ethereal heaux shit.

we just vibin [black-girl owned]

[thebumblebeesworld]

MORNIN’ • DEW

modern!au experienced!annie x virgin!smoke

preview: Annie, marveling at his honesty and clarity, almost allowed a moan to escape her lips. There was something about the way he'd been vulnerable about being a virgin, something about the way he trusted her to control this moment. He gave her a feeling that restored something in her, like this was her first time all over again, and in a few years, she might actually consider this It.

cw: smut, virgin!smoke, experienced!annie, young smoke x annie, first time, unprotected!sex, fluffy!smut

a/n: this was a request and i can’t thank you enough, anon!!!!! i didn’t expect to write this so fast, but here we areee (i’ve posted three days in a row now,,, let’s not jinx it)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clouds streaked the early morning sky, creeping over the sun that peeked over the horizon. The spring air was fragrant with goldenrod and honeydew, and when the sun glared, water could be seen glistening atop blades of grass.

The pair had fallen asleep in Smoke's bed after staying up all night watching movies. They'd gone back and forth, each picking something that was significant to them, inching closer with each laugh or gasp of shock. Annie had wound up in his arms during a scary movie, and he had ended up with his head tucked into her neck while watching a romcom. It was a simple date, but it was special.

Smoke's arms surrounded Annie as she slept. He held her tight, felt for every shift of her breath and tightened his hold when she tried to move. He craved her closeness, and for the past few months—as their relationship flourished—he began to feel the absence of something that needed to be filled.

The earliest he could remember The Feeling was three months ago.

That night, he'd taken her out to some concert she'd been begging to go to, and as he watched her, the emotion budded. Her eyes were bright as she looked toward the stage. And the lights illuminated her face in a way that showed off her excitement perfectly. In that moment, his mind dipped off into thoughts that were far from chaste. He decided then that he'd do anything to make her happy enough to make that face again, to have his reaction to it be just that strong.

The Feeling persisted for weeks after that, blooming when she decided to try on a few options for a party she was going to. She couldn't decide what was best, and he was the only person available to give their opinion. Each outfit got skimpier and skimpier, and as he sat on her bed, watching her twirl for him, a pillow found its way into his lap.

He wasn't naive about his feelings, but Smoke had never actually done anything like that before. In 23 years, he'd done nothing sexual with another person; But with Annie, he was finally ready to go that far. He loved the person she was: her personality, her body, her laugh when he said something stupid about how they were both too damn nervous to give this a try when they were back in high school together. He loved her, and he could no longer resist The Feeling.

His body curled into hers, hands smoothing out his shirt that covered her back. She was beautiful like this—prettiest in the mornin'—he was known to say. Smelling the side of her neck, he jumped when she shuffled.

“Why you lookin' at me like that,” she groaned, stretching her over-exhausted body into his. Her fingers sought him out, pulling his body closer so she could bury her face in him to escape the light.

“‘Cause you sexy in the mornin’,” he drawled. His cadence was slow, the words slurring because he was both tired and turned on. Annie immediately picked up on his state.

“You betta' stop talkin' to me like that,” she chuckled, clutching onto him tighter. One eye peeked out to take a look at him, and her face flushed with heat from the intensity of his gaze. “Ion know if you ready for all this sexiness.” It came out as a joke based on conversations they'd been having for months about The Feeling and how she'd take care of him when he was ready. Recently, he'd been growing bolder. He complimented her body more—how he loved her thighs and her ass and how her titties sat just right. He allowed The Feeling to linger longer, pressing his needy body up against hers for momentary relief. They’d both been wanting it to the point where it took over their thoughts.

“I'm ready for it,” Smoke groaned, arousal strong. “I can handle all of it.”

Immediately following his declaration, his fingers began dragging along her thighs—because he knew just how to get her in a heady mood. His movements were slow and deliberate, and Annie rewarded him with soft moans before her lips met his. Plush lips against plush lips, their bodies fell into a rhythm of give and take.

They took their time, went carefully because it was still too early in the morning to do anything else. Dew still covered the edges of flowers outside, a crispness in the air that aided the moment.

Annie allowed her fingers to explore the man before her. They outlined the plains of his chest. They dipped over the curves of his abs. And when she came to the edge of his boxers, hers fingers toyed with the material, lips leaving his in time to feel the addicting tremble of his breath.

“You trust me,” she whispered into the quiet air, slow and steady. She held onto him, desperately needing the closeness because something about this was making her feel raw. He responded with a shudder, words broken with need.

“Ye-yes,” he breathed, “I'll always trust you.”

Annie, marveling at his honesty and clarity, almost allowed a moan to escape her lips. There was something about the way he'd been vulnerable about being a virgin, something about the way he trusted her to control this moment. He gave her a feeling that restored something in her, like this was her first time all over again, and in a few years, she might actually consider this It.

She rewarded the man was a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and when her hand found its way into his boxers, that same way-too-addictive shuddering breath landed on her cheek. She dragged her fingers down the length of his dick, capturing his arousal on the tip of a finger.

“I ain’t never,” Smoke choked out, groaning at the view of Annie sucking that finger into her mouth. “I ain’t ever been this turned on before.” And instead of responding with words, the woman simply hummed in acknowledgment before shifting her position on the bed. She pressed the man’s back into the mattress and settled atop his thighs. Unceremoniously, Smoke’s shirt that covered her upper body was pulled over her head, leaving her in nothing but a pair of panties, darkened where they sat against her. “Damn,” he commented, reaching out for her.

His face found comfort between her breasts with practiced ease, and Annie laughed as he held himself there and breathed in her scent.

“You always end up there,” she laughed heartily. And it was true. Whenever he’d had a hard day or a good day or a boring day, all he wanted was to lay up in her chest for comfort. Warm breath ghosted her skin.

“It’s my favorite spot,” he grumbled against her, hands somehow on her thighs again, pulling her into him.

Flushing, Annie reached down and dragged his chin up. She looked into his eyes, and when he melted at the sight of her, she dove in. When their lips met this time, it wasn’t soft and slow and careful; It was sharp and fast and greedy. Smoke’s hands found her hips, and his thumbs wedged found themselves in the groove where hip and thigh met. With ease, motion was made and pace was set. Her clothed pussy grinded against his dick, dragging up the length of him and forcing both of their bodies to shudder.

Smoke had never felt this good in his life. He’d never felt so consumed by something, and he never wanted to feel anything other than this. His palms found her ass next, taking up as much flesh as he could and keeping her hips in that tempting roll. He wanted her, craved her, but when he flipped their position and was leaned over her heaving body, he had no idea how to move forward.

“Baby,” Annie whispered, noticing the way his eyes darted away in a mix of shame and fear. He didn’t look at her straight on, and when her hand came up to his cheek, he jumped in shock. “Elijah,” she whispered to gain his full attention. “I told you I’d take care of you. I got you, and if you wanna stop, we can—”

“I don’t want to,” he nearly shouted, frightened that the very thing he wanted, craved, was beginning to slip from his grasp. Annie’s eyebrows were raised and a goofy smirk tilted her lips. “I-I don’t wanna stop,” he tried again, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” she breathed pulling him down on top of her. Naturally, her mouth found the edge of his jaw because she couldn’t get enough of that tremble when she did something that felt too good for him to contain it. “Take these off,” she whispered in his ear. Her hands pulled at his boxers—the only thing on his body—and when he moved in a rush to obey her, she removed her own panties.

Kneeling between her open legs, Smoke groaned when he saw her arousal, glistening up at him. His mouth watered. His tip flushed. She was the most beautiful sight, and he made sure she knew that. The man whispered about her beauty into her left ear, how he was addicted to her, how he’d love her the length of his life, how he felt so safe and taken care of. He made sure she knew what she did to him and just how much he needed her in his life.

When the tip of his dick nudged itself between her folds, they both needed a second to collect themselves. Their conjoined warmth and wetness was almost too much to bear, and when Smoke began moving his hips to drag himself across her clit and back down to her entrance, they both wept.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, breath growing heavier. “How you feel so good?” The words were slurred, disbelief dripping off of each syllable, and although he asked the question rhetorically, he was beginning to think maybe he did need some explanation.

“You ain’t even got the tip in yet,” Annie laughed from her chest. She threw her head back when Smoke rubbed her clit back and forth. She was wet enough that she could hear it, and with the way Smoke was looking between her legs, she could only imagine the sight he was being met with. “Make sure you go in at an angle,” she instructed, placing a pillow beneath her lower back. They both needed this to be easy and enjoyable. The longer they waited, the more their arousal clawed through them and the more they grew worried about fucking this up.

What surprised Smoke first was how he slipped inside with such ease, but what surprised him most was how he could feel every shudder, ever shift, every vibration from the inside. With nearly half of his length tucked away inside of her, Annie pulled Smoke down so that their chests were flush, so that their breaths mingled.

“Can I move,” he questioned, voice breaking as he contemplated how long he’d be able to last once she gave him the go ahead. The feeling of her surrounding him was glorious, and the normally unflappable man felt anything but calm.

“Yeah,” she permitted, eyes dazed and dripping with emotion. Annie’s jaw cranked open as she eyed the man above her. They were both perfectly ruined for each other, so gone over the feeling of their bodies becoming one.

His hips moved timidly as he got a feel for the situation. And successfully delivering the man confidence, he stroked her walls in a slow rhythm when her hands landed on his ass in encouragement. Each thrust made them quake. Each drag made them moan. Each breath passed from one to another had them ready to break apart no matter how early in was in their pursuit.

“You doin’ so good, ‘Lijah,” Annie cooed, kissing his temple. His hips sped up, and hers rose to chase him every time he dragged out to the tip.

Breathing shakily, Smoke watched as the sun fell over Annie’s face. It floated through the windows, lighting up her eyes the same way the lights did at that concert—when he first got The Feeling. He decided in that moment, as her brown eyes revealed every fleck of honey in them, that the sun rose just for this. For her.

“You perfect,” he breathed, addicted, and butterflies flooded her body.

Neither of them wanted to tap out just yet. Neither of them wanted to let go. But when Smoke would pull out to the tip, Annie would pulse around him in a way he couldn’t resist. And when he’d bottom out again, a glorious pressure would form in the base of her stomach.

They continued to meet each other in the middle, arms holding on tight, bodies ready to give up the good fight.

And when they came, it was done simultaneously. They couldn’t do anything but surrender together, to each other.

Breaths hot.

Bodies trembling.

Morning dew fading away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~2,200

a/n: i'm still accepting requests! i have one more that i really want to get to, but i'm looking for anything interesting. smut, fluff, angst, whatever you got for me!

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

@brownskincheyenne @bigjh @zer0productions @devonda81 @raysogroovy @terayne-4 @hdfen2474 @mbjswife @iiiheartfayee @nifniffy @nuttyinternetprincess @chrome-edition @my-name-is-h-u-m-a-n @sweetalittleselfish-honey @theegyal @known-only-by-the-insane @nanak0matsux @thugger-wugger @voidlesslove @massiv3tr33p3rsona @thefutureemmywinner @thelifeoflagab @itstayleigh @shamansha @margepimpson @everlucivee @katezy2x @chknnwffls @juniooox @milkywayzard @bbymuthaaa @zunibugsiren @strawberrylemonades-stuff @rkiiives @kitesatforestp @saralance03 @wildcardmelaninfreak @thevelvetwhispers @queenofklonnie22 @wakandamama @numb1smokeanniestan @mayday39 @bl3ssyn @blue4everrsworld

[yourstru1y444]

yall he looks so scrumptious FAWKKKKKK

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I know Annie wasn’t stack’s favorite person, but I feel if anyone else messed with her he’d be on their ass

Tuckin’ Tail

Club Juke. Best damn spot in all the Delta.

Boards underfoot worn smooth from boots and heels, the air was full of sweat, smoke, and the sweet burn of corn liquor. A guitar cried somewhere on stage, the strings bending low, droning while Delta Slim’s voice dragged behind it, heavy as Delta mud after a storm. Laughter rolled through the saw mill, loud and easy, slipping between the clink of glasses and the drag of feet.

Behind the bar, Annie Moore moved like she owned every inch of it.

And technically, she did.

Dark skin dewy from sweat, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, apron tied tight across her generous waist. She poured with a steady hand, slid plates down the counter, and kept one eye on the kitchen door and the other on the busy room. Catfish crackled in the back, grease popping, collard greens steaming in big iron pots and her special gumbo sitting hot in pre made bowls for people to grab easy. Club Juke smelled like salt, spice, musk, and something strong enough to make a man forget his name for a while.

“Two more beers,” somebody called.

“I heard you the first damn time,” Annie shot back, already reaching for the bottles, “You gon’ get ‘em when I get to you.”

The man at the bar ain’t like that.

He was big enough through the shoulders, skin a deep brown dulled by travel dust, hat tipped low. He slammed his glass down harder than needed, liquor sloshing over the rim.

“Damn prices too high for this weak pour,” he groaned, loud enough for folks to hear, “And this the best damn juke!? Better than Messangers? ‘Cause of some twins that ain’t been ‘round for years?”

Annie didn’t even look up at first.

“Then don’t drink it.”

That got a few chuckles. From the ladies helping to cook to the two men helping to serve drinks.

The man leaned forward, close enough to crowd her space, “I said, you chargin’ too damn much.”

Now she looked at him. Slow. Unblinking. Her eyes cut up at him sharp as the straight razor between her bosom.

“And I SAID you ain’t got to spend it.”

A few heads turned. The blues didn’t stop on account of the growing altercation but it shifted enough to where folks were listening now.

The man smacked his black gums, reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her apron, like he meant to grab hold. Like he meant to control her. As if he knew the type of woman he was dealing with. See, Annie ain’t one to control. Damn sure ain’t one to grab onto like her husband wasn’t in the back room yoking some nigga up over a dice game. Because Smoke don’t wait. He don’t ask questions.

That was the wrong move.

Before Annie could even pull back, reach between her breasts for her razor, a hand came out of nowhere. A heavy hand with a gold and onyx signet ring and thick fingers caught the man by the wrist.

Tight. Almost cutting the man’s circulation.

Stack.

He had been leaning off to the side, half in shadow, Italian wine in his hand, watching the room the way he always did. With a smirk and shimmering eyes. Tall, broad through the chest, skin rich and smooth under the lantern lights, vest hanging open and the top few buttons of his shirt undone like he wasn’t trying too hard to be his usual put together and dapper self. His face held that easy look like he was just another man enjoying the festivities. Toothpick rolling between his teeth.

It dropped quick.

“Let her go,” Stack warned.

It was quiet for a beat.

The man tried to pull his hand free. Couldn’t.

“I’m just talkin’, twin,” he said, voice already losing some of that bite.

Stack set his Italian wine down with a barely audible clank. His jaw ticked and the faintest wolfish grin appeared. One he’d given many men from the Jim Crow South to the Windy City with skyscrapers instead of plantations—nothing different—men he’d gutted like fish and littered with bullets.

Then, the blade appeared. A switchblade with his name engraved. Small. Clean. Flash of metal glinting before it pressed up under the man’s jaw, right at the soft of his throat.

It felt as if the entire room froze. Blues kept playing, but it was softer now, careful not to turn up like it knew better than to get in the way.

Stack leaned in closer, his chest almost to the man’s, voice low enough that the man had to listen hard if he knew what was good for him.

“You don’t talk wit’ your hands on her.”

The blade pressed just a little. Only a little.

A thin line opened on the man’s skin. Not deep, just enough to sting. To draw blood. Just enough to let him feel it.

The man was frozen.

Stack’s eyes stayed on him, calm and cold, “You got a problem with the price, you walk ya’ ass out that door. You don’t reach for her. You don’t raise your voice at her. You don’t do nothin’ but pay or leave. You understand me, nigga?”

The man swallowed careful, throat tight against the edge of steel.

“Yeah…yeah, I hear you, twin.”

“Good.” Stack leaned in a fraction more, “run your mouth again in here, I won’t stop at a nick.”

Stack pulled the blade back like he was giving the man a clean shave. A swipe that dragged skin and some of his stubble with it.

The man stumbles away quick, hand flying to his throat. Pride already bleeding worse than the skin. He grabbed his hat off the floor, didn’t look at nobody, and pushed through the crowd, out into the night. Cornbread chuckled at the door. Eyes following the man’s retreating body up the dirt road.

And just like that, the room breathed again. Music picked back up. Preacher Boy Sammie kept strumming that guitar and Delta Slim sang a blues song about a woman in red at the crossroads while making that harmonica whistle. Laughter followed, a little louder now like folks shook off what they just saw.

Stack wiped the blade on a cloth, slow and easy, then tucked it away like it was nothing.

Annie was watching him. That same side eye she always gave him like she was weighing whether to be annoyed or impressed.

“Coulda handled that, Elias.” Annie said. Reaching for another glass.

Stack leaned his hip against the bar, picking his drink back up, “I know you could.”

She poured corn liquor into the class with a steady hand. Stack’s tongue dragged over the golds on his top teeth with a slight suction before he took a sip of wine.

“Then why you step in?”

Stack took another sip, eyes on her over the rim, “‘Cause he ain’t know that.”

Annie huffed, but there was something lighter in it now. She nudged him with her elbow as she passed, just enough to bump him off balance a little.

“Always doin’ the most.”

“Always fixin’ what need fixin’.” Stack shot back.

He lets that line sit a second, watching her move—how she pours, how she keeps the whole place in her hands without looking like she trying. Then, he leans in just a touch, voice low enough to stay between them.

“Truth be told…you like it a little,” he says, mouth curving, “me steppin’ in, cleanin’ up after you.”

Annie cuts her eyes at him, sharp, already reaching for another bottle.

Stack doesn’t back off.

“Don’t worry,” Stack adds, easy as breath, “I ain’t gon’ let it go to my head…long as you keep runnin’ things in my Juke like you do, sis.”

That grin stays there—slick, knowing—like he expects her to snap back at him.

Annie reached down, quick and smooth, and pulled that straight razor from where she kept it tucked between her breasts, the blade catching a thin line of light as it snapped open.

“Stack,” Annie said, calm as anything, “let me do my work ‘fore I cut yo’ black ass.”

A couple folks at the bar leaned back just a little.

Stack put his hands up in surrender but he didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin spread wider, eyes dropping from half a second to where she pulled it from before lifting back to her face.

“See,” he spoke, amused, “that right there is why I stepped in.”

She sucked her teeth, nudging him with her elbow as she turned back to the bottles.

“And that right there is why I don’t need you to.”

Stack let out a low laugh, lifting his glass again, settling in like he planned to stay right where he was, just close enough to watch her work, just far enough not to get cut.

She paused, just for a second.

Then, softer, under her breath, “Thank you.”

Stack didn’t make a big thing of it. Didn’t look at her long. He simply shrugged, one shoulder, voice smooth.

“You my sister. We can’t be in the same room without us arguin’ but I love ya’…and what’s Smoke’s is mine to protect so.”

Annie glanced at him again, something warm flickering behind her eyes before she turned back to her work.

“Boy, go on somewhere,” she said, but there was no edge to it this time.

Stack smiles to himself, lifting his glass as the music rolls on.

The door at the far end slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Smoke came through it fast. Sleeves rolled past his elbows, shoulders squared, cigarette hanging from his mouth, the tip burning bright in the dim. The smell of gunpowder, the iron tang of blood, and sweat clung to him, sharp as hell over the liquor and grease already thick in the air. He cut through the room without asking nobody to move.

Folks moved anyway.

His eyes found Annie first.

“Annie,” Smoke called, voice raspy and low but carrying, “You straight?”

Annie didn’t stop moving. She poured drinks, slid plates across the bar, stirred pots of collards while moving her hips to the music.

“I’m good,” she said.

Smoke stepped up closer, gaze dragging over her quick, checking, making sure, “I need to put a bullet in a nigga or what?”

A couple men at the bar went real still at that. They remember Smoke shooting Terry and his buddy outside of Bo and Grace Chow’s colored grocery in town.

Annie shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron, “No. Stack handled it.”

Smoke’s eyes shifted.

They landed on Stack, standing easy against the bar like he ain’t just cleared the room ten minutes ago. That same calm sitting on him, drink in hand, shoulders loose.

Smoke squinted at him, cigarette smoke curling up past his face.

“Handled how?”

Stack’s mouth pulled into a grin, lazy and pleased with himself. He tipped his glass back, swallowed, then glanced over at Annie before answering.

“Pulled my blade out my boot,” he said, voice smooth, “sent him on his way with his tail tucked between his legs like a Mississippi donkey.”

Smoke looked between them.

Once.

Then again.

His eyes narrowed a little more, something unreadable moving behind them.

“Ya’ll being civil?”

Annie let out a short breath through her nose, turning back to the bar.

“Don’t start.”

Stack gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Man came in here actin’ like he forgot where he was. I reminded him.”

Smoke took the cigarette from his mouth, ash dropping to the floor as he watched them both another second. Then, he stepped in, closer to Annie, voice dropping just for her. A voice he knew to put on for her.

“You sure you good, baby?”

Annie met his eyes, this time steady.

“I said I’m good.”

A beat passed. Her eyes trailed over his frame before dragging back up to his eyes. Smoke’s gaze remained locked on her face.

Smoke nodded once.

He flicked the rest of his cigarette down, grinding it under his boot, then glanced back at Stack.

Smoke didn’t turn away right off. He shifted like he was about to head back into the room, then stopped shot beside Stack instead, stepping in close. Close enough that their shoulders brushed. Close enough that whatever he said didn’t belong to the rest of the room.

His voice dropped.

“Bo came to me ‘bout that man.”

Stack tilted his head just a little, listening.

Smoke kept going, eyes forward, scanning the crowd like he was talking about nothing at all.

“Got his name. Know where he work. Field hand out past the east road. Sunup to sundown type.”

A chilling pause.

“He banned,” Smoke said, “From Club Juke, from anywhere got our hands on it.”

Stack’s jaw shifted, a quiet nod.

“If I catch him in passin’,” Smoke added, voice going colder, “I’m gin’ blow his top off.”

No raise. No heat. Just fact.

Stack let out a soft breath though his nose, something like approval sitting in it.

“I’ll make sure he don’t step through that door again.”

Then, he moved to go.

Stack’s voice followed him, light, teasing, cutting through the edge just enough to bend it.

“You sure Annie won’t kill him first?”

Annie giggled. She glanced over at her husband with them eyes that got her whatever she wanted. And it worked every time. Stack took a swig of his wine, dimples deep.

“Try not to cut up all my customers.” Smoke said.

Stack smirked.

“Tell ‘em to act right and don’t be cuttin’ up in our Juke.”

Smoke’s mouth twitched, just barely, before he turned back toward the back room, already listening for the next problem waiting to rise.

Behind him, Annie kept pouring.

Stack kept watching.

And the blues never stopped.

[sacredmanifestations]

Manifesting sex that is healing, erotic, sensual and spiritual.

[goth-queen]

[sawed-on-shotgun]

Im glad they made up romance for stories and music but can you imagine how scary it would be to deal with all that for real

[kosmogrl]

when the song has lyrics that make you wonder if it was written specifically for you

[-harmonytbh]

a couple minutes— Olivia Dean

[kosmogrl]

[lovergirlcinema]

Assimilation

astronaut!michael b. jordan x black reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong and your husband is declared legally dead, you’re surprised to find him standing at your doorstep eight months later in seemingly perfect health. You’re happy to have him back, but the man in your home isn’t the same man who left you months ago. Who is this stranger….and why isn’t he acting like the man that you love? (Lovergirlnote: Whew, I've been working on this for weeks! I'm so excited for you all to read. It's definitely one of my new favs. If you like spooky and sci-fi, then this will definitely be the story for you.)

Warning(s): cosmic horror, sci-fi, smut (18+ mdni), violence, murder, extraterrestrial horror, tentacle horror, angst, grief, mentions of death

Assimilation (noun): the process of becoming similar to something.

June 4th, 2025 (Present Day)

You moved through the kitchen with practiced ease. You had been living in your home for over three years, so it was only natural that you were familiar with all the nooks and crannies of the home that you and your husband had purchased.

You opened the stove to observe the appearance of the baked gravy pork chops. Once you were satisfied with the progress, you closed the stove and moved on to making your mashed potatoes. You gently carved at the browned skins of the vegetables until you were satisfied with the amount. You placed the shaved potatoes in a pot of water on the stove and turned it on. 

You gently hummed a familiar tune, A Song for You, by Donny Hathaway. It was a favorite of you and your husband. He often liked to sing the song to you in bed, even though it sounded terrible coming from his mouth. You laughed every time and sang it with him to save him the embarrassment. 

Now, the song only serves as a painful reminder of the loss of your beloved husband. 

You quickly pushed the thoughts from your mind before they ventured into dangerous territory. A knock sounded throughout the house, and you quickly moved from the kitchen to your front door. The flow of your dress twisted and flared at your sides as you moved gracefully to the door. 

Grasping the knob between your hand and pulling the door open, you started to speak, “Dave, I wasn’t expecting you here so early. The food isn’t nearly do–” 

You stopped short in your sentence as the air in your chest started to become constricted. Dave wasn’t the one standing at the door as you expected.

No, your husband was standing on the other side of the door.

Your dead husband.

Your husband, who had been declared legally dead eight months ago.

You watched the man with your husband’s face scan his eyes down your frame as if refamiliarizing himself with your features again. His eyes locked on yours again.

“Hi, rabbit.”

At hearing his voice, that same deep cadence that you had grown to love the sound of, you did the only reasonable thing that a woman in your situation would do.

You fainted.

__________________

August 19th, 2023 (Two years ago–first meeting)

Sergeant Michael B. Jordan has been through a lot. Survived basic camp training. Two tours in different countries. Flew planes at speeds that no other person in the world would ever get the privilege of doing. He had survived being shot at behind enemy lines. 

But the scariest thing by far had to be the concept of having to approach you.

It started in the grocery store. An Aldi’s that he liked to come to because the groceries were more affordable. Michael spotted you first. You were tracing the lines of a watermelon and gently tapping your fingers across the skin of the fruit. He subtly stared at you from the corner of his eye as his fingers danced across the lemons. 

You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. Even in a pair of biker shorts and an oversized graphic tee, he found himself drawn to you. He had been subconsciously working up the nerve to talk to you, but he talked himself down each time. 

Surely, someone as beautiful as you had someone waiting for you at home? 

But he thought to himself–he’d be a fool not to shoot his shot at you. He lightly walked over to you and stood by you. He pretended to be looking at the watermelons as well, but frankly, he had been allergic to watermelon since he was six years old. 

“How can you tell if it’s a good watermelon?” He asked.

You jumped slightly, as if you had just realized that the man was standing next to you. Your eyes tracked up and down his face, and you smiled lightly, “You see that yellow spot on the lower side?” Michael nodded as you pointed to the spot. “Yellow usually tells you that it’s a lot more ripe. But also if you tap it, and it sounds deep and hollow, that usually means that it’s ripe.”

You tested the theory by tapping on one of the watermelons. To Michael, it sounded like a regular watermelon, but then you urged him to come closer as you tapped on another watermelon. He heard the distinct sounds between the two watermelons and looked up at you in wonder. 

“If you’re thinking of buying one, you should get that one,” You said, pointing to the watermelon that you initially tapped.

Michael smiled sheepishly, “Umm..actually, I’m allergic to watermelon. I actually just came over here because I wanted to talk to you.”

You laughed and smiled at him again. Seeing your smile up close made Michael feel like the entire world had stopped. He wanted to see more of that beautiful smile. 

“I’m Michael,” he said, holding his hand out to yours.

You connected your hands with his and gave him your name. 

From that point, the two of you were connected.

___________________________

June 4th, 2025 (Present Day)

You awoke with a sharp pain threading through the front of your head. You blinked in confusion as you noted that you were lying across the couch.

“You should go slow. You fainted and almost hit your head before I caught you.”

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice. Your husband’s voice. For a moment, there was a stretch of silence as you looked in Michael’s general direction. You ran your eyes up and down his frame numerous times. It was as if you were looking for any differences in his appearance, or you were actually trying to convince yourself that he was actually here. Fear and confusion ran through the core of your being. He looked just like himself. He looked the same as when he left you for that godforsaken mission.

You stood and crossed the room with hesitation. Your movements resembled those of a frightened animal. When you made it to Michael, you kneeled in front of him. Michael could see the myriad of emotions as they played throughout your face. You reached your hand out, the one that held your wedding ring, and placed it upon his face. Soon, your other hand joined, and you moved your fingers across the expanse of his face. One of your fingers found the scar at the top of his eyebrow from a childhood accident. 

Michael reached up and placed his hands over yours. He gripped your hands that held his face. As if struck by some kind of lightning, your lip began to quiver as tears flooded your eyes. You threw your body into Michael as you wrapped your arms around his body. Sharp sobs radiated through your body as you held him close. You placed your nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled. He even smelled the same.

In return, Michael wrapped his arms around you and squeezed tightly. He kissed the crown of your head and cooed gently. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’m home now.”

An hour passed by, and you had made Michael a plate of the food that you had cooked. You sat across from him and watched as he ate. It was still so foreign to see him here when you had watched that chair stay empty for eight months. 

Michael felt your gaze, and he looked back at you, “Where did you go?”

He frowned, “I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t make sense. What do you mean that you don’t know?” You questioned, leaning forward in your chair. 

“I just don’t remember. One minute, I was on the ship with my crew, and the next, everything went bright. Then I just woke up one day and knew I needed to get back to you.” He explained. You bit at your lip, a nasty habit that you had developed since childhood, “Do you know how long you’ve been gone, Michael?”

He shook his head. “Eight months. They declared you and your entire team dead seven months ago.”

Another frown overtook Michael’s face. Eight months. Eight months missing. Eight months of being declared dead. Eight months of not being with you.

He reached across the table, “I’m sorry.”

You took his hand between yours and intertwined your fingers. “It’s okay. The only thing that matters is that you’re back.” You looked down for a second before looking up again, “Does anyone else know that you’re back? Your superiors? Did anyone from your team survive?”

“No one knows I’m here except you. I don’t….I don’t think my team made it. All I know is that I needed to get to you.”

You nodded. You brought your combined hands up and kissed the back of his hand. 

Later, when the night fell and the skies darkened, you and Michael had prepared for bed. You picked out a pair of clothes for him and handed them to him. Normally, you and Michael would shower together, but you figured that it was best to give him space to adjust to being home first. When he stepped out of the shower, you looked over at him from the mirror as he toweled off and started to slide the briefs over his hips. 

You frowned upon seeing the giant scar radiating down the middle of his chest to the top of his stomach. You walked and stood in front of him as you observed the scar. You ran your finger down the length of it and looked up, “Is this from the accident?”

He only nodded. You moved forward and placed a gentle kiss on the scar. You soon left the room to take a shower. Ten minutes later, you were back in the room in an oversized T-shirt that belonged to Michael. The two of you moved the blankets back and got into the bed. It was obvious to Michael that you wanted to embrace him, but you were choosing to respect his boundaries. He moved closer and pulled your body into his hold. He laid your head upon his chest and relaxed. You missed being held like this.

You woke up hours later to find that Michael wasn’t in the bed with you anymore. You looked over to the clock that read 3:00 AM. You moved to get out of bed in search of Michael. A part of you feared that you had simply gone crazy and imagined the entire interaction with your husband. Sharp, violent coughs radiated echoes from the bathroom. You rushed to the bathroom and saw Michael kneeling over the ceramic bowl. 

“Kari,” You called out softly, approaching him quietly.

However, when he turned his face to you, you gasped in surprise at seeing the blood coating his lips. You dropped to your knees and scrambled to his side. Michael’s body continued to lurch forward as he sputtered blood across your t-shirt. You stared in horror as his body began to convulse and white foam radiated from his mouth. You rushed to the bedroom and immediately dialed 911. 

Within minutes, the paramedics were ushering your husband into the ambulance as you sat beside him and held his hands. 

One of the EMTs began to speak, “We have an African-American male. 6’0 ft. Apparent seizures and blood loss. No determined cause.” 

You continued to hold Michael’s hands as tears swept along your face. You prayed. You prayed just as hard as when his superiors came to your door to tell you that they had lost contact with Michael’s ship and couldn’t determine their location. You couldn’t lose him. Not after you had just gotten him back mere hours ago. 

Arriving at the hospital, the EMTS immediately rushed Michael’s body from the ambulance on the gurney. You saw the doctors and nurses rushing to his side as you all ran down the hallway. One of the doctors frowned as she pressed on Michael’s wrist, “Heart rate is declining. Take him for surgery right now!” 

Your heart dropped upon hearing the words, and you were confused when one of the nurses stopped you from going back. The nurse stared at you and noted the heartbroken and fearful look in your eye, “Listen, sweetie, I know you wanna go back there, but we can’t allow you to go back there. I promise your husband is in good hands; we just need you to trust us.”

It was as if the words and the severity of the situation finally settled on you, and sobs tore through your body. Your body crumbled to the floor as sharp sobs rattled throughout the hallway. The nurse moved to join you on the floor and pulled your body into her arms. She rocked you back and forth and cooed at you. 

She ushered you to a private waiting room and brought you a blanket and a cup of tea. 

“Do you have anyone to call? I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone right now.”

You went through your brain and tried to think, “I can call my mother and my in-laws.” 

The nurse nodded her head in sympathy, “Would you like me to call them, or would you prefer to be the one to do it?” 

“You should call them,” You whispered. In your distressed state, you weren’t in your right mind to have to talk to your parents and Michael’s and let them know that he was back, along with the fact that he was now in the hospital, and you weren’t even sure that he was going to make it through the night. It was all just too much right now. You unlocked your iPhone and handed it over to the nurse, who dialed your parents’ numbers and calmly explained the situation to them. 

Within the next 45 minutes, your mother and father, along with Michael’s mother and father, burst into the waiting room. A fresh batch of tears entered your eyes before you started to cry again. Your mother and Donna rushed to your side and immediately started to console you. Seeing you in a pair of sweatpants in a bloody t-shirt with tears running down your face wasn’t the most pleasant sight. Their heart broke at seeing you like this. 

They hadn’t seen you this torn up since Michael’s superiors came to your door to announce that he and his team were now declared legally dead. ___________________________________________

September 13th, 2024 (3 Weeks Before the Mission)

Two bodies are entangled with each other. Coiled in an intimacy that doesn’t need to be named aloud. You sigh at feeling Michael’s body connecting with yours. You clutch harder at his shoulders as his thrusts deepen into your body. Michael moves his head so he can look into your eyes. He always told you that your eyes were one of his favorite features. He loved how expressive you would get when it came to your emotions, and your eyes were always a key indicator of what you were feeling. 

He moves closer so that he can connect his lips to yours. For a few seconds, you both continued to kiss and pass moans between each other. At the precipice of your combined pleasure, you brought Michael’s body closer to yours so that he lay his weight completely on you. You loved to feel his body pressing on yours when you orgasmed because you felt like it connected your souls. 

Your chests moved against each other as you caught your breath. Michael moved to lie on his side and pulled you to lie on his chest. You casually played with his chain on his neck.

“Now explain to me again, what’s this special secret mission that you’re going on?” You asked, tracing the tattoo on his chest. He had gotten your name tattooed on his chest as a wedding gift. Some cheesy line about “always keeping you close to his heart,” to which you laughed, but ultimately, you loved it.

Michael placed a kiss on your forehead, “We got a signal on one of the satellites about a possibly new planet. Baby, this could be really big for us in terms of new information and discovering if there are new habitable planets out there. Think of all of the new possibilities.”

You smiled at his excitement. Michael had always been passionate about his job and space. Michael’s love for space first started when his father took him to the local astronomy museum. He fell in love with the stars, the planets, and the thought of what was out there in place. His young mind went through all of the possibilities of what was in space that we didn’t know about, or even possible life out there that we hadn’t discovered.

From that point on, he made it his mission to be a part of NASA. His parents had catered to his dreams by getting him a telescope and numerous books that were about space. By the time that Michael was 10-years-old, he could recount any fact to you about any planet in our galaxy. It also helped that he was a genius when it came to science and math. Naturally, he enrolled in the military to be able to afford school. The path from there led him straight to being called one of NASA’s lead astronauts and scientists.

He was curious. He wanted to make a difference in the world and discover something that hadn’t been found before.

You pouted slightly, “A month in space. What am I going to do all of that time without you?” Michael chuckled slightly. You and he had never gone for extensive periods of time without each other. Sure, you still did things independently of each other, but you really just enjoyed being in each other’s company. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, baby. I’ll record videos for each day so that you never get lonely without me.” He said, running his fingers down your spine. You shivered and moved closer to him. You both sat in silence and enjoyed the feel of your bodies together. “I wanna have a baby.” 

You froze and sat up slightly to stare at Michael. The conversation of babies had come up early in your relationship, but once you got married, you both opted to wait a couple of years to enjoy your time together before introducing a child. 

“Really, Kari?” You asked, excitement filling your body. 

Even though you hadn’t mentioned it to him, you had that feeling in your body that you were ready for a baby. That was the weird thing about you and Michael. You both were always just naturally in tune with each other. You both anticipated each other’s needs without having to say it aloud. Most people found it weird when they would go out to dinner with you and Michael, and you’d wordlessly hand each other things without speaking. Even with just being married for a year, it was like you both had known each other for life. 

Michael leaned up to connect his lips to yours. His hand found the back of your head where he absentmindedly played with your curls, “Of course. I’m ready to start our family. But if you’re not ready, then of course we can wait, baby.”

You shook your head quickly, “No, I’m ready. I want this.”

You both smiled at each other, and Michael started to place kisses all over your face while you laughed. He grabbed your face in his hands and smiled, “We’re gonna have a baby!” 

___________________________

Friday, October 4th, 2024 (The Before)

“Okay, everybody, no homework this weekend, but please practice your reading, okay?” You said gently to your first-grade students. 

“Yes, Mrs. Jordan,” Small voices replied. You smiled in response before ushering your students out to their respective parents or buses.

You had always wanted to be a teacher. You enjoyed being around kids and knowing that you were stimulating their minds with new knowledge. Most of your students loved coming to your class. You had always kept things fun and unique, and you made it easy for students to learn, no matter what impairment they may have had. 

Getting in your car, you made the drive home. You hadn’t heard from Michael in weeks. You would typically get a little transmission from the ship letting you know that he and his team were okay. But you figured that their ship had possibly lost a signal, being that they were so far in space. 

You frowned when you pulled into your street and noted the increase in cars there. You frowned even more when you recognized one of the cars as Michael’s superiors. Once you got out of the car, Admiral Shane Bennington met you as you entered your yard. 

“Admiral Shane, I wasn’t expecting to see you today. Is everything okay?” You question, staring at the older man.

He sighed, and you felt your stomach begin to get queasy. “Why don’t we go inside so that we can talk?” 

You led the man into your house, but your stomach ached the entire time. Once inside, you set out to make you both a cup of coffee. Setting Admiral Shane’s cup in front of him, you were still standing by the coffee machine when he looked at you. “Please sit.” 

You sat at the table across from him and picked at your nails. “You’re starting to worry me, Admiral. Is everything okay with my husband and his team?” 

Admiral Shane let out a deep sigh, then leaned closer, “Mrs. Jordan, I know that what I’m about to say isn’t easy, but I want to assure you that we’re doing everything in our power to rectify the situation. A few days ago, during one of our scheduled calls with your husband and his team, we lost connection. We haven’t been able to make contact yet.”

You frowned, “You haven’t spoken to any of them in days, and you’re just now telling me this?!” 

“I apologize, but we figured that it was typical satellite interference, and we expected to get them back online quickly. But so far, our technicians are struggling to receive a signal.” Admiral Shane explained.

You felt your heart beating roughly against your rib cage, and your breath started to shorten. Sensing your impending panic attack, Admiral Shane quickly crossed the table and knelt before you. “Mrs. Jordan, I can assure you that we’re not going to stop until we find your husband and his team. 

You want to believe him, but that aching in your stomach tells you otherwise. _________________________________

You try to return to normal, but those words feel wrong and foreign. How could you go back to pretending that things were normal when your husband was lost in space? What was normal about that situation? 

At your job, you try not to let your personal life bleed into your teaching, but you can’t help it. The other teachers think that they’re being discreet when they whisper about how sickly you look since your husband went missing. They all give you sympathetic stares and check in too frequently when you’re in your planning period. You don’t need their sympathy or prayers.

You need your husband back. 

Some of the other wives and partners of your husband’s team reach out to you. You can tell from the call that they’re expecting to hear any information from you about the search, but you’re just as lost as they are. You can also sense that they’re waiting on you to give some grand speech about this being the time to come together and stay strong for each other, but you don’t want to do that. 

You don’t want to have to say strong. You want to feel everything. 

You want your husband back. 

The other wives and partners all form a sort of pseudo support group chat, and they add you to it. You got tired of reading into the sad messages as if your husband and his team were dead. You just weren’t ready to accept that as a possible reality. You reach out to Admiral Shane every day to see if there are any updates, but you always get a, “We’re sorry, Mrs. Jordan, there are no new updates yet.”

It makes you angry. 

Your mother and in-laws step up to support you during this time. Donna Jordan, your mother-in-law, frequently visits you. You both support each other during this time, and you can tell that she’s trying to be strong for you. No mother should ever have to wonder if there child is alive or not. Michael’s brother and sister come by a few times to try to take your mind off of everything that’s happening, but you struggle. 

One day, when you get home, you notice the cars that are littering the front of your yard. Your heart rate picks up against your chest, and you rush inside your home. You hope to see your husband sitting on the couch, smiling at you with those deep-set dimples. Instead, you only find your mother, father, Michael’s parents, his siblings, Dave, his best friend, and Admiral Shane sitting in your living room. 

You feel the frown overtaking your face. 

However, your eye catches something sitting neatly on Donna’s lap. Dried tear stains are adorning her face, and you can feel the room losing oxygen as your mind deciphers what’s on her lap.

A flag. 

Folded neatly in your mother-in-law’s lap. It’s a flag that no wife of any soldier wants to see. A flag that’s supposed to represent honor and gratitude for service, yet it’s only marked by death. 

“Get out.” You hear yourself saying. 

Your father rises first and starts to take steps towards you. Tears began to blur your vision, but the anger took over the sadness. You push your father’s hand away that reaches out to you, “I said everybody get out of my house.” “Hey, it’s okay, baby, we’re all here for you,” Your father states. 

You turn your gaze to Admiral Shane, “Where’s my husband? What happened?” 

Admiral Shane’s empathetic gaze finds yours, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jordan. We couldn’t find them. Our team ran multiple tests, and there is still no sign of your husband and his team. It’s our best assumption to conclude that they are no longer with us.”

The anger flares inside of you, “Your best assumptions? So a guess?! You can’t even confirm if my husband is dead. I want you out of my house.” 

Something strikes inside of you. It all feels like the entire world is falling at this moment. 

Dead.

Dead. 

Your husband is dead. 

Your breathing starts to quicken, and you start clutching at your chest as the tears finally start to fall from your eyes. They feel like lava as they trail down your cheeks. Multiple “no’s” fall from your lips, and you feel your feet moving. It’s the pair of arms that set you off, and you can hear yourself screaming. You don’t even know what you’re screaming about. It’s like you’re out of your body and watching this all play out.

Your mother and father surround your body and pull you closer. You continue screaming and thrashing in their hold. 

“No, mama! No! We’re supposed to be having a baby! He’s coming back so we can have the baby!”

________________________________

After your husband and his team are declared dead, you change. 

You become a shell. 

You don’t talk. You don’t eat. 

You just sit on the couch, staring off into space. 

You don’t even remember going to the funeral. Michael’s parents and siblings plan it all because you aren’t physically or mentally stable enough to do it yourself. Your job allows you a leave of absence to process the grief. 

Your mother and Donna come over every day to take care of you. They help you to bathe and eat things such as soup and crackers. Sometimes, your father or Michael’s siblings will come over to watch you. You aren’t stupid. You know that they’re all scared that you’re going to do something to hurt yourself. 

You get multiple visits from friends, co-workers, family, and casual acquaintances of yours and Michael’s. They all fix you multiple dishes and give their condolences. 

Whispered confessions of prayers. But you don’t want their prayers. You don’t want their sympathy. You don’t want their sweet potato pies or casseroles.

You want your husband back. 

______________________________

June 5th, 2025 (Present Day)

You’re sitting in the waiting room the next morning when the doctor finally enters the room. You all perk up immediately. 

The doctor looks at you, “Hi, Mrs. Jordan, I’m Dr. Holloway. I know that you’ve been in quite a state of distress, but I can assure you that your husband is going to be fine. The seizures appear to have been caused by his body trying to stabilize to being back here within our atmosphere. He’s in stable condition, but we’d like to continue to monitor him for a few days.”

A collective sigh rings out through the room. You stare at Dr. Holloway, “Can we go see him?” 

Dr. Holloway nods, “Of course. He’s actually up now, and he’s been asking for you specifically.”

All of you leave the room and follow behind Dr. Holloway as he leads you to Michael’s room. When you enter, Michael is sitting in the hospital bed, looking as if nothing had ever happened. Your eyes scan over his body and note that he looks surprisingly perfect. 

His eyes finally meet yours, “Hey, rabbit.”

His arms open, and you find yourself moving forward to enter them. Your hands find his face, and you can’t help but start caressing his cheeks, “I was so scared that you weren’t coming back to me.” 

Michael shakes his head, “I’m not leaving you again, baby.”

His eyes peer past you at his and your parents standing in the doorframe. You move to the side so that his parents can embrace him. You know the pain that this has caused them and part of you feels guilty for not considering their grief in all of this. 

You push it all to the side because all that matters is that your husband is here and that he’s going to be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

______________________________

June 26th, 2025 (3 Weeks Later)

After Michael’s hospital visit, he was discharged with literally no signs of his previous seizures. It was an anomaly to the doctors there how someone could go from having seizures that severe to being in seemingly perfect health. Alas, they decided to discharge him into your care.

At home, you and Michael try to form some semblance of a routine together. Michael can feel you tiptoeing around him, not wanting to overwhelm him with anything. When you’re thinking of giving him subtle hints at his old routine, he surprises you by performing it down to a T. 

The intimacy between the two of you is still strained. You haven’t tried to pursue any close sexual contact with Michael despite how much your body begins to react to having him around. At night, when he holds you, you can feel the muscular planes of his body molding to your soft shape. The rough feel of his hands wrapped around your body lights a new fire in you that you hadn’t felt in ages. But you remain respectful. 

You had just gotten your husband back. The rest of it could wait until later.

However, you failed to notice the same desire that Michael held for you. He watched you like you were one of those beautiful planets that he focused his research on. He was detailing every single aspect of your body into his mind and storing it for later use. 

Currently, you’re standing in the shower, lathering your body with your chosen body wash. Through the steam of the bathroom, Michael could still see your prominent figure through the glass. His eyes raked down your form. He analyzed all of the subtle marks, such as the stretch marks that colored your thighs. He imagined himself tracing each stretch mark one by one. Your back was turned to the shower, and it allowed him to see the small bunny tattoo that you had on your left shoulder. It was a delicate and small piece, which you couldn’t necessarily see unless you wore a piece of clothing that revealed it.

You jumped in surprise when you saw Michael standing on the other side of the shower. You open the shower door slightly, “Hey, baby, did you need something?” 

You pretended not to be casually ogling his bare chest and his lack of underwear under the grey sweatpants. Michael stepped closer to the shower and placed his hand on your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into his touch. He presses his lips to yours and tastes the small droplets of water from your lips. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as he moves to pull your wet body to his. Your nipples brush against his chest, and you moan at the sensation. You step back as you watch Michael start to take off his sweatpants. Once undressed, he steps fully into the shower with you.

You both stand in the shower, staring at each other. It had been eight months since you both had been connected like this. As if he senses the nerves present, Michael steps forward and traces his hands up the curves of your body. He turns you so that your back is against his chest. You shiver at the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist. 

Pleasure radiates through you as Michael begins to kiss your neck. You missed the feeling of his beard and mustache subtly scraping at your skin. Michael’s hand is wrapped around your throat, and he moves your head to meet his lips once again. This time, his tongue engulfs your mouth as you can only match his intensity. 

Turning your body to meet his again, Michael backs you up until you're directly against the wall. Small goosebumps cover the expanse of your skin from the coldness of the wall. Hoisting you up against the wall, your eyes connect to Michael’s, and you can tell that he’s waiting to receive some form of consent from you. You nod, and you both moan deeply as his tip finally breaches your entrance. 

The entire situation is unexplainable. Your bodies slot together like there hasn’t been an eight-month delay between them. Your pleasure and Michael’s naturally sync together. The shower fogs, and you don’t know if it's because of the water or your lovemaking. Your nails dig roughly into Michael’s skin, but he doesn’t let the pain deter him. In fact, it only seems to fuel his desire for you. 

When your orgasm hits, your entire body reacts. Michael delivers a few more thrusts before he’s releasing inside of you with a low groan. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until you see Michael’s concerned face. 

“Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. You can’t explain the reasonings for your sudden tears, but you know that it’s because you had missed Michael in all aspects of your being. When you both exit the shower, Michael is gentle with you as he wipes your body down. You both get into bed together, and he immediately pulls your body closer to his. 

“Michael?”

“Hmm?”

You pause, “Promise me, you won’t leave me again.”

“I promise, baby.” He murmurs against the crown of your head. You finally allow yourself to rest and close your eyes. 

_____________________________________

July 4th, 2025 (1 Month Later–Present Day)

“Baby, can you zip my dress up?” You call out to Michael, who’s in your shared closet getting his shoes. 

He suddenly appears and zips the back of your dress before placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. You move to clasp the diamond necklace around your neck, then put your heels on. 

Tonight was the honorary ball for Michael’s return, which his superiors had decided to host in his honor. He was being awarded a medal for his bravery and resilience during the mission. He had yet to return to work due to his superiors deeming that he needed time to reacclimate to being back home. He had only been to the base a handful of times to be asked follow-up questions about the mission and what he remembered. When he returned home, he’d never reveal any of what was discussed. He was a soldier through and through, and you understood his duty to the national security of this country. 

You were only happy to have him home. You were wearing a midnight blue gown to complement his dress blues. Standing behind you in the mirror, Michael placed a kiss on the side of your neck, “You look beautiful, baby.”

You turned in his hold, “You look pretty handsome, too. Did I ever tell you that I love a man in uniform?”

Michael laughed softly, “Yeah, I think you may have mentioned it a few times.”

You grabbed your small purse while Michael grabbed the keys to the car. He held your hand the entire way to the gala. As far as you knew, it would be Michael’s parents, his siblings, his co-workers, and their significant others, along with his superiors at the gala. 

Arriving at the gala, Michael parked the car before coming around the side to open the door for you. You placed your hand in his, and you both were walking inside the venue. 

When you walk in, all eyes immediately turn to you and Michael. You can read the shock that’s present on everyone's face. Michael was literally the man who walked from his grave. As far as any of his coworkers knew, Michael and his crew had all died on the ship eight months ago. So, to see him physically walking among them… it was eerie. What was even more scary to them all was that he was the sole survivor, and they all had yet to find out how he had made it back.

But with their respective jobs in the military, they knew that discretion was valued above all. If Michael had been cleared by their superiors, then there was nothing left for them to question. You could sense the hesitation in everyone’s body language. They were practically itching to crowd around Michael. Finally, one of Michael’s co-workers, Terry, stepped up and dapped Michael up with a huge grin on his face.

His fiancée, Evelyn, stood next to him and smiled at you. 

Soon, many others were surrounding Michael with their own words or gratitude. Michael took it all in stride, but he kept you by his side through it all. You sensed that it was the nerves, and he didn’t want to have to answer any uncomfortable questions about his crew or the mission.

One of the wives that you recognized as Gina grabbed your hand and ushered you to a corner where the other wives and partners were. You looked back at Michael, who gave you a small smile and nod. 

“Hey girl, we missed seeing you so much at these things!” Kylie, one of the other wives, gushed. 

You smiled politely, “I’m just happy to be here.”

Gina took a sip from her champagne, “Oh, honey, you don’t have to play demure with us. We know these events can be a bore, but we’re just happy to have you and Michael back.”

The conversation continued naturally, but you could sense that they were all itching to ask you questions about Michael. You subtly maneuvered your way around answering questions without giving away any details of anything. You didn’t have to do much because, frankly, you still didn’t know what happened.

The talk ended once the food was announced to be done. You and Michael were sitting at a table in the middle with a few more guests. Michael’s fingers found yours under the table. All eyes turned once you noticed Admiral Shane walking to the stage with a glass in hand. 

“First, I’d like to thank you all for taking the time out to be here tonight. Tonight, we’re honoring a brilliant young man. I first met Sergeant Jordan when he was a fresh-faced 19-year-old. He was quiet, but brave. I could tell that he didn’t need to announce his attributes–he only let the actions speak for themselves. Then, imagine my surprise when he goes on talking about space and discovering all the ways that we haven’t explored space. I thought, ‘This kid is crazy,’ but I’m not too prideful to admit that he was right. Due to Sergeant Jordan’s work, we’ve discovered more about the future parts of the solar system than we previously knew. As you’re all aware, he went missing eight months ago, but we’re blessed to have him back in our arms. Which is why tonight, we’re honored to present Sergeant Jordan with The Medal of Honor.” Applause radiates through the venue as Michael stands to walk to the stage. He places a quick kiss on your lips before leaving.

You admire his form as he walks. He’s always been a man whose presence is commanding without being domineering. He’s one of those men whom people can’t help but stare at and desire. You had witnessed firsthand how men and women would pounce to have Michael’s attention on them. 

Michael takes the stage, and Admiral Shane pins the pin to his jacket, along with handing him the box that contained his medal. A few of Michael’s coworkers started to cheer and demanded a speech. Michael laughed shyly before taking the stage, “Hi, first I’d like to say that I appreciate you all for being here tonight. I’m aware that some of you have children, so the fact that you’d make time to be here means more than you know. Thank you to Admiral Shane and my superiors who’ve awarded me this honor. It means the world to be considered for this. I want to issue a special thanks to my wife. Baby, thank you for staying strong during all of these months and not giving up on me. I love you with every atom in my body. Also, thank you to everyone who supported my wife during this time. I know it couldn’t have been easy for her, so I appreciate you all. Thank you.” He finishes and leaves the stage. Michael makes his way back to the table and takes his seat next to you. 

You turn to him, “That was beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Michael states, leaning over to kiss your shoulder. 

You giggle slightly before telling him that you’re going to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, you conduct your business and move to the sink to wash your hands. You leave the bathroom, and you’re walking down the hallway when a figure suddenly appears in front of you. You jump slightly, but calm once you notice that it’s Alina Rodriguez, the wife of Cass Rodriguez, Michael’s co-captain on the ship.

Your eyes scan over the young woman’s form, and you note how disheveled she looks. “Hi Alina, it’s nice to see you.”

Alina stares at you for a moment. There’s complete silence between the two of you. You step closer to her, “Are you okay?” 

Alina snaps out of her apparent trance, and her eyes darken. You can see the angry tears beginning to fill her eyes as she stares at you. “What did you do? What deal did you make with them?” 

‘I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” You ask, confusion coloring your face. 

“Why does your husband come back, and mine doesn't? Huh?! Did you know that Cass came back, too? Then, he was gone again. They took him!” Alina rambles. Your brows furrow more, and your mind immediately goes to the fact that she may be experiencing some sort of mental crisis.

You step closer to Alina, “Hey..Alina, I’m so sorry about Cass. It’s all going to be okay.” 

Your words seem to anger the woman further as she shakes her head. “It’s not going to be okay! My husband is gone! But you! You get to keep your husband. I bet you don’t even know what he is! He’s not your husband.” In your confusion and Alina’s breakdown, you fail to notice the woman taking a knife out of her pocket. Your heart beats heavily against your chest as you finally see it.

“Is everything okay here?” A voice calls out. Your body relaxes slightly as you recognize it as Michael’s voice. Michael clocks the scene between you and Alina. He steps forward hesitantly once he notices the knife in Alina’s hand. 

He moves around the woman and comes to stand in front of you. Your hands find his arm as you stare at Alina in concern. 

“No! It’s not okay! What did you do to my husband, huh? What did you turn him into?” Alina demands, pointing the knife in your and Michael’s direction. Her shouting gets the attention of the other guests in the venue, and they all crowd to see the commotion. Gasps ring out, and you can see the men moving their partners back and assessing the best way to de-escalate the situation.

Admiral Shane steps forward, “Alina, I know you’re upset about Cass, but this isn’t the way. Put the knife down, and we can all work through this together.” Alina cries more, and she stares back at Admiral Shane, “None of this is okay. It’ll never be okay. Cass isn’t coming back.”

She looks back at Michael, “He’s not what he says that he is!” 

Michael steps forward in an attempt to grab the knife from Alina. You can see a flash of fear that radiates across her face before she starts screaming and swinging the knife at Michael. Michael pushes you back as he tries to defend himself from the blows. Your entire body is filled with fear when you see the knife strike Michael on his hand. He manages to grab the knife as Alina continues to scream and thrash against him. The other men rush forward and firmly grab hold of Alina. You can see Terry holding her body to his and whispering to her. Warm, thick tears continue to roll down her face as she sobs violently. 

You don’t even realize that you’re crying until you feel Michael’s hands on your face. His concerned eyes meet yours, “Hey, it’s okay, baby. Shh...we’re safe now.” He pulls your trembling body into his chest. You pull back suddenly and grab his hand in yours. 

Your body freezes when you notice that his hand is perfectly fine. No cuts. No blood. 

“I saw her cut you,” You say. 

Michael shakes his head, “No, you must’ve thought you saw it. I’m fine. See? No blood.” 

You decide to drop it, but your stomach still feels queasy. 

Because in your mind and heart, you know that you saw it.

_______________________

September 16th, 2025 (2 Months Later, Present Day)

Today’s the annual family bar-b-que. 

Your combined families had all come together to celebrate Michael’s return home. Your father and Michael’s father are both manning the grill with their respective towels thrown over their shoulders. You’re in the kitchen with your mothers, aunts, and cousins helping with making the sides. 

Well, more like, you’re watching and laughing at all of the gossip. 

Michael’s aunt, Ruth, speaks up, “How’s Kari adjusting to being back?”

You take a sip from your drink, “He’s doing good. He’s still off from work, but he’s expected to return next month to start his research again.” Everyone hums before Ruth speaks again, “He isn’t planning any more of those lil’ missions any time soon, right?”

You tense at the mention of the missions. You and Michael hadn’t explicitly discussed whether he would be going on any new space missions. Truthfully, you still didn’t like to think about the mission that took him from you all that time. You’d be content knowing that he never went on another mission, but you knew that wasn’t realistic. You knew how much Michael loved space, and you’d never ask him to give up on his dreams. But you wouldn’t survive another incident if he didn’t come back.

“No ma’am. No more missions for a while.”

All of your eyes snap to Michael, who is standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He crosses the kitchen to stand by you and presses a kiss to your hair. You feel yourself relaxing in his hold. 

The cookout continues with everyone eating and having fun. You’re sitting next to Michael, sipping on your tea, when you freeze. Michael follows your eyes and sees you staring at Dave, Michael’s best friend, who also appears to be meeting your gaze. Dave snaps out of it and smiles at Michael. 

Michael stands, and both men dap each other up. Dave hadn’t been around much since Michael’s return, but he claimed that it was due to being away for work. You stand and go to enter the kitchen to get a slice of pie. You’re in the process of putting the pie up when you turn and jump at seeing Dave standing there.

______________________

Michael notices that you’ve been gone for a little while. He moves from the table and goes into the house to find you. He’s about to enter the kitchen when he hears you and Dave talking. He notes the aggressive tone of your voice. 

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” Dave states.

You look over at him, “What reason would I have to answer your calls, Dave?” 

Dave shakes his head, “I don’t get why you’re treating me like this. Like I’m nothing to you. I’m not chill with just acting as if nothing happened between us. I love you. You know that.”

You slam the plate on the counter and lean closer to Dave, “What happened between us, Dave? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You know that I love Michael, and I would never jeopardize my marriage. The fact that you’re coming to me with this of all times is pretty stupid! My husband, your best friend, is back! What did you think was going to happen? What? I’d leave him for you? You’re even stupider than you look.” 

With that, you leave the kitchen through the patio door. Michael can see Dave’s shoulder slump in disappointment. He watches Dave pick up the fork that you just ate a piece of your pie from and put it in his mouth. He frowns, and his stomach turns in disgust. 

A range of emotions radiates through his body. Anger. Confusion. But most of all, possession. You were his, and you always would be. He moves quietly back outside and takes his seat next to you. You turn your head, and he pulls you closer so that he can connect his lips to yours. 

“I love you, rabbit,” He whispers against your lips.

“I love you too, Kari.” You whisper back.

______________________________________________

October 16th, 2025 (1 month later, Present Day)

Michael doesn’t bring the Dave situation up to you, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t leave his mind. He still invites Dave around, but mostly to observe his behavior around you. When Dave comes around the house, you make yourself scarce, only stopping by to give them more snacks. 

Michael clocks the way that Dave’s eyes rake over your figure, and the longing in his eyes. You, however, don’t show any reaction to Dave. You don’t give off any signals that would suggest any mutual attraction. 

It’s one night when Michael is over at Dave’s crib. They’re both playing 2K together and casually lounging on the couch. Michael texts you that he’s going to be home soon. He can see Dave’s eyes trying to catch a glimpse of your message. 

“You getting back to the wife soon?” Dave asks, trying to appear unbothered.

Michael nods and continues pressing the keys on the PS5 controller. Dave looks at him from the corner of his eye, “I mean, I bet with you being back, the sex must be out of this world. I bet she’s practically giving it to you every night.” Michael’s expression drops, and he fully turns his body to look at Dave.

“You sure got a lot of questions about my wife tonight. You checkin’ for her or something?” Michael questions, expression dark. 

Dave quickly shakes his head, “Nah, man! It’s not like that. My bad.” 

The two men sit in silence for a few seconds. The tension rises with each passing second. Michael is still looking at Dave. 

“I heard your conversation with my wife in the kitchen the other month. You told her you loved her and you wanted her to leave me.” He states, plainly. 

Dave begins to stutter before he sighs and looks down, “Look, man, I’m sorry. But I do love her. We got close when you went missing.” Michael doesn’t miss the emphasis that Dave puts on the close. His mind flashes with images of you and Dave… together. Rage begins to build in his chest.

“So, you fucked my wife?!” Michael yells, standing from the couch.

“Nah, man! It wasn’t like that. I kissed her!” Dave doesn’t get to finish his sentence when a blow knocks him off his feet. He stares at Michael in surprise. Anger fills his own body, and soon the two men are trading blows with each other. However, the more that Dave attacks Michael, the less it seems to be hurting him. If anything, Dave’s hits only fuel Michael to rain his punches down harder on Dave. Soon, Michael is straddling Dave and throwing punches at his face. 

Dave’s face is bloody and already beginning to swell. Michael grabs his cheeks in his hand and moves his face closer. Dave is expecting Michael to hit him again, but he watches in horror as Michael opens his mouth and moves it over his. A slimy black tentacle flows from his mouth and into Dave’s own open mouth. 

Dave pushes at Michael’s chest and tries to scream. The tentacle slithers down the expanse of his throat, and he sputters as his air begins to drop. He can only look up in terror as Michael’s eyes change to a milky white color. He’s helpless as the tentacle reaches the inside of his chest cavity. Spit and blood sputter from his mouth as his body convulses. Not long after, Dave’s body stops moving, but his eyes remain open in terror. 

The tentacle slithers from his mouth, and Michael stands back to his normal self. He wipes his mouth and turns to leave Dave’s apartment. He’s not worried about anyone suspecting him of hurting Dave because, in one to two days, Dave’s body will have disintegrated into mush.

Back at the house, Michael finds you eating popcorn and watching The Thing. He laughs to himself at the irony. 

“Hey, baby,” You say, patting the cushion next to him.

“Hey, you still up this late?” He asks, throwing a few popcorn kernels in his mouth. 

You nod, “Yeah, I figured I’d wait until you got back home. But then I started watching TV, and you know, The Thing is one of my favorite movies.” 

Michael hums as he continues to eat popcorn and watch the movie with you. He looks down at you, “You know something interesting happened tonight?”

“What’s that, babe?” 

Michael throws another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Dave said that he kissed you.”

You cough on the popcorn in your mouth and quickly grab the water in front of you. You stare at Michael in shock, “What?”

“Mhm, I thought the same. But I would’ve just taken it as him lying, but I heard the conversation in the kitchen the other month. So I guess, I want to ask, was there anything going on with you and him?’

You sigh and shake your head as tears fill your eyes, “I promise it’s not what you think it is. I didn’t sleep with him or anything like that. It was about six months after you went missing. I wasn’t in the best headspace. I wasn’t eating or sleeping. Everybody kept coming around to baby me, but I didn’t want that. I wanted you. I wanted to feel some semblance of normalcy. That’s when Dave started to come around. It’d be small visits initially. Just him coming to sit and keep me company, but then he’d help me go outside. It felt good to feel like a person again. But then something shifted…” You trail off before looking at Michael again. 

He nods for you to continue. “I noticed that he started to act differently around me. More affectionate. I brushed it off initially. I didn’t want to see it that way. But then he came over one night, and we were drinking and talking about all of our favorite memories with you. Then….he just kissed me. I won’t lie to you, I kissed him back, but it was only for a second, and I pushed him away. He started going on and on about how he’s loved me for a long time, and he wants to make it work, but I told him that I didn’t see him in that way. I wasn’t going to leave you because a part of me still hoped that you were out there alive. I had been avoiding him for a while after that. That day that you came home, he was supposed to come over, so that I could tell him that I didn’t want to hang out anymore. I wanted to make it clear that I wasn’t able to break my vows to you. I promise that’s all that happened.” 

Michael ponders your words, and he can see the worry on your body. He stares into your eyes and nods his head. He knows that you’re telling the truth. You had never been a great liar. His lips find yours, and he deepens the kiss, “I believe you.”

___________________________

October 31st, 2025 (2 weeks later, Present Day)

You and Michael put the Dave situation behind you. None of that matters because you love each other.

However, you start to notice more things about Michael. Weird behaviors. How you’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him staring into the sky. His appetite seemed bigger than usual. Even his craving for sex with you seemed to increase. 

You would even catch him moving funny at times. Like he was trying to adjust to being in his body and moving the limbs. You never brought any of this to his attention, but you noted it down silently. 

You looked at the calendar, “Kari, don’t forget you’re scheduled for your physical exams and blood work with Dr. Bailey.” 

Before Michael could come back, his superiors had requested that he submit labs showing that he was in peak health. A few days after Michael’s appointment, you were standing in the kitchen eating a piece of toast when your phone started to ring. 

You saw Dr. Bailey’s name on the phone and answered, “Hi, Dr. Bailey. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Mrs. Jordan, I was trying to get in contact with your husband, but I couldn’t reach his cell. This is about his lab report.” Dr. Bailey states, and you can hear the wavering in her voice. 

“Is everything okay?” You question, leaning forward. 

“Yes, ma’am, just a few abnormalities that we want to follow up on.” She replies. You can tell that she’s intentionally keeping her answers vague with you. 

“Well..okay, I’ll have Michael call you back.” You say before hanging up the phone.

Soon, Michael enters the kitchen and places a kiss on your head. He takes a bite out of the toast that you’re eating. “Who were you on the phone with?” 

“Dr. Bailey. She said that she tried to call you. Something about some abnormalities with your lab reports. I told her that I’d tell you to give her a call back.” Michael hums before moving to grab fruit. You watch closely as he picks up a piece of watermelon and plops it into his mouth. You freeze and wait for a reaction–only for nothing to happen.

Michael’s been allergic to watermelon since he was a kid. Deathly allergic. So how is it possible for him to be eating watermelon now?

______________________________

November 16th, 2025 (Present Day)

You’re staring at the news in shock. 

Dr. Bailey is dead. Dead in a freak fire accident. That’s what the news is calling it.  Michael passes by as you’re watching the news. You stare back at him in shock, “Baby, did you see this?” He looks up at the TV and frowns, “No, this is the first time that I’m hearing anything. This is crazy.”

You side-eye him at how casually he says it. Like, there’s not a trace of empathy inside his body.

Later in the day, you’re moving around in your bedroom and cleaning. You’re vacuuming the rug, and when you’re finished, you move to unplug it from the wall. You stop when you feel one of the wood panels lifted beneath your feet. You frown and lean down to examine it. When you press your fingers on the panel, it shifts beneath your touch. You dig one of your nails into the panel and find that it lifts fairly easily.

Inside the hole in the floor, there’s a manila envelope and a small box. You grab both items in your hands. You open the manila envelope first. Inside, there are lab reports with Michael’s name at the top. All of the information seems normal at first, but when you get to the notes section, you frown. 

‘PT’s vitals all appear normal. PT’s blood and hemoglobin appear to show abnormalities.’

You place down the folder and go to open the small box. Inside the box, there are small blood vials labeled with Michael’s name and birth date. The blood inside the vial appears normal, but when you move it closer to your gaze, the blood inside jumps.

You let out a yelp and drop the vial, which collapses on the floor and shatters. 

“You weren’t supposed to find that,” A voice announces. 

You look up in horror as Michael enters the room. He stares at the scene in front of him. The manila folder, the splattered blood, you. You almost faint when he reaches his hand out, and the blood on the floor suddenly travels in his direction. The liquid makes its way across the floor and slithers up Michael’s leg before traveling to his arm. Michael slides a nail across his skin, and the blood enters the wound. 

The entire room is ringing for you. Michael steps closer, and you move back quickly. He continues to cross the room, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

Tears sting in your eyes, “You aren’t my husband, are you?” 

Michael’s brows furrow, “Of course I am.”

“No. You’re not him. What are you?” You question, tears finally rushing down your face. 

Michael keeps his firm eye contact with you, “I just am. It’s hard to explain. But I’ll be completely transparent with you. I am your husband, but I’m also not. Your husband and his crew did make it to their assigned destination, but their ship was damaged in the process. Half of his crew died upon impact. I found him and one last survivor on the brink of death on my planet.” 

More tears flow down your face at the thought of Michael alone and dying. You sink into the floor, and Michael kneels in front of you. “I tried my best to nurse him back to health, but there wasn’t much that I could do. I…I liked your husband. I could tell that he was a brave and honest man. He talked about you the entire time. You were on his mind in his final moments. He was the only one out of himself who fought to live and get back. I found it to be very noble that he wanted to get back to you.”

Soft sobs rake through your body, “Where’s his body?” 

“Still on my planet. I gave him a proper burial.” Michael answers. 

“But why are you here?” You question, still trying to wrap your mind around it all. 

“Because you needed me. Sergeant Jordan stated that he wished that he could come back home to you. He didn’t want you to have to live without him.”

Your sobs intensify, and Michael’s expression softens. “I’m sorry for upsetting you with this information. But I felt it was obligatory to uphold Sergeant Jordan’s wishes. I do admit that a part of me was curious about you. The way that he spoke about you. The love. The devotion. I wanted to see it for myself. On my planet, we’ve yet to experience such sensations as you all do.”

You stare at its face. How is it possible for this thing to look like your husband? 

“How do you look like him?” You ask, hands trailing across his face.

Michael leans into your touch, “I spent an adequate amount of time collecting samples of Sergeant Jordan’s DNA to replicate myself in his image perfectly. It’s what your people would call assimilation. Obviously, there were slight defects that I couldn’t have depicted, such as the allergies. You saw me eat it and didn’t have a reaction. My species doesn’t allow me to assume any of your sicknesses or genetic defects, such as allergies.”

You think back to the first night when he came home. “Is that why you had that seizure when you got here?”

The Thing nods. “Yes. This form had not yet been regulated to your planet’s atmosphere or oxygen levels. Similarly, when you fed me, my form’s organs had not yet acclimated to your food. We eat differently on my planet.” 

You move back to place distance between yourself and the Thing. “You keep saying your form. How do you actually look?” 

The Thing shakes its head at you. “I can’t reveal that to you. Your mind isn’t ready to fully comprehend what I actually look like. If I were to show you, it could drive you mad.”

You can feel your mind racing to conjure up any image of what it could actually look like. Was he some sort of blobby tentacle monster? Was he the classic alien that the media loved to use? 

The Thing steps forward, and your fearful eyes meet his again. One of his hands goes to your waist while the other stops on your face. You can’t help the fact that your body naturally melts into yours. It looks like your husband. It smells like your husband. It feels like your husband.

“I can see the conflict on your face, but I can assure you that I mean you no harm. I love you. I know it may not seem like it, but I’m still your husband. Every part of me is him. Every memory that I have of his life and you is him. This doesn’t have to change. We don’t have to change. I’ll still take care of and love you just as he did. I just want to make you happy. But if you don’t want me here, then I understand. I’ll leave, and you’ll never see me again.”

Something feels tight in your chest at the thought of not seeing him again. Not seeing your husband again after you just got him back. Your eyes meet Michael’s again. You can see the desperation and devotion written on his face. 

“Stay.” You say softly. 

Truthfully, you weren’t ready to lose your husband again. You wouldn’t survive it. But this was your chance to be happy.

You wouldn’t lose him again.

End.

[aretasreads]

— young ryan coogler's advice on going to film school

[nayys-world]

OOOO LAWD THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE 🤤, THAT JAW, THE WAY IT LOOKED LIKE A TONGUE KISS HE NAAASSTY WIT IT👅🤣💀

[aretasreads]

Smoke and Annie — Art by Howie Noel

[mythicalpuss]

[aftertheacidrain]

fuck i love not being a mother

[aretasreads]

mama donna is over the moon!🥹

[aretasreads]

Michael B. Jordan — Best Actor❤️

made by ＠justralphy

[tina-snow]

the guitar braided into his hair

[tina-snow]

treble clef hair done by ty b