#But outside of that it really feels like an empty market

[afamiliarsword]

(WARNING, NOTHING BURGER POST:) Was very surprised today to realise that scripted "sports" shows that primarily focus on the sport is very rarely seen outside of anime and it feels like I have to be missing something

[thecharacterchronicler]

Snakebite || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader ||

Outline: Coriolanus has his eye on the new nurse of the caserne and he’d do anything to have her.

Word count: 5’593

Warnings: Peacekeeper Coryo is a warning in itself, blood, virgin/first time sex (and it’s not gentle), breeding/marking, pain, possessive behavior, rough sex, explicit smut.

Author’s note: If you’ve read my other stories, you know my way of writing peacekeeper Coryo is pretty wild. If not, please take the warnings seriously before reading this one. This is prompt # 4. (sorry I didn’t feel like writing another arranged marriage one for now but I hope this will be good enough.)

“Good to see you back on your feet !” Smiley said, as a greeting when Beanpole entered the cafeteria and joined them at their table.

“We were worried, you hit your head pretty badly on the ground when you fainted today.” Bug added.

Coriolanus watched as his comrade took place in front of him, his tray overly filled with an array of different foods. He was still pale and had a bruise on his forehead from where he had hit the ground but despite all that, he seemed happy. So happy in fact, that Coriolanus wondered if they had drugged him at the infirmary to put him in such a state.

“I’m honestly starting to wonder if you don’t do that on purpose each time we train outside, just so the new nurse gets to take care of you.”

“There’s a new nurse ?” Coriolanus inquired, his curiosity piqued by something finally remotely interesting.

“I think she’s an apprentice.” Beanpole corrected.

“Didn’t you notice the amount of guys lining up in front of the infirmary door these days ? I heard everyone talk about how beautiful that girl is.” Smiley added.

Coriolanus thought about it for a moment but couldn’t really recall noticing anything out of the ordinary. Not that he paid much attention to life in the barracks anyway. Or in District 12 in general. He missed the Capitol and his thoughts often drifted back to his old life rather than focusing on his current situation.

“She really is beautiful.” Beanpole commented, to answer Smiley, with a stupid smile on his face. He may as well have heart shaped eyes from how obvious his crush on the girl in question was.

The other soldiers at the table laughed of their friend’s amorous daze and everyone soon focused their attention back on their meal, knowing that they needed to gain some strength for what the commander had planned for them on the next day.

Smiley and Bug stood up as soon as their trays were empty, but Coriolanus lingered a moment at the table, watching Beanpole stuff his face with green beans and spinach leaves. He wondered how someone who lacked basic knowledge of table etiquette could be from the Capitol too. People there, even poor, were more refined and elegant usually. Was District 12 slowly turning him into some kind of feral animal ? What if it was happening to Coriolanus too ? What if he didn’t remember how to behave properly once he’ll be back in the Capitol ? The thought terrified him, the one thing he had promised himself was that he refused to let District 12 change him.

“Crap, I forgot to ask for painkillers.” Beanpole managed to say, despite his still full mouth.

“Didn’t you have a whole tablet of those in your trunk from the last time you hit your head against a tree ?” Coriolanus asked him, unable to conceal his sucpicious tone. He was wondering if, indeed, the young soldier was faking being of such fragile composure and in weak condition just to be granted extra trips to the nurse’s office. Not that he cared about his friend’s whereabouts, he just cared to know if Beanpole was this good of an actor, able to hurt himself just to get something he wanted.

“I used a few after I burned my fingers when I was on cooking duty and sold the rest on the black market.” He answered, totally and foolishly honest with Coriolanus. He attempted to stand up, his tray still half full but almost lost balance, barely able to catch himself.

“Are you alright ?” Coriolanus asked him, standing up to help steady him, even though he really didn’t want to.

“Yeah, it’s just the concussion.” Beanpole assured him. “I need to go back for some pills and then I’ll go to bed.”

“I’ll walk you there.” He offered, not out of the goodness of his heart but by sheer curiosity for the apparently very pleasant new nurse. He wanted to judge for himself, even though he didn’t expect her to be anything special, his comrades were so sex deprived that their standard barely reached the floor.

With a hand gripping his arm to help him walk steadily, the two peacekeepers made their way to the infirmary, Coriolanus almost dragging Beanpole behind him from how impatient he was to see what was really going on there.

At first glance, it seemed that Smiley told the truth, there were a line of more or less injured soldiers waiting for their turn behind the door, even skipping supper in hopes to be cared for here.

“It might take a while.” Beanpole sighed, ready to join the back of the line.

The door opened and a peacekeeper walked out with his arm in a cast, his face visibly upset but not because of the pain he had endured but because he was escorted out by Flavia, the old nurse instead of the new one. She gestured to the next man in line to enter her office and he shamelessly sighed in disappointment.

Beanpole and Coriolanus barely had time to take a step in direction of the end of the line when the door in front of them opened again, revealing you, wearing a white blouse and your hair tied up in a messy updo.

“Next please !” You called, and a soldier excitedly sauntered in your direction. But your gaze landed on Coriolanus for an instant, before noticing Beanpole leaning onto him for support. “Oh, is the concussion getting worse ?”

Coriolanus had to admit that you were very pretty indeed. Even with the worry that suddenly appeared on your face, you reminded him of the expensive dolls Tigris used to play dress up and hold tea parties for.

“I just need something for the pain.” Beanpole told you, trying to sound self assured but the sight of you made him smile stupidly again.

“He’s barely able to stand.” Coriolanus said because, as time went by, he kept leaning his weight more and more on him and at this point, he was starting to worry that he might have to carry him back to their dorm.

“Come in.” You said, standing aside to let them in the infirmary. There were a few whispers of indignation and protest as they passed by the line of eager soldiers, the one who almost got in taking his place back at the front while glaring daggers at them.

Coriolanus helped Beanpole to the bed placed in the middle of a small room, of which you closed the door and searched a shelf for a file, before stepping to the counter to retrieve some medical tools. He watched you as you carefully shone a light into Beanpole’s eyes, observing his pupils with attention before turning the small flashlight off and on in his face. You scribbled something in the file you had placed on the bed next to him, and exchanged the light for a stethoscope.

As you leaned forward slightly to reach his heart, your blouse hunched up, revealing some of the curves of your body to Coriolanus, who had a very privileged view of it all as he leaned against the wall behind you, his arms crossed over his chest.

He observed you carefully, starting to understand why all the young soldiers in the building were interested in you. There was something about you that was particularly enticing, maybe it was the alluring curves of your body, or maybe it was your pretty face and the way you made sure to be gentle as you examined your patients ? Whatever it was, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to forget it. And, as you turned around to take one more tool from the counter, you glanced at him in a way that made his whole body buzz with electricity, he could tell that you were disturbed by him, by his presence and by his appearance, the same hint of curiosity in your eyes than the one he felt for you.

————-

The sun was shining bright in the sky, yet it still did very little to ease the humidity that saturated the air. Coriolanus was assigned to patrol the borders of the District in the heat, while forced to wear his peacekeeper uniform and helmet, hand on his gun, always prepared. However, for once, it didn’t seem so bad. He knew that if he had a heatstroke and fainted, he might have the chance to see you again and the idea oddly excited him.

Actually, he had been thinking about you for most of the night, reminiscing of the perfection of your body underneath your white blouse and how you had looked at him, even smiled at him once when you had cleared Beanpole to go back to his dorm. He had seen with his own eyes the impressive amount of soldiers lining up by the door with the hope to spend a few minutes in your company and, this morning during breakfast, he had heard a group of them talking about how each of them was planning to attempt to ask you out before the weekend. You truly were the talk of the caserne.

He didn’t like that you had so many admirers, but what claim did he have on you ? He hadn’t even spoke more than a few words to you… And yet, he felt extremely possessive of you. Like you were some kind of precious treasure that should only belong to him. And maybe he had good chances to make everyone else jealous if he convinced you to give yourself to him, judging by the way you had looked at him, all he had to do was ask…

And, just for the sake of not waking up with a very painful and frustrating erection again - after dreaming of you, naked on your exam table for him - he was determined to shoot his shot at you. He knew it only was a matter of time until you’d agree to go out with one of the idiots who probably pestered you about it on a daily basis, so he had to act quickly.

He wasn’t sure of how he could fake a convincing heatstroke. And if he pretended to have fainted, he might stay there on his own all day until someone eventually found him and helped him. So he needed a better idea, something that wouldn’t require him too much theatrics to be convincing. In fact, being in real pain would probably help to coerce you into taking care of him before everyone else.

His fingers danced on the handle of his gun as he tried to imagine how bad the pain could get if he shot himself in the foot or in the knee. It would make him a pretty useless peacekeeper which might grant him a few weeks of forced vacation to recover but he was worried of where he might be sent to next if he wasn’t fit to be a soldier anymore…

He looked around him, seeing nothing but tall grass swaying in the wind and a rocky dirt road leading to a row of delabrated shacks that people from this District called homes. Not much to help with his plan.

Suddenly, something slowly undulating further down the road, moving the peebles on its way caught his attention. He approached carefully, realizing that it was a green snake trying to go back to the tall grass that it could use as shelter.

Coriolanus didn’t know much about snakes. Actually, his knowledge in the matter was so limited that he never would be able to tell the difference between a venomous snake and an inoffensive one. However, it seemed to him that this one was very similar to the one that had bit another peacekeeper’s ankle when they were running laps around the barracks. As far as he knew, the guy was still alive so it might be his best chance to get to see you again.

He kneeled down on the road and tugged the sleeve of his shirt up, offering his entire arm for the nervous snake to bite into. But it wasn’t aggressive enough to gratuitously attack a human being it seemed so Coriolanus picked the reptile up, feeling the cold scales under his fingertips before letting it fall on his bare arm. Nothing happened, except that the animal was now terrified and tried to slither away in the grass, at a surprisingly fast speed.

He barely managed to catch it before it vanished in the grass the same color as it was. He pulled it back to him and the reptile’s head snapped back to dig its sharp fangs inside the soldier’s exposed wrist.

Coriolanus grimaced, immediately pulling on the snake until he was able to pull his fangs out of his skin. He sent it flying across the road, not seeing where it landed as he focused his attention on his now aching wrist and the two dots of blood rapidly bubbling at the surface of his skin.

“Shit.” He breathed, the pain in his arm sharply stinging. It was almost as if he could feel the venom, slowly invading the blood in his veins.

He stood up, applying pressure to the bite so that he wouldn’t bleed too much despite the pain it provoked, and took off in direction of the casern. He was hoping that his plan would work and that he wouldn’t end up being treated by Flavia instead of you but, above all things, he hoped that he wouldn’t die from such a stupid action. You may be absolutely gorgeous but he wasn’t ready to die for that. Not yet.

When he knocked on the infirmary door, blatantly ignoring the queue in front of it, his main concern became reality as Flavia opened. The old nurse’s gaze was strict and unwelcoming, the polar opposite of your warmth and beauty.

“Another heatstroke ? Go wait in line for your turn.” She said, authoritatively.

“No, I was bitten.” He told her, showing her the mark on his now inflamed skin. Even if he was hoping to see you, his bite still needed urgent medical attention and he wasn’t sure he would survive if he had to wait in line before treating it.

Thankfully, as if on cue, your face appeared behind Flavia, eyes wide in surprise.

“I can take care of that, I just finished treating Armstrong’s heat rash.” You suggested and he could tell that you were hoping to see him as badly as he was hoping to see you.

“Alright. I was planning on taking a coffee break after this one, anyway.” Flavia nodded, before disappearing in her own office where a distressed soldier waited for her.

Coriolanus followed into the room where you had taken care of Beanpole the day before, but this time it was his turn to sit on the examination table. You repeated the same gestures as he had observed last time, fetching his file from the overflowing shelf before approaching to examinate his bite.

“Did you see what the snake that bit you looked like ?” You asked, as you ran your gloved fingers over the two deep holes in his skin. He noticed the worry that instantly showed on your face, making him wonder if you truly cared this much about your patients.

“It was green, and pretty small.” He recalled, momentarily forgetting about the pain in his arm because of how close you were to him. He could smell your perfume and see the subtle variations of the specks of color in your eyes from here.

“Mmh, I don’t think it’s a venomous one but it’s probably going to hurt for a few days.” You announced, going back to the counter to take a small glass jar in your hands. Then, you carefully applied an herbal salve to his wound, instantly giving him some relief from the stinging pain that lingered there. “But I only have one jar of this salve so you’ll have to come here so I can apply some to the wound and change the bandages every day.”

“Alright.” He answered, struggling to contain his excitement at your words.

You gently wrapped his wrist up in an immaculately white bandage, soothing the last bit of pain he still felt from the bite. He saw it as the perfect opportunity to ask you what every soldier in this building was dying to.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink with me sometime ?” He suggested, trying to sound as confident as he usually was but his heart was racing in his chest.

You lifted your eyes up to meet his, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“That sounds nice but unfortunately I’m not allowed to do that. The only time I can be seen with peacekeepers without risking my job is here, in the infirmary.” You replied and he silently stared at you for a moment, trying to determine if it was an excuse or if you really would have accepted if your position allowed you to. “But maybe you could spend more time here ? With me ?”

Your voice was hesitant and a lovely blush creeped to your cheeks as you said that, a risk you seemingly were ready to take for him.

“I could.” He smiled, charming as ever. “But how would we pass the time ?”

“Maybe we could get to know each other ?”

His smile grew wider as the vivid images of last night’s dream filled his mind again, visions of you naked for him, begging for his dick, that he was determined to make come true right now. He stood up, stepping closer to you, his hands already tugging at your blouse to get it to slide down your arms.

“I’d love to get to know you more… Intimately.” He whispered, his lips brushing over yours. And, since you didn’t step back or push him away, he finally pressed his mouth to yours, in a chaste kiss that still managed to get his whole body buzzing with adrenaline.

Your professional blouse dropped to the floor and his arms closed around your waist, pulling you into him, where you could very obviously feel the hard bulge that had formed in his pants pressing against your stomach.

His lips moved to your neck, peppering it with wet kisses as he eagerly tried to find the hem of your shirt so that he could pull it off of you and see what was hidden underneath. You let him, even though your heart was about to implode inside of your chest.

He only stopped kissing you to be able to take a good look at your now bare chest in front of him, the sight worth a thousand snake bites.

“Oh gosh.” You whimpered, as he roughly squeezed your boob in his hand, taking a bite at your lower lip to shut you up because you could say anything else.

He probably should have taken his time to enjoy every inch of you as he uncovered them one by one, giving attention to your very appetizing breast before attempting to remove your pants but he was never one to be patient, nor could he possibly renounce to something that he so ardently desired.

“Wait, wait.” You pleaded against his mouth, your hands on his chest to gently push him away but even like this, he had trouble to let go of you.

“What’s wrong ?”

“It’s just that… I wasn’t expecting this. I… I never did this before.” You stuttered, your eyes fixed to his with a bit of panic on your face.

“Well, it’s not that uncomfortable in here.” He remarked, briefly looking around before focusing his attention back to you. You were shorter than him and almost naked, chest bare and pants tugged down to your thighs. All he had to do was reach between your legs and he’d be able to catch a feel of your panties, see if you were already wet for him or if he’d have to work for it. As for him, he was already rock hard, his cock begging to be released out of his pants so that it could be shoved inside you. But he enjoyed being in his uniform in front of you, while you were about to be naked and vulnerable, at his entire mercy…

“No, I mean… I never did it” Your words had the effect of a cold shower over his head, pulling him out of his hungry contemplation of your body and getting his full attention on you. For the second time, he stared at you while trying to decide if he believed you or not, the idea of you still being a virgin making no sense in his mind, how could you be ? You were far too gorgeous to not have had many opportunities to lose your virginity to someone in the past, even here, soldiers lined up at your door every day, desperate for your attention. Surely one of them would have convinced you to do it by now. Or at least, if you were so concerned about the rules, some coal miner from your district or a free spirited muscician would have done it.

“You… How come ?” Was all he managed to say, the question burning his lips since it seemed entirely impossible to him that you’d still be so innocent and unaware of the pleasure you were missing out on.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t interested enough in anyone to go this far…”

Coriolanus couldn’t help but smile at your answer. He felt insanely pleased imagining you refusing all these filthy miners and weak soldiers. You had standards. And you definitely were the only person that he had met in District 12 who was this reasonable.

“I can show you what it’s like if you want me to.” He suggested, trying to sound detached but the idea of being the one to take your virginity, the one to corrupt your innocent body, was making his cock ache in his pants.

You seemed hesitant, looking around at the office. He could understand that it probably wasn’t how you had imagined your first time would happen, not here, not with him. Yet, when your pretty eyes landed on him again, you quietly nodded.

He had to be cool about, appear as if it was a regular thing for him, like he had done it before many times and would be doing it again with other girls, but his blood was boiling with excitement. When he had asked you out for a drink, he was expecting to have to work for it. He would have been proud of being seen with you at The Hob by all the recruits lining up for your attention, and he would have made sure to charm you into taking things further, probably in a dark alley outside where no one would have seen your perfect body except for him, but where surely some people would have heard how good he was making you feel.

Unable to wait any longer, he reached down to open up his pants and free his hard erection from his underwear, stroking it in his hand, enough to get it to develop to its full length but not too much, in case he might cum just from the way you were staring at it, with wide eyes and shock on your face.

“You’re so big, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do this.” You told him, worried.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to take it.” He assured you, with a proud smile on his face. He always liked when women noticed how well endowed he was. Even better when it made them nervous. “Sit down on the table.”

You obeyed, even though you still seemed very uncertain. He pulled your pants and panties down your legs, discarding them on the floor so that you really were completely naked now, beautiful and vulnerable.

“Maybe it’ll work if you enter just the tip.” You suggested, and an amused chuckle left his lips.

“Alright.” He agreed, but only to reassure you. He had no intention of depriving the rest of his length from entering you so you would have to take it fully eventually.

“Okay.” You sighed in relief but your body remained tense as he approached and forced your legs open. He held his cock in his hand and gently stroked your exposed folds with the tip, groaning from the pleasant warmth and wetness that instantly coated his sensitive skin.

He knew he should have been a gentleman about this and made sure that you were ready for him but he simply couldn’t wait. His desire for you was consuming him, he needed to have you and that instantly made him forget how cautious he should be to make sure the experience would be enjoyable for you too. So he lined himself up to your entrance and pushed forward.

“Just the tip.” You reminded him, your entrance stretching out for his wide dick, causing a sharp burn in your lower stomach.

“Right.” He said, with a smile, as he kept increasing the pressure that already felt unbearable inside you, very slowly but surely pressing his hips further against you.

“That’s too much.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.

“You can take it.” He said again, because one way or another, he was going to break that dam inside you and then, he’ll fuck you until he’ll be close enough to mark you as his with his cum.

“No, I really can’t.” You replied, your voice breaking. Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt in front of your distress, the grimace of pain on your face and the tears silently rolling down your cheeks weren’t exactly what he had imagined when he had fantasized about taking you on this examination table.

“Just try to relax.” He instructed, momentarily putting his eagerness and need for relief aside to focus on you. He pressed his hand between your legs, his thumb finding your sensitive spot and gently massaging it to ease you into it, mixing the pain of his intrusion inside you with the pleasure of his caresses.

With two fingers, he opened up your folds so that he could see his big cock shoved halfway inside your tight and aching pussy. He could see it sliding further inside inch by inch, his way of teasing your clit seemingly helping your body accept him.

And then, suddenly and without any warning, your pussy engulfed him. You cried out once more, as something inside you was teared apart to allow him to finally be completely buried in your tight warmth. Your arms instantly closing around his neck for support. He almost came from this alone, the force with which you clenched around him from the pain you felt almost making him dizzy.

“What’s going on ?” You asked, panicking. “Why did that hurt so bad ?”

“Your pussy just swallowed my cock on its own accord. Because despite the pain, you want me to fuck you, right ?” You want to feel me inside you, want me to show you what real pleasure is.” He explained, breathless, doing his best to calm down before his ejaculation might end this all too soon. “Say it, tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you…” You told him, wincing when he started pulling away.

“And ?”

“I want to have an orgasm. I want to be fucked until you have one too.”

“Fuck.” He groaned, realizing that his plan to calm himself down by getting you to talk to him was failing miserably. He almost entirely pulled his cock out of you, only to shove it back inside slowly. As eager as he was for relief, he now wanted you to enjoy it too.

The more he gently slided back and forth inside you, the more your face eased back into a peaceful expression, the pain visibly fading as he tried his best to replace it with pleasure.

“Look how well you’re taking me now.” He told you, and you both looked down to his impressive cock, his length coated in your arousal and faint traces of blood as it went back and forth at a peacefully steady rythym. As tight as your entrance was, he still fitted inside you, managing to hit deep.

“Am I bleeding ?”

“Yes, but that’s normal, that’s how we know you’re no longer a virgin.” He explained, even if you probably knew that already.

“Is it going to be like this every time ?”

“No, now that I broke you in, you’re going to enjoy it when someone fucks you like this. You’ll be able to take it fast and rough with a little bit of practice.”

“Is this how you like it ? Fast and rough ?” You asked him, curious.

“Most people do.”

“Will you help me get used to it then ?”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replied, his hands gripping your thighs to bring them up against his hips and give him better access to you. His movements amplified as his rocked his hips more rapidly now and you pressed your forehead against his, still fascinated by the way you could see his hard cock disappearing inside your folds and slamming deep inside you.

You closed your eyes, feeling something powerful building inside of you. A loud sound that carried the whole intensity of the pleasure that he was giving you escaped your lips. Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth with your hand, embarassed.

“Don’t, I want to hear you.” He told you, moving your hand away and pinning your wrist to the table. “And I want everyone outside to hear you too. Let them know I’m the one taking your virginity.”

“But… Flavia.” You warned him, breathlessly.

“She said she was going to take a break, she’s probably at the cafeteria.” He replied, trying to reassure you but in reality, he had no idea of what the other nurse was up to. He knew that you were risking your career if you got caught by anyone in such a compromising position but it didn’t really matter to him, not now, because he was pretty sure that if anyone bursted inside the room in hopes to interrupted him, he’d still keep fucking you until you truly belonged to him. Now that he had started, nobody would be able to stop him.

You didn’t object. You couldn’t. He could tell from the way you arched your back and rolled your eyes that there wasn’t a single reasonable thought in your head anymore. You needed relief as badly as he needed it too and that was exactly what he intended to give you.

“Oh… It’s starting to feel really good.” You panted, your nails digging in his shoulder to steady yourself as his thrusts grew a bit more brutal.

“Good.” He groaned, making sure to slam himself as deeply as he could inside you. Damnit you felt too good, he wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself much longer, the tightness of your virgin pussy around him and the knowledge that he was the first one to ever penetrate you so deeply was too much and relief instantly washed over him as warm cum spilled from his cock into you.

Fuck.

“Oh !” You exclaimed in surprise, not because he had climaxed without giving you a warning but because his twitching cock unexpectedly pushed you over the edge too. You were shocked by the strength of the orgasm that hit you, imploding in your core like a firework and washing over your entire body, ensnaring him inside you in reaction.

You moaned again, the pressure around him caused by your own climax felt unbearable. He was trapped in you and the contractions of your body were so intense that he groaned and felt his cock shoot another load of his seed inside you.

A moment went by during which only the sound of your panting breaths filled the room. Then, you relaxed and he was able to pull himself out, both of you watching as his soaked length dropped out of you. He adjusted his uniform, making sure he was presentable again as you did the same, putting your white blouse back on as if nothing had happened.

“I… I’ll need to take care of that bite again tomorrow.” You told him, still a bit breathless as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” He promised, with a grin.

Everyone stared at him as he walked out of the office. He smugly smiled at the line of soldiers and stood straighter, feeling extremely proud of himself. Not only had he managed to fuck the new nurse everyone was after but he had also taken your virginity and marked you as his. Of course, the soldiers waiting in line had no way of knowing that your blood was still on his cock and that his cum was probably dripping down in your panties by now but, if they were observant enough, they might notice how you were leaning against the door for support because your body was sore, or the trace of faint lipstick you had left on the collar of his peacekeeper uniform.

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[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Tattered Cloaks

Part four of this pirate!au. You didn't really think your husband wouldn't track you down, did you? ~4.5k words

Quiet sobs start to fade to disbelieving giggles. It really was that easy. All of your husband's promises had vanished with just one careful plan and a few moments alone.

You were actually getting away. You actually managed to flee his presence without letting him catch you. It's all made worse at how painfully simple it was.

He had been nearly perfect in the market, everything you had missed in the years apart. He wanted to build you a garden, a home away from the sea. He saw a life with you.

But that doesn't change that he has a life without you. Something better, something bigger without you to drag him down.

The wagons continue none the wiser to your suffering. Hours of being trapped in your own thoughts eventually come to a halt, as dirt roads turn to stone once more. Voices pick up as the wagon comes to a stop, and the canvas parts to reveal the old caravan leader.

He offers you his hand, and you hope you don't look like you've been crying as you take it. He helps you down as you murmur shaky thank yous for his generosity.

"Ah, here, you'll probably want this," he says, gently releasing your hand to pull out a decent-sized coin purse. It's filled with enough coin to buy you food and lodging for a few nights, and a ticket to the next town.

You falter, eyes darting between him and the coins, "I– Oh. I can't take this. You've already helped me so much."

His expression softens as he takes your hand and places the purse in your grip, "You've had a long journey. Take it. I insist."

"But," You start as he pulls away, "I can't pay you back."

He shakes his head faintly, sympathy crossing his features, "The look on your face was clear enough, dear. I know the signs of someone running from something. Allow me to help, at least this much."

Your shoulders slump, his words make tears want to fall all over again, "Thank you."

He shoos you along kindly, "Just be careful. It's dangerous to travel alone."

You offer him a smile and he returns it before focusing back on his cargo. You slip into the crowd without another word, heartbreak is heavy, but the old man's words make your steps a bit lighter.

It doesn't take long for you to find another caravan, offering its services to Central City. It's an easy decision to make. This town is far too small to stay in, and far too close to Star Port. All it takes is a few coin from the merchant's purse, and you're seated and traveling to the next city.

You fidget with the hair pins in your pocket as your thoughts inevitably return to your husband, to Jason. Was he looking for you? Is he relieved that the burden of his past is gone?

It's irrational, but the feeling of being followed makes your skin prick, makes your head turn to check over your shoulder as the Central City gates approaches. There's never anything there.

The guards wave the caravan through without much inspection and you find yourself in a brand new city. It's strange, to be in a city with no port. There's no cries of gulls and no smell of the sea. It's nothing like Gotham, nothing Iike Star Port. It brings a sense of security.

You're quick to leave the other travelers as the wagons stop, and you're even quicker to weave through the crowd. You make your way from the fancy, wealthy district and towards the seedier, tavern lined streets.

It takes longer than you'd like, going through the inns and taverns to look for a job, to look for somewhere to stay. Eventually, you find a sign outside of a grimy looking Tavern called The Wildcat, looking for a barmaid or barman to apply inside. The pay doesn't look exceptional, but it does offer free room and board.

The old man at the empty bar doesn't even bother to look up when you walk in. "Excuse me," You ask, "are you still hiring for the bartender job?"

He doesn't spare you a glance, just focuses on the glass he's cleaning, "yer too soft."

"I– what?" You ask, taken back.

"Yer too soft," he repeats, finally looking up at you, "couldn't handle the types we get in here."

That makes you straighten out, "I can handle whatever drunks find their way in here." It's the truth. The long days spent searching for any information at Gotham's docks prepared you enough for that.

He looks you over, but something in his eyes changes as he studies you closer. He nods, like he found what he was looking for, "Yer room is upstairs. Last door. Your shift starts in an hour."

You blink, "I– okay."

"Don't cause any trouble," he mumbles grumpily and goes back to cleaning the same glass.

It takes you more shifts than you expect to learn the owner's name. He eventually grunts out 'Ted Grant' between showing you the best way to kick the taps to get them to work. Within a few short weeks, The Wildcat becomes something like a home.

Your coworkers, who only seem to come in when it suits them, joke with you and introduce you to the best parts of central city. Cissie King pulls you onto tables to dance and she shares stories of how she misses living by the sea too. She's your first friend that's completely yours in a long time.

Ted knocks more than one handsy patron on their ass for you, and there's a story to him you haven't quite been able to get him to open up about. He pats your shoulder the first time you hit someone yourself, and murmurs how you remind him of his niece.

It's almost perfect. It really would be, if it wasn't for the dreams. Dreams of your husband, the way he used to hold you, the sound of his laugh, the color of his hair, the warm touch of his hands. His promises echo in your head, that you're his, you'd always be his. That he's going to find you, no matter how long it takes.

It makes you snap awake, grabbing at your blankets and eyes darting frantically around your empty room. Your gaze always settles on the hair pins set on your vanity. The ones you can't seem to get rid of. The silver rose seems to glimmer when you look at it.

There's an ache in your heart during mornings like this, where a part of you so desperately misses your husband. You trace the petals of the rose. You never dared to wear it, never risked even the possibility of being recognized.

The day seems to pass in a strange haze, like the calm before a storm. Not even your weekly lunch with Cissie eases the edge in your body. Every stranger seems like a threat. By the time you've returned to The Wildcat for your shift, you're jumpy.

Ted notices and waves you off to deal with the kitchen, lazily grunting that he can handle the bar himself. It's a blessing in disguise that he does.

A red-headed man swaggers through the door, and drops down at the bar. For a second, your heart drops with the idea it's Roy– but, no. Ted huffs out, "Thought I banned you, West."

The man shrugs, a boyish smile on his face as he brushes off his dark long coat, "That was ages ago."

Ted grumbles something, but you don't hear the rest of the conversation. You just see the glint of guns at the strangers side and the way his eyes lock on yours through the serving window. It makes your skin prick and the feeling of danger set in.

Nothing in his face gives away anything, but a part of you feels that he knows. He knows who you are. He knows Jason.

"Hey. Eyes off my staff," Ted snaps, waving a hand at the stranger.

'West' smiles widely, "Don't worry so much, old man. I was just leaving. Give my best to Cissie," he drawls, making his way out the door. He shoots you a wink as it closes behind him.

Ted grumbles over how he didn't even buy anything, but you can't focus, overwhelmed by the feeling of how wrong that felt. It has to be impossible, whatever that was, it can't be connected to your husband.

It's what you tell yourself as your shift ends, as you turn restlessly over in your bed, as the day passes until the next night. It's what you keep repeating right until a hooded figure walks into The Wildcat.

It's busier tonight than normal, but it doesn't stop the man from walking through the crowd and sitting in front of you at the bar. You can't ignore the figure, even if you do delay serving them by talking with other customers. The sensation of walking into a trap curls in your gut when you finally speak to him.

You ignore your unease as you smile, professional and pleasant, "What can I get for you tonight?"

You can't make out their features, concealed by the shadows of their hood, but their cold, low tone sends chills down your spine, "Rum, if you will."

"Coming right up," You chirp with a sweet smile, quickly busying yourself with pouring their drink. You set the glass in front of them, "Can I get you anything else?"

"No," They answer evenly, gloved fingers curling around the smooth glass before downing the drink with a single swing.

You take the cue to return to your other customers, but the tension doesn't leave your shoulders. He's watching you, calm and collected as his fingers drum rhythmically on the hard surface of the bar.

The night continues like this, he denies any more liquor, and even the patrons who usually are unruly and flirtatious seem mellowed in his presence. It's unnerving, so much so you find yourself in front of him again, "Would you like to close your tab?"

He nods slightly and reaches under his cloak to pull out a pouch full of coins, dropping it to the bar.

You tilt your head, whatever amount is in there greatly exceeds the cost of a single rum, "It's only a few coppers."

He seems unbothered by this, leaning forward to speak in a gravely tone, "Keep it."

Your unease is visible now, like you can feel the walls closing in, "I couldn't possibly."

The hooded figure merely chuckles and it makes you jolt, the sound quiet, low and cold and all too familiar. Chills run down your spine as he speaks again, amused, "Don't protest on my account. It's a gift."

"A gift," You ask, strained. There's no way. It's impossible it's him. You'd been so careful.

"A gift," he echoes, and his voice has a strange tone, an implication there's more to the offer, "a gift for the pretty bartender."

You pick up the pouch reluctantly, "Is there an occasion for such a generous gift?"

His fingers resume their drumming, voice still low and amused, "Call it an appreciation for beauty."

You blink, then lower your tone to match his, "Does this gift have a price? Perhaps, sir, you'd like to know when my shift ends?"

His fingers still and he tenses at your coy tone, he murmurs, almost absentmindedly, "Perhaps I would, love."

You lie easily about when you'll be free. It surprises you sometimes, how easily you've come to lie.

The hooded figure hums, you tell yourself you're imagining the disappointment in his tone, "I shall be waiting for you then, darling."

"Outside," You ask, keeping the shake that threatens to make itself known in your voice at bay, "In the alley?"

He laughs softly and nods, "The rear of the tavern will do just fine, love."

"I look forward to it," You say happily. Another lie. You have no intention of being anywhere in this city by the end of the night.

"As do I," he drawls, and for a moment neither of you move. It's a standstill, and his complete attention focuses on you in a strange, familiar way.

You watch with bated breath as he finally rises from his seat and leaves the tavern. You don't relax, immediately mumbling to Ted that you think you're going to be sick.

He doesn't get an answer out before you're taking the stairs to your room two at a time. You tug your cloak on, throw whatever you can carry into a small bag, shove the hair pins into your pocket.

You scribble an apology for Ted and Cissie onto paper, chastising yourself for not leaving after the red-headed man stared you down yesterday. You dump out the hooded figures' coin purse, quickly counting out the coins.

You freeze when you see coins aren't the only thing in the bag. There's a ring. It's beautiful. So visibly expensive and so obviously something you would wear, it makes you sick. You leave the coins for Ted. You drop the ring into your pocket alongside the hair pins with shaking hands.

Your mind races with plans and the best routes to get out of Central City as you scramble down the stairs. You stop yourself just before you take the back exit. It's too obvious. It's where he'd be waiting.

You sneak into Ted's office, it's more of a closet with a window really, and push the glass open. You drop out the window quietly into the tiny garden, the only light to guide you coming from the tavern and the moon.

You make your way carefully to the adjacent stables, constantly checking for the hooded figure over your shoulder. The shadows of the night conceal most of the area, but there's enough light to see the horses stirring within.

You wake one of Ted's horses, a young mare you convinced him to buy to help pull a wagon. You murmur a soft apology to Ted, and hope the obscene number of coins you left make up for this.

You saddle the horse quickly, and pull your hood low over your head as you pull yourself onto the mares back.

It makes your heart race, as you guide the mare from the stable, how many hiding places there are. How easily Jason and his crew could be around any corner. You head for the city gates, and goosebumps rise on your skin every time you check behind you.

There's a heavy feeling in the air, the shadows seem to reach for you as you encourage your horse out the city and onto dirt roads. You have a terrifying thought that you're being tracked. It gnaws at your mind relentlessly.

You grip the reins tighter as you ride faster. You're so far from the ocean, you've been so careful, and as you get further from the city you start to convince yourself you overreacted. It must have been nothing, only a traveler interested in the poor and pretty bartender working in a cheap tavern.

The thought is comforting, it's what you convince yourself of as you guide your horse towards an inn along the road. The hour is late, and to continue traveling only risks thieves and highwaymen.

You stable your mare, and with one more glance over your shoulder, you enter the inn. It smells of food and ale and dirt, but it's clean enough. None of the patrons seem familiar, but you pull your hood lower nonetheless.

The staff member standing over the guest book looks friendly enough as you walk over, "May I get a room for the night?"

They nod, almost uninterested, "Would you prefer a single or double?"

"Single. I also have a horse in the stable," You supply, anxious to hide away in any room they give you.

"Very well. Four silvers for the night and one for the stable," they answer, "and your name?"

You hand them the coin and lie about your name. "I'll return with your key in a moment," they say, and disappear through a curtain.

You glance towards the door as you wait. It's unexplainable, but you half expect to see Jason barge in, sword drawn, just as he did at the ball so many moons ago. It takes longer than it should for the innkeeper to come back.

"Is everything alright," You ask when they finally hand you your key.

They pause, then smile, "Apologies for the delay. We've had quite the day here today. Everyone is tired and eager to rest."

"Oh," You prompt, "is that so?"

"Indeed. We had a group of rowdy sailors stay last night, and they only left this afternoon," they answer.

"Sailors," You say, a little strained, "we're somewhat far from the ocean, aren't we?"

They nod, "They were picking over a map, quite the strange bunch. They caused a few fights with the other guests. Their captain was quite a sight."

"Their captain," You breathe out airily, heart in your throat. Any mask of a simple, curious traveler is hard to maintain as the inn keeper talks.

"Yes, his presence demanded attention. Dark red hat, more scars than I've ever seen, unruly hair. He was very intense, even as his crew joked around him," They answer, "but he paid fairly."

"I see," You mumble, forcing a smile to your face as you place a gold coin on the desk, "I do enjoy my solitude so, and I would be very grateful if you discouraged anyone from the idea that I was ever here."

The innkeeper's expression visibly shifts, greed and interest sparking in their eyes, "Of course. Your generosity is welcomed. We pride ourselves in dissuading anyone who inquires over our guests."

You smile again and head to your room in a daze, any comforting thoughts of the hooded figure not being related to Jason disappear. You have the urge to get back on your horse and keep riding. But it'd be a sure way to get hurt or robbed if you did.

You have no choice, but to wait until dawn. You settle in for the night, on edge. Sleep doesn't come easy, and the rest you do have is plagued by the color of your husband's eyes and the sound of his voice.

You're out of your room at the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon. It's a habit now, to tug your hood low as you drop your key on the inn keepers book. You ignore the hunger in your stomach and head straight for the stable.

The reassuring sight of your horse doesn't make you stop short, but the hooded man holding her bridle does. Neither of you speak as he pets her with gloved hands.

He's clearly no stable worker and you cross your arms at the sight, an attempt to hide your nervousness. You weigh your options, before speaking, "You're touching my horse."

He turns his head slightly at the sound of your voice, "Aye. So that I am. She's a fine stead." His voice has a subtle edge to it, almost menacing. You don't miss how his hand clenches around the reins, firm and unwavering.

"Are you going to keep touching her," You ask, and for all your plans and escape attempts, you can't think of a way out of this.

"Why shouldn't I? Such a fine beast deserves some attention, don't you think." He would sound playful, almost nonchalant if it wasn't for the challenge in his voice, daring you to confront him.

You exhale softly, stepping forward, "As much as I'm sure she adores your attention, I have somewhere to be."

He makes no move to release his hold on your horse's bridle, and you can feel how his gaze roams over you. He shrugs, dismissive and his tone dips almost condescendingly, "Do you now? What a shame. I was just beginning to delight in our little conversation."

"What is there to delight in," You bite back, fed up with the arrogance he exudes.

He lets out a laugh, his grip tightening on the reins before releasing it completely. He drops his hand to the pommel of the sword slung on his hip. "Ah, there's the spark I've been hoping for," he muses, voice low and laced with humor, "You're not one to bow down easily, are you, treasure?"

You stiffen, and it's like jumping into a cold river in the early morning and a harsh punch to the gut. He called you treasure. There's only ever one person who's called you that. It's a chilling, unarguable fact that your husband has tracked you down with a relentless determination.

Your eyes dart, scrambling for a plan. He has a sword. He's too close to your horse. You'd be lucky if you outrun him. He likely paid off anyone in the tavern that would help.

He steps towards you, tension mounting, "What's the matter, love? You've gone so quiet."

"How?" You ask sharply.

He tuts, unimpressed, but his voice is laced with satisfaction, "Well it wasn't luck, treasure. Do you think I'd be foolish enough to rely on mere luck when it comes to matters as important as this? No, no, my love. I used every resource at my disposal. Connections, favors, whispered words in the right ears, all to find you"

You imagine he looks smug right now, that despite all your careful steps, he still found you, "Take off your hood," You bite out.

His demeanor changes, any playful mockery gone as his hand tightens on his sword, voice dripping with danger, "Why should I?"

"Why wouldn't you?" You retort, hands dropping to your sides. It's not a secret who either of you are anymore, even he hasn't said your name, and you haven't said his.

He stares at you, as if weighing the pros and cons of the action, "Very well, treasure." With a steady motion, he draws his hood back, revealing a cascade of dark hair framing his face, the sunlight illuminating his features, rugged and determined and familiar, Jason.

He looks harsher. It's only been a handful of months but something about him seems off. His gaze is more intense, shoulders more stiff.

You try to reconcile your memories of your smiling husband with the man in front of you as he sets his jaw, "You look different," You tell him.

There's suspicion in his eye when you drop your hood as well, but his gaze darts over you greedily. "It has felt like an eternity without you. The months where I couldn't find you..." his voice trails off as he studies you, "it shouldn't be surprising that I look different."

"It was nothing compared to when you were missing," You say flatly, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Your husband's gaze darkens, and pain and frustration etches themselves onto his features, "Perhaps that's true, treasure."

His voice grows bitter, but his longing is clear as he continues to speak, "Yet, every moment apart feels like a lifetime. This aching absence, the unbearable uncertainty, it haunts my soul day and night. Can you blame me for taking drastic measures to find you?"

"Drastic measures?" You ask, voice pitching with surprise.

Jason's face hardens, eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity, "I have left no stone unturned, no resource untapped. I've sent men to scour every corner, paid off every informant, and spared no expense."

He stares you down, voice resolute and unyielding, "So let me make one thing clear, treasure, I am not the same man I was before I lost you. I won't hesitate to use whatever means necessary to keep you by my side."

Your breath hitches, "I– your crew must hate me for that," You say softly. What you really mean to say is, 'you must hate me for that'.

His eyes soften as he registers your words and he closes the distance between you two, "Hate you? No. No one hates you, my love. You're a part of me. They understand that."

The way he says it sounds like a fact. You're not completely sure if it is. "Treasure," he continues, "my heart bleeds for you more than anything in this world."

"Then why was it so easy for me to leave?" You choke out the question that's been haunting you since that day in the market, hands curling in the fabric of your cloak.

Irritation flashes in his eyes, clearly you struck a nerve, "Easy? You underestimate your own cunning, love. I should have been more cautious that day, but don't mistake my momentary lapse of judgment as weakness on either of our parts."

You scoff and he steps forward to hook his finger under the clasp of your cloak, drawing you closer, "I was blinded by my own heart. You should know you've always had a way of making me lower my guard."

Your eyes widen. He's close. You can see the flecks in his eyes, the older scar lines on his face. Your voice is strained when you speak, "Why are you doing that?"

His brow furrows slightly, "Doing what? Talking to you?"

"Yes!" You lament, "that! Humoring me. What's your plan?"

"You want to know my plan," he drawls, dropping his hand from your cloak, "I'll tell you, my love. Allow me to make this perfectly clear, I'm pursuing you, humoring this conversation, leaving that ring for you," your fingers twitch towards the ring in your pocket unconsciously, a movement he devours eagerly.

He leans down, voice lowering as he continues, "because my plan is simple. I'm not letting you go again. I'm not allowing you to slip through my fingers and disappear into the ether."

His gaze is unwavering, studying your every reaction to his words, "What, no protest, treasure? No arguments?" He straightens back out, "Perhaps you recognize the futility of resistance by now."

"I don't know. I didn't really think I'd get away the first time," You admit quietly, his words swirling in your head.

A wry smile tugs after his lips, and pride over his ability to hunt you down and your own ability to get away slip into his expression. "Yes, it was rather an impressive feat, how long you managed to hide," he confesses, begrudging admiration in his voice, "But rest assured, my love, it won't happen again."

"Why couldn't you just let me go," You ask, pained. That should be what you really want, to free him and you of the endless waltz around each other. But a secret, small part of you is happy to see him.

He breathes out your name, voice longing and resigned, "Every fiber of my being screams for you. My heart and soul belong to you, they always have."

He says your name again, softly, gently. He grabs your arms, wrinkling the fabric of your cloak as he meets your eyes steadily, "I cannot let you go."

Part Five

[dontexpectmuch]

Jude with a mechanical engineering student, and she's working on f1 and is a good friend of the drivers and jude gets jealous and hard launches at a race? She works for redbull and is friends with the real Madrid guys, ty, God bless

jude is aware of how much attention he gets, no matter where he goes or whom he talks to. so many people shy away from talking to him due to all the eyes that were on him, yet he tries to stay positive and look at the bright side of the picture. as a rising star, it can be hard to meet someone that would willingly hide their relationship from the world, though when he got to know you, he felt like his prayers have had finally been answered.

it was the miami grand prix he had been invited to, ferrari have shown their interest about his appearance multiple times and when his other friends finally had the time to come along, he immediately went to the race and enjoyed his time there.

it was also the place where he met the cute engineering student that was walking out of the rivals garage, cute cap with the official team shirt on, baggy pants and a book in hand. he sneaked away from the group and followed you to the water fountain in the middle of the two garages, desperately trying to look cool yet uninterested.

so when you two fall into a conversation [slight argument] about the team and who would win the race, jude knew that he had to keep in touch with you, exactly what he did.

now, two years later, the two of you have been in a private and secret relationship, something both of you enjoyed at the beginning. the relationship blossomed quietly, only his most trusted friends knew about it, same with you. having an intelligent partner who works for one of the best sports team ever is something that jude is incredibly proud [and turned on] of, it’s like a match made in heaven. no one could disturb your little bubble of happiness and peace, and you would like to keep it that way as long as you can.

but these days, jude really wants to post about his relationship, just to mark his territory. just to let all of those sneaky, weird, [and attractive, fuck] drivers know that their ‘friend’ slash engineer was off the market.

especially now, when all you talk about is the garage and the people you work with.

“well, and then i told max to-“

you immediately stop talking when you hear jude let out an annoyed sigh, eyes wide as you look at your boyfriend.

the atmosphere around you is quite comfortable, you’d say, or at least it is to you. it has been quite some since you were able to sit down and have a nice, home cooked meal together. normally your schedules clash during the week, and weekends were spent outside the house, exploring new places and trying new things.

and normally, jude would love to hear you talk about your week, about the new stuff you learned that he definitely did not understand, but the sparkle inside your eyes made it all worth it. he didn’t know why he is so annoyed about you talking about the person you literally work with, more likely work for, but just hearing the name drop from your lips makes him want to go and shoot a ball at all of their heads.

“uh, you okay, my love?” your concern for him makes jude melt, and he wishes that he could just ignore this negative feeling growing inside of him, yet he simply can’t.

he shrugs, corners if his lips turning slightly down, “don’t know, why don’t you ask your little friend max. that’s what you always do, right?”

he knew that this was the moment he royally fucked up, no turning back now.

when you frown and look at him with those confused eyes, jude gets even more worked up than he should.

as if you don’t know what he is talking about.

“i beg your pardon, jude?”

you called him ‘jude’, meaning you were also getting worked up about the situation, well, his behavior.

he scoffs again, getting up from the table to put his empty plate away.

it was delicious, he would say, but right now he just wants to be pissed about this whole situation [that he started].

you copy his movements, actually quite sad that your usual chat time after eating is interrupted by this petty argument.

“hey, ‘m talkin’ to you.” your confusion does not seem to go away, no matter how you try to look at the situation. jude simply takes your plate from your hands and places it inside the dishwasher, before he dries his hands to continue the conversation [discussion].

“all ‘m sayin’ is that you love to be seen with your little racer buddies instead of with me.” he moves out of the kitchen back to the dining table to pick up the other dishes and the drinks.

“what the fuck?” is all you can say about his statement as you take the drinks from his hands to put them into the fridge, “what do you mean i ‘love to be seen’ with them? i work with those people and actually get along with them, just like you do with your teammates.”

the tension [not the hot one] between you rises by the second and jude is once again walking around the apartment, “that’s not the same.”

“the fuck you mean it’s not the same? it literally is?”

a few minutes ago jude would have [maybe, probably not] admitted that he might have gone too far with what he had said to you, but now seeing you getting so offensive about something that bothers him, he no longer feels like he should back off. instead he wants to win this, he wants you to understand that he is right and that you being seen with others could be, no it is, disrespectful to your relationship.

“you are my girlfriend, why would you want to be seen with other guys?!” raising his voice was something he rarely did whenever you guys argued. he preferred to keep calm in order to avoid hurting you in any way. but right now, his voice was getting louder with each argument he made, heating up the whole conversation even more.

you genuinely did not understand why he would come up with this argument all of a sudden, it is not the first time that you are seen at max’ side at races or maybe even next to others. you had a healthy relationship with most drivers and pleasant conversations with them in between races and breaks. everyone knew that you are the intern who will soon work for the redbull racing team, and jude actually was the one to be the proudest of you. it is literally how and where you guys met.

“the reason why i am seen with them is because, one; i work with them. we have to talk a lot because of the development of the car and i still have to learn a lot from the other engineers. two, i get along with them, you know, like normal co workers do, because, fuck, why not? you know all of this.” you feel your throat straining with how much and how loud you are talking, but the rage inside of you somehow numbs the pain.

“so people thinking that you are dating one of them also comes with the job, yeah?”

jude now stands tall in front if you, nostrils flared and eyes wide. he isn’t mad at you entirely, he knows it, but more like at the situation and the people that dare to pair you with someone that is not him.

but you cannot know that he isn’t mad at you, because in your eyes it seems like he is blaming you for the stuff the media puts into the news. your heart beats faster than ever and this whole situation makes your head spin.

“i don’t control what the media says? like, it’s not in my hands? to them i am a single woman who is successfully working for a motorsport team, rumors are bound to happen?”

“well, there is always some truth behind rumors, right?”

something inside you snapped, “what about you, huh?!”

jude almost flinched when you suddenly raised your voice at him, a sight he has never seen before.

“you also get paired up with a new woman every fucking day, jude. do you see me complain about it? no! because i trust you.” right now, you really wished to cry. was it that hard to understand?

the comfortable atmosphere from a few minutes ago vanished entirely, coldness and a bitter feeling on your tongue seem to have replaced it. during the two years you and jude havr spent together, you never had such an argument to this extent.

“but i am never pictured next to those people! i never even talked to them ever in my life!”

suddenly still, your eyes widened, mouth dry as you speak up, “are you accusing me of cheating on you?”

silent.

jude looks at you with his mouth open, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

“no, never…” the stark contrast between your voices now compared to just a second ago is almost cinematic, as if you had practiced this scene multiple times already. silently looking at one another, eyes dancing around the others faces in order to understand what just had happened.

“do you also think that way when i talk to aurelien and eduardo?” your voice breaks as you speak up, a defeated feeling replaces the rage inside, “do you actually think like this of me?”

judes shoulders sack down as he listens to you speak, this is absolutely not something he ever thought of, nor would he ever dare to accuse you of such thing.

he wants to speak up, yet you quickly cut him off, “just for your information, to the media and the rest to the world, we both are single individuals who don’t even know each other. and all the guys on the grid know that i am a taken person, they would never do such thing.”

you scoff as you shake your head, turning around to go to the front door.

jude panics as he watches your fast steps, immediately following you, “what- uh, where are you going?”

you quickly put on your shoes and put your bag on your shoulders, not in the mood to continue any of this, “wanna go home.”

“but this is home-“

your head snaps to his direction, eyes cold, “apparently not. at least not now.”

jude closes his hand around your wirst, not wanting you to go away when the situation between you is so heated.

“let’s find a solution, babe, c’mon.” he begs, voice husky and desperate. he did not know that it would escalate like this, but now he regrets to even bring up this topic.

you sigh, all of this arguing took a toll on you and now you want to do nothing more but lay in your bed and not to think of anything anymore.

inhaling deeply, you look at jude, his big brown eyes never left yours anyway, and he truly does look like he wants to fix this, which you do too.

“listen,” you begin, taking one last deep breath, “you cannot accuse me of such thing and then expect me to do nothing about it-“

“i don’t want you to do anything, just, let’s stop arguing.”

scoffing, you tighten the grip on your bag, “you started all if this because apparently, you do not trust me, jude.”

“it’s babe-“

“it’s jude right now, don’t test me.” you threaten him, not in the mood for his little jokes.

shaking your head, an almost mocking laugh leaves your lips, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret. you, by the way, wanted to do it this way the most. i would have launched our relationship ages ago, because i trust you and i trust our bond. y’know, communicating and stuff.”

judes voice cracks slightly as he speaks up, deep sigh leaving his body as he tries to hold your hand, a sign that he is getting desperate, “i trust you, too, babe. ‘t’s just- i don’t know, like, rumors and shit and i don’t want you to have reporters on your neck at all times, y’know.”

you frown at his words, “but that does not explain why you literally sprung at me for mentioning max, or the others. when we first started dating, i already knew what would come along with being with you, and i would take it all, jude, everything.”

jude smiles at your words, now looking down at your hands, so you continue, “all those annoying rumors about me, people following me and what not, i genuinely will take it all, because i love you. not max, not lando nor charles or whomever you’re jealous of.”

“i ain’t jealous.” he rolls his eyes, slowly stepping closer to you.

“don’t lie to me, belli.” you smirk at him.

jude chuckles, his thumb dancing across your knuckles help you to be at ease.

“soo.”

“sooo?” you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue.

“do we just post a picture together? or like, do a sex tap-“

“shut it.” you pinch his waist, chuckling as he squirms away from your touch, “we will do a, hm, maybe a soft launch? yeah, something like that.”

jude groans, throwing his head back, “that takes way too long.”

“well,” you shrug, “ that’s what you get for literally yelling at me for doing my job.”

“and i’m sorry, love.” judes hand now caresses your cheek softly, head tilted down as his bog brown eyes apologetically look at yours, “next time, i will calmly ask you about something that bothers me, okay?”

“okay.” you smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“you have a race this weekend, no?”

“yeah, in belgium this time, why?”

“just because.”

-

“still trouble in paradise?” you hear landos [annoying] kind voice from behind you, making you draw your eyebrows together.

turning around, you tilt your head in question, “wait, how do you know?”

lando innocently smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders, “max and i are somewhat besties, y’know.”

“max.” you grumble, already planning on how to get your revenge from him.

“so? everything okay now?” lando questions again, this time in a slightly more serious manner than before.

“it’s always okay between us, just rocky at times.” you tell him, not stopping yourself from smiling when you think of your boyfriend.

lando nods his head at something behind you, “seems like goal-machine over there still wants to rip off my head, though.”

“goal-machine-?” you turn around and are immediately met with the sight of jude leaning against some tires in the garage.

he looks good, you must admit. sunglasses on too of his nose, oversized shirt with the first few buttons undone, night dress pants and matching shoes, a real snack.

a snack that should not be here, or well, a snack you did not know that would be here. so, you bid your goodbyes to lando and walk closer to jude, coming to halt a fee steps in front of him.

“eh, hi?” you greet him, confused but happy.

he smiles down at you, taking off his glasses to get a better look at you, “hey there, sexy lady.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms in front of your chest, “not now, i am working, y’know.”

“chatting it up with little lad over there is quite some work, huh?” jude points at lando with his head, who still, you don’t know why, is standing inside the redbull garage, subtly [nit really] glancing at your direction every now and then.

“lando just likes to annoy me, nothing more.” you explain, smiling as you watch jude stand up straight.

“well, let’s annoy him back.” he smirks down at you.

“how-“

jude cuts you off by placing his soft lips on top of yours as his muscular arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. at first you feel like resisting, but the more he deepened the kiss, the more you could not get enough of it. tilting your head to gain better control, you feel up his chest before you place your hands at the back of his next, enjoying this public display of affection more than ever. maybe because it is the first time you’ve ever done something like this in a place like the garage-

you immediately push jude away, eyes wide open, “jude! there are cameras everywhere!”

he just smiles down at you, that little tease, before taking your hand into his, “you wanted to go public anyway.”

“i wanted a soft launch, though! i always wanted to soft launch a relationship.” you whine, moving closer to out your forehead against his chest in defeat.

“you can still soft launch it, love.”

you shake your head, still against his chest while you feel his hand move up and down your back, “no, let me grieve in peace, please.”

“love you too, babe.”

“shut it, you ruined my dreams.”

“you’re welcome.”

———————————————————————

enjoy 🥰

[porcelian]

OFFERED TENDERNESS

Summary: In which you and Jason appreciate eachothers trust in different little ways.

Warnings: fluff, because of course its fluff, idiots in love, nothing worth mentioning as a real warning.

Notes: if you know where the songs are from i love you ^⁠_⁠_⁠_⁠^ i should watch bride and prejudice again lol. My favourite pride and prejudice movie (probably because i haven't watched the other ones yet.. :⁠,⁠-⁠))

Word count: 1k.

Masterlist. Navigation.

The soft rays of the sun felt light on his skin, waking Jason from his slumber. His eyes blearily opened and tried to adjust to the light streaming into the room from the parted curtains. He yawned before turning to your side of the bed.

You always took the side closer to the window, enjoying the view before drifting off to sleep. Jason, on the other hand, slept closer to the door. He insisted it was more practical in a dangerous situation. He also preferred fewer blankets, claiming it was easier to pull off of himself.

Jason expected this to be like any other lazy morning. He usually woke up earlier than you. He would turn to your side, wrap his arms around you, and pull you closer. You'd be cocooned in warm blankets, running hot.

Jason sought you out for warmth whenever he got cold. You’d open your arms, and both of you would curl up together. You’d spend a moment in each other’s embrace, talking, making lame jokes, and then start the day.

He thought this day would be the same, accustomed to the routine. So, when his arm reached over to your side and found it empty, he panicked. He shuffled out of bed, looking around the room. You weren’t in the bedroom. You weren’t in the bathroom, brushing your teeth (with kids’ toothpaste, as he noted you liked the watermelon-scented one).

It was when he entered the hallway outside of your shared bedroom that he heard you. It was like sweet music to his ears. You were singing along to some song (horribly, yes, but still).

He peeked his head in and saw you organizing groceries in the kitchen. Almost on instinct, he moved forward and wordlessly wrapped his arms around you.

“Where were you?” He tried to mask the concern lacing his words.

You didn’t lose a second before soothing him, “Oh, I’m so sorry, honeybee. We needed groceries, and I thought I would drop by the market quickly.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” He reassured you. You were alright, and that’s all that mattered to him.

“Ya’ know, I’m pretty tired today. Wanna get take-out?” You turned to face him, running your hands through his hair, slowly caressing and massaging.

He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You smell really good, baby.”

You started to laugh because it tickled. Jason didn’t relent, almost as if he was burning the sight of you into his mind. The smile in your eyes, the sound of your laughter.

If he could capture the sound of your laughs, the look you get when you're relaxed and comfortable, and keep it in a bottle forever, he would.

Jason couldn’t exactly do that, so he made do with his many attempts to make you smile.

“Answer my question, sunshine.”

He couldn’t help but smile at your nicknames. Never did he ever think he’d be called something sweet by someone. In your eyes, he’s sweet like honey and warm like sunshine.

Jason had never said it, but your affections made him feel like a boy again. He didn’t need to say it. You knew it, though. You cherished every moment you saw his eyes light up just a little bit when you did so.

You thanked him every time in your mind for trusting you with this piece of him.

*****

It was your and Jason’s weekly movie night, one of the rare nights you had him to yourself. Of course, you put all of your effort into making the experience comfortable and enjoyable for Jason.

The smell and sound of popcorn and soda bottles opening filled the kitchen and the living room. Hearing the opening intro of the movie, you yelled out for Jason.

“Wait! Pause it!” You sped through the apartment, almost running into the couch on which Jason was currently curled up. “Don’t start without me.” You gave him a fake pout.

He dramatically rolled his eyes. “I would never, baby.” He placed his hand on his heart, offended you would even suggest he would do this.

“Okay, okay. Start it.” You smiled. “Do not skip the songs! ‘No Life Without Wife’ and ‘Take Me To Love’ are masterpieces we cannot skip.” You emphasized the last few words.

Your dedication to the night made Jason feel something warm inside his heart, spreading through his entire body. He stared at you, taking in every detail. Not like he hadn’t already, but at this point, it had become something he did without even noticing.

You did notice, though. You could feel his blue-green eyes on you. The feeling made you feel fuzzy all over. You turned and stared back at him, the movie all but forgotten at the moment.

“Take a picture, Jay. It will last longer.” He chuckled at the smug grin on your face, finally looking back at the movie.

“We better start watching it, or we’ll end up like last time.”

“Uh-huh, I’m not falling asleep again! Don’t know about you, mister.”

“If anyone’s going to fall asleep, it’s you.”

Both of you continued this little game for a few moments before you moved closer to him.

“Is this okay?” You asked.

“Yes, it’s okay. Thank you.” He muttered the last words quietly.

You cuddled closer to him, slowly grabbing one of his arms and intertwining your fingers. It was a habit of yours, he thought. You always did it without fail. Jason was thankful for it. He thought it grounded him. A warm, peaceful feeling spread through his body as your hand touched his.

He thanked you every time in his mind for trusting him with this piece of you.

(Unfortunately, neither of you finished the movie that day. Both of you had fallen asleep. But in your mind, that wasn’t a loss at all. You were together, and that’s all that mattered to you.)

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[obsessedwrhys]

Hi!!! could you make a headcanon of valen with fem merlin please? I've been searching and there's almost nothing ;; thank you also for making the headcanons of other characters ♡

|| VALEN DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᯓ★ just lots of fluff, reader is fem!! (I'm glad you like my other work ☺)

Despite his good looks and the rumours told by the villagers, he's actually inexperienced with love. He's constantly busy with his duties so he never really felt it was necessary to be in a relationship.

That was when he met you and oh boy did he fall head over heels for you HARD.

At first he didn't think much of it and simply just saw it as a task by Hogan to protect you, but the more you guys spent time together, the more he enjoys being by your side.

He was in denial the moment he realised he had developed feelings for you but he also couldn't deny what his heart wanted. So eventually he just chose to go with the flow.

His behaviour wouldn't change drastically but he does seem to develop a few traits when he came to the conclusion that he had a crush on you.

His eyes would linger on you longer when the group discusses on a topic, his brows relaxed as he's giving you the heart eyes.

And how he was always the first person to check up on you after every battles, making sure you weren't hurt anywhere.

He would also notice little details about you. How you seem to rub your arms when you're awkward or play with your hair when you're bored.

There was this one time he noticed you shivering a bit on the cold night so he offered you his cloak/cape, you thanked him which made his heart swoon but his face hid it with a simple smile.

When your group made it back to Holistone after your eventful journey, he was quick to treat everyone with drinks. It was there where he confessed to you.

Scenario ↴

Everyone had left to chat with their friends and he found you drinking alone at your table. With the opportunity in his hand, he slide into the empty seat beside you.

"You're alone, where are your chipmunk friends?" He'd ask with his arm rested on the chair and the other on the table.

"They left to check out the market" You'd say with both your hands wrapped around your glass.

He eyes your face for a while as he tries to think of the right words to say. He gulps but tried to cover it up by pretending to clear his throat.

"I uh—"

"Your face is red"

"Huh?" His eyes widened, but when he realised there was no way out, he ended up relaxing his face with a defeated sigh.

"I guess nothing bypasses the magister. Not even a knight's feelings..." He'd smile warmly at you when it was your turn to be flustered.

The second you guys started dating, it was huge news to the villagers. They were curious how you managed to catch his eye when all of the women have been trying their hardest to get his acknowledgement.

Some even made up rumours that you might have used a love spell on him.

Throughout the relationship, Valen would definitely be affectionate. Expect lots of flirting and corny jokes.

"You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pickup line"

"Valen go to sleep..."

He's also very open with PDA, nothing too extreme though, just simple things like holding hands and kisses on the cheek or forehead. He just loves to see you smile.

I have a feeling that since you two are dating, it would be easier for Valen to figure out you were Merlin. He wouldn't be mad that you hid it from him but rather he understood your reasons for it. Also, he wouldn't say anything about it until your secret was revealed by Mirael.

He'd just stand there with his hand on the handle of his sword, completely unfazed because what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't know that first??

Once your secret was out, expect him to ask lots of questions about your magic.

Like can you give a cat wings?

How does it work?

Could you make him 1 inch taller?

The first time he saw you use your magic outside of battles was when you used it to tie your hair. It baffled him but he had to admit it was fun to watch.

Thats why he would always stare at you all excited whenever you used your magic to do simple tasks. His excuse for his behaviour being "How can I not watch when you look so effortlessly gorgeous 😚"

His petname for you is Dove and this is a headcanon I will defend with all my heart.

He picked the name because he always found doves romantic, the name was easily decided the second you brought love into his life.

I just have a feeling his kisses are playful most of the time but when he's really serious, it'd be the most breathtaking kisses you could ever experience. His hand will always find its place behind your back when you two share the moment.

He definitely adores it when you kiss him too, especially on his cheek where his scar is. He also likes it when you trace your fingers across it because it always help him relax. Your gentle touch soothing his soul from a bad memory.

One more thing. He becomes more protective over you. Not in a bad way though, he knows you can defend yourself with your magic but that doesn't mean he's not gonna try to protect you from the enemy.

He doesn't care if the person is bigger or stronger than him, he'll still draw his sword.

After every fight, you'd always tend to his wounds and even through your complaints at his recklessness, he'd still look at you with genuine love in his gaze.

"You're such an idiot"

"A charming one right?"

He shows you off A LOT. I'm talking like crazy lot. Every conversation he shared with anyone, he's always gonna talk about you several times. It drives Hogan crazy, don't get me wrong, he's happy for you two but he can't seem to get his lovesick head to function.

I make him sound like he's crazy about you (which he kinda is) but it's just he's really proud of you. He's so very supportive of you!! He might even have Chippy and Hammie beat at being your number one fan.

Like hello??? My girlfriend is saving the world here 🙄

Of course, he's a very understanding person. If there's anything you're uncomfortable with, just talk it out with him and he'll make sure it won't happen again.

Now for dates. He likes to take you to the most prettiest spot of Holistone or any places he knows. You guys would just spend time chit chatting or cuddling.

Your personal favourite was when he had managed to plan a picnic for you two on a hill, it was adorable watching him cut the food into smaller slices and then feeding you, it was his way of giving you the princess treatment.

Well he is a knight and it is his duty.

Since he's very affectionate, he can also be a tease. He likes teasing the height difference between you two. He finds it adorable.

"You're so small. Are you sure you're as the myth foretold? The mighty merlin? So cute..." He'd stroke your hair with a smile.

I feel like he'd teach you some skills to defend yourself just in case. He knows your magic is powerful but he's not gonna risk it, not when it comes to you.

The lessons would mostly be basic hand-to-hand combat. There was this one time you managed to beat him in a friendly duel and even though he was going easy on you, he was still proud of you regardless so he showered you with compliments.

Another thing I'd like to add is that he secretly write poems dedicated to you. He's too embarrassed to share them with you so if you ever found out, he thinks he'll actually dig a hole and bury himself alive. He'll only share ONE poem with you once he finishes rereading it for the 19373th time and making sure it's good.

By the way, this man can get jealous. He doesn't like seeing Lorsan get too close to you. Half of the times he'd actually cross his arms without even realising when watching you two talk. You always laugh at his behaviour which he does not appreciate.

"What are you laughing at? I don't see anything funny about it..."

Also did I mention how he smells like white musk?? You know like those scents that you smell and you just feel so in love??? Yeah that.

Honestly... 100/10 BOYFRIEND!!

[deadsetromance]

literally anything with gerard way please im begging

FORGET ME

not my gif!

gerard way x gn!reader

summary:  you can’t tell if you’re unwelcome in the band, or if you’re reading too much into things. maybe it would be best if you just left…

warnings: angst! , language, non edited writing. a happy ending if you read between the lines.

note:  thank you for the request!!! i hope you enjoy ! i’ve seen several ideas like this and i finally thought i’d try my hand with a band scenario :)

you wished things were simpler.

you wished gerard wouldn’t toy with your feelings the way he did. you wished there was more to it all then holding hands in the darker corners of the backstage lots. you wished you could show more than shy glances and quiet whispers when you were wrapped together in hotel beds. you wished you actually knew what you had with him.

you wished he wasn’t the lead singer and that you weren’t just the drummer.

for once, you wanted to be selfish…to put your foot down and scream, and say that it wasn’t fair. you wanted to be able to have it your own way, to finally be able to breathe.

but you were never really good at sticking up for yourself.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you never particularly liked the way you looked in magazines. maybe it was the poses, or the fake blood, or…. it didn’t matter though, you promised your mother you’d send her one. you did it with every magazine you’d find in convince stores, you’d write her a note and have the guys sign it for you before you posted it off to her. 

the issue you were flipping through boasted an “exclusive” interview with the members of my chemical romance on page thirteen, and you smiled thinly. at least the pictures they used were nice. 

the man at the register cleared his throat, and you looked up. “you gonna pay for that?” you looked around, to find the store empty. he gestured at you again, and you quickly walked up to the counter, pulling out your wallet. your shoes squeaked against the linoleum.

you stood awkwardly as he rang you up. was he looking at you funny, or were you just imagining it? you didn’t speak much as you paid, handing over a five dollar bill. you would have bought a pack of cigarettes too, but frank had borrowed money from you, and all you had was whatever change you got from the five. 

you banged your elbow on the way out of the market. it was colder outside compared to the store, perhaps because of the morning rain. hopefully they had the heater on in the bus.

if only the bus had been in the parking lot.  

like the inside of the store, the parking lot was empty. they had left you behind. again.

you used the payphone behind the gas station to call gerard. when he didn’t answer, you called frank, then mikey, then ray. no one answered. you should have expected it, really. 

you had no money for a taxi. it seemed as if you had no choice but to walk to the hotel, though you didn’t know where that was. you walked away from the store, guessing which direction the bus went. it was a shot in the dark, and all you could do was hope that it wouldn’t start raining as you walked.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

the cuffs of your jeans were soaked by the time you made it to the hotel. it was late, and the hotel staff looked mildly worried at your arrival.

they told you that the others had arrived earlier, and already settled into the room. they had headed out to a restaurant without a care as to where you were. 

you had your pick of bed, though your choice was limited to one or the other.it was a sort of roulette to see who you would be sharing with. you’d go to bed angry tonight, bitter, and fall asleep long before they came back from dinner. 

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

 you had a headache. the lights in the interview room seemed too bright, and the arm of the sofa wasn’t very comfortable. gerard woke you up earlier than you would have liked. it was fine though… you just had to finish the interview first and then you could sleep on the bus. you tried not to think about the morning, when you had woken up curled into gerard. maybe you should have slept on the couch, saved yourself the trouble of whatever inner turmoil you had going on. 

you didn’t speak much, with most of the questions being directed to gerard and frank. not that you minded, because the interview would go by faster that way. 

the journalist was a guy you knew from kerrang! you couldn’t remember where you met him though…maybe at a gig or…

“i hate to make you pick favorites, but for this next question you’re gonna have to.” now you remembered. he did a one-on-one a few months ago, backstage before a festival. “let’s start with gerard.” 

you didn’t really want to answer the question, so you listened instead. you’d make something up when it was your turn, and hopefully you were last to answer. 

“well, thats hard… i mean i love all the guys, and mikey’s my brother, and frank and ray are so talented…i dunno” gerard laughed, sliding down the couch. 

frank looked like he was about vibrate out of his seat as he beamed at the camera. “well, ray is just an amazing artist and he get’s so fuckin’ into what he does.”“i mean i, guess he’s my favorite, because i’ve just learned so much from him, really.” 

ray was next. “well i mean i get along with them all, but i think i’d have to say gerard, just because i’ve known him for the longest.” 

you wanted to yell at the interviewer for asking the question. you felt like you were going to puke as you waited for mikey to think about it. “uh…i don’t… i mean maybe my brother gerard?” 

you pretended not to care that you hadn’t been mentioned once. was it because you were a drummer? because you hadn’t been with them since the start? because you were replaceable? 

“y/n? what about you?” you’d pretend their answers didn’t hurt, and so you smiled just as bright as before. you just had to get through this interview and then you could take a nap on the bus. 

“i don’t really think that’s a fair question,” you just had to answer a few more questions and then you could get back on the bus. “y’know i don’t really think i have a favorite. well, i mean…can’t i say that they’re all my favorites? guess i love them all the same.” hopefully they wouldn’t ask you to elaborate, because you didn’t know if you could.

you felt like it was too quiet when you finished talking. maybe it was shame…maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and picked someone.

the interview felt like it dragged on after. you tried to stay on your best behavior, but as every minute passed by you felt the life drain out of you. 

the interviewer didn’t notice the way your smile dropped every time you were ignored, or spoken over. he didn’t notice, but the fans watching the interview would. 

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you felt drained. interviews always made you stressed, and added onto the poor nights sleep you had last night, you felt awful. 

the interview went terribly, so you smoked by the dumpster behind the building. hopefully you could forget about everything.

 frank had been talking to one of the producers, but they should have wrapped everything up by now. you put out your cigarette and headed back to the bus.

you would have been worried about keeping everyone waiting, but it was clear that you hadn’t. they had left without you. again.

never in your life had you felt so small. you wanted to scream, or, cry, or do something. you didn’t. it was instinctual, the phone number you dialed was second nature. 

your voice was calm as you told gerard to turn the bus around. you didn’t care to hear his explanation, if he gave one at all. you waited for them to come back and pick you up.

you didn’t understand how they forgot about you again, and again, and again. fuck, this time you had been sitting right next to them for nearly an hour. yet you were gone for less then five minutes, and they had forgotten about you. 

you didn’t understand how gerard could be so sweet to you, only to act like you didn’t exist. he was gentle when he woke you up, when you found yourself wrapped in his arms. so why did he forget about you so often? why did he ignore you, and speak over you? he made everything so much harder.

the bus pulled into the parking lot before you could think about anything too deeply.

you ignored them and their pleas and apologies. you didn’t care, and you were far too tired to put up with their bullshit. 

frank followed you to your bunk, but you pushed him away, pretending to read the magazine on your bed. it took time, but in the end he got the hint and left you alone. 

irony was bitter on your tongue when you looked at the page you had opened to. it was the magazine you bought from the convenience store the day before, opened to your interview.

you could hear a whispered conversation coming from the front of the bus, and you grit your teeth. still, your eyes scanned over the print, intrigued, because you couldn’t remember that particular interview for the life of you.

“…oh yeah, touring with my chem is just an amazing experience! i mean i’ve only been with them for a year maybe? it’s just great. i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

sure touring has its ups and downs, but i love it. okay…so i’ve been left behind a rest stops a few times, and it does get hard, but i have so much respect for the guys. 

you can tell they love what they do, and i love being a part of not only the creative process, but just…being able to do what i do?! its awesome!! the fans are amazing, and i wouldn’t be where i am without them, seriously! 

really i wouldn’t want to be doing this with any other band.”

you wished you hadn’t read it. you looked so happy in the picture they printed, smiling and crammed into the group photo. what happened?

a part of you wished you never joined the band. it was nothing but heartache, just like what you felt now. you were angry, and so tired, and above all confused. 

your picture beamed up at you from the page, and you felt nothing but white-hot anger. with a scream, you hurled the magazine out from your bunk, not caring where it landed. 

it wasn’t until your breathing became uneven that you realized you were crying. the conversation in the front of the bus stilled, and you heard worried footsteps. 

while you couldn’t stop your crying, you still rolled over, and did your best to pretend you didn’t notice them. someone was standing outside your bunk…you could feel it. but you ignored them, and cried yourself to sleep.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you wanted to pretend yesterday had been a bad dream. the magazine sitting on the table, opened to page thirteen, let you know that it wasn’t.

the second you crawled out of your bunk and to the dining area everyone’s head snapped up. you hated it.

you didn’t know what to say or where to look. so you looked at the cup of coffee on the table. you knew it was meant for you, the mug was your favorite, and whoever had prepared it made it just the way you liked your coffee. you wanted to cry.

the “i quit,” spilled out of your lips before you could stop yourself. you were met with protests, and apologies, and pleads, but you didn’t listen. “i hope you can find a drummer, because i’m done here.” 

deep down some twisted part of you enjoyed their reactions.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you had started to pack your shit and call in a few favors. your apartment seemed so empty when you thought of it, so you’d couch surf for a while. 

no one had talked to you since you ‘quit’. not that you minded entirely…it made things easier. thursday’s show would be your last with the band you decided. you refused to let them treat you the way they did, refused to listen to any of their reasoning. maybe you were jumping the gun...but you didn’t care. right?

the air was crisp, and you could near see your breath when you stepped out to stretch your legs. it felt too early to be at a rest stop, the sun barely peeking above the horizon. you leaned against the bus as you smoked, a habit you’d come upon after being left behind more often than not. 

it wouldn’t really matter if they had left without you this time, you were already on your way out.

it was strange, the way that you could pick gerards footsteps from the rest of the guys. you could tell it was him coming down the steps before you even caught sight of him. 

“hey.” he sounded shy…and it all felt so unnatural. you almost felt bad. “i just wanted to say that we- i’m sorry.” 

“okay.” couldn’t he see that the apology had come too late? you wouldn’t lie…wouldn’t say it was okay and then act like you were one big happy family again. 

“you have every right to leave. we’ve treated you like shit.” it was all starting to sink in. it all seemed so final…so foreign. you were leaving and that was it. this whole time you hadn’t even stopped to think…jumping at chances before you even weighed your options. 

“why?”

“i don’t know. and i know i can’t speak for the others. it’s just weird…being on tour. it takes its toll y’know? and i just get in my head. some days i feel like i’m still asleep. but that doesn’t make it okay.”

“i know.” listening to him bear his soul like that was hard, but he still left you feeling like you were buried in questions. “leaving me behind and all that wouldn’t have hurt so much. but i never knew where we stood. what we were…” he took a sharp breath, and you flicked the ash of your cigarette away. “keeping it a secret–hiding in dark corners and trying not to get caught–that’s what hurt the most.”

“i really do care about you. i know i didn’t do the best job at showing it and… fuck i was keeping you at arms length.” his shoulder brushed against yours and for a moment the both of you fell into tired silence. “you can hate me, but i’m putting it all out on the table. i really really like you. and i want to fix this. i don’t want to lose you.” maybe you were stupid for loving him, even though he left you behind at rest stops and hurt your feelings so often. but your chest squeezed, and for once you stopped to think for a moment. 

is this really what you wanted? cutting it all short so abruptly like this? a part of you mourned what you knew would never come to be. but somewhere inside you…this little coil of something you couldn’t understand slithered around. you were moving so fast, and you didn’t want to let go. 

you knew what you were going to do.

“we can start over. make it real…if you want.” you couldn’t seem to help but squeeze back when his hand found yours. “we’ll keep in touch okay? i’ll sit the rest of this tour out…take a breather. and then we’ll see how it goes from there.” 

you talked well until the sun came up…about the new drummer replacing you—tucker—,about plans for the future, about stupid mistakes, and whatever else you could think about. they would go on with the tour and do good and play music. you knew that.

 he wished you luck, and you kissed him. it felt like a goodbye and new beginnings all in one.

 you wouldn’t take back your resignation…you wouldn’t forgive, at least not for now. but you would look at things a little differently now.

 you’d climb back into the bus, the guilt that had been bubbling in your stomach dying down a little. you would play your last show, and then climb into a taxi and head back the way you came. this time…with four less people.

[xuchiya]

"beach kind of sex" || drabble || choi san

summer started so does the heat, you plan to stay inside the apartment, AC on and a book in hand but your kitty husband thought of something else. you find it a little out of his personality as san never really initiates to go outside, unless he needs to go to the gym.

but seeing as he is doing his best to do things outside his zone, you were up for it.

"i'm excited to go surfing! imagine the big waves coming!" you chuckle adjusting the sun hat on your head as you both walk towards the beach. even with the summer season had been halfway, you found almost finger-count people you see on the beach.

looking around, "this is the first time the beach isn't crowded." san nodded, even he finds it unusual for the beach to be less crowded. he runs towards an empty space cand settled all of your stuffs down.

umbrella up, beach towel already layed down and your drinks ready. you chuckle, it had already been like this since the beginning of your relationship. san, being the ever gentle doberman he is, always look after you, noticing the smallest things about you.

"thank you sweetheart." you gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek as you settle on your beach towel, pulling out your sunglasses; placing sunblock on your arms, legs excluding your back since you can't reach it until san offered.

"here... let me help." you smile at him, handing him the bottle as you lay on your stomach, leaning on your forearms. san, squeezing a good amount of sunblock on his hand, he place his large hands on your lower back and spread them around. the strings of your bikini were on the way, with a single pull, it came undone and took the chance to run them up on your upper back.

he had good hands, massaging some part of your back made you moan in satisfaction. san heard the small noise you heard, making his ears red. he may be your husband, but he is an animal in bed. he would be pinning you down on the mattress, drilling his reddening cock inside your pussy then painting them white after wards.

with his thoughts running wild, he could feel his cock hardening underneath his swim trunks. with few more moves of his hands on your back, he pulled away.

he cleared his throat, "i-i'll go ahead and surf. the waves are good now." before you could reply, san took his board and run towards the waves.

you shake your head, an amused smile on your lips. you knew about the situation he is, and it somehow still amaze you how gentle (not so gentle) he is that he waits for you to open up to him or give him a green signal if he can touch you.

after hours of him being on the water and multiple time he was thrown off of his board, san decided to eat his lunch that you both prepare. as he place his board to the side, you gently ask san if he could adjust the umbrella towards the back as the sun currently were on your back.

as he adjust, you look up to see if the angle is good but you were only met with a tent on his swim trunks. you pursue your lips to the side, with a teasing smirk on your face, you look at him through your eyelash, "sannie~ were the waves too hard or were you?"'

you saw his cheeks flared, "no- no and i do not know what kind of question you came up with because it does not-- ah~" you palm him, feeling his cock stiff and hard. you chuckle, running up your hands even gripping it through his shorts, jerking him off before dropping your hand to your side.

san, the whole time, felt his legs jelly and he could feel himself cumming if you didn't stop. he has been sex deprive because you have been in and out of town for your company projects. with today's summer, you were given a 3 day off so you could relax and come up with a new strategy for your marketing company projects.

"please ... do something." he whisper. you knew about his deprive, and you knew about his kink in public sex.  you look around you before you stood up, with a lousy ribbon tie on your bikini bra, you toss it towards sna and with a swift pull of your bikini bottoms, you remove them before tossing them to his feet. your fingers running down your glistening pussy, "hurry before anyone sees."

[steddieas-shegoes]

i could listen all night

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is wanting to hear every detail of their day'

rated t | 803 words | cw: recreational drug use (weed) | tags: established relationship, stargazing, they're so in love

💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟

"And it's not even that I'm worried about failing the test!" Steve said as he leaned back against the wall of their too-small balcony. "I did a practice test yesterday and only missed one question. I just feel like it's too easy."

"I think you're just smarter than you give yourself credit for, Stevie," Eddie said as he exhaled smoke.

"I don't think that's it."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly.

They didn't love their apartment. It was on the third floor of a three story townhome that seemed to be a revolving door of large families who couldn't make rent after a couple of months. They'd get close to someone on the first floor and they'd be evicted two months later. They'd finally have a quiet neighbor below them only to find out it was an old man who was moved to a nursing home a month after moving in.

But they at least had this balcony that faced a parking lot of some business that was empty and closed by the time they needed to smoke.

And when Steve graduated, they could move closer to whatever school he ended up working at.

"What if I don't graduate?" Steve asked quietly, reaching out for the joint Eddie had just taken a third pull off of. "What if I'm doing all this for nothing?"

Eddie turned to Steve as much as he could, covered his hand in comfort. "If anyone knows what it's like not to graduate, it's me. And it's not the end of the world. It may feel like it at first, but just because you don't do it when you think you should doesn't mean you won't ever. You're smart and you work hard, sunshine, you're gonna graduate."

"You have to say that. You're my boyfriend."

"I don't have to say anything! I told you just this morning that you were stupid if you thought I wasn't gonna wake up just to kiss you goodbye," Eddie pecked his cheek and took the join back from him.

He knew Steve got emotional if he smoked too much, and he'd already reached the glassy eye part of the high. Better to stop him now.

"Other than your professor scaring you, what happened today?" Eddie asked casually. He wanted to hear about everything, and Steve liked talking about it.

"I had the best cup of tea. The library was giving free cups to students who donated $1 to the writer's club. So I guess it wasn't really free, but still, $1 for the best cup of tea I've ever had isn't bad." Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "I studied for an hour between classes and saw these two women making out. One was like, a lot older than the other and I'm almost certain she was a professor with a student. Don't know what that's about."

Eddie raised his brows, but stayed quiet as Steve continued.

"And then I managed to eat my sandwich after my second class. Best one you've made yet. Perfect ham to turkey ratio," Steve kissed his neck.

"Glad you liked it, sweetheart."

"Oh! And there's gonna be a student run show next Friday. I get two free tickets if you wanna go. Maybe we could make it a date night?"

"I think that sounds lovely. Write it on the fridge and I'll make sure I'm home in time to get ready for it," Eddie took one last drag from the joint before putting it out in the ash tray he grabbed from the flea market downtown when they first moved in. "Anything else today?"

"I got to sit outside and look at the stars with my boyfriend. That's been pretty nice," Steve whispered.

Eddie felt his cheeks heat up, never quite used to how easily Steve shared his love and affection. He'd been like that before they were even together, overwhelmingly honest.

"Was he good company?" Eddie teased, leaning his head on top of Steve's and looking up at the few stars they could see in the city.

"He's always good company."

Eddie kissed the top of Steve's head and settled back.

"What about your day?" Steve asked, sinking further into his side.

"My day was boring." Eddie sighed. "But we have new releases hitting the shelves tomorrow. Those days are always fun."

"Any you want?" Steve sounded tired.

It was barely eight at night, but the weed was hitting and he'd been up since five that morning going nonstop.

"Might grab this local band's demo. We're the only place carrying it and they're hoping to do a show in our basement next month, but we'll see. Brad said we had to see how the demos sell."

"Sounds like fun," Steve said.

"You wanna go inside, sweetheart?"

"Not yet. Keep talking. Wanna hear about everything."

"Mkay, baby."

[saltnsugarbear]

where you told me even if we died tonight (that I'd die yours)

summary: Tyler doesn't like winter usually, but he's learning to live with it

title from: "House In Nebraska" by Ethel Cain

word count: 0.7k

content warnings: um none really!!! gets a little spicy at the end though <3

side note: for my beloved Moon! our beloved cowboy <3 my tornado wrangler Moon i adore you <3

Tyler hated winter.

Winter meant no tornado season! It's was a lazy season for the crews content creation, spending the extra free time preparing for the next tornado season.

Everyone bundled up either away in the camper or their respective homes. Tyler retreated to his house in Nebraska.

Not really his, but yours. You lived just outside of Grand Island on a decent amount of land. Most of it was covered in trees but you had a small enough barn on your property to house two cows and a smaller coop for your chickens.

It was a quiet life that the Wranglers had been shocked by, mouths agape when they first came to your house for dinner. You were the exact opposite of what they expected for Tyler. Quiet, reserved, relaxed.

You liked the quiet life you had, driving into town for weekly farmers markets and selling your animal products and produce to the people in town. It was almost comical how much your life resembled that of a fantasy.

But being such meant you were an early riser and well.... That was maybe Tyler's least favorite part. Waking up to an empty bed every morning was upsetting for anyone. Especially when he thinks he's worn you out the night before only to open his eyes to an empty pillow.

But he knows you love your animals. Knows you cherish the routine and home you've created for yourself here. So he wouldn't ask you to change it.

In fact he kind of likes being your house husband, only bringing in a third of the household earnings didn't emasculate him. Albeit you weren't actually married. He liked getting to cook and tidy up and just exist.

You never expected him to provide or help out but took it graciously. He learned your storage methods and how you liked your coffee and how dark you liked your steak.

All of this to say, he has your second cup of coffee ready for you when you come in from the barn. Your routine was just as easy to learn as your coffee order and you came inside the house at nearly the exact same time everyday.

So the mug is waiting for you when you enter the house, beelining for the kitchen.

Tyler is leaning on his elbows on the counter, forehead resting against the mug in his hands and eyes shut. He does a better job of wearing himself out than you. Your footsteps don't wake him as you approach the peninsula counter, sidling up to his side. You're soft with your kiss to his cheek, pecking along his scruff and making him stir.

"Morning, cowboy..." You whisper, pressing another kiss to his cheek before backing off. He huffs while you wrap your hands around the mug, settling a little aways from him.

"G'morning..." Tyler sighs, leaning up against the counter to stand straight. He sets his mug down before resting his hands on the counter to brace his weight.

He notices your lack of winter clothes, brow furrowing as he looks around for them. Tyler spots your jacket, hat and gloves over the side of the couch, slowly piecing together your plan.

"Someone's eager this morning," Tyler grins at you, pushing off the counter to corner you against it. He's smooth as you takes the mug from your hands, setting it just out of reach from both of you. You can't help but match his grin.

"Need to warm up somehow...." You say, sliding your hands around to rest along his lower back.

"Really? And what way might that be?" He tries to feign innocence, bracketing your body with his arms while he places his hands on the counter.

"Oh, I think you know..." You tease him, pushing your hips to meet his. You can feel the slight bulge in his low resting pants that tells you he's on the same page.

"Care to enlighten me? Think I need a little help getting the hint.." Tyler teases but you're all too eager to please, surging forward and kissing him roughly. A complete opposite to your soft hands over his stomach.

Maybe Tyler didn't hate winter if it meant living like this.

[redrandomposts]

feeling embarrassed writing this. anyway, have some lukaivan before R7

idol/actor au (...not quite like off the record)

=====

luka watched, with empty eyes, his two juniors. it was almost amusing how ivan chased futilely after till. it made luka... want to control him? not in a creepy way, but rather, take care of ivan. his heart seems rather fragile for someone like till to take hold of it.

is it the heartbreak reflected in ivan's eyes, his words, his every action? luka can't quite decide, but he's sick of seeing it. they're being put in the same group, and he can't have any of that near him. and, well, if the best way to do that is make ivan fall out of love with till...

luka looks at ivan again. he's alone, now, looking at the pencil he'd stolen forlornly.

...then isn't he a perfect candidate for a "second chance at love?"

of course, that's not easy to say. luka has three easy steps for this, though.

getting his contact was easy. knowing that they're being put in the same group together, no guards were raised for that. a good morning text here, a good night text here, a check-in during lunch...

finding his schedule was even easier. considering the amount of time ivan spends alone with till chasing after mizi, luka integrated himself in quite well. two coffees in the morning for himself and ivan, a break in practicing with two cold drinks, and spending a late lunch together.

hanging out outside of the company building was unnecessarily difficult. luka supposed it was because of their upcoming debut; their workload was gradually increasing, from practice to photoshoots. he managed to pull ivan on a "dinner date" to discuss their duo. then three days later, they were going to the park. in gradually settled into a dinner once or twice a week.

===

ivan has found that his routine had changed imperceptibly yet entirely one night. his thoughts and knowledge, too, had expanded to include another person; luka.

he isn't sure how it happened. in the morning, a bit after he first gets to the building, luka will show up with two coffees. if it's an "important" date, there'll also be pastries to share. they started to practice together in preparation for debut, and they'd have a five-minute break chatting. (previously, ivan had saved that time to take a look at till a few floors below.) they'd get a bit too engrossed in their practice and have a late lunch down the street, luka somehow able to eat two people's servings of food during the fifteen or twenty minutes they spend eating. they'd practice for a while, and normally on fridays or tuesdays they'd have dinner together discussing their upcoming debut.

ivan's grown to know that luka prefers cold, sweeter drinks like frappuccinos, he can eat really well, and has the flexibility of a gymnast. he knows classical literature but would rather hear ivan's interpretations of it, and he writes songs to reflect a distorted reality. he's taken ballet classes when he was younger and had had chronic migraines up until a few months before joining the company.

it's... unnerving, how easily ivan got that information. with till, he's had to keep careful watch since they were children to know that his favorite food were any combination of meats and spices, that he drew breathtaking scenery and flowers, and that he's composed music since he was five. with luka, it was as natural as breathing.

it was refreshing.

as months passed, ivan found himself on stage, side-by-side with luka, overlooking fans the company had gathered pre-debut. he found that this was what he wanted in the future; back to luka's, or next to each other, or looking at each other, sharing the same love for music or whatever else they may be.

===

it was a marketing gimmick by the company. as the world grew more tolerant, the company naturally had to follow; even if that meant taking a newly-debuted idol pair and smushing them into boyfriends for the stage.

it's not as if they had to kiss, though. his manager had made sure that ivan wouldn't be forced to do more than heartfelt gazes if he didn't want to. curiously, ivan wanted to feel what luka's lips would be like on his.

he had never kissed another, after all. between till and school or work, there wasn't a carnal need.

so, one night while they were livestreaming, ivan had asked luka. and, five minutes later, he knew;

luka's lips were soft yet cold, tasted like the dinner they had together, and he was quite domineering. he didn't only kiss with his lips - he used his hands and pulled him in, caressed his hip or thigh or face or whatever he could grab ahold of. he didn't care for an audience, but would rather not get ivan implicated by turning them so that only the back of luka's head could be seen.

as luka pulled away and looked in his eyes, ivan could tell. ivan had fallen in love, yet again, and this time it was reciprocated.

===

till stared at his phone, stomach churning. his timeline, the traitor, had been filled with ivan's new relationship as if it were a dedicated page for it. from debut to now, he'd seen ivan less and less. gritting his teeth, till turned off his phone and looked at his most recent composition. he'd lost all inspiration.

[linka-r9-vysocina]

what do you even do on an evening like this. Yesterday, we went to see the christmas market with my friend because the other option was to sit at home and hit the "refresh" button every minute or so. Today, I am alone in the apartment, even the cats left for the lady who agreed to catsitting during christmas time when the flat is empty. I should be mourning, and I mourn, although it's somehow second-hand as I never met any of the deceased personally - but my friends do, they mourn the late Jan Dlask, who was their teacher and friend. "He was always so careful about everything, always worried," I was told today. "He was always worried about his mother. God, I am now worried about his mother, she is 80 and alone!" He was an expert on finno-swedish literature. "Oh, we used to joke that he was the best in the field because he was the only one here!" The only one.

what do you even do on an evening like this. There is no refresh button anymore - or, if there is, what use is it now. There is grief, both first and second-hand. I saw my teacher cry today. And a part of me just wants to press play on that videoessay that i started watching a few days ago, which might actually be for the best if I really got around to do it. What is there to do when you don't have enough grief to break down in tears but also feel too much of it to continue as usual.

what do you even do on an evening like this. Tomorrow, there will be discourse. Today there is grief. I hear the rain outside. It's almost Christmas.

myslím na vás na všechny, kdo jste tam měli kamarády, známé, učitele. Kdo tam studujete, kdo tam studovat chcete, kdo jste tam studovali. Kdo jste tam včera byli. Líbám a objímám. Držte se.

[mayullla]

Title: Forever a Lost Heart

Character(s): Pantalone (Genshin Impact) Summary: Pantalone came back home after a long time to find his lovely wife sleeping soundly. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, not really Stockholm syndrome but reader has given up for a long time now, imprisonment, forced marriage

Note: .....*also confused* why did I delete the previous ask a long time ago T-T I apologize i am not the best at explaining back then (even now tbf ;-;)... but anyway still hope you like this lil fic! I am really happy with this one! Also had to repost this cause i made a huge mistake in deleting the original TvT yeahhhh sorry about that...

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

It wasn't a marriage out of love. Your parents were so blinded by money, and fame forced you to marry a harbinger when he had given them a certain offer for a more luxurious life in exchange for their lovely daughter.

You.

You felt nothing more than cattle in the market, sold by your "owners," and in the next moment in the hands of someone else. Except this one was dressed it as if it was something romantic.

"Dear, how was your sleep?" Your eyes fluttered open at the voice as you looked around the dark room. Sleep still in your eyes. You forced yourself to wake up, using your arms to push yourself from the soft fabric of the bed. "You are back?" It wasn't supposed to sound like a question.

You didn't think he would come back so soon.

It has been a few days since he left, busy when the Tsaritsa summoned him for something related to one of the harbingers. "You don't sound all that please dear." It wasn't a question, as Pantalone placed a hand on your face. His gloved hand felt cold and lifeless to your cheek.

You shook your head, denying his words. Moving your hands to hold his as you lean more into his palm, closing your eyes as if comforted by his presence. "No. I am glad you are back..."

"How sweet of my love."

Yet hidden within your heart, he was correct. You didn't miss him, for the days when he was away were like a paradise for you. An empty and hollow paradise but still a paradise away from something that wanted to eat you whole. You hummed on his hand, a soft smile on your lips.

"Hmmm... you are such a doll, dear. So compliant." Pantalone chuckled, rubbing his thumb lightly on your cheek. "Did you watch over the mansion while I was away?" You nodded again. It was something that kept your mind away from the feeling of hopelessness and away from any punishments.

"Yes, I did."

"What else did you do while I was away? Did you get the gifts that I sent to you? I bought the most beautiful dresses and gems that would match your beauty. Thought nothing really is beautiful as my dove." Reminded of the boxes that the servants brought you nodded. Expensive jewels and dresses, shoes, and handbags, he had sent you many things, some of which you personally liked.

But all still useless things, they are nothing but stones and clothes, something that could never truly give you what you really wanted.

"You shouldn't lie, my dear." Ah, it seems that you didn't watch your face... it was your mistake after all you just woke up still tired from your sleep. You didn't realize your mistake until it was too late when he held your cheeks to make you look at him with such softness when his eyes had none.

"A wife should never lie to her husband, nor should she. You were always a great actress. Many outside this mansion believe that you truly love me. And quite a few misunderstood your sadness as loneliness away from her husband." His voice was sharp as he forced your face closer to his. You stared at his eyes, your own widening startled a little before returning back.

It wasn't a surprise at all that he knew. He was just too smart, for things to be kept simple.

"Were you planning on running away, dear? When I finally have my guard down around you, you could finally sneak away from me?" He innocently asked, as if he was he was accusing you. Staying still for a moment, looking down then to his eyes as you held on his wrist with a light touch, you shook your head. Well, as much as you could.

No, it wasn't like that... You had long given up ever escaping what faith had given you ever since you were born. A puppet created by your parents you were just handed over to another who could control your strings just as well.

It was something that came easy to you somehow... even if you wanted that freedom, the fear of what would happen when you stepped outside your boundary shook your heart. You didn't love your husband, but his obsession was far better than the love your parents showed to you.

"I am sorry... I just... I just feel lonely." You told him softly.

You were tired of being a doll, yet you hesitate to go out unable to find the courage to do so. If this was something of a healthy relationship maybe you could have changed for the better, but alas you didn't even have that when you were kissed by the side of your forehead by the man who softly held your face again.

"It seems that I was the reason that you have become like this. I am sorry to have left you alone for so long because of work, you have waited so patiently for me. Thank you, dear." Taking your hand, he kissed the back of your hand, the lingering warmth still there even after his lips parted away.

Your husband always knew how to twist things to his liking, how your words were twisted to his own pleasure.

"The Tsaritsa had asked me to head to Monstade soon after some rest, for some dealing over there. I wish to take you with me. My dear has been lonely for so long that it is only proper that we have some time together." Pantalone expression never changed as he rubbed your cheeks gently, his other hand holding yours. "Is there something you wished to do there, dear?"

Your eyes widen just a small bit at his words. Surprised that he was offering you finally to go out while you knew that you would never be able to leave his sight the idea of finally being able to leave the window as you watch the snow fall every minute made your heart light with hope. It was a foreign feeling something that Pantalone definitely noticed when his own smile widened just a little bit more.

Moving your hands as you took his that was holding yours, you moved it to your cheek, rubbing it affectionately as you kissed the back of his hand. "Yes... That would be lovely."

"I see that my sweetheart wishes to join me. I will have the preparations done and make it so that you will have a comfortable ride to Monstade." Pantalone stated as he watched your affections, finding it so amusing.

"It has been far too long since we have been in each other company outside. The last one was the honeymoon trip to Fontaine, but we didn't even do much then." Pantalone mumbled, a small smile gracing his lips again when an idea popped into his head, "Yes... let's do that."

You closed your eyes when he started combing your hair, uncaring to what he had in plan. His hand was gentle with you hair, as you dreamed about the dandelions and sunny skies.

[binniebakery]

Lover

nonidol!au soobin x gn!reader fluff established relationship ♡ Summary: based off of taylor swift's lover !!! soobin is being the gentleman he is, neither of you know how to not be sick🤨 ♡ Warnings: tall soobin agenda??, reader gets called cute, someone's a little sick smh, lmk if theres something im missing! ♡ A/N: second fic wow.. l! this was a little self-indulgent but I really hope yall enjoy! idk if someone has done this before im sorry adsfasdf this song smacks and soobin is so lover coded i had to put my thoughts down asap (erm also not proofread so!!! 😻😻)

You were never really a morning person. It was a Saturday, why would the sun be so cruel as to wake you up as it shone through the beige curtains of your bedroom? As soon as your lashes fluttered open you realized that the blanket had been pulled away from you, only covering half of your shivering body. Sure winter was coming to an end soon, but snow still covered the ground outside and the warmth of your sleeping boyfriend’s body seemed more inviting than ever. You flipped around to catch Soobin softly asleep. His hair was messily fluffed around as one arm rested above his head, the other mistakingly holding on to the bunched-up blanket that was meant to cover your side of the bed instead of holding you. You couldn’t possibly be mad at someone for stealing your blanket when he slept like such an innocent angel. After all, you knew any other time he would be willing to give you the entire thing just for you to stay warm. And there’s this dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Smiling as you wrapped your arm around his side, you leaned in to press your forehead against his. Of course, just softly enough so he wouldn’t wake up. The sun’s rays hardly peeked into the room but it was enough to perfectly land on his features and highlight his button nose as Soobin occasionally sniffled in his sleep. His dark hair and lashes a lighter color from being showered in sunlight. Work had been stressing him out more than usual lately and he finally was able to get a few days off. Just in time for him to start catching a cold. Luckily, you being the cautious couple you are, were able to catch the symptoms in time and he had been recovering quite quickly. That’s when it hit you that you needed to walk to the nearest market to restock the tea he had been drinking for dear life to help with his scratchy throat.

You pressed a kiss onto his forehead and as carefully and quietly as you could, sat up from your bed. Right as you were about to slip a foot onto the cold floor, you felt a large hand lazily reach for you, lightly dragging an index finger down your arm in soft protest. “Mm hey, where you going?” a soft mumble could be heard from the once sleeping giant that lay beside you. You turned to see Soobin forming a soft pout. “Just to the store really quickly Binnie. Need to get you some more tea for your throat.” you responded, softly poking his doughy cheek. “So.. you’re going without me?” his pout was now more prominent than ever, cutely contrasting his deep and groggy voice. “Soobin, you’re still recovering. I don’t want to reverse that” you sighed. Your boyfriend was now tugging at the hem of your sweater. How can someone be so endearing? “It’s fine, justmythroa-” he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he coughed and reached over to grab the half-empty water bottle that sat on the nightstand. Can I go where you go?

“Please.. I feel fine I swear y/n. I’ll wear a mask and everything. Can’t have you going by yourself.” he pleaded with a soft smile. You knew Soobin was clingy when he got sick, but it was obvious this time that he wanted to make up as much time as he could for how busy he had been the past month. How could you say no? Can we always stay this close? You made sure your boyfriend was wrapped as tightly and warmly as possible. Holding onto him tightly as you walked down the street. The urge to constantly adjust his scarf every few seconds scratching at your brain. You looked up at him to see Soobin smiling fondly down at you. “What? Toothpaste on my mouth?” you tilted your head. Soobin chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you just are extra cute today, nothing new.” Forever and ever.

On your way back to your apartment, you felt your own throat begin to feel sore and itchy. Most likely due to the reason that you weren’t wearing a scarf yourself. Not wanting to alert the overprotective giant bunny walking beside you, you (not so) discretely coughed into the arm that wasn’t currently wrapped around your boyfriend as soon as a loud gust of wind whooshed by. On instinct, Soobin immediately stopped in his steps. “Did you just cough?” he said as he stared you down. “No- I-.. okay yes sorry I just don't want you to think I’m si-” Before you could continue you felt warmth wrap around your neck. “Binnie! What are you doing?! You’re going to get sick again!” Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? “Hey, hey, don’t fuss you need it more, I already feel better just being with you. Plus, we’re already here.” Soobin pointed out as you realized you were only across the street from your apartment. Smiling softly, you intertwined your cold fingers with his warm ones as you finished your journey back home. Or you could say home was right there in that moment, holding you close and offering his scarf.

With every guitar string scar on my hand take this magnetic force of a man to be my, lover

As your boyfriend quickly put the laundry away, you were just about finished making tea for the both of you. Pouring the tea into your favorite mugs, you felt a warm pair of arms wrap around you. Soft music played on your tv speakers as the snow began to fall outside. “This might be the last time we get snow this year..” you mumbled as Soobin rested his nose into your hair. “Mhmm.. how’s your throat bunny?” he responded. “Hmm.. you know I think I need a kiss better from someone.”

Soobin chuckled, a light smirk on his face as he turned you around to pull you in. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t. After all, you’re getting sick, I’m getting sick-” he teased. “Oh can you please just shut up and give me a kiss” you laughed as you pulled him in. Just like every kiss you had with him and every kiss to come, his lips were sweet and inviting. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned down to wrap his around your waist and lift you up. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover Sharing soft laughter and light touches, you both remained protected and oblivious to the harsh cold outside. Winter was getting warmer, not because of spring, but because of your lover.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're a content creator. Or perhaps video maker is a better word. Filmaker doesn't sound right, you mostly just film yourself. But either way because you read stuff to a camera for a living everyone is telling you to get a digital voice box. You never thought of yourself as the type to become a cyborg, but it's not something you can see, and it really does get down that narration voice down more than any fleshy voice box does.

You finally cave in and get it. Your new voice is way more steady, a bit more feminine and high, strangely calmly enthusiastic. It's really weird hearing yourself talk with so little imperfections, it's not how you sound in your head at all, and all your freinds are kind of weirded out. But on the bright side your channel grows a lot, you've gained more subscribers in the month since you replaced your voice than you have in all the years when you had your biological voice. Everyone is so very proud of you, for the first time your parents actually support your job, and you have so much more to spend now.

After a few months a big network wants to sign a contract with you, it'll let you get the good sponsors, the ones that people trust, and let you crossover with content creators you only ever thought of yourself as a fan of. It seems so nice, though they do say that they can request any body part they want be replaced, or else you'll break contract, and become nothing once more.

After things go well for awhile, but your growth steadied a bit, your network request you take another mechanical body part. They say your expressions aren't very "on brand" and your face shape is a bit too 2050s for their liking, so they're going to replace some of your facial muscles with much more plyable machines. After the surgery your expressions are entirely manual, or set by an app, it skyrockets your channel, but none of your freinds or family even recognize your face, and it doesn't emote when you aren't actively telling it too, so most of your offline social interactions leave you stuck with an expressionless wide eyed stare. You realize they also added some online upgrades to your mechanical voice box, it sounds even less like you now, and you're not able to say words like 'fuck' or 'sex' or 'unionize'. You didn't realize before how horrifying it would be to try to say a specific words and not be able to, nomatter how hard you try.

Your career keeps going well, you get some upgrades that stop you from sleeping or eating that much but you don't really mind those. You also start having fewer and fewer freinds outside the industry and more and more freinds from within it. But after a minor scandal with an ex, your manager tells you you're going to get a new type of surgery: they say that it's not good for someone as famous as you to have body parts that aren't advertiser freindly, they tell you you need to have your genitals and nipples removed, with such a young audience it would be irresponsible not to. A marketing expert feigns comfort as you try to cry, telling you you'll be just like a cute little doll.

You know you can't resist. The company technically owns your face and your voice, if you tried to resist they could have them ripped out of your skull, leaving you a bloody mess. You enjoy your sex organs for the last few days you have them, trying to make the most out of what you'll probably never have again. When the operation is done you wish your eyes could still cry, your body feels so alien, your anatomy so weird and empty and like your body isn't your own. There's an awful voice in the back of your head (and in every comment section now) telling you're not a real woman anymore. You start to understand what people mean by dysphoria, your body is less and less your own every day.

Eventually they take almost all of your body, it's theirs to control. As the years go by you don't have bones you have metal and plastic, you don't have skin you have rubber that looks a lot like skin. Even your eyes are gone, you have new color changing eyes, with the same restrictive settings that Christian parents put on their children's artificial eyes, that block out things like nudity and gore, they censor away a lot of books and news articles too. You don't feel like yourself at all, you're someone else's now, someone's pretty little doll. Your body doesn't even look human now, more like a hyper feminine anime figurine, with no hair on its legs, and a face that never cries or gets angry.

You can barely look at human bodies now, they don't even read as real to you. You admire other cyborgs if anything, cyborgs who replaced their body parts because they wanted to, and look how they want, people with jailbroken limbs and organs that run on Linux, many limbed insectoids who don't try to look humanoid, and furries whose artificial skin makes them look like wolves or cats, or asymmetrical punks who have art sprawling across their metal chassises. You admire them more because at least you could in theory some day become that, become someone who owns their own body, even if most people consider them the lowest of the low, the most cringe the most unmarketable. You want so badly to become unmarketable.

Mabye you want everything to be torn away. You fantasize about your expensive body being destroyed, and ending up with boxy uncomfortable hospital model parts. Mabye if you're broken nobody will want to play with you. You don't know if anything can save you, anything short of a r*volution, and that's not even a word your eyes can see or your mouth should say, so it's so scary to think of it.

[witchpassing]

catching strays [2]

[previous.]

Up concrete stairs dogeared by cleaning, down the sodium-lit walkway between the flats, past the notice board with the childrens’ drawings, past the neighbour smoking into the blue darkness of the courtyard - she doesn’t look, which Katya is reflexively, pitifully grateful for, as if anyone gives a fuck who she takes home these days - then they’re there, Katya fumbling with the key while Rook stands a little away and pulls her jacket close against the night. Glancing up and down the walkway, like she, too, is operating on some vestigial idea of getting caught.

Weird name, Katya thinks, the things she’s going to do once she gets the door open roiling low in her gut. Not outside-bounds weird, not for a transsexual, but still. Probably fake.

No hard feelings there.

The door jams halfway on a wedge of unread mail. They fall through the crack together, chiaroscuro shapes in the walkway light. Katya takes a fistful of Rook’s jacket, shoves her hard into the nearest wall, and Rook lets her, all that height and sinew just folding for her, and fuck, if that doesn’t feel good–

One of them, could be Rook, could be her, kicks the door shut. The lights go out. Darkness, and another woman’s blood on her tongue.

Someone has to come up for air eventually.

Katya, panting, gropes for the light switch with her free hand, gets it on her third or fourth try. Even as she pulls back for air, Rook stays where she’s been put, up against the wall, breathing hard through her nose.

The half-lit sketch Katya’s been carrying in her head since the bar fills in: warm, freckled skin, a broken nose that looks a couple of years older than the rest of the damage. Wide dark eyes in bruise-inked sockets, blown pupils locked on Katya’s face, hunting something in the contours.

You’d be a lot less pretty if you weren’t beat to shit, Katya thinks, tucking a strand of dark hair behind Rook’s ear.

Lucky me.

“Y’alright there, sweetheart?” A taut nod. Katya snorts, turns away. “Yeah, it’s been a while for me too. Just…” She gestures towards the couch, wincing slightly as she recognises, through a newcomer’s eyes, just how thick the undergrowth of magazines, books, records, bottles has got in here. “Find yourself a seat. I’ll get something to clean you up with.”

Sure, at first it was just something to say, words arranged into the right pattern to get a stranger off the street and into her flat, but she might as well take her time now that she has her.

Rook rubs absently at her jaw, gives no indication that the state of the place is registering as a problem, picking between the stacks like autopilot has kicked in somewhere. Katya leaves her to it, ducks through into the little shitbox of a kitchen. On the counter, her answering machine blinks its reproachful red eye. Not getting answered tonight, not getting answered tomorrow, not getting answered this week, moving on. Her first aid kit is buried somewhere under the sink, way at the back, unused for God knows how long; conveniently, this is also where she keeps a bottle of what is probably the only half-decent wine in the block. She weighs the difficulty of replacing it on the black market against the likelihood that she’ll have another girl over any time soon. It’s an easy choice.

Rook has cleared a spot for herself on the couch, a half-dozen empty bottles of tenant union moonshine clustered around her feet, tapping her fingers against her leg in this weird little pattern. Katya shoves a stack of magazines off the coffee table and settles herself in.

“Don’t be so nervous, baby,” she says, taking a pull at the wine. (It’s alright.) “This is only going to hurt a little.” Rook runs her tongue over her teeth, still not all the way present, and nods.

Well, whatever. Weird is fine. You order damaged goods, you don’t complain about the condition it comes in.

She gets about halfway done, Rook turning her head away now and then like a dog that doesn’t really get why someone is touching its face, these breathy little hisses of pain snaking between her teeth, before she caves. Rook is taking a pull of the wine and Katya is watching her throat work and suddenly she can’t take it any more, just shoves the bottle out of her hand and crawls into her lap, the first aid kit’s contents everting into the mess on the floor. That wakes Rook up, alright. Hands push up under her shirt, stroke along her ribs, smear things around a little in her wine-softened brain; a mouth presses into her neck, gives her a bruise of her own to wear. Rook’s prosthetics don’t feel cold in the way she’d expected. Katya shudders, exhales, twists needy fingers into her hair.

Fuck, she’s needed this, needed it with a hunger so bone-deep she’d forgotten what it felt like to be full. After this she’ll go dry for another few months, forget again, find out again. Never learns. Rook slides a palm over the cup of her bra, tugs her a little closer, eases her tongue along up the corner of her jaw, and Katya makes a noise that is positively fucking virginal.

It takes her a second to realise what’s under her own hands; her mind is elsewhere, way elsewhere, somewhere in the unknown below Rook’s waistline. Eventually, awareness pushes through, in some dim sense: there are scars at the base of Rook’s skull, a fishbone pattern of ridged keloid, taut against the skin. Touch maps the contours; double rows flanking her spine, down between the shoulderblades, like she’s been split open. Automatically, Katya counts.

Eight contact points. Intermediate Rachis implant, probably a C-type. Doe’s was an E-type; she had twelve.

Katya is on her feet, recoiling straight into the coffee table, near falling straight on her ass. The bottle spills, bleeds into the carpet. She might actually fucking stress-puke, god, there’s another thing that’s been a while- this isn’t fair, it isn't fair god dammit. she just wanted a little company, why this--

Rook is still on the couch, watching her with those dark eyes, and she knows too, there’s no way she doesn’t. She’s clocked her now, and that’s if she didn’t know right from the start. Smelt the reek on Katya’s skin, felt the shift of the old patterns beneath her surface. Liked it.

“I d-don’t – I didn’t know you - were–”

“Too good for surplus, huh?” Rook’s voice, as she looks up at her, is like dull, pitted metal. “Don’t worry. You’re not gonna get in trouble for this. I’ve been decommissioned; can do what I like now, more or less. I can even consent.”

“Fuck you,” Katya starts, and then thinks better of it. Thinks about a new name and new papers, a new city where nobody knew her, a dozen measures taken to prevent unofficial reprisal. Thinks about what happened to the others, the ones who didn’t buy themselves out with a briefcase full of typewritten sin and a candid tell-all approach. Thinks about what could happen to her if Rook tells that woman smoking on the walkway, her neighbour, the one who nods to her in the cold mornings and doesn’t care who she brings home, what she is.

“Please don’t.” Katya swallows terror. “Talk to anyone about this.”

“Tell me not to,” Rook says, rolling the words around her tongue, trying them for taste, “And I won’t.”

“What?”

“You know how this works. Give me an order, and I’ll obey it. Handler.” The final word is articulated with all the care and venom of a slur.

And just like that Katya is on her again, fist in the front of her shirt, face inches from hers. Some people say you’re the sum of your worst days; others, that defining yourself by the lows in your life means you’re never going anywhere else. Katya, personally, is on the former team, because after three and a half years this shit still comes back so, so easy.

“You aren’t going to tell anyone about me,” she grinds out. “Not your friends, not your next fuck, not your shrink up at that dog pound on the other side of town, nobody.” And, you know - it almost feels good, in its way, for a moment there. “Do you understand me, girl?”

Rook’s lips part in something close to a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She lets go, sickness rising in her throat. “Now get the fuck out.”

And she does, quick as you like, and suddenly Katya is alone again.

She does puke then, folded over in the middle of her floor, kneeling in the wet mess from the spilt bottle. It’s mostly alcohol that comes up, vodka and cheap wine, shot with something foreign. Fresh blood, licked from Rook’s split lip.