#to be clear i mean old daniel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kumkaniudaku · 8 months ago

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Stay A While

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

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You staying anywhere when you get here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Another round, brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any time.”

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

“I look crazy, huh?”

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

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?”

“Don’t start, TJ.”

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

“What? TJ? That’s your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Treece, I can do it.”

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

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

“So, how you doing? How you been?”

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

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“TJ for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you lose?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

“You wanna talk about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucked that up.”

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

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.”

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

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

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

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

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ghouldump · 9 months ago

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✧ iwtv imagines

everything is gn!reader or fem!reader.

poc friendly !!

if requesting, please provide a generic summary, to give me an idea.

please follow for more, your support is appreciated.

002

beautiful deception

moving to paris, the last thing you expected was to come across the ancient vampire.

beautiful deception, untold truth

remembering the truth sometimes hurts, but perhaps love will prevail

bring me back to life

when he discovers something new, rejuvenating him from anything that has happened, and now he has to have her

teacher’s pet

hunting with armand as his new lovely fledgling and companion.

to be loved

idolized and worshipped by your coven members, alive but not living, things quickly change for you when you move to paris, and meet your soulmate.

ride the dragon

during the anticipated interview, daniel didn’t expect louis to have such an alluring companion

001 002 003

anything for you ii

all he wants is for you to be his perfect companion, yet you keep chasing the fleeting things of life.

as you are | bi!reader

cuddling together, the two of you share your experiences with past lovers.

come to me

lestat is willing to do anything to get his companion back, even if it means revealing his identity to the entire world.

diva

lestat is a handful to tour with but he's also incredibly handsome and charismatic.

fallen

princess of demacia, a marine kingdom is temporarily banished. she refuses to conform to the standard, being a heartless killer. wandering the water, she finds herself in new orleans, where she meets a vampire.

fangirl

meeting the vampire rockstar goes surprisingly well.

love me | bi!reader

as your companionship seems to be failing, you retreat, seeking comfort from a woman who looks awfully similar.

masquerade

even with your horrific background, he fell deeply for your heart.

pretty when you cry | bi!reader

when you are hunting, focused on your prey, you don't even realize how beautiful you look to lestat.

spider and the fly

when lestat uses louis as bait to lure and trap his actual prey.

sweet rapture | bi!reader

lestat is a firm believer that as a vampire, your very existence is about pleasure, but for the first time, he meets someone who shares this belief, even beyond his standards.

the miseducation of vampire lestat | series

The story of a forbidden love, when the young upcoming singer gets herself tangled in the dark world of the rockstar, Lestat. He is too captivating to leave, despite everyone’s efforts to keep the relationship from happening. However, the longer you are close to the brat prince, allowing him to consume your thoughts, the more you realize none of them — not a single one of them, actually knew anything genuine about him.

the night is ours

being awakened, naturally you go to your old love, only to find that he is now a rockstar, perhaps now you can have the happily ever after you both once wanted.

thicker than water

you should have known better than to entertain someone who would bring up the idea of leaving your husband and daughter.

trick or treat

sneaking into the supposedly empty townhouse, you are met by a surprise

tu es mon autre

he never thought he would meet someone who brought back such familiar feelings.

your best nightmare

being away from your companion, as both of you take on stardom, can be frustrating, but it is very rewarding to see your maker for the first time in months.

if only for one night

initially finding out about the de pointe du lac’s interest, you wanted to steer clear of him, until you accidentally ran into him and changed your entire perception

all i ask of you | loustat x reader

when lestat takes matters into his own hands, leaving louis to sit in his regret of not complying with your wishes.

back in my arms | loustat x reader

time traveling accidentally and you're able to relive bittersweet memories.

forever young | loustat x reader

you meet someone who reminds you of your maker, and naturally gravitate to them, but your family isn't as welcoming to the idea of the man.

for the love of a daughter | loustat x reader

out of fear, lestat does the unimaginable and has to try his hardest to win his family's trust back, but it may be too late

god complex | loustat x reader

you want out, realizing your little family isn't as perfect as you thought, but they would never let you slip away so easily.

l’amour de ma vie | loustat x reader

while you love your companions, it is no secret that they oftentimes exclude you, and it isn't until you leave that they go into panic mode.

trust | loumand x reader

born for stardom, but destined for chaos, the last thing you ever expected was for two old vampires to become your companions.

#amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat de lioncourt #lestat x reader #amc interview with the vampire #armand x reader #louis de pointe du lac x reader #louis x reader #poc friendly #black!fem!reader #iwtv #— ghouldump masterlist 💌

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sunarryn · 24 days ago

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DP X Marvel #23

The day started like any other in the Ghost Zone: tense, glowing, and humming with the promise of disaster. Danny had only popped by Clockwork’s tower to ask a simple question—something about paradox prevention or whatever—and definitely didn’t mean to touch the ancient, glowing relic perched delicately atop a cursed pedestal of time-forgotten sorrow and screaming. But he did. He touched it. And then everything exploded in green light and dramatic violin music (which might have been in his head).

And just like that, Danny Fenton was five years old again. Five. Chubby-cheeked, wide-eyed, pint-sized kindergarten-age with all the raw ghost powers of his seventeen-year-old self packed into a body no taller than three feet of chaos. Worse, he remembered everything—every awkward high school moment, every near-death experience, every ghost fight, every existential meltdown.

“Clockwork!” Danny shrieked, his voice now horrifyingly high-pitched and squeaky. “What the actual hell?!”

“Language, Daniel,” Clockwork said in the maddeningly serene way only a time god could manage, waving his staff with an infuriating smirk. “Consider this a learning experience.”

“I hate learning! Learning’s for school and people who don’t get turned into toddlers by rogue hourglasses!”

But Clockwork only chuckled like this was all going according to some elaborate cosmic lesson plan. Probably because it was. He vanished mid-scolding, leaving Danny alone in the tower, stomping around in his little sneakers and throwing ghost-powered tantrums that cracked the marble tiles.

Which is when the floor opened.

To be clear, Danny did not jump into the swirling blue portal. He fell. He fell dramatically with limbs flailing and an undignified scream that would later be blamed on the wind. The portal spit him out in the middle of what could only be described as a cathedral on steroids: tall golden columns, floating runes, and people in robes glaring like he’d farted during a funeral.

He crash-landed on a silk-draped table in front of the actual gods.

“…Ow,” Danny groaned, blinking up at a very tall, very unimpressed man with a horned crown and cheekbones so sharp they could cut reality.

The man frowned. “Why is there a child in the royal seidr sanctum?”

“I didn’t mean to be here! I touched a stupid relic and now I’m five and I fell through a portal and—wait, are you Loki?”

There was a pause. “Yes.”

“Cool. Love your work. Big fan. Please don’t murder me.”

Loki blinked. “…What?”

Then the child burst into blue flames and hovered six inches off the table, sparking with ghost energy like an angry firecracker. Everyone screamed. A robed man passed out. Someone wet themselves. Loki, to his credit, looked intrigued.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, circling the small floating menace. “You’re not of Midgard, are you?”

“I’m Danny from Earth, actually! I’m from Illinois! I’m just—also—kind of a half-ghost and currently five and possibly stuck like this forever!”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’re an abomination of magic.”

“Thank you?”

“I like you.”

“No thanks?”

But Loki had already scooped him up like some cursed kitten that wandered into his life. Danny screamed the whole way down the palace corridors, zapping walls, guards, and an unfortunate tapestry depicting Odin’s triumphs. Loki just looked delighted. Like this was the best pet he’d ever found. Like this was revenge against Thor just by existing.

“You are now Dánjal Lokison,” Loki declared.

“I AM NOT—STOP—PUT ME DOWN—”

“I shall raise you in my image.”

“I already have a dad and he’s stupid but he’s mine—put me down or I will scream and explode and possess your furniture!”

“You’ll fit in perfectly.”

Thus began the unholy saga of Danny Fenton, age five, accidentally adopted by the God of Mischief and forced into Asgardian nobility under duress. It was, somehow, not even the weirdest thing to happen that month.

Loki dressed him in child-sized black leather and tiny green cloaks. He taught him how to chant spells in Elder Seidr, how to bend illusions with his hands, and how to summon fire with a thought. Danny, in retaliation, taught Loki about Earth cartoons, fart jokes, and TikTok dances. It was a two-way cultural exchange of chaos and regret.

“I’m telling you,” Danny said one day while floating upside down and eating apples he stole from the royal garden, “if you say ‘We’re going ghost’ and then transform, it’s at least thirty percent more dramatic.”

“That’s idiotic,” Loki replied, watching as Danny exploded into white light and ghost form, now slightly glowing with new magic enhancements.

“You’re just jealous I sparkle when I fight.”

“I do not sparkle.”

“You sparkle on the inside.”

“Stop talking.”

“Dánjal Lokison, feared child warlock of the Nine Realms,” Thor once declared when he saw the tiny menace casually phasing through walls and summoning frost giants to play tag.

“DON’T NAME ME THAT,” Danny screeched, blasting Thor into a wall. Loki applauded from the doorway.

“Good aim, my son.”

“I’M NOT—STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

But Danny was starting to enjoy the magic lessons. Seidr wasn’t like ghost powers. It was older, wilder, sometimes alive. Loki was a surprisingly good teacher—equal parts unhinged chaos and genuine brilliance. He explained the threads of fate like they were spider webs and taught Danny how to pull on them without being noticed. He spoke about illusion like it was poetry and destruction like it was art.

Danny, in turn, taught Loki to prank Thor using invisible slime bombs and existentially disturbing hand puppets that whispered secrets in Old Norse.

They became a problem.

Every time the Avengers tried to contact Asgard, they were met with grainy magical holograms of a tiny child in a green cape flipping them off while floating upside down on a summoned ghost-storm cloud.

“Tony Stark looks like a soggy crouton!” Danny shouted once.

“And smells like cheap cologne,” Loki added.

“High five, evil dad!”

“High five, tiny curse.”

Eventually, Odin tried to intervene.

“This child is not of Asgard,” the All-Father declared.

“I’m not trying to be!” Danny yelled. “Please take me back to Earth! I miss McNuggets and not wearing robes!”

“He’s mine now,” Loki said, summoning a massive magical contract written in fire and Loki’s own blood. “Legally and spiritually bound. I did the adoption ritual and everything. It involved a screaming goat.”

“I HATE THAT GOAT,” Danny screamed.

“I love that goat,” Loki sighed.

“You’re both mentally unstable,” Odin muttered, rubbing his temples.

Danny was eventually granted limited “portal privileges,” which meant he could sneak back to Earth and terrorize his friends while still technically being a Lokison. Sam and Tucker didn’t even question the fact that he was a child again. Jazz just nodded like this was expected and handed him a juice box.

“Have you emotionally bonded with your captor yet?” she asked.

“I am not bonding with Loki!” Danny snapped.

“You call him ‘evil dad’ and wear his colors.”

“THAT’S NOT A BOND, IT’S A THREAT DISPLAY!”

Back in Asgard, Danny practiced summoning tiny void rifts, which Loki encouraged.

“Good,” he said, sipping wine as the rifts swallowed another fruit bowl. “Let the darkness consume you.”

“I just wanted an orange.”

“Even better.”

Eventually, Danny grew attached. It was subtle. A twitch of the lip when Loki conjured birthday cupcakes with green fire. A soft “thanks” when Loki wordlessly cleaned his scraped knees with glowing runes. A quiet night where Danny fell asleep reading next to Loki and didn’t wake up until morning curled in a pile of fur cloaks and dark magic.

“Do you miss being big?” Loki asked one night, watching the child version of his adopted problem-child sketch battle plans in crayon.

“Sometimes,” Danny said. “But…this isn’t bad. Just weird. You’re weird.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Take what I can get.”

Loki never asked too much. He didn’t push Danny to call him ‘Dad’ or act like anything other than the feral little ghost-child he was. But he was there—smirking through tantrums, snarking through training, protecting Danny like a dragon hoards gold.

So when some ambitious frost giant tried to kidnap “the ghostling Lokison,” they were met with a five-year-old banshee of death wielding seidr, ghost rays, and an unholy screech that shattered icebergs.

And behind him, Loki arrived in a storm of green fire and fury.

“Touch my son again,” he said, “and I will erase your ancestors from the time stream.”

“I’M STILL NOT YOUR—wait, okay yeah, get him.”

They were a nightmare pair. A chaos duo. A tiny tornado of destruction and his too-proud magic tutor/father/roommate/menace.

Eventually, Danny stood in front of a new portal, Clockwork hovering beside him with his usual smug patience.

“You’re ready to go back,” Clockwork said. “To your age. To your world.”

Danny glanced over his shoulder. Loki stood there with his arms folded, expression unreadable but eyes a little too bright.

“I’ll come visit,” Danny said, voice small but steady.

“You’d better,” Loki replied, voice quiet and sharp as always.

There was a long pause.

“Bye… evil dad.”

“Goodbye, Dánjal.”

Danny turned. The portal shimmered. His small form stepped through, glowing with ghost light and seidr and something else—something new.

Back home, he hit the ground as a seventeen-year-old again. Taller. Older. But he still wore green.

In his pocket, a rune carved with love.

He never said he liked being a Lokison.

Though he’ll never stop using the name.

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bigmomma25 · 2 months ago

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Character Analysis of Josh Levy

Sorry if this is shit, idk how to word my feelings on Josh. Gonna go about each character very differently bc they're all complex in their own right and I have so many thoughts. Brain so full. He’s the most tragic of them all, super overlooked, misunderstood, and underrated. He’s someone who’s hard to analyze, since he’s so guarded. Plus I distance myself from him bc he's too real lol

I feel the most integral part of Josh's character is the fact that he's neurodivergent. He's always been very autistic-coded in writing, but it was also confirmed by Dorkin that he is somewhere on the neurodivergent spectrum, which changes his character completely from just a gluttonous selfish loser to a cautionary tale of what can happen when autistic children get no resources or room to be "weird" in public.

When we first meet Josh, it's established that he's the laughing stock of the group. In the first meeting that we see, the rest of the club has managed to get all types of pop culture merchandise from all over the place, but Josh's are more childish, like Animaniacs and Flintstones. He also went the easiest route, basically relying on his mother if he wanted to get anything done. All in all, not very complex, and this gets him laughed at immediately.

He is only treated with respect when he has something the rest of the club values, and has to use it as leverage to get any kind of positive feedback. During open debate, he's almost sneered at by the rest of the group and doesn't even realize it, since he's loud and corny and laughs at his own jokes. When they play DnD, he's shown to be very insecure and terrible at decision-making, once again getting him endlessly shit on by Pete. And once his leverage is gone, he's mocked again, especially for falling for such an easy scam.

There is a lot to unpack there, very quickly. The story almost makes it easy to point and jab at someone like Josh, without looking much deeper than the surface. He's the Eltingville Club's personal Chris-Chan, or Tophia, or Daniel Larsen.

Josh Levy has a Binge Eating Disorder

Josh has bad eating habits, both in the comics and pilot. He's willing to eat stale Doritos from a trash can, is constantly shoving fast food in his face, and bulk buys food constantly for the collectibles, eating it all instead of throwing it away like his friends. It even leads to health problems and discomfort, like when he was eating nothing but Batman-shaped Mac and Cheese for days and had extreme bathroom issues. This is meant to show his gluttony, but even that represents the issue Josh has faced all his life - his problems being portrayed as his own fault and made into a gag. Being fat is not a moral failure, but everyone has always told Josh that it was.

Binge eating stems from somewhere. You aren't born with those habits, and there's a reason he feels stupid and ashamed every time he participates in it. Josh has always faced a lack of control and emotional support from everyone in his life, leading to him trying to find it in both escapism and food binges. It's also a sign of even bigger mental health issues, but no one steps in. His own family shows a lack of care or consideration for their son, along with enabling his habits by constantly buying more for him. He has very little say in his own life, but he does at least have a say in how he eats and the things that bring him joy, even if it's destroying him.

Enabling Parents

While I wouldn’t say Josh has good parents, they at least have some type of care for him, and he obviously comes from a family with money. His parents are very old, and his mother is sickly, which means that they probably can’t discipline him in the way that he needed as a child. Even when Josh was grounded, it was a very light punishment compared to what he did (literally vandalism) and it’s clear there aren’t many rules in his house.

They essentially allow Josh to do whatever he wants, and throw money at him constantly, but refuse to actually look at what he needs emotionally that is causing all these outbursts. They show very little care when Josh is distraught, don’t address his binge eating habits or obsessions or why he’s having dreams of his friends beating him to a pulp. They constantly buy him a bunch of junk food when they can see the impact it’s having on his health, or maybe they don’t pay enough attention to notice. With his mother being sick, it’s very likely that he didn’t get much attention, and tried to get it from everywhere else in his life. He’s emotionally neglected and physically spoiled, trying to use material possessions to fill that void.

Josh’s Autistic Traits

I’m going to have to make a bullet pointed list for this, since there’s so many instances that it’s hard to pinpoint all of it.

Emotional Outbursts/Emotional Impermanence - Josh has been shown on multiple occasions to feel things very strongly, and acts out because of how emotional he gets. Particularly, his anger often overwhelms him. It’s very common for people on the spectrum to lack the ability to regulate their emotions and self soothe in a typical fashion, which leads to meltdowns, and angry outbursts. Josh clearly has a hard time conveying what he’s thinking when he’s upset, often getting tripped up and desperate, like trying to explain himself during the trivia-off, and trying to set boundaries with the club about the fat jokes only to be met with laughter and ridicule. I firmly believe he’s had meltdowns multiple times on screen, and it’s not always just him throwing a tantrum. He’s also able to switch his emotions very quickly, going from fuming with anger to beaming with joy, as if he’d felt nothing else beforehand.

Social Obliviousness - Josh often doesn’t realize he’s the butt of the joke when it’s not spelled out for him. His friends don’t even want to be seen next to him at times, and he never really realizes the degree in which they hate him. He makes a fool out of himself constantly, but doesn’t realize how people perceive him OUTSIDE of being a fat nerd, and has no desire to know and no self-reflection. Once again, I feel that the dream he has about his friends beating him up until he bleeds is significant, because he asks himself “what could that possibly mean” when it is VERY obvious to the rest of the audience.

His Special Interests Shape His World - Josh isn’t shown to be the brightest in many aspects; in the pilot he’s prone to making mistakes, he often comments in the comics about how he comes to realizations far slower than the rest of his friends. But when it comes to his special interests like Star Wars, he’s a human encyclopedia. He knows the most out of the group about anything sci-fi and comic related, even trying to build an actual functional Iron-Man suit by himself (before lighting himself on fire, but that’s still knowledge and dedication). The way he calms down is literally sorting his figure into lines. He can’t take his mind off of it even in important situations, like in the pilot when he’s being screamed at by Bill’s mom but is still caught up in the DnD game. His job in the future is literally him trying to be a comic writer. He cannot function in the world without his special interests being involved, and since most people were very hostile towards him and his interests, this manifests in him being defensive and obsessive instead of forming a normal relationship with it.

Lack of Empathy - Josh is very rude, like everyone in the club. While his harassment of others isn’t an autistic trait, it does show that he has a hard time putting himself in other people’s shoes. Even when he does care about people, like his mother, or Bill not getting a chance to get a Star Wars figure because Josh keeps hoarding them, or Pete after the zombie walk, he can’t conceptualize how they feel if it doesn’t affect him. It may not even dawn on him, because of his social ineptitude.

Missing Social Cues - Josh isn’t the best in social situations; from the painful conversation with the many cashiers at fast food places, to the scene during DnD, in the comics, when Josh is confronted with a social interaction with a girl and completely falls apart. He’s awkward, he’s loud, and he has no idea he’s awkward and loud. He’s also very blunt, and sincere with his words, not realizing that other people can say something and mean another, like when he showed up to job interviews and talked about Godzilla, thinking the hiring manager was interested.

Black and White Thinking/Paranoia - Josh jumps to conclusions often. With him, it’s either something is the worst thing to ever exist, or it’s perfect and you’re not allowed to criticize it. He has a hard time understanding that grey area, and this also reflects on how he views other people. Unlike Bill or Pete who form their judgements of “normies” on trends they’ve noticed and behaviors they’ve watched from afar, Josh thinks they’re all inherently bad based on his own experiences being bullied. And he believes all nerds are inherently better because of his friend group and experiences. Seeing someone who’s both preppy and enjoys nerdy media would probably turn his entire world view upside down.

Disorganization/Executive Functioning Issues - Josh can’t care for himself on his own, and has a hard time in public places. In the pilot it’s more evident, during the DnD game when he’d been shown to drop everything, make poor decisions, be hyper focused on small issues and details while ignoring the big picture, which can reflect how he conducts himself in real life. Even just making himself a meal or going grocery shopping is hard for Josh, which can be partly caused by his parents babying him too much, and partly from lack of executive functioning skills.

The Lolcow-ification of Josh

Unfortunately it’s a big part of his character stereotype that this story takes place in the early 2000s, which means the general population is very hostile to both fat people AND autistic people. Being both means that anyone and everyone will find an excuse to shit on you, and it will be socially accepted to do so. So it’s not unreasonable to assume Josh has been socially outcasted since his birth. Social Isolation is scientifically the worst pain humans can go through as a social species - it manifests in the brain as physical pain. And being exposed to that pain your whole life leaves you traumatized.

I’m going to be a dork for a second and reference my favorite book; much like how Frankenstein’s monster was not born violent, but grew to be so after being rejected and betrayed by everyone he knew, Josh‘s positive traits slowly became overshadowed by his insecurity and defensiveness.

It’s rather heartbreaking, how hard it is to analyze Josh when he is so clearly defined by trauma. Especially since it’s a fact that no autistic person in our society has really gone without trauma. It’s hard to know the real Josh when he’s always on defense mode. His trauma is also heavily overlooked, both in the story and in reality. Since he is most likely undiagnosed, he probably sees it as his own fault.

Josh’s Positive Traits

When he’s so often looked down upon, I feel like it’s important to have a little segment all about the good things in Josh that’d hard to notice.

Creativity - Josh is actually very imaginative. From his desires to become a comic writer, to his eagerness during the costume contest, he’s shown a desire to create and is always full of ideas. Good ones? Maybe not. But full of ideas nonetheless.

Loyalty - Josh puts up with shit no one in the whole world should let slide. When Josh truly loves someone, like the club, he doesn’t leave them. It may be partially caused by his follower tendencies, but he’ll stick by and defend his friends in any situation. Even when he swears he’s leaving for good, like when he daydreams of shooting his friends in the head, or claims the end of the Eltingville Club in the pilot, he always comes back.

Attention to Detail/Ingenuity - Josh is the type to notice things no one else notices, which often comes in handy, like during the trivia-off and how he managed to make the stash of collectibles in toy stores for the club. It’s an important skill, especially when the rest of the club doesn’t pay as much attention is he does. He tends to take the long way when solving problems, so this attention to detail often means coming up with unique solutions to difficult problems.

Honesty - Josh says what he means, which is real as fuck. Saying he’s gonna piss his pants in excitement is not only humorously blunt but also goes to show that he’s not gonna hide what he thinks or how he feels for anyone. The type of friend you go to when you want someone to tell you how it is and not sugarcoat it.

——

Yeah that’s all I’ve got for now. Too many thoughts and too little words I may explode. I just wanna squish him

#the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #eltingville club #josh levy #eltingville josh

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writingwithcolor · 1 year ago

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How can non-Jewish writers include Jewish characters in supernatural stories without erasing their religion in the process?

Anonymous asked:

I have a short story planned revolving around the supernatural with a Jewish character named Danielle (who uses they/them pronouns). Danielle will be one of a trio who will be solving the mystery of two brides' deaths on the day of their wedding. My concern with this is the possibility of accidentally invalidating Danielle's religion by focusing on a secular view of the afterlife. At the same time, I don't want to assume that Jewish people can't exist in paranormal stories, nor do I want to use cultural elements that don't belong to me. So, how do I make sure that Danielle is included in the plot without erasing their Jewishness?

Okay so to start with I think we need to ask a question about the premise: what is a secular afterlife? I’m not asking this to nitpick or be petty, but to offer you expanded ways of thinking through this issue and maybe others as well.

A Secular Afterlife

What is a secular afterlife? To begin with, I get what you mean. The idea of an afterlife we see in pop culture entities like ghost media owes more to a mixture of 19th-century spiritualist tropes drawn from titillating gothic novels than to anything preached from the pulpit of an organized house of worship. Yet those tropes--the ominous knocking noises from beyond, the spectral presences on daguerrotype prints, the sudden chill and the eerie glow, all of those rely on the idea of there being something beyond this life, some continuation of the spirit when the body has ceased to breathe. For that, you need to discount the ideas that the consciousness has moved on to another physical body and is currently living elsewhere, and that it was never separate from the body and has now ceased to exist. Can we say that this is secular?

More so: Gothic literature, as the name suggests, draws heavily on Catholic imagery, even when it avoids explicit references to Catholicism. Aside from the architectural imagery, Catholic religious symbols permeate the genre, as well as the larger horror and supernatural media genres that grew from it: Dracula flinches from a crucifix, priests expel demons from human bodies, Marley’s Ghost haunts Ebenezer Scrooge in chains. The concepts of heaven and hell, and nonhuman beings who dwell in those places, are critical to making the narratives work.

The basis also draws from a biblical story, that of the Witch of Endor. The main tropes of Victorian spiritualism are present: Saul never sees the ghost of Samuel, only the Witch of Endor is able to see “A divine being rising” from wherever he rises from, and her vague description, “I see an old man rising, wearing a robe,” evokes the cold readings of charlatan mediums into the present (Indeed, some rabbinic sources commenting on this assert that this is exactly what was going on).

While neither of these views of its origin define the genre as the sole property of Catholicism--or of Judaism for that matter--it would be hard exactly to categorize them as secular.

A Jewish Perspective on ghosts

However, it’s not the case that ghost media is incompatible with Jewishness, assuming that it doesn’t commit to a view of heaven and hell duality that specifically embraces a Christian spiritual framework.

Jewish theology is noncommittal on the subject of the afterlife. The idea of a division between body and soul in the first place is found in ancient Egypt, for instance, earlier than the earliest Jewish texts. In Jewish text it’s present in narratives like the creation story, in which God crafts a human body out of earth and then breathes life into it once it’s complete. It also appears in our liturgy: the blessings prescribed to be recited at the beginning of the day juxtapose Elohai Neshama, a blessing for the soul, with Asher Yatzar, expressing gratitude for the body, recited by many after successfully using the bathroom.

Yet it’s not clear that this life-force is something separate than the body that lives beyond it, until the apparition of the Witch of Endor. The words we use to describe it, whatever it is, evoke the process of breathing rather than that of eternal life: either ruach (spirit, or wind) or neshama (soul, or breath): neither is a commitment to the idea that it does--or that it doesn’t--go somewhere else when the body returns to the earth.

Jewish folklore, however, leans into the idea of ghosts and other spiritual beings inhabiting the earthly plane (and others). Perhaps most famous is the 1937 movie The Dybbuk, in which a young scholar engaging in kabbalistic practices calls upon dark forces to unite him and his fated love, only to find himself possessing her body as a dybbuk. It appears that he is about to be successfully exorcized, but ultimately when his soul leaves her body, hers does as well.

More relevantly to your story, a Jewish folktale inspired the movie The Corpse Bride. In the folktale version, a newly-engaged man jokingly recites the legal formula he will soon recite at his wedding, and places his ring on the finger of a nearby corpse--a reference to a time when antisemitic violence is said to have gotten worse not only at Jewish and Christian holidays as it does still to this day, but around Jewish weddings as well. The murdered bride stands up, a corpse reanimated complete with consciousness, and demands that the bridegroom honor his legal obligation.

In the movie, the bride gives up her demand willingly: her claim on him is emotional rather than legal, and she finally accepts that he has an emotional connection with another person, that he doesn’t love her. In the folk tale, the dead woman takes him to court to decide whether their marriage is legal, since he spoke the legal words to her in front of witnesses as is required, and the court rules that the dead do not have the right to make legal demands on the living. In this version, the moral of the story is that a legal formula is an obligation; that when he jokingly bound himself to the corpse, he not only disrespected the dead but also the legal framework that structures society, and by so doing risked being obligated to keep his side of a contract he never intended to enact.

This speaks to the ways that a Jewish outlook can differ from a Christian-influenced “secular” one. Christian-influenced cultural ideas can often focus around feeling the right thing, while Jewish stories will often center on doing the right thing. Does the Corpse Bride leave because she realizes she is not the one he loves? Because she--or he--learned a valuable lesson? Or because she loses her court case? It’s not that the boy’s emotions are irrelevant to the story--the tension, the suspense, the horror of the story takes place primarily within the boy’s emotional landscape--but emotions on their own are not a solution. The question “should he marry her” can be answered emotionally, but “has he married her” can only be answered by a legal expert, and once it has been the deceased bride may not have changed her emotional attachment to him, but she no longer has legal standing to pursue her claim.

Centering legal rectitude over emotional catharsis isn’t a requirement for having Jewish characters in your story, but it’s worth thinking about what is and isn’t universal, what is and isn’t actually all that secular.

Meanwhile, back at the topic:

Where does any of this place Danielle?

Well, unless you’re positing a universe in which Christian or other deities or cosmologies are confirmed to exist (See Jewish characters in a universe with author-created fictional pantheons for more on that topic), there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be perfectly fine interacting with whatever the setting you’re building throws at them.

My wishlist for this character and setting runs more to the general things to consider when writing fantasy settings with Jewish characters:

Don’t confirm or imply that Jesus is a divine being. That means no supernatural items like splinters of the cross, grails, nails, veils, etc. There’s nothing particularly powerful or empowering about this one guy who lived and died like so many others.

Don’t show God’s body and especially not God’s face, or confirm that any other gods or deities exist, whether that’s Jesus, Aphrodite, or Anubis, or someone you made up for the context.

Don’t put Danielle in a position where they’re going to play into an antisemitic trope like child murder, blood drinking, world domination, or financial greed. If you have to, name it and let Danielle express discomfort with or distaste for those actions both because Jewish values explicitly oppose all of those things but also because Danielle as a Jewish character would be painfully aware of these stereotypes as present and historical excuses for antisemitic violence.

Do consider what Danielle’s personal practice might look like. What does Danielle do on Shabbat? What do they eat or refrain from eating? What are their memories of Jewish holidays and how is their current holiday observance different than their childhood? I know I say “Jewishness is diverse” on every ask, but it is, and these questions--which also underscore how very much Judaism is rooted in one’s actions during this life--will help you develop how Judaism actually functions to inform Danielle’s character, even if you don’t spell out the answers to each of these questions in text.

Do let Danielle find joy, comfort, and identity in their Jewishness not just in contrast with Christianity but simply because it’s part of the wholeness of their character. I know the primary representation of Jewishness is a snappy one-liner in a Christmas episode followed by the Jewish character joining in the Christmas spirit, blue edition, but make room for Jewishness to inform how Danielle approaches the events of your story, or why they decide to get or stay involved.

-Meir

Hi it’s Shira with some Jewish ghost story recs written from inside–

When The Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb (deliriously good queer YA Jewish paranormal, mainstream enough that it’s got a good chance of being at your local library and won all kinds of awards)

The Dyke and the Dybbuk by Ellen Galford (sorry for the slur, warning for a paragraph of biphobia in the book but it’s an older book. I read this right before my divorce so my memories are super fuzzy but it’s about this modern day lesbian who gets possessed by the ghost of a different lesbian from hundreds of years earlier in Jewish history.) Nine of Swords Reversed by Xan West z’L of blessed memory - another queer Jewish paranormal.

The general plot is that two partners are struggling with how to be honest with each other about the effect disability is having on them. It’s got a very warm and fuzzy cozy vibe but kink culture is central to the worldbuilding so if that isn’t your vibe I didn’t want you to go in unaware.

The Dybbuk in Love by Sonya Taaffe. I don’t remember the details but I remember loving it, it’s m/f and romance between possessor and possessed.

I wrote a really short one called A Man of Taste where a gentile vampire woman and a Jewish ghost/dybbuk get together.

#Jewish #Judaism #supernatural #supernatural beings #settings #fantasy #ghosts #asks

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dameronology · 3 months ago

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recovery (bucky barnes)

summary: bucky's life has gone to shit. there's only one person who can help. (x)

warnings: this is kinda raw?? and mentions of drinking!! plus swearing.

thank you to @retrosabers for listening to my waffling as i wrote this

enjoy!!

jazz xx

Read, 11:32PM.

Bucky Barnes missed the days when you didn’t know if someone had read your message.

He’d never had that problem when pigeon mail was a thing.

Now, he knew that you’d seen his message. He knew that you had read his lovelorn paragraph and chosen to ignore it. Even worse, you could have just swiped on the message and not taken in a word at all. If this had been the old days, he could have told himself that your lack of response because it had got lost in the mail, or delivered to someone else, or was just taking a while to get there. Now, thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, he knew exactly what happened. And when. And how.

That was six weeks ago, and Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he had moved from his mattress since he’d seen those two blue ticks. It didn’t feel like six weeks. That was a long time. There were days when his phone ran out of charge purely because he was staring at your profile picture for so long. You’d changed it now, from one of you and him, to a selfie you took with Steve and Sam at last year’s Christmas Party. It had been cropped every so slightly to remove Bucky from the picture. You could still see the edge of the jaw, but nobody would have known he was there, save for him.

That left a heavy feeling on his chest. Not just cropping him out the picture, but out of your entire fucking life. Even with his face removed from the picture, Bucky still remembered that night - kissing you at midnight, telling you he loved you at midnight, keeping a strong arm wrapped around your waist the entire time. If he squeezed his eyes shut long enough, he could pretend you were still there. But, he would open them again a few minutes later and realise you were actually just a pile of pillows with eyeliner stains on them.

(He was experimenting with his style post-break up).

The worst part of it all was that Bucky knew it was his fault. It was his choice to get bad again; his choice to ignore all the warning signs and instead, dive head first back into his old ways. You’d begged and cried and bartered - left the numbers of therapists on the fridge and self helplines on his laptop - and still, he’d not only gone down a slippery slope, but he’d chosen to throw himself. Now, he was at the bottom. You’d peered over the edge for a little while but soon enough, you had no choice but to walk away.

“Buck!”

There was a thump on the apartment door, but Bucky didn’t answer.

“Bucky, I know you’re in there,” Steve continued.

“I don’t wanna talk!” Bucky yelled back.

True to form, Steve Rogers never listened - the door came crashing down a few seconds later, the super soldier landing in an ungraceful pile on top of it. Fucking brilliant, Bucky thought.

“What part of I don’t want to talk is hard for you to understand?”

Steve let out a sigh, looking at his best friend. Bucky was strewn across the sofa, six or seven empty bottles of Jack Daniels littered on the coffee and table and an eighth in his hand. The whole place smelt like a fucking bar. It was clear that he hadn’t cleaned since you’d left, or maybe even showered. Bucky’s stubble was forming a beard now and his hair was unkempt. Steve hadn’t seen him looking that tired and messy since his first days out of Hydra.

“Buck, you’re a mess,” Steve said.

“I made my bed, now I’m lying in it.”

“Actually, you’re on the sofa,” he quipped, but his goofy tone soon dropped. “C’mon, buddy. This has been going on for too long.”

Bucky groaned. “I don’t know what else to do. I lost the only one good thing in my life-”

“- and whose fault was that?” Steve cut him off.

“What?”

“Whose fault was that?” he repeated himself. “I’m not tryna be mean, Buck, but you pushed them away, remember? They tried, and you refused the help.”

“Did you come over here to help me to feel better, or to make me feel worse?” Bucky snapped.

“Man, I came over here to check you were alive,” Steve replied. “Because no one is sure these days.”

“Just leave me be, Steve.”

—

Bucky rotted in peace undisturbed for a few more days.

That was until Saturday, when there was a violent knock on his (now repaired, post-Steve) door. He lifted his head from the pillow like a confused puppy, pausing for a moment. He glanced at the time - who would be knocking at 11:32PM on a Saturday night. Did people not have hobbies?

“Pizza!”

“I didn’t order pizza!” Bucky called back. “You have the wrong address.”

“You’re J. Barnes, no?”

“Wrong address, buddy! Go away!”

Another second passed, and before Bucky could even blink, his front door came crashing down again. Seriously, why the fuck did people keep doing that?

He was about to lose his absolute shit, but instead Bucky froze when he saw you. Apparently it was snowing outside, cos there were a few flecks caught in the front of your hair and on your jacket - his actually, that you’d stolen years ago - and boots. And, to be fair, you were also holding a pizza.

“I said pizza,” you announced yourself. “Also, Steve sent me to help get your head out your ass.”

“W-what?” Bucky stuttered. “You’re back? You came back-”

“ - I never left, Bucky,” you cut him off. “I just needed to take some time. I couldn’t sit here and watch you throw yourself back into oblivion, which you have done a very good job of, by the way.”

There was a brief pause before you spoke again.

“You look like shit and smell like a distillery, by the way.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Let me help you…please?”

You opened your arms and in a second, he’d fallen forward and let you envelope him completely. You had always planned on coming back, but you’d had to deal with yourself first; Steve calling had been your sign, though. If he couldn’t help Bucky, then things really were dire. And, without sounding twisted, you’d hoped that actually up and leaving like you’d promised would be a wake up call for Bucky.

It had been. He just needed a kick up the ass - and that’s why you were here.

Bucky nor you spoke for a while after that.

He didn’t say a word as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, rinsing shampoo into his hair, although he did let out a little laugh when you used the bubbles to fashion his hair into one long spike. There was a quiet stay still whenever he tried to move when a razor was near his face, or scissors near his hair, but within the hour, you had Bucky looking like Bucky and less like The Winter Soldier. He looked tired still, of course, but this was the first baby step.

“Do you hate me?”

The question caught you off guard. You were sitting on the end of the bed whilst Bucky was drying himself off with a towel; you’d seen his butt enough times, so leaving the room didn’t feel necessary. It did hurt your heart a little to see that he’d lost weight, though,

You shook your head. “Buck, I could never hate you, and I didn’t stop loving you either.”

His eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. “Really?”

“Are you stupid, Barnes? Of course I didn’t stop,” you shot back. “Like I said, I just couldn’t stand around watching you do that to yourself. I’m sorry for leaving, I really am, but I just wanted you to get better. I still do.”

Bucky took a seat beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll try. I promise. I’ll call one of Stark’s therapists in the morning, and I’ll go for a run, and-”

“- Buck, don’t push yourself,” you cut him off. “Baby steps, okay? And I’m there for every one of them.”

tags: @adelinesmedia

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel imagines #avengers imagines

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ao3-rex1223 · 4 months ago

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𝓣𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼

Pairing: Professor Leon x Fem Reader

Tags: Lactation kink, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, orgasms, Leon being dominant but also soft, Leon being a dad.

Summary: You and Leon have a six months old daughter. Winter break at the university is just starting and Leon discovers how much he likes your milk...

“More applesauce, sweetie?” You coo to your six month old daughter, Danielle. You carefully guide the little baby spoon to her mouth. She greedily opens wide for more delicious food. “Such a good eater!” you praise, nuzzling her little forehead. “Mommy is so proud of you, Dani.” You continue feeding her as you sit in the university cafeteria, glad that winter break is starting.

“There’s my girls,” Leon purrs as he approaches. He drops a loving kiss to Dani’s head - she giggles and smiles - then kisses your lips, his mouth lingering for a moment. “Hey there, baby.”

“Hey,” you reply, your cheeks flushing as they always do when he kisses you. “How was class?”

He smirks. “Oh, you know, teaching students to think critically and use their head…it’s a tough job but someone has to do it.”

“Tell me you’re going easy on them, at least,” you reply while scooping another tiny spoonful of applesauce. Dani eagerly watches as it nears her hungry mouth.

“I can’t. I swear, the average exam scores get lower and lower every semester.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. When you were his student, he seemed mean and unapproachable, but now you can tell he genuinely wants his students to learn, even if he is a little rough around the edges. Of course, when you were his student, you only aced his class because you let him fuck you over and over in his office. But one thing led to another and now you are the mother to his daughter.

“Aww,” you reply with a teasing expression. “No extra credit for your class this semester?” Your eyes burn with a sensual heat as you gaze at him.

He smirks wickedly and kisses your neck. “Only for my favorite student,” he retorts with a gruff chuckle. You giggle as his warm breath tickles your skin, an adorable laugh that mirrors your little daughter.

Your intimate moment is interrupted by a plucky, young female student clearing her throat. “Um, Professor Kennedy…Could I have a word-”

Leon cuts her off. “Ms. Jones, you may send me an email and I will answer it on my next working day, or you can visit me during office hours. What you may not do is intrude when I am out of my office while I am tending to my girlfriend and our daughter,” he reprimands gently but firmly.

The young student blushes and nods, then quickly turns to run away. You smirk and gently smack Leon’s shoulder. “You didn’t need to be so harsh, Leon.”

Leon steals a kiss from you before he answers. “Yes, I did. I’m clearly spending time with my family. I will not be interrupted.”

You give him one last disapproving glance before returning to feed your daughter.

After lunch, you both head home to give your daughter a nap. You each press a featherlight kiss to her forehead, then quietly exit and close the door. Leon gives you a sultry look, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and crawls over you, supporting himself with one arm and traversing your curves with the other. You reward his sensual ministrations with soft moans and whimpers, wordlessly begging for more.

“My girl, always so needy for her professor’s cock,” Leon coos, still playfully referring to himself as merely your educator and you just his pupil, as he occasionally does during your more intimate moments. His hardening member begins pressing against your hip over your clothes, causing your cunt to stir. Creamy slick leaks into your panties, making the thin cotton fabric stick to your folds. His hand slides up underneath your shirt, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

As he inches under your bra, he massages your swollen breast and tweaks your nipple. When he feels a few drops of milk, he freezes, his cock hardening even further. “Baby,” he purrs, roughly pulling your top off and ridding you of your bra just as fast. He attacks your neck with a wet kiss, sucking and groaning. He works his lips down; his target: your leaking breasts. His lips pepper kisses up one of your plush mounds then finally take your nipple inside his mouth. He moans appreciatively, sucking and drinking your milk - now free flowing. His hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as if to keep the flow strong. “Mmm, you taste amazing baby girl. Why is this the first time I’ve drank from your perfect tits!?” He smirks wide and returns to his feast like a man starved. Determined to bring you to euphoria with him, he slips a hand under your panties and rubs your slick folds.

Your soft moans fill the air like music serenading him while he devours you. The combination of his mouth sucking firmly on your tits and his fingers rubbing your cunt is nearly burning you up. “Ohhhh…Leon…”

With a growl, he pulls his mouth off your tit with a pop, licking his lips as he looks into your eyes. “Hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commands gruffly and, without waiting for you, grabs your hips and flips you over, then pulls your ass in the air. It all happens so fast, you’re nearly dizzy from the transition. The erotic sound of his belt buckle being undone and his zipper sliding down drives more slick to gush from your cunt. You clutch your pillow, eagerly awaiting the feel of your lover inside you. He shoves your skirt up and pulls your panties to one side.

Finally, the heavenly stretch of your walls around his cock floods your senses, a cavalcade of pleasure surrounding your body. He wraps his hands around your plush hips, still holding onto some baby weight. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Leon purrs. “Think I might have to breed this pussy again. Give Danielle a little brother or sister. Whad’ya say, baby?”

Your answer is a guttural moan as he drives his cock deep into your soft pussy, grinding against your g-spot. Your milky tits rub on the blanket beneath you, your sensitive nipples sending sparks all over.

Leon’s pace increases, thrusting into you harder and faster. He reaches around to stroke your clit, smearing your slippery essence all around your cunt. “Cum for me, my good little slut,” he commands.

His dirty words and pressure on your clit are enough to send you over the edge. You rock your hips back hard, taking his cock deep as your walls tighten around him like a vice. You bury your face in your pillow and cry out, not wanting to be too loud and wake your daughter. Seconds later, a punched out groan leaves Leon’s throat as he cums inside you. He collapses on the bed next to you, pulling you securely in his arms while he softly strokes your hair. “God, I fucking love you so much, baby,” he coos.

After lying together for a while, you hear Danielle’s cries through the baby monitor. Leon kisses your forehead. “You rest, sweetheart. I got it. Barely got to see my little princess at all, today.” He rises from the bed, dresses quickly, then pads down to the nursery to spend time with his precious daughter. Meanwhile, you drift off to sleep into a light nap.

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #12 days of smutmas #Professor!Leon x fem!Reader #leon s kennedy x reader

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nemesis-writer · 5 months ago

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[Unwanted Ransom(Chapter 4)]

Glided Lily Masterlist TW- mentions of the movie Jersey Girl

9 years ago...

I was going to a pool party for my friend's birthday, but little did I know there was someone else that was gonna be there. I bought him some new sneakers he wanted because he never shut up about them. And since, I had hand me downs, I sold them to earn enough money for the sneakers.

By the time I reached the party Daniel, the friend, approached me saying, "Hey, Xerxes thanks for coming, I thought that you were a bit too busy for this."

"Fuck nah men, I wouldn't miss this for the world." I admitted.

Everything was going smoothly until I saw a person, I thought I would never see again...

Damian.

"What the hell are you doing here, freak?" He shouted at me.

"He is my friend what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You have no friends, dipshit."

"You have no mom dumbass."

Before I had time to know what I said, a fist came toward my face. Luckily I missed it, and responded with an uppercut to his cheek. Finally a taste of his own medicine, too say I was proud of me was an understatement. Until I heard,

"Ms. WAYNE".

Fucking cocksucker had to ruin this day. I felt Mr Wayne grab me by the collar and escorted me out of the party. Dennis muttered a 'sorry', but no one was allowed to do anything, so I couldn't ask for help.

At home...

"Ms Wayne what were you thinking!?"

"Before you continue, it's Ms Amala."

"Don't you give me that tone."

"You don't even know my name, you just call me be your last name just with a Ms."

"You attacked your brother"

"My 'brother' slashed me in my fucking arm and you didn't do shit."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch to him he wouldn't have."

"I HATE YOU I WISH MOM NEVER MET YOU!!! "

"SO DO I YOU LITTLE SHIT, YOU AND YOUR MOM RUINED MY LIFE."

"Go fuck yourself."

With that I ran to my 'bedroom', and no words were ever exchanged between me and both Bruce and Damian. I never gave them the satisfaction of looking at them, or even apologising.

Damian oddly, left me alone, well it sends a message to any bitch in school. I didn't care for their approval, I stopped when I was 7, feeling like it was pointless to care about them.

It never though, stopped me from joining competitions. I won multiple gold trophies, certificates, medals, even participation awards. I have 3 binders full of my achievements, containing pictures with the president of music, and the presidents of the sports I had joined.

But I kept a scrap-book of all my birthdays celebrated either by Alfred, or my friends. I was grateful, but it always felt like a pity-party, I always was the Wayne outcast but the more I say that, people would think I care.

Present Time.

"Xerxes?"

"Nope, nuh uh, wrong person." I reached for Morgan only for my arm to be grabbed by Jason again.

"What the fuck happened to you! I thought you were dead."

"Xerxes Wayne is dead, you can either address me as Jinx, Jennifer, or Ms Stark."

"Xerxes-"

I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat at the rage of hearing a name, that was made to be neglected.

"Jennifer, we have been looking for you."

"Oh please"

"Bruce and Damian found your old trophies."

"I thought I told Alfred too clean up."

"The point is we miss you."

"You left me to rot with those people, the point is, now I have a life. You guys never cared about me, I was almost sent to military school for defending some autistic kid."

"Princess, I-"

"No, that ship sailed a long time ago" I ran to Morgan and carried her to our limousine, I never looked at Jason because even though he was the one that actually brought a bit of life to that place, he left us alone.

For now...

At the Wayne Manor...

Jason's POV

"Father we've got to bring her back, she is with the enemy."

"Damian, let's calm ourselves-"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM!!!"

"We are gonna bring her back soon Damian."

"She's not gonna come back", was all I could let out. I could feel the pointed glares of everyone, even demon spawn's stare pierced.

"What do you mean? She's our family, look at us who wouldn't want this?" Dick asked me, holding his veneer pride, but truly masking guilt and confusion.

"We weren't there for her, she left us when she had a chance." I was irritated to admit it, but it was true, our little bird flew the nest and we were to negligent to realise it.

"We have to bring her back, right?" Tim, was obviously the most idiotic out of all of us, because he decides to think we are picture perfect.

"We can't live on false hope Tim." I screamed with all emotions just completely bursting forth.

"WE WILL BRING OUR SISTER BACK!!!" and with hearing that, I immediately punched Damian, to be honest, a bit too hard for my liking. The demon did deserve it, depending on how you ask.

"Jason, calm down, she'll come to her senses and come back." hearing Bruce say that, before I react I felt something sharp pierce my neck, and slowly I lost consciousness, when I turned around I saw Cassandra murmur, 'sorry'.

Then everything became black

Taglist....

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #dad tony stark #tony stark x daughter! reader #assassin reader #yandere avengers #neglected reader

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koiiiji · 2 months ago

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old friends

author's note ; this is appreciation post for this two gremlins. i love their dynamic together, i love their vibe — alone and as a duo — i love them both!! more attention for my boy Gongseop, he is such a sweetie😭😮‍💨 Taesoo, well Taesoo is Taesoo he is always the favourite king. you just can't go wrong with him, he always gonna be my favourite bearded teddy bear🧸💌

night was cold, the damp mountain air clinging to your skin as you trudged through the dense forest. twigs snapped underfoot, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted — a fitting sound for current situation.

you pushed a branch out of your way, only for it to snap back and nearly smack Daniel in the face.

“noona!” he yelped, ducking just in time.

“oh, sorry,” you said, not sounding sorry at all. “didn’t notice you there.”

Daniel sighed, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “are we almost there? you’re the one who knows this place.”

you huffed, stepping over a moss-covered rock. “yeah, yeah, we’re close. but you still haven’t explained why you couldn’t just do this yourself.”

Daniel hesitated, and you shot him a look over your shoulder.

“i mean,” you continued, waving a hand dramatically, “you’ve beaten gang leaders, fought guys who look like they eat steel for breakfast, and yet, Daniel Park just had to drag his favorite, best noona ever up a damn mountain because he’s too scared to talk to a couple of old friends of her?”

Daniel groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “it’s not like that!”

“oh? then what’s it like?” you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“…okay, fine, maybe it’s a little like that,” he admitted, looking away. “but mr. Ma Taesoo and Ji Gongseop aren’t just some random fighters. they’re the real deal, noona!! i can fight, sure, but talking to guys like them? that’s different.”

Daniel looked down and scratched his head, adding, “besides... i've already fought with mr. Taesoo once... it wasn’t very respectful.”

you sighed, your annoyance softening into something closer to amusement. “so, what? you thought bringing me along would make it easier or more respectful?”

“of course!” he said, as if it was obvious. “they actually like you. and you — well, you have that thing where people listen to you.”

Daniel looked away, staring somewhere way below your eyes.

you scoffed, stepping forward again. “you mean my charm and natural leadership skills?”

“…i was gonna say your very friendly energy, but sure, let’s go with that.”

you flicked his forehead, making him yelp. “watch it, dude.”

glancing at Daniel, who was trying not to trip over a tree root, you sighed. he really is hopeless.

“…alright, fine,” you muttered. “i’ll do the talking. but you owe me for this, got it?”

he grinned, relief washing over his face. “of course! anything you want, noona!!”

you smirked. “great. then you’re paying for the meal when we get back.”

Daniel groaned but didn’t argue. and with that, the two of you continued up the mountain.

air grew heavier the closer you got to the meeting point. the trees thinned out, revealing the soft glow of lantern light flickering against the darkness. a battered jeep was parked beside a makeshift fire pit, the flames crackling softly. scent of roasted meat and smoke filled the clearing.

and then, there they were.

Gongseop sat near fire pit, tearing into a massive hunk of meat like he hadn’t eaten in days. his broad frame made him look almost primal, but his eyes — sharp, calculating — flicked toward you and Daniel the moment you stepped into view. beside him, Taesoo perched on the hood of his jeep, his posture relaxed but eyes undeniably alert.

the fire crackled between you.

neither of them spoke at first.

but they stare. they had been sizing up Daniel — Gongseop with genuine interest and Taesoo with genuine urge to remind him about their fight in Seoul — until their eyes landed on you.

and then, their whole demeanor changed.

“no way,” Gongseop breathed, a grin spreading across his face. he leaned forward, eyes flicking over you with exaggerated scrutiny.

you raised an eyebrow, already bracing for whatever nonsense was about to come out of his mouth.

“do my eyes deceive me, or have you gotten even smaller?”

and of course Gongseop wasn’t done. he stood up with a dramatic huff, waving a hand toward Taesoo. “bódhisattva, dog Taesoo, look at her! she was already small before, but now? how the hell did she even make it up the mountain like this?”

Taesoo, still sitting on the jeep’s hood, tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering toward you with quiet assessment. he let the silence stretch just long enough for Gongseop to look impatient before finally speaking.

“she does look different,” he admitted, voice as even as ever. then, with the faintest smirk, he added, “meanwhile, it looks like you just got bigger.”

Gongseop’s mouth dropped open. “excuse me?!”

Taesoo didn’t even blink. “you heard me.”

Daniel let out a strangled laugh but quickly smothered it when Gongseop turned to glare at him.

you, on the other hand, grinned. “see? even Taesoo thinks you’ve been overdoing it with the midnight snacks.”

Gongseop placed a dramatic hand on his chest. “unbelievable. Betrayed by my own old 'friends'.” he scoffed but finally stepped aside, waving you over. “whatever. just sit down before you collapse from the sheer effort of climbing up here. what kind of hosts we would be if we let you starve?”

he barely finished the sentence before turning back to Taesoo with a grumble. “and for the record, i am in peak condition.”

Taesoo simply took a slow sip from his flask, murmuring something under his nose.

you snorted but didn’t refuse, making your way toward the fire, when Gongseop offered you a hand to help step over all over chaos around the fire pit. he grinned as you waved it away casually, and handed you a plate.

“oh yeah,” he added offhandedly, finally acknowledging Daniel. “you can sit too, kid.”

Daniel, who had been standing awkwardly this entire time, finally let out a breath and sat beside you. “thanks… i think.”

Taesoo finally spoke again, his voice calm but carrying that underlying weight of authority. “now. what do you need?..”

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism #x reader #webtoon #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism imagine #webtoon lookism #lookism imagines #lookism manhwa #big daniel park #ma taesoo x reader #lookism ma taesoo #taesoo ma #ma taesoo #ji gongseob #ji gongseob x reader

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emchante · 6 months ago

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okay i was watching some old grill the grid videos & have u seen the one where daniel has no idea how to tie a tie??

imagine there’s a special event and he asks you to tie it for him 🫠😍 or you ask him to secure your necklace for you (those little acts of service are so hot to me)

this could absolutely work for divorced dad daniel, like imagine getting ready to go to a charity event for his kids school or something hehehehehehe

silk and stares | d. ricciardo

LIV!! i love that little clip, it lives rent free in my mind. this was originally a ramble but turned into a drabble. enjoy!!

part of the divorced dad!daniel series

warnings: post-divorce daniel, suggestive themes, age gap, unresolved sexual tension.

daniel was standing in front of the mirror in his modest bedroom, fingers fumbling uselessly with the silk tie around his neck. he let out a frustrated sigh, muttering something under his breath as he gave up and yanked the tie loose.

his kids school had a charity event running this evening, and of course he was going to attend. he had asked you to come over around an hour earlier, as an overseer as him and his kids got dressed up for the night.

now, you were leaning against the doorframe of the room, arms crossed as a smirk made its way onto your lips. “need some help there, mr. ricciardo?”

his gaze shot to yours through the mirror, his mouth quirking into a crooked grin. “i swear, i’m hopeless with these things. every time i think i have it figured out, and then..” he trails off, gesturing towards the tie that was hanging awkwardly around his neck.

pushing yourself off of the door, you step into the room and walk slowly towards him. the tension between you both was electric, unspoken, and only thickening as you got closer.

“you’d think a guy like you would’ve learned by now,” you tease, your tone light but a little suggestive as you approach him.

daniel chuckles, the deep timbre of it sends a small shiver through you. “guess i’ve always been better at taking things off than putting them on.”

the air grew heavier at his words, and you try to ignore the heat crawling up your neck. instead, you grab the tie and motion for him to turn towards you. “alright, let me fix this before you embarrass yourself in front of the PTA,” you tease, trying to move on from his previous comment. you didn’t want to, but.. you shouldn’t start anything you couldn’t finish quick enough. especially not before something important for his kids.

daniel complies, his hands placing themselves on your hips as you step close— too close. the smell of his cologne is warm and woody, something that makes it almost impossible to focus on the simple task at hand.

your fingers work deftly, slipping the silk fabric into a neat knot. as you loop it through, you couldn’t resist a little teasing. “you know, this really isn’t hard. you’ve been wearing ties for how long now?”

he huffs out a laugh, tilting his head to look down at you. “someone’s mouthy tonight, hm?” he murmurs, raising an eyebrow. when you continue to just smirk up at him, he starts talking again. “anyways, just.. not my strong suit. figured i’d just keep finding people like you to help me out.”

your lips quirk up as you tighten the knot and instead of stepping back, you pull him closer by the tie— forcing him to bend slightly toward you. his breath hitches, dark eyes locking on yours.

“you’re lucky i’m just such a good samaritan,” you tell him, voice dropping just slightly, enough to make it clear that your words carry a double meaning.

daniel swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. his voice comes out lower than usual, “yeah? you always this nice to struggling dads, or am i just someone special?”

you tilt your head, fingers still gripping his tie as you take your time straightening it against his chest. “you? special?” you tease, allowing the moment to stretch, your voice light and playful but your eyes betraying you— betraying the obvious chemistry thrumming between you two. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

daniel smirks, his thumbs drawing small circles onto you as his other four fingers squeeze into your skin. “right. wouldn’t want to get the wrong idea,” he murmurs, voice tinged with something heavier, something that hung in the small space between you.

for a moment, neither of you move. the air feels thick with unspoken possibilities, his lips just mere inches away from yours as he stares down into you. you feel the heat radiating off him, his presence could only be described as magnetic, and you swore the only things holding you back were his kids downstairs, and the goddamn tie that was still in your hands.

finally, you step back and release the tie with a little pat to his chest. “there,” you say, your voice feigning nonchalance though your pulse was racing. you knew you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not daniel. but you still continued on. “now you won’t embarrass your kids. you’re welcome.”

daniel exhales slowly, a hint of his signature smirk returning to his lips. “guess i owe you one.”

you raise an eyebrow, already taking a few steps towards the door. “you owe me plenty, ricciardo. don’t you forget it.”

his laughter follows you out the room, but you don’t look back. if you had, you would’ve seen the way his gaze lingered on you, and just how tight his pants had become.

fuck.

⋆˙⟡ enjoy this? come chat to me through my ask box, publicly or on anon! i’d love to talk to you and hear your thoughts about it <3

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fic #opening my mail #divorced dad! daniel

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 9 months ago

Text

A Night Forgotten

Part Six

This is going to be a longer one

He looked at the drink on the table, seeming intrigued. Picking it up without permission – he still had that bad habit of thinking the world was his oyster and he could pearl dive any time he pleased, regardless of personal space or property rights – he held it to the light and look up at it. One dark brown eyebrow cranked up with interest. Then, he took a sip from her straw, seeming to savour the flavour a moment, measuring it across his palette. When his curiosity was satisfied, he put the drink back down in front of her.

“Interesting,” was all he said.

This was all very typical Erik.

“What did you mean by what you’d said earlier? And don't give me any half-baked answers like the last one,”Emoni demanded, taking up her new drink and sucking down a mouthful.

He shrugged and nudged his chin towards the barge. “Vegas is the city of vice and sin, Daniels. Did you really think I was only interested in coming here for a wedding, especially knowing you were here – having fun without me?”

Her heart thumped into her throat. She took another sip for courage. "R-really? And why's that?"

His gaze moved back to hers, locked on and held hard. A simmering heat warmed up those inky-black orbs that stared into her soul and a small confident smile graced those luscious lips. "You know why."

Emoni now knew what a deer in the headlights felt like. A nervous energy radiated out of her tummy and flowed across her limbs, making her hands shake. She put the drink down and refused to look away.

“What are you saying?”

Emoni required full disclosure. No games. She wasn't built for innuendo. With her, direct was always better.

“What do you want with me?”

With slow, purposeful movement, Erik uncrossed his legs and leaned into her. His knee wedged between hers, and his hands leaned on the arms of the lounge chair Emoni sat in outside of the ballroom, caging her. His mouth moved with clear intent towards hers, stopping as he pillowed very softly right over them. It was an almost-kiss. His half-lidded eyes looked directly into hers without flinching.

“I want you to have the best damn night of your life with me. I want you to let go and tap into your wild side…explore Sin City and forget morals…”

Emoni blinked slowly at him and then she parted her lips to speak.

“…And?”

“…I want to fuck you.”

She’d never been more scared of sex in her life than she was in that moment. Even her first time had been comfortable. She’d planned that night out in detail after all, fully prepared. Since then, She’d only been with two other men – one a short summer fling, and the other a toxic relationship. After they'd failed, She’d sworn no more until Mister Right came along.

Erik was staring at her in the face right now, telling her that he wanted to fuck her, and the heat in his eyes said it would be to within an inch of her life. Emoni knew his reputation, she knew he was skilled and hung and… oh my God, it didn't matter that he had a potential witless fiancée back in Wakanda waiting - Emoni wanted him! She felt like she’d been waiting all her adult life for this moment. It was terrifying.

She gathered her courage. Could she do this? It was crossing some serious moral lines that she’d once upon a time, when she’d been younger and more naïve, believed in maintaining at all costs. She didn’t understand why she was struggling with this. After all, she did plan on leaving tonight with some random fine ass man!

Yet, it hadn't been her who'd made the proposition. Erik was the engaged one.

“What about that potential fiancé of yours back in Wakanda? And that model chick back in Cali?” Emoni challenged.

He frowned a bit. “What about them?”

Emoni shoved on his shoulder and tsk'd. “Aren’t you engaged?!”

“No, that’s where you have it all twisted. They want me to marry this woman back in Wakanda but at MY request, I want to find my own suitable princess. Fuck all that old fashioned bullshit.”

It was her turn to frown. “What does that even mean?!”

Erik shrugged. “She's obviously not someone I want to marry. She feels the same to be honest. She’s got her own shit going on with some dude she’s into.”

Now, Emoni was getting angry. “So, you thought you'd just go on out and get a piece of your own while the cat is away? Any port in the storm - that it?”

That infuriating smirk crawled up his dimpled cheek. "Not any port, no. A particular one, yes."

Her jaw fell open. "You're unbelievable! You have the audacity to just…"

{ Kiss }

Emoni didn't get any more out as he leaned forward the rest of the way and kissed her for the first time. Her toes curled. She thought her head was going to explode from the pleasure. Seriously. Holy shit, Erik Stevens could kiss! Emoni wanted to curl up in his lap right then and there and let him kiss her until the end of the world rained down upon their heads. His lips were plump and soft, his tongue tasted sugary and it slithered into her mouth so skillfully she almost fainted. The little breaths he released shot straight to her drenched folds. It was the type of kiss she’d had wet dreams about.

“You're using me,” Emoni trembled against him as he pulled back a bit.

“I'm not,” he vowed, very assured.

She shook her head as he dipped over her lips with peppering kisses.

“What is this if not using, Stevens?”

His tongue slipped past her open mouth and twined with hers. He growled, and she heard it over the music in the background. She felt it in her ribs.

“You're thinking too hard – again,” he contested. “Stop. Just feel.”

“This is crazy,” Emoni whimpered. “You'll hurt me.”

Erik pulled back to stare deeply and intensely into her eyes. Emoni searched his gaze, this overpowering emotion between them strong.

"I won't. Come with me," he took her hand, and backed up to give her room to stand with him. He tugged, and Emoni flowed up into his arms, which held her tight to his muscular frame. He smelled incredible – a spicy, musky cologne that tantalized her senses. His lips hovered over her ear again like he did on the dance floor.

“Be mine, Emoni. Let me show you. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Oh damn, fuck, shit, I’m doomed, aren’t I? Emoni thought.

Gathering her purse, she threw a last look over at the dance floor as he led me away.

———

The interior of Erik’s sports car with butterfly doors was pristine and smelled like him. They zoomed off away from the wedding, the garter Erik removed from Emoni’s thigh wrapped around his gear shift and his mask resting atop his head. Emoni clutched onto the handle above her seat and clenched her thighs together. It was something about the speed and the way Erik maneuvered the car that turned her on. A few stray curls had slipped from her up-do and fell into her eyes. She looked pleasantly disheveled.

“Have you ever been a passenger princess before?”

“H-huh?”

Erik gave Emoni a quick glance with a chuckle. He reached out to turn down his music so she could hear him better.

“Have you ever been a passenger princess?”

Emoni slowly nodded her head, “I’ve ridden passenger side with my ex many times—”

“No, no. Have you ever been a passenger princess?”

Emoni pondered his words, too intoxicated to think straight. She finally understood what he was asking her and a fresh wave of arousal showered her. This was going to be a long night of fucking and sucking for the both of them.

“I—no. No, I can’t recall that I have…”

Her chest heaved up and down as she watched Erik take his free hand to grip her knee closest to him. He forced her leg apart and his fingers pressed firmly into the flesh of her inner thigh.

“Take your panties off and give them to me.”

“What do you plan to do with them?”

“Keep them. Enough questions, Emoni. Remember, relax and just enjoy.”

Emoni exhaled and went to work taking her red lace panties off. She slowly held them out for Erik to take and he plucked them out of her hand before taking a quick whiff and placing them in the front pocket of his cotton dress shirt. Emoni sat there with her mouth unhinged and wide eyes.

“This is what’s gon’ happen. You’re gonna cum from my fingers like a true passenger princess, and you’re gonna clean the mess you make off of my fingers. Understand?”

“Erik—”

“For the duration of our evening of naughtiness, Miss Emoni, you are to refer to me as daddy. Your Highness is good too…”

Erik stroked her chin quickly before making a turn. So many rules to his little game. What if she wanted to make some rules too?

“…okay. And if I don’t?”

“Easy,” Erik cut his dark eyes at her, “You’ll get a spanking.”

“As if—”

“Emoni, I’ve waited for this moment for a very, very, very long time. I’ve wanted to do things to you…things you wouldn’t be able to handle. One of those things is putting you over my knee and spank that impertinent ass. Stop with the questions, okay? Breathe.”

She was stunned to silence.

[ Relax ]

Emoni exhaled and relaxed into her seat. She giggled to herself while staring out of the window.

“Maybe I am prudish. Who am I to deprive myself of a good time? Even if that means being a bad girl.”

A slow, sly smirk crept up Erik’s face.

“So, when do we get to cement my position as passenger princess, daddy?”

Erik almost slammed on his breaks. Emoni brought her knees to her chest and teased Erik while inching her dress up past her thighs. He was fighting the urge to take his eyes off the road. The smooth, shiny flesh of her beautiful legs had him drooling. The sight of those petite ankles, the slim width of her feet and their pretty arches, along with those adorably painted toenails made him uncomfortably aware of his growing erection. Shit, he'd never been a 'foot man' before, but he had the feeling that after tonight, he was going to be a convert to the cause. Every inch of her body would be revealed to him soon enough and he couldn’t wait to taste and touch.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Tell me more,” Emoni cooed, blinking her eyes seductively with a bite of her lip.

“Your intellect turns me on. When you’re mad you make the cutest face and I just want to nibble all over your cheeks. You always smell amazing. I wish I was your first instead of that dumb ass nigga all those years ago. You make me feel all types of ways and I just—I just—”

Erik turned his gaze toward her.

“You just what?” Emoni questioned.

{ Say It }

“I’minlovewithyou.”

The words came out jumbled as if he were forced to say those words. Emoni stared at him unblinking.

“…Did you just say that you love me?”

“I did…didn’t I?” Erik chuckled nervously, “uhh—”

[ Say It ]

“I love you too!”

They were at a red light. Both Erik and Emoni stared into each other’s eyes.

BEEP! BEEP!

Erik blinked away suddenly and floored it. Emoni’s head collided with the seat. She glanced over at Erik, catching his eye. Both of them giggled.

“I’m so in love with you, Emoni Isabella Davis. DAMN. It feels so good to say that. I’ve been dying to say that to you.”

“We’re in love,” Emoni said with a whimsical laugh, “love! I’ve wanted to tell you how much I love you for so long! What a relief!”

“I know, right?! Such a relief.”

“I love you Erik N’Jadaka Stevens,” Emoni said cheerfully.

“And I love you, my precious Emoni.”

Erik’s hand slipped between Emoni’s thighs and she gasped with excitement. His touch was electric. Like a zing she felt it from head to toe. Her chest thrust out and she grabbed onto his wrist. The tips of his thick fingers feathered over her plump outer lips. She hadn’t waved in over a month and for a second she wanted to refuse his hand out of embarrassment but it just felt too good. He grunted like a primal animal when his fingers tore away from her moist center.

Erik inspected his fingers and neither of them could believe how much arousal seeped from her opening. She’d never been that wet because of a man. You’d think she used lube to get herself that slick. Slowly, Erik sucked on his fingers. Emoni whimpered at the visual.

“Fuck,” Erik licks his lips, “Spread your legs more for me, baby…”

Emoni opened up wider and watched Erik’s hand creep between her legs again. This time, he parted her lips to feel further in between. His middle finger flicked upward on her clit and her back arched from the seat. Erik maneuvered the car through a tunnel with the windows down and one hand on the wheel. Erik couldn’t believe how wet she was. Emoni could feel herself climaxing already. She threw her head back, shut her eyes tightly, and closed her thighs around Erik’s hand.

The pulse under her skin began thrumming with speed. She felt a little dizzy from his intimate touch. They were simpatico in their desires for each other, it seemed. Maybe she wouldn't end up quite so devastated from this in the morning. She hoped, anyway. She was feeling as bold and sexy as she had while drinking that cocktail at the reception, and although she had little experience, she’d done enough reading on the subject, and seen plenty of porn. Emoni knew what might work, and she rolled with it, allowing the buzz from the alcohol to chase away her inhibitions.

“You just came for me…already? Mmm…you needed me, baby…I’m the only one that can make you feel like this…”

“Yes, please, daddy, stick your fingers inside…”

“Like this?”

Erik slipped two fingers deep – his middle and ring finger – groaning as he fit his fingers into her powerful passage. She expanded and lubricated his digits more the deeper he went. With each decent, her walls would clench. Emoni didn’t know this, but Erik’s dick was painfully hard. It was morning wood times a hundred. Hard and unyielding. Pulsating with a need to be freed. Balls tight with an unbearable lust to be emptied. More precum than he’d ever witnessed staining his briefs.

“Oh, shit, that pussy feels amazing, Princess. Damn, this pussy is nice and fuckin’ wet.”

“it’s so deep…oh, fuck…daddy…right there…more…unh!”

Emoni’s legs spasmed with her second release. This time, she creamed all over Erik’s fingers. Jolts of pleasure came over her body the more Erik finger-fucked her. He didn’t stop, he needed to see it again. He pulled into a parking spot outside of a Karaoke club and unfastened his seatbelt swiftly. Erik brought Emoni’s seat all the way back and he leaned over her body to capture her lips. His tongue snaked into her mouth while his thick fingers pumped in her deeply. The flesh of her cleavage bounced, she was breathless, and her eyes were closed tight.

Erik broke the kiss to watch her face. Emoni’s eyes slowly slid opened and her gaze connected with Erik’s.

“Watch me…I want you to watch how beautiful you look cumming for me,” Erik pulled down the mirror so she could watch her face, “You look like a goddess, baby. So beautiful…so wet for me…such a good girl…”

Emoni blinked back tears of pleasure. Erik couldn’t keep his mouth off of her. He was attacking her neck now like a wild beast, licking and nibbling all over her flesh. His lips made its way to the tops of her breasts, the sensation mixed with his fingers going in and out of her causing her to moan out loud. The windows are rolled down, surely someone heard.

“Daddy! You’re making me cum again!”

“Cum, baby, let it out…that’s it…”

Emoni tore her eyes away from the mirror and smashed her lips into Erik’s. One hand fisted the front of his cotton dress shirt while the other squeezed his bicep like she was trying to pop a muscle. When the last bit of tremors wore off and their kissing stopped, Erik’s fingers gently slipped out of her opening. Emoni dropped her eyes down to his hand and couldn’t believe how much cream coated his fingers.

“Suck.”

Emoni parted her glossy lips and Erik’s fingers sat on her tongue. She wrapped her lips around his fingers and suctioned while staring into his dark eyes.

“I can’t wait to have you, Emoni. I’m so hard right now…”

His fingers left her mouth and Erik raised her seat into its original position. He fixed her dress and smoothed a few curls from her eyes.

“Where are we?” Emoni asked, still on cloud nine from that amazing foreplay.

“Karaoke. I want to watch you sing.”

“Wait…Erik, I’m a terrible singer! Why can’t we just go back to your beach house and fuck?! This is embarrassing…” She covered her face with her hands.

“Remember what I said, this is a night to let loose and have the best fucking time of your life. Stop worrying about being perfect all the time, Emoni. Come on.”

Erik made sure he was decent before leaving his car and walking around to open Emoni’s door. She grasped his hand and Erik helped her out of her seat, fixing her dress and hair before retrieving her hand bag. He closed the butterfly doors and led the way towards the entrance. Emoni’s heart was hammering away at her chest. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this in front of an audience.

———

Emoni was about to experience Karaoke the Vegas way. They entered a vibrantly lit bar decorated with neons of all colors. Although she was nervous, she actually loved the vibes already inside KAMU Karaoke. Erik guided her towards an open high-top table next to the karaoke stage. He pulled out her seat and startled her by picking her up and placing her on the stool.

Erik took a seat across from her, rolling up the sleeves to his cotton button down and undoing the first two buttons so he could loosen his tie easily. Emoni couldn’t look across at Erik without clenching her thighs together. He gave her a knowing smirk as if he could read her mind.

“You want another drink?!” Erik asked.

“Uhh—how about shots?!”

“Shots?! You sure?!” Erik gave her a scrutinizing look with his thick lips twisted, “Whatchu want?!”

“Chilled Patron shots with a lime garnish please!”

“Ooh, my kind of girl!” Erik reached over to caress her chin with his thumb, “I’ll be right back!”

Erik hopped down and headed towards the bar.

Two months ago, if anyone would have told Emoni that she’d one day be the recipient of Erik Stevens’ sexual interest, and that she’d actually crave him back, she would have laughed herself silly. Now, she wasn't finding the idea so funny. Provocative? Certainly. Humorous? No.

Erik had returned with four shots, carefully placing them down on the table before taking his place across from her again. They each grabbed a glass, toasted each other, then tapped it on the table before knocking it back. It went down smooth and the taste of the lime on her tongue was an added bonus.

For several long seconds, they stared at each other – Emoni was caught off guard and clearly surprised by what had transpired between them. Erik smirked with amusement at having thrown her for a loop again. His eyes drifted lazily down her form during that momentary pause, appreciating her beauty. He surprised Emoni by reaching across and tugging gently on a curl.

“Take down your hair.” Erik commanded.

Emoni gave Erik a nervous glance before reaching up to remove the pins that held her curly updo in place. When she’d retrieved the last pin, Emoni placed them in her bag and shook her curls out with her fingers. Chocolate-brown ringlets framed her face and fell into her eyes. She looked over at Erik expectantly as heat crept over her melanated flesh.

“Different,” was what he came up with, and Emoni could just barely make out what he said over the noise around them.

She scowled at him. That wasn't the word she’d been hoping to hear. 'Beautiful,' 'amazing' or maybe even 'tasty' would have been much more appreciated. 'Different' was safe and utterly unflattering. Sheraised an eyebrow in displeasure.

“Quite,” She said louder and with a bitter tone so he'd hear her, and then she rolled her eyes.

He knew exactly what to do to piss her off.

[ Relax ]

Emoni exhaled and a calming sensation washed over her body.

Unexpectedly, in that same moment, that familiar voice of his sent a shiver up her spine. “Different and delicious, Daniels.”

She nearly dropped the shot glass.

“Drink every drop for me,” he bade in that same compelling tone, “I want to taste it on your lips and tongue later.”

Instantly, the flash of desire warmed her lower extremities, making that fluttering in her stomach kick up a pace. She felt her nipples tighten at the thought of what was to come.

Oh, no - absolutely not a mistake coming here tonight.

“Are you gonna go up there?!” Erik raised both of his brows at her.

“I don’t know. There’s too many people here!”

“Emoni. Get your fine ass up on that stage and have some fun! Trust me, nobody will laugh or make fun of you, baby. And if they do…I’m knocking ‘em out.”

Emoni looked over at the stage and giggled at two drunk white girls singing Spice Girls- Wannabe. Her eyes moved over the crowd of people and most were cheering them on and singing along while others were too drunk to care. Emoni knew she could do it. She’d presented in front of a larger audience before at work and during her college days. With a final exhale, Emoni finished her shot and stood up from her stool carefully. The two girls exited the stage and that gave her the opportunity. She gave Erik one look and he gave her an encouraging smile with a tilt of his head.

Emoni walked towards the stage and took her time climbing the short staircase. Instantly, she could feel people watching her. She walked up to choose a song, tremors in her fingers a reminder of how nervous she was. Emoni found a song and grabbed a mic before turning to face that room full of people. Erik was standing closer, a reassuring look in his eyes that gave Emoni a boost of confidence. The song started and the crowd instantly started vibing to the classic.

You've been waiting so long, I'm here to answer your call

I know that I shouldn't have had you waiting at all

I've been so busy, but I've been thinking 'bout

What I wanna do with you…

She cleared her throat a little and gave a nervous nod in Erik’s direction when he shook his head for her to keep going. Suddenly, she felt like she could do anything. One look at him and she forgot all about how afraid she felt.

I know them other guys, they been talking bout the way I do what I do

They heard I was good, they wanna see if it's true

They know you're the one I wanna give it to

I can see you want me too

Now, it's me and you…

Emoni was swaying her hips to the sultry beat, giving off seductive energy, locking eyes with Erik, and not once did she stumble over her words.

It's me and you, now

I've been waiting (Waiting)

Think I wanna make that move, now

Baby, tell me if you like it (Tell me if you like it)

It's me and you, now

I've been waiting

Think I wanna make that move, now

Baby, tell me how you like it!!!!

People were out of their seats, wolf whistling and clapping. From the looks of it, she was the most entertaining that evening thus far. Some men gave her hungry looks, some women envied her, and the others were so excited they sang along to the lyrics. Erik couldn’t contain his smile and his utter shock. Emoni Davis was having fun and cutting up. She strutted over towards Erik with her adorable self and started singing to him with the sweetest voice and her finger pointed at him. Erik’s eyes grew wide and his smile widened with his dimples popped out.

Baby, I’ll love you all the way down!

Get you right where you like it, I promise you'll like it (I swear)

Just relax and let me make that move (It's our secret thang)

Keep it between me and you!!!!

It's me and you, now (Oh Yea-a)!!!!

I've been waiting

Think I wanna make that move, now (Move now)

Baby, tell me if you like (Tell me if you like it)

I’ve been waiting! I’ve been waiting!

The music faded and Emoni covered her face while the audience cheered her on. She couldn’t believe she did that. Emoni gracefully exited the stage and she held out the mic for Erik to take.

“It’s your turn now, Stevens. Let’s see you get up there and sing!”

Erik challenged her with a single brow raised and a slight smirk. He snatched the mic from her hand, brought it to his lips, and leaned in towards her face.

“Watch how I outdo you.”

Emoni folded her arms sassily with a scowl and a smirk. Erik slipped past her and to that stage. She was about to witness Erik Stevens singing. She needed to record this. While he searched for a song, Emoni rushed to retrieve her phone. She made it back in time when a song she recognized started playing. When she realized what it was her eyes lit up and she started giggling.

Yeahhh yeah—yeahhhhh!!!!

Girl, I wish that I could spend time with you each and every day

Playing all my love and emotions that's the thing that's got me open

And I don't know what it takes to let you know you're my girl

To let you know you're my baby

And even when they say we won't stay around

If they only knew that we were meant to be together

Forever and ever whatever there's no better thing

Me and you girl, that's why I write you love letters saying!!!

I like the way you look at me

I like the time we spend, baby

I like what we have grown to be

I like it, girl, don't you know I like it

I like the way you look at me

I like the time we spend, baby

I like what we have grown to be

I like it, girl, don't you know I like it…

Erik sang to his heart’s desire with his eyes closed and a hand to chest. He knew all the words without even looking at the screen. A true Millennial. He had all the black people in the room jamming. Emoni Could only imagine a twelve–year–old Erik singing to this and writing love letters.

Sometimes I want to be the one you be checking for, can I get a second for me

Me and you to be alone tell me if you think it's wrong

Love is nothing but the time it takes you to say I'm on your mind

Let me tell you I'm always there, oh yeah

Let's get a little time away, go to the movies on a Saturday

Meet me at the finish line so I can tell you one more time

Girl, you know I'm not scared to let you say that…

Erik was down on his knees singing to Emoni! She was stunned. Everyone made too much noise, almost drowning out Erik’s singing.

I like the way you look at me

I like the time we spend, baby

I like what we have grown to be

I like it, girl, don't you know I like it

I like the way you look at me

I like the time we spend, baby

I like what we have grown to be

I like it, girl, don't you know I like it!!!

He dropped the mic and threw his hands up while the room erupted with applause. This man could do no wrong. He left the stage and walked up to Emoni. Erik grabbed her chin and pressed his lips into hers. They tongued each other down, both unable to contain their laughter. They returned to their seats while the next person took the stage. Emoni fanned herself while staring at Erik.

———

“What did you mean by different?”

They were both seated on top of the front of his sports car sharing French fries from In-N-Out and staring up at the crescent moon. They needed to eat something to soak up the alcohol.

“You have a different aura about you when you’re less wound up and tense, Emoni. I’ve awakened something in you that’s been locked away far too long. I’m sorry you had to feel like you needed to tuck some of the best parts of yourself away because of that stupid nigga. I see your potential, even beyond your beauty. I always have.”

Emoni tucked her chin and blinked away tears. She hated being so vulnerable. It was definitely the drinks. She gathered enough courage to look at him again.

“Thank you,” She gave him a warm smile, "You’re the only man to ever see me as more than just my physical appearance. You challenge me and your cleverness and natural born leadership turns me on more than that pretty face and those plump lips of yours. And don’t stare at me like that, Stevens, I just might leave a wet spot on this car…”

He sat up straighter, encouraged by the fact that she'd taken that much effort to pay attention to him.

“…When you laugh with true sincerity it sounds nice, you have impeccable table manners, are well organized, and you smell rather pleasant on a regular basis." She counted them off once more and then nodded, satisfied. “There, we're done.”

All of her compliments were rather touching, honestly, but one in particular grabbed his attention.

“It's Wakandan. Custom.”

She blinked. "What is?"

“You said I smell rather pleasant. It's my cologne. It comes from Wakanda, and is tailored so that everyone smells whatever they most desire from me,” he explained, hopping off his car and approaching her side. She looked ready to melt by the time he'd bent down in front of her and leaned over her, putting his neck near her nose. “What do you smell?”

Her warm breath panting against his neck sent electric tingles down his spine.

A beat later, she had her nose pressed against the lee of his throat and was taking deep, drawing breaths in and sighing in pleasure on the exhale. When she moaned in longing, Erik thought he'd never heard a more desirable sound, and his body reacted by going hard and tight. "What do you smell, my princess?" he coaxed, placing his mouth next to her ear, caressing the delicate skin with his soft lips. “Tell me,” he whispered, in a dark, enticing tone.

She began to pant, and her hands crept of their own accord to grip his shoulders. With a light pressure, she dug her nails into his skin.

His heart began to pound hard in his chest.

“Sandalwood, cinder ash, wine, and…red roses.”

Ghosting his lips up the side of her throat, he sighed, pleased by her imagination. “Beautiful. That's your idea of love-making, Daniels. How you see it…with me.”

“Hmm?" she asked, slowly coming back into herself, pulling away from his collar. Her grip on his arms eased up. "Love-making? With you?”

Erik wanted to set a sultry tone that would linger with her thoughts after this round was over.

“The scent is meant to evoke your passion and trigger your unconscious desires for me,” he explained in a soft murmur. “Black satin sheets and silver moonlight…you want me to dominate you, but you want it done seductively at first then rough. A warm fire and wine…you want things between us to burn slowly and smolder before we lose all control and overindulge in each other.”

“…I haven't been able to unwind in, well, a long time.”

Emoni was embarrassed to admit.

“That's because you play too little and work too hard,” Erik agreed.

“I can't help it,” she breathed a frustrated sigh. “There's always so much to do, and it's hardwired into me to get it all done!”

“As your boss, I command you to ease your mind. You can loosen up a little," he tried to sooth her. “Just forget the world outside for now. Relax and enjoy this.”

He gently placed his lips over the curve of her neck and shoulder, leaving small, barely-there kisses as he went. With a quick swipe, he touched his tongue to her warm skin. She was powdered with honey dust, a delicious treat he hadn't expected, and which explained how her skin sparkled under the light. Underneath it though, she tasted as if she'd just stepped out of the ocean.

The flavour had his chest going tight and sent his dick straining for its freedom.

Mine.

If anything could have confirmed for him the truth of what his heart and body had been telling him for years, that right there had done it.

“Tell me something you’ve always wanted to do but you never did out of fear.”

Emoni pondered.

“Uhm…oh! I’ve always wanted a belly ring but I’m too scared to get it. It’s such a sexy piercing, you know?”

“Hmm, I like belly piercings. You should do it.”

“Oh, no. I think I’m good.”

“Emoni, c’mon, ma. You could get one tonight.”

“Tonight?!” Emoni looked up at Erik with wide eyes.

“Okay, how about this,” Erik ate the last fry, chewing it and swallowing before he spoke again, “If you agree to get your belly button pierced, I’ll get a tattoo. Whatever you want.”

“…whatever I want?” Emoni pointed to herself.

That didn’t sound too bad. She loved the idea of deciding what Erik should get tatted on him.

“Yes. Whatever you choose, Baby girl.”

“Okay. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

Erik grinned at her before reaching out to grab her hand. He walked her towards the passenger side and helped her in before sliding across the car to his side, causing Emoni to laugh.

Drunken nights with the Prince of Wakanda was absolutely glorious.

———

They stepped inside of a parlor and was greeted at the front by a receptionist. Erik inquired about piercings and a tattoo and luckily they had artists on staff that evening. Emoni was allowed to chose what ring she wanted to decorate her navel. She wanted to find the cheapest option since Erik was the one paying for the service.

“This one looks okay.”

It was a simple piercing. Nothing too flattering. Erik frowned slightly.

“I don’t really like that one. Are you sure?”

“I—I don’t want to get something expensive, Erik.”

“This one looks really nice. Very sexy…”

“What?! This is too much—”

Erik gave her a look, “Moni. Stop it. I’m treating you.”

Emoni rolled her eyes, “So, you’d buy me something like this?”

Erik pointed to a dangling belly button ring with 14K white gold diamonds. Emoni gawked at him.

“Erik…that costs 2700 dollars…”

“Okay, we’ll get that one then—”

“I MEAN…you’re offering…”

The receptionist giggled.

“You’re a trip. Just admit you want me to spoil you.”

An impish glint appeared in her gaze, followed by a very wicked, sultry smirk. "You’re going to spoil me, Stevens.”

Erik blinked in astonished exasperation.

"…Beautiful," he murmured, moving in to feast upon her luscious mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful, Daniels." He groaned, losing himself in the singe of his blood from her touch and flavor.

“We’ll take this one,” Erik pointed to the expensive piercing through the glass.

The receptionist retrieved the belly ring and Erik whipped out his wallet to pay for everything. Afterwards, they sat down in the lobby until they were serviced.

The artist is from New Orleans. Emoni could make out the inspiration from The Big Easy. Anxiously fidgeting, she looked around, admiring the photos and art. Erik stroked her back to calm her down.

“What was in those drinks? I can’t believe I’m about to do this shit—”

“Ready?”

A heavily tatted Asian woman with hot pink hair walked out to greet them. Erik and Emoni stood up and he grabbed her hand as they followed the woman towards the back of the shop. She was led over to a table for her to lay back on. Emoni spotted the tools she planned to use and almost freaked out if it wasn’t for Erik calming her down.

“My name is Suzie. I’ll be taking care of your piercing. Beni, the shop owner, he’ll do your tattoo. Did you read over the paperwork thoroughly?”

“Yes,” Emoni gave Suzie a nervous smile, “Sorry, this has me feeling nervous.”

“It’s alright. Believe it or not, belly button piercings are relatively painless when you’re relaxed. Too much anxiousness can make it uncomfortable. It’s important to stay calm. I mean, you definitely should because there are risks. Let’s take a look at your navel…”

Emoni went to lay on her back on the table and she remembered that her underwear was no longer in her possession. With wide eyes, she glanced over at Erik and they both burst out into a fit of laughter. Suzie watched the exchange with confusion and a smirk on her face.

“So…I’m not wearing any panties. Is there something I could cover up with?”

“Oh! Sure,” Suzie giggles, “I have a pad I can place over you.”

Suzie went to grab a pad and Emoni lifted her dress up to her chest. Erik’s eyes raked over her exposed flesh. He couldn’t wait to have her. All of her.

Suzie draped the pad across her, placed new gloves on her hands, and began sanitizing the area thoroughly. Emoni glanced over at Erik and he gave her an encouraging nod with two thumbs up. Suzie used a surgical marker to mark where she’d pierce. This was a good chance for Emoni to make sure the piercing location is where she wanted it to be.

The moment of truth.

“Breathe in…��

Emoni inhaled and Suzie pierced the area.

“Breathe out…”

She exhaled a shaky breath.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Suzie asked.

“No, actually,” Emoni chuckled, “it was quick I could barely register the pain.”

“Good. Now, there will be some discomfort. Be careful with certain garments. Use a mild, fragrance-free soap or saline solution to gently clean the area around the piercing. You can also try a saltwater mixture of half a teaspoon of sea salt per cup of water to remove dried secretions. Avoid twisting or rotating the jewelry while cleaning, as this can cause irritation and introduce bacteria. Rinse the area thoroughly and pat dry with a lint-free cloth or clean, disposable paper towel. Don't rub the area dry. You can also soak the area in a sterile saline solution for 5–10 minutes daily. Don't use alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bacitracin, or other ointments, as these can slow healing or irritate the area. Any questions?”

That was a lot of information at once, but Emoni understands what she needed to do. She was given a bag filled with items to start her cleaning process since she didn’t have anything handy until she got home.

“I think I’m good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It looks good on you. If you guys want, you can head back to Beni.”

“Thanks,” Erik helped Emoni off the table. They both admired her new body jewelry in a mirror before exiting. They entered the next room and it was dimly lit with a reclining leather chair. Beni had just finished setting up what he needed and then he looked up at the pair with his pure hazel eyes. He stood at 5’7 with thick curly brown hair and tattoos covering his entire body. He shook Erik’s hand first and then Emoni’s.

“I’m Beni. So, what are we looking to do?”

Erik pointed to Emoni, “She’s deciding tonight.”

Emoni smiled brightly, “What’s your pain tolerance?”

Erik cocked his head and smirked at her before lifting his dress shirt, revealing tiny raised scars, “Emoni…really?”

“Jesus, my brother,” Beni stared in disbelief, “scarification?”

“Yeah. So to answer your question, baby girl, I have a very high tolerance.”

Emoni hadn’t seen Erik shirtless in years. She was rendered speechless. Erik wanted to know what she was thinking, but that could wait until they were alone. For now, it was time for a tattoo.

“Snap out of it, gorgeous. What do you have in mind for me?”

Emoni blinked away from him and looked at Beni, “Uhm…my name. Get my name tatted.”

“Simple. That okay with you?”

Erik gave a half shrug, “Fine with me. Where do you want your name?”

Emoni couldn’t tear her eyes away from his body. She wanted to feel the raised bumps against her fingertips. Skimming each one like braille. It was so fascinating and sexy at the same time. And don’t even get her started on his muscles—

“Princess?”

“Oh—uhhh—right bellow the V-cut,” She pointed to the area while looking at the physical display of hard work in the gym and discipline in the kitchen. It was his lower right side, only visible if he were naked. Discrete.

Imagine sucking his dick and staring at your name inked into his flesh, Emoni thought.

“You’re so naughty. I know exactly why you want it there,” Erik chuckled, “Fine with me. Let’s get to it.”

Erik made himself comfortable and Emoni sat on a stool at his side. Beni placed the transfer paper onto Erik’s skin and afterwards he began tattooing.

“Tickles a little,” Erik smirked with his eyes closed.

It took about thirty minutes and when Beni finished, he let Erik take a look.

“The best decision I’ve ever made. Permanent and meaningful.”

Erik tugged on Emoni’s hand, drawing her closer and crashing his lips against hers. They tongue kissed ferociously and Erik’s hand made its way between her legs again, stroking her pussy lips. Emoni whimpered into his mouth and held onto him tight, trembling from head to toe even in the aftershocks. Finally, when the sensation became too much, she took her hand from his shoulder, smoothing it down his arm, and silently requested he remove his hand from between her legs before she made a mess. He complied easily, refusing to break off from the kiss quite yet, however. Wanting more…

“Not here,” Emoni gave Beni a look but he was too busy cleaning, probably used to this.

Erik groaned in disappointment.

Pulling away reluctantly, he looked up at her. There was desire in her eyes. Her quaking hand was still holding onto his wrist and she was struggling to regain control. All he did was stroke her outer lips. Obdurate, steadfast, tenacious Emoni Davis had finally let her barrier down. With shimmering chocolate orbs for eyes, and candied lips, she looked positively edible… and scared half to death.

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