#rebel ridge au

[venusincleo]

𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟸. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎.

• • •

Warnings: MDNI • Terry Richmond x Black!OC Eden Laurent, angsty, a lil sad... that's all... 🥲

Summary: After the events in Shelby Springs, Terry moves out of town, and goes to Covington, LA. Messed up about what happened to his cousin, he tries to keep his head low and stack some money. Only halfway effective, with just money to show for his efforts, he slowly spirals with grief before he has a not-so-cute meeting with a young woman on her own healing journey.

Word Count: 1.3k💚

A/N: I'm tapping into my younger self with these shorter parts... {taking it back to my 2014 Wattpad days lmaooo} I hope you enjoy this fic as the story progresses. 🫶🏾

• • •

The silence was deafening. Yet, there were so many elements in her peripheral, the young woman found herself glancing around the room every few seconds. The quiet tick of the analog clock right above the door, the short stints of heavier breath whenever one of her only students laughed at a TikTok on their phones. The calming woosh of the timed heater turning back on to fill the room with warmth. The ever-so-light taps of her nude brown pointe shoes against the carpeted dance studio. Eden had tried today.

She woke up and prayed to the Most High to give her courage, and to allow her to get out of her own way. She wore an ensemble fit to teach her favorite contemporary moves; adorned in her ballet cardigan and stirrup leggings. Her hair was beautifully curly and large, giving her an extra boost of confidence, and she felt good.

That was, until she walked the halls, perused the popular spots around the school to play hookie, snuck into the gym to promote her class, and still got nothing. Smiles that read ‘yeah, okay, bye.’ were her only replies, and now, she was sitting in her assigned room frowning at her phone like the two girls who always sat with her. They only ever said ‘hi’ and ‘bye’, and every once and a while asked to learn a TikTok dance. But that was it. 2 out of 415.

She allowed a sigh to leave her lips, and glanced from her phone up at the analog clock, and then back at her Instagram feed. Scrolling and scrolling.

After seeing one too many celebration posts from people she went to college with, who seemed to be doing way better than her, she exited the app in a hurry. Quick taps of her manicured digits helped her rake her brain for something that she could do, and soon, a lightbulb went off.

Navigating to her camera roll, she scrolled through her many videos of rough choreography and found her favorite one, then set her phone in her lap. As she rummaged through her Telfar, she grasped at her AirPod case, and then she was putting her left headphone in to watch the video. Tinashe’s Bouncin’, Pt.2 came through her AirPod and she watched her body flow around the slowed down melody and watery synths.

Her body moved slightly as her muscles remembered the majorette inspired routine, the words playing in her mind as she immersed herself in the recording. Hands up, back arched, hip popped, toes pointed.

She watched every movement, down to her facial expressions and just as the routine picked up –gained a soulful momentum– it fell back down. What was that? She rewinds the video and right at the part where Tinashe says ‘just like this…’ the energy is flat. Gone.

Pursing her lips in thought, she plays the choreo demo from the beginning but this time she closes her eyes to feel the song. ‘Watch it bouncin’ on the ground…’

She does the 8-count twice over in her mind, and then when she gets to the verse, she starts to think of something. Her fingers twitch as she imagines her hands outstretched, meeting in the middle of her chest, ‘can’t get any closer now…’.

Her eyes pop open, and she starts it over yet again, trying to think of another move or another, or another.

Briiiiiinnnng. The school bell rings, and the two girls are halfway out the door, leaving her to contemplate. Why can’t I get this…what is it missing?

The intercom clicks on with the after-school announcements, and she makes sure to grab her bag, checking around where she sat as not to leave anything. Once she cuts the light off and steps out of the desolate studio, she can hear the faint ding of a notification from her phone. With a slight tap to her home screen, she reveals the message to see an unsaved number.

‘Hey this is Terry from the store.’

Eden’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and she readies her thumbs at the keyboard to respond. Only, nothing comes to her just that quick. I didn’t expect for him to reach out. She reasoned. By the third day that she hadn’t gotten a text, she just assumed he wasn’t interested in her advice. And she was fine with that.

With swift glides along the digital keyboard, she queues up a reply, and then follows it up rather quickly.

Hi Terry 👋🏾

How’s your day been?

Eh not the best… how about you?

It was fine…wanna talk about it?

You free for me to call?

Eden looks up at the foot traffic heading out of the school, and she sighs.

I will be in a few

Terry looked at his screen for a moment longer, his shoulders rising and falling slowly as he stood in thought. He really needed a distraction…something…

cool.. call me when you can

After sending the message, he shoved the cool device into his pocket and ventured for the back room yet again. He was really supposed to be taking his lunch break, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest for too long without asking him harsh questions… Why Mike…why not me?

Unfortunately, sitting at the cold steel table in the break room with nothing good to occupy his time was too much to handle. He had to keep his body moving. Anything involving an accelerated heart rate was enough to act as a chaser to this survivor’s guilt that was plaguing him. And he needed something for the burn.

His footsteps were quiet as he basically snuck back to work. Quiet, but not enough to hide his large stature between the wide aisles of the warehouse. And of course, he was caught before he could really get his hands busy doing something.

“Richmond!” His supervisor’s voice was tinny, and he huffed through his nose at the sound. With a sharp pivot of his feet, he directly faced the average height, bald, white man.

“Head to the breakroom, you’re about to hit compliance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry’s footsteps were a bit heavier now, dragging just slightly as he took his sweet old time walking to the breakroom. Once he was under the warm light he dreaded, he made his way to the time clock and punched out for his break with a little over a minute to spare. Reluctantly, he beelined for his locker, and grabbed his Stanley transit bottle then his generic store brand water.

Just as he closed his locker door, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to see Eden’s name. Instantly, he opened his locker back up and grabbed his work jacket, then locked it to prepare for his next thirty minutes.

Hoping not to miss the call, Terry tapped on the green answer button and put his phone to his ear as he exited the side door of his workplace. Going for his usual seat far from the rest of the benches, he heard a sweet voice call to him.

“Hello?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat nervously. What am I even doing? “Sorry, I was clocking out for my break. I hope your day was better than mine.”

“Tell me about it… What’s been going on?” Terry hesitates. One second. Three…Six…Ten…

“U-Uh… I think it’s best I tell you more about myself before I start pouring my heart out…” He trails off, half-way expecting her to say she couldn’t care less. That she didn’t give a damn that his cousin died. That she had no sympathy for whether or not he could sleep without something on loud enough to drown out the noise. The pain. The memories.

“I’ve got time. Where did you wanna start?”

• • •

♥︎ I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

༓TAGLIST༓

@onherereading

*let me know if you want to be added to the ongoing taglist in the comments*

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 3

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sexual issues. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: Your third session with Dr. Richmond gets more intense as he finally figures out how best to help you. He makes you dig deeper and uncover uncomfortable truths about yourself.

Word Count: 4,751k

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3 Link

A/N: Alright now, I'm feeling a smidge bullied about this series. I am very thankful that ya'll love my series and while I know that it's out of love, I have a squirrel brain and bad noodle days. I would never want to put out a subpar fic. So the best way to encourage me is tell me what you liked about the fic! I have a praise kink, babes. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry

Terry sat in the office breakroom stirring his tea while it steeped. He had your file spread out on the small round table as he went over it one last time before your appointment today. Though, it remained a mystery if you’d actually show.

For the past week, he had been pouring over your file backwards and forwards trying to glean what you weren’t saying. What you were holding yourself back from saying. He didn’t usually like to bad mouth his professional colleagues, but their notes were sloppy; and that was putting it mildly. 

Terry rolled the tea bag around the spoon to squeeze excess water out and then placed it on the napkin beside his mug. He sighed and stretched, stuck too long already in one position. 

It was clear that he couldn’t bully you into opening up. That wasn’t what you needed. You were already on the precipice. So much of your insights were spot on. You didn’t really need him, but you needed a guide. Someone to mentor you or mold you…no, that wasn’t it.

Terry scratched out the word on the notebook he started for you. It’s not molding you, you already have a strong foundation. You weren’t putty for someone to play with. You were more resilient, more open, more determined. 

So if not mold…Terry rubbed his short goatee and adjusted himself on the orange plastic chair. He thought a change of scenery would help give him an attack plan. A way to approach your next session, but he was at a loss. He was uncomfortable in these cheap ass seats, for starters. And the ideas weren’t coming in the quiet, rigidly styled break room.

It was like playing wack-a-mole with you. Every method he thought of, you shot down. Every time he thought he had a way into that pretty head of yours, you switched gears. It was challenging and frustrating and exciting as hell. 

His pen hovered over the notebook, full of crossed out words and methodologies he could try. And for the first time in a long while, his mind was blank. He had nothing. How did he combat nine therapists and a woman hell-bent on doing everything herself? 

“Hey, Dr. Richmond! Funny seeing you here!” Dr. Crawford waltzed into the breakroom and opened the nearest teak cabinet. He pulled down a mug that proclaimed him as the best dad ever and he hummed to himself as he poured himself some coffee. 

Terry eyed the older man with a bushy mustache but a “dad” demeanor. He treated everyone kindly and he came highly recommended for good reason. He seemed to zero in on everyone’s problems like he had a nose for it. 

“Dr. Crawford. I’d actually like your help with something,” Terry said.

“Me? Oh, cool. Cool,” Dr. Crawford paused as if he were a deer caught in headlights. Regaining himself, he patted down his army green button up and approached Terry’s table. 

Terry flipped your file closed and made more space for Dr. Crawford. The older man sat down with a quiet huff and sipped loudly at his coffee. Terry hoped his face didn’t reveal his disgust, but the man was a good guy. Just a bit odd. 

“What’s on your mind?” Dr. Crawford asked, placing his mug down on the table. 

Terry rubbed his hands while he thought over how to approach his question without coming off like a creep. His feelings for you were strictly professional. Okay, maybe not strictly but Crawford didn’t need to know that.

“I have a female patient, difficulty achieving climax, well-researched, with issues with control. We’ve had two sessions so far and usually I’d wait for more data, but at the moment, she’s been through nine therapists,” Terry said.

“Nine?” Dr. Crawford asked.

Terry smirked and nodded. “Nine. She’s committed to the process and seems willing to try new things, but I’m concerned that I can’t find my baseline with her. She’s been through so many therapists, she’s done copious research on her own, like…how do I compete with that?” Terry asked. 

Dr. Crawford took a few sips of his mug and stared out of the windows towards the cityscape. “Nine therapists, you say? And no one’s helped her?” Dr. Crawford’s bushy mustache moved with his frown. 

Terry fought off a smile. Dr. Crawford hadn’t even met you and he was reaching conclusions faster than Terry. Nine therapists was a lot for anyone to not find any kind of solution. 

“I ask probing questions, I’ve given her some things to think over, but it’s only going to work if she’s willing to do all of it,” he said. 

“My advice? Start from the beginning. Find a way for her to trust you. If she’s been through nine therapists, I imagine they’ve done everything under the sun already. And if she’s as well-read as you say, you better come up with something better before she’s on to number eleven,” Dr. Crawford said. 

Terry chuckled. “Right, because she’s done it all, said it all…”

“And yet no one’s gotten to the core of the issue. You can talk solutions all day long but if you don’t know what the hell you’re treating, you’re just wasting her time,” Dr. Crawford said and knocked on the table. “It’s not competing against the others. It’s erasing them completely.”

Terry mulled that over as he took some notes. He liked that. It wasn’t molding you, more like shaping you. Stripping away all the misconceptions and untruths and whatever it was that you’ve read thus far. Everything your previous therapists had tried. His job was to uncover who you truly were.

Reveal…uncover…sculpt…that was it. He was merely helping you sculpt the woman begging to be let out. You were a sexual goddess trapped in marble. You were already there, just unpolished. He had to chisel his way there, not jackhammer it. You didn’t need kid gloves but you needed more finesse. 

Terry smirked as his pen scratched against his notepad, jotting down idea after idea. He hoped you showed. He hoped you took a chance on him and let him help you. Let him be your tenth and final therapist. And then release you to whatever bum caught your eye. 

“This is incredibly helpful, thank you Dr. Crawford,” Terry said. He threw away his trash and then gathered his tea, your file, and your notebook. 

Dr. Crawford’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, his neck turning cherry red. “Oh, I’m sure you would’ve gotten there without me,” he said with a wave. 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t have. See you around,” Terry said, tapping Dr. Crawford on the back. Talking to him reminded Terry of his own father. A tall, imposing man who was larger than life yet nothing but a gentle giant. 

Terry exited the break room and steamrolled down the bland, drab hallway towards his office. His mind filled with more ideas than he knew what to do with. New things to try. New things to explore. If you let him, he would show you exactly what you needed. 

He rounded the corner in time to see you step back from his office door. He stopped in his tracks and watched you for a moment, watched your unguarded expression as you hovered. You were dressed in dark jeans and a red sweatshirt, a small purse over your shoulder, and you clutched your journal against your chest. Your hair was neatly styled and it fit you. 

Many expressions played across your sweet face. You had a tilt to your head and a lilt to your mouth. He would pay top dollar to know what you were thinking. What mental battle you waged inside. Or whether or not you’d knock on the door.

&&&

You

You sighed and rubbed your head. You had been debating if you would attend today’s appointment or not. You felt less than grown up storming out of his office. He must’ve thought you were the biggest goof in the world. 

You fought yourself the entire ride over, constantly looking at every corner as an opportunity to escape. To flee. But you kept passing it up because each corner also tasted terribly like defeat. 

In two sessions, Dr. Richmond had you re-thinking everything. Besides being drop dead gorgeous, he had a big brain to back it up. And damn if it wasn’t working. You wanted more. You wanted to explore everything about yourself. 

Living in your body was painful. But god, you felt so alive. The numbness receded with each passing day as you practiced. You needed to see it through. So with a rumbling gut and sweaty palms, you forced yourself to stay on the road and attend your appointment.

You sighed. This was going to be fucking painful. You raised your hand to knock when soft footfalls sounded behind you.

“No need,” Dr. Richmond said. 

You turned to your right to see him come to a complete stop in front of you. Sugar Honey Iced Tea, he was dreamy. He wore a tan colored long sleeved T-shirt and dark navy pants. The sleeves were rolled on his forearm, veins poking out in his deep almond skin, peeks of tattoos, and he held a mug in his hand. His other hand clutched a notebook and a thick file. Your file. 

You looked from it to his hands to his forearms. Your eyes pinged everywhere on him but his face. Dr. Richmond cleared his throat and tilted his head.

You pinched your lips together and smiled, your eyes crinkling at being caught staring. “Dr. Richmond, great - uh - good to see you,” you said. God, if you listening, strike now, please. Please. Please? 

“I’m glad you’re here. I feared I would’ve been alone for the next hour,” he said. 

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I was definitely debating. But I said I was committed, and I meant it,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond nodded and then waved his hand forward. You opened the door and held it open for him to enter behind you. You practically skipped to the couch and stood awkwardly in front of it. You held onto your journal but threw your purse on the coffee table.

You watched as Dr. Richmond deposited the mug, notebook, and your file on his desk. You watched the long length of his body, drooling at the fluid way he moved. He must live in the gym or something.

His shirt hinted at a rock hard body, but you wanted to see more. And that was totally the wrong thing to think about your sex therapist. You huffed and looked away from him, up towards the ceiling. 

There should be a law against attractive authority figures. He should be banned from the profession. Retire and go on somewhere. 

The door closed behind you and you jumped. “Would you like it open?” Dr. Richmond asked.

“Nope, I’m good,” you said. You turned to him and gave him a wide smile. “I’m just nervous.”

Dr. Richmond smiled and put his hand in his pocket. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You’re in charge here, remember that,” he said.

You nodded and watched as he crossed the room. Instead of going towards his chair, he perched next to the desk and faced you. “Before we get started, I want to clear the air. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. I approached our session wrong and I apologize,” he said. 

“In what way?” You asked. 

“I assumed that with so many therapists that you didn’t need the song and dance. That you didn’t need the introductory session,” he said.

“No, that was right. I need a push. I know I have more issues to work through than I thought. And so far, everyone’s just been coddling me. Treating me like what I’m feeling is in my head. And I spend all my life in this motherfucker. I know it’s not in my head. Sorry for saying motherfucker,” you said and smirked. 

Dr. Richmond rocked back on his heels and matched your smirk. He nodded his head. “Then we can both move forward together,” he said. He moved around his desk and then sat in his high backed chair. He pulled the mug towards him and blew on the steaming mug. 

His lips should not look so damn kissable. Lush and pink, he had big sexy lips that just made you want to kiss forever. He was a work of art made real. He took a sip from his cup and then pulled the notebook and your file closer. 

“Have you been keeping up with your homework?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yup. Living in my body. Feeling my feelings. Admiring myself,” you said. You finally felt calm enough to sit down on the couch. You stared at the Lego set in the zen garden and shook your head. 

“And?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and opened your journal and flipped to the pre-appointment jitters. You listed main points that you didn’t mind sharing with him. You told him all about what experiencing living your body felt like. 

It was scary and there were times that you slipped back into your head without realizing it. Zoning back in was always painful, like stepping into the sun after sitting for a three hour movie. You talked about how strange it was to feel like you had been asleep all this time, pushing everything to the back of your mind.

Later, later, another time, when you weren’t so busy. But you were always busy. Always running and moving and thinking and stressing. 

“That must be exhausting,” he chimed in. 

“You have no idea,” you said. Your shoulders dropped from around your shoulders and you mentally groaned. This was going to turn into your Sisyphus. You were going to kick that healing rock up the mountain and just when you thought you’d finally make it, you’d just go tumbling back down. Hope, you fickle bitch. 

You and hope had a toxic codependent relationship. It didn’t really fuck with you like that, but you kept letting it back in your heart. 

“Where do you think this need to cut yourself down before someone else does come from?” Dr. Richmond asked.

You fanned yourself and gaped at him. “Buy me dinner first at least, Dr. Richmond,” you said. You shared a laugh with him and shook your head. “So I wouldn’t be disappointed with my parents when they didn’t give me the reaction I wanted for my accomplishments.” 

Dr. Richmond leaned forward, his eyebrow shooting up above the golden rim of his glasses. “You really do over-analyze yourself,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s a compulsion. If I don’t, the world burns,” you said softly. Your eyes pricked with tears but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. You weren’t going to shy from this. You weren’t going to disappear into your mind. 

Dr. Richmond took another sip of his mug but to his credit, he didn’t write anything down. That would have somehow been embarrassing. You waited while he sat there and you busied yourself with picking at your nails. 

“We need a fresh start,” Dr. Richmond said. He picked up your file and then opened a drawer. He dropped the folder and the metal popped with the weight. He closed the drawer and then faced you. 

“I’m not your tenth therapist. I’m your first. If you let me, I’m going to help you achieve what you want. You’re going to find sexual satisfaction whenever you want. Whether that’s alone or with a partner,” he said. 

“That’s what I want,” you said.

He nodded and then gripped his mug but he didn’t bring it to his lips. “You said if you didn’t over-analyze yourself, the world would burn. Do you believe the world will literally burn or do you just think something bad will happen?” 

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your jeans and scooted forward on the couch. “Rationally, I know that’s impossible. But irrationally? I’ve never been brave enough to test it,” you said. 

Your mind spun at a thousand hertz per second. It never shut up. Never stopped rolling. Never stopped running. Never stopped with the constant chatter in your mind. You didn’t know what would happen if you had a calm mind. The only time you got some semblance of relief was when you were high.

And even then, your mind was still running in the background. Popping up with new tabs constantly. Because if the chatter stopped, you’d have to face the silence. And you just didn’t know how you’d act. Or if the world would burn. All you knew was that your mind kept spinning and so did the world. 

“Tell me about how you were treated as a teen. How did your parents treat you and how did your peers at school treat you?” He asked.

You giggled. “Okay, if not dinner, then ice cream? I’m a simple cookies n’ cream girly,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “Jokes are just a way to procrastinate,” he said. Goodness that voice. That subtle twang in the back of his throat that hinted of a Southern background. 

You huffed and leaned back on the couch. No one said healing was easy. So you told him. You told him about your over-analytical helicopter parents who were so fearful of something happening to you that they placed you in an invisible bubble. 

They had to know where you were at all times, they had to know your friend’s parents and have them on speed dial, they asked after your every move, and you asked permission before even thinking about going in the fridge. 

You had to become hypervigilant and pick up on cues that your mother was going to grow a second head from all her yelling. You never knew when she would give you a kiss on the cheek or yell at you for no reason. You had to scan her face for microexpressions, trying to gauge which way the wind would blow with her. 

As for your friends…they were cool for what you had at the time. You were no longer friends with them as they’d moved on and left you in the dust. But at the time, any little weird thing you did they poked fun at. And if it wasn’t them, it was the boys in your class. As if you couldn’t step a toe out of line without someone pointing it out for everyone to hear. 

If you jumped onto a chair, then people would turn and stare. If you waved your hands, there were three people there to call you weird. And if you joked and sung badly on purpose, people thought you were serious and made fun of you for being tone deaf.

You tried on plenty of personalities throughout the years, trying to mix and match what people expected of you. You eventually grew comfortable with being weird but that hypervigilance never left you. 

“Would you say you feel safe to be yourself at all?” Dr. Richmond asked. 

You twisted your lips and shook your head. “I wouldn’t know what that is. My mom read my diary once and I never wrote anything down ever again. Until you gave me my homework,” you said. 

&&&

Terry 

You just…listened so well. He knew now that it was a product of your upbringing, being the child who was only seen and never heard. Marching to hundreds of orders given by your overbearing mother and absent in spirit father. 

Add onto that that your peers at school treated you as if there was something wrong with you, it was impossible for you to become comfortable. To achieve safety of mind and body. Who could explore themselves like that? When so many conspired to convince you that you weren’t a person deserving of grace? 

Terry took a sip of his mug and watched you deflate further. Like every truth you kept trapped inside was what kept you animated and full. Without it… 

Terry stood up and rounded his desk, somehow needing the boundary out of the way. Maybe he’d sit in the other chair opposite the table from you from now on. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. 

Fuck. You never even had a chance. He prayed that you hadn’t been abused or hurt by anyone ever. It was a miracle that you didn’t have a string of abusive ex-boyfriends or a thicker medical file in a hospital somewhere. Sweet, open women like you deserved to be cared for. Protected. 

You were a sub in more ways that you realized. And his fondness for you, his attraction, only grew with each session. How? How would he let you go when you graduated from his help? 

“I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to really think before you answer,” he said. He replaced his glasses on his face and tilted his head forward to emphasize his point. This was a hard question but it needed to be asked. 

You leaned forward, clutched your journal to your chest, and pinched your lips. But you nodded and mimed zipping your mouth. 

“Who said they were right?” He asked.

He watched as your face smoothed out to an adorable blank. Your mouth flattened as you looked at him. Again, he wished more than anything to know what you were thinking. What questions raced in your mind. 

He grew concerned when you continued to stare without saying a word. But he didn’t interrupt. He wanted to see where you took it. What you would do. So as you stared, he stared. 

He took in your sweet, rounded features. Your adorably styled hair. The red in your sweatshirt highlighted your beautiful brown skin. You finally took a deep breath and then stared up at the ceiling.

“In all my life, no one has ever asked me that,” you said. You brought your hands to your eyes and swiped at them. You needed to let them fall but he wasn’t going to push you on that right now. 

You stood up and then rubbed your forehead as you paced back and forth. He continued to watch you self-soothe right before his eyes. He wondered if you were conscious of that too. Did you miss anything? 

“And…people just accept it when everyone seems to agree that you’re uncool or weird or whatever, ‘cause of what you said about the group thing. People want to fit in and belong but…no one died and made them the fucking authority on what’s cool. No one put them in charge and they’re not the popular police,” you said as you continued to pace like a ping pong ball. 

“Misery loves company. Hurt people hurt people. However you wanna spin it, nothing brings people closer together than hating the same thing or same person. There’s a sense of validation when people agree with you. And people think mob mentality only applies to bad situations, but it applies everywhere. Because there’s safety in numbers, people would rather go with the flow than be singled out.” 

You threw up your hands. “Why didn’t I learn this years ago? And now I just feel stupid for it never even occurred to me that they weren’t right,” you said. You sat down on the couch with a huff. 

Terry put his hands in his pockets and smirked. He glanced at the clock. He didn’t have you for much longer. He flexed his jaw at the thought. What he wouldn’t give. 

“You shouldn’t feel stupid. Think about what kind of environment you were raised in and continue to live in. You had to be aware to avoid danger. To avoid being singled out. You had to adapt to survive. That takes courage and bravery. You did what you had to do to survive and that’s all anyone is doing.

“But you don’t have to just survive anymore. You get to choose. You get to choose right here and now to live. Live with your whole body because you are here, you are perceivable, you matter, and you can take up space and the world will be fine,” he said. 

Tears swimmed in your eyes and you stood up to face away from him. You faced the window and your shoulders shook. You gripped yourself in a low hug, not making a single sound. 

Terry moved to his desk to grab the box of tissues silently. He made noise so that you knew he was approaching and he placed the box on the end table under the window. You turned your body from him but grabbed a tissue and swiped at your eyes. 

The only sounds he heard was the tick of the clock on the wall and your random sniffles. The shake in your shoulders subsided bit by bit until you looked up at the ceiling. 

Terry remained close by so that you knew you weren’t alone.

&&&

You

Fuck, you felt like a fucking idiot. All these years. Nine fucking therapists. Shitty boyfriend after shitty boyfriend. Your mother’s latest tirade and your father’s empty shrug. All for this man to ask you the one question that shook you to your core. 

Who said they were right? Who said? Who gave them the right to make you think that there was something wrong with you? That your very existence was a plight on the world and it’d be better if you weren’t there? 

Who fucking said? 

It was all so simple and yet complicated. You hung your sense of safety on the need to “do the right thing at the right time”. If you did something “normal”, then no one could make fun of you, and you passed through another day fooling everyone with your disguise. 

And fuck! Wasn’t that freeing? Your chest ached and your eyes pricked with unshed tears, but it was already embarrassing that Dr. Richmond witnessed you crying. You liked to reserve that for sappy, cheesy romance movies on Netflix. 

Your heart felt heavy, weighing down your chest to a near uncomfortable level. You knew you needed to release all of it but not now. Not after only three sessions with this man. 

Who was he? Why was he like this? Where the fuck did he come from? 

“I see why they pay you the big bucks now,” you said, wiping at a tear that dared escape your eye. And you had a random ache in your belly? Feelings were weird. And sticky. Like constantly stepping on glue traps plastered all over the kitchen floor. 

“Why did you place so much bearing on their opinions?” Dr. Richmond asked. You liked that he had stayed close by while you broke apart. It was so rare that you did it in front of others. You were glad that he wasn’t the hugging type. Or the one who filled the room with hot air about how much it was needed and you should let go. 

“Because I don’t want to be alone forever. I want proof that I mattered to someone,” you whispered. You sniffled but held back the tears. You blinked a few times and held firm. Later.

“How can you matter to anyone if you don’t matter to yourself?” Dr. Richmond asked softly. 

The clock ticked in the background and you glanced at the clock. You were a little over your session and you were thankful that the next person hadn’t barged in. You wiped your face once more and then turned to Dr. Richmond.

He stood with his hands in his pockets and a kind smile on his face. His biggest strength was that he was unassuming despite his size. He knew when to use it to his advantage and when to switch it off. He was in tune with those around him and it was rare to find a man with a calming aura. 

“I matter to myself but probably not as much as I think,” you said. “I’ll work on that too.” 

Dr. Richmond nodded. “Your homework is to practice loving yourself. Speak kind words, think nice things about yourself, and remember that your brain is a big ass liar,” he said.

You giggled and ducked your head. “Alright, alright. I’ll be nicer to myself. You missed your calling as a mind reader, Dr. Richmond,” you said. You grabbed your journal and purse from the couch and coffee table and then exited the room, feeling way lighter than when you went in.

Wheww! Need some more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Vampire!Terry Richmond Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Terry Richmond x Black OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex/Unprotected Sex, Violence, Blood, Angst, Abortion Mentioned, Cannabis Usage, Hoodoo, Witchcraft, and Supernatural Shenanigans.

Summary: Celeste thought the tattoo on Terry Richmond's arm marked him as one of those Hoteps or Nation of Islam brothas that hawked bean pies on the corner with the Final Call. But little did she know it meant more than that. That's why she has to track him down and kill him... before the baby in her belly can turn into his kind.

Word count: Novella length, so get your wine and snacks and enjoy!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

[erikftglitter]

Christmas in Winona Springs 🤍🎄

Terry Richmond AU

Created By: Erikftglitter

Terry’s car had been giving him trouble for miles. He was headed north to visit his great aunt. He was also fond of the thought of a change of scenery, but the flat tire had put an abrupt halt to his plans. The only thing that he could see through the hovering clouds were a few cabins nestled among the trees.

Terry figured that this would be the only way to fix his problem in the current climate. He would check the cabin out, take a look, and find someone to help.

To Terry’s surprise, as he got closer to the cabins, he discovered that it was an actual resort. It was home to many different cabins and lodges, as well as camping grounds, tents, and a connecting lake. In the midst of the inconvenience, Terry still took time to appreciate the beautiful scenery.

He was greeted upon arrival within seconds.

The gentleman was older, his face lined with years, but he was as welcoming as could be. He was dressed comfortably and typical for someone who ran a cabin business. He sported a red and black flannel shirt and khaki work pants. He greeted Terry with a warm smile and ushered him out of harsh winds of the evening.

After accepting the man’s hospitality and enjoying coffee, Terry eventually explained his circumstance. He figured that the man would know someone with car services. Terry would happily fix the tire himself but he couldn’t get the tire off without the proper equipment.

“It’s late. Thankfully your car knew where to cause trouble.” The man chuckled. “Why don’t you settle in for the night and we can revisit this in the morning?” He offered.

“Are you sure?” Terry felt hesitant. It was never his intention to expect a hand out. He had took care of himself since a child and wasn’t fond of being a freeloader.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble. I can just call a tow truck or—”

“Nonsense. You’re in a pickle. It happens to the best of us.” The man smiled. His morals refused to allow anyone to struggle in his presence. “Stay the night. Get you some food, and tomorrow, we’ll fix that tire. No worries.”

Terry wasn’t sure what to make of it, but something in the older man’s voice—the calm certainty—made him set aside any skepticism. He didn’t have many other options and at least he’d be warm and safe.

“Thank you,” Terry finally said. He let his eyes roam the longue. It was supplied with wooden tables, warm, brown furniture with blankets topped over them, and the faint smell of apples and cinnamon felt surprisingly homey.

“My name’s Lee, by the way,” the man said as he led Terry to a clean room. “If you’re up for it, I’ll make you a drink.”

After the many hours of driving, and the ultimate disappointment of not arriving at his destination, Terry allowed Lee to make him a drink.

They sat at the small resort bar for hours. Terry found Lee to be an entertaining man. They sat and talked about everything and nothing. Lee told stories about the craziest experiences that he’s had over the years. A runaway bride being the most memorable. He got a great laugh out of eating on the wedding cake for weeks.

Terry shared a little about himself as well, but he didn’t think of himself as really interesting. He talked about his great aunt, who he was going to visit, his brief time in the service, and that is all that Terry Richmond summed himself up to be. Lee listened to everything though, patiently, never pushing, never judging.

He hadn’t expected to find comfort in the middle of nowhere, but here he was—sitting across from a stranger who felt more like an old friend. Lee was a wise man.

That night, Terry sat awake in the small guest room Lee had given him, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the place. Tomorrow, he’d help out around the resort to show his appreciation. For the first time in a long while, Terry felt needed.

[Two Months Later]

Terry never had the chance to see his great aunt before she succumbed to her illness. Stage 4 pancreatic cancer wasn’t an easy battle, and he’s just relieved that she was no longer suffering.

When Lee heard of the news he insisted that Terry stay the week. Being the honest man that he was, Terry wouldn’t allow Lee to house him without helping out. Business was going to become busy again as skiing became more common during the cooler months and Terry was determined to make it easier for Lee. He couldn’t stand the thought of Lee being left to repair cabins in the unforgiving weather condition and snow.

He helped him locate leaks and level the floor inside of the noisier cabins. Lee’s resort in Winona Springs was well-loved. Terry would stop to admire the photos that Lee had around the longue of families who came and went. Some even went as far as sending Lee annual holiday cards. Deep down, Terry wondered how it felt to be so loved.

But just as quickly as the thought came it left Terry’s mind. This is how he operated. He was unpredictable and flexible. He hadn’t seen home in months. How could he be loved if he disappeared from time and time again? This was his thing. He knew that he was a lone wolf and spent his adult years not trying to fight it.

Terry often filled in the work orders for Lee. He took quite a fall a few weeks before and Terry found himself being more upset than the older man.

“Terry. I’m old. This is the unrelenting truth of age, bud.” Lee laughed, reaching his hand out for Terry who eagerly helped him off the freshly waxed surface.

“Yeah I get that Lee, but don’t you have a nephew or something to help you out.” Terry’s heartbeat quickened at the realization that Lee was in fact an old man. Their unlikely alliance seemingly provided youth to Lee in Terry’s eyes. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he was definitely old enough to be his father. Definitely too old to run a rigorous business like a cabin resort alone, where snow and ice were detrimental for someone of Lee’s age.

“A nephew? I wish.” Lee sighed. “My brothers died much too soon. They didn’t have time to have any children.” Terry listened. Lee rarely spoke of his own family.

“It’s just me and my little girl.” Lee smiled and reached into his pocket. Terry watched as Lee rummaged through the thick leather wallet before retrieving his point of interest. He offered Terry a photo of a little girl who was missing two front teeth.

“I’m assuming she’s no longer a little girl.” Terry asked, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.

“I’m afraid not. Baby girl’s big time in New York.” Lee sighed. “She visits every Christmas. I just miss the times when we did this together. Just me and her.” Lee looked down. He was starting to remember just how much he missed his family.

“Her mother died during a snowstorm.” Terry took a seat next to Lee. He hadn’t realized that he lost his wife so early on. He gave Lee is undivided attention.

“Car slid right off the road just before Christmas Eve.” Lee still didn’t look up from the floor where his eyes rested. Terry glanced back at the photo and back to Lee. The girl had his exact mocha colored skin tone. Terry wondered how much she resembled the older lad now.

“Is that why you allowed me to stay with you Lee?” Asked Terry. He knew that Lee came from a generation that was built on community, but Lee was more than polite to him. He took Terry in like he was his own.

“Yeah. I feel like she would want me to do that. I wish someone could have done it for her.” Lee admitted. Taking Terry in during a troubled time helped his conscious. He was more than happy to do it. “I had the space and the resources. So why not?” Lee smiled.

“You’re a stand up guy Terry Richmond.” Lee stated. Terry nodded at the praise. He was grateful for the opportunity to listen and learn from Lee.

“Hoping to be like you one day Mr. Parker.” They both laughed at the formality. They sat in silence for a while, silently watching the snow fall onto the ground. Terry wasn’t sure how long he’d be around but he knew that he wouldn’t be leaving his new friend alone anytime soon.

[violetmuses]

Terry Richmond + Female Reader ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Rebel Ridge” Film Universe

Character: Terry Richmond

Main Storyline: Your “best friend” offers some news.

@episodes-ff @becauseimswagman1 @helloncrocs @diaries-of-me @liquorlaughslove @babybratzmaraj @cloveroctobers 🏷

This Idea 📞

====

2024

Blocking time off from work, you noticed that your cell phone started ringing out of nowhere.

Officer Jessica Sims from the Shelby Springs Police Department called.

“Jess?” Picking up this afternoon, you definitely responded.

“Girl! I'm so sorry for not reaching out, but guess what?” J's Southern accent revealed itself.

“Don't worry.” You're fully aware that the rural precinct struggled now. “What happened?”

“Think I found your husband.” Despite that police station keeping vintage technology, you noticed Jessica's humor loud and clear.

“Oh, God!” You nearly laughed out loud. “What are you talking about?”

“I helped out this man earlier and…” Jessica wouldn't go on.

“Spit it out, J!” You kept listening to her no matter what.

“I'm working, but we don't have reception outdoors.” Jessica cleared her throat for a moment. “He's fine.”

“Don't play matchmaker again.” You quickly rolled both eyes.

“Listen: Light eyes, in shape with service tattoos, and acts respectful.” Jessica detailed this man.

“Sounds too good to be true.” For once, you don't believe her.

“Visit tomorrow. He's still in town. Bye!” Jessica dropped the call before you could say anything else.

Here we go. You thought.

*****

Uniformed once more, Jessica traded this brief smile when you entered the department.

“I'm here. What's going on?” You spoke quietly en route to her desk.

“I'll explain everything.” Sims then faced your direction.

Just before you could sit down and learn gossip, the door opened again.

Leaving her desk behind, Jessica held your wrist and you both hid near one corner, watching whoever arrived.

“What's wrong?” Your voice immediately whispered to Jess.

“That's him!” As Jessica pointed upfront, her accent pulled all over again.

Uh-oh. This time around, you finally realized what Sims meant.

Remarkable eyes noticed the building and service tattoos inked along his muscular frame.

This morning, the handsome individual paired another tight shirt with jeans and sneakers.

“Go back to work. We'll talk soon.” You prompted Jessica to speak with this man.

“All right. Pardon me…” Jessica excused herself from your side and sat down, addressing the man.

******

“Who was that?” When Officer Jessica Sims found her longtime desk this morning, veteran Terry Richmond chuckled through his deep tone.

“My friend…” Jessica would pull this vague response.

“I could use some good news at this point.” Terry encouraged Jessica. “What were y'all talking about?”

“Nothing.” Jess shrugged while beginning to work as usual. “How are you holding up with the case?”

“No better than before.” Richmond lost bail money for his cousin during an altercation with law enforcement. “Know any lawyers if I can't reach out on Monday?”

“Attorneys pool from the local courthouse, but workloads get swamped over there.” Jessica declined.

“Fair enough, but you didn't answer my other question.” Terry arched his brow.

“Which question?” Jessica asked.

“What were y'all talking about?” Catching Sims red-handed, Terry's smile offered brightness.

“Should I tell the truth?” Jessica spoke up for many reasons.

“I don't appreciate falsehoods.” Terry crossed both arms.

“You.” Jessica stopped playing around and headed out for lunch. “Good luck with your case.”

Right when Officer Sims walked away, Terry glanced down and noticed a sticky note waiting on her desk.

Jessica had discreetly written your phone number on paper.

******

“Sorry.” Terry apologized when you first met him up close. Drama flew all over the police station now.

“Everyone hopes for better circumstances around here.” You picked up Richmond and started driving away from this hospital.

On the other hand, medics helped legal assistant Summer McBride for various reasons.

“Sims told me about you.” Terry changed the subject.

“Surprised you didn't call me first.” You know that Jessica slipped your phone number by this man.

“Chief got in the way.” Richmond almost laughed and chided Sandy Burne.

“Where should we go since you're free?” You learned that Terry confirmed this settlement for this case, especially with his cousin Mike gone.

“Anywhere you want.” Terry grinned toward you and watched the city limits disappear.

[violetmuses]

18+ MINORS DNI 👀 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk. 

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[sageispunk]

main masterlist

updated: 12/14/24 | ⭐️ smut | 🐚 fluff | 🥀 angst | 🖤 dark |

✦ the bear (hulu)

'might be' - Richie Jerimovich x f!reader ⭐️

The first time you meet 🍃 dealer Richie.

'he finds out ur a squirter' - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Passionate missionary with bf Richie talking you through it.

'looking ahead' - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Richie can't help but to watch. Even if you didn't mean to leave your door open. (dubcon)

breeding kink drabble - Richie Jerimovich x reader ⭐️

Richie can't wait until you're finally knocked up with his baby.

✦ they cloned tyrone

'drown in it' - Fontaine x black!reader ⭐️

He makes you squirt on his face. Happily.

NSFW alphabet - Fontaine x black! reader ⭐️

The ABCs of Fontaine's love.

'eyes on me' - Fontaine x black! reader ⭐️ (Ao3)

You're a little too interested in Fontaine's weapons.

✦ rebel ridge (2024)

'anointed' - Terry Richmond x black!reader ⭐️

When he eats you through the panties.

'red lipstick' - maintenance man!Terry Richmond x black!OC ⭐️

Don't let your husband stop you from finding the love of your life...

'wetter' - Terry Richmond x black!reader⭐️🐚

[shower sex, sub!Terry]

✦ the usos

'told you so' - Jey Uso x black!OC Ravyn ⭐️

[infidelity, teasing, crazy dirty talk, rough sex]

'belongs to another' - Jimmy Uso x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀

[friends with benefits, infidelity, weed use]

untitled - Jey Uso x black!reader ⭐️

[alcohol use, groping, teasing]

✦ triple frontier

‘too divine’ - Frankie Morales x f!reader ⭐️

Riding Frankie after a long night out.

✦ marvel

'just one more' - Matt Murdock x f!reader ⭐️

Matthew is out of town but you still need him. (Ktober prompt: phone sex)

'wriggle' - Erik Stevens x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[roommates, teasing, tickling kink]

✦ the last of us (hbo)

'what u need' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Teasing Joel underneath a table in a bar sometimes leads to getting ruined on the side of the road.

'melting' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Joel wants to try something new. (Ktober prompt: temperature play)

'sticky' - Joel Miller x f!reader ⭐️

Joel wants to learn. So you let him. (Ktober prompt: squirting + masturbation)

'inside'- Joel Miller x mistress ⭐️🥀 (Ao3)

When the cat's away, the mice will play.

✦ how high (2001)

'what's it gonna be?' - Silas x black!reader ⭐️🐚

When two friends finally get a night alone...

'as nature intended' - Silas x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[weed use, hairy coochie praise, breeding kink mention]

✦ formula 1

'foolish' - Lewis Hamilton x black!reader ⭐️🥀

Cause I can't seem to break away from your foolish love...

✦ misc.

'control' - Max Phillips x f!reader ⭐️

Drinking with your boss goes differently than you'd planned. (Ktober prompt: sex pollen, thigh-riding, forced orgasm)

'4/20' - Terrance Coin x black!reader ⭐️🐚

[weed use, neighbors to lovers, age gap]

'sweet dreams' - Gustavo Fring x reader ⭐️🖤 (Ao3)

When Mr. Fring finally gets his hands on you...

✦ series & AUs

'the first taste' - vamp!Lewis Hamilton x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀🖤

What do you do when one night just isn't enough?

'all the way down' - Clifford Smith x black!reader ⭐️🐚🥀

When a night of spontaneity spirals into a full-blown affair out of your control.

'same ol' mistakes' - Jordan x reader x Sophie ⭐️🐚🥀

When they love you more than they hate each other...

'crush' - blackfem!OCs x black!OCs⭐️🐚🥀

Oneshot series based on each song of Ravyn Lenae's Crush EP.

[bluemoonperegrine]

Those Who Wander

Rated T | Chapter 1/? | 1865 words | ao3 link

Authors: @bluemoonperegrine and @vicarious-rebel

Fandoms: Moon Knight, Werewolf By Night

Tags: Marc Spector/Jack Russell, Marc Spector & Steven Grant & Jake Lockley, mentions of Khonshu, mentions of Layla El-Faouly, San Diego/Tijuana area, alternate universe, fluff, romance, silliness

Summary: The Moon Knight system, now living in San Diego, decides to get back to nature after a mission investigating a human trafficking ring. Hiking in a national park in the mountains east of San Diego doesn't go as planned.

Notes: This is such an alternate universe. Seriously. It doesn't get much AU-ier than this! It's somewhere around 2010, the system and Jack are in their late 20s, and we've done a number on their backstories. Fun! We'll update tags as the story progresses.

-----------------------

Chapter 1: Well-Met

Out of all of the criminals Marc Spector had hunted down in his twenty-six years, he despised human traffickers the most. Although they weren’t the most depraved of those who’d received Khonshu’s justice by his or Jake’s hand, their calculating opportunism made his blood boil. These lowlifes were modern-day slavers. Following Khonshu’s orders regarding them wasn’t a problem.

One such lowlife by the name of La Araña was the reason why Marc had moved from London to San Diego last month. One of the reasons, really. Somehow Khonshu had learned about an explosion in human trafficking in the San Diego/Tijuana area and ordered him and Jake to cease Araña’s operations by any means necessary. The bird had ordered Steven as well, but the Brit has managed to talk his way out of it for the most part. Steven was smarter than the skeletal blowhard, much to his annoyance and Marc’s, Jake’s, and Steven’s amusement.

Rather than embark on a long-term mission, the system had decided to move back to the States. Although a few months had passed after their mother’s death and the Harrow/Ammit mess, they still felt off-kilter. Moreso than usual, anyway. A change of scenery would do them good, Steven and Jake thought. 

Marc didn’t care either way. Life was pretty lousy no matter where you lived, so whatever. Their best friend Layla traveled constantly for archaeological or Taweret-related reasons, so they’d see her often. She and Frenchie were their—particularly Marc’s—rock. Thank god for cell phones.

Despite being at the top of a rocky ridge, Marc’s flip phone had no signal. He withheld a sigh as he swept his gaze around the arid, rugged landscape. He needed to get moving before the morning sun climbed higher in the sky. Somehow he’d forgotten to pack a hat in the small rucksack that Khonshu’s suit could absorb. Steven had wanted to experiment more to see exactly how much mass the moon god’s magic could manage. It sounded like a long and tedious process, so Marc vetoed it entirely. If it could fit in his Army rucksack, it would work. Simple.

After taking a long swig of water from his half-empty canteen, Marc stowed it, shouldered his pack, and started down the narrow animal trail that led down the steep, east-facing hillside and into the canyon below. They’d need water from the stream that had carved the deep, narrow valley by the time they got there. Water purification tablets would make it safe to drink.

A pulse of anxiety washed over him. This time Marc sighed. “What, Steven?”

Kinda steep, innit?

“Kinda. Jake and I hiked worse in the Army.”

Sure did, jefe.

Marc grinned; he hadn’t realized that Jake was awake. “You keeping an eye on things, Jake?”

He felt his headmate’s mental nod. Yup.

We’re not lost, Steven said as if reassuring himself. Marc said he knows where we are. I don’t see how, flying at night after our mission when there’s no moon and there’s hardly anything out here! How do pilots—

“Steven,” Jake and Marc said simultaneously. Marc continued, “Even if we were lost, which we’re not, it’s fine. We’re trained for this. Packed accordingly, and—”

You forgot a hat.

Jake chuckled as Marc grumbled under his breath. “I wanted a relaxing hike, Steven. This right now is the opposite of relaxing.”

Está bien, hermanito. We’ve got the suit, remember?

Steven chuckled. Right. One of you nudge me when we’re not on a cliff or if something interesting happens.

Marc grinned. “You got it, buddy.” He felt Steven retreat just in time for the first switchback. The footing was a bit dicey unless you were a mule deer. He’d manage, and if he didn’t the suit would save their ass again. The suit didn’t dull pain, so Marc focused on the rocky trail and enjoyed the wilderness stretching out in all directions.

Three hours later the sun was directly overhead and felt searing due to the thinner atmosphere at this elevation. Marc was halfway through his canteen of safe but gross-tasting purified stream water. He’d stripped off his T-shirt an hour earlier to act as an improvised headwrap/scarf to protect his scalp and the back of his neck. It was working, but allowing his rucksack straps to chafe on his shoulders. Most worryingly, the canyon floor was now sloping uphill. He’d been walking southwest as planned. Barrett Junction should be a half mile ahead and downhill.

Steven did the mental equivalent of a stretch and a yawn. We there yet, bruv?

“Getting close,” Marc hedged.

Jake chuckled softly.

Wot? Steven asked.

We’re—

“Do not, Jake.”

We’re what?

Marc sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Taking the scenic route.”

Jake laughed and soon was joined by Steven. It’s all scenic, mate!

Hold up, Jake said, and Marc halted. Despite sharing the same body, somehow Jake picked up on things before he and Steven did. 

Marc looked and listened intently. Nothing was moving other than a few birds high overhead, but he heard something, just barely.

Jake stated, Vehicle. East.

Brilliant! Steven enthused as Marc darted behind a stand of pine-tree-like shrubs. What’re you doing? We can get a ride to civilization!

Gotta make sure he’s not a hostile.

Marc felt Steven virtually roll his eyes. You lot are paranoid. ‘E’s—or she, could be a woman, you know—prob’ly just out enjoying nature, but not lost like—

“WE’RE NOT LOST!”

The sound of the approaching engine quieted. “Hey!” a male voice called from the southeast. Maybe the canyon branched that way. “You need a hand? ¿Necesitas ayuda?” 

Yes! Steven replied as if the guy could hear him. 

Marc shushed his headmate so he could continue observing. Footsteps crunched on sand and gravel. Soon a slender man in a park ranger’s uniform stepped through an opening in the canyon wall and into view. His wide-brimmed hat shaded his face.

Feeling foolish, Marc shifted his weight to his other foot and debated waiting the ranger out. Maybe he should just summon the suit and fly off after all. He’d be a lot less sunburned that way.

The park ranger seemed to look right at Marc despite the evergreen shrubs hiding him. He started jogging toward him, calling “¿Estás herido? Are you hurt? I have a first aid kit in the jeep.” His English had a light Mexican accent.

Busted, Jake chortled as Steven snickered.

Wishing he’d never attempted a relaxing post-mission hike, Marc strode around the edge of the shrubby trees. “I’m okay, just…”

The ranger had halted about ten feet from him, close enough to make out his features despite the shade from his hat. He was drop-dead handsome, clean-shaven with tan skin and short dark hair. Seemed to be about Marc’s age and height.

Blimey, Steven murmured. Those eyes!

I thought you liked Layla, Jake said.

I do, Steven returned, but she doesn’t like any of us like that—

¡Gracias a Dios!

—and that’s fine, and I dunno, I’m still figuring things out so—

Shut. Up. Marc managed to say silently, if through gritted teeth. Mercifully, they listened.

The ranger—Russell per his name tag—tilted his head and frowned. “You’re sweating. That’s good.” He resumed walking toward him.

“Good?” Marc echoed, acutely aware that he was shirtless. Why did he care? He’d been in the army for crying out loud!

Russell smiled broadly. “You don’t have heat stroke. Do you have water?” Marc nodded. “Good.” He stretched one arm in the direction he’d come from and reached the other toward Marc’s shoulder but didn’t touch him. “Let me give you a ride back to wherever you’d parked. Was it the main lot, or one of the others?”

Marc found himself walking with the young man. “I, uh, was dropped off.”

Jake snorted.

Russell looked at him askance, then shrugged. “We’ll go to the station. It’s air-conditioned. You can rest, then go from there.” Marc nodded agreement.

They walked uphill along a short, narrow gap in the canyon wall heading east. Marc spotted the ranger’s dusty jeep parked near its mouth.

“Got a name?” Russell asked.

“Marc,” he replied.

Russell grinned. “Nice to meet you, Marc.” He put one hand on his stomach. “Jack.”

Steven chuckled, which made Marc frown. What? he asked.

“Yes, like the dog,” Jack said with a brilliant smile. “It wasn’t intentional.” He stopped walking, so Marc followed suit, abruptly realizing they’d reached the jeep. His situational awareness had gone to shit for some reason. 

Jack’s brow furrowed again. He motioned at the passenger side of the jeep. “Go ahead, get in. It’s a half hour drive on rough roads to the station, so be sure to drink some water. I’ve got jerky and trail mix if you need something to eat.”

Marc nodded again and did so, putting on his shirt after setting his rucksack in the back seat. Jack steered the jeep further east, then turned north on a rutted jeep trail. They were headed in the opposite direction he’d intended to go, not that it mattered. He caught Jack’s eye and waved southwest. “How much further was Barrett Junction?”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up as smile crept across his face. “That’s where you were headed?”

“Yeah.” Marc felt his headmates’ amusement loud and clear.

“I’m glad I found you,” Jack said, now serious. “Eight miles as the crow flies, but with this terrain? No offense, but I don’t think you’re prepared for it. And there’s no backcountry permits issued for this area right now. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh.” Marc faced forward, stared out the windshield, and tried to ignore Steven’s and Jake’s laughter. “I’ll be sure to get a permit in the future.”

Jack nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “They’re for safety more than anything. It’s not good to do this stuff alone. I love it out here, but have to admit it can be dangerous. There are predators.”

“Yeah,” Marc agreed, his thoughts returning to La Araña. With the border only a few miles to the south, the trafficker may have routes nearby. For a moment Marc considered asking Jack if he’d heard of Araña, but decided otherwise. If anything he might seem suspicious, being in a remote area of the park near the border without a permit. So he drank more of the bitter-tasting water from his canteen, and waited to return to civilization.

Look at ‘im, bruv.

Marc didn’t on general principle and to not be weird; Jack was navigating a tooth-rattlingly rough section of road. Why?

‘Cos I want to see him. He’s cute!

Dios, Jake moaned. It’s Layla all over again.

Would that be so bad? Steven countered. She’s brilliant! A good mate.

Marc sighed. Enough. It’s not like we’ll be out this way again. 

Unless we want to go on another relaxing hike, Steven said. I’d say this is the perfect place to go!

Jake drawled, Try not to get lost, jefe.

Marc tried to lean the back of his head against the headrest, but the lurching jeep made that impossible. I hate you guys.

You don’t, Steven returned, affection clear in his words.

Marc returned it, smiling. I don’t.

[venusincleo]

𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟷. 𝙴𝚍𝚎𝚗.

• • •

Warnings: MDNI • Terry Richmond x Black!OC Eden Laurent, a lil angsty that's all...

Summary: After the events in Shelby Springs, Terry moves out of town, and goes to Covington, LA. Messed up about what happened to his cousin, he tries to keep his head low and stack some money. Only halfway effective, with just money to show for his efforts, he slowly spirals with grief before he has a not-so-cute meeting with a young woman on her own healing journey.

Word Count: 1.1k💚

A/N: 🤭 lol I know it's been a while... I hope you enjoy this 🫶🏾

• • •

“Can we get another Associate to the registers? Another Associate to the registers, please.”

The store intercom blared over impatient customers and worn out workers. A deep breath raised Eden’s shoulders as she looked at the time on her iPhone. 4:59, Damn. She thought. She didn’t know why she hadn’t just come earlier, like she planned to, but then she remembered the extended reprise of her made up 8-count she found herself doing in her shower concert. I guess that’s a reason.

“Sir, there’s nothing else I can do, that is the final price.” The tired young lady nearly pleaded with the customer that was right before Eden, and her ears perked up to listen in.

“You can just check again. Or do I need to ask for your manager?” The man’s tall, fit stature was threatening all it’s own, but his deep voice was laced with a certain, matter-of-fact that told anyone within earshot that he meant business. Eden raised her eyebrows as she tried not to focus too much on the situation, but as she peeked over at the clerk she realized it was an acquaintance of hers. Karina may have only started working at her local grocery store a few months ago but after the first time she rung her up, they always had a kind word and bright smile for one another.

“My manager will just say the same thing.” Karina tries to explain, but the man isn’t having it. He bows his head to tauntingly reach her eye level, and his muscles get tense as he steps closer to the register.

“Get, the damn manager.” He demands, menacingly. The sand-skinned woman peers to the side of her incredulously, hoping that someone around would see her eyes and help her out.

When her deep brown eyes meet that of her acquaintance, Eden softens and quickly thinks of a way to intervene. Looking down at the keys in her hand, she found her small store card, and then she realized what she would do.

“Sir?” She calls, with a soft, cautious hand to the man’s shoulder. When he glances back, all he can do is stare at her face, seeing how she avoided eye contact with him.

Quickly dipping her hand before him to get her card scanned by Karina, Eden hears the successful chime of the scanner and hopes for the best.

“Okay, now your total will be 28.92.” A quick sigh of relief sounds from the scary man, and then Eden notices his head turning in her direction yet again. Bright, jade-green eyes give her face a quick once over, and then they meet her deep, smoky-quarts orbs.

“Thank you.” All she can do is give him a small smile and nod. She didn’t want to trigger him any more than he already had been.

The man grabs his plastic store bag full of goods and makes his way through the automatic doors, relieving the store of the tensity he brought. Eden puts her few items on the scuffed conveyer belt and the clerk sighs softly.

“Girl. You don’t know how grateful I am for you right now.” She admits, scanning the items quickly. Eden chuckles lightly, looking at the white screen right in front her with her total. She held her store card out to be scanned and the clerk did so cheerfully. After inserting her debit card, and hearing the tune of a successful transaction, she puts it in its rightful place within her wallet and reaches for her bag.

“Thank you, girl.”

Gratefulness fills Eden’s stride as she walks out of the establishment, heading for her car, when a voice stops her right in her tracks.

“Excuse me.” His clear, yet deep voice was distinctive, and she recognized it. He waited for me?

She turns on the heels of her Doc Martens and her hand instinctively clutches the handle of her grocery bag. Just in case she had to hit a nigga with a carton of Almond Milk.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to say thank you for what you did in there. I’m not usually so harsh, I’m just having a bit of a day.” Eden slits her eyes at the large man, examining him to try and figure out why he would be telling her this. Hmm.

With a glance to the side at the half empty lot, and then back at the man before her, she drops her shoulders reluctantly. A resistant sigh leaves her mouth quietly, and she loosens her grip on her bag.

“Look, I get it. We all have a shadow that likes to come out and play a little.” The man nods his head as the ghost of a smile plays at his lips. She was revealing a bit of her understanding nature, and it didn’t go unnoticed, at all.

“I’m Terry.” He held his free hand out in between them, and the young woman took a half-step forward to fill his hand with hers.

“Eden.” They shook hands for a quick moment, feeling the warmth of one another’s palms. Their eyes searched each of the other’s and then they dropped their hands simultaneously.

As if she was motivated by something she didn’t quite comprehend just yet, Eden reached into her cross-body purse that hung over her shoulder and grabbed a pen. She then dug into her grocery bag and pulled out her receipt to flip it to the blank side.

“If you ever want to talk about what made your day so stressful,” She began, using her other palm as a flat surface to scribble her number on her receipt. She then ripped it from the rest of the thin paper and slipped the pen back into her bag smoothly, as she held the torn piece of paper in front of Terry to grasp. “I know someone who may be able to help.”

He’s hesitant at first, not really knowing what she meant by help. Therapy? Sex? She could truly mean either one.

Taking his chances, the curious man grabbed the small paper from Eden’s hand and looked over the scratchy penmanship. 985-882-2353.

“I’ll take that into consideration.” He half-joked, lifting the edges of his mouth to force a smile at the young lady through his now stoic demeanor. Eden’s cheeks couldn’t help but to raise at the rising awkwardness of the moment.

“Have a good day, Terry.” She waves smally, and turns the other way to go her car, and on with her day.

• • •

♥︎ I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

[violetmuses]

@episodes-ff 👀

Touched

This a cute lil something something that I had playing out in my head for a few weeks now so I thought I’d put it into reality. Enjoyyyy!!!!

**SIX YEARS AGO**

Anaya

"Boyyyyyy, I am not doing all that!" I giggled over FaceTime as Terry begged for me to come with him to the club with his friends. It's been a month since Terry and I have started talking and one thing I've learned about him is he is very much persistent to get what he wants. We’ve been playfully going back and forth over the last hour because his cousin Mike is in town and he wants me to come out. “Come on, girl, we talk on the phone enough. I wanna see your pretty ass in person.” He smirked as he rid himself of his sweaty gym clothes. Eyeing his moist torso through the screen, I subconsciously bit my lip analyzing the sculpted details of his perfect body as my body flushed with heat.

"You know, Anaya, it's a little rude to stare." He husked smoothly causing me to scoff. "Boy whatever! I was not looking at your arrogant ass." I fussed making him laugh as I waved him off. "You haven't taken your eyes off me since we got on the phone, girl. Just admit you want me, Mamas." He flirted causing me to flip him the bird. "When?" "Never." "We'll see." He fought back as I rolled my eyes. "Imma have yo pretty ass." He mumbled under his breath while grabbing a water from his kitchen. "You said what?" "Nothing." "You know you talk a lot of shit?" "Why are you such a hater, Anaya?" "Why are you so annoying, Terry?" I countered as he bit his lip and shook his head at me deep in thought. "Come out with me. I'm not taking no either." Taking a gulp of water as he stared me down in the camera, my pussy subtly throbbed under the eye contact before I let out a deep groan. "Ugghhhhh fine! Damn!" "Now was it so hard to listen to Daddy?" "You are not my damn Daddy." "Not yet." He once again mumbled yet again thinking I hadn’t caught it. "Send the address and get off my phone." I fussed before he chuckled heartily and I hung up. Hearing a ping, I checked my texts to confirm before I got up to go find an outfit.

Taking in my appearance, I smiled doing a slow whine of my hips before taming any fly aways in my hair. Doing a final spin, I made sure Bash was well fed before securing my heels and purse before making my way downstairs to my awaiting Uber. Arriving to the club, I thanked my driver before hopping out and making my way up to the line. Standing and waiting, I texted Terry to let him know I had arrived before feeling a tap on my shoulder. Looking up I was met with a security guard. "Anaya?" "Ummmm, Yes." "Follow me." Smiling shyly as he opened the belt to let me out of line, I followed behind as the crowd groaned with having to wait. Walking inside the loud club, I got a bit of hype as the vibes and music engulfed me. Bodies collided hungrily on the dance floor while sections were lined with the cream of the crop.

Walking me over to a section, I spotted him amongst a group of guys looking as good as our first meeting. He looked so good, I could just take a bite out of him where he stood. Getting caught so deep in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed him walking over and standing in front of me until he snapped his fingers in my ear. "Huh?" "I was saying you finally made it. Damn, Mama, I know I'm handsome but I ain't know you would get lost in the sauce." He gloated laughing as I shot a sarcastic smirk at him. "Boy! You are not all that." "Shiiiit, I can be whatever you want me to be, baby." He breathed against my ear as he snaked his hand around my back to touch my waist. Feeling slightly flush in his hold, I cleared my throat before meeting his eyes as he bit his lip. "Ayeee, Tee! You not gone introduce us?" One of his friends questioned breaking us from our staring match. "My fault my fault. Y'all this is Anaya. Anaya, this is my cousin Mike and my homeboys, Brandon, Eric, Ace, and my homegirls Bree, Leah, and Asha." Introducing myself with a wave, I received a round of friendly hey's from the guys before feeling ravenous daggers coming from the girls as I noticed Bree staring down Terry. Internally rolling my eyes, I shrugged off their evil looks before gently smiling as Terry wrapped his hand around my waist.

Terry

Tonight was supposed to be a chill ass night with the guys, enjoying a few drinks, and getting to know Anaya better, but this shit been anything but. Ace bitch ass would invite Bree and her girls on some funny shit and their messy asses would convince her to come out. I don't even know why the hell she's so pressed anyway; we hooked up twice a few years ago and she decided we'd be better off staying friends. She's had boyfriends and all types of shit but the one time I bring a girl around that I care for, it's a problem. They been being so shady and rude to Naya all night and she hasn't been nothing but nice to em.

Watching her start twirling her hips in the section as the next song came on, I decided to get up and make my move. "C'mere." "What?" "Dance with me." I husked in her ear as the music blasted. Looking up at me and shyly nodding, I took her hand and lead her through the crowd to the dance floor. Pulling her up close to me, the beat vibrated through our bodies as she wound her waist against me and bit her lip. Bending forward, she twerked as the crowd got hype cheering her on. Holding onto her backside, I caught the rhythm as my homeboys held me up so she could take me for a ride. Hearing the DJ transition to the next song, she rose up and giggled as I smiled whipping her around to face me. "So you can dance, huh?" "Something like that. I see you can catch a lil rhythm too." "Something like that." I smiled pulling her closer and rubbing her body as we got carried away in the beat.

Feeling her fall forward, she turned around and eyed Leah as she sipped her drink. "Oh my gosh, girl. I am so sorry!" She muttered sarcastically as I mugged her. Waving her off, I turned Anaya back to me and whispered against her neck. "Ignore her." I commanded as I tilted her chin up to look at me. The electricity between us was crazy right now. I could almost feel it crackling off her lips. Leaning in to seize the moment, we were once again being bumped. "Yo what the fuck?!" "Really, Terry?! This how the fuck you gone do me after everything we shared?" Bree spat in anguish as her girls nodded in fake support. "Yo, Bree, back the fuck up away from me, aight? You tripping!" "No nigga, you tripping! I can't believe you throwing away what we have for this bitch!" "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING A BITCH, TRICK?!" Anaya seethed mushing Bree in the forehead as I stepped in to break them up. "What the fuck is your issue, bruh? We never had shit, never fucking will." "Oh really? So why were you in my fucking bed last night if we don't have shit?! Huh?" She spat flashing a devious smirk as Anaya threw her hands up and stormed off. "Anaya wait!" "No! Clearly you got your hands full already, I knew this shit was too good to be true." She murmured on the verge of tears as she snatched away from me and headed to the bar.

Anaya

Having a seat at the bar, I rolled my eyes and rubbed my temples as I waved for the bartender. Struggling to get his attention, I continued waving my hand before feeling a hand on my waist. "No need, lil mama, allow me. Aye, my man!" This guy said quickly getting the bartender over. "For the lady?" "Can I get two shots of tequila?" "I'll get the same and lemme get a whiskey sour." "Coming right up!" "Thank you." "No problem at all. I'm Rome, by the way." "Anaya." "That's a beautiful name, miss Anaya." He flashed his gleaming smile before kissing my hand gently. Blushing uncontrollably, I took one of my shots and took in his features. "Anaya, can we talk?" Terry said in a huff as he came up to me interrupting our moment. "We don't have anything to talk about Terry." "I'm serious, Anaya. I'm sorry for what happened back there with Bree. We had a very short lived fling a few years ago and that's all. I promise to you I haven't laid a finger on that girl since. I swear to God, Anaya. Please?" He pleaded staring me down with those eyes. Those goddamn eyes! "Terry, it is what it is. Go be happy with her. I don't wanna talk about this anymore." "But Anay-" "Umm, I believe she said the conversation is over with, my man." "My nigga, I'm not talking to you." "From the looks of it, neither is she." Rome interjected stepping between us as I looked on in shock. Not gonna lie it kinda turned me on...

Feeling Terry's glare burning into my soul, I swallowed the lump in my throat before looking up at him. Seeing the anger slowly brewing inside him, I knew he meant business and while I didn't know what either man was capable of, I could quickly tell that Terry wasn't with the games. "I-It's ok, Rome. I got this." I said touching his strong shoulder as I stood and took my last shot. "You sure you okay?" "Yes. Thank you so much for the drinks." I smiled gently before encasing him in a side hug. "No problem at all, lil mama. I'll see you around?" "Sure thing, let me get your number." Taking down his digits as Terry's foot twitched in agitation as I said my farewell. "If you need anything at all, give me a call." Rome whispered against my neck as I nodded. "Thank you again." I said before leaving in a rush as Terry pushed through the club to the exit.

"Can you slow the fuck down? Fuck!" I spat removing my heels so I wouldn't fall as he trekked quickly to his truck. "Hush, Anaya! Gone sit there and take that nigga number down in my fucking face. Out yo fucking mind." He ranted as I tensed at the harshness of his voice. "Get in the car." "Terry, where are you taking me." "Get the fuck in the mothafucking car, Anaya." Silently getting in, he slammed my door before getting in his side and locking the doors. What the fuck did I get myself into?

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[uzumaki-rebellion]

Preview...

"A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues"

(A Terry Richmond Vampire AU Fic)

Summary:

You thought the tattoo on his arm marked him as one of those Hoteps or Nation of Islam brothas that hawked bean pies on the corner with the Final Call. But little did you know it meant more than that. That's why you have to track him down and kill him... before the baby in your belly can turn into his kind.

(This fic will strictly be for the grown and sexy. Smut, Violence, Blood. Dropping October 30th at Midnight on All Hallow's Eve.)

“I don’t wanna wait for love

Every time I do

I don’t wanna wait for love

Waitin’ on him

Are you warm enough?

Coco blood

Are you warm enough?

Coco blood”

Celeste – “Coco Blood”

Celeste Profitt checked the GPS on her smartphone one more time before stepping out of her gun metal gray Dodge Charger.

She drove out to find the pale green double shotgun house, which was sequestered on the outskirts of St. Celestine Parish. Ten years previously, there had been flooding in the county her grandmother named Celeste after, and many families left the area when their insurance wouldn’t pay for water damage. The houses left behind looked like gaps in the teeth of someone with infected gums. It reeked of working class poverty, the kind of poverty Celeste ferociously clawed her way out of by holding down two jobs. One at the poultry factory, where she removed the putrid raw entrails of slaughtered chickens, and the other at a nursing home, where she cleaned shitty bed pans and kept company with neglected elders with no kinfolk nearby.

The shotgun houses left standing weren’t different from the Creole cottage she rented less than seven miles away, and she cut her eyes back to the one she needed. Damp air with the hint of rain coming caused her to sniffle. It smelled old around there, and something had definitely died in some bushes across the street. She zipped up her dark blue windbreaker and fingered the pepper spray she carried in the jacket’s pocket. Couldn’t be too careful around folks who chose to stay in a bad situation. It still smelled like floodwater and deep regrets.

She pulled a cigarette from her purse, but stuffed it back down to the bottom, reminding herself that she was pregnant now and couldn’t hurt the baby that rested in her womb. The urge to puff daily was a struggle, and she refused to toss a ten-dollar pack of nicotine in the garbage. Shit, she might sell a few loosies if she needed to. Her funds were getting low paying for all the high-priced gas she burned through looking for her baby daddy.

Terry Richmond.

That’s what he called himself, but now she wasn’t too sure if that was his real name or not since she couldn’t find his ass anymore once she decided to keep their baby. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. She needed to stay calm and not think about the hurt and hate she carried in her heart for that man. Never trust a pretty boy with pretty eyes and a third leg. That should’ve been her motto from jump. But that was neither here nor there with the position she found herself in at the moment. Right now she needed some answers and the woman inside the pale green shotgun house was supposed to have the solution.

She fingered a plastic grocery bag she also carried in her purse. Inside it was a blood plasma bag she toted around every day that she fed from when the urge overtook her on some days. The cravings for blood grew worse, and the fetus inside her stayed absorbing every nutrient from her body. What it wanted most lately was the blood in her purse. The baby inherited fifty-fifty of its parent’s genes, and back when she thought things were cool between them, all lovey-dovey and real passionate in those early days…well, Celeste imagined their baby inheriting Terry’s pretty eyes and her thick wondrous hair. He was lighter than her and she figured the baby would come out a gorgeous brown that was a mix of their two different skin tones. The last thing she wanted was for her child to come out with Terry’s hunger.

For blood.

Celeste zipped her purse back up and concentrated on what she was there to do.

Talk to the Black witch of St. Celestine Parish.

The renowned Voodoo priestess down in Nawlins last weekend was a grand failure at solving her problem. That lady's Catholic ass made the sign of the cross several times throughout Celeste’s consultation, which was a bit much for her taste. Celeste grew up Catholic too, but found it irritating that a Voodoo priestess acted so scary about a bloodsucker, while also bragging about turning people who were made into zombies back into human beings. At least that’s what she claimed on her website. That phony bitch started whimpering and calling for Jesus when Celeste pulled back her shirt and lifted her bra to show the fang marks on her titties that Terry made that never healed properly. She explained how she became allergic to her silver jewelry, and fought with a three-inch bundle of developing cells over blood intake from the plasma bag.

She left the fake Madame Zeroni’s Curio shop disgusted and a hundred dollars broker.

Her homegirl Mercy texted the name of a woman who quietly practiced Hoodoo on her phone. Mercy believed everything Celeste told her because she had been there from jump, and without judgment, guided her to another root of the African diaspora tree.

Celeste lifted her foot onto the first creaky step of the shotgun house and the front door on the left opened. Behind the screen door she made out the face of a man with the skin-color of dark tobacco leaves.

“Yeah?” he said in a gruff tone.

Celeste glanced at the door on the right, which was her destination. She ignored the man and knocked on the glass window on the upper half of the wooden door. The neighbor opened his screen and stepped out.

“You sure you here to see her?” the man asked.

Without a screen barrier, his face looked younger and more handsome, his short locs pointing every which-way on his head like tiny black antennas. The front door on the right opened and a pretty, dark brown-skinned woman stuck her head out.

“Mind ya business, Bertrand. She ain’t here to see you.”

“Lynn?” Celeste asked.

“It’s me,” Lynn said.

She opened her door wider and glanced back at her neighbor.

“Come on inside before anymore noisy birds stick they heads out,” Lynn said.

Celeste stepped over the threshold and passed Lynn to get inside.

“Good Lord, gal, you got a head full of hair on you! How long you been growing it?”

Celeste touched her heavy and long bongo locs that fell down to her waist.

“Ten years now. Since I was a teenager.”

“So thick and pretty. Betcha when you go swimming it’s like fighting with an octopus, huh?”

Celeste grinned.

Lynn was much younger than she expected. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Out in the parish swamps, there was no telling how old melanated folks could be.

“Come on back here into my kitchen,” Lynn said.

Celeste waited for her to lead the way and they walked past two rooms straight to the neat kitchen.

“Hungry?” Lynn asked. “Got some beans and rice on the stove. Frying up some pork chops, too. Go ‘head and sit at the table.”

Celeste took a seat at a small table with a pink plastic covering. The savory odor of red beans and seasoned, fried meat made her mouth water. Her stomach grumbled.

“Oh, yeah, you hungry. I’ma fix you a plate.”

“Please, don’t go to any trouble for me.”

“Ain’t no trouble. Got plenty. I made extra for you, anyway. Pregnant women gotta eat good.”

Celeste stared at the woman. She wasn’t even showing yet and never mentioned being pregnant over their phone call consultation. Did Mercy tell her?

“Don’t get spooked, Celeste. I work as a mid-wife. I can smell a pregnant woman a mile away. Relax.”

Celeste watched the young Hoodoo woman fix a big plate of string beans, red beans & rice and a thick cut of pork chop fried to golden brown perfection. She plopped it down in front of Celeste and fixed herself a plate, too. Her close-cropped brown hair had a cute undercut, and both her ears had at least seven small gold hoops pierced through them. She wore an off-the-shoulder white t-shirt and booty shorts for the heat. Her eyes were small for her face and were the only thing on her that looked mature. Had she not known any better, Celeste would’ve thought she was chatting with a senior in high school.

Lynn sat down across from her and held out her hand toward Celeste.

“I like to say grace over my meals,” Lynn said.

Celeste clasped her hand, and a charge of energy seeped into her palm from Lynn. She closed her eyes as Lynn said a short, heartfelt prayer, then lifted a half loaf of Wonder Bread from her table. She unfastened it and handed Celeste two pieces.

“Ooh, wait, I forgot some libations.”

Lynn jumped up and brought back a large glass pitcher of fresh lemonade. She grabbed two plastic cups and poured them each a good fill.

“I don’t have no ice cubes for it, sorry,” Lynn said.

Celeste sipped and the sweet/tart taste was delicious and cold enough. Both women ate quietly for a few minutes, and after Celeste’s third bite of her pork chop, Lynn stared at her directly with fierce chocolate eyes.

“Did you bring the things I asked for?”

Celeste nodded and pulled out a bundle from her purse and slid it to Lynn.

“I got some hair from a brush he used at my place, and summa his semen. We made love the last time I saw him and he wiped himself with a washrag and threw it in my dirty clothes hamper.”

“Semen is good. Anything liquid from the body is good,” Lynn said, collecting the items that Celeste stuffed in a little sandwich baggie.

“Tell me everything about this man you’re looking for. From the beginning,” Lynn said. “In order for me to make a root powerful enough to find him and bring him back, I gotta know every detail.”

Those chocolate eyes stayed intense.

Celeste fought the urge to sip on the blood in her purse and took another healthy swig of lemonade from her cup before she told the tale, from top to bottom, of how Terry Richmond, a whole ass vampire, seduced her out of her panties, stole her heart, bit her, then left her with something growing in her belly that she was afraid of…

A.N.:

Reminder, this long fic is dropping All Hallow's Eve at Midnight! Comment below if you want to be tagged for a sexy, supernatural treat at the end of the month!

Tag List Thus Far:

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[erikftglitter]

Christmas in Winona Springs 🎄🤍

Chapter List

Intro

[violetmuses]

The lack of Terry + Jess content is bothering me. 👀

@pocketsizedpanther @episodes-ff @babybratzmaraj @persethegawd @secretlifeoofmarpessa @diaries-of-me @sweettea-and-honeybutter @blackgurlnhermoods 🏷

[violetmuses]

@mauvecherie-writes 18+ MINORS DNI 👀

Goodness! 😳

FREAKTOBER 04 | terry richmond.

RATING: 18+ NSFW mature. [not my best writing I will admit.]

🎀 FREAKTOBER MASTERLIST 🎀

A loud moan escaped before you could stop it. A deep chuckle came from behind you as he pressed his chest into your back which pushed him deeper into you. His large hand came to your neck and gripped it to turn your head.

“You’ve got to be quiet baby.” Terry spoke into your ear with a teasing tone in his voice. “You don’t want the party to hear you getting fucked, do you?”

“Then stop fucking me so good then.” You whispered back. You felt the smirk on his lips against your cheek before he placed a kiss on it.

“Sorry, I can’t do that.” Terry said. “I have to make sure that I have you coming back for more.” His free hand then came to the lower part of your back and pushed down to arch you forward.

As your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you thought about how dirty this whole situation was. Getting fucked in your brother’s guest bathroom by his new friend.

You didn’t care about the optics of it all as his dick was pushing through your tight pussy and touching spots your past lovers could not reach. Damn it all, all you wanted and needed in that moment was for Terry to keep doing what he was doing.

He groaned against your shoulder, kissing and nipping sat your flushed skin before letting his hand drop from your neck to your chest to cup your exposed breast into his large palm.

From your bent position, you tried your best to push back against his thrusts, squeezing your walls around him each time he pulled his dick out. You smiled at the change of pattern in his breathing as your hips moved in perfect rhythm.

“This pussy is so good, shit.’ He managed to stutter out. You looked back and the intense gaze of his molten grey eyes that drew you in initially sent a shiver down the length of your spine.

“Fuck me harder.” You begged. You held on the forearm of the hand that was on your waist. At the back of your mind, you had began panicking about the time. You knew that you had been gone for close to ten minutes and very soon, your brother was going to be looking for you.

Pure adrenaline was rushing through your veins as Terry drove into your pussy harder and faster. His pounding was infectious and it was making you dizzy from the pleasure.

“Kiss me.” You whimpered and Terry did not need telling twice as he pulled you back, curving your back even further so that you could meet his lips. You moaned into his mouth as you deepened the kiss, your tongue teasing his.

“I”m about to cum.” You whispered as your muscles tightened as your orgasm was close.

“Cum for me, baby.” He whispered against your lips. “Let me feel you drench this dick.” His words didn’t stop as he also felt his climax approaching. As you cunt clenched around him, you crashed your lips into his to muffle your whines as your pussy pulsated around him as you came.

That brought his climax forward.

Terry pulled out of you just in time for him to spill on your ass cheeks.

You stayed still until he moved behind you to grab some tissues and began cleaning up the mess that the both of you had made. Once the top of your dress was back in place, you turned around and Terry placed his hands on either side of you.

“Are you going to give me back my underwear?” You asked as you soothed out the creases of his t-shirt.

“Nah, those are mine now. Need something to remember you by.”

“Stick around and you won’t need a token reminder.”

“Yeah.” He dragged out the word as if he was thinking. “I think I’ll be sticking around a little longer.” He murmured, licking his lips before he reached forward. But just as he was about to kiss you once more, knock came to the bathroom door.

Your breath ceased in your throat.

“Aye Terry! You okay in there?” The voice of your brother came through which forced your eyes shut as you tried to keep still.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I was just taking some time alone. I’ll be out in a minute.” Trey quickly responded.

“Cool. Have you seen my sister? She just disappeared.”

“Um, on my way in I saw her walking somewhere with her phone. It looked pretty urgent.”

“Probably that new guy that has her nose in her phone lately.” Your brother said. You had to bite your lip to stop the laughter that wanted to come out. “See you out there.”

“Aight man. See you out there.”

Once your brother moved away from the door, the laugh that had been trapped within your throat spilled out.

“So, I had you smiling down at your phone huh?” Terry asked with a smirk of confidence on his face which caused you to roll your eyes playfully and you pushed him away by his shoulder.

“You’re not that funny.” You mumbled trying not to boost his ego even further. Losing your control and pulling him into the bathroom at a barbecue was already enough for his pride.

————————————————

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[immobiliter]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓 ――   Repost, don’t reblog;

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

FULL NAME:  James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser NICKNAME: Jamie ALIASES: Jamie Mactavish, Laird Broch Tuarach, Red Jamie, Dunbonnet, Alex Mackenzie, Jamie Roy / Alexander Malcolm, Colonel Fraser. SEX: male. SIZE:  6'2". AGE: I write him between the age of 22 and his late 50s. ZODIAC: Taurus (May 1st) SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Gaelic, English, French

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

HAIR:  a red/auburn colour, long and worn loose in his youth, but tied up more frequently later in life. FACIAL HAIR: he normally has some light stubble. EYES: blue. SKIN TONE: he's a pale scot. BODY TYPE:  well built, muscular. VOICE:  enjoy. DOMINANT HAND:  right. POSTURE:  he carries himself like any soldier would, tall and broad, often towering over everyone else. SCARS: Jamie has many scars, but most notable are the lash marks across his back, and the healed gash on his inner thigh from Culloden. TATTOOS: none. PIERCINGS: none. BIRTHMARKS:  none. MOST NOTABLE FEATURES:  his mop of auburn hair, the scars on his back, his broad shoulders.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ――

PLACE OF BIRTH: Lallybroch, Scotland. HOMETOWN: Lallybroch, Scotland. SIBLINGS: William Fraser, Jenny Fraser, Robert Fraser. PARENTS:  Brian & Ellen Fraser.

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ――

OCCUPATION:  Scottish Laird, Jacobite rebel, Prisoner, Printer, Smuggler and Landowner. Not all at the same time, mind you lmao. CURRENT RESIDENCE: Fraser's Ridge, North Carolina. CLOSE FRIENDS: Lord John Grey, Murtagh Fitzgibbons, Anora Theirin, Elizabeth Swann. FINANCIAL STATUS:  verse dependent, but mostly comfortable. DRIVER'S LICENSE: n/a. CRIMINAL RECORD: a reformed (maybe) enemy of the British Crown and former Jacobite.  VICES: his anger and pride for sure, his tendency to act first, think later, the fact that he is a violent man, as well as his somewhat traditionalist views.

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ――

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  heterosexual. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE: switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE:  switch. TURN OFFS:  this is pretty tricky to define aside from "anyone who is not Claire" lmao. but I think, talking about an AU during the twenty years without Claire, Jamie would struggle to go for anyone who wasn't strong-willed and stubborn. LOVE LANGUAGE: physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, gift giving, quality time. all of it, basically. he loves to love. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES: completely and utterly devoted ? he's the most romantic bastard ever.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ――

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE: moch sa mhadainn HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME: Jamie enjoys reading, playing chess, hunting, fishing and busying himself with his hands around Fraser's Ridge. He built the main house in Fraser's Ridge mostly by himself and enjoyed every second of it. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED: left brained. SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL: he is pretty confident in himself, his moral compass, and the love he holds for those around him.

TAGGED BY: @goldenngore   TAGGING: anyone who would like to do this!

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Do you think Daemon would have named Aegor commander of the Goldcloaks if he had won?

I certainly think it’s more likely than naming him Hand of the King, or any other Small Council position; one of the reasons for the Blackfyre Rebellion was Da3ron II enriching his extended family with court positions no matter how competent they were (Ronnel Penrose, naming Baelor and Brynden to the Small Council despite their young ages), and after “agreeing to wed” Aegor and Calla (though I think that was more of a test to see if Aegor wouldn’t hurt Brynden were they to capture him), it wouldn’t do to give him a position too high. Aegor showed (at least in the Daemon wins AU) that men are willing to die on his very tough orders (I’ve read about Pickett’s Charge; even I know that running across an open field up a ridge with deadly projectiles raining down is going to result in heavy casualties), that he won’t retreat, but that he’s also prone to acting rashly when his family is concerned (despite that rashness probably saving Daemon’s life in the victory AU). He’s very disciplined, believes in meritocracy, and money is less important to him than loyalty, so at least he wouldn’t be taking bribes or extorting his men like Janos Slynt. But he’s also very young at 23 compared to some of Daemon’s senior lords/knights (Fireball, probably Lord Costayne, Lord Peake, Gareth the Grey, if you think Bulwer was a rebel then him as well), and doesn’t have experience with running an organization (though he proved an effective leader of the Rivermen); however, it seems that the Gold Cloak Commander responds to the Master of Laws, so if a more senior lord with whom Aegor works well were to fill that position, that could balance out his inexperience. Yet leading men into battle is one thing, training watchmen (the gold cloaks are not “true soldiers” according to Tyrion) is another; does Aegor have the patience and instincts to do an effective job? That’s getting into headcanon territory, although his actions in canon indicate he’s patient. It’s not a bad position for him.

Considering Aegor sort of occupied the same position for the Blackfyre boys as Quentyn Ball did for Daemon (an older man skilled at arms at least occasionally being around the young sons of a single mother), I thought it’d be interesting to see him as master-at-arms of the Red Keep. Or although the position is usually held by smallfolk, the Master of Horse (as I headcanon him as better with horses than people, due to being raised at Stone Hedge). He’d probably dislike being in King’s Landing due to his history there, but being Gold Cloak commander is an effective way to keep an eye on him, have him affect social change, while still honoring him.