#drop in anchor bolt

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

FIXDEX & GOODFIX technical department explains new energy technology

[kaizenmetals]

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[luvvictoria]

Flustered Confession

+ pairings. konig x f!reader

+ tags. romance, he's just shy bro ( he's not )

+ summary. he crushed on your for AGES and conffesed to you on valentine's day

K��nig had been crushing on you for what felt like forever.

It was ridiculous, really. He was a soldier—a damn good one. He had faced the worst the world had to offer, survived things that would break lesser men, walked through fire and gunfire without so much as flinching. But now? Standing in front of your door on Valentine’s Day, gripping a bouquet of flowers like a lifeline, his palms sweating beneath his gloves?

Scheiße.

His pulse pounded in his ears, loud enough that he swore you could hear it through the door. The bouquet—roses, of course, because he had read somewhere that they were romantic—felt too small in his giant hands. The chocolates, wrapped neatly in red foil, suddenly seemed childish. Stupid. Why had he picked these? He had spent hours at the store, agonizing over every detail, wanting everything to be perfect, only to now feel like a fool standing outside your room like some lovesick schoolboy.

His mind raced.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he should leave the gifts at your door and disappear before you saw him. Maybe—

The door creaked open before he could act on that thought.

His breath caught.

You stood there, hair slightly tousled, soft warmth in your eyes as you blinked up at him. The hallway light cast a gentle glow on your face, catching the curve of your lips as they parted in surprise. You weren’t dressed up, weren’t expecting anything, and yet König thought you were the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

"König?"

Your voice was laced with curiosity, the way you said his name making something in his chest ache.

Gott help him, he nearly dropped everything right then and there. His fingers curled tightly around the gifts, his knuckles going white as he fought the urge to bolt.

Your gaze flickered down, taking in the bouquet in one hand, the chocolates in the other.

His entire body locked up, muscles going rigid like a deer caught in headlights. His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out all rational thought as his gloved hands shoved the small box toward you in a clumsy motion.

“I… I wanted to do something nice for you,” he stammered, his voice thick with nerves, deep but unsteady.

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you accepted the gifts, your fingers brushing against his in the process. The brief contact sent a shiver up his spine, and he had to fight the urge to curl his hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

"This is so sweet, Colonel," you murmured, cradling the bouquet like something precious. "You didn’t have to—"

He let out a deep, shaky breath, eyes darting between your face and the ground. His thoughts were a whirlwind—chaotic, unfiltered. He was too much. Too large, too clumsy, too overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment.

He should have planned this better. Should have rehearsed what to say. Should have prepared himself for how devastatingly beautiful you looked bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, your expression tender, your lips parted just slightly as if waiting for him to speak.

But then—

Then you reached up, cupping his jaw with delicate fingers, your touch featherlight, yet it sent shockwaves through him.

Everything inside him melted.

König sucked in a sharp breath, his entire frame going rigid before his instincts took over, his hands snapping to your waist. You were so close now—closer than he had ever allowed himself to imagine. Your warmth seeped through the thick material of his gloves, anchoring him in place, making his already racing heartbeat skyrocket.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” you teased, your voice dipped in affection, in something dangerously soft.

Before he could react, you tilted your head, pressing a delicate kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, something between a groan and a whimper. Gott. You had no idea what you were doing to him. His fingers twitched against your hips, his grip tightening just a fraction as heat coiled low in his stomach.

He should pull away. He should take a breath. He should—

No. Not this time.

Before he could talk himself out of it, before his nerves could creep back in and ruin everything, he finally gathered the courage to move.

One of his hands slid up, cupping the back of your neck with a mix of hesitation and urgency, his fingers splaying wide as if he were afraid you might disappear. His breaths came in ragged puffs against your skin, and for the briefest second, he hesitated, heart hammering in anticipation.

Then, finally, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was desperate—months, years—of bottled-up longing finally spilling over, breaking free like a dam that had been straining under too much pressure. His lips molded against yours with fervent need, a collision of heat and hunger, claiming, pleading, worshiping.

His fingers flexed against the small of your back before sliding up, tracing the curve of your spine as if memorizing the shape of you. With a firm pull, he crushed you against his chest, a low, needy growl rumbling deep in his chest when you responded with just as much urgency. The sound vibrated against your skin, primal and raw, sending a shiver coursing through you.

Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his hood, grasping at the material as you tugged slightly—not enough to remove it, but enough to make him shudder. His breath hitched, and his grip tightened, as if grounding himself. Gott, he wanted more. Needed more. The feeling of you, the taste of you, the way your body fit against his—it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and yet, not nearly enough.

His lips parted from yours only to trail downward, ghosting along the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear. His breath was ragged, fevered, each exhale sending warmth across your skin.

“König,” you whispered, voice breathless, almost pleading.

He groaned softly at the sound, at the way his name rolled off your tongue like a prayer. His forehead pressed against yours as he tried to steady himself, to breathe, but it was impossible with you so close, your scent surrounding him, your warmth seeping into his very bones.

The world around you blurred into nothing, fading into insignificance. It was just you and him, caught in a moment that had been waiting to happen for far too long.

“I—” König started, only to stop himself, his voice faltering. His mind raced, emotions too thick, too tangled for him to put into words. He swallowed hard, his grip on you tightening as he forced himself to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Ich liebe dich…" He exhaled shakily before translating, "I love you."

Silence stretched between you for a beat, thick with something unspoken, something heavy.

Then, your lips curved into a slow, radiant smile, so full of warmth it knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Took you long enough,” you murmured, amusement flickering in your gaze, but there was nothing teasing in the way you looked at him—only affection, only understanding.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, and before you could say anything else, he scooped you into his arms with effortless strength. A surprised laugh escaped you, but you didn’t protest, instead wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you against him, as if you weighed nothing.

König buried his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, reveling in the scent of you, the way you clung to him like you belonged there.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with quiet possession—not a demand, not a question, but a promise. His lips brushed against your skin, leaving a lingering kiss just below your ear. “And I’ll spend forever making sure you know it.”

The words sent a delicious shiver through you, your fingers threading into his hair, gripping, grounding yourself against the sheer intensity of the moment.

And when he kissed you again, it was deeper this time—lingering, reverent. There was no urgency now, no rush. Only devotion, slow and inescapable, as if he were memorizing every second, as if he had all the time in the world.

Because now, with you in his arms, he finally did.

[cheynovak]

Gravity Always Wins

Dean winchester x Y/N female friend

Summar: Y/N comforts Dean when he got aggressively emotional.

Warnings: None described, part from obvious trauma Dean went through

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Reblogs/comments and likes are appreciated

The atmosphere in the bunker was suffocating. Failure tasted bitter in everyone's mouths, and the weight of their repeated attempts to end God loomed over them like a storm cloud.

Dean’s frustration boiled over as he stood in the middle of the war room, his breathing ragged. The empty bottle of whiskey in front of him wasn't enough to dull the rage coursing through him. With a roar, he grabbed the table lamp and sent it crashing to the floor. Papers fluttered and scattered as his hand swept across the table, followed by the metallic clang of a chair crashing against the wall.

Sam and Cas stood frozen, their faces caught somewhere between concern and helplessness. They both exchanged a brief glance, neither sure how to proceed.

But Y/N had seen Dean in his dark places before.

She stepped forward, her boots clicking softly on the floor. Her instincts told her to tread carefully. He stood stiff and silent, his hands gripping the back of his head, shoving his fingers into his short, messy hair.

"Dean," Y/N started softly, her voice gentle but steady. There was no response. His whole body seemed locked in an invisible cage, wound too tight to move.

She stopped a step behind him, her hand hovering above his shoulder. She needed permission—some kind of sign it was okay to touch him. When it didn’t come, she rested her fingers softly on his shoulder anyway. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shake her off, didn’t even breathe differently.

Taking a breath, Y/N moved, her hand trailing lightly over his shoulder as she circled to face him. His eyes were screwed shut, and his chest heaved with uneven breaths. His hands were still locked high above his head, fingers tangled in frustration.

She placed her hand gently on his chest, then slid it around to his back, pulling him closer. Her other hand wrapped around his waist in a full embrace, anchoring him even though he didn’t lean in. Her grip tightened. She whispered words she hoped would break through his self-imposed prison.

"It's okay. I got you. It's okay."

The words hung in the air. For a moment, she thought he might bolt—tense as a drawn bowstring, wound up as tight as she’d ever seen.

And then the tension broke.

Dean collapsed like a dam giving way, his knees buckling as he melted into her arms. His body shuddered against hers, and she followed him to the floor, holding onto him as they went. His head dropped to her shoulder, and the raw sound of his sobs filled the room.

She tightened her hold, one hand slowly rubbing his back, the other cradling his head. "It’s okay," she whispered over and over. "I’ve got you."

Dean clung to her like she was the only solid thing in his world. She could feel his anguish, feel his heartbreak as he let everything out in those desperate, heavy cries. Tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care.

Sam and Cas stood frozen, unsure if they should interrupt the moment or leave quietly. Cas tilted his head, studying the scene as if committing it to memory, while Sam took a small step backward.

“Let’s give them a minute,” Sam murmured to Cas, tugging at the angel's sleeve. Reluctantly, Cas followed Sam into the hall, leaving the two friends alone in the war room.

Y/N continued holding Dean until the shaking stopped and his breathing slowed. He didn’t move from her embrace, but she felt the tension slowly leave his body.

When he finally pulled back, his face was red and puffy, but his eyes were softer now, less haunted. “Sorry,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said firmly, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “You don’t have to carry all this alone.”

Dean let out a shaky breath and gave a small, tired nod. She could still see the weight in his eyes, but for now, at least, he wasn’t carrying it all by himself.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Anytime,” she replied, offering a small, reassuring smile.

And in that moment, Dean Winchester wasn’t a soldier or a hunter or humanity’s savior. He was simply her best friend, leaning on her as she held him together, piece by piece.

--

Tags:

@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl

@deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side

@kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303

@shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch

@deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal

@roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf

[meadowfics]

happy birthday

cho sang-woo x f!reader

due to the squid games, you forgot that it is your birthday

warnings: established relationship, age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties), death, s*icide, angst, I do not suggest that minors should read this. I am not responsible for the content you choose to read after clicking, "keep reading"

the games have stretched on for days

you’ve long lost the ability to track time in the games since you did not have a single device with you.

every moment is just filled with a whirlwind of blood, screams, and desperate breaths you are grateful to take.

you haven’t thought about anything beyond surviving, eating only enough to function, sleeping with one eye open.

you haven’t even thought about what day it is, let alone the fact that it’s your birthday.

the person you were before the games feels like a distant, unreachable memory.

sang woo has always been the thinker, and the planner in the relationship.

you relied on his mind to guide you through the chaos that this game brought you.

while you carried out plans, while you ran and fought, he was the one ensuring you both had a chance.

he told you what you needed to do in order to survive each game, and you admired him for it.

now, with just the two of you left, that strength has become a devastating burden.

the man who kept you alive is now the one you must kill

...or be killed by.

the final game takes place in a desolate, open field.

the rain pours relentlessly, soaking you to the bone, making the sand beneath your feet slippery.

it’s too quiet, save for the patter of rain and your own shaky breaths.

you’re standing twenty feet apart, both in the same dark suits, drenched, eyes meeting through the haze of water.

the masked overseers watch silently in the background, unmoving, as if savoring the grim show about to unfold.

everyone there, the guards, the frontman watching.. the knew about the love between the two of you.

that is what made this sight more amusing to them..

“sang woo, i can’t…”

your voice cracks as you stare at him, your hands trembling at your sides.

you’ve already thrown the knife they gave you to the ground. you couldn’t do it.

“please, just do it. i—I can’t hurt you. i won’t.”

sang woo's expression is unreadable at first, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, the rain dripping down his face like tears.

he’s been your anchor through this nightmare, but now, as the end looms, his silence feels like a dagger in your chest.

“please don’t make me do this.”

his voice is low, trembling.

this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard him.

“don’t ask me to kill you. i can’t live with that. i can’t…”

he steps closer, his hand tightening around something at his side. you think it’s the knife.

is he going to kill you?

you drop to your knees, the rain pooling around you.

you scream, sobbing openly now.

“it’s okay! i’ll be okay, sang woo! just do it. take the money. take care of your mom. she needs you!”

your chest heaves, your heart feels like it’s ripping apart.

“i can’t live with myself if i kill you, but you...you’ll be okay! you’re a strong man, love. please…”

“no? you think i can live with myself without you?”

he finally chokes out, his voice raw.

the older man's eyes are glassy, filled with an emotion you’ve never seen from him before.

love. regret. anguish.

when he moves, it’s not towards you.

he pulls the knife and presses it to his throat in one fluid motion.

your stomach drops as realization sets in, but it’s too late.

he’s faster.

“no! sang woo, stop!”

you scream, bolting towards him as he sinks the blade in.

you reach him just as his knees buckle.

his blood gushes out, staining your hands as you cradle him.

“why? why would you do this?”

your voice is shrill, hysterical, as you press your hands against the wound, trying to stop the inevitable.

there is no help here, he is a lost cause.

sang woo reaches up weakly, his bloodied hand brushing against your cheek.

the man's voice is barely a whisper,

“because… i know you’ll take care of her… my mom. you’ll… make sure she’s okay.”

his breath hitches, his eyes fluttering closed, but then they open one last time, locking onto yours with a bittersweet smile.

“happy birthday, by the way. I love you.”

the words shatter you.

of course sang woo would never forget his favorite day of the year

even in this hellhole..

you scream his name, shaking him as if you can bring him back.

your lover's blood seeps into the sand below, mingling with the rain, as the weight of his sacrifice crashes down on you.

you can’t stop crying, holding his lifeless body, feeling the warmth of him slip away.

the games end. you are declared the winner.

the frontman teases that you are the first woman to have ever won, and the first person to win on their birthday..

45.6 billion won is yours, but it feels hollow, meaningless.

you didn't want any of this money no more.

every time you close your eyes, you see sang woo’s face, hear his voice, feel his blood on your hands.

an hour after the guards threw you back out in the streets of seoul.. you look at your phone.

you see the date: your birthday.

the day you should have been celebrating is now the day you’ll mourn for the rest of your life.

you won, but at what cost?

the weight of your soulmates sacrifice will haunt you forever.

masterlist

[lacydollette]

⋆˙⟡ BLESSING IN DISGUISE ⋆˙⟡

CHAPTER THREE

PAIRING lovely kook!reader x jj maybank

SUMMARY your and jj’s favorite thing to do is tease eachother, never missing an opportunity to mess with the other. he is just so unbelievably charming and desirable that you gladly take every chance you get to be close to him, even if it is just bickering with him and he knows that.

WARNING(S) slightly suggestive, fluffy, jj and reader being annoyingly cute with each other, some not so innocent touching, jj being a flirt, kissing, barry

Your laugh echoed like a melody and your silky hair was catching the sunlight as you darted around John B’s chateau, JJ hot on your heels. “y/n! you can’t run forever!” JJ called, his voice laced with mischief. His sandy blonde hair was a tangled mess, and his crooked grin only grew wider as he gained on you. “Stop! JJ, I mean it!” You shrieked between laughs, your heart pounding with excitement and a little anxiety. You glanced back over your shoulder, smirking. “You’re insane!”

“Yeah, insane for you, princess!” JJ shot back, doubling his speed. The other Pogues were scattered around the chateau. John B was busy messing with the HMS Pogue’s engine, Pope and Kie were prepping some snacks, and Sarah lounged on the nearby hammock, watching the chaos unfold with amused eyes.

“You two are exhausting,” Sarah called lazily, shielding her eyes from the sun. You bolted toward the water, feet kicking up sand. But so was JJ, his footsteps coming closer and closer. “don’t you dare—” you warned, but before you could finish, he was on you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground as you squealed.

“Gotcha!” JJ teased, his voice buzzing with excitement. You squirmed in his grip, half laughing, half furious. His lips barely brushed against the back of your neck, yet you felt goosebumps all over your body, his closeness alone leaving you breathless.

“Let me go!” You demanded, trying to wiggle free, but JJ just adjusted his hold, walking you toward the water like it was his life’s mission. “C’mon, y/n. Don’t be such a kook about it,” he teased, shooting you a smirk that you definitely didn’t find charming. nope. not even a little.

“JJ Maybank, you better not!” you threatened, voice sharp despite your giggles. “I’m serious!” But JJ, being JJ, didn’t care. He stepped onto the dock, the cool water splashing up his calves. You shrieked again, kicking wildly as you tried to free yourself. And before you could argue, he let go, the water splashing in all directions as you plunged in, screams cut short by the force, while JJ stood there, hands on his hips, feeling victorious.

“See? Not so bad!” he said smugly, grinning down at the spot where you’d gone under. You cursed him in your head, but what he could do, you could definitely do better. Holding your breath for as long as humanly possible you stayed under the water, muffled voices reaching you. And when a few more seconds passed and you didn’t resurface, JJ’s grin started to fade.

“y/n?” he called, leaning over to peer into the water. The waves rippled, but there was no sign of you. “Okay, stop messing around. This isn’t funny.” Another moment passed. JJ’s heart dropped like an anchor. His mind raced, panic swallowing his earlier confidence.

“y/n!” he yelled, fear in his voice. “I’m serious, where are you?!” He didn’t wait for an answer. He dove in, his arms slicing through the water as he searched. But just as his hand brushed through empty water, you surfaced silently behind JJ, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a firm push on his shoulder, you sent him stumbling forward in the water.

"Payback’s a bitch!" You teased, laughing as you wiped the water from your face. JJ whirled around, his jaw clenched. “What the fuck? I seriously thought you-" His words faltered the moment his eyes caught on you. Well, more your tits.

The water had soaked your white shirt completely, and now the dark blue lace of your bra peeked through, clinging to your skin and giving JJ a clear view. His face flushed, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. You noticed immediately. Oh, he was so easy to read. Smirking, you leaned a little closer, loving the way his blue eyes darted nervously from your face to anywhere else but your tits. The cocky, wild JJ, suddenly at a loss for words because of you.

"Eyes up here, cowboy," you said, voice sweet as honey, reaching out to grab his chin and tilt his face back up to meet yours. His jaw tightened under your fingers, but he didn't pull away. Your eyes locked. It was just you and him.

Your smirk softened into something more serious. You didn't plan on liking him this much, but JJ had a way of getting under your skin like no one had for a while. So without a second thought, you grabbed his face with both hands and pressed your lips to his.

JJ froze for the briefest moment, caught off guard, before he melted into your kiss like he'd been waiting for this all day. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, the heat between you two undeniable.

Your fingers tangled in his wet hair, tugging slightly just to feel him groan against your lips, while JJ’s hands wandered down to the curve of your back and then falling onto your ass, squeezing slightly and making you gasp. He kissed you like he had something to prove, it’s been way too long since he got to taste you and now he really couldn't get enough of you. You didn't want to admit it, but neither could you. This boy was driving you crazy.

Your heart raced as you let yourself lean into him, chest pressed against his. For a second, you felt completely lost in him—his touch, his taste, the way he whispered your name against your lips like it was the only thing that mattered. If it wasn’t for the sake of the others you’d keep going, hell maybe you would even go as far as letting him fu—no, enough.

Breaking the kiss, you pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against his. Your breath hitched as your hands slid down his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of JJ’s breathing.

“You’re really something else, y/n.” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips, making you smile.

Soon the sun had dipped low, leaving behind a beautiful orange sky, feeling the breeze on your damp hair as you rode toward your house with your blue bike, a quiet smile on your lips. JJ still lingered in your thoughts, the way his lips felt on yours, his laugh, his stupid grin. But you shook it off.

Focus, y/n. Dinner, parents, keep it cool.

The Cut was quiet at this hour, the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional bark of a dog the only sounds heard. But as you rounded a familiar corner, you slammed on your brakes, skidding slightly on the dirt road. There he was.

“Barry?” You said, surprised. You hadn’t seen him in over a year—not since you’d gone MIA, leaving behind your reckless, wilder days. But here he was, leaning casually against his motorbike, his dark eyes lighting up when they landed on you.

“Holy sh—y/n?” Barry straightened up, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Well, damn. I thought I’d seen a ghost.” You smirked, hopping off your bike and resting it against your hip. “What, you think I was gone for good? Not a chance.”

Barry took a step closer, his rough edges softened by the genuine surprise in his voice. “You look… different,” he said, tilting his head as if trying to figure out what had changed. Your smile turned sly as you leaned in slightly, flashing your teeth. “You mean these?” You asked, pointing at the tiny sparkling gems now adorning your teeth.

Barry’s jaw dropped slightly before he let out a low whistle. “Oh, come on now. What’s this?” He reached out, his thumb brushing your chin as he tilted your face up for a better look. You didn’t flinch though—you and Barry had always been like this, all playful touches and jokingly flirting with each other. “You like them?” you asked.

He chuckled, showing off his old golden tooth as he flashed you a grin. “You kidding? We twinnin’ now.” You laughed, swatting his hand away gently. “You wish. But thanks. You’ve got good taste—guess I rubbed off on you.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jorts, still shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him. “Man, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long. Where you been, huh? Forget about us down here?”

“Never, but..” you started, biting down on your lip in nervousness. “Things just got… bad. You know how it is.” Barry nodded, his expression shifting to something softer. “Yeah, I get it. But you’re back now.” He smiled, “Tell you what, why don’t you come by tomorrow night? Me and some of the guys—just like old times.”

You hesitated, shifting your weight on your bike. Were you really ready to come face to face with the ghosts of your past? “Sounds fun, but I’ve got plans. Midsummer thing at Figure Eight. You know, kook duties.”

Barry smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right, of course.” But there was no bitterness in his tone, only a hint of teasing. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Just don’t forget us little people while you’re out there, sweet thang” You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “I’ll call you.”

“You better,” Barry said, his grin as sharp as ever. With that, you pushed off on your bike, pedaling away, but not without one last glance over your shoulder. Barry watched you go, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Still the same troublemaker.”

LINKS .ᐟ series masterlist

TAGS .ᐟ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafesweetie @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @dolcekissy @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @cosmicanakin

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten.

Part Seven

Present Day:

“Drop the sheet, Davis,” he demanded. “Drop it right now.”

Emoni gaped at him. “W-what? Erik—”

Erik reached forward and yanked the sheet from her grip anyway, baring her to the world once more. Then, before she could bolt and find something else to hide behind, he took hold of her shoulders in a firm grip and forced her to stay put.

“Erik, let go of me! I’ll kick you in your balls! I’m serious!” she threatened in a high voice, attempting to yank free. Emoni dug her fingernails into his forearms, embarrassed by the way he was simply staring at her. "Let go!"

“Be still,” he countered. “Stop! Just…stop fighting me, please.”

Maybe it was the 'please' that did it, since Emoni knew Erik would rather tear out his own toenails than plead for anything. Unsure what he was after or how far to trust him, but concerned by how grave he suddenly appeared, she reluctantly did as requested and stopped struggling. She watched him instead, looking for clues as to what might be the matter, but his face gave nothing away.

He didn't move, didn't even seem to breathe. He just stared at her naked breasts in complete silence. Emoni felt an instant shiver down her spine from his penetrating eyes and slow, even breaths. She could feel her nipples hardening with anticipation.

“What is it?” she asked after a while, her insatiable curiosity needing to be eased before she popped from the suspense.

What was wrong? What did he see that she didn't?

Finally, he said, “I bit you.” He released her shoulders and lightly feathered over the bite mark upon her left breast. “Right here.”

The light caress made her body instantly react. Her heart started pounding, and she went tight from head to toe with a sudden, throbbing sexual need. A small moan escaped her lips.

Erik froze, finger still on her nipple, and she could feel his body shudder in answer. Cursing under his breath, he glanced up at her.

“I didn't just fuck you. I bit you. And not just here,” his fingers ghosted between the valley of her perky, upturned breasts to her abdomen, “And here…and here…I was rough with you…do they hurt?”

“I-I don’t feel pain…Erik, are you okay?” she asked, voice breathy, body tingling and trembling. Between her legs, she could feel the trickle of her arousal as it flowed through her bare lower lips, preparing her body for him.

Erik’s nostrils flared as he inhaled and smelled her arousal. A rumble of pleasure rolled through his chest. He closed his eyes, clearly struggling to maintain some control. “ I’ve Done it. Crossed a line...”

Emoni knew exactly where his mind was taking him. He’d thought his actions last night weren’t consensual.

“Erik, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure this was on a mutual basis. I—don’t go blaming yourself for our lack of memory. I’m sure it’ll come to us soon enough.”

“…This just…it feels off. Not what happened between us…because I’ve always wanted that to happen…it’s just the gaps in memory…”

“That's what I've been saying,” she said, practically panting now as her body went slick with desire. “Things are s–strange.”

“Emoni…” He breathed a greedy sigh and the hold he suddenly took on her right wrist to anchor him tightened just the tiniest bit. “Fuck, you smell wonderful,” he sighed. “I want–” His lips clamped into a tight line and he shook his head. “I want…”

When he opened his eyes, they burned with a dark, fiery lust.

He leaned towards her, his mouth tilting to catch hers. As his lips parted, Emoni caught the glimpse of his teeth. The gold slugs against white teeth.

The thought was instantly lost, however, when his mouth careened into hers. Erik claimed her with a languid, deep kiss, and the hand at her breast cupped her supple flesh, kneading it. His fingers gave her nipple a little series of pinches guaranteed to make her ache for more. Spine bowing in response, she arched her back, offering more of herself up to his touch.

Dizzy with sudden need to feel him between her thighs, Emoni manoeuvered them over towards the top of the bed, plundering Erik’s mouth with her tongue, licking every crevice and claiming ownership of it.

He groaned in response, allowing her to take him where she willed.

They made it to the pillows, and she reached up to fist his hair in her hands to pull him down on top of her as she laid back into it. Pressing her into the mattress with his greater weight, Erik nudged her legs open, insistent that they part to make room for him. His hands were everywhere on her, searching, finding, exploiting every sensitive spot, and then fingers were in her, spreading her open once more for him.

Emoni winced with the twinge of discomfort that came from her swollen, hot body being stretched open once again. The night's activities had left her sore and a little achy. In tune with her on a level she couldn't mentally comprehend, but still felt deep inside her heart, Erik sensed her body's tenderness and slowed, gentling his hand's movements. His fingers leisurely eased in and out of her as his thumb lightly brushed over her soft, delicate clit instead, sending electricity arcing up her spine.

Without words, he bent his head to press adoring, lazy kisses upon her throat, then lower, at her breast. As his lips brushed over the bite mark he'd given her the night before, a rush of magic passed between them, filling Emoni with its sweet, quickening pleasure. Her heart slowed in her chest and her body loosened, surrendering to him.

He was so gentle with her, so...loving.

“Erik,” Emoni shut her eyes tightly, unable to gaze into his own that was so intense.

Erik nibbled on her jaw, pressed his plump lips against the pulse in her neck, all while fingering her to a creamy mess. It was so obscene how loud her pussy is. Her face grew hot with bashfulness all while trying to fight back loud moans.

“No need to fight it, pretty girl. I see what you wanna do. Give it to me…I’m in this pussy and I can feel you gripping…this tight, wet pussy…”

Emoni pressed her face into Erik’s chest and she moaned unabashedly.

“There you go…good girl…I want you to make the biggest mess on my fingers…it’ll make it easier for me to fit all this big dick in you, Princess…”

“Oh, my god…”

Emoni’s thighs closed around Erik’s waist tightly. The sensation of release crept over her body sending shockwaves through her. Emoni arched her back, incoherent noises spewing from her pretty lips while she leaked all over Erik’s thick fingers.

“That’s what I like, baby…” Erik peppered soft kisses along Emoni’s sweaty temple, “Nice and slick for daddy to slide in…”

Emoni couldn’t believe she was doing this with Erik. Although she’d dreamt of it many times, to actually be in bed with him, skin-to-skin, she couldn’t put into words how thrilled and scared she was at the same time.

Erik lifted to look down at her. Emoni mustered the courage to gaze into his beautiful eyes. She watched as Erik brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking all her juices off with languid strokes of his tongue.

“Are you okay?” Erik questioned with a deep whisper.

Emoni slowly nodded her head, hyper aware of her hard nipples and quivering pussy. She wanted more. Erik knew it from the lusty look in her eyes.

“Emoni—”

“Please fuck me, stop talking.” Emoni quipped.

Erik paused, a sly smirk painting his lush lips.

Erik kept his eyes on her, positioning himself above her and Emoni’s eyes danced down to his third leg. Erik pointed his wide tip at her entrance and Emoni adjusted her hips so he could slide right in. Their eyes connected again and Emoni wasn’t prepared for the the long, slow glide of his big dick. The thick heft of him tenderly stretched her open, and her body adapted, easily accepting all of him. She held onto his shoulders as he lay over her, spreading her knees as far apart as they could go and welcoming him inside her.

When he was seated to the hilt, he paused, shaky and panting against her throat. His mouth lifted to her ear. “My Emoni,” he softly growled, laying claim to not just her body, but her soul, too.

“God, Erik,” she gasped in pleasure and wrapped her arms tightly around him, burying her nose in his throat as he began moving.

And as he began, something shifted between them.

Like a freight train, the recollection of the previous night hit them full force.

——

The Night Forgotten:

“Let’s get married. No stress, no family pressure. Real and authentic.”

Emoni looked over at Erik with upmost shock. He didn’t tell her where they were going exactly. But the vision of A Little White Chapel told her all she needed to know.

“Stop playing,” Emoni playfully shoved Erik although he didn’t budge, “Ha–ha–ha. Very funny, Stevens.”

Erik caught her hand in his and something shifted between them when he touched her. Emoni froze. Their eyes held on a little longer because realization kicked in.

“Erik…you’re serious?”

“Dead serious. As serious as I can be. I…”

Erik glanced at the chapel with nervous anticipation. Emoni didn’t look away from him for a second. This night was full of surprises, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens-Udaku proposing to her was not on her bingo card.

“It’s the drinks. You’re drunk,” Emoni shook her head, “Let’s go—”

“I may be a little under the influence, but I mean what I say, Emoni. Will you marry me? Right here. Right now.”

Emoni scrunched her face up with disbelief. She wanted to slap him in his pretty face.

“What kind of proposal is this?!!! You don’t even have a ring!”

Erik glanced down at his lap. He started bouncing his leg anxiously. Emoni exhaled and she placed her hand on Erik’s knee.

“Hey…listen. I’m sorry. But…you want to marry me? Do you hear what you’re asking me right now? You could have any woman in the world. Hell, you have one waiting for you in Wakanda—”

“I don’t want her. I want you.” Erik replied.

“Erik, this is crazy—”

“Emoni, listen to me. It’s my decision to find a wife. A princess. And I want you to be my wife. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you.”

Emoni watched as Erik turned away from her, hiding his face. She didn’t know what to do as she stared at the back of his head.

“I want you to be my wife. I’m serious, Emoni. I’ll give you the fairytale wedding of your dreams, I promise that. But…I just…I can’t explain it. It just feels so right. All of it…”

Emoni sat back in her seat. She couldn’t deny that it did feel right. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but at that exact moment, she could picture herself walking hand-in-hand inside the chapel to marry Erik. As wild as it may seem, she’d say yes. She knew she would—

“Ask me again.”

Erik slowly looked at Emoni.

“Erik…ask me.”

“…Will you marry me? Emoni Davis?”

“Yes. YES. I’LL MARRY YOU.”

Emoni clamped a hand over her mouth, so shocked by her own words.

“For real?!” Erik needed further clarification.

“YES!!!!” Emoni shouted.

A smile crept up Erik’s face and his cheeks deepened with dimples. Emoni palmed her cheeks, bewildered and surprised. She couldn’t control her shaky breath or the nervous tremors. Erik leaned over and smashed his lips into hers. They kissed in a frenzy, grabbing and squeezing each other desperately. Emoni broke the kiss and cupped Erik’s handsome face. His chest was heaving up and down like he was chasing oxygen.

“We’re really going to do this?”

“As long as you’re okay with it. Yes.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” Emoni smoothed her curls from her face, “Wow…”

“We can turn around and go back to my place. Your call. But just know this,” Erik stroked her chin with his thumb, “I plan on making you my wife and my Princess. If not today, soon. I mean that.”

Emoni knew he meant it.

She exhaled, “Okay…if we’re doing this, no games, Erik. Don’t hurt me. Don’t you ever take my love for granted. Respect me always. If you don’t I swear to God I will castrate you—”

“I’ll never harm you in anyway, Moni. I promise. I put that on my parents grave. I’m dead serious about you. No fucking games. No misleading. I’m speaking from the heart and not because of the alcohol. I want you and you only, girl.”

Emoni stared into his soul. To see Erik Stevens like this…it blew her mind.

“Let’s go get married.”

Emoni smiled with all her teeth and Erik laughed. He rushed out of the car and towards her side. Emoni didn’t wait for him to open the door, she rushed out and grabbed Erik’s hand. They walked towards the chapel, nervous energy radiating from them. Erik held the door opened for her and Emoni stepped inside. It smelled like an old church to her. She fiddled with her handbag while following Erik further inside.

“No ring…we need a ring—my belly ring! Oh shit! I don’t have a ring for you,” Emoni stopped in her tracks, “Erik—”

“Look,” Erik pointed to a vending machine filled with ring pops, “This feels like some shit out of a movie. They have ring pops. One for you and one for me.”

Emoni rushed to open her handbag and she was able to get two quarters. She placed it in the machine and turned to switch. A green and blue ring pop came out and she retrieved it. As they were about to enter, an officiant appeared from a room, startled by their presence. It was a short man with kind eyes and a bald head. He was wearing a cheap brown suit with a red bow-tye.

“Oh! Why hello! I’m Noah. Are you two looking to get married?”

“Y-yes,” Emoni spoke before Erik could, “We are.”

“We want to get married.” Erik responded with a confident smile.

“Great! You’re my second couple tonight. Uh—any rings?”

Emoni and Erik shared a look.

“Well…not quite at the moment…um…”

“We have these,” Erik presented the ring pops, “This was a spur of the moment thing. No access to the real thing. This should be sufficient enough, right?”

“Yes! We can definitely go forward with the ceremony! Any witnesses?”

“None. Just us.” Erik said.

He squeezed Emoni’s hand affectionately.

“Okay! Let’s make it happen then! Follow me!”

They followed Noah into his office. It was a cramped space with lots of photos of previous newly weds. They took a seat at the desk while Noah gathered some paperwork for them. Emoni gripped Erik’s hand tighter and he soothed her with his thumb stroking it. This was all real and not a dream.

“The Little White Wedding Chapel Las Vegas is a popular destination for many couples. From celebrity weddings to spectacular packages, there are many reasons why couples choose this location as their matrimonial spot. The best place in Nevada for a taste of Sin City’s wedding vibe. I highly recommend…”

Noah presented some forums to them to fill out. They each put their personal information down and afterwards, Noah asked them which package they would like for photography.

“Uhh…we can just take pictures from our phones if that’s okay.” Emoni decided.

She took one look at Erik and they both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Very well. We can get started if you’re ready!”

Noah stood to lead the way into the chapel at the podium where they would be wed. Since it was just the two of them, they walked down the aisle hand in hand. All smiles and giggles. They reached the podium and Erik helped her up before he stood before her. Noah cleared his throat to speak.

“Dearly Beloved and Honored, Invisible Guests, We are gathered together here to join Emoni and Erik in the spiritual union of marriage…”

Emoni gave Erik a megawatt smile and he winked at her.

“This contract is not to be entered into lightly but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities. Please remember that love, loyalty, and understanding are the foundations of a happy and enduring home.”

Noah focused his attention on Erik. Emoni released a shaky breath while holding onto Erik’s hands.

“Do you, Erik take this woman, Emoni, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?"

“I do.” Erik said.

Emoni blinked back tears but her smile and laughter remained. This was so crazy and spontaneous. Something she’d never think to do. But it felt so right.

“Do you, Emoni, take this man, Erik, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Emoni replied.

“Erik and Emoni will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and commitment.”

They both fumbled to open the ring pops and Erik almost dropped his but his quick reflexes saved the day. He had the blue ring pop and Emoni the green. Erik placed the ring pop onto Emoni’s finger first. She couldn’t contain her smile and her joyous laugh. Erik’s fingers were too thick so the ring pop only went on over his knuckle. He snorted a laughter. Noah watched the both of them with a content smile.

“By the authority vested in me by American Marriage Ministries and the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Erik swept Emoni off her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips crashed into hers and their tongue’s danced with a sloppy motion. Wet smacking filled the silent space between them, and it became awkward for Noah to stand there and watch. Way too intimate. They were in an intense lip-lock with their heads swiveling.

“Congratulations! You two look great together.”

Erik paused their kissing to look at Noah. Emoni buried her face into his neck.

“Emoni Stevens-Udaku.” Erik said.

“I’M A WIFE!” She yelled.

——

They pulled up to a hidden gem in the middle of the oasis in the desert. It was fitting for a Prince and his Princess. It’s surrounded by water, and secluded enough for privacy. Erik didn’t waste any time parking his car in one of his many garages. He wanted and NEEDED to be with Emoni. The overwhelming feeling within him called him to her. His wife. Erik climbed out of his car and practically ran to her side. Opening the door, he picked her up bridal style, shutting the car door with his foot.

Emoni’s squeals of delight made him smile. He twirled her around in his arms, careful not to trip over the grass in his front yard. He made it to his front entrance and placed Emoni on her feet so he could open the door. His heart was racing within his chest cavity. Erik pushed the door open and grasped Emoni’s small hand, pulling her inside. Emoni pressed forward, her eyes gazing around her in wonder.

“This is beautiful, Erik…”

She looked so beautiful.

“You’re beautiful…”

Erik pressed the front of his body against her back and then he curved his arms around her trim waist. Her rump against his groin sent sparks throughout his body. He was so infatuated with her. So enthralled with her. Obsessed with her. He was so thrilled to finally have her like this.

“I’m so happy you said yes…”

[say it]

“I love you, Moni. I always have…I always will…”

“And I love you, Hubby.”

Emoni turned to stare up at him as they stood within the dimly lit foyer. Her face reminded him of a fairy. Her curly hair mesmerized him. Her intellect drew him.

“Come on,” Erik guided her towards his stairs that led up to his room, “We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to, Mrs. Stevens-Udaku.”

Emoni slithered away from Erik, making her way up his stairs as if she were racing him. Erik gave her a playful look before following her, taking his time so she could have her fun. He had plans to imprint her frame into his luxury bed all fucking night long. She needed the endurance. He made it to the second landing, his eyes following a trail of her clothes. He picked up her dress, then he picked up her Dior heels, and then her handbag.

It wasn’t hard to find her, she was exactly where he wanted her to be. Erik pressed forward into his room, and his eyes lit up with absolute desire at the vision before him. Emoni was standing on his bed in her naked glory, skin glowing radiantly. He’d painted a picture in his mind many times how that frame looked like, but to see it in person…

“Damn…you got a body on you…”

Erik dropped her things on the floor and made his way over towards her.

“You got right down to business, huh?” Erik questioned.

Emoni giggled before climbing down from his bed. She made her way over to him, Erik grunting the closer she got. Emoni smiled up at him through those lashes and the innocence of her eyes didn’t match her actions. She was a true freak. He could tell.

“Why waste time? You need me…and I need you…”

Emoni started unbuttoning Erik’s shirt. He watched her intently, even took note of the little whimpers she made. Emoni smoothed his shirt from his body and then she smoothed her small hands beneath his white beater, lifting it over his sculpted body. Erik helped her remove the rest and he tossed it to the side.

“So sexy…” she whispered.

Erik let her have her fun. The sensation of her lips all over his chest and abs made his dick painfully hard. He knew she was aware of his stiffness because it was pressed against her lower belly. The gasp she released and the way she looked up at him caused Erik to pick her up and wrap her legs around his waist.

“Time to eat this pussy—”

“WAIT—I’m hairy down there—”

“Emoni. I don’t care about hair. I want my mouth on that pussy—”

“Shave me first. I wasn’t expecting you to—to eat me out—”

“Are you serious?” Erik arched a brow at her in disbelief, “You thought I was just gon’ fuck you and not taste what I’m sinking my dick into? All the times I’ve fantasized about making you cum with my mouth?”

Emoni blinked up at Erik in awe.

“Aight, I’ll shave you. But only because you asked. Otherwise, I’m eating it no matter how she look.”

Erik led Emoni into his master bathroom and sat her down on the sink. Emoni watched him open one of his cabinets and he grabbed some shaving cream and a fresh razor. He turned to retrieve a small towel from a shelf and placed it beneath Emoni’s butt.

“Okay…spread your legs…bring your knees to your chest.”

Emoni giggled. Erik shook his head at her silliness.

“You’ve had way too much to drink, pretty girl.” Erik teases.

“I can’t believe you’re about to shave me!”

“Your request, remember?” Erik said with a chuckle.

“I know. This is wild.”

“A night of firsts. A night to remember. Now, relax…”

Erik applied shaving cream carefully and then he turned on the water. After rinsing the razor, he focused on shaving away, staring intently at her pussy lips spread open and covered in foam. The brown hue of her folds against the pink of her flesh had his pipe pressed against his zipper. Emoni looked so edible sitting there on the edge of the sink watching him.

“You’re lucky this shaving cream isn’t edible, otherwise I would be burying my face in it,” Erik said.

“I love how insatiable you are, Stevens.”

Erik finished one side and moved onto the next. Without the hair, he could see vividly how fat her pussy lips are and how her clit poked out. Maybe shaving was a good idea. Now, he can lick, suck, and kiss all over her pussy.

“Almost done,” Erik rinsed the razor before going back in, “After this, I want you to lay on your back for me. I’m serious, Moni. I’m close to drooling right now. It’s best you do what I tell you…”

The warning in his voice made her body tense up. He had to grip her thigh to still her movements. When the last bit of hair was removed, Erik took his time using a wet cloth and light soap to clean her up good. He studied his canvas with ecstasy before dabbing her lips dry. He held Emoni down and he could tell from the look in her eyes she was nervous. Erik tilted her chin up so she could stare at him.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you, Emoni. I promise…”

“I know…It’s just…we’re really about to have sex…”

Erik exhaled slowly, “And it’ll be worth it. For the both of us.”

Emoni smiled at him.

“You ready?”

Erik held his hand out and Emoni placed her hand in his. Erik flicked off the bathroom light and they entered his room, the only light coming from the hall. Emoni climbed onto Erik’s bed and relaxed back against his pillows. She watched Erik take off his pants and his briefs, her eyes widening at the sight of his big dick and hefty balls. She knew he was packing, but to see it in person…

“Wow,” Emoni’s eyes were glued to his heavy dick, “Just…wow…”

“Wow? I got you that speechless?”

Erik got into bed and he was on his knees between her legs. Emoni was mesmerized. She timidly reached out to stroke the protruding veins that decorated his long shaft with her fingertips. The sensation caused his dick to involuntarily jump. That motion caused Emoni to wrap her hand around him. She squeezed slightly, stunned from how bricked up he is.

“I just—it’s so thick…and long—you fuck with all this?”

Erik laughed. Emoni was dead serious.

“Moni…are you scared?”

“No!” Emoni’s eyes were wide, “I can take it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that—”

Emoni had her lips around his tip before he could even finish speaking. Erik’s brows snapped together and he closed his eyes. The feeling of her lips snug around his tip had him lost for words. Erik opened his eyes to look at her, and the sight of her lips on him was a vision he’d begged for.

“My dick is in your mouth….”

He was stunned and happy. FINALLY.

Emoni sucked slow and steady, afraid to go too low and choke. He could sense her resistance. Erik stroked her hair to calm her.

“Don’t force it if you can’t take it all. I’ll train that throat soon enough, baby…you’ll get used to this dick in your mouth in no time.”

Emoni relaxed and sucked what she could, one hand on his shaft, head bobbing, glossy lips stretched over his shaft. This mouthy, sassy girl had his big dick in her mouth. Drooling all over his dick. Erik had to clench his fists to refrain from throat-fucking her.

“You’re such a nasty girl, Moni. You couldn’t wait to put this dick in your mouth.”

She surprised him with her lips on his balls. She put her face all in it and flicked her tongue on the underside of his dick. All while looking gorgeous. He could prematurely ejaculate from that visual alone.

“You love this big dick, huh?”

“Mhm,” Emoni’s expression said it all, “My big dick, Prince…”

Her lips were around him again. Erik couldn’t control his hips thrusting forward to meet her mouth halfway. The glossy look in his eyes and the pout of his lip was evident of his undoing.

“You’re gonna make daddy cum, baby…”

It was best she stopped. The closer he got, the more his dick sank down her throat. Emoni gripped his thighs with her nails digging into his skin. Tears trickled down her cheeks when Erik thrust forward, touching her uvula.

“I told you to suck what you could, now look,” Erik grabbed her by the hair, “I gotta feed you some more…”

“Mm!”

“Fuck!”

Erik cradled Emoni’s head and shot a thick load down her throat. She gulped it down while cleaning him off and it made him cum some more. A bead of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose as he stared down at her with primal desire. Emoni licked her lips as her eyes connected with his.

“I don’t have to ask if you enjoyed it. That was a lot of cum, Erik,” Emoni spoke with a quiver. She was still trying to recover from his dick being in her throat, “And you taste so good.”

Erik didn’t say a words as he lowered between her legs. When Emoni spread her thighs, Erik could see a dribble of her creamy essence just leaking. Before he put his face in it, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and startled sucking. They were too hard for him to ignore.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Erik kissed between her breasts before bringing his lips to her other nipple, “How bad you want it?”

“So bad, daddy,” Emoni clawed his back.

Erik hissed before sinking his teeth into her right nipple. Emoni gasped, the mixture of pleasure and pain so good she couldn’t control the flutter between her legs. Erik did it again to her other breast, enjoying the way she cried out. She clung to him like she wanted to live in his skin. His pulse was deafening in his ears. It felt as if all the blood in his veins rushed to his dick. The hardest he’d ever been. Like a concrete center block.

“Lower…please…”

“Beg better than that, Moni.” Erik teased.

“I’m so wet…I can’t take it…”

“You can take it,” Erik kissed and nibbled his way down her body, “You’ve been such a good girl for me…”

“Yes, I’m your good girl,” Emoni spread her legs wider, “Erik, please.”

it was her anxiousness. She kept rolling her hips towards his face like a sex-crazed woman. Erik had to give her what she wanted. Seeing Emoni so uninhibited and horny like that was breathtaking. Erik gave her what she wanted. He pressed his lips on her clit and kissed all over it before doing the same to her outer lips. Emoni threw her head back and raked her fingers through Erik’s locs.

The taste of her. He could bottle it up. She tasted heavenly. He found himself sucking and licking in tandem. Emoni sat up on her elbows to watch. Those unruly curls and doe eyes with a mouth full of her sweet pussy could make him cum again. The sound of his lips smacking sensually was akin to someone lapping at water. She was so wet. His spit wasn’t even a factor. Erik slurped her up like a famished man. With so much vigor and emotion. Emoni’s stomach almost caved in from the creeping sensation of her orgasm.

“Huhhhh! Oh! Oooo—”

Erik didn’t stop. He refused to stop. It didn’t matter that she was squeezing his head with her thighs. It didn’t matter that she was writhing and begging him to stop. It didn’t matter that she was yanking on his hair. He flicked his flat tongue up and down. Up and down. Back and forth. Back and forth. In a circle.

“Can’t hide this pussy from me,” Erik spoke against her folds.

“ERIK!”

She went to lay on her side and Erik followed. Somehow, she ended up straddling his face. Emoni had a fist full of his locs and she rode his nose, bucking her hips and grinding that fat puss into his mouth. Erik had a handful of her cheeks and he pushed her to keep going. Emoni spread her legs and tugged on Erik’s hair, forcing his head from the bed. Emoni was slow grinding and feeding Erik pussy. The unabashed cries of pleasure from her was beyond words. She was sweaty and filled with so much lust. The opposite of her controlled demeanor.

Erik sucked skillfully and Emoni froze above him with a bounce of her thighs she couldn’t contain. Her arousal mixed with Erik’s spit dripped down his chin and neck.

“Ohhhh g–g–goo–ood–da–daddyeeeeeeeeee!”

Emoni fell forward over his face and Erik allowed her to ride out her intense release. He could feel her sticky fluids on his lips and chin. Erik gently placed Emoni onto her back and he kissed up her body until his lips were on hers again. They shared the taste of her cum and moaned into each other’s mouths. Erik broke the kiss to look at her. Emoni had tears in her eyes. He thumbed her tears away.

“That was amazing,” Emoni spoke through sniffles.

“It was. Exactly what I dreamed of doing to you…now I gotta feel you around me.”

Erik lifted his hips and with one hand he aimed his tip at her drenched folds. Emoni placed her hands on his shoulders and held his gaze. Erik pushed forward and his dick sank inside to the hilt in one motion. Emoni’s eyes widened at how stretched she felt. Her walls were so taunt around his girth. Erik clenched his jaw and fought the urge to paint her walls. He needed to see how his dick looked inside of her. He sat up above her so that they could both watch.

“You fit so perfect around me, baby…”

Erik kissed Emoni while thrusting in and out slowly. He had to stop kissing her to see. It felt so good but the sight of his dick coated with cream set something off inside of him.

“That’s…that’s so good,” Emoni whispered with a tremble in her voice.

“Relax, I gotchu…”

She was shaking. He knew it was his big dick making her do that. He could tell from the way his dick split her open that it was a lot for her.

“Spread them legs, Emoni…”

Erik picked up the pace. She buried her face against her knee and just felt. Erik rocked into her warm center with his eyes locked on her. His balls slapping her ass mixed with the sound of her wet ass pussy was music to his ears.

“Damn, I’m deep in this. You hear that? This what you kept from me?”

“Fuck, Erik, FUCK.”

“I asked you a question.”

Erik went faster. Emoni wasn’t prepared. She looked up at him with tears streaming from her eyes. Erik had her folded up so his dick could dig deep and right where he wanted it with no running. He’d waited too long for this moment and she wasn’t going to escape his wrath.

“Erik, oh my goodness—”

“Answer me,” Erik growled.

“YES!”

“You played a lot of games, girl. Too many fuckin’ games. Got that ass now, yeah?”

Emoni bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes crossed. Erik felt her clamp down on him and it took all of him not cum. He made her cum though. Emoni’s lower lip quivered when he slipped out. Erik was on that pussy with his mouth to clean her up. Emoni was too weak to fight him. But she could feel herself squirting. It was an out of body experience.

“That’s okay, I like that, baby…”

Emoni finally regained consciousness and she sat up. Erik soothed her with his lips and rubbed her pussy lips with his fingers. He couldn’t help himself when he pushed inside of her. She was weeping on his fingers. The most he’d ever seen.

“Damn, baby. I got this pussy soaked. Listen to that,” Erik’s fingers going in and out of her created a gushy sound, “That’s what I like to hear. All because of daddy’s big dick…and daddy got more for you.”

“I want more…”

“You want more in this wet—wet?”

“Please…”

“Didn’t I tell you I was gon’ get you right?”

Erik wanted to hear her say it.

“Yes, daddy. Yes…”

She was in a dicked-out daze.

He didn’t ask her how she wanted him. Erik arched Emoni’s back and he was standing behind her with his dick pointed at her spread-open lips from the back. He sank back into that creamy pussy and Emoni buried her face into the sheets. Erik slipped out to see how his dick opened her up. Something in him, maybe a voice, some type of unknown force, had him putting his face in her pussy. He left teeth marks and hickeys all over her beautiful ass. With a lick of his lips he pumped that big dick in her again.

“Give daddy that pussy, Princess.”

“ERIK! erikerikerikerikerik—”

He was cracking her back so good Emoni couldn’t get a complete sentence out. To see his big dick disappear inside of her little body made him fuck her harder. Erik hooked his hands in the crease of her elbows and drilled her.

“You’re taking my pussy from me, daddy!” Emoni cried out.

“It’s my pussy, Moni. I’m taking my pussy.” Erik corrected.

“Ima cum on this big dick again!”

She glossed his dick and Erik simply chuckled.

“You’re so leaky for me.”

He was back inside and feeding her pussy what it wanted and craved with slower strokes. Emoni looked back at him with puffy eyes and an equally puffy pussy from Erik’s pounding. He stared into her eyes while he fucked her.

“Stay right there…that’s daddy’s baby…uh-huh…all night long in this pussy…”

Emoni’s eyes drifted shut and her back bowed when Erik went deep. He simply fixed her arch and pumped her with two more strokes that had her cumming again. Erik got down on the bed behind and fucked her slow from the side with a hand around her neck and his lips against her ear. He would thrust up into her and hold his dick there for a few seconds before sliding out to the tip and repeating. He buried his nose against her neck to smell her perfume. Emoni interlocked her fingers with his and lifted her leg more for him.

“I love you…and I’m so happy to have you, my Princess. I wanna make love to you in my Royal chambers…on my throne…beneath the Wakandan sunset…”

Emoni stared down between her legs to watch his dick go in and out. His words had her gripping him.

“This how I want you when I put a baby in you…I want you just like this,” Erik whispered in her ear, “Get that leg up nice and high…fuck into you slow…bury my fuckin’ dick in you…give this pussy what she wants…and cum so deep…just slide in and out of this wet pussy just like this…you loving that, huh? Having my babies? Taking this big dick whenever and wherever? Huh?…” Erik placed his thumb in her mouth to suck on, “Huh, Princess? You got a little frame but you take big dick…”

Erik held that leg up and fucked her long and hard. He multitasked by rubbing her clit with his other hand. She was at his mercy. That beautiful body. She pouted her lips and whimpered with each upstroke of his big dick.

“This angle…I’m a squirt…”

She didn’t have time. She was leaking all over his dick. And it added more slip. His dick glided between her folds and up in that pussy with such precision and ease she couldn’t even form words.

“Daddy about to nut…I can’t hold off…can’t hold this nut off—”

Erik’s fingers gripped her thigh hard and after two more thrusts he came inside of Emoni. She looked back at him and Erik tongued her down. He slowly pumped his seed into her pussy, making sure to keep it there.

——

Present Day:

Eyes connected and hearts pounding. Like a picture book, everything came back to their minds. It took for Erik to connect with her through sex for them to remember it all. And when they did, Emoni was overcome with emotion.

She told him that she loved him. And as crazy as that sounds, she did. She indeed loved Erik. And he felt the exact same way. She could feel that spark between them. And then she remembered…

They got married. She’s a wife now. The sex. They had sex all over Erik’s bedroom. He’d given her love bites, he shaved her pussy, he got a tattoo of her name, she got her belly button pierced. All of it happened last night. And she’d enjoyed it all. The emotions she’d felt at that time came back and it felt real and genuine. She could tell from the look in Erik’s eyes that he felt the exact same way. All of it so overwhelming but exactly what they wanted.

Once the tremors subsided, Erik kissed her gently, sweetly.

“You're mine, finally,” he sighed against her mouth. "All mine."

His fingers trailed between their sweaty bodies, finding the bellybutton piercing and stroking over it.

“My wife...my mate.”

The words registered, but Emoni was too enthralled with his distracting hands and lips, and with the slow rocking motion he made with his hips to stop and have a conversation about it. He was still so hard inside her, determined to prove his possession of her, and she found her body responding again.

His hips were relaxed as he rolled them, sliding forward again without haste, swaying in and out like the waves beneath them. He took his time loving her, his hold on her absolute as if she were the most precious thing in his life and this the most important moment he'd ever known. Tears pricked her eyes as she felt the first surge of desire sweep over her senses, taking her into the clouds, and with a cry, she gave herself over to it.

"More," she moaned, pressing her knees tighter against his sides to keep him from pulling out and moving off. "I need more, Erik. Please!"

His lips trailed a path down her throat, over the delicate bones of her shoulder even as he slowly worked his hips in a rocking motion that had him hitting at the right spots, making her see stars. When he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked, licking over the bite mark he'd left upon her breast, Emoni’s whole body shuddered in response. Nibbling electric shocks of pleasure ran the length of her spine and had her arching her back, offering herself up to him again, even as he bottomed out inside her, bringing them fully together again and again.

"Oh, my god. Don't...stop!"

A growling sound emitted from his chest again. Then, wrapping his arms around her, he rolled them so she was sprawled atop of him in a gloriously disheveled heap. With a firm grip, he resettled her over his big dick until she could feel it throbbing deep within her.

“Your turn,” he offered, and with a firm grip on her hips, he guided her to move over him for his pleasure. “Take all of it.”

Tossing her head back, Emoni closed her eyes and rode him hard, wanting to possess him as thoroughly as he'd done her. Every glide forward was met by his upwardly surging hips, forcing him deep into her slick, wet pussy.

His hands were everywhere, exploring her waist, her belly, cupping her breasts and thumbing her nipples. He traced the mark he'd left on her, played with the piercing in her belly, circling the proof of his claim upon her and causing a ripple effect of heat throughout her body in response.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered as she dug her nails into his chest, leaving behind reddish-purple, crescent-shaped divots in his skin. “So fucking beautiful, my Princess.”

There it was again—that arrogant, lordly persistence of ownership over her. Was it a declaration of his intentions, or simply a reiterating of the truth? She had to know...

Heavy-lidded and trembling with insatiable lust, she continued her relentless pace and pinned him down, meeting his warm, onyx gaze.

“We’re married, aren’t we?”

He pursed his lips and stared at her, clearly on the fence between confession and diversion.

“I’m your wife now? You saw it too, right?” she persisted.

“Emoni…”

She reached up one hand and palmed her left breast, stroking over his bite mark, presenting it as proof of her theory. Her whole body shook, tightened as she lightly fingered over the two, small piercings he'd made with his teeth. “I feel different now,” she admitted. “I feel...so much. Everything.” Desire slammed through her as she pinched the skin, pulling her nipple, and she threw her head back and wailed, “I can't stop!” Her hips were moving out of her control to a frantic pace now, fucking him so hard, the bed creaked ominously under them. “What have you done to me, Erik?! I feel so…unh!”

He reached for her. “Emoni, I‒”

She shoved him back down as he made to sit up, and bent so their mouths touched, preventing him from evading her question, again. “If you did this to me, and I'm yours now, then you're just as much mine, Erik. MINE!” She groaned now, feeling savage and powerfully possessive of her lover. She'd done her share of dating over the years, but this...this was a level of attraction that far exceeded anything she'd ever felt before. “And I don't share. Understand?”

Wonderment, then relief reflected in his face, and then there came a sudden and very final shift, as if some piece of the puzzle that had been them for so long finally notched itself into place in his brain and within his soul. A dark, feral intensity seemed to come over him.

His eyes gleamed like diamonds in the sunlight coming in through the round window nearby and his fierce smirk stole her breath.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled. “Fuck me and make me all yours, Princess. Mark me up and claim me.”

So, she did.

She rode him, sucked on his neck, wrapped a hand around his neck. Erik popped her on the ass and encouraged her to keep bouncing and fucking that dick with that tight pussy.

“I need you to shoot that cum in my pussy!”

She could feel him throbbing. Erik parted his lips and moaned her name.

“Give me what I want…I feel that big dick…let it out for me…give me all of it, daddy.”

“Ahhh, fuuuuckkkk—”

When all of the fucking and biting and scratching and moaning had reached its peak and tossed them into the storm together once more, when it was finally done and they were irrevocably mated to each other with full consent on both sides, Emoni slumped over Erik exhausted and thoroughly sated.

Quietly, she lay within his arms until her breathing evened out and her blood returned to its normal courses. Only then did she allow her mind to retake the reins.

As rationality returned, so too did the answer as to why she could remember all of the events after the reception. It hadn't just been something to do to stave off loneliness, or an itch to scratch, but because there was an undeniable, powerful connection between them...something that promised forever.

It didn’t feel on a whim. Yes, they were extremely sexual and weren't concerned about sleeping around, but as far as love and domestication were concerned, Emoni wasn’t expecting that. What had it been?

It seemed Erik’s inner jaguar had decided she was his one and only.

She couldn't deny it, either: the sex had been good—really, truly good. Mind-blowing, in fact. It had never been like that for her before, and she was guessing by Erik’s reactions during their love-making and now, with his light, affectionate caressing of her skin in the afters, that he felt the same. He radiated contentment, the same as her, and he was holding her close as if he didn't plan to let her go.

Well, that certainly explained everything, didn't it? From the office flirting to the jealous feelings every time she saw him with another women to the orgasms she'd given herself in secret while thinking of him. No wonder she'd been an absolute basket-case where Erik was concerned.

Surprising her quite suddenly, Erik drew her even closer to him, nuzzled into her hairline, and shushed her. “You're thinking too much again.”

She frowned, pushed back a bit, and rose up on her elbow to look down at him. “And how would you know what I'm thinking?”

His eyebrow twitched and a slow, mysterious smile wound up his cheek. “Because I know you, my Princess.”

He reached up and brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “Between worrying about who might have seen us leave together last night, whether we would be the talk of the office under some scandalous headline, and why it was you couldn't recall a thing we did after hitting the dance floor at the reception, I thought my head would explode. The only time that fantastic brain of yours was relatively quiet this morning was when I was fucking you.”

She gaped at him. “You… so now you have psychic abilities?”

He chuckled and in a quick move, rolled them and had her on her back again. “No. I just know you.”

“Is that so?” She didn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth and the expression she shot him made sure he knew it. “Then what am I thinking right now?”

He chuckled, and the wicked sound shot straight through her like electricity.

“You want me to propose properly, despite the fact we're already married.”

That gave her pause. She recalled the chapel and then exchanging vows. Was that really a marriage?

Sliding a hand down her belly, he played with her piercing. “I love this piercing on you. And I must say the tattoo of your name on my hip is perfect.”

She ran her fingers through his coarse hair and arched into him. “And when…will you give me…a real ring?” she asked, feeling a bit breathless from his amorous attentions.

He shrugged, dipping his mouth lower to place tiny, nipping kisses to her hips and thighs. “I have a ring back home. Waiting for the right time.” He circled the wet lips of her pussy with his tongue. “Guess my inner Jaguar decided he'd waited long enough.”

Emoni whimpered and raised her hips, silently begging him to stop torturing her and to just get to the part where he sucked her clit already. “You...you wanted to marry me before last night then?”

Onyx eyes glanced up at her as he placed tormenting, open-mouthed kisses upon her tingling flesh. “For years and years,” he admitted with an impish smirk. “Now shut up, and give me this sweet pussy again.”

She widened her legs and threw her head back on the pillow as he pressed in, making room for himself, taking her over...making her head spin.

“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, accepting that she was so utterly his.

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[ltwilliammowett]

Cathead

The end of the stout timber projecting out from her bow is decorated with a carved and gilded crown. The cathead was often carved with a cat or lion’s head, which presumably frightened away wharf rats. As the massive iron anchor is brought up from the bottom and gets closer to the hull, there is the danger that the flukes could damage the hull, especially in rough waters. The cathead allows this operation to be carried out a short distance away from the hull.

Cathead of HMS Surprise (x)

A special tackle is fastened to the ring of the anchor and it is fished and catted (brought up and secured) in its riding position on the bow.

The black loop of rope that holds the anchor to the cathead is the “stopper”. This could simply be cut through to drop the anchor. The main anchor cable is bent onto the ring. The ring itself has been wrapped in cord as an anti- chafing measure called “puddening”.

A second ‘cat head’ was connected to a ship's anchor cable and windlass. This was a square pin that was inserted into one of the hand spike holes of a ship's windlass. When the ship was at anchor, the anchor rope (also known as a cable or catfall) was attached to it with a smaller rope, known as a seizing. The English name for this bolt was ‘Norman’. In German, however, it was called a ‘Kattenkopf’, and in this case this is a reference to the traditional way in which the tip was notched and bevelled so that it resembled the ears of a cat in cross-section.

According to ‘The Sea-mans Dictionary : or, an exposition and demonstration of all the parts and things belonging to a shippe’ compiled by Sir Henry Mainwaring, 1623 , the term was already in use at the time the book was published.

Sailing Ships, by Edward K. Chatterton, 2013

Sailing Ships of War, 1400-1860, by Frank Howard 1979

Ashore and Afloat: The British Navy and the Halifax Naval Yard Before 1820, by Julian Gwyn, 2004

Marine Encyclopaedic Dictionary, by Eric Sullivan, 2020

Young Sailor's Assistant in Practical Seamanship, by Emory H. Taunt, 1883

[whereforarthur]

It's Been Way Too Long

Request: id love a george smut, perhaps one of us have been rlly busy like all summer and barely had any time to see each other so when it gets to september time (ish) we havent realised how much we miss each other

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

“I think I'd miss you even if we never met.” — The Wedding Date

The London skies were a canvas of soft grays and muted blues, hinting at the promise of rain. The bustling streets below were a blur of umbrellas and rushing footsteps. Amidst the thrum of the city, a solitary figure sat on a bench in a small, overlooked park, a patch of green nestled between concrete giants. George Clarke, known to the internet as "The Clarke Cut", was a man of sharp contrasts. His online persona was vibrant, full of life and humor, but in this quiet moment, he was lost in thought, his eyes reflecting the weight of the world.

For months, George had thrown himself into his work, leaving little room for anything else. His YouTube channel had grown exponentially, the demands of content creation an ever-hungry beast that consumed his days and nights. The price of success had been steep, and he felt the cost keenly as he stared at the empty space next to him, where you, or y/n as he liked to call you, should have been. The vividness of your laughter and the warmth of your smile had been replaced by the cold metal of the bench, and the echoes of the city's cacophony.

The first leaves of autumn began to dance around him, a sad ballet of nature's end and rebirth. The chill in the air seemed to mirror the chill in his heart, a stark reminder of the seasons passing and the time lost. You had been his anchor, a steady presence that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Without you, the city felt like an alien landscape, one he was navigating for the first time without a map.

George pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The urge to hear your voice washed over him like a wave, but fear held him back. Would you be upset? Would you even have time to talk? With a sigh, he sent a text, keeping it light, hoping it didn't betray the tumult in his soul. "Missing you," it read, with a simple heart emoji. It was all he could manage.

Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching into a symphony of unspoken words. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was you. "Miss you too, George," it said, followed by a smiling face with a tear. His heart clenched at the sight. You had felt it too, the distance that had grown between them like an invisible wall.

The rain finally made its appearance, lightly kissing the leaves before turning into a steady rhythm against the pavement. George didn't bother moving, the cool drops a soothing balm on his heated skin. The scent of wet earth and the faint smell of rain-soaked flowers filled the air, a familiar comfort that only heightened his longing for your presence.

As the drops grew heavier, his thoughts grew clearer. He knew what he had to do. Success meant nothing if he couldn't share it with the one who truly mattered. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the path ahead. He had to make time for you, to prioritize what truly made him happy. The rain grew into a crescendo, each drop a beat in the rhythm of his newfound resolve.

Standing up, George tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, the rain soaking his clothes and hair. He'd rearrange his schedule, make the calls, and do whatever it took to bridge the gap that had formed. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped into the storm, the cold water mixing with the warmth of his determination. The city around him blurred as he set off in the direction of your flat, eager to feel the warmth of your embrace and to apologize for his neglect. The rain washed away the dust of the summer, leaving behind the promise of a fresh start, a chance to rekindle the flame that had been smoldering between them.

By the time he arrived, the rain had become a downpour, turning the streets into rivers and the air into a thick mist. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in anticipation. The door to your flat stood before him, a symbol of the comfort and love that waited within. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the rain from his face before knocking softly, his breath hitching in his chest.

When the door opened, the sight of you took his breath away. You looked tired, your eyes a bit sad, but the moment they met his, a spark ignited, lighting up the room. The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken words of regret and longing. Without a word, George stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a declaration of intent.

You stood before him, rain-soaked and beautiful, your hair clinging to your face like a veil. The air was charged with tension, the kind that comes from months of missed moments and unspoken truths. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt through both of you. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance, for a sign that he truly meant it. And in that moment, George knew that he had made the right choice. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a silent promise to never let you go again.

The kiss grew in intensity, a conflagration of passion that had been smoldering for too long. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the space that had grown between you. The world outside the flat disappeared, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of love and apology. The rain outside was now a mere backdrop to the symphony of your hearts beating in unison, a testament to the fact that no matter how busy life got, you two were destined to find your way back to each other.

Breaking the kiss, George whispered, "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in work, I forgot what's truly important."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soft melody that soothed his soul. "I understand. But I missed you. So much."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the stray teardrops. "I missed you too. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

With the storm outside mirroring the tumult in their hearts, George took your hand and led you to the couch. You sat down together, the fabric warm and welcoming against your cold, wet clothes. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

The sound of the rain grew softer as you talked, sharing stories of the summer's escapades and the moments you'd wished you could have shared. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of your relationship back together, stronger than before. The warmth of the room began to seep into your bones, chasing away the chill of the rain and the months of separation.

As the conversation lulled, George reached over to the coffee table, picking up a notebook and a pen. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words and doodles that chronicled your life together. "Look," he said, pointing to a page filled with sketches of the two of you in various stages of laughter and love. "I want to fill this book with more memories. Starting now."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you took the notebook from him. The promise in his eyes was more than you could have hoped for. With a shaky hand, you wrote, "September 15th - The day George realized what truly matters."

Underneath, he scribbled, "And the day I came home to you."

*****

The moment was filled with the quiet understanding that sometimes life gets in the way, but true love always finds a path back. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter, as if it too knew that the storm had passed and that now was the time for growth and renewal.

George's hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that had been building for months. Your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin a stark contrast to the cold fabric that separated you. The rain had made the air thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from George's body, his need for you palpable.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the dampness of his skin and the tautness of his muscles. The sensation sent waves of electricity through you, and you realized just how much you'd missed the simple act of touching him, of feeling his heart race in response to your touch. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and valleys that he knew so well, yet somehow felt new and exciting. The rain outside had become a soft, rhythmic backdrop to your reunion, a natural metronome setting the pace of your passion.

As you kissed, you both began to peel away the layers of clothing that had kept you apart, revealing the warmth and desire that had been trapped beneath. Your skin met with a sigh of relief, like two long-lost friends finally reunited. The couch cushions grew soggy with rainwater, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the connection that surged between you, a current more powerful than any storm.

The smell of damp fabric and the gentle scent of your perfume mixed with the musk of passion as you became lost in each other. The storm outside had brought you back together, and now, you were determined to make the most of every moment. The sound of the rain grew fainter as you became more attuned to the sound of your breaths mingling, the beat of your hearts syncing up as one.

George lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The floorboards creaked underfoot, a gentle reminder of the history you shared in this space. You knew every inch of this room, every crevice and corner, but it had never felt more intimate than it did in that moment.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovered over you, his gaze intense and filled with love. The soft light from the streetlamp painted shadows on the wall, playing across your bodies as you moved together in a dance of passion. The thunder outside rumbled in the distance, punctuating the silent promises made between kisses and caresses.

Your bodies intertwined, the coldness of the rain forgotten in the warmth of your love. The room was filled with the sound of the rain, the sighs of pleasure, and the whispers of sweet nothings that meant everything. The storm outside mirrored the intensity of your reunion, each flash of lightning illuminating the passion in your eyes, as if the very sky was celebrating your reconciliation.

The rain grew softer, the thunder a gentle reminder of the tempest you had weathered. As your bodies found their rhythm, the storm outside seemed to mimic your own, building to a crescendo before subsiding into a gentle lull. You lay there, tangled in the warmth of each other's arms, the city of London a silent witness to your love.

In the aftermath of your passion, you both lay still, listening to the fading patter of rain and the steady thrum of each other's hearts. The world outside had continued to turn, but for a brief moment, it had stopped for you both. You knew that from now on, no matter how busy life got, you would always find time for each other, because you had just survived the storm, and the calm that followed was more beautiful than any summer's day.

You leaned up to kiss him softly, tasting the salt of the rain and the sweetness of your shared love. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice a mere breath against his skin.

George smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "For what?"

"For reminding me what's important," you said, your eyes searching his. "For coming back to me."

He kissed you again, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he murmured, his voice a solemn vow. "I'll always come back to you."

The room was a cocoon of warmth and love, the storm outside a gentle lullaby, as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain a soothing serenade. Hours passed, the city's heartbeat growing quieter as the night deepened. When you awoke, the rain had stopped, leaving a freshness in the air that seemed to cleanse the very essence of the world. The scent of wet earth and the faint sound of distant cars washed over you, bringing with it a sense of peace.

******

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[icefox8155]

Ch 1: Of All Places...

Masterlist

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You had a plan, one carefully mapped out since high school. Go to college in the U.S., work hard, get a good degree, and land a solid job that would set you up for a comfortable life. Maybe even move into a decent apartment, start saving for the future, and build something meaningful for yourself. That was how it was supposed to go.

And for a while, it did.

You got into college, slogged through the classes, pulled all-nighters, and somehow made it out with a degree in hand. You were supposed to be set after that. Finding a good job shouldn’t have been hard, not with your qualifications. And yet… here you were. Months had passed, and rejection after rejection had piled up in your inbox. Excuses varied—“not enough experience,” “we've decided to go with another candidate,” or worse, complete silence.

At some point, you stopped opening the emails. Whatever. You told yourself it wasn’t the end of the world. Maybe the job market was just bad. Maybe luck wasn’t on your side yet. Maybe you’d figure something else out later. But that gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, that unease you tried to suppress whispered that you were stuck, adrift in uncertainty with no clear direction forward.

Frustrated, you let out a heavy sigh and flopped onto your bed, phone in hand. If nothing else, there was one thing that never failed to take your mind off reality. Tapping on the screen, you opened up Solo Leveling once again. It wasn’t the first time you'd reread it, far from it. There was something almost comforting about Jinwoo’s story, his struggle, his rise to power. Maybe it was the way he started as the weakest, the way no one believed in him, and yet, he shattered every expectation. You envied that. The ability to change everything with enough determination, with enough effort.

As you scrolled, your eyes flickered across the familiar panels, tracing each detail you’d already memorized. The hum of your phone screen was the only light in the dim room, the only thing anchoring you as exhaustion weighed on your limbs. Your blinks grew slower, your body heavier. You fought to stay awake—just one more chapter, just one more moment lost in this world where everything made sense.

But sleep crept in, wrapping around you like a warm, suffocating blanket. Your phone slipped slightly in your grasp. Your breathing evened out. You didn’t notice the odd shadow that flickered across the screen. 

Didn’t notice how, just for a second, the edges of your vision seemed to warp. Didn’t see the way the world itself seemed to shift around you, a quiet, unseen force pulling you under. By the time your consciousness faded completely, it was already too late.

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

Waking up in a different place is disorienting at best, terrifying at worst. It sends shockwaves through your entire being. When your eyes flutter open, you don’t find the familiar comfort of your own bed or the muted, worn-out walls of your tiny apartment. Instead, you are greeted by a chaotic symphony of strange sounds and bewildering sights, an overwhelming, unfamiliar place that instantly reminds you that you are not home, not even close.

The first thing that assaults your senses is the relentless clamor of the city, the ceaseless hum of a crowded street and the murmur of endless conversations swirling around you. You bolt upright, your heart hammering against your ribs, as a surge of anxiety floods your chest. Looking around frantically, you notice towering skyscrapers that pierce the sky, their vast shadows creeping over the bustling streets below. People stream past you like a tidal wave, each one lost in their own world, leaving you, a lone, and bewildered figure sitting on a cold, unforgiving bench, feeling invisible and abandoned.

‘Where am I?’ you demand internally. Did someone kidnap you and drop you off in this unknown nightmare? The thought gnaws at your mind relentlessly, fueling a rising panic that makes it hard to breathe. “What the hell is happening?” you mutter, your voice a mix of terror and disbelief.

Desperation twists your thoughts as you try to recall the last fragments of your memory. You remember the comforting ritual of reading a manhwa, specifically Solo Leveling and then succumbing to sleep, yet nothing hints at this surreal journey. The idea of kidnapping seems absurd, who would abandon you in an unknown location after going through the trouble of bringing you here in the first place? Despite the anxiety inside of you, you force yourself to stand, your legs trembling as you dust off your jeans. Jeans? Whatever happened to you pajamas? You shake your head and block out some dark thoughts, wanting to be able to focus on somehow finding a way back home.

A spark of hope flickers when you fumble for your phone, only to be met with a dead, lifeless screen staring back at you. Frustration surges through your veins, but a glimmer of relief comes when you notice a plain gray backpack that is on top of the same bench you woke up on. With trembling hands, you unzip it and discover a collection of items a stack of important-looking papers, a small key, and a weathered wallet. Opening the wallet reveals an ID with your own face, some cash bills, a few credit cards, and a slip of paper bearing an address. In that moment, you allow yourself a brief sigh of gratitude, you aren’t completely abandoned after all. 

As you sift through the documents, you can tell they’re significant, perhaps containing clues to why you’re here. You decide to keep them safe for a more private moment later, your mind already churning with questions and a desperate need for answers. But it's strange the words are not in your common language but you’re able to read them just fine?

Clenching your jaw, you step into the relentless crowd that dominates the street. The energy around you is palpable, vendors call out their wares, people hustle past in either hurrying or just walking past. You force yourself to navigate through the throng, trying to steady your racing thoughts and suppress the inner turmoil that threatens to erupt into panic.

After several long minutes, something catches your eye, a large, neon-lit billboard flickering with advertisements for some kind of news. But what popped up shouldn’t have been possible.Yet there it is, unmistakable images of Choi Jong-in and his guild of Hunters, people who should be fictional you know exist only in the pages of the web novel Solo Leveling, are now glaring back at you from the billboard. Your mind reels as you grapple with the realization these characters are meant to be fictional, yet here they are, a part of your new, terrifying reality.

“No, no, no…” you whisper, the words barely audible over the cacophony of the city. Panic surges once again, but beneath the fear, a steely resolve begins to form. Yet here I was, standing in the middle of Seoul, Korea, in a world where dungeons and hunters were real. A world where Sung Jinwoo existed. Your thoughts spiral. ‘How could this happen? How could I be in a place like this? I’m literally going to die!! Why did it have to be here and not some other modern but monsterless story!’

‘… Better than Attack on Titan.’ you thought

And more importantly, what did this mean for you? You continued walking for a bit before stopping at a nearby news stand and cautiously grabbed a local newspaper.The headline at the top sears itself into your mind, “Third Raid for Jeju Island Failed.” As you stare at those stark words, a chilling realization sets in you, a year, a year before the events of Solo Leveling begin. When everything you once believed was mere fiction or a distant, surreal dream is about to become horrifyingly real.

You feel your pulse quicken as you scan the rest of the page. Other columns spill out more news, hunters on edge, occasional reports of dungeon outbreaks, and ominous warnings of raid groups not all coming out alive but the gate still closed. The air around you seems to thicken, each word a heavier weight pressing down on you. A heavy lump swells in your throat, a reminder of the dread that courses through your veins.

This isn’t just a story you read for amusement, nor is it a nightmare you can simply wake up from, pinching yourself proved ineffective. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, if everything in that story does end up happening, then every danger, the relentless onslaught of dungeons, the brutal battles with formidable hunters and higher beings, is destined to happen all over again, with you right in the midst of it.

You want to hold your face and scream but being determined to not embarrass yourself and regain control, you decide to take a few deep breaths and make a list for you to follow, the first order of business is to avoid the unfolding chaos at all costs. You resolve to steer clear of any encounters with Sung Jinwoo, hunters, or the terrifying dungeons that punctuate this nightmare. After all, you are neither a powerful person nor a part of this story by design. If you can simply keep a low profile, perhaps you can survive until you somehow find a way back to your own world.

Yet, as you move through the busy streets, your mind is a storm of conflicting thoughts. You wonder, with a heavy heart, if ignoring the impending events is truly an option. Could you really let some people die knowing it could be avoided. But at the same time, everything will be restarted anyways with the Cup of Reincarnation, so is there really a point? The weight of this realization presses down on you, intensifying the dread that you are not just an unwilling observer but an active participant in a dangerous game.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you eventually find refuge in a quiet park. Slumping onto a weathered bench beneath the swaying trees, you let your gaze drift aimlessly across the serene yet alien landscape. The surreal quality of your surroundings so vivid and real collides with the gnawing fatigue in your limbs. Tears sting your eyes, a silent testament to the overwhelming uncertainty of your situation. Clutching the slip of paper with the address, you can’t help but wonder if it holds the key to unraveling this mystery as to why you were brought here, why your name appears on documents you don’t recall creating or as to why you can understand Korean as if it's your first language.

After a moment of soul-searching, you summon the courage to interact with a local. Following a series of nervous exchanges and carefully chosen words, you obtain directions to the address printed on that mysterious slip of paper to an apartment building that seems to promise a temporary refuge from the chaos outside.

With the directions etched in your mind, you retrace your steps and arrive at the building. Digging deeper into the contents of your backpack, you discover a lease form for an apartment along with a small key bearing a room number. After a brief, rushed meeting with the landlord, you are ushered up a narrow flight of stairs and stand before a door marked with the matching number. Pushing it open, you step into a bare, sparse space that strangely mirrors the early days of your old apartment, a single bedroom, a modest bathroom, a little kitchenette devoid of any real comforts. There are a few cardboard boxes but that's it.

The landlord’s final words echo in your ears as he departs “The movers finished just this afternoon, and everything is ready for ya. Your down payment has already been covered for the first two months but after that you’ll need to start paying again. Have a good night!” You watch him leave, feeling a bittersweet mix of relief and isolation as you begin to claim this new space as your temporary sanctuary.

Alone now, you wander through the apartment with tentative hope. You explore every room the cramped bedroom, the simple bathroom, the kitchen with its sparse cupboards gathering the few essentials left in cardboard boxes, clothes, toiletries, bedding, and a few meager kitchen supplies. Putting everything away felt like chore that sucked more energy out of you than 

You gather your thoughts and head to the bathroom for a warm, comforting shower. The water cascades over you, washing away some of the immediate shock, yet the water on your skin feels like reminders of the harsh reality you face. You let the water drown out the cacophony of your racing heart, even as the heavy question looms in your mind. What will happen to you?

｡⋆｡˚ ʚɞ ˚｡⋆｡

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

🔩FIXDEX Factory1 Anchor Manufacturing🧑‍⚕️From production to packaging, e...

[lovelyhan]

enemies to lovers prompt #10 "I'm not driving home with you..." with mingyu, thx <3

— vices & virtues ⟢

being from one of the most opulent families in the city, you're used to getting everything you want. but when you realize that your hot bodyguard is strictly off-limits, you treat him like anything else you can't have: with unbridled hostility.

★ FEATURING; bodyguard!mingyu x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.4k words

★ TAGS; enemies to lovers, unresolved sexual tension, smut

★ WARNINGS; alcohol consumption, cigarettes, implied/referenced drug use, self-destructive behavior in general, (probably inaccurate) discussions about drug poisoning, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; when i tell you i speedwrote this just in time for mingyu day,,, eugh i love you so much gyugyu and thank you to the anon who sent this in a while back!! this prompt was so tasty to work with!

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, couch sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, dacryphilia, size kink, mating press, overstimulation, creampie

★ SVT TAGLIST; @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex - @stariightjoyy - @asjkdk - @horny4hoshi

★ MINGYU TAGLIST; @ @renjunphile - @acgyu - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pluviophile-xxx - @pretty-trustme - @zeenanigans - @noveniadelia

When the tiniest sliver of consciousness slips into your inebriated brain, you feel the cold tile of the bathroom floor being pried off your face. Well, more like you're being gently lifted off it, and into the arms of someone warm.

You nearly lean into their embrace until you catch a whiff of that familiar, musky cologne with hint of something like pine. It takes you some effort to keep yourself from bolting out of his grasp and retching your guts out in the toilet again.

You deign to squint your eyes despite the harsh fluorescent light razing your vision. Looking down on you is none other than Kim Mingyu, gaze as indifferent as ever. Unfortunately, you're too drunk or high to figure out how he even found you here, but you know there's no weaseling your way out when your father's little lapdog has tracked you down.

"What're you doing here?" you still ask even if you knew the answer.

It's my job to take care of you.

"It's my job to take care of you," he says the words in the same way you imagined him to—apathetic. Indecipherable.

"Fuck you. I don't need you to take care of me," you scoff. "My friends'll drop me off at my apartment like they always do."

Mingyu rolls his eyes. "You mean the same friends who called me because they're tired of having to clean up after your shit? I don't want to be here either, princess, but I'm actually getting paid to keep you in line, if you hadn't known that yet."

There's something so unfairly attractive in the snark in his tone, and you fucking hate him for it. Mostly, you hate yourself for even thinking that anything about Mingyu is remotely alluring.

In the end, you just tell yourself that you're an objective person. You have eyes, and it won't cost anything to admit that Mingyu is conventionally attractive. Even if you did hate his guts.

Not that he'll ever hear you admit that aloud, though.

You're vaguely aware of how the hem of your too-short dress rides up your thighs as Mingyu rises back to his full height—having no problems carrying you out of the bathroom bridal-style.

Under normal circumstances, you would've struggled. Proved that you could very much handle yourself despite being obviously hammered. But your head is spinning, and your limbs feel like they'll disintegrate any second.

Eyes closed, you press your face into the fine fabric of Mingyu's suit—breathing in the same scent that repulsed you not five minutes earlier in an attempt at anchoring your consciousness.

As Mingyu maneuvers you out of the bathroom, the loud bass blaring from the speakers at the frat party you've decided to attend last minute rings in your eardrums. You don't have to see your surroundings to know you've got onlookers. Those unsubtle comments are clue enough to know you're being watched.

Who is that? Her boyfriend?

No, idiot, that's probably her bodyguard or some shit. Her family's loaded as fuck.

So lucky. If I had a bodyguard like that, I'd totally let him smash.

The real question is: would he let you smash?

Fuck you.

You want to flash them the most disgusted look you could muster. As if you'd stoop low enough to fuck Mingyu, of all people. Don't they know who you are? You could easily let any man or woman you wanted on their knees for you.

You were supposed to stick to your regular routine of getting railed into the next day after a few drinks and sticks, but you obviously got a little too excited about the new strains your friends snuck into the party. Now you're being princess carried by a man you absolutely despise, too shit-faced to even be remotely desired by anyone else at the moment.

Still, never in a million years would you consider having this guy as a bodyguard lucky.

You can tell you're outside when the music starts to fade in the distance and the cold starts to prickle your legs and arms. A somewhat coherent part of you recalls leaving your designer jacket in the coatrack of the frat house, and if you weren't so fucking shit-faced, you would've yelled at Mingyu to go back and get it.

But just before you can consider asking him somewhat nicely, you hear him unlock a car that definitely doesn't sound like yours—making your ears perk up, and your consciousness flood back in much faster.

"What are you—?"

You thrash in Mingyu's arms until he lets you down on the ground—throwing him a stone-cold glare right after. The fact that your pedicured feet are in direct contact with the asphalt makes your rage spike further. How dare this asshole leave your Valentinos behind? He might as well have just left you at the party altogether!

"I'm not driving home with you," you growl.

Mingyu's expression doesn't even budge. "You're not driving. I am."

"Don't try to be fucking smart with me. I'm high, not stupid."

Folding your arms across your chest, you try to pretend that you're not in the middle of the street, arguing with Mingyu as your blood pressure rises to unimaginable heights.

Unfortunately for you, this isn't the first time your friends have left you in the quote-unquote capable hands of your bodyguard. But every time he did, he would always drive whatever car you chose to bring for the occasion and drop you off at your place.

When he brings a car of his own, however...

"You're bringing me straight to the old man," you grumble. "You think he'll appreciate seeing his daughter all wasted at three in the morning? You think he'll be happy with you when he finds out you let me sneak out like this? Are you stupid or do you actually want to get fired?"

"And who told you I was going to bring you to him?" Mingyu shakes his head, letting out a long-winded sigh. "Like I said, I don't want to be here either. The last thing I need is even more overtime after your father sets you straight."

That makes you pause, eyes widening with a hint of mistrust. Mingyu listens to every word his employer says. He's the perfect little lapdog. So perfect that sneaking out for these nightly escapades of yours have grown increasingly difficult with how good he is at finding you and bringing you home.

So hearing him practically say that he won't tattle on you...

"How can I be sure you're not fucking with me? That if I fall asleep in the car, I won't wake up in the courtyard of the old man's stupid mansion?"

"Do I look like I have the energy to deal with both of you at the same time?" he replies sharply, opening the door to the passenger seat with a hint of finality in his actions. "Just get in the fucking car so we can all head to bed before sunrise."

The sound of the house party still in full swing echoes in your ears from the distance. Your skin tingles a little beneath the heat of Mingyu's mildly pissed off gaze, and you let out a shuddering breath to keep yourself from giving the feeling a name.

"Fine."

...

Good news: you made it safely back to your apartment without anyone alerting your father about your true whereabouts.

Bad news: Mingyu just won't fucking leave.

He insisted that you get yourself refreshed with a shower first before he talks to you in the living room. The same guy that right-out said that you should hop in the passenger seat of his car so you'd both be asleep before the sun rises. The clock is already pushing past four in the morning, and Mingyu still insists on lecturing you before he leaves?

You of all people know how obstinate he can be. He's even more stubborn than you are, if you're being completely honest. So even if it wounds your pride to play along with what he has planned, you head back to your living room right after slipping on your usual nightgown—flashing Mingyu a look to remind him you're not at all pleased with whatever bullshit he wants to talk about.

However, your irritation ebbs a little when you see a plate of your favorite cookies sitting on the coffee table, along with a glass of water and a sheet of Advil.

Your gaze drifts from the snacks to your bodyguard, who looks more dressed down than usual. His coat is folded neatly, hanging off one side of your couch, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt are undone.

You gulp, prying your eyes off the sliver of chest he's willingly exposed before seating a respectable distance away.

"What did you want to talk about?" You try to sound casual as you leaned forward, reaching for a cookie and the glass of water without as much initiating eye contact.

"You smoked a few joints at the party, didn't you?"

You take a bite, washing it down with your drink before replying with, "So what if I did? A little kush isn't going to kill anybody, Mingyu."

"We both know 'a little' doesn't exist in your vocabulary, princess," he points out, crossing his arms with an unimpressed look. "Anyway, I'm not your father, so I typically don't care about what drugs you're taste testing every night—"

"Are you implying that you suddenly care now?"

"With a new poisonous marijuana strain circulating in the underground market? Of course I do."

You do a double take on that, staring at him hard as you begrudgingly swallow your cookie, "What? Underground market? And what do you mean poisonous?"

Mingyu lets out another sigh when he leans forward to reach for the box of cigarettes and a lighter you left strewn across your coffee table. You're even more surprised to see him lighting himself a stick and taking a drag than you were when he prepared some snacks and water for you.

"Some Columbian drug cartels thought it would be funny to infiltrate surface-level drug transactions. Long story short, they invented some fucked up strain laced with belladonna and smuggled it into the market under the impression that it's a new sativa strain."

You absolutely have no idea how Mingyu even got ahold of this information, but realizing the implication of his words has your stomach sinking with dread. If what he's saying is true, it's no wonder you were out so fucking quick tonight.

"I'm not gonna die within twenty four hours, right?" you half-joke because, Jesus, you're adventurous with your drugs, but you wouldn't willingly take something that can actually kill you.

To your relief, Mingyu shakes his head. "I don't know the science behind it either, but I was told sativa tones down the poisonous effect of belladonna by a huge margin. The worst you'll experience is a fever and a nasty cough if you don't do anything about it."

"Gee, way to be reassuring."

Mingyu scoffs before taking another drag of his cigarette. Your gaze is riveted on the cut of his jaw as he inhales the smoke with eyes closed. It's only when he flicks the ashes in a small ashtray you left by the small table beside the couch that you realize he's pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows—exposing a good deal of his toned arms.

You immediately take a huge gulp of water, not wanting such unsavory thoughts about an unsavory person to surface now, of all times.

You might be more refreshed after your shower, but if you're starting to ogle Kim Mingyu, the strange joints you've been hitting all night might've messed with your head more than you thought.

"That's why we're going to the doctor tomorrow—"

You scowl. "Like hell I'm going to pay Doctor Yoon a visit. That guy's the biggest tattletale in the world. He'll definitely tell the old man. Oh, and I actually have classes tomorrow if you're forgetting, Mingyu."

"You're pretending to attend those now that it's convenient for you?" He smirks as he breathes out another puff of smoke. "Nice try, princess. But don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll take you to another doctor I know—someone who won't get us both in trouble by telling your father that you've been smoking bad weed."

"Again, way to be fucking reassuring."

The silence finally settles as you nibble contemplatively on the snacks he brought for you. You're can say for sure that you're most certainly sober now, so Mingyu's words have got you thinking.

But it's a little difficult to think about the state of your health when you've got a sort-of uninvited guest manspreading right next to you on the couch.

"Aren't you going to leave?" you ask. "Just text me what time we're going to visit that doctor friend of yours."

"How would you feel if you got told to scram while you're in the middle of a smoke?" Mingyu flashes you an annoyed look. "For the third time, I don't even want to be here, princess. At least let me have this as compensation for saving your sorry ass."

He's so fucking infuriating.

The rough undercurrent in his voice. The perpetual upward curve of his lips as if he always has the upper hand. His beefy arms. His built chest.

...Not to mention his unexpected thoughtfulness when he decided to stick around and inform you about what you might've gotten yourself into instead of leaving you to fend for yourself. He even brought out your favorite cookies for good measure.

You never really know what to do with Kim fucking Mingyu. He stirs up all sorts of confusing feelings inside your chest at any given time, and frankly, you've had enough of it.

You allow yourself to relish in the pride that swells in your chest when he nearly drops his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray the moment you crawl on top of his lap.

Mingyu's mouth quivers with some sensible words his job description probably requires him to say, but you rob him of his ability to speak when you steal the cancer stick from his fingers. In one long breath, you smoke the cigarette down to the filter—killing it on your ashtray before leaning down to press your lips to his.

With how stunned he is, it doesn't take a lot of effort to pry Mingyu's mouth open, breathing the smoke into his mouth. Once you're satisfied, you pull away with a triumphant smirk.

"Now you're done," you say, making the motions to get off his lap. "I'm heading to bed. Don't wake me up before noon for that doctor's appointment or else I'm going to slash your ti—"

You don't even get to finish that sentence. Mingyu suddenly flips you over so that your back is pressed against the couch and he's lying on top of you—both knees planted on either side of your hips as he gazes at you with an ireful glare.

"W-What are you doing?" you whisper, but in spite of the protesting nature of your words, you can't help but feel a pang of white hot desire shoot straight through you when you feel just how big he is now that his body is pressed against yours.

"Teaching a bad girl a lesson," he whispers, grabbing your face roughly. "You can't just pull off shit like that and expect to walk away from it unscathed, princess."

Fuck. That nickname he always uses never fails to get on your nerves on any other day. But when he sounds like that and has you under him like this...

"What are you gonna do about it then?" you ask.

Mingyu chuckles darkly, as he squishes your face with his big, long fingers. You nearly shudder at the thought of what those digits could do to you if you just pushed the right buttons.

"You'll just have to fuck around and find out."

When the pressure of his strong grip leaves your cheeks, confusion paints your features. Mingyu's weight eases off your pliant body almost immediately as well, leaving you to scowl at him incredulously. He doesn't even look at you as he collects his coat from where it hangs off your couch.

But before he can even think about putting it back on, something not so different from a growl resonates deep in your chest as you sit back up—tugging on the collar of his shirt to smash your lips together.

Mingyu all but groans into the kiss, but you're not sure if you can even call it that. There's nothing but hunger fueling the both of you as your tongue slides alongside his, mapping out each other's mouths like your lives depended on it.

You vaguely hear his coat fall to the floor as Mingyu goes back to crowding you against the couch—one of his strong arms circling your waist as he grinds his hips against your middle. It's nearly embarrassing how willing you are to receive his advances.

You, the same person who told your bodyguard you refused to drive home with him, are now making out with said bodyguard at four in the morning.

But then again, who fucking cares?

"You have no idea," he whispers hoarsely against your lips and you let out a stifled moan when you feel the outline of his erection rut against your clothed pussy, "how much you drive me insane. You're such a fucking handful, you know that?"

"I'm glad to know I make your life miserable," you bite back despite the fact that, when Mingyu brings down the straps of your nightgown to expose your breasts to the cool air, you do nothing about it.

Mingyu lets out a harsh laugh. "You're probably into this, aren't you, princess? You like riling me up so much so that I'd snap and teach you a lesson?"

You want to tell him that he's being fucking full of himself if he thinks you've planned this that far back. But with how massive he feels through his trousers alone, you can't say that you don't want him inside you right this second.

It doesn't help that he's giving your chest a generous amount of attention—suckling at your nipples in a way that has you twitching beneath him with sensitivity.

"So what if I am?" you say, testing the limits of what he'll let you get away with. "You talk big about teaching me a lesson but you're being awfully careful with me. Aren't you going to shove your cock down my throat to get me to shut up?"

Mingyu chuckles with a quick shake of his head, like he isn't even taking your words seriously. You let out a sharp yelp when he bites down on one of your breasts—leaving a distinct imprint of his canines on your skin before staring into your eyes.

"I can choke you with my cock next time, princess. For now, I just want to make you come until you're crying for me."

Fuck.

Mingyu wastes no time. He immediately sinks to his knees on the floor, hauling your hips closer to the edge of the couch so that he can hook your thighs over his shoulders. When he realizes that you're not wearing any underwear underneath your flimsy satin nightgown, you swear the noise he makes is near animalistic.

"Don't get f-fucking cocky," you stammer, nerves alight everywhere his lips graze your inner thighs. "I don't usually wear underwear before going to sleep! This wasn't for you."

"It is now," Mingyu says before licking a long stripe from your leaking hole to your aching clit. He holds your thighs far apart as his lips latch onto that little bundle of nerves, alternating with delicious licks at your sensitive folds.

He practically smothers his face into your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your clit. By the time Mingyu starts to tease his tongue along your entrance, your fingers have found their way into his unruly hair—moans falling from your lips with little concern about appearances.

Mingyu pulls away for a moment, and you nearly snap at him from that alone until he eases one of those thick fingers into your wet channel—dark eyes trained on you as he stretches you out with a hungry gaze.

You don't even feel any semblance of shame when you start to ride that single digit, wanting to feel him go deeper and spread you wider. Fortunately, your bodyguard is more attentive than you think, and it doesn't take long for him to ease another finger into your needy pussy, curling them just so once he's sure he's found that spot that'll render you an incoherent mess.

The sound he rips out of you is unholy and Mingyu growls again before his mouth finds its way back onto your cunt—getting lost in the taste of you on his tongue.

"Where's the fight you've been putting up against me all this time, princess?" he taunts just before those stupidly thick fingers graze that sensitive patch of flesh inside you again. "Are you that desperate? You've fucked yourself up so much tonight that you couldn't bring anyone back home. Your bodyguard's gonna have to do, huh?"

You know you should be affronted by how offensive his words are. Mingyu might be an expert at getting on your nerves, but with how good his fucking mouth feels as he laves at your cunt like a man starved, you can't even let yourself feel any modicum of annoyance.

"M-Mingyu," you gasp as he suckles on your clit again—steadily building your orgasm from the ground-up. "I'm gonna come, f-fuck!"

Three. Mingyu slides in three fingers at your admission, and you nearly cry with how wide he's stretching you out. This time, he switches from sucking at your clit to rapidly flicking his tongue against the sensitive pearl.

Your toes curl with oversensitivity, thighs nearly crushing his head as you frame the syllables of his name in another wanton moan. When Mingyu curls his fingers inside you one more time, the tension that's been building in your stomach snaps like a rubber band.

Once you teeter off the precarious edge of release, you feel a gush of slick surge out of your cunt and into his awaiting mouth. Mingyu laps it all up—his sinful tongue catching every drop of your tangy essence. If you didn't know better, you would think he's desperate for you as much as you are for him.

It takes a while for your mind to fully come back online after that first orgasm, chest heaving almost painfully with how Mingyu took your breath away with oral alone. When you finally have your wits about you, your bodyguard surges forward so that your faces are levelled, and you nearly groan when you see the way his mouth and chin glisten with your juices.

"So fucking delicious for me," he rasps. "Gonna let me have a taste of this pussy every time now, princess? Want my mouth on you before you sleep?

"Do whatever you want, Gyu," you mewl, tugging him closer as you position yourself horizontally on the couch. "N-Need you so bad."

He sighs, unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt as he drinks in the sight of you all fucked out and compliant because of his mouth and fingers alone. Your lips are parted, eyes glistening with tears or desire—Mingyu can't say for sure just yet.

But if he can get you this wrecked from oral, he can't fucking wait to see what you'll look like after he gets you to cream on his cock.

His shirt falls to the floor and you can't contained the awed gasp that leaves you at the sight of him. He's built like a fucking sculpture—all lean muscle and hard toned abs. It would make sense for Mingyu to be this well-built, being your bodyguard and all, but the thought of having his body pressed against yours as he fucks you into the couch is sending your mind into overdrive.

"You're so adorable," he chuckles, but you know the words are anything but a compliment. "A moment ago you were challenging everything I said and did. Now you're suddenly an agreeable little thing. Are you that cock-hungry, princess? Want something to fill that pretty pussy?"

"Yes." You don't even hesitate. "Yes, yes, yes. Want your cock in me. Want you to fill me up, Gyu. Please..."

Fortunately for you, Mingyu isn't one to tease. The moment you've given him the green light to rearrange your insides, he steps out of his tight trousers and boxers at the same time, pumping his thick cock in one hand as he nudges your thighs apart once again.

You practically salivate at the thought that you're about to take all those delicious inches inside you. Mingyu doesn't miss the starry look on your face, but doesn't take the time to gloat about it. Instead, he leans all the way forward so that your thighs are squished against your chest—easing your legs across his shoulders in a position that's not so different from when he ate you out earlier.

"Gonna fuck the attitude out of you, princess," he promises before pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "You ready for me?"

You nod a little too eagerly, forcing his face into the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around his head. "Gyu, please..."

"Alright. Since you asked so nicely."

He doesn't even give any forewarning when he bottoms out inside you in one languid stroke. A choked up noise gets caught in your chest with how sudden he was, how full you feel in such a short amount of time, but Mingyu doesn't give you any time to think, or even to breathe.

Before you can even get a single word out, he's pulling his hips back—making you feel every inch of his thick cock before slamming his hips forward with a powerful thrust that drives you further into the sofa. You let out a long-winded moan, unable to do anything about it as he pounds into you with the vigor of someone who's been putting up with your shit for a better part of the year.

"Pussy's so fucking tight for me," he growls. "You're squeezing my cock so good, princess. Is this all I had to do so you'd stop driving me crazy? Eat you out a little and dick you down 'til you forget your name?"

You can't even process what he's saying right now—too lost in the sensation of his cockhead grazing your cervix with each forward stroke. He's reaching into you so deep that you might really just forget everything but the letters of Mingyu's name by the time he's done with you.

"M-Mingyu," you drawl dumbly as he peppers your neck with bites and bruises—unrelenting with his deep strokes as your cunt flutters around his length. "Fuck. L-Love your cock so much—oh!"

You let out a gasp that Mingyu quickly muffles with his own mouth as he adjusts your positions on the sofa—easing your legs off of his shoulders in exchange for spreading them wider on the cushions. How he manages to do that without his cock slipping out of you is a testament to your flexibility, and he's already cooking up what he'll do about that information for next time.

Mingyu continues kissing you all while he plants one foot on the couch and the other on the floor. When he tugs your hips even closer it's only then that you realize that the lunatic has you in a mating press.

"How long have you been thinking about me fucking you like this?" he whispers, deciding to drag it out with slow, deep thrusts that only serve to frustrate you. "You wouldn't have let me go this far if you hadn't thought about it at least once, princess."

I've wanted to fuck you since the old man introduced us, is the correct answer but you've still got some shred of dignity. If Mingyu wants the truth, he's going to have to work for it.

"Fuck me again after this, and I might give you an answer," you rasp, meeting his lazy thrusts with some of your own to get the point that you want him to ram into you across.

"There she is," Mingyu laughs. "My nasty, sharp-tongued princess. Thought I lost you for a sec."

"You will if you don't fuck me until I black out."

"Oh? All you had to do was ask, you know."

Then and there, Mingyu makes good of that interesting position he'd unknowingly lured you into—plunging that fat cock even deeper into your pussy if that's even possible. It felt heavenly, taking all of him while your legs dangled off his shoulders, but there's just something about having your legs spread impossibly wide as he drills into you with the full intention of making you come until you're crying that does it for you.

As each second passes, Mingyu's thrusts become more erratic—hips snapping with hard, calculated strokes so fucking good that tears are starting to glisten along the lines of your lashes like he promised.

You mewl his name like a string of prayers as the sound of your cunt squelching with every thrust rings in your ears. It's insane how close he's driven you to the edge in the span of thirty minutes, and you're starting to grow fearful of how addicting it feels to have him inside you like this.

At this point, you'd rather get off on Mingyu's cock than get high from some shady sativa joint. Something tells you he'd rather have that, too.

"Where do you want me, princess?" he whispers into your ear, reaching between your legs to give you just the right pressure you've been missing on your clit. You have to bite back a sob when he presses his thumb against it.

"Inside," you whimper as he continues plunging his engorged length into you. "Fill me with your cum, please, Gyu. I want it—want it so bad."

Mingyu hisses when you clench around his cock, large hands undoubtedly about to leave bruises on your thighs come morning. When you hear that deep, sexy laugh in your ear, you know it's all over for you.

"Come on my cock first, princess. Then I'll give you what you want."

He punctuates the words by drawing quick, tight circles on your clit all while keeping up the cadence of his thrusts. With the steady stream of stimulation he's so willing to give, it's a no-brainer for another orgasm to blindside you yet again.

You cry out with bliss as you screw your eyes shut—tears running down your cheeks in cascades as you fall apart on Mingyu's cock. He fucks into you despite the overstimulation, his own high not far behind because of the expression you're showing him.

"That's it," he rasps, leaning down to kiss the tears away. "Fucking cry for me, princess."

You're not sure if you're just too blissed out to comprehend it properly, but you're pretty sure that Mingyu just triggered another orgasm from you when you feel him twitch inside—your tight channel being covered in his white hot emission.

It doesn't help that your insatiable lover continues to fuck his cum deeper into your abused cunt, taking full advantage of this position while he can.

"M-Mingyu," you beg, fingers raking across his back as he punches the breath out of your lungs. "Too much. T-Too much."

You thought he wouldn't heed your words, but surprisingly, Mingyu halts every movement to gaze at you with a hint of concern lining his gaze. Wordlessly, he eases himself out of your sore cunt, wiping the tears off your eyes before pressing a kiss on your lips.

"Sorry," he murmurs before gently fixing the straps of your nightgown. He even tugs the hem down despite the fact that his cum is currently leaking out of you. "You want me to tuck you in?"

You nod, lacing your fingers around his neck, the overstimulated mess you are. Mingyu breathes out a quiet laugh before carrying you into his arms again.

"Alright, princess. Let's get you to bed."

You don't have the heart nor the energy to protest. Besides, it's his job to take care of you, after all.

⟢ end notes: reminder to not take any of the medical indications abt drugs that i included in this fic seriously. i made all of those up. oh and this should go w/o saying but don't fuck anyone while under the influence of anything AT ALL !!!

that aside, happy birthday to everyone's favorite puppy boy mingyu! i ended up loving him a lot more as i stanned svt, and i hope everyone else gives him the same love as well! god knows he has lots to give to both his members and his fans ueueue

++ if you spotted a few errors here and there, please don't tell me or i'll die of embarrassment ^_^ this wasn't proofread bcs i wanted to drop this exactly on his bday (i am 1 hour and 34 mins late!) HEHEHE i was sposed to write an ending scene in the morning where gyu wakes up and sees her wearing his shirt while making breakfast but that'll make this too long :| i'll just leave that to ur imagination!

[bookofthegear]

You test the ladder cautiously. It seems solid enough, and the bolts aren’t obviously loose…well…most of the bolts aren’t obviously loose, anyway. It creaks dramatically a few times, but you don’t die.

You only descend about ten feet. The room opens up dramatically on the far side of the wall, stretching up multiple stories. In fact, you see sunlight cutting through the gloom from openings high overhead. Vast tree roots have crawled through the walls, crumbling the stone near the top. The light is almost strong enough to read by, and certainly strong enough to illuminate the brackish-looking water about twenty feet down from your perch.

The ladder ends atop an immense cement pipe, at least twelve feet in diameter, which protrudes from the west wall. On the far wall, you can see another pipe, twin to this one, some thirty feet away. A thin trickle of water flows over the lip. You hear the splash as it hits the water below.

Jimmy does a brief sweep of the upper stories and returns after a few minutes. “There’s a bunch of gaps up there,” he says, “but I don’t think you could climb up to them. Most wouldn’t fit a human anyway.”

It would require a pretty acrobatic maneuver to flip over the edge of the pipe and drop down, and you probably couldn’t get back up again. Alternatively, the ladder is more or less solid and you could anchor a rope to it and climb down.

Or, hell, you could take a running jump and try to land in the other pipe. (You slept through Physics For Non-Majors. 8 AM is a brutal time for a science class.)

[novthewolf]

HII IS THIS A NEW BLOG ur theme is so cute giggles 💕💕

*drops request about jinx w a fem or gn reader doing her hair*

Knotted hair, knotted mind

(Thank you very much anon ! ^^)

Pairing : Jinx x GN!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, depiction of schizophrenia, english isn't my first language.

Words : +1,3K

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The huge metal structure groaned the more footsteps you took. You hated it here for the sole reason that it was incredibly deadly, and you didn't trust your feet to not betray you and make you fall to your death.

But for Jinx, you were more than willing to face your fears. Once again, she suffered from a breakdown in the middle of a mission, and the moment you got back to the headquarters, she bolted towards her room.

"Jinx ?" You call out, only to be answered by the echo of your own voice. Taking baby steps across the bridge, your eyes scanned the whole room. She could literally be anywhere. Really, she never ceased to amaze you, but this time, you just hoped she didn't hide away.

The deep void was pulling your eyes down towards it. A stream of curses targeted at your brain poured out of your mouth. Thankfuly, you could see the clumped counter in the centre of the giant room coming further. You rushed the last steps and totally leaned on Jinx's workshop, some of her makeeries falling to the ground. "We should really put fences around here." You whined.

A struggling sob resonated within the terrifying open space. Your eyes shot up, and you searched for your friend. She sat there across, her deeply blue hair totally discoloured on her head, as she pulled on it with concerning hatred. You gasped audibly and rushed to her side.

Kneeling down beside her, you hushed her to scout away from the edge of the plateform. Normaly, she wouldn't risk anything, but in her state, you didn't want to tempt the devil. You tilted your head to catch the expression on her face. "Jinx ?"

In the depths of her crisis, Jinx's expression was a haunting portrait of anguish and confusion. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, now mirrored the chaos swirling within her mind, haunted by unseen spectres and twisted visions. Lines of tension etched her brow, and her lips trembled with unspoken words, unable to articulate the torment raging within her soul.

Each fleeting emotion flickered across her face like shadows dancing in the dim light. Though her features were drawn and haggard, there remained a flicker of resilience in her gaze, a glimmer of hope amidst the storm that raged within her.

"Jinx, hey, listen to me." Her eyes snapped to yours, tears falling down her 

As the shadows of evening draped themselves over the room, you sat beside Jinx, whose once bright blue eyes were now clouded with fear and confusion. Her hands trembled as she clutched her long hair, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

With a gentle touch, you reached out, her hand finding Jinx's quivering shoukder, offering a silent anchor amidst the storm raging within yourriend's mind.

"I'm here, Jinx." You murmured softly, your voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous backdrop of young women's thoughts.

Jinx struggled to make sense of the fragmented and distorted whispers of her dead family that echoed in her mind. But you remained steadfast by her side, a beacon of unwavering support in the darkness.

"You're here too. Just you and me." With patience born of love and understanding, you guided her through the labyrinth of her own thoughts.

Together, you navigated the turbulent currents of Jinx's inner world, untangling the threads of reality from the tangled web of hallucinations and delusions.

"I didn't mean to fuck it up... I-It's just those fu-fucking blue firework thingies !" She gestured violently, and you had to duck your head to avoid getting slapped in the face.

"I understand... We should have been more careful. But we made it back; we're here. You are here." You smiled softly, not meeting her eyes, knowing it would only overwhelm her more.

She exhaled loudly and threw her head back, her legs bouncing rapidly. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared presence, you became the blue-haired lifeline, anchoring her to the present moment and gently guiding her towards the light. With each passing moment, the storm began to subside, and a sense of calm descended upon the room like a gentle rain after a tempest. Her small hands finally let go of her long hair and slid down her sides.

You felt her calm down gently, her eyes finally meeting yours. Your caring smile reassured me immensely. After her sister had abandoned her, Jinx kept seeking that loving and patient presence she lacked. Silco offered her the patience and structure she needed, but you brought her the unconditional understanding she craved. Something that could actually help her untangle her mind when the voices came nagging.

She hummed when your fingers brushed through her hair, smiling when she heard you chuckle. "Your hair is all messy..."

Jinx rolled her eyes but looked down bashfully. "Do you want me to brush them?" You offer quietly. The last thing you wanted was to cross her boundaries, though you knew she deeply enjoyed your touches and care.

"Okay." She nodded.

"Okay." You mirrored with a soft smile. Standing up, you offered her your hand, which she gadly took. You guided her towards her work table and sat her down on the chair.

You sat behind Jinx, who still bore the remnants of the storm that had ravaged her mind. With tender care, you began to gently comb through her tangled blue locks, her touch as light as a feather against Jinx's scalp. You put extra care into not pulling her hair or the knots in them.

"Can I braid your hair ?" You whispered softly, your voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. She nodded wordlessly, her eyes flickering with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion, her head tilting back, leaning into your touch.

As you deftly wove Jinx's hair into intricate plaits, the tension that had gripped her features began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm and tranquility.With each twist and turn of the braid, your fingers worked their magic, creating a rhythmic dance that seemed to lull your friend into a state of peaceful surrender.

As the braid took shape, you spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories and memories from their shared past, each word a gentle caress against Jinx's troubled soul.

"I was terrified of heights as a kid... well, still are." You chuckled, continuing the long braids, her hair seeming endless. "Which is, y'know, quite practical when you live in a city with mostly flying structures." Your joke earned a small giggle from her.

With each tale, the invisible barriers that had separated them began to dissolve, replaced by a sense of intimacy and connection that transcended the confines of their physical surroundings. And as you secured the final knot of the braid, Jinx's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound sense of clarity and gratitude. In that fleeting moment, as they sat entwined in each other's presence.

You blushed slightly as you made her chair spin around. "There. Even prettier than before, I didn't think it could be possible." You winked, trying to come out confident.

She scoffed half-heartedly and nudged your leg with her own. Her gaze dazed at her inventions lying around. "Thanks for being there for me." She couldn't meet your eyes, but her voice carried all the thankfulness she felt.

You chuckled breathlessly and caressed her soft skin with your knuckles. "It's nothing, love. I got your back." Her cheeks heated up at your words, and she played with the newly braided hair.

As the night wore on, you remained vigilant by Jinx's side, offering comfort and companionship until the first light of dawn. From this moment on, she knew that no matter how fierce the storm raged within her, you would always be there to guide her and brush her worries away.

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[angstywaifu]

Nightmares - Kai Azer

Request: Could you do a kai azer smut with bits of fluff due to nightmares. The nightmare can be about whatever. Could you make the smut soft like whispering I love you and soft kisses - @elliot-rain

Masterlist | Support Me

The darkness around me was suffocating, like a thick fog pressing in from all sides. I stumbled forward, my feet crunching over what felt like shattered glass. The air smelled metallic, like blood, and each breath burned my lungs.

“Hello?” I called, my voice echoing into the void. No response. Just the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Then came the whispers. Faint at first, then louder, circling me in an overlapping cacophony of hisses and disjointed words. I couldn’t make them out, but they felt wrong, like they weren’t meant for human ears.

A light flickered in the distance. I ran toward it, desperate for something tangible, something real. As I got closer, the scene materialized—a door, slightly ajar, with warm light spilling out. Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. My feet refused to move as I approached, as though the ground itself were holding me back.

“Go back,” the whispers said now, clear and insistent. “Don’t look.”

But I couldn’t stop myself. My hand reached for the door, trembling. It creaked open with a sound that scraped against my nerves. Inside was... me. Or at least, it looked like me—sitting at a table, head down, hands clasped together as if in prayer. My doppelgänger slowly raised its head, revealing hollow, black pits where eyes should have been. Its mouth stretched into an impossible grin.

“You’ll never escape,” it whispered in my own voice, but layered with something deeper, something inhuman. Then it lunged.

I screamed as it grabbed me, its hands burning like fire against my skin. I fought, I kicked, but its grip only tightened, pulling me into the darkness that swirled behind it.

“You’re mine,” it hissed, and everything shattered.

I bolted upright in bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. My body was drenched in sweat, my chest heaving, and my throat raw from the sound. The room was too quiet, too still, the nightmare’s grip still lingering in the corners of my vision.

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. In the doorway was a frantic and worried Kai, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide and frantic as he scans the room, sword grasped tightly in his hand. As his eyes meet mine, he relaxes for a split second, seeing I’m physically unharmed, but they go wide again as he rushes to my side, the sword dropping to the ground, the sound breaking the silence in the room.

”I’m here. You’re safe.” He tells me as he sits in front of me, grasping my hand in his.

Despite his reassuring words and the grounding presence his touch brings, I can’t bring myself to sleep. My mind still trapped in my dream, in the void. I pull Kai towards me, clinging to him like a tether to keep myself from falling back into it. The warmth of his touch is real, solid and grounding. But it did little to shake the fear that still clawed at the edges of my mind.

”It felt so…. real.” I finally choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was gone, like she was dragging me away.”

Kai pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. “You’re not gone darling,” He murmurs into my hair before kissing the top of my head. “You’re here. I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go.”

Their words felt like a lifeline, anchoring me back to reality. For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. My breath hitched as a fresh wave of emotion hit me, and tears spilled down my cheeks. Kai noticed, brushing them away with gentle fingers.

“Hey,” they said softly, tilting my face up to meet their gaze. Their eyes were filled with so much tenderness it made my chest ache. “I love you. I don’t care how scary the dream was, or what you think you saw—none of it changes the fact that you’re safe now. You’re with me.”

Something inside me cracked, and the tension that had been holding me captive finally broke. “I love you, too,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Kai smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Now just breathe. You’re not alone.”

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, their arms wrapped around me, their warmth chasing away the last of the nightmare’s chill. Slowly, I began to believe them. With Kai here, the void couldn’t reach me.

And for the first time that night, I closed my eyes and felt safe.

[tourettesdog]

Okay

Based on the prompts "Lancer is a good teacher and cares" and "Well, shit. He can't change back!"

For @majorastudios and @lexosaurus Word count: 9,563 Warnings: panic attacks, child neglect (more implied) AO3 Link ~

Danny would be the first to admit that he had a knack for finding himself in stupid situations. 

Or, at least, they had a knack for finding him.

This was all to say that the last place Danny expected to find himself on a bright and sunny July afternoon was trapped in an elevator with Mr. Lancer, of all people.

Now, the situation could have been worse— and it was. For all the shitty luck that Danny possessed in the universe, it seemed that there was always another giant middle finger waiting around the next corner. 

Danny hadn’t thought much when he heard the grinding sound of the parking deck’s elevator as one of the mechanisms securing the cable snapped. He’d been out flying when it happened and simply bolted towards the sound, determined to phase whoever was inside to safety. It had come as a shock, finding the elevator occupied by someone he knew. What came as more of a surprise, however, was the sickly glow of a ghost shield snapping into place before Danny could follow through with that plan.

It had been a close thing, putting on the brakes before he collided, Lancer in tow, with the glowing wall of the elevator.

Unfortunately, the doors had long-since shut and he couldn’t touch the crooked metal without meeting the painful shock of the shield.

Just being inside of it had Danny feeling woozy.

All he could do was stand awkwardly on the elevator floor, his stance a bit crooked as the elevator had sagged into a tilt, off-balance as it was in the shaft.

It was at least preferable to the thing crashing down to the ground floor.

Lancer, for what it was worth, was managing better than most would given the circumstances. At least, he had stopped screaming about a minute ago. 

If there was one positive thing Danny could gleen from the experience, it would have to be hearing his teacher utter a hearty  ‘fuck’  rather than the usual literary substitute. 

Not that he had much time to enjoy it at present.

Lancer’s chest heaved and his knees shook. He leaned against the side of the elevator with his arms splayed out across the metal hand railing on that side, his eyes flickering all around the small cabin. Danny knew that ghost shields never felt pleasant even to humans, but in his distress Mr. Lancer seemed to favor leaning into the buzz of the ectoplasmic energy over standing. Granted, given the shakiness of his legs, they might not hold him much anyway.

The metal of the elevator groaned, dust cascading from the paneled roof as it slid a couple inches down the shaft, eliciting a startled yelp from Lancer as he grabbed the railing with white knuckles.

Danny supposed there was more than one reason he should stay anchored to that railing.

“H–hey,” Danny said, trying to get his teacher’s attention. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but he didn’t think that awkwardly standing there, staring the man down, was conducive to settling his nerves.

Mr. Lancer’s gaze snapped up to meet his own. His eyes stretched wide, as if he hadn’t noticed Phantom’s presence until that moment, even though the ghost boy had just scooped him up before unceremoniously dropping him back down when the shield burst to life.

“Ph-Phantom?” he quavered.

“Yeah, um, who else?” Danny said, the words leaving his lips before he could think better of it. He cringed as soon as they did, chastising himself. It probably wasn’t a good time to make sarcastic jibes.

If Mr. Lancer noticed the snark, however, he didn’t comment on it. The toes of his shoes dug into the dirty linoleum on the elevator floor and he licked his lips nervously, eyes still darting around the cabin as though an exit might materialize from the ectoshield.

When he didn’t say anything, Danny felt like he needed to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the low hum of the ectoshield and the rapid hammer of Mr. Lancer’s frightened heartbeat.

“So, I know this looks bad but everything is going to be okay,” Danny said. His voice echoed in the small space, the tinny sound amplified by the metal around him.

Lancer just blinked, his pale green eyes, so much duller than Phantom’s own, stretched as wide as saucers.

“H–how can you be sure?” he said.

Danny’s eyes trailed around the elevator, ghosting over the green glare of the ectoshield. It completely covered the elevator box, though the floor of the shield had been thankfully recessed beneath the linoleum. 

Danny could still feel the hum it gave off through his boots.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, more to himself.

Mr. Lancer blanched, his face practically as pale as Danny’s hair. “Can’t you just—” the words died on his tongue as he glanced at the green shield once more, shivering slightly. 

“Yeah, the shield kind of complicates things,” Danny said with a sigh. “Not their best design choice.”

He didn’t have to elaborate on  whose design choice had crafted this coffin disguised as a convenient mode of transportation. 

Lancer let out a shaky breath. “It probably seemed more practical in theory,” he said, each word as shaky as his legs.

Danny nodded, crossing his arms. “Like, I can see what they were going for, but you’d think after over a year of help from a ghost they’d consider maybe— just  maybe  — that trapping people in a small ghost shield suspended three stories up  might not be a great idea.”

“Oh,  Watership Down,” Lancer said faintly, sliding slightly down the wall, leaning more heavily against the railing. Danny hadn’t realized just how much he was rambling, or how faint Lancer was looking in the wake of his ill-timed tirade.

“Sorry,” Danny said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not the best time for that.”  

Lancer nodded, his eyes wide and staring at the floor. “Yes, I don’t think it is,” he said.

Danny let out a long, drawn out sigh. He ran a hand through his mop of white hair, trying and failing to focus his thoughts on anything constructive. He was uncomfortably aware of the small, tight space. Nothing quite as claustrophobic as the thermos, but without any sure way to escape it had Danny’s core thrumming uncomfortably. 

Lancer just stared at him. Danny couldn’t fault the man. For all that Mr. Lancer had seen of Phantom— considering the many times he had rocketed through his classroom wall— Danny supposed that this was probably his first time seeing Phantom up close. Danny could see his own glow reflected in his teacher’s eyes— or perhaps it was mostly the light that the ghost shield emitted.

“I don’t suppose you have a phone on you?” Danny asked him.

Considering Mr. Lancer hadn’t reached to grab one, he thought he already knew the answer…

Sure enough, Lancer replied with a hollow, “Left it in the car.”

Danny tried to strain his ears for any outside sounds, desperate to drag his focus off of the small confines of the elevator. He could hear the rumble of traffic, but not much else besides that. The concrete walls of the parking garage were too dense, and the buzz of the ghost shield too distracting.

“Looks like we might have to wait for someone then,”Danny said nervously, his eyes trailing to the buttons on the elevator. 

Moving slowly, careful not to startle Mr. Lancer, Danny crossed the short distance to those buttons. He was closer than Lancer was and his footsteps much lighter. The man tensed slightly as Danny moved, but didn’t say anything. 

A layer of the ghost shield danced over the buttons, a rippling wall of green that sparked with electricity. It had to be one of his parents’ newer shields, judging by the bright color and the intensity of the static it gave off. Just being near the thing had his own ectoplasm buzzing uncomfortably.

Danny glanced back at Lancer, finding his teacher’s eyes trained on him. There was fear there, though also a quiet curiosity. It reminded Danny that he hadn’t seen Mr. Lancer at his parents' last few ghost seminars. That, for all the nervous fear mongering his teacher had given into in those first few months after the portal sparked to life, he seemed… much more reserved now. He didn’t show the same open support for Phantom that his students did, but Danny would take reserved caution over open hostility any day.

Glancing back at the elevator buttons, Danny bit his lip. He couldn’t exactly ask Lancer to press the buttons himself. Even if he carried him, there was no saying if the elevator would shift again once he placed him back down. 

Steeling his nerves, Danny held out his finger for the emergency button on the control panel.

The ghost shield rejected his ectoplasm immediately, sending a current of electricity through his body in a painful jolt. Sparks shot out where his finger met the shield, and Danny could only watch in horror as those sparks tangled with the control panel itself. He could see the current race through the metal, rippling beneath the buttons in bright cracks and pops. 

One last spark ignited at the top and, with a loud crack, the lights of the elevator shut off.

Danny stumbled backwards as it happened, hardly stopping himself from careening into the opposite wall of the shield. In the absence of the elevator’s lights, the space was bathed in a sickly wash of green. 

Lancer swore again, the sound enough to have Danny spinning around to make sure he was okay. Lancer had crouched, both hands still held firmly onto the railing as he lowered himself to the elevator floor with shaking knees. At a glance, Danny could have mistaken him for a ghost with how the light of the ectoshield painted his skin.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, his voice sounding rather small, shaky with his building unease. 

He doubted that the elevator had put off much of a distress signal before it lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lancer just slowly shook his head, staring at something only he could see. He was practically sitting now, his hands shaking on the railing, barely able to hold on any longer. Thankfully, the elevator didn’t shift as he sank to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, glancing back at the elevator buttons. A thin line of smoke trailed from the emergency button, giving off an acrid scent that mixed with the ozone of the shield.

Lancer looked up at that, the sudden movement in his periphery causing Danny to snap his attention back to him. Danny was surprised to find his brows furrowed.

“What are you sorry for?” Lancer croaked out.

Danny blinked. He stared. He looked between the buttons and Lancer, now shaking his own head. “I… broke the buttons?” he said, confused.

Surely Lancer hadn’t missed that lightshow.

Lancer’s brows drew so close together they nearly formed one line. His frown stretched almost as far, pulling at his black facial hair.

“You just hurt yourself trying to press it,” he said slowly.

Danny nodded his head, still unsure. “Yeah… and I broke it?”

If Lancer’s hands weren’t currently clutching onto the railing for dear life, Danny had a feeling they would find their way to pinch at his tear ducts— a gesture he often adopted when faced with a frustrating situation or student. 

“You… you knew the shield would hurt you and still tried to press that button,” Lancer said, his voice now tinged with exasperation. 

Danny’s own brows drew together, frustration drawing his teeth to clench. “ And  I said I was sorry,” he challenged.

It wasn’t his fault there was a ghost shield. It wasn’t his fault it tampered with the buttons. He’d  tried , and if Lancer couldn’t accept his apology, Danny wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

It’s not like he could storm off right now. Even if he could transform back, he had no way of knowing where the elevator was within the shaft, or how easily he could escape it without unsettling the delicate balance. 

Not that he could transform. Not here, not now.

Something strange ghosted across Lancer’s face, the expression hollow and haunted, shadowed oddly by the light from the shield; it glowed so brightly off of his bald head.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said, his words hushed, echoing slightly in the enclosed space. “I’m not arguing with you, Phantom, I… Are you all right?”

The question came so out of left field it struck Danny dumb. He fidgeted uncomfortably, noticing for the first time that he was cradling his left hand in his right.

Glancing down, Danny saw that his glove had been singed by the contact with the ghost shield. Just like the buttons, it smoked faintly, revealing angry green flesh beneath.

He was shaking. When did he start shaking?

Clenching his hand into a fist, Danny thrust it behind his back and out of sight. “I’m fine,” he said, locking his eyes onto Lancer, as if challenging him to say otherwise.

That strange expression persisted on his teacher’s face. If Danny had to give it a name, he supposed the closest thing he could compare it to was pity. Something about that squeezed uncomfortably at his core.

Danny was used to breaking things, and he was even more used to being blamed for breaking things— whether he had a part in it or not. That button had been a lifeline, possibly the only real thing that could ensure Lancer a safe reunion with the ground…

Why wasn’t he angry?

An uncomfortable silence filled the elevator. Danny could hear a siren somewhere outside, though it sounded far too distant to be something headed their way. Danny had no way of knowing how long it would take for help to arrive, or if it even would in time.

Danny was still shaking. It had gotten worse, if anything. The glow of the ghost shield was too bright and the walls of the elevator too narrow. The tilt in the floor too drastic, the hum of the shield resonating too discordantly with his core.

Danny had crouched down too, though he couldn’t say when he sank to the floor. He hugged at his knees, suddenly very aware of the summer heat. The elevator had been stifling to begin with, devoid of fresh air and baked by the sun. The ghost shield didn’t help, putting off a crackling heat that seemed to sap the breath from his lungs. Breath he didn’t need but wanted.

When did his breathing get so heavy, anyway? “Phantom?” The voice was quiet, unsure. It sounded both miles away and entirely too close, whispering in his ear. 

Danny stared at his gloves. The shield painted them green, like fresh ectoplasm over his hands. His arm still stung from the shock— still buzzed with the latent energy it gave off.

A distant echo of something far worse that still clung to him, leaving fern-like marks that rippled up that same arm.

“Phantom?”

He was Phantom, wasn’t he? That was his name, but he didn’t feel much like anything right now. More smoke and mirror than boy or even ghost. Phantom was supposed to be a hero, not some child who sank to his knees with fear squeezing tight enough at his chest to burst.

“Phantom, are you okay?” Was he okay? What did it mean to be okay? When was the last time he really was okay?

Somewhere distant Danny knew he was spiraling. He could practically feel his own awareness slipping through his fingers, lost to that tidal wave of fear. 

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He didn’t need to breathe, but he still did— sucking down deep gulps of air, like some awful mockery of a fish gasping on the bank of a sun-baked river.

“In and out. Breathe with me, it’s okay.”

How many times had Jazz said those exact same words? They were practically ingrained in Danny’s psyche, as much a part of him as the hazmat suit had made itself, fused as it was to his ectoplasm.

“That’s it. In and out.”

When had he shut his eyes? For all the green staining his eyelids, they might as well still be open.

“You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

An odd thing to say to a ghost (not that Lancer knew the half of that), but not unappreciated. Air felt good, as humid and musty as it was. His core followed the pattern, practically imitating the humble tattoo of a heart.

He could hear a heartbeat too. Faster than his own, though slower and more timely than the pulse of a core. Human. Safe. 

Danny focused on the sound. It almost drowned out the hum around him. It almost was enough to lull him into a safe, comfortable rest.

Almost, but not quite. Not enough to completely dash the ever-present buzz of the shield beneath him, dragging Danny back to the coffin of an elevator and its lurid green light.

Slowly, Danny opened his eyes. The light of the shield was not particularly bright, but it still burned his retinas. The hum seemed louder now, the static of it buzzing against his skin and frayed nerves. He blinked owlishly, his eyes roving over the rippling walls of green—

They landed on the person sitting nearby.

Danny couldn’t help but flinch back, surprised by the close proximity. With how glued Lancer had been to the railing, he would not have expected the man to move, and yet…

Here he sat in the middle of the elevator in front of him. 

"Feeling better?" Lancer asked. He leaned away slightly from Danny, but did not make any retreat.

For a moment Danny wondered if he'd transformed. Why else would Lancer have risked shifting the elevator just to, what, comfort him?

Danny held up his hands, half-expecting to find human skin.

His eyes met the same pair of green-stained white gloves.

"That was quite the panic attack," Lancer said when Danny didn't answer. 

Panic attack… that was definitely the phrase for it. Danny could recognize the lingering fatigue and oversensitive nerves that followed one.

That spiraling sense of losing himself still lingered too, along with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Sorry," was all Danny could think to say, wiping at his face.

"Why are you apologizing?"

It seemed like a genuine enough question, not that Danny felt he could give a genuine enough answer.

"Dunno," he said, hugging his knees more tightly, rubbing his good hand over the other. "Just seems like a pretty inconvenient time and place for a panic attack."

Of all the places he’d had a panic attack, this one maybe ranked a four out of ten. If he was being generous.

Lancer sighed. He settled down a bit beside him, though did not at all relax. Danny could see how his fingertips dug into the linoleum like cat claws desperately trying to find purchase on a branch.

“I don’t know that there’s ever a convenient time or place for them,” he mused.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t be having one in the first place,” he muttered darkly.

Lancer’s brow quirked at that. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

Danny picked his head up off of his arms, glaring at the man. “I came here to save you, not to, what— have an impromptu therapy session? Whatever this is.” He gestured around the cabin of the elevator, as if this  whatever was some physical concept he could point to.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere anytime soon, I think,” the teacher said. He didn’t look at Danny directly, his eyes trailing over the shut doors of the elevator. “Why not humor me?”

“I don’t feel like any jokes right now,” Danny quipped, pillowing his chin back on his arms.

Lancer chuckled, the sound odd and out of place in Danny’s ears. “No, I don’t suppose you would— frankly, I don’t either, but… humor me. Why don’t you feel like you can have a panic attack?”

Danny wasn’t sure when the script had flipped on him. It hadn’t been that long ago when Lancer was clinging to the railing, shouting in fear while Danny tried to weigh his options.

Now, sat on the grimy linoleum floor of the elevator, Lancer seemed remarkably calm and Danny… he felt remarkably small.

Smaller than usual.

He stubbornly wiped at his face again, hoping that no evidence of tears remained. Lancer might not know it was him, but he still didn’t want to be seen crying in front of his teacher. 

“I’m supposed to be a hero— and a ghost. Why should I have a panic attack over something like this?” he asked petulantly, digging his nails into his knees.

Lancer did not reply right away. He was quiet, seeming to pick his words very carefully before opening his mouth once more.

“Well, what is bothering you? Was it the shock from the shield?”

Danny’s eyes roved from Lancer to the buttons almost absently. He couldn’t tell if the shock was still reverberating through his ectoplasm, or if it was the mere memory now. The phantom feeling of the tide tugging at your waist while falling asleep after a day spent in the waves.

“I don’t… I don’t think so— I don’t know,” Danny stammered, his brows bunching together with frustration as he considered it. 

The glare of the ectoshield taunted him, rippling around him like light refracting through the water of a large aquarium.

“Is it something else?” Lancer asked gently.

Danny didn’t look at him. He stared at the buttons, transfixed. If he looked at them just the right way, they sort of formed an odd face with too many eyes. It reminded Danny of a ghost he saw once while lost in the zone, drifting a little too far past the Far Frozen’s snowy mountains.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “It’s part of it, I guess, but… I mean the shield sucks, and it’s small in here and reminds me of the thermos, and it’s too hot for my core and—”

Danny stopped abruptly, his eyes locking onto Lancer’s, finding the man watching him with wide, fascinated eyes. It had his core stuttering uncomfortably and a blush rising to his cheeks, no doubt as green as the hazy light from the shield.

Ducking his head down into his knees, Danny muttered, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Another sigh from Lancer. He was doing that a lot today— he always did, really. “It sounds like you needed someone to talk to,” he mused.

Danny just shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. His face positively burned. “I have friends,” he mumbled.

“Are they who you usually talk to about these sort of things?”

Danny clamped his eyes shut tight, trying to calm the unsteady thrum of his core. “I guess,” he said dismissively.

A pause stretched between them and Lancer shuffled uncomfortably in it. Danny tensed as he did, worried the elevator might shift again, but it seemed as though it had found a solid place to rest in the shaft.

“Do you…” Lancer trailed off, sounding very unsure of the question lying on his tongue. 

When he didn’t continue, Danny cracked open one bright green eye. “Do I what?” he challenged, tensing himself for whatever question might follow.

The look Lancer gave him would not be out of place on someone who had just watched a sad commercial with sat wet dogs. “Do you… have any adults to talk to? Any ghosts that look after you?”

Whatever question Danny had been expecting, he hadn’t expected one to strike so surely at his core. It thrummed like the strings of a violin, magnified until it reverberated through his entire being. Danny wondered if Lancer might feel it through the floor, over the hum of the shield.

“What?” was all he could say. No other words would find their way to his lips. His mind had shut down, lingering on the question with an uneasy, empty feeling that resonated from his core and hollowed out his belly.

“Is there anyone that looks after you?” Lancer asked again, his tone firm but no less gentle for it.

Danny stared straight ahead, seeing nothing as he let the question turn in his mind. His first thought was of Jazz. Ever since she found out about him, she’d stepped up in ways he could not have hoped for or imagined. She kept the first aid kit stocked. She checked him over for injuries. Jazz asked Danny how he was feeling, and wouldn’t always let him get away with a dismissive answer. 

She’d even started to cook them breakfast these last few weeks. Her first few attempts were about as disastrous as their mother’s own cooking— no doubt unaided by the tainted ingredients— but she was getting better. She had a little fridge in her room now with ingredients kept far away from the lab samples, and for the first time in a long while Danny was remembering what eggs tasted like without the acidic bite of ectoplasm.

Danny opened his mouth to give Lancer an affirmative answer, but froze when the man’s first question rang in his ears.

“Do you… have any adults to talk to?”

A stone dropped into Danny’s belly as he realized with a sick sense of dread just how much Jazz had risen to the forefront of his mind as a caretaker, completely eclipsing their parents.

Danny’s mouth was dry as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He could feel Lancer’s eyes burning into him as he took far too long to answer— his silence about as much of an answer as anything else, really.

“Y–yes,” Danny said, though his shaky words hardly convinced himself.

They certainly didn’t seem to convince Lancer, either. His brow quirked slightly before he schooled his features into a softer expression. “Do you?” he pressed.

Danny nodded, even as his mind spiraled once more, wallowing through a current of memories. He tried to think of the last time he felt comfortable talking to his parents, but only flashes of uncomfortable silences and nervous lies came to mind. He tried to think of the last time he felt safe in their care, but only the memory of dodging weapons and hiding injuries swam to the forefront of that current.

At some point Danny’s nod turned into a tilt— a shake. He was shaking his head, ever so slightly. His core squeezed and fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Lancer sighed yet again, the sound bone-weary and deep with exhaustion. “Where do you go when you’re not in Amity?” he asked. “Where do you stay?”

It was too personal of a question, one that Danny never would have thought to answer from a civilian. He’d been asked so many things by the people of Amity— shouted questions of his death and of his life before then. Each grated at his nerves and his core with an unrivaled discomfort, never something he would think to acknowledge with more than a joke, at most.

Yet… Danny didn’t resent the question coming from Lancer. It didn’t upset him, not in the way it normally did. The discomfort was there, but it had more to do with his own uncertain answer than the fact that Lancer had dared to ask the question in the first place.

It was Danny’s turn to sigh now, feeling his entire body sag into the motion as he hugged his knees still tighter, practically phasing them into his torso.

All he could do was shrug.

He knew where Danny Fenton went at night, but Phantom didn’t exactly have a place to rest his head. 

Lancer shuffled a bit closer until he was sitting directly beside Danny. He didn’t scoot away, almost welcoming his presence.

“I won’t pretend to know what it’s like being in your shoes,” Lancer began, his eyes locked onto Danny as he spoke, “but I’m here to talk if you ever need someone to be there.”

Danny blinked, staring. He hardly knew what to say— could hardly find any words in his head. After a pause, all that would come out was a hesitant, “Yeah?”

Lancer smiled, the gesture small as it tugged at his lips. “Yes. I’m a teacher and part of my job is to be there for my students.” 

Danny frowned at the word. “I’m not one of your students, though,” he said defensively, shuffling his feet. “I’m just a ghost.”

For one gut-wrenching moment Danny wondered if Lancer had figured him out. He couldn’t imagine how. His ghost form changed too much, both impacted by the ectoplasm in his system and by his own thoughts, as Frostbite once explained to him. The sharpened ears, the greenish tint of his skin— the broader shoulders and squared chin, more masculine than he dared hope for.

Even just the glow was enough to throw his features into a differing relief, but above it all there was one factor that Danny knew kept his identity safe:

The difference between flesh and ectoplasm. Life and death. Why ever assume something that breathed would also harbor something as innate to death as a core?

(Nevermind that he had been breathing this entire time, not that he needed it as he was.)

Yet if Lancer noticed the breathing or somehow made that leap of logic that saddled the line between life and death as surely as Danny did himself, he didn’t show it. He simply smiled sadly, meeting Phantom’s eyes with a kindness he rarely had shown to him in this form.

“Maybe not, but you must have been a student in this town at some point,” he said, his eyes trailing to his hands in his lap, fingers nervously rubbing his knuckles. “I might not be an expert on ghosts, but after teaching for as long as I have, I’d like to think that I know a thing or two about teenagers. You stay in this town enough that it must have been your home— that it must still be.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course. Mr. Lancer didn’t know the details, but his words rang truer than he knew. They echoed in Danny’s mind, as hollow and uncomfortable as they were right. 

Amity was Phantom’s home. It was his home.

Just hearing someone who wasn’t Sam, Tucker, or Jazz acknowledge that had the tears pricking at Danny’s eyes spilling over.

A hand tentatively patted his shoulder and Danny leaned into the touch, finding more peace in it than he thought he should.

A peace that, like many good things, did not last very long.

A familiar siren cut through the concrete, the sound grating at Danny’s frayed nerves with a fresh onslaught of fear. He couldn’t help but jolt at the sound, jumping into the air where he hovered, staring at the elevator doors.

“Phantom?” Lancer asked nervously.

The siren practically echoed in his skull, the sound far too familiar and far too disquieting. How many times had he heard it barreling towards a ghost attack, knowing that its presence would only complicate the battle? How many times had he been glad for the warning, if only so he could escape?

There was no escape right now, however. No way for him to slip out of sight, either through the walls of the elevator or into his own human skin. He couldn’t transform, not with Lancer right next to him and his secret already hanging by a gnawed thread.

Mr. Lancer must have heard the siren himself now, judging by the way his eyes moved from Phantom to the elevator doors. Danny couldn’t help but notice that his eyes brightened with relief.

“Lord of the Flies, it sounds like someone’s finally coming,” he said, that same relief carried on a much more relaxed sigh.

Danny bit his lip, unable to answer. He didn’t resent Mr. Lancer’s joy at hearing the siren, though it did come as a dark contrast to his own roiling emotions. 

“I don’t think they’re here to help,” he mumbled darkly, unable to suppress the resentment in his tone as he glared at the ectoshield warping over the elevator doors. “Not met at least.”

Danny heard Lancer suck in a sharp breath of air. He turned at the sound, finding his teacher watching him with renewed concern in his eyes. “They wouldn’t…” he said slowly, his own words trailing off as doubt crept into his tone.

Danny nodded. “They must’ve gotten some sort of alert when this thing went off,” he said, gesturing to the shield. 

“But they wouldn’t… you’re not…” Lancer tried again, his words no less convinced the second time around as he trailed off, his eyes widening when they fixed on the door.

The siren was so close now, echoing around the elevator. Each blaring note of the sound had Danny’s ears ringing and his core stuttering violently with fear. He absently drifted farther away from the elevator doors, watching them warily.

“If I could just explain to them—”

This time Lancer’s words were cut off as a loud, booming voice shouted. It came from somewhere overhead, echoing down the elevator shaft.

“Is there anyone in there!” the unmistakable voice of Jack Fenton boomed. “Our sensors detected that a ghost triggered our shield. Is the ghost subdued? Are any humans trapped?”

Danny stared, wide-eyed up at the elevator ceiling. He sank back down onto the floor, cowering as he heard what sounded like metal grinding as someone tried to force it apart.

His eyes flickered to Lancer, watching uncertainly as the man gaped at the ceiling. He had to be frighteningly aware of his precarious position in the elevator. Jack Fenton’s voice, though it sent fear rocketing through Danny’s core, must’ve sounded like freedom and safety to Lancer in that moment.

And yet… his eyes trailed back to Danny with  uncertainty. 

It was disquieting, seeing that expression on that face of a man trapped in an elevator shaft, who for all intents and purposes should have welcomed any offer of rescue with the widest embrace.

Yet Danny thought back to Lancer’s words as he calmed him down from his panic attack. He thought of his hand gently patting Danny’s shoulder, soothing him as he cried. He thought of how Lancer, once he pushed his own fear aside, had shown nothing but kindness and fear  for him, not of.

He had called Phantom his student. Had called Amity his home. 

“Is anyone down there!” Jack Fenton called again, the sound of metal shifting accompanying his voice once more. 

In that moment, Danny knew that he would have one of two options. There was no way his parents would disable the ectoshield without first making sure that no ghosts lingered invisibly within it. As Phantom, he was trapped, resigned to being seen. Cornered.

If his parents caught Phantom now in this position, Danny’s only option would be to try and explain himself and hope that they might understand. Pray that they wouldn’t assume he was overshadowed and give him a fraction of a chance.

But… Danny had another option. 

Looking at Lancer, finding him nervously staring up at the ceiling, Danny weighed that second option. 

He weighed Lancer’s words, the kind admissions of  home  and  student nestling comfortably in his core.

It was a leap of faith, and one Danny probably shouldn’t feel more secure in than his parents, and yet… When was the last time he felt safe around an adult?

Here, in an elevator, trapped with a man who had shown him more humanity in the last five minutes than an entire town had in a year.

The choice was clear to Danny.

“Mr. Lancer,” Danny began, his voice timorous and too small. His teacher’s eyes locked onto him at the sound.

“Y–yes?” he asked just as quietly, bewildered. 

Of course, he had never given Phantom his name.

Danny licked his lips. His breath caught in his throat as the metal shifted overhead again and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply to steady his nerves.

“I am one of your students.”

When the man didn’t reply, Danny slowly opened his eyes, finding Lancer shaking his head, his eyes never once leaving Danny.

“I… don’t follow,” he said.

More metal shifting overhead. Something heavy thumped. Danny’s core pulsed and his hands shook.

“I—I am one of your students,” he repeated, hardly more than a whisper. “Y–you taught me last year, and I wasn’t the best student but… but you helped me— then and now. And I… I’m afraid, but I want to trust you.”

The words tumbled out, a flood breaking through the dam as more tears slipped down Danny’s cheeks. He could hear talking above now, though the words were lost to the hum around him and the awful buzz still dancing through his ectoplasm.

Lancer was breathing heavily now. He looked at Phantom as though seeing him for the first time, his eyes stretching wide as saucers, capturing enough of the green light around them that they almost mimicked his own.

“D–Danny?” he said in a hushed tone.

The last bit of stone that held that flood back shattered. Tears dripped down Danny’s chin and he nodded, every inch of him shaking at that mere admittance. 

He hardly even had to reach for his core. The transformation came to him too quickly, rolling over him in a warm rush that banished the chilliest parts of his core to rest within his chest. He watched the gloves disappear, the bright green scars over his hand fading to white. The lichtenberg figures were faint, though now he could properly see their winding course over his wrist and under the hem of his red sweatshirt. White as they were, the sickly glow of the shield stained the scars just as green as his gloves had been.

“Danny…” Lancer said again, the sound choked in his throat. 

Danny hardly dared glance up, terrified of what he might find on his teacher’s face. Disgust? Disappointment? Fear?

He half expected Lancer to call a warning to his parents.

Danny looked up when the elevator groaned, startled as he felt it shift slightly and heard an alarmed sound from overhead. 

Lancer was looking at him still, but it wasn’t with any of the fear that Danny had expected. It was tired— sad. Sorrow. The man had shifted slightly where he sat, trying to reach out for him, but had frozen when the elevator shifted. Now he simply sat there, watching Danny with that somber expression.

Danny couldn’t tell if it was just the green light, but he thought he saw the pinprick of tears in his teacher’s eyes.

Dust rained down as something overhead shifted. For the first time since the buttons sparked, light that wasn’t green flooded the elevator as one of the ceiling tiles moved. 

Maddie Fenton’s red-lensed goggles swam into view. Danny hated that his first instinct at seeing them was to cower, fear coursing through him at seeing those lenses reflecting the green of the ghost shield.

But if Maddie knew something of Danny’s secret, it didn’t carry into the surprised gasp she gave as her eyes locked onto him.

“Danny! I— what are you doing here? How did—” the words caught in her throat and she gave a minute shake of her head, seeming to come back to where they were. 

“Mads?” Danny heard his father’s voice from behind her, echoing in the expanse of the elevator shaft.

Danny hardly heard them as Maddie explained the situation to her husband. He hardly noticed when more of the panels were pulled away and a rope ladder was lowered into the elevator.

When Lancer urged him to climb up it first, he had to tell Danny twice before a fraction of the words made it to his ears. He moved mechanically, his legs shaking as the elevator groaned when he tentatively stood and clutched the ropes.

He paused for a moment when he met the roof of the ectoshield. Even in their rescue, his parents hadn’t deigned to disable the device, though he was sure they could. Danny’s core buzzed uncomfortably as he passed through the wall of green, but it allowed his passage without the sparking jolt that had bit at his hand.

When Jack pulled Danny up with enough force to almost yank his arm from the socket, he allowed himself to be pulled into a tight embrace. He melted into it for a moment before his father had to shift his focus to Lancer, still trapped as he was in the elevator shaft.

Danny could only wait with bated breath as they pulled him up.

He watched as Lancer stumbled out onto the floor of the parking garage, blinking dazedly in the sunlight that filtered through the open windows. 

How strange that it was still daylight.

Danny waited, still feeling sure that he had made a mistake— that any moment now Lancer would speak up and spill the truth.

Those thoughts fled his mind when Mr. Lancer’s eyes locked onto him. There really were tears there, welling onto his lashes, brightening the green of his eyes with emotion. 

He didn’t speak, just watching quietly.

With both of them secured, Maddie pulled Danny into a hug of her own. She held him tight, asking if he was hurt and smiling proudly at him when he put on a brave face and told her he was fine. 

A fraction of that smile even felt real, basking in his mother’s warmth and concern. 

It died a little when she said, “We need to scope the area for whichever ghost triggered the shield. If a ghost is willing to tamper with these cables, there’s no telling what other sort of harm they might cause.”

She whipped around to Lancer, the man straightening as her eyes fell on him. For all her short stature, Maddie could be an intimidating, intense ball of fire.

“Did you see anything? Did you hear anything that might help us locate this ghost?” she asked him.

Mr. Lancer blanched, his mouth opening and closing— eyes skirting minutely to Danny as he failed to give her a proper answer.

After a moment, he simply shook his head. Danny felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders, though he still didn’t dare let himself fully relax.

Maddie frowned, disappointment clear in her own slackened shoulders as she sighed. She glanced between her husband and Danny, her expression softening slightly as it landed on him, before fixing her lavender eyes once more on Lancer.

“I hate to ask this of you, William, but would you be willing to take Danny home? I know that you two have been through a lot this evening, but we can’t let this go uninvestigated. If there’s a dangerous ghost lurking in the area, we need to find it before it truly hurts someone.”

Her tone was so sincere, each of her words dripping with resolve. 

Lancer just gaped at her, looking between mother and son with utter disbelief.

“I—” he paused, glancing at Danny, looking at him with the same intensity he had before calling his name in that elevator shaft. “Yes.”

Maddie positively beamed, relief and admiration evident in her tone as she said, “Thank you so much; you have no idea how much this means to us.”

Mr. Lancer just nodded stiffly, standing to the side as Maddie pulled Danny into one last hug and kissed his forehead.

His skin burned where her lips touched. His chest felt hollowed out, his core thrumming slightly.

Something colder than the core in his chest ghosted over Danny’s skin when she let him go, turning back towards the elevator shaft to join the investigation with her husband.

Danny stared after them for a long moment, watching as she fell into the task without so much as a glance backwards. 

He wiped at his forehead, still feeling the burn of her touch.

Another sigh behind him, longer and deeper than any Danny had heard that evening. He turned to find Lancer standing there awkwardly, wringing his hands with a nervous energy that he rarely saw adults let show.

“Let’s… let’s go then, shall we?” he said quietly.

Danny sighed too. He resisted the urge to glance back at the elevator shaft, already knowing that his parents were too absorbed in their work to notice. 

For all the deep fear he’d felt at their arrival, this hollow ache was deeper.

“Y–yeah,” Danny said, swallowing against the tightness of his throat. “Okay.”

Danny didn’t even know why Lancer was in the parking deck that day, and he didn’t necessarily want to ask. The thought of inconveniencing the man from an errand he needed to run would just be one too many awful weights on his shoulders today. Instead, he just followed his teacher to his beat-up silver car, quietly climbing into the passenger seat.

Lancer climbed in on the driver side just as quietly. He didn’t even buckle his seatbelt at first. Didn’t start the car. He simply stared through the windshield, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he sat there and breathed.

Danny picked at the hem of his sweatshirt, lost for words. He couldn’t help but notice the phone lying beside him on the console between the seats.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Lancer asked him. His voice didn’t echo in the car like it had in the elevator, but he still flinched at the sudden sound.

Slowly, nervously, Danny met his eyes again, peering at the man through his bangs. “I guess.”

Lancer’s face crumpled slightly, pinched with sadness, but he nodded. Without saying another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. The car roared into life a moment later, and a moment after they were off.

As they rounded the spiral of the parking garage, Danny found his eyes trailing out the window, locking onto the open doors of the elevator shaft. He could see the bright orange of his father’s hazmat suit, though couldn’t spot his mother before the car rounded the turn, leaving them behind. 

Danny’s core squeezed alongside his heart.

Lancer turned the radio up, seemingly needing something to fill the silence, but lowered it just as quickly when the broadcast that filtered through the radio mentioned ghosts within the first breath of the speaker.

They continued on in awkward silence, Danny’s eyes glued to the window but unseeing anything past it.

“They don’t know, I assume.”

Danny had hoped that Mr. Lancer might not acknowledge the ghostly elephant in the room, but he supposed, like with all things, he was never that lucky.

Danny didn't bother to look at the man, choosing instead to just stiffly nod his head.

Another sigh. One too many, enough to grate at Danny’s nerves, but not enough for him to snap at it.

His belly felt too hollowed out for that anger now.

“You… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Lancer then said, carefully picking around the words like someone navigating a minefield. “You don’t have to tell me anything, really.”

“I know,” Danny said, allowing some bite to enter his words. He needed some measure of control over this situation in which he had practically none to speak of.

In his periphery, Danny could see Lancer nod his own head as he said, “I meant what I said back in the elevator— to Phantom. To you.”

That was enough to make Danny turn his head. He wasn’t sure what street they were on, only that it was a long one with too many stop lights. They’d stopped at each along the way, agonizingly dragging out the drive.

“Meant what?”

As they stopped at another light, Lancer turned his head to look at Danny. His eyes still seemed bright with emotion, though what tears had gathered in his eyes had disappeared. 

“That if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. You are my student, after all.”

Danny bit his lip. He searched Lancer’s eyes, trying to find any hint of a lie or deceit, but Mr. Lancer truly seemed as sincere now as he had been stuck in that elevator shaft.

“It… doesn’t bother you that I’m a ghost?” he asked him.

There had to be a catch— there had to be a limit to this kindness and Danny would rather find it now than later.

Mr. Lancer’s frown deepened at the word ‘ghost’, but it quirked up into a small smile just as quickly. 

“And my student,” he repeated gently. “And a kid, just like any one of my other students.”

Lancer’s smile was wry, hardly there, but it warmed him to see it at all. His voice echoed in Danny’s head as they drove on, the silence feeling much less daunting with those kind words occupying his thoughts.

Lancer seemed to hesitate for a moment before they turned onto Danny’s street. He hesitated another moment before pulling the car up alongside the sidewalk.

His knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, every inch of his posture as tense as Danny’s felt, like a cord ready to snap.

Danny didn’t get out of the car at first. He just sat there, staring at the red brick building of FentonWorks and the glaring neon signs over the door. His eyes skirted up to the Ops Center, the shadow looming over him a fiendish thing.

Danny was glad when Lancer did not immediately oust him from the car. He needed that moment to just sit and breathe. To have a space, however fragile, where he felt like he might have someone in his corner who was older than sixteen.

“You would… you really wouldn’t tell my parents?” Danny asked, hardly daring to speak the words allowed. Terrified that he might get confirmation of his worst fears.

Lancer’s eyes widened. He slowly shook his head, mouth slightly slack-jawed.

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, not…” He actually did pinch his tear ducts this time, in that familiar gesture he hadn’t been able to back in the elevator. “Pride and Prejudice, Danny, I know when a student is afraid of their parents. I’ve… I’ve seen it before. Not like this, never like this, but still…”

He trailed off, looking ahead, swallowing a lump in his throat as he gathered more of his thoughts. 

“Danny…” he began again, the word quavering. “I don’t know how to help you with this. I… I just need you to promise me that you’ll do your best to be safe. That you’ll do the smart thing and ask for help when you need it. That if your parents hurt you…”

He trailed off again, shaking his head. Danny’s parents had already hurt him, they both knew this. It wasn’t an if, it was a when and an again.

“I’ll be careful,” Danny tried to reassure him. “I–I have Jazz, and Sam, and Tucker. They know. They know and they help me, and I trust them.”

He hoped that those words might quell some of Mr. Lancer’s doubts, but Danny’s core thrummed uneasily when his teacher’s eyes just widened with renewed horror.

The man slowly shook his head, a trembling hand rubbing at the bags beneath his eyes.

“You’re all just kids,” he said quietly.

It was true, technically, but Danny hadn’t felt like much of one over the last few months. He had too many responsibilities as Phantom— had seen and faced too many things.

“We can handle it,” he said, trying to reassure himself as much as Mr. Lancer.

He wasn’t sure it worked either way.

Danny glanced back to FentonWorks, his hand tracing the handle of the car door. “Um, thank you for taking me home, Mr. Lancer,” he said, his throat still tight. “And, uh, for everything else.”

Mr. Lancer just nodded. He seemed so tired, the bags beneath his eyes deeper and darker than Danny’s own. His teacher said nothing as he opened the door and climbed out, though seemed to find his voice as Danny went to shut it.

“Wait—” he said suddenly, holding out his hand. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulled the door open wider, leaning down to hear what he had to say. 

Mr. Lancer studied him for a long moment, eyes flickering over his face as though searching for a hint of Phantom’s glow in his irises. 

“My door is always open if you need someone to talk to,” he said evenly. “Whatever happens, that doesn’t change.”

Danny blinked, letting his words sink in. He could feel the sincerity in them and, after everything that had happened today, Danny felt he had very little reason to doubt his teacher.

Nodding, voice still hoarse with emotion, Danny said, “Okay.”

 ~*~

 William did not drive off right away. He allowed his car to idle as he watched Danny Fenton walk up the sidewalk and the steps to his front door. The boy knocked, waiting for a response inside. There was a long pause in which nothing seemed to happen and William was just considering rolling down the window to call out to the boy when he glanced back at him.

William’s heart leapt into his throat as Danny’s eyes met his. Even from a distance, he could see a sharp hint of green in them, the same shade he had grown accustomed to in his time trapped in that elevator. He watched with bated breath as Danny’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment before sweeping up and down the street. 

William’s hands tightened on the steering wheel when Danny turned around and stepped  through his front door as if it simply wasn’t there.

William let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a shaky exhale that hardly did the stress of the day any justice.

With one last glance at FentonWorks, finding a simple wooden door where Danny had stood just a moment before, William drove away.

 ~*~

 William stood in the entrance to his apartment for a long moment. Just stood there, hardly acknowledging when his cat came to greet him, brushing up against his ankles with a friendly meow.

He stiffly bent to stroke a hand through his fur, the soft texture feeling stiff and coarse against his numb skin.

Moving mechanically, William shuffled through the kitchen as he set a kettle on the stove to boil. He wasn't even sure how long the kettle whistled before it was enough to shake him from the stupor of staring into open space.

Even once he had his cup of tea, Lancer couldn't stop shaking. He sank down into his favorite armchair by his favorite shelf of books, eyeing the light brown tea in his cup without drinking.

He thought of Danny all the while— of Phantom. Of how long the ghost boy has been in Amity Park and what that must mean for his student.

It had been a year ago, William recalled clearly. A year ago when all of the ghosts appeared— Phantom included.

That must have been when…

A drop fell into William's cup of tea. He watched the ripples as more tears rolled down his cheeks.

His hand shook violently, splashes of the tea spilling into his lap, and William had to set the cup down on the end table beside his chair.

A year. His student had been dead for a year and he hadn't even noticed.

His parents hadn’t, either.

William didn't even want to think what had caused it. Didn't want to imagine what horrors that boy had faced, because he could already picture, far too clearly, plenty of them.

How many times had he watched Phantom fight? 

All of the absences, all of the behavioral issues. Everything fell into place, a gruesome puzzle that William had never known needed solved.

He thought, too, of the boy's parents.

How many times had he watched the Fentons shoot at Phantom, aiming their guns without so much as a moment's hesitation?

William hardly noticed when his cat approached, giving a small meow as he butted his head into his hand and slowly picked his way into his lap. When Radio began to purr, the feeling that rumbled through his body was achingly similar to what William had felt from Phantom when he broke down.

When Danny, his student, broke down.

If Radio minded the tears splashing into his fur, he didn't care to move. He simply stuck there, rumbling away in William's lap, heedless of the emotions choking his chest.

William didn't know how long he sat there, mindlessly running his hand through Radio's ginger fur, allowing the cat’s purring to still the last few trembles in his fingers.

William didn't know what he'd do when the summer ended and he had to face that boy every day, knowing just why he raced from his classroom.

All William knew was that he'd keep his cellphone on him this time, always ready to answer just in case that boy needed his help. 

If anyone needed that kindness, it was him.