#-extends a hand out with a gentlemanly bow-

[virtuous-absolute]

[solitablvd]

Se Nos Acabó El Ratito

**Minors DNI**

Pairing: Javier Escuella x Female Reader

Parte 2 & Parte 3

Summary: “I came to America because I killed a man in México. A powerful man. I knew if I stayed, everyone I love would die. I ran, not for my life, but for theirs." ** In 1894, you are the wife of General Velasco, a powerful figure in the Mexican Army. One fateful night in Punta Orgullo, you cross paths with Javier Escuella.

Warnings: pre-video game, eventual smut, headcannon asf, more tags to come, romantic Javier idc, female reader

Word Count: 4k

AO3 Link

Parte 1:

Punta Orgullo, Nuevo Paraíso, México 1894

El amor, como una rosa, tiene espinas.

That’s what you always said— love, like a rose, has thorns.

Until you met him. Javier. The name alone could make your head spin.

You met him under the stars, amidst the sound of joyous music. You had snuck off into the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of normalcy.

Far away from the agave fields and into the deep night, you found life. Your very own treasure awaited just down the hill from your home, at the heart of Punta Orgullo — a small pueblo by the name of Escalera.

You kept your head down and veiled by a long mantilla. The music filled the small plaza, and you marveled at the resilience of a community that could face so much hardship in the day, but still find moments of joy in the night.

With your back against a wall, you watched the people dance. That’s when he approached you.

His eyes were knowing. He wore a well-maintained baby blue charro suit with golden accents that reminded you of the clear sky on a sunny day. His hair, though mostly concealed by his matching sombrero, peeked through, framing his elegant features and neatly tied in a small ponytail.

"Excuse me," he said, a hand resting on his belt and the other holding a lit cigarette. He put it out with a flick, letting it fall to the ground before snuffing it out under his boot as he drew nearer. Removing his sombrero, he held it to his chest and gave a short bow as a sign of respect before continuing, "I noticed you from across the plaza. I haven’t seen you here before."

“Ah, yes.” You kept your head down, your mantilla shining brightly under the pale moonlight, “This is my first time in the plaza,” you admitted softly.

“Well,” He began, a gentle smile forming on his lips, “would you care for a dance?”

You looked at him with contemplation. The faint scars on his face told stories; a man with a history. His eyes held truth, but more importantly virtue. Would he be asking if he knew you were General Velasco’s wife? The trophy wife of a powerful man so disgustingly corrupt that the mere thought of it sent a stabbing pang through your stomach.

Noticing you were stuck in thought, Javier bent over, using his sombrero to pretend to sweep the sandy floor at your feet. A playful glint danced in his eyes as he then extended his hand in invitation, “One dance. Just one.”

You couldn’t hold back from smiling sincerely at his charming gesture. Unsure of what was to come, you took a leap of faith and accepted. With your hand placed delicately in his, he led you to the swirling crowd of dancing bodies at the center of the plaza.

As you danced slowly, he whispered sweet lyrics of the boleros into your ear. He held you close and tenderly. The two of you danced as if you had known each other forever. In his arms you felt alive.

When the night drew to a close, Javier, in his ever so gentlemanly fashion, insisted he walk you home. His persistence was admirable, but it was then, under the blanket of stars, that you confessed you didn’t reside at the lower levels of the small pueblo. Rather, you lived in the grand villa at the top of the hill, surrounded by other haciendas where only the grossly powerful and corrupt resided.

You feared he might feel betrayed, but he looked at you silently and thoughtfully before gently taking your hand and walking you home anyway. You told him everything about your arranged, loveless marriage. He told you about his mother, sister, and even about his life as a bounty hunter. Under the night sky your fingers remained interlocked as you snuck up the trail to your home.

He helped lift you atop the white stone wall that surrounded the villa. As you sat on the wall looking down at him, he removed his sombrero once more, this time taking out a singular red rose.

“This is for you.” He whispered, extending the rose up to you. You took it delicately, the rose was unarmed, as if he carefully snipped each thorn off one by one.

Just like his love for you from that point on, sin espinas.

You saw him twice a month after that. As ironic as it was, you’d pray just to find a chance to sneak off from your home and find him. You found solace in his presence.

It had been months since that fateful day, yet here you were, still in the confines of the villa.

In the courtyard you continued to tend to the plants, using the large clay pitcher to carefully water the greenery as you overheard your husband— General Alejandro Velasco’s — conversation. He was standing beside the large center courtyard fountain with whom you recognized to be Capitán González.

They ignored you, but you preferred it that way, it gave you the opportunity to listen in.

"Then find them, drag them out there and make them work. They don’t get to make demands." Velasco's voice was filled with fire. He had been growing more and more frustrated with the lack of complete obedience from the people of Punta Orgullo.

"They need to feel our presence. I want patrols doubled in the village. No one walks alone. Any whispers of revolt must be silenced immediately.” He demanded.

Your breathing hitched with his words, but you remained composed. As demands for fair wages and better treatment among the workers and general public intensified, military presence in all of Punta Orgullo had only grown heavier. As word of revolution began, Velasco’s iron fist seemed to grow heavier as he tried to ‘maintain order’ as he put it.

“I can have Cabo Diego and a few others find out who’s starting these whispers.” González replied dutifully.

“Yes. Find them.” Velasco approved, “It’ll be an example for the rest.”

González nodded firmly before turning to depart the gate of the villa and head out into Escalera.

Velasco turned to you, knowing you had been listening in, and cleared his throat to get your attention, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” You prompted casually not taking your eyes off the foliage before you.

He sighed heavily, the medals on his suit jingled lightly as he stepped closer, “Look, they’re going to get more aggressive. These are not people we can have conversations with. Rebellion is a disease. I have to put an end to it early.” He placed an arm on your shoulder, willing you to understand. You looked back at him with contempt before subtly shrugging off his touch.

“I’m going to tend to the horses,” was your terse reply before you turned and walked towards the main headquarters of your home. Velasco made no move to follow; this conversation had become all too familiar.

You changed your dress into one more suitable to blend in with the outside world and draped your long mantilla over your head before heading out towards the stables. As you arrived you scanned the area, ensuring no one would be the wiser as you took a detour towards pueblo.

Entering the lower levels of Escalera, you kept your gaze low, luckily the soldiers seemed preoccupied with other matters. Down the white, sandy road you could see two men being grabbed by soldiers and thrown onto the ground. They wore the garments of those who worked in the agave fields, but typically they would be working until the sunset.

Maneuvering expertly through the alleys, you made your way to the pulga.

The pulga was unique in that it was almost a sanctuary free from military surveillance. The gatherings in the plaza that were once joyous events free from soldiers, were rare now that the military had begun to focus on “maintaining order” as they called it. However, they never bothered to stop the pulga as it was the means for a lot of people to live.

The instant aroma of baked bread and leather goods hit you as you entered. Colorful textiles hung from the different vendor stalls. Bodies brushed past each other as people walked around the market with the intent to buy, sell, or trade. This afternoon the pulga seemed unusually crowded, as it was just buzzing with activity.

You heard his smoky laugh before you even saw him. It was a sound you’d come to recognize anywhere. With his back turned all you could see was his guitar strapped to his back and his sombrero hanging low on his head. He stood in front of Doña Lupe’s stall, where she sold handmade jewelry as well as any other miscellaneous items she could get her hands on.

You approached the stall, the older woman greeted you first. Doña Lupe was one of the few people that knew about the whole ‘married to the general’ situation, but Javier trusted her and that was enough for you to trust her too. She was a kind older woman; she couldn’t do much physical labor anymore, so the pulga was her means of getting by.

As Javier heard the woman’s sweet greeting towards you, he turned with a beaming smile, “Hey! You’re here.” He took your hand and pressed his lips gently to its top, kissing your skin dearly and making everything else in the world seem to fade away with his touch.

“I just saw you last week, didn’t think I’d see you again this soon,” His slanted smile reappeared as he returned his cigarette to hang from his lips, “Not that I’m complaining.” He added with a playful wink.

“I needed to get away.” You admitted. His smile faltered and his eyebrows filled with concern for half a second before Doña Lupe interrupted.

“Well, we are glad to have you,” She smiled, her eyes shifted towards Javier. “Javier was just getting something detailed.”

Javier cleared his throat, “Ah yes. Well, after pleading with the workers all morning, I had some free time.” Javier chuckled at your puzzled look as you wondered if that had anything to do with the amount of people at the pulga today.

“I finally convinced them. None of the jimadores are working until they get the fair wages they deserve.” He explained, you nodded in understanding, though a pang of worry stirred within you as you remembered the conversation you overheard this morning.

“I heard them today,” You began in a hushed tone, “Said they’re going to double the patrols… They want to find the people organizing the revolts and make an example of them.”

Doña Lupe gasped and quickly looked at Javier with concern. His eyebrows raised at your words, then he clicked his tongue with displeasure.

“We’ll all be okay.” He reassured the both of you. “Nothing to worry about. They already gathered some people who were still in their work clothes, if one of them talked we’d know by now.”

You nodded in understanding, hoping he was right. It was no secret that Javier was one of the people spearheading what Velasco would call rebellious acts and revolution-driven conversations. Many respected him for it, many expressed their gratitude for his courage, but you couldn’t help but worry for his safety.

“We should leave,” You suggested, “We can go by the river.”

His gaze met yours before happily agreeing, which you were grateful for as you didn’t want to stay here and wait for him to get caught. The two of you gave Doña Lupe an earnest goodbye before moving to the other stalls to buy bread, then heading North towards the river.

You had to move quickly and quietly to leave the pueblo. Javier took the lead, holding your hand and leading you down the labyrinth of white alleys to avoid patrolling soldiers.

“Aguas!” He whispered urgently, “Hold on.”

He halted, pressing against you firmly to have your back against a wall and both his hands braced on either side of you. You could feel the warmth of his body as he peered around the corner of the building cautiously.

“Is someone there?” You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“No,” he replied with a playful grin, turning his attention back to you, “I just realized I hadn’t done this yet.”

He brought a hand down to gently cup your face. He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. You melted into the kiss, having missed the sensation since the last time you saw him. You both stood there against the building, lips passionately connected. Your smile grew against his lips, wishing to cherish every moment with him. He let out a happy sigh as he pulled back, taking your hand to continue leaving the area.

The San Luis River was desolate and surprisingly calming. It was like a mirror of stillness, reminding you of all the times Javier and you sought moments of peace here. The gravel crunched beneath your feet as the two of you stepped closer, finding a spot to sit in the sun along the cool water.

You removed your mantilla, glad you didn’t need to hide now that you were away from the village. You sat shoulder to shoulder, your head rested against his shoulder as you stared out into the flowing river. Javier didn’t bother looking at the water as his eyes were solely focused on you.

“So,” He began, breaking the comfortable silence, “about earlier — you said you had to get away, what’d he do this time?” Javier asked, ripping a piece of bread to hand to you before popping a piece in his own mouth.

You took the bread from his hand, fiddling with it as your gaze averted to the gravel beside you, “It’s just what I told you before.”

He hummed and nodded in understanding, thinking quietly before continuing, “I’ll be fine.”

Your heart tensed with a wave of melancholy, his words sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

Your sorrowful gaze met his, and he chuckled quietly, “Mi dama perfecta, mi diosa,” He murmured between the kisses he was planting around your cheek, “Preciosa, you have nothing to worry about.”

A warm smile crept across your face at his affectionate words. Despite your lingering doubts, you chose to let the matter rest. “I was thinking about you earlier,” you said softly, “about how we met.”

Javier began to laugh heartily, “Qué buena suerte that I changed to that suit last minute, no? I almost showed up in this.” He gestured to his very worn, black pants and brown blazer, making you laugh along with him.

“I always think of you,” He winked as he kissed the top of your hand once more, “Sueño de tu belleza.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder again before looking out into the water with a contented sigh. You felt true joy in these stolen moments with Javier. Away from the relentless demands and pressure from your daily life.

“To think, there’s a whole other country out there, just across that river.” Javier gestured his head to the land on the other side of the San Luis River. You could see the red rocks and cacti of New Austin shimmering on the horizon.

“We could go,” You muttered barely audibly. Part of you knew it would be impossible, but the other part of you wished it to be true. A sense of longing swelled in your heart. If only it were that easy to leave. Your stomach began to sink. His silence was deafening.

Javier shifted beside you and gulped lightly before letting out a short chuckle, “I– um… I have a lot of work to do here,” was all he could muster to say.

You glanced at him, and he to you. You caught each other’s gaze for only a split second before he turned back to the water, picking up a stone and chucking it into the river. But in that split second you saw the weight of duty in his eyes. You understood. He had a responsibility, he felt, to the people of Punta Orgullo. He had purpose and a place here, and most importantly he was a man of virtue. It was one of the things you appreciated most about him— his commitment to his community— but when you looked out into the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel a longing for a life with just the two of you.

You continued to sit beside each other in a comfortable silence, both seemingly thinking of what could be.

Javier shifted to bring his guitar in front of him before beginning to quietly strum. Your eyes were fixated on the glowing horizon. You wondered what life could be across that water as he hummed along to the boleros he played, muttering a few words here and there.

A few minutes passed and as the sun began to kiss the horizon you knew you should be heading home. Though Velasco was never one to question your whereabouts, considering he would often disappear into the guest chambers with strangers, you felt a nagging responsibility to be there for when he decided to eventually call it a night in your shared bed.

You walked back carefully together, keeping any conversations lighthearted as if to avoid the weight of the conversation from earlier. On the way back you both decided to stop by Javier’s shared home to drop off the extra bread you bought them from the market.

His home was rather humble; a small building made of white stone. Though it appeared only a quarter the size of the villa you called home, the inside radiated a warmth far surpassing anything your own home could offer.

As you stepped inside you were immediately greeted by the voices of his family members. His mother rose from her kneeling space in front of their altar to greet you warmly with a tight hug. She was a kind woman, Dolores. She spent most of her days in front of the altar, though you could never tell if she was praying for the present or for the past. You just know that every so often she’d mutter the name Emiliano, the name of Javier’s late father.

“You’re home,” she turned to Javier, giving a warm smile as he set his belongings near the door. “I was starting to think you’d gone off bounty hunting,” she joked, nodding toward you, clearly noting that he had chosen to spend the day with you.

Javier chuckled, greeting his mother with a kind hug before shaking his head, “Not today. I told you I had to speak with the jimadores this morning. I think the demands are going to work.” He finished with a hopeful tone.

His mother let out a stiff sigh, but Javier ignored her discontent, “Then I got distracted.” He smiled cheekily at you.

“Javier…” His mother replied, ignoring his cheeky comment, clearly concerned, “They beat multiple men today. You’re lucky no one was killed because of what you did.” You winced slightly at the words.

“Ya basta amá,” Javier replied, trying to deflect her concern.

“There were more soldiers walking around today than ever before.” She admitted, “I just don’t want things to get out of control.”

“They’re already out of control.” Javier replied tiredly, this conversation seemingly a common one between the pair.

You retreated into the kitchen, dropping off the bread at their table where his younger sister, Carmen, was seated.

“They came looking for him.” She stated nonchalantly, ripping off a piece of bread before popping it into her mouth, similar to the way Javier had done earlier.

You froze at her words, a cold shiver sneaking down your spine, “What?”

“One of the Cabos,” She explained, “Him and two soldiers knocked on our door looking for Javier. That’s why amá is mad. He’s lucky he wasn’t here.”

“Did they say what they wanted?” You asked, anxiety threading through your voice. Your mind had already begun to race with the unsettling possibilities: What if someone had spotted your excursion and informed Velasco? What if a worker had revealed that it was Javier who convinced them to halt work until fair wages were met? What would they do with him? Would they try him with treason?

“No,” Carmen shook her head, “They didn’t say.”

You nodded and turned on your heel back into the main room. Javier’s eyes darted towards you, knowingly. He had just been given the same news, albeit much harsher, from his mother.

Javier nervously ran a hand through his hair, “I think…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, “I think it’s nothing to worry about. It could be anything.”

Dolores gave a judgemental hum before retreating to the altar, murmuring a prayer.

You bit your lip nervously, “I think I should walk home. Alone.”

“No,” He shook his head immediately, “There’s more soldiers now.”

“I’ll be fine,” You reassured him. He gave in, knowing there was not much else he could do. He pulled you into a hug before planting a tender kiss against your forehead as he bid you goodbye.

Under the night’s shadow, you made your way sneakily through the rows of houses as you climbed up the hill, avoiding the staircases as they were more likely to be populated. You eventually lifted yourself over the white stone wall and into the villa with a small thump.

You dusted off your dress and took off your mantilla. To calm yourself you took deep breaths, making your way into the main headquarters. Nothing seemed particularly out of order. Matter of fact, everything seemed eerily normal. You grabbed a cup of water, trying to calm your nerves before heading into your shared room.

When you opened the door, you let out a sigh of relief seeing that Velasco hadn’t made his way there yet. You swiftly changed into your nightgown, readying for bed, hoping you could fall asleep before he arrived.

As fate would have it though, the door creaked open as you covered yourself with the blanket.

“Ah, here you are.” He announced as he entered, closing the door behind him. “I was looking for you earlier.”

You silently nodded, “We must’ve missed each other.” You lied easily, this wasn’t the first time you had to deceive him.

He entered the restroom to change into his night clothes and prepare for bed, still calling out to you. “Look, I know earlier you were… upset. I thought about it, talked it over with some of the other men and I think a conversation with the rebels might be beneficial.”

You were thankful he was in another room, as the look on your face was filled with confusion, this is not what you expected the conversation to be.

“Oh,” was all you could say, cautious of what he would say next.

“I had Cabo Diego find the men who are at the root of these discussions of revolt.” He continued, now re-entering the bedroom. You were holding yourself up with your arms to meet his gaze, hoping your eyes weren’t giving anything away.

“And?” You prompted.

“And I invited a few of them for dinner— well the ones I could find.” He shrugged, sliding himself into bed beside you. You shifted over, uncomfortable with his proximity, a feeling you had come to accept but could never fully reconcile with.

“There was one the men couldn’t find, but I will send him an invitation first thing in the morning. They must all be here for us to come to an agreement on where things are headed.” He explained matter-of-factly. Your stomach twisted, knowing exactly who they were looking for.

You nodded in understanding, slowly sliding your arms to lay yourself in bed properly, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He looked at you puzzled, “Of course. I thought you of all people would prefer it this way.” He blew out the candles beside your bed, turning himself over to sleep, “Well, it’s settled now; they'll be here tomorrow.”

[iridescent-petrichor]

she’s something like a miracle

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: none !!

Words: 1K

A/N: no spoilers for obx3!!! i did finish it though, so it’s definitely helping my love for jj

You faced yourself in the mirror, twisting and turning to make sure every piece of your outfit was perfectly in place. You were wearing a longer dress, one that always flew in the wind in a way that made you feel magical.

JJ had planned a whole date with you, not giving many details other than what time he was picking you up. Normally you would’ve been on the nervous side, not knowing about the plans of the night, but you knew JJ very well and you trusted him with your entire heart.

The knock at the door made you look up from the view of the mirror, grabbing a bag, and making your way out to open the front door.

JJ stood before you, holding out a bouquet of flowers. He grinned upon seeing you, taking in your outfit with a deep breath.

“Wow,” He muttered, his voice low.

You did a halfhearted curtsy, laughing lightly at JJ’s awed reaction.

“Are these for me?” You couldn’t help but ask, nodding towards the flowers in his hand.

JJ brings himself out of his daze, gaze refocusing on you. “Oh! Yeah, these, uh- hey did you realize how fucking expensive flowers are?”

With a laugh, you gently grab the bouquet from him, moving further into your house to find a vase. “I was vaguely aware, yes.”

JJ stood at the door, shifting his weight on his feet while he waited for you to return. When you did, he extended his hand, leading you down your steps to the car outside.

You hesitated, almost stopping in your tracks when you saw the truck parked in your driveway. Part of you thought he would’ve borrowed the Twinkie from John B, or he would’ve taken his bike.

“Is this Heyward’s?”

“Yeah, he let me borrow it for the date.” JJ was so casual about it, giving you a lazy grin.

“So, you’re doing deliveries for him for the rest of the week then, aren’t you?” You asked, JJ’s smile not faltering.

“Two weeks, actually. Hop in.” He opened the door, only releasing your hand once you’d climbed into the car.

He drove through Outer Banks, still refusing to tell you where you were being taken to.

If there was one thing JJ was good at, it was distracting you. He managed to keep up the conversation just enough that you were starting to forget that you didn’t know the plan until he was pulling into the parking lot.

When you looked up, leaning forward to see out the window, you noticed the ice cream shop you’d been wanting to try.

It made sense to you instantly, remembering how you’d been talking JJ’s ear off about trying this place ever since you saw it one afternoon.

The second he parked, he rushed out of the car, jogging around to your door so he could open it before you got the chance.

“Very gentlemanly.” You take his hand and walk with him into the ice cream shop.

It was less crowded than you expected for a warm summer day, but neither of you was complaining. You ordered quickly and JJ grabbed the two ice creams, handing one to you with an exaggerated bow.

“For you, princess.”

You giggled, taking the ice cream from him. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Unbeknownst to you, a young girl in line was staring at you with wide eyes while her mother stepped up to order for her. With her mom’s back turned, she snuck off and approached you, tugging on the end of your dress.

You look down, surprised when you saw the child before you. Still, you gave her a smile, glancing around to see if she had a parent nearby. JJ looked between the two of you, fighting back the smile on his face.

“Are you really a princess?” She asked, her voice so small and full of wonder that you could feel your heart swell.

Behind you, you could hear JJ’s surprised laugh, now grinning ear to ear. Without a word, he took the ice cream from your hand, letting you focus on the child’s important question.

You crouched down to meet the girl’s eye level, plastering on your sweetest smile.

“Yeah, I am.”

Her eyes lit up, staring up at you with awe. There was a spark in her eyes you were hoping would never die.

At that point, her mother had finished ordering, now noticing her child was no longer waiting beside her. She rushed up to you, gently pulling her daughter away from you.

“I am so sorry!” She apologized profusely as you straightened back up. “She’s been very keen on wandering lately, and I can hardly keep track of her. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble for you two?”

You shook your head, taking a half step closer to JJ. “Not at all.” 

“She’s a real princess, mom!” The girl insisted, pointing at you.

Her mom laughed, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Is that so?”

The girl nodded, dropping her hand to her side.

“Well, thank you…” The mother stopped, looking at you expectantly.

“Y/N.” You supplied, shaking her hand.

“Thank you, Y/N.” She gave you a warm smile, walking her daughter off to grab her ice cream.

“Thank you, princess Y/N!” The child called after you, waving excitedly before turning back to her mom, having a conversation you could no longer hear.

JJ handed back your ice cream, the wide smile on his face becoming more contagious by the second.

“Well, princess, are you ready to go?”

You nodded, licking the ice cream that had started to drip down the cone, leaning into JJ when he put his free hand around your waist.

“If I’m a princess, does that make you a prince, J?” You asked, a faux serious expression on your face.

“Of course, look at me!” He gestured to himself, his navy blue t-shirt and black pants clearly not the epitome of wealth. “I’m the most prince-like dude here!”

You threw your head back in laughter, JJ’s grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. “You really are, J. You really are.”

[mahs-dumpster]

a/n: I don't have a title for this one and for some reason I'm kinda shy about this so. I'll just post this and move on. Yup. Uhh tagging @4necdote bc I mentioned this to her

cw: fellow honest should be a content warning tbh; oc x canon (Maisie x Fellow); possibly ooc because I still haven't read Playful Land

words: around 1k

He couldn't take his eyes off of her, not after hearing her sing so beautifully on that stage. Her voice was high pitched, but it was soft and almost heavenly, it almost never went off tone, whenever a mistake was made she covered up so masterfully and wonderfully that it made it seem like the song was being improved. Every word seemed to captivate the audience — captivate him — and make them hypnotized, in awe of what they were experiencing at the moment.

That's why, to Fellow, he couldn't help but stare at the jazz singer who was currently drinking all the way across from him at that bar. A few minutes ago she looked like an angel, — in a way, she still does — almost ethereal… but now, she seemed human, like she could be reached, and Fellow wanted more than anything to talk to her, to use the charisma he had been building over the years to his advantage, not for a scheme like usual, but to get her attention, to make her beautiful blue eyes look at him. 

He needed to hear that voice directed towards him. 

As Fellow got up, with an idea as to how to approach her in mind, he saw that another man apparently had the same thought as him. He clicked his tongue and sat back down, not wanting to be pushy and try to fight for her attention, not wanting her to have this view of him before he even spoke.

The redhead glanced at them ever so often, curious as to how their interaction was gonna go. He saw as the man’s words seemed to make the cat beastwoman cringe, a wrinkle showing on her delicate features, and a twitch of her fluffy white ears; he tried touching her waist, which caused her to push him away, seemingly making the man angry. It was then that Fellow decided to take action. He walked straight towards the two after asking for another drink, a plan to shoo the man away, but before he could reach closer to them both he heard a loud groan, followed by a sound of satisfaction that came out of the singer’s throat. She had stepped on his foot, irritated with his advances and tired of repeatedly saying ‘no’.

Before Fellow could laugh though, he saw how the guy lifted his hand, his eyes widened in shock and anger as he quickly left the drinks there and ran towards the two, his hand holding the man’s wrist. 

“Now, there. That isn't very gentlemanly, is it?” Fellow said, his joking manner present as ever but his voice was firm. He pushed the guy, standing in front of the smaller woman who watched the situation with curiosity and shock at the audacity of the guy for trying to hit her. “I suggest you better leave. You wouldn't wanna get in trouble here.” 

It was a threat. Fellow’s fangs showed as he pronounced every word, his eyebrows furrowed with irritation. The guy grumbled something he couldn't care less about and walked away, then, Fellow finally sighed and looked behind him, a bit of worry in his eyes. 

“Are you, uh… are you alright, miss?”

“Oh.” The singer came back to reality and slightly bowed, a sweet smile on her lips as she nodded. “Yes, I’m ok. Thank you for helping me out, mister…?”

“Fellow Honest at your services, your ladyship.” He bowed playfully, making the woman giggle. It was music to his ears. “I have been keeping my eye on you ever since I saw your performance a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, I see. And what did you think of it, mister Honest?” 

“I can hardly speak my mind without knowing the name of the lady I talk to, can I?” Fellow said, his hand extended in a silent encouragement for her to introduce herself. The girl took his hand a bit hesitantly, but curious nonetheless.

“Well, alright." She started. "My name is Maisie Bows. Thank you for listening to my singing earlier today.”

“Maisie.” He tried, and realized he loved how the word rolled off his tongue. He hummed as a smile showed up in his face, then he brought her hand to his face, kissing gently the back of her hand. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Maisie let out a laugh, a more genuine one, and he noticed her cheeks getting red. She seemed to be delighted with their interactions, not being able to contain the smile on her face even after she stopped laughing.

“My, aren't you quite the charmer, mister Honest.” The woman joked, and Fellow couldn't help but chuckle, his hand never leaving hers. “Now, your opinion on my performance…?”

“It was one of the best I’ve ever heard.” She lifted an eyebrow as if she didn't believe him. “I promise, or my name isn't Fellow Honest.”

“I guess with a name like that you really can't lie.” Maisie sat down again on one of the benches at the bar, retrieving her hand from his grasp, and Fellow immediately missed her touch. “So. You came here just to play hero and compliment my singing?”

“Actually, I was coming here to offer you a drink.” He confessed, walking towards where he left said drinks, offering one to the woman sitting in front or him. “That is, if you would let me.” Maisie stayed quiet for a moment, as if thinking it over.

“I… don't really accept drinks nor food from strangers.” Is what she said, but he could see there was more in her eyes, a certain yearning he couldn't quite comprehend. He’d be a fool to simply give up when he saw that.

Fellow left the two drinks at the bar and called the bartender, looking at Maisie once they came closer. “If not, then let me pay you one. Your choice.” Maisie smiled and leaned against the bar, looking over at the options of drinks and pointing to one specifically. Fellow immediately ordered it and started drinking the one he already had in hands, not before curiosity struck him. “May I be so bold and ask for a dance as well, miss Bows?” 

Maisie turned to Fellow, she tried to contain a laugh but failed, she bit her nails as she pondered over his question, then she looked at him.

“We’ll see how this conversation goes.”

“Fair enough.”

•••

Maisie stirred in bed, the sound of her alarm clock bothering her sensitive hearing. As she turned it off, she sat up on her bed, a hand on her face as she remembered her dream, or better yet, her memory.

Her hands went to her phone, quickly opening the gallery and finding the small folder of photos she was not able to delete. A finger went over a picture of her and Fellow on a date, her wearing his stupidly big jacked as his arm was around her shoulders.

Maisie's eyes stung.

"Liar."

[loosesodamarble]

Welcome to the Black Bird Part 3: Johnathan the Paragon

Summary: Introducing William as Johnathan, the paragon of gentlemanly grace from the Black Bird. Genre: general Word count: ~800 A/N: The character art for William was done by @cringeyvanillamilk.

..........

“You have nothing to worry about now, son,” his father said as he patted his shoulder. “Your future’s been secured.”

“Consider yourself lucky to have this privilege,” his step-mother added with a cordial smile.

“And what if I want to do something else with my life?” he had dared to ask once.

After asking that, his father sighed and shook his head. His step-mother stopped grinning.

“Don’t be so selfish, William. After everything we’ve done for you, doing what we ask is the least you can do to repay us.”

But they hadn’t asked and they never did end up asking anything of him.

Maybe they would’ve asked “where have you been?” or “won’t you come home?” if they crossed paths again. William doubted that though. Knowing them, they probably would’ve demanded he return home and follow orders again.

One day, someone did ask him a question though.

It was when William found himself short on money to pay for a meal. He had been close to panicking about how he’d pay when a voice called out.

“Would you let me cover your bill for you?” It was a question to be sure. But the older gentleman with purple eyes and blond hair from the next table had extended an offer rather than made a request. “You’ll have to wait for me to finish my meal though, if you don’t mind.”

“S-sure…”

“Come, sit with me until I’m ready to pay! Oh, and I’m Mr. Novachrono, just so you know!”

…..

William wove between tables with practiced ease. He had the dining room layout—the fourth version of it at that point—memorized and understood how her coworkers moved through the area. Just as he was about to pass behind a customer’s chair, he caught the slightest movement of the man shifting to stand.

Immediately, William came to a stop. And just in time as the man stood and turned to walk in William’s direction.

“Gah!” the customer yelped, not too loud though. “J-jeez, I—”

“Apologies for the surprise, good sir,” William said with a nod of his head. A full bow being impossible with the tray he carried. “I was en route to my mistresses’ table, just past you and your party of folks. If I may?” He gestured his head forward.

The man shuffled to the side and William glided past him with a smile and soft “thank you.”

William reached his table without further issue. As he served his patrons, the pair of ladies at the table giggled.

“Perfect delivery as always, Johnathan,” the fairer haired of the two commented.

“For the sake of my lovely masters, I fore’er stride towards the greatest heights of service,” William responded. He noticed their tea cups were both running empty. “Shall I refill your tea?”

“Oh please do!” the other woman, with red-brown hair, squealed and clapped her hands.

William grinned and picked up the teapot placed at the table’s center.

“The dark auburn hue of this tea. How reminiscent of your own hair, my lady fair,” William said as he poured out the drink. A rosy blush colored the woman’s face.

“A poet as always,” said the lighter haired woman. “How do you do it so easily?”

William fell silent. He set down the tea pot.

“How… Simply put, I wish to fill the world with kind, beautiful words,” was his answer, a soft grin coming to his face. And his response got admiring sighs from his customers.

Kind, beautiful words… What William once sought in the past…

…..

Poultry of Grandeur. On the surface, the dish appears simple but there was a depth and elegance to it that many customers enjoyed.

Chicken, though considered a simple protein, could be turned into something gourmet with proper preparation and ingredients. William wanted to show that through the dish he added to the cafe’s menu. He had a carefully chosen blend of herbs and spices that he rubbed onto chicken breasts and added into a cheese blend. The cheese and a handful of diced vegetables—which changed seasonally—would be stuffed into the chicken. Finally, it was all cooked via oven baking and pan searing.

William took pride in the complexity and refinement of his dish. It was indeed a perfect match for his distinguished persona at the cafe.

Coincidentally, it was also a perfect contrast to the reckless and messy person he once was.

Thankfully, he’d been able to turn things around and become the man he was in the present. Careful, put together, and in control. He never thought he’d come so far. But he knew that there was still more growing he could do.

When that would happen and why, was something he wasn’t considering though.

For now, he had tables to serve.

.....

[hutaoscoffinn]

Thank you so much for writing for the absolute Queen herself!!!

Another person and I have been screaming about your writing for a couple of days now💖💖

If it's okay with you Can I please request rika being the smooth flirt she is. Because she likes her cute date getting flustered.

If not it's okay to ignore this : )

Thank you!

YES OFC YOU CAN REQUEST THAT I WILL ALWAYS WRITE FLIRTY RIKA. Also omg THANK YOUU omg never in my little life did I think someone would love my writing so much to scream about it thank you so much!!! Ahhh thats such high praise thank youuu

Omgomg okayokay flirty Rika doing this headcanon style because yes~

Warnings: suggestive, flirty Rika, use of atta girl, princess, pretty girl, flustered reader, still fluffy tho, Rika is a simp part 93738379272, this was so fun to write omg

Character: Rika of the elite 4

Requests: OPEN

Well it’s probably well known by now that I see Rika as quite a flirt and a smooth talker so this will be fun

Rika is one to use petnames a LOT for you

In fact she hardly uses your name unless its for a serious matter so you can always expect Rika to address you with a sweet petname

Some of her favorites being

Baby

Babe

Sweetheart

Princess

Darling

Angel

Those are just to name a few

Rika always uses petnames for you whether you two are at home or in public

So yes, she will be calling you her sweetest angel in front of her coworkers because she has absolutely no shame

If your face heats up because of it and you start to get flustered Rika will smirk, leaning close and whispering in your ear

“You okay baby? Your face is getting a little warm ya know.”

Please smack her she deserves it

Another way Rika flirts is by bringing you flowers all the time

Whether its just one rose that she tucks behind your ear or a big bouquet

Rika loves bringing you flowers and she presents them to you with a slight bow, taking your hand and kissing the back of it

“For you, my angel.”

How is Rika more gentlemanly than ACTUAL men as she should be

Rika also flirts with you by using simple acts of service

Like opening the door for you, pulling your chair out, holding the umbrella over your head

When you thank her, she winks at you with a sly grin

“Don’t mention it princess. Good ol’ Rika has to take care of her baby ya know.”

God and when Rika buckles your seatbelt for you don’t evEN—

This flirty bitch leans over you, slowly dragging the strap of the seatbelt over your body until it clicks in place

Its incredibly intimate and she always gives you a little wink and a kiss on the cheek to leave you all flustered before she shuts your door for you

As I said, she’s a gentleman or is it gentlewoman?? Eh who cares

When Rika is feeling extra naughty she will torment you by whispering in your ear randomly throughout the day

She enjoys how you squeak in response to her smooth voice and the feeling of her lips brushing the shell of your ear

She will pull you against her as she does this too

Her hands on your hips as she presses your back against her front

It always leaves you flustered, face buried in your hands leaving poor Rika to have to move them off so she can see that cute flustered expression

“Cmon pretty girl, look at me wont you?”

When she finally gets your hands away from her face you can see the teasing glint in her eye and how proud she looks of herself for being able to reduce you to a flustered mess

She will praise you though if you manage to look at her

“Atta girl, thats my good baby.”

Now if you don’t look at her…

Well…

Rika is most certainly okay with using some aha,,, certain methods

Methods that might involve you underneath her for an extended period of time

But you didnt hear that from me

While Rika may be incredibly skilled at smooth talking and flirting

Her flirting isn’t always so sly and dare I say, sexy

She is a fan of terrible pickup lines that make you want to jump out of your skin and hide because they are stupid amounts of cheese

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

“Rika please shut up—“

Smack her I’m beggING

And of course after every single cheesy pickup line Rika cannot help her laugh and huge smile

In all honesty thats worth putting up with the cheesy pickup line

Her laughter in contagious too so you two end up leaning against each other laughing until you are out of breath

Which is of course when Rika will pull you closer, watching as your breath hitches

“Damn, guess I really do steal your breath away.”

SMACK HER RIGHT NOW—

All in all though Rika is a sweetheart

She is also a firm believer that the flirting never stops even when you two are officially dating

There is not a day where Rika will wake up and not be set on winning your heart all over again

So every day without fail Rika will flirt with you, just as lovestruck as she was when she first met you, when she got to know you, when she finally asked you out

She loves you a lot and wants to make sure you never forget it

Reblogs are always appreciated <3

[dahliarose2]

KINDRED SPIRITS - PART 3

summary: negan shows you around the Sanctuary as things take a turn when you see Daryl for the first time since the line-up

daryl dixon x reader

part 1 part 2

You stared out the car window, watching everything dart passed you as Negan drove fast and carelessly, occasionally laughing as he swerved across the road jokingly. You blocked him out, savoring your last few moments of freedom, watching the trees blur into one as your whole body felt numb. Your spine definitely had a bruise from the the blow you had gotten from the Savior, but you couldn't feel it anymore; you couldn't feel anything anymore. The scenes you had just witnessed at the line-up played over and over again in your head as much as you tried to block it out. Glenn and Abraham, how quickly everything had happened,

You couldn't suppress the overwhelming guilt you felt. In your attempt to save the rest of the group from a fate like Glenn and Abraham, you had gotten Daryl caught up in it too. He was on his way to the Sanctuary because of you. You felt tears well in your eyes, as if you hadn't already cried enough today, as you worried for Daryl, worried what he thought of you. 'He probably hates me. This is my fault,' you scolded yourself mentally, thinking again and again of him being hauled into the back of the van by Dwight. Then suddenly, your sadness subsided as your jaw clenched. You were going to kill him. Maybe not soon, but you were going to kill Dwight for everything he has did to Daryl. You got Daryl into this mess, and you were going to get him out. Somehow,

"Here. we. are!" Negan yelled loudly with a grin plastered on his face, watching you jump as you were pulled from your thoughts. You looked up at the monstrosity that was The Sanctuary, taking in the tall, grey walls, the dozens of armed Saviors and the prisoners working in the yard parallel to the facility. Negan's eyes watched you analyze your surroundings and you could feel his sultry eyes on you, trying to ignore them. "Welcome to your new home, sweetheart," Negan announced as he strolled towards you, his red, bloody bat still swinging by his side as tried to block it from your vision, keeping your gaze fixated on his face,

"Well," he said loudly, elongating the word as he looked at you expectantly, "what do you think?" You looked around again, noticing the tired, blank expressions of the prisoners as they struggled in the heat, noticing now the walkers that were attached by chains to the gates that surrounded the building's perimeter. You turned back to him, your eyes sunken in your head, face pale from the crying and exhaustion you felt. You glared right through him, staying quiet for a few moments as he tilted his head in amusement at your defiance. "Homey," you quip bitterly, your expression unmoving as you glowered at him,

He only watched you, clearly admiring your persistence in keeping a strong front, as broken as he knew you were. After a few moments of silence, he let out a hearty laugh, clearly mocking you as you continued to glare at him. "You've got spunk," he commented, between laughs, pointing at you with his bat, making you flinch as it came towards you, the blood of your friends still coating it, having dried into the wood of the bat now. "I like that," he reveled. He started to walk away before turning back to look at you with that charming smile, clearly wanting, more so expecting, for you to follow him. You reluctantly followed him, two guards walking either side of you as soon as you moved, making you scoff,

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," you muttered, rolling your eyes as your eyes looked at the armed gate, by both guards and walkers. As soon as you reached Negan, he did a dramatic bow, extending his arm in a mock gentlemanly stance, letting you walk in front of him, making you clench your jaw and obediently walk ahead of him, not getting far before you felt his hand on the small of your back, making you whip around to smack his hand away angrily to which he didn't even flinch, quite the opposite, as if on instinct, grabbing your wrist in his firm grip, making you yelp slightly,

He preempted your aggressive maneuver because his goal was to elicit that reaction from you. His jaw clenched for a moment as you attempted to pull your wrist back, to which he only pulled you further towards him, his face now inches from yours, gazing down at you and for the first time, his signature smile wasn't on his face. Your anger had subsided into slight fear as you grew uneasy by his serious, almost venomous, stare. At your action, you now noticed the 4 soldiers surrounding you had their guns locked on you as they awaited Negan's command. In the silence, you stupidly tried to pull away once again, putting more force into it this time. Though this time, it wasn't out of rage, but fear,

His hold on you only tightened as he looked even angrier by your refusal to be subservient or still. After a few seconds of staring at you, he let out a chuckle once again, but this time it had a bit more bite in it, less laid back than his previous amused laughs. He loosened his grip on you momentarily before smiling down at you wickedly. "And for that little outburst, as hot as it was cupcake," he declared loudly, swinging Lucille in his other hand making you hold your firm gaze with him even more, trying not to look fearful, "I'm unfortunately gonna have to take it out on your little boyfriend, Daryl,"

And just like that, at the mention of his name, you knew your mask had fallen; you couldn't even fake it. Daryl used to tease you about it all the time. 'You could never play poker, you know that, right?' he would joke as you hit his arm, knowing your emotions were always hard for you to hide, wearing your heart on your sleeve, especially when it came to your group; your family. And what was once something you could laugh about, you cursed yourself internally for not being able to hide your panic. You were afraid, and Negan knew it too by the way his smirk grew at your response. "No," you yelled, though it came out as more of a plea, not noticing your wrist was still in his hold until he let it go right then and there. You were in no mood to be stubborn anymore, not when it came to him,

Negan threw his head back laughing heartily, and in any other case, you would've been driven to punching his lights out. But after his threat, you wouldn't risk doing anything reckless, especially with 4 guns pointed at your head still. He let out a loud exaggerated sigh as he looked at you, cocking his head to the side. He liked having this sort of control, not just over you, over everyone. He relished in his little power trip, watching you practically squirm. In one motion, he used one of his leather glove-clad hands to wave his soldiers down, making them look confused, but still lower their guns,

He took a bold step forward towards you as your eyes practically begged him. "I'll let you off the hook with a warning for that one darlin'," he asserted, with a touch of mockery in his voice at how quickly your demeanor had shifted. Just as you breathed a slight sigh of relief, releasing the breath you didn't know you were holding, you felt his face move closer towards you, before his expression hardened as it had earlier, making your blood run cold for a moment. "But pull that shit again, defy me again. And I'll make sure our little buddy Daryl looks different than the last time you saw him. Capeesh?" he finished with an evil grin,

You nodded slowly, letting him know you understood. "I'm sorry," he drawled, as he studied you with a confused look, "I'm gonna need some verbal confirmation, sweetheart." He wanted to push you, see how far you could be pushed before you would break and get angry, giving him an excuse to follow through on his promise to hurt Daryl. But while you were tempremental, you weren't stupid. You continued to stare at him. "I understand," you assured with a straight face. He gave you an amused look at your composure, before resuming with his hand lightly on the small of your back, guiding you inside as you did nothing to stop him this time, as much as it aggravated you,

You observed and listened as he led you through the complex, pointing out the different rooms, as if you would even be allowed to freely walk into them, which you knew you wouldn't be. Finally, he landed at a door, standing in front of it for a moment, before leaning against one side of the doorframe. "Go ahead. Open it," he states merrily, motioning his head to the door. You looked at him warily, before reminding yourself that he would have no reason to hurt you or lead you wrongly now. You reached for the knob, turning it to reveal a large bedroom, adorned with luxurious furniture. You waited purposefully for his permission to enter the room, which he seemed to like. "After you," he said with a smirk as he followed you in, waving the 2 guards off as they departed,

You heard him close the door behind the two of you as you glanced around the room, taking in the expensive looking couches, the plush bed and the fancy furniture. "My humble abode," his voice boomed as you looked around. He sauntered passed you, making his way over to a drinks cart situated in the corner, hanging his bat on some sort of hook as he did so. He placed two intricate glasses down as he poured some whiskey in both of them. He grinned widely at your practical dissection of the room as you continued to pace around. "Come sit," he offered benevolently, though you knew there was no offer there; it was a 'sit or I'll make you sit' statement. You stopped your pacing to walk towards the couches, sitting in the one parallel to him, so you were facing him,

He chuckled at your avoidance of sitting next to him, pushing your drink towards you on the table. You watched him take a sip, before picking it up to take a gulp. Again, you knew he'd have no reason to kill you, but you were cautious nonetheless, not letting your guard down. You had seen firsthand only hours ago what happens when you don't preempt his next move, he was unpredictable and you needed to remember that, regardless of what you thought he would do. You were taking no chances. 'You have to be clever about this,' you thought to yourself, watching him lean back in the seat, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he threw one leg over the other,

"How did you take this place?" you asked stoically as you picked up your drink to gulp the rest down. Negan's jaw dropped in mock shock as he leaned up slightly. "She speaks?" he laughed as you began to shift uncomfortably, realizing how forward it sounded. "You didn't answer the question," you pointed out, to which he only laughed more. "Well how do you think? We filled our guns up, waltzed in here, guns-a-blazin', shot a few rounds, cleared the place and bam!" he rambled dramatically, "what's with the curiosity anyway?" You placed your glass down, sitting back in the couch, thinking of how to respond. "Just wondered how you achieved all this. Can't have been easy to take it, is all," you shrugged nonchalantly,

He nodded, clearly entertained by your random question seeing as you hadn't said one word to him. "Glad you like the room so much. This is where you'll be stayin'," he proclaimed with a smile, his voice speaking like you had just won a trophy or a medal of some sort. When his announcement fell flat as you looked at him confused, he shook his head lightly, not in an annoyed way, more so like he was playing a part, which is how he seemed to act all the time in the hours you had known him. "My ego's a bit bruised, sweetheart. I mean this is a very special bounty you have won. All my other wives stay in a communal room next door. But you're different, you intrigue me and that doesn't happen often. I thought you' be a bit happier," he stated in mock disappointment, placing a hand on his heart as he sighed,

At this, you wanted to gag. The fact that he had multiple wives who he flaunted as prizes was enough to make you feel ill, and the fact that he figured you should be honored for staying here, with him, 24/7. As much as you wanted to reply with a witty retort, you bit your tongue, knowing it was the smart thing to do, and that's what you had to be to get out of here; smart. "Well it's an impressive room so no complaints," you responded calmly, surprising him again, but he said nothing, only grinning more. "There's one more place I wanna show you, right this way," he said, opening the door, walking with you down the hallway,

You stayed vigilant, taking note of every turn you took, almost creating a map of this place in your head. You'd need every bit of information you could get if the time came for your escape. 'When, not if,' you corrected yourself in your head before Negan halted, making you stop in your tracks and stop with your daydreaming also. You looked up to see Dwight pushing Daryl towards the two of you. You froze, taking in his already dirty figure, dressed in what looked like a prison uniform, as his head hung low, staring at the floor, jaw tightened in anger. "Well, look who it is, Y/N," Negan remarked noisily, gesturing towards Daryl, whose head now darted up to look at you, taking in your form, looking up and down, practically scanning you for injuries of any sort,

His jaw loosened slightly once he saw that you were fine. You felt tears well in your eyes as you looked at his disheveled state, your heart breaking as you both stared longingly into each other's eyes forgetting Negan and Dwight were even there, it was like time stood still for that moment. Almost like you were back in Alexandria, safe, happy. You were rudely awakened when Negan snaked his arm around your waist making you tense up. "Me and my wife were just taking a stroll around the facility. What a coincidence seeing you here, Daryl," he added, acting shocked. You turned to look at him, how he stared at Daryl with a wicked smile, realizing now that he had orchestrated this meeting to make him lash out,

Daryl in his rage, didn't notice what you had noticed, practically leaping forward towards Negan, as he stepped back swiftly just as Dwight had grabbed a hold of his arms, yanking him back, bringing the crossbow down on his back. "No!" you shouted, all sense going out the window, as you ran forward on instinct, as Negan wrapped his arm further around your waist now, pulling you back until you hit his chest roughly, keeping you encased there. "She's not your wife. She's not your anything. She doesn't belong to you," Daryl fumed, still struggling under Dwight's hold as Dwight only brought the weapon down on his back once again, harder this time,

"Stop. Stop it. You said you wouldn't hurt anyone else," you cried out, attempting to look up at Negan from where you stood against him, craning your neck up at an awkward angle as the few tears you had in your eyes slipped out against your will. He looked down at you but only smirked, tightening his hold on you as you moved around, attempting to get him off you which proved futile. "Get your filthy hands off her, you son of a bitch," Daryl yelled out in a growl from the floor, despite being in pain. Once Negan said nothing, Dwight took this as a sign to keep going. "Shut up," Dwight shouted angrily, violently kicking his foot into Daryl's abdomen several times, all while you yelled out for him to stop,

By now, Daryl was in a wounded heap on the floor, fists still clenched as he huffed furiously. "Now Daryl, there was no need for that, now was there?" Negan consoled mockingly, leaning down to be closer to Daryl, before returning to your side as you stood there, watching Daryl who coughed gruffly, managing to glower up at Negan. "Thought you would have trained your little puppy by now, Y/N," he jeered, as you scowled at him now, your turn to clench your fists this time, keeping your composure as much as possible. "I mean I really don't know what you saw in him. I mean you should be grateful. I've saved you. And I can show you all the things he definitely couldn't do, if you know what I m-"

He only got that far before you watched his head flick to the side. Your breath hitched as you realized from the stinging sensation in your hand that it was because you had slapped him. You gazed from your hand to his face, which let out a breathy scoff, before turning back to you. You tried to remain firm in your standing, straightening your posture. "I did tell you," he whispered eerily, making you step back from him, and again, and again, until you felt the coolness of the wall against your back, "the first was a warning." He didn't shout, only whispered making you even more fearful as you watched him lick his teeth, shaking his head. "What happens now is entirely your fault, angel. Dwight, be a doll and break Daryl in a bit, would ya?" Negan said gleefully,

Your heart stopped as you watched Dwight pull Daryl up from the floor, walking him away with the crossbow aimed at his head as Daryl kept his gaze on you, not looking scared at all. His heart secretly broke a little watching you cry freely now, tears falling one after the other before he was gone from your view. Negan stepped in front of you so you were now looking at his chest as you zoned out. He moved a hand to your cheek as you wanted to flinch away but stopped yourself for fear that Daryl's punishment would be even worse than what he had in store already,

"Aw angel, I'm sorry, truly," he comforted falsely, wiping your tear away with his thumb, though there wasn't an ounce of genuineness in his voice. You felt sick, thoughts running away with themselves on what Daryl was facing right now. You stared up at him now, eyes void of anything. "You're despicable," you whispered, through gritted teeth as he smirked as he threw his head and shoulder back, faking getting a shot to his shoulder making you clench your jaw in rage at his lack of care, as he made a joke out of the situation. His smile left his face swiftly as he gripped your forearm roughly, making you gasp in shock, as he dragged you through the corridors, turning corners before landing in front of his bedroom again,

A guard that stood in the hallway saw Negan coming, with you in tow, and opened the door, Negan waltzing straight through as you pulled with all your might against him as he stormed into the room. He pushed you forward making you stumble, but not fall. By the time you had turned around, you could see his face for a moment, before he slammed the door shut as your eyes widened, running to the door. Just before you turned the knob, you heard a lock click loudly, pulling it anyway but to no avail. "Let me out," you shouted. "No can do. After that little stunt you pulled back there, you can simmer down in there. I'll be back later and you better have a change of attitude or things are going to get a whole lot worse for Daryl," he yelled back before you heard him mutter something to the guard about not letting you out until he got back,

You slammed your fist against the door in rage, before pacing the room, running your hands through your hair. This was your fault. If you hadn't slapped Negan, Daryl wouldn't be getting hurt right now. You forced down a sob that you felt rise in your throat, before taking a deep breath. 'I have to get us out of here,' you thought to yourself. You need to be smart, you told yourself the same thing you did earlier. You had to come up with a plan to end this; to end Negan once and for all

PART 4 POSTED ON MY MASTERLIST (IN BIO) ;) hope you're all enjoying! let me know if you want to be in the taglist, this will be a long series

TAGLIST: @onlyheretoread2

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒳𝐼𝐼𝐼: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓎 ⚜

TW: PTSD flashback, interrogation, held at gunpoint

Summary: Can John persuade the head of the New Jersey Bowery to spare Vincent's life?

Bellwood Mall, an atrociously ugly concrete building in the suburbs of Jersey City, had been abandoned just a few years after its opening. An abnormal number of pigeons patrolled the sidewalk leading up to its still-functional revolving doors, and scattered up in a flurry of wings as John Wick marched through their congregation, his steps perfectly even. His eyes never wavered from the security camera above the door, until he had passed it. Somewhere on the roof, there would be a sniper to accompany it, and the fact that he was not yet dead meant he had a chance. They wanted to talk.

Inside, a cavernous, eerie, deathly quiet space welcomed him into its jaws. Without electricity, the kitschy chandeliers spaced along the walkways hung useless. The streams of afternoon sunlight piercing the atrium were the only illumination, and left the storefronts mostly in shadow. But as he glanced left and right, John realized one was lit, on the upper level. Using an immobile escalator as a staircase, he made his way up.

In the hollowed-out body of a GameStop, a woman waited in a comfortable leather swivel chair with her back to the door, facing a wall of TV screens displaying surveillance footage. There was the entrance he’d just passed. The food court. The parking garage.

Two bodyguards flanked the woman, and a whisper of smoke from her cigarette reached him before her voice did. “My, my. John Wick.” She spun to face him, revealing a face at once full of curves and angles, framed by a head of red braids that ended in fluffy, fiery puffs above a baggy T-shirt. She was young, not even 40, but the way she gripped the gold-encrusted pistol in her other hand spoke of deep familiarity with the weapon.

“Belle of the Bowery.” John inclined his head in a sincere and gentlemanly bow. He’d heard good things about Belle. That she hated the Table, mainly. That she had succeeded in running away from them as a teen where he had failed. And that she was a wild card. That had better be true, for his sake and Vincent’s alike.

“Where’s your date, John?” She tilted up her chin in a challenge and puffed a ribbon of smoke in his direction.

He fought not to blush, and not to confirm or deny that very loaded statement. She probably meant it as a joke. Words failed him, so he just gave a kind of pained squint. Belle laughed, but finally snuffed out her smoke. Time for business. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what happened to the King. I’ve let my curiosity get the best of me, and we all know what kills the cat. So you’d better have a damn entertaining explanation as to what you’re getting up to with the Marquis these days. And if it is a date…I promise you that’s not good enough.”

“How about a plot to bring down the Elder?”

“Again?” She raised an eyebrow. “Now, that is entertaining.”

“They can only have so many clear heirs.”

A smile crept slowly onto her face. “And then the line of succession breaks down. An unprepared ruler. Chaos. Succession wars…”

“Yeah. And all I need - “

“Here it comes…”

“Transportation. And a few supplies.”

“Where you headed?”

“I’ll tell the pilot when we’re onboard.” The tension in the room went up a notch, but it couldn’t be helped. The Elder’s location might be the only reason she was keeping him alive.

She just looked at him for a long moment. “How many tickets, John? One, or two?”

“…Two.”

“Then I’ll ask again. Where is Vincent Bisset de Gramont?”

“Does your hospitality extend to him too?”

“Let’s be very clear. This is not hospitality. You have a tendency to let things turn sentimental. It’s cute but it’s gonna get you killed. I have no such tendency. This is me watching the High Table unravel and noticing I have a chance at a front row seat. I have no interest in playing the dutiful host to you and your pet mass murderer. I know what he wants. He wants to take the Elder’s place. And even you can’t possibly want that kind of bloodbath.” She waited for confirmation.

“No,” he said honestly. “I don’t.”

 “So you’d better give me one good reason why he needs to be alive for the Elder to end up dead.”

“Either he comes with me, or I don’t go at all.”

“‘Because I said so,’ that’s really your answer?”

But John’s eyes were glued to one of the televisions behind her. She turned to see two small figures advancing through the parking garage, prying open trunks.

On of the bodyguards reached for a walkie-talkie. “Should I - “

“No. Johnnie here looks invested. Let’s not cut to commercial just yet.”

There was their car. Belle gasped softly but triumphantly as Vincent slid out of it and crawled underneath.

John’s heart was doing things it wasn’t supposed to do. They were lifting up Dog. “Please.”

She hesitated, but Vincent didn’t. John saw him drenched to the wrist in blood, kicking, firing, standing over the body. All for the sake of someone other than himself. He was so damn proud.

But it wasn’t over yet. Seeing Vincent had emerged victorious, Belle nodded to the bodyguard. “Bring him in.”

“Alive or dead?” John’s diaphragm was locked in place, unwilling to move until she answered.

She waited, contemplating. Then, “Alive. Let’s have a chat.”

Within a few minutes, a ring of Bowery guards marched Vincent into the surveillance room, with his hands tied behind his back and Dog at his heels. Covered in blood and oil, he was sporting a look that was somewhere between a walking corpse and the thing that killed it. His eyes flickered to John in a moment of relief before going stony and impassable again. Good. It was important that the rest of the world not know how easily they could be used as hostages against one another. It would be wise to play the part of mere colleagues, uneasy ones at that, and Vincent seemed to understand this perfectly.

Dog ran over to him immediately, and John bent down long enough to pet him before doing anything else. He seemed a bit shaken up, but okay. Belle cleared her throat, drawing his attention to back to Vincent. John would have liked to tell her to untie him, but they were lucky he was alive at all. The best he could do was try to get this interaction off on the right foot. “Marquis, this is Belle. Belle, the Marquis.”

Belle approached slowly. “Vin-cent. Bi-sset. De. Gramont.” She savored each syllable, sing-song, looked him up and down. His expression didn’t change but John could see his nostrils flare slightly in unexpressed indignation.

“The very same,” Vincent responded coldly. John could already tell this wouldn’t go well.

Belle grinned and began to circle him slowly. “Wick wants you alive? Okay, you’re alive. But I WILL enjoy this. Do you know what the Bowery King means to me, Vincent? The man your precious High Table maimed seven times?” Vincent feigned interest with a mocking smile. “He took me in when I ran from the Table at eighteen. Brought me into the soup kitchen, made sure I was fed and clothed and had the chance to make my life into what I wanted it to be, never forced me to kill anyone I didn’t want to kill, which amounts to tearing out your own soul. It’s still a fucked up world we live in, and no mistake. But I’m free. I can leave any time I want, I could walk away and work behind a register for a living and the King would probably still call to see how I’m doing every now and then. You can’t even imagine that, can’t even imagine the value of treating people as something other than tools. And YOU want to take that away from people like me to melt it down into fucking gold bars. FUCK you.”

John cleared his throat, “I thought this wasn’t personal.”

“Oh this isn’t personal. It’s political. It’s social. It’s communal. It’s about justice. And you…” she turned back to Vincent, “…deserve every ounce of pain that you’ve brought down on your own head. You threaten an organization, a peaceful world that you can’t even appreciate.”

Vincent didn’t seem as bothered as John might have expected – perhaps even amused. His mouth drew into a thin line that happened to be upturned but did not express friendliness at all. “Very good. You see the scope of my vision. I ought to thank you. You truly know how to make me feel special.”

Belle chuckled, nodding, and seemed about to turn away. Instead, she spat in his face. John tensed reflexively but forced himself not to move. Vincent couldn’t help flinching, followed by an affronted glare, his mouth hanging half open in shock.

“Where is the Elder?” she demanded.

“Where we’re going,” he answered, voice laced with vitriol. “With your help. You will do as I say. It’s what the Bowery - ”

Her gun struck the back of his knees, dropping him into a kneel, then cocked against his head as she circled in front of him again.

John took a step forward and two guards each took him by an arm. He could flip them to the ground, an elbow back into one of them and then – but Belle glanced over at him and waved her gun in Vincent’s direction. “You interfere, he dies.” And then John was frozen. She turned back to her captive. “If you speak, it’s to answer my questions clearly. You no longer get to prattle endlessly to a room full of yes-men. Understood?”

But Vincent was struggling to answer. John could see his eyes widen with terror, going into a flashback again. It would be a long time before he could handle being held at gunpoint. “Y-yes.” His face was locked up into a mask, but his chest was heaving with hyperventilation.

“Good. Let’s try again. Where is the Elder?”

Vincent laughed, a nervous, humorless sound between gasps. “So, what, I tell you and then you shoot me? You’ll need a bit more incenti-”

Her punch across Vincent’s jaw drew blood from his lip and he leaned forward for a moment, swaying as it trickled out of his mouth. John saw red. “Stop!”

Belle ignored him. “Where is the Elder?”

Vincent’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of a response that wouldn’t lead to being struck a second time, or to becoming disposable. He looked to John in desperation. John flattened his expression into something steady and soft despite the way his heart hammered all through him, trying to project calmness.

Belle lost patience and fired a warning shot into the ground. Vincent scrambled backwards, letting out a strangled noise. He was now shaking visibly.

“I have no qualms about killing you.”

He just shook harder. “Putain, s'il te plaît, je suis - [Fuck, please, I’m -] I mean, I’m sorry. Please. I can’t tell you. I’ll get to him for you.”

“You mean John Wick will kill him for you.”

“I – “ He scoffed, frustrated. “Yes, if necessary.”

Something registered on her face. “Even you must know you don’t become Elder just by killing the Elder, right? There are heirs.”

“Yes, obviously! I don’t - ”

“So why do you want him dead?”

“I want…” Damn it. Vincent hadn’t been briefed on this part and he was stuttering in confusion. “I-I don’t. I want to hold him hostage until he restores my position. Or until…”

Belle turned to John. “Care to explain?”

“…” He stared down at Vincent, precious, broken Vincent, who met his gaze with bewilderment and fear, hunched over on his knees, blood still trailing off his lips. “…The Elder will never agree. So I’ll kill him.” He tried to paint an apology across his face. He would much rather Vincent thought he had strong confidence in the plan. He had some confidence…

Vincent rolled his eyes and then closed them, tilting his head back towards the ceiling, retreating into himself at the betrayal. “Alors tu me fais juste plaisir... [So you’re just humoring me…]” he muttered under his breath.

“And if he does agree?”

“…Marquis, what will you do for the Bowery as a High Table member?”

Vincent didn’t open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched. He seemed to be struggling with rage, on top of the fear. “…We’ll drop all pursuit of The King. I think that’s very generous.”

“Promises, promises,” said Belle. “If you’re going to make empty promises, you can make them more lavish than that.”

He smiled sardonically, as if it just figured. “What more would you ask?”

“The Bowery operates completely independently, outside of High Table regulation. Zero interference.”

“No one exists outside the Table. All are above it, or under it.”

“Then carve out a space. In blood, if you have to.”

For a second, there was only his rapid breathing. “I…I can’t.”

“Oh. Well. I guess you aren’t as big of an egotist as I thought. Don’t really value your own life.” She pressed her gun directly to his skin again.

“Alright! Alright.” Belle lowered her weapon in satisfaction.

“Very good. And if you don’t follow through, Mr. Wick will kill you for us. Isn’t that right, John?”

John tore the word slowly out of his throat. “…Yeah.”

He hated that he wasn’t sure he was lying.

“Good. We’re done here.” She waved to the guards, who unbound Vincent’s hands. He looked like he might faint from sheer relief. “You have a deal, Wick. Your flight leaves tomorrow. Keep this clown in check and go shop for those supplies. But don’t forget that the Bowery sees all. If he mistreats my staff, I will know.”

“He won’t.” John glared at her as Vincent stumbled towards the exit.

“Stay behind a minute,” she told John. Vincent stopped, so she added, “Not you. Out.” A few of the guards closed between him and John, ushering him out into the mezzanine.

Once he was out of earshot, Belle spoke.

“Why are you doing this? You don’t care whether the Elder lives or dies.”

“…I’d rather he died. That’s all.”

“There’s only one problem with that theory.” Her gaze held on him, steady and triumphant. “You risked your life walking in here. But you didn’t risk the Marquis’.” So much for maintaining secrecy about his feelings. “I don’t know why, but you want to save him. And it won’t work, he’ll just drag you both down together when he falls. No one wants to see you do this tragic shit anymore John, even those of us who only know you by reputation. Leave him to his fate. He is condemned.”

“That…sounds like a problem for the people who’ve condemned him.” And he followed Vincent out.

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Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 11 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Astarion sneaks up on Rose, with his usual teasing and flirtatious self. When she admits to being frustrated over recent events, he's willing to help alleviate the situation-- much to her delight. While they take a bath in the river together, realizing they both have scars they aren't entirely happy with.

Silence. Stillness.

Another rustle.

She braced herself for the threat to lunge at her from the darkness.

Slowly a figure stepped into the light. Swoopy white curls and a half-cocked grin on his pale face. She dropped her arms.

“Gods damn it Astarion!”

“Surprise?”

“I hate surprises.”

He stepped back into the darkness for a moment.

“I thought you’d be relieved!” When he stepped back into the light, her dagger was in his hand, “I could’ve been a wretched little goblin, hiding in the brush just for a glance at such a divine body such as yours.”

His dramatic bow was the cherry on top of his performance. A gentlemanly hand extended the dagger, handle out, towards her for the taking. She took it and tossed it next to her pack on the ground.

Despite the threat being nonexistent, she was still trying to calm her heartbeat. A weary hand dragged down her face with a heavy sigh.

“If you wanted to watch me strip, you only needed to ask,” she could feel her jaw quivering, but hopefully her tone could remain steady, “I didn’t take you for a pervert.”

The indignation. The gasp. The dramatic hand to his chest as if she wounded him.

“I am nothing of the sort! Although, truth be told, I was merely— “ his face dropped for a moment, as did his theatrical hand gestures, “you’re shaking again.”

Fuck .

Looking to her hands, he was right again . 

“Is it your quirk?”

“I’m just frustrated ,” she answered quickly, balling her shaky fingers into fists. She needed to control the situation. Fast. Deep breath. Then, a smirk when she glanced up to the handsome elf before her, “So…” She strolled up to him, slowly. Her arms crossed under her bust, deliberately pressing them together as she reached him. “Are you going to help with that,” she softened her voice, leaning her face close to his as if sharing a dirty secret, “or am I going to handle it alone?”

“My darling,” he purred, hands finding their way to her hips as he tilted his head slightly, first to keep his lips away from hers as he taunted her with his words, “that’s why I’m here,” a finger trailed along her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine, “to whisk you away for the night. Alone. So, shall we go somewhere more…private?”

She bit her lip at his words, rubbing her hands up his chest and wrapping her fingers around the ruffles that lay delicately along his chest. She leaned further, letting her lips brush against his as she whispered.

“No.”

She yanked on those delicate ruffles, mashing her mouth against his hungrily. It didn't matter if the camp could hear. They’d be wise to pretend not to. But that was her opinion, and she knew if privacy was what he preferred, she’d do well to keep herself quiet. She’d want this to happen again, if it went well tonight.

They moaned into each other as Rose walked them towards a nearby tree. Astarion encouraged her quiet commands with a squeeze of her ass, and a tongue slipped into her mouth perfectly timed with the pressing of hips against each other. 

When his back was against the tree, Rose tugged at his shirt to pull it off. The whole time, their lips had stayed locked, only pulling back to toss his shirt to the ground. Lost in their sloppy makeout, she hadn’t realized he was undoing the laces of her trousers until his hand slipped in.

She gasped when fingers slid past her dripping folds with ease. Her hand twisted into his curls, pulling him down as a soft moan slipped between their lips. His fingers pumped into her slowly, teasingly. Astarion pulled away to adjust his stance, giving him a better angle to push his fingers deeper and tease her clit with his thumb. The only place to hide her noise was in the crook of his neck, where she buried her face as another moan fell away from her.

“More,” she whispered, grinding against his hand with eagerness.

He maintained his grip on her crotch and used it to move pull her towards him as he turned. Her back was shoved against the tree with as much force as she showed him earlier. The balance between roughness and pleasure was perfected by this man. His fingering became more aggressive, her moans were harder to hold back as he pleasured her. She couldn’t decide if she could control her volume enough to moan in his ear, or if moaning into his shoulder was better. 

“Tell me,” he purred into her ear, “can you handle yourself better than I have you now?”

Astarion used his free hand to strip her shirt off. He began playing with her erect nipple, chuckling evilly as her grip in his hair loosened. She felt herself on the edge, desperately loosening her laces so he could satisfy her to completion.

“I’m almost there,” she moaned softly into his ear, “don't stop.”

With her pants falling away, he slipped another finger in and slammed his hand into her slick cunt. Now his other hand grabbed her hair, forcing her head up to scream into his kiss as her orgasm washed over her. She trembled in his hold, digging her nails into his shoulder to keep from collapsing.

She lost focus on where or when she was in the moment. 

Spontaneous trysts were a fickle thing. New partners, uncertain of their experience, advances stopped by their limitations, and inadequate performances that disappointed her. Every breath she took created a collage of hazy scenes in her head. Bodies pressed against beds. Flesh rubbing against flesh-- whether smooth, furred, or scaled. The scent of sweat and musk in the air. 

Surprise surprise, another act that reeked of familiarity.

Damn this amnesia. Damn it to all the hells!

“Lay down,” she growled, “I’m not done with you, yet.”

Astarion removed his fingers from her, about to shake her juices off. Swiftly, her hand went to his wrist and guided him to her lips. Her eyes locked to his as she sucked on each digit, moving to the next only once she knew it was properly cleaned. In doing so, they slowly lowered to the grass, where the rest of their clothes were discarded and she could straddle him.

Astarion leaned his head back with a moan as she pressed his cock flat against his stomach. It was her turn to tease, and she smirked in delight as she slid her throbbing cunt over his shaft. Not quite letting him in, but letting him feel her eagerness swell again. He couldn't help himself but to sit up and pull her in for another kiss. She nearly slid off his lap, but adjusted to let their tongues dance to their moans.

Her arms wrapped around his neck for leverage. Slowly she slid down his length, moaning as she went. He let her sit in his lap, feeling herself adjust around him. Her hips rolled against him, first slow and then faster as she started bouncing in his lap. It was his turn to moan in her ear, gripping her ass tightly as she went down with more force.

“At this rate, the whole camp will hear us,” he warned quietly, but the smirk she heard on his lips betrayed any sense of caution she was supposed to have.

“I can keep quiet,” she answered with a mischievous tone, “can you?”

He didn’t answer, but instead started a trail of kisses down her neck. A shiver ran through her before he could reach her shoulder.

He noticed.

“Sensitive here, hm?”

“Stop talking,” she huffed, trying to focus on increasing her pace. Of course he’d notice. He was a very attentive lover.

“But that’s half the fun,” he playfully nipped at her earlobe, then another kiss on her neck, close to her jaw. He sounded absolutely delighted when her rhythm faltered, “and, well, making you unravel with my touch.”

She groaned into his shoulder as he alternated between kissing and sucking on her neck. Gods, he was going to undo her all over again. But he enjoyed it. The shiver she felt run through him said it all.

Rose leaned back slightly and used a hand to pull his attention back to her lips. Without his distraction she could resume riding him at an even pace. One he approved by the way his moans muffled into her mouth.

Astarion stopped her with a hand to her thigh. A disapproving groan left her lips as he pulled away from her, but not pushing her off. 

“Easy, darling,” he chuckled as he leaned back against his forearms. He admired her, biting his lip as his eyes scanned her body on top of his, “I want to enjoy the view.”

She was in awe of the way he watched her. Attentive, but not so much that he wouldn’t respond to her hips as slid along his length. She couldn’t help but stare, admiring his beauty beneath her. She felt her clit pulsing with each bounce, begging for more attention. That’s when she felt his thumb press against it.

She cried suddenly, a second coming startling her into collapsing on his chest. He smirked smugly against her temple. He continued toying with her clit as she rolled her hips to ride out the waves of pleasure he threw her into.

Astarion rubbed her back gently, pressing a kiss against her temple as her breathing steadied. She felt him pulse within her. She began to lift herself so she could finish him off, but he kept her pressed against his chest and rolled them over.

Astarion gripped her thighs, holding her legs further apart when he mercilessly pounded into her. It took everything within her not to cry into the woods again. Using her arm to cover her mouth, she stifled her moans as she watched him stare at her intensely. Piercing ruby eyes, unwavering. Drawing her in with each thrust.

His cock twitched within her as his rhythm became erratic. He leaned over her, burying his face against her shoulder to groan loudly with each forceful slap of their skin. Her nails dug into his back with a final thrust. His seed filling her, pushed deeper as he continued thrusting as he finished.

They stilled, breathing heavily as their musk filled the air around them.

The nightmares

The flashbacks

The scars

They all melted away.

Astarion was the first to move, pulling himself out of her and swiping the hair from his sweaty brow.

“You surprised me,” Rose panted as she sat herself up slowly, “in a good way.”

“I thought you hated surprises,” he smirked.

“I’ll make an exception for this.”

“Imagine what I can if you’d be patient enough to go further from camp.”

“Next time,” she promised, “I look forward to it.”

Rose took his hand in hers, expecting to feel warmth. The cool touch surprised her, but she welcomed it. She brought his hand to her cheek, pressing against his palm with a relieved sigh. 

“You’re greedy, aren’t you?” He tutted at her, but let her use him for another form of relief. This time from her own warmth.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

Rose opened her eyes and smirked at him.

“We have soap.”

They took a moment to gather their clothes from the ground and inspect them in the firelight for any unwanted stains. Astarion, however, went straight to her pack in search of the bar of cleanliness she promised him.

She looked over at him to tease, but stopped suddenly. The Torchlight revealed ridges along his back. Intricate sigils etched into his skin, a language that looked familiar to her but couldn't be understood. She couldn't place where she saw such runes before.

“You better not be lying to me,” Astarion whined, turning the pack over when his initial search turned up soapless.

Rose picked the bar up from its spot on the ground.

“You didn't ask where I left it,” she waved the bar at him with a smirk before she walked into the river to clean herself from their side quest.

“I can't believe the bard had soap this whole time and didn't say anything,” he started to complain, following her into the river. Rose shrugged at his comment.

“It wasn't relevant until we got here.”

After she scooped water onto herself and lathered some of the soap in her hands, she passed it to the elf. His only response was an impatient scoff, but proceeded to wash with it regardless. Generously lathering it on himself.

Alfira might not get much soap back when they were through.

Rose sunk to her knees so the water would pass over her shoulders. Astarion was facing away from her as he continued running the soap directly over his body. She couldn't help but continue to stare at his marks. It wasn't the first time she saw him without a shirt, but definitely the first that he let his back be turned towards anyone.

“I see now why you kept your back to the wall when we were at the cave,” she commented, watching his reaction carefully when he looked back at her. He didn't seem to react too negatively, not that she could see from the partial view of his face, “I thought it was just more comfortable for you to sew while sitting against a wall, but it was to hide your scars, wasn't it?”

He was quiet for a moment before turning to face her.

“Yes...and I suppose your bout of shyness from Shadowheart’s medical exams were because of your’s?”

He circled his hand in her direction, unable to point at the scars hidden below the water’s surface. She stood up slowly, absently wrapping her arms around her abdomen. She couldn't help but want to talk to someone about this. But there were complications that she hadn't worked out regarding a confidant.

A touch of deliberately placed trust might not hurt. Especially if they were going to need each other in the days ahead... She let her controlled poise slip away, and took a chance on letting softness rise to the surface.

“You uh...you startled me while I was trying to remember where I got them from.”

This was a bad idea. The mere feeling of her own scars had troubled her enough to seek any escape that presented itself. She immediately regretted slipping her composure. Bad enough it happened by accident! This was just plain careless. She tried to maintain her breathing, not daring to let him see how easily her own troubles could hurt her.

“Ah, and did you?” He asked, then continued when she stared at him in confusion, “Remember? Anything?”

Rose scanned the recesses of her mind. Her arms tightened around her as that sickly feeling began to rise. Now with more clarity. A scream rising within her, wanting to escape. The twitching of fingers, desperate to claw into flesh. Whether her own or someone else's was unclear.

“Not...really,” she sighed shakily, trying to shake off the discomfort.

When she looked back at him, she was stunned. His eyes held a pain she hadn't seen before. Not a mask. But he hid it away in a moment. She bit her lip contemplatively, and took another breath. For courage.

“I felt sick trying to remember where they came from,” she admitted, willing herself to let her arms fall away. But she wasn't ready just yet. She settled for lifting a single arm to trail her fingertips along the scar between her breasts, “so that tells me it couldn't have come from anything good...But trying to take it seriously is going to drive me insane. I’d rather come up with crazy theories. Better to have some ideas than to keep wondering what really happened, I suppose.”

“And what theories have you come up with so far?” He asked, starting to take a step towards her but thinking better of it when she partially turned away. He put on a smirk, which partially comforted her, “how about you start with the one you feel is not-as-insane. To wet the appetite.”

In a moment of sincerity, she was happy at the attempt to lighten the mood. She smiled a little, now considering potential stories. Not theories, really. But a story, she could fabricate and tell herself. Because it didn't have to be real. Just fun enough to tell.

“Well, maybe I had an assassination contract go horribly wrong,” she started, the other arm that was hiding her started to fall away. Her hand rested in her hip as she waved the story together, “and it must have been expensive for my client. Let’s sayyyy the head of the guild didn't take to kindly to the loss of pay. But organs can fetch a pretty piece of coin from the right buyer.”

“Ha! How kind of them to leave you with any at all!”

“Well of course! Maybe I’m just good enough at my job to not be thrown away. But a missing organ or two-- mmmh, I doubt I’d fail another mission after that.”

“Any theories in the more outrageous variety?”

“I wanted to be a doctor and used myself as practice,” she deadpanned.

He burst into laughter. She broke soon after, feeling proud of his outburst. But ultimately, feeling better. Definitely not sick, anymore.

“I like that one,” he sighed wiping a tear from his eye, “clearly we see how it went, considering you aren't the healer.”

“Alas,” she dramatically posed her hand on her forehead like a damsel, “the doctoring life wasn't meant to be.” She went back to washing the grime off herself, a smile still on her face before she got another glance at his back. “...what about yours?” She asked carefully, “Quite a script that’s etched on you...”

He didn't respond. He kept his back towards her and suddenly she felt it was a mistake to ask.

Maybe it was...but she put on a smirk and tried to lighten the tension just as he did.

“Come on,” she laughed lightly, “only one of us gets to have amnesia.”

“My past isn't exactly something I remember fondly.”

His words were ice, and the look he gave her over his shoulder, cold. The smirk fell away from her face. It was then she saw him try to give a smirk back. Small, but well practiced.

“Forget I said--”

“You recall when I told the camp I was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate?” he interrupted her. A tone still chilling, but not yet freezing her out.

She wondered if she sounded the same way when he asked about her predilections. She nodded in response to his question, listening as he continued.

“Well, that’s just a small part of it. One that doesn't seem to matter much anymore,” his voice grew softer with that last statement. 

Rose drew herself closer, if only to give him permission to whisper. If that was his desire. But he continued with a practiced and even tone.

“I was captured and kept as a slave. For the last two hundred years, that’s all I’ve been.”

Her eyes widened, staring at him in silence as he let the weight of his confession sink in.

“So these marks are...from a slaver's guild?” The thought that she’d be familiar enough with slave brands started to make her stomach churn. 

“No, they’re a gift from--...my master. A poem,” he spat the words out like vinegar, “he worked and carved this one over the course of a single night. He made lots of revisions as he went...”

She held her tongue. What was there to say to something like that? No amount of quip could change what was done to him, or make it sound okay. Would she had welcomed his lighthearted toying if she knew the origin of her own scars? She couldn't say. But the silence between them now was getting louder, and she had to say something.

“What does it say?” Was all she could come up with.

“I don't know,” he scoffed, walking himself out of the river, “that’s enough for one evening. My bedroll is calling.”

“Not staying for dinner?”

Astarion’s high giggle resonated around them.

“I’ve already had my fill,” he smirked at her as he redressed himself, “sweet dreams.”

She watched him saunter away, disappearing beyond the edge of her torchlight.

She lowered herself into the water again, washing the rest of herself in silence.

As she was getting dressed, she realized the soaps had disappeared. Shit. She promised herself to keep an eye out for a replacement. Maybe there was some in the village-- goblins would have no use for soap, so the possibilities of a replacement were high enough for her.

Dinner was being served when Rose returned to camp. As expected, Astarion was nowhere to be seen, and the entrance to his tent was closed. She sat besides Alfira, thanking Gale for the plate. 

“Hey, Alfira,” Rose began, “sorry, we used up the rest of your soap--”

“That’s fine! Don't worry about it!” The bard answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. Her face was turning into darker and darker shades of purple the longer Rose stared at her in confusion.

Shadowheart’s snickering clued her in, and suddenly her own cheeks flushed.

“Partaking in carnal pleasures, understandable,” Lae’zel nodded approvingly, but then narrowed her eyes with judgement, “but don't be so careless as to give away our camp’s location.”

The dinner plate suddenly became the most interesting thing to look at.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, thanks,” she answered as calmly as she could through her own mortified existence. She began to eat, hoping if she made it her mission to finish dinner, she’d be spared further inquiry.

“Good. But seeing as you are one who knows to keep quiet, I can only assume his performance--”

“Please, not while we’re eating,” Gale begged.

Yes. Please.

Next Chapter >>

[liyacreate]

I have a request! What would you wear to a gala,ball, or elegant party with the obey me characters? What is their reaction to your look?

So fun fact about me: I'm gender-fluid and EXTREMELY extra who absolutely loves wearing dark colors sooooo.... Imma be using two outfits! (one for masc and one for femme) I got these from Pinterest. The outfit doesn't really matter in the scenario and MC's gender won't be specified.

also I'm too embarrassed to write about how the characters would react to me specifically so I'm turning this into a "How the characters would react to an MC with my sense of style" tho it still might be kind of a self-insert hhhhh...

Sorry for the long author's note and for taking so long to write this. I just had a hard time imagining how exactly they would react.

You've been invited to one of Diavolo's parties. Lucifer informed you that it was going to be high class and asked you to wear your finest clothes. Now there's no way in hell you were going to pass off this opportunity to be extremely extra! You wanted it to be a surprise so you kept your outfit a secret and refused any help on picking it, much to Asmo's dismay. But it was finally the day of the ball and the brothers are all waiting for you at the House of Lamentation's exit. Once you finally came though, 7 awestruck demons stare as you walk in.

Lucifer

Once you've had your grand reveal, he'll be taken back for a minute but he's quick to compose himself. With a small smirk, he'll extend out his arm and try to escort you fancy style. This is of course foiled since Asmo was faster at gluing himself to you.

As someone who also likes to wear darker colors, he adores your outfit. It's almost like the two of you match which fills him with so much pride. When he dances with you, he'll make damn sure the whole room's eyes are on the two of you. To show that you're the perfect pair and no one else has a chance.

Mammon

At first his jaw DROPS when he sees you. It takes him a while to stop staring at you with stars in his eyes. Only when he realized Asmo had stuck himself to you did he return to reality to complain that he shouldn't be that close to you.

Will definitely try to take up all your dances if he could. Probably even shoots glares at other people who are looking at you. Mams is definitely a bit more protective that night. He'll deny that he's protective and jealous at all despite his face adorning a blush the whole time.

Leviathan

Literally freezes when he sees you. Also forgets to breathe so he ends up fainting as well. Once he wakes up again, he'll probably hear his brothers fighting still. He'll be too shy to get close to you or even make eye contact. He's absolutely blushing the whole way to Diavolo's castle and everytime he sees you at the ball.

He avoids your gaze like the plague. It's almost like Levi isn't even in the ballroom anymore. But he is and he spends a big chunk of time just looking at you. If you do decide to look for him and successful in your search, he'll be a stuttering tomato. Even better, if you ask him for a dance he'll be super confused why you would want to dance with him but he'll still accept it. Please have mercy on this poor boy's heart, you're just too hot for him to handle.

Satan

Man is flustered. He thinks you're a fictional character that was taken straight from a book. He just can't stop imagining the two of you as this one couple in the romance novel he had recently read. He wants to recreate it and so he extends a hand to you almost like how Lucifer did and was also too late.

He's very gentlemanly when he asks you to dance. He even does a small bow. He acts all cool but the constant blush on his cheeks gives him away.

Asmodeus

Was bummed that you didn't want help picking the outfit or getting ready but the reveal you did made it absolutely worth it. He was basically vibrating with excitement when you stepped out. You only got a small squeal from him to warn you that he was going to jump towards you and wrap his arms around you. He just finds you so adorable! And he won't let go even through his brothers' very loud complaints. Takes a bunch of pics for Devilgram.

He'll insist on dancing with you as much as he can. He'll even reject a few of his adoring fans if he has to. The only person he really wants to dance with is you.

Beelzebub

He looks calm and you could almost forget he's there because of how quiet he became but the moment he saw you in your outfit his heart went 100 miles an hour. Once he has calmed down though, he'll make sure to compliment the way you look.

For some reason he just can't stop smiling tonight and his gaze and attention just can't seem to leave you despite Diavolo preparing the best food in Devildom for this occasion. He'll ask you to dance so sweetly and he'll make sure to be gentle while dancing.

Belphegore

He'll be very sleepy and most likely didn't even want to go, preferring to just stay at home and sleep while cuddling with you. However the moment you come out, he's suddenly wide awake, his full attention is now on you and only you. Gets annoyed that Asmo is basically melting into you that he decides to lean into you as well.

Normally he doesn't dance but for you he'll make an exception. He won't seem sleepy while he dances with you like he normally does. Something about the way you look just makes wide awake.

[cariantha]

The Boyfriend Excuse

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 (sometime after the gala)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)

Word count: 1.1K

Rating: Teen

Category:  Fluff

Warning: A curse word or two.

Prompt: Ethan’s reaction to MC saying “I have a boyfriend” when he tries to hug/kiss her or something because she’s way too hammered. (prompt courtesy of @mvalentine)

Sawyer had been at Donahue's since happy hour started.  The crew had all gathered there to celebrate Jackie's birthday.  Given the occasion and who they were celebrating, tequila shots appeared in front of her one after the other.   

Breaking into a sweat on the dance floor, Sawyer began to feel quite dizzy.  She weaved and wobbled her way to a stool at the bar.  Trying to regain equilibrium, she rested her elbows on the counter and buried her face into her hands. 

A few moments later, a very tan and handsome man wearing a navy colored Hawaiian print shirt sidled up next to her.  

"Hey there.  How are you doing?" he asked, running fingers through his side swept hair.  "Can I get you something, or maybe just take you home?"

"I'm fine, and no thank you," she replied politely, slowly lifting her head.  She avoided making eye contact with him and kept her eyes trained behind the bar.  She thought if she could get the bartender's attention and order two drinks that this guy would assume she wasn’t there alone. 

She just managed to ask the bartender for the drinks when a towering figure who smelled like a mix of citrus and ocean breeze stepped up to the bar on her other side.  

The men flanking her shared a gentlemanly nod of understanding. The taller of the two then leaned down and whispered near her ear. 

"You look like you’re ready to get out of here.  Do you want to come home with me tonight? Or should I take you back to your place?"

"Um, would you excuse me please?” As quickly as she could without falling over, Sawyer jumped up from the stool and started to walk away from the bar.

“Where are you going?” asked the man who had approached her first.

She whipped her head around in his direction, the quick movement making her feel like she was once again spinning in a teacup.  

“I need to use the restroom.”  

After locking the door, she propped herself against the sink for stability and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.  She opened her most recent text exchange and began typing.

Sawyer took a minute to freshen up before returning to her spot at the bar.  Remembering on her way back that she still needed to settle her tab, she flagged down the bartender and asked for her check.  The two men shared another look over her head, this time one of amusement as Sawyer politely ignored them both.  

The bartender extended the leather folder with her bill, but before she could reach it, the man in the green leather jacket grabbed it from the bartender’s hand.  “Allow me.”

“That’s v-very generous.  But I can’t accept,” she says, prying the folder away from him. 

“And why not?” the man in the blue floral shirt interjected. He nudged her shoulder with his own. “He seems like a great guy.  You should go for it,” he pretended to whisper.  “And I clearly don’t stand a chance against a guy like that, so I’ll bow out.”  He turned to the other man with a friendly tilt of the chin, “She’s all yours, man.” 

Sawyer watched as he returned to the group of surgical interns who were setting up a new game of darts, then turned back to the man who still thought he had a chance.  “I-I’m flattered really. It’s just that I have a boyfriend.”

“If you’re not interested, you can just say so.  No need to use the ‘boyfriend’ excuse,” the man with the blue eyes that she has yet to even notice teased.

Looking around through squinted eyes to see if her knight in shining armor had arrived yet, she defended herself.  “Honest to god, it’s not an excuse.  He should be here any minute.”  

“Well, if that’s really the case, then I’ll move along so he doesn’t get the wrong impression.”

“Thanks.  He does tend to get a bit jealous sometimes.”  

The stranger gave her an incredulous look, but resisted any rebuttal.  He simply bid her goodnight and walked away.

Sawyer stepped out onto the sidewalk.  She attempted to rub the fogginess from her eyes and scanned for someone that resembled Ethan. 

“Rookie, over here,” he announced, meeting her halfway and wrapping his arm around her waist.  

The familiarity of her nickname and his hand squeezing her side sobered her just enough to recognize him. “Boy am I glad to see you.  It was like a meat factory in there tonight.”

“Is that so?” he chuckled.  “Did you tell the piranhas to back off because you are already spoken for? And that I’d kick their asses if they tried to steal my woman away?”

“I did! But this one asshole didn’t believe me.”

Ethan couldn't help but laugh out loud. “An asshole, huh?”

As he guided her into the backseat of the cab, her voice got small as she nervously asked him a question. 

“Ethan, can I just call you my boyfriend all the time from now on? Because ‘I have a boyfriend’ sounds a whole lot better than ‘I have a whatever.’”  

As he slid into the backseat next to her, he gathered her in his arms.  “You’re right, Rookie.  ‘Boyfriend’ makes more sense.  Let’s go with that from now on.” He kissed her forehead as a smile spread across her face.  Her eyes fell shut and then she was out like a light.  

A/N: In case it wasn't obvious, it was Bryce and Ethan that were "hitting" on her.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff

[thebadgerclan]

The Dark Prince: Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: The first outing and familial discourse...

As soon as the sun was in the sky, you were awake, bursting at the seams with excitement.  Aleksander would be calling on you today to take you on the first outing of your courtship, and while your lady’s main, Tasia, would be there as a chaperone, you were elated to be able to be with him in front of others.  You couldn’t be as affectionate as you wanted, not yet, but he would be your husband, and that was truly all you could ask for.

Your maids helped you dress, lacing up an airy dress in mint green, the fabric loose and light to combat the summer heat.  Your hair was twisted into a brain, any crown or tiara forgone.  They left you to apply your own makeup, and about a half hour later, there was a soft knocking at the door.  “Is Her Highness available?” came the soft tenor of Aleksander’s voice, and you fought the urge to run to him.

Instead, you rose, taking measured steps into your small sitting room.  “General Kirigan,” you greeted, and Aleksander smiled, bowing deeply.  “Moya tsarevna,” he said, extending a bouquet of red roses to you.  “May I say how lovely you look this morning?”  You smiled, taking the flowers, holding them to your nose.  “You may, thank you General.”  “Please, call me Aleksander.”

One of your maids took the flowers and settled them in a vase.  “Well then, Aleksander, shall we?”  He offered an arm, which you happily took, and the two of you exited your rooms, followed by Tasia.  Aleksander led you into the gardens, strolling through the trimmed hedges and flowers.  “So, Princess,” Aleksander said.  “Tell me about yourself.”  You giggled; Aleksander already knew everything about you, but for appearance’s sake, he had to make small talk.

“I can’t imagine you didn’t know this, but I’m the middle child,” you began.  “Always in my brother’s shadow.  But then again, Nikolai’s in mine.”  Aleksander chuckled, recalling the conversations you’d had about feeling invisible to your father.  “I see.  And what does a Ravkan Princess do in her spare time?”  You allowed yourself to gush about the new book you were reading and your charity that was bringing in a fair amount of money for Kaelish refugees.

“But enough about me,” you said, laying a hand on his arm.  “What about you?”  Aleksander told you a bit about how he’d climbed the ranks of the Second Army until he became the General, how his father had died when he was young and that his mother was a teacher at the school.  Tasia walked a few paces behind the pair of you, allowing you a certain degree of privacy but close enough to keep an eye out. Aleksander kept his arm looped through yours for the entire walk, allowing you to set the pace.  He steered you away from a flower pot that had been knocked over, and when your foot caught on a larger stone, Aleksander wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling.  “Thank you,” you said as he helped you to your feet, feeling your face heat up.  “Of course, Princess.”  He nearly said Of course, my love, but it was far too early in the courtship for that.

Tasia had fallen back a bit, and you took this opportunity to lean in and whisper, “It’s so hard being this distant with you.  So cordial.”  Aleksander raised a brow, a smirk on his face, and you went on.  “All I want to do is hold you and be with you all the time.  But I have to act like I don’t know you and it’s driving me crazy.”  Aleksander chuckled, and he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.  “I know, love.  But we’ll be married soon, and then I can be as affectionate as I please.”

Your lady’s maid had caught up, and Aleksander snapped back into the image of gentlemanliness, resting his hand atop yours where it rested on his arm.  There were a few other people in the gardens; tending to the plants or taking morning strolls of their own, and they paused as you passed, bowing or curtseying.  “It’s odd, having people bow to me.  Well, not to me, but you know what I mean.”

You laughed, nodding as you walked.  “You get used to it after a while.”  Under his breath, Aleksander added, “And in a month, I’ll be a prince.  Your prince.”  “I like the sound of that.”  An hour passed with the two of you walking aimlessly and talking, simply enjoying being in each other’s presence.  When he led you back to the steps of the Grand Palace, Aleksander kissed your hand, his eyes locked on yours.  “I hope your morning was as enjoyable as mine was, moya tsarevna,” he said, and you nodded.  “It was, General.”

“I hope to see you again very soon, Y/N.”  “Likewise, Aleksander.”  He kissed your hand once more and bowed, turning and walking back to the Little Palace.  You stayed on the steps for a moment, feeling light and giddy at having spent a whole morning with Aleksander.  When you entered the palace, your mother was waiting for you, and at her request, you followed her into her study.

“Well, how was it?” she asked, her voice sounding light and joyous as well.  “I won’t lie, I watched the two of you from the balcony, but you looked so happy, Y/N.”  “I was, Mama, I am,” you replied, no longer fighting the smile that took over your face.  “So, what’s he like?”  “He’s wonderful, Mama.  Kind, chivalrous, sweet.  He truly cares about me, I can tell.”  You knew he cared for you more than anything, but your words still rang true.

Your mother nodded.  “I suppose your father and I have only seen him in a military capacity, and when things weren’t going well at that.  I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, my dear, and I pray Aleksander is the man you deserve.”  You smiled, taking her hand.  “I think he is, Mama,” you said, but you didn’t just think that, you knew.  After a few more questions from your mother: “What did you talk about?”  “Things, Mama.”  “When does he plan to call again?”  “I’m not sure, Mama.”, you retired to your own study, reviewing some papers your father had sent over, wanting to get as much work done as you could before lunch.

***

The rest of your day was uneventful.  A note from Aleksander arrived shortly after lunch: I have acquired three tickets to the Os Alta ballet for next week (I know you’d like it to be sooner, but I want this to seem like a true courtship, not rushed.  Plus, I’d like to properly woo you, give you time to consider my merit).  Kindly reply with your answer.  Adoringly and forever yours, -Aleksander.  His joke about considering his merit brought a smile to your face, as you were already completely his, and you tucked the note into your drawer.

Your family was having a private dinner tonight, without servants or interruptions, which was a nice change from the grand dining room and flocks of servants, but it also was often a breeding ground for tension.  And as you seated yourself at the table at your mother’s side, you had a feeling that was how the evening would go.  The five of you served yourselves and began eating while your father and Vasily talked about trade routes and diplomatic proposals.

Soon, however, the conversation turned to yours and Alexander's outing.  “How did it go, lapushka?” your father asked, and it warmed your heart to know he cared enough to ask.  “It was nice, Papa.  Aleksander is a perfect gentleman, everything I could ask for in a suitor.”  “That’s wonderful, darling.  Some of my advisors are concerned about him making a bid for the throne, but I’ve told them that��s not likely.  He has his Grisha.”  “I could attend your meeting tomorrow, ease their minds.”

Your father’s fork paused midway to his mouth, and he nodded.  “That would be wonderful, Y/N, thank you.”  “Of course.  Aleksander spoke to me a bit about this, and he thought there would be concerns.  But he assured me that he has no such desires and only wishes for my hand.”  “Did you discuss this today?”  Shit.  You’d talked about that when you’d met him at the banya, but you nodded.  “Yes.  It wasn’t a lengthy conversation, but he assured me his intent is wedding me and nothing beyond.”

“And you believed him?” Nikolai questioned, only to be shushed by your mother.  “This is a good match,” Vasily said, and you cocked your head.  “The Second Army has been too independent.  Tying their leader to us will make Ravka stronger.”  That wasn’t why you were doing this, but you forced yourself to nod.  As far as your family knew, this marriage was alliance-driven, and it would stay that way until it was appropriate for feelings to be revealed.  

“I think you’re out of your mind.”  “Kolya, mind your-”  “No, Mother, she needs to hear it.  Someone has to say it.  Y/N, General Kirigan is not right for you.  I’ve heard things about him when I’ve been on the front, he’s dangerous.”  “Nikolai, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”  “No, Y/N, you don’t.  I’ve heard that he goes through women like they’re nothing, he’s a power hungry maniac, and you deserve better than him.”

You stood abruptly, planting your hands on the table.  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.  You’ve been blinded by prejudice and fear, Sobachka, and I won’t listen to it any longer.  Without being dismissed, you left the dining room, marching back to your rooms, slamming the door behind you.  Immediately, you sat at your desk and scrabbled a note to Aleksander.

Sasha, I’ve just had a lovely dinner with my family (sarcasm, if you couldn’t tell).  The first course wasn’t even finished before Nikolai began hurling insults at you.  He claims you’re a power hungry maniac who ‘goes through women like they’re nothing’.  I know he’s wrong, but it hurts to hear nonetheless, especially from my brother.  I know that you’re a good man, Aleksander, and I love you so much.  You were right, Father says his advisors are worried about you vying for the throne, but I’m attending his council meeting tomorrow to dispel such rumors.

I don’t give a damn what my brother thinks, I am yours, and you will be my husband.  I love you so much, Aleksander, and I cannot wait until the ballet.  Forever yours, -Y/N  You sealed the note with your royal seal and asked a maid to deliver it to the Little Palace.  As you dressed for bed, your mind was busy, thoughts of Nikolai’s ignorance, Vasily’s snobbery, the council’s concerns, and of course, Aleksander.  But as you fell asleep, it was Aleksander’s face you imagined, and such thoughts eased you into a peaceful rest.

[marvelouslycaptivating]

A Swarm of Butterflies

Masterlist

Part Three: A Much Anticipated Date

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You attend dinner with the man who has invaded your every thought.

Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for the support you have shown for this story. I am so thankful to all of you. Thank you for every comment, like, share, follow, and kind message!! I hope you enjoy reading part three as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until next time. Xx

Steve Rogers found himself standing in front of your apartment door at exactly seven. His nerves were frazzled, his palms were sweaty, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red. His heart was pounding wildly against his rib cage and his lungs struggled to take in air. He felt as though he was shipping off to another war instead of taking a beautiful woman out to dinner.

He hadn’t been on a date in quite some time, despite Natasha and Sam’s constant pestering. He hadn’t even been truly interested in the last two women he had taken out, only going to appease his friends. He was immediately drawn to you that day in the park. You had evoked feelings in him that he hadn’t even known still existed, and for the first time in a long time he actually wanted to take someone on a date. He wanted so badly for it to go well.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, looking around the hallway he was standing in. The wall paper was a light creme and decorated with vertical lines. The carpet beneath his feet was a light, smokey grey. The doors lining the hall were covered in dents and chipping black paint. The building was older but held a certain charm that he could appreciate. It reminded him of his first apartment. He turned his attention back your door and inhaled, closing his eyes briefly.

“You can do this Rogers. It’s gonna be fine.” He whispered to himself, inspecting the bouquet of flowers in his left hand. He took a deep breath and raised his free hand to the door. He knocked softly and looked down at his worn, brown boots as he waited for you to open the door.

He could hear the soft pitter patter of footsteps approaching and a second later the door swung open revealing your smiling face. You were wearing a bright yellow sundress that stopped a few inches above your knees. The dress had thin straps that were tied into neat little bows resting at the tops of your shoulders and a scoop neckline. White sandals adorned your feet, and a light dusting of makeup brought out your already stunning features. Your hair fell in bouncy curls that framed your face perfectly.

Standing there in front of you, his eyes slowly drinking you in he felt as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs. He swore he had never before laid eyes on a more beautiful creature. He knew this image of you would be forever ingrained in his memory.

“Hi.” You beamed, your voice filled with excitement.

“Hey. You look absolutely beautiful.” He complimented, his stomach churning with nervousness. “I brought you these. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I thought these were pretty.” He extended the bouquet of deep pink roses and soft purple lilies.

“Oh, that’s very sweet. Thank you. These are beautiful.” You accepted the flowers, leaning down to smell them. No man had ever before brought you flowers on the first date. You nearly swooned at the gentlemanly gesture.

“Come in!” you offered, stepping aside to let him into your home. He stepped inside and released a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

“I’ll just put these in a vase and we can go.” You spoke again, turning on your heel and heading down the small front hall. Steve followed closely behind, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Have a seat. I’ll be just a second.” You motioned to the couch. He shot you a shy smile and took a seat. He observed the room while you moseyed into the kitchen.

Your living room was small, but beautifully decorated. The floors were a pale oak that gleamed under the glow of a lamp that rested on a small end table on the opposite side of the beige sofa. A beige arm chair decorated with white flowers sat in the corner of the room. A large bookcase covered the wall closest to the kitchen. It was stuffed with books of all different genres. The bindings of the novels worn from years of use. Framed photos clung to the walls in various places. They featured laughing people and warm embraces. He assumed they were photos of your family and friends. An entertainment center rested directly in front of the couch. A television sat in the middle and an old record player was on the opposite end.

He rose from the couch and strolled over to the record player. His fingers moved delicately over the surface of the familiar object. The record currently on the machine was The Beatles: Abbey Road. It was covered in scratches so he knew that it was played often. A wide grin stretched across his face. He had listened to this album just a few years prior and enjoyed many of the songs.

“Alright, I’m ready to go!” You sing-singed, walking back into the room with a vase of carefully arranged flowers. He jumped slightly snapping his head up to look at you, removing his hand from the record. He hadn’t heard you approaching.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” You apologized, setting the vase down on the entertainment center.

“Oh, no. I’m fine. I was just admiring your taste in music.” He laughed, running a hand through his hair anxiously. His eyes flitted over your face finding amusement resting there.

“You like The Beatles?” You turned and retrieved your bag from the sofa.

“Yeah, I mean what I’ve heard. I listened to this album a few years ago. It’s taken me quite some time to catch up on all that I missed.” He walked closer, and stopped just in front of you. He towered above you and you had to crane your neck to look up at him. With him so close you noticed how long his eye lashes were. You fiddled with the strap of your bag.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked. His hands reaching out to rest on your arms gently stroking up and down. Your heart galloped at the contact.

“Yeah, I’m ready!” You managed to keep your nerves at bay and offer a smile which he returned. He grasped your hand gently and led you to the door of the apartment.

Once you were out into the hall he dropped your hand so that you could lock the door. Once you were sure your apartment was secure the two of you headed toward the staircase. After a few flights of stairs and a short walk to the front entrance the two of you were standing on the sidewalk in front of your building.

“Do you mind walking? It’s not far.” He asked, tilting his head to catch your gaze. His eyes were bright and a soft smile played on his plump lips.

“Not at all.” You replied, looking down hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring.

With a nod he captured your hand once again and began to lead you down the sidewalk. The night was quiet and a warm breeze flitted through the air. The streetlights glowed softly around you as you walked. As you walked he pointed out buildings he used to frequent or commented on people passing. You hung on every word loving how natural it felt walking like this with him. You stole a glance up at him and smiled, your heart giddy with excitement.

You’d been so busy admiring the man beside you that you hadn’t even realized you’d begun to approach a busier area of town. The sound of people laughing and soft music was what inevitably caused you to tear your gaze away from Steve’s profile. Around you couples were walking hand in hand reveling in each other’s company, stealing kisses, and laughing happily. A street musician played a jazzy tune on his saxophone, and the smell of food drifted through the light breeze. The scene around you was enchanting, and you found yourself smiling so wide that your cheeks were beginning to ache.

“It’s just a few more blocks.” Steve spoke, looking down at you. You nodded and continued to watch the world buzz with life around you.

Five minutes later Steve stopped the two of you in front of a small, Italian restaurant. The front entrance was illuminated by soft lighting and the sign on the door said OPEN in cursive, red letters. The brick on the building was crumbling, and the sign was faded. The paint on the shutters was peeling.

“It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but I promise the food is fantastic. I’ve been coming here for years.” He explained, waving his free hand in front of the building.

“I trust you, Rogers.” You chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze.

He led you inside the small building and up to the hostess stand. While he spoke to the young girl behind the counter you looked around. The floors were a dark wood and the walls were a romantic red. The tables were spaced out perfectly and draped with white, linen table cloths. Each one of them was set perfectly with silverware, dishes, and wine glasses. Candles illuminated the space, giving the room a romantic glow.

“Follow me right this way.” The hostess spoke, her voice soft and polite. Her long,dark ponytail swayed as she led you through the clusters of tables toward the back of the room. She brought you into a small, secluded area of the restaurant away from the other dining couples. A spot set up just for the two of you.

In the secluded cove was a single table. It was decorated the same as the others, but in the center of the table were three red candles and a vase holding two red roses. You spun around to face Steve, a look of utter disbelief on your face. You hadn’t even known this kind of romance still existed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, his voice unsure. His hand was smoothing circles over yours gently.

“It’s wonderful. You didn’t have to do this for me.” You flushed a deep red. You stood on your toes and stretched to kiss his cheek. He gazed down at you with pure wonder in his eyes.

“I know the owners so it was no trouble. Come on, let’s eat.” He smiled, removing his hand from yours and placing it on the small of your back. He pulled out your chair and helped you sit before pushing it back in. He walked around the table taking a seat in his own chair and plucked the menu from the tabletop.

“What should I get?” You asked, eyes grazing over your own menu. You looked across the table at him, finding the concentration on his face adorable.

“Everything is amazing, but I almost always get spaghetti.” He replied, meeting your eyes. He shot you a smile as the waitress approached.

“Spaghetti it is then.” You laughed, closing the menu.

The two of you ordered and while you waited for your food you chatted. You talked about work, your friends, and your hobbies. He told you about the team, missions he’d been on, and all about his life in the 40’s. Conversation flowed easily between you, neither of you running out of things to say. It was comfortable as if you’d known one another for decades.

Your conversation carried on even after the food had arrived, both of you taking brief pauses to take bites of your food. You shared a bottle of red wine. It was the perfect mix of sweet and tangy. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get drunk, but he still enjoyed the taste. Once the plates had been cleared away Steve ordered a slice of chocolate cake for you to spilt.

He held your hand over the table while you waited for the decadent desert. His thumb smoothing over your knuckles. He was looking off into the distance and you were looking at him. His gorgeous features were illuminated by the soft glow of the candles. His eyes which appear light blue in the sunlight looked almost grey in the dim room. His lips were parted ever so slightly and glistened with the wine he had just sipped. His hair was slightly disheveled from his anxious hands combing through it. Your heart swelled at the sight in front of you, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or the romance of the evening but you were aching to kiss him. To feel his lips pressed gently to your own.

It was as if he could sense your thoughts because he turned his head to look at you. His gaze capturing yours. He took in your flushed pink cheeks and the radiant glow of your skin. He loved the way a stray curl had fallen in front of your face, but you hadn’t pushed it away. He parted his lips to tell you just how beautiful he thought you were, but it was if he were under some sort of spell. He moved his lips, but no words escaped them. He was simply enchanted and he wanted so badly to lean over the table and kiss you senseless.

The spell that lingered was broken when the waiter appeared a moment later, carrying a large slice of chocolate cake.

“Here you are, sir.” He spoke, placing the plate in the middle of the table.

“Thank you.” Steve smiled as he released your hand. You smiled at him as you both reached for a fork. You shoveled the cake into your mouth and let out a soft murmur of utter delight.

“This is the best cake I have ever had!” You giggled. Steve smiled from across the table.

“Oh, it’s the best.” He agreed, taking a bite for himself.

Once you’d finished Steve excused himself to pay the bill. When he returned he extended a hand to you and helped you up. You exited the now nearly abandoned restaurant and stepped out into the cool evening air.

You hadn’t even realized how long the two of you had sat at that table, but it had to have been hours. The streets were now nearly bare. Only the street musician and a few couples lingered about. The moon was high in the sky and surrounded by beautiful, glowing stars. The night was now considerably cooler, and you shivered as a breeze brushed past.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Steve asked, concern written all over his face. He started to removed the brown leather jacket he’d been wearing.

“Oh no, really I’m fine.” You responded trying to coax the soldier to put his jacket back on.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re cold, sweetheart.” He draped the jacket over your shoulders.

“Well, I should’ve brought a jacket. I don’t want you to get cold.” You replied, stuffing your arms down the sleeves. The jacket swallowed your frame. The worn leather smelled of Steve, and you ran your hand down the sleeve, fiddling with the fraying cuff.

“I assure you, I’ll be just fine.” He chuckled, taking your hand again. The two of you looked at each other. Neither of you saying a word, and he reached his fingertips up to brush your cheek. The sound of a slow, sappy jazz tune pulled his attention away from you. He gazed toward the street musician and the handful of couples standing nearby.

“Come on.” He smiled, dropping his hand from your cheek. He pulled you over in front of the man playing his saxophone.

“Dance with me Y/N.” He smiled, a gleam in his eye. You giggled as he pulled you into his chest. One of your arms went up to rest around his neck and the other clasped in his hand. He kept his hand that wasn’t holding yours low on your back. Your head rested on his chest as you swayed to the soft tune. You could hear the hammering of his heartbeat clearly, and you smiled to yourself.

The other couples joined you and the song progressed. You looked around and smiled at the group of lovers sharing a romantic moment under a blanket of stars. It was a moment you wanted to remember until the end of time.

As the song ended he spun you and you both laughed. He tipped the man and turned back to you. His smile was radiant, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Let’s get you home.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You wrapped yours around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder.

You made the walk back in silence, both of you lost in the magic of the evening. He walked you inside your building and up to your door. You grabbed the keys from your bag and thrust them into the lock. Once the door was open you stepped inside, but Steve remained standing in the hall.

“I had an amazing time tonight Steve. Thank you for taking me out.” You leaned against the door, arms crossed over your chest.

“No, thank you for allowing me to take you doll. I haven’t laughed like that in a long, long time.” He smiled. He took a few steps closer so that his chest was just brushing yours. Your breath caught in your throat, and it felt as though your heart had stopped beating.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” He asked, his eyes gleaming with hope. You nodded too caught up in his gaze to speak.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours gently. One of his hands flew up to cup your cheek, and the other rested on your hip pulling you into his body. Your hands wound into the fabric of his shirt as you melted against him. The kiss was everything you’d imagined it would be, and you could feel the surge of electricity between you. Fire works exploded behind your closed eyes. It felt so right, like everything you had ever wished for. His lips fit so perfectly against your own, and his touch coaxed a trail of goosebumps to appear on your skin.

He pulled away after a few moments, his palm still holding your cheek. His lips were pink and swollen from the kiss. His eyes danced with desire and he gazed down at you with hooded lids.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you.” He promised.

“Goodnight Steve.” You whispered, gazing up at him through your lashes.

He stepped away from you and offered you a smile before turning and heading down the hallway. You watched him walk down the staircase with a hand pressed to your chest.

You stepped inside once you could no longer see him and closed the door. You leaned your back against it, smiling like a fool. You felt as if you were floating, your heart so full it could burst. You knew at that moment that you were already falling for him.

Once Steve stepped outside he looked back at the building with a wide grin on his face. His pulse was racing and his mind was reeling. He’d never experienced a kiss quite like that one. It had felt so natural, so right holding you in his arms. He sighed as the strolled over to his motorcycle. After just one date he knew that he had found something special.

🦋

Taglist: @twhiddlestonsstuff

[cyborg-squid]

“The conduct of Chen Gong none can excel.”

One of the most fascinating and lovely things about Chen Gong is his relationship/rivalry with Cao Cao. Both FGO and ROT3K portray Chen Gong as a cold and calculating individual, but also the pinnacle of vassal’s loyalty to their lord. But right next to his desire to serve a worthy lord and die alongside him is his desire to put Cao Cao in the fucking dirt. 

Cao Cao and Chen Gong first met when Chen Gong was a magistrate and Cao Cao was on the run after failing to kill Dong Zhou, the really shitty lord regent and current ‘father’ of Lu Bu (Dong Zhou got Lu Bu to kill his previous adoptive father by offering him Red Hare). Cao Cao is captured and brought to face Chen Gong, since he’s the local judge, but Cao Cao gives a very impassioned speech about the fate of the Han dynasty and the shittiness of Dong Zhou. Chen Gong is impressed enough by this that he leaves his post and joins Cao Cao in his attempts to raise an army.

As they travel, the come across Cao Cao’s uncles home, who welcomes the pair with open arms. The uncle then leaves to go fetch wine for a party thrown for Cao Cao’s homecoming. Being on the run and alone in the house, however, Cao and Chen start to get nervous. From the kitchen, they hear the unmistakable sound of a knife being sharpened, and hear someone say “Should we tie him up before we kill him?” This understandably freaks the two fugitives out, who think they’re about to be betrayed and murdered. So they take out their swords, position themselves by the doors, and burst in swords blazing and kill everyone in the room...

...who were just members of the uncle’s family, preparing for the feast. The knife being sharpened was in order to slaughter a pig, who was also going to be bound with ropes beforehand. The pair is freaked out by this, Chen more so, but rationalize it due to it being a horrible misunderstanding. 

As they flee the scene of the crime, they run back into the uncle, returning with a jug of wine. “Hey, where are you guys going? I got the wine for the party, and I’m having a pig cooked up for you!” Cao Cao goes “Hey, what’s that behind you?!” and when his uncle turns to look, Cao Cao draws his sword and cuts him down. Chen Gong goes ballistic at this. Killing the others was a misunderstanding, but you just killed your uncle in cold blood! What the fuck?!

Cao Cao justifies this in typical Cao Cao fashion, saying that if he had let the uncle live, he would have found out about the murdered family and come after them. This part of Cao Cao’s rather infamous creed “I would rather do wrong unto others than to have others do wrong unto me”. This is the last straw for Chen Gong, for while the first murders were an accident, he can’t bring himself to agree with Cao Cao’s philosophy of ‘preemptive strikes’, and leaves him. 

Chen Gong would go on forever hating Cao Cao, while Cao Cao forever holds respect for Chen Gong, due to both Chen’s tactical and administrative skills, as well as Chen having been with him in his ‘early days’.  Later on, when Chen Gong is serving his true lord, Lu Bu, their city is under siege by Cao Cao, who rides out to talk with them. Lu Bu and Chen Gong are stood atop of the wall, but before Lu Bu can even get a word out in response to Cao Cao’s demand to their surrender, Chen Gong loses his cool, grabs a bow (I imagine he just yanked it out of a wall guard’s hands), and begins firing at Cao Cao, cursing all the while, swearing that he will kill him. 

Due to the betrayal of others of Lu Bu’s generals, Lu Bu loses the city and both he and Chen Gong are bound and brought before Cao Cao. Cao Cao, knowing Chen Gong’s worth, attempts to bargain with him and offer him a place in his service. Chen Gong practically spits in his face and decries him as a murderer and a traitor. Cao Cao replies like he did all the way back then**. Chen Gong says that, since he is a prisoner of war, Cao Cao has to execute him, ie: I would rather die than spend another minute in Cao Cao’s presence. Chen Gong then just stands up, walks over to the executioner’s block, and extends out his neck. Lu Bu calls upon Liu Bei, whose life he had saved previously, to vouch for him and give him a stay of execution, but Liu Bei unfortunately tells the truth about Lu Bu’s perpetual treachery, and Lu Bu dies cursing Liu Bei’s big ears. 

**(A 2010 adaptation of ROT3K phrases it well like this: “I’ve long since thrown out things like ethics and scruples. They call me a crafty villain, but they can’t do anything about this crafty villain either. Whereas you people who call yourselves true gentlemen have all been defeated by me. If the price of being gentlemanly is to be oppressed, trampled upon, destroyed, or even killed, I’d rather be a successful crafty villain.”)

So where was I going with this? Well, maybe this is me reading too much into it, or inserting Cao Cao into Fate’s world of ideals where he hasn’t existed previously, but you can read Cao Cao’s desire for Chen Gong as his desire for someone who understands him and his crafty ways, someone who can recognize him, someone who he can see as an equal as opposed to a vassal, someone who is also good at his fucking job. But Chen Gong has standards, while Cao Cao, in his own words, has none. It’s not the murders, schemes, or treachery that Chen Gong hates, it’s the reasonings behind them. Behind Chen Gong’s own cruel tactics is both a desire for peace and a desire to serve his lord, but behind Cao Cao is only Cao Cao and his own selfish desires. 

[quicksilverrwrites]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s your first date with peter maximoff, and the tension between the two of you has been building for weeks. you share a passion like no other, and there's only one place this date can go: the dark back alley of the arcade, a place where no soul dare to go lest they bare the damned title of 'staff'. or quicksilver and scribe, i guess. you pick. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, sexual innuendos, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader (sorry americans <3), make out scene and sexual attraction 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the character that features as y/n in my fics is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

Your date with Peter comes around the corner faster than you thought it would considering you’re not exactly the typical ‘student’ at Xavier’s School.

You’d thought it would take forever for the week to pass: typically, you spend your time waiting for your friend group to get out of lessons. You’re older, having graduated school when you lived in the United Kingdom, so the only lessons you attend are that of Power Efficiency, Mutant Physiology and Ethics, the latter two being optional and studied merely out of interest. The rest of your schedule consists of a lot of free time. You don’t work—with all the money you have, why would you? Uncle Charles keeps nagging you to do something with your time, something productive, but after what you went through in England with your father…

Making friends here was difficult enough. Dealing with your powers in a new situation—coming to this school—was enough. You’re not exactly an extrovert, either, which is why you’re so surprised that you and Peter click so well.

He’s eccentric and annoying and perfect. Okay, perhaps not perfect in a literal sense, but to you he is. Sure, his leather jacket kind of smells from age and sometimes he talks so fast that you find yourself struggling to keep up, but you find it endearing. And oh, those eyes—you could watch how they light up when he’s super excited about something forever, you think.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while. You wonder if Charles knew what he was doing when he made Peter your buddy upon your arrival at this institute, but in reality, you know it’s because you’re both the oldest students—almost-students?—at this school. Besides, Charles has seen the two of you work together as a chaotic duo, and you’ve heard the sighs and mutterings of the man when he’s been most exasperated because of the both of you. Why, you think, grinning at your reflection in the mirror, would he ever put himself through that chaos if he could avoid it? The first prank you articulated together was the beginning of many, and you’ve practically been inseparable since you first arrived here.

First it was friendship. Then… yeah, it didn’t take much at all to blossom into something more.

You look good, you think, smoothing down Peter’s Rush tee as it hangs oversized on your body. You look really good. Your style is what would be expected of Charles’ niece even despite the fact that you’ve only ever met him a few times in your life: classy, 10% preppy, academic to a fault. You typically match your clothes to the colour of your powers: blue, but azure in particular. Sometimes pastel blue. You’re particular like that. But tonight you’ve opted for something different. Something a little more… Peter.

Your hair falls naturally past your shoulders, and the cool sleeves of a black leather jacket—your father’s leather jacket, the only leather jacket you own—hang from your shoulders while the jacket itself stops at your thighs. It's too big for you. You’ve paired a black skirt with the shirt, but it’s free flowing and a soft material that practically blends in with Peter’s top. Your boots are chunky platforms, black, and this is the darkest your outfit has been in a while.

It still feels… you, though. It feels right. Maybe because Peter feels right, and you stole this tee from him after you stayed over that night in his basement when it was pouring with rain. You both knew you could’ve opened up a portal to get back to your dorm, but neither of you wanted that.

You both want this, though. You both want each other.

The very acknowledgement of that fact forces you to take a steadying breath in, but the sound of a knock at your door makes your breath stammer. You look at the clock frantically. Is he here already? You both agreed on seven thirty, and it’s only seven. You had a schedule. Arcade, dinner, and whatever was left for after. Maybe a kiss if you work up the courage. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought. But—

“Ah—hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the door. You breathe a sigh of relief: Kurt. “I came to see if you needed help with anyzi—”

You cross the room to the door and open it before Kurt can finish his sentence.

Kurt grins. As usual it’s a sheepish grin, but there is excitement in his eyes.

“Excited?” Kurt asks. “I vould be if I vere going on a date with ze magnificent Quicksilver.”

You grin at him and roll your eyes, ushering him in the room before you close the door behind you. “Don’t say that in the hallway!” You scold him, not entirely serious. “Anyone could be listening.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Could it be that you are embarrassed?”

Your eyes widen, brows rising too. “No! It’s just—it’s nice now that things between us are private. And… I want to take things slow. I’ve been on dates before, and when you tell people about it it’s always the same thing: when are you going to do this? When are you going to do that? I don’t want to be pressured. And explaining my reasoning to want to take things slow is almost as tiring as actually working myself up into confidence so that I’m not nervous the entire time—”

“You definitely seem nervous.”

You scowl at your friend. “I am not nervous.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

At that, you know your face is starting to flush as red as a tomato. “You are insufferable sometimes.”

Kurt grins. “A few weeks ago, I vould have been hurt to hear you say this.”

You scoff, batting him playfully on the arm. “Are you going to walk me down to the common room or not?”

Kurt’s face takes on an air of confusion. “Ze common room? Why there?”

You shrug softly. “Peter is meeting me there.”

Kurt’s eyes light up with amusement. “Ah,” he responds, and you know by the exaggerated upwards tilt of his head that the next words out of his mouth are going to be sarcastic. “Very discreet, yes. I bet he will bring flowers.”

You scoff once more, parting your lips in playful annoyance as you turn to leave the room, but Kurt appears in front of you before your hand reaches the doorknob. He opens the door, extends his hand to you when his back is pressed against it, and the bow he delivers is nothing but formal. Gentlemanly. He probably learned it in the circus. You give him a teasingly formal nod as you accept his fingers in your own.

The door closes behind you, locks with a wave of your hand, and with a deep breath, the two of you venture down the halls of the manor.

***

You hear the sounds of people cursing at Peter before you actually see Peter.

You and Kurt turn to look at the double doors which lead into the common room at the same time, but Peter comes to a speedy stop in front of the both of you before you can even track his movements… and Peter’s eyes glaze over your appearance, your outfit, as his face pales.

You smirk at the sight of it. You know he likes it. Likes seeing you in his clothes. He looked at you the same way when you first walked out of the bathroom attached to the basement in his tee and grey shorts after that night in the rain. He had slept on the sofa then, had given you his bed, but he’d mentioned to you a couple of days after that his sheets still smelled like a mix of him and you.

You knew then that he couldn’t get the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head.

His outfit isn’t a change from what he usually wears, but he still looks amazing. Hot. The sight of him takes your breath away every time you see him. Silver-and-black jacket, white tee with a band insignia on it, and leather pants with his silver shoes. You can’t forget the goggles on his head, either. But—wait, no, there is something different. A sort of smell.

“What are you wearing?” You ask, the end of your sentence tinged with laughter.

Peter glances down at his outfit. “What?” He asks, confusion—and the slightest bit of worry?—in his gaze. “What's wrong with this?”

“No, silly,” you laugh, “your aftershave. What is it?”

It’s the very definition of seventies musk. It’s musky, leathery, and there’s the faintest smell of whiskey. He’s put way too much on, but your mother always used to complain about how much perfume you put on, too. You’re wearing it now: it’s sweet with the air of something more expensive. Valentino.

When you asked the lady in the store to let you try the ones which smelled sweet like vanilla, this was the first one she showed you. Out of the eight you had the choice of, you were sold on the very first one. You know that the best way to get a guy to fall for you is to smell sweet like candy—it reminds them of their childhood. Or in Peter’s case, you guess it might just remind him of twinkies. You know he loves those.

Peter’s cheeks flush red, and he lowers his head as he laughs. “Oh, man. My mom was right. I really stink, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh: a genuine laugh, teeth in your smile and all. You stand from the sofa you were sitting on with Kurt, and you realise only then that he’s already disappeared. You feel a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier, but you forgive yourself for that: it is your date night, and Kurt is forever polite.

“You smell great, Peter,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t smell bad — it’s better than the leather jacket smell. “And I’m excited for our,” you glance around, whispering, “date.”

Peter’s eyes light up at that. “Right. Date. You mind if I—?”

He gestures to your neck. Whiplash. Right. You shake your head. “Just don’t mess up my hair.”

He blinks at you. “Do you realise how much of a challenge that is?”

Your smile is sickly sweet and riddled with sarcasm. “You’ll figure it out.”

His expression goes slack. He likes it when you do that; when you’re mean to him. You’re a lovely person typically—you reached the lucky end of the trauma spectrum, the opposite of which being the angry side which could’ve made you an arse—but it’s so easy to tease Peter. You like the power in being able to wrap him around your finger. You’ve never had this power over any man before, and after feeling powerless for so long, it's thrilling.

Peter clears his throat, steps towards you, and you swear he’s trying to use the lightest touch possible as he steadies your neck and places a shaky hand on your waist—

And then you’re off.

The world is barely more than a blur. You can’t keep up. Just as you think you’ve gotten used to it, Peter turns a corner—or at least you think that's what happens, because that’s how you would describe the sensation of being almost jolted to the side. And just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. You’re in the mall, right outside the blue-walled and darkly lit arcade.

Peter’s hands move gently from your body and you lean your hands against your thighs to try to stop the world from spinning. You’ve gotten used to the nauseating feeling this sort of travel gives you now, but you’re not used to the dizziness.

“You okay?” Peter asks, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s assessing you for any potential damage. His hand hovers over your back as if he’s afraid to overstep his bounds, but you would lean into his touch any day.

“Yeah,” you breathe, slowly easing upwards. “I’m good.”

Peter glances over your face in another silent check before he nods. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

You gape at him. Yeah, that sarcastic comment has knocked the dizziness right out of you. “Oh, you’re on.”

You’re less confident than you seem, but you don’t think Peter picks up on it as he grins and bouncily makes his way into the Arcade. You follow him, shoulder brushing against his as you catch up to his gait, because luckily you both walk fast. He turns to look at you and smiles, softer this time, and you almost get caught up in the softness of his eyes before your heart stammers, your throat closes up, and—

Oh, god. You’re not good with this. The romance. It makes you tense and nervous.

You turn away from him, hands wrapping around the controls of the nearest arcade game. “I call shotgun.”

Peter laughs and comes to a stop next to you. “I know you’re British and that makes you, like, socially awkward, but that only applies to cars.”

You nudge him in the side—hard, but not hard enough to really do damage. He hisses in annoyance, muttering jeez, lady, under his breath. You ask, “Are you really going to deny me my request on our date?”

Peter grins at you, fingers clenching around the neighbouring controls. “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You smirk at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “A kiss or two at the end of this, perhaps.”

You watch Peter’s adam’s apple bob. “Per—perhaps?”

You grin. “Depends how you behave.”

You don’t need to read thoughts like your uncle to know that Peter has to be telling himself to breathe. Because it seems like an awful lot of effort for him to successfully inhale and exhale, and he doesn’t say anything before he slams a coin—a quarter? you don’t understand American money—into the machine and the BEGIN GAME screen buzzes to life.

It’s pretty hard for you to catch your breath as you both play in silence, too.

Eventually, conversation picks back up again. A sarcastic comment. The occasional compliment. Peter’s good at these games, but so are you. Arcade stand after arcade stand, his teasing remarks make your heart flutter… as well as something deeper within you, too. You’ve never felt attraction like this before, and truthfully, it’s driving you wild.

“Dad wasn’t around much back home,” you reveal, your eyes glued to the avatar on the screen as it darts around, “so I had a lot of time to kill. The arcade became my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say I can easily kick your arse.”

“Arse,” he teases, mimicking the way you speak. “Trying to let me let you win with a sob story, Xavier? Nah, not going to work.”

You gape at him, taking your eyes off the screen for a mere second, but Peter takes the opportunity to kill your avatar for good. With mock outrage, you quip, “I was not trying to do that!”

He grins at you, his eyes glowing purple and red in the light of your dying avatar. “Ah,” he whispers, “victory tastes sweet.”

You press your lips together in defeat, and then you sigh as you take your hand in his. “Come on. I want a slushie.”

Peter lets you drag him away, and the two of you settle down at the food stand in the arcade as the lights around you buzz blue and purple.

You like the lighting in here, you think, as you step up to the worker. “Two slushies, please,” you tell him, smiling politely. “One red and blue for me, and Peter—?”

“All of them,” he says, nodding towards the flavours.

You part your lips in surprise. All of them? There are about eight flavours up on that display, and you know it’s all going to melt into a mess of slush that barely tastes like anything other than sugar. But the worker has obviously been asked for worse, because he just shrugs and gets to work. One pump, two pumps, three pumps—he goes through them all with the finesse of someone who has worked at a place like this for far too long, and when he hands you your simple two-flavoured slushie in comparison to Peter's complex one, you feel like a bit of a slushie fraud.

You go to reach into your pocket to grab your card, but Peter pays in cash before you can get it out. The cashier gives him a dollar and seventy two cents change, and your date nods in thanks to the cashier before he turns to you with a grin that’s more genuine than cheeky. “My treat.”

You lower your gaze to hide how wide your smile is as you laugh. “Thanks, Peter.”

He nods, and the two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, you sucking innocently on your straw as he stares at you, before he looks at the table and chairs nearby. He clears his throat. “Wanna sit?”

You shrug politely and he pulls out a chair for you. Gentleman. Did his mother give him a run-down of what to do and what not to do before he came here? Probably. You smile at him, your insides warming as you sit down in your seat. This slushie is good, you think, slurping it up through the straw as Peter takes a seat opposite you.

He takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “So the thing about your dad. I know it’s a sore subject considering…” He raises his brows, and you know he means the reason you came here. “But do you mind if I—?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You have too much slushie in your mouth, though, so your words are slurred and you smile bashfully as you cover your lips. Sorry, your look says, but he just grins at you.

Peter forces himself to look away, to turn serious again, as he scratches at a loose bit of film on the table. “Why wasn’t he around? Like, the deadbeat dad kind of thing, or…?”

You shake your head. This time, when you speak, you’ve cleared the slushie from your mouth. Your voice is a bit hoarse from the cold as you respond, “No. He worked a lot. He was either in Germany or the Middle East or—somewhere. Mom has a temper, so I found the arcade was a better place to be than home. It’s easy to lose yourself in the games here.”

Peter nods slowly, his head tilting up in a way that indicates thoughtfulness. It’s nice that he’s memorising your words. Nice that he actually cares. That means more to you than anything. “Well, that makes two of us. Absent fathers, I mean, and moms…?”

You grin at him. He's talked about his father before, but always in vague detail. You respond, “Almost-there moms. Just emotionally absent, at least for me. Maybe stunted is the right word.”

Peter lets out a sound between a noise like phew and a laugh. “Harsh, Y/N. No sugarcoating it there.”

You shrug softly, lowering your gaze to your drink. “Sometimes I wonder if…”

Your sentence trails off, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter tilt his head. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets you take your time as he continues picking at the table.

You force a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened… happened for the best. Between the three of us, nobody was happy. But then I think of what I did to him and it’s just—”

“Hey,” Peter says, and across the table, his hand reaches out to splay across yours. “For people like us—mutants,” he says, his tone lowering at the end of his sentence, “stuff like this is inevitable. But, uh… Charles has kinda helped me see that it’s the first step towards controlling this sort of thing. The first step to doing something better. And hell, Y/N, you’re already, like, rockin’. So you only have further to go.”

Your brows furrow in surprise at his words, your eyes turning doe-like at his reassurances. “You don’t think I’ve already hit rock bottom?”

Peter laughs. “You’ve got too much money for that. I've seen you blow two-fifty on curtains. Still don't know how I watched you do it."

You let out a laugh, and that’s when you properly acknowledge the skin to skin contact. His touch makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Your shoulders roll back as your thumb brushes against his knuckle, and Peter’s eyes dart down to your fingers before he looks right back up at you. He looks nervous, like his heart is thudding just as hard as yours.

“I like this,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, though from the sound of it, it’s an attempt to hide his nerves. “It’s only a slushie, Xavier."

Your laughter mimics his own, and you press your lips together as your eyes dart between his eyes and lips. You want to kiss him. You’ve never wanted to kiss somebody more. It’s like you could push him up against the wall and kiss him here and now without caring what anybody thinks, and you’ve never had that feeling before.

Peter’s throat bobs again. He’s staring at you in the same way, and you can feel the tension between the two of you as your chest tightens. But you can’t kiss here—not with the table between you, not when one of you will probably spill a slush puppy or both of them, or—

“Another game?” Peter says, his voice hoarse.

You blink the lust out of your eyes. Another game. Yeah—another game, and your slush puppy will melt between and it’ll be easier to drink, and then—

And then you can both get out of here.

You’ve never wanted to leave an arcade more.

The tension cools down a little as you play more games, but it rises as soon as you make a comment about his frantic button mashing movements; something like—

“I hope that’s not the technique you use in bed,” you tease.

Peter chokes, and needless to say, you win that game.

You keep playing until your slushies are finished. Peter finishes his before you, but he lets you have a sip before in order to try it. It’s just as you expected—a sugary mess with the strongest flavour being lime. It’s disgusting, but Peter merely grins at the sight of your face as you grimace at its sour taste.

You’re well aware of the way his gaze rakes up and down your body as you try to finish the rest of your slushie as fast as you can. You’re lingering now; the two of you want to get out of here, dinner be damned. His gaze hugs the curve of your body and lingers on your bare legs, your skin smooth and shaven, the boots you wear only elongating them—

“You look great, by the way,” Peter comments.

You look up at him while still sipping from that straw, and apparently the motion and the eye contact is too much for him. He looks away and mutters something under his breath, something you can’t hear over the beeping of the games and the music playing over the sound effects.

You slam the slushie cup down on the table next to you both with an air of achievement. “What?” You say almost teasingly. You know you’re driving him insane, and even though you’re hardly doing anything, this has been building up for weeks.

“Nothing,” Peter says.

Before you know it, his hand is at your neck and you’re in a different spot entirely.

It’s a short journey this time so you’re not dizzy. You’re still in the arcade, surrounded by the same blue walls and purple-hued lighting. But this area is darker and tucked away, and there’s a door nearby. Probably a staff entrance. This is somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for once, you’re not afraid of breaking the rules.

“The cups,” you comment teasingly. “We should clean them up.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Y/N,” he says, “I—"

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “Please.”

Peter wastes no time in fulfilling your request.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours as his fingers rest at your neck. Innocent, sweet, and yet filled with a sort of passion that sets your lungs and chest ablaze. You can’t help the noise of content that slips from your lips as he backs you up against the wall, and you can’t help but think that this is so unlike him, but—no. No, this is what he’s been keeping buried down for weeks. It's the same for you, too. This is what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

This is only half of what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

You gasp as his tongue slips out against yours, and your own darts out in response to the sensation. You press your body flush into his, the both of you heated and warm from the feel of one another, and your jacket is quickly getting too hot to keep on any longer. It’s cool in here with the air conditioning, but even so the two of you are ablaze and alive and—

“Y/N” Peter whispers against your lips, his nose brushing against yours as he pants for breath, “d’you think we could leave dinner for tonight?”

Your body talks for you before your mind can register what he says. "Yes," you breathe, and then you pull him back to you.

His lips are on yours and there is nothing either of you need to say as his fingers roam down your shoulders, your arms, moving to your waist. He avoids your breasts and you’re grateful for that; despite how much your body might burn for him, you know that would make you feel like an object, like he only wants you for sex—like your mother has told you countless times before.

But as you and Peter kiss in the belly of that arcade, you think you might have found the one. The first person you can finally trust.

It might be the first date and you might want to take things slow, but this feels too good to pass up. Too good to lose. And because of that, you don't plan on letting him go—

Not unless he wants you gone first.

Not until a member of staff kicks you guys out, at least.

[byuntrash101]

PARAPHILIA - Part 3

Pairing: sub!Baekhyun x CEO!Reader

Genre: EstablishedRelationship!AU, slice of life, fluff (a tiny bit), smut

Tags: gentle dom/sub dynamics, sub!Baekhyun, apron, footjob, feet in mouth, praising, cum play

Raiting: +18 (you know me 🤪)

Word count: 3k

Summary: when you come back home from a very tiring day of work, your boyfriend Baekhyun knows exactly how to calm your nerves: with a foot massage.

A/N: This one has a different kind of dynamic since it’s gentle femdom. You see, the girl behing this blog is a switch so I hope you can enjoy this content too. Anyways don’t hesitate to comment or slide into my asks💖💖. - Cat 😽

Tag list:  @lovebuginlove @calamell @bobohumyonlyboo @smolbeanmika @making-me-blush @wooya1224 @yixing-jaehyun @f4ncyvelvet @lalalala-lav @deligxt @xofanfics @byunsugar @dixnysustae @to-all-the-stories-i-love @artisticcgroove @myexoobsession  @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo

Tell me if you want to be added/removed

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist 

Paraphilia #3: Podophilia, sexual attraction to feet

W O R S H I P

You massage your temple in small circles as you try your hardest to concentrate on the road, driving your black Mercedes SUV. Today was a really rough day at work.

You were CEO of a startup company that designs programmes protecting video games and preventing hackers to illegally distribute the games. The company is ever growing as the hackers become more and more inventive.

Today you met with Kazuo 'Kaz' Hirai, CEO of the Playstation branch of the Sony Interactive Entertainment group. You had to negotiate a contract to be the company to protect every playstation exclusive game that was to be released in the next five years. Needless to say, a huge deal for you and your company.

"Aishh..." you scoffed as you recalled the cold expression of the japanese middle aged man. That old fart was really stubborn and strong headed. But so were you which made the negotiations rather difficult. After hours and hours of negotiating you finally came to an agreement interesting enough to the both of you, your firm but also Sony.

So yes it was a really rough day. And you were tired... and hungry. Very hungry you thought as you pulled over in the drive away of the modern residence.

Once in the entry you were instantly greeted by the smell of delicious food coming from the kitchen. You didn't even bother taking off your high heeled black pumps and simply directly walked to the dining room.

There you find the table neatly arranged for two. Your boyfriend Baekhyun comes in from the kitchen and instantly jumps when he sees you.

"You scared me! I didn't hear you coming!" he says holding his chest. You puff out a laugh.

He still has the oven mits on, he's wearing a casual pastel green shirt with comfy jeans, topped with a cute blue apron. He's just adorable.

"Sorry I'm so tired I just didn't feel like yelling "i'm home" when I came in"

"I knew it was going to be a tiring day for you so I made you dinner" he came over to you and took off the oven mits then your coat and purse which he placed on the coffee table. He pulled the chair for you.

"That's so gentlemanly of you thank you" you said as you were getting seated. He bowed his head returning your smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

Soon he came back holding the food. Your eyes lit up at the delicious sight and you sat up on your chair. Baekhyun served you and himself then sat just right in front of you.

"Thank you for the food" you said as you leaned in and extended your arm to gently squeeze his hand over the table. He lightly blushes.

"You're welcome" he said before looking down on his chest. "Oops I forgot to take the apron off." he stood up again but you stopped him.

"No keep it on... I think it suits you! It's cute" you smiled at him, he smiled and sat back down.

You proceeded to eat, during the meal Baekhyun kept quiet about your work. He knew it was better to let you eat and enjoy a peaceful evening before actually starting to ask questions. Even though it killed him not to know and he just wanted to bombard you with a thousand questions.

"Aaah... I'm so full" you said rubbing your stomach. Baekhyun cutely smiled at you, his eyes forming crescents that complimented nicely his constellation moles.

"I'm glad you liked it"

"Of course I loved it you're the best cook ever" he was embarrassed at the compliment but flattered anyway.

"Thank you" he then marked a silence and hesitantly asked. "Hmmm... y/n... so how were the negotiations?" finally he asked the question that was burning his lips. You sighed. You would have liked it if he had waited until tomorrow to ask you but on the other hand you understood his curiosity. This contract was a turning point for the company.

"Well... it was... difficult" you said simply. Baekhyun stayed silent only waiting for more details. "Yes... basically I had to cut back on a lot of things I asked... I mean they were the bigger company at the table so I didn't have much negotiation power..." Baekhyun creased his eyebrows, worried. "But I still managed to secure a good deal. So, yes, next week we will officially sign the papers" you said finally. Baekhyun bursted in a loud celebration, which took you by surprise.

"Honey! that's great! you worked so hard for this!"

"Yeah" you said unconvinced... Honestly to you it somehow felt like a small defeat since you had to cut back on so many things but at the same time you had no other choice... "I think I'm just frustrated about how it actually went down, you know?" Baekhyun took your hand in his.

"Honey... the most important thing is that even if the deal isn't the absolute best it's still good for the company and if you do a good job in the course of the next 5 years they will want to work with you again and maybe other big companies will also want to... Next target Nintendo!" He said with a huge smile, gently rubbing your hand with his thumb.

That is something you always loved about Baekhyun. After dating for so long people complain about your significant other not being surprising anymore. When truly it's the best thing about having a relationship. The person staring back at you knows you like you two share the same heart. When your mind is full and you can't seem to put your thoughts into words… you don't have to because they know you. Baekhyun knows you. 

He cheers you on when you're down. Sees the positive when you are tired of restlessly hoping. He's your light. He lights up your path everywhere you go.

He was adorable, staring back at you with dark brown eyes and the cute blue apron. So so cute... that unholy ideas started to form inside your dirty mind.

"You're right" you said looking back at him. Under the table you extended your leg and started to rub your foot on his pants. Baekhyun instantly stiffened, his smile dropped. "If only there was a way that I could relax..." you smirked at him with suggestive eyes.

"M-maybe a f-foot massage?" Baekhyun asked hesitantly, he was such a cutie stuttering like this. It made your heart melt.

"Why not?" you said shrugging, acting casual.

Baekhyun took a step in your direction but you stopped him.

"No!" he stopped in his tracks. Looked him up and down, licking your lips, anticipating what was to come. "Crawl to me" you said, smirking again. Baekhyun's warm smile was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it was replaced by that soft submissive expression that you loved so much.

Without a word he got on all fours and slowly approached you, not breaking the eye contact you had. His face was slightly blushed, mixed with embarrassment and anticipation.

Once he reached you, you gently cupped his cheeks.

"Good boy" you praised him. Then you pushed back your chair and rotated on your butt to face him. You crossed your leg and presented him the foot that was hanging in the air. "Now do your thing"

Baekhyun looked up at you then he placed one hand over the heel of your shoe to support your leg the other hand behind your calf. He laid a soft kiss on your ankle and trailed his way down to stop where the shoe went over your toes. He looked up at you for further instructions.

"Lick it" you said. He didn't hesitate to stick his tongue out and lightly flick it against the shiny leather. A satisfied smile spread on your lips. He kissed the shoe again and you felt him lightly pull on the heel to take it off. You quickly lifted his chin with the pointy tip of the shoe.

"No.. Not yet" he whimpered cutely. He's so impatient. "Stand" you command. He does as he's told. "Now strip but keep the apron" he nods

He slips his hands underneath the blue apron and starts to unbutton his shirt. He then takes off one sleeve then the other one. He drops the pastel shirt to the ground. His toned arms move to mesmerize you. You bite on your bottom lip as he continues the show.

He moves on to unbuckle his belt and peels the denim off his skin. Finally he removes his boxers which he throws to the side.

He's left completely naked apart from the apron, which is tightly hugging him. The thin fabric is letting little to the imagination. You can clearly see his broad shoulders and arms who rest at his side and Baekhyun's pretty pink nipples. You let your eyes go down where you can see your boyfriend's bulge pitching a slightly twitchy tent underneath. You lick your lips thinking he's already so excited for you.

"Kiss me" you said lifting your head up slightly. Baekhyun bent down and linked his lips with yours in a heated and passionate kiss. 

You untangled your fingers in his hairs, lightly pulling on it, which made him cutely whimper into your mouth. You took the opportunity to push your tongue inside his mouth and deepen the kiss, pulling harder on his hair. He let out cute muffled moans. Then finally you let go of him. He was panting, face flushed red and his hair was messy.

"Now you may remove my shoes" you uncrossed your legs and laid both your feet flat on the ground. Baekhyun hurriedly kneeled down and removed both your shoes, setting them neatly on the side. Your feet made contact with the cold tiles of the dining room. But you didn't mind at all.

"Now lick them" you commanded. Baekhyun was ready to lift your feet to his mouth but you stopped him. "No get down there and lick them from the ground" you said sternly.

Baekhyun placed both his palms on the floor and bent his arms until his cheek touched the tiles. His ass was up in the air when he started to lick your toes. The tickling sensation sent goosebumps on your body and you sighed in satisfaction, fully enjoying the power you held over him.

You then slowly lifted your foot to give him access to your soles. He never broke contact with your foot and his face followed as you lifted it, bringing him back in his initial kneeling position. When he could finally lick your sole he didn't wait for a second. He licked your foot from the heel up to the toes. Your soles were his favourite part and you knew it. You smirked when you saw him indulge himself in the moment.

"Suck my toes" you commanded again. He nodded vigorously, tightly grabbing your foot and as he opened his mouth to bring your big toe inside it. He looked back at you and a soft moan escaped your lips feeling his wet mouth around your foot. "Such a good boy" you moaned softly, your breathing getting ever so slightly quicker.

"Enough!" You say before abruptly taking back your foot. You push him on his chest which causes him to fall back on his butt and his palms flat on the tiles. In this position the tent he's pitching is very visible. And you can't wait to finally see it.

You bring your toes underneath the apron around his crotch area and with a flick of the ankle you push back the fabric over the belt.

Finally you lay eyes on his twitching and aching cock. Precum is already seeping from the slit and you can't help but to smile from ear to ear when you finally uncover it.

"Look at this... Aren't we excited?" you asked, bringing your toes to his balls. Baekhyun stiffens.

"Y-yes" he whispers, unable to take off his eyes from your feet. You lightly lift your foot to the base of his shaft and he buckles up his hips, impatient.

"No no... you have to be good, okay? Are you gonna be a good boy for me?" you coo.

"Yes!" he says excitedly, his eyes still on your foot, nearly popping out of their sockets.

"Good boy" you say before wrapping his cock with both feet and starting to pump his swollen dick. Immediately his eyes roll back as he bites his bottom lip. You pick up the pace and Baekhyun looks back at you. You normally don't go this hard right away but he's not complaining. He feels so good from the footjob.

Baekhyun's saliva really lubed up your feet and they glide easily on his precum oozing dick. You continue to harshly jerk his cock with your feet.

"Fuck... Honey... This is... Aaah... so gooddd!!" he says moaning shamelessly in between each word. He sounds so needy and whiny and most of all he looks absolutely delighted with his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his mouth hanging open.

You felt him twitch around your toes and withdraw them immediately before he can spill his juice. Baekhyun let out a disappointed whimper as the pleasure fades away. You can't help but to smirk when you see him squirm.

"Get up" you command him.

You stand up from the chair and flip the table cloth over the dirty dishes, making way for you to sit.

You take your time, taking every single piece of clothing off you, striping sensually for your boyfrined who thickly swallows as you're removing the last piece of fabric.

You set your bottom on the dark wood of the dining table and lean back over on your elbow, your knees together bent back on your chest. Baekhyun stands in front of you, his dark red cock seeping precum and twitching.

You then part your knees slowly, uncovering your glistening pink folds absolutely drenched in your juices. You're feeling incredibly aroused. Baekhyun is in awe in front of such a view. No matter how many times he's seen you, every time he still is breathless.

"Come here baby" you say as you gesture to him to come close. "Now fuck me baby" you murmur in a sultry tone.

Baekhyun can't believe his ears. Rare are the occasions when you let him fuck you. Most of the time you are on top and in control. But today he's been such a good boy you exceptionally let him be on top.

He doesn't take one more second to align himself with your lonely and aching center. Slowly he pushes himself inside you. The slip is easy as your juices coat even your inner thighs. You gasp delightfully at the sensation of him gently stretching you open.

"Fuck... Y/n...Aaaah" Baekhyun lets out a high pitched moan that wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. You love to hear his struggling moans.

"Fuck me faster" you command your boyfriend who has his eyes tight shut, trying his hardest not to bust right away.

He takes a bruising grip on your fleshy thighs and gradually he picks up the pace, waves of heat and pleasure wash over your entire body as you shamelessly moan while Baekhyun makes your breasts jump with each thrust.

"Tell me how good this feels baby" you tell him, craving more of his high pitched and needy voice. Baekhyun whimpers before answering.

"Aaah... Your pussy feels so good" he says before letting go of one of your thighs to bring your foot to his face. He buried his nose in your sole. "Fuck... aaaah... Honey" he sounds pleading, so submissive despite the fact that he's the one over you roughly pounding into you.

He gasps when he feels your walls tightening around him. He takes one of your toes in his mouth. He makes you feel so good, the way he doesn't restrain his thrusts has you gasping each time his tip kisses your cervix. Your moans and his mix in a beautiful symphony that resonates in the empty dining room.

"Baekhyun don't stop I'm gonna cum" You moan as you extend your hand to bring a little attention to your clit. With two fingers your circle your swollen and needy bud. The pleasure rises again and beads of sweat roll in between your bouncing tits.

"Fuckk... I'm cumming too" he says in one breathy moan, your toes hanging on his lips.

"Aaaah yes baby" you moan finally letting go of the knot in your stomach. Your pussy tightly clenching around Baekhyun's cock, milking it to the last drop of cum.

Baekhyun then pulls out to spread the last streams of cum on your feet, which you bring in front of his pulsing cock and point out. You feel the hot liquid coat your toes and your ankles as Baekhyun cusses and moans loudly.

He then staggers to one of the chairs and crashes on it. His cock still pulsing in his fist, chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

You look at him straight in the eyes when you bring your feet to your mouth and lick them clean. The bitter and sweet taste of Baekhyun's cum fills your mouth. You close your eyes fully enjoying it, moaning against your toes on your lips. Baekhyun looks at you being this naughty with an evil glint in the eye.

"Baby you taste so good" you whisper. Baekhyun smiles, still panting and exhausted.

"Does that mean I'll get to be on top more often?" he asks.

"Hmmm..." you bring your finger to scratch your chin, fainting to think deeply.

"No" you say with a smile. You're already off in the staircase laughing when Baekhyun grumbles and pouts cutely protesting.

PARAPHILIA masterlist | General masterlist