s worked, how fiercely your love has endured. “It’s absolutely perfect. I love every bit of it.”

He brightens at that, smile stretching wide. “I’m glad.”

“How did you find it?”

“Well, I bought the property after finally saving enough money. Mr. Lee helped me with the buying process.” He shrugs. “And then I built this.”

You freeze, absolutely stunned. “You what?”

“I built it,” he says simply. “I had some help, of course. But the design is all mine.”

“I…you…” It makes your thoughts spin—the idea that he did all of this. He built a house for you.

“Here, look.” He takes your hand and pulls you into the living room, gesturing at a set of empty shelves against the back wall. “For your books.”

You laugh incredulously, fully overwhelmed at this point. “I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Then we’ll start you a new collection,” he says softly, drawing you towards him.

You reach up to trace his jaw, his brow, his cheekbones—memorizing every line of this beautiful man who dared to make your dreams a reality. “I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you. The things you’ve done.”

“All for you, my love.”

Your heart thumps a steady rhythm in your throat, love and the relief of finally—finally—having him in front of you overpowering your senses until all that exists is you and him; the strain of your former life feels worlds away.

Hands find his chest in a slow migration downwards as the chill of the rain gives way to the heat of the fireplace, and it’s not long before his large hands are wrapping around your hips, a darkness in his irises that wasn’t there a second ago.

“There’s an upstairs, too, I’m assuming?” you whisper, fingers teasing a button on his shirt.

“There is.” He swallows, and you watch the bob of his Adam’s apple like a lure. “Would you like to see it?”

You lean in, skimming your mouth below his without fully joining your lips. “Please.”

Tangling your fingers in his, he practically runs upstairs with you trailing in his wake.

Finally, you think, as he pulls your clothes from your body, climbs over you on the bed, and presses into you with such tender deliberation that you think you’ll combust.

Finally, as you spend the rest of the night wrapped up together, endlessly whispering I love yous back and forth.

Finally, as you wake up in his arms the next day, his face the first thing you see.

Finally, as he pulls out a small box at breakfast, the dainty diamond ring easily the most precious piece of jewelry you’ve ever possessed.

Finally, as he takes you out on the farm and shows you the small field of sunflowers he planted just for you.

Finally, you think, as you sit in one of the rocking chairs on the porch and watch him work from afar. I’m home.

Years Later…

“Mama! Mama look!”

You glance up from your book to where Jungkook and Haneul are currently journeying in the yard. It’s a bright sunny day—the wide expanse of blue sky above unmarred by even a single cloud. Sunshine beams down onto your son’s smiling face where he sits on the back of one of the horses, a too-big cowboy hat on his head and his father at his side for support.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” you call. “Just be sure to listen to Papa!”

Jungkook flashes you a grin, the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He’s been talking about teaching Haneul to ride since the day he was born, so you know this means a great deal to him, especially seeing your son’s own energy and enthusiasm. Haneul has always liked the “horsies,” toddling happily around the stables ever since he could walk.

Then again, given who his parents are, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Jungkook and Haneul finish their loop around the yard, and you hear your husband shower the boy with praise as he lifts him off of the horse’s back.

“Again, again!” Haneul cheers, bouncing in place and causing Jungkook to laugh.

“We will! Just let me check on your mother first.”

He moves comfortably, leisurely as he climbs the porch steps and comes to a rest in front of where you sit. Looming over you, he leans in until he can press a gentle kiss to your lips, reverent in his motions.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. His fingers brush lightly over your belly and its new curve.

“I’m alright,” you say, guiding his hand until his palm is resting flat. “This one is kicking up a storm though.”

As if on cue, you feel a tiny jolt—Jungkook giving a breathless chuckle as he feels the jab himself.

“Go easy on your mother,” he says in the direction of your stomach, rubbing a soft circle into your flesh. “No storms. Clear skies and sunshine.” Then his eyes are back on your face. “Speaking of, I have something for you.”

He reaches behind his back and produces a single sunflower, tucking it behind your ear before giving you one more kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.” More than the day you met him. More than the day he left. And more than the day you finally made your way here.

“Now I should get back to Haneul before he starts yelling for me.”

You laugh out the brightest sound that’s ever come from your lungs. “Go.”

A warm breeze ripples through the trees, the sound of your son’s giggles and Jungkook’s cheerful exclamations finding their way back to where you sit.

What a beautiful day, you think, setting down your book and getting up to join your family in the golden sunshine.

a/n: thanks for reading! pls don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you enjoyed!

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

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shy-writer-999 · 5 months ago

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Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Warnings: MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: Part One is tame angst and pure plot (no smut), ~5,400 words. Part Two will have all the smut, so stick around for that. I have a fascination with the idea of Zoro pining over you in secret and getting flustered and embarrassed about it. In this fic, Zoro’s ego gets bruised and you comfort him. You both get drunk and Zoro runs his mouth too much. It’s a slow burn like my last fic and will also end with smut (◡‿◡✿) Plz note that the reader is sort of giving OC, she (you) gives a brief description of ‘losing’ her virginity to some guy from ‘back home’.

TW: Alcohol abuse – Zoro blacks out; also if you have emetophobia maybe skip this one? There's a brief nod to the usual hangover symptoms.

Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Word on the ship was that Zoro was still a virgin. It had slipped out somehow, maybe in a game of spin the bottle or never-have-I-ever. But you learned about it secondhand when Sanji made fun of him for it, right in Zoro's face. Sanji said something crude, along the lines of "Zoro's just mad because his virgin ass has never gotten his dick wet."

Zoro was immediately livid. His face turned red and he snapped back with "Shut up Sanji, you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about. Fuck you." Genuinely upset, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. When Sanji and Zoro bickered it usually had an element of playfulness, casualness, genuine annoyance, yes, but... you weren't sure that Sanji had said anything this cruel and embarrassing before, outing something that Zoro was, obviously, uncomfortable with and most likely embarrassed by.

You were surprised, both by Zoro’s reaction and the simple fact itself. You had always assumed that Zoro got action wherever he went, I mean, look at him. To think that he had never felt the touch of a woman… you honestly couldn’t wrap your head around it. And you felt like a creep because you were intrigued by it. Truthfully, your intrigue was not arousal but rather an earnest desire to learn more about this man who you had been developing feelings for, for months.

The only person who knew about your feelings was Nami. As soon as Sanji made the remark and Zoro stormed out, you immediately looked at Nami, and she glanced at you at the same time. It was like you exchanged a thought or read each other’s minds, one of those unspoken moments with your best friend across the room. It was a “what the fuck?” moment, a split second, but you knew that Nami would want you to go after Zoro and try to comfort him somehow.

You loved Sanji like a brother, but sometimes he could be a real asshole. “Nice one, Sanji,” you said sardonically, dead-pan and annoyed. “I think that was over the line this time.” You stared him down coldly. He immediately jumped to self-defense, but you waved your hand and told him to “can it,” as you exited onto the deck to see if Zoro was doing okay. You had no idea what you would say to him to make him feel better and you were sure that anything you said would come off as corny and patronizing, but you were damned well going to try. After all, it seemed like no one on the ship could talk about these things with Zoro except for you. There was something about you that made him open up, show a softer side, share things that he would otherwise have kept to himself.

Zoro was nowhere to be seen on deck, so that left only one option. You climbed up to the crow’s nest where he was sitting, scowling, and looking out over the open ocean. He was clearly mulling over Sanji’s comment in his head, turning it over and examining it from different angles, sitting in the embarrassment and trying to figure out why he felt so much shame. He never had put much energy into women, had no urge to ‘lose’ his virginity, as if that was an actual object that one could lose (he scoffed at the thought).

For a long time, Zoro felt like he wasn’t missing out on anything—as far as women were concerned, he couldn’t be asked. But in the past few months he had been feeling differently, no thanks to you. That’s why when he saw you climb into the crow’s nest after suffering that embarrassment from Sanji, he muttered fuck to himself and scowled even harder.

“Spare me the embarrassment,” he grumbled, turning his face away from you. He was starting to blush, but you didn’t notice it.

“That got you pretty worked up, huh?” You sat down on the floor near to him, cocking your head so you could peer more into his face, inspecting his impression, which he obviously did not feel like sharing.

Your observation was met with a terse silence.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. He turned to meet your eyes as your tone shifted and you were caught off guard by how vulnerable and tortured his expression was. “It’s not a big deal. No one on the crew cares or thinks any less of you. Sanji was just trying to get under your skin, he didn’t mean to be cruel or malicious. You know he loves you like a brother.”

Zoro sighed and rested his head in his hands. “I know. I don’t know why I let that jackass piss me off so much… I guess he struck a nerve. I- I’ve been feeling… I don’t fucking know. I guess I’ve been feeling kind of... self-conscious about it, recently…” He trailed off. You were shocked by his candor. You were used to him being honest and more vulnerable with you, but this was more than you had been expecting. He was truly opening up to you. You had never seen him show an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity before.

“Yeah?” You prompted, feeling like he had more that he wanted to say. He turned to you again.

“I never really gave a shit about this kind of stuff before, y’know? I’ve got other stuff to keep me busy. But… recently… I don’t know.” He sighed.

You nodded in response. Zoro was a man of few words when it came to emotional vulnerability, and you could tell that the conversation was coming to a close.

“Well, Zoro, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I was kind of a late bloomer so… I get it.” You looked at him carefully. “Let’s grab a drink later, ‘kay?” He nodded, and that was it.

You didn’t know that you were the main reason Zoro had been reflecting on being a ‘virgin’ (he hated that word). Talking to you about it made him feel some sort of way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something inside of him twisted a little bit when you had looked into his eyes so seriously and with so much care. He tried to shrug it off and went back to cursing Sanji in his head, avoiding the actual dilemma he was facing, choosing escapism and mentally berating Sanji instead.

---

That night, you and Zoro cracked open a few bottles of sake, as promised. You had done this countless times in the past and nothing weird or unexpected happened except a few lingering glances that you both played off. But tonight it seemed like Zoro was drinking more than usual. You got the impression that he was drinking away his sorrows or drinking to forget about how genuinely upset he had been earlier in the day.

You were matching his drinks, as you sometimes did, just for fun. It felt like a kind of silly competition between you two sometimes. But keeping up tonight was hard, you were already getting a stomachache and could feel the dehydration creeping in… you knew the hangover was going to be a monster.

When he got drunk drunk, Zoro could become callous, rude, sarcastic, kind of an ass. He never really sent that in your direction, it was frequently towards Sanji, sometimes Usopp, Luffy, even Nami, if he really was going crazy. It was your least favorite characteristic about him; it was concerning, and it was a huge turn-off. But usually it wasn’t too bad, only mildly annoying. At worst, it gave you a sort of mini-ick.

Tonight was shaping up to be one of those nights, had it not taken an unexpected left turn. You and Zoro were the only crew members drinking, and everyone else was doing their own thing. It was dusk, warm outside, and the stars overhead were already breathtaking. You found yourselves back in the crow’s nest. This was honestly Zoro’s safe space—the isolation gave him peace of mind.

Zoro was laying on his side, with his head propped up on one arm, leisurely facing you. You had been bickering and talking over silly things for a couple hours at this point, like tidbits of sword-making history, or how much meat you’ve seen Luffy eat at once. After a lull in conversation, Zoro finally broached what had been on his mind all day, a nagging thought at the back of his head that he knew that he shouldn’t ask, but he grew bolder as he got drunker. And he was getting drunker.

“Hey, Y/N,” he began. “When did you lose your virginity?”

That was really out of the blue. You were shocked by the question, not expecting it at all. You two had never talked about anything like this. Oftentimes it was Sanji crossing the line and you telling him to fuck off. But for Zoro to go there…? Weird. He was presumably just wondering about it since you said you were a late bloomer too, and you guessed he must be seeking validation. After all, he was obviously embarrassed about the whole thing. A little reassurance and sincerity couldn’t hurt.

“Well, uh…” You hesitated. “I actually had sex for the first time a couple years ago.” That was enough of an answer, right? No point in oversharing.

“What was that like?” He got bolder, locking eyes with you. He was certainly drunk, and you were too. But beyond that, you felt the vibe shift and his eyes seemed more intense. Your voice got caught in your throat for a second. He probably was just seeking some reassurance, right? Everyone always talked about how they had a horrible first time, I’m sure he’s looking for more confirmation or something like that because he’s insecure… you said to yourself.

“Oh, uh… It wasn’t the best first time but also not the worst. It wasn’t as bad as everyone kind of makes their first time seem, if you know what I mean? It was with some guy from my hometown, we grew up together. Kind of like a childhood crush, boy-next-door type of vibe.”

Zoro felt a pang of jealousy. The alcohol pushed him deeper into a grave of embarrassment, rash behavior, and unspoken boundary breaking that he was about to start digging.

“Lucky guy.” He murmured, barely audible, as he shifted onto his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, now staring straight up. You could see him exhale, jaw clenching.

Wait, what did he just say? ‘Lucky guy’?

You had no idea how to respond to that. He seemed to be implying that the man you slept with was lucky. And why would that be?

An unsure “What?” escaped your lips. It was purely a reflex, you weren’t expecting a real answer, you figured he was going to laugh it off, you heard him wrong, something like that. This was like really out of character for him, at least in your experience. You had honestly wondered if he was asexual sometimes because he just never said stuff like this and had never talked about it to anyone on crew. To hear him ask about this sort of thing after all this time was surprising. Maybe there was a side to him that you never knew.

Without hesitation, Zoro responded immediately, doubling down. “I said, lucky guy.” He turned and looked at you and blush quickly flooded your face. He wasn’t smiling, and his gaze was bold and almost piercing, so… it wasn’t a joke. Unless it was? If he was fucking with you then that would be weird as hell.

“Oh, uh… I guess he was lucky! Hahaha…” You tried to play it off with an awkward smile and half-hearted chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice that your face was bright red.

But Zoro kept going. “Were you surprised that I’m still a virgin?” You now realized he was faintly slurring his words. “I’m just curious.”

What was up with all these questions? You sighed. Well, whatever he wants to find out I guess he’ll find out. Looks like we’re playing 20 questions.

“Yeah, Zoro,” you responded. “To be honest, I was surprised.”

“Why?” He asked forcefully, but this time he sat up from where he was laying and pulled himself a couple of feet in your direction. This would make him maybe a foot away from you, looking at you straight on. Your heart beat quickened.

Ok now this is getting weird. What is his angle? He must be feeling bad about the whole thing and now he’s fishing for compliments. With this conclusion, you rolled your eyes at him and exhaled. You could be playful with him now that you realized he just had a bruised ego, it wasn’t more serious than that. He was being a little pathetic, but that was all.

“Zoro, I’m surprised because you’re manly, strong, and attractive. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You kind of laughed.

And while you thought Zoro was fishing for compliments, you were wrong. He was finally asking you questions that had been burning in his mind for days. He sincerely wanted to know what you really thought of him, simple as that. And he was curious about your sexual life. He certainly was very drunk but even so, he still cringed as he asked each question. But fuck, he just had to know. He wanted to know so bad that he felt like he was suffocating. He had to have answers, but he was getting dizzy, his body felt heavy, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you.

He scooted closer again, so that your knees were touching. At this point your heart was beating out of your chest. His face was less than a foot away from yours. He may not have known, but you did have a painfully intense crush on him, and his closeness was having quite the effect on you. It was the same for him, too.

“Do you really mean that, or are you just saying it?” He slurred out again, stronger this time, leaning even closer. Your faces were maybe six inches away now. You were likewise feeling intoxicated, and it made time feel like it was slowing down, slogging along. Your intoxication was making you not only extremely thirsty (in both ways) but it was making you hyper aware and locked in to the blisteringly intense eye contact Zoro was holding with you, almost not blinking.

“I-I really mean it.” You squeaked out, almost as a whisper. Holy fuck, was he about to kiss you?

“Good.” He mumbled, and then he placed one of his huge hands on the cusp of your knee and thigh. He squeezed. You inhaled sharply. His eyes were still glued to yours. There’s no way he didn’t see your blush, it was vivid. He started to lean in, maybe for a kiss, perhaps he was advancing with no goal other than to be closer to you.

Right when you felt like you were about to explode from the blood rushing to your face and your heart beating out of your chest, Zoro’s eyes closed and he abruptly collapsed forward into your lap, letting out what sounded like a groan and then… was that…. Snoring? It looked like the alcohol suddenly hit him like a truck all at once.

Sure enough, you leaned over him and saw that he was passed out on your lap, mossy hair ruffled, and his mouth open ever so slightly. He is prone to sleeping randomly, you shrugged, and God, he looks so good. He even smelled good.

You sat there until you calmed yourself down, feeling his heavy weight in your lap, the warmth of his skin pressing onto yours. He hadn’t let go of your thigh yet. You shook his shoulder lightly. It was time for the night to be over—he needed to get off you so that you could get him water, a pillow, and a blanket. He’d have to fall asleep up in the crow’s nest because there was no way you could pick him up or drag him downstairs.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. “Zoro, you need to wake up a bit. You need to move so I can get you a pillow and blanket. It’s bedtime. Hey.” You shook him again and couldn’t help but notice the hard ripples of his muscles under his shirt. You paused for a moment and patted his head. “Zoro. Wake up.”

“Wha-what?” He groaned, raising his head ever so slightly.

“Zoro, I need to get up really quick. Lay down on your side for me, ok?

He groaned again, making your heart skip a beat. Fuck, that noise was hot. Sheesh.

Evidently a colossal effort, Zoro squeezed your thigh tightly one last time then raised himself just barely enough to collapse onto his side on the floor next to you. You peered at him for a second, thinking he was passed out again, making sure he was ok. As you rose to your feet and started to climb downstairs, he stirred.

“Baaaby,” he grunted out needily. “Are you coming back, baabbbyy? Don’t just leave me up here, Y/N.” You froze and looked at him. He was in the same position, with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. And yes, you had heard him right. Because he had said it damn loud. Holy shit, that made you feel some sort of way. But Zoro was so drunk at this point there’s no way he could have any control over his words. The lights were on but no one was home. He mumbled your name one more time.

“Zoro, I’ll be right back, I’m grabbing you a blanket and a pillow,” you quipped back, and he murmured something nonsensical while you started the quick descent to the deck.

It took you less than a minute to get him a blanket, a pillow, a glass of water, and a bucket, in case he threw up. You grabbed yourself a pillow and blanket, too. You couldn’t conscience letting him sleep up there by himself when he was so drunk. It took you a couple trips, but you managed to bring everything up to the crow’s nest. Zoro looked like he was proper passed out, so you spread the blanket over him and knelt by his head. Again, you shook his shoulder softly. “Zoro, lift your head up. I brought you a pillow.” He complied. He looked so sweet and soft. You wished you could kiss his cheeks a hundred times and run your fingers through his hair so badly.

You dragged your own blanket and pillow to the other side of the nook, giving him as much space as you could. Moments after you curled up and shut your eyes, Zoro stirred again, letting off another string of vaguely suggestive entreaties. “Y/N,” he murmured, “why’re you… all the way over there… you don’t wanna… w-wwanna sleep with me???”

This poor dude isn’t going to remember a thing tomorrow, you thought. In this moment you pitied him. You were sure he just wanted you to come cuddle with him, which was really sweet and all, but he was way too drunk right now to be touched with a ten-foot pole. And you already knew that if he remembered any of this tomorrow, he’d be too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“Zoro, go to bed, sweetie, it’s getting late.” He did some more grumbling and nonsensical whining in response but soon he was out like a light, and you followed suit quickly.

---

Sure enough, Zoro woke up at sunrise feeling like absolute shit. He was hungover. Monstrously hungover. He couldn’t remember most of the tail end of last night and that made him uneasy, embarrassed at the thought that he could have said something out of pocket to you. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of drunkenly confessing his feelings. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to work the stiffness out of his neck, he realized that you were sleeping peacefully across from him. You must have brought out the pillows and blankets, the bucket and glass of water (which he promptly chugged). His heart twisted a bit when he realized how thoughtful and caring you had been towards him. Fuck.

You were breathing quietly, sleeping on your side facing him. Your hair was messed up, all flopped to one side, your face was soft and sweet. He just watched you sleep for a few minutes, realizing that he was being creepy as fuck but thinking he would not have the opportunity to sit and stare at you like this for a long time. He was taken with you. Anything that you felt even remotely insecure about, Zoro loved about you. On top of that, he thought you were ethereally beautiful; he would muse over how soft your skin must be, how good your hair must smell, how he hoped he’d be able to see the color of your eyes closer, how beautifully your lips turned up into a smile whenever you would see him. He wasn’t merely infatuated with your beauty—it was more than that. He admired you as a person, he thought you were brilliant, smart, and kind.

Fuck. He berated himself. You fucking idiot, what did you say to her?

He remembered asking you when you lost your virginity—or, er… did he ask you how you lost it? It was hazy. He certainly remembered throwing back the glasses of sake like they were water.

He blushed crimson immediately upon remembering that he made some comment like “lucky guy” or “lucky dude” while referring to the first man you had sex with. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And he had a feeling that he took it one step further than that, maybe he said or did something else… he wasn’t sure at that point. He hoped he hadn’t done anything that made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

Zoro rarely ever drank this much—he must have been feeling extra bothered and upset by Sanji’s comment about his virginity. Zoro knew that drinking was a horrible, horrible way of coping with his feelings. But sometimes he felt like he just wanted to self-sabotage or self-indulge in feeling like shit. And alcohol certainly made him feel like shit. But he had never drank this much when you were around.

Zoro wasn’t so sure how Drunk Zoro would handle your presence. He had a sinking feeling that he probably made himself look like an ass. Maybe he got way too loud, maybe he overstepped with his questions, maybe he came off as some huge, perverted creep trying to get a better picture about what it would be like to fuck you. He felt many, many pangs of regret and repulsion at himself. He was being hard on himself.

And while it definitely would have embarrassed him, and he would have felt more ashamed than he already did by knowing everything he said, he would have been surprised to know that the version of Drunk Zoro with only you around wanted nothing more than to be close with you—evidenced by the scooting closer, touching your thigh, staring deeply into your eyes, entreaties to sleep with (or was that by?) him. But he had no way of knowing what he did yet, because you were asleep, and he was prideful.

All this angsty reflection and regret was quickly interrupted by the hangover. He needed to do something about that. It was becoming a problem fast. He refused to make any sort of use out of that bucket while you were around. So, he swiped up the bucket, his empty glass, his pillow and blanket, and shuffled down the ladder steps.

---

When he was feeling less disgusting and had chugged a few more glasses of water, Zoro wondered what to do with himself. He would normally be up in the crow’s nest around this time of morning. And it didn’t escape him that you were going to be extremely hungover as well, especially because you had been matching his drinks for the most part (he could remember that) and you had way less of a tolerance than him.

He decided that he ought to bring up some water to you and hang out up there until you woke up. Maybe he’d be able to gauge how massively he fucked up by your expression or demeanor. Only one way to find out. Also, he’d take any opportunity and use any excuse to spend some peace and quiet with you. It was a treat that he rarely got.

He filled a big glass of water for you, and something struck him—what if he brought you up some fruit for breakfast? Would that be weird? He knew that you usually had fruit for breakfast, so… why not? He couldn’t think about it too much or else he’d clam up and get too shy. Fuck it, he told himself. Fruit it is. What’s an added benefit was that no one else was awake to tease him about bringing you breakfast or spending the night with you. So he took a couple of extra minutes to wash up and chop some fruit for you. He plated it as neatly as he could and grabbed a napkin as well. It was a simple but wholesome, caring gesture.

By the time Zoro was making his way back up to the crow’s nest, you had been awake for a minute or two. You were stretching as he climbed into the nook and your eyes met his with a sweet smile. “Good morning,” you chirped, feeling like shit from the hangover, but also tickled that you got to spend just a little bit more time with Zoro. You thought there was absolutely no way he remembered any of the advances or suggestive remarks from last night, and you wouldn’t hold any of it against him or treat him any differently for it. You were just happy to be hanging out with him, and the morning was beautiful. You felt no pressure or even desire to let him know everything that he said last night in the pits of drunken belligerence, and you didn’t plan on sharing unless he prompted.

“Hey,” he greeted you and placed the plate of fruit and glass of water next to you. “Here’s some breakfast. Figured it may get me even with you, since you took care of me last night. Sorry if I was an ass.”

Zoro was doing something as sweet as bringing you breakfast? You knew he had it in him. You always thought that there was some softness and sweetness to him, under those tough layers. Gosh, this was really nice of him.

“Thanks for bringing me fruit!” You responded. “You didn’t make an ass out of yourself, you were actually being really sweet,” you smiled again, and his heart skipped a beat. It felt like it twisted a little bit. Fuck, he had such a crush on you. He felt cringey and awkward when you were around sometimes, hyperaware of his every move, wondering how you felt about him. It was so easy for him to blush when you were around, too. He hoped every time that you couldn’t see it. He knew now that he must have been turning various shades of pink and red because he felt the hot blood rise to his face… and this time you did notice. His cheeks took on a pinkish flush, a shade that fitted him so well. God, he’s so cute, you thought to yourself. He was blushing so hard because you called him sweet.

“Oh, uh.. Sweet? What do you mean?” He acknowledged what you said out loud, putting out a sort of rhetorical question. How had he been sweet? Were you referring to the intrusive questions about your virginity, or did he do something else? What on earth could that mean?

You felt like teasing him a little bit with your answer—nothing too serious, since he seemed a little worried about it. “Yeah, you were sweet… you did call me baby a couple of times. It wasn’t too bad.”

Zoro turned crimson. He started to stutter out an apology— “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Zoro,” you cut him off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You were super drunk.” He attempted to stutter out another apology and you waved your hand. “Don’t worry, seriously, it wasn’t creepy or anything, it was cute.”

Neither of you thought Zoro could blush any harder, but he did. Cute? He was getting so flustered. He took a beat before hoarsely choking out a response. He expected that he had been a bit weird but… calling you baby? Get a grip, man! He scolded himself. But if that was all… it could have been a lot worse.

“Aghhh… Did I do anything else humiliating?” He asked, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his hand, visibly cringing. He didn’t even think to ask what context he called you baby in. It didn’t matter. He had called you baby, and that was that.

“I wouldn’t say it was humiliating but when you were falling asleep you kind of like… asked me to get in bed with you? It wasn’t creepy though, I think you were chilly.”

Zoro’s jaw dropped. Oh my fucking god. Get in bed with her?! What the fuck? He reprimanded himself internally. This was so much worse than he could have imagined. “Look, I’m so, so sorry I… I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry, I-”

“Zoro, don’t worry about it, seriously. It was endearing and I didn’t take it any sort of negative way.” You took note of how absolutely vivid red his cheeks were. His fists were clenched. Poor guy was obviously going through it.

Zoro was turning the words over in his mind again and again—sweet, cute, endearing. He had never received any of this sort of praise from you before and it made his stomach flip.

Suddenly a shrill voice cut through the air. “Y/N, MY DEAREST SWEET~~ WOULD YOU LIKE SOME COFFEE MY DARLING?” Sanji shouted up to you in the crow’s nest.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Zoro, sort of mocking Sanji. “Let’s do this again soon, Zoro… silliness aside… I had a really nice time. You really were being sweet so don’t worry about it. I’m going to get some coffee and take a shower. Thanks for the fruit!” You gathered your fruit and glass and shouted back down at Sanji. “Coming!” You did one last pretty smile and wave and then descended below.

Zoro was still reeling from the revelations of his drunken antics. He could have jumped overboard right about now, had it not been for your repeated description of him as “sweet” and “cute.” Your words rang in his ears—“Let’s do this again soon, Zoro.”

So he had called you baby and tried to get you to sleep with him, but it had been sweet and cute? It didn’t really make sense to Zoro but something inside of him fluttered a little bit. You weren’t totally averse and disgusted towards him after last night, so… that was good, right?

Zoro was absolutely mind-fucked at the whole interaction. He was kicking himself in embarrassment, flustered, bright red, his heart was beating out of his chest, but he was also ecstatic because you said you wanted to spend more time with him again. He was completely ashamed but buzzing at the same time. He hadn’t felt like this in years and years, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he had ever been this worked up about a crush before.

Upon second thought, he realized that he did have a shadow of a memory of him calling you baby, along with a suggestion in his mind of the moment when he groaned your name and begged you to come to bed with him. He had wanted you to curl up next to him and sleep there, to be close with him, to feel your warmth, your skin, your heartbeat. He couldn’t believe that all of this started because Sanji’s asshole remark yesterday about his virginity. And there was that virginity and you, two things that were currently posing a problem for him. He could only let himself fantasize slightly about fucking you, but… he didn’t let himself get too carried away (yet).

Stay tuned for part two: Zoro is yet again sexually frustrated, and you decide to help him solve his problem (smut, smut, smut)!

Update: Here's part two!

And here's my masterlist...

♡＾▽＾♡ (◕ㅅ◕✿) ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! - Z

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #one piece x reader #zoro smut #zoro imagine #with: zoro #zoro romance #roronoa zoro #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #slow burn #one piece imagine #zoro fanfiction #zoro angst #one piece smut

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uzumaki-rebellion · 13 days ago

Text

Lick Back 2 (Part 2) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Angst, Domestic Drama, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Violence, 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.

Word count: 14.5K

Read Lick Back (The Beginning) HERE.

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"Like sweet morning dew

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—"All I Need"

Terry went into battle mode, thinking as a soldier doing an extraction.

The retreat stayed hidden within a vast area of forest, swampland, and the black river. He pulled over near a grouping of trees to hide his truck. According to his mapping calculations, the treehouse encampment was ahead of him, but he didn't want the noise of his truck to alert Jordan of his presence. He'd gone off-roading to enter the grounds since the main entrance was closed. Digging into one of his travel bags, he donned a black jacket to blend into the darkness. His black jeans aided the camouflage. Grabbing a small military tactical flashlight with various light settings, he chose night vision green to help him see and blend in without the brightness of the white flashes alerting Jordan. Slinging a small pair of sportsman's binoculars around his neck, he set off into the forest.

The potent scent of river water compelled him to move faster. He was in the correct geographical location. He turned on Nova's phone and placed it in quiet mode. The Airtag signal was good for one hundred feet, and the cell signal flitted in and out. Moving in stealth, he followed the river and scouted for treehouses. He couldn't find Terrina's signal. Touching the screen, he switched over to Van-Van's…there. A bright white arrow pointed to his left on a black screen. One hundred feet away. About six car lengths. The signal dropped, but he felt confident about finding them.

Keeping close to the trees, he found the dark sedan that ran down his truck partially hidden under a dark tarp. He turned off Nova's phone and stuffed it in his back pocket. Ahead, a shadowy structure loomed. Using the binocs, he confirmed the ground-level structure was empty. The building appeared to be used as an information kiosk. He read the name of the retreat all over the walls and found a wall map of all the treehouses available. There were ten in a half-moon pattern. Nella said they used the ones closest to the river and there were four shown. He snapped a picture of the map for reference and traveled on, using Nova's phone app as his guide.

Bingo!

Van-Van's Airtag pinpointed the exact spot.

In the darkness, a pale yellow light glowed high in the canopy of an oak tree further away. The treehouse stood on stilts that raised it up high so that tall, slender trees surrounded it. Brightly shining white Christmas lights hung on several trees. They prevented Terry from sneaking up the narrow steps to the housing platform without being seen.

Creeping quietly toward the structure, he climbed a tree and roosted in its canopy to look inside a picture window using the binocs. He made out two figures. Jordan pacing frantically waving a weapon, and Nova seated facing him. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he planned his next move.

He could wait until Jordan fell asleep, but that might not happen if he was hopped up on meth. The longer Nova stayed with him, the more chances the man might amp up toward violence against her. Storming in to surprise him could put Nova and the children in harm's way if he started shooting.

He needed to lure Jordan out.

Terry ran back a great distance to the covered sedan and smacked the driver's side door handle. The alarm screeched with a high-pitched series of annoying sounds. The car was too low to the ground for Terry to crawl under for a surprise attack. He hid behind a tree and waited for Jordan instead.

Sure as shit, Jordan arrived to check on the car and made sure there were no other campers showing up. He moved with caution, holding his gun out, ready to pop off rounds.

Although Jordan was a trained soldier, he was also an addict, so his warped mind might not have been too sharp. Terry hoped that was so. He lifted a medium-sized rock and threw it far past the river. It made a loud thunk about eighty yards away. Jordan slowly went to investigate the sound and waved his gun in every direction.

Terry waited until he was out of sight before he hastened to get into the treehouse. Jordan had switched all the lights off. He ran up the narrow, rickety stairs and burst into the dwelling.

Van-Van sat on a pallet next to Terrina's car seat. His baby slept quietly in it. Jordan had tied Nova to a chair with her arms behind her back. He jammed a sock in her mouth to keep her quiet. Terry held a finger to his lips for Van-Van to stay silent.

Pulling the sock from Nova's mouth, he worked on untying the rope. She whimpered in relief with tears pricking her eyes.

"How did you find us?" she whispered.

"The Airtags you put on the children. I found your phone and Nella showed me the tracking app."

"He's crazy, Terry."

"Listen to me, I want you to get Van-Van and we're going to escape in the trees to find my truck. I'm right behind you with the baby. Head west…that's straight past the fire pits outside."

She nodded and moved to grab her son the moment he freed her. He handed back her smartphone, and she dashed out of the treehouse carrying Van-Van down the stairs. Terry lifted his sleeping daughter in her car seat and hoped she wouldn't wake up.

He ran down six steps and Jordan glared at him from the bottom step with the barrel of the gun pointed at him. Terry exhaled a breath, gripping the handle of his baby girl's car seat tighter. He looked around for Nova and Van-Van.

"Don't worry about those two. This is about you," Jordan said.

Terry stared at him.

"Put her back inside," Jordan ordered.

"Jordan—"

BANG!

A bullet ripped through the step below Terry's feet.

"Put the fucking baby back inside the house," Jordan yelled, while slowly slithering up the steps.

"Alright…alright…stay calm."

Terry turned around and set Terrina's car seat in the doorway. A rustling in the forest distracted Jordan, and Terry grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Jordan's close quarter combat skills were still sharp, and he used a quick countermove that Terry trained him on to aim the gun under Terry's throat. He shot a round, but Terry had already deflected the weapon, and the bullet shot up into the night sky. They tussled and Terry tried to get his footing anchored on the steps to prevent a gunshot from striking his child. Both men crashed through the rotted railing of the stairs and landed with a hard thud on the crunchy fall leaves below in a fifteen foot freefall.

Terry blacked out for a minute.

He came to and noticed the shine of a rising moon and the faint twinkle of stars appearing in the sky. He groaned and rolled over, shaking his head. Nothing felt broken, but his side was going to hurt later. He glanced at the top of the stairs.

No car seat.

Jumping up, he caught the fading sound of running feet and he chased it down. Adrenaline took over, and he pushed away any fear he had for his daughter. He had to stay focused on catching Jordan. Fear would kill his mind and prevent him from thinking rationally in his pursuit.

He heard a splash and sprinted full force toward the sound.

Jordan stood at the edge of the river, looking down into the dark, swirling waters.

Terrina's car seat floated upside down in the frigid water, and her little blanket snagged on a large jagged rock that jutted out before being swept away by the fast-moving current.

"What did you do, Jordan? What did you fucking do!?"

Terry splashed into the freezing water waist-deep and grabbed the car seat. No Terrina.

"Now you and Nova have no connection anymore," Jordan said in the coldest, most frightening tone Terry had ever heard in his life.

"Noooo!" Terry screamed.

He charged further into the water.

"Terrina! Terrina!" he screamed.

His heart rose into his throat and he tripped over slippery rocks, hitting his hand in the icy river, searching for his baby. He pulled out his flashlight and put it on bright white, aiming it downriver.

She was gone.

A splintery, raw rage surged out of him, and he flew at Jordan, slamming him to the ground. He punched him over and over, breaking his nose and fracturing his cheekbone. His knuckles split open and bled, mingling with the bloody horror he made of Jordon's face.

"She was just a baby, you fucking murderer! You could've just killed me…you should've killed me, you fucking bastard!"

Moonlight illuminated Jordan's hateful face. Blood covered his teeth like shadowy black paint. He spit one out that Terry knocked loose.

"Now you know what it feels like to lose everything, T. How does it feel, nigga? How does it feel to have everything you love taken from you?"

"You never loved Nova!"

"You stole her from me…now I stole something from you. We can both be in hell together."

Jordan pulled out the gun and Terry snatched it from him, aiming the nozzle at the center of his forehead. The evil sneer on Jordon's face transformed into the hopeless countenance of a man who had nothing to live for anymore, and Terry didn't care. A life for a life.

The piercing wail of a frightened baby stopped Terry from squeezing the trigger. The cries came from behind a nearby tree. He emptied all the bullets from Jordan's weapon onto the ground and tossed the gun into a bush. Stumbling and feeling nauseous, Terry searched for his daughter.

He found Terrina lying at the foot of a live oak. Her tiny limbs squirmed in the cold and Terry lifted her in his arms. He unzipped his jacket and placed her against the warmth of his chest. Her hair and body were damp and smelled of river water.

"I got you baby girl, daddy's here…oh, I know… that wicked man scared you so much…"

Terry wept, the relief washing over him as he held his baby. Had she not been alive, he would've killed Jordan and thrown his body into the river.

"Terry! Terry!"

Nova's voice broke over the sound of Terrina's whimpers.

She wasn't alone. Nella, Titus and Michelle were with her, along with two police officers.

Nova grabbed a hold of him and he gave her the baby, pulling off his jacket to wrap around her.

"We gotta get her warmed up," he said.

He showed the officers where Jordan was located, and they lifted him up, pulling him away. A distressed Michelle followed them with Titus.

"I had to call them after you left, Terry," Nella said.

She patted his back and hugged Nova. They all walked back to his truck. Two police cruisers awaited them. After handcuffing Jordan, the officers put him in the back of a cruiser and questioned Terry.

He tried to answer, but his eyes stayed on Nova. She held their little one in the passenger seat of his truck. Van-Van peered at him from the back window, safely buckled into his car seat. Terrina's head rested on Nova's neck, her eyes closed in a safe slumber, wrapped in a warm blanket.

He told the police where to find Jordan's gun. There would still be traces of Nella's blood on it. Terry took one last look at Jordan. The man rested his bruised and bloodied face against the window of the cop car and stared at Nova and Terrina. He would do some serious prison time. Assault and kidnapping charges loomed over his head.

Van-Van and Terrina would probably be grown adults by the time he ever got out.

It took a week of police statement interviews and the coming together of the Pattersons and Eastons rallying around Nova that finally freed them from that terrible night on the Edisto River. Jordan didn't fight the charges, but because of South Carolina law, Nova would have to fly back to Charleston and testify, anyway. That court case was a long way off. When asked why he took Nova to the treehouse, Jordan told his parents that it was the place where he and Nova had shared fond memories in the past. It was where they fell in love as teenagers and he longed to bring her back to that time and away from Terry.

One thing bothered Terry, though.

During his interrogation, Jordan admitted to tossing Terrina in the water strapped to her car seat out of anger and jealousy. But he didn't remember pulling her out and placing her by the tree. His public defender had the confession stricken from the record since Terry found the baby unharmed under the oak tree. Perhaps Jordan's rational mind fought against the nefarious intentions and saved the baby from certain death. Either way, Jordan's lawyer could use it as part of his defense. The meth made him hallucinate…or something of that nature.

The Walker clan treated Terry like a hero. Even the old lady trio from the couch wept their thanks for saving Nova and the babies, hugging him and slipping peppermint candies into his hand from their purses. Brielle and Nella preened, feeling good that their niece was in excellent hands with him.

Uncle Pete came down from his lofty, hypocritical heights and shook Terry's hand at a family dinner to see them off finally. When Terry took some time to look at the blue bottle tree, Mawmaw walked outside with him without her walker. She had replaced the two broken glass bottles with new, clear ones.

"Dis bottle tree, Terry…been standing since 1943. My daddy put it up to replace the one him mama put up after the flood of 1908…my own Mawmaw. Not one time has a bottle fell down and broke…not 'til dat day Jordan grab my grandbaby and her chirren. Signs and wonders are real, una hear me?"

"I do."

"My great-grandbaby came in my house smellin' like black water. Dat man threw her in. But somethin' else brought her back out."

"The cymbee?" he said, wearing a half smile on his face.

"Not s'posed to say they name out loud," she said, with a sly grin.

She patted his arm.

"Una no longer a comeya…una beenya now. One of my people here."

"Thank you," he said.

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Had the original bottles broken to warn him of trouble? Did some captured spirit from long ago feel sorry for him and dared to burst free to get his attention? He easily could've walked into the house and thought everyone was out taking care of family business and slept through the ordeal. As for an African-rooted Gullah river spirit plucking Terrina out of dangerous waters…he didn't care if it happened or not. His daughter was alive and well.

Terry glanced over at Nova, sleeping in the passenger side of his truck. He'd driven for five hours after a pit stop to change Terrina's diaper and help Van-Van change his pull-ups. Glancing in the rearview, both children were fast asleep. Terrina's car seat had a giant satin red ribbon tied on it. They stopped at a Target and bought Van-Van a little red bowtie to wear for his debut. In thirty minutes, they would arrive at his parent's house, and his mother kept texting for ETA confirmation every fifteen minutes once he crossed over into Louisiana.

"Babe, we're here," he whispered, tapping Nova's thigh.

She opened her eyes and checked her face in the vanity mirror.

"I swear we were just at that gas station," she said.

"You were knocked out. Ready?"

"Yeah."

He drove the truck into the driveway. His father had moved their giant RV onto the street so he could keep the truck and U-Haul on their property. He barely switched off the engine before his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins poured out of the house to greet them.

His mother was already crying again while his father waved and waited anxiously for them to get out of the truck.

"You take her," Nova said.

He climbed out of his seat and hugged his mother first, then his father. His family swarmed around Nova, showering her with hugs and kisses…so much love. Their embrace of her filled him with comfort. She looked so pretty. Back at their pit stop, she changed into a forest green empire waist dress. A white headband pushed back her hair because she didn't know what to do with it since it had grown out.

His mother held Nova's face and poured a ton of affection into her. He watched his true love lift Van-Van out first and his family spoiled him with compliments on his bowtie. While the family fussed over Van-Van, he slipped around the truck and pulled Terrina out.

Tonette held her hand over her mouth and cried again. Gordon stepped forward and admired his granddaughter.

"Look at that…will ya'll just look at that?" he kept saying.

Tonette touched the pretty red bow and then Nova helped him unfasten Terrina from the car seat.

"Here she is, Mrs. Richmond," Nova said.

"Call me Mama or Momo like my nieces and nephews, baby…oh, Lord…look what you brought into the world."

Tonette cradled Terrina and fawned over her.

"Look at my grandbaby, Janice!" Tonette said.

Terry's Aunt Janice grinned and touched Terrina's covered foot.

"Let's get them inside. It's chilly out here. Nova, honey, come on inside. Let Terry get your bags and stuff," Tonette said.

"I got the bags…Mike, Clint, y'all help me get their things," Gordon said.

Terry hugged his favorite cousin, Mike, and then unlocked the truck bed cover. They all made two trips and Gordon set them up in his old bedroom. The room hadn't changed since his college days. Big queen-sized bed. An old orange loveseat that once belonged to his maternal grandmother and faced his old flat screen TV. Their bags took up a lot of space, but his mother had set up his sister's old bedroom into a nursery for Van-Van and Terrina.

"You can put the portable crib over there, and Van-Van will get his own bed," Tonette enthused.

Nova and Terry stared at each other. They hadn't slept in a room alone together since the last time they made love and conceived Terrina. He noticed a flicker of excitement in Nova's eyes. Alone time in a bed with a house full of adults who were dying to look after Terrina and Van-Van? God was good. All the time.

Terrina became alert and anxious by all the attention from new family faces. Van-Van was the opposite. He thrived under the adoration.

Tonette guided Nova into the spacious livingroom. His maternal grandparents waited for them there.

"Sit, Nova, relax," Gordon said.

"Babe, these are my mother's parents… my grandfather Arneux LeBlanc and my grandmother Jessie-Belle," he said.

Arneux had slicked his hair back with heavily scented pomade for the occasion, the long silver waves reaching to his shoulders. Jessie-Belle twisted her graying brown hair into a stylish chignon. Nova stared into his grandmother's bright green eyes and smiled, recognizing Terrina's family heirloom in genetics.

"So happy to see you, Nova," Jessie-Belle said.

She gave Nova a hug, and Arneux did the same.

Nova didn't know what to do with herself. His family treated her like a queen. He told her that would happen. She wouldn't need to lift a finger and just take in the experience of meeting his family.

Tonette handed Terrina to her mother Jessie-Belle and the brand new great-grandmother cooed with Arneux over the tiny addition to their family. Jessie-Belle touched Terrina's earlobes.

"Oh, her color is going to come in nice and deep…Bear, she's going to be your pretty brown skin tone. Watch and see."

Jessie-Belle looked at Arneux—Bear—and grinned.

"Now who is this gorgeous little fellow right here?" Jessie-Belle said, looking at Van-Van.

"I'm Van-Van!"

"You're my new great-grandson."

Van-Van grinned while staring into Jessie-Belle's eyes. The boy reached for Terry's hand and held it.

"Come sit next to me, young man. Let me get a good look at you," Arneux said.

Van-Van touched his lips and looked up at Terry.

"Do you want to sit?" Terry asked him.

Van-Van nodded enthusiastically. Terry released his hand, and the boy streaked to Arneux like a rocket.

"Lookin' like his mama," Jessie-Belle said.

The relatives gently passed Terrina around for an hour, then Nova slipped away to his bedroom to feed her. Van-Van entertained everyone else with his chatter, and Terry's parents relished that time, beaming from head to toe. He chatted with Mike and seeing his cousin so animated made him happy. Mike had plans to stay with Terry's brother in New York and try his hand at a culinary school there.

Terry joined Nova in his room and closed the door. She sat on the loveseat and lowered the top of her dress. He watched her feed Terrina before ducking into the next room to put together her portable crib and set up the baby monitor. A peek at his watch revealed the time for Van-Van to nap. He wondered if his son could handle sleeping by himself in his new auntie's old room.

Son.

Terry grinned. Hadn't he always treated Van-Van like he was his own, even before he was born? There was no need to call him stepson or bonus child. The boy was now his. He earned the right to claim him as his own.

Sitting on his sister's bed, he wondered what he and Nova would tell Van-Van about his biological father. The boy didn't seem traumatized by the kidnapping. Perhaps it was because he knew Jordan. It wasn't some random stranger that grabbed them from the street.

"Terry…"

Nova's voice came through the baby monitor.

He went back to his room and lifted Terrina from her mother's arms and walked her into the new children's room. Putting the baby down and covering her with soft lavender blankets, Terry pondered his new life. He had everything a man could want. Maintaining that lucky gift reinforced the responsibility he had as a man to keep his ducks lined up in a row of stability. Nova needed that. The children needed that.

Nova walked into the room with Van-Van who rubbed his eyes. Terry helped take off the boy's shoes and pulled back the covers on the bed.

"I'll stay with him until he falls asleep," Nova said.

"You go rest in our room afterward, okay? I'll join you there in a bit," he said.

He headed back to the living room and caught up with his parents, who gushed over Nova and their children. They made plans to go to Yazoo for Thanksgiving so Terry's paternal grandparents could meet his family and then his siblings planned to return to Cypress Bend for Christmas. His mother insisted that he go take a nap from their long journey. He took a shower first.

The house already smelled like good food, and he knew dinner was going to be amazing, especially with his mother and aunties running the kitchen. Back in his room, Nova was already in the bed resting with the TV on.

"She was really hungry and fell asleep fast, huh?" Nova said.

"That means she'll be out for a few hours. How did Van-Van do?"

"I'm surprised. I thought he would whine about being left by himself, but he fell asleep as soon as he crawled in the bed. The trip and all the new people tired him out. I turned the monitor low."

He sat down on the loveseat and finished drying his hair with a fluffy towel.

"Gotta get this shit cut, starting to get long," he said.

He ran a hand over the waves that were curling. Nova climbed out of the bed and sat next to him. She had changed into a form-fitting T-shirt and sleeper shorts. Her soft fingers rubbed on his scalp, feeling his curls.

"I looked at your football pictures. Your hair was so cute longer," she said.

He glanced at the dresser with the photos on top.

"Yep, used to rock braids, a messy 'fro…all the styles."

He grinned and patted her thigh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I used to wish I could have a girl in my room when I lived here. I'm laughing because eighteen-year-old me would've given anything to have a fine ass woman on this old couch."

"Oh, yeah?"

She stroked the side of his neck and tendrils of pleasure cascaded down his throat.

"What would you have done back then?" she purred.

The shine of arousal danced provocatively in her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her…really kissed her. His tongued sought reciprocity, and she gave it, matching his energy. Their mouths watered with the joy of connecting romantically again. They spent six weeks raising babies and waiting on court matters cramped in a hotel room without any privacy. Now they had it. She sucked on his tongue slowly, lavishing his mouth with a tenderness he yearned for. His dick slowly plumped up. He pulled off his shirt and his sweatpants. She took off her shirt and shorts. They each took a moment to look at each other's bodies, marveling at the complementary nature of curves and hard muscles, soft heavy breasts, and solid thighs built for fat asses, with huge biceps ready to lift. He kissed her again without touching her, entwining their tongues and listening to the soft moans they released. His big, fluffy lips enveloped hers and she groaned his name.

He looked down at his dick. The firmness highlighted the girth, and his tip leaked pre-cum. Staring at her tits aroused him even more. Their weight and mass made his dick spit out more pre-cum. He couldn't stop staring at her areolas. Had they gotten bigger? Stretched wider because she was full of milk? He palmed one of them and Nova reached for his dick and slowly moved her hand up and down, just under the ridge.

Squeezing her tits after a long absence of doing so almost made him come unhinged. Those big ass titties belonged to him. Those thick thighs? His. That little pot belly from where Terrina stretched the skin and left faint tiger stripe marks on her mama? All his. The part at the apex of her thighs where he could see the pink of her pussy? Fuck yeah…all his. He licked his fingers and gently touched her vulva, lettings his digits brush across her clit. Nova hissed and her back pressed into the loveseat. He explored her labia carefully, enjoying the slippery feel of her arousal wetting his fingers. Her pubic hairs curled with the dampness she spewed and he finally touched the opening of her vagina.

He dropped to his knees and ran his lips down her vulva, giving it a sweet kiss of thanks. He continued kissing her vulva before parting her inner labia with his tongue. Staring at the entrance of what he considered holy, he worshipped that space. It gave him pleasure. Gave him a child. It comforted him long ago when they were forbidden lovers. They didn't have to hide their love anymore. He was hers forever, and as long as she would have him, he swore allegiance to her for the rest of his life and the life after that…and the life after that one.

Joining her back on the loveseat, he played with her breasts again and kissed her wanton lips. She stroked his dick, teasing the hardness and whispered how much she loved him into his shameless mouth. Lowering his head, he sucked on her tits, stretching his mouth around each breast, and groaning into the flesh as her skilled hand jerked him off to the point of Terry grunting her name into a stiff nipple.

He leaned back and used two fingers to tease her plump clit. Their mutual masturbation of each other side by side was the hottest thing to happen to him in a year. He'd remained celibate after Nova left him. Even porn bored him because there wasn't anything as exciting as the woman he loved stroking his dick. He wished they had made sexy vids of their lovemaking back then, but he couldn't take a chance of Jordan finding anything incriminating on Nova's phone.

"Fuck! Look at these big tits! Nova…baby…fuck…you know what you're doing to me…."

Her lips poked out with what he called her pleasure face. That shit always turned him on because it meant he was getting to her. She said his eyes and the dominating way he owned her body always got to her. When he added the deep baritone by talking her through sex…she became a limp noodle every time. He knew he was always intense during sex. All of his previous partners had told him that and it was why he never ran out of women to choose from before Nova.

They both listened to the slippery sounds coming from her labia and the entrance of her pussy. She shook her tits, and he watched them entice him further into the deep zone. His balls throbbed, and those breasts kept jiggling from her deliberate movement.

She was the best. Just the visual of her spread out like that on his loveseat sent his former teenaged self into a tizzy. He kept gently playing with her clit, never venturing to insert any fingers into her. That moment would be for another time. Right now, he was relearning his woman. Reclaiming his rightful place as her man giving her pleasure.

She smeared the new leaking of pre-cum all around his slit with her thumb and hit a super sensitive spot just under his frenulum that made him jump. He let out a whimper in a tone that was brand new to him. They both laughed at the sound, and he kissed her, delighted that there were new ways she could titillate and surprise him with her touch. Lips glued together, shoulders touching, arms outstretched toward the other, they traversed every contour, scouted fresh territory on their tingly skin, sparked sensuality by gazing at one another as their touching inflamed their desire for each other. She palmed his balls next. His sack nearly filled her hand. She squeezed, and the pressure shot a zinger of pleasure through his dick. He watched her tits and his lips parted, eyes narrowed…his dick needed to be inside of her, spilling into her again. His eyes tracked all over from her face to her breasts to her pussy. He gasped and moaned low in his throat, trying to control the surge ready to gush out. Her slick fingers rubbed all over the shiny knob of his tip and he jammed his heels into the carpet.

"I know you like that, huh, baby? Playing with this big dick in my hand?" she whispered.

She knew his weakness. Catering to his ego by talking to him about his prowess. He did have a big dick. Her hand could barely control it. So hot and heavy in her grasp.

"Can I sit on it later? I don't know if it'll all fit…last time, it barely did. Remember? I had to use so much lube…you stretched my pussy so wide…ooh baby…remember what you did to my pussy?"

His tip spilled out a sticky stream of clear fluid that dripped down her fingers like morning dew. She hit that spot again under his ridge and he groaned her name. All she had to do was crawl on top of him and drop that wet pussy on his dick, and he would explode. She kept talking and telling him how good he was and he ate it all up like a giant cat spoiled with endless catnip. He didn't trust his voice to talk back to her with any coherence. Listening to her, watching those bountiful breasts, touching her clit and feeling his dick get fisted by her soft hand overstimulated his brain. It became an overload of sensory pleasure.

He teased her clit mercilessly with lazy, untrustworthy caresses. She never knew what his fingers would do next, and that edging rolled her eyes back. Soft pants spilled out of her mouth that he liked to hear. Her pussy lips throbbed after a long, languorous fingering. The expression on her aroused face pleased him.

"I'm cumming…." she panted.

He moaned, watching her.

Her orgasm spilled out in contractions that made the lower half of her vulva move with visible throbs. Nova had a deep pussy, so he already knew if he were inside of her, his dick would've been milked with divine pulses. She made the entire encounter sexier by holding a hand over her mouth as she came, shielding the room from her normal loud cries of ecstasy.

Leaping to his feet, Terry stroked his dick in front of her, lowering his body so that his dick lined up with her tits. Her body still shook from her release, but he could only focus on his pleasure now. His balls rose closer to his body, and he gasped as a thick nut splashed onto her tits.

"I couldn't hold it, baby," he whimpered.

His sphincter muscle screamed from the force of his ejaculation. Cum shot out again all over her chest and dripped everywhere.

"Fuck…fuck…fuck…" he whispered.

He rose and a final load shot onto her lips.

Standing back, he stared at his future wife, and his dick stayed firm from the sight. Covered in his creamy white semen, her legs spread wide, showing him all that pretty pink pussy, Terry knew he was in for some problems. He was going to have to make a lot of money somehow, because the urge to get Nova pregnant again weighed heavily in his nutsack. He didn't know where the breeding kink came from. Not every woman brought that need out of him in sexual encounters, but the ones that did…dear God.

Nova tried to sit there all demure, as if being drenched in cum was her right as his woman. It was, actually. Back when they were sneaking around, the sex was provocative and illicit, of course, but part of the thrill was cumming all over her. Another man's woman let him nut in her mouth, inside her pussy, and all over her breasts. His dick used to get hard just thinking about covering her in semen and watching it turn clear on her silky skin, knowing he would send her home smelling like great sex. He had a feeling that the urge would warp into something body quaking since they could be out in the open from now on. He took the woman he wanted. Put a baby in her to seal the union forever. Wrong or right, that shit got him off, and he was always going to revel in that sexually.

He shoved his dick in her mouth, and Nova slurped and choked all over him like the good girl she was.

"Stand up," he said.

She did, and he made her bend over slightly so he could see her tits hang all fat and deliciously pendulous. He stroked his dick against her ass and her tits swayed and smacked together from her movement and he ejaculated on her ass. Yeah, they were going to have problems later. He was definitely fucking her and cumming in that pussy when he had the chance. Cumming inside of Nova was everything. Watching her ride his dick while he did it made him feel invincible.

She cleaned herself with baby wipes and he dressed and snuck into the hall bathroom to bring her a warm hand towel to finish the job. He couldn't keep his hands off her ass or her breasts and she slapped them away before they got carried away, drawing attention from his family with the noise. She looked at his hands and held them. The wounds on his knuckles from beating Jordan were still healing. Nova kissed each one, her soft lips puckering and pressing into each laceration. She looked up at him with tears.

"Hey…baby…it's okay," he said.

She closed her eyes, remembering.

He wiped away her tears and kissed her eyelids.

"Nothing will ever hurt you again, understand?" he murmured into her lips.

She nodded, and they kissed, their tangled tongues promising better days ahead.

Nova fell in love with his family.

The trip to Yazoo for Thanksgiving was a blast and once they were back in Louisiana prepping for Christmas, his parents and close kin felt like she had always been a part of them. Everyone showered their children with affection, and Nova finally rested, as she had longed to do since Terrina's birth.

Gordon became an expert at waking up for early a.m. feedings, giving Terry and Nova time to sleep a full eight hours. A retired grandfather eager to pamper his first grandbaby was a godsend. Tonette held down her end of the schedule in between her hours doing part-time medical billing in his older brother's old bedroom that she converted into a home office. She took on more hours before Christmas to make a little extra holiday money to splurge on her new grandbabies.

Nova helped him decorate the room addition that was built on the back of the house and used as a game room and extra bedroom when guests overflowed. Expecting a large holiday gathering, the Richmond clan stacked and readied cots and blow-up beds among the Christmas decorations. He showed Nova the pool table he learned to play on and they played a few rounds in between feedings and shopping.

Tonette hung extra large holiday stockings across the fireplace mantle with everyone's name sewn into them. She and Nova decorated the live Christmas tree with fake snow spray and then added mauve and mulberry colored ornaments. Terry lifted Van-Van to help put a golden star at the top.

"Aw, perfect!" Tonette said. Van-Van clapped his hands.

Terry later chopped up a stack of wood with an axe in the backyard as his father enlisted the help of Van-Van to help water his winter garden of cabbage and mustard greens. They gave the boy a small watering can that was used for the house plants to help water the fat cabbages and leafy greens ready for Christmas dinner picking.

Terry and Tonette left Nova and Van-Van with Gordon at the house while they snuck away to do some Christmas shopping with the baby. He walked around a giant shopping center, the biggest one in Cypress Bend, carrying Terrina wrapped on his chest.

"Mama, I'm going to ask Nova to marry me," he said inside a food court.

Shopping bags sat spread around his mother's legs as they ate Panda Express inside a luxury mall. Tonette slurped a chow mein noodle and forked a juicy piece of orange chicken.

"When?" she asked.

"Christmas Eve. After caroling with the family."

"In front of everyone?"

"Yes."

Tonette pushed up her glasses on her nose.

"Jaybird, I dunno…I saw some TikTok videos the other day with women saying they don't like public acts of proposals anymore. It puts a lot of pressure on them."

"Since when have you been using TikTok?"

"Your dad has an account. He posts his gardening tips. Sometimes I watch them to help give him comments for the algorithm."

He grinned.

"Does she know of your intentions? I mean, is that something you two have spoken about?"

"I told her father I wanted to marry her…right in front of her, back in Charleston."

"How did she react?"

"She looked happy, Mama. Really happy."

"You really adore her, huh?"

"I do. I'd been living a good life until she came along. But now, she's made my world richer by having her beside me. The children are everything to me."

"Do you feel any pressure about that? An instant family?"

He sipped on his iced tea and rubbed Terrina's back. His baby had grown so much in three months. She could hold her head up and started trying to crawl. Mastering coordination was funny to watch, and he got a kick out of her squirming all her limbs like a turtle on her belly when they placed her on a blanket on the living room floor. Van-Van would squat in front of her and call her name, encouraging her to crawl. They weren't quite there yet, but her legs and arms were strong.

"I don't even worry about that, honestly. Having Nova and the kids kinda makes me feel like a grown-up finally. That's weird, huh?"

"No, Jaybird. It isn't. But it is an enormous responsibility to step into so soon when you weren't expecting it."

Tonette gazed at him with loving eyes.

"Her parents will be here tomorrow. I had hoped they would stay with us at the house," she said.

"Nova told them about the spa tub at the Hyatt. I think this trip is a second honeymoon for them, so they want privacy."

"It was nice of you to invite them here. Spend Terrina's first Christmas together."

"It's been rough for them dealing with Jordan's mess."

Tonette nodded her head.

"Poor Nova. The hell that man put her through. And you."

Tonette reached across the table and touched his hand.

"All you and Nova can do is love on each other and take care of those babies."

Terrina sneezed, and Terry looked down at her face. Her bright eyes stared up at him and she grinned a toothless smile.

"Hey Rina, Rina," he teased.

He kissed her cheek with a loud smack and she squealed, bursting into infectious chuckles that made Tonette laugh, too.

"You and Nova made a beautiful little girl. I don't know if y'all could've made her any cuter. Like a lil round ladybug…that's my grandbaby…hey, Terrina."

"We better head back," he said.

"I think we bought out the entire mall."

"We've made enough trips to the car with bags today. I should think so."

They threw away their food containers and stuck their meal trays on top of a trash receptacle.

"Lemme, go past the eye glasses place one more time to look at those frames," she said.

"Mama, if you want the Gucci frames, get them."

"No…I just wanna look, that's all."

Tonette carried the last of their shopping bags and he helped by carrying two. They passed by several shops and it tickled him to observe his mother's yearning to buy more things, but pretending she was only window shopping.

"Terry? Terry Richmond."

He turned his head and spotted two women he went to highschool with, Phyllis and Stacey. He gave them side hugs and showed off his baby. They both had been cheerleaders when he played football for their school with Von. He caught them up on his life in California, and Stacey kept looking at his daughter with wistful eyes. She had been his junior prom date so long ago, and although they dated briefly in their senior year for a month, he just wasn't into her like she was into him. The two women shared photos of their children and husbands, and he whipped out his phone to show them pictures of Nova and Van-Van.

Tonette watched the interaction with amusement and when they carried on their merry little way to her car, she side-eyed him.

"Stacey looked happy to see you again."

"It was good seeing her. Time just flies on by."

"She used to call the house to say hi from time to time before she got married…always asked about you after you left for the marines."

"I'm sure she did."

"You ever wonder what it would've been like had you stayed here? Settled down with someone like her?"

"Stacey was cute. Nice girl. But, nah. Had I done that, I wouldn't have this special girl."

He bounced Terrina in his arms before putting her in the car seat in the back of his mother's Cadillac SUV. Tonette tickled Terrina's chin.

"Look at my sweet Ladybug!"

Terrina giggled.

"Mama, you always give everybody a nickname."

"My mother did it. It's hereditary."

"What do you call, Van-Van?"

"My Roly-Poly because he's always rolling all over the ground like a pill bug in your daddy's garden."

"Nova?"

"Queenie, because you bend over backwards for her…as you should. Huh, Ladybug? Your mama is a queen because she gave me a lil princess like you."

Tonette kissed Terrina's cheek and his daughter gurgled and slobbered her joy at all the attention.

His mother drove them back to the house. Nova stood on the porch holding a large registered mail envelope. Her face looked pensive. He handed Terrina to his mother.

"Mama, I'll bring in all the shopping bags in a minute," he said.

Tonette glanced at Nova's face for a quick second and took the baby into the house.

The chill of the winter air froze their breath in puffs of condensation. It had rained earlier.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

His stomach churned. She handed him the large envelope.

He reached in and pulled out another smaller envelope with a court document inside. Opening that one, he read the contents, and cracked a huge smile.

"Your divorce is finalized. You're free," he said.

She nodded and he hugged her.

"Ah, baby, you had me worried."

She sniffled.

"I kept waiting and hoping. Nella sent it priority, and I had to sign for it to make sure it got here. I just…it's finally over."

"Just in time for Christmas."

He hugged her again and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, God," he whispered to himself.

On Christmas Eve, Tonette cooked their own Creole version of shrimp and grits. She showed Nova her secret of using pancetta instead of bacon in her roux for the shrimp. So many relatives stuffed the house that Terry lost count and just flowed with everyone there. His cousin Mike and his brother Dean kept sneaking him shots of rum to cope with having future in-laws in the mix.

The Eastons blended in and it made Nova so happy that Titus and Gordon shared a love of gardening and spent most of their time outside discussing weed killers and the best garden soil. Pauletta fell right in with his Aunt Janice and they were already tipsy from drinking spiked egg nog and eating chocolate rum balls rolled in coconut that his grandmother Jessie-Belle made for all the adults.

Nova couldn't get over the size difference between himself and his siblings. His sister Sage was average-sized like his brother Dean, and she giggled when Tonette took pictures of the three of them in the backyard.

Terry towered over everybody. Dean had Nova laughing every time he was around her in the kitchen, and his sister would not put Terrina down. The baby lived on her right hip. Van-Van was in seventh heaven with all the little cousins under five who ran around with him in the game room where his grandparents supervised them with a few other older aunties on childcare duty while they sipped a little liquor. The teenagers lived in the den playing Mario Kart and arguing over losses and wins.

The house was festive and full of warmth and love. His parents tended to over-do it with the holidays, so he and his siblings chipped in to pay for all the food and libations for everyone.

"Nova, try my Christmas cheesy bread while it's hot!" Tonette said.

His mother placed a ceramic platter on the dining table next to the chilled oysters, fancy chocolate candies, and champagne bottles. Two large crock pots filled with grits and the shrimp roux warmed up on the dining table, too. There'd be a couple of Creole pecan glazed hams and a brisket for the main courses later that night. Southern fried cabbage with spicy andouille sausage. Mustard greens with smoked turkey. Dean helped prepare most of the food in the kitchen as a professional chef. He dashed off to make the mac' n cheese and candied purple sweet potatoes with Mike's help. The Richmonds partied hard on Christmas Eve. They reserved Christmas day for opening gifts and recuperating from the night before.

Nova pulled a piece of bread from the top of the Christmas tree shape. His mother sprinkled pomegranate seeds, seasoning, and fresh rosemary needles on it.

"Good, huh?" Tonette said.

Nova nodded enthusiastically. His mother touched her hair.

"I'm so happy that light pressing I gave you turned out so cute. Do you like it?" Tonette asked.

"I love it. I had the hardest time figuring out how to style it now that it's in that in-between stage of growth, y'know?"

"Honey, a good bob will always fix everything!"

Nova shook her hair. It was down past her ears. He had to smell burning hair early that morning in the kitchen as Nova sat in a chair and let his mama do her thing.

Terry glanced around the livingroom where most of the family had gathered for the caroling. Dressed in the finest fits to match the holiday atmosphere, the Richmonds and the Eastons showed out. A fire crackled in the fireplace behind a glass gate and the house smelled of savory foods. Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas" played softly on the sound system and everything felt…right.

He stared at Nova.

She ate cheesy bread and chatted with his mother. Her Christmas Eve dress shined a delightful Christmas shade of green with red trim along the off the shoulder décolletage. The red heels on her feet lifted her a few inches taller, and she looked angelic. His sister joined them carrying Terrina, who they dressed in a little Santa's Helper outfit. Van-Van and the other little ones ran through the living room chasing Gordon, who donned a Santa Claus suit and carried a big red bag filled with gifts for all of them. Minutes later, they all heard Van-Van crying in the den. Terry went to investigate and all the children surrounded his seven-year-old cousin, Jennifer, on the floor. Her hand rested on the crank of a Jack-in-the-box toy.

"The clown scared him," Jennifer said.

Van-Van stood next to her wailing and pointing at the goofy-looking bobble head on a spring that bounced around. Terry lifted him up and carried him back to the living room where the boy's crying transferred to Terrina. She stared at her brother and burst out crying, too.

"Uh, oh, we have a pity party," Nova said.

Terry rocked Van-Van and rubbed on his back, soothing his cries and whispering to him until the cries broke down into whimpers.

"I don't like that toy," Van-Van huffed.

"I know. It popped out when you weren't expecting it," Terry said.

Jennifer and the other children ran out to check on their weeping cousin.

"Sorry Van-Van, we'll play with something else," Jennifer said.

"You want to go back with them?"

Van-Van looked unsure. He looked down at his sister crying and wiggled in Terry's arms to be put down.

"Don't cry Rina…I feel better," Van-Van said, wiping his eyes.

He pressed his lips onto his sister's cheek, and Nova cradled his chin.

"You're being a good big brother checking on your sister," she said.

Van-Van glanced at the other children and ambled back to them. They all cheered for him and he grinned, with two tears still shining on his cheek. A second later, they ran off like a wolf pack, whooping it up and off to some new adventure. Crisis averted.

"Hey, everybody, time to gather around in five minutes," Tonette said.

Terry's stomach dropped. He rushed to the guest bathroom down the hall. His brother noticed the panic in his eyes and followed him.

"What's wrong, Terry?"

"I'm going to ask Nova to marry me."

Dean's mouth dropped open.

"Now?"

"Before we eat."

He pushed open the bathroom door and Dean closed it behind them.

"Why the scary face?"

Dean stared at him as Terry glanced at his own reflection. The color seemed to drain from his face as his heart sped up. His brother grabbed his hands.

"Hey…baby brother…relax. You got this. Breathe."

He took a deep breath and pressed his hands on the sink, lowering his head to help ease his anxiety.

"I don't want to mess this up," he said.

"How can you mess up asking the woman you love to be your wife? Have you looked at her today? Every time you walk near her, she's grinning in your face. She got it bad for you, man."

"She's been through so much…I don't want to disappoint her."

"Disappoint her how? You drove across the country and saved her from an unpleasant situation. She's about to be posted up in an oceanfront condo in California. You got the Richmond good looks and passed them down to your baby. Your career is where you want it and you can support a family. You're head over heels for her. Tighten up!"

Dean rubbed his shoulder.

Terry stared at his reflection. His brother was right.

"C'mon, bring it in," Dean said.

He held out his arms toward Terry for an embrace. They hugged.

"Hit another shot of whiskey…better yet, ask Grandpa for a shot of his moonshine. He got some hidden under the kitchen sink. Liquid courage will smooth the jitters out. Wait here, I'll go get you a shot glass of it," Dean said.

His brother left the bathroom and Terry concentrated on a sunny beach far away in the Caribbean somewhere and calmed his mind. Dean returned two minutes later with a pineapple-shaped shot glass bought from Honolulu, Hawaii.

"Here ya go. Toss it back."

Terry wasted no time drinking the fiery liquid that burned down his throat and fired up his chest. He squinted and twisted his lips from the aftertaste.

"Shit tastes like kerosene and Satan's foot," Terry choked out.

He coughed, and Dean pounded his back.

"That means the magic is working. Let's go sing!"

They returned to the living room just in time to greet Von and Bethany, who arrived with their two little girls. Bethany hugged Nova tight and gushed over the baby. Von hugged Terry, making him feel more confident about what would happen later when he approached Nova for her hand.

"Man, we had to take our time getting on this side. It started snowing," Von said.

Everyone rushed to the windows and stepped outside to watch the rare sight in Cypress Bend of hard rain freezing into snowflakes that fell quietly from the sky like a whisper. The snow already covered a thin layer of the ground. All the children squealed as puffy white clouds blanketed the sky, making Terry feel like his family was inside a giant snow globe. The twinkling of the Christmas lights on the house added a romantic feeling. He put an arm around Nova and Terrina. Titus held Van-Van's hand and his son stared at the winter wonderland before him.

"That's snow, Van-Van," Terry said.

Delighted, Van-Van raised his hands and tiny flakes fell into his palms and melted, making him giggle with delight.

"Singing first, snow later," Tonette said, clapping her hands for everyone to come back inside.

Folks settled into the livingroom. Terry helped pass out homemade song books they'd used since he was a child that contained all the Christmas songs they liked to sing together as a family. Nova put on her new red baby feeding wrap and took Terrina from Sage's arms to feed her on an armchair discreetly. Terry stood next to her proudly, knowing his extended family watched them together with cheerful smiles and twinkling eyes. He was a family man now.

Mike and Dean helped pass out the filled champagne flutes and his aunties and mother offered the freshly chilled oysters with Champagne mignonette sauce and assorted chocolate bites to those who wanted them before they started caroling. Dean prepared hot apple cider with cinnamon, to warm up hands from the cold outside, too.

"You look so handsome," Bethany said, admiring his dark suit and holiday red tie with candy canes all over it.

She hugged him tight and whispered in his ear.

"I'm happy for you. Terrina is such a cutie and Nova looks radiant."

He grinned. Knowing he had Bethany and Von in his corner out in Oceanside invigorated him. Nova would have a friend and confidante in her, and she'd know that Von didn't play with men not living up to their roles as husbands. They would both have role models close by that they admired to guide them on their journey.

Aunt Janice directed everyone like they were a choir after everyone took their places and started belting out Christmas classics, and Pauletta looked impressed with how his rich baritone enhanced the singing. Dean was the show off and added all the runs, and his sister Sage kept the higher harmonies in check. Nova's father sang off-key during "Deck the Halls". Pauletta and Tonette kept laughing next to each other as Janice tried to help him out on the Fa-la-la-la-la's. The house sounded glorious with the singing, especially when his sister and cousins added the soul of Blackness to the songs. It was a rollicking good time, and he was grateful the Easton's enjoyed every moment. As they wound down after an hour, Tonette waved her hand at Terry.

"Jaybird, you and Junebug sing 'Silent Night' with Mouse and Boss Man," she said. "Sing for my Ladybug."

Terry gathered his brother Dean, his cousin Mike, and Von in front of the fireplace.

"Sing it like ya do in church," Grandma Jessie-Belle said, sitting next to Grandpa Arneux.

Dean tuned them all up by singing the first two lines by himself, and then Terry joined his cousin and best friend in a quartet directed toward his daughter and Nova. She didn't know he could sing so well, and gazed at him with a dreamy glow on her face. Terrina heard her daddy's voice go lower in register and she bounced in her mama's lap, gurgling and looking up at him with her big green eyes.

They made the song truly holy and from the corner of his eyes, he noticed his mother and grandmother tearing up. Even Gordon's and Pauletta's eyes misted with appreciation.

"Y'all betta sing!" Bethany called out.

Their harmony together matched the a capella smoothness of "Boyz II Men" and it was a nice way to end the caroling session. Everyone exploded in applause afterward. He kissed Nova and lifted his baby girl in his arms.

"Did you like Daddy's singing?" he cooed, kissing her forehead.

Terrina reached for his nose and he kissed her fingers. His father, Gordon, still dressed as Santa, called all the kids to the center, even the teenagers.

"Time for Christmas stockings!" Gordon said.

He passed out stockings to all the youngsters, and they dug into the red felt and pulled out gift cards, small toys, candy, socks, and candy canes. The Temptations Christmas album played softly in the background as all the adults watched the children have fun. Van-Van was so excited. He showed everyone all the things packed into his stocking. Terry's parents spoiled him, making sure he had the best out of all the children. His mother's smile was so wide with pride. She snapped her fingers.

"Oh wait, the baby has a stocking, too!" Tonette said. "Jaybird, take it down from the fireplace. My Ladybug can't be left out."

Terry handed Terrina to Pauletta and reached for her stocking that hung above the fireplace next to his and where Van-Van's used to be. He handed it to Nova, who dug into it eagerly.

"Oh, how cute!" Nova said.

She pulled out baby socks with reindeers on them and immediately put them on Terrina's feet. There were baby hand toys and a headband with wiggly ladybug antennae on them. His father bought her a gold anklet with her name on it and there were little colorful barrettes for all the hair Terrina had on her head. Nova showed them to the baby, but Terrina was more interested in touching the bouncy antennae on the headband. Pauletta had to put it away because his daughter kept trying to put them in her mouth. Everyone loved the rolled up little blue shirt that said "Help! Call Grandpa, These Fools Don't Know What They're Doing!" Gordon fell over laughing with Titus.

"Show them the shirt I made for Ladybug!" Tonette insisted.

Nova pulled out another small purple shirt that said "Half Creole, Half Gullah, All Trouble"

Pauletta laughed, "I know that's right!"

Nova reached the bottom of the stocking and pulled out a small black velvet box.

Terry dropped on one knee in front of her.

The audible gasp in the room matched the expression on Nova's face. She opened the jewelry box and the engagement ring sparkled in the firelight. His hand shook on his knee, and his leg felt rubbery.

"Nova—"

"Yes!"

An explosion of laughter and cackles surrounded them, along with handclaps and loud whistles from Von and Mike.

Terry took the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger.

"Nova…you coming into my life was divine, perfect timing. You changed my life from the ordinary into the extraordinary in such a short amount of time that sometimes…I don't even think you're real. But you are…and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Van-Van…and that baby girl you gave me…."

His voice shuddered, and he blinked back tears.

"Take your time Jaybird!" Jessie-Belle shouted.

"Nova…will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and marry me?"

"I do…yes! Oh my God, yes!"

She threw her arms around him. He stood and lifted her off of her feet. Titus rose first and shook Terry's hand. Pauletta hugged him and then hugged Nova.

"Show us the ring!" Dean shouted.

Nova wiped her eyes, then splayed out her fingers.

"How much that set you back?" Von asked.

Bethany slapped his arm. Their family and friends gave them congratulations in abundance, along with hugs and joyful kisses. The oven timer rang out. Dean ran toward the kitchen.

"Everyone wash up, dinner will be served in a few minutes. The mac n' cheese is calling us!"

Nova wrapped her arms around his waist and he lowered his head so they could press their foreheads together.

"Whenever you're ready, baby…you set the date and time," he said.

"Okay."

Her voice quivered. She closed her eyes. He let her cry, let his own tears join hers. There wasn't a happier man alive in the world.

Christmas morning smelled of fresh coffee, cinnamon rolls, and the lingering scent of the fresh pine needles on the tree. Wrapping paper and toys scattered in heaps throughout the house as the Easton and Richmond families shared gifts and watched Van-Van zoom around in his new electric car that the Easton's bought for him, among other things. As Terry predicted, all the Richmonds and his new family dressed in matching pajama sets of red and green with white snowflakes all over them. Titus and Pauletta took plenty of pictures, especially ones of Terrina and Van-Van

Terry watched his brother-in-law Bobby open the last gift from his wife. Sage looked thrilled to give him a new bronze and onyx Movado watch. Bobby hugged and thanked her and the family all headed to the dining room for a full breakfast. His grandfather said grace, and they tucked into fresh biscuits smothered in strawberries and whipped cream, fried eggs, and maple cured bacon. Dean used leftover ham to make omelets with Swiss cheese and onions.

After bellies were full, they spoke to Nova's relatives in Charleston and wished Mawmaw a Merry Christmas, sending pictures to Nella's phone to share. Terry took Van-Van into the backyard to play in snow that hadn't melted away yet. The chilly air let the ground hold on to two inches. They made it a lazy, relaxing day with plans to go visit other relatives and deliver gifts. There were also plans to go see Christmas fireworks at the Hyatt where the Eastons had a room overlooking the area for the light show. They spent the night at the house on Christmas Eve and invited everyone to enjoy the fireworks in their extensive suite for the evening.

Nova looked exhausted and Terry begged off on them joining the trip to see other relatives. They would catch up later at the hotel to watch the fireworks. Nova prepared two bottles of milk for Terrina, and her mother took the children under her charge with Titus. Terry packed a baby bag and put in some snacks for Van-Van. He waved at everyone from the porch as they all drove off in two SUVs.

Alone.

At last.

He strolled back into the house and placed another log on the fire, stoking it with an iron poker. Nova padded out from the kitchen, snacking on another cinnamon roll drenched in thick icing. He sat next to her on the couch and they watched the flames flicker.

"This was the best Christmas ever," she sighed.

"I'm sure Mawmaw and them put on a good time."

"They do, but this was the first time I could be in the moment. Normally I'm rushing around helping to run things or cooking. It felt like being a kid again, when you didn't have to do anything but enjoy all the Christmas magic. I got spoiled here. I don't know if I can go back to the old ways."

He kissed her temple and threw an arm around her.

"You could've gone with them to see your cousins," she said.

He shook his head.

"I've seen enough of them since we've been here. We need to take advantage of this moment of quiet."

She admired her engagement ring and fell asleep cuddled next to him. He rested his eyes and soon nodded off himself. They slept for about ninety minutes, and Nova woke up refreshed and hungry. They nibbled on slices of ham and leftover mac n' cheese, drank some champagne, and then moved most of the Christmas gifts closer to the tree to clean up the living room for his mother.

"We'll need to rent a bigger U-Haul when we leave next week," he said.

They both surveyed all the presents lavished on Van-Van and Terrina. Nova lifted her Octavia Butler bookset from the base of the Christmas tree.

"I can't wait to dig into this," she said.

She stretched and wandered off to take a shower. He plopped back down on the couch and scanned a few channels for a football game. After a while, he noticed Nova hadn't returned. He scanned some new channels.

"Hey, Nova, they're playing 'The Preacher's Wife' in a few. You wanna watch it?"

"Do you want to watch that or watch me?"

He turned his head. Nova stood under the mistle toe at the entrance of the hallway dressed in the sheer red negligee that adorned her body the last time they made love in Oceanside. She spruced up her hair and added sultry make-up. The heels on her feet tooted her ass out.

Shit.

Fuck.

Goddamn.

He left the couch and prowled toward her, stopping a mere three feet away to drink in her beauty and ultra sexiness.

"Is this my bonus Christmas gift?" he said.

She nodded with coquettish eyes.

He pulled off his pajama top and balled it up, tossing it back on the couch.

"You're wearing something real dangerous," he said.

She rubbed on her breasts, teasing him with their bounty. His eyes narrowed, and she sighed. He had her hooked already with their intensity. His eyes always trapped her. They could make her do things without him having to say one word. She ran her fingers all across her tits, pinching her nipples and pushing them together. He stood silently and watched, feeling the blood in his body travel south. She did everything he wanted to see.

His dick grew thick and stretched out his pajama bottoms. Nova rested her hands on her generous thighs and shook her upper body, letting her tits bounce, knowing that would send him into overdrive.

He pulled down his pajama bottoms with his boxer briefs and his dick jutted like steel. She turned around and jumped on her heels to make her ass cheeks clap for him. He smacked her backside, turning her light brown skin red on both cheeks. She didn't even bother to put on the g-string that went with it. He smacked and rubbed out the hard strikes he gave her ass with his large hand. She bent over and touched her toes, letting him get a peek at her glistening pussy.

"Fuck…Nova…"

He gently touched her pubic hairs. They were already damp. Her wetness flowed out easily. He held his dick by the root and smacked her ass with it. A sticky stream of pre-cum dripped onto her ass, and he gripped her neck. He lowered his head and ravaged her mouth from behind, the perk of being taller than her. Nova panted and groaned in his mouth, their tongues dueling for control of the other. He lifted her breasts and squeezed them. His dick rested against her ass and kept spilling pre-cum.

They kissed like that for a long time under the mistletoe. Slow…easy…unrushed. His head arched over hers and her head bent back to accept his plundering tongue. He plucked at her nipples, causing shivers in her frame. Her lips were so succulent that he had to groan at the pleasure they brought him. His dick throbbed with a knowing anticipation. They hadn't had intercourse in over a year with one another, and the way she was carrying on with his mouth, he guessed she was ready for penetration. She purposely wore that negligee to inflame his ardor like a matador waving a red cape at a bull.

"Can I be inside you?" he asked.

Nova moaned, "Yes."

"Do we need to do anything extra?" he asked.

She was on birth control, and he brought condoms for the occasion. But she knew how he liked to get down. He could pull out for his release, but her body drove him into a breeding frenzy.

"I already used the spermicidal gel," she said.

He groaned, and his dick jumped. They had the extra back up to let him cum inside her raw.

"I'll take it slow, baby," he whispered into her mouth.

She threaded her fingers with his and pulled him toward their bedroom. He reached down and grabbed his pajama bottoms.

They couldn't keep their lips apart inside his room. Her tongue still tasted like cinnamon and expensive champagne. He rubbed all over her breasts, loving how they looked behind the sheer material, her small nipples so cute surrounded by the wideness of her areolas.

"Feel so good," he said.

He let his right hand drift behind her backside and he probed her pussy lips, inserting his fingers inside Nova a couple of inches to test her wetness. Her engorged inner labia parted open for him. He had to tamp down on his eagerness or else he'd cum prematurely. Her body had that effect on him with sex. He could pace himself easily with any other woman, but Nova drove him wild and his dick could spit at any moment, blowing the chance for them to fuck raw and uninhibited with an empty house. Finger fucking her pussy that way made her squirm and pant his name in his ear. She stuck her tongue in his ear and moaned when he inserted his middle finger into her ass. They once tried anal sex in the past, but she could only take the head in and nothing past his frenulum. It was enough for him to ejaculate, though, and she still liked when he used a finger or two.

He sat on the bed and pulled her toward him so he could fondle her breasts in his face. The tip of his tongue traced around her nipples through her negligee and she stroked his hair, letting sighs of arousal fall into his ears. He pulled down the straps and released her tits. Their warmth bathed his cheeks as he pushed a breast on each side of his face and licked the center of her chest. He smashed them closer, letting them smother him. She cradled the nape of his neck with her right hand while he sucked on one nipple and pinched the other. An expert at titty sucking, Terry latched onto her with greedy lips and a lascivious tongue. His nipple stimulation caused her to gasp.

"Terry…Terry baby, hold on, my milk is letting down…"

He ignored her warning and accepted the flow of milk into his mouth from both nipples. Holding both breasts, he ran his tongue back and forth…teasing…tasting…turning her on more. He playfully slapped them, their heft arousing his dick with a sturdier girth, ready to plunge deep into her pussy.

"Is that pussy ready for me?" he asked.

He reached down between her thighs and wove careful circles around her clit like the way she showed him how to weave sweetgrass on her grandmother's porch. His fingers had a message to relay, and he used her clit like a telegraph to her inner walls: he was coming to do some work. Be ready.

"Yes…"

She grabbed his shoulders to keep her balance. Her eyes were already half-lidded.

"Suck my dick first. Lemme stretch your mouth."

Nova's eyes were glassy. She whined with annoyance, so desperate to get on her back and let him lay that pipe on her. Stretch those walls out instead. But he knew the longer he prolonged penetration, the sweeter her pussy would be on his dick. He needed to slut her out a bit. Get her pussy throbbing for his erection he taunted her with.

She lowered herself and opened her mouth wide. Taking the bulbous head with her lips first, he groaned the moment her tongue curled on the underside. Her head bobbed in his lap with a steady motion. All mouth, no hands. Poor baby. His girth and length tired her jaw. Wrapping both hands around him still wasn't enough for her. She spit on his dick like the nasty little slut she could be for him. He remembered the times she'd suck him off while pregnant. Nova loved the taste of his dick in her mouth, but always had to take her time with his size or she'd tire out fast, especially while carrying a baby in her belly. He reached for her tits and she sandwiched his dick between them, rubbing them up and done while she watched his expression. His dick pulsed and the veins bulging on it excited her more. Her arousal made her look high. He watched her left nipple leak milk and his jumped again. His fiancé whimpered in desperation. She wanted her pussy plowed right then and there.

There would be time to eat her pussy out later. In the meantime; he needed to be inside of her. Those big titties would keep spilling milk, but he needed to spill into her and satisfy the raging urge to fuck her until he soaked her insides with cum. Her negligee beckoned him to make love to her like the last time they did. It was the best sex he'd had, and it produced a beautiful baby. He wanted to experience that type of carnal pleasure again. Being reckless last time gave him the best nut of his life. They would be extra careful this go-round, but the urge escalated in his dick. He became dizzy, lusting after breeding her with his semen. He kissed her with all the passion in his being.

Nova's legs shook from the stimulation of his tongue and lips. He pulled her onto the bed beside him and spread her legs, letting her feet rest on the edge. She kicked off her heels, and he kissed her toes, which were painted scarlet to match the negligee. Nova played with her pussy, letting him see and hear how wet she was. God, his dick was hard as a brick and his balls hung heavy. He squeezed them to show her how much cum weighed down his sack.

He stepped away to rummage in his personal bag and pulled out some warming lube. He slicked up his dick and smacked it in his hand hard. She heard that heavy sound and chewed on her bottom lip. He slid his hands up her thighs and lifted the negligee back further. Resting between her legs, he lowered his mouth to kiss her and remind her why they fit together. The first time she kissed him so long ago, he recognized the hunger within. He shared that same craving. Pressing the wide head of his dick at her entrance, he breathed into her mouth, "Can I stick part of it in?"

"Yes, baby…yes…"

That's what he liked to hear. Enthusiastic consent. He watched his dick penetrate her dripping pink entrance.

"More!" she pleaded.

Grunting, he tried to keep it together. His entry was so smooth, he would have bet she was built to sheath him from the moment they met.

"Oh! That's it…baby!" she shouted.

He let go of a loud moan of completion as he sank all the way in until his balls slapped her ass. Pulling out slowly, he admired how she could take every inch of him. He stretched her again, easily, the lube and her natural wetness perfectly aroused to handle all of him.

Terry moved slowly, being mindful that she gave birth five months ago. He loved the way her belly bunched up, squeezing her belly button area into a fold of flesh. She worried about having a big fupa later, but he told her good pussy needed extra protection. He watched her face for any signs of discomfort. There weren't any. Her lips pouted and her eyes squinted with her pleasure face. He stroked a little faster, their bodies slapping harder together.

"Yes, baby! Oh…Terry…right there…go deeper…harder…"

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he fisted his hands into the mattress, giving himself an anchor so he could start fucking her silly. His thrusts pulled out her begging. More dick. Deeper. Harder. Faster. Fuck me good Daddy energy.

He gripped her breasts and held onto them. They were slick with more milk and sweat, filling his hands past capacity.

"You'll always love me?" she asked.

Her lust-filled eyes still had a pleading quality to them. He snaked his hips to stroke another part of her pussy. His thickness tugged on her labia and stimulated her clit without him having to touch it yet.

"I'll always love you, Nova."

"Promise?"

He tongued her down and muffled the decadent cries that threatened to get louder since no one else was in the house. Gripping her waist, he owned her pussy, reminding her of what he could do.

"You'll always protect me?" she gasped.

"Yesssss."

He caressed her face and slowed down his thrusts until he barely moved, driving her insane. He used his deep voice to seduce her insecurities away.

"You're my woman…mine, Nova. Don't worry about anything. You're going to be my wife and I'm going to show you what a great man can do when he takes care of his woman and responsibilities properly…hey…look at me…don't you ever doubt my love or my intentions…okay? You're the only one for me. I put a ring on your finger to lock you down for life."

Nova lifted onto her elbows and started fucking him back as he spoke. His face grew heated listening to the sound of his dick stirring up her pussy. All the sticky, creamy, squelching noises coming from her juicy pussy had his dick pulsing inside her. She clenched on his length and he grunted. She needed reassurances. Her heart stayed cautious, and he would have to prove himself each day. He would start by making love to her as her husband. They didn't need a future wedding for him to solidify himself in that way right now. She deserved it all. His heart, mind, body, and soul.

He kissed the side of her neck and sucked on the tender skin there before sliding the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear.

"I love you, Nova. I'll never misuse your heart baby…never…"

She arched her back, as he loved her properly.

They switched positions before he ejaculated inside her gushy warmth. Her wetness bathed him in an ocean of sensual contentment. He sat on the edge of the bed and she sat on his dick. He lifted her up and down, then clutched onto her ass cheeks while she rode him. She hung onto his shoulders and he shouted her name in time to the slapping of her ass on his thighs. He sucked on her titties, kissed her lips, talked to her on how he wanted her pussy to act on his dick…did everything he could to bolster her confidence in their love going the distance. At no time did he ever want her thinking of her unhappy past. He was a new book with a new story that had a happy ending this time.

Slapping her ass, he ordered her onto the bed and fucked her from behind. Head down, ass up.

"Hold those ass cheeks wide open," he demanded.

She pulled her ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick sink into her. Was this the position he had knocked her up in last time? Or was it when he pounded her on the bed with her legs thrown over his shoulders? Maybe it was when he lifted her up and fucked her while standing.

Her nail polish matched her toes and looked seductive on her light brown skin. The wet pink of pussy swallowed his dick…in…out…in…out…making his dick so glossy from her slippery walls. She was close to an orgasm. Her rapid panting and clawing of the blanket warned him..

"Can I cum in your pussy, Nova?"

He gripped her hips. His balls slapped her clit, and each thrust gave her the friction she needed. From the closet mirror, he could see her tits hanging and moving with each thrust he gave her. He reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. Her breasts swayed with each hard thrust.

"…hitting my spot…keep fucking me so good…yes…yes…yes…missed this dick…" she panted.

"Will you let me cum all in this fat pussy?"

Sweat from his chest dripped down onto her ass, that clapped like thunder in the room. She acted willful by not answering him. Nothing irritated him more than a bratty woman. She knew that and played with him, anyway. He'd have to break her of that habit before they returned to Oceanside. He released her hair and pulled her arms back. The motion lifted her chest up and her tits bounced around like crazy then, turning him on further.

"I wanna make a mess in this pussy," he growled.

The shift in tone locked her eyes on him. She took the hint. He wasn't playing with her.

"Tell me I can make a big mess in this pussy."

He was on the verge of losing it. Ready to blast into forever. But he needed her to cum first. She was the lifeline to drag him into the depths of a splendid hallelujah orgasm.

"Tell me!"

He pumped into her as his balls throbbed. Her mouth parted, showing the tip of her tongue. She felt so fucking good around his dick and all he needed was for her to tell him she wanted his cum to drown her pussy. His hips rocked into her faster and his dick swelled. His friction tugged on her clit and Nova spasmed up and down that big Christmas penis he served her. Her contractions vanquished speech from her vocal chords and all she could muster were continuous breathy cries of "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" that matched the throbbing of his erection as he shot hot cum far into her womb. Terry roared so loud that he was positive every angel in heaven heard his yelling. He dropped his head down and watched the root of his dick throb hard, pushing cum into her.

"Damn, Nova…damn, baby…I feel like I'm putting another baby in you!"

No more sound erupted from his lips, just his mouth stayed open with his eyes narrowed like he was mad at her pussy for milking him like that. Up and down his shaft, the contractions of her walls squeezed him. His hips rocked into her and the final spurts felt even more intense than the first. When he pulled out, he stroked the last bit of semen all over her labia. A lot more spilled out of her vagina. She had wrecked him and he left her pussy in shambles.

"Nova…shit…"

He started laughing, and she shook with giggles. Rolling over, she held out her arms for him and he climbed on her and rested his head on those soft pillowy breasts that fed his baby and satisfied him.

"God, I fucking love you, girl," he said.

"I think I love you more."

"Impossible."

"No, I think it's true," she said.

"But I loved you first," he said.

"Impossible."

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him all over his forehead, nose, cheeks, and then finally…his lips.

Terry showered with Nova.

They changed into comfortable, ugly Christmas sweaters and jeans. Nova cooked Mawmaw's Carolina Gold Rice, making red rice with crabmeat, and scooped it into a large ceramic casserole dish. She bagged it up with some of the leftovers along with paper plates and plastic forks for everyone to eat while watching the fireworks.

He drove them to the Hyatt in his truck and once they entered the suite where his parents and her parents relaxed and cared for their babies, Terry knew in the marrow of his bones that he was right to pursue Nova.

Van-Van ran up to him with his arms up in the air and he swooped his son up, giving him kisses.

"I love you, Van-Van," he said.

Van-Van pointed to the ceiling to floor window and wiggled to be put down so he could touch the glass and watch the first bright lights shoot off into the night sky. Nova handed him Terrina. His baby girl touched his lips, and he nibbled her fingers, making her squeal and laugh. He kept her on his right arm and put his other arm around Nova's shoulder.

"Dada, look…see? Fireworks," Van-Van said, elated by the presentation of red, green and white fireworks.

Terry smiled.

"I see them, son. I see them."

Nova grinned, and they stood together with their children as a family. His daughter rested her head on his chest, wearing her Creole/Gullah shirt. He glimpsed Nova's engagement ring as she pointed out a new fiery explosion to Van-Van.

She gazed into Terry's eyes and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Merry Christmas, Terry," she said.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Nova Richmond."

The fireworks couldn't match the brightness of Nova's smile.

Nor the glow inside his heart.

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A.N:

Merry Christmas y'all and Happy New Year down the road! I hope my story gave you some holiday cheer, and a few thrills! Reminder: One of the best ways to support Black fanfiction writers that doesn't cost a dime is to reblog or comment (or both!). 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 of pouring into ourselves and our own, so we deserve nice things to come home to for our reading pleasure.

On Deck: I'm finishing the last chapter of my Vampire!Terry Richmond fic "A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues" by New Years, and then it's on to add more chapters to "Spinning the Block" my Terry Richmond/Jess Sims fic!

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