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morgue-ratt · 2 months

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Psyche, a Valentine's Day fic

Cain Zeitgeist x reader// NSFW// 2k

Warnings: dubcon, slight degradation, wax, this is my first time writing Cain

YOU are haunting his house. After the initial shock of being taken to Hell and realizing who and what Cain was, your days consist of drifting from room to room and not much else. Cain’s attention is something to be avoided entirely; you find excuses to wander off as soon as he makes his presence known, sometimes you don’t even bother to say anything.

Cain had hurt you on more than one occasion, hurt you in ways that you should not have survived. He made even the bruises go away, leaving you to question your own recollection. The hatred you feel for him is cold and burning and frankly you are not impressed by Cain’s supposed divinity. You aren’t stupid enough to say any of this aloud, but you also aren’t very good at hiding it.

You find him in the living room. He’s sitting on the sofa, reading a leather-bound book with a mug of something balanced on the armrest. Just as you turn around to amuse yourself elsewhere, you feel that invisible force wrap around you like vines and keep you in place; “Stay,” says Cain. He doesn’t look up as you’re dragged towards the sofa and stand before him.

You can only move your fingers; your arms are secured to your side. You stare as Cain turns the page. You feel something wrap around your throat, just a reminder that he’s being nice by allowing you to breathe. After a few moments, he marks his place, closes the book and puts it on the sofa beside him. He looks up at you and when you try to turn away, the force on your neck increases. “I’ve hardly seen you,” He says. You feel the invisible thing slither like a snake around your tongue and pin it to the floor of your mouth; it’s hard not to gag. “A pet is meant to provide their master with companionship.” You can only hope your contempt shows on your face. Cain rises and you’re forced to look up to maintain eye contact. Cain reaches for your jaw, and you cringe, craning your neck as far as you can to avoid his fingers.

You feel the grip on your tongue loosen as he says; “I thought humans were social creatures,”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. You wet your lips; “If you want me to feel bad for you,” You say. “You should start by getting that smirk off your face.” You don’t care if it’s rude; you’ll give him nothing, not even common courtesy.

The force around your body becomes a crushing weight and you’re shoved to your knees before him. “Cute,” Cain says. “Truly. But I’m not looking for pity. Especially from someone like you.” You glare at him before your head is pushed down. It’s like you’re praying. You feel his hand card through your hair as he laughs. “I can feel your loathing.” He tells you and you grit your teeth. “I bet you think you’re strong, that resisting me is somehow... admirable. It’s not.

“You’re stubborn and childish, unwilling to accept a situation you cannot change.” Your head snaps up as his invisible hold loosens. The expression on his face is unreadable as he considers you. He cups your cheek. “Aren’t you tired of this game?” He asks. “It’s gone on long enough; I know you must be... lonely.”

You turn your head and bite Cain’s hand, sinking your teeth in as he lets out a yell of surprise. His blood tastes wrong, almost bitter. When he shoves you away, you can only heave, trying to get it out of your mouth.

“You little brat.” He doesn’t even sound angry, at least not as angry as you’d hoped. You watch as your teeth mark fade without a trace from his hand. Cain approaches you. “My patience is wearing thin, pet, and I don’t think you appreciate how dangerous that is.” Your knees start to ache as the weight increases on your shoulders. “You brush off my attempts at conversation and defy me at every turn, just what am I meant to do with you?” He kicks you square in the chest, and you topple to the floor. Cain rests his shoe on his sternum. “Most of pets try to win my favor.”

“I’m not your pet.” You hiss.

Cain starts towards the bedroom, his invisible grasp dragging you across the floor by your hair. You yell and try to twist away but it’s as pointless as any of your other rebellions. You’re lifted effortlessly onto the bed, and you hear the chains slinking out of the headboard. They secure around your wrists and all you can do is watch Cain; his back is turned to you as he prepares... something on the nightstand. You hear him strike a match and see him light a large red candle.

“Mood lighting?” You scoff as Cain turns back to you. He runs a hand through your hair and you try to pull away.

“It’s so grating having you fight me at every turn,” Despite what he’s saying, you can’t help but feel that he finds this whole situation amusing.

You feel the invisible hands between your legs, and you watch as your panties are pulled down, leaving you completely exposed. “Stop--” You try but you cut yourself off with a surprised yell as you feel something hot drip down your arm.

You look back to your chained wrists and for a second you somehow believe you're bleeding but no... It’s red wax, flowing down your underarm for a few seconds before hardening. “Relax,” Cain says, sitting on the edge of the bed with the red candle in hand. He tilts the candle again dribbling more wax on your stomach and you inhale sharply, trying to lean away. “This would all be so much easier of you relaxed.”

You can’t even describe what you’re feeling as fear, it’s like something is buzzing within you; wasps swarming your insides. You are so angry, and he seems to be enjoying it as he pours more wax down your stomach. You’re breathing hard, trying to keep yourself from crying out again when you feel the invisible set of hands between your legs, the touch so light you shudder.

Cain is noticing all your reactions as he looms above you, his smile only widens as he leaves another stripe of wax on your stomach, and you gasp. “You can’t resist me,” He says and he moves the candle. You scream as a drop of wax encases your left nipple. “You’re only human, after all.” As he says this, his wings unfurl, surrounding you both in his jet black wingspan.

You feel Cain’s second set of hands rub soothing circles into your hips and Cain drips wax across your collarbone. You arch your back, trying to move away from everything. You don’t like it; you feel more trapped than you ever have been. Invisible hands start to tease you as more wax is poured across your chest, it’s too much, anywhere you look is Cain and his wings, it’s like you’ve been buried alive.

You don’t see him put the candle down, but he leans over you and starts to kiss your neck, slowly, softly, until you gasp, “How long do you plan on playing this game?” He whispers and you meet his horrible golden eyes. “Don’t you want comfort?”

“I--” The invisible hands squeeze your thigh, and your breath catches in your throat. It was distracting... he was being gentle, and you don’t know how to respond.

“I could give you that,” He says, using a manicured nail to peel the watch off your collarbone and pressing a kiss to the tender skin there as invisible hands creep further between your legs. You feel fingers ghost against your flesh and a fresh wave of anxiety hits you. "Happiness. Purpose, if you just--”

“No,” You say, trying to move away from teasing fingers. Cain bites you suddenly and you cry out.

“You can’t gain anything from defiance.” He says it simply. This is a fact. You imagine pulling out his feathers, one by one. Cain’s hand moves to your chest, circling the wax coated nipple with a forefinger. “I can feel your heartbeat,” He says, gently scraping his nails down your side. “I can hear it too, how it accelerates when you and I are in the same room.” He digs his nails further into your skin as the other hands start touching you more purposely. “I assumed you were angry or perhaps your hated was that strong but...” He gives you a chilling smile. “That isn’t it, is it pet?”

“You’re a monster.” You say, only to scream as the hands below start to scratch your more sensitive areas.

Cain leans down, whispering into your ear; “Does it really matter?”

“Yes,” You say but you don’t sound so sure as Cain peppers kisses up and down your carotid. Your eyes flutter close as the hands return to their sweet touches at the apex of your thighs.

The touches are feather light as Cain’s kisses travel down your throat to your collarbone. He pauses the wax off your nipple, his nail lightly scraping against your skin. He moves his face back towards yours so he can whisper; “Say my name,” Your eyes snap open to meet his gaze. “Say it for me,” The hand between your legs is touching you like it knows exactly what to do and Cain kisses you. You moan softly. “Say my name,” He says again as you move your hips to meet the phantom fingers.

Your breath gets shallow as you get close, what you need is right there, but you never reach it, the sensations disappear before you can cum. You meet Cain’s eyes again, looking so very confused. “But--”

“I told you to do something,” Cain says.

“Please,” You shift your hips, but nothing is there.

Cain holds your chin in his hand, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip. “If you want to be rewarded, you have to obey.”

As you look up at Cain, the touches return between your legs, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach the edge again. “Cain,” You moan. “Please,” Again, the touch fades at the moment of your release and you jerk against the chains holding you fast in place. “No, Cain! Cain, please.”

Cain peels a stripe of red off your stomach. “Please?” He asks. “Are you finally being sweet?”

“Yes,” You breathe. “Cain...” You try to meet his eyes and sigh as the touch returns to you again. You’re brought to the edge again and again no further, you pull against the chains, only rubbing your wrists raw. “No,” You whimper so quietly you’re almost surprised he heard you.

“Oh, look at you,” Cain says, occupying himself by peeling the remaining wax off your body. “All this time, I’ve wanted to see you like this, begging for my touch and attention.”

The sensations pull away again and you cry out in frustation. “Please, Cain--”

“Oh my, are you crying?” Cain is elated at the revelation. He brushes his thumbs across your cheeks, and you don’t have it in you to complain. “You are. How patheic you are, hm? What happened to all that delicious hatred?”

You give him a pleading look. “Please... Cain...”

“Please what?” He asks, trying to feign innocence. “Be specific. Ask for what you want, my pet.” Cain takes your face in his hand. “Confess.”

“I want...” You say.

“Tell me,”

Your voice is airy. “I want you to touch me.”

“Touch you?” He asks. “Is that all?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I... want you.” You say. “Please, please Cain, I want you.”

He grins, this is better than he had hoped. He has clearly gotten under your skin. “If I had only known this was all it took for you to give in to me, there wouldn’t have been need for all that hardship.”

You’re barely listening, lifting your hips off the mattress and whining. Your pride can be ignored, if he only gives you what you need. “Cain,” You say again. “I want you.”

“Oh, I know my pet,” He purrs, running his hand down your face. You lean into his touch. “Look how sweet you are, and I suppose you have begged prettily enough, I can grant you what you want.”

“Please,” Your voice is soft and the phantom grasp starts touching you again. You moan. “Yes, thank you...”

You watch as Cain turns to grab the candle off the nightstand again, you’re closer to your release than you’ve been all night. When the hands fade you almost scream in frustration before Cain pours wax over your chest again and you gasp.

“Oh, I’m sorry darling,” Cain says, his tone making your heart sink. “I didn’t mean you’d be getting what you need now... or anytime soon.” The chain retracts into the wall by a link or two, holding you in place more surely so Cain can more effectively pour wax over your trembling form. “I’m just... enjoying this too much.”

#cain zeitgeist #btd #btd2 #cain btd #cain x reader #cain zeitgeist x reader #btd x reader #frenzy scribbles

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messenger-of-stupidity · 8 months

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Hi welcome to random things that I think the Reverie characters do, including their listeners but I'm really tired and can't remember all the pet names given.

(and this time I'm gonna proofread it. <- that's a lie)

LES GO

Jacob - he's already a goofy dude with his whole red flag business. But aside from that, he doesn't like those mint things that Olive Garden gives you. (Totally not self projecting) and instead chooses to toss them to other tables without alerting the patrons eating at that table.

Jacob's listener - they don't like the color blue gray that mold is. You know that color? Yeah they have a violent reaction when they see it. I'm talking about swearing like a sailor, throwing a shoe at whatever had that color, ect. Their assistant wore a color similar and they locked him out of their lab until he changed. They want funding to develop a super weapon against the color.

Dion - he constantly puts the box of cereal on top of the fridge. No one knows why he does this, he just does and he refuses to explain. It's very frustrating.

Bodyguard - he doesn't finish movies. He will watch almost all the way through but at the last ten minutes he exits out of the movie claiming boredom. Also infuriating.

Bunny - they leave mugs and cups out. Once they're done, they will just set it down. Sometimes they use it again the next day depending on the previous contents. They always claim that they'll use it again, but more often then not they complain they can't find it before grabbing something fresh. Dion is constantly and rightfully complaining whenever they blame him for the cabinet where they keep the cups and mugs being empty.

Gage - he always buys gag gifts. He also buys genuine gifts but he won't give it to you until a week and a half after your birthday or whatever. He waits so you think his genuine gift is the joke one.

Bug - they can't match their socks for the life of them. Like every time they get a new pack of socks, they somehow always wear mismatched ones. They don't know how it happens but they say opposites attract. It's making people think they do it on purpose. They don't, that's just copium.

Neo - Neo can get competitive. Like reeeaally competitive. This foxy boy will quite literally nearly cause himself injury to "win". He has to open the door first because then he won the race to. (he hides it behind being polite but thats not his main focus) he will eat his food the fastest, nearly choking on it. He will win cuddling even if it's the last thing he ever fucking does.

Darling - they have canine behaviors. Which doesn't seem like a big deal. Until they're sitting in front of a closed door complaining and knocking on it because they're curious. Or when they sprint away full speed with something in their hands (or mouth) that they shouldn't have. Or that they have a specific spot on the couch or bed or table or floor or counter or fridge or blanket or chair that is their spot and no one else can be in that spot. Or when they grab things that smell like people they care about (most often Neo when possible) and just carry the items into common or public areas. Sometimes the person is still attached to the item.

Desmond - he has a bag of bags and a box of boxes. No one knows why since he barely uses them, but everyone is too scared to ask.

Newbie - they obsessively dig holes. And they don't refill them. They've gotten told off a few times for just leaving holes in the work yard but they just can't stop. They also regularly send pictures of the holes to Desmond like "LOOK WHAT I MADE 💪🤩" what he doesnt known is that this was in his front yard 😈

Law - he gets really into princess tea parties. Like, intense. He knows all the drama between the dolls and sometimes he'll try to instigate more drama. These tea parties have extensive lore now. Also he religiously watched great British bake off.

Sweets - They collect pumpkins. And hear me out on this. Every fall they go with Law and his kid to a pumpkin patch. Photos are taken and Law lets his kid get one pumpkin to bring home. Sweets never grew up with that kind of opportunity so one of these trips they decide to try it. And now they have a pumpkin. Suddenly their eyes are opened and it's pumpkin everything! They get several pumpkins each year. They have pumpkin decor they decorate with. Pumpkin (the color... Or pattern) clothing. Pumpkin spice becomes like crack. They really really like pumpkins. Just wait until they find out about the glory of fresh pineapples... Their home will look like a swingers without them realizing it.

Casey - he can't be allowed to go into Michaels. Not because of anything necessarily bad, but he just loses any and all impulse control. He'll go in with the intention of just getting a few things and suddenly he renewed his membership, has three signs, four fake vines, two picture frames, and seven full rolls of ribbon. (He originally went in for tye-dye for a date idea with Honey. He forgot to buy it and now needs to go again. He'll end up buying the materials to make a DIY wreath)

Honey - dating a florist is fun. But they now have flowers everywhere. Some are in pots, some in vases. Some are pressed between the pages of a book. Some tied in colored mesh baggies for sachets (I think that's the word I'm thinking of) and placed in their dresser drawers. It makes their clothes smell of the flower. They sometimes forget to change them out and next thing they know their clothes smell of rotting plant and need to go through the wash. But they're happy to have it, officially handing out the little gifts to even random strangers they meet in the street.

Cyril - he collects action figures. I have an angst hc connected to this, but I want to keep this fluffy for the most part so I'll just leave it at that.

Rival - they get heated if someone peels off that plasticy cling cover wrap thingie. The one that is placed over device screens or something? Yeah they're obsessed with that shit. If you peel it off before they can they will give you the silent treatment until they get the chance to peel it off something again.

Roman - Dissects pinecones. This dude will find the pine cones that are opened up and will meticulously start to pick the shards (?) Out and try to create towers with them. He'll never admit it but he's traveled back in time to find the same pine cone and repeat the process if he messes it up.

Pip (I think that's what the listener is called?) - they throw cotton balls at people they don't like or people they want to get the attention of. No one knows how they just have a bag or pockets full of cotton balls but they do. And they will throw one at your head with the force of a thousand spartan warriors.

Ellis - They really really like black out poems. (Those ones where you color over a sheet of text to only show certain words and create a poem out of it) which can be a problem considering where they work. The urge to just grab a book and start making a black out poem is so strong. They need to keep their hands busy for fear of giving into the urge.

Ellis' listener - they try to catch the dust that you can see floating through sun rays. The ones where if you stare long enough it's like you're hurtling through space and the dust is the stars. Anyways, they like to catch that shit and present it to Ellis. Ellis humors them and "thanks for catching the stars for me"

(and the tag because I'm slowly getting less scared of being perceived but mostly because Altair is so fucking nice omg and therefore it makes it a bit less scary. @reverieaudios )

#I FORGOT TO TAG THIS IM STUPID DONT MIND ME #reverie audios #reverieaudios #desmond #cyril #dion #ellis #neo #gage #law #bodyguard #casey #roman #jacob

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ciarancreature · 1 year

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Hey! Since it seems like goth women's fashion is a lot easier to find examples of and information about, I've decided to create a short visual guide to a good, basic look you can do as a male or masc goth! Note that this is intended as a guide for more casual, everyday wear; for a fancier goth style, like a vampire or Victorian goth look, this might not be the right guide.

For a good, basic, every day casual goth look, here's what I like to do.

Let's start with shoes. I typically wear black Dr. Martens with platforms. They can be bought new or used, and I recommend real leather, as it's much longer lasting and more environmentally friendly. But Docs are expensive. If they're not in your budget, any similar black boot will do. You can also get creative and do a different kind of black boot, or, if you manage to get your hands on some, a pair of winklepickers (also known as goth pikes) are a classic look!

The next thing to look at is pants. You'll probably want a nice, simple pair of black jeans. I would recommend skinny jeans, but if they're not comfortable or you don't like the look, a pair of straight or athletic jeans, or anything else should work! That being said, I'd stick to black (or something else that you feel looks gothy). Normal or ripped are both great!

After that, a completely optional step is a belt or several layered belts (black if possible). Not everyone wears them, but one or more edgy belts are another classic look with a deathrocker vibe. Some fun options are belts with chains and O rings, studs, or bullets. A wallet chain is also an option.

Over that, a classic staple in any goth wardrobe is a black goth band shirt. This is a way to show you know the music, look cool, and support bands you love - many bands make the majority of their profits as musicians from merch!

One thing you can do, especially for a more tradgoth or deathrocker look, is to add either fishets or a layer or two of ripped tights as sleeves under the t-shirt. Not everyone does this, but it's a fun element for extra flair. If you go with fishnets, I recommend getting tights and simply ripping or cutting a hole in the crotch rather than buying a shirt, because it's much cheaper, and because the ripped look is cool.

On top of that, you'll probably want a jacket. Some people wear trench coats. Some people wear a black denim vest or jacket with patches, studs, or spikes (again, this is more common among deathrockers). Some wear a black leather jacket; it could be new or vintage, real or pleather, and plain or covered in painted band logos/patches/spikes. Some even wear distressed sweaters. Most goths prefer black, regardless of what you go for, and if it's got spikes or patches, most goths DIY them rather than buying them like that. Patches are another way to show off your love and support for bands.

You may also want to add jewelry. Some goths wear a lot of creepy rings. Many wear chokers or necklaces, and often layer them; some classic ones are rosaries, ankhs, and bats. Many goths of all genders and sexualities also wear black nail polish. If you choose to wear facial piercings, avoid tribal ones. They're culturally appropriative and will alienate marginalized people and lead to people getting upset with you.

If you have hair, you have several options for styling it. Most goths choose to dye their hair black, but some may bleach it, keep it natural, or color it. Some may even choose to wear different wigs for different occasions. How you style it is up to you, but many choose to style it by backcombing/teasing it, applying a strong hairspray (got2be Glued is typically the most recommended), and using a hair dryer to make it stay in place (there are several tutorials for this on YouTube). Alternatively, you can simply leave it long (this is a less classic look, but many goths do it). Many, especially deathrockers like to style their hair in a deathhawk, which is a mohawk or crest hairstyle with backcombed hair. (There is some debate about whether this is culturally appropriative or not. I've met someone online who claimed to be from the Kanien'kehá:ka Tribe (the indigenous name for the tribe) who told me they don't consider it appropriative because the original hairstyle involves plucking, not shaving the hair, and involves a certain amount of ritual and spiritual significance; this person also said they don't think it should be called a Mohawk because it's not the same hairstyle as the one associated with the tribe. That being said, I'd never met them before and don't know if they were being honest with me. I've also met a white person who sent me an article by another white person who claimed to have asked members of the same tribe, who said they do consider it appropriative. If someone who is actually from the Kanien'kehá:ka culture would like to tell me what the consensus is, or if there even is one within the culture, I would appreciate it.). I've also see goths with any number of styles that involved shaving various parts of their heads, so you can also just go wild with the clippers and see what happens. A tower (a style in which the sides and back are shaved and the top is styled to stick up) is also an option. Just be aware that something that involves backcombing and hairspray is a lot of work to be doing on a daily basis and can damage your hair; using extensions instead may help protect it. If you have textured hair, many Black goths tease or comb it into various styles. The important thing with many looks is that it has body and sticks up, that it has shaved parts, that it's generally edgy, or some combination of those traits at play. When in doubt, look to goth icons like Robert Smith and Dave Vanian for inspiration, or simply try to look as much like a vampire as you can. Or, you can look at modern goth artists, like Twin Tribes, Male Tears, and She Past Away!

Most goths (even cis, straight men) wear some amount of makeup, although it's not necessary if you don't want to. A basic beginner look may just be black eyeliner and/or eyeshadow smudged around the eyes. If you'd like the get creative with it, some contouring, black or red lipstick, or more elaborate eye makeup may be in order. You can imitate women's looks or do something more elaborate; I'll make a separate post for that. Goth makeup often focuses on looking gaunt and pale, but this is not because goth has always been for skinny, white people (it's never been just for them); it's more that the goal when goth makeup became a thing was to look like a corpse. Being pale and being skinny are not requirements. Looking dark and edgy is the goal, not looking conventionally attractive.

Doing all or most of these things will give you a good, basic goth look, and with just a few band shirts, you'll have a solid wardrobe to work with that doesn't have to be expensive. Remember, goth fashion has always been pretty androgynous, so don't be afraid to borrow ideas from goth women as well! If you're able to spend time around other goths or follow them on social media (Goth Dad is an influencer who has his own goth male fashion tutorials that are worth looking at, and others like Sweeney DeVille and James from the band Male Tears have good tutorials for things like hair and makeup), you'll pick up on more ideas, and can even get creative on your own!

#goth #goth fashion #goth men #men's goth fashion #fashion #hair #makeup

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liliallowed · 5 months

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When you think about it Crimson and Sans share a lot of mannerisms and are generally... Kind of similar in small ways? They wear the same complex expression when you ask about their past, they barley let their true emotions show on their face, they are always on the lookout for attack, and they both seem like they'll always know more then us. Their fighting matches up perfectly with each other and they seem close in the most hateful way possible. When we watched them fight when we were trapped in the red string, watching them felt like that's what it's always been. Them for all of eternity. I feel like we're kind of an outsider to both of them? It makes me feel... Strangely jealous.

here's some cool art of the scene I drew!

they're married to an eternal slaughter of each other but divorced recently after meeting y/n mutually cheating 😔/j

or could just be interpreted as the salty exes who murder each other on a regular basis!/j

or maybe they are still married to be each other's enemy and you just somehow became a part of that mess???/j

something about the deep history between these two mortal enemies gave you a faint sense of being... left out? as a stranger. you had only known sam's for a few months...

while crimson seemed to know... almost EVERYTHING about him (all to the extent of his accurate battle prowess timing danger and habits... his tastes, his interests his mindset... even his deepest darkest secrets that he had YET to show.)

sans also seemed to know crimson like the back of his hand, rightfully predicting them... making up a carefully set trap using you as bait and they fell for it...

you'd never know sans as well as crimson... and never know crimson as well as sans seemed to know them...

crimson did say they had outlived the world by multiple lifetimes... had they known each other that long? not just one but multiple lifetimes? how long had this been going on???

and yet crimson insisted on pulling you into the drama? to spice things up?

you furrow your eye brows. this was probably some sort of clown show for them to indulge themselves in drama and watch the chaos ensue. not like you could do much against it. you'd use it and take what you could to gain an advantage...

you recall asking them something."do you want to turn me crazy too?'

"of course not, that's too cliche. you're the hero aren't you goody two shoes?"

you were? thinking of yourself as a hero was ironic since it was you who basically freed a chaotic evil entity at the world... what hero does that!?

crimson and sans had a lot in common and among them was their tendency to make you want to punch them in their mysterious smug face... a light bap for sans and a heavy punch for crimson of course.

wait crimson wouldn't feel pain... what was even the point of hurting them??? they also get a light bap you decide.

you felt a bit overwhelmed. coming in between these two felt... like a lot of pressure. despite being told the summary of their dynamic you STILL felt like that extra person who would join a friend group that had known each other for years, awkwardly looking at them glaring at each other without knowing the context or punchline if the jokes they'd say...

or well, the insults they'd throw at each other...

it was mostly one sided... crimson just tanking everything and laughing it off as if losing a limb or two was an average Tuesday...

you really didn't get it... it was horrible to watch them fight... but to them it must've felt... normal? casual?

as if it was a well practiced common practice such as one would chop off one's head as a gesture to say hi or hello or would probably stab the heart as a goodbye...

was that just... their thing?

if you didn't see the blood splatters you would have considered it funny... but it wasn't. it was in fact very graphic.

you almost wished you could unseen it and forget the fact that at certain glances it almost looked... beautiful.

#dusttale #lv triangle #player x dust #player x reader #dust x reader #full circle baby!#triangle complete #cue the stalkers tango 🎶#ngl i loved how the battle art tirned out!#sansanomoly #dusttale sansanomoly

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candywife333 · 11 months

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Unexpected: A Tale of Grief (Part 2)

Disclaimer: This story has yandere behavior, toxicity in loads, body shaming, ,voyeurism, cursing/profanity, and questionable behavior. Also, the characters do not actually represent the personalities and behavior of BTS in real life. There might be non-con further on in the story. I will make sure to post a warning before if there is any non-con at all.

This is the link for part 1 of the story.

https://www.tumblr.com/mred435/691758530362032128/unexpected-a-tale-of-grief?source=share

After I dragged and deposited Clara on her bed, I quickly ran to my room in fear. Since interfering between Clara and Jungkook, I felt this chill of fear and foreboding. I feel like I had committed a terrible faux pas. Clearly, he was trying to drug her and as a good friend and human being I had prevented her from being in such a vulnerable state around him. I had heard stories around campus about the seven boys. They were all bad news in their own ways. However, Jungkook seemed to be one of the worst. He was known to get easily offended, and could be aggressive, cruel, and downright destructive to anyone’s reputation.

What made me even more afraid, was the rumor that if he got fixated on one thing or person in particular, he had to have it. I had laughed it off initially, thinking how similarly this behavior sounded to a toddler in their terrible twos. Yet with time it seemed very apparent that if you got in his way, he wouldn’t stop even short of killing and torturing. One such incident was when a professor had offended him by deducting marks from a homework assignment in finance. Apparently according to Jungkook, he had not made a mistake on that particular question; it was just the professor’s neglect to grade the assignment properly.

Hence, the professor got punished in a very cruel way. A video of the professor harassing a female student leaked out a week after Jungkook had been given his marks. The professor was immediately fired and to top it off, his car had been trashed with a death threat written on the window shield. After the professor was fired, it came to be known that the leaked video was fake. But, the professor was never heard of again on campus.

It was like he had been wiped off the face of the earth. He had disappeared according to the police, not to be found. This was not the last of his and this friends’ horrendous acts on campus that he was never held accountable for. Few days after they had arrived, he invited the most beautiful girls on campus to a party (some of them even had modeling contracts). They had created a ranking of beautiful girls, and to my surprise that even included my friend Miri.

The top 10 most beautiful girls were invited and according to Miri, they engaged in very questionable acts; some bordering on sadistic and depraved . Apparently orgies were the norm. That shocked me. The level of privilege to get away with literally anything was fascinating and scary.

The next day I woke up convincing myself I imagined his glare. I put my hair up into a messy bun after conditioning and blow drying it. Throwing on a baby pink chiffon high low dress and white wedge sandals, I grabbed my leather backpack and ran to the first class of the day. Art, my one and only love kickstarted my day. After class I had my pink Adidas tracksuit ready in my bag so I could make a trip to the gym. Usually around 10:00 am most people didn't come to gym as classes would be going on. Perfect time for me to get in some running.

As I made my way to class, I had the misfortune of bumping into Jungkook and his friends, Taehyung and Jimin. They were all wearing sunglasses and variations of polos and crew neck t-shirts with slacks and fancy leather shoes. But what really scared me, was the condescending smirk on Jungkook’s face.

He circled around me leisurely like a shark around a bleeding fish. “So, why did you take Clara from me last night bitch? Don’t you have any common sense? I guess nobody told you that messing with me is a death sentence. A fat bitch like you should have known better. You're friend is cute, and I want her. If you get in the way, you’ll be sorry. ”

His friends cackled behind him as they stared at me. As quickly as they laughed, they all stopped immediately in a frightening synchrony. Jungkook came towards me abruptly before I could move out of the way and pushed me to the ground. I landed on gravel hurting my hands as I fell on them. I knew this would end up in really bad bruising and cuts.

He sneered at me as though I was mud that had dirtied his pristine shoe. “Get a life bitch. Stop interfering with me. If I ever see you around again messing with me getting a lay, I will end you.” Before he could threaten me further, I scrambled up and stumbled away towards the class building

I wish that had been the last time I saw him. It would have been better for me if he continued to hate me. But unfortunately that wouldn’t be the case.

Jungkook’s POV

The fat bitch had got in my way and blocked me from a good lay. I had been working my way to fuck Clara for a week solid. Too much time wasted. That bitch was an investment that the fat fuck had ruined. I was going to mess up her life. If she thought her poor life was pitiful, I would make it fucking tragic.

My plan was to take a secret video of the bitch when she was showering or changing clothes and post it onto our college instagram page. Instant humiliation for life and she would learn not to interfere in what I did.

Bitch probably looked horrible under clothes. She already looked too chubby in them.

He remembered how you dressed this morning in that baby pink sheath dress that came till your ankles. It seemed to be such a loose fit, he couldn’t make out what the bitch actually looked like under that dress. But from what he could remember, you resembled a bedazzled pink trash bag.

I walked down the hall to her room. I had intimidated the girls’ dorm supervisor into giving me the set of master keys they used only for maintenance. She knew who I was and who my father was. So, she didn’t say a fucking word. The fat girl’s room was number 316. I walked into the room after easily unlocking it. Lucky enough for me the bitch was actually showering.

If she hadn't been showering or changing clothes, I would have forced her to do it in front of me so I could take the video. Not like she could say no.

She had all the luck in the world. This would be relatively painless as she would be unaware.

Her bathroom door was open a crack as she showered. All the dorms had translucent glass showers which worked perfectly in my favor. As I took out my phone to take a video of her, I was ready to be disgusted. I exclusively fucked skinny, slim thick, and fit girls. Not the likes of this big bird.

She had opened the shower door and was showering. Possibly to let out the steam that had accumulated due to the hot water. As I was getting ready to grimace and sneer at her ugly body in repulsion, I looked into my camera and to my dismay felt something else all together.

The girl had long black hair that trailed down in a wet spray across her back. She looked so ethereal as water droplets trailed down her back and waist ( which was surprisingly small for her body), that held a small amount of pudge around her bellybutton and lower stomach.

Her skin was the shade of a fading sunset. She glowed as his eyes beheld her perfectly round, dimpled butt cheeks that lead to equally thick thighs. Her hips were so wide, encased by white stretch marks that wound around her hips like vines.

As she turned completely to the front to collect a loofa, her lush soft breasts jiggled ever so slightly, with water droplets clinging onto to her chocolate colored nipples. As my eyes traveled down of their own volition, so much so that I forgot about the video for a few seconds. Her little belly button was cradled with fluff and it all led down in a V line to her pussy.

I didn't know one could be obsessed with a pussy just be viewing it partially. She had pubic hair covering her for the most part. Black curls obstructed my view of her lips. Yet when she moved slightly, I saw the peek of dark lips exposing themselves through the curls. Her curls traveled to her inner thighs were they stopped.

The steam from the shower made her dark hair plaster against her back and one of her nipples. Her chest was flushed a vivid pink from the assault of warm water. Her pouty lips that I had not noticed till now were mumbling the words to some song I had yet to discover. She had big eyes framed with extravagant lashes and dark black eyes that gleamed with comfort and ease.

I couldn't believe how attracted I was to her. She was a goddess. How could I not have noticed her. I could see the bruising and scratches on her knees bleeding into purples and reds from where I had shoved her onto the ground.

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chaoswithkaycee · 1 year

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A Farewell to Papaw

He was born in 1946, two days after Christmas, the third son of an Appalachian coal miner and his bitch wife. You may think I’m being too harsh on my great grandmother - but trust me, if you’d known her, you’d agree. West Virginia was a beautiful place to grow up, poor as they were, and Papaw told me stories all the time of his upbringing. He got into making moonshine shortly before he married my Gramma in 1964, when he was 17 and she was 16. I saw the picture once, of them on their wedding day. She was wearing a tea length, cream-colored dress, her curly brown hair pinned back and swept off her neck, and little lace gloves. He was wearing gray slacks and a mismatched jacket. At 17, he already had calluses on his hands and dirt in every pore, no matter how hard he scrubbed, from working in the mines with his daddy. He told me, when he showed me the picture, that right after they’d gotten married, he’d gone right back to work that day. He worked everyday to give “Annie” (my Gramma) everything she deserved.

At some point, West Virginia lost its luster and they moved to Texas before their first child, my aunt, was born. Not too much later, their second child, my father, came around too. Around that time, Papaw gave up moonshining and got sober himself. Once he left rehab, he never touched alcohol again. Coal mines aren’t a thing here on the gulf coast, so he moved into the next most common working poor job we have here - a refinery plant. He worked at the same plant until he retired, some 40-ish years later. That job paid for him to buy a little three bedroom house with a shed, paid for the tools he used to maintain that house and yard, paid to keep his sweet wife at home to raise their kids and grow her rose garden and plant a pear tree in the middle of the backyard. That job paid for his kids school clothes and shoes, for all the food that filled their bellies - and they never went hungry, that was a rule he had from his own time as a poor child in the Appalachian region - paid for Annie to go and get her hair done at the salon down the road every other week, paid for the small donations they could muster at church. And when Annie got sick, it paid for her treatment and surgery, and eventually, her funeral. He taught himself how to make rosaries, and made her one every day from the time he retired to the time she passed away.

Of course, all of that happened long before I came around (Except her death. She passed when I was 13). He was still working when I was born, though. I grew up in the same house that he raised my daddy and aunt in. He helped my mama put my bedroom together, bought a swingset for the backyard, and built a playroom add-on next to the laundry room, attached to what would become my bedroom. He and Gramma helped to baby proof the house, bought toys and books and clothes, and talked my terrified parents down a hundred times over.

When my aunt announced the birth of her second child, mama was devastated to find out it was a girl. Now my aunt, daddy’s older sister, had given birth to both the first grandson and the first granddaughter, a month before I would be born (well, really, it was three months before I was supposed to be born, but I surprised them two months early). Mama said she sat on the swingset out in the backyard and cried. Papaw came out to talk to her, and asked her what was wrong. She said she was scared that I wouldn’t be special to him, since I wouldn’t be the first granddaughter. Papaw looked her dead in the eye and told her every baby that came into his life was special, and I was no different. He would love me just as much as the first two, and he’d love every one that came after just as much as the ones before. Years later, when I told this story back to him (as mama had told it to me), he told me a little bit more. “She was my special girl, your mama,” he said, adjusting his cannula and stopping to catch his breath. “Annie liked her well enough, but I loved that girl. Day she married your dad, she became my daughter, and I loved her just as much as my own baby girl. She’s still my special girl, tell her that next time you see her.” I did tell her, and she cried.

I was born two months too soon, and he was there at the hospital as soon as his shift was over. He sat and prayed with my mama, he gave money to my daddy so he could call off work to be with me and mama. When the doctor predicted I’d die, he told me I wasn’t allowed to. I don’t remember it, but he’s told the story back to me so many times that I feel like I can. I was in an incubator, in a diaper so small he said it couldn’t have been any bigger than a tissue (according to him), and I wasn’t crying or anything. Just fighting for every breath. And he said he told me I wasn’t allowed to die, because he hadn’t been allowed to hold me yet, and I would break his heart if I died before he could hold me.

I’m sure my survival is far more likely because of the dedicated team of nurses and doctors that took care of me around the clock for the next month, but my Papaw believes it’s because he told me to stay. Maybe both are true. I have so many memories of sitting in his lap while he learned how to use a computer, watching tv with him, laying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He always smelled like gasoline and tobacco, which are both considered extremely acrid smells, but they smelt like home and comfort to me. I remember how he used to hand me a comb and some oil and let me comb his beard and mustache, and even when I got snagged on knots he never yelled or gave any sign of discomfort. I remember the silver watch he wore, an anniversary gift from my gramma to celebrate their first year together. His hair was already thinning when I came around, but it still had a little curl to it, and he let me comb that too.

I remember how he used to take me to the park in his pick up truck when the fair was in town, how he’d buy me a caramel apple even though I would just eat the caramel part. He always ate the apple for me. When he went to the grocery store, he’d go to the candy section and pick out all the banana Runts to bring home to me in a little bag. To this day, I can’t eat banana Runts without thinking of him. Even when he moved up to Tennessee and I only saw him once every few years, he made it a point to go down to the store and buy me all the banana Runts he could find, enough for me to snack on for the next week.

When I came out of the closet, I expected him to stop loving me. To tell me that it was wrong, that God would be angry, that he was angry. I was so scared of his reaction that I hid it from him for almost ten years after I told everyone else. He found out when my dad accidentally mentioned my girlfriend at the time, and he called me to talk about it. “Monkey,” he said, because that was his nickname for me, “tell me about this girl.” And I did. I told him about how her smile made my insides feel like melted butter, how she smelled like chocolate dipped strawberries and laughed at all my jokes. “Sounds like she makes you feel like Annie made me feel.” He told me. Gramma had already been gone for awhile at this point, and he sounded sad when he said it, but I knew what he meant. “Don’t be afraid to tell me something ever again, baby girl. You’re always my Monkey, and I love you no matter what.”

Last time I saw him was in 2018, a few months after that phone call. He was already pretty sick then, and a little confused. He told me probably a hundred times that I was his Monkey and he loved me so much. I thought it was because he forgot he already told me, but now I wonder if he knew I wouldn’t see him again and he wanted to make sure he said it enough times to fill up my life when he was gone. He wouldn’t let me comb his beard this time, but he sat and played checkers with me for awhile, then candyland with me, my sister, and my dad.

Papaw wasn’t perfect. But he loved me, and I loved him. He helped shape who I am, taught me kindness and steadiness to counteract my chaos. I got the news yesterday that he isn’t expected to make it another week, and I’m a wreck. He always told me that as long as you love someone, as long as you remember them, they’re not gone. So I thought I’d tell y’all about him, and maybe y’all could love him and remember him too. Thanks for letting me ramble.

#griefjourney #loss #grandparents #papaw #saying goodbye #end of life #appalachia

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wacky-nameless-inventor-24 · 2 years

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More MadFen Royalty AU stuff! This takes place right after the king goes to get Mads and take him home after Mads was kidnapped by Gyro, Fenton and Della. Now Mads is going to all of them to explain who he really is.

Gyro was a mess.

They’d been caught. The king had found them, and Mads had turned out to be some crazy-powerful wizard, hiding his power from them the whole time. They were even further delayed in their quest to save Boyd, and now it might be too late for him.

He had to find a way out of here and find a way back to Boyd.

The three of them had been dumped in the room they’d stayed in before, with the door magically locked and all the windows magically sealed shut as well. None of them wanted to risk forcing their way through one, as there were probably traps and alarms.

So all three of them started up when the handle on the room’s door turned.

Mads slipped into the room, wearing a new set of royal purple clothes and a cape that reached his ankles. It was quite tight, accenting his figure. His black shoes were shined to perfection.

He had a small imp on his shoulder, a tiny cat-like thing with a long pronged tail and large all-purple glowing eyes. It walked on four legs but could grasp things in its tiny hands, and chittered every now and then.

“If any of you try anything,” Mads began, his tone full of warning, “The king will really tear you apart. And I won’t bother saving you this time.”

The three of them nodded. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“Oh please,” Mads made himself right at home, dragging the chair in the corner closer to the door before sitting in it, one leg crossed over the other. “At most you could call me Highness, but that’s a bit of a stretch.”

“What do you mean?” Fenton asked. “Aren’t you…

“Married to the king? No.” The chicken smiled, and Gyro’s stomach dropped. “That was your first mistake, not bothering to even check if I was royalty.”

“So none of this would’ve amounted to anything anyway?” Della asked, downcast.

Mads’ smile turned sympathetic. “No. Like you said, I’m still merely an idiot commoner.”

Gyro scowled. He couldn’t believe it. They’d risked everything for this plan, and it wouldn’t even have worked in the first place! “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I tried to,” Mads said with a shrug. The imp on his shoulder held on a little tighter. “You always cut me off before I could say anything and told me not to make excuses. Eventually I just gave up and went with it.”

“So you were lying to us the whole time?!”

“I never lied about who I was,” Mads pointed out. “There were things in my past that I lied about, but the king usually doesn’t like me talking about those. The entire time I made sure to talk like I wasn’t married, and all of you seemed to ignore that.”

He had a point there. Thinking back, Gyro couldn’t remember Mads ever mentioning being married. He had quite a few rings on his fingers, but they appeared more decorative than symbolic.

“With all due respect, why are you visiting us?” Fenton worked up the nerve to ask.

“I thought I owed all of you an explanation,” Mads gestured to the bed. “Sit! We’ve known each other for three days now, you don’t have to start treating me like royalty now.”

The three of them awkwardly sat on the end of the bed, Gyro in the middle with his hand tightly grasped in Fenton’s. Mads sat forward, an intrigued look on his face. “Do any of you have any idea who I am?”

They shook their heads.

“Not a clue?”

“No, sire.”

Mads smiled. “Well this will be good.” He reached up, gently running his finger along the side of his imp’s face. The little creature leaned into it. “Blacklight, would you go see if you can find any of the old posters?”

The imp chittered, before bounding out of the room.

“Wait, so you’re not married to the king?” Della asked. “Why do you have a throne then? He treats you like you are too…”

“Oh, no, I’m not.” Mads said. “I’ve known the king for about two years now, and don’t tell anyone but he gets attached easily. Luckily for him I was truly in it for the relationship, I think before me he would’ve been scarily easy to take advantage of.”

“Oh.”

“Well then who are you?” Fenton asked. “Your magic level is incredible! E-even for just a commoner.”

“Well without spoiling anything for you before Blacklight gets back, I can tell you I am an ex assassin from St. Canard.” Mads leaned forward, uncrossing his legs to rest his elbows on his knees. “Though don’t tell anyone, I usually don’t like revealing that information.”

Gyro’s eyebrows shot up. St. Canard’s assassins were the best of the best, nobody lived once they’d targeted them. They were the kingdom’s secret weapon, and partially why nobody dared to get on their bad side. They were also a very secretive group, and once in, you were in it for life. Nobody had been able to escape them once they were inducted. “Really? How on earth did you get away?”

“I just left,” Mads said simply. “I was on an assignment in Duckburg and it gave me a little too big of a taste of freedom. So I decided just to stop. I never went back, and so far they haven’t come after me. Not in a way that I’ve noticed, anyway.”

“So everything was an act?” Gyro asked. “Not liking nature or walking, or being unable to sleep outside- just some show?”

Mads shrugged. “Essentially. When the first thing you said after I woke up was that you thought I was some idiot commoner the king picked up- not entirely a lie- I thought I’d play along and see what I could learn.”

“You’re an incredible actor.” Fenton told him, awe in his voice.

Mads grinned. “Why thank you. I’ve had practice. In truth I’m more used to sleeping outside than I am used to being in a castle, and I’ve been here for two years.”

“Why did you go along with it?” Della asked him. “Why didn’t you just magic us all back to the castle or something from the start? You’re clearly stronger than all of us combined.”

Mads sighed. “Because I wanted to help. Until I was taken in by the king I’ve never had anyone close to me to lose- unless you count one of my instructors, but the more I learn about relationships the more I realize she was a terrible person- but I still can’t imagine losing one of the people I have now. So I thought if I went with you then I could find a way to help, maybe convince the king to come get me at the burial ground and still help all of you. But he was too angry to do that.”

“Really?” Fenton asked.

Mads nodded. “I still want to help. I know your son doesn’t have a lot of time left and it’s been hard to convince the king to help with the way you approached this, but I’ll certainly try to get through to him.”

Gyro smiled. “Thank you.”

That’s when the imp came running back in, holding a rolled up sheet of old paper in one of its hands. They passed it to the Mad Ducktor who unrolled it, studying it. “Ah, you found one! Good.” He leaned over, passing it to Gyro. “Take a look at that and see who it reminds you of.”

Gyro unrolled it, holding it out so Della and Fenton could see it. “Wanted dead or alive, Reward- $2,000 if dead, $8,000 if alive. Mad Ducktor.” Della read aloud quietly.

Underneath it there was a picture of the chicken sitting across from them, a dashing smirk on his face.

Fenton’s jaw dropped, and he looked up at Mads. “You’re the Mad Ducktor?! I thought he was executed forever ago!”

Mads smirked, and his resemblance to the picture became even more obvious. “I was supposed to be, but it never happened. People forgot about the Mad Ducktor eventually.”

“Why didn’t it happen?” Della asked, intrigued.

Mads’ smirk turned to a more genuine smile. “The king fell in love. The execution was technically never called off, just postponed until nobody cared anymore. I still keep the wanted posters around for laughs. And to surprise unsuspecting commoners, apparently.”

Gyro just shook his head, shocked. “So not only are you a St. Canard assassin, but you’re the Mad Ducktor too?”

The Mad Ducktor had been quite a powerful figure nearly two years ago, especially among the lower class in Duckburg. While no one knew exactly why, he’d started riots and targeted the houses and buildings of the higher-class people in Duckburg. The commoners had wanted change, and had followed along with him.

Mads nodded.

“We majorly underestimated you.” Della said, sounding just as shocked as Gyro felt.

The chicken grinned. “Yes, you did. But I suppose that’s just a testament to my acting skills, isn’t it?”

“Wait, so what was the reasoning behind your attacks?” Fenton asked. “Did anyone ever know?”

Mads snorted. “No. If they did, they wouldn’t have come with me.”

“...So what was it?”

The chicken shrugged. “I was bored.”

“What?” Gyro asked.

“You heard me.”

“That’s seriously it?”

Mads nodded, a faint smile on his beak. “I went from intense training to being sent to kill people to having my own freedom with nothing to do. I wanted to do something to entertain myself, to keep up with how excited I was that I was finally free. So I took to raiding buildings.”

“Huh.” It was all Fenton had to say.

“Wait wait wait, how did the king manage to fall in love with one of his prisoners?” Della asked, confused. “One that he was planning to kill? How does that even happen?”

“Well, once he found out I was a St. Canard assassin, he wouldn't leave me alone.” Mads explained. “They’re a very secretive group, and I am quite a problem to them. He wanted to know everything, which led to sometimes several interrogations a day. Every time he’d have new questions, and they slowly got a little bit more personal. I was in a cell at first, before he moved me to this room, actually. At the time he told me it was just because the castle dungeon was getting too full, but it was actually because he wanted to be closer to me.”

Della raised her eyebrows. “Wow.”

“I know! And ever since then I’ve been staying with him in the castle. I don’t have an official status, but everyone knows I’m untouchable.” He gave a mischievous smirk, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “I get away with anything here, and nobody can do anything about it. It’s great.”

“Why aren’t you married?” Della asked. “You’ve lived with him for two years!”

Mads leaned back, crossing his legs again. “We’ve talked about it, but neither of us really see the point. We don’t want children just yet if at all, and I’m not ready to officially rule a kingdom, even if it’s just helping him. We like how it is now, so we don’t see the point in changing it.”

Della nodded. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“So you’re going to try to help us with Boyd?” Gyro asked, leaning forward.

Mads nodded. “Yes. And if this cure helps other people too, then that will be even more beneficial. But I can really help you three, and I want to.”

“Thank you,” Gyro nodded his head in a slight bow.

The Mad Ducktor stood, stretching his arms. “Well thank you for getting me out of the castle for a few days. I haven’t been out like that in ages, and it was quite nice!”

Gyro frowned. Mads’ occasional comments like that made him wonder how seriously the chicken was taking this. If he saw their trip as a race for Boyd’s life, or just a way to get out of the castle.

“You’re welcome…?” Fenton said hesitantly.

Mads laughed. “Can I have the poster back? Thank you. Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow, I’ll see if I can talk the king into helping tonight.”

Gyro squeezed Fenton’s hand tightly as he met eyes with the former assassin. “Thank you, again.”

“I’m glad I can help.”

#Mad Ducktor #Gyro Gearloose #Fenton Crackshell Cabrera #Fenro #Della Duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #DT17 #duckverse #Madfen royalty AU #The Blepification of Mads AU #wacky writes #Mads gets sick right after this so he actually isn't able to help DX #Blacklight

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lordhelpme0-0 · 2 years

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Ikemen Vampire OC: Queen Mother Ỷ Lan

Traditional art will be made, but the digital art will be later as that will take some time…anyway! ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Date of Birth: October 6, ????

Zodiac Sign(s): Aries, Rabbit [fire]

Height: 153.2 cm

Occupation: Lý Dynasty Queen mother, regent, imperial concubine, Empress mother

Vampiric Type: Demi-vampire

Ethnicity: Vietnamese

Names/ Title: Queen Mother Ỷ Lan (leaning on orchid), Empress Mother Linh Nhân, Dịu (soothing/tender) Lý (hourly) [outside name]

Family relations: unknown

Personality: Ý Lan is a demure and gentle woman. Not to mention intellectual and quick witted. She is seemingly motherly to the boys whenever visiting. Quick to pick up any languages and culture. Mostly stays indoor and lives with Olga as housemates. Very respected in the Asian pureblood society, despite being a demi-vampire. She doesn’t really go outside, beside to take strolls in gardens. Ever since she traveled over to Europe with Olga, she will feel reminiscent of her homeland. Considering being common or at birth, she will most likely make some Vietnamese cuisine for the boys to try. Definitely will be amused by Dazai eccentric tendency. Despite her gentle nature, she will not hesitate to verbally put someone in place. It has happen…more than once….not gonna name anybody…theo-

Likes:

The botanical beauty and gardens

She has a thing for animals, basically a Disney princess by this point

Reading with ché (Vietnamese dessert) on the side

Has been intrigue by the changes on technology advancement - may or may not had Issac explain in his purest form

Has been called mother more than once - she enjoys it

Definitely will be with Olga over tea

Has a pet animal, the Saola - it’s a very endangered species in Vietnam..also known as the Asian unicorn [please don’t do any MLP references!!!]

Has to keep Saola away from Mon Cherie, King, and Vic much to her amusement - cause there’s a bloody Asian unicorn there-

Will want to learn everything, and has gone off at Theo and William in full Vietnamese - they still scared after having a bamboo stick whack them in the booty

Likes peace and chaos

Mostly will converse with Comte time to time on the society itself

Has done home remedies on the boys - string ring!—

Will be that one Asian mom using her feet when her hands are full

Basically the second mom whenever she comes visit

Dislikes:

Frivolous spending and entertainment - looking at you Arthur and Comte

Dazai tendencies to always uses windows

Theo horrible language

Lack of propriety and respect

Horrible bed schedule and bad habits (I’m listing my life by now…)

Having to use the shoes or bamboo

Messy rooms - Leonardo

Trivia!!!:

Ỷ Lan has an Asian unicorn as a pet…no it’s not an actual Asian unicorn Jean

She may have dragged Jean and Issac by the ear to dinner - while smiling calmly throughout

The thing in her hand you see her holding up is a gold seal or something - it was part of her statue..I couldn’t get a close look cause not a lot of references

The outfit she wore is royal Vietnamese outfit in the 1000-1200 ad

She has a headdress, that sometimes let the boys use to put on to play around with - Dazai

Doesn’t wear the royal garment when in Comte, Vlad, or the unknown place that both her and Olga live in - she opts for simple tunic with a sash around. Having a white skirt underneath and a robe with cut sleeves over her

Has sewn some garments for the boys to try, which mean flowing robes and sleeves everywhere

Sebastian is thankful to have her around, which she is amused at

Lines:

“Xin Chào, you must be Chí [____]. I’m Ý Lan, but call me Dịu instead.” The Asian lady in fine robes, gold headdress, with glittering chestnut eyes beam. I smiled as I bowed, “it’s an honor your majesty, I’m [____].”

She chuckle at my pouting face, “don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, here.” Moving her lithe hands, she quickly showed exactly how to season the Phố broth. “It takes practice, even I.” I glanced at her glittering eyes, smiling with determination.

“Since it’s close to the time of your departure. Is there anything I can do for you?” Her eyes sadden, I bit my lip. “Yes, I need…”

Romantic: ???

Storyline plot: <yes>

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[Yes] [No]

[Yes]

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Tagging: @pieground @a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @weird-profiterole @yanderepuck

Edit: I believe you all haven’t seen the second oc I made oof-!

Have some more Ikevamp Oc!!!!!

#ikemen vampire #art #Ikemen vampire Oc #Ikevamp Oc #Ikevamp #Ikemen vampire viet oc #traditional art #profile #Ikemen vampire historical oc #Ikevamp historical oc

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augment-techs · 2 years

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Dillon and Ziggy for the ask headcanons: C, D, and E?

Crying: Dillon has not been known to cry for just about anything, save for when he's confused that he's so happy about having his sister back and having a family and having the most loving and empathetic boyfriend of all time. The actual example of "So happy I could cry." Ziggy can and will cry on cue, when he sees something adorable, when he stubs his baby toe on a table leg if he's not wearing shoes, in shame, in frustration, if grief, in anger, in sadness, in anxiety--but almost never in front of people he cares about. So, of course, when he was a Ranger, he let it build and build and build until he could find himself a closet to hide in and just bawl his eyes out as quietly as possible. Which only held water about three times, because Dillon has wonderful hearing and NOPE. Disorders: Because of his possession by a sentient computer virus taking him over, Dillon sometimes gets really terrible migraines out of nowhere that can and will knock him on his ass--right into temporary blindness, too--until Ziggy finds him a dark room, a quiet space, the highest proof pain med from over the counter he can get his hands on, water, and sits them both down to practice breathing exercises. And yes, Scott once tried to tell him to tough it out on a training day, and yes, Ziggy taught him a lesson about bullshit macho posturing when he's around and Dillon is out of it. Probably, almost certainly, Ziggy has some form of ADHD and possibly an unspecified eating disorder. One makes him come off annoying when he doesn't want to, and one is really just the result of his scraping things together for kids younger than himself in the orphanage cycling through his adult habits because, come on, they're under a domed city and there will always be people worse off than him. Also, most probably, he has PTSD from working for the mob and seeing and doing shit that never should have crossed his path.

Emotional Themes: Here's the thing, when Dillon left Corinth with Teneya and Summer? Ziggy was happy for him. Proud of what he had chosen to do with the people he loved, going out into the world to see if they could make or find things better. But that happiness only goes so far when there's rebuilding to be done for the rest if humanity and the relationship he started with Doctor K withered and died on the vine when it became abundantly clear she was queer and he was queer and their two tracks did not intersect well in that regard. Also, it's not like everyone in the cartels would be as forgiving as Fresno Bob, and Ziggy would never want to trouble his remaining teammates with the fact he was constantly having to look over his shoulder, waiting to catch a bullet in his ear when nobody else was around and he had to go out for groceries and personal items. The three explorers would eventually come back a year, two years maybe, after their onset into the wilderness. Dillon single again, and Summer and Teneya finding much more in common romantically. And Dillon would never feel as guilty as he did when he wandered into the Garage, tapped Ziggy on the shoulder and surprise him, and found the young man to be little more than skin and bones with deep bags under his eyes and a tremor from being unable to sleep. Ziggy would smile, though, hug him as tight as he could with his thin pixie-like bones, and Dillon would feel worse; but still, he would decide to stay. For good, this time.

#ziggy grover #dillon #diggy #power rangers rpm #mmpr #shattered grid #boom! comics power rangers #ask fill #prompt fill

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yaseinohyena-a · 8 months

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How come it was already Jun birthday? It has just been Hiyori birthday so no no it couldn’t already been Juns. Still Hiyori had been well prepared. A big gift containing a perfume so Jun wouldn’t smell, one really expensive strawberry, and a picture of lingerie and a little note with “this is what I am wearing under my outfit for you birthday dinner! ✨” even after the dinner though, Hiyori had also bought him new shoes for practice, T-shirts and ahem nsfw toys for their evening

Ohii-san........... truly know no shame, huh? Perhaps it's ultimately solely toward him, but it's still a matter of exactly what the order purchases on their shopping days. The gift? Jun still appreciated greatly. Why wouldn't he?

The perform clearly a scent to Hiyori's liking. Hand-picked out by them just for him, and clearly of a well-known brand for those with more expensive tastes. While not a fan of perfumes himself, he knows they'll expect him to wear it for occasions.

The strawberry itself a bit of an eyebrow raiser. He loves the fruit more than anything else ( except Hiyori because he knows if he said that to Hiyori, the green-haired idol would throw a fit ). It's not exactly a common object to find being gifted... Though, his attention only stayed on the strawberry momentarily as he takes the note and picture out to better examine them.

Revert back to paragraph one. A heat rises to his cheeks at the realization. This is something... he'd ultimately find himself staring at when the evening began to draw to a close.

After dinner, once again in a hotel room to enjoy the evening, additions to his gifts from earlier including a new pair of shoes and some shirts. Had he needed to replace his current pair? They hardly seemed that well off, but that's not the important issue on the matter. The shift in his gifts from one value to the next -- unable to peel eyes away. The hyena stares at the additional -- ahem -- "toys". Entirely new from any of their prior rendezvous.

Glance at them, unable to halt stare from looking them over from head-to-toe. A part of Ohii-san's charm -- knowing where to strike to gain the most attention. "GODDAMN, Ohii-san, are the toys necessary? I wasn't prepared for anything aside from the two of us..." Mentally ready -- a new way to spice things up? Though after all this time he's been fairly content with the two of them just fooling with each other.

Was Hiyori getting tired?! Well... that's a drastic problem. It's his birthday, he shouldn't be considering the idea, yet the thought weighs on his conscience all of a sudden. Does he need to try something different? Act to meet their standards? No, no -- he shouldn't have to completely cater to Hiyori all the time. Still, no harm.

"Thank you for all of these gifts throughout the day... You truly went out of your way this year, Ohii-san. Is it because we're officially dating now that you gave it more thought to my personal benefit? Ahem... but the toys, though... do you really wish to use them as well?" Between the both of them, it's plausible...

#chibskimuses #( the wild hyena ) ic #( the wild hyena ) ask #nsfw.tw #caught off guard by the toys #only 3 days late it's fine dfjhgkldfhkgldfg

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flmer-archives · 9 months

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ıllı﹒ track #1 ıllı﹒

SANRIO GIRL

by; b.k.

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you grab your white leg warmers and put them on top of the thigh-high white socks, layering them on top. your eyes scanned around the room- looking for your black Maryjane shoes and when your eyes finally spotted them you made sure to quickly grab them and after putting them on you immediately went in front of your mirror to check out how you look and deeming the fit perfect, you were about to go and walk towards the door of your room when suddenly your flip phone started to ring

'RINGGG!!' looking at the caller and seeing your friend's name you immediately picked it up without hesitation.

📞—

'hey girly, are ya ready to go now? I've been outside your house for like- I don't know, maybe hoursss?' the high-pitched voice of your friend rang in your ears, you can also practically hear her chewing gum.

'well I gotta make sure I look cute! we're going to a live concert of pretty boys and I wanna make sure I at least make one of 'em stare at me! and also stop chewing gum so loud you hoe. I can practically hear your teeth clashing against each other through the phone.' you said with a cheery voice at the start of your sentence but grumbled at the end of the words you said under your breath.

'okay boo, whatever you say and you always look cute with whatever you wear so don't worry about your fit and get yo ass out already!' your friend softly yelled at you as you looked out your window and as you predicted- there she was waving her hands in the air frantically with her holding her phone on one of her hands.

'okay, okay, fine. I'm gonna go out the door now so wait for me.' —☎️

you took her humming as a response and ended the call as you rushed down the stairs of your house and quickly opened and shut your door closed, not forgetting to lock it of course.

"ayeee! you looking real cute girly!" your friend said as she whistled exaggeratingly "I know I do." you covered your mouth as you let out a muffled chuckle and quickly got on the passenger seat next to your friend, adjusting your sitting position to be a little bit more comfy

"soo... you got all dressed up to get that emo guy's attention, huh?" your friend's eyebrows moved up and down as she looked at you with a smirk and a teasing look in her eyes "So what If I am? The guy looks really cute and not to mention his personality" you said with a dreamy tone and a sigh

"do you think I have a chance to score a date? Bill isn't really known as the type of guy to go out on dates with random girls.." the car started moving forward as you check if you're safely buckled in, which you are.

"Well hon, I'm gonna be honest with you. It'll be a 50/50." your friend made a sharp turn as your body moved sideways "Why do you think so?" you asked as your brows furrowed together.

"the guy might not be into people with cutesy styles and there's also a possible chance that he'll like you because you're cute, not to mention your personality that I wouldn't call nice or bad." your friend was now currently chewing on a new gum annoyingly.

"I just hope he'll spare a glance at me and that's enough to let me know that my outfit is eye-catching" you sighed as you look out the car windows, your ears getting filled with the rock music currently being blasted on the car speaker.

——

the both of you finally arrived at the concert and boy were there a lot of people all packed in one area. your eyes wander around the area and one thing for sure that you noticed was that most girls were practically wearing revealing clothes- and you don't mean short skirts or clothes like that, their tits can practically be seen through the fabric.

"Isn't sexual harassment a common thing that happens at concerts..?" you asked as your eyebrows furrowed the more you scanned each of the girl's outfits- I mean not that it wasn't fashionable! each of the girl's outfits looks really pretty and they pulled it off but you were worried for their safety, even though it's none of your business but still.

"well, most people here are girls and I'm pretty sure the security here is strict." your friend replied as she shrugged her shoulder and munched on a energy bar "want some?" she offered but before you could say yes all the lights suddenly turned off and there was the sound of loud drums coming from the stage, smoke suddenly coming out of said stage and on cue, the girls around you started screaming and squealing like pigs on slaughter and honestly you can't blame them since you're literally too stunned to react.

holy shit are these boy band members so pretty.

your mouth was slightly opened and your friend was practically shaking you while screaming for the band guitarist's name but you were too focused on their singer. he looks so majestic. his beauty stunned you.

the said singer- bill, felt the pair of awestruck eyes on him and he couldn't help but look at where it was coming from and oh boy was he glad. his eyes made contact with yours and it felt as if something sparked at that moment- you were stunned by the male that was standing only a few feet apart from you, he was star strucked by you.

bill never saw someone look so adorable yet so cool at the same time and judging by your outfit and looks, you look like you're a nice person and he hopes you really are because he'll be very disappointed if he finds out you have the personality similar to a bratty child.

he continued singing but his gaze was solely fixed on you and only you.

he hopes that you won't mind hanging out with him for a few minutes after the concert.

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joestylee · 1 year

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A Simple Guide to Understanding Men’s Business Casual

The most googled dress code for men is Business Casual. Why? Because Business Casual is the ultimate fashion paradox. It’s basically saying, ‘Be laid-back, but business like at the same time. ‘The average man’s mind goes, ‘How does that work? ‘How am I supposed to show that with an outfit?’ The confusion about what business casual attire means, stems from the fact that it is dependent on the type of organization you work for, the climate, the culture (i.e., company culture and geography) and the age of the employees.

What is Business Casual for men?

Business Casual is about mixing elements of formal business attire with elements of casual attire. Formal enough for a meeting but relaxed enough for drinks. To create business casual attire, start with understanding the elements of formal business attire.

The Components of Traditional Business Casual Attire (Understand the rules then tweak)

If you want to understand the present, look to the past. This saying also holds true for fashion. Knowing how formal business attire came into being, is essential to putting together a relaxed business attire. The traditional business attire consists of a dark matching suit and jacket set, white shirt, dark tie, white pocket square and dark shoes. Removing the elements or replacing them is how we create Business Casual. The easiest way to create a Business Casual look, is to take away the tie from the formal business attire or leave the tie but swap your suit jacket for a blazer. (Hint: Blazers are less formal). The matching trousers can also be replaced with chinos, khaki or wool trousers while keeping the original suit jacket on.

Traditional Business Attire

Business Casual Attire

The Evolution of the Suit

The suits’ origins can be traced to the Royal court in Britain when commoners were forbidden from wearing expensive furs and velvet. Not long after this law was passed, the outbreak of the plague known as the Black Death made Charles III, the then reigning King request that the courtiers tone down their dress to ward off disease. In response, the courtiers started wearing simple tunics and fitted breeches. Gradually, these tunics became more tailored and by the 18th century English nobility started wearing morning suits which slowly evolved from a casual hunting coat into the formal business attire that we know today.

Discern Your Company Culture

Many times, the dress code of the CEO will give you an insight into the company’s culture and the industry you operate in. If that doesn’t work, look around you to know. When I was working in a PR agency, the key accounts we handled though in the telecommunications industry, had events focused on media and entertainment. For Fridays, blazer and jeans was good for meeting up with clients but when I switched to a strategic communications firm which handled government and corporate accounts, jeans even on Fridays was no-no. If you absolutely had to wear jeans, they had to be black and chino-like. The moral of my story? Business casual means different things for different industries.

Remember the Goal

Your goal is to show social authority and mastery by properly interpreting dress codes. Clothing has always been used as a measure of class for as long as history itself. Being well dressed in tune with the codes shows you understand the unspoken language of fashion and this mastery can move you up the career ladder by distinguishing you, and allowing those in Senior Management notice you.

What situations call for business casual attire?

Apart from dress-down Fridays, personal events like going to your child’s end-of-school year party, reunions, and meetings; cultural events, exhibitions, fundraisers, lectures amongst others call for Business Casual attire. When in doubt, remember the rules more equals more. The more details a piece of clothing has, the more casual it becomes for men.

African Men Business Casual

Business Casual and the African Climate

For a long time, traditional African garments were not encouraged in the workplace, but this has changed. Today, the African men’s business casual consists of matching tunic and trousers set. A very versatile outfit made from suit fabric, which is worn for various occasions and can be dressed up or dressed down. Dressing down means swapping the matching trousers for plain black trousers and dressing up means adding other elements of African clothing like hats. Also, the tropical climate of Africa means that tunics are more comfortable and flexible than blazers or suits. Are you looking to buy ready-to-wear African men’s business casual? Shop Joestylee for versatile tunics and matching print sets.

Matching Set

Swapped Trousers

In conclusion, Business Casual dressing is about exhibiting good judgment, good taste and understanding your company's social orientation. Is your organization more formal or more business? Your answer should determine the tilt of your outfit. We welcome your ideas and contributions in the comments.

#Business Casual

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clovel-childcare · 1 year

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4 Signs that Your Toddler is Ready for Early Learning Centres

When should I send my child to preschool? Well, we get this query from almost all parents when they look for a good daycare for early learning in Western Sydney. Whether you are working or not, sending your infant off to ECE (Early Childhood Education) centre can be nerve-wracking. But enrolling your toddler in a good preschool is one of the most important things. It not only helps them develop their skills but also makes them ready for future schooling. And this leads to many questions in parents’ minds like how to understand if their toddler is not ready for ECE! Well, we will discuss that in the following blog post.

Signs proving that your toddler is ready for ECE:

Most new parents question the right age to enrol their toddlers on a preschool program. Well, most preschools enrol infants of three years old, while some enrol 1.5-2 years old infants. But let us tell you that age is the not only determining factor for ECE. Aside from that, you should also consider child readiness. And the following signs can help you understand that:

1. They are toilet-trained:

Though not all preschools need children to have this skill to get enrolled, having this skill would be beneficial. Why? Well, knowing how to use the toilet and communicating with adults about it helps them to not feel behind compared to other infants. After all, no one wants to be the last one among their peers wearing diapers. You can help your toddler to learn this basic skill at home. All you have to do is introduce her to a potty chair. This will also encourage their toilet training.

2. They know basic self-care skills:

Preschool teachers and caregivers will always be there to help your toddler, but they must know how to take care of themselves while at the centre. This means putting on their coat when feeling cold (except buttoning), taking their shoes off/on, cleaning their hands or feeding themselves. Even though your kid struggles a bit to do some of those things, they will be able to ask for help from the adults.

3. They can handle being away from you:

The most stressful part for toddlers is that they do not want to be away from their parents or the people they love. And this is common for every infant. It is normal for kids to cry on their first day of ECE, but if they continue to be sad throughout the day, they may be not ready yet. You can help them by telling them that you are coming to pick them up at the end of the day. You can also read them stories of children going to preschool to make them ready for the separation.

4. They can sit still for a while:

Making kids sit for a while on their own is a big challenge. And it is necessary for kids going to ECE to be able to sit still for a short period. And being able to focus on one task can be helpful. Even though 3-4 years old children are not known for long-attention spans, having at least some ability to focus beforehand can help them.

Cannot understand the right time to send your infant off to ECE? Look for the signs of readiness in your toddler beforehand. Besides, look for a good centre for early learning in Western Sydney

to ensure that your toddler will be in safe hands. And we hope this blog will be helpful to you.

Read More: 6 Wonderful Benefits of Water Play for Preschoolers

#early learning Western Sydney

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horsesandhockeyplayers · 2 years

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A Not So Southern Christmas, Part 1

This is obviously a rewrite of my old fic. I have been feeling romantic and Christmasy, so I figured it was time to bring back my favorite holiday couple. I found the header from @whatishockey!!

Synopsis: When Adelaide Thibodeaux finds her husband to be diddling the wedding planner in the Church before their nuptials, she walks out and is determined to take her dream honeymoon by herself. Until she gets a seat upgrade to first class and ends up next to Hurricanes Defenceman, Joel Edmundson. Holiday shenanigans ensue.

Author's Notes: This was written in early 2019 before Eddy went to Montreal as a free agent. I will be tagging both teams.

Part 1

Looking back on my relationship, there were a lot of red flags I ignored. Or maybe I was just naïve. Either way, it was five days before Christmas and I was starting my solo honeymoon in the tiniest airport known to man in Birmingham, Alabama. My cousin, the “travel agent”, had “given” me a deal on my honeymoon as her wedding gift, but I was beginning to suspect she didn’t own a damn globe because I was flying to North Carolina then to Winnipeg, and then onto the winter wonderland of Toronto, Canada.

The plane looked like it would lose a fight with a sparrow, but 30 people were going to board the thing. As someone that had never been on a plane, I was beginning to regret my gumption of marching out of the church and taking the limousine directly to the airport.

If you asked me, impulsivity was not a common trait among my people. I was Southern by blood, Southern by raisin’, Southern by livin’ and I wasn’t prone to rush anything and I enjoyed tradition as Southerners do. I picked at a hangnail with my teeth and resisted the urge to ruin the most expensive manicure I had ever had in my life.

A tinny version of Jingle Bells played in the terminal and I was tempted to turn tail and run home. My momma went hog wild for the holidays and our house usually looked like something right out of a Thomas Kinkaid painting. White fluff and tiny villages covered every surface, anything that could be wrapped in lights and garland was adorned and Daddy made sure you could see our house from space. It didn’t matter if it was 30 degrees or 80 on Christmas day (being Alabama, both were possible) we were having a baked ham with all the fixin’s.

There seemed to be two types of women in the South: Southern Belles with white gloves, pearls, and eyelashes that could bat for anyone, or TomBoys dressed in camo and boots. Any woman that fell into the inbetween was pigeonholed into one or the other. Despite the fact that I was 5’10” and closer to 200lbs than 150lbs, my momma always tried to turn me into a belle. Gymnastics, ballet, cloggin’, modern dance, pageants, cotillion of all things, were on my resume for a proper Southern Belle.

If I had let my mother dress me I would have been in a Chanel suit, tottering close to six foot in matching pumps, and a string of pearls around my neck. Dixiecrats were nothing if not predictable in their fashion sense. My own personal style was more “post menopausal writer” in leggin’s, drapey sweaters, and sensible flats (if I had to wear shoes at all).

Considering all I had as I sped away from the church was the suitcase I had packed for the honeymoon, I was looking festive in darkwash jeans, a sensible red blazer I had found in a consignment store over a green teeshirt from the Wal-Mart, and pair of comfortable silver flats that I had found at Payless Shoes for $12. My Christmas light earrings actually lit up with the push of a small button and I looked like Santa Claus’ long lost granddaughter. You know… if she had run away from her wedding and slept in an airport.

I had my hair up in a messy bun after leaving a small mountain of bobby pins in the back of the limousine, but the bangs that were last year’s bad decision didn’t quite make it and they fell around my face in unkempt waves.

My knees were currently jammed into the seat in front of me and I was pressed against the window trying to make myself as small as possible. My fear of the window falling out and being sucked out of the plane was now secondary to making sure I did not touch the sweaty, leering, overweight man who had jammed himself in the seat next to me and might have actually drooled when he blatantly stared at my breasts.

I was saved by the captain’s voice coming over the loudspeaker, “Good morning y’all, there’s a big ol’ storm comin’ down that’s gonna be coverin’ the better part of the Eastern half of the country, but we should be getting you into Charlotte on time to catch your connecting flights before she hits.”

My family was poor, but we weren’t rich either. My daddy owned the family hardware store in a small town outside of Tuscaloosa and my Momma was a professional homemaker that would have made Paula Deen and Martha Stewart weep with envy. We had enough to go on day trips, to pay for my sister and I to do all of our extracurriculars, but I had never been on a plane in my entire life and I was about to spend the next 57 minutes with my knees jammed to my chest while being squashed by the fattest, reddest, sweatiest man on the planet and I would bet my life savings he was some sort of shoe salesman, or a judge, or a small town sheriff or something.

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

When we landed in Charlotte, I sent a little prayer to the Universe for allowing me to live and for the one millionth time since climbing into that big car I thought about just going home. But that was what sensible me would have done and I was always sensible.

As we taxied to the terminal, I turned on my phone and the family group text started blowing up my phone.

Little Sister: Addie are you there yet? Did you live? Did the plane crash? I didn’t see anythin on Twitter.

Momma: Adelaide, I don’t understand dear, why are you leaving for Christmas? It was different When you and Daniel were going on your honeymoon and starting your own traditions. This is insane. Text us when you land. Adele said she didn’t see anythin’ on the Twitter App. I know this weddin’ didn’t go quite the way you were hopin’ but just come home.

Daddy: Girl, call us when you land and Canes won!

My phone was to my ear as the plane came to a stop and all 40 something passengers tried to stand at the same time with the exception of Chubby McPervert who didn’t move a muscle and fell asleep with his massive jowl to his chest.

“Hi Daddy, I landed. Yes, I’m going to catch my next flight. No, this one wasn’t bad.” It had in fact been horrible, but I wasn’t about to tell him about Chubby McPervert and his leering eyes. “I love y’all too. I’ll call y’all when I make it to Toronto, it will be really late. No it won’t cost a fortune, remember Adele and I taught you how to facetime using the WiFi. Yes, Daddy, we have to use that newfangled thingamabobber. I love you too.”

I hung up as people were starting to file off the place and Chubby McPervert still hadn’t gotten out of his seat and I needed to grab my carry on from the overhead bin. I swung my purse onto my other shoulder making sure it whipped right across his sleeping face and I put a look of abject horror on mine, “Oh mah gosh! I am SO sorry, This purse was a present from my Daddy so I can carry all my stuff and I just have not gotten used to this big ol’ thing!”

He grunted and finally got up. He apparently didn’t have a carry on and I stuck out my tongue at his retreating back to the amusement of the little boy seated behind me. Stepping into the narrow aisle and grabbing my little roller bag that contained all my toiletries and a few changes of clothes in case the airline lost my suitcase, I rolled after everyone else exiting the plane and entered the indoor city that was (to me) a large international airport.

The hustle and bustle of an airport right before Christmas was overwhelming and I looked for a place where I could get out of the way and get my bearings.

I found a pillar in front of a bank of screens framed in cheap tinsel garland that had a list of all the flights coming and going. To my dismay, it looked like a lot were already being cancelled due to the weather. When I finally found my flight, I was dismayed to see it was already delayed. I looked around the terminal for signs of where the gate might be and figured waiting there was as good as any place.

It took what felt like an hour to traverse the bustling airport and I was pretty sure I had walked to the next county.

The poor gal behind the counter looked harried as people checked into the flight and a lot of grumpy faces seemed to be aware of the delay. I waited patiently in line for my turn as she tried to find accommodations for people who needed to make connecting flights. Much to my chagrin, Chubby McPervert huffed up behind me and spent the next 20 minutes grumbling under his breath. When I finally got to the counter I set my giant purse on it, “Y’all look like y’all’ve had a DAY.”

She took a breath before answering, “I’m new, this is my first holiday.”

“Well take a breath, a drink of water, I gotta find my ticket on my phone anyway.”

She shot me a grateful look as Chubby McPervert made impatient huffy noises behind me. She clicked around on her computer and after a good minute I held out my phone feigning stupidity, “This is for this flight right?”

She smiled, “Yes it is.”

Chubby McPervert made another impatient huff. I wanted to tell him he sounded like the draft horses in the log pull at the county fair, but I didn’t, I just turned on the Southern Charm, “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, am I going too slow? I bet you’re in a big ol’ hurry to board a flight that’s been delayed.”

Turning back around, I made a note of the name etched on the little brass name tag as I reached over the counter with my hand and hoped the gal would follow my lead, “Bethany dear, how IS your momma doin’? I sent her a Christmas card last year and it was returned! Did she move?”

Bethany tried to hide her smirk as she caught onto my game, “You know we had to move her in with my brother last year, I’ll text you her new address.”

I made a sympathetic face, “Aw I am so sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s good, after Daddy died she just couldn’t keep the farm all by herself. She fell and broke her hip, but she is doing great now. The grandkids can barely keep up with her!

She let go of my hand and passed my phone back to me, I gave her a wink and turned around with my cheeriest smile, “Bless your big ol’ heart for waiting while I caught up with my friend. I’m sure she will be happy to help you now!”

As I grabbed my purse, Bethany mouthed, “Thank you,” and I ventured into the waiting area to take a seat and wait for my delayed plane.

I was deep into a meditation podcast when I felt a tap on my shoulder, Bethany was bent over me, “Ms. Thibodeaux? Can I have you come up to the counter please?”

“Absolutely,” I answered, pulling my earphones out of my ears as I stood.

Setting my purse on top of my rolling carry on, I followed her to the counter. When she was back behind the computer she made a few taps, “Unfortunately, the gentleman behind you in line had to find an alternate flight, so we now have a first class seat available, would you like a free upgrade?”

A free upgrade into first class? I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

Bethany seemed to sense my hesitation, “There’s more legroom? You get to drink?”

She knew exactly what I needed. Bethany was like my secret Santa, “Well in that case, how can I say no?”

She gave me an updated paper ticket, “Your flight is about an hour out, enjoy!”

It was her turn to give me a wink and I was suddenly very grateful for my parents who taught me to treat everyone with respect and patience.

Returning to my seat to wait, I watched people exit a freshly landed plane, watched the cleaning crew get on, the switching of the pilots and attendants, the waiting area emptied as they started to board the plane like a herd of grumpy cattle and eventually it taxied away from the gate.

There was a duty free store across from where I was sitting and I idly wondered how many of those little gin bottles it would take to fill my water bottle and more importantly, how much it would cost. I finally decided, “Way too damn much,” and I was saved from a potentially bad decision by the loudspeaker announcing my flight. I blinked and noticed the waiting area had filled up again with weary holiday travelers and the flight was going to be very full as cancellations meant everyone was trying to get somewhere before the storm covered most of the US.

I got up, shrugging my purse onto my shoulder and grabbing the handle of my bag. I turned to walk around the bank of seats I was sitting in to avoid the gaggle of teenagers that had settled on the floors to take turns with the one available charging outlet, but was stopped as I smacked into a solid wall that I did not remember sitting next to.

Rebounding off the slab of granite, I tried to step back but the back of my knees hit my carry-on and they buckled. I felt myself losing my balance, before two large hands wrapped around my arms to steady me.

I would be the first to admit it was tough to date men when a woman happened to be nearly six feet tall and could be generously described as “curvy.” Dan had been almost two inches shorter than I was, and was one of the very few men who didn’t seem bothered by the fact I was bigger in every sense of the word. That is what I had believed, anyway, until I found him balls deep in our wedding planner who was all of five foot and 100lbs soaking wet.

The man I ran into, however, was much taller than Dan -- much taller than I was-- and it was a weird experience looking up into a man’s eyes instead of down. Not that I was complaining.

I felt my mouth open before I told it to and I knew stupid was going to come out, “Oh mah goodness you are handsome.” My drawl became more pronounced when I was nervous and I had a feeling I just went full ‘back in the holler down by the crick’ Southern.

He blushed, murmuring what had to be a thanks and let go of my arms, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. When I turned around the aisle between the banks of metal framed seats had cleared like a combine gone through a wheatfield.

Making my way to the gate, I could feel the man’s huge presence behind me and I realized for the first time, I was unsettled because he made me feel almost small. Adelaide Thibodeaux don’t you dare trip or make a fool of yourself more than you already have.

I scanned my ticket with my new seat assignment and headed down the gangway to a thankfully, much larger airplane than the first one. First class looked like having a king sized bed to myself after flying on what was essentially a deflating balloon next to the world’s sweatiest man. The seats were in pairs on either side of the aisle and even economy, which had three seats on either side, looked roomy comparatively.

My seat was smack in the middle of first class and I was by a window. I stopped and pushed the extendable handle down on my carry-on and before I could pick it up the man I had crashed into basically palmed the thing like it weighed no more than a feather and lifted it into the overhead bin, before putting in his own bag and laying his very nice coat on top of both of them.

I felt a flush the exact color of my blazer creep up my neck and into my cheeks. “Um thanks! Polite and handsome, my momma would love you.”

Adelaide Thibodeaux, what the actual flying fuck are the words coming out of your mouth?

I took my seat near the window and looked out at the workers throwing the luggage onto the plane, hoping the very tall, very handsome man would keep going and I would never see him again. Which would be disappointing, but quite alright since I apparently couldn’t control the verbal diarrhea around him and I wanted to sink directly through the plane to the ground below.

I was not that lucky; God didn’t seem to want to grant me any favors to avoid paralyzing embarrassment this day and I glanced up at the man who was about to sit next to me. From a different angle and finally focusing on his face, I immediately recognized him and I turned my face toward the window again to have a minor meltdown. I was about to spend the entire flight next to a Carolina Hurricane and I did not want to find out what incredibly stupid things could come out of my mouth in six whole hours.

When I looked back over and swallowed he gave me a funny look, suddenly the plane seemed even smaller than the one I arrived on. There may have been at least four inches between our arms, but it felt like nothing and I swear I could feel the heat of his body coming through his stylish sweater. The awkward silence stretched tight like a bungee cord and I knew when it finally snapped I was going to feel the lash.

He held out his hand, “Joel, and I’m sorry about putting my hands all over you, but I don’t make a habit of letting beautiful women fall to the floor.” His smile indicated he was anything but sorry.

In that moment, I wished his hands had been all over me. I cleared my throat and willed myself to say something normal, “Adelaide, and it’s no problem, hot hockey players catch me in airports all the time.”

I winced internally at the flood that escaped my lips, but he just chuckled, “First time flying?”

“What? No! Excuse you sir, I fly all the time.” I had an intelligent, stubborn, impulsive little sister, I could razz with the best of them.

He grinned, and looking at him was like looking directly into the sun, he was so hot, “Are we making up stories? I’m going to win the Norris this season.”

The teasing was enough to release that awkward tension and I smacked his bicep playfully, “Shut UP I am not that obvious!” I don’t know what bayou I was suddenly born in but the Southern just jumped right out and I sounded like I should be noodling catfish and not flying to another country.

“Just when I think I’ve gotten used to the southern accent, you sound a little different than people in North Carolina,” his smile was infectious and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well Mr. Edmundson, you are acquirin’ quite the ear. I have a ‘bama accent not a Carolinan one.”

He squinted his eyes in thought for a moment, “Alabama?”

“The Sweet Home one, yes.”

The gorgeous pea coat he had been wearing was in the overhead bin, leaving him in just a burgundy cashmere sweater and soft jeans that hugged the muscles in his thighs. “How did an Alabama girl start watching hockey?”

This was a story that had been told more than once in our house during the holidays because Alabama was definitely football country. “Back in 2017 Bama lost a game to Auburn and at one point Daddy screamed at the TV, ‘If you let that dumbass team beat you I am never watchin’ football again!’ Auburn beat us 27 to 14 and my daddy is a stubborn southern man and hasn’t watched a single pass since. We all thought it would last a week tops but here we are 2 years later and now we’re all Canes fans.”

“When you say… us?” He had an eyebrow raised.

I realized I probably sounded like one of those fans that thinks they are on the team, “Oh! Alabama football, Roll-Tide! If you’re from Alabama you’re a Bama fan or an Auburn fan. We are a ‘Bama family and I am a ‘Bama alumni.”

He grinned and shook his head, “I know you’re speaking English, but I’ll be damned if I understood a single word, but you sure look cute saying it.”

The heat flooding my cheeks could have probably cooked a holiday turkey and I was certain my face was the same color as my blazer. It almost felt like I was being hit on. Clearing my throat, I fiddled with my phone, opening and closing apps hoping my brain was going to restart soon because it needed to tell my heart to stop beating a million times a minute.

The silence stretched like some eldritch being between us until he broke it again, “So you’re obviously from around here…ish. What is taking you to Winnipeg?”

He was almost too handsome to look at directly, “I am actually going to Toronto for the holidays.”

A perplexed look crossed his face, “are you on the right plane?”

I sighed, “Yes, my ‘travel agent,’” I made air quotes, “is a cousin on my momma’s side, honestly, the whole side of the family is a lost cause.”

He replied with a knowing nod, “Gotcha, so do you have family up there? Meeting family? Friends?”

I nervously fiddled with the end of the seatbelt, “Uh no, I’m going by myself.”

He didn’t say anything and the silence began to stretch and grow like an organic being and I felt myself rushing to fill it, “It was actually supposed to be my honeymoon, until I caught my fiance having a one on one meetin’ with my wedding planner, naked, in the bridal suite of the church.

A big breath of air whooshed out of him, “Wow that kept getting worse.”

I offered a shrug, “It was not my finest moment. But the trip was non-refundable and I needed to leave, you know?”

His long strong fingers traced the edge of the armrest and he cleared his throat, “You know that Toronto is like a two hour flight from here and you’re about to fly six hours in the wrong direction.”

A humorless laugh escaped my throat, “Ha, well yes, my cousin is not really gifted in any way. The good lord didn’t see fit to give her smarts or looks, so here I am flying in the wrong direction because she dropped out of school at 14.”

He gave my hand a cursory pat and it was probably wishful thinking that he let his fingertips linger ever so slightly, “Well Adelaide, I’m very happy my mom convinced me to fly out last minute and that your cousin is terrible at geography.”

As the last few passengers filed onto the plane, the crew pulled the door shut, and the pilot came over the loudspeaker, “Sorry folks, but there is a mechanical problem with the fueling truck, it will be a few minutes longer.” There was a collective groan from everyone.

The thought of the plane going down in a snowstorm made me shiver. If the crash and subsequent explosion didn’t kill me then hypothermia would and at least I’d die next to Joel Edmundson.

He glanced at the fancy black watch on his right wrist, “I wonder if it's too late to disappoint my mother and be back to my apartment before the evening news.”

I scoffed, “You couldn’t let me fall on the ground, but you’ll let me die in a fiery plane crash by myself? AND disappoint you mother? Some gentleman you are, Mr. Edmundson.”

His grin was wide and white, “Fair enough, I can’t be disappointing my mom.”

The flight attendants were starting to make their way down the plane with the drinks cart while we waited. His fingertips were still on the back of my hands and he gave it a pat, “First drink is on me, what is your order?”

I resisted the urge to move my hand away, not because I didn’t want him touching me--I did, I wanted him to touch me all over so when I died on this death trap, I didn’t have a single regret--but the sensation was also overwheming because the Sex on a Stick that was Joel Edmundson had been caressing my hand like a lover and it was all too much.

“Lady?”

That snapped me out of my own head, “Lady?”

I don’t know what face I made but he was quick to backpedal, “No not like ‘Hey Lady!’ But L-A-I-D-I-E Like Adelaidie. Sorry, it’s a hockey thing. Nicknames.”

“Uh, my sister just calls me Addie.”

He shook his head, “Can’t have Eddy and Addie, that’s too cute.”

This was a completely surreal conversation and I wondered if the gangway to planes was like a portal to another dimension, “So Lady and Eddy is better?”

He nodded like this was a completely normal thing to talk about 5 minutes after meeting someone, “Yeah like Eddy and his lady.”

I just blinked and answered his original question in case I hallucinated this entirely ridiculous exchange. “Gin and Tonic please.”

He snickered, “Such a Lady thing to order.”

How many concussions had this man suffered?

He took our drinks and surreptitiously slipped a couple of dollars into the flight attendant's hand, then passed over my G&T, heavy on the T. I suspected I’d have to drink 20 to even feel anything close to tipsy.

As she helped the row behind us, I leaned over and Joel leaned in and now our faces were close together and it was difficult for me to focus, “Was that enough money?”

He looked confused a moment before his face softened, “Lady, drinks are free. This is first class, that was just a tip.”

I had a feeling I just showed my Alabama roots. “Oh.”

He patted my hand again and left his fingers on top of mine. Was it hot in here? It felt hot. I desperately wanted to move my hand because touching him was summer in Phoenix, completely fine in small doses and completely overwhelming after 30 seconds.

Finally, I was saved by the buzzer as my phone notified me of a text message. I regretted losing the contact of his touch immediately as I slid my hand out from under his and pulled the phone out of my purse.

Little Sister: Are you THERE YET?

No. My flight was delayed but I did get upgraded to First Class and you will NEVER GUESS WHO I AM SITTING NEXT TO.

Little Sister: TAYLOR SWIFT.

Why would Taylor Swift be flyin to Winnipeg also I’m pretty sure she owns her own plane.

Little Sister: Well then I don’t know.

Joel Edmundson

Little Sister: … Fake… Take a picture.

I AM NOT TAKING A PICTURE

Little Sister: Then you are obviously lying. It’s probably some stinky old rich guy.

I sighed as only an older sister could sigh and Joel looked over at me, “What’s up Lady?”

“My little sister is a pain in the ass,” I said as I set my phone face down on my thigh.

His smile was large and genuine. “As the little brother, I take offense.”

I offered an eye roll, “Yeah, but I bet you don’t drive your older brother crazy.”

He laughed, “I’m pretty sure he still wants to strangle me on a regular basis.”

“Well then, maybe I should introduce you to my little sister, and you can introduce me to your brother,” I said, shaking my head.

He lowered his voice, “only if she’s as gorgeous as you,”

This time I know my face matched the color of my blazer. “She got the same build as my mom. Small and petite ”

Joel sucked air through his teeth, “Sorry not interested. Petite has never been my thing.”

I almost barked and covered my mouth with my hand, “Liar. Petite is every man’s thing.”

He took a sip of his vodka soda and shook his head. “Nah”

Turning in my seat to face him I rolled my eyes, “Ok mister mysterious. What is your type?”

He stayed silent but his eyes traveled slowly down my body before he looked forward again and took another sip of his drink with a smirk.

The temperature in the cabin seemed to jump 500 degrees. I pulled the safety card out of the pocket of the seat in front of me and pretended to read it for a moment before I just started using it as a fan. “Is it hot? I feel like it’s hot.”

He just grinned to himself and took another sip of his drink.

Eventually I started babbling to fill the silence that once again stretched and started to come to life, “So Daddy said y’all won today. I couldn’t watch the game because I was flying from Birmingham to Charlotte on a plane the size of a tic tac. But, congrats.”

He just smirked. “Thanks. I was feeling good, probably why my mom was able to convince me to get on a plane last minute.”

Then something hit me out of the blue. “Shouldn’t you be flying outta Raleigh?”

His answer was punctuated by a nod, “This was the last flight to Winnipeg I could find this afternoon before the storm hit.”

“Oh that’s right we’re flying directly into a storm.” I downed the rest of my drink and resisted the urge to crush the little plastic cup in my hands.

He just arched his brow, “You’ll be fine.”

My answer was bitchier than it should have been and I grimaced as I said it, “Oh really, are you a pilot?”

“I spend hundreds of hours on a plane every year.” The look on his face was kind.

I shrunk down in my seat, thinking I was toilet scum, “Oh. I suppose that’s true.”

I glanced at my phone, my sister was still relentlessly texting and finally she called. Even though my voice was low there was no mistaking the tone when I hissed, “What Adele?”

Joel gave me another sideways glance and he seemed to have the smirk permanently etched on his face.

“No! I’m not puttin’ him on the phone. Why? Because he’s flyin’ home for Christmas, not partaking in a meet and greet with my crazy little sister. You are SO crazy. Oh my goodness gracious, put Daddy on the phone I can’t with you right now,” I growled, “Why are you like this? I swear.”

Before I knew what was happening, my phone had been snatched from my ear and his giant hands dwarfed the device. “This is Joel Edmundson and you are?”

I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation any more but I did hear her shriek and I covered my face with my hands. This poor man...and I was going to have to sit next to him for six hours and stew in my embarrassment or he’d have me moved back to economy or something.

I did my best not to listen to the conversation because I knew I was going to melt into a gooey puddle of embarrassment if I did; fortunately it was fairly easy because, true to form, my sister wasn’t letting the hockey player get a word in edgewise.

After 84 years she seemed to stop talking. “Well, Adele, It’s lovely to make your acquaintance and I’ll get your address from your sister and send you some swag. Yes, I’m sure she’ll give me your address. I can be very charming ma’am.” There was a long pause, “Well, yes she does seem immune to my charm though…”

My head whipped around at his words, but he ignored me and continued. “Well, I’ve tried to be very obvious, but she’s not picking up the cues, oh she’s dumb that way?”

His eyes met mine and he winked, he was joking. Everything was fine. He was just kidding. Of course Joel Edmundson wasn’t interested in me, imagining that could be true would be a special kind of brain trauma. I probably was dumb like my braniac sister always said.

“She IS gorgeous, I’m glad you agree, legs for days and that hair! So tell me about this loser she dumped on her wedding day… uh huh… uh huh… What a bastard. Your daddy never liked him huh? I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but would your daddy like me? Uh huh… I can definitely work on not turning over the puck on the blueline. Is that his only complaint? Of course I’d treat her like a queen. Have you seen her?”

My mouth was hanging open so wide that my chin was somewhere around the vicinity of my boobs. Who in tarnation was this man?

“Look, Adele, I’m going to have to let you go, I think your sister might be going into shock, but add me on Instagram, okay? Great! I look forward to it, have a wonderful holiday.”

His hand had barely lifted from his ear before I heard my Daddy’s baritone, “Son?”

Joel put the phone back to his ear. “Yes, sir?”

This conversation was easier to follow because my father was a simple and forthright man, “I also think it’s crazy she’s going all the way to Toronto by herself. Uh huh…. Yessir. Well, I’d love to accompany her to Toronto, but I’m afraid I promised my mom I’d be home this Christmas. Uh huh…. Uh huh. We always love the holidays. My mom’s been baking for weeks.” He gave me a sideways glance as my father’s voice rumbled, “I can’t imagine she will like this idea.”

He covered the phone with his hand and I wondered if I had somehow been transported to a different timeline; maybe parallel universes did exist. “Your dad says I either have to go with you to Toronto or you have to come to Brandon with me.”

“He did NOT say that,” I said, furrowing my brow. I leaned forward and he held the phone out, “Daddy did Eddy take a hit to the head today?” I could barely hear him, “Because I think he might have a concussion.” Our faces were inches apart and this close I could definitely smell his soap or a hint of cologne mixing with his natural scent and it was panty dropping for sure.

He brought the phone back to his ear, “OK sir, I’ll do my best to change her mind. I have her as my captive audience for six hours. Yes sir, thank you sir. Have a great evening.”

The call was over when he handed the phone back to me and I gladly put that fucker in Airplane Mode and slid it into my purse before studying the safety placard with great interest. Eventually, the air felt extremely heavy to my left and when I glanced over Joel had turned in his seat to watch me with great interest. I gave him a dry look, “What?”

“You don’t seem interested by that phone call.”

“What phone call, that was clearly a hallucination and you are a figment of my imagination. My fear of flying is clearly manifesting into,” I gestured at his big body, “you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, your dad said if I don’t go with you to Toronto or convince you to come home with me he knows a witch and he’s gonna curse me.”

I chuckled through my nose, “My daddy wouldn’t know what a witch looked like and he sure as heck doesn’t know one. But I’m pretty sure my Auntie practices Hoodoo. But that’s just speculation. Anyway, I’m staying out of these cockamamie shenanigans.”

He looked perplexed, “You mean VooDoo?”

I rolled my eyes, “I said what I said Mr. Edmundson, Google is free.”

His eye brows hit his hairline and he made a serious face, “Okay Ms. Witchcraft Know-it-All.” Facing forward he made a sad noise, “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed that I’m going to Toronto.”

“I think we both know that you aren’t following me to Toronto and I’m not actually invited to Christmas at your house, so don’t even try and make me feel guilty. Also, it’s weird, we met like 5 minutes ago.”

He just looked at me, deadpan, while he picked up his phone to hold it to his ear. While it rang, he spoke, “It’s been like half an hour and it IS weird, because I never let my brother meet girls I’m interested in, “Hi mom, yes, I’m on the plane. No, it’s delayed again. Yes, I will be home in time for Christmas. Listen, I’ve met this lovely woman, Adelaide, she is flying to Toronto. Yes, she knows she’s on a plane to Winnipeg. There were scheduling problems. Anyway, she’s going to Toronto, on her honeymoon, BY HERSELF. Yeah, I know that’s terrible. The asshole cheated on her, ON HER WEDDING DAY, can you believe?”

I shushed him and waved my hand indicating he should lower his voice, leaving me slightly mortified that not only did his mother know what a loser I was, but so did everyone on this plane.

“Yeah she’s sitting right here. No you can’t talk to her. No, Mom. No.” He held his phone out, “My mom wants to talk to you.”

This was the most surreal experience I had ever had and I was 100% sure this was some kind of dream. I was probably the lone survivor of the plane crashing and I was pinned by piles of twisted metal and I was hallucinating as I died from blood loss. Tentatively I took his phone and held it lightly to my ear, “Umm, hello Mrs. Edmundson. Umm no ma’am I can’t call you by your first name. Southern raisin’ and all. Well, I’ve never been out of the country before and the trip was already paid for so I figured ‘why not.’ No ma’am we celebrate Christmas. My house lights up the whole block. Yeah my Daddy does displays at our house every year. My mama bakes a ham every Christmas. Yes ma’am, it’s a big deal at our house. You and my mama would get along real well Mrs. Edmundson, she asked me the same thing before I left. Mmmhmm. Yes ma’am.” I handed the phone back to Joel and sighed, “She says I’m invited for Christmas.”

He gave me a smug look, “Yeah, mom. I don’t know if Dad should bring the SUV to pick me up, I don’t know if it will be an us. Yes, I will ask her. Yes, I know. Ok. Love you, bye.”

It was his turn to down his drink and he turned to face me again. “My mom says if you won’t come to Christmas, then I have to go to Toronto with you and while that will make her sad, your safety is important.”

Was everyone in this dream crazy except me? Or maybe I was the crazy one and this was normal behavior. “I am not crashing your family’s Christmas because your mother feels a moral obligation to some sad sack you met on an airplane and because my family is trying some weird matchmaking thing.”

He sighed. “Man, my mom is going to be so disappointed. Do you have a bunch of couples stuff planned in Toronto? Are we going to get a sensual couples massage? Couples yoga? A romantic carriage ride?”

I hit the call button above my seat. “We are not getting anything. You are going home to your mother and I am going to Toronto to enjoy my solo vacation.”

The flight attendant interrupted Joel’s retort, “Can I assist you?”

I held up my empty glass. “I have a newly developed fear of flying and this man might be insane. May I have another gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, light on the tonic.”

She was ever the professional but her mask slipped as she eyed the 6’4” defenceman and her look said “Girl, look at this tall drink of water you get to sit next to for six hours, what is wrong with you?”

She didn’t actually say any of that though instead she said, “Of course, just one moment.”

Ignoring the man next to me, I impatiently tried to push my failed bangs back, They immediately fell forward again and I stared dejectedly out the window. I almost missed Joel lifting his phone, the telltale shutter sound, and him swiping his finger across the screen and the swoop of a text being sent.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What did you just do?”

He lifted his butt off the seat and slid the phone back into his front pocket. “Sent a picture of you to my mom.”

The audacity of this man. There was a replying bing that was followed by a second bing. “Aren’t you going to check that? It’s your mom telling you not to bring Shrek to Christmas.”

He shook his head, “Don’t need to. The first one is my mom saying you look nice and it’s about time I date a nice girl and the second one is my brother asking how serious we are and if he has a shot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are such a fibber.”

He snorted, “A ‘fibber’?”

“Yes, you know, someone who is a liar.” My drawl drug that 'i' out to pasture and the 'r' was soft and barely pronounced.

“Oh I know what it means, Lady, I just haven’t heard that word used in this decade.”

I swatted his bicep again, “Are you always this annoying or is this just for me?”

He rubbed his arm and faked a wince. “Am I going to have to tell Rod the Bod I can’t play because I was abused by a girl on an airplane?”

I countered his question with one of his own, “You call your coach ‘Rod the Bod?’”

Joel dropped his arm to the rest again. “Not to his face, because I value living, but have you seen the man?”

He had a valid point. Rod Brind’Amour was jacked in all the right ways. “Of course I’ve seen him, I have eyes for goodness sake.”

The flight attendant returned with my happy juice in a much larger glass and waved away the few dollars I tried to give her and her eyes darted to the man next to me before she gave me a pointed glance.

I took a sip and I didn’t think there was a drop of tonic water in it. I just had a straight up highball glass full of gin. “I do believe that woman is trying to get you into the mile high club Mr. Edmundson.”

He snorted, “Baby I’m already in the club, but I’d be more than happy to provide your initiation.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I just sipped my gin and my face was once again just as red as my blazer.

He snuck a glance at me, “You blush so easily, it’s fantastic.”

#Joel Edmundson #carolina hurricanes #montreal canadiens #Joel Edmundson fic #Canes fic #habs fic #Joel Edmundson Imagine #Carolina Hurricanes Imagine #Montreal Canadiens Imagine #NHL rpf #hockey rpf #NHL Fic #NHL Imagine #A Not So Southern Christmas #ANSSC #Jadelaide

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eremiie · 3 years

Text

a change of heart;

❥ nsfw | 6.1k words | eren x reader

❥ an annoyingly arrogant childhood friend has never seen the light of day in your eyes... until he does. eren jaeger was an anomaly that you thought you had figured out.

❥ content: cum play, choking, slight size kink, rough sex, unprotected sex

saying you liked eren was an understatement. you weren't fond of the boy— like at all.

it was something about him that you couldn't pinpoint, maybe it was the way he always had something smart to say back to you when you made the littlest comments, the way his eyebrows were always furrowed together as if he was constantly upset with you, the way he was just so aggressive— a handful if you must. you never liked the way he acted towards you, or anybody else for that matter so you never tried your luck at getting close to him.

or... maybe you didn't like that slight way your eyes widened when you first met him, or that run of his eyes over you on your first meeting. or was it the way you somewhat hoped to get into an argument with him just so you could bicker? something about your arguments thrilled you and sent a feeling you couldn't pinpoint through your body.

nevertheless, the bigger issue at hand was the fact that you couldn't seem to escape eren jaeger.

you were so unlucky and were deemed even unluckier when your mom happened to be the sweetest person on earth. she was the kind to bake a welcoming gift for the neighbors on your street, the kind to knock next door and ask in a sickeningly sweet voice for extra sugar for a recipe she was whipping up.

she'd done both of these things to your next door neighbor, which happened to be carla, carla jaeger.

once again, unluckily carla also happened to be such a sweet mom and you almost felt bad that she was blessed (cursed) with eren jaeger as a son. she was the type to bake something in return and gladly give you a small container of sugar that you would promise to bring back.

she'd done both of these things for your mom.

there advances were so continuous, and over the course of a couple years they became the most best friends imaginable, indulging in every mom-ly activity you could imagine together. this only forced you and eren to spend every unwanted second together.

you knew eren for only a couple years, yes, and you could still remember when his hair was just draped above his shoulders, an awkward length that you never failed to make weak jokes at just to see him get mad. but what you didn't know— or failed to realize that he would get even more annoying then the first time you met him.

maybe you were getting annoyed with the fact that his hair was no longer that awkward length and you couldn't throw the same lame jokes at him, because the length that it was at now? where it touched his shoulders and he threw it back into this awfully messy bun. maybe you were getting annoyed with the fact that now he was older and more occupied with the summer before college, you weren't forced to spend as much time with him, so you didn't see him much.

over these couple years though, your mom (being the doll she is) never failed to throw an annual barbecue that of course, carla always came to, not only did she come but they practically planned it together and had you and eren help out, unwillingly. they claimed it was an opportunity for you and eren to "actually get a long." because trust me— they knew about the tension between the two of you that they tried to break for years.

one of those annual barbecues seemed to be today, at the very minute, actually. you were standing next to eren, both of you with a tray of food in your hands as you awaited instructions, an irritated expression crossing both of your faces.

"okay, take those over to the buffet table you two, and then before you guys go crawl away to god knows where, one of you grab some utensils, napkins and plates and lay them down at the end of the table, and one of you turn on the speaker, guests will be flooding in soon." you chuckled at carla's comment. that's one thing you and eren had in common— the two of you almost completely hating this event if it wasn't for the good food. you would always sneak away to your room and eren would sit in your chair and mind his business while you'd lay on your bed doing your own thing. "and tell your mom i need her, _____!"

it was never an uncomfortable silence— no, as a matter of fact it wasn't always silent, lots of aimless arguments would arise and sometimes, eren would get really angry, but he never dared to leave the safety of your room rather than be surrounded by adults who claimed they'd known him since he was little.

"what?" eren asked you as you reminisced on the thought while the two of you began walking.

you glanced up at him, snapped out of your own head, him already peering down at you with furrowed brows and a slight frown on his face. "none of your business." that's not even what you meant to say but a smart retort was almost instinctive when it came to eren.

albeit your smart response he didn't send one back as he usually would, he just rolled his eyes and sat the food down on the buffet table, you doing the same. "i'll grab utensils and shit." you murmured in slight embarrassment from your quick comment eliciting no reaction. eren didn't look your direction, so you took that as a hint that he heard you as his body headed towards the direction of the old speaker that you knew'd be blasting old "parent" tunes.

you head inside, the smell of food grilling leaving your senses and the something in the midst of being baked filling them instead. you turned the corner of the dining room to enter the kitchen, your mom closing the oven after checking on the brownies baking. "hey, sweetheart, how's it going?" she asked you, smiling when she caught sight of you, all dressed nicely too, which was rare from your usual style; the black slip dress you wore coming mid thigh and lightly hugging your body. you were only wearing socks though, you didn't see the point in walking around in shoes when you'd just be retreating to the hole of your room and lounging around for as long as possible until your mom called you to help some more or to greet someone familiar.

"fine, me and eren just put down the last of the food already cooked. i'm about to set up cutlery and sh— stuff." your mom raised her eyebrow before nodding her head and watching you open up the cabinet at your feet to grab the grocery bag full of a new box of paper plates and napkins." all for the "save the turtles!" magnet your mom had pinned on the refrigerator. "hey, where are the plastic cutlery?" you asked, questioning its lack of presence in the plastic bag.

your mom turned her head towards you, from where she was wiping at her hands. "hm? oh! sorry, honey— i placed them in that cabinet up there because we had extras from that one family get together we had a couple weeks back.”

ah, yes. you remembered that family get together. despite it being family, somehow carla and eren found their way into the gathering, and not to mention that being one of the last times you saw eren, and one of the most embarrassing times.

you see, the argument you had gotten in with eren that time was over him accidentally walking into your room in the middle of you changing for the event. you had yelled at him even though it was an accident, and that was one of the first times eren didn't try his hardest to win that argument, his face too flushed red, and his apologies and excuses seeming to not calm down your anger that hid your embarrassment.

but geez, for days after you were reminiscing on the drag of his eyes going down your back and over your ass before flickering back up to your eyes and only then realizing the situation at hand. you were just happy the encounter didn't make the next time you were seeing him, being now, too awkward.

your eyes drifted towards the cabinet above your head, the one your mom was eyeing at, and you sighed. "okay, thanks, and by the way miss carla wants you." your mom's eyes widened before she placed down the rag in her hands and scurried out the kitchen. you heard her speak a few words to someone but you weren't paying much attention as your fingertips began to reach upwards to pull at the cabinet doors. when it swung open a groan left your lips when you almost immediately spotted the brightest blue box of plastic cutlery at the top shelf.

"okay, _____... you can't reach that." you opted for climbing on top of the counter, and you did despite you wearing a dress, the fabric stretching as you propped yourself up on the surface, knees together while you used your hand to try and reach for the box.

your hand barely grazed it, but that didn't matter as eren's hands reached it for you, his back pressed against yours as he used his tippy toes and the stretch of his fingertips to knock the box down and grab it in the air before it could drop to the ground. the warmth of him behind you disappeared as he backed up and looked you over from your position on the counter. "if you couldn't reach it you should've had me get the stuff."

it was your turn to roll your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks before you climbed off the counter slowly and adjusted your dress. "shut up."

eren's arm came out to hand you the box. "since when did you start wearing dresses?" he asked abruptly, once again, those thick brows coming together in curiosity as you grabbed the box from his hands, stepping forward slightly.

"i've been wearing dresses, you're just too dumb to notice." your own gaze gave eren a once-over. he never dressed formally for any of these events like your mom made you. carla could never seem to get him into anything nice. plain black jeans with an almost too tight white shirt, and you could never fail to mention the key necklace draped around his neck that he once told you his dad gave him when you had asked "why do you always have that stupid necklace on?" he had gotten really defensive and only today you realized how insensitive that comment may have been considering the fact that he rarely saw his dad— as did you. you could only recall seeing the man twice, and at one time was at one of the barbecues. "i wore one... last time."

eren's eyes went up to the ceiling as he recalled "last time" realization dawning on his face, but before you could wait for his reply you were walking past him with your head pointed towards the ground as you told him, "you can go ahead and go up to my room, i'm gonna go put these down." and he watched you walk away before scratching his chin and doing just that.

you did what you had to do, placing down the cutlery and slipping past both your mother and carla before they could get you to do anything else.

when you opened the door to your room you were surprised to see eren sitting on your bed, shoes kicked off at the edge. you narrowed your eyes at him as he looked up from his phone at you. "what? your chair's broken." your eyes glanced to the chair that sat idle near your desk before you remembered— it was broken— no it wasn't broken, one of the wheels had just been screwed off and you nor your mom had the patience to fix it.

you lowered your suspicions at eren and merely nodded your head. you really didn't mind actually, the chair was eren's self proclaimed spot, he continued to sit their his self after the first barbecue, you never actually told him to.

"wow, i'm surprised you're not throwing a tantrum." he scoffed as you climbed onto your bed stomach flopping down next to eren who was propped up against your wall. your dress had ridden up in the slightest but you made no efforts to fix it, and you didn't make an effort to grab your phone either which was sat on your desk.

your arms held up your head, elbows on the bed as you looked up at eren with a raise of your eyebrow much like your mom. "you can get out." you half joked, eren looking down at you with lagoon green eyes.

"so you can leave me down to suffer with all those people? hell no, i'd surprisingly rather be up here with you."

you tilted your head at eren. "oh? why the change of heart?"

his stare sent a prickly sensation up your bare arms, and you turned over to your side so that your one arm propped up your head, your other draped across your waist. this was basically the first time you had a simple conversation without the two of you bothering each other, the first time you were somewhat amused by the words coming out of his mouth.

where was the old eren jaeger? this new eren jaeger couldn't help but think you looked... good, not to say he's never thought this before; the subconscious thought always in the back of his head, but now it was prevalent to him. the straps of your black dress so thin, and the way it hugged your body in the slightest was almost tantalizing. you didn't seem to be wearing a bra either, he could tell by the lack of support and straps. "huh?" you added when he didn't respond right away, eren's eyes snapping back up to your face.

he whipped up a quick response; "there wasn't a change of heart. you know i'm always up here... and you're tolerable today." he placed down his phone, interested in the conversation at hand. something was laced between your words, almost taunting, almost aware, more aware than you were earlier when the two of you had that encounter in the kitchen, more aware than you were when he accidentally walked in on you a couple weeks prior.

you felt confident today, you weren't sure if it was the mere maturity between the two of you that seemed to just decide to pop up today, you weren't sure if it was eren's new attitude, or if it was your attire that gave you the confidence you possessed. you always enjoyed you and eren's arguments, you loved seeing him riled, but today the snark to his own comments instead of him getting completely heated sent an even better thrill, if you could call it, down your spine. "hm, then it's not surprising you'd rather be up here with me, jaeger... and what makes me more tolerable today?"

eren let his eyes roll to the back of his head for a split second before deciding that the best response to that question would be no answer, lying wasn't healthy anyways.

"what? is it the fact that i started wearing dresses?" you mocked his earlier words, your hand flying up to create quotations in the air.

that was one reason.

"trying to get your little dick wet eren? that little blondie wasn't doing it for you, yeah?" you joked, but the way his eyebrow twitched and his eyes darkened, lowering as a very small smirk formed on his face told you maybe your joke was more than that to him.

he let out another small scoff, face turning away from you so his jawline was visible, the tiny brown hairs that wouldn't fit in his ponytail skimming his neck and forehead before he side eyed you, then turning his head back to you and not even noticing how he scooted forward as he brought his knee up for his arm to rest on. "little?" was all he could manage to get out. he wasn't gonna lie— your comments felt quicker today, and they were catching him a little off guard.

you flipped back onto your stomach before sliding your upper body and shuffling forward to sit back on your knees diagonal from eren. you weren't gonna lie— eren's comments felt quicker today, and they were catching you a little off guard. "did i lie?"

"yeah."

"i beg to differ."

eren's hand went to his thigh. even though his dick was on the other leg, semi-hard, he wanted to tease you with the leg closer, rubbing up and down the fabric of his jeans. "wanna see then?"

your eyes glanced down to his lap and widened, jesus— this was not the eren you knew, nor the eren you expected tonight. you let yourself fall backwards onto your pillows, grabbing one throw pillow and placing it over your face as you hid your true expression. although your voice was muffled you let out an "jaeger, stop! i'm supposed to hate you."

the bed dipped underneath you as eren shuffled forward until he was peering down at you again, grabbing the pillow with one hand, your hand flying up to grab his wrist, then his coming up to pry your fingers off him. after a small tussle he pinned your hand to the bed, grabbing the pillow and chucking it off the bed to see your face.

your lips were shriveled in an embarrassing smile and you turned your head away from eren, only then realizing the presence of his cold gold pendant tickling your chest, and how close he actually was, his thigh pressed up against your side, and his untucked hairs gravitating towards you. those green-blue eyes seemed even more intimidating up close, and the dangerous slight upturn of the corner of his lips didn't seem to help in you feeling small under him.

eren jaeger, an anomaly. who knew people could change right before your eyes.

"jaeger," you brought your other hand to his chest, pushing at his sternum with as much force as possible which didn't budge him, eren only grabbing your other hand with a low chuckle and placing it above your head, bringing both of your hands together and keeping them there with one wrist. you let out a soft whine of the word "move," that made eren's lip twitch before you brought your foot up to kick him.

"kick me and i swear, ______—" and so you did— well at least you tried, eren grabbing your ankle and holding your flailing limb. you guys looked insanely stupid, and it made your little whines turn into small laughs that seemed to be contagious as eren began to laugh too. your body went limp as you soon realized that eren was pretty strong, which the old eren wasn't.

he let go of your leg, dropping it to the bed on the other side of him so he was sitting between them. "i'll let go if you admit that you don't actually hate me." a small goofy grin was on his face and it made you reciprocate.

"nope," you popped the p, eren quirking his brow at you before letting his eyes wander down. he had you in quite a position; your legs on either side of him, your hands pinned together, and your dress scrunched up just enough so he could see the black underwear you adorned. you watched his eyes trail back up, stopping at your lips, his tongue sliding over his own before coming back up to your eyes. "but it's obvious you don't hate me."

eren let out a small laugh and your stomach churned— so did his.

"nope," he popped his p just like you. "that's just some weird shit we were on when we were younger... you're not that bad." he hummed, leaning down a bit so he was hovering over your face, and god did he look amazing.

maybe he was right— maybe it was just one of those weird things that leave with age, and you were fine with it leaving, especially if it gave you the eren jaeger in front of you right now. your lips parted in effort for you to speak but you choked on your own words, not sure what to say. but you didn't have to say much because just like eren, you let your realization hit you on how he had you, how he looked, and your gaze stopped at his lips too. he took that as his cue— his face inching way too close, but not like you minded.

"the way you're looking at me doesn't seem like it, ______."

you squeezed your legs on his sides as you felt the fabric of his jeans rub against you from the proximity. "well, i—" he didn't let you finish his lips connecting with yours and you almost forget how to kiss for a moment, eren's lips being the only ones moving until he let go of your hands and you cradled his jaw, kissing him back just as fervently.

eren hummed against your lips in content, them beginning to move together as if the two of you were made for each other. something felt like it was lifted off your chest, and you really relished in the moment at hand. one of eren's hand coming up to your hair and pushing your head more towards him, the kiss becoming rougher while his other hand settled at your side gripping roughly as if you could run away any second.

you felt desperate, practically swallowing eren's lips up, him biting at your lip before pulling away for air. he looked down at you with a lustful expression, his lips parted and flushed red while his eyelids hung low. "finally, you shut up."

you looked up to the ceiling with a smile gracing your face. you didn't know if you were in shock at the fact that he could still throw quick comebacks after such an event or if you were in shock at what just happened. "you shut the fuck up— and come here,"

you lifted your head up to connect your lips back to eren's, your tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and he quickly got the hint, pushing you back down to the bed as he parted his lips so that your tongues could collide gently. the kiss was wet, and passionate, you could practically taste the lust that both of you were so oblivious about for years. you could taste how long he craved your lips on his and you almost wanted to apologize for leaving him waiting for so long.

eren's tongue licked around your mouth, doing all the work while you laid back and guided your tongue to follow his almost like a recited dance. his hips moved with yours, beginning to grind against you to relieve some of the ache in his dick, and he was glad you were wearing a dress. his hand on your hip grasped the black fabric and aggressively yanked it up, your hips lifting to help him out a little bit until your lower half was completely unveiled to him.

his mouth disconnected from yours so he could peer down at you. "fuck..." he muttered. his hand slid under your dress, smoothing over your stomach before nearing your breasts, looking back up to you as if to ask if what he was doing was fine. you gave him that confirmation and let your eyes drift close as his warm palm relaxed itself over your tit. the contact that his fingers made with you nipple as he moved his hand down to toy at it caused them to harden and you to whimper.

eren ducked down to your neck so he could kiss it, nibbling at the sensitive flesh which elicit your hand to fly to his messy brown locks. "yeah..." you sighed, elated with the feeling of him sucking at your skin, his tongue occasionally licking at the spot and his teeth grazing over it as well before he completely pulled off, hoping a distinctive hickey you would have trouble hiding from your mom would begin to appear sooner or later.

his hand slid back down to your side until it went over the curve of your back and trailed down your ass until it met your supple thighs. he grasped at your skin, the fat underneath his fingertips leaving his imagination to wonder what it would be like in between your thighs. he brought his other thumb to your plain black panties, pressing it against your clothed entrance just to get a feel and your head flew back so you were no longer watching him— eyebrows turning upwards and mouth parting as uneven breaths left you mouth.

you were so hot and bothered, you needed him now— any way you could take him.

"need you... right now, eren." you mumbled, your hand retreating between your dress to cup at your own breast.

eren looked up at you another smile playing on his lips, and he would be the death of you. "first name basis now that you want to be fucked by me?"

"oh my gosh, just hurry."

you brought your legs closer to your body as eren's hand came to the hem of the fabric that was the only thing separating you and him. he pulled it over your legs and down your feet tossing it to the side. when you didn't part your legs for him immediately he brought his hand to both of your knees and with some resistance parted them for you, the sight of your glistening cunt going straight to his dick.

you were so pretty to him, yet he didn't want to boost your ego any more so he held his tongue and untucked his lip from his teeth before stepping off the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling your body to the edge of the bed.

your pussy fluttered as you watched eren fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. he stopped for a brief moment, groaning in annoyance before looking back to you. "i don't have a condom."

your hand flew to your forehead and you felt yourself squeeze around nothing at the thought of eren sliding into you without one. "you're clean right?"

eren scoffed. "yeah."

"okay well then hurry!" you repeated, eren going back to pulling his pants down until they were pooled at his ankles, as well as his boxers. his dick was finally exposed to you, and you stifled a moan when you saw it— pretty, hard, big and flushed red in anticipation for you not anyone else. he took himself into his hands and smeared his pre cum over his length while his head tilted back and his jaw dropped at the slight relief.

"this is about to be the best dick you've ever had." he half joked as he grabbed your hips and pressed at your entrance, leaning overtop of you again.

"we'll see about that, ja—" you couldn't even get the rest of your sentence out as you felt his tip slide more into you, a gasp leaving your throat, your walls clenching his tip causing him to let out a slight moan.

he stopped for a moment, bringing his hand up to steady himself on the bed. "eren, not jaeger."

he pushed in a little more, your hand flying over to your mouth muffling your, "eren!" which caused him to smirk. "shit... you—" a little more, your eyebrows coming together like his as he tried filling you up even more.

"me what?" he breathed out, pushing in a little more.

your back arched and your fingers came to wrap around his wrist beside your head for support. "it kind of hurts." you mewled out. of course you wouldn't tell eren this, but it had been awhile since the last time you had sex, prone to getting yourself off instead, and eren's size wasn't helping either.

"well..." he started, sheathing himself more inside you as your grip on his wrist tightened, and small pathetic half-whines left your throat. "you gotta take it." your eyes screwed even more shut as his words rang through your head. you were practically throbbing for him and you wanted this just as bad. "don't start something you can't finish." and with that the brunette let his length fill you up completely, ignoring your slight displeasure until he bottomed out, shushing you and letting his hand come down to rub circles on your clit to soothe you.

a sigh left your lips and your hand relaxed from eren's wrist. "okay."

"okay?"

"you can move." and eren wasted no time doing just that, his hips moving backwards and sliding against your walls causing you and him to groan at the same time.

when you were fully adjusted, and any discomfort you felt had drifted away, eren moved faster, almost fucking you how he wanted to in the first place. he lifted himself from the bed and put his hands on your hips, dragging you onto him as he pushed in and out of you, basking in your moans of pleasure and the feeling of your tight walls trying to consume him.

"yes," you said with gritted teeth as the way eren thrusted into you with purpose felt amazing and left you wondering why you didn't confess to your attraction to him sooner. "fuck, eren..." his hips stuttered from the way you sounded moaning his name. he wanted to hear it again, and again, wanted to hear it so many times that he could hear it when he fucked his fist to your pretty face. "like that, just like that."

"again." he demanded, and the low octave of his voice ordering you to repeat his name sent your head into a spiral. you grind against him, your wetness smearing on his abdomen. eren brought his hand to your hair again, pulling your body up off the bed and you winced at his tight grip as he continued to fuck up into you nicely. "i said again."

"eren," you repeated more like a plea. he pulled your head forward more, smashing his lips to yours again briefly, just wanting to feel more of you, wanting to feel you crave him.

"what do you want me to do?" he asked. he wanted you to tell him how bad you wanted him, how bad you wanted him to fuck you— and with the way his cock stretched you out so well, fucking into you with ease, like it's what he was made for, you were willing to do just that. "hm?"

"fuck me good, make me cum, eren, please."

"if i do you're gonna stop acting like a little brat when we're together right?"

"yes, yes, yes," you babbled not even realizing what he said that had you nodding your head hastily.

eren chuckled at the lack of hesitance in your response, softening his grip on your hair and letting your head fall back to the bed. "good girl." he murmured while slowing down his pace causing you to roll your hips into his as a silent plea to go faster. eren pushed your dress up some more until it was bunched up right to your chest, then having you pull off the straps to free your tits. he stepped out of his jeans and boxers, pushing you higher on the bed to create space for himself, not leaving you once, leaving your cunt fluttering around him as he did all these motions.

the little sad cries that would leave your lips begging him to hurry up so that he could fuck you again made you sound so stupid for him, so impatient and so dirty. eren didn't mind at all though, when he shifted himself up on your bed and pressed your legs to either side of your body so he could hit deeper, he complied with your wishes. "open your mouth." and you complied to his, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out, eren coming down to let his spit drop into your mouth, and the second his saliva came in contact with the muscle you squeezed his member from inside of you, he could feel you tighten around him and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you swallowed. he watched your throat bob before wrapping his hand around your neck to create leverage for himself.

when you felt him drag himself out and back into you so forcefully, your body jolting as he continued the motion, fucking down into you. he was drilling that soft spot inside of you, and he didn't stop you when your hand trailed down below his arm to touch yourself, rubbing at your swollen clit while he drilled you. "you're gonna cum?"

you were too incoherent to form words, the nods of your head telling him enough. he was on the verge of coming too, but he wanted you to come first, he wanted to feel you pulse around his throbbing cock, spill your slick all over him. "shit, then cum all over me, _____. right on my dick, let me feel it." you let out a sultry moan, eren letting go of your neck going to grasp one of your bouncing breast the other grasping your thigh and pounding into you hard while you got yourself off with your middle finger.

small cries spilled out of your lips as your orgasm slowly approached until it finally did, your vision blanking out, pussy squeezing eren impossibly tight, and every nerve being pinched in your body. your hand unconsciously flew to your blanket, gripping the fabric tight as you moaned a drawled out sound resembling eren's name. you felt like you were the only person alive, like the guests downstairs didn't exist, like your parents weren't just outside your window along with them, not even like eren was there when your climax washed over your body, blurring your senses.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah—" eren was having trouble holding back, but as soon as he felt your juices coat him, and the sound of his name from you he let go of your thighs and chest, pulling out of your wet heat and jerking himself to completion, hot cum spilling all over your lower stomach as to avoid your dress. "shit.." he panted, watching his seed sit idle on your pretty skin.

he felt hazy, almost in disbelief that he just fucked your lights out, almost quite literally as you hadn't opened your eyes since your orgasm.

eren took it upon himself to gather some of his cum with a swipe of his finger then prod at your swollen lips, you lazily opening your mouth to taste the salty taste of his cum. "good?" and you hummed, letting your head fall back to the blankets and closing your eyes.

eren tucked himself in, leaving to head towards your bathroom, and soon enough coming back to help you clean up. when you felt the warmth of something slide over your lower abdomen, you too out of it to open your eyes, you relaxed against the bed. eren adjusted your dress and slipped your underwear on for you, shaking your arm to wake you up. "your mom was out there. she was about to check on you when i walked out the bathroom. that would've been embarrassing."

you were too tired to respond, blinking at eren before picking yourself up and sitting up in front of him, his height allowing him to still be looking down at you even though you were on a bed. "i'm gonna head down cause i'll probably be leaving soon... i'll tell her you're sleep."

you nodded your head at eren before crawling to your bed and under the blankets, turning away from him. eren eyed you for a moment before coming forward and deciding to press a kiss to your ear, then grabbing his phone and slipping on his shoes. he grabbed the damp paper towel and threw it in your trash, shutting your lights and shutting the door quietly.

eren jaeger, an anomaly you thought you had figured out who happened not to be that bad after all.

maybe you did like eren— just a little bit.

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