#i made a sound financial decision and bought yet more brushes

[valfeathers]

it’s still july 7th somewhere

[filterjeons]

baby baby | kth

✦ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✦ summary: you’re practically taehyung’s favorite girl. even though you are just his sugar baby, he loves you more than any one of his before. unfortunately, you started to turn into the complete opposite of the girl you were before but luckily for him, he knows how to put you back in your place

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 5.7k

✦ warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sugar daddy/dilf!taehyung, degradation, dumbification, anal play, oral (f receiving), fingering, rough and unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare

Taehyung sighed to himself as he “patiently” waited for you to finish looking through the abundance of clothes that are hung on the racks of the clothing store you two were in. What’s worse is that you probably already have those exact dresses, blouses or skirts but they’re just in a different color. Yet, your irresistible puppy eyes convinced him to drive you to the mall and spend a good amount on you. 

When he decided to become your sugar daddy, he should’ve expected to create such a monster because every month he spends at least $5,000 on different sorts of clothes, shoes, makeup, or miscellaneous items. It wasn’t like it was a financial problem for him but because you were his absolute favorite, he was prone to giving you anything that you ever wanted. Now that he thinks about it, you were the most spoiled out of all of his previous sugar babies. You recently asked him to order a bunch of packages and now here you are, going to spend even more money on more clothes that are only going to go in your closet.

Despite all of that, he really loved you and wanted to make sure you were happy. The first time you two met was in a convenience store on a rainy day where you used to work part time. Back then, you were tired all of the time because not only were you working as soon as school ended but you also had to study like crazy once your shift was over. Even after you took on his offer of being his sugar baby, you still worked hard to maintain your scholarship and pay for your best friend Lisa’s rent. Plus, you always spent time with him whenever you had a free day which wasn’t required but it made him happy. 

None of his past sugar babies were that caring, they just only wanted him for the money and genuinely didn’t care about him. He didn’t require them to keep him company or be in a relationship, hell he even was aware of the relationships they had with other people. He didn’t expect you to date him either because of the age gap between the two of you shared. He was 29 and you were only 19, in your second year of college. But you decided to be his girlfriend because you really liked him regardless of the money and because of that, he always had a special place in his heart for you. 

What’s the point of buying all these clothes when he’s just going to rip them off of you?, he thought as he watched you shift through the neat piles of skirts. Another reason why he has a favoritism towards you was that you were just the best with him in bed. Some days you’ll be obedient and he’ll be caring with you but on other days, you’ll put on a bratty front and he’ll simply fuck it out of you with extra care at the end. He assumes that today will be the latter because of your spoiled attitude right now.

“Y/N honey, I don’t think you’re going to buy anything here so let’s go home now-” Taehyung said, walking over towards you but you brushed him off.

“Just wait for 5 minutes. I wanna see if this’ll look good on me,” you protested.

“It’ll always look good on you. Besides, don’t you have that same dress but in pink?” “I want the black one now, it’s for a party I’m going later on.” 

“A party? How come you didn’t let me know before?” You were absolutely perfect in Taehyung’s eyes but a thing that he wasn’t really fond of was him knowing of your plans last-minute. Most of the time it was an accident because you tend to forget things easily but for some reason, it sounded like you didn’t want to tell him earlier. 

“Because it’s none of your business. Ugh, there’s nothing good here so I guess I’m going to get this one. Daddy, can I have your credit card?” you grumbled, putting back the pile of clothes that were laying on your arm while the other was texting your friend Lisa. 

“Your business is mine because I also have to keep you safe from anything bad that could happen to you. Where is the party?” “At the club of course! Come on Taehyung, who wouldn’t have a party at a club?” “It’s with Lisa, right?” “Why do you care so much, you’ve met her before! She’s literally my best friend and of course I have to go. Just give me your credit card al-”

“Put the dress down. I’m not buying you anything today because of the attitude you just showed me,” he said darkly, trying to get you to listen to him.

“Why not? What did I do wrong?” 

“I think I already spent too much on you because now you’re acting like a spoiled little girl,” he growled softly above your ear, his aura overtaking you and making your heart race. 

“But...but, I want this one!” you whined, giving him your best pout and stomping your feet like a little toddler. Taehyung laughed at your childish behavior but his decision still remained firm. 

“Please Daddy? Please, please, please!”

“No means no. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.” 

“It’s not even that expensive!”

“Y/N, the money isn’t the problem for me. It’s the way you’re speaking to me.”

“Daddy, you said that you’ll buy me anything right? You love me right? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not your favorite?” you pulled the last-attempt lines that typically got Taehyung to do whatever you want. You knew in your heart that he’ll only love you and he blatantly shows his favoritism for you but those words always got him to give in and buy the item.

Taehyung’s expression shifted from softening his stance and debating to giving in before deciding to not settle down to you. It was so close before he surrendered and spent even more money on you. He already loved you since you were his only sugar baby right now and he’s sure you know it too but this time, he’s not going to lose to your charms.

“I’ve already bought you so much stuff, is that not enough for my bratty little baby?” he asked coldly, pulling a card that you’ve never heard before. He’s never called you a brat outright but the degrading name made your stomach turn and a whimper come out of your mouth. “Does she want more?” 

“I-I-” “Are you a little brat who likes to be spoiled with Daddy’s money?” 

You felt cool sweat dripping down your forehead as you tried to think of a comeback that could match him but most of your previous ones won’t work on him. All you could think of is…

“Yes I am, Daddy.”  That nearly sent Taehyung to the edge as he made you put back the dress, grabbed your hand, and walked you out of the mall and into his limo which still amazes you to this day. The chauffeur didn’t even need to interact with you two as he pulled up the golden partition, giving you alone time with him. 

“You used to be such a good little girl but now your behavior has gotten worse. It’s such a shame that I have to punish you on the night before your best friend’s party. I would’ve let you go if you told me before but I don’t think that’s an option, especially for what I’m about to do to you when we get home. Besides, we haven’t had sex together in a while now; wouldn’t you have much more fun playing with me than going to a normal party?” he whispered darkly, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh as your face started to blush. 

Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that you were the same girl a couple of months ago when he first met you. He remembered the first time he took you to a high-end clothing store, the look on your face when you read the price tag and the way you puffed up in anger when he swiped his credit card on an expensive dress that’ll absolutely look stunning on you. 

Now after getting used to buying more items, you took a full 180 on your personality which led you to be the girl you were now. But even though you showed a bratty and whiny facade, he still knew you kept your hard-working and kind heart because it was a part of you that never went away. Alongside your submission to him. 

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, his fingers lightly grazing the front of your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wet patch on your panties from your arousal.

“Are you enjoying this? Did you want this all along? Are you acting up like a bad girl because you want me to dom you?” he chuckled, his warm mouth leaving hickeys along the side of your neck and pushing his fingers past your underwear and into your core.

“I...I…” you were breathless, already squirming from his touch and worrying that the chauffeur could hear you. Although there were times when the both of you had no shame in his car, for some reason it was humiliating for him to hear you wrecked like this. 

“Huh, are you worried that he might hear you? Do you want him to hear you fucked out against my fingers like a little slut?” 

“Oh, uh…” you let out a quiet whimper as you try to cover your noises with your sweater sleeve. Taehyung smirked at how weak you looked as he started to pump his digits in and out of you, the action making squelching noises and the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit. You were absolutely dripping onto his fingers and your panties as muffled sounds were slipping out of your lips. 

“Naughty girl,” he tsked as the limo came to a halt in presumably the front of his mansion and he pulled his hand out of your core, licking the excess liquids. You whined at the dirty action and the loss of contact as the chauffeur turned off the engine and exited the driver’s seat to open your door.

“Thank you so much Michael,” Taehyung smiled as the door opened for the both of you to get out. He was acting like he didn’t make you hot and bothered earlier ago while you already looked flustered and out of breath. You knew that he’s absolutely going to snap once the two of you are behind closed doors but you weren’t worried at all. Rather, you were proud of yourself for bringing him to that point because you really enjoyed getting punished by him.

“Strip off your clothes baby girl. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Taehyung says darkly once you get inside his master bedroom. You gaped at him, suddenly feeling shy about yourself. 

“Wh-what?” “You should’ve got it the first time. Take off your clothes, missy.”

Even though you were in trouble with him, you still didn’t want to back down to him completely yet so you decided to give him an eye roll and a dramatic groan. 

“It’s no use being a brat to me now, rather it’ll just make your punishment worse. I’m saying this for the final time Y/N, strip. Now,” he snarled, his darkened eyes burning daggers into you as he eyed you expectantly. 

At this point, there was no use in arguing with him so you huffed and gave in to his demand. You pulled off your sweater and bra, leaving you in just your skirt, thigh-highs, and panties. 

“Take off your panties, I just want to see you in your skirt and stockings,” Taehyung demanded, waiting for you to finish. You were surprised he didn’t want you to take off all your clothes but he always loved seeing you in a skirt due to your tendency to wear them often. You slipped off your undies and tossed them in the side, leaving you in the thigh-highs and the skirt that barely left any room to hide yourself. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, his bulging hard dick sticking out against his jeans as he manhandled you onto the edge of his bed, the curve of your ass sticking out. You could feel him grind onto you roughly, making you crave more of him. “You’re such a bad little girl, I’m not going to go easy on you.” “Well, bring it on,” you jeered, facing him and trying to rile him up even more. Your statement lit a fire in him because he pushed you down on the bed and immediately attached his lip onto yours in a hungry kiss. You tried to kiss back but his pace was too rough and fast as he slipped his tongue inside yours to assert his dominance. 

He broke off from the kiss and went down to your chest, kissing and sucking on your hardened nipple, even nibbling on them. The other one was taken care of by his long fingers, tugging on them and sending sparks of pain whenever he tugged them sharply. You let out a high-pitched moan as he typically never paid that much attention to your boobs. 

Being the little shit he was, he decided to become more aggressive once he switched treatments on both nipples. In one, he was biting and sucking on it harshly with his teeth while the other was being flicked and pinched with his fingers. After hearing your mewls and whines, he decided to tug it upwards which created an electrifying shock towards you. 

“Ahh! What-oh-oh my god!” you cried as your body tried to calm itself down from the pain while Taehyung watched your boob snap back into place with an evil smirk plastered on his face.

“Aww, does the little baby not like that? Does it hurt?” he mocked and you nodded, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. “Too bad, little whore. It’s what you deserve after you acted like a dumb little bitch who’s only good for taking in dick.” 

You gasped to yourself at the degrading terms, surprised at yourself for hearing him calling you that for the first time and how much you like that. Taehyung could tell as well because of the way your slick is coming down rapidly from your thighs. 

“Does the stupid little girl like that? Do you like getting treated as just a dirty little cockwhore for me to use?” he asked, pulling up your skirt and making kitten licks on top of your pussy to tease you. 

You bucked your hips up higher for him to keep going: both the degradation and him eating you out. Taehyung’s tongue always felt so good on you and the way he was staring at you could nearly make you cum right now. 

“Yeah, you enjoy it so much huh? Being treated like a dumb baby who’s only good at making Daddy feel good? Do you want me to make you feel good? Does your little hole want to be filled up with my cock?”

“Yes,” you whined, thrashing against his face as the ache’s gotten worse for you. At this point, you wanted anything from him just so the burning sensation could feel better. 

“Such a little slut. Always desperate for Daddy’s cock,” he shook his head as he licked a stripe of your core before turning you on your hands and knees, your ass in full display. 

“Wh-what are you going to do?” you whispered, thinking of the times he’s gotten you in this position when you were in trouble with him. Most likely it’s going to be a spanking so you internally braced yourself for the impact. 

“I’m going to do something different,” he replied, pulling up your skirt so your puckered hole was on display. He rubs a finger to prod your entrance, collecting the slick that was forming there. “We haven’t done anal before, have we?” 

You shook your head, your heart racing on what he’s going to do with you. For some reason, it made you nervous as it was something that you’ve never done before and you’ve heard so much stuff about it from your friends and the magazines. 

“Shh, don’t be nervous, it’ll be okay. You’ll be my good girl and take it, right?” Taehyung comforts you, kissing the back of your neck to calm you down and massaging your butt. You nodded, swallowing the lump down your throat to prepare yourself. 

“I-I can do it,” you tried to say confidently, taking deep breaths. 

“I know you can, you’re such an obedient little baby...some of the time,” he cooed, prodding your asshole with his thumb to try to get you used to the feeling and using your wetness as lube. 

“Hey, what do you mean some of the time?” you barked, turning your head back to face him as a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face and his eyes darkened in lust. Apparently, his statement was supposed to distract you as he started to insert the first half of his thumb into your hole. “Daddy, what the fuck-” “Shh, relax baby,” he said in a soothing tone, feeling your walls clench around his digit tightly. 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded and tried to calm yourself down as you took a deep breath and felt Taehyung’s thumb slowly starting to enter deeper inside of you, your walls trying to accommodate the stretch. 

“You’re doing so good, taking Daddy’s thumb like such a good girl,” he praised softly, the compliment sending butterflies in your chest and making your face heating up even more. “It’s only a little bit left, you can do it baby.” 

By now, you were a moaning and whining mess as you tried to stuff yourself into the pillows due to the embarrassing sounds you were making. You feel so full already and Taehyung wasn’t helping as he’s bringing his hand to the front of your pussy, flicking your clit. 

“Such a sweet girl, you took all of my thumb,” he said with admirement, feeling the way your walls flutter around his finger tightly. The thought of you like this, all whiny and helpless under him while he takes you from behind, entered his mind and he let out a growl from the chance that he can make that thought into a reality.

All of a sudden, he pulled his thumb out of your hole, making you groan with disappointment as you were getting used to it inside you, before plunging his long pointer finger inside. You started to let out even more whines as you started to feel overwhelmed with the pleasure, both from the front and behind. 

Taehyung added his middle finger and thrusted them in and out, quickening the pace while deciding to stick another one in, making you feel even more full than before. Your body started to tremble as you tried to keep up with him and steady yourself due to the rate he was going at. 

“Jesus, have you gotten tighter than before?” he muttered, spreading your walls apart and making scissoring motions in an attempt to go deeper and stretching you out as much as possible so that you’re ready to take his dick later. Speaking of which, he felt himself grow harder with every little movement and sound you make, your cute noises boosting up his ego and turning him on.

You looked absolutely wrecked, the side of your face sprawled onto the pillows as your eyes were closed shut, mouth was open into a moan with drool slowly dripping down the corner of your lips, and your pretty ass sticking out for him as you started to grind on his hand, wanting to feel more. 

“You’re enjoying this too much aren’t you, you bad little girl,” he tsked, fingering your hole harder and shoving his pinky inside. With practically all of his long digits inside, it hits every corner of your walls and gives you shocks of pleasure with every thrust which is leading you to your orgasmt. “Do you want my dick inside you, huh?” Your high-pitched squeals of need and you grinding your ass back to feel his hardened dick and chasing your high gave him the answer he needed. “You just want your little holes to be filled up, isn’t that right? Too bad.” All of a sudden, he immediately removed his hands and turned you back on your front, your legs sprawled out for him and your face contorting into a whine from the lack of contact. 

“Why-why did you stop?” you panted, sweat dripping down your forehead as he was hitting every single part of you but ended it without any warning and leaving you dry. 

“Because my little princess is still a bad little slut. Don’t worry though, maybe if you feed Daddy with your cute pussy, I’ll forgive you,” he replied as he licked a stripe up your cunt and made your body tremble from his dirty words. As he started to eat you out, you made eye contact with him and compared to his softer gaze, his naturally brown eyes are absolutely dark from lust which made him look intimidating. To tease you even more, he gave you a seductive wink and you felt yourself turn into putty as you let him do whatever he wants with you. 

“D-daddy..” You were at a loss for words due to the bliss you were in. Taehyung was eating you out completely, kissing your clit, and humming occasionally to send vibrations throughout your sensitive core. His tongue was deep inside your entrance and his fingers were added as well to try to find your g-spot. 

At this moment it was like you were in another world with your mind becoming absolutely blank and only focusing on him and your eyes nearly seeing stars. The noises inside the bedroom were extremely lewd, the squelching of your pussy as Taehyung eats you out and the whimpers and moans that are coming out of your mouth.

“Filthy little fuckslut,” he sighed, lapping at your clit and swirling it around between his tongue. When he lightly grazed on it with his teeth, the volume of your whines were even louder than before and you were ten seconds away from releasing. 

“Does my angel want to come now? Is she going to release her sweet juices on my tongue?” he asked, staring at your fucked out face from below while thrusting his tongue muscle in and out. 

“Mmh-” you whined, the familiar feeling that arises when you feel like releasing slowly taking over you as the rest of your body keeps writhing and twitching from the ministrations that Taehyung was doing to you. 

“Pretty little baby,” he cooed, watching you starting to tremble as your orgasm was near. That sets off a reaction in your stomach because all of a sudden, you see your vision going blank and full of stars as you release all of your liquids on him.  

It was like you had just dropped down from a roller coaster as you were still trying to come down from your high but it seems like it hasn’t stopped since more liquids were dripping down and soaking the bed sheets. 

Taehyung looked at you in awe as some of it were splattered onto his face and surprisingly, your orgasm seemed more intense than before and you were squirting intensely onto his bed. He licked off some of your juices that were onto him before giving a final kiss on top of your cunt as he watches you slowly regain consciousness. 

“Huh, what- oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you babbled, realizing what just happened and feeling completely embarrassed. Taehyung had no shame regarding what you two do in bed but it was still humiliating that you absolutely drenched his bed due to how good he was. “No no, it’s okay, besides it was really hot,” he smiled, trying to assure you that everything was fine. You rolled his eyes at his lewd remark as you slightly punched his shoulder, his comment definitely not helping. 

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked quietly.

“Of course not, you know I can never get mad at you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not done with you because I still haven’t fucked you yet,” he replied as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a mini strip-show. 

Taehyung was a very attractive man and today it was evident as he kept staring straight at your face while taking off every piece of clothing on him. His honey skin was reflected against the late afternoon sun, causing it to glow like he was some god that came out of the sky. Although he wasn’t the most muscular, you were more than fine with how he looked because a man like him could have any girl in the world and he chose you. 

“Why are you taking so long?” you whined as he slowly unbuckled his black jeans. You could see his hardened dick begging to be set free and knowing how good it looked and felt made you absolutely on your nerves as you impatiently kicked your feet immaturely. 

“Patience, little girl,” he chided softly as he was now stripped down to his grey Calvin Kleins, palming his big bulge on top of his boxers. “Do you wanna take it off for me?” You nodded rapidly, crawling over to him and pulling down the restricting material. As soon as they were gone, his long and thick cock stood up instantly. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight of it with precum oozing out of the angry head. Honestly, his dick intimidated you due to how big it was and if it’s ever going to fit you despite sleeping together with him multiple times. 

“Daddy…” you whispered as he pumped his length to let the precum slick it well. His hands were normally really big but for some reason, they looked small when they’re wrapped around his dick. 

“What’s wrong, are you scared?” he teased lightly, a playful grin stuck on his face as he hovers above you to insert it in. 

“N-no, I’m ready,” you said confidently as he aligns himself above your entrance, the tip of his dick slightly grazing your folds. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, immediately pushing himself in inch by inch, hitting all of your nerves and filling you up to the brim. You dig your nails behind his back to try to steady yourself as he seems to be going deeper than before, feeling him hit your g-spot and other nerves that weren’t explored before. 

“A-ah, shit it feels so fucking good. Your cunt is so warm and tight for me, holy fucking hell, you like that baby? Like my big fucking cock inside your tiny little pussy?” he grunts, rolling his eyes back as soon as his whole dick was inside you. You mewled pathetically, not being able to find words of how you’re feeling. 

Taehyung took your noises as a sign for him to keep going harder and faster. Although you were just getting used to his veiny and lengthy dick burning your cunt, it wasn’t for long as he started to take his dick out so only the tip was above you and slamming it back in. You squealed at the sudden fast pace, his dick pounding into you deeper and harder. 

He snapped his hips harder and started to thrust even faster, making you feel delirious and out of breath. The pleasure was overwhelming due to how well and often he was hitting that spot that always made you weak and his deep moans and grunts were turning you on. Your eyes were glossy due to the tears that were slipping out from the euphoria you were in and the way your cute eyes stared at him from below only turned him on even more, fucking you as hard and fast as he can. 

“Aww, is my little fucktoy crying? Is it too much for you, huh? Is it too overwhelming for my little baby?” he mocked once he saw your face, thrusting at an inhumane pace. You whimpered at the degradation with glossy eyes, which only set Taehyung off even more. 

“Fucking shit, the things you do to me little girl. Daddy’s hitting it so hard and fast, right? You could feel Daddy’s dick deep in your stomach?” With that being said, he palmed the bottom of your stomach and sure enough you could feel the presence of his bulge in there. 

“I-I- oh fuck, y-yeah, faster,” you stammered, embarrassed at yourself for not being able to form coherent sentences but at the pace Taehyung was going at, it was pretty useless to. 

“Stupid little baby, only good for letting me use her tight and tiny little pussy, my stupid little doll,” he cooed while kissing your cheek affectionately, the soft action mixed with the degradation making your pussy flutter around his cock tightly. 

At this point, you were ten seconds near your orgasm due to how well he was making you feel. The familiar knot that signals if you’re about to cum is near and the volume of your noises has risen, filling the rooms with your high-pitched squeals and whimpers. 

“Is my baby going to cum soon now? Do you wanna be a good girl and cum for Daddy?” Taehyung asked in his raspy voice above your ear, fucking you against your g-spot. 

His words sent off a reaction in you that leads you to your high. You screamed out his name and released every single one of your juices on his dick, your body trembling due to the impact. Taehyung gasps as he couldn’t move due to how tight you were squeezing his dick due to your orgasm. 

“Fucking shit, that’s a good girl,” he sighed, watching you slowly try to come down from your climax. For some reason, that just made him ten times harder and wanting to cum as soon as possible. 

You were in a state of euphoria, your vision being blackened out and your senses not thinking straight. As soon as you slowly started to regain consciousness, you found yourself in Taehyung’s close embrace as he started to speed up. 

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here,” he said softly, kissing you with love as you started to whine from the overstimulation as Taehyung was continuing to fuck inside you to reach his own high. “Can you hold on for Daddy, please?” You nodded slowly, feeling a bit bad about cumming before him. Although it slightly burned since you were sensitive from your own orgasm, you decided to keep it to yourself just to let him climax.

“You’re such a sweet little girl, my good baby,” he grunts as he started to slow down and his thrusts became sloppier since he was getting close to his orgasm. You let out a cute whine and that’s what it took for Taehyung to release. 

With a low guttural groan, you felt his dick inflate inside of you and shoot out loads of his cum. He slowly started to pull himself out of you while he was still releasing, making his seed spill out of you while the rest was stuffed inside of your cunt. He stroked his now sensitive dick to make each last drop land onto your cunt before flopping down next to you out of breath. 

“You did so well baby, I love you so much,” he whispered cutely, showing his adorable box smile which made your heart swell while stuffing the remaining cum that was slowly starting to drip out inside of your battered cunt. 

“I love you too,” you croacked back, trying to calm yourself down from the two intense orgasms you had and the overstimulation. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve gone too hard on you,” he started to apologize but you immediately stopped him.

“N-no, I’m completely fine. You did really well too,” you smile, hugging him tightly. 

“You’re always so sweet but first let me take care of you, okay?” he grinned back, stepping out of the bed and into the bathroom to put on some clothes and clean you up. As soon as he came back, he handed you an oversized shirt and had a washcloth in his hand to clean up your thighs and core. 

“Do you mind if I put you down for a bit? I’m going to clean the sheets,” he asked, carrying you onto a nearby chair and changing the sheets. Soon, the bed was back to normal and you two decided to sleep in.

“I’m sorry for acting like a brat,” you said amongst his broad chest as you were snuggled up against him.

“No, it’s okay. You’re still a good girl no matter what,” he reassured you, kissing the top of your head and looking out into the window. The sky has turned into a pitch-black with stars scattered in different areas like a painting. “I’m sorry that you’ll have to miss Lisa’s party. I guess it must be starting soon.’’ “Taehyung, don’t apologize for that. Besides, I’d rather hang out with you than go to a party. It’s okay, she’ll understand,” you said, brushing off his apologies. Of course you would like to hang out with your friend but being with him made you feel like the happiest girl in the world. 

“You’re so cute, like a tiny little baby,” he cooed, squishing your cheeks which made you immediately brush his hands off. Due to your age gap, he always found you cute because you were younger than him and treated you like a baby sometimes. It was endearing but sometimes it can be plain annoying. 

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you grumbled, turning away from him and placing a pillow on your head to prevent him from bothering you any further. 

Taehyung laughed at your antics before slowly hugging you from behind and sleeping alongside you in that position. 

With the previous sugar babies he had, he wouldn’t be sleeping with them in this position or have so much love and care but you were different. You absolutely stole his heart and even though you have your bratty moments, you will always be his number one. 

a/n: damn this was filthy...but i hope the anons who requested this and y’all like it <3 

taglist: @taesluttt, @laurynne5, @bonnyskies, @aretha170, @arthurflecc​, @mytaetaey​, @bts-txt-ateez​, @maijinki​, @pimentelssmile, @kookies-princess​, @seventeenis-thedream​, @impartoftoomanyfandoms​

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When he thinks you’re going to kiss him

Original title: 当他以为你要亲他

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

Your gaze flits from Victor to the bookshelf, as though pondering on something quietly. While reading his documents, Victor’s sharp senses cause him to notice this. His eyebrows arch slightly as he waits for your next move.

Finally, you come to a decision. You step forward slowly, then lean down in front of him. “Victor...”

“Dummy,” he mumbles with a chuckle. He cooperates, closing his eyes and tilting his chin slightly.

“Hm? What did I do?” You express confusion, reaching out for a novel from the shelf behind him. Since he’s blocking your way, you have no choice but to grab the book through this intimate posture.

Victor stiffens, and he opens his eyes instantly. Your face is filled with question marks as you hold the book before him.

“Why did you close your eyes?”

“...my eyes were tired, so I was resting them.”

“Oh?” You glance at him slyly. “Even though you looked pretty weird smiling with your eyes closed, I believe you.”

In contrast to what you just said, the words “I don’t believe you” are more or less etched on your face in bold.

“...a certain company’s financial status is in line with expectations. That’s why I was smiling.” Unable to ignore the teasing look in your eyes, he sets down his notebook laptop, then stands up and pinches your face. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not, I’m not!” You quickly plead for forgiveness. “You’re the boss, so whatever you say is correct!” With this, you rescue your face from his clutches, preparing to flee.

One step ahead, Victor sees through your plan. How could he possibly let you off? He tugs on your arm, pressing you to his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I just wanted to read a book to relieve boredom,” you give him an embarrassed smile. “Since your eyes were closed, I actually planned to give you a kiss reluctantly. It’s your fault for calling me a dummy.”

“Reluctantly?” Victor chuckles in spite of himself. An arm snakes around your waist, causing you to tremble. His finger pad rubs your lips, and his scent occupies all of your senses. 

“Since you’re here, don’t think of leaving.”

[ GAVIN ]

Standing in front of Gavin, you mete out your commands.

“Close your eyes and lift your head.”

Gavin is currently sitting on the bed and fixing a jigsaw puzzle. Thinking that you’re playing a game, he follows your instructions obediently. As he feels your soft fingers tilting his chin upwards slightly, he thinks about how his girl is no longer as shy as before, and knows how to initiate intimacy with him now.

But… nothing happens.

Just as he’s about to open his eyes, the hand pinching his chin shifts over to his cheek, giving it a light tug. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t put much thought into it, guessing that you’re just feeling shy.

You lean over, your warm breaths brushing his face. Gavin feels his muscles stiffening.

All of a sudden, something sticks to his lips. He subconsciously opens his mouth, but very quickly realises that something’s off. The thing that made contact isn’t you, but a cold and rounded object.

“Hey, don’t bite my lipstick!” Your heart aches as you stare at the bite marks on your newly bought lipstick.

“Lipstick?” Gavin’s eyes snap open, spotting himself in the mirror behind you. Sure enough, his lips are now dyed a bright red because of you. He freezes.

You point to your own lips. “Mm. I wanted to test if the shade’s nice, but I’ve already applied another shade. I needed you to be the model.” Tilting your head to admire the view, you chuckle. “Not bad.”

The grip around your wrist tightens. Before you can react, the man in front of you nibbles your lips gently. Two shades of lipsticks meld together, forming a new colour.

After a long while, Gavin finally lets you off so that you can catch your breath. As you lay in his arms with your cheeks flushed, he lowers his head to give you a peck on the lips.

“Your new lipstick looks pretty good.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Professor Lucien!” You interlace your fingers together with his while lying in his arms.

Lucien looks down, meeting your bright and clear eyes. He responds with a knowing smile, lowering his head in compliance. “How did you know that I wanted a...”

Propping yourself up on his shoulder, you reach for a book on the shelf behind him.

Lucien: ...

“Know about what?” You snuggle yourself back into his arms. Based on his expression, you can tell what he thought was about to happen. However, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. You blink innocently. “I just wanted to grab a book.”

How could Lucien not know what’s on your mind? He bows his head to watch you, the deep pools of his eyes almost sucking you in.

“I thought my Little Miss was going to give me a kiss to recharge my batteries.” Lucien sounds wronged. Along with his usual piteous expression, you aren’t able to withstand it.

You gulp. No matter how handsome the fictional men in novels are, they can’t compare to your Professor Lucien - a feast for the eyes.

Seeing your emotions stir, Lucien follows up with his victory. “Turns out I thought too much. It’s okay, you can carry on with what you were busy with. I’ll just stay here on my own.”

He releases his hold on your waist. If you ignored Lucien’s watery gaze, you might have believed he was genuinely leaving you to your own devices.

“Pfft.” You can’t help but burst into a chuckle. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you close the distance between the both of you. Giving him a peck on the lips, you grin while asking, “Do you still want to stay here on your own?”

Lucien’s return gift is another kiss.

“I think two people might be happier than one.”

[ KIRO ]

You spot something sticking on Kiro’s hair, and think of getting it out for him.

“Kiro, lower your head.”

Misunderstanding your intentions, Kiro complies and closes his eyes. He rushes you cheerfully. “Go on, Miss Chips! I just ate a strawberry flavoured candy, so my kiss will definitely be really sweet!”

You roll your eyes, grabbing a cushion at the side and using it to smack him on the face. “You ate snacks on the sly again! And you hid them from me! I’m telling Savin!”

“Miss Chips, I lied. I didn’t eat any strawberry flavoured candy!” The undisciplined and lawless Little Kiro is most afraid of the Great Agent Savin.

“You changed your story so quickly. Who would believe you?” Although you usually fear Savin’s wrath as well, you aren’t an accomplice this time. If you were to spill the beans to Savin, he might give you permission to eat fried chicken and drink cola right in front of Kiro... Just the thought of this scene makes you happy!

Sensing your doubt, Kiro opens his mouth with an “ah”, showing that there really isn’t anything in his mouth. Then, he reveals a bag of unopened strawberry candies from behind him. “Look, I haven’t opened it yet. I wanted to eat them with you when you got back, but you wronged me.”

Taking the bag, you confirm that it hasn’t been opened. Looks like you truly maligned him. You scratch your head in embarrassment. “Sorry, Kiro. I misunderstood you.”

“Your apology is so insincere. I want a kiss!” Kiro shuts his eyes, straightforward and frank.

With a resigned chuckle, you readily give him a peck.

Your eyes snap open abruptly.

Where did that pitiful Kiro from earlier go to?

All that’s left is a bear cub with a mischievous smile. “You’ve found out, haven’t you? It was actually a tangerine flavoured candy. Miss Chips and I are accomplices now, so you can’t tell Savin!”

[ SHAW ]

You’re standing in front of him, unflinching and unblinking.

“Shaw.”

Meeting your clear eyes, the amusement in Shaw’s eyes darkens. He lowers his head obediently, letting you do as you please.

However, his tone is one of reluctance. “Tsk. I can’t say no to you. Go on.”

You toss a glance at this loose tongued rascal, reaching out towards his hair. Under his gaze of unconcealed joy and an expression which reads, “look at how much I indulge you”… you pluck bits of fur from the top of his hair, tugging on his bluish purple hair in the process.

Shaw, who is just about to wrap his arm around your shoulders for a “deep” interaction: ???

“What? Did you think I was going to kiss you?” You tease, watching his claws hang awkwardly mid-air.

Shaw reacts instantly, retracting his hand and pretending that nothing happened earlier. He glares at you, his attempts to cover up only making matters more obvious. “How’s that possible? I was referring to... yes, the thing you removed from my hair!”

“Little kids who tell lies won’t have girlfriends!” It’s rare to see him like this, and you can’t help but tease him.

“Tsk. You’re so troublesome.” He frowns. Before you can react, he grabs you by the shoulders and seals your lips. You feel a gentle nibble reminiscent of a little animal deathly afraid of breaking something.

Once your breaths return to normal, you lean against Shaw, legs wobbly. If it weren’t for his strength, you’d definitely have fallen to the ground.

Shaw has his arms around you as he presses you to him, the insuppressible smile on his lips announcing his pleasant mood. 

“Who wants to be a little kid? Only intelligent adults have wives.”

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Robin!

AKA: @dcbbw​

The People of Valtoria vs The King of Cordonia (Riam)

A/N: Robin, you are not only one of my favorite writers but have become an amazing, supportive friend over the last year or so that we've known one another. And I believe that friendship transcends beyond Tumblr. Youve been a virtual shoulder to cry on when I needed one and someone who made me laugh so hard while chatting once that I ... well, I won't embarrass myself here 😆 You're just truly a remarkable person with a compassionate, giving heart. I'm blessed to know you and blessed as hell to call you a friend #mycommonlawcitywife

A/N2: I wrote Riam for you. It will be no where near as good as yours and I hope I didn't mess them up too badly. Trust me, I'm nervous.

The following characters belong to Pixelberry with the exception of the term "Riam" and some references in the story which belong to @dcbbw . You can find her masterlist for them here. 

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading!!!!

__________________________

With assistance from Gladys and Mara, Riley stepped up onto her Hoveround scooter. The cart jolted side to side from the added load as she shifted into place. Her heavily pregnant stomach narrowly fit between the seat and handlebars. 

The motorized vehicle was a gift from Liam, who felt that at this point in her pregnancy, it was much safer and more comfortable for her to get around if she didn't have to walk. It was also easier to track her movements with the GPS hidden underneath.

For her protection, and knowing she wasn't the best driver, he had the machine’s speed reduced from its factory setting of 13 mph to a more leisurely four mph. 

The following morning, at her insistence, Drake arrived -- toolbox in hand -- to remove the GPS and increase the speed to 20. 

With a groan from the Queen, the two staff members lowered her carefully into the seat and backed away while she arranged her footing and large belly.

Riley turned her head and arched a brow, giving the majordomo a moment to figure out on her own what was missing.

Gladys' eyes flitted between her boss and the guard. 

Like a lightbulb switching on, it finally dawned on her.

The snack wagon.

She shuffled to Riley's side of the bed. The head stewardess retrieved the wagon that was already stuffed with everything needed for the Queen's busy morning: barbeque potato chips, mini chocolate bars, Tupperware bowls filled with teriyaki meatballs, ham and cheese sliders, garlic chicken spring rolls, and leftover spaghetti and meatballs topped with melted mozzarella and a dash of parmesan. 

Cook was still reheating the garlic bread and putting the finishing touches on the devil's food cake.

After running several minutes behind due to a last-minute potty break and to catch her favorite American reality show about friends living in Washington, D.C., Riley squeezed the handles to power forward. 

Followed closely by Mara on the lookout, and Gladys, who was lugging the snack wagon, she took the elevator down to the first floor.

There was a crowd assembled in the throne room to witness this highly anticipated and rather unusual royal court case.

Gladys opened the door, announced the Queen's entrance, and stepped aside to allow Riley to roll in.

The guests stood in reverence, much to her delight.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by Liam, sitting at a lone table with a piece of paper that said Reserved for the Guilty Party taped to it, that his wife's mode of transportation was quite a bit faster than it should be. 

Liam tilted his head and furrowed his brows before moving to the edge of the seat. He wasn't entirely sure how she did it, but judging by the rapid blinking and shifty movements coming from Drake, he was sure he'd found his culprit.

Liam sensed a disaster happening before he could stop it. 

While driving toward the dais, his wife's eye caught a glimpse of Annabelle Parsons standing in the opposite corner of the room.

Miss Parsons’ breasts were practically heaving from her gray low-cut backless dress that had a slit up to her hip. A white lacy garter could be seen encircled around one slender thigh, and there were unquestionably no panties worn.

The two women locked eyes.

Riley licked her lips as the object of her affection trailed a tantalizing finger over the swell of her bosom, her taut nipples peaking through the gray silk attire.

Liam jumped from his seat with a shout just as her scooter's front wheels plunged into the first step of the dais, bringing her to a hard, abrupt stop.

The crowd's eyes, which included the staff, members of the nobility, and curious Valtorian citizens alike, widened in concern for their pregnant queen and the twin heirs.

"Love!" Liam ran up beside her and laid one hand on Riley's stomach, the other stroking through her hair. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm just fine, no thanks to you. It's this damn defective scooter you bought me. You could have killed me, Liam. I always knew you would try to get rid of me one day. I just thought you'd at least wait until your children were born."

Liam stiffened; his voice slightly raised. "How is this my fault? You were gawking at Miss Parsons, and I know you had Drake adjust the speed."

"I wouldn't need to adjust the speed if someone hadn't bought me a broken metal deathtrap on three wheels!"

"That ... That doesn't even make sense," he countered.

She lowered her eyes to him with a glower. "You don't make sense."

Liam shook his head and wrapped his firm hands around her arm. "Come on, my love. Let me help you up and to your chair."

He lifted her to a standing position, steadying her movements, and slowly led her to the BarcaLounger on the dais. 

Once Riley was reclined and had altered the chair to a comfort setting she preferred, Gladys set up a tray of the meals and treats from the snack wagon and placed it on a table beside her. 

Liam watched with curiosity as she prodded a meatball with a fork and brought it to her mouth. "I'm worried about you. Are you sure everything's okay?"

Enjoying the delicious flavor burst from the teriyaki sauce and the juiciest pork and beef combination she'd ever had, Riley waved him away. "Liam, I'm trying to sue you. If you think sucking up to the judge before I've had a chance to find you guilty will help your case ... you're mistaken. This judge will not be swayed by the defendant; now go to your table before I hold you in contempt."

"You haven't even heard the case yet; how can I already be guilty?"

"I haven't heard the case because YOU WON"T SIT DOWN!"

He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. Riley melted into it and felt all those butterflies she usually had when the love of her life kissed and caressed her.

"I love you, my queen."

She bit into a barbeque chip while shaking the mustard bottle to squirt on a ham and cheese slider. "I know," she replied coolly, but there was so much love radiating behind her big brown eyes hidden by a flock of hair. "Now, stop breathing all over my food with your germs and return to your table."

Liam stepped away and took his place. The crowd went quiet, eager to get the proceedings underway.

Cook finally arrived a few minutes later with a basketful of hot garlic bread and a slice of Riley's favorite cake. The Queen was now ready to begin.

As she twisted a forkful of spaghetti noodles and slurped them up, she motioned for Gladys to call the case into session.

With a loud clear of her throat, Gladys began, "Ladies and Gentlemen! The case of the People of Valtoria versus The King of Cordonia is now in session. Please give your complete attention to the honorable Queen of Cordonia and ... grand ruler of all of Valtoria."

Riley brushed away bread crumbs from her chest and glanced up to Gladys, giving her an approving smile for using the proper title she proposed beforehand. "Thank you, Gladys."

Riley tilted her chin at Liam. "Now, King Liam, we are here today because you owe me over $280,000, plus interest, penalties, taxes, processing, restitution, travel expenses, court and collection fees for back rent at Valtoria. How do you wish to plead?"

The King sat forward and sighed in vexation. "This is ridiculous. You know full well the Crown financially supports this duchy and manor."

"And in turn, I have had to support your mooching ass with it. So ... what is your plea?" she enunciated.

Liam crossed his arms and drew in a deep breath. "I suppose, not guilty."

The Queen narrowed her eyes in a glower. "You wouldn't dare."

A smatter of whispers and gasps broke out among the audience.

Riley reached over to her tray and picked up a wooden mallet before banging it several times on the sounding board that set next to the bowl of spring rolls on her tray. "That's enough! You all will not turn my court into a circus," she admonished. 

Hushes circulated through the crowd.

Liam raised his hand to draw her attention and spoke up. "Can I say something?"

Riley contemplated his question, then replied, "Overruled."

"It's about our children," he continued.

She flashed a glance to Mara, who pursed her lips and simply nodded in approval. The Queen looked back to her husband. "Okay, I'll allow it this once. But make it quick so we can get to your sentencing."

"I was just going to remind you that we have a doctor appointment that we need to leave for in 10 minutes."

Dammit, he was right; she had forgotten all about the appointment, and Liam hadn't shaved her legs since the prior visit two weeks ago. Riley lifted the lower part of her dress, her legs still reclined, and peered down at the thick stubble that had grown. She huffed. Liam. That man had one damn job to do.

Riley twirled the gavel in one hand and a fork with the other, contemplating how to proceed with the time crunch.

She cut through a piece of her cake and took a bite, closing her eyes to savor its chocolaty flavor. After dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin, she looked out to Liam, drumming his fingers on the table. "I've made my decision. Would the defendant rise?"

Liam glanced at his watch and sighed. He pushed himself from the table and rose to his feet before placing his hands in his pockets.

"Due to the critical nature of this case, and the fact that the judge and offender had an important prior engagement scheduled, I have no choice but to issue a continuance. But I would like to remind the prisoner that he is not to flee the country without express written consent from this court." She slammed the gavel down. "Court dismissed until further notice."

As the attendees flocked out of the throne room to return to their homes or positions within the estate, Mara stood at the door with a crystal bowl collecting court donations to fund the Queen's prosecution. 

It received $747 and a coupon for half off at Mei Wah Sing.

Liam rounded the defendant's table and made his way to the Queen, whose legs were flailing in a struggle to get out of her lounger. 

He wrapped his arms around his wife and lifted her to a standing position, helping her straighten out her dress.

"Are you ready, love? I think we can still make it there on time if we hurry." His hand rubbed soothing circles over her aching back.

Riley leaned in for a kiss, relaxing into his special touch that always made the aches and pains disappear. Her eyes fell on the scooter at the bottom of the steps and lit up. "Oh, I know a way to get there faster."

Liam followed her gaze then shook his head adamantly. "Absolutely not! No way! Not after what happened earlier."

Riley dismissed him and tottered down the steps to her scooter.

“Riley!”

“Riley!”

“Riley!”

He hung his head with a heavy sigh as she exited. “Right behind you, my Queen.”

Permanent tags:

@burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​ @jessiembruno​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @texaskitten30​ @drakesensworld​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @mskaneko​ @loveellamae​ @queenjilian​ @sirbeepsalot​ @pedudley​ @caroldxnvxrs​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @desireepow-1986​ @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @blueaster-blog1​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ ​  @hopelessromanticmonie​ @charlotteg234​ @twinkleallnight​ @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries​ @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty​

[frobster]

Offer of a Lifetime: Chapter 2

Both chapters now up on ao3!

☆☆☆

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, shocked by what had just happened, before his phone buzzed again and brought him back to himself. He looked down at the number of missed messages and quickly read through them, MJ becoming increasingly frantic when Peter didn’t immediately answer.

> Peter: So, James was just in my apartment

> Peter: Also, he told me to call him Bucky

The buzzing started again before Peter could even lock his phone. He ignored it as he went around getting dressed, pulling on underwear and sweatpants before checking again.

> MJ: PETER WHAT THE FUCK

> Ned: BRO ARE YOU OKAY???

> Peter: I’m fine. He left. Gave me a week to think about his offer. Also said he would leave me alone completely if I turned him down

> MJ: And u believed him???????????

> Peter: He didn’t give me a reason not to. There weren't any threats, and he did wait wait a whole day before contacting me

> Ned: Sugar daddy already getting to you smh

> Peter: Come on, you know it would be amazing to have a sugar daddy

> MJ: Ya but this one could put u in a lot of danger

Peter bit his lip as he thought. MJ was right. While it was his dream to be a kept boy and never have to worry about anything, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the dangers associated with Bucky. He would definitely need the whole week to think.

> MJ: We’re gonna talk more tonight. I’ll see u at 7:45

> Peter: Sounds good 

Bucky was at the forefront of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t really have anything to do until the evening, so he lounged around much like the previous day and tried to find more on the internet about Bucky. 

“Where did that name even come from?” Peter muttered to himself as he clicked on yet another tabloid article. The gossip papers had a lot to speculate about him since they loved to lie about crime and drama. He mostly skimmed the articles since they all seemed to be sensationalized and mostly rumors. 

One thing that stood out to Peter was the consistent inclusion of a broad blonde man almost always on Bucky’s right. The few pictures that weren’t blurry or grainy made the man seem relatively attractive, and Peter had to wonder if he was a past fling or just a confidante. Bucky obviously liked men, given his interest in Peter, but that still didn’t confirm anything.

The day oozed by in a cloud of laziness - naps, articles, snacks. Peter didn’t leave the couch except to get a snack or use the bathroom. By the time 6pm rolled around, Peter finally got up to start getting ready. He never took too long, but he didn’t want to rush either. The weather was still decent, so he decided on a pair of shorts that would help show off his legs and a mesh tank top that wouldn’t really cover anything. Beneath the shorts, he had red panties. Even if it led to him getting misgendered more often, the panties did help him get more money out of clients. 

Peter ran his hands through his hair to make it fluffy and messy, swiped some gloss over his lips before tucking the tube into his bag, then looked at his measly pile of shoes. There weren’t many to choose from and most of them were bought purely for style rather than function. He ended up going back to his room to grab a pair of knee-high socks before sliding on a pair of black high-top sneakers. People still liked scene twinks, right? The socks would help keep his legs warm too once the sun went down and the air got cooler.

Picking his outfit didn’t take very long, so Peter was left with almost an hour until he had to leave. Then he remembered that Ned and MJ went grocery shopping for him, so he took a tour of his own kitchen to see what they got for him. Most of it was canned goods so it wouldn’t go to waste if he didn’t eat it quickly, but there were some fresher foods too like prepackaged salads and frozen chicken. 

Settling on the chicken and a salad, Peter hauled out the bag of chicken tenders to check the required oven temperature. He got the oven set and preheating before wandering back to his couch and flopping over the back of it. Upon checking his phone, he finally saw the few messages from Bucky that he missed while showering.

> I’m coming to visit soon. Try to look presentable.

Sent almost as soon as Peter stepped into the shower. He grimaced at the bad timing and scrolled down to read the rest, sent after Bucky had left.

> Obviously you did not see my message beforehand, as I assume a towel around your waist and a bare chest is not what you would typically consider “presentable”.

> You have until next Wednesday to make your decision. If you do not give me an answer before then, I will assume you’re uninterested and leave you alone, like I promised.

Peter sighed and reread the messages a few times. Then he saved Bucky’s contact number before taking another screenshot to send to his friends.

> Peter: See? I told you he would leave me alone if I turned him down

> MJ: I guess he may not be such a terrible person…

> Ned: He literally runs the New York mafia

> MJ: Yeah, but he knows how to treat a boy right

> Peter: I’m feeling heart emojis. Should I change his name in my phone to Daddy?

> Ned: NO!!!!!!!

> MJ: skjghalfaldfk YES

> Ned: Do NOT encourage him!!

Peter laughed to himself and quickly changed Bucky’s contact name to ‘Daddy’ followed by pink and purple heart emojis. Then he took another screenshot of the saved contact and sent it to the chat. 

> MJ: I expect updates every time he texts you. We have to decide if he’s good enough for our baby

> Ned: I will not approve of Peter being the kept boy of the HEAD OF THE NEW YORK MAFIA

> Peter: Aw dad, you’re no fun

> Ned: Don’t make me ground you

> MJ: Not allowed, Peter and I have work tonight

> MJ: Maybe daddy will bring us some coffee

> Peter: Hey! Only I am allowed to call him daddy

> MJ: Aw, possessive already? ;)

> Peter: ...maybe

> Ned: I’m doomed. We’re all doomed

Their casual, friendly conversation continued for a while until Ned had to put his phone away for class. Peter and MJ switched to single texting as they talked about their plans for that night. She had got them a new corner a few blocks away from where Bucky had picked Peter up, but they both knew that Bucky could find them again if he really wanted to. 

The oven soon beeped so Peter got up to put a couple chicken tenders on a pan and into the oven. He set a timer on his phone then looked around his apartment as he tried to figure out what to do to pass the time.

But rather than finding something to do, Peter just realized how shitty his apartment really was. The walls were thin and dirty, there was a crack spiderwebbing up the wall in a corner, the floors were stained and worn out from countless tenants. He sighed and slumped against the kitchen counter, a cheap laminated wood that creaked even under his slight weight. There were multiple different bug problems through the building - cockroaches, ants, spiders, wasps. He had a roach problem in his own apartment, leading to all food in the cabinets needing to be canned so they couldn't chew into it. 

It was exhausting to live in poverty. Peter hated his apartment but it was all he could really afford. The life insurance policy from his aunt was used to pay off his surgery bills and the rest was funneled to any other medical costs that came up, including his hormone prescription. While he did have some money in savings, it would not be enough to allow him to live somewhere better. He was losing money faster than he made it back.

Bucky’s offer was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

When the timer went off on his phone, Peter swiped it away before carefully taking out the tray of chicken. He set it on the stove to let it cool while he took out the prepared salad bag and set to mixing everything together. Then, since he didn’t feel like using multiple dishes, he cut up the chicken on the baking pan and scraped the pieces into the salad bowl.

“Yeah, I can provide for myself,” Peter said to himself before taking a bite. 

The salad was filling and Peter actually felt like he had a decent amount of energy. He took the time to wash all the dishes he used rather than trying to jam them into the dishwasher, brushed his teeth, reapplied his lip gloss, then checked the time. 

MJ had sent a few more messages with details of their shift that night, and Ned announced the end of his class and the offer of searching Bucky more. Peter bit his lip as he considered it. If he was going to really give Bucky’s offer some serious consideration, he felt he needed to know the man better. Or he could just text Bucky.

Before he could chicken out, Peter sent a quick text to Bucky and pocketed his phone so he could finalize his outfit and wait for MJ.

> Peter: If you want me to live with you, I’m gonna need to know more about you.

There wasn’t any reply before MJ arrived. Peter sighed as he looked at his lack of notifications before he tucked his phone away, grabbed his bag, and headed out to meet MJ.

There was some tension in the car as a lackey drove Peter and MJ to their new corner. The random guy was humming along to music on the radio while the other two held hands in the back of the car. He didn’t say anything as he stopped at a new corner and unlocked the door, a clear signal for them to get out.

Peter stepped out with his mini backpack shouldered and fixed his shorts once he was standing. MJ followed him out and fixed her skirt too, her own bag slung across her chest and accenting her cleavage. Another reason why MJ was slightly better off than Peter was her assets. People just tended to want her more often than him. He wasn’t upset about that, he knew his friend was gorgeous and she deserved the attention and money. He just couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her slightly better financial state.

“Did Bucky say anything else?” MJ asked as the car drove off. 

“Nope. I don’t really know what he would say,” Peter replied, hyper-aware of his phone in his pocket. He couldn’t remember if it had buzzed while they were in the car since his mind was wandering. Already, just one day after meeting the man, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

8pm wasn’t very late, the bars were just starting to fill up. Peter and MJ had time to talk before people would start showing interest in them. The sunset was nice to watch and offered a serene backdrop to the chaos of their lives, purples and reds blending together like the mundane and unusual of the past few days.

“I would think that he would try to sweeten the deal somehow, y’know? You’ve clearly been hesitant about accepting his offer, so wouldn’t he want to tempt you?” MJ looked at her nails and flicked a speck of invisible dust off the shiny finish, then winked at someone who was looking at her as they stepped into the nearby bar.

“I dunno how much sweeter the deal could get. He offered to pay for everything for the rest of my life, or leave me alone without any trouble. It’s a win-win situation.” Even to his own ears, Peter knew it sounded lame. He was so tempted to accept Bucky’s offer, and MJ could clearly hear that in his voice.

“You deserve to know more about him at least. Even Ned had a hard time finding anything on this guy. And now that we know he’s got some dangerous connections, it would be in your best interest to find out everything you can before making a decision, especially since you’re tempted to agree.” Peter MJ would’ve been an excellent counselor. Maybe she still could be. If they ever found themselves in a position to start saving up money, she could put it towards college classes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not-” Peter cut off when he felt his phone vibrate against his ass. He reached into his back pocket to pull it out and blinked as he read the message.

> Bucky: We could discuss that over dinner, if you’d like. I know you’re working, but I could talk to your boss and have him pardon you for the night.

Before Peter could reply to the text or finish what he was saying, MJ snatched his phone away to read the message.

“Hey! Give that back!” Peter squawked as he tried to grab his phone back.

But MJ was taller than him even without the heels she was wearing, so she just held the phone up and angled it down so she could read the screen. She laughed aloud when she read the message and finally lowered her hand again so Peter could have his phone back. He huffed as he stuffed it into his pocket again without bothering to answer.

“It’s cute that he’s already offering to cover your shifts for you. Maybe he’ll even give you some cash to make up for missing a whole night,” MJ teased with a grin. Peter felt too flustered to really register that she seemed to be encouraging him to leave with Bucky.

“There is nothing cute about this situation,” Peter huffed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He wasn’t really sure what he was embarrassed about. Maybe he didn’t realize how tempted he was to accept Bucky’s offer until MJ gave him that little nudge.

“Well, you’re pretty cute. It’s cute how often you blush when we talk about him.” MJ’s tone was more genuine that time, and Peter felt a little surprised.

“Did Ned tell you something else about this guy? Why do you seem so supportive of him now?” There was another buzz in Peter’s pocket but he ignored it, wanting to hear MJ’s answer first.

“You deserve a good life, Peter.” She looked at him, entirely serious, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through so much and you’re only nineteen. I want you to be happy, to have opportunities that we could never find in this line of work.”

“MJ…” 

Before Peter could say more, his phone started buzzing like he had a call. He sighed and reached into his pocket, making a brief note that it was Bucky calling before he answered.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text, Peter. So I called your boss anyway. I’m coming to pick you up. Would MJ like to join us for dinner?”

Peter just squeaked, his jaw dropped open as he tried to think of what to say. MJ rolled her eyes and snatched the phone away again so she could talk for him.

“Hi, Bucky. Peter would love to go to dinner with you, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak.” She snickered at whatever Bucky said, Peter watching with wide eyes as she spoke with him so casually. “Aw, thank you! I would love to join you for dinner. If you intend to steal my boy away, I have to see if you’re worth his time.”

“MJ!” Peter finally came back to his senses and made a grab for his phone, but she held him back just like before.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s just so excited to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you!” MJ hung up the phone before handing it back to Peter with a grin. “He will be here in about fifteen minutes so zip up your hoodie and try to not look like such a whore.”

Peter swatted at MJ’s arm, making her cackle loudly as she pulled a balled-up shawl out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders and cover up her chest. She tended to wear shirts that showed off her cleavage but now that she wasn’t actively trying to attract customers, she wanted to look more modest. Peter had a sleeveless hoodie that he zipped over his mesh tank top, though he started to feel overheated after just a few minutes.

The hoodie got unzipped again as Peter rocked restlessly in place, anxious and eager to see Bucky again. MJ was updating Ned since Peter was too scared to look at his phone, snickering to herself every now and then.

Soon enough, a sleek black car pulled up. The windows were so heavily tinted that they looked black, but neither of them had to guess at who was inside. MJ tucked her phone away and Peter stepped closer to her, seeking out her familiar comfort as his nerves spiked.

The back window rolled down and a familiar face was revealed. Bucky looked at them both before nodding and pushing the door open.

“Come on, we got reservations in twenty minutes,” he said as he shifted to a seat on the other side of the car.

MJ stepped in first then tugged Peter in with her. She sat across from Bucky and not-so-subtly nudged Peter over to sit next to him. The seats were smooth and cool, and Peter was thankful for the air conditioning that let him zip up his hoodie again to hide his chest. Bucky had already seen him shirtless, but he felt awkward about it now.

The car pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. Peter didn’t have a chance to buckle in so he swayed and ended up leaning into Bucky for a moment. He blushed and scooted away so he could clip his seat belt, then sat quietly and picked at the hem of his socks. 

“So,” MJ started casually. “You’re who Peter has a crush on.”

“I do not!” Peter insisted, head snapping up so he could glare at MJ. She just grinned at him as Bucky made an amused sound.

“A crush, huh? That’s cute.” Bucky tucked his phone away and looked over to Peter with a smirk. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“It’s been like, six hours,” Peter pointed out, feeling a little more confident with MJ there to back him up.

“Plenty of time to think.” Bucky was watching Peter, eyes glued to him as he waited for a proper answer.

“I mean…” Peter sighed and slumped back against his seat. He did want to say yes, to agree and let Bucky carry him off into the sunset like some perfect romantic dream. It just didn’t feel real.

“We need some proof that you’re the real deal,” MJ finally said.

Bucky’s gaze flicked over to her as he raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t someone who was used to being challenged like that, and for a moment, Peter feared for MJ. But then Bucky laughed and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the sound. 

“Conveniently enough, that is why I invited you along tonight. It’s good to know Peter has a friend looking out for him.”

“Two friends,” MJ corrected. “Ned has been diligently mining through the internet for information about you. He is the only reason why I agreed to dinner.”

Peter huffed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. MJ was acting like her and Ned were his parents, and he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. Sure, he was the youngest out of the three of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle himself. 

“Two friends,” Bucky amended. Then his gaze turned back to Peter and he reached over to gently rub the boy’s back. “You can relax, Peter. I promise my intentions with you are honorable.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” Peter looked up again, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation and even MJ could feel the electricity hanging between Bucky and Peter.

“I want to take care of you the way you deserve. To spoil you, pamper you, give you anything you could ever want or need.” Bucky sounded honest and there was no nervous tic that would clue Peter in to a lie. But he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Why?”

Another pause. Bucky looked torn between brushing it off and turning to a new subject, coming up with some flowery words that didn’t really answer the question, or actually telling the truth. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and decided on the last.

“You are beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous. Whatever term you’re most comfortable with. You are like a work of art, and I don’t want to see you waste away in the streets. You deserve so much more and what am I gonna do with all this money anyway? Hell, you could turn me down here and now and I would still send you money every week. I just want you to be happy.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected such an emotional answer, but he felt touched by it. A quick glance over to MJ showed that she felt affected by it too, her eyes wide in surprise. For all the research the three of them had done, they never would’ve thought Bucky was the sentimental sort of guy.

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was faint as he tried to process all that Bucky said.

Bucky swore under his breath and leaned back in his seat. He had moved closer to Peter as he spoke, but now he felt he should give the younger man some space. But to everyone’s surprise, Peter reached out and set a hand on Bucky’s knee before managing a smile.

“I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. He gave Peter a tight smile, seeming a little less confident than when they first got in the car. Then the car stopped before anyone could say anything else and Bucky looked away to the window beside him.

“Ah, looks like we’re here. Don’t worry, it isn’t anywhere too fancy. I figured you two wouldn’t really be dressed for that.”

Bucky’s confidence seemed to slowly come back as he smirked and got out of the car. Then he held out a hand for MJ, and reached out again for Peter once she was standing. But unlike with MJ, Bucky didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. And Peter didn’t really mind. 

☆☆☆

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 4: Ambush + “That didn’t stop you before”

Another piece for @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober, also incorporating the Day 4 #Fictober20 prompt.

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Delver & Sylda Warnings: Language

             ____________________________

Where in the Divider’s name could she have run off to?

Muttering darkly, Delver peered down another alley, shook his head, and continued onward, boots scuffing against the dust and grit that coated Yelen’s streets. When he’d left Sylda, she’d been half-dead at best, barely able to move, her body a mess of hastily bandaged injuries and deeper, less visible pains. It wasn’t that he blamed her for taking off the second his back was turned; all things considered, it was fair enough. Waking up to a complete stranger eating soup beside her bed - especially a man from the Allied Kingdoms - would be alarming at the best of times. But particularly for a young woman who had spent her previous waking moments hanging by the neck in the gallows courtyard. How she had managed to get out of bed, yet alone sneak out the second storey window, was nothing short of baffling.

Or it would have been, if he hadn’t already witnessed her do far stranger things.

Whoever she was - whatever she was - he needed to find her. Apparently, convincing her to uproot her entire life and travel the length of the continent alone with him was going to be difficult.

Who knew.

Alleys and side streets drifted past as Delver continued his nighttime hunt, the middle moon, Rhana, kind enough to bathe the streets in her pale blue glow. Part of Delver knew what he was doing was foolish. His innkeeper, after some creative haggling that left Delver short an iron drem and his belt knife, had offered vague directions towards a section of the city infamous for housing thieves and cutthroats. Apparently, it was an area civilians knew to avoid, especially after dark. Which just happened to be the exact place a runaway thief like Sylda was likely to go. 

Of course, that meant Delver had to follow, and despite it being a well-lit evening, he couldn’t keep his gaze from snapping towards every faint movement in the corner of his vision. This particular tangle of streets would make the perfect site for an ambush.

It was going to be a long night. 

What if she’d collapsed in an alley, somewhere? Divider, he hoped not. Burnout was a severe risk among thaumists - even highly trained ones. If she pushed herself too hard too soon, it could be enough to succeed where the gallows had failed.

After his wanderings along the main road bore no fruit, Delver sucked in a breath, shoved aside his self-preservation instinct, and began to search the side streets. The even narrower alleys, swathed in a near impenetrable darkness, could wait until he was truly desperate.

Of course, as he was quick to discover, even the side streets held their dangers.

“Well, what’ve we got here? You’re a long way from home.”

Delver came to a sharp halt as a voice carried up the street behind him. Turning, he found himself approached by two figures, one as tall as he was, the other about a half-head shorter. They ambled almost casually, which seemed an odd tactic for a robbery. Or a murder. That or he posed so little threat that they were happy to take things slow. 

How thoughtful.

“Easy,” Delver said, swapping to the local dialect, hoping its might earn him some kind of favour. He raised his hands, proving he was unarmed, although he doubted it made much difference. “I’m looking for a friend, not for trouble,”

As expected, the tall one snorted. “Right.” He gestured to his partner. “He your friend?”

Delver blinked. “No?”

“What about me?”

“Ah, no.”

“Well...” The shorter one smiled and drew a knife from his belt. “Then I guess you’ve got trouble.”

Great. Thieves and fucking comedians to boot. He must truly be the unluckiest man alive.

Sighing, Delver lowered his hands. “I guess I do.” He made a show of stretching his back, using the movement to quickly scan the nearby alleys. There didn’t seem to be any more movement. The two of them must have been running as a pair, probably on the way back from an unsuccessful hunt somewhere else in the city. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to just leave me alone?”

The tall one shrugged. “You could try. Most folks do.”

“I take it that didn’t stop you before?”

“Nope.”

Delver sniffed. “Fair enough.” He went to put his hands in his pockets, only to find a second knife being thrust menacingly towards him. Jaw tight, he froze, then returned his hands to their former position. “Listen - I’m only here because I’m looking for a woman.”

“Yeah? Ain’t we all.”

“No, not like… her name is Syldana.”

There was a pause. The pair shared a glance, brows raised, their knives still raised threateningly. “Hey, wait,” said the taller one slowly. His dark gaze drifted back to Delver. “You the one that bought her off the rope?”

Realistically, telling the truth could go one of two ways. Luckily, Delver had always been a gambling man. “I am,” he replied, raising his chin, doing his best to look more important than he was.

Again, the two shared a look. Then, the smaller one grinned, crooked teeth flashing. 

“Well, you’ve got more coin than brains, dontcha?”

Exhaling, Delver closed his eyes. Of course it went the wrong way.

The taller one stepped forward this time, boots crunching, advancing until he was almost within arm’s reach. “It’s our lucky day, Raoul. C’mon. Let’s clean his pockets.”

Well, there was no helping it. Shoulders stiff, hands still raised, Delver waited as the man started patting down his sides, hunting for hidden pockets, jewellery, treasures sewn into the lining. His knife hovered menacingly by Delver’s throat at first, so close that when he swallowed, he could feel the steel brushing against his skin. But the man was distracted, busy running a rough hand down the side of Delver’s leg. The knife wavered… pressed closer for a moment… started to dip away…

The second he had an opening, Delver swung, cracking the man across the temple with his elbow. He went down with a shocked yelp, red dust springing up around him. The knife skidded from his hand, but Delver was already moving, dancing out of his reach and away from his partner, who appeared to still be processing what had just happened.

“Krom!” the short one cried eventually, then turned a hateful glare on Delver. “You bastard - get back here!”

“Alright, alright. Just take it easy.” Delver continued retreating, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Reaching back, he slid a wooden rod from his waistband, its twelve inch length concealed beneath his loose shirt. Just as well Krom hadn’t gotten too handsy, or he would have easily found it. With a jerk of the wrist, Delver extended the weapon to the side, doubling its length, then twisted to lock it in place. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Krom was already getting to his feet and Raoul had seemingly regained his addled wits. “How about we all just walk away?” Delver pressed, eyes flicking between the pair. “No one has to get hurt.”

Their response was simple enough.

Grunting, Delver ducked to the side, the sound of Raoul’s dagger whipping past his ear barely registering as he swung the rod, striking the shorter man across the back. The thief grunted, the momentum of his overeager lunge sending him stumbling past, buying Delver a few seconds to plan his next move. 

Or it would have, if there weren’t two of them.

A low grunt gave Krom away, but only barely. Heart lurching, Delver whipped around, his movement unnaturally fast. As he spun, something inside him burned away, the sensation sending a shiver of discomfort racing through his body. Still, he managed to slap Krom’s fist aside and follow through, ramming the end of the rod into his gut. It’s been too long since I did this, Delver thought, breathing hard, hands trembling slightly as he backed away from his assailants. He’d grown too reliant on the anchor fastened to his wrist; too willing to use its reserve of thaumic essence than tap into his own. Now the disc was empty - possibly even broken. He was on his own.

The rod, handy though it was, wasn’t doing the damage he needed. Even with its unnaturally hardened wood, the two thieves just weren’t staying down. He was starting to think the obscene amount he paid for it in Tel Shival might have been a mistake. However, before Delver had time to dwell on his poor financial decisions, he found himself accosted once more.

One knife, one fist, two angry men. Delver wasn’t a fighter. Not really. As Krom swung a punch at his stomach, Raoul darted forward, slashing at him from the side. He could only hope to stop one of them, so he swung the rod towards the dagger, barely catching it before it sunk into his shoulder. That left him open to Krom, and he acted on sheer reflex. Concentrating, sucking in a breath, Delver reached for the hum that resonated inside his body. Then, without the time or practice necessary for any finesse, he dragged it all to one spot at the center of his torso. 

Krom’s fist connected.

And the bones in his hand shattered.

The man’s scream was enough to curdle Delver’s blood. Cradling his hand, at least three fingers bent at jarringly unnatural angles, Krom stumbled away, tears pricking his eyes, a string of panicked curses bubbling from his lips. “Y-Y-You! You rat-bloody-bastard!” He groaned loudly, sounding almost nauseous as he curled over his ruined hand. “K-King’s eyes as m... my fucking witness... I’ll kill you!”

Normally, Delver would have had a snarky remark for that. You’ll have to catch me first. Tell The Errant King I said hello. Try aiming a little higher next time. But instead, he found himself also staggering, heart pounding, head spinning. Almost immediately after Krom’s fist connected with his stomach, the area briefly hard enough to rival stone, Delver had lost his concentration. What remained of his essence suddenly dispersed, like a cloud collapsing under its own weight into a fine mist. He could barely feel its hum now. It was weak. Very weak.

I need to get out of here.

Sweating, Delver backpedaled, stumbled on a broken cobble, and barely caught himself against a nearby wall. His arms were shaking something terrible, the rod in his grasp wavering laughably as he brandished it between himself and the advancing Raoul. “Last chance,” he rasped, blinking, fighting to clear his vision. And to think he’d been worried about Sylda pushing herself too hard. Divider’s Own, he was a fool. If he burned out now, that was it. He was a dead man.

“Y-You’re one of those freaks,” Raoul spat. He was shaking too, although for a very different reason. “A fucking aberration's what you are!”

On a regular day, Delver would have been impressed that Raoul even knew such a long word. But as it was, he could barely keep his feet under him, familiar shivers starting to tingle across his skin. That damn girl, he thought, an irrational anger washing over him as his remaining attacker warily advanced. She just couldn’t stay put for one night. Couldn’t even do me that one fucking favour after I---

“Raoul - stop!”

Suddenly, there was another body in front of him. Short. Brown haired. Familiar.

Delver stared, speechless. He must be dreaming. Or dead. Or both.

With a knife in each hand, Sylda jabbed one towards Raoul, who had halted mid-step, eyes wide. She was still injured, the bandages around her wrists, stomach, and throat all stained brown from old blood.

But she was there. Awake. Alive. 

“Enough,” Sylda continued, her voice surprisingly firm. Far stronger than it had been just a few hours ago. “He’s with me.”

“Ahh…” Raoul glanced back at Krom, who was clearly the leader of the pair. Unfortunately, he found him barely conscious, slumped against the wall of a boarded up building. No help there. Slowly, he turned back to reassess the situation for himself. An aberration and a miracle, both apparently on the same side.

What would he do...

“He’s your friend, is he Sylda?” Clearing his throat, Raoul’s eyes flicked to Delver. “Why, ah… why didn’t you say so?”

Delver blinked. He almost argued, then realised that this was his way out. 

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry?”

Huffing, Raoul rolled his eyes. Despite his over-performance, it was no small relief when he sheathed his knife and took a step away. “Gotta keep a better eye on your friends, girl. Nearly killed this one. He doesn’t belong here.”

Sylda just nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” There was a pause. “Uh… what happened to Krom?”

The man in question had started whimpering, rocking slightly, hand curled against his chest.

“He punched a wall,” Delver said hurriedly, then shot a meaningful look at Raoul. The other man, clearly looking for someone to follow, nodded.

“Oh, yeah. Got a mean temper, he does. Really shouldn’t let it get the better of him like this.”

Sylda glanced back, and Delver nodded sagely. 

While it was pretty obvious that Sylda wasn’t buying their composite lie, it didn’t really matter. Sighing, she lowered her blades and shook her head. “Fine. You’d better get him back to the nest. Davros has been asking about you two.”

Raoul stiffened. “He has? Did he say...”

Dizzy and about one sharp turn away from throwing up on his shoes, Delver let the rest of the conversation wash past him, focusing on his breathing, willing his body to comply. With the threat apparently over, he twisted the rod, the two halves sliding back into themselves. By the time he’d managed to stow it away again, Raoul and Krom were already limping away down one of the nearby alleys, their forms vanishing into the heavy dark.

“You’ve...” Delver coughed, throat painfully dry. Another fun side-effect. “You’ve got some timing.”

Sylda just exhaled, clearly as relieved as he was. She turned, regarding him for a moment; his clammy skin, his shaking hands, his over-reliance on the wall. Then she reached up, fingertips brushing over the bandage he’d wrapped carefully around her neck earlier that day. As she did, her expression softened.

“Guess I could say the same about you, huh?” Slowly, she moved closer, concern tinging her round face. “Are you okay?”

Delver grunted, offering a conciliatory nod. As much as he’d been cursing her just a few moments ago, he had to admit, she had practically saved his life. Which meant…

“I suppose this makes us even.” Delver chuckled weakly, tipping his head back against the crumbling stone, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. “A life for a life. Pretty fair trade, if you ask me.”

Sylda hummed, and the pair lapsed into a strange, heavy silence. They both knew it wasn’t the same. Not really. What Delver had done - reckless and archaic and irrational - went a little beyond intervening in an alleyway brawl. When he’d saved her life, she’d been a stranger. A murderer hanging for her crime before a crowd of thousands.

But, as it turned out, they were both willing to ignore that fact. At least for now.

“Come on,” Sylda said softly, her voice coaxing Delver’s eyes to open once more. Blurry at the edges, she held out her arm - an offer of support. It was a gesture of peace, even if only temporary. “We’d better get out of here. I’ve... got some questions.”

Nodding, pulling in one last steadying breath, Delver didn’t even have to swallow his pride for once. He just accepted the offer.

[rotzaprachim]

in secret, between the shadow and the soul 1/2

Kanej, Inej-centric. Teen ish, marriage of convenience, 3000 words 

(About 6 years post Crooked Kingdom) 

Read here on ao3

The apothecary asks her how long it’s been since she’s been intimate with her husband, and Inej almost chokes, says no, she hasn’t been in a very long time. Honesty is always difficult in her carse- dealing with her own past, own demons is hard enough without having to watch other people attempt proper emotional responses on her behalf, and maybe the apothecary senses that because she doesn’t ask more.

----

“It’s legal more than anything. A question of economics,” Kaz said, and Inej nodded, because it's kerch and how could it be anything but? Certainly nothing as tawdry as emotion or desire, let alone love, could interfere with so large a life decision.

Only Kerch citizens can hold berths in the water, and its significantly easier to manage bank accounts and conduct major financial decisions of the kind Inej needs to make on the near daily when restocking her ships. There's one route faster than all the others to becoming a Kerch citizen.

Inej suggested it before Kaz did.

She isn’t ready for marriage, she said. She isn’t ready to be tied to a man, to be anything more or less than herself alone. The Kerch made the whole business easy by never referring to this thing they’re doing as a marriage, all the paperwork is about Economic Units, Civil Unions. There’s so many pages of jargon it made Inej’s eyes bleed. Future children held less inches of fine grey type than agreements on pigs and shipping company stocks, and were described in the same economic language.

Kaz went through the whole thing line by line until the shore she was going to call for an annulment before they’d even gotten the damned thing notarized, or else make herself a tastefully rich and very young widow.

“It’s a contract,” he said. “You should know all the details before you sign your life away.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Inej said, irritated by the last several pages about Property Division in the Event of Medium Sized or Larger Storms, Grisha Attacks, and General Flooding, “I’m not signing my life away.”

“When you get married, it might be difficult to annul if you’ve still got a legal Kerch-”

“When I get married?” she shoots back challengingly. “To who?”

“I don’t know. That fire-tongued revolutionary who writes you poetry and will make you a new world. The Kaelish tavern maid who always pours you a free beer in her bar while you sing about the plight of the repressed. Someone hopelessly moon-eyed and optimistic, who thinks the world shits rainbows and knows what you’re worth.”

“You, Kaz Brekker,” she finally sighed, “are a hell of a lot dumber than they say you are.”

---

She doesn’t tell her parents. She’s not ready for that conversation.

---

She doesn’t tell Nina. She’s not ready for that conversation either.

---

The whole thing was finished in a notary’s office in ten minutes.

Kaz’s gloves were off, more because they both need to be fingerprinted than anything else.

He swore a short, official oath of his loyalty to both her and the Kerch market, promising not to cheat in foreign ports and to provide for and any hypothetical children. She thought of the paid-off indenture and the ship and the found parents and berth twenty-two and and her room in the house in bought on the Zelverstraat and thought that maybe he’s better at doing that than he thinks he is.

She swore a shorter official oath about fidelity and staying true and all her children being her husband’s, because to do otherwise would be bad economics and make her a poor investment, a value-destroyer, on the family line. Because it’s Kerch and of course it is.

---

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her afterward in an attempt at being casual. They’d been sipping at warm lukewarm flagons of beer in one of the harbour’s more reputable establishments and looking out at the water for twenty minutes.

“I’m thinking,” she said slowly, tasting her words, “that Alys Van Eyck is a very, very lucky woman that we came around when we did.” She’s still thinking about the various punishments for women who pollute the family line, which even if motivated by economics over faith as such things would be in Fjerda, are not dissimilar in practice. She’s realising more and more the Kerch neuroticism over bastardry probably comes from having so many of the young men gone for half the year at sea.

Kaz guffawed, which was not a sound she was really used to him making. “You never fail to surprise me, Wraith.”

“How is the Vrouw Dazi”

Kaz shrugged. “Not useful to my purposes anymore. Wylan’s got her an Bajan set up in a little cottage outside Pijl with a tidy sum tied to not making too much noise.”

Sometimes she fantasized about breaking into that cottage and putting on a performance similar to the one that sent Pekka Rollins screaming from Ketterdam. She didn’t, because she didn’t subscribe to the idea of the sins of the father and thought Saartje Kazanja deserved a da with his mental pieces mostly intact. But saints take all, she wanted too.

“How’s Saartje?”

“I don’t know. Kid? Looks more like she could be ours than Jan Van Eyck’s, that’s for sure.

The tips of Kaz’s ears went red before he finished that sentence and he stared into the foam at the bottom of his glass, head turned decisively away from her.

“Fine, I think. In school now. No reason to keep tabs.”

They toasted her new Kerch citizenship. Inej swore she saw his hand shaking.

----

Her citizenship documents, stamped with a wax seal of three flying fish and a small Kerch flag came three days later, expedited by Kaz in ways she cannot begin to fathom. It’s only then she realised that they’re for the new Vrouw Rietveld, that she made her vows to Kasper Rietveld. It’s only logical- Rietveld can be the upstanding businessman who only exists on paper in a way Kaz Brekker cannot, all the better for her dowings, but it still feels like a piece of himself gifted to her.

She could forge Rietveld’s name for her own purposes too; they practiced on old betting slips that she then threw into the fire. Kerch women can legally make almost every kind of financial decision and dealing, less due to the Merchers’ Council’s upstanding opinion of the female gender than the portion of the year the men are at sea, the incredible odds they won’t come back.

(They’ve rather flipped that scenario.

“How much cross-stitch will you do do fill up the void of my absences, she chided him. “They say the old sailor’s wives used to knit lace from the white froth of the sea.” Nowadays Wealthy Kerch women waiting for their husbands to come home tended to stick to knitting hats and scarves for orphans. So saints-damned many hats and socks, and yet you could still scarcely move for the number of bare-headed, barefoot orphans come winter. It was one of Ketterdam’s greatest mysteries.

“Inej,” Kaz sayid, eyes closed, genuine concern cutting his voice. Ever more she was picking up a sailor’s sense of gallows humour.)

---

They exchanged rings at the registry. Inej’s was a simple band, no gemstones but she suspected it was solid gold. Inside was etched a wave pattern, an endless strip of open sea.

Wearing it on her finger meant something, soo she looped it onto a sturdy chain that she hid between her shirt and her beating heart. That seemed appropriate, doable. Young sailors often took the bracelets and handkerchiefs of their sweethearts out to sea as good luck tokens; Inej had a gold wedding band.

Kaz’s fingers brushed the chain in the warm dip between neck and collar as he said goodbye to her on the docks, and after she nodded infinitesimally, telling him to go on, finish this chapter of the story, he slowly pulled up the rest of the chain and found the band.

“I thought-” he said, but she looked him in the eyes, square as she could, and he halted. She doesn’t know what he thought.

“There was not and is not and will probably me a different man for me than you, Kaz Brekker.

He swallowed thickly and then slowly lifted her skin-warmed band to his lips, even though he did not believe in luck, had said he believed in nothing but her.

---

The Kerch don’t have seperate words for “husband’ and “man.”

---

“Mijn mann,” she says in response to the curious looks her crew gives her after the band slips free during repair work, and it doesn’t feel like anything more or less than the truth.

“Mijn mann,” she says tacitly when border authorities raise their eyebrows in suspicion at her Kerch passport.

“Mijn mann,” she begins her letters back to him. “Dearest Inej,” his come back, sometimes even “Loveliest Inej,” but he never uses a possessive pronoun form.

---

Having any kind of passport, official documentation, feels alien and strange. She comes from a people without a land, and for her entire childhood they Suli were denied any official documentation of Ravkan citizenship. That’s changing now, but many are still wary, and with very good reason to be.

---

The quick bureaucratic sketch to mark Vrouw Inej Rietveld as a Seetsen Van Det Kerchrepublik, looked absolutely nothing like the drawings on the three individual sets of national wanted posters that keep cropping up in seedy port cities. Absolutely none of the above get her nose right.

“I look white in this one,” she said, holding a particularly egregious example up to Aigerim, who commiserate mightily. “Look how fucking straight this nose is. No eyebrows.”

Hitting the nose furnishes very fun target practice for when her fingers itch to throw knives.

Inej wins a lot of games of darts in a lot of seamy seaside pubs tucked into a lot of different gritty port cities.

---

They dock in Pijl before Ketterdam to catch their breath and do repairs. Ketterdam’s a good place for business and to look for secrets and plan strategy but a shite location to re-sew a sail or patch up a wall, unless you like replacing your supplies every time they’re stolen. The prices of grain and barrels of water and apples are lower are lower closer to the fields as well, even if that involves bartering loudly in a Centraalmarket that smells like spilled cider and pig shit, straw crunching underfoot, rather than the hallowed halls of the Exchange.

It takes her three days to come down with the evil hybrid chest cold-stomache flu of her fucking life. Ameera shoves her back into bed with ginger tea and another blanket. The thing they don’t tell you about awesome pirate ships with awesome international crews is that you also get the full spectrum of awesome international germs.

By the fourth day, she’s putting on all three of her coats and stuffing a wad of kruge and her passport into a pocket to visit the clinic in town.

---

Other people seem to register this whole being-married business than Inej ever does. She just prefers the expedited customs lines.

The splotchy faced, matronly woman at the clinic sits her on a paper-covered table and reads through a list of questions on a clipboard. Nian loves the lab smell of pure alcohol, would probably dab it on as perfume if she could, but Inej only associates it with injury, with being patched and stitched up after a bad scrape, with the white-coated doctor who came in every two weeks to swab Tante Heleen’s girls for disease, with the brown bottle of the stuff she uses to clean blood and worse off of her knives.

“Family history of pulmonary infections?” the woman asks her. “Smoking, alcohol, jurda use?” Every question makes her squirm slightly, as if in the historyof her wheezing lunghs is some sin she’s committed and will only now find out about. Nejn, nejn, nejn. Inej forgot how much she hated being looked at.

No grisha in her family that she knows of- scribble scribble scribble- but a lot of bad eyesight.

“When was the last time you had intimate relations with your husband?” the woman asks bluntly, and that’s the question that knocks the air out from her. The woman’s thin yellow eyebrow quirks up, but Inej manages to disguise her gasp as a particularly bad fit of hacking. She knows its nothing but a bit of intrusive medical questioning, but words can have many meanings and the answers to questions can be both yes and no at the same time and a certain turn of phrase can punch like a fist and cut like a knife. So she just says “six months ago,” and gives the woman her answer for the write-up.

“Long time.”

“He’s a sailor. I cry as I wait for him to return to me.”

“Ghezen’s speed that he does.”

---

She isn’t quite sure the Kerch even believe in Ghezen as anything beyond a bit of window-dressing to their financial affairs and the punchlien to jokes. Not like she honours her saints, the small painted icon of Sankta Inej she also keeps next to her heart, her daily prayers in the dark comfort her her room. She stands with Merjan, one of her crewmates, at the grave of Sankta Mahari, Queen of Mercy and Patroness of the Lost as they read the ancient prayers together, their voices settling into the steadiness of bees. Our queen, protector of our people, give us mercy, pray for peace, pray for us, pray to bring light to the shadows of the things we have done.

Sankta Anastasia, Sankt Dmitri, Sankta Mahari, she whispers into her knuckles, her fingers moving along the prayer rope with the decisive snapping of wooden beats, pray for our safety in the storm and bring us to the shore.

---

If Inej has found her own name, written with a familar jagged hand, among the prayer-knots tied to the Zentzbridge in a plea of mercy from the sea, she will not mention it.

---

Ketterdam is ugly and bright and familiear. You can smell the rotting flesh and beer smell before you see the smoky smudge of the city on the horizon. The crew makes quick work of unfolding the grishaworked official three-flying-fish flag that gives them clearance to enter the harbour without having their decks searched by the council of tides and carefully docks at Berth 22. Considering that the berths are now being numbered out into the two-hundereds, its a plum location, but its also damn close to the action, meaning that she can already see the glimmer of plastic beads floating on the water, the dark smudges of drunkards bobbing along. A few of the crew memebrs are going to get their pockets picked right off the bat. Inej already has a slush fund tucked away for precisily this reason. She’s getting better at this, she hopes, being a leader. Predicting what will happena dn why and when. Being someone that other people- many younger and more vulnerable than her- can rely on.

“AIGERIM,” she screams as she buttons up her city coat, “only two of thsoe pink trinks with the paper umbrellas MAXIMUM. You hear me?”

“Yeah, boss.”

She sighs. She doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss. “If there’s anything like what happened with the canal and the Stadwatch last time happens again, I think I’ll find the decks need a good scrubbing.”

Aigerim gestures wildly. “Course, boss..”

She tries to take deep rbeaths to calm her nerves. Maybe she’s becoming a worried old crone forty years early, but she’s the one who survived this hellhole of a city. She’s the one who survived this far. In this world, twenty-three is a badge of honour.

---

He cuts a familar figure on the docks. THey each have their own webs now, know of each other’s doings three or four times removed, like recognising a faovrite drinking song on it’s third round of translation. The recognition of a familiar trick, hand, murder method. Kaz will read in a news paper of a mysterious storm that’s tripled the price of indigo and sweet-wood fans after a whole line of ships went missing off the Southern Pelagic Reefs and Inej will hear in a greasy Kaelish bar about the shocking downfall of an old Kerch trading family and they will each smile, privately, and admire the other’s handiwork.

But seeing him in person is something altogether different, and she still rushes over the slats of the quay, coat streaming behind her, stopping abruptly when she comes to him. They pause there for a second and then he lifts his arms and they wrap themselves together around each other, hesitantly but then warmly, firmly, sturdy as a sailor’s knot and with all the inevitability of the sea wearing stone to sand.

“I’ve missed you, Wraith,” he says into her hair and she shrugs into him, her head level with his chest. His chin rests neatly on her head now, if he leans down slighlty, and she swears that wasnt the case the first time they embraced, the first time she left Ketterdam. He denies that the Ice Court, Van Eyck, all that happened while he was a boy not finished with growing. Yet she herself’s tried on that first Wraith outfit- a costume of sorts, really, how different was it from the Scarab Queen’s glass-bead veil in the third act of the Komedie Brute- to find it no longer fit, that she couldn’t easily do up the buttons on the front. She has more of a woman’s set of curves to her hips and long, hard-earned muscles on her legs and thighs, and even if she is creating some new kind of legend it is under her own name now.

Sometimes, Ketterdam feels like that too-small jacket; it cannot fit the woman she’s becoming. So she sews herself a new coat from the fabric of the world.

“Mijn mann,” she says, because she likes the way his body flinches and then stills under her fingers with those words, sharp and unexpected as any knife. “I’ve missed you too.”

[thenarcolepticone]

The Inflection Point

by TheNarcolepticOne

(AO3) (FF.net)

Summary: Cinderella!AU. Alfred is an expert of numbers. He lives a life of eternal counting and he doesn’t quite know when the day will come when those numbers will finally flow to his favor, flipping away from a thousand and one negatives to an exponential positive. And what’s math without a little magic? USUK

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FRIEND @ixbranna16!!! (or @ixiethepixiewrites)

I hope this present like, doesn’t suck–

We both wrote a story about this concept but I didn’t have the balls to post it until today so OOPS.

Anyway, I hope you guys also have a good time reading this… ehe…

Alfred F. Jones never left home without two very important things: a pen (typically one including a name with whichever event had decided to hand them out for free), and a handheld spiral notepad. It’s been a constant habit of his since the first day that his stepmother discovered that the child could read and cheat the grocery list by adding extra foods at the end of it. It’s only after that event had Alfred carried paper and pen with him to every place he visited. He was an oddball of a kid who loved adding numbers and calculating almost everything that he could see. If Alfred could kiss numbers themselves, he would.

He counted the worth of everything his stepmother ‘granted’ him so that he knew exactly how much of a ‘financial liability’ he was to her (Alfred still didn’t know the costs yet; she hadn’t even ever sent him back to school). He counted how many steps it took to get to the top and the bottom of the house, and how many seconds it took to get to those endpoints.

Alfred especially counted all the money he had saved up from then on until he became 19.

He had a severe minimum wage count of about almost two measly coins a day for about nineteen years. Two cents per day, in a year, would have been $7.30 and by now he had an approximate $138.70; not counting the leap years. Alfred recalled himself grinning from ear to ear earlier that day, excited now to finally reach his goal to pay for the expensive suit he had been eyeing only recently.

Each year, his small little town would host a gala that would always be organized right smack dab in the middle of summer. It was a rumored occasion that stated that a man could find his true love there waiting for him, yet Alfred already knew how many failed dates his stepmother had ended up having. The answer: 13 and counting.

This never stopped Alfred from being as determined as he was. The idea of marriage was a glorious thing; one that could mean finally making something of himself other than just being lumped at home counting bubbles he popped while washing the dishes. The gala… it meant freedom in some aspect. Something that could break him out of his slavery to the woman he called ‘caretaker’.

And so the story begins right as Alfred enters into the clothing store, feeling his heartbeat drop several beats per minute upon seeing the horrid effects of how inflation had ruined his chances of being able to attend.

“Sir,” he addresses the clerk with a voice crack that made Alfred actually cringe with embarrassment within those few seconds. “Wasn’t this suit about $138.70 with the tax? Exact?”

“Aye, it was. But it’s the best thing I own in this store. Times are tough, kid. Either you put more pennies in that jar for an extra $10 or no deal.”

Alfred sighs. But all hope hadn’t lost itself in that moment. His eyes sparkle to the display only next to it, something much more flamboyant. Much more statement worthy. And totally $138.70.

“I’ll take that one, please.”

In the end, the situation didn’t quite add up to its estimated potential.

Alfred had only now gotten himself home with the floofy material still half pouring out of his hands. Glitter filled every crevice on the floor, and perhaps even through the cobwebs just behind the shelves. His expression, however, reads nothing less than excited, and he didn’t care to be bothered about cleaning it later if it meant he himself was going to have the chance to get ready for his first ever gala. He could finally set aside time for the ‘True Love’ part of his life.

But it was an expectation that was met with a metaphorical ax to the heart when Alfred’s stepmother comes home and drops her umbrella at the front door.

“…where in the hell did you get that?” she exclaims immediately, eyes straight to the outfit in his arms as if she was even surprised that he was holding it in the first place.

“I bought it with my own money, ma’am,” Alfred reasons, though he crosses his fingers from under the fabric. It’s an itchy kind, but it’s his money’s worth. “At the store. Isn’t it pretty? They wouldn’t let me buy the suit since it was expensive, but this was the next best–”

The statement is never finished and Alfred feels the fabrics of the silk slip through his fingers, mildly scratching his skin. It is being snatched away by a pudgy, scarlet-faced old woman; it’s the new image of a thief. Alfred tugs the fabric back, feeling his heart tug as hard as how he was pulling.

“That’s mine.”

She doesn’t relent her decision, tugging it back. Alfred doesn’t let go.

“Everything in this household belongs to me, ” she insists anyway, and Alfred practically yanks it out of her greedy hands. There wasn’t supposed to be an alternative option to the ‘happily ever after’. It was supposed to be his own story, and yet unsuccessfully, the tale becomes a broken reality when the fabric tears itself into two pieces.

Alfred inhales sharply, just as his stepmother quickly snatches the remains. She goes over to the dumbstruck hero, punching him straight in the jaw with contained irritation.

“I’m not being escorted to the gala with you, much less you wearing a dress.”

It’s a blur of hazy thoughts after, and Alfred ignores that his glasses had been knocked off his face. He says nothing, leaving the house instantly into the cold, yet welcoming rain. It’s a choice he decides to settle with, and the wetness masks his leaking tears.

The next instance Alfred finds himself, he’s retreated into the rusted walls of a weathered gazebo; a stage set in the middle of the gardens only as a means for impressing the neighbors. It was hardly ever used to do anything than be a decorative space, but it was his safe zone. His second room.

How he made it out there, in the mist of rain and visual haze, he wasn’t sure himself. Alfred just chooses to sit in the center, sniffling quietly as he feels his heart finally sink lower than his stomach. He’s dripping, with his head hung low and water dripping off his hair like it would a willow tree’s leaves. Alfred sits, hugging his knees. It’s only now that he finds it a stupid idea to have run out without any kind of warm clothing. He’s only wearing a tank top and knee-length shorts; the perfect attire for someone working the fields. Alfred sighs, with breath collecting into the air as he hugs his knees inward. He wonders briefly if true love would wait another 19 years. Adding the numbers, he’d be 38; probably hitting a midlife crisis and forever starving. Entirely unattractive.

He wipes his eyes, exhausted and tired before he feels a hand plop right on his shoulder.

Alfred jolts instantly, imaging that his stepmother might not have had enough pleasure with the previous encounter. Out of instinct, he swings his fist in the direction he felt the threat appear from, only regretting it immediately after when he hears the curse words of a much lower voice; a young man’s instead of a shrill old woman’s.

“…that was… entirely unnecessary. ”

The voice had an odd nasal intonation to it and Alfred had only just turned around, scraping his brain for replies but still unsure of how to approach the apology. It becomes more difficult to even try when he notices that not only was he dealing with a total stranger, but was, in fact, dealing with someone who had a gigantic pair of translucent butterfly wings probably twice his height.

And a nose dripping with newly drawn blood. Alfred winces and tries to hold off his interrogating questions.

“…hey man. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Honest.” “I’m sure you didn’t,” the winged man sounds as if he were mocking him anyway. Alfred didn’t feel the any less guilty. “I wouldn’t have been summoned to help someone if they didn’t need it. Though, I think they forgot to include the part where you’re also ‘violent’.”

Alfred bites his lip. He finally gets one good look at him after hearing him speak, and his eyes went to finally settle on his appearance. As best he could, anyway. He still lacks glasses.

It’s the eyebrows that catch him first, furrowed and large. They were accompanied by a pair of pure green eyes staring him down and a hand covering the lower half of his face from the incident. Alfred can’t quite see the details of anything more than this. His eyes squint, but he gives up trying. He makes a move to speak, but his foot brushes against something solid and he looks down.

It’s a stick with a bright star at the end of it, shining so brightly that it almost hurts to look at.

“I’ll take that.”

The other scoops it up out of his vision with his free hand, and Alfred blinks as the man makes a swirling motion with it, eventually bopping Alfred’s head with the star point.

“Ow! What the…??” Alfred complains, but he opens his eyes again, only to realize the world decided to correct itself. The fields of trees were without doubles this time, and he feels his face with his hands. He can see the world clearly with no need for the specs. Blinking blearily, Alfred looks back again to the wand holder. He gets a glance quick enough to see that the fairy man also performed the same odd ritual on himself, waving his wand around. And he removes his hand away from his face without much mess. His nose didn’t look broken anymore. When he is finished with the action, he meets eyes with Alfred that flared with unimaginable annoyance. It’s then that Alfred notices the dusting of freckles on his nose; light and fairly obvious. And the anger was more pronounced in his expression. Perhaps not the same as his stepmother, but enough to probably not want to test his patience.

Alfred didn’t know if he should be terrified, but evidently, his inner questions were eventually answered by the way the other seems to soften his expression, extending a hand to him. It was forced, and he looked like he was trying his best to avoid blowing up with verbal abuse. “It’s a bit…late for an introduction now. But my name is Arthur. I’m your assigned Fairy Godfather.”

Alfred rubs his nose. As abstract as the concept was, he couldn’t help but make the comment.

“That…explains the wings.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alfred quickly takes ‘Arthur’s’ outstretched hand, trying to brush off his own rudeness. “Alfred F. Jones. I’m uh. I’m sorry for hitting your face like that. Don’t get to see a whole lot of new people around here, and they normally aren’t the good kind of people anyway.”

Arthur’s lip twitches. “I’m aware.”

Alfred gives a bit of an uneasy smile, then releases the hand grip before then rubbing his eyes several times. To make sure he wasn’t dreaming, of course.

“So uh. Fairy Godfather.”

“In the flesh,” Arthur says this with some aura of higher authority, giving a curt bow. One that Alfred chooses to ignore. He’s had enough of high and mighty. Alfred just tilts his head only a fraction as a response before replying.

“You’re a lot shorter than I imagined.”

“And for a pure soul, you’re a bit of a brute as well.”

The comment is unwarranted but Alfred can’t help but laugh as he says it, figuring perhaps this was a much better topic to shift to than being overly self-reflective like earlier.

“You’re also a little crude to be a Fairy Godfather. Sure I’m talking to the right guy?”

Arthur the fairy just rolls his eyes. “And cheeky too. Wow.”

“Touché.”

Despite the negative comments, Alfred couldn’t help but finally calm down. He figured perhaps he deserved this kind of treatment since he was the one who technically hit him without warning in the first place. He sighs after, then just rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Arthur’ also did fix his eyes too. A double favor that he clearly didn’t have to do.

“Anyway,” Alfred says. “What’s a Fairy Godfather doing in a place like this? Are you supposed to grant wishes or something?”

Arthur only crosses his arms and exhales sharply. Maybe this question was part of Arthur’s F.A.Q.

“I’m here because I’m supposed to give second chances,” the fairy replies, wiping the rest of the crusting blood off his nose. It was an answer that at least didn’t sound like he was trying to provoke him anymore. Which was good. “Apparently you want to go to the gala. And I’m supposed to make sure that happens, so here I am. I just hope you make reasonable requests.”

Alfred furrows his brows. “Wait so. You’re gonna help me get to the gala and find my soulmate?”

The fairy man looks jostled at that assumption. “Well. Perhaps not that far along. But hopefully, yes.”

“But wouldn’t that mean you’re more of a cupid kinda guy more than a fairy?”

Arthur snorts. “It would appear so.”

“But I’m not even dressed for it!” Alfred complains. “My outfit…”

It’s then Arthur’s turn to laugh, though it came out more as a chuckle. “You mean the dress?”

Alfred pouts. “Hey. There’s nothing wrong with dresses. It’s what I could afford.”

Arthur just rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling as he does so. He twirls his wrist in a circular motion as he holds the wand. And Alfred looks down when he notices light radiating off his body, widening his eyes when he recognizes the exact tuxedo that he had wanted to buy in the store only hours ago.

“Holy hell.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Alfred felt his smile return to him, and it was the kind that bubbled up to the surface enough to make his eyes water. He looks happily at Arthur, making an expression that was almost ruined by tears. Arthur then seemed to look away briefly.

“…please don’t cry on me. I’d rather not use the excess magic for laundry maintenance.”

“Thank you so much, Arthur. You’re like, the best Fairy Godfather ever.”

Alfred catches Arthur off guard, and he pulls him into a tight embrace. Enough to squeeze all his feelings in a single motion, but not too much that he didn’t make Arthur gasping for breath. Arthur’s cheeks flush, but he tries to maintain a stable expression.

“…I already said you’re welcome. Now can you…let go?”

Alfred opens his arms, and Arthur practically stumbles out of balance. But he gains his composure again, brushing himself off as he adjusts his stance. Alfred keeps his gaze downward at the tuxedo. He doesn’t even ask about the transportation, but it’s clear that even if he didn’t ask, it would still be provided for. And he looks up at Arthur without any fail of his smile wavering. “You want to come?” “Wait, wait. What?” Arthur sputters, but Alfred offers his hand, giving a bright grin. “You know, you can’t just arrive at a party by yourself. You need a date/ And I’m thinking maybe since I can’t pay y’back for this suit in a few years–”

“Alfred, you don’t even have to pay me back for this. And inviting me is the most ludicrous thing anyone has ever suggested to me.”

“But does that mean yes then?”

Arthur sighed loudly. “Well,”

“You’re a fairy of chances, aren’t you? Why don’t you stick around? I kinda need a date, you know. And it’s the last chance I’m gonna get before I get married.”

Arthur then feels himself chuckle again. “Twisting my words already. Alright. But only since you asked.”

[corrahdarling]

Playing With Fire- Chapter Eleven- A Collar and a Call

The pair wasted no time in getting back to the Four Seasons. Hunter was encouraged by the fact that she would get to remove her implements of punishment, and Tom laughed as he tried to keep up with her eager, quick strides.

They buzzed by the reception desk and into the elevator, which was thankfully empty. Suddenly, Hunter found her back pressed against the mirrored wall with a tall, lean British man pressed fully against her.

"My darling, you did beautifully today. Did you enjoy the first part of your punishment?" He asked as he ghosted his lips down the side of her neck.

"Well... it was much different than getting a spanking, sir... Although, that would have been lovely too."

"Mmm... yes... well, the day isn't over. Maybe you'll get one yet." He winked.

At that moment, Hunter realized what Tom had said. He said that was the first part of her punishment. "Wait... my punishment isn't over yet, sir?"

That sexy, deep, menacing chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Oh, no, my love... That was just the warm-up. The rest, however, will come a bit later."

Great. So, he was going to make her wait in nervous anticipation... again . Hunter rolled her eyes as Tom ducked his head to place a soft bite on her collarbone. The elevator dinged, alerting them that they had reached the 44th floor, and they quickly exited the lift before finding their way back to their room.

After they were safely behind the locked door of room number 4403, Tom made a suggestion. "Darling, you may go into the bathroom and take the balls and plug out. You've done well, and I'm proud of you."

Hunter smiled and scurried into the bathroom, relieved to be able to remove the torturous devices, and was faced with a black garment bag hanging on the hook in the bathroom. Hmm... that wasn't there this morning when they'd left.

"Um, Sir? What is this? Is this yours?" She yelled from the bathroom.

A knowing smile landed on his thin lips. "I don't know what you are talking about, darling. Why don't you open it and see what it is?"

Hunter ran her hands over the smooth black material of the bag, before noticing a signature written in gold across the top. Elie Saab. She gasped audibly, prompting Tom to poke his head in the door.

"What is it, darling?"

"Tom... what did you do?" She asked as she excitedly reached the zipper located on the top of the bag.

"I told you... I don't have a clue as to what's in that bag." He mentioned, with a large grin plastered across his handsome face.

"Uh-huh... ohmigosh..." She grinned as the black zipper flowed easily along it's track. She pulled the front of the bag back, and revealed it's contents. Inside, resting on a beautiful velvet hanger, was a lovely piece of sequined, light pink fabric. Quickly, the rest of the bag came off and she squealed at the sight. She lightly touched the perfect rosy-pink, short dress, and marveled at it's long, sequined sleeves and boatneck. A matching, thin belt rested around the small waist.

"Tom... it's... I can't even... How did you know?"

"I have my ways of knowing things about you, Hunter. I just happened to know that Elie Saab is your favorite designer... and we just happened to be in New York, so I had that sent over in your size. I wanted you to have something to wear to dinner tonight that would make you feel extraordinary... and I can't wait to see you in it."

She jumped into his arms, nearly making him fall over from the surprising impact. "Thank you so much Tom. It will match my new earrings perfectly..."

"Yes, I thought so too." He said, as he felt her slightly blanch in his arms, and pull away. "Hunter... what's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"Are we going through this again so soon? I demand you tell me."

"I just... Tom, you're spending way too much money on me. I mean... you bought me a car... you're spending no telling how much on this hotel room... You just bought me a pair of $3600 earrings at Tiffany's for goodness sakes... You didn't even bat an eye when she told you how much they were! And now... Elie Saab?" She gestured toward the black garment bag.

"What's wrong with that? I want you to have nice things, darling. I want you to be completely spoiled."

"Tom... I just... I don't deserve all this. You have to take it all back!"

"What the hell, Hunter? Have you gone mad? If I didn't have the money, you know I wouldn't do it. Why don't you just say thank you, like a good girl?"

"I'm just... I'm not worth all this trouble." Her voice trembled, with tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

He sighed loudly. "You've been beaten down and told for years that you aren't worth it... You are, my love. You are worth every penny... and so much more than I could ever give you. You make me so happy, darling. Just humor me, please. If I want to spend money on you, that's my decision."

"I don't know, Tom..."

"You've been with Henry for so long that you don't know how to be happy. You don't know how to accept my gifts and attention..." He reached out to stroke the side of her face. "...or my love. I will show you how a man is supposed to treat a woman, Hunter. Will you let me?"

A small nod from her was all he received in return.

"Now, go into the bathroom and get cleaned up... We'll take a nap before dinner."

She nodded once again, and without looking back at him she turned and retreated into the bathroom. Mainly, she felt guilt. She didn't want him to spend all his hard-earned money on her. Henry had been such a tight-wad, she had gotten used to living on not much. She certainly didn't own Elie Saab gowns, or Tiffany's earrings with Henry, so it made her uncomfortable to have lavish gifts thrown at her like this.

She removed the balls and plug, took a quick shower, and slipped into her oversized Under Armor sweatpants, which used to belong to Henry, and a fitted coral colored t-shirt. Tom had gotten comfortable too, wearing only a pair of thin, grey, linen bed pants and a small, apologetic smile. He sat on the edge of the bed, as if he was waiting for her, and patted his knee for her to sit as she crept toward him.

When she was firmly planted on his knee, he wrapped his arms around her waist and looked into her eyes. "The only reason I am giving you these things is because I love you, sweetheart. I do. If these things make you uncomfortable, I won't do it anymore. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"I know... I'm sorry... I speak before I think sometimes. Do you forgive me, sir?"

"I do, Hunter. There is something very serious that we need to discuss, however, darling."

"Oh... okay." Suddenly, she was confused... and a bit terrified. Was he going to break up with her for being a brat?

"When we entered into our relationship, it was a bit of a trial period. I wanted to see how we were together. We are far better together than I ever dreamed we would be. You see, when a dominant wants to take it to a committed level, he 'collars' his submissive. I know that sounds a bit archaic, but please, hear me out. I've never done this before, but Hunter, I want you to wear my 'collar,' of sorts. You are perfect for me, and I feel like we could continue to grow together. If you were to agree to this, it would mean a bit of a change in the dynamic of our relationship. You will have more stringent rules to abide by... things I expect from you... it would be more serious. Your only job will be to please me, darling. I have been thinking about this for awhile, because I didn't want to rush into anything, but I'm positive this is what I want... what I need. We will be devoted and committed to one another.. This is significant, darling. You mean the world to me, but us just being together isn't good enough for me... I want to own you. Go get the Tiffany's bag on the desk, please."

She was in a state of shock as she stood and retrieved the small blue bag from the desk. Was she ready to be that committed again so soon? She had just taken her wedding ring off that day, and Tom was already asking her to be bound to him? She loved him, and she thought she was ready for this. With trembling hands, she placed the bag in his lap.

"My love, I want what is in this bag to symbolize our commitment to each other. It's not a formal collar, but I want you to be able to wear it in public without any hesitation." He pulled a small blue box from the bag and gently opened it. Inside, laid a necklace with a silver chain, and a rose gold pendant. The pendant looked like a heart-shaped padlock, only more delicate, and it was covered in diamonds.

"It's... beautiful, Tom. I absolutely adore it."

A relieved chuckle erupted from Tom's lips. "Do you want to do this? When I put this on you, you cannot take it off unless I tell you to. I'm giving you my heart, Hunter, literally, and I want you to respect it... and me."

"Yes, Tom. Yes, I want to wear that for you." Hunter watched as he fumbled around trying to remove the necklace from the box, because he was just as nervous as she was. The necklace laid around her neck perfectly, with the heart resting directly over her own, and she gazed at it in the mirror dumbfounded. She was now bound to Tom. She was his, and she would do whatever she had to do to make him comfortable and happy. She had certainly never thought of herself as a formal 'submissive' but the job felt at home to her... it felt right.

Tom stood behind Hunter in the mirror and admired the piece of jewelry, finally wrapping his arm around her to lightly brush the diamonds with his finger. "It's stunning on you, darling. Being bound to one another means that I will protect you at all costs... I will support you both spiritually and financially... I will take care of you, and help you better yourself and restore your confidence... I will be faithful to you, and I expect the same in return."

"Of course, sir. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Hunter. Now come, let's take a nap before dinner."

                                                         ***

Hunter jumped as the noise of her phone vibrating against the wooden nightstand buzzed in the darkness. What in the world? What time is it? The bedside clock read 12:28 a.m. They must have slept right through dinner! She rubbed her eyes to try to get them to focus on the glass screen, and as soon as they did, she was gobsmacked. Henry. Why was he calling her? She decided that he was probably drunk-dialing, and brushed it off as no more than that when a text came through a minute later.

12:30 A.M .

Hunter, please call me back.

It's an emergency.

-Henry

An emergency? What if something horrible had happened? She wrestled with the idea of calling him... What if something had happened to one of his parents? What if something had happened to him? Hunter quietly slid out of bed, carefully as not to disturb Tom, and disconnected her phone from the power cord. She went into the bathroom, locked the door behind her, took a seat on the edge of the bathtub... and with trembling hands and a deep breath, she dialed Henry's number.

"Hunter." Henry answered, sounding relieved.

"I got your message, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, baby, I just needed to talk to you. I knew that was the only way I could get you to call me back."

"You... what?"

"I needed to hear your voice, Hunter."

Well, that was not what she had expected.

"This is ridiculous, Henry, I have to go."

"No, wait! Please just talk to me for a minute... I need to hear your voice... and I need for you to listen to me."

With a sigh she replied. "What is it?"

"I miss you, baby. Ever since you've been gone, I've been a mess. I want you to come home. You're my wife."

Oh my God... "You're kidding me right? I heard you already had divorce papers drawn up, and now you're asking me to come home?"

"I was so angry when you left... Yes, I had divorce papers drawn up, but they mean nothing without our signatures."

"Henry, the only reason my signature isn't on those papers is because you haven't sent them to me..."

"You don't mean that..."

"I do." She hissed.

"You're with him?"

"What?"

"Hunter, you're whispering... does that mean you are with him?"

"Henry..."

"Just answer me."

"Yes... I'm with him."

"Do you love him?"

She wanted to be honest. "I... Yes. He respects me, Henry."

Henry's voice began to tremble. "Are you still wearing your ring?"

Hunter thought back to earlier in the day when she had finally removed her wedding ring and placed it safely in her makeup bag. She looked down at her naked ring finger, noticing the smooth strip of skin where that ring used to reside.

"Henry..."

"Is there any hope for us, baby?"

"I... I don't know, Henry. Too much has happened..."

"I haven't had a drink since you left, Hunter. I know what it was doing to me... It was making me into a monster. I poured all the alcohol down the drain. I'm not going to be that way anymore. You've gotta believe me. I'm doing this for you... for us. Don't throw us away without giving me one last chance. I'm not letting go of you that easy."

"I'm not sure you've got a choice. Remember what you did to me?"

"I will always remember... I feel so guilty about what I've done to you. You've gotta believe what I'm telling you, I need you... I can't live without you, baby. You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm still your husband, and I love you. We can make things good again. Don't you remember how good it used to be, until I screwed things up? We can be happy... have kids... You know you want that as much as I do."

Hunter felt a warm tear as it rolled over her cheek. This was horrible timing.

"I'm tired, Henry. I'm going back to bed..."

"At least tell me you'll think about it..."

"Henry...I can't-"

"Please... I love you baby. I'm not letting you go... not without a fight. Think about it."

She sighed. "Fine, Henry. I will."

"Good."

With a tap of her finger, she ended her conversation with Henry. She thought all of this was over with. If he had changed a couple of months ago, she would probably still be with him... but now, another man's genuine feelings were involved in this mess. She fingered the lock that now hung beautifully around her neck, and felt an instant rush of confusion. She was now committed to Tom- with her heart and her body. She couldn't break his heart now. She knew she genuinely loved him... but if her marriage could be saved, should she work on that instead? Her mind and her heart were in two separate places, and she didn't know how to fix this situation.

Finally, she wiped the tears from her face and tip-toed back across the suite, sliding back into bed beside Tom. She watched his bare chest rise and fall with each breath, before slipping under his protective arm. He stirred as he felt her cool body press against his.

"What time is it, darling?"

"It's after midnight... we slept right through dinner. I guess we were tired."

"Shit. I'm so sorry. I had a lovely dinner planned for us. I feel horrible!" He scolded himself as he tilted his head to look down at her.

She shrugged slightly. "Well... I was looking forward to wearing my stunning new outfit and earrings... but it was nice just to lay here with you and sleep... wrapped in your arms... all safe and warm."

"I suppose you're right. I just wanted to take you to this little Japanese restaurant in Brooklyn called Zenkichi. Every booth is surrounded by a thick curtain for complete privacy..." He chuckled. "The things I could have done to you in there, little one..."

Even though it was fairly dark, he could see the pink blush spread across her cheeks. "It's not your fault, Tom, really."

He nodded, finally accepting their sleepiness. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I woke when you slipped out of bed, and you were in the bathroom quite a while. You aren't sick, are you?"

"Oh..." Her stomach clenched. She hoped to goodness that he hadn't heard her talking to Henry. "No, I'm fine."

"Okay... good. Why don't we order room service then? I'm famished."

Hunter nodded as Tom slid out of bed to find the menu. She watched his lithe body move toward the writing desk, and an anxious feeling washed over her. She loved this man... and she hated Henry for trying to get in between them. She knew that Tom would be incredibly hurt to find out that she had called Henry behind his back. She felt guilty, and she knew she'd have to tell him. She'd have to have a talk with him the minute they got back home... and she hoped between now and then she'd gather the courage to do just that.