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silv3rswirls · 1 month

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Hound

Summary: What did a suffering lamb even accomplish? Who did it save, when would it end?

Warnings: serial killer/yandere jk, kidnapping, stalking, references to death, suggestive scenes, delusions, religious themes/trauma, minor description of sick/rotting bodies/animals, murder, reader goes on a weird little adventure with killer jk?? She dies at the end

Note: idk I kind of lost the original plot of this one and this is what it turned out to be. Please mind the warnings and as always, hope ya’ll like it. ALSO, I didn't have it in me to edit this, so mind that. I might come back to this

There’s something in the corner; watching. It’s been there so long, you couldn’t remember when it invited itself in. It’s starving and sickly, black fur clinging to bones and eyes droopy and white. You stopped feeding it a long time ago, but still, it lingers. In every facet of your life, it lingers. You’ve lived like this for so many years, have you always lived like this?

What time was it?

Your eyes shifted from their fixed position on the wall to the clock, passing over the thin, gold cross mounted just beside it. Your eyes strained to read it against your bedroom's dark wood panels and dim, ugly yellow light. Whatever time it was, you knew it was time to get out of bed and start dinner before your husband got home from work. You make your way to the kitchen, the house dims now that the sun has set. You avoid flicking many lights on, it’ll save money your husband insisted. You hated fumbling around a dark house but had given up arguing with him a long time ago.

You peek through the sheer curtains, the sink running and steaming water burning your hands as you finish that morning's dishes. It was dark, and windy as the tree in your front yard shook and branches brushed against the roof. It was the cusp of winter, very cold but snow hadn’t started to fall yet. The neighborhood was quiet, street lamps harsh against the dark backdrop of houses. You stare hard outside, it's there. Standing there, watching you. That sick dog, with hackles raised and tongue hanging from its mouth.

The curtains fall back into place as you turn the water off and dry your hands. You pass the phone, that’s been ringing for the past five minutes. You don’t answer because it's just your parents again, all they wanted was to guilt you into going to church with them on Sunday morning. They went every day, once upon a time you had gone as well, but now you could only stand to give them Sundays. Last week you had pretended to be sick to get out of it, your husband went along and you were sure he spent most of the day badmouthing and complaining about you not coming.

The last time you found yourself in a church you were standing at an altar listening to a man feed the room empty vows. You stood stiff, draped in satin, with eyes downcast. This is what everyone wanted; this is what you wanted. What a waste, as he fumbled the paper with his crudely written vows. What a waste of a man who couldn’t memorize a few short promises. What a waste of a man who couldn’t stand there and pretend to be in love with you, to dare to call himself righteous, the perfect match to keep their daughter in line with a faith you had stopped believing years ago.

You didn’t want to get married. You had stopped liking the fantasy of having a husband years ago, and around the same time, you began to feel a sour taste over your parents' religion. What happened to you? What happened to our beautiful girl? They would ask, more so plead with you for answers. Truthfully, you had stopped believing in god. It was restricting; days to weeks to months to years. It was always the same. The same scripture, the same ravings of the pastor that drove such fear of doing anything wrong into you, leaving holes in your body that oozed with guilt and shame; you didn’t know why.

You had begged god to save you, even after all the terrible things he must’ve seen you do. Still, on the morning of your wedding and every day after that, you begged. Knelt until your knees were raw and aching, your hands clasped so tight until your nails pricked your aching skin and drew blood. You begged, for something, anything, you weren’t even sure what anymore. But nothing ever changed. When would god find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

That night you refused to go inside, letting your feet go numb buried in snow in the backyard. Looking into the treeline, you’d rather be fed by the creatures lurking there than by some angry boy playing dog inside. You wanted to hurt him, for him to feel how you had the past year. He didn’t think you could, but you wanted to show him you would.

But when you looked down at your trembling hands, stiff and half frozen from the cold, you knew there was no way you could show him. How you felt and how you acted were two different things; forever separate as much as you wanted them to be the same. You could talk a big game, think about how so badly you wanted to hurt him, and that was all. It had to keep being enough.

Something in you wanted more, so much more. You could rest because of it. You had stopped fighting your parents now, you were hoping things could change. Maybe you’d find peace again, though you weren’t sure how. You grew weary, tired of hating god and resenting your parents. You wanted so badly to be separate from it all. To no longer have a feeling of guilt hounding you. To no longer hate the church and everyone in it, the teachings and echoes of preaching lingering in your mind. The years you lost there; lost to fear and manipulation. How you hadn’t been able to enjoy a single thing in your adolescence. How after your first kiss you had gone home and sobbed until throwing up. As you were on your knees cleaning it up, trying to hush your cries to not wake your parents, you closed your eyes and pleaded between gasps and hiccups for god not to hate you. How you trembled and sat there until your skin was rubbed raw against the carpet,

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face and looking around the dark living room from the kitchen. You felt like you could see it; that creature lying on the sofa staring at you. Mouth parted, teeth pointed, its soul-bearing into your own. You turned away with the familiar feeling of guilt washing over your body. Your gaze rested on the floor, but the faint outline of shoes made your brow furrow; your husband wasn’t due home for another hour. Very slowly you pick your gaze up to see the man standing in the hall. Faint light from the open backdoor pooled in behind him. You stared at the young man longer than probably should have. Maybe you should've screamed sooner and ran before he got that close to you but you had frozen in place.

Break-ins didn’t happen around your neighborhood, let alone kidnappings.

What horrible luck that you’d be the first?

What had you done? What had you done to deserve this?

He carried you out of your house, but still, you couldn’t bring it in you to scream for help. You wondered deep down if anyone would help you. He puts you in the back of his car and drives, the windows down and bitter cold pouring in. You’re lying in the backseat, wrists bound tight. He’d been eerily silent through this whole ordeal.

“How come you haven’t begged me not to kill you yet?” He asked, looking back at you. His voice came jumbling from his mouth fast, a bit irritated. Like he had been frustrated with your lack of struggle.

“Were you going to kill me?” Your skin crawls with goosebumps from the cold.

He pauses and stares at you, “Do you want me to kill you?” He turns back to watch the road, neither of you answering his question. A long stretch of silence follows, he doesn’t look at you again, not even a glance from the mirror. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I’m going to give you what you want, and then I’m going to kill you.”

You’re throat dries and your face pales. “You don’t know what I want.” Watching you? You felt an uneasiness come over you as you thought back to what you had done the past few weeks. Nothing to be honest. You had barely left the house. You imagined him peeking through windows, hiding in the yard, and watching you collect groceries and throw the trash away. Had he been in your house before? You look at him, he didn’t seem familiar at all. You’d never seen him around before.

He dragged you from the car, you didn’t struggle but you remained limp, dead weight for him as he covered your eyes and drug you inside. When inside you feel his boot on you, pressing into your shoulder. Pressing into you, your eyes trail over the shine of leather and then up to him. He was standing above you. Taller, stronger, better than you; that's what he wanted right? You’d stare at him, was this what you wanted?

The house was messy, recently abandoned you assumed. It was clear he had been holding up here for a while. He shoved you on the ground, circling around you as you looked up at him. “What are you going to do?” You ask.

“Gonna kill you.” He admitted earnestly. “I know you, I’ve been watching you for a long time- really, I’m just helping you.”

Was he your savior? Was he doing you a favor? Would he do to you what you had never been brave enough to do yourself? Is this what you truly were? An animal built to serve? To be depraved, to crawl across glass and pour blood for someone like him?

“But I…I don’t want to die.” He gives you this pitiful look; his lips pout and his eyes soften for a moment. As if telling you you didn’t know what you were talking about, and how pitiful it was you couldn’t accept it. “What’s your name?” You ask, feeling silly for being hopeful you might be able to get any information out of him. “Jungkook.” You lower your head, wondering if trying to collect any information for authorities was even worth it. Everything about this man was intimidating. He was larger and stronger, it didn’t matter if you fought or not he could drag you around like a ragdoll all he wanted.

Jungkook gets up and walks around the living room, rummaging through piles of what you assumed were his things. “I’ve been watching you for over a year now.” He admits, “Since you went on vacation for your friend's birthday. You were so drunk at that bar, I was going to kill you then, but something told me not to.” He turns back to you with a small bound notebook in hand. “So I followed you back here and got to know you more. Imagine my shock when I realized you were getting married. Was that trip your last night of freedom, is that why you got so messy?” You stare up at him, unsure of what to say. Yes, it was your last night. You came home and your parents pushed you into marriage sooner because of it. He hands you to the notebook, urging you to open it. “I’ve been watching you since. Your life turned out to be so interesting, I couldn’t just kill you after everything.”

You flip through the pages slowly. Pictures of you and your family. Pictures of you at the altar. Scribbled paragraphs about things he heard others say about you, quotes of things you were sure you had said. Notes and bullet points of every piece of information he got. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“Can I take a bath?” You ask, mind going a bit blank and voice flat as you set the notebook down and try to take it all in.

He let you. The water was hot and steaming when he pushed you in and closed the door. No windows, no way to get out. You settle into the water, the sweat from stress and anxiety washing off as you try and fail to relax. Could you be forgiven for things not of your control? You sink further into the water. You could hear him outside in the hall pacing. His steps were heavy and loud, ringing in your ears as you stared up at the night, fluorescent bathroom light. They did this to you, they all did this to you. Why were you being punished? Why had Jungkook laid eyes on the most pitiful woman in town and decided it was to be her? You thought about your wedding day, and your husband back home. Maybe if you had just settled, stayed with them, and did your duty as a wife Jungkook wouldn’t have stumbled into your life. Yes. you should have wanted less, you decide. Because it seems Jungkook was ready to give it all to you.

You raise your hands out of the water, the deep imprints of the zip ties he had kept you bound with were still there. Angry and a pale red color. The bathwater around you, swirling unpleasantly around you. The hot, humid air inside the bathroom, the hum of the lights, and the moths flying around them.

You felt rotten like your teeth were falling out, hanging just barely to your gums. Truly, you felt disgusting.

Jungkook is in the hall waiting when you finally get out. You looked up at him and saw nothing. No starving dog trying to pretend. No confusion, or games, or lies. He knew what he wanted to be and he was exactly that. He wasn’t lying, pretending, or trying to make you believe his actions were right. He said it outright; he wanted to kill you. He was going to kill you.

“I want my wedding dress” you slowly say.

“You don’t like the one you wore at your wedding, you cried the day you tried it on.” Jungkook glances at you, watching you silently agree with him.

“So you won't get it for me?”

“Don’t you want more?” He asks, “I’ll get you a new dress, whatever one you want.”

Jungkook stares at you the same way the beast that lingered in the corners of your house did. An eager stare, unrelenting, you couldn’t move out of its sight. “I just want that dress.” You repeat, clasping your hands together and pursing your lips, “You said I could have whatever I wanted…”

A smile stretched his lips, “I’ll get it for you.”

You lay down on the floor of the backseat of the car. Your hands are zip-tied again, and you can’t see Jungkook from your position. What an odd turn of events to say the least…you had fully expected to die the moment he dragged you out of the car and into that house, but now you could see faint glimpses of familiar landmarks leading to your neighborhood from what you can make out from the window. You think about the day of your wedding, and the events that even led up to your parents making a match for you and pushing for it so hard. Despite how vocal you had been about your unhappiness with everything about your childhood, how much you never wanted to step food into their church again; they held a firm belief that you’d come crawling back. If they shamed and argued and pushed enough you’d come back.

For as much hate you felt, twice the amount of guilt weighed you down. After a while, it all became so hopeless. It was exhausting. It made you sick, you couldn’t do anything without guilt nipping your heels, chasing you down until you drowned in it. You couldn’t live, so you came home. Let them talk you into marriage because it would fix everything, they insisted. You just needed a husband, the stability of it, someone to care about other than yourself. Have a few kids and you’ll start walking the right path again.

You waited, but it never came. You never felt better about any of your choices. Deep down you had known you wouldn’t, but you had spent so much of your life blind. Going back to it didn’t help, it wasn’t even familiar anymore. Nothing ever changed. When will God find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

You weren’t even sure why you wanted that stupid dress. You weren’t sure if you cared what happened to you, or feared what Jungkook was going to do. Maybe it is comforting, in a weird way. No one paid attention to you, no one bothered with you. They wouldn’t until you changed, and deep down you didn’t want to change. But outside of your life now you had no idea what you would do. You never had higher dreams than staying local and marrying within your church growing up. You didn’t even attend college. You never aspired for more, now it felt like it was too late. Jungkook was talking to you from the driver's seat but you couldn’t hear him. Too enveloped in your head to focus on him, he was spouting things he had found about you the last year or so. How he’d never felt a need to stalk the people went after before, let alone this in depth. It was “life-altering” and you were going to be special to him.

The car stops and you feel a weight on your body; the canine-like creature is standing over you. Paws pressing to your stomach and legs, its breath hot, its ears perked up as Jungkook gets out of the car. You feel an immense guilt weighted on you and you consider stopping Jungkook and telling him to just leave and kill you.

You didn’t want this. You did want this. You weren’t sure. Your husband was home, he wasn’t going to just let Jungkook in to take what he wanted.

You lay there for what felt like an eternity until he came back, opening the back door and pulling you out of the car. It’s still dark out, chilly, and unmoving as he hooks his arms under yours and drags you back inside. He sits you down in the entryway and locks the door. You look around. “Where’s-”

“Don’t worry about him.” Jungkook shows your husband's wedding band now on his hand. “Come one” he scoffs, “you knew what I was going to do.”

You stare at him, glance and the very faint outline of the body on your kitchen floor. Had you known? You feel a bit sick, deep down you had hoped for it. He leaves you there to find the wedding dress. Jungkook smiles at you one more time before going towards the back bedroom.

When Jungkook saw you, he had every intention of following you out of that bar to kill you. It was his typical hunting ground. Every few months when the desire struck him again he would wait patiently for the right girl to cross his path. You were hard to ignore that night; annoying, he had half a mind to kill you just to shut you up. But when he followed you outside, watching you slump against the wall and fiddle with your phone he took a moment to watch. Turning away and nursing a cigarette on the opposite side of the entryway.

The way you sniffled and cried on the phone with your mom, asking if there was any other way than to get married. You were too drunk to give him a coherent story of what you were going through, but apparently, you just hated the dress and the groom so much. He crept closer as you hung up, making some lighthearted comment about how rough you looked, and offered you a cigarette.

You talked a bit more about your ass of a fiance and how you felt like you had no other options anymore. He asked where you were from and you told him. He left you there once your friend found you and would see you again a month later. He’d been crammed in his car for days, a map of the town and surrounding forests resting on his steering wheel as he scribbled out the last few leads he had gotten on where exactly you lived. he looked up and there you were, walking with a group of older women into a boutique down the street, exiting with a pretty wrapped box a bit later. He followed you home, and everywhere after that. Watched you walk down the aisle, the wedding open to all members of the church, and allowing him to walk right in. he watched you go home and cry in the backyard, watched you talk your dress off through the window, watched your husband fuck you for the first time. He watched you sit restless every day after that.

Jungkook found your dress backed away in that same ornate gift box on the top shelf of your closet. He smiled and smoothed a hand over the box. All he knew was that he wanted you, wanted to make you happy, and then he wanted to kill you. Put you out of your misery. You’d be better off, he told himself. Clearly, you needed to be saved, so he’d kill for a better reason this time.

You were crying when he came back. Looking up at him with red, water eyes and pressing your lips together to try and keep quiet. Jungkook set the box beside you, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head. But all you can see before you is that beast, sitting with flattened ears and tongue hanging from between rotting teeth. Staring at you with those eyes, like they were reflecting everything upsetting right back to you.

“All this guilt, there’s no use feeling it.”

“I can’t help it.” You choke out. “I can’t stop it, I see it- feel it everywhere.” You rubbed your eyes, looking at Jungkook and trying to stop your trembling bottom lip.

“Crying won’t won’t make things different. Just because you’re guilty won’t make this better. Your guilt won’t purify you.” He clicks his tongue, reaching to push your hair out of your face. “You wanted me to kill your husband, and that’s okay.”

“Thank god, the psycho thinks everything is alright. How comforting.” You weep.

“Stop holding back, come on. You want things to change, doesn’t matter how they change right? You hated him, I heard you say it myself so many times. Say it.”

“I wanted him to die.” You admit quietly. Something in you wanted this to happen. Asking Jungkook to come back here, a part of you knew the possibility. “It’s just not fair. It's not fair. I’ve done nothing but what I’m supposed to do. My whole life, I’ve been trying so hard my whole life to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t understand. Everything was supposed to be better, but I hated him. I hated him so much. Then you got here and I…I just wanted to feel all the pain that he’s caused, but I can’t even stomach it. I wanna be cruel, don’t I deserve to? I can’t stop crying though.”

Jungkook coos, pulling you into the chest and wrapping his arms around you. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s why I’m here, I want you to let go, want you to just do what you want. I watch you every day. You’re so miserable, it’s so weird. I felt bad for you.” Jungkook muses, “I’m here for you now baby, we only have a few hours left though.”

“Can I put the dress on?” Your voice was low and tired. Jungkook nodded, shifting over to take the box's lid off and peel back the tissue paper wrapped around your wedding dress. He takes it out, unraveling it carefully as you watch.

Your wedding had been a disaster. You cried through most of it, though no one seemed to care at the time. Your late husband was glad just to have a woman to take home. He wasn’t romantic at all, nothing about him attracted you to him. He was one of the slimier men you had come across in your time in the congregation. He interpreted things how he wanted to, and often reminded you of all the things in your life you had done wrong and had yet to be forgiven for. This was the man your parents hoped to whip you back into shape. It worked in a sense, you supposed. You had been forced to settle. Your hate faded each dull day that passed, you grew weary and unhappier.

The dress was modest. Long-sleeved, high neckline, mane with heavy ugly satin. You put it on there in the hall, feeling too numb to worry about any shame you had in front of Jungkook anymore. He zipped it up for you. Jungkook was kneeling, fixing the skirt, and letting it fluff out. He smooths it down and looks up at you. Despite the heavy eyes and tear-stricken face he smiled, “You look pretty.”

No one told you that on your wedding day, no one told you that the day your mother chose the dress for you. You smiled, feeling a small ounce of joy for the first time tonight. “What do you want to do now?”

You ignore his question, “Is that why you’re doing all of this, are you obsessed with me or something?”

“I guess in some sick way I am.” He wanted to kill you, but at the same time, you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time. Something about the repressed guilt and how you teetered on the edge of breaking completely just got him he supposed. “I watched you the night of your wedding, you were so perfect. Everything was perfect until he came in.” He scowls at the thought, “It’s a shame.”

“Do you want to…” you trailed off, your voice a bit nervous.

Jungkook’s fingers twitch, he's playing with the trim of your skirt. “I do” he murmured, “I’ve thought about you every night since I met you” He raves, “you’re the only one- why? Why do you make me so crazy?” He asks, brushing off any answer you try to give him. “Want you, need you” He breathed, the fabric of your wedding dress bunching up as he pulled at it.

“I can’t-” you grabbed at his hands. You could feel it, the guilt creeping in. Your eyes land on your wedding ring. Torn with morbid want and a last shred of gut-wrenching guilt, you looked into his eyes. Tempting dark pools stare back at you he grabs at your hand. “We’ve come so far already, don’t stop now. Besides” he makes it a point to flash your late husband's wedding band. “I’m your husband now.” you flush, the words twisting in your ears are wrong; everything about tonight was wrong. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“I know you think I’m attractive” he pushes through the layers of the dress, his hands cold as he rests them on your thighs. “It’s so wrong of you baby” he purrs, “you know I’m gonna kill you, but you want me don’t you?”

“I know” you whimper, chest heaving as you watch him. His fingers trace against your skin, his hand moving between your legs.

“When’s the last time your husband touched you?” He asks, “This is what you want, right? You want someone to want you?”

Your fingers twist in his hair, gripping tight as if you were about to fall. Your legs trembled under the weight of guilt and need over what was happening. He was right though, it had been a long time since you felt wanted at all. The moment you had sex the first time those years ago, you knew no one would want you. Not in the church, not here. Impure, a whore. Your mother had even said it when you sobbed and told her.

Your back arches, your thighs tremble, and you let your grip on his hair loosen. You fear toppling over, your breathing a bit ragged. You felt his lips trace your inner thigh, leaving half-hearted kisses and sinking his teeth into your skin.

“You look so pretty in your dress.” Jungkook reappears, kneeling before you a minute longer. Fixing the skirt of the dress, smoothing the fabric down then reaching for your hand. He traces the wedding ring a few times.

“Where do you want me to do it?” Jungkook’s question falls on deaf ears. You’re sitting in the passenger side of his car, still wearing a dress and still trying to steady your pounding heart.

Where did you want to die?

Did you want to die?

You were scared of living as much as dying; but was there anything left for you anyways?

Jungkook you supposed, there was a weird want for him. Maybe it was messed up, he was into you. He took all this time to watch you and wanted you to be happy before you died. You weren’t sure if you were happy.

Before you got out of high school the town church moved to a new building. A bigger, newer, and nicer one. The old one was small, typical of what you would imagine a small, secluded town’s church would look like. He took you there, unprompted. It was fitting maybe. You walked in front of him and listened to Jungkook load the gun and mutter under his breath. Once inside you stand in place, waiting for him to turn and shoot. You look around the familiar space, your stomach turning, memories of the past playing in your mind.

The cross mounted above you is entrancing, draped in sheer black fabric, and its shadowy outline is stark against the moon's light. Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook, who seems to have caught onto your staring and also happens to stand before you draped in the moonlight.

Your last moments would be here. Everything around you felt distorted, and unreal as you looked around another time.

Staining his hands red and tearing into something clean was all he was. All he wanted. You were both ugly in a sense, he was just more open about it. You look up at him. It’s scary now. You had known what was going to happen from the moment he took you. You knew. You knew he wouldn’t give you a happy ending, only give you a temporary release from everything. He killed your husband, it made you happy. He let you prance around in a wedding dress and pretend one last time you could do it all again. He played well with you, you had been able to push aside the dark truth of your situation for a time. But now he was standing before you, reveling in some kind of glory of it all. Did glory taste different to him? You couldn’t imagine- but was letting him kill that man no different than this? In a way, you had killed your husband, was this all some kind of long, drawn-out punishment for that? For lifelong confusion and defiance?

You hoped someone would find you when you were. Find your carcass and see, understand that you had been, still were, always being ripped open. Torn to pieces and dragged to muddy waters, you hoped they’d know you hadn’t been scared, maybe even welcomed it. Let them know this was love; in some twisted way. Love from Jungkook, or god sending him your way. You stopped believing in god a long time ago, grappled with it for so long, but you hoped he had loved you; at least once. Make the struggle worth it, prove you wrong. Or maybe it was love from yourself for closing your eyes and accepting it.

Please, let this be love. Let your body be stained with love for once.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

#bts x reader #bts imagine #yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook imagine

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teklarn · 2 years

Text

𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲'𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂 - 𝓲. 𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓲𝔂𝓪

character(s): izuku midoriya x gn!reader

a/n: lol no i didn’t get this idea listening to i bet on losing dogs i totally did not . i’m also trying to add more diversity to the characters i write for—so far it’s pretty much bakugou and deku so please please feel free to submit a request for any character from any of the anime’s listed on this masterlist !!

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 !!

summary: izuku and you can’t get away from the unwanted, unspoken feelings lingering between you two. the number one hero is about to get married to someone that’s not you, and unfortunately, you just have to be okay with that.

genre: angst

warnings: cheating (not on reader), cursing, suggestive themes, prohero!au, very brief mention of drugs (NOT EDITED.)

- - -

“that tickles,” izuku said, his voice nearly dead.

you traced the freckles on his cheeks, which numbered many. “i’m making constellations.”

“making or finding?”

“both,” you deadpanned.

the sheets covering the two of your were the only means of separation between your bare bodies.

it was always like this, after the two of you spent a few hours loving each other. you two were engulfed in three types of silences: the comfortable kind, the awkward kind, and the kind where neither of you knew you were indulging in it because you were both fast asleep in each other’s arms.

right now, it was the awkward kind of silence, which you were trying to change to the comfortable kind with a romantic act, however it was failing miserably.

although he wasn’t actively trying to pull your hands from his cheeks, his eyes were focused on you, and in moments like these, you could never tell what he was thinking.

that scared you, in a way. perhaps he was thinking of uraraka and their upcoming wedding. he’d proposed months ago. perhaps five, and the two of you started this ugly affair three months ago.

it shouldn’t scare you if he was thinking of his soon to be wife. he should be fawning over her, adoring her, cherishing her every moment.

it was hard for him to lie. not because uraraka and him worked at the same agency, but because he was izuku midoriya. the hero with a heart of gold.

the hero with a heart of gold for two lovers.

you felt disgusted with yourself whenever you saw uraraka with him. she was so happy and his eyes were dead sea green.

izuku was a gentle lover, however an unkind spouse. more than that, you felt disgusted with yourself after every encounter. you knew everything you were doing was wrong. there was no way to justify it. izuku simply wasn’t happy in his marriage and you had decided to go along with it.

it was an addiction. like shooting a drug up your veins, telling yourself it’s only a little bit. how bad could one kiss hurt someone?

the worst part was, you knew izuku didn’t love you. even worse than the worst part, however, you weren’t sure you loved him. this was for nothing, on both parts, yet you wanted him all the time. you wanted him despite not knowing if you loved him or not. it was worth nothing, and you couldn’t say you’d be lonely if you stopped your affairs.

however there was some sense of longing left in your chest after the two of you departed. depending on the night, the feeling was more aggressive than before.

some nights you were left with him on your mind until you passed into the early morning. but there were just enough nights without him plaguing your mind to make up for those ones.

there were a thousand reasons you should stop doing this. a million more stacked upon that list every night he showed up at your doorstep.

izuku pushed himself off your bed, rolling his shoulders back. he was beautiful. but no matter how many nights he stayed in your room, he would never truly be yours.

122 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Love talk - Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 10k words

Genre: fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Hello bunnies! I know you’ve been streaming Dynamite (I’m doing so as I revise and edit). I decided to postpone publishing the piece, so that we can focus on streaming and then as soon as the 24h are over and you’re well-rested you’re hopefully all ready for this 😏

Basically, I’ll do a quick recap of Yoongi and Kitten’s sliver of backstory. They’ve been dating for a couple months on again off again (he’s quite busy with schedule) and have been on several dates, however the situation escalates when the two start playing a steamy late-night after-date 20 questions game.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol. Swearing. This is smutty, especially in the end. This is intended for an adult public. Some of the themes are only discussed by the characters. Strong language, alcohol consumption, masturbation both male and female receiving, same for oral (feat. face riding). Mild voyeurism/exhibitionism, quite detailed description of sexual positions and fantasies, discussion on STDs, mentions of previous relationships and past traumas (abusive boyfriend and one very sorry fuck). Choking, breast worship, mentions of restrictions, sensation play and switch Yoongi. This should be all. Also, watch Kitten thirst for Yoongi’s hands (and tongue. and lips. and all the rest of Yoongi) for 10k words. (On a second note, watch Yoongi drool -- only metaphorically, much to his dismay -- over Kitten’s tits).

Yeah, it’s date 10 and these two haven’t kissed yet, I somehow think that Yoongi is the kind of guy who would wait till he’s dying and then just pounce. Also these two just want to jump each other’s bones and I can’t wait for you to see them in Illicit Affairs (definitely my 2nd favourite couple -- ‘cause Joon will be A Lot™)

Wordcount is around 10k.

Since I need to start planning next scenarios, I need you to help me choose the theme, you can vote at the link in my bio!

Here is my masterlist, enjoy 💜

“God, what’s with the weather tonight?”

“Man, this is a nightmare, get in quick.” The arm around your shoulder loosened a little as he let you move quickly from under his umbrella to the passenger seat of his car. As you got comfortable and tried to fix your hair and makeup a little, he walked around the car, opening the driver’s door, sliding in quickly and, with a sleight of hand, shaking the umbrella, closing it and smashing the door shut as fast as possible.

“Damn it.” He moved the soaked object at the foot of the backseat, stretching in the process with a groan.

You set with your hands pressed together, shoved innocently between your thighs.

This was your tenth date with Yoongi and you were smitten over him. Also, horny, but that’s for another moment. You’d been dating without commitment for about two months, the timing absolutely awful – he was in the middle of promotion with the group – but he had been too hung up on you to wait. He had wanted to do things properly, but after two weeks of stalking your profiles on social networks and making a fool of himself anytime you accidentally met, he decided he needed to act, and quickly so.

You went for a coffee once, then he brought you lunch, then you started with your sneaky dates at the cinema, walks at Han river late at night and dark and discreet bars dominating the rooftops of Seoul.

But the cinema was your most recurrent. You were just back from one of your dates at your go-to theatre, at two a.m, the late night show allowing him enough privacy to sneak around and protect you from any prying eyes.

He started the car and asked if you needed the AC on. “You have goosebumps on your arms.” He commented.

He is attentive. And caring. Which really makes you want to jump him. But again, digressing.

“No, thank you, Yoongi.” You replied kindly.

“Okay.” Moving out of the parking lot he started driving to your house, stopping at a couple traffic lights, looking at you as he waited. You looked back at him, smiling affectionately. He took your hand, holding it and warming it up in between his.

“Who would believe it’s September, it feels at least November out there.” You commented, feeling extremely dumb in discussing the weather, but too afraid of letting your mind delve in more mature or appropriate topics.

“Sure you’re okay?” He asked, as he placed your hand back, the lights turning green.

“Yeah.” You risked evaporation, looking at his focused expression as he drove. Could you believe he hadn’t kissed you yet? No. Could you imagine why he hadn’t done that yet? Hell, no. You had squeezed your brains trying to imagine why he hadn’t kissed you while at the same time keeping on asking you out, date after date.

The night lights reflected beautifully on his delicate features, on his cute nose and his round and soft cheekbones, on his pouty, blatantly soft, deliriously pink, wildly wanted lips, on his flashy silver watch, on his sparkly, delicate necklace, on his small and sober earrings. You wanted him. Your heart skipped a beat at the way your body and mind aligned in that statement. The pressure you felt within you was a living, beating, ravenous thing, enlarging its size like a bird puffing its feathers.

His hands on the wheel were extraordinarily pale and sturdy, skeletrical but also undoubtedly strong. You wanted them on you, grabbing and groping your flesh. And the way he seemed to chew on his lower lip, opening and closing his mouth in that gesture which is so his, as if he were tasting wine or coffee.

You didn’t even realise you had arrived at your place, since you were so caught in staring at him. “A picture will last longer, Kitten.” He teased.

You blushed, turning quickly to look out your window.

“Oh, you’re shy now...” He smirked. “Go figure, I had a proposition for you.” He commented, almost with disinterest, his mouth speaking through a fake pout, the corners of it turned downward.

“I’m curious.” You said, turning to him.

“I don’t wanna let go of you yet.” He admitted, catching your hand again. “I’ll be away for ten days. With the guys. We’re leaving tomorrow evening.” He explained. “Tonight is my last available moment with you and I know it’s two in the morning and all the rest, but I want to spend more time with you.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. “Do you mean…?” You hoped he had somehow sensed your longing. He seemed to have a direct line to your brain, reading you in a way that scared you too often.

He grinned. “I mean, whatever comes from this. Just talking. Just watching you as we talk. It’s not the same over the phone.” He said with a frown.

You nodded. “Do you wanna talk here? Would you like to come upstairs?” You asked, trying to feel the mood.

He bit his lip and laced his fingers together, placing them between his knees and hunching his back. “You see, I kinda wanted to take this to my place. But I promise you I won’t make a move. It’s really just talking.”

Please, do make a move. You silently begged – although you were too shy to actually speak.

“Yeah, nice. Okay.” You replied with a happy smile.

“It’s okay if you want to stay here. Or go upstairs. It’s just that I really wanted to see you at home.”

The tenderness of his domesticity killed that hunger rumbling in your insides and made your head float up high, with cute pink clouds and angels singing and stars glimmering.

This is a crush.

“Show me your crib, kitty cat.” You joked. He laughed adorably at that. He looked radiant.

As he started driving to his place you got back to your thirsting over him, this time openly oogling at his confident charm, at the way he looked so used to all of this. The way he lead you out of the car in the underground parking lot of the residence, the way he locked the car and punched in his passcode to the apartment.

“Here’s the crib, kitty cat.” He taunted right back.

The place looked immaculate. Spot on. Tidy. Neat. A bit cold but his. And it smelled so good. Like cinnamon and fir. Like a cosy, winter cabin. You wanted a blanket and a hot chocolate and a Christmas tree. You wanted him in an ugly turtleneck jumper and flannel sweats and furry slippers.

You wanted home.

“It feels very nice in here, Yoongi.” You couldn’t stop looking around, drinking in every small detail. You understood why he had wanted you here. He wanted to see if you could fit here.

He noticed you did.

“I got these, for you.” He said, offering you a pair of slippers, gesturing for you to take off your shoes as he did the same. He didn’t need to ask twice.

He led you through a quick tour of the house, moving quickly away from his most private places – the bedroom and the studio. You understood his reserve on those, giving his hand a quick squeeze in understanding.

“Finally, the living room.” He explained as he switched on the lights illuminating a large space with a thick cream carpet covering the cold white marble, the room completely dominated by a black leather couch. It looked very traditional and “grandpa”. It really resembled him. “Might as well settle in, we’re gonna be here for a while. Want to drink something?” He asked.

You. “What do you have in mind?” You asked, shutting up your inner slut.

“Well, I was thinking I wanted to do that ‘get-to-know-each-other’ kind of thing.” He said, opening a cabinet in the console under the gigantic tv. In the meantime ha started a slow rap playlist from his phone. “I know this will sound like usual fuckboy who’s trying to make a move, but I have no intention of getting you drunk. I’ll drink, and I promise I’ll be perfectly responsible for my actions, but you don’t have to drink or do anything you don’t want to.” He said, putting some whisky on the coffee table together with two tumblers.

However, you opened the bottle and poured some alcohol first in his glass and then in yours. “Now it’s me the one with a proposition, mr. Min.” You cocked your head playfully. “We play twenty questions. In turns we will ask twenty questions to each other. If you don’t want to answer you pass and drink.” You explained quickly.

“Okay. Let’s get it, Kitten.” He said with a smirk, as both of you sat down at the two sides of the L-shaped sofa, near the corner. “You start, ____.”

“Warm up round, yeah?” You asked.

“Play your advantage carefully.” He suggested.

You nodded, quickly leaving aside dumb and obvious questions, but still going for an innocent one. “How many exes do you have?”

“Okay, nice. Well. I’ve “officially” had three girlfriends and two flings. All the relationships ended because of my job and lifestyle.” He offered you a free piece of information. He didn’t mind anyway. “My turn?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m satisfied.” You replied. “For now.”

He grinned devilishly. “What about your exes?”

You nodded as if expecting the question. “Officially one. It was a long, painful relationship. I’ve had flings though. Maybe eight or nine occasional partners.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Okay. I really didn’t expect that but it’s cool to me.” He said. He really didn’t mind. You’re a woman in her midtwenties, and you have the freedom to do what you want with your body. “Next.”

You looked down and toyed with your fingers, then looked up with a curious smile and gleaming mischief in your eyes. “I’ve gotta ask. When was your first time?”

He smiled. “I was nineteen. I had been dating this girl for a few months. We did it on my birthday. She was two years older than me, showed me the ropes. But even if I really liked her, it all got to hell when we debuted. She was only in it for the fact that I was an idol, she wanted an in, I think. Changed her mind when she realised I was sort of a loser.”

“Well, look at that loser now.” You said, looking him up and down and licking your lip.

He laughed embarrassed.

“I won’t do that mistake.” You promised, this time with a serious expression.

“We’ll see.” He commented, looking you up and down himself. God, he was getting flirty. A pleasured shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t the cold. “My turn. When did you do it for the first time?”

Again you nodded. “I was with a childhood friend. It wasn’t a relationship. Just, we thought it was a good idea to do that together, because we knew each other and we trusted each other. It was nice. It felt nice. It was the summer after our senior year in high school. He moved out for university afterwards and we lost each other. But it’s a good memory, I must say.” You reminisced fondly. “No unrequited feelings, though.” You clarified, afraid that he would misunderstand.

“Okay. I’m glad it’s a good memory. I was afraid that the painful ex had been your first.” He commented, leaning towards you slightly.

“No, thank fuck.” You muttered. “Let’s move on, yeah?”

He nodded.

“I kinda have to ask this one, out of curiosity and for personal reasons. Have you ever been tested for STDs?”

He blinked and crossed his legs. “I have. It’s part of my medical check-ins. Of course the tests are more for... completeness, so to say, rather than actual need. My sex life is not that active, and when it is, I always use protection. I’m quite obsessed with it, to be honest.” He explained, his defensive stance opening up. He answered thoroughly, not even thinking of how much he was offering freely. “Do you mind me asking the same question?”

“Not at all. I also got tested. After my relationship I had to. My ex wasn’t very faithful.” You replied, blushing. “During all my flings I’ve always used protection except once. I was a bit dumb back then.” You admitted, wincing painfully. “And after my last one I got tested. He didn’t make me feel like a condom was safe enough. Thank God, everything is absolutely fine and I’m clean.”

“Oh, yeah, same here.” He offered back, with a shy laugh. “Ready for question three?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to ask one last question, for my peace of mind. Do you expect monogamy from me?” You asked.

“Do you?” He deflected.

You smiled “I asked you, Yoongi. Do you want me to date you exclusively?”

“Well I do. Do you? Want to date just me? I mean.” He asked.

“Yes, I will date you exclusively if you’re dating me exclusively.” You replied, matter-of-factly.

He shook his head, incredulous. “Of course I’m dating only you.” He murmured with a pout. “Why would I be seeing someone else?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“Well, I’m strictly monogamous, ____. I’m giving you my undivided attention and all my spare time. Don’t you ever doubt my commitment. I don’t cheat.” He seemed almost too serious for a moment.

“I needed to know.”

“It’s okay. But just because you got burned once, that doesn’t mean that everyone wants to burn you, okay? That’s a bastard’s move. I promise you I won’t.” He said. And for the first time you felt like believing in it.

You took a deep breath, then smiled. “Well, anyway, you already asked your question. So it’s my turn again.” You said, cheekily.

He huffed, offended, but let you go on.

“Time to start drinking, Yoongles.” You chanted in a sing-song voice.

He laughed silently. “We’ll see.”

“What’s your favourite position in bed?” You asked, trying to peek into his private life.

“Should I drink? At this? You have to seriously one-up your game, kitten.” He stared at you intently. He was desperately trying to keep a poker face to hide how much he wanted to climb over your body and hide in the crook of your neck, inhale your sweet scent, which was enhanced by the rain that had hit you earlier.

“I’m quite traditional. I like anything that allows me to see the face of my partner. So missionary, cowgirl and lotus. When I’m a bit angsty I go for doggy. Spoons is another one I like – and also an awfully underrated one. My past lovers all said that the angle is amazing. It’s very rewarding.” Again, he gave you more than what you asked for. He wanted you to know these random things about him. He was telling you everything he wanted you to know. Who cares about vulnerability and offering too much? His aim was to earn your trust. And for you to repay his prodigality in kind. He wanted you to open up and overshare things about yourself. He wanted to know what to imagine when he thought about kissing you. When he thought of you while touching himself. He wanted to understand what he could ask, what you could possibly like, what scared you, what you needed comfort in.

At this point you were imagining him behind you, a hand at your waist, the other on your breast, his low moans caressing your ear, eyes closed, lost in bliss. Snap out of it, slut. “Wide choice.” You commented with an awkward chuckle, still trying to get back from your fantasy.

“It really depends on my partner, though. Whatever works for them.” He shrugged, his arms leaning forward, palms up. “My turn, right?” He waited for your confirmation.

“Off you go.”

“What’s your most frequent fantasy?” He muttered, shy but also sultry, his voice a low rumble.

You inhaled deeply, noticing how close he had got to what you were thinking a few seconds ago. “Dammit, I might drink.” You looked at the glass, almost lunging for it. But it was a feint. ”Actually lately I’ve been thinking a lot about having sex in the kitchen.”

Fuck. He was out. He licked his lip. He almost thought you were done with your confession, but you went on.

“Being pushed up against the counter and bent over. Or being lifted up and sat on the counter. Having someone tease me while I’m spread on the table. Or having to keep a straight face while someone is toying with me underneath the table.” You scratched your cheek, “You pick.” You whispered slightly embarrassed, laying your hands on your cheekbones in an attempt to calm down your blush.

He lifted the glass. He needed to calm down.

When you noticed his gesture you sucked your lips in, trying to hide a smug grin.

“Are you proud of getting under my skin, Kitten?” He asked.

“Yes, of course.” You replied immediately.

“Well done, ____.” The way he almost moaned your name made your blood soar to your ear. “Your turn, kitty.”

“Are you more on the dominant or submissive side?” You asked. You honestly couldn’t figure this out. He showed small signs leaning towards both sides. He was traditionally courteous, giving you attention and taking care of you, paying for food and using his body language to show you were taken, that you weren’t hanging out with a friend or a relative, but a possible love interest. At the same time, he never initiated openly intimate contact, rather he waited for you to initiate. And he had never kissed you, nor shown any interest in doing so.

“I’m leaning dom. But it’s a slight preference. It has a lot to do with my partner’s preferences. I’ve both dommed and subbed in the past. I like the protective, possessive side of domming, but I also like the receiving, caring side of subbing. Still I enjoy the control that comes from being more dominant. I would say it’s 65 to 35 for domming.”

You nodded. That sounded good. “That’s nice. I’m also a bit in the middle. Leaning sub, though.” It felt natural replying. It felt like he should know.

“Thank you for giving that up.” He smiled, warming up to you, trying to associate a positive outcome to your sharing personal information about yourself. “Now, about my question.” He fumbled a bit in his head, trying to go for something intimate, but not openly sexual. “Okay, if you could kiss any part of your significant other but their face, what would it be?”

You smiled at the cute question. Because you honestly didn’t think of the sexual side of it. “Well, you said no face. Let me think... I think I really like giving hand kisses. They’re old school, but also so meaningful. They’re apparently platonic and innocent, but they have that side of worship and adoration that just makes me weak.” You hugged yourself, growing smitten at the thought.

He cocked his head to the side, looking at you with a curious and endeared expression.

“I also like kissing on the chest, like the breastbone, like the very center of the chest. Another not openly sexual spot, but I think it’s so tender. There’s the heart there, so it’s an especially fond spot. It sort of implies that the other person is hugging you, and that you’re laying your head on their chest.” You gushed, turning absolutely tender at the thought.

“What about the face?” He asked. He wanted your hand kisses. He wanted his fingers in your mouth, but that was not the point of the question at all and you were there smitten and cute and he should stop sexualising your cuteness outburst.

“Isn’t that another question?” You smirked, brow creasing.

“I should have asked for ‘anywhere but mouth’. Dumb me.” He huffed out and sulked.

“Then, forehead kisses. Underrated. Affectionate. Platonic but so tender. They go to a whole other level of intimacy.” You murmured, anything to stop his sulking, which was making your heart twist in your chest.

He grinned “Thank you.” He said, sinking his head between his shoulders.

“Well, pay up for it with question six. Thoughts on being vocal during sexy time?” You asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate one second. “Tendentially I’m not very verbal, and I try to keep it quiet. After such a long time with roommates, that’s kind of ingrained in me. Since I moved out, I kinda got more vocal, still not very verbal, but don’t expect pornographic feats.” He laughed, trying to relax the mood. “For my partner, any sound is a nice sound, as long as it’s not fake porn screaming. Subtle moaning and heavy breathing get me going quickly. Sensitive ears and stuff.” He scratched his neck. He was getting worked up again. Deep breath, boy. He scolded himself. “Anything else?”

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks. Come on, shoot it.”

“It’s my number six?”

“Yes, champ. Go get it.” You teased cheekily.

He took in a big breath, licking his lips.

God, any more lip game and you’d throw yourself at him.

“Quick reminder: you have your drink there, just in case.” He offered. “Have you ever had a sex dream?”

Yes, about you and your dirty mouth and naughty hands. Wait, do dirty daydreams count?

He misunderstood your pause for a sign of reluctance. “Your drink is there, ____, waiting for you.” He reminded you.

You took your glass.

He nodded with little movements of his head, his expression neutral. That’s how much is too much, he though.

“I’ve dreamt of a classmate performing oral on me, once during that relationship I mentioned.” You admitted after taking a sip. Indeed, liquid courage. “I felt awful when I woke up. But it was an epiphany of sorts. It really made me understand how fucked up it all was. I don’t usually have those dreams.” You admitted. “Although I have dreamt random stuff about being naked and sexual feelings related to non-sexual contexts. Like once I dreamt I was canoeing on a rough river and I had this complicated torso bondage thing going on.” You laughed awkwardly.

Breast bondage. He was salivating. Maybe he was overthinking it but his mind had reserved a special spot for your breasts and maybe you didn’t even like nipple play that much and he was just making it up in his head. He closed his eyes to avoid checking your chest. He knew it would kill him. He was already dealing with a semi, elbows propped on his knees to hide it, hoping that the angle and the dim lights would help him. In a part of his brain he started building a folder about your previous relationship, saving there all the useful information. He sort of assumed, because of the dream you had recollected, that oral was some sort of hot topic during that time.

“Thank you, Kitten. I was afraid I had gone too far.”

“It’s okay. It’s just… I do wanna open up to you, but there’s hurtful stuff in the process.” You admitted. “I’m a bit fucked up.”

“We all are, sweetheart.” He reassured you, wanting nothing but to hold your hand, bring it to his heart, to his face, to his lips.

“My turn!” You smiled excitedly. “Sleeping habits: pjs, underwear or naked?”

“My sleeping habits or my preferences for my significant other?” He asked, trying to understand the answer you expected.

“Well, since you asked, both? For the kisses question earlier.” You reminded him.

“Nice, okay. I often sleep in pjs, especially when it gets colder. Naked feels nice too, I guess. Usually in the summer. When I’m on vacation.” He thought about the other one. How would he want you to sleep next to him? “I think I like my partner in very loose clothing. Oversized t-shirt and panties.” No bra, of course. He wants his hands to move there freely. “Naked sounds nice, but I don’t expect it. Some people feel vulnerable like that. My ex did.” He explained.

You understood, people are different, et cetera, but at the same time you asked yourself who wouldn’t want to sleep naked next to him. Feel him waking up, his warm skin enveloping you, his hands and mouth having free access to anything he craved, being completely laid bare for his whims and wants.

He noticed you were distracted and asked you his question right away.

When you noticed him staring you moved your head forward, waiting for him to speak.

“I’ve already asked, but maybe you were distracted, Kitten. How would you rate your sex drive from one to ten?” He asked. “To understand your needs, you see.”

You settled back against the back of the sofa, smiling and thinking. “I’d say around seven? Maybe eight? Like, usually I fool around about two or three times a week. Maybe four if I’m feeling very spoiled and needy.” You explained, fumbling around with the words. Yeah, you have toys and use them. Yeah, you masturbate and have an healthy sex life. Getting laid helps you deal with stress and mood swings, and endorphins help you keep your mood up, what’s wrong with that?

“Reasonable.” He didn’t comment on your fooling around. He might as well try to figure that out with the next question.

“What about you?” You asked.

“Is that your question, Kitten?” He waited for your confirmation. At your lively nod, he smiled. “I think I’m also around seven. As you said, I fool around about three to four times a week, when I’m quite relaxed. Sometimes I might get too tired and just avoid it entirely. Sometimes I’m tired but nervous and just do it more often but take shorter sessions. My question now.” He wanted to speed things up a little. It was around three now and he was afraid you wanted to bail on him.

“Go.” You said, already expecting this one to be bad.

“Do you use any sex toys?”

You laughed. “Yes. I do.”

“That’s it?” He asked, impatient to know more.

“When did this conversation become so explicit?” You asked.

“It was you who started it. But since I’m interested in knowing what you like and what you need, I realised I could use it to my advantage. I want to build intimacy with you before I start actually messing with you. I want our first time to feel right. I want to be able to laugh it out, were things to get messy. I want to know how to make you lose your mind beforehand.”

“If you say so…” You smiled suspicious but also curious. “I have a vibrator. A simple, practical one. Very old school, a bullet number. I also have a double density dildo. Expensive ordeal, but most definitely worth the money. And nipple suction cups. They’re still new. It’s a gift from myself I did a few months ago after a tough time at work.”

Fuck, he wanted to shove his head in a frozen lake. Could you? For real? He dragged his hands down his face.

“I wish I could see what’s going on in your head right now.” You wondered, faking aloofness. You were most likely ready to spread yourself on the coffee table and ask him to feast on you. “Now, about my question.” You followed your intuition. “What’s the body part that turns you on the most?”

He took a sip.

Don’t leave me hanging, Yoongi, please. “I like eye contact. Makes me understand the mood of my partner. It really turns me on when my partner maintains eye contact during sex. And I’m a breasts man. A hopeless one at that.” Again he shrugged in an “I can’t help it” kind of way.

You laid your head back against the sofa, looking at him with a knowing glance from under your lashes. “Interesting.” How long would it take to convince him to rip your shirt, slip the cups of your bra under your tits and suck your nipples until you orgasmed a couple times and fell asleep?

He took another sip. He was blushing. You liked your nipples sucked. And he liked sucking them. How convenient. “What’s a blatantly nonsexual thing that turns you on?” He asked, putting down the glass.

You did consider drinking. Could you handle him knowing such a sensitive piece of information? To hell with reason. “If you cup my face I’ll go smitten. Pair that up with a term of endearment or a little praise and I’m ready to drop to my knees.” You admitted.

“Praise kink?” He asked.

“No. I just get soft when someone cups my cheek. It makes me want to please them.” You admit.

“You know I’ll use this against you the moment you allow me to, right?” He states openly.

“Yes. I don’t mind.”

“Ask your question. It’s number ten baby.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. Tell me when you want to go. I’ll understand.”

“I want to keep going.” You said. In more ways than one. “What’s something you want to try in bed?”

He stared off in the distance. “Oh. Let me think.” He started bouncing his leg. “Specifically in bed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pretty sensitive. Maybe I would try something with blindfolds and restraints and sensation play? Like a feather or silk or something along that line.” He blushed and his his eyes in his hands.

“That sounds interesting. You want to try that on someone else or on yourself?” You asked for clarification.

“Myself. But I’m not opposed to doing that to someone else. Okay, let’s go on, I’m suffering here.” Inhale. Exhale. “Do you want to take it down a notch or keep going?”

“Keep going.” You murmured, afraid of what would come next, but also excited.

“Kitten, what makes you wet in seconds?” He whispered.

“You want to use this against me too?” You suspected.

“Only in your best interests.”

“Do you mean sexual things that turn me on innocent ones?” You pushed your head behind your ear.

“Do your thing, kitten.”

“On a more innocent level, I’m really sensitive to voices. I must say that yours unsettles me a little.” You confessed on a small note, with a tiny voice. “On a sexual level, I’m a mess for anything around my chest and neck. It makes me weak at the knees, it really drives me wild.”

“Touching, kissing, biting, sucking, licking…?” He suggested, fixing his posture.

“Yes to all.” You whispered, stretching to get the glass.

“Yeah.” He took a sip himself.

You gulped and put down the tumbler. “Do you ever willingly deepen your voice?”

“Yes. I did it for you, when we met. I saw you shiver when I did it accidentally, the first time we met at the office. So I did it again. I wanted you to notice me, I wanted to get you flustered.” He admitted shyly.

You sucked you lip. “You did. I was squeezing my legs so bad. You know when you stood up and said goodbye?”

“You were holding the edge of the table.” He remembered, nodding.

“My knees were wobbly. I don’t think my legs could hold me up.” You confessed, shaking your head timidly.

“Poor Kitten.” He said, hiding his mouth behind his hand. “Can I ask you a tricky question, sweetheart?”

As you nodded he huffed out a question, scared to ask. “Oral: giving or receiving.��

“Giving. Receiving is a difficult matter. My ex didn’t really… enjoy that.” You spoke vaguely.

He did a double take. “He didn’t eat you out?”

You shook your head gingerly.

“He was shit.” He muttered, pouring himself another shot. You were eleven questions in and he’d drunk only sips. And it was not because he didn’t answer but rather because he needed to calm his nerves before he jumped you.

“I guess so.” You giggled embarrassedly.

“Never?” he asked again, shocked. “Never in 3 years?”

“Never.” You confirmed. “He said the taste made him gross.”

“Gross… And he wanted you to suck him, quite obviously.”

“I didn’t mind. I like the view”. You admitted with a playful gleam in your eyes.

He saved that for later, but at the moment he was too busy handling the matter of your ex. “Fucker.” He replied and took a sip. “But are you opposed to it?” Yoongi asked, curious and honestly worried. He would give anything to convince you to let him change your mind.

You blushed. “I’ve done it a couple times with a few flings, but just like you and noise-making, my mind is kind of set on giving rather than receiving. Still, I think I could give it a try.” You announced.

“I’m glad you’re not letting that fucker take that from you.” He admitted, keeping the glass in his hand and holding onto it like it were his sanity.

“If I’m being honest, after that time we went to the park– you remember the ice cream right?”

Yeah, he remembered. Most importantly he remembered the huge boner he’d got as he watched you eating it, his body losing it like a teenager. He nodded.

“I think I’ve started to think about… Your head. There.” You were getting loose-lipped.

You were going to make him sin. He swore under his breath, downing the shot. Again you laughed, enjoying how you were affecting him. “Gonna show you how good it is.” He teased.

“Hope you’ll show me many, many things.” You joked cheekily.

“Trust me, I’m keeping a list, sweetheart.” And the final smirk made you want to rip your own panties and offer yourself to his pink, wet tongue. “Are you okay, Kitten?” He asked, reaching for your knee.

If he touches me, I’ll fucking explode. And there was his hand. On your knee. “Have you ever had sexual fantasies about a man?” The words left your mouth quickly.

He let his fingertips caress your clothed skin. He wished you were wearing a skirt. “I consider myself attracted to people regardless of their gender identity. I had a very brief fling with a man once, but nothing truly ever happened. We just kissed a couple times, but we weren’t right for each other, emotionally. He was too reserved for me. And he was incredibly untrusting.”

“So trust is the dealbraker? Trust?” You asked, immediately interested in something that had changed his relationship so dramatically.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Okay. I understand.”

“Moving on. What are your thoughts on the last time you had sex?” He kept spurring you on, going deeper and deeper under your skin, getting closer and closer to your soul, trying to discover the very heart of you, and most importantly if he had any chance to settle there.

“Oh God.” You laughed. “It was almost eight months ago. It was traumatic.” Again you laughed.

“Is that an exasperated laugh?” He asked, worried but also interested in your ironic reaction.

“I’m laughing to hold back tears. Last time I had sex, the dude had a dick too big for his own good and didn’t know how to use it. I definitely faked the second one because he kept poking me with his fingers. I asked to change positions so I could touch myself and cum. It was awful.” You laughed some more. “When I went back home I just had to take care of myself.”

“Promise you won’t fake with me.” He almost begged. “Promise me you won’t go home and take care of yourself.”

“I can promise you the first.” You bit your lip. And drank. Don’t ask me the second, please don’t. Please.

“I’ll need the other one too, you know.” He said, pressing you in the matter.

You have no idea, Yoongi. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He murmured, frowning.

Because I did that so many times already coming home from dates with you, every time silently begging you to kiss me, to touch me, to ruin me. “I’ll try to from now on.”

“I’m sorry if I sent you home frustrated before. But I honestly needed to take my time.” He shoved his hands in his hair, combing it back. “I tend to rush. Once I let go.” He confessed exhaling loudly. He looked at you with a lustful glance. “But I promise I’ll take care of you. Completely.” He was getting flirtier.

“Quickies or long session?”

“Is that your question, kitten? Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Answer me, Yoongi.” You laid back, opening your legs just lightly. Anything to lessen the discomfort lodged in your crotch.

He looked amused. “I can do both. But long sessions for the win. The devil’s in the details and the sex is in the foreplay.” He also leaned back and parted his legs, mirroring you perfectly. “What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

“A guy I was dating on-again-off-again, before I met my ex. I was twenty. I let him go because I was starting to fall for my ex. He showed me half the stuff I like. The other half I picked up myself.”

He wanted to know more. He wanted to know what you liked, what he owed some horny teenager and what you had discovered yourself. How you had discovered it. Most importantly, he wanted to excel in everything you liked. He wanted to please you again and again, till you were drunk in bliss and his taste, your skin glistening in a gross and divine mixture of his sweat and drool and your own perspiration. He wanted messy and loud and obliterating.

He wanted…

“Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?” You asked, bold, spitting the question out of your tongue like ripping off a band aid.

He threw his head back, groaning in something that looked like pain. It wasn’t arousal. You were quite sure.

He was burgundy with shame and effort. He grabbed the glass and downed the alcohol in one go. “Yes.”

You rolled your neck and exhaled, moaning.

“Almost every day.” He went on. “I can’t get you out of my head and I need it to stop for just. One. Second.”

You gulped, then took a big breath through you mouth. “I have too. Thought of you, that is.”

“I assumed so.” He whispered. “I’ve thought of things I’m not proud of, Kitten. I’m a grown, respectful man, but you’ve made such a sorry mess of me.”

“I am so sorry, Yoongi.” No, you’re not.

“You’re truly sadistic, aren’t you?” He asks.

“Is that your question?”

“No.” He pauses. “What’s your favourite body part on yourself and on me?”

Your heartbeat felt like a joke. You closed your legs. No need to try and play it cool. You were drenched, and you were afraid that by now it was actually starting to show. “I think I like my hands? Or maybe… I don’t really know. I think my hands are nice.”

“They are beautiful, ____, really.” So were your tits, but it didn’t feel quite right to point that out in that precise moments.

“Thank you.” You took a long break, biting your lip before going on with your answer. “On you... I’ve been thinking about those hands a lot”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You deadpanned. The background music shifted to something sultry and so slow you felt like desire was spiraling in your loins with that cool, rich drawl.

“What about them?” He continued.

You took a sip of your drink, looking at him from under your lashes. “Around my throat.”

Yoongi sat back, undoing one button of his shirt. “Keep going.”

“One around my throat, the other in my hair as you kiss me, drawing me in. Keeping me still.”

“Keep going.” He said, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders.

“Maybe I’ve been thinking of your hand on my chest. Your fingers pinching my nipples.”

“God bless you, Kitten. What else did my naughty hands do in those dreams of yours.”

Your voice got breathy and shy. “Maybe… Just maybe they got between my legs.”

“And how did that make you feel.” He was going to lose it.

“Horny.”

His heavy breathing stopped for a second. “Did you touch yourself?” His eyes opened to look at your reaction.

You nodded slowly, trying to get some saliva in your awfully dry mouth. The whisky helped. “I needed it.”

“Good girl.” He praised your honesty, again trying to work on that association between your openness and a positive outcome. He thought it was over. Your confession.

“But to be honest what really made me cum was thinking of your pretty pout on my breasts, licking my tits and biting into the soft skin there.”

He growled, pushing the balls of his hands against his eyes. “Kitten, I think I just came in my pants.”

You laughed wildly at his honesty, rolling your head back and teasing him, showing the expanse of your neck and chest.

“Cruel, ain’t you?”

“I’m also sweet.”

“I don’t care, I’ll lick you up anyway.” He teased downing his glass. His second.

You both did a refill. You were tipsy and his eyes had a gleam that wasn’t there at the beginning of the evening.

“You won’t be able to drive me home.” You murmured.

“Do you really want me to?” He asked.

“No.” You answered.

“Remember, I promised not to fuck you tonight, Kitten.” He reminded you.

“Not even foreplay?” You pouted. “Not even making out? A small peck on the lips?”

“I’m hungry for you. That shit just ain’t it.” He growled. You knew he had deepened his voice for you.

You crossed your legs. “Do you like massage?”

“What number is that?” He asked, referring to how many questions you’ve gone through.

“Fifteen. Do you?” You pressed him, trying to get him to talk.

“I mentioned being sensitive. I do like that when I’m in a stressed mood. I like it after a warm bath, with warm lotion or massage oil. It really makes me weak. An ex introduced me to it and I think I got a bit addicted to it, whenever I feel like I need to be taken care of.”

“It sounds nice.” It felt like a nice pause from the kinkfest that had been going on until five minutes ago.

“Have you ever cried while you were in bed with someone?” He asked, his voice delicate as he reached for another intimate, although innocent side of you.

“The first time I hooked up after my ex. It was so liberating I cried. The guy beside me freaked out a little, but he understood. He was kind, just very emotionally dumb, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that. It sounds like he scarred you so much.” Yoongi commented, his boiling desire subduing at your vulnerable, tender side. A silly, egotistic part of him wanted to heal you. Try as hard as he might.

“It’s cool.” Your mouth quirked to the side. “Let’s move on to brighter themes, yeah? What’s your favourite thing to do, sexually speaking?”

He looked at you with doubt in his eyes. You knew the past scars conversation wasn’t over. Still, he smiled bright and replied. “I want to suck your nipples. Bite your soft, round tits, leave hickies all over them.” He leaned over, feeling bold as he let his hand catch yours. He scooted closer to you, his voice so deep he sounded like Hades, god of the Underworld. “That’s one of my favourite things in bed. And not just there, honestly.”

Could a person die from arousal? Because you felt your heart burst at that moment, explode like a match and light up your bonfire body. “Yoongi.” You murmured as he let the back of his fingers travel along the outer side of your thigh in a phantom touch.

“You wanna know what else I really, really like doing in bed? Another fantasy of mine?” He asked, his tone patronising but his posture all the opposite, respectful and tender, like a man talking to his woman. He leaned down, close to your ear. “I want you to sit on my face, Kitten. I wanna lick you up like you’re dripping in cream. I want my face covered in jour taste. I want to choke between your legs. Will you give me that?” He asked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Will you give me that, Kitten?”

You had gone completely still, afraid that even your smallest move could break the spell. “Take it now, please, Yoongi.” You begged. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m so wet. I’m so tired of needing you all the time!” You whined, grabbing his hand and placing it between your clothed thighs, where your wetness had started to diffuse.

“I can’t, Kitten. You know our promises. But what about my question, uh? Have you ever had a threesome, sweetheart?”

“Once. After leaving my ex I had some wild times. A couple of university friends asked me to join them. I sort of liked it.” You admitted, as your hips tried to grind against his barely-there fingers.

“Liked doing it with a girl?” He asked, gripping your thigh and pressing you down, stopping your attempt at release.

“I liked eating her out.”

“Kitty girl likes using her tongue. Good for her.” He murmured, trying to stop the image of you doing that. He needed to try. Needed to see. Fuck monogamy, he could try this before you became too his to share.

By now he was sitting at your side and you were doing everything, everything in your power to stop yourself from straddling his lap and shoving his head between your breasts. You took your glass and took a sip, his nose drawing a thin line following the outline of your throat while swallowing. You almost choked. “What’s your favorite part of sex?”

“Foreplay. But it was already clear, wasn’t it?” He taunted. “You need to focus, Kitten. Ask the right questions. Mirror sex?” He queried.

“Yes.” You replied. Alcohol spurred you on. “Honestly, I want to try giving a man a hand job while stading behind him, in front of a mirror. I’d like to feel the power of that.” You shrugged.

“That sounds nice.” He played it cool, the erection in his trousers now too blatant to even bother covering.

You almost wanted to ask him if he had a full-length mirror nearby so you could get started right there and then. But you didn’t like how cool and unaffected he seemed. You wanted him to get flustered and drink and undo another button. You wanted him to throw his head back so you could lick a stripe up his neck. “And I would whisper dirty stuff in your ear. Don’t think I didn’t notice how flustered you were during our gallery visit.”

“Darling, that was an exercise in restraint. I almost smashed you against the closest painting at least three times.”

“Only three times?” You lifted your eyebrows dramatically.

“I’m almost offended, Min Yoongi.”

“Careful there, Kitten.” He warned.

“Unless?” You provoked him.

“I’ve promised I won’t fuck you tonight.” He murmured.

“Such a coquettish tease you are.” You huffed, looking away.

“I want you to ruin me, Kitten. We can’t do that until promotion is over and you can leave marks all over me as much as you want.” His deepened voice made you squirm on your seat, legs crossing in desperate need to ease the pulsing under your panties.

“It’s almost four a.m. Are you sure you want to finish this?”

I want you to finish me. “Question...”

“Eighteen, babe.”

“Mh, nice. If your partner ever caught you touching yourself, would you keep going?”

“Depends, but yeah, I think so.” Pause. “I would put up a nice show for you.” He palmed his erection through the fabric, trying to get more comfortable.

Yes, you noticed. No, you did not comment. Self combustion is not your current goal, after all. “That’s all you’re gonna offer me?” You asked piqued, dragging your fingernail from his knee to his hipbone slowly. He didn’t manage to hold back a shiver.

You chuckled lowly. “Sensitive little thing.”

“My turn, little devil. What of masturbating while dirty talking?” He asked, his arm moving behind your back and climbing up, snaking around your shoulder, his hand grabbing your chin to shift your gaze from his lap to his face.

“Want to know a secret, baby?” You lured him in, carefully.

“Everything.”

“I’ve touched myself while listening to you.” You whispered at his ear, goosebumps raising everywhere, his whole body growing too sensitive as your hand moved to his inner thigh.

“Really?” Yoongi asks, trying to push his crotch in your palm.

You retreated your hand, offering only the tip of your index finger, which started lazily tracing the outline of his hard on. “I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”

He winced. He would really come in his pants like a teenager. Was your question about your hand or about using his voice to get yourself off? He didn’t mind, both. “I’m perfectly good with it, Kitten. I’m just surprised. What was I talking about.” His voice was neutral, but his eyes were closing, mouth hanging open.

You neared your mouth to his ear and started explaining. “It was a voice note. You were discussing a beat, describing the vibe of the piece you had just finished, murmuring stuff about the bass and not being sure of the tempo, maybe slowing it down.”

“And you came to that?” He asked, opening his eyes and meeting yours.

You were stroking him through his clothes and you hadn’t even kissed him yet. I told you. A slut. That’s what you are. You reprimanded yourself. “I came to the sound of your voice. The pattern of stresses. It was so relaxing. The way your voice resonated.” You kissed his jaw, taking courage.

He smiled. “Next time I’ll send you something more... stimulating, then.” He cocked his head to the side, showing you the soft skin below his chin.

You kissed there too. “I’ll look forward to it.” Another kiss. “Final question.” Another. “if you could do anything to me right now, what would you do?” You placed another kiss on his neck as he moaned, his hips moving shamelessly.

You offered him your palm.

He groaned when he started answering. “Tear your clothes off. Suck your panties clean ‘cause they must be soaked.”

You squeezed your hand around his shape. He was rock hard, the curve following the waistband of his pants. He didn’t feel excessively big, but still his thickness felt nice on your palm. You just wished you could see him naked. He emitted a low whine, his hand dropping from your chin and hitting your chest. “Keep going, Yoongi.” You encouraged him, needing to know what he wanted to do to you.

“I would lick you clean. Fuck you on the sofa, you on top of me. Riding me while I suck on those gorgeous tits.” His hand reached lower, holding your breast and rolling it expertly in his gentle grip. “I’d cum in your cunt while I’m balls deep inside you. And when we’re done I would fuck my cum back inside with my tongue.” He growled like a vicious beast and you just couldn’t help it, you needed your hand between your thighs. You obeyed to your need.

“You’re a filthy, greedy boy, Yoongi, aren’t you?” You asked, giving him more, rewarding for the glorious image he’d just gifted you.

“It’s with you. Just you.” He called out, his voice broken, his mouth desperate. “My final question. Why haven’t you kissed my lips yet?”

“I was waiting for you.” You murmured, bringing your lips upwards, against his throat. He was completely immobilised as you lingered a hairsbreadth from his plush pout. “Yes?”

“Yes.” He whispered.

That’s when you lowered yourself on him, once hopeless, starved and now finally hopeful and nourished.

He feeded you milk and honey, his assault sweet and rich, a balm to your tarnished soul. His lips latched onto your lower lip, sucking and sucking in a way that made you want to offer him every inch of your body. Yes, you would still wait for this. You would keep waiting. For this moment to come back, for this feeling to bloom and fill you over and over again, anytime he kissed you, from now to the rest of eternity. You murmured his name on his mouth and he spoke yours, with alarm over his features.

“Too much, too much, Kitten, please.” He whispered, pressing harder against your hand. “Want you. Please. Touch yourself. I wanna cum with you.”

He was lost and desperate, grinding against you like a fool.

You undid your zipper and put your hands on your sodden folds. You delivered a peck on his lips. “How close?” You asked.

“Very.” He replied, wetting your lips with the tip of his tongue, making you open your mouth and licking you up, flirting with your own tongue.

You pulled away to bite his jaw gently. “I’ve never been this wet, Yoongi. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gimme...” You studied the geography of his lap, finding his tip and focusing there. “Yes.” He murmured, before intensifying his pushes. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please, ____, let me hear you.”

You let out an embarrassed, tentative whine, then, trying to properly assist him, you started getting carried away, losing your damper, clenching your inner muscles and whispering his name. “Yoongi, I’m close.” You murmured. “Need you to…”

“Yes, Kitten, baby, please… I–” With a groan, he hid his head in the crook of your neck, biting on the skin, not too harshly.

It was all it took. “Yoongi!” You screamed, pushing into your own hand and collapsing against the back of the couch, dragging him with you.

When you regained conscience, he was already out of his high, looking flustered and sleepy and glowing. Beautiful.

“Can I?” He uttered quietly.

You nodded, barely coherent.

He helped your hand out of your waistband, careful not to stain your clothes. And granting you a fine view, he brought your hands to his mouth and licked them clean.

His tongue delved into every angle and plane, making sure he got every drop. Licking his lips, he stared into your soul and murmured deeply. “The fucking sweetest.”

And then he held you close. “There’s a spare bathroom, at the end of the hall. It has everything you need.” He explained. “I’ll get cleaned myself. Will you sleep in my bed?” He asked, his voice so vulnerable it shattered your heart.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bangtan smut #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi one shot #yoongi reaction

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bitchesgetriches · 4 years

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Noble citizens of the aspirationally decadent Conglomerated Nation of Bitches Get Riches: let’s have a lil’ chat, shall we? It’s been a while since we chatted about our favorite topic: ourselves!

We hope you’ve enjoyed season two of the Bitches Get Riches podcast. Recording it was a bright spot for us during this dumpster fire of a year, so thank you all for listening.

As we wrap up another season, we had a few notes to share with you. Including some more personal reflections about how we’re doing, where we’re at, and what the future holds.

Let’s get into it!

Merch is back online

If you visited our Etsy shop in the last few months, you might’ve noticed the physical merch—tee shirts and coffee mugs and tote bags and such—wasn’t listed anymore. Basically, when lockdowns started, it caused a lot of disruption and delays on orders. Not wanting people to be stuck waiting for stuff, we decided to take it all offline, and only offer digital merch.

As of today, we’ve reactivated everything! But please keep in mind that there may still be delays, depending on what’s happening in the world! We appreciate your patience, if patience is indeed called for.

Visit Our Etsy Shop

Season one transcripts

Next, we wanted to let you guys know that we now have transcripts available for season one of the Bitches Get Riches podcast!

We’re committed to making BGR as accessible as we possibly can. We know that some people can’t hear, or struggle to absorb information aurally, so transcripts were something we’ve always wanted to offer.

… But, you know, at the end of the day, we’re just two people! Transcribing and editing audio is time- and labor-intensive work, and there just aren’t enough hours in the day for us to do it along with the fifteen million other things we have to do.

We were able to offer season one transcripts thanks entirely to A Purple Life, a peerlessly talented and wonderful fellow blogger who selflessly made it happen. (If you don’t already read her stuff, you’ve already disobeyed us, as we commanded you to in 10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now. And for that, we’re strongly considering smiting you.)

We’re incredibly thankful to Purple for her hard work on this. But we also feel strongly that this DESERVES to be paid work! So the release of season two transcripts is dependent on getting more Patreon donors to offset funding it.

Season 1, Episode 1: “Should I Tell My Boss I’m Looking for Another Job?”

Season 1, Episode 2: “How Should I Behave on My First Day at Work?”

Season 1, Episode 3: “My Parents Have Bad Credit. Should I Help by Co-signing Their Mortgage?”

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Season 1, Episode 5: “I Don’t Love My Job, but It Pays Well. Should I Quit—or Tough It Out?”

Season 1, Episode 6: “I Lent My Boyfriend Money. He Took It to a Casino.”

Season 1, Episode 7: “I’m Terrible at Budgeting. Do I Suck It Up—Or Is There Another Way?”

Season 1, Episode 8: “My Mother Demands Information About My One-Night Stands.”

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

Season 1, Episode 10: “I Want a Pedigreed Dog. She Wants a Rescue Mutt. It Turned into a Fight… and the Fight Got Ugly.”

Season 1, Episode 11: “I Feel Cornered by a Friend Who Keeps Asking to Borrow Money.”

Season 1, Episode 12: “Should I Believe the Fear-Mongering about Another Recession?”

Bonus Episode: Merry Bitchmas! The 2019 Star-Studded Holiday Spectacular

For transcripts, scroll to the bottom of each episode and click “episode transcript.” Or read them directly in the podcast player of your choice!

Podcast reviews

We also super wanted to thank all the people who’ve etched their names in blood upon the dusty pages of our dark grimoire written reviews for the show on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, and other places!

We are beyond flattered by the kind things you guys have said about us. Like MoonPetalLily, who described us as “the snarky older sisters [they] wish [they] had.”

FunshineKelly said our “advice helped [them] land a $20k raise and a signing bonus without crying even a little bit.” GOOD! We don’t support tears in the workplace! Not even in the sanctity of your car parked way in the corner of the parking lot. Keep it together!

And God bless MelHubbs, who said, and I quote:

They’re prepared, and still relaxed; informative, and still light-hearted; comforting, and still sexual. It’s everything you could ever want in a podcast, in an internet personality, in your sisters-in-arms against the terrible war between capitalism and what humans actually need to survive & thrive. One of my favorite things about them is that they don’t have any corporate sponsors or ads, so you know what they’re saying is what they mean, not what their advertisers want them to say. If you’re able, support them on Patreon! If you’re not, listen to their podcast, take their advice to heart, reflect on your options, make your moves, then, with your newfound financial independence, become a patreon!

MelHubbs, you joyful sonnet!

Your review is so good that it reads suspiciously like something we paid you to write! But we’re too cheap for that—IT REAL!

Bitches Get Riches at the crossroads

All right. Time to level with you guys.

In keeping with 2020’s overarching theme (“everything is pure shit”), this year has become a real “shit or get off the pot” moment for the two of us.

Although I’m comfortable and doing fine, Piggy is still unemployed. And last week she received the last unemployment check she’s entitled to. It sucks. And it’s scary.

Being a partnership is awesome in almost every way. But one way that it sucks is that we have to earn double the amount of money to be truly profitable! (And no, before you ask, it’s not possible for us to only pay Piggy. Believe me, that was our original plan—but it turns out that’s not allowed in a 50/50 legal partnership. We must pay ourselves equally, or Uncle Sam will spank us. And he doesn’t do it in the sexy way—only the traumatic way!)

Piggy is doing okay for now. She has freelancing work, and an intact emergency fund. But understandably, anxiety and worry take their toll. She’s pushing through it, but it’s hard. Creativity and passion can’t thrive for long without some measure of safety and stability.

During these scary times, our Patreon community has been a lifeline. As more and more of you have joined us, it’s slowly crept up from grocery money to grocery and utility bill money! So thank you, thank you, from the bottom of our hearts thank you to those who’ve stepped up and joined.

But we’re kind of at a crossroads. Because of Piggy’s situation, we really need it to become “paying the mortgage” money. And it’s gotta get there pretty fast. Otherwise, it’s just not fair to ask Piggy to invest so much of her time in Bitches Get Riches, when she could be taking on higher paying freelancing work to keep herself afloat.

And trust me, you do not want a BGR that’s too Kitty-heavy. I am longwinded af, slowly losing my abilities to think and spell, and take every possible detour to inject disgusting sexual comments wherever they are least germane (although idk maybe you’re here for that).

Our new goal for ourselves, and you

With all of that in mind, we have a new goal: to produce season three of our podcast, we need 500 total Patreon donors.

Today we have… 294. So that’s, uhhhhh… a really ambitious goal!

It’s probably too ambitious. We’re probably gonna fail. Who cares, it’s 2020! The planet is on fire and god is already dead, so we have no reason not to give it our all!

We are leaving this in your hands. We—Piggy and I—believe that the world would be a better place if people could hear reliable, relatable financial wisdom funded by regular people, untainted by corporate sponsors with deep pockets who want us to push their capitalist crap upon you. And 294 of you have already demonstrated that you believe that too. Thank you, thank you, infinity thank yous to all of you who are already a part of our Patreon community. You are shining stars that smell faintly of vanilla.

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#etsy #merch #bitches get riches #patreon #donations #personal finance #financial advice #money #adulting #money advice #advice #adulting advice

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castlevania-afterdark-imagines · 4 years

Text

Christmas Special: Characters spending Christmas with their S/O

HAPPY HOE-LIDAYS!!!

Christmas morning is happening all around the world, but no matter what you do or don’t celebrate, or how you do or don’t celebrate it, we here at Afterdark hope y’all have a wonderful time!

The holidays are hard (pun not intended), but please know that if you’ve ever enjoyed a post on this blog, we love you, we appreciate you, and wish you all the best in the world.

Here’s your present!

Trevor

AINT NO CHRISTMAS LIKE A BELMONT FAMILY CHRISTMAS!

Lights, food, music, more lights!

His whole extended family gets together for this, so expect to be dragged along to many many events throughout the month.

No pressure about the gift buying though, they're all very practical people and contributing to the food pile is a perfectly acceptable offering.

You never would have guessed the size if his personal ugly sweater hoard.

And you are less surprised to find his mistletoe belt buckle.

It's not so much he gets jolly as he and his family honor the traditional route of drinking and feasting.

He's very shy about his few gifts he gets you though, when you both get to have Christmas Day to yourselves.

He gets a few necessities, like the soaps you like and socks to replace all the holey ones he tossed behind your back. (The man can have holey underwear but is weirdly specific about socks being intact)

But among them he'll get a cheesy sentimental thing, like a locket his nan thought you'd like or a card with a better poem than he has any right to be able to write.

With the rest of the month having been crazy, this day he wants to spend with you, in pjs, nibbling on leftovers and watching movies.

Begs you not to get sexy santa lingerie because he really doesn't need to be reminded of his family while fucking you that night.

Adrian

He can enjoy the sentimentality of the season, but you can see him roll his eyes at gaudy Christmas displays.

He sees mistletoe in doorways less as an opportunity for a grand romantic gesture and more of a game.

How many seconds does it take him to go from noticing to smooching your face?

You have the suspicion he might also be so quick about it because he wants to make sure there's no window of opportunity for anyone else to come in.

He offers to spend the holiday with your family if you prefer, his parents aren't sticklers about the exact day you visit.

He uses the cold weather as an excuse to be ten times more cuddly than normal. Obviously he just doesn't want you to catch a cold. Obviously…

Kid damn near forgets to buy gifts.

He's just so used to getting things as you need them he forgot to actually hold anything back to the holiday.

He does get cheeky with them though, adding things like "Christmas Edition" naughty dice next to your favorite candy.

Hey, the point of the holidays is to have fun, right?

Sypha

Caroling, caroling, caroling- Sypha it is literally December 1st.

Expect there to be music playing through the house 24/7 of a wide range of genres.

While her family has always spent extra care to teach each other about the variety of celebrations during the winter months they would settle on Christmas as the day to actually get together. Work schedules and all.

Has much more fun with Christmas activities than gifts or food. Sledding, building snowmen, watching movies, quality time is huge for her.

Her family has such a variety of ways to spend the holiday she has to ask you exactly what your family might expect of her if you visit.

Very much a getter of "us" gifts. Fancy coffee for us to try, a new toaster for us to use, spa passes for us to go to tomorrow.

When things boil down she's a bit glum, knowing most people will go back to being less kind without the holidays and a looming hint to be nice.

But she can't stay sad for long with you to be with her until next Christmas.

Hector

December always sneaks up on him, you can tell by the eye rolling when he hears the music in the stores change overnight.

Not digging the cold much, but he will risk freezing to avoid the gaudy Xmas sweaters.

Snowflakes are fine, he draws the line at lights and tinsel.

You can tell he gets a little salty about a lot of people only acting nice during this month but he can't stay sour when he sees you glow under the lights strung up between street lights.

Spends extra time at the animal shelters, helping them bring critters in from the cold and he donates all the blankets and pillows he can grab from second hand stores.

He's not a huge gift giver, but if there's something specific you've been eyeing he'll go out of his way to make sure you don't get it for yourself.

Is the YouTube boyfriend who gets you the puppy/kitten you've been looking at online, minus actually filming it.

He also loves making a big Christmas Eve meal, even if it's just the two of you, and then having delicious leftovers for days after.

Isaac

Probably the one who needs the most persuading to be…"jolly".

No Christmas sweaters, no Christmas music, any carolers are getting a door shut in their face.

He finds it the biggest spit in the face for people to think being jolly for 25 days undoes all of the cruelties of the world.

But you discover he has a soft spot for decorations, especially the lights.

He likes the handcrafted ornaments and the reflection of people's personalities in how they arrange their homes.

But of course he won't discourage you from enjoying the season, he just has trouble doing it himself.

When it comes to gifts he's very simple, minimal wrapping, but he does make a little game of it.

Why put everything under a tree when you can find small tokens of his affection by the coffee mugs, on your nightstand, maybe in the pantry?

He cuts off the baking early in the month though once he notices the slightest tightness to his belt.

He can't say no to your cooking, clearly this isn't his fault!

Dracula

Is he a scrooge? Not… exactly.

He gets testy about the hypocrisy of a celebrity holiday turned commercial and the religious overtones and the worst version of "Santa Baby" to be released in his lifetime which he always thought was a garbage song in the first place-

But for you he can suck it up.

He always gets confused at how people with wish him a Merry Christmas for things like holding doors during December, even though he does that year round.

To be honest he'll follow your leads, not carrying many traditions with him.

You like big family gatherings? Sure, he can bring the roast beef or honey ham for the crowd. You want to hide away and drink peppermint schnapps in hot chocolate watching horror movies? Strange approach but whatever makes you happy.

He won't buy a ton of gifts, but the one thing he has a weakness for is holiday lingerie. It is perhaps the one thing he could argue that pays tribute to the original holiday practices, fucking.

It's gaudy and can be ripped apart easily but replacing it is what next Christmas is for.

Lisa

You can guess by the boxes upon boxes labeled "XMAS" living in the attic that there's some serious decorating that's gonna happen December 1st.

Lights everywhere, giving a little ray of hope and magic. At least that's how she will describe the effect she wants her elaborate display to have.

No religious symbols, since she wants the feelings of goodwill to be broader in scope.

She'll drag you outside to browse other people's displays, squeezing your hand and pulling you close and she gets lost in the glittering lights.

She doesn't push much for the family get togethers, she likes to keep things intimate and personal with you.

Movies, going ice skating, just taking the time to appreciate being together.

Which means she's a hell of an accurate gift giver, always finding the exact thing you need without you having to ask for it.

She also does a loooot of baking. She does donate a lot of it, and will give it to carolers if they come by, but you might need to step in to tell her that you have no more room in the fridge or pantry for all of the goodies.

Godbrand

The whole of December was quiet...too quiet.

Sure he was up to his usual hijinks, but not really feeding into the holiday theme.

Aside from the stash of eggnog in the fridge and gigantic bottle of rum to go with it.

You would've thought he'd completely ignored the tree aside from a few baubles that got rearranged.

Then Christmas Eve rolls around and he's full ugly sweater, glitter and lights in his beard, sack of gifts over his shoulder, "Ho ho ho Merry FUCKING Christmas!"

Apparently he doesn't think much of wasting the whole month being half assed when he can go balls to the walls in one night.

Spoils the fuck out of any kids in either of your families.

Once your home alone, expect the whole ribbon on his dick, sexy Santa ready to "cum down your chimney" bit.

Is it gaudy and ridiculous as fuck? Yes.

But he'd rather be over the top for you than make you think he just hadn't cared at all.

-Mod Soviet

#trevor belmont #adrian tepes #Sypha Belnades #Vlad Dracula Tepes #Hector #isaac #Godbrand #Lisa Tepes #gender neutral reader #mod soviet #modern au #holiday imagines #winter holidays #imagines #Castlevania

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yoon-kooks · 5 years

Text

Glass Slipper

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The moment Jimin knocks on your studio door and asks you to participate in his little “survey”, you know he’s up to his usual shenanigans. But why not play along and make things interesting?

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: this is the sfw prequel to a slightly smuttier jimin drabble, Pick Me Up (find it on my drabble masterlist)! feel free to read them in any order or on their own!

You’ve been working as a songwriter at BigHit for exactly one month now, and you’ve already made an enemy: Park Jimin.

You don’t hate him or anything. But he has this terrible habit of distracting you, especially while you’re working. Sometimes he’ll just poke his head into your studio to say hi, other times he’ll ask to hear what song you’re working on. That’s cute and all, but what really irks you is when he comes up with bizarre excuses just to bother you.

Needless to say, he’s a cute but dangerous distraction. And he must be stopped at all costs.

As soon as you hear his signature knock on the door, your mind starts to make a list of the craziest excuses Park Jimin might have this time. Perhaps he’s gonna check your studio again for his nonexistent ugly Christmas sweater for the third time this week.

“Yes?” You swing your door open to a handsome boy with a clipboard in his hands. “What do you want, Jimothy?”

“Do you have time to take a quick survey?” He pulls out a bag of what looks like excess Bangtan merch. “If you participate, you get a free prize.”

“How long is it gonna take?” You narrow your eyes.

“Five minutes.” You doubt it. The last time he said five minutes, he stayed for an hour.

“What’s it about?”

“A company party. We wanna know everyone’s preference about food and stuff.” Halloween is around the corner, so maybe there is a legit party being planned. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t suspicious of the boy conducting the so-called survey.

“I might not even be able to attend if I don’t get caught up on work first.”

“I’ll help you finish your work.”

“No you won’t,” you scoff, half joking and half serious.

“Just take the survey in case you can make the party!”

“Fine! And you better leave as soon as I answer the last question!”

“Fine!” Jimin laughs over your banter before getting back into character of a professional survey conductor. “First question, are you single?”

“Seriously, Jimothy?” you groan, ready to slam the door on his face.

“We need to know if you’re bringing a plus-one or not, so we can figure out how much food to order.”

“I’m single…”

“I figured,” Jimin nods as he writes it down on his clipboard.

“You know, you’re a shitty human being.”

“Second question,” he ignores your comment, “Beverage of choice?”

“Coffee.” As soon as you respond, a light bulb goes off in your head. Rather than answering honestly, maybe you’ll skew the results with some obscure answers to give Jimin a taste of his own medicine. That’ll show him.

“Third question: favorite fancy food?”

“Avocado.”

“I said fancy.”

“Guacamole.”

Jimin gives you The Look. You blink back as innocently as possible.

“Fourth question: favorite fun activity?”

“Hmm…” You try to come up with something he despises. Maybe something that’ll scare the shit out of him. “Ooh, a haunted house?”

“Are you sure? Haunted houses are kinda boring.” He waits for you to change your mind. But you don’t feel like it.

“I’m sure.”

“Fifth question: car or limo?”

“Pumpkin carriage,” you say, “like the one in Snow White.”

“You mean Cinderella, you uncultured swine,” he corrects you.

“Same thing.”

“And final question: when’s a good day and time for the party?”

“Based on my work schedule and all the shit I have to catch up on thanks to your little survey, I’ll be free at exactly 3AM tonight.” You wish you were joking, but you really do have a lot of work to do before you can leave your studio.

“Okay.” Jimin finishes writing up your answers on the clipboard, hands you your “prize” (a vintage keychain with an orange-haired Jimin on it), and waves farewell. “I’ll see you at 3.”

You wave back, just thankful he kept his promise of leaving as soon as the survey was over.

Once your studio door closes all the way, it finally hits you. This is a date. This is not a drill. This is a date. With the enemy of all people.

By the time 3AM comes around, you’ve just finished composing a rough demo of a potential track for Bangtan’s next album. You plan to tidy it up and edit it some more in the morning, but for now you wait for your supposed date.

Knock! When you open your door, you’re greeted by a cute little food cart decorated as a pumpkin. Pushing the cart into your studio is, of course, your enemy.

“Oh look, it’s a pumpkin carriage I made just for you,” Jimin says, shamelessly fishing for a compliment.

“Who are you? My fairy godmother?”

“Just say it’s cute!”

“It’s cute.”

The first thing pulled out from the cart is a cup of coffee with your name on it.

“Did you know Cinderella Lattes are a thing?” he asks, pulling out another coffee for himself. “It’s supposed to be half pumpkin spice, half white mocha.”

You take a sip. Not to be basic, but you do love your pumpkin spice lattes and white mochas. So, like a glass slipper, the Cinderella Latte is a perfect fit for you, especially given the theme of this fine autumn night.

Next comes the guacamole in a huge ass bowl. It looks awfully fresh and green for something that would’ve needed to be picked up from a restaurant hours ago before closing time.

“Is it homemade?” You dip an accompanying chip into the guac. It’s delicious and definitely homemade. Chipotle is shaking. “Not bad, Jimothy.”

He nods, “I had to go all out for your party.”

“What exactly are we celebrating at 3AM anyway?” You know it’s more of a date, but you wonder if there’s a special occasion. A boy doesn’t just go out of his way to make five pounds of guacamole for fun.

“You really don't know, Y/N?” Jimin chuckles. “It’s for your one-month anniversary since you started working at BigHit.”

You were aware of the one-month thing. But what you didn’t know was that it was worth celebrating, or that Jimin was keeping track.

“Do you throw parties like this for everyone?” You’re genuinely curious because Jimin does seem like the type to shower others with love.

He shakes his head, “Just for you.” You don’t even know how to react. No one’s ever done something so sweet just for you. “And besides, you’ve been really stressed and tired out lately from work. I thought this could be kind of like a pick-me-up to keep you going.”

“I’ve been stressed and falling behind in work because you’re always distracting me!” you laugh, fake-scolding him. “You make it hard for me to stay focused.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m so handsome and charming that I’ve consumed your mind.”

“I never said that you were handsome or charming.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Whatever, Jimothy.”

“Why do you always call me Jimothy?”

“Because you’re annoying.” That’s a lie. You do it to tease him. It's your subtle way of expressing affection towards the boy. Because unlike him, you have a harder time letting go and showing that side of yourself.

“I literally made you guacamole and this is how you repay me. Ungrateful.” He makes a cute little hmph sound. “I guess you don’t want to go into the haunted house I set up for you.”

Your ears perk up. You completely forgot about the haunted house. “Wait, I wanna see the haunted house.”

“Fine then, come.” The boy holds out his hand, and you take it.

You suppose Jimin’s never been in an actual haunted house before. Otherwise his idea of a scary haunted house wouldn’t just be a hallway with the lights turned out.

“I know you put a lot of effort into this haunted house by turning off the lights and all, but this ain’t it,” you say, still holding onto the boy’s hand. It’s warm.

“Well you’re a hard one to please, aren’t you?” He pulls you a little closer.

“No, actually I’m not.” You shake your head even though it’s too dark to see. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m quite pleased whenever you come visit me, with or without the guac. I really do appreciate the gesture, you know. Not just tonight. Always.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.” You don’t need night-vision goggles to know he’s smirking and proud of what he’s accomplished tonight—getting you to laugh and admit you enjoy his company. He might even have one more thing on his bucket list—a kiss—but he’ll have to wait a little longer for that and so much more.

For now, calling him Jimothy will have to suffice.

“Thank you, Jimothy.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #bts imagines #btsboulangerie #jimin fanfic #bts fluff #jimin #bts #bangtan #glass slipper

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

Text

Under Thumb

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Hero! Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

✂ Word Count: 749

✂ Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, toxic relationship, reader being a bit of a whore, yandere theme.

[Edited]

***

I don't know why, but I just love this kind of MC. Honestly.

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“I've earned through hope and faith the curves around your face, that I'm the one you'll hold forever.” - Wake Up [Coheed and Cambria]

“Tamaki-kun...”

It was wrong, he knew that much. He shouldn’t be dating you. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. He should’ve disregarded your friendly greeting and winsome smile when he met you in that street.

No, he should’ve ignored you from the very start. Tamaki had witnessed a lot of men coming in and out of your house; rich or poor, handsome or ugly, tall or short. Why would he, a pro Hero, willing to be associated with such a woman? Someone that had been seeing many people in the span of three months ever since you moved in as his new neighbor.

There was no benefit in befriending you than making himself the next, perfect target for... whatever reasons you had. Tamaki should’ve used his shyness as an excuse to avoid socializing with you. It would definitely paint him in a bad light, but at least it was better than being manipulated.

But he didn’t, and it was all his fault. His fatal mistake. A seemingly minor blunder than had plunged him into the chasm of dependency and desperation. Because he was desperate for your affection; for your love that seemed so near yet so far to reach.

Tamaki knew you did this on purpose. Why wouldn’t you? Nothing exciting would happen in giving something precious freely to other people. There had to be a ‘catch’, otherwise, you would grow bored very quickly. Thus, you decided to create a game. Whether he knew about this or not made no difference whatsoever, though. Frankly, you were kind of hoping that he did if not to raise the ‘thrill level’.

In this game, he was the shy cat that yearned for tender touches and you were the owner who flaunted your love in front of him with a fishing rod. If he could obey your demands without any protest, then you’d lower the string and let him experience the riveting affection. But if he rebelled, then you would have to step up your game a little. Anything you would do to establish your dominance over him.

Because you were the game maker. The creator. The ruler. The queen whom he had no authority to defy. And most of all, the most important thing about it all, was that you were his girlfriend. After trying and trying for so long, you’d finally managed to break down his shell. Not completely, of course, but just enough to let him enjoy his time with you without suspecting anything. And, well, if he ever realized that, then it would certainly make the situation even more... pleasant.

You said that love is worth fighting for, and against his better judgment, Tamaki believed it. He believed it wholeheartedly and had been doing that for as long as he could remember. That was why he sought for your solace first and foremost when he jolted up to a nightmare because you said so.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Tamaki-kun.” Your dulcet voice crept through his sensitive hearing and unwound the tensed nerves in his body. A small hand stroke his forehead, wiping away the excess of sweats and little feathers from the pillow.

“I... had a nightmare,” he confessed softly, hesitantly. “I saw you... walking away with another man... in that dream.” Squeezing his eyes shut, Tamaki fought back the tears that threatened to leak out. “It was so scary...”

You pursed your lips, holding back the urge to smile coldly. “Poor you...” you cooed and pinched his red cheeks. “Were you terrified? Were you lonely in there, Tamaki-kun?”

Tamaki nodded slowly and buried his face deeper into your palms. “It was so dark and cold...” A pause hung in the air as he prepped himself to ask a question he’d been dying to utter. “[Name]-san, you... you won’t leave me, right? You still love me, right? I-I’m still enough for you, right?”

Another silence, this time longer than the previous one, drag on. Tamaki swallowed, mentally berating himself for doubting your love whilst anxiously waiting for your response. Were you rethinking your decision to date him now? Were you planning to break up with him? Sweats gathered on his palms as he looked away, turning the gnawing anxiety into excruciating dread.

“Of course, I still love you.” You shook your head like he was asking nonsense. Tamaki visibly relaxed when he felt your hands stroking his head again. “As long as you do what I say, you will always be enough for me.”

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vaguely-concerned · 5 years

Text

empire of ivory here we go!

previous temeraire let’s read here

- um excuuuuse me I have waited two books for us to come back home to britain to see everyone again and now everything is awful and shitty and scary and my fave is leaving and nothing’s how it should be??? no??? this is unfair??????

- tharkay NO please don’t go everything provably goes to hell whenever you leave D:D:D:

(to be fair to him I guess it’s understandable to want some time alone to process the absolute outrageous bullshit he just pulled for a guy he’s known for like four months)

he used his page time well tho; instantly convincing roland of his worth and making her laugh... giving laurence his cup of tea b/c he looked like he needed it more... telling laurence that he’s leaving because he promised to do that much at least... truly the best boy, off to fetch more dragons apparently because it wasn’t quite crazy enough the first time

- god I love jane roland, I’m so glad my two faves got along instantly, between them they could... maybe protect laurence from himself? at least a little??? I can but dream

- I think this is the most emotionally invested I’ve been in a piece of media since that time I spent a few months completely incoherent over uncharted, and naughty dog very kindly held my heart in their hands and chose to be gentle with it in the end but I am not so sure that is how it’s going to be for this series and I am Not Prepared for the suffering

- I love whenever laurence thinks uncomfortably about one of the various and sundry atrocities committed by the government he’s still pledged all his loyalty to. yes william maybe the british empire... is in fact not good and has enough blood on their hands to dye the ocean red. I can’t wait until he connects the dots here (and presumably has a pretty intense crisis if faith about it because it seems like one of the loadbearing structures of his character... actually no wait I’m not ready to see this D:D:D:)

- the little details like the fact that he just calls bb!roland ‘emily’ and harcourt becomes ‘catherine’ so easily in his narration now are so so sweet

- lord allendale is one of those dudes who have good politics but is a shitheel to his family and I want to smack him

laurence being the mortified poster boy of this party, though? priceless, imagine coming up with a protagonist this effortlessly involuntarily hilarious, it’s the mark of true genius

- I don’t usually quibble over things like this, but I think the edit for this fourth book specifically is a bit lacking? I’ve come across a lot of mistakes even my dumb ass can pick up on already, and I’m only a hundred pages or so in

- caught between crying and cackling at this part b/c like laurence I’m d e v a s t a t e d at the thought of temeraire getting sick but also temeraire is just like cheerfully getting laid the whole time

also how did none of the aviators think to give laurence The Talk about giving his dragon The Talk, you all know what he’s like

- oh thank god

- I have spent half of today crying about dragons coughing, how are you this fine evening good reader

- btw this series fills a hole in my soul left by jkr giving me all those tantalizing hints of different types of dragons in ‘fantastic beasts’ and never following up on it

- tharkay may not be here but laurence just mentioned him like once in his narration so let’s take the excuse to reminisce about the good old days (when tharkay was here)... remember that time when the one of his own jokes he laughed openly at was about lawyers and laurence frankly should have responded better b/c it was kind of funny and sadly temeraire doesn’t have the worldly experience to know it yet.... aaah precious, he truly is a sardonic blessing to my heart and deserves the world

okay back to our regularly scheduled content

- riley why u gotta b such a bitch about this

(I love how laurence is constantly doubting himself over this tho, as if he’s done something wrong in this situation... like honey baby if there’s one thing worth breaking a friendship over it’s probably them being cool with slavery lol. it shows how much laurence has grown, considering that this disagreement has always existed between them but he used to be willing to just overlook it... I’m so proud of you laurence)

also lol @ berkely coming in to tell them everyone can hear them, I have a desperately soft spot for him and maximus. just the image of both of them turning to him ‘united in appalled indignation’ like ‘excuse you???’ and him giving exactly zero fucks... *chef kiss emoji*

- most important information revealed in this book: a) dragons are not widely considered to have committed original sin, thank you reverend erasmus and b) laurence has taken time out of his day at some point to worry about it b/c he’s a dork

(this is the sort of world building I am hopelessly weak to lol)

- gong su tricking temeraire into eating in the most melodramatic way possible... god bless you chef

- fkjhsadkjfhsdkjalhfaskjldhf laurence judging chenery for what he’s wearing while going out into the jungle in full uniform hat included himself... I caaaaan’t

- demane has only appeared on three pages so far but if anything happens to him I’ll kill everyone in this book and then myself

- ‘average dragon speaks one million languages’ factoid actualy statistical error. Temeraire Linguist Georg, who wants a pavilion thank you very much & learns over 10,000 languages each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted <3<3<3

(I love that temeraire is like... a nerd dragon with a hopelessly jock captain)

- laurence effortlessly rating the relative hotness of the other male aviators to try to suss out who harcourt has slept with fjsaldfhsdkljafh do you ever hear yourself think william

like this is the thing about him it’s so easy to headcanon him as bi b/c he can be so mindbogglingly oblivious it’s entirely possible he literally wouldn’t even have noticed until someone smacked him over the head with it

- see I’m very happy they found the cure but I don’t fucking trust it b/c the pattern of these books tends to be to give you one moment of ‘oh phew everything is going to be okay’ about 2/3 into the story and THEN everything goes to hell and fifty pages later laurence is dissociating and napoleon has conquered prussia

- THERE WE GO RIGHT ON SCHEDULE

temeraire is never going to let laurence go anywhere without him again and rightly so

- hasn’t mrs erasmus been through enough. can’t she just be allowed to chill

- this is really cool world building but I’m too stressed out to appreciate it

really enjoy the description of architecture tho this sounds so awesome

- sfahdfklsahdfksjda laurence making sure his clothes are as washed and presentable as possible... I can’t with you you beautiful idiot

- TEMERAIRE OH MY GOD IS HE HERE IS LAURENCE HALLUCINATING PLS SAY HE’S ACTUALLY HERE

- ...well I mean if anyone has a freudian excuse for being kind of dickish I guess it would be these guys? it’s actually pretty chill of them to only flog one of them (laurence, because he just can’t play it any way but stupid lawful good at every turn) and not just killing them all I guess, they kept them fed and stuff

- oh thank god

- temeraire you are the most darling dragon boy and I love you

I was really really worried for a moment there that the reference to the Colosseum was a not-so-subtle hint they would have to gladiator fight to the death but thankfully they were basically just calling in a parliament

- DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER JUST STAB A CHILD IN THE STOMACH?? I HOPE HE ACCIDENTALLY SHOOTS HIMSELF IN THE DICK AND DIES pls say demane is going to be okay

- aw okay finally something good for mrs erasmus I will take it

- laurence you useless fool of a narrator is demane okay??

- god roland is just so cool naomi novik really gave us a jovial butch silver fox aviator lady huh... she did that for us and I for one am full of gratitude

- oh thank GOD (hm I sense a running theme here lol) the kid is going to be okay I can breathe again

- iskierka the pirate captain + temeraire’s reaction... perfect

- ;____________; I would lay down my life for temeraire and also that’s a gutpunch of a moodswing... the perfect hilarity of ‘that is an ugly hill’ immediately followed by That... jesus

- awww every time volly shows up again is a joy (temrer!!!)

- laurence... laurence you need to stop asking people to marry you because you never actually really fucking mean it!!!!! have you learned nothing about yourself since book 1, trust your goddamn instincts for once in your life you and roland have been doing perfectly okay thus far as like... affectionate fuckbuddies right?

(her reaction was priceless tho god bless)

- aaaah there we go the british government is looking more like itself... welcome to the world of realpolitik laurence I’m really sorry :(

- “It is only dragons, you know” JANE ROLAND WTF DID YOU JUST SAY

- “This government is not of my party; my king is ill and mad; but still I am his subject. You have sworn no oath, but I have.” He paused. “I have given my word.”

:) this is... fine

(like. I know this is necessary character growth and he’s basically been a waste of a good man in service to a government like this the whole time and the writing’s been on the wall since book 1 but I don’t want this to be happening to hiiiiim)

- tfw... ur dragon boi is so good... that being anything less than good for him in turn is unthinkable...................... b o i

- ...jane doesn’t really know him very well if she didn’t see this coming from a mile off tho does she

I mean I guess she has other stuff to think about but this shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone

- remember when he thought the entire corps was weird and now he’s finally at home there... and has to leave it behind :):):) super extra fine is what this is

- yeah okay laurence definitely has a crush on ol’ bonaparte noting that down lol he’s all but blushing after that kiss on the cheek

also... if you just overlook the dictator thing for a moment is napoleon wrong about what he’s saying tho. (no and not even laurence is prepared to say so he’s just going to go back there and get murdered anyway b/c idk lawful good is dumb as fuck sometimes I guess)

It’s really cool how the author shows that napoleon has a better handle on laurence’s psychology after barely meeting him than a lot of people he’s known for years now, though, really adds to his menace and appeal as a character

- wow uh that’s one way to end a book... it’s actually tipped over from tragedy into a strange sort of hilarity for me now: he literally got sued out of his life’s earnings for being a decent human being, committed treason for the same reason and is about to be hanged for thinking genocide might have been a step too far -- in the span of thirty pages. I believe ‘that escalated quickly’ is not too much of an exaggeration here

- SIPHO IS GONNA WRITE BOOKS ONE DAY YOU GUYS!!!! I PROUDLY WELCOME OUR SECOND NERD TO THE CREW

- I think this one might be my least favorite so far? not that I disliked it, it’s just the one that’s hit the worst by the fact that there’s not always that much time spent with the cultures central to the book; tswana seems really interesting but because of the way the plot played out and our limited perspective though laurence it just didn’t work for me? the cool shit comes in sipho’s book at the end, like how thoroughly they kicked the europeans out of the coast of africa, which is very cathartic (I will say that most of the second book being set on the ship and then only a sliver of it is actually in china annoyed me too haha)

I have the distinct feeling this book is setting up for some Misery and breaking of the pattern a bit in the next one though, which will be interesting! ONWARDS TO MORE PAIN AND LAURENCE IS ALREADY PASSIVELY SUICIDAL FROM THE OUTSET SO LIKE... I’M SURE THIS WILL BE REAL FUN :)

maybe my boy will be back tho? silver linings silver linings clinging to some silver linings

#temeraire #empire of ivory #meta

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themadvigilantist · 6 years

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just a 5:53 AM thought...

i have very detailed dreams, i giffed one so, here’s another one. without much editing

i had a dream that me and cale/anders/whatever/horse hoe was friends and then we grew and by we i mean i just wore business dresses and occasionally heels and he was just david tennant. apparently, in this dream, i was a dominatrix with had an abusive husband whose reason of being abusive to me because he was jealous of: me making fun of cale by making horse puns, jokes, and ‘kill me’ innuendos that made cale’s voice crack and then i end staring at him in concern and wtf when he do that and before i can comment he’s just like “stop it. just stop. no, stop. don’t.” and that almost makes burst into laughter and that i didn’t do that with him and we only see each other for like once a year on a random month. because i know cale’s a killer and i basically just judge on ‘why the hell you choosing them when im literally here willing to like have normal schedule only if you whip me, i will rip your cock right off.’ that was my winning argument every time cale would bring that up. it was highly effective.

also i was a history nerd (i heard him say it to me. to my face) because im not obsessed with horses like he is and cale only tells me this because i show him that his methods of “correction” and “breaking mares in” is literally the same devices used for enslavement (cage, marks on the back, the collar, the fucking gag choices and shit but i also knew that his horse trainer actually thought this was for horses and that this was how to break in a horse and he didn’t know she was raised by racists horse ranchers that brainwashed her into thinking this was for horses and they didn’t fuck with me because cale was with me like glue to paper (yes i made that pun too and he laughed). and looked like damien from the omen. that helped a lot. then i would-- i tell him to get new equipment. and to give me my whip and gag chair back because every once in a while i have a client that wants to use the whip or be strapped down... apparently those belonged to me, i was shocked i even had that amount of money. and it’s my dream and im shocked.

so we move to portland and my husband was angry because he saw cale in a new car (nevermind the fact that he didn’t know that was a new identity) and i got all these marks on my back and my inner forearms and one branding circle thing on inner upper thigh. but i wear nice coats and cale didn’t know about him being abusive to me (because i never take off my coat/jacket/shawl i went through a lot of costume changes and i hated it)

and so automatically i was like im gonna go hang out with my pal cale. because like every horse centric soap opera, i gal paled myself to someone who surrounded themselves with horse themed decor. but fancier? at this point the movie kicks in and sean sees we friends and he starts stalking me.

so cale calls me and say meet him cabin woods nightime? the gist of it really. don’t get followed and i get in my car and i bring a bag of sweets and sex equipment. mainly squishable food that don’t squish when it should. i don’t question the logic of my dreams, i just roll with them and hope it doesn’t end with me having sex and seeing a fucking dragon. the dragon was my car, i didn’t notice until i remembered. my husband mad because im hanging out with one person instead of a group...

so sean atttempts to follow me, at night, with his orange car. he got a new car and its that ugly orange. he loves ugly orange car. and im driving and then i turn all the lights/headlights off and drive my car off the edge of the mountain path thing. the winding road and it turns out i jumped out of car, surprisingly clean and sean falco is freaking out as he watches the car crash and explode and parked his car so he properly get out, watch and hear the car tumble down the hill to explode while acting like a sim seeing fire in their home...so i run barefoot with heels in one hand, bag full of food and things, and still in my pretty coat and run all the way until i find where cale at in the dark. i keep running until i get to the porch, the snow and grass and twigs does nothing to my feet and stockings because “the cold never bothered me anyway”. cale asks if i was followed and i calmly straighten myself out and said no, i brought food and better collars and shit. and the main girl is still in her cage and im just like: “another one? really?”

and then we chill on the couch and i would tell him: why her? is it the hair? is it because you thought she was gwen conliffe or rita vrataski and then when you saw her face you just went “the garbage will do”? And then he would avoid the question by saying how I found him and then i answered that my husband saw you and then i told him that he was one that introduced us to each other and thought he “perfect” and then i told cale that i’m going to kill him. i blew up my own car and now im gonna kill him. its time he needs to go. and cale is like: oh i want to see that. and then i tell i packed an overnight bag and i might need a ride home tomorrow. and cale’s like: why did you blow up your car you fucking dumbass? and i went: so i won’t be followed, coal bitch.. and then that banter went on and eventually i start flirt and said something along: “why don’t you kill me hm? hmmm?” and then i literally just stroke my neck slowly and he watches with both “stop with the jokes.” and “don’t tempt me” in his eyes and then he noticed my arms and saw random marks and was going to ask what happened and i drank some wine and just said: im going to kill my husband. tomorrow. wanna watch? and then he asked if the husband was the one who did this and i said, yep. so then he said sure. despite the fact that sean falco is still looking for him and now me. also my pajamas were dominatrix clothes, specifically the one that angelina jolie wore in mr. and mrs. smith. cale wasn’t blind and said: “what are you wearing that for?” and i said: “these are my jammies.” and he went: “no.” and then gave me a oversized sweater and some shorts and guided me back into the bathroom. [my work clothes were actually footsie pajamas and i was a dominatrix. my work place was literally the same dominatrix room you see in shows and films but instead of them wearing leather, they’re wearing nice, fluffy, footsie pajamas. doing the exact same thing. but in cute pajamas. it was a great trade off.] the next day or i assume it is and im rightfully peeved i couldn’t sleep in my “jammies” but apparently the only sane one in the dream was cale.

and then we went to my husband’s house and sean falco was there looking smug and my faceless husband told me that he knew that cale was bad and then monologued and i just kind of went and sat down and cale went to sit down beside me and then the husband started choking and seizuring and then died in front of a now terrified and bewildered sean. cale went: “that was quick” and i went: he poisoned himself with his own cereal

and then i went and called the cereal company and they offered those small boxes of cereal as condolence gifts and i bought one because cale and sean were like: nah we’re good/alright

and then the rest of the movie played out and i hear about cale caught by the fbi and somehow, i bail him out of jail with bail money. and then we basically just chilled out until i woke up.

and i typed all this because i can’t gif it like the last one.

summary: don’t watch/gif bad samaritan repetitively. please.

#ooc #mv: longpost #bad samaritan (2018)#{no it's a dream i had that lingered just like the hamilton dream one}#{instead of hamilton it's bad samaritan}#august 2018

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mangled-dreams · 6 years

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Wonder

For Random Raffle #2 winner @destinggirl. Please, I hope you enjoy. :)

Wonder.

Using prompts from the Winter themed list.

14. “Is this the first time you’ve seen snow?”

15. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Living in California you don't get snow often...well, at all. It never snows in your part of California, and—despite all the vitamin D world, you still get depressed during the winter months. You miss having a snowy day at least once during the winter.

“I miss the snow.” You sigh for the fifth time in two hours. Your older brother is sending you photos of his house coated in a few inches of snow in western Washington state. Poking out your bottom lip you pout at the photo, sending back a short and crude word back to your brother, uttering, “bitch.”

“Listen, R, if you really want to go be in the snow, just go home this year.” Ethan says from the couch. It'd been three years since you started working with Mark and his group. His production growing to a level that requires more aid. You'd jumped at the chance, happily accepting the employment opportunity.

You glance at Ethan, glowering a little due to your brother's pandering response. “But, Mark hasn't set any off days yet. I can't leave while we're still in production.” you remark as the man mentioned walks in the front door with Amy under his arm. To be honest it's a little weird to see him with Amy when you're seeing his less than cheerful side; Darkiplier. Or rather, Damien.

It hadn't become apparent that Dark was an actual being until you started working with him and Mark. “Hey everybody! Good news!” Mark cheers happily. He's wearing on of his un-ugly Christmas sweaters, which makes you giggle because of how the artist drew him. You can almost imagine Dark in Mark's place. The thought always makes you giggle a little. Dark would not find it humorous though.

“What's the sitch?” you ask quoting a TV show from your youth. God you miss the good old days.

Mark chuckles, pointing his finger like a gun at you in appreciation for your throw back to the late 90's, early 2000's.

“Thanks for that, R, but that's not the news.” Mark says smirking. “So, Amy and I were talking and this year we're going back to Cincinnati to visit my parents. We're planning to spend the week of Christmas with them. So we'll be leaving the Friday before Christmas.” Mark says giving you the best news possible.

“That's great!” Ethan cheers as a few others whoop and cheer for the unexpected break. Last year Mark worked through the holidays.

“Awesome. I hope you guys enjoy your vacation.” You chime in happily. Now you can make your own plans to visit your family. “Will you be making videos from your parent's house?” You ask, you know Mark, he likes to keep to a schedule, even when on vacation. He's very dedicated to his fans and followers. You admire that about him.

“Well, yes. I do plan on doing a few videos, but I'll have my laptop to edit videos myself.” Mark tells you earning a suspicious glare from you.

You sigh and say, “if you need help, for any reason, give me a call or send my anything you need edited.”

“No, you don't have to offer, R. Mark and I can take care of it.” Amy says smiling at you. You know she means it, she tries to help as much as she can.

You laugh. “It's no bother. I plan on making a trip home and the town I'm from is fairly slow in the way of entertainment.” You tell her.

“Oh you plan on going home, do you?” Dark asks appearing from behind Mark. It's hard to get used to that kind of entrance.

You give him a look that say you are less than impressed by his tone. “Yes, I miss my family, and I haven't visited them in years.” You respond sternly. You don't like it when Dark gets possessive and misreads the situation.

“So! I plan on still paying you plus a bonus, just we'll start working on new stuff first thing after the new year.” Mark says trying to cut the tension, but Dark's sour mood is tough to slice through.

You ignore Dark's angry looks and continue to smile at Mark. “Until then, let's give this all we got and get some new Christmas content out!”

“We did not talk about this,” Dark says appearing behind your chair in the editing room. It's empty aside from you. Mark is currently out recording and you'd offered to stay behind to get a few clips ready for the video he'd be putting up the next day.

“I didn't think I'd need to discuss seeing my family with you, D.” You respond keeping your mind on your task at hand. You'd already told Dark you would not ask his permission on personal subjects. Your family mainly. “I know you don't like to travel much, and even if I did ask, I'd still go if you declined to join me.” You add sternly.

Dark doesn't respond right away. He studies you in your natural habitat, working on the computer. You love your work, love editing and creating something that thousands of people will look at and ether enjoy or criticizes.

“I have upset you.” Dark finally says.

You nod your head. “Yes, you have, D.” You tell him. “I've already told you before, I'm not the kind of person to get permission for the things I want to do.”

“Even if I would prefer you at least discuss it with me?” Dark asks, his tone of voice stops you in your tracks. You've never known Dark to sound so...melancholy. He's gone before you can turn around to look at him. With a sigh you turn back to your work and wait to apologize to Dark for being so snappy the next time you see him.

He doesn't come around you long enough to talk. Popping in for brief moments at a time to talk with Mark and the others before leaving. After the third time of this you realize he doesn't want to talk with you, so you stopped trying to talk with him.

Mark tried to talk with you, whether on Dark's behalf or just as a concerned friend, but you avoided talking in depth with him. The whole thing leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how things are playing out, but you refuse to budge on your decision. You have your plane ticket bought, you leave around the same time as Mark, your parents and brothers are excited to see you back home.

In no way are you going to cancel all that...right?

“Hey, R, are you okay?” Mark asks noticing you sitting in the dark editing videos long after everyone else had left. Mark ended up staying late because his computer crashed earlier in the day and he had to replace the video chip in the computer before he could finish the rest of his run through.

You tear your gaze away from the computer screen, your eyes hurting and instantly blinded by the limited lighting behind Mark. “Just dandy, boss.” You tell him a little sarcastically. It's obvious everything isn't okay. It's been nearly a week since Dark last talked to you and it's really starting to wear you down.

“R, please.” Mark sighs. He moves to your left and takes a seat. You turn back to your video. It's featuring Dark and Mark along with Ethan and Tyler. It's quite the interesting sketch and it makes you smile. Dark is a little out of his element, but you find it endearing.

“Mark, you please. I know, it's bad. Believe me, I understand that, but...” You feel like crying. You had originally wanted to ask Dark to go with you, to meet your family. As much of a bastard as he can be, he's your bastard and you love him.

“Why don't you talk to him?” Mark asks.

“I have! He...he doesn't want to talk to me, Mark.” you tell him quietly. You'd tried to reach out to him a number of times outside of work... “He...I don't know what to do Mark. I wanted him to come with me. I thought, hey! We've been dating for a little over two years now; he can come meet my family. Know where I come from. Meet the people I value just as much as him.” You say smiling as tears fall down your cheeks. Sniffling you blink rapidly and roughly sweep the tears away with your palms. “It as stupid...” you sniffle again, taking the tissue Mark offers you, muttering a thank you. “I'm stupid...” you whisper closing your eyes and allow the self pity to wash over you.

“R, you're not stupid. It was a good idea. Just...not executed well.” Mark tells you, unsure how else to express his opinion. You laugh, your voice horse.

“Way to make a girl feel better, Mark.” You tease looking at him from the corner of your eye. You sigh, “I know...I'm just so bull-headed and stubborn. I know he doesn't like to travel and...all he really asked me for was to just discuss it with him...”

“Hey, it's okay. I'm sure once you two actually sit down and talk, things will work out. DP really likes you.” Mark reassures you, rolling his chair next to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “You're just too precious for this world, R. DP is lucky to have won your heart.” Mark says in an exaggerated tone that you find humorous.

You sniffle again, leaning into Mark's embrace. You like him but like a brother from another mother. “If he asks, will you tell him I still love him?” you ask a few minutes of silence.

“He already knows, R. He doesn't need reminding.” Mark reassures you, tightening his grip enough to solidify his words.

“Have a safe flight!!” You shout hugging and Amy and Mark in turn. They let you carpool with them in the taxi to the airport. Dark still hasn't talked with you, but he did leave you a note wishing you a safe journey and that he'd see you soon.

It's not much compared to what you had been hoping for, but it's enough to make you feel more at ease.

“You too! I hope you have a wonderful time with your family.” Amy respond in the same tone. You are excited for the pair. You already know Mark plans to ask her to marry him and it makes you extremely giddy with excitement. You made Mark promise to video it and send it to you.

“Markimoo!! You better keep your promise, got it?” You whisper when you hug Mark. He chuckles.

“Of course. We'll see you in a week.” He laughs pulling away from you. You smile at him, pinch his cheeks and kiss his nose. It's an affectionate gesture he only allows you to do.

“See you in a week, bro.” you repeat back to him.

“Don't get into too much trouble.” he calls as he and Amy head to their connection nearly twenty gates down. You laugh shouting you make no promises and head to your own in the opposite direction.

“Sis!” Eddy shouts as the front door to your brother's house swings open. You laugh and let your brother bear hug you, lifting you off your feet, and jostle you around.

“Eddy! Put me down!” you cry out when he starts to tickle you. Behind in, deep within the house, you hear the cries of beasts alerted to your existence.

“Oh no, the beasts have been awakened!” Eddy says setting you down. You both stare down the hall as four kids, ages ranging from seven to two and a half years dart down the wood covered floor towards you. “Run for your lives!!” Eddy shouts.

It's too late. Little hands wrap and grab around your legs and shirt, shouting, jumping, crying as they swarm you. All you do is laugh and reach down to pick up the two year old from getting trampled. “Abby! Gabe, Alex, Winnie, guys, calm down. It's not like you've never seen me before.” You laugh hugging Abby.

“Aunti R! R! R look how big I am! R did you bring us presents? R did you miss us?” they shout and the questions begin. You smile at your nieces and nephews.

“Of course I missed you! I missed everyone!” You tell them passing a now crying Abby to your brother and hug each of the little terrors in turn. You had been expecting this kind of response. You are the cool aunt after all. Mainly because you know Markiplier and CrankGameplay, and a treasure trove of other Youtubers.

“Did you see Markiplier?” Alex asks beaming at you. You laugh and nod your head.

“I saw Mark, Ethan, Tyler, Amy, Kathryn, and even Dark.” You say widening your eyes for effect. Alex and Winnie are enraptured by your words. Completely in awe of your group of friends. “Oh, and guess what!” You add looking for your luggage. “I have...something amazing for you.” you tell them quickly rummaging through your bag to grab the signed photos Mark gave you for your niece and nephews. With added flourish you produce the photos, one made out to each kid. “Ta-da! Signed by the one and oly Markiplier!” You say noticing your brother recording the whole thing.

You're glad he did. The expression and following screams is worthy of being immortalized on the internet. You smile letting the two jump up and down, screaming and shouted how much they love you and Mark. You simply laugh and accept the revolving door of hugs and kisses.

Turning to Eddy you smugly say, “try and beat that, bro.”

Oh yeah, that's making the cut.

“I heard you're seeing someone, R.” Your mother, Christina says hugging her cup of coffee between her hands. You try to hide your feeling of sadness.

“Ah, yeah. He's part of the Markiplier team. We met on the job and kind of just hit it off.” You say softly.

You visibly cringe at her follow up question. “Why didn't he come with you? I would love to meet him.”

You pause not quite sure how to answer the question. You actually don't get too. There is a knock at the door and Victoria, Eddy's wife stands to answer it. You give Eddy an odd look. Your family is all gathered at the table.

“Are you expecting someone?” You ask earning a shake of his head.

“Oh, well...She didn't tell us you'd be joining us. Please come in. You can leave your shoes here.” You all hear Victoria say and exchanged confused look again. Before Eddy can stand up to check on what's going on, Victoria returns to the dinning room with the mysterious guest.

Only...he's not mysterious. Standing up you say, “D, what are you doing here?” How did he even...

“Mark told me about your conversation. I came to apologize.” Dark tells you earning gasps and ooh's from your family. You feel embarrassed but quickly cross over to Dark.

“D, let's talk outside.” You say leaving your phone on the table and take Dark to retrieve you shoes and jackets before exiting the house.

As you leave your phone rings. Your bother reaches over the table and snatches it up, answering the call from BOSS.

“Hello?” Eddy answers

“Is R there?” Mark asks.

“She's outside talking to, ah, D?” Eddy responds. Mark laughs and quickly makes a request of your brother who eagerly agrees.

“D, you didn't have to follow me here.” You tell him, your breath puffing in the chilly night air. Around you Snow glistens under the flood lights.

“I know, R. I wanted to come. Mark and I had a conversation while waiting for his flight.” Dark tells you. You raise a brow at him. It hurts a little he didn't see you off.

“What did you two talk about?” You ask noticing he seems to be fidgeting a little with his pocket. You frown, is he hiding something from you? “Damien.” you urge. It's not often, or at all really, that you call him by his given name.

“Y/n.” Dark responds in kind. He doesn't say anything further and you sigh, your breath rising until it disappears. Dark follows your gaze, questioning what he's looking at. “What is this?” he asks.

You rise a brow. “You mean snow?”

“Snow?” he echos almost baffled by the white powder.

You gasp, “D, are you saying this is the first time you've seen snow?”

Dark nods. “I've lived in the desert and the void most of my existence. I've never given much thought to seeing such things.” he tells you looking around, mesmerized by the naturally occurring phenomenon. You smile at him.

“Isn't it beautiful?” You ask looking out at the untouched snow.

Dark looks at you, saying, “yes, you are.” You glance at him from the corner of your eye, blushing.

“D...” you pause as you watch D kneel down on the cleared concrete beneath your feet. “D...Damien...” you whisper as he pulls out a small black box and opens it, holding it up to you.

“Y/n; I, I understand I can be difficult to be around, much less to be in a relationship with. But, despite the odd you have stayed with me.” Dark says his voice shaking a little. Your heart is just about exploding in your chest.

“Damien, you can't...”

“Yes, R, will you continue to stay by my side, as my equal? As my wife?” Dark asks, he looks so uncertain and worried you'll reject him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare from him to the box and back again. “Yo—even after our argument?” You ask, touching the back of your hand against your mouth. Tears start to fall down your cheeks.

“Arguments will come and go, R. I understand your view now, and I understand it was wrong of my to shut you out because I was unhappy with your response. There will be many more misunderstanding and times we will need to be separated for a short period of time, however, I wish to come home to you each night. To share who I am with only you.” Dark says. It's like he's waxing fine poetry that speaks directly to your heart.

Your chest bounces as you try to hold everything in. You can't believe he'd go this far for you, to explain himself. You nod your head vigorously unable to speak, eyes closing as you silently accept his offer.

“Are you?”

“Yes! Yes, you big handsome idiot!!” You shout jumping into his arms when he stands up. Dark wraps you up in his touch, peppering kisses across your face until he reaches your lips. You laugh when you pull away, his hands taking your left hand and place the ring on it. It's beautiful and colorful, Dark remembered you talking with Amy about engagement rings and wedding sets you'd found attractive.

“Y-you remembered.” You say looking into his eyes.

“I remember everything when it comes to you, R.” Dark tells you smiling at you.

Tilting your head up, you say, “I love you Damien Darkiplier Fischbach.” It's not his true name, but even he's forgotten what his true name is after all this time.

“And I love you, Y/n.” Dark responds kissing you slowly. When you part you find the door open and your family crowded around gawking at you.

You stand in Dark's arm, flabbergasted at the amount of eyes looking at you. Then you see your phone in your brother's hands. “EDDY!” You shout as everyone burst into laughter.

It's not until later that you find out Mark and orchestrated the live stream to Youtube to celebrate your engagement to Dark. Mark called to congratulate you personally with Amy over Skype. You called him a lot of colorful name, along with brother-in-law, despite not being truly related to Dark. Momiplier congratulated you as well, along with Mark's older brother.

You laughed, cried, hugged Dark, and finally accepted what Mark had done. Your various social media account lit up with encouraging words. You had to turn off your phone, vowing to shuffle through everything another day.

Your own family cheered and toasted your engagement, accepting Dark into the family despite just meeting him briefly. By the end of the night Dark fully understood the kid of family he'd been accepted into.

“Any regrets yet?' You ask enter the room your brother had set up for your stay.

Dark chuckles at your question. “Never have I regretted knowing you. I will not start now. Your family is an extension of you, and I accept all of you.”

You gush at his words, quick to wrap your arms around him, throwing you both onto the bed. “Good, because I plan on keeping you bound to me for all time, Mr. Fischbach.” You tell him seriously, brushing his hair from his face. Taking care to map his face as if you'd never see it again. “I am forever yours, Dark.”

#darkiplier x reader #Darkiplier #reader insert #female reader #Random Raffle winner #a little bit of angst #mainly fluff

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zanytimetravelenthusiast-blog · 4 years

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I intended to share a few of my favorites to make sure that you can obtain a sense of what an associate program involves, as well as start to get a feel for what may work on your website.

BeRush-- This is the affiliate program for the SEO study tool SEMrush. I use this religiously on Area Rebel, and also their associate program gives you all the resources you require and pays a repeating cost of 40%! All the best finding anything that compares with that. Below's a review of the solution.

Bluehost-- On top of being my favorite web host for brand new blog writers, Bluehost starts paying generous affiliate charges of $65 for every brand-new register you refer. Their affiliate supervisors are great, and I have actually had fantastic outcomes with their solution.

Sumo-- I utilize Sumo to assist expand my email listing, as well as they've supplied a few of the most effective associate discounts I have actually ever before seen. Karol their affiliate supervisor is like it obtains, and also constantly reacts right away. Here's my review of the service.

Why Select Affiliate Marketing Over Various Other Sorts Of Blog Site Monetization

The majority of new blog owners presume that advertising and marketing or banner advertisements are the very best way to monetize your site.

You couldn't be more wrong.

They often begin with Adsense since it's very easy. To be sincere I can't keep in mind the last time I saw an Adsense promotion-- thank you Adblock!

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Marketing ad area to enrollers is practically as negative.

An excellent guideline I've always used for how much you might sell advertisement space for is this:

Daily visitors separated by 10 is the buck amount you can make per month on an advertisement.

Instance:

If you get 1,000 visitors a day, you separate that by 10 and also see that you can bill $100 a month for every advertisement on your site.

Now bear in mind this is just a rule of thumb, and relying on your particular niche it could be considerably greater or significantly reduced.

When you're simply starting, $100 a month can appear pretty good, however it takes a great deal of job to stand up t0 1k site visitors a day-- and if you obtain that lots of, you're much better off monetizing via associate ads or ads for your very own product.

For example, if had advertisement space on Area Rebel, I 'd be much more most likely to promote an affiliate product, or among my own items than offer the advertisement area.

If someone clicks on it and gets my item I make $500-- 5 times more than I 'd make for that funded ad. All I require is one every 5 months to make this a far better option. Not just that, yet it's aiding develop my brand name identity as well as online reputation, as opposed to some arbitrary company.

Enjoying This? Obtain our Particular Niche Website Starter Guide for Even More Detailed Assist With WP Affiliate Suite on Your Blog

Best Associate Products for Beginners

As you're getting going, there are 3 specific sorts of products I advise beginning to market. These are ones that will give you the most effective possibility of success in expanding your company and also in fact making compensations early.

Exactly how to Promote an Affiliate Deal

Ok, currently one of the most important part.

By now you must have a common sense of what associate advertising is, have an idea of what items you wish to advertise and also recognize just how to obtain your associate web links for them.

Yet if you do not know just how to effectively promote them, it does not truly matter now, does it? Nope.

In this area, we're going to consider a few of the easiest and also most successful methods to promote an affiliate deal.

WP Affiliate Suite Review

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Introduce Day: 2020-Feb-03

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WP Affiliate Suite - What Do You Learn From It?

FIND OUT ABOUT AFFILIATE ADVERTISING, LEARN HOW TO BUILD & RANK WORDPRESS WEBSITES & EVEN MORE ... As Well As I'LL ALSO PROVIDE YOU A PERSONALIZED MOTIF TO USE!

ASSOCIATE TRAINING

Discover exactly how associate advertising and marketing jobs and just how you can develop a growing and lucrative organisation advertising other individuals products and services.

What is associate marketing and also does it actually function?

What associate networks are great to begin with?

Exactly how to obtain authorized for associate networks.

Exactly how to discover profitable specific niches and also key phrases to place for.

What search phrases transform the very best for product testimonials.

WORDPRESS TRAINING

Learn all about domains as well as organizing.

Exactly how to install WP through cPanel.

Exactly how to personalize & edit the consisted of WP theme.

How to create Search Engine Optimization optimized product reviews.

Setting up your e-newsletter for constructing an email listing.

Exactly how to obtain your reviews indexed and also ranked in Google.

Exactly how to cloak (hide) your affiliate links.

Including banners and advertisements to your web site.

Setting up analytics to track your visitors.

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Banner already included, just include your affiliate ID.

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#WP Affiliate Suite #WP Affiliate Suite Review

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blschaos3000-blog · 5 years

Text

Its 12:43 pm Hot in Topeka

Welcome to another edition of “8 Questions with……”

So I went back to the well and went looking for another bunch of talented and committed folks who wanted to share their stories with me. They say the third time is the charm and after getting the responses that I have received this go around,I am a total believer in that saying. Which is great considering all the flakes and posers (oh yeah,I do get those as well) I had to deal with in the past month or so. What better way to get the ball rolling then getting the chance to chat with one of the most talented and skilled performers I have met,the incredible Carolyn Paine. This mazing hard working lady is dancer,stand-up comic,actress and is also highly sought after choreographer. She is a teacher,activist,runs a podcast and is most likely a member of some superhero group in her spare time. Carolyn has reinvented one of the oldest Christmas traditions,taking “The Nutcracker” and turning it from old and stale into something beautiful,colorful and appealing to all ages. She also used dance as way to express how domestic violence is with us and in many states is back on the rise,its a reminder that we as a society still have a long way to go but we can get there by loving and respecting our partners. Please check out the video that I added to Carolyn’s interview. Oh,did I mention that Carolyn is close friends with Prince Harry??? Its true and Carolyn was kind enough to share a couple of pictures of the Prince himself…you don’t meet too many people who personally know Royalty,even the cheetah was impressed by that…

Well come along with me as I adagio in and ask Carolyn 8 Questions……

Please introduce yourself and tell us what you are currently working on.

I am Carolyn Paine and I am a dancer, choreographer, actress, and comedian. Currently I just finished working on a short dance film called “Pulling” that I choreographed, directed, and danced.

In this 3 minute dance, I look at domestic violence through heart-wrenching and dynamic choreography. Statistics state 1 in 3 women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime. My work aims to inspire those affected by this issue, or anyone who thinks someone in their life is being affected, to know they are not alone and to consider speaking out and getting help because most cases of domestic abuse are never reported.

Making this video was emotionally and physically exhausting. The choreography was inspired by my personal experiences. I have sadly seen first hand and from close friends that abuse comes in many forms. And I felt that telling this kind of story through dance on film is such a beautiful, intimate, and powerful way to look at an abusive relationship because it offers a unique perspective in how you can show the emotional and physical struggle.

“Pulling” is my fourth short film and my third film done with social purpose. My comedic political musical short film “You Can’t Do That” recently was a winner at the Women in Comedy Festival and the International Comedy Festival in California.

You can watch the video online-see my website at www.carolynpaine.com.

Also, on the theme of domestic violence, I have recently been doing a podcast about the HBO show “Big Little Lies” called Big Little Podcast with two other friends that I are regular guest panelists on the same WNPR radio show I am on. We started this podcast because we are fans of the show and always needed to get together with wine to cope, watch, and discuss. So we figured why not record it and make it a podcast. It’s the closest I am probably ever getting to working on something with Meryl Streep. You can check it out on itunes and stitcher or at www.thebiglittlepodast.com.

youtube

What was it like growing up in your home? Is your family artistic?

My family is not artistic necessarily, but they certainly supported the arts and exposed my brother and me to them. I grew up in Boston, MA and we were very lucky to be able to get to experience all the culture there including museums, music, theatre, dance. So I got lots of inspiration from and education in the arts even at a young age. And growing up, my brother and I would engage in a lot of creative play together. We also loved watching movies-especially comedies and I gathered a lot of inspiration from that. And I totally pushed my creativity and love of performing on all around me. Several times I led my neighborhood friends into putting on full scale productions for our parents and other neighbors and friends. I was just a natural born performer and director who was lucky to be in a home environment that encouraged me, supported me, and let me dream big.

You are the definition of multi-talented- actor,dancer,stand-up comic…which came first to you growing up? How do you balance yourself as all three crafts have different demands?

So growing up I started studying dance young. I was in the professional training program at Boston Ballet starting at the age of 7 and was one of their select professional child performers. So that was an amazing experience to grow up backstage in professional productions. I always loved performing and knew from a young age that it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I started getting involved in theatre and studying acting more when I was in high school and my degree from college is in theatre. It is hard to balance life in multiple areas, but honestly I have always felt that it keeps me busy and energized to work in all three. The challenges with scheduling, rehearsals, physical demands and training as a dancer, and traveling for gigs can be a lot but in pursuing all three I am almost always busy which is better than being bored or not working! Plus I love when I get to combine all three-whether it be through short dance comedy videos I create or on stage in a show. I feel proud that I have accomplished so much in each area and that not just one thing defines me and my life.

What is CONNetic Dance?

CONNetic Dance is the professional contemporary dance company I founded in CT 10 years ago. I had been dancing professionally around the world with various choreographers and dance companies and I was inspired to create my own place to make dance collaboratively and evolve the possibilities of combining different genres of dance and art and theatre to make productions and works that changed the way people see dance. Making it fun and accessible. The company has grown a lot over time but it has been amazing to get to continue to work with many of the same artists I started it with. Funding for the arts is hard, so we don’t get to perform as much as I would like, but it has been a great experience to have this troupe to work with and create on. We also have gotten involved in communities in CT doing outreach programs, education, and inspiring the next generation of dancers who think outside the box. And I love that.

You have reinvented the holiday classic “The Nutcracker”,what did you do and how was it received?

My “Nutcracker Suite & Spicy” is my brain child. I am so proud of this show and still in awe that my vision became a reality and now is celebrating its 10th season! This show is unlike anything you have seen. It takes the classic holiday ballet that is so old-fashioned and not at all culturally woke and shakes it up and makes it wild and funny and relatable. I have an amazing cast of talented professional dancers filling the stage with hip hop, acrobatics, ballet, ballroom, jazz, and tap. The score is Tchaicovsky’s but some different versions including Duke Ellington’s as well as hip hop, rock, and techno remixes. The show packs in audiences and I love how the audiences just feed off the energy on stage and really appreciate this modern take. I knew that we for sure needed a reboot of this holiday dance show, and that’s what I set out to create, but I wasn’t sure early on if audiences would embrace it. But they have and it has been so fun to see the show grow and become a real part of the holiday season in CT and get recognition beyond. I would love to see this show tour nationally. It really is the most fun holiday dance show you could imagine. We have ugly Christmas sweaters, tap dancing soldiers, a dizzying snowball scene with ballet dancers doing acrobatic dancing while floating on giant pearly white snowballs, and a sassy hip hop Sugar Rum. What else could you want?

What do you draw upon for your stand-up sets? Can you walk us through your process?

I think that with writing stand up, it’s like with anything you write, you should write about what you know. So for me I focus on personal experiences, struggles, anecdotes, weird observations…..I find that the things that I am so embarrassed about or worrying about are the things that I can make the funniest. And those things are also so relatable-it’s just that most people don’t get up on stage and talk about them. As a comedian you have this great power because you can help people feel less isolated and laugh at themselves by allowing them to enjoy laughing at you and your struggles-that are often the same problems that a lot of us have. I love when people come up to me and say that they totally related to what I was saying-especially when it is something absolutely ridiculous like eating moldy bread thinking it was multigrain or a bit about moving a lightbulb from one room to another because I don’t have my life together enough to remember to buy more lightbulbs. So my process is about finding those things that are awful, annoying, or stressful in daily life and making them funny.

Why do you think comedians can effortlessly do drama but dramatic actors can’t do comedy? (I’m always amazed at how great comedians can do this…)

I think it is because a lot of comedians, including myself, draw some of their comedy from the darker sides of life, experiences, and feelings. I have often found that when I am struggling or going through a lot of stuff, I am funnier. Or when I have close friends or family struggling, it has always been my instinct to be the clown to get them laughing again, even if for a moment. It is my coping mechanism. And I have read that several great comedians feel the same way. So I think that the fact that a lot of comics may actually kind of live in this darker place that they aim to bring light to makes it in some ways easier for comedians to go dark in their performances and embody dramatic roles. Also, comics are used to putting themselves out there- fully exposing themselves and taking risks so they apply that same approach to drama. That’s my theory anyway.

What were the three best pieces of advice given to you professionally and how have you applied them to your career?

Well, I think for sure the best advice I was ever given was from some agent I met with early on who was helping me get started in commercial acting and said “no matter what make sure you show up looking like your headshot” So true.

But also, my college theatre professor, Sally Porterfield, was an amazing influence who gifted me so much inspiration and influenced me a lot. One of the things she taught me that really helped me to drop inhibitions and approach all performing without fear was telling me that everyone is so worried about themselves that they aren’t even thinking about you. That’s good advice in life too. Sometimes we do or say something and we are so mortified and dwell on it, but chances are the other person or people who were there didn’t even realize it as they were probably freaking out in their own heads. This kind of freedom from judgement helped me not worry about looking pretty, or being silly, or getting dirty and allowed me to just open myself up to risks and just be more me. I really think I would never have had as much courage to pursue comedy without her having helped me get past myself.

Also, I had some amazing dance teachers along the way. I was so lucky to get to study ballet from the Ballet Academy in Monte Carlo with ballet great Nureyev’s teacher, Marika Bresobrasova. She was both terrifying and loving. Sometimes she would sit there and watch you dance and you could feel her eyes going through your body into your soul. She once said that she could see I “needed to dance.” And she was right. I do. Dancing is so hard that you have to need to do it. I carry that with me, even on days where I have to dance but I don’t want to do be doing anything but sitting at home on my couch.

What does “creative” mean to you?

Creative to me means pushing past your own comfort zone and finding something that challenges you to produce thoughts and art that excites you. Maybe even scares you because of how much work it will take to get to the end result you envision. But, in the end, I find those are the creative projects and risks that are most worth it.

What challenges you the most?

Getting up and being somewhere before 10am.

What advice would you give someone who wants to start a performing career?

Go. Try lots of things. Be on time. Don’t be afraid. Know that you are being judged constantly but try not to let it get to you too much. And show up looking like your headshot.

Which do you prefer as an actress- live theater or film and why?

Theatre. Because I for sure love the feeling of that high from a live audience and applause.

The cheetah and I are flying in to watch you dance but we are a day early and you’re now our tour guide,what are we doing?

Ok, so let’s say you are coming to Hartford, CT to see The Nutcracker Suite & Spicy where it is performing at the beautiful and historic Aetna Theatre at the Wadsworth Atheneum. I would say for starters, you have to check out the Wadsworth-it is the oldest art museum in the country and houses amazing classic and contemporary works of art. Then you should go get a delicious and ridiculous instagram worthy milkshake from The Place 2 Be restaurant also in Hartford. Next, because it is Christmas time, go see the Victorian decorations at the historic home of the great author/humorist Mark Twain. And if you are lucky you may also see a ghost there. I hear it is haunted and I for sure love a good mystery and ghost story. And then I’ll go grab a delicious cocktail with you at this bar called Tisane.

I like to thank the lovely and talented Carolyn Paine for agreeing to have a chat with us. She doesn’t know it yet but we aren’t done with her just yet but more that later… But for now,you can follow Carolyn on her social media platforms:

twitter: @carolynpaine

instagram: @c__paine Follow Carolyn’s IMDb page

Feel free to drop a comment below!! Thank you for your continued support!

8 Questions with……..dancer/actress/comedian Carolyn Paine Its 12:43 pm Hot in Topeka Welcome to another edition of "8 Questions with......" So I went back to the well and went looking for another bunch of talented and committed folks who wanted to share their stories with me.

#8 Questions With #acting #art #ballet dancing #Carolyn Paine #cats #Connecticut #dancer #family #Music #podcast #social issues #The Nutcracker #volunteering #writer

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captainoftherollyjoger · 7 years

Text

Flight: Chapter 2

I really enjoyed writing this fic! As I say, it is finished but needs editing. I hope people don’t mind the chapters being posted so close together. I’m on holiday in Tenerife with little to do.

The majority of the fic is fluff with some slight angst to come. I hope you enjoy! This is quite a long chapter, so apologies. Bit of family bonding time for the crew.

Killian’s pet peeve is actually might pet peeve about Nana in Peter Pan. Disney got it wrong, and as a Newfoundland owner. I refuse to get over it. :D

Prologue : Chapter One : Chapter Two : Chapter Three : Chapter Four : Chapter Five : Chapter Six : Chapter Seven : Chapter Eight : Chapter Nine : Chapter Ten : Chapter Eleven : Epilogue

They arrived at her hotel and he walked her to reception. The hotel was nice, there was a large open lobby and the staff all looked smart. “Well, this is it.” He scratched his neck. “It’s been a pleasure, Swan.” “It has.” She smiled, they both took an awkward pause. She made the next move and gave him a hug, as best as she could with a baby strapped to her. “Thank you, for everything. You made this transition so much easier.” “Just being a-” “Gentleman.” She released him and he said goodbye to Henry who was shaking the dinosaur toy. “Enjoy the toy, mate.” He smiled, giving his hair a ruffle. He stood up straight and smiled. “Goodbye, Emma.” “Goodbye, Killian.” She watched him walk out of the hotel. He looked back partially then turned away shyly when he knew she was watching.

Killian walked to his brother’s car and joined him in the front. Liam didn’t start the car. “What are you doing? Let’s go.” Asked Killian. “You like her.” Liam’s teasing grin made Killian roll his eyes and tut. “What? Don’t be absurd.” “I haven’t seen you smile at a woman like that in years.” “You haven’t seen me in years.” Pointed out. Liam ignored his comment. “Go and ask her on a date.” “She wouldn’t say yes, she has Henry. I’m sure a man is the last thing she wants. Plus she’s beautiful and way out of my league.” “True. But just go and ask her. Or we aren’t going home.”

“What do you mean you don’t have my booking?!” Stressed Emma.

“There are no rooms available, miss.” The receptionist answered. "What am I supposed to do? I have an eight month old!” Just that second she saw Killian approaching her. “Thank God, Killian! My room isn’t booked. I don’t know what to do.” “Oh. That’s not good. Have you tried ringing work?” “Graham isn’t picking up. Stupid job.” She was panicking he noticed. This was a highly stressful time for her and she didn’t have a clue about Manchester. At that moment Henry started crying. “No, not now Henry. Please.” She had dialled Graham again, still no answer. “Here,” said Killian, offering to take Henry. She nodded in appreciation and went to the window trying to get through to Graham. He bounced him gently up and down. “Hey, cheeky man. Shhh, be a good boy. Mummy is just a bit stressed.” He rocked him back and forth. “Yes, that’s better. Oo, look, it’s your dinosaur.” Henry giggled. “Yay! That’s better. Happy Henry.” Emma returned. No luck. It would be late in New York, but she had nowhere to go. She spotted Killian and Henry laughing. He was such a natural with him. “No luck. I don’t know what to do.” She sighed. “This might be odd. But, urm. Well, I have a spare room, in my apartment. Maybe…” “Oh… Killian, we barely know each other. And I’ve accepted enough charity off you. I can’t burden you like that. I bet all you want to do is see the back of me.” He scratched his neck with his free hand. Emma noticed it was a nervous tick. “Well, actually, I came back in to ask you on a date.” He looked at Henry to avoid her gaze. “Oh.” “It was stupid asking. Liam made me. Well, I wanted to, but I know you have more important things to think about.” “No, urm. Well, of course I do, but I mean… a date might not be dreadful.” “My dates are usually quite dreadful, I mean, not my plans. Just, Elsa sets me up with her work friends and they just don’t get me.” “Well, I obviously need to get settled first. But maybe one day, we can go on a date.” She smiled. “Great! So, you’ll take my spare room?” “Best offer I have.”

They arrived home. They joked in the car how Killian was suppose to ask for a date, not for her to move in, the pair just laughed and said they were doing things the unconventional way. Killian and his family lived in a quiet area outside of Manchester which had nice big houses, that were newly built. Killian had explained on the flight that they had moved up to Manchester from Kensington for his aunt because she was too stressed in London, and was suffering of Alzheimer’s. Elsa was waiting for Liam and Killian in the front room with her children. As soon as they saw Killian they leapt onto him. Emma stood nervously at the door. “Uncle Killy!” They cheered. James dived on his back and Ellie hugged his neck. “We missed you.” They beamed. Judy, Killian’s aunt smiled from her armchair and beckoned him over. “Hello, Liam! I missed you an awful lot.” “It’s Killian, auntie.” He smiled, Liam had warned him about her condition. “I know what I meant. You boys look so alike.” Liam came into the room, escorting Emma with the bags. “I don’t look anything like him, he’s ugly.” Said Liam, placing down the suitcases. “Wow, she looks like a princess.” Smiled Ellie, shyly from behind a blanket. “I forgot you got married Killian, really is my Alzheimer’s kicking in. Ellie, she’s not a princess. It’s Killian’s wife.” Said his aunt. “Oh, no. Auntie, no. This is Emma. Not my wife.” He laughed. Emma was shocked, they were such a lovely little family. “Be quiet, Killian. I remember your wedding day.” That struck Emma. Had he been married and divorced? “You had a lovely blue theme like the sea.” “Urm, aunt. That was my wedding.” Said Liam, showing her his ring. “See, Killian has no ring.” “Oh? That’s not Elsa. Where is she?” “I’m right here.” “In my defense. You two look quite similar.” Everyone in the room looked from Emma to Elsa, bar Henry who was looking at the ceiling. “She has a point.” Said Liam. “Emma has green eyes.” Said Killian. “Are you my uncle’s girlfriend? Because that would make my uncle a prince.” She beamed. “Ahh, of course she is. I remember now.” Smiled Judy. “No, Emma is a friend.” Said Killian. “And, little miss. Your uncle isn’t a prince. He’s a pirate.” He smiled, lifting her into the air. She screamed and laughed. “It’s your daddy who is the prince. He’s a good man.” “So are you.” “Your daddy is better than me. Have you missed me, princess?” She nodded and hugged his neck. “Sorry I’ve been away so long.” “It’s okay. Did you miss me?” “Every day. But we got to Skype. I’m glad I’m here now.” He kissed his niece on her cheek and put her down. Emma was standing awkwardly in the corner, Henry in her arms. “Everybody, this is Emma.” He brought her more into room. “We met on the plane, and her hotel messed up, so I offered her to come here. This is Henry her son.” He smiled. Elsa offered her a drink and a sit down. Killian sat next to her on the couch with Henry between them. “Do you all live here?” Asked Emma. “No, I live down the street. My apartment has three bedrooms unlike this massive house with five.” “Maybe you would if you had gone in the Navy, instead of going to University. Where has that English degree got you?” He laughed. “I don’t have anyone to share a five bedroom house with.” “Yet.” Smirked Liam. “I bet you three are exhausted. Plus your body clocks will all be wrong.” Said Elsa. “Aye. I think we should get this little one to sleep, but first I need to see my baby boy.” He smiled. Emma was shocked at his use of ‘we’ and 'baby boy’ who was he referring to? “He’s in the garden.”

The group followed him to the garden and a big black and white dog was bathing in the sun. "Roger.” He called. The dog’s ear pricked and as soon as he noticed Killian he bounded over in three strides. He was took down by a massive ball of fur. “Hey, boy! I missed you too. I’m back for good now and I’m never leaving you again.” He hugged the dog’s giant head.

“This is home.” He smiled, placing their bags down. They had walked from Liam’s and felt better for the fresh air, Roger padded quietly at their sides. He gave Emma a tour of the house and showed her to her room. It was plain. The walls were white and there was a double bed in the middle with two bedside tables at each side. There were no photos, but why would there be? It was a guest bedroom after all. “You’re quite welcome to use both of the spare bedrooms, if you want to.” He smiled. “I’ll get Liam to bring an old cot round, so you can both sleep better.” His smile was infectious even when she was so tired. “You’re too kind. Have you got some towels? I was going to have a shower and bathe him.” “Of course, love.”

All three had washed and changed. Henry had enjoyed his bath with some toy boats Killian brought him from his babysitting times. The two of them were now sitting in their pyjamas even if it was eleven o'clock in the morning, Roger was in the garden soaking up the morning son. They hadn’t yet had a proper sleep. Henry was asleep in Emma’s room and they had the TV on. Killian had lay down on his couch and his eyes were soon drifting until he had fallen asleep. She couldn’t find any blankets to cover him with. Was it acceptable to go into a man’s room who she had only know for roughly twelve hours? She did it anyway and picked up his quilt. His room was bare aside from a photo on his cabinet of the family who had been in the previous house and one with him and Roger as a puppy. She took one of his pillows and walked to the front room. She placed his quilt over him and gently lifted his head to place his pillow underneath. He snuggled into it and smiled. He was handsome she thought, returning to her own bedroom for some sleep. Emma woke and Henry was just stirring. “Hey, baby. Are we all better now?” She smiled. The clock told her it was just past three in the afternoon. She walked to the living room and Killian was still snuggled into his couch. “He’s a sleepy head.” Smiled Emma, bouncing Henry. He was giggling and squirming, she placed him on the carpet with some toys. He was starting to bum-shuffle and crawl but not walking yet. Emma could only see Killian’s thick mop of hair as he had buried himself in his covers. Something about it made her laugh, he was like a child who had come back from a long activity weekend. Henry gave a particularly loud shriek and Killian awoke. “I’m so sorry, I’ll take him somewhere else.” “Don’t apologise, love. I need to wake up anyway or I won’t sleep tonight.” He smiled sleepily. It was a good look on him. His voice was thick with sleep and his hair was dishevelled. “I’ll make us some coffee.” She smiled. As she did so, Henry crawled over to him and he picked the boy up and placed him on his chest as he was still lying down. “Hello, you.” He smiled. “Shall we see what’s on TV?” He asked. Henry squealed 'eyaahh’. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He used the remote and flicked through the channels. “All a bit rubbish. I know a better game.” He smirked. He lifted the quilt to hide his face. “Where’s Henry gone?” Then popped his head back. “There he is!” Henry laughed loudly. “Where’s Henry gone?… There he is!” Henry gripped the quilt and tried to pull it up. “You’re so clever.” He grinned. Emma was watching the exchange from the kitchen as he had an open plan apartment. It made her heart melt someone being so good with her son, and not just because they wanted her. She had had jerks like that. No one had been as tender with him. Killian’s affections were real enough. “He seems to enjoy that.” She smiled, placing his coffee on the table. “Works with them all, darling.” He chuckled, sitting up and placing Henry next to him on the couch between him and Emma. He took a swig of coffee and sat back. “Is there anywhere you would like to go? I feel we would all be better for a day out. Help us sleep tonight. What do you say I ask Elsa and Liam. Maybe we could go to a park?” “That sounds lovely.”

The entire family came along. Elsa holding James and Ellie’s hands, Liam supporting Judy, Killian with Roger and Emma with Henry. She felt out of the mix slightly. She felt like she was intruding on a happy reunion, that she shouldn’t be there. She should have her own people to do this with, yet she didn’t have these sorts of people. “Everything alright, love?” He smiled softly and gently bumped her shoulder. “I just didn’t expect all this.” She replied. “We’re not a massive family, we have room for two more.” He chuckled. Family? They had only known each other half a day. How could he consider her as part of the family? Elsa had made a picnic for them all they lay out on a blanket. “What sandwich would you like, Judy?” Asked Elsa, handing out juice cartons to her children. “Cheese, please, dear.” “Uncle Killy! Do rocket with me!” Shouted James. “Rocket? You’re ten. You’re nearly as tall as your dad now, mate. How am I supposed to do that?” “Pleeeeaaassse. Please, Uncle Killy. For me.” He gave up. “Fine.” Killian hoisted the boy over his shoulder and started running. “Oooh, prepare for take off! Ready? We have lift off!” Killian raised the boy above his head and made rocket noises. James was crying with laughter. “That’s all I can manage now, lad.” He placed him down and shuffled up to Emma. “Houston, we have a problem. My back has gone.” He laughed. “My turn! My turn!” Screamed Ellie. “It’s only fair.” Laughed Emma. “I’m glad Henry isn’t old enough yet.” He chuckled. 'Yet’? Thought Emma, she highly doubted Killian would know her by then. He did the same for his niece. When he had finished he lay down beside Emma who had her back against the tree. “I saved you a ham sandwich, and a Sprite.” “Thanks, love. But I think I need another sleep.” He grinned. His head rested by her thigh, Henry tried to reach for him. “What do you want, little man? You’re too young for Rocket. Your mummy wouldn’t approve.” “No, she wouldn’t. Maybe a game of peek a boo will make him happy.” She smirked. “Oh, well if the little man insists.” He hid behind his hands. “Where’s Henry? There he is!” He was squealing in delight. He repeated the game and Henry never tired. Roger was playing fetch with Ellie and James. “You don’t mind having a dog in the house, do you?” He asked. “It’s just, Elsa and Liam can continue looking after him for now.” “Not at all. He’s your dog. Plus he’s a big sweetheart.” As they spoke of him he padded over and lay down by Killian’s side. “M-ma-ma!” He pointed at Roger. “Noo, doggy.” She smiled. “That’s a doggy.” “Ogg-y.” “Nearly! Good boy.” “May I?” Asked Killian, holding his hands out for Henry. “Roger is quite safe and great with children, especially babies. Newfies are known for their kind nature. Did you know Nana from Peter Pan was actually a Newfoundland?” “I did not.” She smiled, handing Henry over. “Always been a pet peeve of mine seeing St Bernards in the films.” He sat Henry on his knee and lightly picked up Henry’s hand to stroke him. “Yay! Isn’t he soft?” Henry giggled in reply. “How old is he?” Asked Emma. “Five now. Had him since he was a pup. I saw one when I was in Canada and I knew I had to have one. They use them as lifeguards around the world. Brilliant swimmers.” He smiled, watching Henry continue feeling his fur. Roger’s tail kept wagging idly and hitting Henry but he didn’t seem to mind. He kept trying to grab it but he wasn’t fast enough. “Dad! Uncle Killy! Come play football.” “Can I play?” Shouted Ellie. “No!” “Let your sister play. Don’t be mean.” Said Elsa. “No, she’s rubbish.” “I won’t play without her.” Said Killian. “What do you say we have a little game. Three on three? Emma and Elsa can join.” He smiled. “Yay! Come on, mummy!” Beamed Ellie. “Give Henry to Judy, she’s perfectly safe. Just gets names mixed up occasionally.” Reassured Elsa. Emma nodded. “Dad and Killy can be captains! Let’s pick teams.” Shouted James. James was a really sporty boy, his favourite was tennis and he was a high ranking ten year old. “Okay. Me first. I’m the older brother.” Gloated Liam. “I pick Emma.” Everyone was shocked by his choice. “I haven’t played soccer in ages.” “What’s soccer?” Asked Ellie. “It’s American for football.” Said Liam. “Sorry, football.” “Don’t apologise, Emma.” Smiled Liam kindly. “My turn. I pick Ellie.” Pointed Killian. “Come on, son.” “Come on, sis.” “My own husband doesn’t even pick me. Here’s a tip, Emma, never marry them.” She laughed. “I didn’t want to pick favourites. Plus you’re rubbish at football.” He laughed back. “I wanted you on my team, El. We’ll beat those losers.” He stuck out his tongue at Liam. “Mature.”

“Go on, Emma! Score!” Shouted James. “Quickly! Killian’s behind you!” Before she knew it, Killian had tried to tackle her but she wasn’t having it. She kicked the ball into the makeshift goal of jackets. “Yaaaay!” Cheered Liam. “Well done.” He pulled James and Emma into a group hug. “We’re winning!” “He’s so competitive.” Laughed Elsa. Killian put an arm around her. “I had to grow up with it. He would throw the board if we played Monopoly.” “He still does.” Emma was going for another goal but Killian was in defense, he decided to play dirty and lift her up when she ran to him. “Quick, Ellie! Get the ball.” Emma was struggling in his grasp. Ellie ran over and kicked the ball, she got near the goal which Liam was keeping and kicked it. Liam let it go in purposely, which James had something to say about. “Now it’s two-one.” He moaned. Killian still had Emma who was giggling in his arms. “You’ve played this before.” He laughed. “I may have in a foster home where the boys weren’t allowed to play American football. Too violent. That was quite a strict home.” “Sneaky. I think your team is cheating. For having distracting players.” He smirked, placing her down, but not letting go. “Too beautiful.” He whispered. Now that was flirting. Emma felt good, she hadn’t ran around worry free for ages. She was shocked at his remark but decided to give back what he gave. “I agree. Your team is quite handsome. Shame the captain ruins it.” She laughed into his chest. “Is that so?”

The group had enough of the park so all went to the pub instead. They were sitting outside on the benches. Kids were climbing all over a climbing frame with a slide. “Shall we give him a go?” Smiled Emma, picking him up and carrying him over. Killian followed suit. Emma walked to the top of the slide and Killian waited at the bottom. “Come on, Henry! I’ll catch you.” He grinned. Emma let him go, the slide was small so he didn’t go far. Killian caught him and lifted him into the air. “Wooooo!”

Elsa and Liam were watching from the bench. “He really likes her.” Said Elsa. “He’s so smitten. I haven’t seen him like that with anyone… even her.” “I know, but I worry for him. I don’t want another woman to break his heart. Emma seems lovely, but is Killian ready to take on so much?” “You know how good he is with kids. This child lacks a father, maybe he can fill that void.” Said Elsa. “Emma’s clearly grateful for the help. I know a stressed mother when I see one. I bet it’s been great for her to let her hair down, and she did flirt back with him.”

It was eight o'clock by the time they arrived back at Killian’s house. Roger went straight to the window and fell asleep and Henry had fallen asleep in a pram that Elsa had given her along with a highchair and some old toys of James and Ellie. “Tiring day, love. To believe we were on a plane this morning.” He chuckled with a yawn. “I’ll feed Henry then get him to bed. Maybe I could make us some hot cocoa?” She smiled. “Let me. You sort out your boy.” Half an hour later, Henry was tucked up in bed and Killian and Emma were sat on the couch with hot chocolate and cream with cinnamon which Emma insisted on him trying. “So, tell me Killian Jones. Why have you been so good to me? Do you do this for all the single mothers you meet?” She chuckled, their legs were resting on each other as they were lying on opposite ends of the couch under a blanket. “No. I don’t.” He chuckled. “I just saw something in you… that reminded me of myself. Kindred spirit sort of thing. Perhaps? You just looked so brilliant and strong, then we got chatting and I guess we have a lot in common.” “That’s nice.” She yawned. “Time for bed?” He asked. She nodded. They both got up and took their cups to the sink. “Well, goodnight, Swan.” He smiled. “Goodnight.” She replied, leaning up and kissing his cheek. He moved his head so his lips were on hers. Not greedily, but in a soft tender way. It only last a few seconds. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I apologise for my rudeness. It was unacceptable. Unfair. I just desperately wanted to.” He stuttered, his face was full of guilt but not regret. “I haven’t liked anyone in such a long time.” He tried to explain. “Shh, Killian. It’s fine.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “It’s okay. It was nice.” She pressed a small kiss to his lips again. “I do like you. I really do, but I can’t go head first into this. I have a son and he is my main priority.” “I understand.” “Good. I’m happy to take things slowly, but I can’t just throw myself into a relationship with a man I’ve barely known. Henry is my world and I’m not going to let another man hurt him.” “I would never hurt him, or you. You can trust me on that.” He smiled softly, playing with a loose strand of her hair. “But I understand your concern and would be worried if you did throw yourself into it. Goodnight, Emma.” Giving her a little hug. “Goodnight, Killian.”

#cs ff #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fluff #captain cobra #flight cs fanfic #captain swan ff

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khymer-vulture · 7 years

Text

Happy Father’s Day!

I decided to post a story for this day, I’ve written it a couple weeks ago, but I still feel like the theme is most appropriate, since Zack is in dad mode.

Also I did mention a while back about secretly editing Sanctuary, it was to make the house a lil bigger...now you’ll know why lol

Takes place after Last Chapters

Life had many various stages with each new step being taken, some were happy, and others were emotionally taxing. Life had its rewards and struggles.

Rachel and Isaac continued to live their life with their small family, their son Caleb had eventually learned about their past and it was a difficult time for the both of them to speak such an ugly truth to him. The world can be kind but also cruel, and Caleb was understanding of that. Despite the past both Ray and Zack had lived, their son knew that his parents did everything to give him a good life, and refused to see the two in a dark perspective.

Even after dark secrets were learned, things continued as normal, with an occasional visit from the old Reverend here and there.

While Caleb was in school, Rachel found herself a job to work, a simple flower shop where she could make different bouquets and even took up sewing different ornaments to perk up the look. She wanted that feeling of independence to support her family, and she still felt like she owed the man of the cloth for aiding her and Zack for so long. Like before, Gray did not want to accept payment, but Rachel proved to be just as stubborn as Zack and insisted. The old priest quietly relented, but chose to take the money to be put into savings just for Ray and her family. He felt a sense of pride to see the pair take on their own sense of responsibility.

When both Zack and Rachel were alone, the two relaxed in the little haven Ray had made, just sitting there in their own little world with Zack holding Ray close in his arms while the woman leaned against him on his lap. This innocent time of togetherness was a secret guilty pleasure to Isaac, even if they didn’t do anything, just having her close made him feel content.

Sometimes Ray would read one of her books, sometimes the two would chatter away, or they would just do nothing and enjoy the intimate togetherness.

Rachel faintly blushed as she felt her husband gently press his lips against her neck and run a hand underneath her shirt to caress her abdomen. Isaac did enjoy the feel of her silky skin and loved the smell of her alluring natural scent, once the cool metal of his wedding band touched Ray’s skin, he felt her flinch from the touch, and it caused him to chuckle.

“That’s never going to get old,” he teased.

Ray huffed as she glanced up at Zack, then pulled him in for a quick peck on the lips. The gruff man accepted her token of affection, and didn’t hesitate to deepen it. As the two eventually parted lips, the couple stared at each other for a while, then Ray gently caressed the man’s cheek.

“We made quite a life together…didn’t we?” she rambled.

Zack felt his cheeks grow faintly warm, never in his life he thought he would settle down, and have a family like a normal person – he didn’t regret it though, not by a long shot.

“Y-yeah…” he replied, his slight embarrassment showed in his voice.

Ray knew that topic often left him flustered, it amused her and often liked to see his reaction. She brought her hand to Zack’s, entwining his mischievous fingers with hers as she stared off into the distance.

“Caleb’s grown to be more independent nowadays,” she spoke.

“Is that…good or bad?” Zack asked.

“It’s good, he’s growing up and showing he’s capable of taking care of himself,” Rachel replied, “It’s kind of comforting to know that we did a good job at being parents…but it’s kind of sad too.”

Zack quietly listened, he did feel a sense of pride after hearing Ray’s answer, but he was curious about what else she had to say.

“Sorry to say that, I only said it because whenever I see Caleb…I just see him as the small child we brought into this world,” Ray continued.

Zack thought about it, she was right, even he had shared the same sentiment. It must be the feeling that most normal parents get when their child is growing up.

“Do you miss being a mom or something?” he shyly asks.

Ray faintly blushed, “I’m still a mom, Zack…but…yeah, I miss the stuff I used to do.”

Zack’s already warm cheeks began to grow hotter as more thoughts swelled in his mind, he even felt his heart at his throat as words began to fill his mouth, yet was unable to speak them. He swallowed hard and buried his face in her neck as he began to mumble lightly under his breath, Ray knew that Zack wanted to say something, but it was a subject that was too embarrassing for him to ask – from all the years spent with this man, she eventually deciphered his body language.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Zack grumbled in the back of his throat as he tried to force the words out.

“Do you…want…to have…a-another?”

Ray felt her heart pound rapidly from his question, she turned her body around to embrace the man tightly, then pressed her lips against his once more. The man felt his own heart beat just as wildly as he ran his fingers through his wife’s flowing hair.

“I would, absolutely…” Rachel whispered as soon as they parted lips, “I think we should talk it over with Caleb first…”

That would make sense, instead of surprising their son. His opinions mattered too, because they were all a family.

When the two had the time to talk with their son, Caleb seemed rather happy to have a sibling in the household, and approved of the idea for the family to have one more addition. Gray was eventually given the news as well, and was rather surprised over who asked the question first, but like before, he helped make arrangements to aid the pair.

“Your spouse has told me thou art the one that has requested the growth of thy family…I’d never expected someone such as thee to make the request first,” Gray said to Isaac.

It was just the two of them outside, reflecting on the news of the future child.

Zack mumbled under his breath as he kept his eyes away from the old Reverend, even though he could feel the strange and proud parental stare coming from the old man.

“I like seeing Ray as a mom…it’s when she’s the most happiest,” Zack replied, “…fuck, growing up with Caleb made me feel pretty damn good too…watching that little munchkin grow up is kind of…”

“Rewarding?”

“Y-Yeah…” Zack said, “…people like me and Ray wound up making a damn good kid like him. Even after that talk we had about the past…that kid doesn’t judge us.”

“Caleb does have quite the pure soul,” Gray spoke, “thou must be proud of him.”

“Damn fucking proud.”

“Art thou afraid of thy next child?” Gray asked, “I recall thou had quite the problem with nerves the last time.”

Zack growled in slight annoyance, but shyly replied, “…A little…I was really confused and fucking unsure of myself last time. I guess I have some confidence now.”

“To take the step on thy own accord is proof enough of thy grown confidence,” Gray said, “You and this life thine both have made surprise me with each passing year. I’m quite proud thou hast found happiness thou have sought for so long.”

Isaac never hear anyone praise him in that way, it felt like his inner child screamed out inside of him with joy, he quietly swore to himself as he focused his heterochromatic stare at the priest.

“…Th-thanks old man…” he said. His voice was hesitant, but his eyes showed gratitude.

The old priest smiled to the man, then lightly pat his shoulder as he decided to let the family be until his next visit.

Time passed as the couple made their attempts to conceive, though Zack did feel some frustration when they yielded no results, but Ray would just softly smile and remind him to stay patient. When the day came and was finally met with success, Zack felt a little excited, though he still felt a bit of nervousness because he cared for the health of his wife as well.

The memories returned to him, there were days where Ray felt tired and slightly weak, or sometimes she was overcome with dizziness. Zack would even recall when her emotions fluctuate beyond her control, but he also remembered how damn beautiful she was with that natural glow that emanated from her. After experiencing the times before Caleb was born, Zack knew exactly what to do now instead of being outright confused. Though, there were moments that he didn’t want Ray to overexert herself, even Caleb was around to help out when he felt it was needed.

Months went by, and the familiar stages of bringing a child into the world had resurfaced, Zack seemed to notice the randomizing mood side effect didn’t show but he was aware that Rachel had been extra cuddly and affectionate – not that he was complaining, he kinda liked that side of her.

“Shit, why aren’t you like this all of the time?” Isaac whispered into her ear.

Ray faint her cheeks grow warm as she felt Zack’s hands tenderly caress her belly, she didn’t want to admit that she found that gesture during her pregnancy rather pleasing - at least, not yet.

“Because you get embarrassed when I do.”

Zack paused for a moment, then buried his face in her neck - she got him there.

“Told ya,” she added.

Soon, the two could hear a voice from the living area, “Get a room, you two!”

Now Zack couldn’t hold back a snicker, he didn’t know who Caleb inherited the mischievous wit from more, him or Ray, but damn did he laugh when it showed.

“He gets it from you,” Ray said as she ruffled her husband’s hair.

“Psh, please…you’ve done your share of running your mouth,” Zack retorts, then scooped her up in his arms.

“Ah! What are you doing?”

Zack had that devilish grin that he was known for, then saw him turn the other way to shout, “You heard the man, time to go get a room…let’s go, Ray.”

As Ray felt Zack carry her to the bedroom, she could hear Caleb shout in a flustered manner, mostly consisting of ‘Oh my god’ or ‘I was just kidding’.

They were quite the “unique” family, but it was a loving family nonetheless.

The day finally came for their second child to be born, it was a girl this time, and the two stuck with the name that was once planned in the beginning – Ellie.

Her hair was a dark amber color, and her eyes had inherited the golden hue from Zack’s odd-colored stare.

Zack didn’t feel that sense of skittishness like he had felt previously, now that he knows how it feels to have a child. He wasn’t overcome with a sense of panic when he held the small infant in his arms, but rather, a warmth. Even Caleb was curious about his new sibling, watching his dad cradle her in his arms with that familiar protective look on his face.

“Were you like that too, when I was small?” Caleb asks.

“Well, yeah…but, I was kind of scared too, you were so freakin’ small,” Isaac replied, “I was worried my big arms could squish ya.”

Then he allowed Caleb to hold his sibling for the first time, watching him immediately bond with her.

Life was going peacefully for the family, and thankfully Zack never got to see Rachel’s protective mama-bear mode again – though he secretly did warn Caleb about it.

Gray had accepted the role of grandfather figure for the children, even if they were not related by blood. Zack seemed amused to poke fun at the old Reverend whenever Caleb always referred to him as Grandpa. Aside from that, Gray had noticed the man’s demeanor has gotten much calmer over the years, almost as if his past deeds were in fact a distant memory now.

Like with Caleb, when Ellie got a little older, Rachel would take the child with her whenever she was in town. One day, she decided to take her to her place of work. She wanted to show her new child to the owner of the shop while planning on an eventual return to do some work. Time seemed to fly during their conversation, and Rachel noticed that it was starting to grow dark, if she had spent too much time away, she knew that Zack would come out to escort her back home. It did make her feel safe during the times of her employment.

She said her goodbyes before leaving the building to head home and possibly meet up with her husband on the way back home. Rachel held Ellie close to her as she walked down the sidewalk, remembering her usual route back home, and anticipated Isaac to show up any moment soon.

Noise could be heard in a nearby alleyway, was it her husband coming to meet her?

Ray paused for a moment as she glanced curiously. There was a figure staring at her, but Rachel could feel a hostile vibe coming from it, she glared defensively as she held her child close. The figure was quick to grasp the woman and drag her into the alleyway, but Rachel did not hesitate to shove herself from his grip.

“Don’t fucking struggle…” the strange man growled, then pulled out a knife, “…give me whatever you got and maybe I won’t hurt you too bad…”

Soon, she began to hear her child start to whimper, she brought a hand to gently caress the back of her head to soothe her, but it began to agitate the man.

“Shut your fuckin’ brat up, or I’ll shut it up for you…”

Rachel shot the man an intense glare, “You can threaten me all you want, but don’t you dare threaten my child, understand?”

The man appeared surprised to see someone standing up to him, then held his knife up threateningly, “Or you’ll what?”

Rachel was ready to unleash the wrath only a mother could bring upon the world, but she saw the man’s arm twist and contort behind his body and watched as bandaged fingers grasped at the man’s throat. It may not be the mother that the man shouldn’t fear at all, but the father.

Zack angrily held onto the man as he tightened his grip with both of his hands, Ray could see a sort of bloodthirsty glow coming from his golden eye, and could hear a growl coming from his breaths. Ellie’s whimpering had progressed into cries, Ray tried to quietly hush her, even Zack’s parental instinct didn’t want to hear his daughter cry from fear.

“Ray…head on home…I’ll take care of this bastard…” Zack spoke softly, then his expression changed to a gentle one as he glanced to Ellie, “hey…don’t cry, baby girl…your dad’s got this…”

The cries reduced back to a soft whimper and Ray reluctantly stepped back to return home, she knew Zack was more than capable of taking care of himself, and the safety of their child came first.

As soon as Isaac watched Rachel leave to head home, it was just him and the man that pulled a knife on his family. His former soft expression changed back to rage, then twisted the man’s arm yet again to make the knife jab against his own side.

“You made a big fucking mistake…” he growled, “two actually…you threatened my wife and made my kid cry…you think I’m gonna let you walk away breathing?”

The man felt Zack’s grip tighten even more on his windpipe, he carefully maneuvered his other arm down without getting the angered man’s attention, then dropped the blade into his free hand. Before Zack could notice the man’s lack of struggling, he suddenly felt something stab him into his abdomen, the bandaged man let go for a second as he stumbled back.

Isaac saw the knife stick out of him, and felt a surge of rage burning deeper inside him. That all too familiar sense of bloodlust was beginning to overwhelm him as he glared at the man, he ripped the knife out from his body and gripped onto it tightly. This man was now his prey.

When Rachel had returned home, she noticed Gray was there, it seemed the old priest had paid a visit while she was away and Isaac asked him to keep an eye out while he went to retrieve her. The Reverend noticed a troubled look on both Rachel and Ellie’s face, and Zack was nowhere to be seen.

“What seems to be the matter?”

“A man tried to attack me and Ellie on the way…Zack stayed behind…I’m worried about him,” Rachel replied, “I should go back to check on him…”

“No, thou must stay here and tend to the children. I shall fetch Isaac…”

Rachel was ready to argue, but Gray did have a point, she was gone long enough, and she didn’t want Caleb to worry as well. The woman sighed as she let the older man go retrieve her husband, while she went to take care of her children, it was around dinner time after all.

Meanwhile, Gray quietly walked down the street, he knew the back alleys was the best place to find a man like Isaac, especially if the situation had called for a confrontation. The old man was quick to spot drops of blood on the ground, then a small pool, and eventually it began to trail to another location. The trailing drops eventually became large drag marks, which meant that the situation turned deadly, and he knew who the victor was – but he wasn’t expecting the sight he would eventually see.

Zack was crouched over a corpse, repeatedly stabbing at what once was a man, but had become horribly mutilated. The white cloth that had covered Zack’s body were completely stained crimson with blood, along with the rest of the articles of clothing.

“Isaac.”

The man swiftly turned his head as he pointed the bent and bloody knife towards Gray, there was that familiar crazed look in Zack’s heterochromatic eyes once more, followed by his insane grin. It appears that an old demon had returned to reclaim Zack.

“Isaac, thou dare wishes to turn a blade on someone new?” Gray asks.

Zack didn’t reply, but only let out a sinister laugh as he slowly approached the old man. Gray was not going to be afraid, yet he was worried for him.

“Isaac, what would’st thou do if it was not me standing here before you…what if it was Rachel…or perhaps young Caleb?”

Hearing those names halted the man for a moment, like the sane part of him had taken hold once more from recognition, Zack dropped the knife as he continued to charge towards Gray. The Reverend felt the man roughly grab at his clergy robe by the collar and yank him close while his other arm reeled back for a punch. Gray did feel a slight bit of hesitation as he saw the clenched fist propel towards him, but Zack stopped at the last second before making impact.

Zack had a furious expression, but his crazed look was no longer there. His fist then changed to an accusing point, and directed it at the older man.

“Don’t you ever fucking bring them up like that again…” Zack growled, “…you’re god damn lucky that my kids like you…”

Gray breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Zack let go of his robe, “I do apologize, Isaac…it was a low thing to do, but it appeared to be the only way to snap thee back into reality…”

Zack stared at the tattered corpse nearby, then glanced at the bloody cloth covering his scarred hand, the other clasped at the stab wound to try and stop the bleeding.

“…He pulled a knife on Ray…made my fucking kid cry…then the cheeky little bastard stabbed me,” Zack rambled, “I was fiending to kill after that…”

Gray stood beside the man as he looked to the body, “…There will be prying eyes and high suspicions once the body is discovered��”

“Don’t think that I don’t know that already, I fucking ripped the shithead apart,” Zack growled.

“This will not be easy, but I shall see to disposing of any evidence of thy own doing. Go back home to the family, Isaac…thy spouse worries, and thou art wounded…but in such a condition, please be discrete,” Gray commanded.

The Reverend was right, waltzing back home completely slathered in blood would be a terrible idea, he would have to sneak in back home and clean the blood stains off his body.

“Please, do take care, Isaac…” Gray said as he watched the man slowly walk off.

Zack clenched onto his wound, it wasn’t the first time he had to do it, as he still bore the massive scar across his belly to prove it. He had to tread carefully to keep it from bleeding out even more, but he was glad that the knife didn’t stab him too deep, or hell, that he wasn’t bleeding profusely to render him unconscious.

His home was within his sight, all he needed to do now was crawl in through the bedroom window and discard his bloody attire, not to mention, tend to his wound as well. Zack remembered that Ray kept one of the windows unlocked in case she wanted to let in some fresh air. The man carefully climbed into the house and slowly got to his feet as he made way to the bathroom.

Rachel began to hear sounds coming from her room, but never saw or hear anyone enter the house.

“Caleb, keep an eye on your sister real quick.”

Caleb nodded as he picked up one of Ellie’s toys and bought it in front of her to play with.

Ray slowly opened the door to the master bedroom, she saw one of the windows was open and there was a small trail of blood leading to the bathroom.

“…Zack?” she beckons.

Now she heard a swear, it was him.

“Zack…are you alright?”

There was no answer for a moment, until she saw the door open, Ray held back a gasp as she saw her husband was covered head to toe in blood stains.

“Did that man hurt you?” she asked.

Zack grumbled as he clenched at his gut, “Yeah…it’s nothing big…but I fucking lost it with him…I almost attacked the priest.”

“Where is Gray now?”

“Cleaning up my damn mess…” Zack sighed, then glanced at Ray, “…could you please patch me up? I’m still bleeding here…”

It had been ages since she used a thread and needle on flesh, she lightly nodded as she went to retrieve a sewing kit to stitch up Zack’s wound.

“Let’s get you cleaned up too…there’s rubbing alcohol under the sink…” Ray said to her husband.

His least favorite thing when it came to patching up wounds, the sterilizing liquid always felt like freaking acid on his open lesions. Zack reluctantly retrieved the bottle, then began to tear off every bit of his splattered wrappings, along with the stained clothing. Ray returned with a needle and a spool of thread, she took the task of disinfecting the wound first with the alcohol, then heard Zack growl out frustrated swears as it began to eat away any potential bacteria.

“Alright, sit still…and don’t flinch…”

“I won’t, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve done this shit for me, Ray…just…be a little more gentle with how you do it this time,” Zack murmured.

“I will…the wound isn’t as big…it shouldn’t take long…”

Rachel was carefully stitching the wound closed, Zack would wince every now and then from feeling the needle pierce and exit his skin, but it was a bearable pain.

The memory of the man’s carcass came to his mind again, and let out a sigh.

“I’m kinda glad Gray came instead of you…fuck…I probably would’ve never snapped out of it,” Zack mumbled, “…I couldn’t live with myself if I had done that shit to you too…”

Their old oath was for Zack to kill her, but he had already done so in a unique way, he had killed what made Ray who she once was. Zack killed her old identity of Rachel Gardner and she was given the life as his wife, Rachel Foster. To kill that would be painful to him.

Rachel paused for a moment to press her lips against Zack’s, she could feel him freeze from surprise, but allowed her to continue as he eased up.

“You would’ve snapped out of it…don’t go doubting yourself…” Ray softly spoke.

Isaac felt his cheeks grow slightly warm, then leaned close to tenderly bump heads with her, “God damn, do you know how fucking important you are?”

“Very…”

Zack slightly grinned, “…Good girl…”

Stitching was finished, and all there was left was to clean the remaining bits of blood that stained Zack’s skin, Rachel was quick to get a damp cloth to help run it against Zack’s body. His skin wasn’t heavily coated, thanks to his wrappings absorbing most of the blood that had splashed against him.

“Hey…is Ellie alright? I really didn’t want to see her cry like that…” Zack asks.

“She was a little shaken up, but she went back to normal after Caleb played a bit with her,” Ray replied.

She could hear a sigh of relief coming from Zack, she smiled to herself as she felt glad to know that Zack was still concerned to their child’s sense of security.

“They’re both lucky to have a dad like you watching over them,” she added.

Annnddd, there was Zack’s trademark flustered look. Boy, did she enjoy seeing that.

“G-god dammit, Ray…saying that embarrassing shit again…”

“I’m just saying the truth…I know how you hate liars,” Ray said as she kissed her husband’s forehead. “How about you stay here for the rest of the night? I’ll bring you something to eat, after I tell the kids that you’re back.”

After losing quite a bit of blood, it did leave him a little drained, it was an offer that he didn’t want to pass up.

“That sounds good…thanks Ray…um…let them know that I’m alright…just tired,” Zack said.

“Will do, now get some rest…”

Soon, he had the room to himself, and decided to lay down on the large bed that occupied his and Rachel’s room. It didn’t take long until he had drifted off to sleep, perhaps he was more worn out than he had thought. Even Rachel was surprised to see him sleeping away when she returned with some food for him to eat, perhaps another time.

When Zack awoke, he saw that dawn had already broken, and was quite surprised just how long he had dozed off. In the bed was Rachel, snuggled up against his chest as she held onto him tightly, and close by was their daughter’s crib.

Waking up to such a sight and the thought of being in this family made the man feel content. Sure, he had almost relapsed to his old self, but he wouldn’t regret in dealing with any foe that posed a threat to his family. Ray may have her supposed “mama bear” mode, but Zack could be just the fearsome protector as well.

Should anyone dare to come between the two and their children, there would be hell to pay, and they would not hesitate to take on any opposition - no matter how big or how strong. This family they had built together was their entire world, and they would never let anything tear it from them.

#khymer's fanfics #that our bond series thing #satsuriku no tenshi #angels of death #angel of slaughter

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