#‘about six and a half feet tall’

[anghraine]

Fun fact: Imrahil of Dol Amroth is only ever described in LOTR as Denethor and Faramir's "kinsman", with no distinction ever made between how he's related to Denethor vs to Faramir. It's only later, when Faramir briefly thinks of his long-dead mother, that she is called "Finduilas of Amroth" and we can deduce that the family connection was likely between Denethor's wife and Imrahil, making him an in-law of Denethor but blood relative of Faramir. We're still not told exactly how Imrahil and Finduilas were related, though.

I always had the impression of a certain degree of tension between Imrahil and Denethor, and also of Imrahil being particularly concerned for Faramir, but his exact relationships with them are quite vague in the narrative. A lot of the names, dates, and family connections among the members of the house of Dol Amroth that we now accept as a matter of course are mainly from a separate document published in Peoples of Middle-earth that explains the most probable origin story for the house of Dol Amroth and has an attached family tree. IIRC the entire existence of Faramir and Éowyn's son Elboron is based on his inclusion in the Dol Amroth family tree in POME and he's never referenced in LOTR (and possibly not in anything else, actually?).

Tolkien definitely did imagine Imrahil and Finduilas as siblings regardless (e.g. I think he mentions it when observing that Denethor's natural beardlessness as an Elrosian Dúnadan would be reinforced in Boromir and Faramir by their additional Elvish heritage through Imrahil's sister), but he didn't actually say it in LOTR.

I do think it's important, though, because it's with this later information that Imrahil taking charge of Faramir's fallen body is conclusively revealed to not be simply a prince rescuing a vague "kinsman" of political/military importance, but specifically a man carrying his dead sister's last surviving child from a battlefield.

(No wonder he and Éomer bonded so much, honestly!)

[dark-orca-dynasty]

I accidentally gave myself a whole new plot bunny while talking to a mutual about something completely different and now I have an AU where Hammerhead's the one who died when the old sub sank, leading to his wife (who I'm calling Theophania - Theo for short) swearing vengeance against Proteus.

Anyway, in this AU Finn and Maddy have been raised on land by the maternal side of their family while Theo wages war against the guardians, to keep them safe. Finn gets abandonment issues and parentification issues here, so as a tradeoff I've decided he gets to have a growth spurt as a result of eating well and getting more vitamin D. This does, however, lead to the Nektons assuming he's a grown man (and a bit of a creep because of his crush on Fontaine), until his voice cracks very embarrassingly mid conversation and Will remembers that he too was once a teenager getting mistaken for a grown man.

Theo is nominally getting revenge for both her husband and her sister in law here, but is mostly just on a kind of self-destructive workaholic spiral where she sees her kids once a year. The Dark Orca under her command is a lot more put-together but a lot less close knit. It is not somewhere you'd consider raising your children.

[cursefought]

Sometimes I remember that Zynth's height is unchanging no matter the loaded reality. So people r constantly looking Up at them

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

1 | Something about you

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | flirting, language, suggestiveness, fluff, & faint sexual tension.

❧ Word Count | 7.1k (we're starting off strong it seems...)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Congratulations, you’ve nearly escaped hell— not-so-happily entering your final year of university as time stands currently. And y’know what, you think you’ve coasted through most of your college years drama-free. Well, aside from freshman year you suppose, everyone fucks up around that time…

But that’s a tale for another day, right now, you’re finding yourself waltzing into an entirely different plotline— with your head held high as you waltz toward a newfound cafe that you haven’t had the pleasure of finding for the past four years. Up until today, you’ve just barely been stomaching dining hall caffeine. Which, to say the least, isn’t nearly as savory or energizing as coffee from your local cafe. 

Four years you’ve been going to this school and yet here you were walking right into an establishment you swear simply spawned out of nowhere because you pass this street all the damn time and you don’t remember this place being here a week ago. Yet, when you enter the cafe and spot a sign that says they’ve been there for the past three years, you begin to realize that maybe you should start going out a bit more…

Nonetheless, you mentally claimed that if the coffee here was bad, you’d walk right out and return to never acknowledging the place. But hey, when you do push past those double doors, fingers wrapped around a warm metal handle, a waft of smoky coffee aromas simmering into your nose, and spot a rather attractive cashier first thing, you’re quick to tell yourself that maybe shitty coffee might be worth a few things.

Especially seeing as six staggering feet of height, fluffy bright white locks of hair, and the most dazzling set of blue eyes take notice of your entering seconds after you’ve stepped inside— how could you not tell yourself that terrible coffee may be worth digesting so long as you get to drink in this tall, fine man whose name you note as Gojo as you near him and read the tag on his apron.

“Suguru, it seems the gods have finally answered my prayers,” Gojo yells back to someone you can’t quite see yet. His eyes were all over you, drinking you in just as you were him. The tall man receives a laugh from somewhere further behind him before he redirects his words to you, “To what do I have the pleasure of serving you today, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted as you approached the counter fully, your eyes lingering on his far longer than they should’ve. “Uh,” And you were making a fool out of yourself already, great, “It’s my first time here, so I’m not too sure…” Okay, that’s a decent enough save considering how your words earn a half smile from the man in front of you who tilts his head and eyes you down.

And fuck if he wasn’t every bit of intimidating looking down at you like that. He places a single hand onto the counter space in front of him, leaning forward just a bit before turning his head back to take a glance at the menu hanging up, as if he didn’t have it memorized already, “Well, for first-timers I usually recommend anything but our coffee.”

You bat your lashes at the man for a moment as he returns his attention to you, “Seriously? That’s the one thing I came in here for…”

“Ah, well,” Gojo clicks his tongue and shrugs a bit, leaning toward you just to whisper, “Y’gotta come here when I’m in the back.”

You lean forward, intrigued by his words, “…Why?”

“Cause’ Suguru doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Gojo chuckles a bit and you reciprocate before pushing your brows together questioningly. “Suguru, my best fr-, my coworker.” He clarifies quickly.

“Ohh,” You nod, “So should I come back another time, or…?”

“Nono, you caught me a few minutes before rush hour,” Gojo says rather cheerfully before he leans away from you and flashes a smile, “I can run back there ‘nd make ya’ somethin’ since we’re not too busy?”

At that, you take a moment to glance around the cafe interior, spotting one, maybe two people sitting on their laptops and languidly sipping or munching away at their breakfast. You’re glad you came in when you did.

Not only did you get the chance to talk to Gojo, who you turn back to seconds later with a nod, but you also got the chance to get not-so-shitty coffee according to the man. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice,�� You hum to him.

Gojo dramatically moves to stretch his arms, clasping his hands together before extending them out with a heavy sigh, as if he were preparing to do such a difficult task. “Alrighty then, is there any specific kinda coffee you’re lookin’ for?”

“Still my first time here, Gojo. So, no…” The way you say his name so suddenly has him wondering if you knew him from somewhere. But, you quickly smile a little and nod your chin to his name tag, to which he looks down and laughs at himself. “Surprise me,” You then say moments later.

“Surprise you?” Gojo echoes.

You shrug sheepishly, “If that’s not too much work for you-“

“No, I don’t mind. I can surprise ya’,” His smile at you deepens and you catch the slightest dip in his cheeks as the most enamoring set of dimples pops out to your gaze. “Buuut, before I do… Do you have any allergies or dislikes I should be wary of?”

You hum, “Uh, no I don’t think so? I’m feeling rather open-minded today so, just bring me something good enough to have me returning for more.”

“Yeah? I mean, I’m sure you’ll come back for somethin’ else aside from jus’ coffee,” Gojo laughs to himself at his own comment and your eyes simply widen, a cute lil’ tilt of your head catching his attention.

You chuckle nervously, “What else would I come back for if not coffee?”

He shrugs before slowly turning away, “Oh, I dunno… Perhaps a certain handsome cashier that’s caught your eye?”

Oh, you see where he’s going with this. It may have been a while but, you know what flirting looks like. “Is this handsome cashier in the room with us, or…?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the way Gojo freezes and he sends you this look that you have to try your hardest not to laugh at.

He nearly pouts, “W-Well, yeah, obviously. You’re lookin’ at him.”

Your brows lift, “Am I?”

Gojo narrows those pretty blue eyes of his at you, “Do you not find me handsome?”

“Say I didn’t,” You murmur tauntingly, “Wouldn’t you be really embarrassed?”

The corner of his lips twitch before he scoffs playfully, “What are you, some kinda masochist?”

You giggle, “No, but seein’ that pout on your face was kinda cute.”

“Pout?” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Hah, what pout?” He scoffs again before straightening his face and attempting to be serious with you, “I didn’t pout-“

“You totally did,” You cut off, peering right into those mesmerizing eyes of his— damn, it was almost like you couldn’t get yourself to look away.

“I did not,” Gojo corrects your statement, lower lip poking out once more into a pout.

You shrug and finally get yourself to glance off to the side, “It was cute.”

He instantly tilts his head at that, ears perking up, “Y’think I’m cute?”

“I do.” You hum simply with your eyes wandering right back over to his face.

There’s this little moment between the two of you, a spark if you will, where you both just meet one another’s eyes and admire each other. Is this what mutual attraction feels like?

Perhaps if you squinted, you would’ve noticed the faintest shade of pink decorating his cheeks, “I-,” Gojo swallows suddenly, “Why thank you, sweetheart,” He utters suavely, as if to save himself from embarrassment. After which, he clears his throat, “That aside, we’ve got about six minutes before people start rushin’ in here ‘nd it’ll take two for me to prepare that coffee of yours so, do you mind givin’ me a name?”

You blink, “A name…?”

“Your name,” Gojo clarifies.

“Oh! Sorry,” You’re quick to apologize for your moment of daze, giving him your name seconds later to make up for it.

He starts to smile again, “That’s your name?”

“Yes?” You utter almost confusedly. Was there something wrong-

“It’s pretty,” Gojo interrupts your thoughts completely and your eyes go all wide all over again, a small feature in which he finds absolutely adorable.

“T-Thank you,” You stammer out, turning away to now avoid the eye contact you once couldn’t tear yourself away from.

“Uhuh,” His eyes scan you up and down once more before he sighs, “I’ll be back in a sec’, sweets,” Gojo says finally.

God, you think the nickname he threw out has your heart racing because it made your face so utterly hot. Almost as if you don’t hear nicknames like that on a daily basis…

Aside from that, you gave Gojo one last nod before looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. He’d told you that there was only a few minutes until rush hour so you were a bit wary that people would appear out of nowhere in the next-

“So you’re the girl that’s got Satoru all giggly, huh?” A voice purrs from somewhere in front of you.

Quickly, you return your gaze forward and spot a man, equally as tall as Gojo, with long dark hair, slim eyes, and a really pretty face— holy shit, how many hot guys work here??

“Uh,” You’re stuttering again, tipping your head to the side, “…Satoru?” You repeat, confused by the person he’s referring to.

The man chuckles, “Gojo,” He tells you, “Satoru Gojo,” You nod at the clarification and he grins warmly.

“Oh, then yeah I guess so,” You shrug sheepishly before flashing a smile, “So then that means you must be Suguru-“

“Geto,” He’s so quick to correct you that you almost immediately shut up, swallowing down your words as if you’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I assume Satoru told you my first name?”

You steadily nod, avoiding eye contact with him out of embarrassment, “He did…”

“As expected,” Geto hums before letting out a long sigh, “Just call me by me last, I don’t know you too well so I’m sure you understand.”

You hum, “Right, sorry.”

It’s a tad bit awkward for the next few seconds after that mild conversation but when you hear Gojo yelling from somewhere in the back, the awkwardness quickly subsides.

You even spot Gojo popping his head out from around the corner just to speak to his coworker, “Suguru don’t scare her off jus’ cause you have a girlfriend-“

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Geto interrupts, sharp with his correction as he glances back over his shoulder.

Gojo snorts, “Fine then, girl who’s a friend that you like-“

“I don't-,” A sigh leaves Geto’s lips before he’s moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning afterward, “Just hurry up with the damn coffee before people start comin’ in.”

Your eyes somehow find Gojo’s and you watch him mouth out something to you, “He’s grouchy because his girlfriend’s ignorin’ him-“

“Satoru,” Geto says scoldingly, causing Gojo to flinch dramatically.

Then you see the white-haired man laugh before winking at you and dipping back around the corner. After which, you don’t even realize you’re smiling until you meet Geto’s gaze and feel your expression drop at the glare he’s giving you.

“What?” You murmur warrily, raising a brow at his plain look.

Geto tilts his head and studies your face for a mere moment, “You new around here or somethin’?”

“New to this cafe, yeah,” You explain, “Why?”

He shrugs, “I’ve learned most of our customer’s faces and majority of them live around the area but I’ve never seen you before.”

“I live not too far from campus but I wasn’t aware this cafe was here until today…” You explain steadily, earning somewhat of an intrigued expression from the man.

“Damn, really?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“So, wait,” Geto scoffs a little at the thought, “Don’t tell me you’ve been stomaching dining hall caffeine all this time.”

You chuckle and glance off to the side, “Well…”

“If you live near campus, how the hell are you just now finding us??” Geto questions, he seems genuinely confused by your cluelessness.

Your shoulders lift into a shrug, “I don’t go out much.”

“Maybe you should,” He tells you.

A thin lipped smile tugs at your lips, “Starting to realize that now, thanks.”

The man opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo returning from the back and placing a hand on his shoulder, to which Geto glances down at.

“Alrighty Suguru, thanks for not scaring the pretty lady away!” Gojo says cheerfully as he pushes past his friend and makes eye contact with you.

Geto’s brows push together, “You’re welcome? I don’t know how I would’ve scared her, I-“

Gojo unintentionally cuts him off with a laugh, “You’ve been kinda grouchy towards women ever since you met-“

“Fuck off,” He grumbles, brushing off Gojo’s hand on his shoulder and turning to make his way to the back once more.

“See what I mean?” Gojo hums to himself.

Then Geto laughs, “You’re not a woman are you?”

“Suguruuu,” Gojo whines, turning his head back to his friend who’s already disappeared from his line of vision. Then, Gojo sighs and looks to you again, “Ah whatever, ignore him, he sucks sometimes.”

You grin, “You guys are best friends, aren’t you?”

The way Gojo tilts his head almost innocently is kinda cute, “How can you tell?”

“Mine acts similarly,” You explain, thinking of your best friend who’s not the nicest person in the world.

“Yeah?” Gojo hums, “An asshole once they get into a relationship?”

“I’m not in a relationship, Satoru!” Geto calls out from the back.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes at his friend's refutation of his claims. Looking somewhat off to the side, your thoughts wander more so toward your best friend, “Well, no, he’s kinda just an asshole all around.”

“Really? Why’re you his best friend then?” You’ve always found this question funny considering most people are confused about how you and your best friend are even friends when most times you two don’t get along.

Instead of really answering Gojo’s question, you look up at him and smile, “I could ask you the same thing, no?”

His brows furrow and he scoffs, “What? No, Suguru’s just grouchy today, I promise he’s usually better than that.”

You nod, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Gojo extends his hand out to you, “Here, give this a try,” He offers, handing a decently sized cold drink to you.

You receive the item and look down at it, “You’re not trying to poison me right?”

Gojo laughs, “Aaand why ever would I do that?”

The cup is steadily lifted to your lips as you lift your eyes to him once more, “I dunno, men are weird.”

“That they are,” He chuckles, “But no, that’d be illegal and I have no intentions of harming you.”

Again, you just nod at that and then take that first sip of the surprise drink he’d given you. A strong taste of vanilla and a nearly overwhelming amount of coffee creamer hits your tastebuds. You smile but you’re a bit taken back by how sweet it is. One, it’s way better than any cup of coffee you’ve ever had from the dining hall and two, it’s a lot sweeter than you were expecting.

“Holy fuck, how much sugar did you put in this thing?” You utter in surprise as you move the cup away from your mouth and glance at it as if that’ll give you the answer to your question.

Gojo lets out a laugh, “You said to surprise you.”

“Yeah but this is sweet as hell,” You tell him, your eyes raking over the cup in your hand.

“Sweet drink for a sweet girl, I don’t see a problem,” He responds with a little lean toward you.

“Right and-,” You scoff, eyes narrowing at the very lousy print of your name on the cup, “Who’s…” You almost laugh, “Christ, your handwriting is shit.”

Gojo lets out a huff, “Okay, first off, my handwriting is not that bad. And secondly-”

You’re quick to turn the cup to him and lift it, “Look at it!”

“Oh.” He squints his eyes at it, “Shit, that is kinda bad…” Gojo mumbles with an amused little smile on his face.

“Yeah, I can’t even read this…” You laugh, returning the cup to yourself, “But that’s okay, I appreciate the effort,” His smile grows at your comforting words as you then look up at him once more, “How much?”

“Since my handwriting’s so shit,” He starts, tilting his head at you and shrugging, “Consider it on the house.”

Your eyes seem to light up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Gojo hums.

“Aw, thank you,” Who would you be to ever pass up something free? Especially given by this cheeky cashier before you.

“Anytime-”

Geto’s voice intrudes from the back, “Satoru I thought I told you to change these filters? And why’d you leave such a big mess, holy shit.”

Gojo yells back to his coworker, slightly looking over his shoulder, “The mess isn’t that bad is it?”

You snort, “If it’s anything like your handwriting then uh…”

“Alright,” Gojo’s quick to look at you once more, “You just got a free drink out of me so I don’t wanna hear anything from you.”

“Satoru, these filters aren’t gonna change themselves,” Geto nags further.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes and yells back to his friend yet again, “You’re literally back there already, change them yourself.”

“Nope, it’s your turn,” Geto argues.

Gojo frowns, “But-”

“The girl’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” At that, you blink in surprise. How does he know you’re not ready to leave just yet? “Get your ass back here,” Geto orders.

Gojo turns his head and looks at you almost pleadingly.

You giggle, “What? Sounds like you’ve got some filters to change, Gojo…”

“Y’know what,” He scoffs and nods his chin to the cup in your hand, “$5.45.”

Your head cocks back a little and your brows go up, “I’m sorry?”

“The drink,” Gojo hums simply, looking back to make sure Geto wasn’t on his way out to scold him some more just yet, “Since you wanna take his side over mine…”

The way you frown misses Gojo’s eyes up until he turns to look at you one last time, his eyes going wide as you try to defend yourself, “I wasn’t-”

“S’fine, I got it,” An entirely different voice grumbles from your right, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. So close to you, an arm slips right past your face and you watch as an all too familiar man extends a card out to Gojo.

Your lashes bat a few times as an annoyingly familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose. You’d literally just escaped said smell a few hours ago after leaving your apartment and yet here it was all over again, directly in your nose and you met the side profile of your best friend, “Choso?” You utter.

Whatever light and fluffy banter that was in the air seconds ago seems to die at the mere presence of Choso standing so closely beside you. Ignoring you, he urges Gojo to take his card and Gojo soon does so with a scoff— he was going to keep flirting and teasing you but here comes this all-too-serious-looking man taking your vacant side as if it were second nature.

The smile Gojo once had on his face simmered down and his expression became a lot more neutral as he quietly moved to charge Choso’s card.

After which, your best friend finally looks down at you, his eyes pointed in a glare that would make anyone feel unloved despite you knowing he feels quite the opposite (to some extent at least), “Don’t you have class in an hour?” Choso asks you in a dull monotone.

Your face scrunches up slightly before you shrug, “I was thirsty…”

Choso stares at you for a long moment, glances at Gojo, then back to you with a scoff, “Yeah, clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off by Choso taking his eyes off of you and receiving his card back from Gojo, the two men making eye contact once more and both looking as if the other had done something to offend them. Your best friend openly scoffs in Gojo’s face before pocketing his card and turning away, quickly walking out of the establishment.

Your eyes go wide, “Choso, wait!” You call out as your eyes followed him walking away from you. Only to be ignored again, you let out a huff and start to walk after him but turn back to Gojo one last time, “Sorry about him.”

Gojo’s expression seems to light back up a bit and he shrugs, “You’re fine.”

You nod and start turning away before remembering something and looking at Gojo yet again, slightly pointing at him, “You owe me a free drink by the way,” You remind him playfully.

His face is twisting right back up into that intrigued expression from earlier, “Do I now? And what for?”

“Your shitty handwriting of course,” You hum.

"Hm," He takes a second to think before letting out a slight huff. You then feel and watch the way his eyes glide up and down your body before he responds to you, "Alright."

And with that, both of you smile at one another one last time before you go running off to catch up with Choso. Gojo watches you almost in some kinda trance as you leave, spotting more customers approaching but ignoring them for the most part as his gaze remains glued to you until you’re completely out of his line of vision.

Then, he lets out this breathy little sigh, “Fuck…” Moving to wipe his face off as if that’ll rid himself of whatever the hell he’s feeling after talking to you. 

He didn’t even get to ask you for your number like he wanted to…

With perfect timing, “Satoru, the-”

“Filters, yeah yeah, I got it,” Gojo cuts Geto off completely, turning around to see his friend emerging from the back as they both swap places due to the approaching rush hour.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Outside, you were met with a slap of heat as soon as you exited the cafe, your eyes searching the area for Choso. A slight breeze of refreshing wind brushes over your skin as you finally spot the man having not gotten too far away.

Barely managing to catch up to him, you nudge Choso on his arm as soon as you meet his side, “Why’d you pay for my drink? I could’ve done that myself.”

Just as he did earlier inside the cafe, he acts as though you’re not even there, keeping his gaze forward and pretending he didn’t hear a single thing you just said.

“Choso? Hello??” You huff out, nudging him on his arm again.

His lip twitches into a scowl and he just barely side-eyes you, “What?”

You ignore all of his attitude, as you typically do, “Why’d you pay?”

“You’re a walking charity case,” Choso hums all too casually.

Your head goes back and you scoff, “I-, what? No, I’m not!” Then the back of your hand is landing on his arm as you hit him and he almost smiles.

Finding amusement in your reaction, he shrugs, “Yeah you are,” And before you can even try to get a response out, the cup of coffee in your hand is stripped from your grasp faster than you could blink. Choso removes the top and takes a sip, “Ew, you like this shit?” He scowls, placing the top right back on and handing you your drink back.

You blink, struggling to process a logical reasoning behind his action, “First off, no one told your ass to take a sip. And secondly-”

“I wanted to know what you got,” Choso cuts off, glancing at you to watch how quickly you get annoyed by him.

You groan, “You could’ve asked if that was the case.” He shrugs your words off and you roll your eyes at him, “And how the hell did you know I was in there anyway?”

“I didn’t,” Choso tells you, “I always go in there but today I happened to see your short ass at the counter when I walked in.”

You’re quick to shoot him a glare, “Stop that, I’m not short.”

He’s got this arrogant little grin on his face, “Look short t’me.”

“That’s because you’re taller than me, which doesn’t make you tall in general nor does it make me short.” You explain to the man simply with your eyes shooting daggers into the side of his face.

Choso continues to act as though you’re not even looking at him, “Being shorter than me makes you short-”

“And y’know what,” You cut off, tearing your eyes off of your overly bothersome friend, “You’re annoying.”

He cocks his head back, “Annoying? I’m annoying?” Finally, he looks at you, now searching the side of your face for answers.

“Yeah, very.” You hum.

Choso scoffs and then sizes you up and down, “Says the one who was gawkin’ over Gojo Satoru of all people.”

You nearly laugh, “Fucks’ that supposed to mean? How would that make me annoying?”

“He’s a weirdo,” Choso shrugs, pocketing his hands as he faces forward once more, “I can’t understand what you could possibly find attractive about him.”

You blink and both of you slow down in the pace of your steps, “I talked to him for less than ten minutes, how was I supposed to know he’s weird. And wait-, how does me finding him attractive even annoy you?”

Your best friend sighs and his words come out all too casually for them to be so offensive, “Cause when he breaks your heart,” Choso looks at you, “You’ll come bitchin’ to me about it.”

At that, you freeze, quickly turning to meet his gaze, “Who says he’ll break my heart? And bitching? Is that what you call me talking to you about my relationship issues?? Bitching? Seriously?” With your eyes narrowed and brows tightly knit together, Choso should’ve sensed that he struck a nerve there.

Yet, he seems to not care in the slightest, blinking as if he’d said nothing wrong, “Fuck else am I supposed to call it? I warn you about every guy you date but you don’t ever listen to me.”

Your face twists up, “That doesn’t make my complaints ‘bitching’…”

“Well, it makes it fucking annoying,” He hums before pulling his lips into a thin smile— mocking you through facial expressions.

Your brows go up, “Really? Okay then, sorry for ever confiding in you,” You set your eyes straight once more, “I’ll just go find someone else to-”

“You know no one else is gonna put up with your shit the same way I do,” He’s so quick to dismiss your little statement, almost as if the implication of you ever leaving him, in a sense, bothered him.

You scoff matter-of-factly, “That’s not true.”

“It literally is though,” Choso deadpans, “You have one friend and that’s me. Who the hell else are you gonna go rant to, hm?”

“Someone that doesn’t call my rants bitching.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.

Choso scales his eyes down to your arms and he smiles, “Are you seriously mad about that?”

“Maybe,” You shrug.

His feet come to a stop and you follow suit, turning to avoid his eyes as much as possible. Choso stares at you for a moment before leaning toward you, tilting his head and angling his lips toward your ear.

All of which done so he could whisper to you, “M’sorry, princess,” Choso murmurs to you affectionately, “Y’know I didn’t mean that seriously, I’m jus’ fuckin’ with you.”

You remain unphased for a mere moment more before the constant brush of his breath against your skin makes you shudder, your hands moving to his chest to push him away, “Yeah, whatever… And stop calling me that.”

Choso blinks, feeling confused since you act as if he hadn’t been calling you such a thing for years, “Why?”

“Cause I don’t like it…” You so clearly lie— not that you enjoyed the nickname but more so that you’ve always felt indifferent to it. Or, almost always.

He smirks, “Your face is telling me an entirely different story.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle, moving to shoot your middle finger at him, “And what story does this tell you?’

Choso stares into your eyes for a long period of time before looking to your finger, smiling fully and tilting his head again, “…You wanna fuck me?”

Immediately putting your finger down, your brows tense, “What? No!” You exclaim, groaning as you return to your walking, “God, I cannot stand you.”

He laughs and follows right alongside you, “You’re so easy to annoy, holy shit.”

“And you’re insufferable,” You huff.

Choso shrugs simply, “You love me though.”

You glance at him, “Debatable.”

He pouts and pretends to clutch his heart, “Ouch-”

“Anyway,” Returning your attention to someone much less annoying than the man beside you, you nod your head back toward the cafe, “Do you know if he’s single?”

Choso nearly trips over his steps at the sound of that, letting out a cough, “Who-, Gojo??”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Why?” Choso’s lips twitch, “You lookin’ to get rejected?”

Pausing, you look to him with a quirked brow, “Excuse me? What makes you think I’ll get rejected?”

“You’re uh…” He trails off a little, eyes lingering down your frame before he smiles and speaks to you in this faux gentle whisper, “Not his type, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll at that, “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Secondly, how do you know?”

“Uh, I’ve seen the kinda girls he’s into so trust me when I say…” Choso’s eyes shift to peer directly into yours, “It ain’t you.”

You stare back for a moment before shaking your head and looking off, “Whatever, you’re just saying that.”

“Yeah because I’m gonna lie to you about something like that,” He snickers to himself before rolling his eyes. Within seconds, he goes to look at you again only to see you heading in a different direction, “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”

“Away from you!” You call back.

He laughs yet again, “What, you can’t handle the truth now?”

Glancing back to him, “I’m gonna prove you wrong asshole.”

Choso flashes you a shit-eating grin as if he’s already begun praying on your downfall, “Sure you will.”

He then watches as you further away from him, his smile steadily fading as he catches himself a bit too happy at the sight of you so determined. Choso shrugs off whatever feeling the topic of Gojo Satoru had brought up within him, dismissing the entire thing as he truly believed you’d never really get yourself too involved with that guy.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the way you were taking to Gojo before he walked in so, Choso had no idea of how things were about to play out within the next few hours.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

As such, after that morning class of yours that extended decently into the afternoon, you found yourself rushing back to the cafe as soon as you could.

You knew not of Gojo’s working hours so you had no clue whether or not he’d still be there but you sure as hell hoped so. Choso had really ticked you off with his claims.

You not being Gojo’s type? Yeah right, he didn’t see the way that cashier was looking at you, nor did he hear all the banter that took place. Given that, you were determined to prove your dear friend wrong and yourself right. You know flirting when you see it and that’s exactly what Gojo was doing.

So to say he wasn’t at least intrigued by you would be a blatant lie you had every hope on exposing to Choso.

When you finally find yourself entering that lovely little cafe, it’s a lot more busy in comparison to earlier— something you take note of for your possible future visits. The line wasn’t exactly too long but quite a few people were hanging out or studying throughout the establishment.

That aside, your eyes were quick to search for a certain white-haired barista, gaze lighting up the very second it meets the man it questions. 

Gojo had a weary smile on his face as he handed some girl a coffee and you could tell based on his eyes alone that he was tired of the chick rambling to him. He nodded and nodded, trying to keep himself appearing entertained by whatever she was saying but when he glances over and spots you, all his attention is diverted.

Those pretty blue eyes of his fixate on you and you watch as he finally dismisses the girl, nodding toward you as if to say he had another customer to tend to. She shrugs and finally leaves, to which you take place in standing where she’d been seconds ago, sending a smile to Gojo.

“Long day?” You suggest with a slight tilt of your head, to which he nods.

“You have no idea,” Gojo sighs out to you, “You’re back sooner than I expected though.”

He didn’t know what it was about you, perhaps the way you gaze at him, but there was something that kept his eyes lingering on yours far longer than normal— something that genuinely lulled him in. Perhaps it was the natural flow of conversation and how even from earlier, you didn’t really feel like a mere customer but instead just a person, a woman at that-, a very pretty woman, might he add.

“You owe me a free drink, remember?” You remind him, earning a different reaction than expected.

Gojo pauses, “Ohh… About that…” He hums, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah see, that offer no longer stands…”

You blink, “I’m not sure I understand…”

He lets out a sigh, then moves to lean forward against the counter, bending down and crossing his arms as he rests on his elbows and comes much closer to your eye level, “Another cute girl came in ‘nd got it before you,” Gojo whispers.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and your brows pinch together, “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm,” He hums tauntingly with this smug look on his face as if to say giving away your promised drink was to get back at you for something.

“Well,” You click your tongue, “I think you owe me a free drink now more than before, maybe two.”

Gojo smiles, feeling amused, “Yeah? I mean, my number’s free. Y’want that instead?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat at how ridiculously smooth that was, trying your hardest not to give in and return a smile. “I… What am I supposed to do with that?” You end up asking.

He snickers, “Perhaps text me? Or call? Y’know, the thing you do with phones-“

“Alright smart ass,” You scoff playfully, grinning as you move to pull out your phone, “What’s your number then?”

Gojo smiles triumphantly and extends his hand out, “Here, lemme put it in for ya’.”

You glance at him, eyes meeting and yet another moment passing before you hand him your phone, to which he takes a second to look down at the device in his hands. Then, he enters his number and a contact name for himself.

After which, your cell is quickly returned to you and you look to see what he’s put in. Studying the name closely, you tilt your head, “Satoru?”

“Mhm, tha’s me, sweetheart,” He purrs, moving to rest his cheek against his knuckles.

You look up from your phone, “You want me to call you Satoru?”

Gojo shrugs, “If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“We’re on a first-name basis already?” You tease, eyes narrowing at the man.

“It seems we are,” He utters. His voice was a bit lower with you now, much more casual and playful. “That alright with you, pretty girl?”

Unknowingly, your face flushes, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s fine.”

Gojo lets out a hum, “Good.” Then, the two of you do that thing yet again, peering into one another's eyes, unmoving, nearly frozen and dazed for a moment longer than intended before Gojo snaps out of it by almost awkwardly clearing his throat, “So uh, you still want that free drink or…?”

You blink out of your own stupor and shake your head, “No, I’ll come back for it tomorrow.”

“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“It seems I am, yes,” A smile graces your face and he can’t help but stare.

Gojo mirrors your expression, “Just for coffee?”

Your eyes wander off to the side cheekily, “Perhaps for a certain handsome cashier too…”

He thinks his heart is fluttering. Is this normal? To experience such a genuine infatuation with a woman’s words within less than twenty-four hours? It was unusual for Gojo, that’s for damn sure. Hence why his head is tipping to the side, “Really? Have my charms worked so soon?” He teases.

You return your gaze to him, “Just a little, yeah.”

Mesmerized by you, Gojo nods, “Good to know.”

“Mhm,” After a slight hum, you glance down at your phone and check the time, “Well uh, I actually have another class so I should probably go.”

“Yes… Yes, you should,” He voices out slowly, again entangled into that daze of his until you lift your head once more, “But uh, make sure you text me later, yeah?” Gojo reminds you.

To which you chuckle and start turning away toward the exit, “No promises.”

He’s left in a mere awe of you, not even knowing what to say, and left utterly speechless from such an intriguing yet simple conversation with you. As you wave bye, Gojo had to feel for his heart the very second you leave just to see if it was working correctly because he’s not sure what the hell that was just now.

Whatever it may have been, he knows it was much more genuine and raw than what he’s typically used to. And it came so naturally too, the banter, the gazes, the flirting… Gojo was longing for more already and he’d only just met you a few hours ago.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

All the while you’re just as cheerful at the interaction you just had, beyond ready to brag to your doubtful best friend of your most recent accomplishments.

Which is exactly why you’re facetiming said friend as soon as you leave the cafe. The call rings for less than a second before it’s answered and you’re met with a visibly displayed and… shirtless Choso.

Before you get the chance to even try and take in his naked torso, he’s already scowling at you, “The fuck are you facetiming me for?” He grumbles, taking the smile right off of your lips, “I’ve seen your face enough for one day. Why don’t you ever call like a normal person??”

You bat your eyelashes at the man, “Cho, we just got on the phone and you’re already souring the mood…”

He ignores your complaint, “What do you want?”

Steadily, your smile returns, “Guess who got a certain someone’s number,” You utter cheerfully, voice light in a little sing-song tone.

Choso gives his phone a blank stare, not saying a single word in response to that.

Which confused you, “Well? Are you gonna guess-“

“You could’ve texted me this shit,” He cuts off before you watch as your screen is soon met with the ceiling as he places his phone down.

You pout, “Well, yeah but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction…”

He scoffs and pops his face into the camera for a second, eyes dull, smile nonexistent, eye bags heavy, and tattoo running across his nose the only thing giving some form of expression despite it being nothing more than a dark black line. “Does it look like I give two shits about you gettin’ some asshole’s number?”

You let out a long sigh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”

And that’s when Choso seems to smirk, “Cause’ you won’t leave me alone.”

“I’m hanging up,” You groan.

His laughter, albeit somewhat of a rare sound, fills your ears, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

You send him a look, “Are you?”

“Mhm, good job on gettin’ his number, princess,” Choso coos, making your eyes widen, “I’m proud of you.”

Your mouth opens to say something to that but your throat runs oddly dry. Instead, you gulp down his sudden praise and ignore how warm his words make you feel. “…Thank you.” You eventually say.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods before removing himself from the camera again, “Pretty sure he’s just trying to fuck though.” He says bluntly.

Instead of choking like he expected you to, you only scoff, “Fine by me.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, feeling almost silenced before he sighs, “Oh… But you told me no-“

“That was entirely different, Choso.” You cut off.

He shuts up again.

“You were drunk, and…” Your voice dies out.

To which he raises a brow at his phone, “And what?”

“And things were different back then,” You sigh, trying not to recall the entirety of your past with Choso at the present moment, “…You were an even bigger asshole, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Choso sighs, moving to dismiss the topic, “Anyway, let me know how things go with your new albino boyfriend.”

You scoff, smiling at the suggestion itself, “He’s not even my-“ 

The call disconnects. Oh how you just love your best friend and his antics. You wouldn’t trade your friendship with him for anything.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself anyway. What exactly does a new man in your life bring if not drama? This right here was but the beginning of a very interesting journey toward such a fickle emotion we know as; love.

mlist | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

@sydlunamoon-blog @gojstrulxvezx @gigiipeaches @kivrumi @urunclesbottomlip

@iseeyouuu @annieleonhardtsbitch @lwkykiyo @itsbellablue-blog @gorouenjoyer

@mua-for-now @bee3l0v3r @scarletteyuno @lilablogsblog @lolznoelle

@madaqueue @keriaonmarz @parakisssss @aniniyah @trx-xrt

@sxnkuna @chocolatecheer @unibrow-yzz @lovely-lady-tits @woofzz2

@pineapplepan7 @janrcrosssing @hauntedchoso @linksylove @lemonninq

@littlemug00 @namjoonie17717 @notjustagirlinthisworld @moonneversleeps @k4rma1sntd3ad

[smokesandsonatas]

Twisted Wonderland but make it grounded in dark reality. I drafted this around late 2023 and I just finished this now, haha. As always read at your own discretion and enjoy!

Warnings: Implied cannibalism. Dread.

Characters: Floyd and Jade, Leona, Ruggie, Rook, Idia, Lillia, Malleus, Others.

Not beta read.

Food.

- Any substance consumed by an organism for nutritional support. A means for survival.

You’ve always known most of them are peculiar creatures. Sharp teeth, mismatched eyes, monstrous forms, fins that glint with predatory sharpness, and horns that pierce the sky with arrogant pride. They embody the villains from the old fairy tales back in your world, grotesque and terrifying in equal measure. You suppose they function like civilized beings—they’ve learned to blend into human society, after all—but you can’t help but notice just how different, how unnervingly similar, they are to one thing: food.

The dishes at this college are like nothing you've ever tasted. Perhaps it's because many of them are children of royalty, so even the cafeteria food tastes like something out of a king's banquet. The pickiness of their palates is evident in every bite, in every carefully crafted dish. But there are things you find more intriguing than their refined taste; something almost hypnotic about the way they eat, especially when they don't mind you watching.

The scent of something delicious invaded Ramshackle Dorm in the dead of night. You assumed Grim was cooking, as ridiculous as that sounded, but found the little gremlin snoozing soundly beside you. Maybe it was the ghosts? But as you descended the stairs, you found the kitchen empty, devoid of any culinary activity. One glance at the night sky over Sage’s Island told you it was around 3 AM—far too early for breakfast, and far too late for dinner.

You tried to go back to sleep, but the tantalizing scent of roasted meat kept you awake, gnawing at your resolve until you could no longer ignore the hunger pangs twisting your stomach. Leaving Grim behind, you draped the sheets over his body, muttering a promise to return soon. Your curiosity and hunger led you to the cafeteria, which should have been deserted at this hour, but to your surprise…

They were all there. The ones you’ve grown closest to.

They were gathered around a long, elegant table, the atmosphere eerily reminiscent of Mostro Lounge—dim lights casting soft, ominous shadows across their faces. The table was laden with exquisite, expensive cuts of meat, arranged in a feast fit for monsters. And in the center of it all, a massive stack of roasted meat commanded your attention.

It looked…perfect. The tenderloin, you assumed, was butter-soft, with a thick, moist cut that bled a light pink from the center. The outer layer was roasted to a flawless crisp. But something about the presentation unnerved you, a chill creeping up your spine.

The pile of meat looked too much like the carcass of a person. Or a beast, perhaps. It was hard to tell. But you could almost see the outline of a body, as though someone—someone about five or six feet tall—had been subjected to the furnace’s extreme heat, roasted beyond recognition. Was that hair you saw near what should have been the head? Before you could inspect further, a voice called out to you.

"Ah! You're here! Come and join us, Shrimpy!" Floyd’s voice rang out, cheerful and disturbingly eager. His sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light, rows of jagged edges that could tear through flesh with ease. Beside him, Jade chuckled, slicing into a slab of meat with surgical precision, the knife gliding through like it was cutting butter.

Your eyes scanned the gathering. At the head of the table sat Tsunotaro—Malleus, the prince of fae. You frowned, under the impression that he usually is not invited in gatherings like this. But he nodded at you, a small, regal acknowledgment. “I was invited by Lilia,” he explained, his voice low and melodic. You glanced at his plate—a half-eaten steak submerged in a thick, red sauce. The metallic, almost fishy scent wafted up, assaulting your senses.

Before you could react, Lilia appeared beside you, his small hand guiding you to a seat. His right hand held a wine glass filled with a creamy red liquid that clung to the inside of the chalice. You tried to dismiss the fact that it looked too much like blood—thick, viscous blood. Surely, wine wasn’t supposed to look like that, but who were you to judge?

“Bonjour, Trickster! ~” Rook’s voice whispered in your ear, and when you turned, you were met with a sight that made your stomach turn. The smell hit you first—foul, putrid, like a freshly killed animal left to rot. It was too strong, the copper and iron scent so overpowering you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

You hope your face does not betray the constriction of your throat.

“Rook,” you managed to say, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise. “What…uhm, what is that?”

Rook laughed, the sound as sharp as the glint in his eyes. “Liver pâté, my dear,” he said, twirling his fork. “If it’s a strong scent, I apologize. It’s from the raw liver I like to eat with the liver pâté.”

Raw…

You tried to ignore the word. Back in your world, people ate raw food—sushi, for instance. So whatever Rook had on his plate was none of your business. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“Shishishi, the food is sure delicious, especially when I’m getting it for free!” A voice cackled, startling you. You almost jumped out of your seat at the sight of Ruggie, devouring his meal with a voracious appetite. His sharp teeth ripped through the flesh with ease, tearing the meat from the bone in one swift motion. Red droplets—blood?—splattered across his chin, and you watched in horror as his tongue darted out to lick it clean.

“Oi, Ruggie, have some manners,” Leona growled from beside him, his voice gruff and annoyed. He wasn’t eating, his plate already littered with bones, but he was sipping from a glass filled with a red liquid. You wanted to believe it was wine, but the scent…The scent was as repugnant as the raw liver on Rook’s plate. It was metallic, nauseating

—blood.

A shiver trickled down your spine.

That same scent wafted from Malleus and Lilia’s glasses, clinging to the air like a dark cloud.

“You’re one to talk!” Ruggie retorted, his mouth full of meat. “You’ve never eaten a rat before, Leona-san.”

You blinked. Did you hear him right?

Your train of thought was interrupted by Malleus’s voice from your left.

“Shroud,” the prince of fae said, his tone commanding yet gentle, “drink this and replenish your energy.” You watched as Malleus offered Idia the same drink he was consuming. And to your shock, Idia accepted, his expression one of reluctance.

“I don’t really mind drinking this stuff, but I just don’t like eating much…” The Ignihyde dorm leader mumbled, his voice trailing off. You glanced at his plate—a barely touched piece of ‘steak’ with a small cut in the corner, oozing something you didn’t want to identify.

You could barely breathe as you watched Idia reluctantly take a sip of the viscous liquid from Malleus's chalice. His face remained as pale as ever, though a faint hint of color touched his cheeks. The sight was unsettling, and you couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of dread tightening around your chest.

"Not a fan of solid food?" Jade's voice slithered into your thoughts, pulling you from the trance. His mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light as he calmly sliced through his portion of meat, each movement precise and almost too graceful. "It's an acquired taste," he continued, offering you a smile that somehow did nothing to ease your growing anxiety.

Your gaze shifted to the plate in front of you, untouched and ominously inviting. The stack of meat in the center of the table loomed like a dark specter, its presence a constant reminder of the unease gnawing at your mind. You felt a pressure to partake, to show your acceptance of their world, but every fiber of your being screamed against it.

"Come now," Lilia's playful voice broke through the tension, "you should try it at least once. After all, it's not every day you get to dine with such esteemed company." He winked, the gesture meant to be comforting, but it only made you more wary.

You glanced around the table, noting the expectant gazes directed your way. Floyd’s sharp grin was still fixed on you, his eyes gleaming with mischief, while Ruggie gnawed contentedly on his bone, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Rook, watched you with a keen interest, his fork poised elegantly in his hand.

Leona’s gaze was the most unsettling, though. His amber eyes were half-lidded, seemingly bored, yet there was an intensity in them that made you feel like prey. His fingers drummed lazily on the table, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of his lips, as if he was waiting for you to make a move.

Your gaze drifted across the table, stomach churning with a mix of disgust and dread. The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance across their faces—no, across their true forms. You blinked, the image wavering as if your mind was trying to shield you from something it wasn’t ready to comprehend.

Floyd’s laughter echoed, a sound that grated against your nerves. For a split second, you saw something else—an elongated, sinuous form, slick with scales, teeth sharper than any blade, rows upon rows of them, stretching endlessly down a gaping maw that promised nothing but pain. You shuddered, the image vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving you staring at the harmless, smiling face of the boy who once called you Shrimpy. Jade is no better. You can see the muscles bulging as his back turns, with sharp rows of fins scattered along his spine. If you were behind him right now, you’re certain he would cut you in half.

Your eyes flicked to Ruggie, who was gnawing on the bone of his meal with unabashed relish. But in the periphery of your vision, his form distorted—muscles rippling beneath fur that was too thick, claws that scraped against the table, and a maw that was too wide, too hungry, filled with jagged fangs meant for tearing, ripping, devouring. He glanced up, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, the image of the beast-man fading back into the all-too-familiar figure of a mischievous boy. Leona on the other hand, sit still. The image of a lion assessing it's prey. You dare not look at his eyes burning holes through your skull—you feel it.

Idia, who sits apart from the others, his presence a dark shadow at the table. There’s something about him that feels different, even among these monsters. His connection to the underworld is undeniable, a guardian of the boundary between life and death. The flickering blue flames of his hair and the way his eyes pierce through the darkness suggest something far older and more terrifying than any of the others—a being who has seen what lies beyond the veil, and who has perhaps brought a piece of it back with him.

Rook, you cannot even begin to comprehend how a human—like yourself, is able to blend in with them.

But the worst was Malleus. The prince of the fae was calm, serene even, but there was something wrong—horribly wrong. His eyes glowed too brightly, their green hue pulsating with an otherworldly light. And then, for just a moment, you saw what lay beneath that regal facade—a towering figure, wings that stretched endlessly, blotting out the sky, horns that twisted and curled like a crown of dark thorns. His smile was too sharp, too knowing, as if he could see right through you, into the very depths of your soul.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at anyone anymore.

You tried to swallow your saliva, but your throat was dry, your mouth parched. The air was thick with the scent of blood, the tang of iron clinging to your tongue. They were all looking at you now, waiting, expecting you to take a bite, to join them in this feast.

Lilia’s voice broke the silence, light and playful as ever. “Come now, dear. Don’t be shy. You wouldn’t want to insult your hosts, would you?”

The pressure was unbearable, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you, suffocating you. Your hand trembled as you reached for the fork, the silver glinting in the low light. You knew, deep down, that whatever you saw—whatever you thought you saw—a no mere trick of the light.

They were not like you. They were never like you.

"I," you hope your voice does not shake, "I am full." You nodded, convincing them. You let out a nervous laugh, quickly standing up as you find the place too suffocating. Chair scraping the floor. "I'm fine! Really, I—ah, I need to go back, I have to catch some sleep and Grim is alone."

Floyd is quick to be by your side. His smile, wide and filled with sharp teeth, is unsettling. "Eh, Shrimpy, do you not like the food?" He asks, worry in his voice. You know it's fake: he's mocking you.

"I am good," you say with a strained smile. Please let me go, please, please—

"I insist," Malleus interjects, his voice smooth but commanding. "This is a feast meant for sharing. It would be rude to leave before sampling a morsel."

As if on cue, the others start to close in. Rook leans in closer, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. "The flavors are truly exquisite, you know. Not something one should miss out on."

Leona’s gaze is heavy and piercing, his voice low and rumbling. "I’ve seen your kind turn down more robust fare than this. Surely you can handle a small bite."

Your attempts to excuse yourself only seem to stoke their interest further. The way they move, their unnervingly smooth motions, reminds you of predators circling their prey.

You might just be one tonight.

Floyd’s grin widens as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Come on, Shrimpy. Just a taste. I promise it won’t hurt."

The pressure is mounting. They are pushing you to stay, to partake in their feast, and the atmosphere thickens with their silent insistence. Malleus’s eyes bore into you with a knowing gaze, his hand extending with a glass of the viscous red liquid. "Just a sip, if you please."

Every attempt to excuse yourself only seems to make their eyes narrow further, their smiles widen just a little more. The eerie calm of the feast surrounds you.

It is when you see the meat properly that you made up your mind to escape. It is in someone's plate, you do not know who.

It's in the shape of a finger. A charred fingernail dipped in red.

Floyd let out a yelp as you finally push him off of you, your steps quickening as you trace back where you came from: The path to Ramshackle dorm.

You heard Jade reprimand Floyd, the latter angry when you pushed him: How dare you Shrimpy was all you heard before you were out of their sight and you're running back, panting, to your safe space, Ramshackle.

Only to pause as Crowley stands in the steps of your door. His mask drowning the glint of yellow from holes that was supposed to be his eyes.

What... what the fuck.

Crowley approached you slowly, as if he's reaching out to a wounded prey, this is the first time you've ever seen him serious. You take a step back, should you run in the other direction? Where will you escape, Heartslabyul? Will they take you in there?

The headmaster let out a sigh, "My students here at Night Raven should perhaps know kindness from their teacher," he declared dramatically. Then he gave you pouch, full of madol. Thaumarks.

This is a bribe. Crowley is bribing you.

"Our little secret, alright?"

You blinked. What...?

"A little compensation for your troubles, for I am truly kind."

He then disappear, leaving you stunned.

At exactly 3:33 AM, a realization hit you. You are in the company of creatures far more dangerous than you ever imagined, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the surface. One wrong step, one mistake, it can all come down. Crumbling to pieces.

It is inside when your knees give out, you slide through the door of the Ramshackle, too weak to stand anymore.

This is the truth: you are in the company of creatures mimicking humans, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the normal exterior. But what terrifies you most is not the thought of what they are—but the thought that, perhaps, they see you as something less than human too.

The truth of what they were—what they really were—lurked just out of reach, like a shadow at the corner of your vision, waiting to pounce the moment you let your guard down.

But you knew better. Something had changed.

And as you sit there, the only protection you have are rotting woods that make up your dorm. You are just within the circle of monstrous beings in their friendly human skins. You are a magic-less, pathetic alien.

For in a world filled with monsters hiding in plain sight, the only question that remained was this:

What would happen when they decided they were tired of pretending?

Perhaps you will find out soon.

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

edit: i wrote more 🙈

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62095903/chapters/158849326

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Lick Back 2 (Part 2) by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

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

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

Word count: 14.5K

Read Lick Back (The Beginning) HERE.

"Like sweet morning dew

I took one look at you

And it was plain to see

You were my destiny

With you I'll spend my time

I'll dedicate my life

I'll sacrifice for you

Dedicate my life for you"

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo!

Van-Van's Airtag pinpointed the exact spot.

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

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

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

He needed to lure Jordan out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did you find us?" she whispered.

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

"He's crazy, Terry."

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

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

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

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

Terry stared at him.

"Put her back inside," Jordan ordered.

"Jordan—"

BANG!

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

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

"Alright…alright…stay calm."

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

Terry blacked out for a minute.

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

No car seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Noooo!" Terry screamed.

He charged further into the water.

"Terrina! Terrina!" he screamed.

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

She was gone.

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

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

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

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

"You never loved Nova!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Terry! Terry!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One thing bothered Terry, though.

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

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

She patted his arm.

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

"Thank you," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were knocked out. Ready?"

"Yeah."

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

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

"You take her," Nova said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonette cradled Terrina and fawned over her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit, Nova, relax," Gordon said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm Van-Van!"

"You're my new great-grandson."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Son.

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

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

"Terry…"

Nova's voice came through the baby monitor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He glanced at the dresser with the photos on top.

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

He grinned and patted her thigh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

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

"Oh, yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm cumming…." she panted.

He moaned, watching her.

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

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

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

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

"Fuck…fuck…fuck…" he whispered.

He rose and a final load shot onto her lips.

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

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

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

"Stand up," he said.

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

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

"Hey…baby…it's okay," he said.

She closed her eyes, remembering.

He wiped away her tears and kissed her eyelids.

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

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

Nova fell in love with his family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When?" she asked.

"Christmas Eve. After caroling with the family."

"In front of everyone?"

"Yes."

Tonette pushed up her glasses on her nose.

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

"Since when have you been using TikTok?"

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

He grinned.

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

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

"How did she react?"

"She looked happy, Mama. Really happy."

"You really adore her, huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

Tonette gazed at him with loving eyes.

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

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

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

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

Tonette nodded her head.

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

Tonette reached across the table and touched his hand.

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

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

"Hey Rina, Rina," he teased.

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

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

"We better head back," he said.

"I think we bought out the entire mall."

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

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

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

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

"No…I just wanna look, that's all."

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

"Terry? Terry Richmond."

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

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

"Stacey looked happy to see you again."

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

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

"I'm sure she did."

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

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

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

"Look at my sweet Ladybug!"

Terrina giggled.

"Mama, you always give everybody a nickname."

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

"What do you call, Van-Van?"

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

"Nova?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong?" he asked.

His stomach churned. She handed him the large envelope.

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

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

She nodded and he hugged her.

"Ah, baby, you had me worried."

She sniffled.

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

"Just in time for Christmas."

He hugged her again and closed his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good, huh?" Tonette said.

Nova nodded enthusiastically. His mother touched her hair.

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

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

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

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

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

He stared at Nova.

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

"The clown scared him," Jennifer said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want to go back with them?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's wrong, Terry?"

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

Dean's mouth dropped open.

"Now?"

"Before we eat."

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

"Why the scary face?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean rubbed his shoulder.

Terry stared at his reflection. His brother was right.

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

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

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

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

"Here ya go. Toss it back."

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

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

He coughed, and Dean pounded his back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hugged him tight and whispered in his ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Time for Christmas stockings!" Gordon said.

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

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

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

"Oh, how cute!" Nova said.

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

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

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

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

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

Terry dropped on one knee in front of her.

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

"Nova—"

"Yes!"

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

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

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

His voice shuddered, and he blinked back tears.

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

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

"I do…yes! Oh my God, yes!"

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

"Show us the ring!" Dean shouted.

Nova wiped her eyes, then splayed out her fingers.

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

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

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

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

"Whenever you're ready, baby…you set the date and time," he said.

"Okay."

Her voice quivered. She closed her eyes. He let her cry, let his own tears join hers. There wasn't a happier man alive in the world.

Christmas morning smelled of fresh coffee, cinnamon rolls, and the lingering scent of the fresh pine needles on the tree. Wrapping paper and toys scattered in heaps throughout the house as the Easton and Richmond families shared gifts and watched Van-Van zoom around in his new electric car that the Easton's bought for him, among other things. As Terry predicted, all the Richmonds and his new family dressed in matching pajama sets of red and green with white snowflakes all over them. Titus and Pauletta took plenty of pictures, especially ones of Terrina and Van-Van

Terry watched his brother-in-law Bobby open the last gift from his wife. Sage looked thrilled to give him a new bronze and onyx Movado watch. Bobby hugged and thanked her and the family all headed to the dining room for a full breakfast. His grandfather said grace, and they tucked into fresh biscuits smothered in strawberries and whipped cream, fried eggs, and maple cured bacon. Dean used leftover ham to make omelets with Swiss cheese and onions.

After bellies were full, they spoke to Nova's relatives in Charleston and wished Mawmaw a Merry Christmas, sending pictures to Nella's phone to share. Terry took Van-Van into the backyard to play in snow that hadn't melted away yet. The chilly air let the ground hold on to two inches. They made it a lazy, relaxing day with plans to go visit other relatives and deliver gifts. There were also plans to go see Christmas fireworks at the Hyatt where the Eastons had a room overlooking the area for the light show. They spent the night at the house on Christmas Eve and invited everyone to enjoy the fireworks in their extensive suite for the evening.

Nova looked exhausted and Terry begged off on them joining the trip to see other relatives. They would catch up later at the hotel to watch the fireworks. Nova prepared two bottles of milk for Terrina, and her mother took the children under her charge with Titus. Terry packed a baby bag and put in some snacks for Van-Van. He waved at everyone from the porch as they all drove off in two SUVs.

Alone.

At last.

He strolled back into the house and placed another log on the fire, stoking it with an iron poker. Nova padded out from the kitchen, snacking on another cinnamon roll drenched in thick icing. He sat next to her on the couch and they watched the flames flicker.

"This was the best Christmas ever," she sighed.

"I'm sure Mawmaw and them put on a good time."

"They do, but this was the first time I could be in the moment. Normally I'm rushing around helping to run things or cooking. It felt like being a kid again, when you didn't have to do anything but enjoy all the Christmas magic. I got spoiled here. I don't know if I can go back to the old ways."

He kissed her temple and threw an arm around her.

"You could've gone with them to see your cousins," she said.

He shook his head.

"I've seen enough of them since we've been here. We need to take advantage of this moment of quiet."

She admired her engagement ring and fell asleep cuddled next to him. He rested his eyes and soon nodded off himself. They slept for about ninety minutes, and Nova woke up refreshed and hungry. They nibbled on slices of ham and leftover mac n' cheese, drank some champagne, and then moved most of the Christmas gifts closer to the tree to clean up the living room for his mother.

"We'll need to rent a bigger U-Haul when we leave next week," he said.

They both surveyed all the presents lavished on Van-Van and Terrina. Nova lifted her Octavia Butler bookset from the base of the Christmas tree.

"I can't wait to dig into this," she said.

She stretched and wandered off to take a shower. He plopped back down on the couch and scanned a few channels for a football game. After a while, he noticed Nova hadn't returned. He scanned some new channels.

"Hey, Nova, they're playing 'The Preacher's Wife' in a few. You wanna watch it?"

"Do you want to watch that or watch me?"

He turned his head. Nova stood under the mistle toe at the entrance of the hallway dressed in the sheer red negligee that adorned her body the last time they made love in Oceanside. She spruced up her hair and added sultry make-up. The heels on her feet tooted her ass out.

Shit.

Fuck.

Goddamn.

He left the couch and prowled toward her, stopping a mere three feet away to drink in her beauty and ultra sexiness.

"Is this my bonus Christmas gift?" he said.

She nodded with coquettish eyes.

He pulled off his pajama top and balled it up, tossing it back on the couch.

"You're wearing something real dangerous," he said.

She rubbed on her breasts, teasing him with their bounty. His eyes narrowed, and she sighed. He had her hooked already with their intensity. His eyes always trapped her. They could make her do things without him having to say one word. She ran her fingers all across her tits, pinching her nipples and pushing them together. He stood silently and watched, feeling the blood in his body travel south. She did everything he wanted to see.

His dick grew thick and stretched out his pajama bottoms. Nova rested her hands on her generous thighs and shook her upper body, letting her tits bounce, knowing that would send him into overdrive.

He pulled down his pajama bottoms with his boxer briefs and his dick jutted like steel. She turned around and jumped on her heels to make her ass cheeks clap for him. He smacked her backside, turning her light brown skin red on both cheeks. She didn't even bother to put on the g-string that went with it. He smacked and rubbed out the hard strikes he gave her ass with his large hand. She bent over and touched her toes, letting him get a peek at her glistening pussy.

"Fuck…Nova…"

He gently touched her pubic hairs. They were already damp. Her wetness flowed out easily. He held his dick by the root and smacked her ass with it. A sticky stream of pre-cum dripped onto her ass, and he gripped her neck. He lowered his head and ravaged her mouth from behind, the perk of being taller than her. Nova panted and groaned in his mouth, their tongues dueling for control of the other. He lifted her breasts and squeezed them. His dick rested against her ass and kept spilling pre-cum.

They kissed like that for a long time under the mistletoe. Slow…easy…unrushed. His head arched over hers and her head bent back to accept his plundering tongue. He plucked at her nipples, causing shivers in her frame. Her lips were so succulent that he had to groan at the pleasure they brought him. His dick throbbed with a knowing anticipation. They hadn't had intercourse in over a year with one another, and the way she was carrying on with his mouth, he guessed she was ready for penetration. She purposely wore that negligee to inflame his ardor like a matador waving a red cape at a bull.

"Can I be inside you?" he asked.

Nova moaned, "Yes."

"Do we need to do anything extra?" he asked.

She was on birth control, and he brought condoms for the occasion. But she knew how he liked to get down. He could pull out for his release, but her body drove him into a breeding frenzy.

"I already used the spermicidal gel," she said.

He groaned, and his dick jumped. They had the extra back up to let him cum inside her raw.

"I'll take it slow, baby," he whispered into her mouth.

She threaded her fingers with his and pulled him toward their bedroom. He reached down and grabbed his pajama bottoms.

They couldn't keep their lips apart inside his room. Her tongue still tasted like cinnamon and expensive champagne. He rubbed all over her breasts, loving how they looked behind the sheer material, her small nipples so cute surrounded by the wideness of her areolas.

"Feel so good," he said.

He let his right hand drift behind her backside and he probed her pussy lips, inserting his fingers inside Nova a couple of inches to test her wetness. Her engorged inner labia parted open for him. He had to tamp down on his eagerness or else he'd cum prematurely. Her body had that effect on him with sex. He could pace himself easily with any other woman, but Nova drove him wild and his dick could spit at any moment, blowing the chance for them to fuck raw and uninhibited with an empty house. Finger fucking her pussy that way made her squirm and pant his name in his ear. She stuck her tongue in his ear and moaned when he inserted his middle finger into her ass. They once tried anal sex in the past, but she could only take the head in and nothing past his frenulum. It was enough for him to ejaculate, though, and she still liked when he used a finger or two.

He sat on the bed and pulled her toward him so he could fondle her breasts in his face. The tip of his tongue traced around her nipples through her negligee and she stroked his hair, letting sighs of arousal fall into his ears. He pulled down the straps and released her tits. Their warmth bathed his cheeks as he pushed a breast on each side of his face and licked the center of her chest. He smashed them closer, letting them smother him. She cradled the nape of his neck with her right hand while he sucked on one nipple and pinched the other. An expert at titty sucking, Terry latched onto her with greedy lips and a lascivious tongue. His nipple stimulation caused her to gasp.

"Terry…Terry baby, hold on, my milk is letting down…"

He ignored her warning and accepted the flow of milk into his mouth from both nipples. Holding both breasts, he ran his tongue back and forth…teasing…tasting…turning her on more. He playfully slapped them, their heft arousing his dick with a sturdier girth, ready to plunge deep into her pussy.

"Is that pussy ready for me?" he asked.

He reached down between her thighs and wove careful circles around her clit like the way she showed him how to weave sweetgrass on her grandmother's porch. His fingers had a message to relay, and he used her clit like a telegraph to her inner walls: he was coming to do some work. Be ready.

"Yes…"

She grabbed his shoulders to keep her balance. Her eyes were already half-lidded.

"Suck my dick first. Lemme stretch your mouth."

Nova's eyes were glassy. She whined with annoyance, so desperate to get on her back and let him lay that pipe on her. Stretch those walls out instead. But he knew the longer he prolonged penetration, the sweeter her pussy would be on his dick. He needed to slut her out a bit. Get her pussy throbbing for his erection he taunted her with.

She lowered herself and opened her mouth wide. Taking the bulbous head with her lips first, he groaned the moment her tongue curled on the underside. Her head bobbed in his lap with a steady motion. All mouth, no hands. Poor baby. His girth and length tired her jaw. Wrapping both hands around him still wasn't enough for her. She spit on his dick like the nasty little slut she could be for him. He remembered the times she'd suck him off while pregnant. Nova loved the taste of his dick in her mouth, but always had to take her time with his size or she'd tire out fast, especially while carrying a baby in her belly. He reached for her tits and she sandwiched his dick between them, rubbing them up and done while she watched his expression. His dick pulsed and the veins bulging on it excited her more. Her arousal made her look high. He watched her left nipple leak milk and his jumped again. His fiancé whimpered in desperation. She wanted her pussy plowed right then and there.

There would be time to eat her pussy out later. In the meantime; he needed to be inside of her. Those big titties would keep spilling milk, but he needed to spill into her and satisfy the raging urge to fuck her until he soaked her insides with cum. Her negligee beckoned him to make love to her like the last time they did. It was the best sex he'd had, and it produced a beautiful baby. He wanted to experience that type of carnal pleasure again. Being reckless last time gave him the best nut of his life. They would be extra careful this go-round, but the urge escalated in his dick. He became dizzy, lusting after breeding her with his semen. He kissed her with all the passion in his being.

Nova's legs shook from the stimulation of his tongue and lips. He pulled her onto the bed beside him and spread her legs, letting her feet rest on the edge. She kicked off her heels, and he kissed her toes, which were painted scarlet to match the negligee. Nova played with her pussy, letting him see and hear how wet she was. God, his dick was hard as a brick and his balls hung heavy. He squeezed them to show her how much cum weighed down his sack.

He stepped away to rummage in his personal bag and pulled out some warming lube. He slicked up his dick and smacked it in his hand hard. She heard that heavy sound and chewed on her bottom lip. He slid his hands up her thighs and lifted the negligee back further. Resting between her legs, he lowered his mouth to kiss her and remind her why they fit together. The first time she kissed him so long ago, he recognized the hunger within. He shared that same craving. Pressing the wide head of his dick at her entrance, he breathed into her mouth, "Can I stick part of it in?"

"Yes, baby…yes…"

That's what he liked to hear. Enthusiastic consent. He watched his dick penetrate her dripping pink entrance.

"More!" she pleaded.

Grunting, he tried to keep it together. His entry was so smooth, he would have bet she was built to sheath him from the moment they met.

"Oh! That's it…baby!" she shouted.

He let go of a loud moan of completion as he sank all the way in until his balls slapped her ass. Pulling out slowly, he admired how she could take every inch of him. He stretched her again, easily, the lube and her natural wetness perfectly aroused to handle all of him.

Terry moved slowly, being mindful that she gave birth five months ago. He loved the way her belly bunched up, squeezing her belly button area into a fold of flesh. She worried about having a big fupa later, but he told her good pussy needed extra protection. He watched her face for any signs of discomfort. There weren't any. Her lips pouted and her eyes squinted with her pleasure face. He stroked a little faster, their bodies slapping harder together.

"Yes, baby! Oh…Terry…right there…go deeper…harder…"

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he fisted his hands into the mattress, giving himself an anchor so he could start fucking her silly. His thrusts pulled out her begging. More dick. Deeper. Harder. Faster. Fuck me good Daddy energy.

He gripped her breasts and held onto them. They were slick with more milk and sweat, filling his hands past capacity.

"You'll always love me?" she asked.

Her lust-filled eyes still had a pleading quality to them. He snaked his hips to stroke another part of her pussy. His thickness tugged on her labia and stimulated her clit without him having to touch it yet.

"I'll always love you, Nova."

"Promise?"

He tongued her down and muffled the decadent cries that threatened to get louder since no one else was in the house. Gripping her waist, he owned her pussy, reminding her of what he could do.

"You'll always protect me?" she gasped.

"Yesssss."

He caressed her face and slowed down his thrusts until he barely moved, driving her insane. He used his deep voice to seduce her insecurities away.

"You're my woman…mine, Nova. Don't worry about anything. You're going to be my wife and I'm going to show you what a great man can do when he takes care of his woman and responsibilities properly…hey…look at me…don't you ever doubt my love or my intentions…okay? You're the only one for me. I put a ring on your finger to lock you down for life."

Nova lifted onto her elbows and started fucking him back as he spoke. His face grew heated listening to the sound of his dick stirring up her pussy. All the sticky, creamy, squelching noises coming from her juicy pussy had his dick pulsing inside her. She clenched on his length and he grunted. She needed reassurances. Her heart stayed cautious, and he would have to prove himself each day. He would start by making love to her as her husband. They didn't need a future wedding for him to solidify himself in that way right now. She deserved it all. His heart, mind, body, and soul.

He kissed the side of her neck and sucked on the tender skin there before sliding the tip of his tongue along the shell of her ear.

"I love you, Nova. I'll never misuse your heart baby…never…"

She arched her back, as he loved her properly.

They switched positions before he ejaculated inside her gushy warmth. Her wetness bathed him in an ocean of sensual contentment. He sat on the edge of the bed and she sat on his dick. He lifted her up and down, then clutched onto her ass cheeks while she rode him. She hung onto his shoulders and he shouted her name in time to the slapping of her ass on his thighs. He sucked on her titties, kissed her lips, talked to her on how he wanted her pussy to act on his dick…did everything he could to bolster her confidence in their love going the distance. At no time did he ever want her thinking of her unhappy past. He was a new book with a new story that had a happy ending this time.

Slapping her ass, he ordered her onto the bed and fucked her from behind. Head down, ass up.

"Hold those ass cheeks wide open," he demanded.

She pulled her ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick sink into her. Was this the position he had knocked her up in last time? Or was it when he pounded her on the bed with her legs thrown over his shoulders? Maybe it was when he lifted her up and fucked her while standing.

Her nail polish matched her toes and looked seductive on her light brown skin. The wet pink of pussy swallowed his dick…in…out…in…out…making his dick so glossy from her slippery walls. She was close to an orgasm. Her rapid panting and clawing of the blanket warned him..

"Can I cum in your pussy, Nova?"

He gripped her hips. His balls slapped her clit, and each thrust gave her the friction she needed. From the closet mirror, he could see her tits hanging and moving with each thrust he gave her. He reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. Her breasts swayed with each hard thrust.

"…hitting my spot…keep fucking me so good…yes…yes…yes…missed this dick…" she panted.

"Will you let me cum all in this fat pussy?"

Sweat from his chest dripped down onto her ass, that clapped like thunder in the room. She acted willful by not answering him. Nothing irritated him more than a bratty woman. She knew that and played with him, anyway. He'd have to break her of that habit before they returned to Oceanside. He released her hair and pulled her arms back. The motion lifted her chest up and her tits bounced around like crazy then, turning him on further.

"I wanna make a mess in this pussy," he growled.

The shift in tone locked her eyes on him. She took the hint. He wasn't playing with her.

"Tell me I can make a big mess in this pussy."

He was on the verge of losing it. Ready to blast into forever. But he needed her to cum first. She was the lifeline to drag him into the depths of a splendid hallelujah orgasm.

"Tell me!"

He pumped into her as his balls throbbed. Her mouth parted, showing the tip of her tongue. She felt so fucking good around his dick and all he needed was for her to tell him she wanted his cum to drown her pussy. His hips rocked into her faster and his dick swelled. His friction tugged on her clit and Nova spasmed up and down that big Christmas penis he served her. Her contractions vanquished speech from her vocal chords and all she could muster were continuous breathy cries of "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" that matched the throbbing of his erection as he shot hot cum far into her womb. Terry roared so loud that he was positive every angel in heaven heard his yelling. He dropped his head down and watched the root of his dick throb hard, pushing cum into her.

"Damn, Nova…damn, baby…I feel like I'm putting another baby in you!"

No more sound erupted from his lips, just his mouth stayed open with his eyes narrowed like he was mad at her pussy for milking him like that. Up and down his shaft, the contractions of her walls squeezed him. His hips rocked into her and the final spurts felt even more intense than the first. When he pulled out, he stroked the last bit of semen all over her labia. A lot more spilled out of her vagina. She had wrecked him and he left her pussy in shambles.

"Nova…shit…"

He started laughing, and she shook with giggles. Rolling over, she held out her arms for him and he climbed on her and rested his head on those soft pillowy breasts that fed his baby and satisfied him.

"God, I fucking love you, girl," he said.

"I think I love you more."

"Impossible."

"No, I think it's true," she said.

"But I loved you first," he said.

"Impossible."

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him all over his forehead, nose, cheeks, and then finally…his lips.

Terry showered with Nova.

They changed into comfortable, ugly Christmas sweaters and jeans. Nova cooked Mawmaw's Carolina Gold Rice, making red rice with crabmeat, and scooped it into a large ceramic casserole dish. She bagged it up with some of the leftovers along with paper plates and plastic forks for everyone to eat while watching the fireworks.

He drove them to the Hyatt in his truck and once they entered the suite where his parents and her parents relaxed and cared for their babies, Terry knew in the marrow of his bones that he was right to pursue Nova.

Van-Van ran up to him with his arms up in the air and he swooped his son up, giving him kisses.

"I love you, Van-Van," he said.

Van-Van pointed to the ceiling to floor window and wiggled to be put down so he could touch the glass and watch the first bright lights shoot off into the night sky. Nova handed him Terrina. His baby girl touched his lips, and he nibbled her fingers, making her squeal and laugh. He kept her on his right arm and put his other arm around Nova's shoulder.

"Dada, look…see? Fireworks," Van-Van said, elated by the presentation of red, green and white fireworks.

Terry smiled.

"I see them, son. I see them."

Nova grinned, and they stood together with their children as a family. His daughter rested her head on his chest, wearing her Creole/Gullah shirt. He glimpsed Nova's engagement ring as she pointed out a new fiery explosion to Van-Van.

She gazed into Terry's eyes and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Merry Christmas, Terry," she said.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Nova Richmond."

The fireworks couldn't match the brightness of Nova's smile.

Nor the glow inside his heart.

A.N:

Merry Christmas y'all and Happy New Year down the road! I hope my story gave you some holiday cheer, and a few thrills! Reminder: One of the best ways to support Black fanfiction writers that doesn't cost a dime is to reblog or comment (or both!). We thrive off of kind words to keep us going, and it's always great to extend our reach to new readers. In 2025 I'm making more of an effort to get my stories out to as many Black women as possible. We are in our #RestEra of pouring into ourselves and our own, so we deserve nice things to come home to for our reading pleasure.

On Deck: I'm finishing the last chapter of my Vampire!Terry Richmond fic "A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues" by New Years, and then it's on to add more chapters to "Spinning the Block" my Terry Richmond/Jess Sims fic!

Tag List:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl7

@4pfsukuna

@yamst3rdamctrl

@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

@taurusqueen83

@mightbeher

@melaninpov

@carlakeks

@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

@theglamclosetsl

@liquorlaughslove

@teeresaresa

@cocoagadgetsworld

@mogul93

@helloncrocs

@dremmmm

@simplyzeeka

@pearlkitten33

@jas241

@leahnicole1219

@kaykay772

@juniperlovesstuff

@kingclementyne

@thickmadame

@onherereading

@daneiawrites

@hotgrlcece

@darqchilddaydreamz

@ariiijestertheklown

@blackerthings

@soufcakmistress

@jaythegreat

@venusincleo

@ovohanna24

@kirayuki22

@beas-mind

@supremechae

@solunaseira

@kalaahisthebestest-

@justlo7

@kanafunee

@contentfiend

@nun0ir

@livingfiction

@megamindsecretlair

@ranikyani

@thegreatlibraryofalex

@wabi-sabi1090

@soft-persephone

@insertcatchynamerighthere

@invisiblegiurl

@mitruscity

@gopaperless

@thabiddie23

@beenathembo

@aldrigmer444

@gg-trini

@youalreadyknowitsmesis

[hydrobunny]

i knew you'd come back to me

tags: getting back together, vague allusions to angst, timeskip reunion, ambiguous? ending 880 words

a/n: hope u enjoy anon. based on cardigan

it’s been six years since you last saw rin itoshi.

six years since the day he turned his back on you without looking back, leaving behind the remains of your fragile relationship.

but now that you’ve grown - and gotten through life just fine on your own- you’re not sure what that long-gone relationship really had been. if it ever affected him the way it affected you.

and yet, at a small shitty parisian bar several thousand miles aways from home, you see rin itoshi again, and everything changes.

for you could recognize the shape and angles of his face from oceans away, and he knows the same. shocked recognition flares through rin’s eyes (still beautiful, still so intense).

the two of you are young again, and it used to be-

sneaking out of school early so he could practice drills while you did homework on the bleachers-

his hands interlaced with yours, form trembling as the both of you agreed that an era in the itoshi household had ended forever-

your hand on his wrist, his feet dragging in the wet sand while he half heartedly argued against entering the cold waters-

him opening your christmas gift, a luxury cologne that had taken you two months to save up for-

you and him in your living room, horror movie blaring on the screen while he pretended to be annoyed at your screaming-

him packing a duffel bag with his best worn football cleats and a mysterious invitation while you mulled over the best way to say a temporary goodbye-

you cheering his name in a stadium crowded with his brother’s legacy, unaware as something in his heart broke and was reforged anew-

the two of you were sixteen, and rin itoshi was telling you to not wait for him again.

with an ice cold voice, he had left the dregs of your relationship behind.

but six years is a long time to hold a grudge- so you don’t. you were both young, with nothing but the cruelty and arrogance that came with being young.

you aren't sixteen years old anymore.

so you don’t blame rin itoshi for breaking your heart. instead, you meet his eyes head-on and smile, hoping he can taste your forgiveness.

you think he might. for rin almost flinches away, his eyes still flashing over you like he can’t believe you’re really there.

“hey, rin.” and you let him back in.

“y/n,” he says slowly. “you’re here. in paris.”

the barkeeper slides you a drink wordlessly. you tilt your head. a small part of you marvels inwardly at how tall he is. “so are you. small world, isn't it?”

rin blinks, gaze flickering once to the small glass, and you’ve known the confusion in his voice since years ago. “i live here.”

you don’t know that one. “oh,” you manage, too awkwardly. the bass of the music almost drowns out your words. “paris? i wouldn't have taken you for the type.”

his confusion turns into straight disbelief, face furrowing. “what? no, not like-” he clears his throat. “for the football team. pxg? i’m the starting striker.”

“that does seem more fitting,” you pick up your glass. “so you did it? blue lock worked out?”

rin doesn’t respond immediately, searching your face carefully. in the tense pause, you throw back at least half of your cup. “you really don’t know?”

“well, it wasn't like i wanted to subscribe to that show,” his face stiffens at your words. “if im being honest, the only thing i even know about japanese football now is that we think isagi’s the great hope of us all.”

rin’s face shifts immediately to a display of impressive annoyance. “don't believe that crap.”

you bite down on your laughter. “i don't feel that strongly about it.”

your phone buzzes in your pocket. his eyes trace your movements as you pull it out, skimming the notification.

“i should go.”

“already?” he blurts out, grimacing immediately after.

you raise an eyebrow. “i've been here. you just haven't seen me.”

“shitty place to spend your time.”

your heart twangs with the familiarity of his casual brashness. “sure. i’m glad to know you’re doing well, rin. see you in another six years?”

he doesn't respond. with a sigh, you leave .

there’s no point in looking back. you push past sweaty bodies, an emotion you can't quite place roaring in your ears.

it was over. it had been over. you had already long accepted it to be over, so why did it still burn to turn away?

a hand wraps around your wrist, firm.

you whirl around-

rin’s eyes meet yours with a breath-stopping intensity, desperately searching for something. “i’m sorry.”

the music is too loud. you blink rapidly. “what?”

he leans in closer to you, and you realize he still wears the same cologne. “you were too good for me. and i’m sorry for what i did to you.”

you step backward, heart thudding with the rhythm of a song years paused. “i don't- rin?”

his hand is still on your wrist. “it’s always been you, y/n, and i don't know why it took so long to realize. but i was a fucking idiot.”

you swallow.

rin itoshi meets your gaze. “one more try.”

the lights flash a dozen different colors, and you hear yourself answer.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello!! So, I saw an argument about Harry's uhm looks? I guess. A lot of people basically headcanon him as someone buff. I digress, I'm part of the uhm more realistic? group. Harry's been starved and abused his entire life. I doubt he'll gain the weight and the height everyone else wants him to have. Years later. maybe. But in 6th year? While on the run? 3 years after the war? Doubt. do you think he would be able to get super tall and buff? Also, do you think its possible he used the same methods the dursleys used to punish himself?

I mean, anyone can headcanon whatever they want, but, I'll try to explain via quotes, what Harry's height and muscle situation is likely to be. I believe the reasons some headcanon him as buff and tall are:

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

(HBP)

He lifts Mundungus by his throat with one hand easily, and he practices Quidditch like 3 times a week at least. This implies that Harry has some muscle on him.

And he's mentioned to be James' height when he's 17:

James was exactly the same height as Harry.

(DH)

Which was supposedly tall, according to both, Harry:

tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter

(GoF)

And Voldemort:

the tall black-haired man in his glasses

(DH)

Now, let's put Harry's height in the context of other character heights. Particularly of interest are characters taller than him, to get an image of how tall is "tall." And some shorter characters to help figure out his exact height.

Sirius, Ron, Voldemort, and Dumbledore are all taller than Harry and exceptionally tall in general. They are each likely to be over 6 feet tall, making Harry likely less than 6' (183 cm). Supporting this is this quote:

Once the painful transformation was complete he was more than six feet tall, and from what he could tell from his well-muscled arms, powerfully built.

(DH)

This means Harry is less than 6' and isn't super buff. But, I want to get to his specific height, because I have a lot to say about character heights.

Like, Dumbledore is probably the tallest character who isn't a half-giant because he's towering over everyone except Hagrid and Maxime. In book 6, he's literally taller than all the inferi in the cave:

Dumbledore was on his feet again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too,

(HBP)

And Abeforth (who's as tall as Dumbledore) is taller than Ron, who's one of the other tallest characters in the books:

Ron looked slightly sick. Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain.

(DH)

Making the Dumbledores really tall. My estimate is around a whooping 6'5 (195 cm).

Sirius is mentioned to be taller than Snape, and the tallest Marauder:

said Sirius, standing up. He was rather taller than Snape

(OotP)

To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter

(DH)

A head, in height, should be around one foot (30.48 cm). As the average height of a man in England in 1998 was around 5'8 (174.4 cm), this would make Sirius around 6'2 (188 cm), therefore taller than average, and Pettigrew around 5'2 (157 cm), shorter than the average, but still both at a reasonable height.

Ron is almost as tall as the twins at 11:

“Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

(PS)

And, just, really tall in general:

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball.

(OotP)

So I estimate Ron at around 6'3 (190 cm).

Voldemort who grew up on war rations is still described very consistently as tall, regardless of childhood malnourishment:

He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale

(HBP)

tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

(HBP)

Taller than Bellatrix (who's taller than Harry). Voldemort is also considerably taller than Pettigrew, as he has to bend to reach Pettigrew's arm when both are standing:

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow

(GoF)

I usually place Voldemort at around the same height as Ron, so 6'3 (190 cm).

Fred and George, though, are mentioned to be shorter and stockier, more similar to Molly's build:

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky.

(GoF)

but are mentioned to shrink to become Harry in book 7:

Hermione and Mundungus were shooting upward; Ron, Fred, and George were shrinking

(DH)

I actually place the twins around 6' (183 cm) so they could be taller than Harry, but shorter than Ron. The twins are likely taller than Charlie.

Bellatrix, as a woman, should also be shorter on average, but considering how tall Sirius is mentioned to be, it appears the Blacks are just considerably taller than the average, even the women:

a tall dark woman with heavy-lidded eyes, who had stood at her trial and proclaimed her continuing allegiance to Lord Voldemort

(OotP)

She was taller than he was, her long black hair rippling down her back, her heavily lidded eyes disdainful as they rested upon him;

(DH)

So I place her at around 6' (183 cm) as well, as an exceptionally tall lady.

So where does this place Harry?

During the first 4 books, Harry is short and small for his age. When he's 13, he and Hermione are bit shorter than Pettigrew:

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione.

(PoA)

(Ron, noticeably, is taller than Pettigrew at 13)

So, so Harry at 13 was around 5'1 (155 cm). And so was Hermione.

Then in between books 4 and 5 puberty kicks in and probably causes a slight growth spurt that makes him more attractive to girls around him:

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however:

(OotP)

And then he has another, larger growth spurt between books 5 and 6:

“You’re like Ron,” she [Molly] sighed, looking him up and down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes.

(HBP)

“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially. [Ron is objectively correct]

(HBP)

Post book 6 growth spurt, we know Harry is below 6' (183 cm) but close enough to 6' to be above the average of 5'8 (174.4 cm) and be considered "tall", and grow "about a foot" after said growth spurt.

I personally place his height at 5'11 (180 cm), to make all of the above make sense.

And while he is physically fit, he is likely very thin from years of malnourishment. So, he likely has some muscle on him, but he's very lean with little to no fat during his Hogwarts years (he'd likely gain more weight as an adult living peacefully with regular meals). So, Harry in the books isn't what I'd call buff, but he has some muscle and can definitely throw a punch. As he grows older post-canon, I think he could get buff if he set his mind to it.

(I actually have notes about the height of a bunch of other characters. Hermione is shorter than Harry and Ron, but noticeably taller than Ginny (5'1 or 155 cm - edited Ginny's height since I think she's shorter than the former estimate of 5'2. Bellatrix says “Very well — take the smallest one,” with Hermione and Luna (who's also short) present, so Ginny is really short) and probably around 5'4 (162 cm) by book 7. Draco is said to be slightly taller than Harry "Harry did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely; a figure slightly taller than he was" - DH, placing Draco at around 6' (183 cm))

For your other question, no, I don't think Harry self-harms, definitely not in any way related to the Dursleys, but that's a different post because I went off about heights.

[idesofrevolution]

Cult of Personality

The blistering New Mexico heat bared down on Douglas' '99 Chevrolet Cavalier. The small blue coupe meandered up I-25, enroute from Las Cruces to Santa Fe. The old man quietly sighed to himself, fruitlessly trying to think of a better pitch to sell his Solar Panels to the rich folks up in Albuquerque. Las Cruces ended up being a bust, just as much as Tucson: the damn things were just too expensive up front. Not that the company gave a single damn, quotas are quotas. Thus, still empty handed, he passed the exit sign for Socorro- still an hour until he'd reach his destination.

As he passed the exit, he noticed a bright red glint a bit further up the road. Douglas adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to see. He slowed down on the empty highway as the sight became clearer. It was a car. In fact, it was a bright red '67 Mustang; it's owner leaned on the hood as black smoke bellowed from the tailpipe. Douglas looked down at his watch, knowing fully well that he needed to be in Albuquerque before sundown. Though, as he approached the broken down muscle car, the sweltering heat of the Chihuahuan Desert at high noon would be a killer. The young man leaning on the car turned his head, not even sweating a single drop, and stared blankfaced at Douglas as he pulled up.

Douglas hit the brakes, stopping his car right alongside the young man. He strode up to the old man's car, leaning in and resting his elbows onto window ledge. His stoic expression slowly melted into a wide grin, licking his lips before he spoke.

"You headed toward Albuquerque?" A thick Texan accent flowed from the man's lips, his dark brown eyes nearly black even in the blinding light of the sun. Douglas felt an odd twinge of nervousness as the grinning young man casually smiled; it felt off. Behind that handsome visage, something was brewing within.

"I'm headed to Santa Fe, but I can call you a mechanic from Socorro, he'd be here in a jiffy!" The young man's smile didn't fade, he simply shook his head 'no.'

"Phone's got no service out here, brother. I sure would appreciate a ride. It's just a mile or so up the road." He turned, pointing down the seemingly endless highway. Before Douglas could deny the young man his request, the hitchhiker leaned in closely. It may have been the heat, or it may have been his exhaustion, but for no more than two seconds, he thought he'd heard whispers blowing in the wind. Douglas said nothing, and the young man's grin grew wider. "Thank you, brother. I'll hop in the back."

As he strode back to his car, grabbing a duffel bag from the trunk of his car, Douglas wanted to slam on the gas and blitz out of there. An air of menace surrounded this man, despite his magnetic charisma; yet his foot did not press down on the pedal. The passenger side door opened, as the man hopped into the back seat of his coupe. Too late. The door slammed by itself, evidently thanks to a gust of wind he neither felt nor heard. He pulled the car out of park, and off the duo went. He glanced into his rearview mirror, taking in the sight of his hitchhiker.

He nearly took up the entire backseat. The duffel bag sat next to him, his muscular arms tightly holding it against his side. He was easily above six feet tall, likely even more than six and a half. He threw his arms behind his head, kicking his large feet onto Douglas' armrest. Outwardly, he seemed like just another good looking guy- one he'd likely see on his granddaughter's TikTok. But his guard remained on high alert.

"Just keep driving, brother. I'll tell ya when to turn off." His velvety voice was disarming, a carefree confidence just wafted from him alongside the strange heat which seemed to emanate from his muscular body. For about an hour, the two sat in silence as they rocketed down the highway. Each glance he shot into his mirror, Douglas would see the man smirking- his gaze never meeting the old man's. Thus, as the road veered to the left in the distance, their silence was broken. "Don't turn, just keep going straight." He carried a tone of authority in his voice, a natural command that would be highly unlikely to be ignored.

"There isn't a road straight ahead..." The hitchhiker finally stared into the mirror, his eyes locked on Douglas' reflection.

"Go straight."

As if of their own accord, the old man's hands kept steadfast on their trajectory. As the road began to curve, the Cavalier shot in the commanded direction, straight into the sands of the desert. They swerved, avoiding large rocks and towering Saguaros, before the foothills of the mountains started to come into view. Through the mirage before them, Douglas could see what looked like a campsite ahead, just beyond the thicket of green brambles. A crowd of maybe 50-70 people had gathered in the bowels of the desert. For what purpose, Douglas did not yet know. But as he slowly began his approach, the entire crowd had turned their eyes toward the car. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the crowd split in two; leaving a clear straight shot toward a makeshift platform right at the base of the mountain.

"Thank you for the lift, brother. Do me a favor, will ya? Stick around. I have a feeling you'd love what we have going on today." Again, his timbre was less of a request- and far more of a demand. The tone was never raised, nor was it ever aggressive. However, he felt as if one would be wise to heed his instructions. Douglas simply nodded, turning the car off, and opening the door.

The crowd was filled with a diverse cast of people, all of which were fit, energetic, and young. Not a single soul had seen a day over 30, no less than 21. They stared with vacant expressions in silence until the hitchhiker exited the backseat, at which point they erupted in cheers and applause. Douglas watched with confusion and shock as the young man walked toward the platform, shaking hands, playfully punching shoulders, giving out high fives like condoms at a clinic. Who the hell had he picked up? Where the hell was he? As he hopped atop the wooden structure in one single leap, easily five feet off the ground, he shucked the grey tank top and tossed it into the crowd. A young woman caught it, tenderly holding it against her chest as the onlookers admired his chiseled build. Raising his arms, the crowd went silent.

"Brothers and Sisters, today is the day! Are you ready? Are you rearing? Tell me!" The crowd erupted, Douglas stared around the transfixed athletes, feeling entirely out of place- as if he wasn't meant to be there. "For one full year, you have trusted me to build your bodies into machines: daily training, nightly runs, some of y'all are out there doing some of the hardest workouts we have to offer. Look at you now!" More cheers. "When I told you that your bodies were temples, to treat them as such, each and every one of you took my words seriously. I said that each of you had the potential to become something incredible. You said, but Cameron, I can't ever get to where you're at! But guess what? You followed the regimen, you became part of our family, you became a part of something so much bigger than you even knew. And we are here today, your induction into our movement, the final hoo-rah!" Mimicking the leader, every single one of the parroting people began to chant hoo-rah, once... twice... thrice... like a warcry on the battlefield. Douglas turned, searching through the sea of people to find an escape route. Instead, he only saw five men of the same jacked physique of the leader handing out what looked to be bottles of water. Peering closely, the unlabeled bottles carried a milky white liquid.

"What sort of Jonestown shit is this..." The bottles were disperse quickly amongst the crowd, the cheery if not dim young men had seemingly finished in minutes as the leader droned on. Douglas took the opportunity to make his way back toward the car, only for a moment of dread to wash over him. It was gone. In it's place, a line of tire tracks came to an abrupt end, no vehicle in sight. The old man felt a hand on his shoulder, turning quickly to be face to face once again with 'Cameron' himself.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me, Douglas. I'm more than happy to reimburse you, you've saved the day." Whispers again started to rise around him, incoherently babbling a language far outside of his own knowledge. "Today, my friend, your journey begins." Douglas tried to pry his eyes away from Cameron to no avail. The deep brown eyes seemed to swallow any thought, any desire, any need. Cameron's pupils started to pulse, mimicking the old man's heartbeat, growing larger and larger, until the inky blackness had swallowed his entire iris & sclera. Cameron smirked as he watched the old man's posture fall forward, his shoulders drooping and his jaw hanging loosely. "Mmmmmmm. Good, fall deep, vessel. For your assistance today, your reward is to be one with me, just as all in my inner circle have done."

The black-eyed stud gently guided Douglas away from the crowd, who were busy downing the contents of their respective bottles just as moans and groans started ringing out from the poor fools. The five members of Cameron's inner circle followed suit, their eyes flooding black and mouths curling into devilish grins. The group soon arrived in a clearing of the thicket, circling around a pile of filthy clothes strewn across the dirt. Douglas was slowly guided to them, entirely unwavering in his stonefaced obedience.

"Well, my children. You continue to serve me well. I admit, this body must be hard to say no to. He is a joy to wear." The five goons chuckled menacingly, one or two of them groping at their bulges through their running shorts. "Today, as you all did before him, Douglas aided me in my time of need. On a momentous day as this, such acts must be rewarded. Today, you welcome your new brother." With a swipe of his hand, Douglas' corporate clothing dissolved into thin air, burnt ash flying into the desert wind. He stood there in the nude, the group watching in anticipation as Cameron simply pointed down to the pile of reeking clothes, and Douglas could do nothing but obey.

One by one the articles began to tremble, before sliding across the sand toward their soon-to-be owner. Cameron snickered, snapping his finger. A sweaty jockstrap quickly flew into the air, levitating for a moment before shooting toward the old man's groin. Like a liquid hitting a solid, the grimy fabric collided with Douglas, warping and wrapping around his legs and package until it had settled into it's new home. The brothers grinned, as they watched the old man's admittedly humble bulge swell rapidly. It expanded outward, his balls dropping like ten pound weights as they grew, and his cock elongated and widened until it peeked it's head out from the bottom of the sweat stained pouch. Douglas moaned as his ass swelled thick and bulbous, the formerly wrinkled and smooth skin sprouting dark brown hairs as his bush followed suit. Cameron grinned, strutting over to cup his hand over the musky horsecock and balls that had sprang from his jock.

Another snap of his fingers, and the shorts shot upward, wrapping around Douglas' legs, quickly inflating them with thick mass. His hamstrings widened, his quads becoming hard as iron while his calves tightened. The chicken legs he used to possess now were two massive slabs of hard meat. Cameron continued to grope and massage his prey's bulge, the fabric of the jockstrap growing sticky with his pre as he moaned. The five grunts slowly lowered their own shorts and jockstraps, releasing their sweaty dicks into their waiting palms.

"You humans are so... simple." *snap* The socks slithered like snakes across the ground, surrounding Douglas' toes and sliding around his heel and fastening around his ankle. "All it takes is slipping into some attractive male, and you'll be worshipping at my feet. As will you." The old man's feet cracked and stretched wide, his soles growing soft and sweaty as the stinking running shoes melted around his gigantic feet. The rubber and fabric contorted and stretched, the funk of a thousand runs in the desert heat wafting from within their confines as they reformed into a perfect fit. The group started to stroke their cocks, small droplets of black sludge seeping from their slits. Cameron grinned, sliding his hand into Douglas' jockstrap and wrapping it around his throbbing member. "You, however, will be a prince among men."

*snap* The pot belly which had plagued Douglas for 30 some odd years slowly receded, fading into obscurity as if it had never been there to begin with. His abs tightened, his pecs became lean, his waist slimmed quickly with powerful obliques and cum gutters pointing toward his hose. Whispers started to echo in the wind as the five cultists stroked their cocks, streams of black, tar-like slime coalescing into pools at their feet.

"You will be a father of my spawn, a carrier of my seed." Cameron continued to pump the massive dick, watching with malicious glee as his arms grew sinewy and lean, his hands large and wide, his fingers long and slender. "Today, our army is founded." The possessed stud placed his hand on the balding head of the former salesman, pushing him to his knees; his mind blank as his master's shorts slid down to his thighs, releasing a grotesque sight. Whatever his host's member used to be was long gone, now corrupted with demonic seed. It stood upright, intricate black symbols wrapping around the foot long shaft all the way to his foreskin. "Receive my blessing, mortal. Be one with me." The ripe rod inched forward, dripping thick globules of the black sludge onto Douglas' thighs as it pressed against his face. His mouth opened, and it was over.

In a single thrust, the monstrous cock pushed past his lips and deep into his throat as Cameron began to face fuck the old man. The pools of black sludge from his minions writhed toward him, engulfing his legs in their glistening form before slinking toward his tight hole. Cameron threw his head back in ecstasy, howling a thunderous and unnatural roar as his underling's seed seeped into Douglas' rear. The sounds of squelching, cracking, suction rang out as the roars began to grow louder. Each slap of his face against Cameron's bush reformed his aged face. New hairs sprouted on his scalp, a thick forest of black spreading across his head. His lips plumped as they slurped on the smelly cock, his skin tanning and all wrinkles disappearing. The last vestiges of the black sludge squeezed into his hole, and with a wicked, fiendish grin the possessed stud cursed out into the open desert air:

"WE... ARE... ONE!" 'Cameron' released his gift down into his new son's throats, a torrent of black seed rushing out of his length and into Douglas' transformed body. His veins started to flush dark, until an inky blackness had sprawled across his lean, taut figure. Whatever remained of Douglas sunk into a void of darkness, only to be encompassed by the viscous corruption. 'Cameron' grinned, his will quickly overwhelming the spirit of the old man before slipping his demonic essence within it. More and more of him flooded into the body, squeezing into the soul, until it was unclear where Douglas began and 'Cameron' ended. Dismounting his new creation, he watched with glee as the convulsions died down, and it's eyes opened, revealing an endless inky black as it grinned.

"Yes, my master, this vessel shall fit our needs quite nicely." As his eyes slowly started to return to their normal hazel, the corruptive sludge within his veins reformed, pushing upward through the capillaries and into the skin, now little more than tattoos to the naked eye. 'Cameron' grinned, another human ensnared into his dark consciousness, little more than a husk to house his essence.

'Dougie' smirked as he pulled up his fetid shorts, quickly masking his cock dripping the black sludge of his master and brothers as he threw his sweaty arms around his new family, walking toward their new army.

---

"Alright, Santa Fe! Are we ready to get fit?" The crowd erupted as Cameron stood before them, his arms raised on the roof of the building, grinning over the 200 new disciples he was prepared to imbue with his gift. Those who had been with him at Socorro stood silently amongst the unsuspecting enthusiasts, ready to 'assist' their 'ascension' should the need arise. Just beside the building, his sons had gathered behind the truck in a circle, chanting words beyond our most vivid imagination as they stroked eachother's musky cocks into the large vat of water. 'Dougie', now a favorite of Cameron, devilishly grinned as he felt the first torrent of his corruption spew into the clear water, the thick black sludge slithering about before dissolving into the liquid as if it were never there. Round after round, they shot their father's seed into water, until there was more of the seed than there was of the water.

"Alright, brothers. I think that should do it." His deep, bellowing voice brought each of his brothers attention on him as they put their cocks back into their shorts. "Hah, and not a minute too soon." The crowd of feckless initiates began to line up, in desperate need of hydration, of which 'Dougie' was more than happy to provide. He hopped up onto the bed of the truck, as his brothers ladled their refreshment into individual bottles. Snatching one, 'Dougie' snickered. "Who's thirsty?"

[maskedbyghost]

Hiii I just read your stalker!reader and simon fic it got me hooked. I just wanted to ask if you don’t mind, what if reader was just obsessing simon because reader thought he wouldn’t care and once simon cornered reader they would pull a “I don’t like you anymore” which drives simon crazy

Anyways feel free to ignore this!! It’s just a thought💗💗💗

this idea had me laughing so hard, i just had to write it. the thought of simon losing it over a 'just kidding, i'm over you' moment? priceless. here's my take, hope you enjoy! ❤️

part 1

it wasn’t supposed to end like this: you, pinned to the wall of a supply closet, simon standing way too close, his hands braced on either side of your head, glaring at you through his mask.

you hadn't planned on blurting that of all things. but there it was.

i don’t like you anymore.

the words were still fresh in the air, and if the sudden twitch of simon’s eyebrow meant anything, it had definitely hit a nerve.

“what did you just say?” his voice was quiet, but you could feel goosebumps all over your body.

you crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the heat crawling up your neck. “you heard me. i’m over it. totally done. moving on.”

for a moment, the closet fell silent—save for the faint hum of the overhead light. then, simon tilted his head slightly, his body still leaning uncomfortably close.

“so… after all that—bumping into me after missions, conveniently forgetting your jacket in my gear, death-glaring half the team for talking to me—you’re suddenly done?”

“yup.” you nodded, refusing to let the panic slip through. “done like burnt toast.”

simon blinked.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, voice utterly deadpan.

“well, yeah.” you said. “toast burns, it’s done, right? i’m the toast in this scenario.”

something like sheer confusion flashed in his eyes. he stepped closer, closing the gap.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not!”

“uh-huh.” his sarcasm was evident even behind the mask. he crossed his arms, looking almost annoyed now. “so you just ‘got bored’ of stalking me one day? that’s your story?”

“i wasn’t stalking you,” you huffed.

simon raised a single finger in rebuttal. “you memorized my coffee order and put it on my desk unprompted four times this week.”

“you drink black coffee!” you exclaimed. “that’s not stalking—it’s paying attention. for example: you’re six feet tall, brooding, and you skip breakfast unless someone makes you coffee!”

“sure, sherlock,” he muttered.

your face heated, but you doubled down. “well, it doesn’t matter because i. don’t. care. about. you.” you punctuated the words dramatically, pointing a finger on his chest.

simon simply tilted his head again, staring at you like you suddenly grew three heads. finally, he sighed.

“fine.” he shrugged casually, stepping back just enough to pull his gloves tighter. “you’re not into me anymore? that’s great. guess i can start chatting up jessica. she’s been awfully nice lately—”

“like hell you will! the woman who puts ketchup on scrambled eggs? sir, i thought you had standards.”

“so you’ve been keeping tabs on her now, too?”

“…no! i just noticed! once!”

his gaze was practically sparkling with smug victory. “thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“i��” you faltered, realizing you’d just obliterated your own argument. “i don’t! i was just… hypothetically!”

simon snorted, the sound far too smug for your liking. “you’re terrible at this, love.”

you glared up at him, your dignity hanging by a thread. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe.” he took a step closer, his broad frame crowding you once more. “but i think we both know who the liar is here.”

you groaned, slapping your palms over your face, earning a low chuckle from him.

“burnt toast,” he repeated, still chuckling as he stepped aside, giving you just enough space to escape the supply closet and your embarrassment. “you’re something else, love.”

and from the teasing sound of his voice, it was very clear simon wasn’t letting this go anytime soon.

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

@daydreamerwoah @blackhawkfanatic @consciouscarrot

[fireheartpages]

other plans | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one. series masterlist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. word count: 2.1k ish notes: second person pov but i give the reader a nickname (that i stole from dirty dancing) and a last name bc i'm not using y/n and i want this to be readable. she/her pronouns used for reader. this has been stuck in my head and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn't get it on page. and it's all together hovering somewhere around 7k words so im gonna split it up and post it all within the next few days and then have the whole thing available on ao3! i haven't written fanfiction in at least a good six months, and i've never written for fourth wing, so bare with me a little--i tried my best. i have a chronic attachment to side characters with little to no page time. half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk, so we die like men

Bodhi has never seen someone walk across the parapet so easily.

He's never seen someone make a dance out of it. As if it were a show, a production. Your feet are so confident, so sure with every step, every placement that you would make it to the next. It's pouring rain and windy as all hell, and yet you make the parapet look like a children's balance beam.

You land right in front of him, and by the time your eyes meet his, he's already decided that he needs to know everything he possibly can about you. The instant your focus lands on him, he's obsessed.

Garrick has other plans.

"Name?"

"Baby," you say, and Bodhi blinks. "Marho."

Garrick is downright gawking at you. "Baby?"

Something that sounds much more like a name and not what an infant is called slips out on a laugh, and Bodhi can't help but trace the lean lines of your neck. Holy shit. If he thought you were pretty before, it was dwarfed to the sound of your laugh. The sun had to fight for space when you smiled.

"Sorry. Childhood nickname, I forget I have another one sometimes."

"Did your parents nickname you after a hooker?" Garrick asks, jotting your name--the true one--on the roll.

"Did yours raise you to be a dick?" you ask, not missing a beat, and the boy's gaze snaps up to you. If Bodhi had been looking anywhere else, his would have too, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since the moment you stepped foot onto the parapet. He felt his brow shoot up, lips parting on a huff.

He bursts out laughing.

You don't move. Don't take your eyes from Garrick, from staring him down, until he tips his head in inclination and gives something that sounds like an apology. It's Bodhi's turn to be the subject of your scrutiny now, and as your eyes trace his shape, shifting with the weight of your gaze and his laugh, he senses more than sees the moment you note his rebellion relic. Your face doesn't shift, but it's as if a proverbial file is created and tucked away into the archive of your mind.

You didn't say anything else as you walk away from the two boys, but Bodhi tracks you as you go. Tracks your movements, as you weave through the crowd with a practiced grace, how your hair moves as you take the stairs down and out of his sight.

He's almost sorry to see you go. But he's determined to see you again.

Bodhi snatches the roll sheet from Garrick as parapet comes to an end, scanning to make sure he has the name correct. He marches up to Xaden, and only pausing for a moment to consider how stupid this is--he literally doesn't know a single thing about you--before throwing your name into the space between them.

"I want her in my section."

"Don't you have better things to do than flirt with children?" Xaden asks impassively.

"She's not a literal baby."

"I'm aware of that," he responds, sounding exasperated. "You're an Executive Officer, Bodhi. Do what you want."

Except Dain Aetos has other plans.

You made friends. You stand with the Sorrengail girl and another he didn't recognize, tucking loose strands of hair back into her coronet braid. What type of person fixed the hair of someone they'd just met? You, apparently.

You're in Second Wing. With Aetos and Sorrengial and the other girl. This is fine. Something about you didn't scream "secret rebel" the way wanted it too.

And then Xaden transfers your squad to Fourth Wing. He had sent Bodhi a glance as he put the squad in Flame section--not Tail--and Bodhi could see there was some sort of ulterior motive behind the decision. It did also mean you weren't under his direct chain of command. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing

Fraternization is frowned upon, not forbidden, after all.

Not that you would be fraternizing. After all.

But, challenging you would be a terrible idea. Terribly adverse, fatally cataclysmic, and ill-fated.

And all of those words mean the same thing.

He would stay clear, watch you from afar, and maybe, maybe work up the courage to talk to you outside of parapet. Possibly.

His confidence needed some serious shaping. Since when was he afraid to talk to someone? A pretty someone, to say the least. He was a gods damned dragon rider. He wasn't afraid to talk to you. He was just... hesitant.

Yeah. That. And he did not need a challenge to break the ice.

Emetterio has other ideas.

He calls your name, then Bodhi's, and Bodhi is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

You don't look frazzled or scared, just curious as you study him from head to toe. He guards himself as if you were an intruder in his mind, an Inntinnsic slipping in to spill all his secrets. Except you're an unbounded first year that hasn't even developed a signet, and instead that's just you. He's building up walls just to look at you. You and those bright, keen eyes.

Emetterio calls it, and you're off. Except neither of you move. You pace around, and it's a stand off. You cock your head, and Bodhi tries every trick in the book: the fakes out, glances quickly off to the side, purposefully stumbles--and you're unfazed. Completely and utterly unfazed.

He can't make the first move. He can't hit you--

Suddenly, his feet are out from under him, and he's staring at the ceiling, and you lunge, reaching to pin him to the floor. He reaches out and catches the elbow you throw, but before he can even make contact, you twist, sliding underneath him, and suddenly you're behind him.

You're fast. Really fucking fast. And suddenly, Bodhi has his work cut out for him.

You kick out again, going to the back of his knees, and he recognizes the move, thrusting his body forward to keep control and twisting before he lands, kipping up so you're eye-level again.

Your first catches his nose, and blood goes flying. He makes the mistake of bringing his hands up to cup his nose and it leaves his core exposed. You take the opportunity to land a knee in his gut, probably bruising a few ribs in there, and he doubles over, the wind having been knocked from him. Holy shit, he needs to get at least one hit in. This was getting embarrassing.

He swings blindly, and you dodge--but you don't grab his fist. And you had the perfect opportunity to. You were fast, and your reflexes were quick, but you didn't know how to end this. The realization crashes into him as you swing again. A lot of force, but no follow-though, giving him the perfect opportunity to deflect, pushing your fist and forcing the follow-through until you were swinging behind him with his hand around your wrist and then he was bringing you to him, one of his arms gripping one of yours across your neck, and the other twisting your other behind your back. Like this, your body was flush against his.

You struggle, kicking out, but it was all too easy for him to get your feet out from under you. You weren't small by any means, but Bodhi was bigger, and had a year of training over you. Your feet kicked out, and all he had to do was lean back to incapacitate you. You gave a frustrated grunt that so heavily affected him that he almost dropped you to make sure you were okay before he realized where he was and what he was doing.

"Finish her without making a fool of yourself, please," Cuir chimes in, probably sensing his hesitation and near-miss, and Bodhi sends an eye roll he hopes she can feel, since he doesn't have the brain space to say anything back, with your body pressed against his and the current task at hand.

He twists and take you both to the ground, pinning both your hands above your head, and taking a leg beneath his foot, balancing on a knee. You let out a sharp huff, and he's mesmerized by the way your nose scrunches up in determination. Your free leg goes to knee him, and he takes the hit, leaning into it before transferring your hands so they're both pinned between one of his, sliding one hand down your hip and to your thigh, holding it to the gourd before you can knee him again. He has a free knee to hold him up, but not without giving leverage to one of your legs. So he's pressed against you, hip to hip, face to face.

"Yield," he says, begs, because he can't hold this for long, and because if you figure out just how much you affect him, you'd win this thing in a matter of heartbeats.

"No," you grind out, thrashing. He's spread thin: his wingspan practically encompassing your body, giving you leverage to wear against him. He worries for a moment, a flash of the bruise he could leave on your thigh going through his mind, and two thoughts overtake him at once.

One, that he doesn't want to hurt you. And that while it may be inevitable with where you two stood, he wanted to try and eliminate the possibility as best he could.

Two, that he would leave bruises all up and down your thighs if he ever got the chance to get between them.

And the combination of the two of those thoughts loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to roll away.

"I did not choose someone this negligent," Cuir snaps, and Bodhi panicks, and now you're pinned underneath him again, his front pressed to your backside, and it's a true plea when he breathes, "Yield."

"No!" You squirm, and fuck stop doing that--

"Get yourself together!" Cuir snaps, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's enough," Emetterio says, pinning you with a look Bodhi would pick dragon fire over. "Know when to quit, Cadet Marho."

"No!" you yelp. "If this were a real fight, no one is calling the shots--"

"If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. I called it. Get off the mat," Emetterio snaps, and Bodhi scrambles off of you.

He offered you a hand that you send a pointed look at, and he can tell you're considering telling him where to shove it, but you take it anyway, and he walks you off the mat with a hand on your shoulder.

"Good match," Bodhi says, genuinely trying.

You open your mouth to respond, looking like you yourself could spit fire for a second, and Bodhi pities the dragon you end up bonded to for a moment.

"You're fast," he continues, before you can. "Quick reflexes, and you're strong."

"I had you," you throw at him, fiery and determined, and your gaze slips to his rebellion relic.

Oh. So that's what this is about.

Bodhi shakes his head, and the grin that had been blooming falters. "I can help," he says. "If you're struggling with sparring, I can help."

You suck in a breath.

"Or Imogen. Or Xaden. Or--" he stops, because, fuck, obviously you don't want to be near Marked ones--

"Thank you," you say, and the ghost of the smile he saw after the parapet makes a reappearance. "Thank you."

And with that, you turn and leave, heading back to your squad. Rhiannon is shaking her head at you, and Violet mumbles something that makes you laugh. Bodhi would bottle that sound if he could. What the hell was a counter signet for? His signet should be used for bottling the sound of your laugh--

"Do not finish that thought," Cuir chides. "Get a grip."

Bodhi grins, his hair falling over his temple as Garrick comes up and slaps him on the back, congratulations on a challenge well fought. He watches you take a swig from the water canteen, traces the lines of your jaw down to your shoulder until you hand it back, then traces the length of your wrist as you hand it--

"Pathetic." Cuir. "You haven't spoken."

"We kind of did," Bodhi says mentally. "I offered. I... tried."

"If you like her, try harder," she chides, and Bodhi sighs.

He doesn't like you, he barely knows you.

"Sure."

[dumpywrites]

Tears and Poetries - Kim Namjoon / RM

Prompt: “You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, comfort, idol Namjoon, non fan reader 

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

a/n: Come back to me got me feeling all inspired soooo yeah :)

It was late. Frankly you did not bother to check the time but you knew it was at least way past twelve. You just needed some air. Late night polluted air might not be the right option, but it was the best you could have at the moment. Getting out was the only coping response your mind could think off. Getting out from where exactly you could not be sure. 

Work life had been a real shit-show. You were on your fifth revision for your company project and your manager still would not accept your draft. While life? Life had been pretty exhausting. Recently your mother had been pestering you about wanting you to achieve more, comparing you to her friends’ sons and daughters, while also underestimating your own accomplishment. 

And not even two weeks ago, a guy who you were seeing just admitted that he apparently had a girlfriend. He really just dropped that info to you like a bomb, as if you did not spend time with each other the past six months. True, you never really put a label on whatever you both had, but in your head you were single and so was he. Until he told you that he got a girlfriend and had dated her for a month already. 

The wound still felt fresh especially with all the external problems added to the equation. Bearing the feeling of unwanted, unimportant, and never enough at once, was hard. Even labeling it as only hard sounded like an understatement. 

So you ran. Theoretically speaking you did not run away, you just took off from your apartment randomly to wherever your feet and your worn off sneakers took you. And they took you to a random spot near a river. 

You sat down on the dirty grassy ground, not minding how your shorts could get dirty from it.  Just sitting down and looking at the night sky, as if the cold breeze would calm you and do anything besides giving you a possibility of catching cold. 

Five, fifteen, maybe it was around half an hour you had been sitting there with empty thoughts, just letting the cold air hit your skin, when you suddenly heard a sound of a bicycle stopping and footsteps approaching. 

“Hello? Are you alright there?”

The deep voice started you and made you look back in an instant. There was a tall and quite big built guy standing with his bicycle. He had a buzzcut from the very faint image you could see due to the low light. 

Although skeptic, you decided to answer. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

You realized how shaky and stuffy your voice sounded. It probably was not a very convincing “don’t worry”. And when you did not voice another reply, the person parked their vehicle and slowly walked towards your direction. 

“Hey! Stranger danger!” You said, backing off from where you were seating. 

The guy stopped in his tracks but did not walked away. “Do you mind if I join your pondering session? Who knows two great minds might think alike.” 

You stayed still in your position, eyes searching for his in the very confusing lack of light. You could barely make out of what he looked like. 

“I’m not a creep, I swear!” He threw his hands in the air. “There’s a police station nearby if you wanna shout as loud as you can, they could hear you from here.” 

He took your silence as a green light and stepped closer until he reached a spot on your left. He cleared his throat and sat down next to you. 

There you could eventually fully saw his face. The first thing you noticed was the nicely shaped nose, and his plump lips, then his dimples which showed when he politely smiled at you. 

The first ten minutes was spent in complete silence. You did not expect the man to whip out a notepad and pencil and just started writing. A story? Poem? Or song? You tried your best not to sneak a look. He was even humming at some point when he wrote, and it was strangely enough, soothing. 

“What are you writing?” You finally asked, the suspense was killing you. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” He replied with excitement. “I’m writing a poem. Though I’m starting to think it’d sound better as a song.”

“You’re a singer or something?”

The man looked at you in disbelief for a good second before chuckling. “Sorta.”

“Am I suppose to know you?” You eyed him back with the same questioning look. 

“Dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t know for today.”

You looked at the guy suspiciously, which earned a laugh from him. “The more I think about it, I think I’ve seen your face somewhere…”

“Oh yeah?” He said, a light tone of nervousness was visible in his voice. 

“You look familiar, like that one guy from BTS.”

He almost choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Yeah, that one dude from BTS.” You repeated. “Although I don’t think any one from them has a buzzcut… Idols always seem to have either colorful hair or beautiful long locks.” 

“Really…” The man voiced out, sounding unsure. 

“Are you perhaps an indie artist? K-hiphop? Don’t tell me you are a DPR member that I somehow don’t know about or something…”

“Okay, enough about that it’s not important.” He dismissed. “You wanna take a look of what I’ve written?”

“Uh, sure…”

You leaned a bit closer to him and peeked over his notes. He took his notepad nearing it to your side so you could read better. Despite the low source of illumination, you could read the delicately written words. It was deep and meaningful. Whatever he wrote on that paper seemed a little too real to just be a song, it almost felt like it came from true experience. 

“You sound like you went through hell to get to where you are right now.” 

You commented, you were not aware of how reading through his words affected you until you could practically hear your heartbeat. You clutched at your chest, trying to calm it down. 

“I’m not only talking about the sufferings.” He pointed out. “I also mentioned about the journeys in between.”

His expression brightened as he explained further. You found it really attractive for some reason. 

“The feeling of loss, left out, were there alongside the feeling of excitement, growth, and wanting to change for the better.” He grinned. “And I think life needs that small bits of flavor to complete us as human beings… Wouldn’t have loved myself so much without all my struggles and flaws.”

You gazed at the guy in front of you in awe. “Guess you’re right.” You finally broke into a smile. “That was beautiful though, almost got me tearing up.”

“Thank you.” He grinned, showing his dimples. “What about you though? What’s on your mind?”

“It’s kinda lame…” You nervously laughed. 

“I’m listening.” He scooted closer, making your knees touched. 

“There are a whole list of messed up things happening in my life right now, but I guess I could name one or two…” 

You took a deep breath and the guy in front of you patiently waited for you to speak. 

“Basically my mom’s been yelling at me saying stuff about how unsuccessful I am for my nine to five job, while getting bullied by my manager at work, and not to mention, how I just got dumped by a guy who I was seeing for six months.”

“That’s fucked up…” He looked at you with wide eyes. 

“You tell me.” You replied sassily. “I mean I guess for the most part it wasn’t really about the problem itself. I’m aware of how perfectionist my manager could be and multiple revision is expected. My mom never really feels content with anything, so that’s also expected. And that fucking guy leaving me? It was probably for the better…”

“Hey.” He grabbed your shoulder suddenly, catching you in a surprise. “Don’t downplay your feelings like that. You’re allowed to feel sad when other people treat you like utter shit. It’s valid.” 

There was something about his words that triggered an emotion within you. Unknowingly, a tear escaped your eyes, followed by more next. 

You leaned backwards to free from his grip, only for him to lose it but proceeded to take off his knitted sweater, revealing a black oversized t-shirt underneath. He took it off with one hand before shoving it through your head so you could wear it. 

“It’s chilly. You might catch a cold.” 

Hesitantly, you rolled the sweater through your body. You felt the neckline stained with tears and wondered if it was his polite way of helping you wipe your tears. You thanked him and he told you to continue. 

“I don’t know what else to say, I don’t want to trauma dump on you.” 

“How are you feeling though?” He asked, eyes gently looking at you. 

“I just… I felt unwanted? Unimportant and undesirable? It happened all at once and it got me connecting strings. The root cause of my problem felt like it came from me as a person and I felt sick…”

He gazed at you and quietly nod, allowing you to continue. 

“I came here because it was loud and deafening in here,” You tapped your head with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “And I’m glad I did. Not only did I manage to tone it down a couple notches, I also get an exclusive song preview from a top star!” 

Both of you laughed in unison. You were the first to break the eye contact due to the sudden invasion of butterflies in your stomach. It might be dark and late at night, but your eyes could not lie about the beauty of the stranger in front of you. 

The silence was soon broken by a buzzing notification from his phone. It was on silent mode, but the multiple vibrations got him shuffling his hand on his pocket, fishing his phone out from his cargo pants. 

“Damn, I gotta head back. Someone needs me in the studio…” 

“At this hour?!” You argued immediately.

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He ran his hand through his short hair in a frustrated way. 

“What’s your name?” 

You both stopped and looked at each other, dumbfounded. Both of you asked the same question at the same time. Laughter filled the air once again. 

“You first.” The guy gestured. 

You got up and he followed right after. Now looking at how tall he was compared to you, spelling out your name felt a little bit harder. Your heart was beating in an abnormal rate. You finally managed to tell him your name and you patted yourself internally for not voicing out like a squealing hormonal teenager. 

“I’m Namjoon.” He said with a huge contagious smile. 

“Now where did I hear that name—“

“Can I have your number?” He interrupted. Glancing at his phone screen, a small groan escaped his lips. “It’s almost three, you have to go home.”

“Oh.” Your lips formed a small O shape. “Sure. Here, give me your phone…”

You both then exchanged phone numbers. 

“I want to take you back to your home so badly but I really can’t…” Namjoon sighed. “Besides, my bicycle can only do so much…” He chuckled. 

“It’s okay, I live nearby.” You smiled. “You take care, though.”

“Yeah, you too. I’ll text you?”

“Yeah.” You nodded happily. “Thank you, Namjoon.” 

“Don’t mention it, I’m really glad we met today.” He nodded at you before retreating to where he parked his bicycle. 

“Wait!” 

You followed, running to his direction. You stopped when your arms barely linked behind him, hugging him tightly. It was bold of you but it just felt right at the moment. 

“Thank you so much, I mean it.” You said with voice muffled a little by his clothes against your mouth. 

And you did. You meant it, it felt really nice having someone who actually listened to your problem and seemed like he cared about it too. 

He hugged back. “You’re not unwanted, okay? You are loved, please know that.”

You nodded and broke off the hug. A big smile plastered on your lips and he mimicked it. “Okay, you may go now.”

You both bid your goodbyes and that was how you found yourself smiling and giggling at three in the morning, by yourself, on your way back to your place, all while hugging the sweater that you forgot to give back. That encounter was weird, but in a very good way. It almost felt like the universe sent you an angel knowing how down you were feeling. In a peculiar way, it almost felt like he saved you. You went to sleep easily that night. 

The next morning you were awaken by a text notification popping up from Namjoon. You smiled like an idiot to yourself before opening it. 

“Good morning! I hope you slept well. Did you arrive safe yesterday? Sorry something came up, I wished I could stay longer.”

You quickly replied to him. “I slept good. Probably thanks to you, hehe. No problem though! Maybe we could hangout again someday? I need to return your sweater after all :)”

After typing the text and sending it, suddenly a curious thought filled your head. His name did ring an unknown bell. Namjoon did mention that he was a singer, an idol maybe? You could not be sure. You tapped your Google app on your phone and started typing his name followed by the word “singer” behind it. 

Maybe this was your cue to be more aware of the Kpop industry. You had your fair share of listening to K-hiphop, and were even an avid listener of groups like Epik High and Balming Tiger. 

So how come you failed to notice that last night you in fact just hugged Kim Namjoon, aka RM from the internationally well known boy group, BTS???

Thank you for reading! 🌙

a/n: this was a rather short one but i hope y'all like it nonetheless <3

Prompt request: HERE

[dark-moonlust]

Stubborn As Ever

Commission for Anon on Patreon @ 2025 Kate Hart

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: orc oc x female human reader

Summary: you are sick and push yourself too far but your orc boyfriend Matuk isn’t having it. He takes charge, forcing you to rest while reminding you just how much he cares about you.

Warnings: reader who has a cold, mentions but no smut, cuteness and fluff, flirty banter, caring and possessive orc bf.

The soft clack of your keyboard filled the room, the glow of your laptop the only light against the gray hues of the afternoon. Your nose was red, tissues were scattered around the desk, and a half-finished cup of coffee sat forgotten next to you, now cold. You sniffled, wiped your nose on yet another tissue, and ignored the throbbing ache behind your eyes. The project wasn’t going to finish itself. You were determined to finish it tonight and be done with it.

That determination lasted exactly ten seconds before the office door creaked open.

You didn’t even have to look.

The heavy footsteps and low growl alerted you to your boyfriend’s appearance. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, Matuk leaned against the doorframe, his hands folded in front of his chest. A plain gray T-shirt clung to his broad chest and shoulders, the seams strained slightly by his massive frame.

His deep green skin appeared otherworldly under the faint light, his face sharp as he looked at you with a frown. He had a square jaw that balanced the tusks curving slightly from his lower lip. Dark brown eyes settled on you, his hair short and messy, the inky black strands cut just above his pointed ears, though a few stubborn strands always managed to linger on his forehead. Like now. He looked devilishly handsome and you itched to comb those strands.

“Are you kidding me right now?” His deep growling voice cut off your thoughts. “Tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Geez… I’m fine, Matuk,” you groaned even if your throat sounded more like sandpaper than anything else.

“Wrong,” he snapped, and the next thing you knew, your laptop was being lifted out of your reach. He shut the screen and stowed it away high up in your bookshelf—far too high for you to reach without a ladder.

“Hey!” You spun around, glaring up at him, but his eyes pinned you in place, and even through your cold fog, you could see and understand his frustration.

“You’re sick, wildflower,” he said low and husky. He called you wildflower because you were delicate yet strong, thriving whatever the case. But if you kept overworking and ignoring your health, you would be making yourself weak.

“I have a deadline.”

“Which is due next week. More than enough time for you to rest and get back to it.”

“Matuk—”

“Don’t.” He cupped your face, an edge of command in his voice. “Don’t argue with me. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks and now you’re paying for it. I won’t stand here and watch you make yourself worse.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re pale, tired. Your voice is hoarse. You’re burning up, but here you are, pushing yourself like nothing matters except that damn screen. Newsflash, I’m not letting you do this to yourself.”

Before you could protest, he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your waist, lifting you off the chair with ridiculous ease. Your tired body betrayed you and you tucked yourself into his embrace as he walked out of the room, holding you as if you weighed nothing. His scent wrapped around you— woodsy and slightly smoky, and you reached, touching his silky hair.

“I can walk you know…” you muttered even as you rubbed your cheek over his strong chest.

“Not a chance. You lost your privileges when you decided to ignore my advice and work yourself to death.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re mine, and I will take care of you.”

Damn, why did that sound so hot? It was probably the way he spoke, the husky notes of his voice.

Your cheeks burned and this time it was not because of the cold.

A grin on your face, you buried your face in his shoulder to hide it. He rubbed his chin against your head before setting you down on the huge king-sized bed. He adjusted things with his large, calloused hands - plumping up your pillow, straightening a blanket over your legs and tucking it under your feet. Then he added a second blanket, just to make sure you were warm enough.

"Comfortable?"

"Super comfy,” you smiled, wiggling under the soft fluffy blankets. “And one layer away from being a human burrito.”

He snorted, crouching close to you so he was at eye level. "Good. Means I'm doing my job."

“I’m gonna be okay, my love,” you muttered, seeing how concerned he was.

"Hmm… either way you’re staying put, got it? No working, no overthinking, no sneaking around.”

You rolled your eyes, but a little grin tugged at your mouth. "You're incredibly bossy.”

"And you're awfully mouthy for someone who can barely sit up without wobbling," he smirked back, flashing a hint of tusk. “But that is ok. I like you mouthy, wildflower.”

“Wow, are you flirting with me right now?”

He laughed. “Damn right, I am. And I need you back at your peak strength so that I can firmly pin you to this bed for putting me through this worry.”

"You are impossible."

"And you're adorable and irresistible.”

You snorted and looked away. “Oh, please, I look horrible.”

"Wrong," he said in one breath. He tilted your face back to him and kissed your red nose. "You're gorgeous. Even today. Flushed cheeks and nose, messy hair, that little pout you get when you're impatient and stubborn."

“Matuk…” you sneaked your arms out of your blankets to caress his hard face. He leaned into your touch before tucking your cold hands back inside, reaching for your blanket, pulling it higher around your shoulders. “Still the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

The sweet moment was over faster than you’d wanted because he rushed to the kitchen and then returned with a tray with a bowl and a steaming cup. You sat up against the headboard and sighed happily. The air smelt of herbs and chicken broth.

"Eat, little wildflower," he said, carefully passing you the bowl. "You have approximately one minute before I do it myself."

"I will eat. I’m not protesting any longer.”

“Fucking finally.”

Chuckling at his words, you cradled the bowl in your hands, the warmth radiating into your chilled fingers. The steam curled warmly against your face as you sipped the rich broth. Each spoonful slid down your throat, soothing the raw ache and spreading warmth through your chest and belly. The subtle spices lingered on your tongue, coaxing a soft sigh from your lips. Ahhh, this was heavenly.

When you handed the empty bowl back to your very satisfied boyfriend, he plucked it from your hands and kissed your forehead. “Good girl.”

Next, he pressed a small packet of medicine into your palm and handed you a glass of water. You obediently downed the medicine, the bitterness lingering for only a moment before Matuk replaced the glass with a steaming mug of tea. The fragrant aroma greeted you as you sipped, letting the herbal brew chase away the last of the medicine’s taste.

Once the mug was empty, you set it aside with a contented hum and sank back into the cocoon of blankets. Your body felt warm and soothed, your head less heavy. The stuffiness in your nose had also eased thanks to the herbal steam. All you needed now was your boyfriend’s body pressed against you.

As if he could read your thoughts, Matuk shifted the blankets, his hulking form easing into the bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he slid under the covers. You moaned at the heat of him and pressed yourself greedily against him. Your cheek found its place against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum against your ear.

A calloused hand cradled the back of your head, his palm large enough to cover it completely. He tipped your face up, his fingers threading through your hair before he kissed you, brushing his lips against yours, careful not to hurt you with his tusks. You protested but his tongue coaxed your mouth open and swept past your lips in heated strokes. The press of his mouth deepened, his tongue demanding more before you broke the kiss, your hands pressed against his chest.

“No! I’m sick, I don’t want you to catch my cold!”

He blinked, then burst out laughing. “That’s what this is about? Oh, my considerate wildflower.” His laughter softened into a grin as he leaned in closer and licked the corner of your mouth.

“Matuk—”

“Hush,” he drawled, pressing another hot kiss on your lips. “You’re not gonna stop me, so don’t even try. I’m an orc. A mere human cold can’t take me down. We’re big, strong, and way too stubborn for that.”

“Still,” you said, shifting against him because, damn him, he kept licking and nibbling at your lips. “But— isn’t it better to be careful?”

“No,” he protested with a low growl. “I don’t care if you’re sick, ugly, or bloody mad at me. You’re mine. My mate. My wildflower. And nothing’s keeping me from kissing you when I damn well feel like it.”

You stared up at him, heart pounding as his deep brown eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. You loved him so much, your protective and possessive orc boyfriend that had changed your life completely. Matuk was unlike any male, caring and domineering, always making you feel like the most important person in the world.

“I love how grumpy and protective you are.”

He gave you a sly grin. “I love you more. And once you recover, I plan on making up for lost time and ravish you properly.”

You grinned. “Sounds delicious.”

"Sleep, my little wildflower," he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. "I've got you."

And you did. You melted against his chest, the rise and fall of his steady breath lulling you to sleep. His arms were around you, one gliding up and down your back in abstract patterns. He peppered kisses on your eyes, nose, and lips, silently promising that no harm would ever reach you. He was your protector, your one and only. Always.

[angelfoxx]

how about a petit reader like 1.53 or 5'0 (size difference) with keegan, ghost or konig?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ HI, SHORT STUFF. ❞

… in which you’re (much) shorter than they are.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, könig (does he have a last name or anything???) & keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: suggestive per usual. daily dose of shameless keegan hornyposting

NOTE/S: as a relatively small girlie myself (5’5, so not as short but still not tall) this one makes me giggle. tee hee tall babies tall babies

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ — He’s six foot four. Add on whatever height those boots give him, and he’s got a good foot and a half on you. It makes him even more intimidating in the beginning, because he’s just…a big guy. He’s loud and kind of scary and he’s just a fucking tank of a guy, all flat muscle and ridiculous height.

✦ — Once you two are…acquainted, physically…he sort of uses his size to his advantage. Not necessarily sexually. He’s quick to act as a human shield if anything is thrown your way. His first instinct when you two are in a crowded room is to shadow you, which is totally fine, but he’s enormous and so you can just sort of always see the edge of his silhouette in the tops of your peripherals.

✦ — You’re so much smaller than him, and beyond his usual hurt-my-troops-you-hurt-me demeanor, now you two are involved — and you’re so much smaller than him, and you’re so…little. You’re so little and it’s not that he thinks you’re weak but you’re so much smaller than him and most of the other people on the base. So when he sort of fights your battles for you, frets over you doing certain tasks on the field, et cetera, it’s not because he thinks you’re weak or incapable. He’s just…you’re so fucking short compared to everyone else. And he likes you. And you like him. And so he’s going to watch out for you even when it’s sort of pointless.

✦ — His public demeanor towards your size might be mildly annoying at times, but behind closed doors it’s a bit…different. Bringing up how overly protective he is of you results in a minor argument — when he finally lets slip that it’s partly because you’re so much fucking shorter than he is, you’re quick to argue that you’re just as capable as he is. You’re just as capable as anyone else on the base is.

✦ — He wants you to understand that he’s not coming from a place of total insanity. Most of the people on the base are guys, and they’re also usually over six foot. You’re a foot and then some shorter than almost everyone on the base. Physically, you’re at a disadvantage — and he proves that by picking you up under both arms and just…holding you there. He wants to show you that maybe he has a good reason to be “overly careful” with you. He cares about you, and you’re at such an obvious imbalance in a high-stress, rough working field.

✦ — Oopsie. Difference in size…mm. Mm. Suddenly, it seems less annoying and more arousing.

✦ — You stop complaining after you’re thrown back-first onto Ghost’s bed and the guy fucking blots out the ceiling because his shoulders are so broad and he’s tall enough to literally swallow you under his shape.

✦ — At some point, you stop complaining about Ghost being so physically overprotective of you. Actually, when there’s a crowd attending a debriefing, one of the soldiers swears that when Price mentions heavy artillery and Ghost sort of stances up behind you, a close shadow clearly unhappy with the idea of you manning the big guns, you reach back and pull his arm around your waist. Oh, and you seem to zone out looking at the way his hand is so much bigger under yours. That too.

★ KÖNIG WHATEVER THE FUCK HIS SURNAME IS.

✦ — Six foot ten. Six foot fucking ten. What the fuck? Why is he so tall? That’s almost seven feet. What the fuck? What the fuck?

✦ — He knows he’s tall. Obviously. He’s the kind of person to bully people with his height; if he’s involved in a heated argument, he’s no stranger to standing upright (he usually slouches) and sorry, but a seven-foot-tall man wearing an executioner’s mask, staring down at you from his colossal fucking height? You’re toast. Whoever he’s arguing with generally excuses themselves because dude, what the fuck? What the fuck. Hell no.

✦ — Keeping in mind that a lot of his men (and women) are on the taller side, you waltzing in at five feet tall almost makes him laugh. Because like, you’re short to everyone else, but everyone else is short to him. So you’re fucking tiny. He keeps calling you ameise, which you later learns means “ant”. He’s calling you an ant.

✦ — You’re a good soldier. In good fun, he’ll compare other soldiers to you; he’ll tell them that they’re being outshone by “eine kleine ameise”, which sort of pisses you off but you do remember that it’s a joke. Sort of. You are very short and you are outdoing other soldiers.

✦ — If/when you two get in a relationship, he’s keen to use his height against you. You go to find him in his office? He’ll stand up just so he can talk to you from two feet over your head. He’s leading a debriefing? He’ll make a point out of having you stand near him so that every time he straightens up, you have to deal with how fucking huge he is.

✦ — With his jests at your height, you often try to return the jokes. Every time he comes through a doorway, you rush over and ask if he needs ice for his forehead. Because, you know, he’s hitting his head constantly. Every time he’s on the field with you and you have to get in any sort of vehicle, you tell him that he’ll have to skip out on the ride because he’s too fucking tall to comfortably fit in the thing and putting him on the roof would make you guys an enormous target.

✦ — Your jokes sort of die down though when you’re pushed up against the wall, toes brushing the floor and breath shuddering. He’s got both forearms pinning your shoulders down and he’s pistoning his hips unfairly hard up into you and he’s sort of breathlessly laughing a wheezy cackle in your ear. “Why so quiet, meine kleine ameise? No words?”

★ KEEGAN P RUSS. THATS MY LAST NAME TOO BTW

✦ — He’s six foot one. So his height difference to you isn’t as excessive as the other two seen above, but…

✦ — He’s the most irritating about it. Probably. Because you’ll think everything is fine — he won’t think of you as any less, and he’s fully confident in your capabilities, et cetera — but the minute he gets you alone, the short jokes start. Is it chilly down there? Do you find the stairs too steep? A new truck came in this afternoon, but…well, it’s a little lifted, so you won’t be driving it. You’d only be able to get in with a step-stool — no way you’d be able to reach the pedals!

✦ — He’s insufferable. He’s fucking insufferable. It’s like you’ve opened up a Pandora’s Box of stupid fucking jokes that Keegan finds ridiculous. This shit gets genuine laughs from him. Maybe it’s the jokes or maybe it’s your reactions to them.

✦ — If/when you two are in a relationship, the jokes take a dirty turn. You’re trying to get in his pants? He’s biting his cheek and saying that he’s not sure he’ll fit, and you’re two seconds from slapping him. He makes random comments about how your knees will never turn red because you don’t even need to kneel in order to suck him off. Et cetera. Half the time the jokes go over your head and it takes you a good ten or fifteen seconds of being confused in order for you to realize that he’s making sex jokes at you. By that time, he’s usually turning away and biting back amusement.

✦ — He seems to take a great joy in bringing you stupid gifts. Ever the romantic; if you’re both scouting on a looser mission, he’ll pick you flowers. Specifically, though, he’ll pick you tiny flowers. Or, like, petals. He asks you to carry his rifle and walks behind you because apparently it’s the same height (or taller) than you are and it’s funny to watch. At one point, he gets his hands on a tiny model gun and he’s practically bursting at the seams to gift it to you as a “proper size gun”.

✦ — He knows he can make those jokes and get under your skin. He doesn’t care, though. When he’s laying in his barracks with you sitting on his stomach and jabbing him in the chest with that stupid toy gun, he’s just smirking like an idiot. He finds how easy you are to irritate so incredibly fun to mess with. He’s just sort of egging you on the whole time. “Yeah? I’m bothering you? I’m frustrating you?”

✦ — You’re still complaining and whining, so eventually he just starts flipping the script. He’s saying it’s so good you’re short because it makes it so much easier for him to flip you over and pin your shoulders down, and it makes it so much easier for him to wrap his arms around your mouth to keep you quiet when you two are tangled in his sheets at night with his teeth buried in your shoulder and his hips flush to yours, and you fit so nice and snug around him…

[iam93percentstardust]

one of the things that i loved about barbie (2023) that i think a lot of the posts making fun of male-written reviews miss is that, though the movie presents itself as a commentary on the patriarchy and sexism, the message at the core of the film isn't actually limited to being about (cis) women. it's about anyone who is Other.

i went to go see the movie on thursday afternoon before all the big midnight premieres, and the theater was still packed. there wasn't an empty seat in the entire theater. i had a seat at the end of the row, which i had picked out in a faint (futile) hope that no one would sit next to me. thirty seconds before the trailers started, a family of about 10 black people walked in and split up, presumably because they'd only just bought their tickets and there were no longer 10 seats together. the dad and the son, who was maybe a few years younger than me in his early-20s, a good foot and a half taller than me, and who i recognized as one of the football players at the local university, ended up taking the two empty seats next to me with the linebacker in the seat right next to me. and that was pretty much the last time i thought of them until the last twenty minutes of the movie.

see, in the last twenty minutes of the movie, america ferrera makes an impassioned speech about not just the limitations that male-dominated society puts on women but the limitations that women put on themselves in order to survive in said male-dominated society. it's about the contradictions that we're subjected to--you can't be too much, but you can't be too little either. you have to lift each other up but you're also in constant competition with other women for the shredded dregs of respect that men have left over for us. you can't say yes to a man because then you're a whore but you can't say no because then you're a prude. it was passionate and bitter and furious and it had every woman in the theater, myself included, in tears.

and in the silence of the theater following america ferrera's plea for barbie not to make herself less just so that society isn't threatened by her, the linebacker sitting next to me said fervently, "i feel that."

it brought everything to a screeching halt. now i'm a white woman, and though i'm fat and nowhere near as gorgeous as margot robbie, from the very first trailer, it was obvious that this was going to be a movie for me. and if done right, it was going to be a movie for all women (and i would argue that it was). but the thing that it also did right was that though the surface of the message was about women making themselves lesser, the core was that it was for anyone who makes themselves lesser to fit in. yeah, it's for women who are trying to fit into a male-dominated society, but it's also for bipoc who are trying to fit into a white-dominated society. it's for trans people trying to fit into a cis-dominated society. it's for gay people trying to fit into a heterosexual-dominated society. it's for anyone who's been Othered and has to shrink themselves in a desperate attempt to survive.

i love the posts making fun of male-written reviews that are butthurt that this movie isn't for them just as much as the next person. but i think it's important that we don't forget that those are representative of the people in power, the people that could never understand this message. barbie is for me, yeah, but it isn't just for me. it's for my trans friend who is six feet tall and has a beard and wears pink dresses every single day because they make her feel pretty. it's for my labmate who could practically be a barbie herself and irritates me every time she talks about thinphobia but also can't find someone who wants to be with her because she's brilliant and not because she's beautiful.

it's for the black linebacker who sat next to me in the theater and felt heard when a fictional character in a movie told him not to make himself smaller just to fit society's standards.