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foreingersgod · 3 months

Note

hellooo! i loveddd ur cc country reader fic. do u think u could do one like that but with kate? hope ur doing okay!! <3

If She Ever Leaves Me . KM

pairing: country!kate martin x country wife!reader

synopsis: country kate <3

A/N: this is quite literally my favorite song of all time, lesbian country has a special place in my heart so i’m so excited for you guys to read this one!

word count: 6.2k

I see you watch her from across the room

Dancing her home in your mind

you were from another world, kate was convinced. dolled up in your red gingham sundress, the one lined with ivory lace and a sweet little bow that sat in between your breasts. your cowboy boots clunked rhythmically against the wooden boards on the old bars floor as you danced to the music. you had once had a drink in your hand, a fruity little cocktail because you couldn’t handle the strong stuff like kate did. but the glass was long forgotten when you left your girlfriends company to join in on the line dance.

kate remained seated on the leather bar stool, her own pair of boots propped up on the foot rest. her elbow was leaned up against the varnished bar as she swirled her drink mindlessly. her attention was no longer on the ice that slowly melted within the glass, but on you, in the midst of the friday night bustle. she had brought you to the bar just like she did every weekend, a small tradition you adopted when you first started dating. you had fallen in love with the small little town and the cozy bar within it and found yourself most happy in the musical chaos of it all.

while she loved seeing you out there in your element, she couldn’t help but wish you’d stay right there next to her. her heart turned to mush at the way you would smile, flash your pearly whites as you sung along to the music. she loved how your dress twirled around your calves as you spun around in circles, your voluminous hair bouncing behind you. but she hated how you were so far, wanting to see that charming smile and those gorgeous locks up close for herself. she couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there for all eyes to see. hated how any man or woman could claim you as theirs in their minds.

kate was aware of your immense beauty, knew how especially the men liked to gaze in your direction. you were a sight for sore eyes, not even having to lift a finger to attract the attention of everyone in town. and while kate did get jealous, seeing how the single folk in the bar constantly asked you to dance or buy you a drink, she knew you’d never cave. your love for kate was outstanding and hardly likely to dissipate over a few drinks offered by lonely cowboys. they could continue to stare at you, imagine dancing with you all they wanted. but she knew it was her, at the end of the night, that got to take you home and settle between your thighs.

Well, it takes more than whiskey to make that flower bloom

By the third drink you'll find out she's mine

“good evening, missy” a deep voice slurred from behind you “i saw ya over there dancin’ and was hopin’ i could buy ya a drink?”

you had just returned to your seat next to kate at the bar, almost winded from all the dancing. a small film of sweat lingered on your forehead as you plopped down, adjusting the skirt of your dress. kate’s hand found its way to the divot of your hip without a second thought. she ordered you a brand new drink once she noticed you reaching for hers, letting you finish off her whiskey was a recipe for disaster. the bartender poured your drink as kate leaned in to kiss your blushed cheek, listening to you rave about the excitement on the dance floor. it wasn’t until your drink was passed to you, pausing your conversation, that you were suddenly interrupted.

“oh,” you licked your lips, the salt from the rim of your glass sticking to your upper lip. you turned around to face the stranger to see it was a taller and quite older man. he was muscular and burly, a thick beard embellishing his face. not that it would sway your opinion, but he was no different than the rest of the men who thought they had a chance with you “no thank you”

the man seemed to be taken aback, nose scrunching in disgust. he shook his head and and rolled his eyes, large hands coming up to rub his jaw. he inched closer to you, broad shoulders on the brink of colliding with your back. kate immediately noticed this, tightening her grip on you as she shot a stern glare his way.

“no?” he scoffed “it’s just a drink, lady”

“look i’m just not interested alright?” you sneered, trying not to be too harsh and make a scene in the midst of the busy bar.

“and why’s that, huh? i’m a nice, good lookin guy. what’s your fuckin problem?” he spat at you, near slamming his fist on the bar. this triggered something in kate, causing her to leap from her seat in anger. but you placed your hand on her chest, sending her a look to tell her that you had it under control. she looked back at you, then back at the guy in conflict. kate was more than ready to put that guy in his place, to claim you as hers and teach him a lesson. but she also knew you took satisfaction in telling these men off, ultimately deciding to take a seat and observe.

“i’m happily taken, i’ll have you know” you motioned to kate “i appreciate the offer, but i would appreciate it even more if you apologized and left us alone”

kate smirked, seeing his expression fall. it was always so gratifying to see these people learn that you were in love with someone else, and a woman at that. she tipped the rim of her cowboy hat mockingly at him, her way of making her presence known. the man cleared his throat, now embarrassed as he took his hand away from the bar and took a step back.

“you-uh-you’re right, ma’am” he mumbled, digging his hands into his pockets “m’sorry ladies, have a nice night”

he shuffled away in humiliation, probably on his way to pester some other woman he thought he could seduce. you watched him bump into a few people before he disappeared into the ever growing crowds. you sighed in relief, taking another swig of your drink.

“he not your type?” kate snickered, smirking at you teasingly before finishing off her own drink.

“shut up,” you laughed as you smacked her shoulder lightly. you turned on the stool, rusty metal squeaking loudly as you came to face her. nimble fingers came up to move a strand of hair away from her face “you know i only have eyes for you”

“you’re somethin else, ya know that?” she groaned, noticing the way you bit your lower lip and batted your lashes at her.

“i do,” you leaned in to place a small kiss to her lips “but you love it”

I've loved her in secret

I've loved her out loud

“can we just stay like this forever?” you asked, resting your head against kate’s shoulder as you let your eyes close.

these were your favorites moments. sitting on the porch swing with kate as the sun went down, crisp summer air swooshing past you. the sky glowed pinks and oranges, reflecting onto the home you shared on this secluded farm. the chains of the swing creaked with each push, kate’s bare foot touching the floorboards just enough to rock you back and forth. crickets and other little critters sounded from the fields in front of you as the evening fell upon the town. the grasses and weeds of the crops whistled in the wind, adding to the noise. kate hummed an unknown tune-probably some song she heard on the radio weeks ago-as she draped an old knit blanket across your laps.

“mhm,” her hand wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you closer into her side to keep you warm. her fingers toyed with the fraying ends of your sleeve, an old country singer tee shirt that you stole from her drawer one day “then i’d get to keep ya all to m’self”

“you already got me to yourself, kate” you chuckled softly, nuzzling your nose into her neck.

“yea,” she continued “but here? it’s jus the two of us. no drunks at the bar, no assholes givin us a hard time in town…it’s just you, me, and the farm. everything i’ve ever wanted’s right here”

you smiled against her shoulder, feeling the rough material of her flannel shirt on your lips. kate was the biggest sweetheart, was always vocal on her appreciation for this life. it was true, everything she wanted was right here. she was never set on a busy life at all. as long as she had her woman, her animals, her crops, and most likely her guitar (because how else would she serenade you on quiet nights like these), then she’d never need anything else. you were her entire world, what made her the person she is. she’d do anything to keep this life with you.

“mmm,” you sighed, another breeze lulling you into sleep “i love you s’much, kate”

“i love you too, darlin” she confessed, sensing your drowsiness “more than you know”

The sky hasn't always been blue

It might last forever

Or it might not work out

her back ached, her feet hurt, and her head pounded with the memories of your conversation this morning. kate had never meant to say what she did, and now she beating herself up at the thought of hurting you.

she had woken up at the same time she always did, quietly padding out of bed and into the connected bathroom as to not wake you. you hated early mornings so kate normally let you sleep while she did her morning farm chores. in return, you’d clean the house, run errands, and you often helped kate with anything she was behind on. it was a fair trade off and the routine worked for you, so there were hardly any issues during the countless years you’ve been together.

but for some reason, everything seemed to have gone wrong this morning. kate’s alarm didn’t go off so she was late to milk the cows, causing her to go behind schedule by at least 45 minutes. the water heater apparently stopped working, she ran out of toothpaste, and her favorite work pants had a pretty gnarly hole. then, she accidentally woke you up by knocking down some of her toiletries because she was in a rush. you were shocked to wake up to such chaos, trying to ask her what was wrong and asking if there was anything you could do to help. but rather than answer or kiss you goodbye and tell you she was in a rush, she snapped at you angrily before running out the door.

“can you just leave me alone? fuck” she had said, trying to pull her boot over her left foot “christ, i don’t have time for this, i gotta go”

the comment left you dumbfounded, disgusted by her tone. sure, there were times that kate got a bit angry and said something she didn’t mean, but it was never like this. she never said anything that directly offended you. plus, she always apologized if she hurt your feelings. this time, on the other hand, felt like a personal dig at you.

you laid in bed for a while as you replayed the scenario over and over in your mind. it had made you incredibly upset, knowing that she was somehow mad at you for asking if you could just help. eventually, you decided to just get up and get some work done throughout the house to try and take your mind off of it. but no matter what you did during the day, you couldn’t shake how terribly she made you feel. her words stuck with you like glue as you went about your daily chores.

the dishes were done and the floors were scrubbed spotless by the time dinner rolled around. you made your self busy with prepping the food as you waited for kate’s arrival. she typically finished around 5:30, but with her being in such a hurry, she most likely wouldn’t be back to the house until 6:30. so you focused on cutting the vegetables and marinating the meat until she was home.

kate, meanwhile, was finishing rounding up the horses. she so desperately wanted to go home, eat the delicious dinner you had made, and curl up under the covers with you while you read your book aloud to her. but now, as her hands grasped around the brass door knob of the front door, she realized that that may be harder to achieve than she had thought.

she was instantly met with discomfort the second she set foot in the house. the air felt heavier and the atmosphere was merely dimmer than it should be. the radio would often be playing somewhere in the kitchen, you could never get anything done without your old school tunes. her heart twinged at the loss of your humming, the sweetness of your voice nowhere to be found as she kicked off her boots and set them aside.

her legs dragged her into the kitchen where she spotted you silently chopping away at some peppers (the ones you had insisted you grow yourself, giving yourself yet another thing to tend to). you were still and quiet, not even so much as swaying your hips. she knew that you were upset right away. and you had every right, she admitted internally, her behavior this morning was uncalled for and she didn’t blame you.

“hey, baby” she mumbled, testing the waters. she wandered through the kitchen, making her way to the cabinet to grab a cup for a glass of water.

“hey” you murmured back in response. now it was the tone of your voice that stung kate. you didn’t bother to look at her, keeping your focus on the task at hand. but kate couldn’t bring herself to look away from you, instead she took the time to study the expression on your face and the movement of your body. you seemed stiff, muscles tense with irritation. the features of your face were soft-they always were-but now they were soft with disappointment. you were a headstrong gal, kate knew all too well, and would rather go all night completely mute than pretend like this morning never happened. so she decided to shrug off her guilt and pride and own up to her mistakes.

“darlin’?” she set the glass down on the counter top, no longer worried about the water. she came up behind you as you slowed the movements of your knife.

“hm?”

“m’sorry” she divulged, chest pressing against your back. her arms came to wrap around your torso as she let her head fall. her chin now rested on your shoulder, her nose nudging at the angle of your jaw “for what i said today, that wasn’t fair to ya. you were jus tryin’ to help”

you said nothing, pushing her off your shoulder as you resumed your chopping. the small action made kate’s insides churn. she tried again, this time placing a hand on your lower back and attempting to apologize once more, but she was swiftly shot down.

“thought you wanted me to leave you alone?” you taunted bitterly. you moved over to the stove and slid the diced vegetables into an already simmering pot. she sighed, scratching at the back of her neck.

“baby, i didn’t mean it” she pleaded “i’d never want you t’leave me alone, i was just upset and i lashed out. it was wrong of me”

“yea,” you laughed in disbelief, still moving restlessly around the kitchen to display your anger “it was”

“can you just-” she halted to try and find the right words “can you just stop for a second? please”

you set-more like carelessly tossed-your cutting board and knife back onto the counter. your head whipped in her direction, shooting her a dissatisfied glare. your sun kissed cheeks were down a darkened red and your brows furrowed downwards, your nose scrunched up and your tongue ran along the insides of your cheeks out of annoyance.

“i’m sorry, im so so sorry” kate continued once she realized you were listening “what i did was incredibly shitty and you don’t deserve that. i’m so grateful to have someone who is so willin to help me out and i took that for granted. but i promise i didn’t mean it at all and it won’t happen again”

she pulled her sweet puppy dog eyes on you, beautiful blue irises staring back at you. it genuinely seemed that she felt horrible. you knew kate like the back of your hand, knew that she definitely didn’t mean to say something like that. although, it had cut you deep in the heat of the moment and made you feel awful all day. but seeing her so distraught over this, now practically on her knees to beg for your forgiveness, it had you rethinking the validity of your coldness. you could never stay mad at her for long.

“it’s just-” you groaned, fingers coming up to rub at your temples “it just made me feel so mad and you ran out without even apologizing”

“i know, i know. i shouldn’t have done that” she gulped, hoping that you would come around “but i really don’t think i can stand ya bein’ mad at me any longer, baby. you gotta forgive me”

you chuckled at her urgency. it was true, she always felt lost when you were cross with her. a smile worked its way onto your face as you stepped towards her, throwing your arms around her neck. her arms tugged you in closer as she let out a sigh of relief.

“alright, you’re forgiven” you tilted your head “but, it better not happen again, got it?”

“got it. never again, i swear it”

you got up on your tip toes, your house slippers about to fall off your feet, to kiss her. before you could pull away, though, she had grabbed both sides of your face to kiss you even deeper. you moaned with surprise when her fingers threaded through your hair, tongue slipping into your mouth as she caught you off guard. you indulged in the kiss until you had to pull away for air.

“ok, cowboy” you breathed against her lips “you gotta let me go, dinners gonna burn”

“oh, m’never lettin you go ever again”

If she ever leaves me, it won't be for you

she sat back in her seat, an old wooden rocking chair that matched the one you were in. it was an oddly hot night this june even though the sun had set hours ago and the cold air from the lake was creeping closer. the heat from the bonfire in front of you only added the warmth.

this was one of your favorite things to do, sit outside on the small concrete patio kate had made, roasting marshmallows and taking turns on the guitar as a toasty fire crackled against the humid air. you had the acoustic instrument rested on your knee, a hand woven strap around your shoulder as you lightly plucked the strings rhythmically. you sang quietly along to a song as you looked off across the field and into the mountains, you were in your own world. kate was merely listening, too distracted by your beauty to sing along. the way your lips moved with each lyric, how your nearly manicured nails strummed against the guitar so smoothly.

“what?” she snapped from her trance, eyes blinking when she noticed you. she hadn’t realized you’d stopped singing, fingers no longer on the guitar. kate cleared her throat as she chewed on the insides of her cheek.

“s’nothin” her hair swaying against her shoulders whilst she shook her head “you’re just pretty s’all”

“oh stop” you giggled, the most infectious thing kate had ever heard. when she died, your laugh would be the last thing she’d want to hear “that’s the liquor talkin’, babe”

“definitely not,” she hated how you never believed her compliments, always denying your own beauty. but that just meant she got to compliment you twice as much to get you to buy into it “i could be sober forever and still think you’re the most breathtaking woman to grace the earth”

you had now set the guitar down, propping up against the varnished table between the rocking chairs, pushing yourself back and forth by the heel of your boot. you reached your arm over, fingers outreached to kate. she took your hand without hesitation, giving your hand a loving squeeze. the whites of your teeth shined through the darkening sky as you let yourself smile. you’d never get tired of the affection kate showered you with.

“you’re my everything” she whispered to you, thumb mindlessly stroking the backside of your hand.

“and you’re mine” you replied as you thought your conjoined hands up to your face, kissing her knuckles “my universe”

She loves Wild Horses and Tumbling Dice

She don't have a single tattoo

kate remembers the exact moment she met you. when she wandered into the quaint house of a close friend from college, noticing you right away. her friend, caitlin, was having a fairly large get together for her birthday: poker, beer, and pizza. kate typically hated going out and socializing, but rarely ever was she able to say no to good food and a cold glass of cheap beer. she debated not going for the longest time and instead having caitlin over one night for dinner to make up for her absence, not really wanting to get dolled up and leave the comfort of her home. but she forced herself to go anyways, turning the key in the ignition of her truck and making her way down the road.

boy was she glad she did.

you were like a rainbow in the midst of a storm, a rose among thorns sitting there leaned against the back of your chair. the moment caitlin had let her in the house, guiding her into the kitchen to grab her a drink, her eyes were glued to you. your hair was let down down, a leather cowboy hat resting atop your head with a think pink band wrapping around the base. a flannel that was far too big for you swallowed your upper half, leaving kate to only imagine what laid beneath it. she noticed your muddy jeans, how your velvety skin ran across the stiff denim when you doubled over in laughter. you were absolutely radiant, kate didn’t need much also to fall head over heels for you.

for the most part, she avoided you all night. her nerves were getting to her, not even having to talk to you to become riddled with anxiety. something about you enchanted her, drew her in like a moth to a flame, but she couldn’t bring herself to make an introduction. rather she lingered on the outskirts of the room as she made pointless conversation with mutual friends, eyes wandering just to get a glimpse of you every so often.

then, as kate was talking to small group of people in the living room, caitlin summoned everyone into the kitchen for the poker game. her heart began to race, watching as you followed the crowd of people to the dining room table. kate was the last to funnel through, finding herself straining her neck to find an open seat. and much to her luck, like a sign from the universe, the last open seat was directly next to you. maybe this was meant to be, written in the stars that she’d sit next to you tonight.

“hey,” she swallowed hard when she tapped on your shoulder, choking back a cough of uncertainty “d’ya mind if i sit, ma’am?”

you looked back behind you, eyes wandering up kate’s tall figure. you grinned, pulling out the chair a little more so she could sit down.

“not at all!” she squeezed in between you and the person next to her, arm brushing against yours electrically as she tried to find a comfortable position “i -uh-i don’t think we’ve met?”

“oh! yea no” kate felt like she was about to faint, she barely made it past the initial question and now she was already being forced into an introduction? “i went to college with caitlin, we’re pretty close buds, but um…i don’t go out much so i’m not around”

“really? that’s crazy you’ve known her for so long!” you said. kate would be forever grateful that you disregarded her awkwardness “i met her a while back when i first moved to town, she helped me get settled in and everything”

kate exhaled, the words spewing from your lips hardly retained as she was concentrated on your immense beauty. you voice sounded like honey, everyone else’s words becoming jumbled in the background.

“sorry, i didn’t even tell you my name,” you internally scolded yourself “i’m YN”

“s’nice to meet you, YN” she nodded, offering a calloused hand out to you. you gladly took it, dainty hand fitting perfectly into her much larger one “m’kate”

and just like that, such a simple introduction seemed to entice a years worth of conversation. throughout the entire poker game the two of you couldn’t seem to stop talking. to be truthful, kate threw the entire game in the first hand just so she could get out as soon as possible to talk to you. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do the same. this didn’t go unnoticed by caitlin (or any of the others for that matter), quickly catching on to how her best friend had stuck like glue to you. whilst the rest of them pushed around chips, threw down hards, and occasionally cussing over a bad hand, you and kate sneaked away to the backyard.

‘we’re just gettin’ some air, we’ll be back b’fore the games over’, she announced when caitlin asked why you both backed away from the table. caitlin nodded innocently, pretending she didn’t know your true intentions. she smiled smugly behind her cards as she watched kate open the back sliding door open for you, placing her hand on your hip to guide you in front of her. suddenly, caitlin felt like a matchmaker.

the air was still, crickets sounding loudly from deep under the trees and bushes of caitlin’s backyard. an owl cooed in the far distance, moonlight beating down onto the lush and green lawn. everything went silent when kate slid the door closed behind you. you were far too scared to say anything, opting to take a seat on the concrete steps and listen to the tranquil sounds of the south. kate plopped down next to you as she let her knee relax just enough to bump into yours. her lips parted, eyes locking with yours, elbows resting on her knees as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. she wanted to know everything about you, hear every story you had to tell. she had the unexplainable urge for you to consume her every being, needing to know what it was like to love you. she didn’t care you had just met, or that you were merely just talking, something inside her told her this was love at first sight.

she had only muttered something along the lines of ‘i think i could sit here all night with you’ before you were high off chitchatting once again.

maybe an hour passed, maybe 2, you weren’t quite sure. time seemed to stop as you sat there talking to kate, the sky growing darker with the lights inside being your only source of light. your butt stung from the roughness of the concrete, but the discomfort didn’t seem to cross your mind once as you babbled to kate about everything and anything. from childhood stories, to worse first dates, there didn’t seem to be a single topic left out of discussion.

in such a short amount of time, she learned so much about you. how much you adored animals, that you wanted to be a veterinarian when you were little but ultimately not having the money for college. she learned that you loved to bake and that’s why you moved out to town, to take over your great grandmas bakery on the edge of the valley. you told her about how your favorite thing to make was carrot cake and that you’d love to make one for her sometime, really just an excuse to see her again. she learned that you hated needles, that you’d wanted to get a tattoo last year but ended up chickening out before they could even lay down the stencil. even the little details, like your parents divorce or your close relationship with your brother, she came to know it all. and loved every bit of it. she had never felt so connected to a single soul in her entire life.

“wait wait wait,” kate threw her head back, throat bobbing as she laughed “there’s no way you did that!”

“it’s true!” you cackled, hand coming to grasp at your chest as you chuckled “i swear to god it’s true!”

“so you mean to tell me…” she tried to get the story straight, tongue darting out slightly as she processed what you had said “that you got chased down? by a wild horse?”

“yes! my friend bet me 20 bucks to try and get a stupid selfie with it-cause let’s be honest we were 16 and fucking idiots-and i spooked it from behind, and well…it chased me all the way back to my truck!”

“well you’re a hell of a lot braver than me, i woulda been knocked out cold within a second!” you snickered, luring the most mesmerized grin from kate. she looked back out into the yard when she sensed the mingling was dying down, the air going quiet once again. “you know i-um…this has been really nice, sittin here talkin to ya”

“yea,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, still looking at kate even though she had turned “it has”

“could be kinda up front with ya?” kate blurted. she had been contemplating it all night, asking you out and overcoming her fears. but the whole night she couldn’t see herself doing it. that was until now, the moment she understood how badly she needed to see you again.

“of course, kate”

“do you think i could get your number?” she might faint on the spot, the sudden sour of confidence could send her into cardiac arrest “i mean you definitely don’t have to give it t’me at all, i don’t know i just thought that-”

“kate,” you laid a hand on her shoulder to get her to ease up, she held her breathe in fear of your possible rejection “i would love to give you my number”

and just like that, the rest was history. she’d remember this moment forever.

She'll drink all the liquor and leave you the ice

kate leaned against the cedar post that held the rickety porch together, weathered and old from so many years of love. her boots, a new pair that you had gotten her for her birthday, left muddy prints on the slats underneath her. she had her arms folded across her chest as her fingers came up to toy with the bolo tie that sat snuggly underneath her collar. it was baby pink, like the band of the hat you were wearing during the night you met. kate was never big on pink, but after meeting you, it became her favorite color.

she was watching you closely, not wanting to miss a single second of the moment. you were out in the front yard near the little flower garden you insisted on starting when you moved in with kate. it stretched along the fence that separated the yard and the plots of land reserved for the rest of the farm. endless species of wildflowers sprouted from the dirt and mulch, other plants you picked from the gardeners market sat freshly planted. you loved that damn garden with everything you had. sometimes kate wondered if you loved your flowers more than her.

dressed in a light green sundress, the one that sat untouched in the back of your closet most days, you stood radiant under the evening sun. there was a cotton apron draped around your waist, you had sewn several pockets into it by hand so that you could carry your supplies in the garden. there wasn’t a shoe, sock, nor sandal on your foot either. you claimed to prefer it that way, wanting to feel the earth and “be one with nature”. it made kate laugh, seeing your toes sink into the soil. you were on your hands and knees trying to pull the freshly grown weeds, hands wrapping around the base and tugging the roots from their clutch in the ground. kate could make out a line of dirt that spread from your temple to your cheek, most likely from wiping your hand across your sweaty skin. with a groan, you sat back on your knees, tossing the last few weeds into the basket next to you and throwing your head back. you sighed from the excessive heat and the gnawing pain in your forearms. but kate couldn’t help but stare at you in awe, whether you were dirty and tired it didn’t matter to her. she watched as the neckline of the dress dipped down, your chest heaving, causing the tops of your breasts spill just a tich. kate gulped deeply in astonishment. your pink lips, now red from the amount of times you’ve licked them, puckered out as you stretched your neck. it took everything in her to not march over to you, lay you out onto your back, and give the neighbors a show they certainly wouldn’t want to see.

“quit starin’ at me you creep!” you hollered across the yard, snapping kate from the trance you had her in. she chuckled under her breath, her arms falling to her sides.

“m’just appreciatin’ the view” she was so good at smooth talking you, always getting you rattled “can’t a woman just admire her gorgeous wife?”

“not when her woman’s knee deep in weeds and is too tired to make it back to the house!” you pouted, balled fists coming to rest on your hips. you were scolding her now?

she made her way down the cobblestone path, tripping on the stone that stuck out more than the rest. you had asked her to put “fixing that stupid fucking stone” on her to-do list earlier in the month, but she had never gotten to it. you’d probably pester her about it again eventually. your mood instantly changed when she stepped foot onto the grass, shaking her head at you jokingly.

“cant believe you’d leave me out here in this blistering heat, makin’ your so called ‘gorgeous wife’ sit out here helplessly” you nudged again, neck craning up see her clearly.

her face was covered in freckles, darkened from a days work on the farm. her hairy was tied into a braid, strangling hairs whisking around ever which way. you noticed the pink tie on her neck, always smiling when she wore it because you knew she bought it because of you.

“well i’m here aren’t i?” she held both of her hands out to you, offering to help you up “i’d be quite the fool to leave ya”

“such a sweetheart” you tutted, letting kate yank you from the ground, grunting from the force. with her bewildering strength, you stumbled into her. your arms gripped onto her biceps and hers found the way to your rear, giving you an inviting squeeze “thank you baby”

she tipped her head to the right, one hand coming up to tangle itself in your hair. her lips met yours momentarily, capturing you in a winded kiss. you squeaked in surprise at her actions, only to accept it immediately after and kissing her back.

“anytime” she smirked, nipping your bottom lip as she pulled away “although you looked like absolute perfection out here…on your knees…that pretty little dress ridin’ up your thighs. gettin’ me all hot and bothered, yet you’re the one doin’ the weeding”

“keep it in your pants, martin” you rolled your eyes, trying suppress the butterflies in your stomach. but you could never trick kate, she knew exactly the things she did to you. you hooked your fingers through her belt loops as you began walking backwards towards the house, taking her with you “now come and help me”

“help you with what? i thought you were done weedin-”

“not with the weeds silly” she looked at you confused. you pursed your lips as you pushed the front door open “with somethin’ else…this dress ain’t gonna take itself off”

she groaned, biting down on her tongue. images of what she’d do to you on a continuous loop in her mind “you tease”

“maybe,” you shrugged, already making your way down the hall and to the stairs, swaying your hips to egg her on. kate had halted at the bottom of the stairwell, unable to form a complete sentence it seemed “are you coming or not?”

“i’m comin’” she said, following you to the bedroom “just you wait, darlin”

…That's too much cologne, she likes perfume

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #kate martin x yn #kate martin oneshot #country kate martin #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wnba basketball #wlw imagine #wlw #lesbian imagine #lesbian #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #rpf x reader #rpf #foreingersgod

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spurbleu · 1 month

Text

rendezvous

ch.1 mother’s advice

[ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!stripper!reader ]

▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎▅︎

S. mother left you with very little aside from her cat, calloused advice, and a legacy at your local brothel.

warnings. shameless men, customers service industry, mentions of abuse

a/n: lore drop and y'alls first meeting :) again, slowburn so be patient

word count: ~3.2k

‧︎༚︎☉°︎༚︎‧︎༚︎✳︎☉︎︎°︎‧︎༚︎‧︎

“Only eva’ let the good lookin’ ones get dirty wich ya, darlin,”

your mama had said rather plainly one night as you fixed her tea, voice coarse under cigarette,

“no use ina ugly fuck.”

Strange, how the only good advice she had given you (alive, at least. plenty of lessons from her dead), was about sex. She’d never been gentle enough with your hair to elicit the idea she might be with her words (but being a daughter meant you hoped). So, when you buried her, outdated ramblings and boorish tongue, most of what you took with you was boneless.

You packed the vulgar with the rest of the house, strapping it to the back of your truck and hoping it would nestle in the tobacco-less walls of your new apartment (a different shade of yellow- little kinder- absent of bile). Or maybe the newer wooden floors, eroded under boot heel, sturdy still.

On arrival you discovered it had found a less subtle home. Must have been some twisted fate (a mother’s memory- hardly sweet), that your new apartment was neighbors with your town’s brothel.

Funny, how a broke, orphaned woman like yourself, sun bleached elbows and sore neck, was given an opportunity to finally test the merit of a mother’s advice.

The withering building paralleled one of her last gifts to you, a lingerie set. Old brick red, lace trim gauze between blocks. Thick straps bridging bralette to panties like the iron beams holding up a raunchy sign- Rendezvous.

Stench of sex fogged up greasy windows, drunk mumblings of wifeless (or, a more depressing thought, married) men on its porch, wearing crucifixes in bogus devotion. The oak beneath their leather was rusting by their print of dust and the grooves beneath a bottle of beer- sorrel glass broken at the foot of creaky stairs.

Recently, your old church pews found their way back to your mind. You pushed the last of your boxes through the door, knees blushing purple with guilt. No, you had decided upon arrival- you wouldn’t even look at the place.

Pig stye, you’d convinced yourself, whore house. You turned your nose to it all, prissy and ornery even as they whistled from the railings, red knuckles itching for your attention. Hasty for the day they’d see you in dusk light, starting your shift. Only for you to leave them, day after day, cockdumb and unsatisfied.

And you had been doing so well, too.

That was until you opened the envelope- your mother’s allowance. The one useful thing that the drunken, deceased mess of a women could’ve given your hopeless soul. Magnum Opus of her faulty motherhood, forgiven with just some fucking money.

But she was always more complicated than that, wasn’t she. Peaking from the back of the white fold was, indeed, that wonderful, faded green of cash- but in front of it was a depressing beige- capitalized by black ink.

Girl,

Leave this apartment to you, take care of the old thing. That brothel knows me likes me; they’ll give you a job. Make yourself some real money, use my looks, darling. Be good. without me

Much love,

Mother.

You tossed the note aside before your hungry fingers tore the dip of the paper apart- revealing, and you counted a dozen times to be sure, sixteen dollars.

Sixteen dollars is what you’re worth. Cheap cattle at a fair, squalid men drooling as your mother snickers. Your scrawny legs buckled under the weight of the gold bell- which, you’ve now discovered, costs more than you do.

You’d be angrier if you were surprised. But you weren’t. Hell, sixteen wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been- with the way her money was spent on dozens of those cancer packs a day, cig smoke stealing your wages one stick at a time.

You plucked up her note, reading between the pen’s blood to find anything else. Searching, like you had in her for decades, for a little more. A secret message between your fiber taught liaison, written in the tone she had used with you (old spice on dry meat) up until she couldn’t anymore. You could hear it now, reading the note to you, and suddenly you were five again, tugging at her shawl as sleep nipped the last pages of your Goodnight Tales.

You didn’t fail to notice the way she signed it, either. Mother. You had always opted for the simpler, casual name, ‘mama’. It felt truer to what she was, an apparition of a parent spared by a younger nostalgia- lacking the reliance, the respect, of an actual mother.

Yet another opinion where the both of you seemed to diverge.

No, of course you weren’t surprised.

But you were now extremely aware she had limited your options to the worst one. No southern shop, built on dirt and sweat, was going to take a labor virgin without a foot in the door. Which meant the only place desperate enough to take soft, vestal hands and good hair was that ratty brothel.

So, stubborn oxen halting actual progress, you watched the bar for a week.

Perched on a chair by the sill, the last bags of honey tea in your cup as you observed the lulls in its busy. That way, when you eventually forced your ass from the dips it made in the old seat, you’d walk to the door with as little shame as possible.

As you scurried across the street at dawn, sunrise made the old cobble appear prettier than it was. Light finding the gaps between stone, serenity’s veil cast over the Dutch Gables in early morning. The birth of day scared off the grimier patrons, leaving you in the barren womb to watch it’s first breath. You paused there, relishing the one time the small market looked…worth it.

Seconds after you slide through the saloon doors, barely given enough time to drink up the sandy lighting and timber walls, a voice calls from behind the bar.

“We’re closed.”

She’s a natural blonde, you can tell by her lighter roots. Freckles contour a round face under eye bags- and you even catch the subtle crease of crows’ feet next to her grey eyes- blemished and old. Her lips screwed into what you think might be a permanent frown- that is until you speak,

“I’m here to apply.”

and it turns into a snarl, skin pitching at the bridge of her nostril, “We ain’t hirin’.”

Your mother’s note comes back to you, and you loosen the resentment in your voice as you say her name. “I’m her daughter. ‘Said I- you’d let me work here.”

The wrinkle laxed, and her snarl came down to a thin neutral line. “Did she finally kick the bucket?”

You nodded, unsure how to feel when her lips curled. “Damn. Y’had a firecracker of a mother. Worked alongside ‘er iner prime. Solid woman,” her eyes ran up your shoulders, “terrible mother, I reckon.”

You swallowed- she grinned. Her hand beckoned you to the stools, and you took a seat, shaking her outstretched hand. “You got ‘er looks. You’ll do fine ‘ere. Names Francesca.” Her eye narrowed to slits, “Nobody calls me Franny. Its Francesca, or Miss- got it?”

You nodded, and she flashed you another glimpse of her yellow teeth.

“I’ll start ya at the bar. See ‘ow long ya last.”

Turns out, you lasted a lot longer than she thought you would.

Swatting advances away as you gave patrons bottles, but smart enough to never get mouthy. You caught more flies with honey anyhow- so as your boots became comfortable in the mop-clean lumber floors, you’d occasionally entertain some of them.

“You single, sweetheart?” Slurred from a regular as you filled his tab. Grisly looking fellow, got years on you. Too many to be talking.

“Enough to work here.” You slid him a drink with a smile. Syrup on a glass rather than salt. The spread of his lips was telling- he tasted it.

Boisterous laughter- too loud to want just liquor- “’nough to sit on an old man’s lap?”

No. Not enough that they thought they’d get lucky- but that was the trick, wasn’t it? Just barely easy enough to send them wily looks over your shoulder, cover the spite in your voice with flirts- onion layered by a blushing red skin- weak enough that it kept them hoping. But never truly easy, moving to the next customer before the last could lean for a fat kiss.

You rolled your eyes with your back turned to him, jaw clicking in thin patience.

“Not over here. That’s for the other rooms.”

His eyes followed your pointer finger, attention sinking its dull teeth into the cardinal doors.

You pretended not to mind your position as the face of the brothel rather than the body of it. Why would you anyway? You’re sure the girls back there would kill for an easy job like yours- given the chance to politely navigate around advances rather than being forced to feed them. You only had to serve the dry slacks- and watch them as they left soiled. You didn’t have to see- no, make- that filthy in-between.

Church taught you enough. Nothing but festering confessionals behind that door.

But goodness, could you be childish. Curious mind, insecure heart- all of you greedy. You were positive they made bushels more than you- and all for some more skin, done up hair and lidded eyes?

You could do that.

Bitter, confusing envy. Makes you mad when Francesca gave you a hard no after asking for a promotion- but sorry as you curl in thin sheets before dreamless slumber.

(Did your greed weigh more than morals? Did church and your father’s absence teach you that little? Nothing should be this existential- but maybe that’s why it’s uprooting. Forked road- giving up a part of you either way.

You hate to admit you buried something of your own with your mother’s body, but what you hate more is that it’ll take this decision to figure out just what it was. Your innocence- daughterhood and a sweet virtue, or your hearth- the fight to survive and earn. Living for a little vice.

You’d dream in saturation on these nights, colors crisper than they’ve ever been- even young. You were never sure why the colors were so bright.)

So here you are, another night drawn as a sloppy line under a bar, marking…3 months? Sunrise and sunset look so similar nowadays, and it made the silhouette of an hourglass harder to etch in the tan pages of your moleskin.

However, it did give you more time to sketch out the pub.

The booths pulled the same wood of the wall forward in a curved seat, split by a table and cushioned by yellow pillows- filled with rice, those damn things must have been harder than the booths themselves.

Around them, dark oak tables and creaky chairs- makes any working man feel ten pounds heavier with the way they whine when sat on. A candle and 3 coasters in the center of every round table, beckoning more drinks as the day died. In fact- those wax sticks were everywhere along the tavern- even in a chandelier that dangled above the liquor shelf, occasionally dripping hot tears on the bar.

Just the kind of place you’d expect to see the men you do.

Seedy- dusting in the corner of your bar are built scrawny- diet of yeast and grass evident in the hollow of their back. Mouths they hide from their mothers, hands that hit harder than their fathers. But in the redness of their cheeks- bloated by the sun and the contents you served them- was a weakness.

Masculine insecurity that had them calling you a ‘pretty bitch’. A compliment, but derogatory enough their clam tongue wasn’t revealed under the folds of their shell. No pearl, no wealth- just a common, beached, animal.

“’nother round, for mah fellows, baby.”

You glanced up. Sullen face, grey beard- twisted lips that cracked under ale. He flashed crooked teeth, and you strained a smile, forcing the tired plump of your cheeks to spread. You slipped your journal beneath the bar, taking his cups and filling them until the clouds of foam kissed the rim.

He flipped a couple coins on the counter, and you slid them into your palm.

You sighed, running your tongue along the cast of your teeth. Late hours were so boring- never new- repetitive that even the loud, sudden laughter from that back corner didn’t phase you anymore.

There were no more surprises- because everyone was here.

Ned and his calloused farmer men. Not too much of a hassle, sat in the back and called you names- but let you work. Callum and his wallowing ass in the center tables, nursing his umpteenth glass of the evening ever since his wife left.

And Silas- sweet boy- young and excited to drink. He’s more often than not by himself, drunk silly as he draws. You liked him more than the rest- brother feeling about him. Kinder.

So, it surprises you when the bell rings, well into the night, and he walks in.

Brutish arms- hung by shoulders that nearly reach the door frame. The rest of him was just as big- military fed, you had to assume. Strong jaw, buzzed skull except for a well-trimmed bush down the center. He stood out like a sore thumb, the slender builds of farmer boys a third of the bull that stood in front of you.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, as you heard the laughter behind you hush and Callum’s wallowing come to a lull. He didn’t seem to mind- especially as he made his way to the bar- eyes and smile beguiling- and directed at you.

Now you weren’t easily charmed- but you knew a handsome man when you saw one. It’s the particular weight on their shoulders- making their feet come down heavier and gate smooth.

Nothing wrong with looking at them- just as long as you don’t get too comfortable. Just because they’re clams with nicer shells, maybe even a pearl between clean teeth, doesn’t mean they’re any less washed up.

“Welcome. What can I get’cha tonight.” You offered him the same smile you gave everyone.

“Aye. A pint ‘il do.”

The thick arches of gaelic in his voice caught you off guard. Deep timbers, pine rooted in his throat, leaves lime with humor. It pooled in the back of your mouth- an aftertaste you found yourself liking.

You filled his glass, rolling the shock off your shoulders. “We don’t get many scots ‘n here.”

He chuckled as you handed him a glass, blue eyes unwavering as he took a sip. “Nae? Though’ it’da be fool of ‘em.”

He pulled a genuine laugh out of you- the sound of sarcasm familiar- comforting. “What brings you here.”

“Work.” He said plainly- but the twitch on his knuckle told you he wanted you to ask more.

“Military?”

“What gave ye tha’ idea?”

You hummed, eyes running up his shoulders. You didn’t miss how they squared, conscious under your gaze. “You don’t look like a farmer. Too much of you.”

“Aye, ere’s neva too much of me, darl.”

You sucked in your bottom lip. Charmer.

“So, you are military, then?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You idled your hands with one of the many dirty glasses that blistered under old soap studs and dried foam. The rags bumpy fabric prickled your fingers- enough to keep them from trembling when he spoke.

“What branch of the military brings you out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Most of em.”

Your lips thin to an embarrassed line. Right, of course. “I…guess I’m really asking what branch you are.”

He took another swing of his beer, and you watched as he tipped his jaw back- revealing the catch of his throat as he swallowed. Must have been on purpose- show off. “SAS. On leave, yer place looked tidy,” his eyes gave you a once over, “good tae see ’m right.”

Turning to set the glass down gave you an excuse to avoid his eyes. Demin blue but not casual, deep-set and sharp. Military grade, you could tell by the way they really saw. Accessing you, ran up the hunch of your spine and the click of your wrist- aiming to find spare bullets and threats.

He’d come up empty, though. No, not in you. All he’d find was the jump of your heart against your cervical.

“Mmm,” you offered, “Its cute, I’ll give it that much. Good for the drinks.”

He nodded, “’N maybe somethin more…”

These are the moments when your mother’s voice comes back to you. Thick spit, coarse hair- tangled and suffocating- your lungs sting almost as much as the red print on your cheek.

“Foolish child.”

Your back was turned, so you thought maybe you’d finally been tempting enough to something pretty. That the lilt in his voice, the gravel as it went an octave deeper, accent blooming under light o’s and rolled r’s- meant for your company.

That maybe, the looks you had been told were your only asset, had finally done some good.

You were left disappointed when you turned back around, cheeks a hopeful rose, when his eyes had left you. Instead, past your shoulder, to the red doors.

You’d never seen what was actually behind them, Francesca made sure of that. You could only assume it was the collection of every mans desire painted pretty- shelves of toys, women in bright, expensive lingerie, red lips on rum ones. A childish image, really, but what else were you to do?

In a way, you were just as desperate to get behind those doors as every man here. Not necessarily in the same way- not to satisfy some sick desire, dig up a buried, old arousal that their poor wives didn’t anymore.

No, for you it was to satisfy your own insecurity. Hungry creature, eager to prove and ready to sweat. To be something- pretty, ugly, didn’t matter. As long as you had a place there, you’d be rich.

“Oh, yes,” you let your customer smile come back, editing the script you were given in your head, “pretty gals over there. If you wanted a-“

“Ye work tere?”

You choked on nothing. “What?”

“Do ye work ‘n ta brothel?”

Genuine curiosity. Maybe he was hiding something else behind thin lips, but the question came out too casual for its boldness that you wouldn’t’ve caught it. You found yourself unsure in your own body, standing stiff as your bones questioned whether to lean, sit, or run.

You chose none of the three, and instead you spoke.

“No.” Not yet. You wanted to add. He hummed, taking a last swig of his pint before placing the cup on the table with a…hefty tip. You opened your mouth to say something, but when your eyes met his you were quickly hushed.

Ripped denim, now razor blue. The yellow of the lights seemed to bring it out, and if you weren’t confident he had killed a man, you were now.

“Shame,” he said, standing, “Such a bloody waste.”

#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader

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quinkysideblog · 1 year

Text

Thinking about boots again

Thinking about grinding my desperate fagcunt against the leather and laces while my cock grows almost painfully hard and his hand is around my throat and he's smiling down at me because I just can't help myself and I'm making such an *awful* mess, leaving my slick all over his boots

Thinking about begging him to let me cum on his boots thinking about him chuckling darkly thinking about him cooing at me "my god you're a desperate little faggot aren't you?" thinking about laces rubbing against my swollen cock thinking about more slick making the leather shine thinking about cumming and cumming and cumming thinking about licking his boots clean thinking about curling up at his feet and letting him rest his boots on my back

Just thinking about boots again

Minors, terfs, "men dni", misgenderers fuck off. I'm a man and this post is about t4t sex

#boot kink #bottomposting #queer nsft #bootgrinding kink #ftm nsft #q has boot thoughts

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

never not mine | jjk | "... the whispers..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game. This confrontation is long overdue and is either going to end in handcuffs or tangled limbs.

part i | this is part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; things are thrown during a public altercation; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; Jungkook's POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; a few cameos you can speculate on and one named cameo hehe; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

whether I'm gonna be your wife or gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back – imgonnagetyouback by taylor swift

It was a night just like any other night, which meant Jeon Jungkook was somewhere doing something because he was someone. On this night he was visiting a new upscale nightclub owned by one of his close friends, which was why he was at a table surrounded by his bros, expensive bottles of alcohol, and beautiful women. Not his scene, really. He was an introvert at heart. Despite that, he had obligations to be here. Obligations to laugh, to jest, to be merry, to be somebody.

But he knew he was just a somebody surrounded by much better bodies.

So, really, he was only a ghost.

“Hey, isn’t that…?”

It was luck and good friends that got him in the position he was in now. Jungkook knew that. He couldn’t complain too much when they invited him out. After all, they were only doing it because they cared about him. Yeah.

“She's really staring at you, man.”

Someone nudged his arm. For a moment, he didn’t comprehend that it was him that was being spoken to. Maybe it was the heavy black leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a tight white tank, and completed his outfit with studded charcoal-wash jeans and black leather boots. Nice, sure, but there were other men that much more sharply dressed with bigger designer labels. Of course, he cleaned up well with his slicked-back black hair and clean-shaven jawline. So did any other male model out there. He was not so egotistical to think he was the most interesting man there.

“Hmph, who?” he snickered, swinging around in his chair with the ice in his glass clinking. He would figure out who everyone was talking about from the reactions of the public. He snapped his head around, stray tendrils of black falling free onto his forehead, obscuring his vision for a split second, and then he faced the crowd beneath the VIP tables.

Time slowed.

The club was loud. Very loud, due to the deafening combination of music, chatter and laughter. It was lit with the imperfect balance of light and dark, oscillating spotlights exposing corners and weaving through moving bodies clad in fitted dresses, high heels, tailored blazers, suit pants. The alcohol was high-grade. The crowd was cherry-picked and pre-screened at the door. It was what it was. Individuals who had money blowing money, ignoring the sins around them to commit their own. It was hard to pick out someone.

But Jungkook saw her right away.

The club became quiet from his point of view. Sound became a mishmash of muffled, incoherent noises fading to the background as the faces blurred. The music dulled. All lights dimmed except in one area. Everything was still moving, still thriving, still breathing yet he was only aware of one single person.

His ex-girlfriend stared right at him from below.

Even from this distance he could feel the blades in her gaze.

Black patent leather jacket. Very short, cut just under the breasts. Black lace corset, see-through except for the cups. Skintight lilac miniskirt. Legs for days. Pointed-toe black pumps with a thin ankle strap, the kind he had trouble with due to the small delicate buckle.

He tried to breathe but the air was like concrete in his lungs.

She tilted her head, narrowing her smoked-out eyes. Her lips were glossy crimson, cool-toned to match the palette of her outfit. Her hair had been pinned up, exposing her graceful neck and glimmering collarbones.

She began to walk through the crowd.

Jungkook spun around and suddenly all the sound roared back, intense and thunderingly hostile. He winced, clutching his drink and holding the side of his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Tch, why is she here?”

“Right? She doesn’t belong here.”

“She can be wherever she wants to be,” replied a calm, deep voice.

He could hear voices around him talking but it wasn’t making any sense. How? Why? Was he seeing things? And why did it matter? It didn’t. It didn’t. He took another sip of his glass and found it bitter and tasteless. Maybe that was in his head too. It didn’t matter if she was here. Someone was tugging on his arm. He pulled himself free, snapping his hand down onto the table.

The world crashed back into place as his drink sloshed and spat out from his force.

A startled feminine gasp.

The calm, deep voice returned. “You okay, man?”

Jungkook jerked his head up and saw Kim Taehyung carefully surveying him. He was a man with strong, masculine features and a comforting baritone voice that reminded one of cozy winters and romantic nights. Out of all his friends, they were the closest in age. However, Taehyung was more than a year older and a much more seasoned veteran of the modeling industry. He had been scouted at a very young age, quickly learning the ins-and-outs without losing who he was. He was grounded, easygoing, and never had a crack in his composure. At least, that was how Jungkook thought of him.

Taehyung raised a dark eyebrow, repeating his question without saying a word.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook scowled, then controlled his face a bit better. “What?”

Those dark, moody eyes served him a dose of silent judgement as one of the girls at the table spoke up again.

“Oooh, she’s sitting down at a table.”

He told himself not to look. It didn’t matter if she was here. And yet his head moved on its own, pivoting to the left so fast he almost had whiplash. At high-end clubs like this, there were tables available depending on to how much a patron spent. The larger tables had to be paid for in advance to be secured a space. Such reservations were violently expensive, signaling VIP status. A lot of the smaller tables on the lower level were occupied. The more exclusive tables were higher up, needing stairs to access the higher tiers. A waiter was holding her hand, carefully guiding his ex-girlfriend up the stairs to an empty round table that typically seated ten.

There was no one else at the table.

She sat down at the seat closest to overlooking the club.

“She can afford that?”

A crackling laugh. “Doubt it.”

“Who are you to say what she can’t afford?” Taehyung cut in sharply in a disapproving tone.

“O-Oh, well… It’s just not that common, you know.”

The chittering was from the women they had invited to the table earlier. Shit, their presence seemed so frivolous and annoying now. Jungkook had half a mind to turn around and glare at them. Instead, he was transfixed by the woman in patent leather and tight lilac. She crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, and leaned back in her chair, scanning the crowd. A waiter came back and brought a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle and accompanying flutes. A waitress came by with another bottle. Porcelain, with painted flue floral design, and placed two crystal glasses onto the table. His former lover smiled at them, nodding. They bowed and took their leave after serving her.

Instead of touching the drinks, the woman turned her body and locked her icy stare right on him.

Jungkook stiffened and turned away quickly, feeling his body running hot. The table was still talking, but it was behind hands and feigned disinterest. Taehyung sighed, shaking his head. Of course, there had been other friends at the table too. Only now did Jungkook notice that they were missing. Must have wandered off. At the very least, their host Kim Seokjin would definitely be gone for a while. He was an affluent actor, model, and owner of several establishments, including this luxury nightclub. Eventually the tall, broad-shouldered man would return to see them off, but there was no telling when.

“Did you know she was gonna be here?” Jungkook hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the women. They still lingered for the free drinks which Taehyung kept supplied. No sense in wasting Seokjin’s endless tab after all.

Taehyung frowned. “I don’t police people’s actions. Does it matter what she does?”

Jungkook scoffed. “Oh, so this wasn’t your idea?”

Those normally warm brown eyes turned cold. “It wasn’t. Besides, she’s no longer your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not.”

A growl collected in Jungkook’s throat and he was about to let it loose. He swiveled his head again only for the sound to die before it began. A man was standing by her table. He was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, with tied-back bleached-blond hair that laid over his shoulders. He had a pleasant decorum and a smile like a predatory feline. She gestured him to sit down and poured him a drink as invitation. He watched in horror as his ex-girlfriend chatted up a beautiful stranger.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or run over there to flip the table.

A low voice cut through his thoughts.

“Wasn’t the breakup amicable?”

He froze.

Slowly, Jungkook faced Taehyung, his long-time friend. He never really could bring himself to fully lie to those piercing dark orbs, now reflecting the same reserved gaze that Taehyung had given him when Jungkook provided the same flimsy excuse he was once again repeating.

“I… It wasn’t meant to be,” Jungkook mumbled once more. “The traveling… it was too much for us.”

The older male was too good at reading between the lines, especially when it came to romance, his forte. “Hm.” He knew when he wasn’t getting the full story. “It’s probably too late to ask now, but was it what you wanted?”

Jungkook couldn’t help it.

“It was…”

He looked over his shoulder again.

“… What I deserved.”

She was thanking the blond-haired man. He bowed ninety degrees and leaned in, whispering something in her ear before leaving the table. His glass was empty. Someone else was approaching the table. A pretty woman with long black hair in a white minidress and short, pearl-white nails sat down, bowing lightly and introducing herself. His ex-girlfriend offered between the two drinks and the pretty woman chose the champagne. A waiter came over to uncork it for them, pouring a healthy amount into the two flutes.

They two chatted, immediately absorbed with each other.

“For a guy naturally talented at a lot of things, you’re such a stupid idiot.”

He was.

Wait.

Jungkook scowled, turning back to a disapproving Taehyung cradling a small ceramic cup. It was hand-painted with the smallest of brushstrokes, depicting a flock of black birds disappearing into the white sky. He took a sip with a gruff sigh, making a tense face. He was a wine guy, but he couldn’t turn down traditional Korean alcohol. That would be uncouth.

“How long are you going to continue moping?” Taehyung scoffed.

“I’m not moping,” Jungkook countered, hunched over the table and gripping his whiskey glass a little too hard.

“You are convincing no one. Least of all me.”

His eyes flickered upward, glaring. Taehyung remained refined, unperturbed, nearly prince-like in his half-open floral-and-forest-green silk shirt and ruffled hair. A black-brown curl perfectly grazed one of his eyebrows, accenting his condescending look with a dash of softness.

“Did you ever realize how much she did for you?”

Jungkook pushed away his glass. He couldn’t reply. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying not to feel. It was only then that he noticed that the table was strangely silent despite the fervor of the environment – the women had made themselves scarce, understanding that this conversation was much too serious for their girlypop night.

Finally, he forced himself to speak. “For me? I take care of myself.”

Taehyung winced. Hard. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Another peek behind him. A different man at her table now. Silvery-blonde hair, tan skin, muscular like a godly titan. She caught him looking and stared directly back. Jungkook cursed under his breath. “What did she do then? Hm? Enlighten me.” His voice was becoming rougher, slipping out of his practiced Seoul dialect and into his Busan dialect. The broad-shouldered man at the table had no suit jacket. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he began to turn around as well.

Jungkook jerked away before they could lock eyes too.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Taehyung exhaled, not quite annoyed but getting there. “But I know you were the one that was wrong.”

Yeah, right.

“Never once did she complain about you. Never once did she butt into your business and cause you trouble when she could have. Never once did she talk behind your back when we both know damn well that you’re no saint, Jeon Jungkook.”

His tattooed hand against the table balled up into a fist, the familiar ache in his chest splitting, threatening.

Unintimidated, Taehyung continued. “The travelling was rough? Of course, it is. And there are probably a thousand ways to make it up to someone you love, but instead now I’m looking at you sitting here and her sitting there, pretending to be strangers. Tells me a whole lot about how that worked out.” His natural Daegu satoori was becoming more evident during his tirade. Taehyung wasn’t trying to be polite, though.

“You don’t know anything,” Jungkook retorted.

“I don’t.” Those dark brown eyes burned hot, scrutinizing him and tearing him apart. “And I don’t need to. Your hostility is telling me everything.”

“It was you,” Jungkook snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. “You invited her here.”

Taehyung’s low voice became lower, more accusatory. “Go ahead. Keep deflecting. Run back home and hide. That’s what you want to do, right?” His gaze narrowed and Taehyung’s normally friendly warmth morphed into scalding heat. “You heard what they said. She doesn’t belong here. And yet, here she is. They all talked and gossiped and badmouthed her, right to your face even, and yet you said nothing. You still don’t have the fucking balls, man. You didn’t respect her for all she was. In spite of that, she stood beside you, head held high, until you tossed her away. You brought her into this world, you ripped her out of it, and guess what? She is here. She holds her own. You deluded yourself into thinking she needed you. But she doesn’t, and it’s the other way around.”

Jungkook shot up out of his seat, nearly knocking the chair over. He was breathing hard, his furious anger so violent that it clawed at his insides, and Taehyung tilted his head, mirroring the expression of an adult tiger observing a foolish cub.

“You’re wrong,” Jungkook gritted out between clenched teeth. “You’re fucking wrong.”

He… No. She did this. This was her fault. She was the one that always pushed him to go for what he wanted. She was the one who always helped him make it work. Last minute changes happened often early in his career and she always smiled at him and told him to go, to run, to chase those adventures. And she always waited for him to come home.

“I wasn’t like that.”

In the middle of dinners for two. In vacations cut short. In forgotten special dates. Go. She always waited for him to come home. He couldn’t be blamed for that. Those were all her own decisions. He just had to do what he had to do, didn’t he? He couldn’t be blamed for doing what he thought was best. He couldn’t be blamed for trying his best. This dull ache created from a thousand cuts was not made from his own hand.

Right?

“You’re hopeless.” Taehyung slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Do as you wish.”

He wasn’t the person Taehyung was saying he was.

If he was, then…

No.

Jungkook whipped around and locked his eyes to the table, walking determinedly up to it.

There was a different man sitting there now. A very tall one with very short hair, violate energy, and a striking profile, deeply engaged in conversation with his ex-girlfriend. Currently laughing bashfully at something she must have said. The stranger was wearing a crisp black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and well-tailored black slacks. Jungkook wanted to punch him in his very handsome face. He didn’t care that the man’s shoulders and arms were so built that they were nearly bursting the seams of his dress shirt, nor did he care that starting a fight right now would do absolutely nothing except get him thrown out in handcuffs.

Jungkook wanted to kill him.

Her eyes took a moment to shift from the very handsome stranger to him.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

He glared back. Her gaze was not as heated, nor did it hold the same ice she had during their last conversation way back then. There was a completely different mix of emotions conveyed now. Almost disconnected, lonely, and loathing all at once, the last not directed at him but at herself.

As if she didn’t want to care but did and hated herself for it.

It wasn’t who she was at all, and Jungkook hated himself for doing this to her.

“Dude, I’m going to need you to get lost.”

Startled, the seated man turned his head to see Jungkook giving him a death stare. He hated seeing the puppy-like expression on such a masculine-looking man, not because he looked down on that but because it was a genuine, adorable reaction that couldn’t be faked.

She probably liked that.

She probably deserved that.

Jungkook was determined to ruin this too. Why the fuck not?

The man looked confused, and then irritated. “Uh… Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t think you belong here.” He had a commanding, stern tone. He shifted in his seat, halfway to rising. “This conversation doesn’t include you.”

“No, this conversation doesn’t include you,” Jungkook snapped, glancing at her. His ex-girlfriend did nothing but raise an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Fuck off.”

The man in the black dress shirt began to stand, brows furrowing. “Hey, I’m going to have to ask you to leave–”

“Excuse me.”

She stood up.

From this distance, Jungkook could fully take in how the smoke-grey eyeshadow accentuated the shape of her eyes, making them more prominent and intense. The lights caught the glow of her skin and the vividness of the scarlet of her lips, giving her an ethereal, untouchable demeanor. Loose layers of her hair framed her face despite the majority of it being pinned up, casting cold, dark shadows around the hot radiance of her gaze.

“I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but I think it’s best if you give us a moment,” she said politely to the tall stranger while bowing. “I was enchanted to meet you tonight, Kim Mingyu.”

A pink flush dusted over the man’s cheeks. This motherfucker had the audacity to be flustered. Jungkook still wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe more now than before.

“O… Oh… Um. Alright.” He glanced between Jungkook and her. “Will you be okay?”

She smiled, maintaining confident eye contact with the stranger. “Let’s not assume the worst of people. And… Your words have given me courage. I thank you.”

It took everything in Jungkook not to trip the guy on his very expensive designer shoes as he hastily bowed and took his leave, offering an awkward half-wave before backing away. She raised a hand back, not looking away even when he turned around.

And then.

Quiet.

At least as quiet as a loud nightclub could be. But it all became background noise in the face of loaded silence. The safety off now. The bass faded into heartbeats as she raised her eyes and, once again, they faced each other across the table. Jungkook stood with his hands balled up into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. His former lover stood with her hands in front of her. She was still the most beautiful, graceful, and collected woman that he had ever had the pleasure to know.

“I’m…”

And he missed her so, so much.

“I’m sorry.”

So fucking much.

Her eyes flickered down in a pause, and then back up. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. The past is in the past.”

Her name on his lips felt foreign and familiar all at once. She didn’t react. It was as if he had said nothing at all. He said it again, almost with an edge of panic, and she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. He wanted to run to the other side. He wanted to climb on top of the table and grab her hands and tell her it was going to be okay, that he was going to be better, that she was the love of his life and that he could be hers too, please, if only he had a chance. Instead, he stayed where he was, frozen in place, trying not to do the wrong thing even though everything about this scene and script was all wrong.

Her eyes opened in a resigned, resolute flutter.

“Do you think saying sorry takes back everything you’ve done?” she asked in a measured tone.

He pulled his hands out of his jacket, shaking his head. “No. No, of course not. I… You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and I–”

“Apologize for what?” she coldly interrupted.

“W-Well… For… everything, really.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to banish his tears. “Know?” he echoed.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” Her words were sharpened steel, cutting right through him.

“I do,” he insisted. “For all the times I left during dinner, for all the times I’ve left during our scheduled time together, for forgetting your birthday, anniversary–”

“For the blatant disrespect,” she interrupted, her hands separating, those intense eyes narrowing. “For always believing I could fend for myself when you got swept up during work events. For contacting me not to talk about my day, but to interrogate me on what I was doing. For not believing me and asking me to send photos every time I was out somewhere.”

He sputtered, taken aback. “That wasn’t… Those things–”

“For always knowing I understood your position and taking it for granted.” Her glare was like daggers, cutting through all the lies he told himself. “And yet never understanding mine. Never believing in the love I had for you.”

“I did believe!”

“And so you accused me of lying?” she shot back, scathing him. “I have never done anything to make you believe I was disloyal to you, but I was five minutes late to a date and suddenly I need to be lying? Suddenly that was a sign of my nefarious plans? Suddenly I’m the bad guy that needs to be backed into a corner? Suddenly I must beg on my knees to soothe your feelings?”

“I didn’t ask for that,” he retorted. “I just asked why you didn’t text that you were late.”

“I don’t need to repeat what I said then,” she growled, bristling. She had been five minutes late because of an elderly taxi driver taking his time. “Because it didn’t matter what the reason was for you. I know that now. You were scared. You were insecure. You were nervous that I was beginning to fall out of love with you. You latched onto the first thing I did wrong and blew it out of proportion to force me to grovel to you. You could have asked me directly how I felt. Instead, you decided to play fucking games.”

Jungkook couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Her hands balled up into fists by her sides. “I was patient. I was understanding. I loved you.” She dug her nails into her palms, clenching her jaw. “But I was not going to let myself be manipulated by your insecurities. I was not about to lose myself to become an extension of you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Past tense.

“You… loved me?”

She might as well have stabbed him right through the heart.

A thundering pause.

Finally, she sighed. Her hands relaxed.

“When I came in here, I didn’t know if I wanted to run to you or slap you.”

She looked around, down at the crowd, up to the lights, to the bar, the tables, the people.

“Before you, all I had was a decent job. Not exciting, but good enough to enjoy the life I wanted. I had loose acquaintances and once-in-a-blue-moon friends. I had mediocre hobbies that I was okay at. Before you, that had been enough. This,” she breathed, indicating the people and the money being flaunted around like water during a rainstorm. “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know how lonely it was to be standing this high. I didn’t know… My acquaintances and few friends saw the life you gave me and faded away, no longer relating to the extravagance I was exposed to. My job became a forbidden topic for the mere crime that it was boring. My hobbies became childish to these refined eyes. Yet… I could live with all that. The life I wanted was the one I had with you. And… it turned out to be miserable.”

For the first time, Jungkook realized how much she lost loving him.

“I was miserable.”

She half-laughed, empty.

“But I loved you.”

Lowered her head.

“And I was so, so damn angry with you.”

She smacked the table with her palm, hard enough to make the people around them flash them a startled look. Her fingers tensed, cherry-red manicure flaring over the wood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the part Jungkook didn’t understand. His voice rose in both frustration and desperation. “Why didn’t you just blow up on me? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Say what?” she snarled, snapping her head up, each word a bullet tearing through him. “Huh? No, don’t go? How dare you leave me, again? Create the war wounds right before we part? What good does all that do? Make us both upset right before you run off? Because you would anyway. You know you would, because you are stubborn and selfish and always doing what you need to do, putting me at the bottom of the list since I am capable… right? I can handle myself, right?”

He was rounding the table, knocking chairs aside. “You could have been angry at me. You just didn’t want to be!”

“Who wants to be angry? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“What, you were worried that you would no longer be the perfect girlfriend if you weren’t understanding?” he accused.

She looked livid. “Don’t you dare flip my consideration onto me.”

He stopped right in front of her, tension all over his neck and jaw. “It’s your fault too. I can’t change if you act like everything is fine!”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? I have to be the one to teach you not to be a fucking selfish prick and think about someone else for a change?” she hissed.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Of course, you know!”

They were beginning to draw whispers and stunned faces but neither of them was backing down or ashamed enough. Or, perhaps, they were simply completely unaware of the disruption they were causing.

“You knew – no, you still know,” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with a impeccably manicured finger. “You have never felt like you fit in with these people. That was why you tried so hard. That was why you took every opportunity to be a lapdog. That was why you dated me, because I am not privileged and enabled, that’s why you dragged me into your world and got paranoid when I wasn’t showing the same apprehensions as you, putting me in impossible positions and playing games, when we could have been teamed up against the world, when we could have been yin and yang, but all we were was a pair of damn cowards!”

His eyes went wide.

Fury laced in her helpless expression.

“You could have protected me. All you did was make me throw myself to the wolves to protect you!”

Her hands slammed into his chest and she shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, throwing his right arm out, knocking over a champagne flute and shattering it. Glass exploded onto the floor, delicate shards shooting out and catching the light, scattering into dust beneath designer feet.

People gasped and someone screamed at the unexpected noise.

His left hand reached out and gripped the patent leather sleeve of her jacket. Their gazes locked in shock and comprehension. His lips parted. One of his knees was still bent to steady himself from falling. But before Jungkook could say anything, she squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their connection, and ripped her arm from his grasp.

Then she seized the porcelain bottle with painted blue flowers and threw it onto the floor, shattering that too.

One moment of awful, dazed silence.

The next moment, men in security uniforms swiftly and silently crossed the distance and surrounded them. He was being grabbed and pinned down to the table, metal handcuffs clicked onto his wrists behind his back despite his protests. His jaw dropped when one of the men touched her shoulder and she immediately turned around and slapped him. Instantly, she too was firmly pushed down and also restrained, both of them staring at each other over the surface of the wood, their previously well-styled hair in disarray all over their faces, their eyes wide with the realization of the severity of their public argument.

He couldn’t help but think she looked fucking hot.

Something flickered in her eyes. She recognized his exact thought from their shared look. And his ex-girlfriend burst out laughing at this absurd situation, even as security hoisted them up and dragged them down the stairs. So, fuck it. He couldn’t help it either.

Jungkook started laughing too.

“This is your fault, by the way.”

“Feel free to add it to the list of shit I’ve done wrong.”

They were still handcuffed. Both standing a respectful distance away from each other in the middle of a storeroom crammed with boxes stacked like a cardboard maze. There were no windows. The door was closed and presumably locked. Neither of them had moved towards it. There would be no criminal undercover going on here. They were already in deep enough shit. Adding attempted escape would probably change their current storeroom location into separate jail cells for the night.

They did not look at each other.

Jungkook leaned against the boxes, his hands stuck behind his back. One of the sides of his leather jacket had slipped down, exposing his right shoulder. It was nice, actually, since the previous scuffle had left him rather hot-blooded. He snuck a glance beside him.

His ex-girlfriend’s body was facing the door. The backs of her hands rested on the prominent curve of her ass in that tight lilac skirt, her straight posture making her waist look even smaller. Must be nice to have a built-in shelf. His eye line travelled up to her hair, seeing it half-undone and falling down her neck. Half of the pins were still holding up by sheer luck. The patent leather of her jacket crackled as she adjusted, stretching out her ankle. She was still in her high heels.

“Uncomfortable?” he found himself quietly asking.

“Could be worse,” she answered back, still not turning around.

He waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

The silence was palpable. Somehow not unbearable. He looked back down at his feet, wondering why they had been left here. He half-expected security to escort them off the premises and into a police car, but they had marched them behind the kitchen and told them to stay put and not cause trouble, similarly to how misbehaving kids were put in time-out. Then again, the owner of the club was his affluent friend Kim Seokjin. Perhaps this was a rich people thing. Or an under-the-table thing.

Her voice echoed in his head.

You have never felt like you fit in with these people.

“Hey, uh…” he started, trailing off.

A light sigh.

Then, she shook her head, somewhat vigorously. Some of the hairpins loosened up. “Ugh, my hair is more annoying than anything,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s all messed up.”

Hell yeah, it was, and it was a turn-on, reminding him of after-sex tousling. Jungkook kept his mouth shut. Not the right time for that. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he could do anything. Wondering if he should do anything. She still hadn’t turned around.

So, he did.

He turned around, bent down slightly, and tried to reach up. The angle was difficult. Not high enough either. His leather sleeves were also constricting his movement and making loud creaking sounds. He looked back, trying to reach up with a grunt, and she stiffened, swinging her head around. He froze in an awkward position. She stared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinked back. “Um… I… I was trying to help…?”

Her eyebrow raised. “By… doing yoga?”

He let out an impatient huff. “No, I’m trying to help you take the pins out of your hair,” Jungkook clarified, straightening with a frustrated shake of his body. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? But I’m not flexible enough and you’re too tall in your heels.”

She paused. He looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed for even trying. Who was he to think that he could do something like that? Hah. His hands tightened behind him. They weren’t close like that anymore. They weren’t even friends.

He felt a sting in his heart remembering that.

“Sorry… I should have asked if you wanted the help at all.”

He exhaled heavily.

Stillness.

Then he heard the crack of patent leather and raised his head to see her squat down, lowering one knee to the concrete floor, her back perfectly straight and her head at his waist height. She was facing the door again so he couldn’t see her expression.

“If… Well, it would be helpful if you could… If you could remove the hairpins,” she mumbled, keeping her head up. “Please.”

He gawked at her kneeled form, unmoving.

His heartbeat accelerated.

“Um… if you’re going to do it, faster would be better,” she added hesitantly with placed-in chuckle. “I don’t know how long I can keep my balance in these shoes.”

His cheeks burned. “Uh, yeah, s-sorry. I’m on it.”

The metal handcuffs clinked as he moved. He turned around and backed up a bit, reaching out to feel for her hair. Sucked in a quiet breath as his fingers grazed the soft strands, memories of stolen nights drifting back to him. He swallowed hard and bit his lip, using touch to search for the hairpins, and then loosening them as gently as he could. One by one. He tried to tuck them in his palm as he continued. Sometimes he would need to rest one hand on her head and use the other to pull them out slowly and carefully. She said nothing, tilting her head slightly as he made his way around. He felt his way along her scalp, running his fingers through her hair, remembering the familiar scent he could detect when he used to breathe it in, remembering his hands holding her head as he used to lean in and kiss her, remembering that he had lost all of that now.

Jungkook lowered his chin, letting out a soundless cry.

“You liked my hair down, I recall,” she commented behind him, her soothing voice mirroring the rolling tide late at night.

“Y… Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself. He pulled back his handcuffed hands.

“You have lovely hair. I don’t like seeing it all tucked away.”

For a moment, there was a quietness as those words sank in. She shifted, and he heard her stand up, the sharp click of her heels indicating as much, but he kept his back to her, unsure if this was the last time he would touch her hair. The last time he hadn’t known it would be the last, so he didn’t mourn the moment until way later, but this time…

“Thank you.”

He breathed in through his nose. Oddly stuffy in here.

“Y… You’re welcome.”

He wished he could take it all back, but he couldn’t. He wished he could prove he was a better man, but he didn’t know how or even if he could. She was right. He had gotten swept up in his ambitions and the superficial relationships. He had been afraid. He had let that fear control him because he had felt out of sorts with who he was, who he was becoming, and who he wanted to be.

“I really… I really am sorry.”

They were back-to-back. Not touching. Just close enough to feel each other’s presence without seeing them. Hands behind their backs, staring in opposite directions but finally seeing the path before them.

“I know.”

She let out a soft breath.

“I wished for the way I felt to change once I could accept your apologies, but,” she whispered. “Life isn’t that simple or clear cut.”

His chest ached. “Yeah.” It didn’t matter if his actions had unintentional consequences. The consequences still existed. “You’re right. About it all. About the person I became and how I treated you because of it. About how this was because of me feeling like I don’t fit in.”

She didn’t say anything, yet Jungkook could sense her acknowledgment. He couldn’t really explain why he knew. Maybe it had something to do with their current circumstances.

“I keep trying and I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too simple-minded. Maybe I can’t understand the world these people live in. I mean, my friends seem like normal people but there are still moments where I catch myself thinking, I wouldn’t have thought to do or say that. I feel so… disconnected, sometimes. Meaningless. Maybe I’m not worth a damn to them.”

He was rambling, slipping between his refined dialect and his Busan satoori. He caught himself, about to correct his wording.

“You don’t have to be like the people around you to fit in,” she chided.

He stopped trying to form a sentence and listened.

“You don’t listen. That has always been your strength. Your charm is your natural character with the added spice of rebellion.” Her chuckle lightened, making his heart tighten and feel like exploding at the same time. “Your talent has always been bravely walking your own path, confusing as it may be. There is a pureness in that. You have friends because they want to protect that part of you. Haven’t you noticed? Your friends have never asked you to change or be like them. They just accept you for how you are and push away people who try to mold you into their vision.”

His friends? Well, true, they were the main reasons for him getting the jobs he got. He had always felt somewhat inadequate, realizing his success was from seniors in the industry helping him out. They all told him that this was how it worked. They all told him to do well so he could get more opportunities. It was part of the reason that he felt that he couldn’t let those connections down. He had always felt that he couldn’t refuse.

“Your friends have always been on your side. They don’t want you to be like them. They want you to stay as you are. You mean that much to those around you.”

But perhaps he had been wrong all along.

“Only you thought you needed to change.”

There was probably a lot of sound outside, but the distracting racket was inaudible from the distant storeroom. Her quiet voice amplified her words in this slice of stillness. There something stricken and bitter haunting the air between them as the revelation settled.

He clutched her hairpins in his fist.

“I didn’t… I didn’t date you just because you weren’t part of this vapid world I’m in.”

He wanted her to know.

“I wish…”

The tears stung the corners of his eyes. He refused to let them go. Jungkook looked up to the ceiling, taking in each breath as steadily as he could. He felt like he was drowning, except instead of water, it was all the things he never said.

“I wish I could have been strong enough for you to be angry at me sooner. Tonight, I realized… It was my own shortcomings that made you stay quiet.” He chuckled dryly in admiration. “You endured more than I ever could. More than anyone should.” He didn’t know if he was making any sense but he kept on going. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad. That was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you. You must have spent a lot of nights… feeling so alone because of my selfishness.”

This was not a romantic setting at all. They were stuck in a storeroom with no windows, surrounded by boxes, handcuffed for being a public disruption, for being too dramatic and too emotional. Neither of them could look at the other. A disaster in every sense of the world.

But.

Maybe this was the most honest moment they had ever shared.

Her laugh simmered behind him.

“I’m sorry for losing my shit.”

He half-smiled in rueful relief.

“It wasn’t so bad. Low-key kinda hot. I almost lost the plot at times.”

She laughed under her breath. “You don’t mean that.”

A single heartbeat of silence.

“I kinda do,” he admitted, feeling the upturned corners of his lips falter.

It became quiet once more. An embarrassed quiet, but maybe only on his side. Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to turn around and find out. He shifted awkwardly, realizing he was still holding her hairpins in his hand. Uh. Well, he couldn’t exactly ask her to put them in her pocket. Did she even have any pockets with that outfit? He furrowed his brows, thinking about that tight skirt and lace corset. Doubtful there would be any pockets in such fitted clothing. Maybe in her jacket, but it was so short that he would basically have to reach for her tits to…

His face heated slightly realizing that he was heavily focusing on her body right now.

Click.

He didn’t really register the sound behind him at first. It sounded like something falling onto the concrete. There was another sharp tapping sound, but before he could shift and twist his body to see, he felt her fingertips brush against the knuckles of his fist.

“I’m sorry too.”

He was too shocked to even move or react. Just stood there wide-eyed, struck by the lightning of her touch, realizing they were that close and that it was her who initiated that.

“I should have brought up the little things that bothered me. I shouldn’t have let it snowball simply because I thought it would make your life easier. I should have tried to remind you not to be intimidated by those around you,” she sighed heavily. “And I should have believed in your apology more than I did.”

The pads of her fingertips stilled.

One by one, they lost contact.

Jungkook dropped all the hairpins on the floor in a cascade of metal raindrops.

He reached back and grabbed her hand, gripping her fingers tightly, gasping as he felt her cool skin against his warmth. He felt her initial rise of reluctance, however, she did not pull away. Their handcuffs clinked against each other, the chains colliding. He scrambled to reach a little higher. Grasping her hand in his. Her right in his right. He tried to say something. Something romantic, something reassuring, something self-derogatory even.

But nothing come out.

He tried to breathe and was choked by inner tears. Tried again, shaking, trying to be silent. Her fingers curled around the back of his hand and laid there. She gave him a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry.”

Her calming voice a dream on this night.

“I’m here.”

They held hands.

It must have been only for a short while. It felt like forever packed in minutes. He inhaled deeply, catching fleeting traces of her sweet and sultry perfume. Closed his eyes with an exhale. Another inhale, slower this time. Maybe this was futile. Maybe this was objectively wildly inappropriate. Maybe he was the fucking worst, wishing, hoping they could reset to something new. All of this could crash and burn.

Or.

Or, maybe.

He swallowed tightly. Leaned back just a little. Their shoulder blades touched. A moment of suspended anticipation. She leaned back against him. The backs of their heads didn’t yet touch. He felt her hair on his neck. It was only the tops of their backs that touched, but now there was only centimeters of trembling air between them.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice rough and nervous.

“Only a little.” Her thumb brushed against the side of his palm. “I’ll be alright.”

Yeah, he knew that. “You’re the most capable person I know.”

She sighed. “It’s not all sunshine and roses.”

He scrunched up his face in search for the words. “Well… You suit moonlight and thorns more.”

She nearly snorted. He felt her shoulders shake in silent laughter. He winced, thinking he said something wrong.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I like those better, anyway!” He blurted it out quickly. Maybe too quickly, curling a bit in on himself once he realized what he said, cringing, but she tugged on his hand ever so slightly. It was obvious she was shaking her head from her hair swishing over his neck.

“You always had a thirst for danger, Jungkook.”

Her tone was slight and playful. He felt his cheeks burn and his heart race so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe from the pressure. Nearly stuttered when he heard his name in her voice, clenching his jaw shut so he didn’t make a fool of himself. Again. His entire body tensed, on edge and vibrating from the rush of emotions.

“Are you trying to break my hand?”

He was gripping her hand way too tight. “S-Sorry!” He loosened his stiff fingers, twisting his wrist to keep his hand cupped around hers. “Sorry…”

“Heh, it’s not like you to apologize,” she teased.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “Hey...”

Her head laid against his shoulder.

He stilled, heartbeat pounding. She looked up at the ceiling. At least, he presumed that from the angle. The back of her head touched his left shoulder, just barely. Her hair spilled against his collarbone and back, messy and free.

“I bet you have somebody. You’re too good-looking to have nobody lined up.”

Her murmur was soft and resigned. Guilty.

Her words hung in the air.

He tipped his head back, the nape of his neck against her shoulder. The patent leather of her jacket squeaked loudly under his presence. He wished. He hoped. He…

“I have someone,” he confessed.

He squeezed her hand. Their faces tilted upwards to the ceiling, and still Jungkook could recall every detail of her eyes – the way they glimmered when she smiled, the way they sparked when she was serious, the way they twinkled during all their special moments, the way they hollowed out when she turned away from him.

His fingers gently separated hers, interlocking.

The words were at the tip of his tongue.

His lips parted.

Suddenly there were loud footsteps on the other side of the heavy wood door. His ex-girlfriend jerked up in alarm. Jungkook stumbled. Both of them quickly sprang away from each other as the noisy jangle of keys was heard and then the heavy door swung open, revealing the two of them standing there, tense, now staring wide-eyed at a tall, broad-shouldered man flanked by two security guards. His black hair was perfectly parted, half brushing against his forehead and half combed back, giving a corporate feel in his tailored black suit. He was strikingly handsome by all accounts. Intense dark brown eyes, sculpted brows, full lips, stunning jawline.

Kim Seokjin wore an exasperated, annoyed expression.

He ticked his head to Jeon Jungkook’s ex-girlfriend.

“You. Come with me.”

She hesitated for a second and stepped forward, hanging her head a bit. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

It would be expected for such a stern, posh-looking man to be harsh. Instead, Seokjin stuck his fists by his waist and sighed loudly, similarly to a disappointed grandmother scolding her favorite child.

“Haaah… come on. You’re not going to jail. I want to talk to you alone. Hey, uncuff her,” the owner of the nightclub tutted. One of the security guards went around her to unlock the handcuffs. “It took me a while to handle everything out there. At least the incident won’t be on the news or anything.” He reached out and held her elbow as she was released, steadying her balance and leading her out of the room. The guards followed, not taking a second glance back.

Jungkook frowned. “Hey, hyung–”

Seokjin whipped up and pointed a finger at him. “No. You stay here.”

Jungkook balked, offended. “What?! What about me?”

The older man glared at him like he was the naughty child. “I’ll have a conversation with you after. Stay.”

Anger boiled high. “I’m not a dog!”

Offensively, Seokjin barked back with, “You’re right. Dogs are loyal. And want to listen to people. You have the listening skills of a straw. In one end and out the other.”

The door slammed shut with finality.

Jungkook stood there, speechless, gawking at the sheer audacity.

Then he kicked the floor with a roar of impatience once Kim Seokjin’s insult finally registered. What the hell! Kim Seokjin was the one to invite him here in the first place! Seokjin was the oldest of Jungkook’s friends that took him under his wing, teaching him about various business aspects behind the scenes and making sure Jungkook knew the importance of having a good lawyer to look over his contracts. Now Seokjin had him locked up as if he was a five-year-old receiving a time out! Who did he think he was, his disciplinarian?

“What the fuck?!”

Then Jungkook ceased all movement, no longer stomping around in circles.

It was him.

Kim Seokjin had invited him here tonight.

It was him. Kim Seokjin had told him he better get his ass over here on this night in particular if he knew what was good for him. Not unusual, as his friends usually had to threaten him to go outside these days. It was you. You invited her here. It wasn’t Taehyung who invited her. He had been telling the truth all along.

“That bastard.”

Snarling, Jungkook whipped his head to the door and glared at it, fully intending to charge like a goddamn bull right into Kim Seokjin once it opened again.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice you'll find that you were never not mine you're mine

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut

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dresshistorynerd · 8 months

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Ranking Men's Costumes in Renaissance Period Dramas - Part I: The Bad

Part II: The Good

I have a bone to pick with Renaissance costuming of male characters. Films and TV never seem to understand French hoods or the concept of tied up hair but the crimes committed with female characters costuming seem to pale in comparison with those committed with male characters costuming. It would be easy to find some atrocities that should be brought in front of the Hague from the bottom of the barrel shows like Da Vinci's Demons and Reign, both of which costuming is basically black leather jackets, pants and boots. If we're lucky, they have some vaguely Renaissance details imitating doublet or jerkin. But these shows make absolutely no effort, even the women's costumes are straight from modern fast fashion shelves (often literally). But I have noticed that even costuming that has some effort otherwise put behind it, still costumes male characters with the most boring costumes and minimal effort. The Tudors didn't have good costumes, but there's some effort towards historical immersion, even if quite lackluster, but the men's costumes are still so sloppy.

My theory is that they think men's Renaissance fashion was too goofy and embarrassing to fit their cool and sexy main male characters. Also men dressing up and taking care of their appearance? That's obviously homosexual behavior, and these hot men who the main female characters are fawning over are Manly and Heterosexual. So they don't dress up in fancy clothing or colour!

To give a fair change to the costuming, I will be selecting only shows and movies which have good costuming for the female characters. If they are not even trying, it feels kinda pointless to point that out. I have selected 10 period dramas. I haven't seen all of them so I'm not going to analyse the costuming any deeper than how good and well made they look and how well they evoke the historical setting. I don't demand historical accuracy, but I will be more harsh on that front if the women's costumes are succeeding in that. But one of the point of period dramas is to immerse into a historical setting, so if the costumes can't evoke that feeling, I think they have failed. Obviously this is not some objective ranking, but my opinions. This is in two parts (because of Tumblr image limits), so I'll start with the five worst costumes in order of best to worst.

5. Ever After (1998)

Ever After is supposedly set in Renaissance France, but the costuming resembles late 15th century and early 16th century Italy much more. It's not very historical, and clearly not really trying to be, going for more of a fantastical style. It works, I think because they make it cohesive and very pretty.

Men's costumes resemble also resemble Italian styles. The Lombardian style sleeves, short doublets and tight pants land it right there. The men's costumes are much more boring than the fun and fantastical women's costumes, but they got the least worse spot in this worst costumes list for several reasons. The pants are actually tight and they have codpieces. The sleeves are actually really great I love them. And there's no leather pants or doublets.

And look at this, at least one doublet is closed with lacing!! (I apologize for the very low image quality, it was the only picture I found of that costume.)

The biggest gripe I have with the costumes are the boots. Just let these male characters show of their calves. At least not everything is black but the lack of colour is still disappointing too.

4. Becoming Elizabeth (2022)

The female characters have quite excellent costuming. The fabrics are rich and gorgeous, the bodices are extremely smooth and crisp, some of the best I've seen, partlets are on point and correctly used. My only complained is the occasional open hair and yet another case of the weird upward pointing crown-like French hoods.

French hood didn't have any crown shaped thing, it was a hood and the headpiece is actually several headpieces made to reveal the lining of the hood in a crescent shape. So it is very much flat against the head. (I've written about French hood's construction before.) And sure they look more early Tudor fashion, the sleeves should be much more dramatic and the bodice elongated. Like here's a portrait of the actual young Elizabeth. But I think the detailing, great construction and good looking materials make the costuming beautiful and feeling enough like Tudor era.

So how does the men's costuming hold up? Pretty okay, which is why this show is so high up in the list. I haven't seen any leather pants on anyone. Leather jerkins were an actual thing, they just weren't black, and though the leather jerkin in the show was dark brown and not smooth hide, it was not black so that's something. Edward VI does have actual stockings and Renaissance shoes, which is great, but he is a kid and I didn't see any grown man rocking that style which is very cowardly behavior imo. There's some colourful silk jerkins in there too. And they even could get away with all black since that was very fashionable at the time. They are all wearing slashed trunk hose. AND! They have actual accurate codpieces sticking up! That is so rare especially in this period when the codpiece was not just a flat piece of fabric.

Unfortunately this is where the good things I have to say end. All of these court people are for some reason wearing riding boots inside and everywhere all the time. The hose are way too long and the jerkins are way too short. The hose should be just peaking under the hem of the jerkin. Obviously none except the kid uses thigh high stockings. One of the worst things though imo is the lack of structuring in the men's costumes. The women's costumes are so well structured, but the men's costumes are just wet rags hanging on them? The doublets were heavily structured to create a pigeon chest and hourglass effect.

In conclusion, there's clearly some effort made, some very nice historical details, but the overall look is very costumy and sloppy because of the lack of structuring and lacks the historical silhouette.

3. Mad Love (2001)

The movie is set around 1500 Neatherlands (and Spain). I think many of the costumes are gorgeous (like the examples below), though overall the costuming is quite inconsistent. Most of it fits at least okay to the time period and setting, though the red dress here is more along Italian styles, but not entirely off either for early 1500s Low Countries. Some costumes though are 50 years from future. Of the women's costumes alone, this would probably be the worst costuming on this list, though I think better than most Renaissance costuming, which is why it still ended up on this list.

The men's costumes resemble more early 16th century German fashion than Low Countries fashion, which was more similar to French fashion than German. In the red ensemble there's some weird jerkin looking overgarment, but jerkins were not a thing yet and they were never in this style. I will excuse the lack of codpiece since in Low Countries' fashion it was hidden under longer overgarments, even though in this more German style it would have been left in view. The hose are no where near fitted enough, and the boots should not be here at all. Overall this is kind of a mess, but it is better than the last two. We have skirt, we have weird sleeves, open neckline and most importantly, we have colour. Also while this shoulder-length curly hair wasn't in fashion outside Italy at the time, I still appreciate the sluttiness of it.

2. The Borgias (2011-2013)

Now we are getting to the territory, where the lack of effort is starting to be very obvious. Like the costumes till now were not particularly good, but clearly they at least attempted, even if not very hard. So, The Borgias. The show is set in the early 1500s Italy. The women's costumes are gorgeous. Not always the most historically accurate, but at least close enough and very pretty.

The men's costumes however... a deep sigh. Some of them are not that bad, like this first one has kinda Lombardian sleeves and a too small doublet showing off the lacing (in Italy the lacing was almost always ladder-lacing though regardless of gender, but it's something I guess). Most of it though, especially of the leading men, who are supposed to be cool and hot, is absolutely garbage. The same black leather jackets and pants seen in the bottom of the barrel shows. Like the costumes of the female characters and some of the male characters feel like they are from two completely different shows. Like sure they have codpieces, but their pants are so loosely fitted they wouldn't even need the codpieces. (I explain the use of codpieces in this post). And of course they have boots. Of course. In Italy it was even common to not wear shoes at all, they just sewed leather soles at the bottom of the hose. And even the men's costume that have tiniest bit of effort, are so dark and lacking in colour, when the most fashionable young men at the time wore these wildly multicoloured hose and doublets. The feeling I get the showrunners were so god damn afraid of giving the cool male characters any elements or details that could in anyway seen as feminine today, they stripped all the historical elements away. Like they couldn't even give Cesare lacing, they had to make it Manly Buckles?? It's such an insecure performance of masculinity. I admit the last image here is the worst offending example and there were some with a bit of color even, but in other ways most of it is exactly this bad. I will have to hand one thing to them though. They did manage to get the slutty shoulder-length hair right.

If this man is supposed to be sexy, prove it to me by showing his ass with lovingly fitted hose.

1. Rosaline (2022)

This is roughly set in the same time in Italy too as The Borgias, based on women's costumes, I'd say at the very end of 15th century. And those women's costumes are honestly great. They even have hand-sewn eyelets, ladder-lacing and cartridge pleats. Even some of the most high effort costumes don't get these details right. Honestly I only have issue with the hair, the hair goes from okay or outright terrible. They even made this super historically accurate Renaissance apron for a maid.

This got the lowest ranking so you know what comes next. The men's costuming is absolutely unacceptable. I feel like it would be excessive to even describe all the ways these costumes fail since to me they are so obviously bad. The difference between these women's dresses with such gorgeously crafted details and these men's costumes that give absolutely nothing is so stark and gives such a massive dissonance. They are just wearing modern skinny-ish pants, all the colors are so muted and dark, there's no shape, no structure, no codpieces, just sloppy bland jackets and pants. Even less effort than men's costumes in The Borgias have. Except one thing they have over The Borgias, they were able to ladder-lace that doublet. Otherwise these are just bland, boring and actively ugly. And it's so weird that they took this "gritty gruff "realistic"" route, when it's a comedy about Romeo and Juliet? You afford to be a little goofy with a comedy and yet you did this.

Extreme disappointment, do better.

Part II: The Good

#historical fashion #period drama #historical costuming #costuming #period film #costume drama #renaissance fashion #renaissance costuming #historical fiction #ever after #becoming elizabeth #the borgias #rosaline 2022

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sangoziethesimp · 6 months

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That would be really cute if Acheron and reader had a child together. You should totally write that :D

Fractured Family | ACHERON X FEM!READER

And I did it.

MEN AND MINORS DNI.

Y/N lives on the Astral Express, a spaceship traveling between planets. Their child, Orion, has striking purple features like their missing partner, Acheron. Acheron vanished on a mission months ago, leaving only a cryptic message. One day, Acheron returns, weary and dusty. Confusion and tension fill the air as Y/N reveals Orion is their son. A flicker of hope emerges as Acheron connects with Orion, hinting at a chance to mend their broken family.

The hum of the Astral Express lulled you to a knee as you wrestled a giggling toddler into a pair of mismatched boots. (H/c) curls, stubbornly mirroring your own, bounced with every wiggle, intermingled with a defiant streak of violet – a clear echo of Acheron's unique hair color. However, the most striking feature on his face was a pair of bright purple eyes, a perfect inheritance from his mother.

"Hold still, Orion," you pleaded, finally managing to secure the laces. His laughter echoed through the cramped cabin, a sound both familiar and foreign at the same time.

"Mommy," he exclaimed, pointing at the battered leather satchel by the bunk. "Is Mama coming home today?"

Your heart squeezed. Acheron. The name still sent a jolt through you, a bittersweet reminder of a love both passionate and fleeting. Months ago, she'd vanished on a solo mission to a remote outpost, leaving only a terse message on the ship's communication board: "Gone rogue. Taking care of it myself. Sorry."

The cabin door hissed open, revealing a weary Acheron coated in dust and grime. Her eyes, the same piercing purple you knew so well, scanned the dimly lit space before locking on the small figure huddled by the bunk.

Silence. Acheron stood frozen, her expression unreadable. Orion, sensing the tension, tilted his head and chirped, "Hi, you must be Mama!"

Acheron's brow furrowed. She slowly approached the bunk, her gaze darting between you and the child. The air crackled with unspoken questions.

Finally, she spoke, her voice a husky whisper, "Y/N... who's this?"

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Acheron," you started, your voice steady despite the nervous tremor in your heart, "this is Orion. Our son."

The revelation hung heavy in the air. Acheron stared at Orion, her eyes wide with a mix of shock, disbelief, and a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher. The stoic huntress's mask seemed to falter for a moment, a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the weathered exterior.

Then, a hesitant smile touched her lips, a sliver of recognition lighting up her purple eyes. She knelt beside Orion on the worn rug, her movements tentative at first. But as his infectious laughter filled the cramped space, a playful glint returned to her gaze.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand, brushing it against his cheek. Orion, unfazed, leaned into the touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips. A flicker of warmth crossed your chest, a fragile hope blooming amidst the years of unspoken words.

As you watched them, Acheron's calloused fingers gently traced the contours of a mismatched sock on Orion's foot. You saw a flicker of something else in her eyes then – a flicker of regret, a silent apology.

Gathering your courage, you shifted closer, leaning into the space beside Acheron. The warmth of her presence, familiar yet distant, sent a shiver down your spine. She didn't pull away, and in that small gesture, you saw a sliver of hope for the future – a chance to mend the rough patches on your relationship, to build a new foundation for your fragile family.

#sangowrites #honkaistarrailwomen #honkai star rail #hsr #acheron #acheron x reader #acheron x you #hsr acheron #fluff #hsr fluff

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slasher-fucker-and-sucker · 1 month

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Dark and Deadly

The evening sky was a deep indigo, dotted with the first hints of stars as you walked down the dimly lit street. The air was cool, and your boots echoed softly against the pavement. Dressed head to toe in black, with silver jewelry glinting under the streetlights and dark makeup framing your eyes, you were a striking contrast against the world around you.

You’d always felt comfortable in your gothic aesthetic—it was a part of you, a reflection of your inner world. But you couldn’t help but wonder how your partners, Logan and Wade, truly felt about it. They were so different from you, after all—Logan with his rugged, no-nonsense attitude and Wade with his unpredictable, chaotic energy.

As you approached the small, nondescript building where you knew they’d be waiting, you took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside. Whatever their feelings, they had always been supportive in their own ways.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside, greeted by the familiar smell of leather and the faint scent of cigar smoke. Logan was the first to notice you, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your appearance. He was leaning against the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, looking every bit the part of the grizzled, world-weary warrior.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. He pushed off from the bar, walking towards you with that effortless confidence that always made your heart race.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips as he reached you, his large hands resting on your hips.

Logan’s eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail of your outfit. You could see the approval in his gaze, the way his pupils darkened slightly as he lingered on the curves of your body. He didn’t say much, but the way he looked at you spoke volumes.

“You look good,” he said simply, his gruff tone laced with a hint of something deeper. “Thanks,” you replied, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his compliment. Logan wasn’t one to shower you with praise, but when he did, it was always genuine.

Before you could say anything more, the door slammed open with a dramatic flourish, and Wade Wilson—Deadpool—burst into the room, arms full of shopping bags.

“Guess who went on a little shopping spree!” Wade announced, his voice full of excitement as he practically skipped over to you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile as you watched him dump the bags on the table. “Wade, what did you do?”

Wade grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his mask. “I saw these and thought of you, babe. Couldn’t resist. Now, c’mon, try ‘em on for me, would ya?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for one of the bags, pulling out a beautifully crafted black lace corset. “Wade, you didn’t have to…”

“Didn’t have to, but I did!” he interrupted, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child. “C’mon, please? I need to see how hot you look in this.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Wade’s energy was infectious, and despite his chaotic nature, you knew his heart was in the right place. You glanced over at Logan, who was watching the two of you with a small smirk on his lips.

“Go on,” Logan said, his voice low and encouraging. “Let’s see it.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you took the corset and disappeared into the bathroom to change. When you emerged a few minutes later, both men’s reactions made your heart skip a beat.

Logan’s gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, the corset hugging your body perfectly. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with approval. “You look incredible.”

Wade, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, sweet mother of all things dark and beautiful, you are a gothic goddess!” he exclaimed, rushing over to you and spinning you around to admire the outfit from every angle. “I knew this would look amazing on you! Logan, back me up here!”

Logan chuckled, stepping closer to you and Wade. “He’s right,” he agreed, his hand coming up to gently trace the edge of the corset. “You look stunning.”

You blushed at their praise, feeling both of their eyes on you, each admiring you in their own way. Wade wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You’ve got two very different guys completely wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning into him as Logan stepped closer, his hand resting possessively on your waist. “Yeah, I know,” you replied, looking up at them both with a smirk. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As the three of you stood there, the room filled with warmth and affection, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the two men who accepted and adored you for exactly who you were. Logan and Wade might be polar opposites, but they were perfect for you in their own unique ways, and together, the three of you made one hell of a team.

#wolverine x reader #deadpool x reader #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson x reader #wolverine #deadpool #goth reader #poly relationship #x men #Marvel fanfic #fluff #marvel comics #poly couple #supportive partners

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booteddaily · 2 months

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The choice is Wesco. When multiple options are given, the choice is almost always Wesco. 🖤 It truly makes for a better day. These boots have been posted before and I have no doubt that they will be posted many times in the future. The comfort, the quality leather, the look, the feel. All that contributes to my happiness...and I know they make the right kind of other men happy, too. Bonus points of you can tell how I like all my laced boots to be laced. 🤓 Boot up today and make it a great day, bootmen. 👊

#wesco boots #bootlover #boot licker #it's a boot thing

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slaymitchabernathy · 5 months

Text

Mr. Peacekeeper

“President Coriolanus Snow, I salute you,” he whispers to himself while looking in the mirror.

Coriolanus looks extremely sharp and put together in his opinion. With his perfectly tailored suit, his golden curls slicked back, but not too slicked back, and his shiny black leather shoes.

He remembers a time when he’d sit on the edge of his tiny bunk bed, shining his black Peacekeeper boots. It’s all in the past now. All of it.

“Coriolanus?”

Well, not all of it.

He turns and finds Soarynn standing in the doorway of the bedroom, holding her dress up to her chest as if it might fall at any moment. “Yes?” She takes a cautious step into the room before turning around, exposing her bare back along with the dress that hasn’t been laced up yet. That explains why she’s holding onto it for dear life.

He can’t stop the grin from forming on his lips, “Could you string me up?” She asks, casting him a glance from over her shoulder. He nods and walks over to her, his fingers grabbing the strings that will give Soarynn the perfect figure as the dress clings to her shape. He can’t help but stare at the plethora of scars on her back. Some are from cigarettes, from men who liked to put them out on her bare skin. Others are from long nails that hadn’t been cut in a long time.

He tries to forget that time in her life, when she slept with lowlife men for a few sad coins.

He tries to remind himself that she was trying to survive, to provide for her family and make a living but heaven knows it can be hard for him.

It’s been hard for her too. Learning a new way of life here in the Capitol has been…an adjustment for Soarynn so to speak. At first, she’d been in awe of the city and its wonders. The food, the fashion, and of course, the culture. It was all so different from the Districts.

That’s why Coriolanus loved it so much.

Once they arrived at the train station they were greeted by Dr. Gaul of all people. The mad scientist was a rather odd woman but she was beaming when he stepped off the train and praised him for giving her such a “wonderful performance.” Her eyes had then landed on Soarynn who was pressed to his side, wide-eyed as she looked around at all the people.

“I see you’ve brought a souvenir, Mr. Snow,” she’d said, chuckling to herself when Soarynn gave her a rather disturbed look.

Coriolanus had made a mental note to keep Soarynn far away from the clutches of Dr. Gaul, a woman who had no reservations about testing her new ideas on human beings.

For the most part, he did keep Soarynn hidden away. He didn't need everyone to know about her. Only the people who mattered knew of Soarynn's existence. They were going to see many of those people tonight at the charity auction that President Ravenstill was hosting at the President's Mansion.

"I don't remember buying you this dress," he says, pulling on the strings. She sucks in her breath as he tightens up the dress and lets out a small groan, "Well you bought me about a million dresses when we got here." She's not wrong. Once Coriolanus got back to the Capitol he gave him and Soarynn proper facelifts. He grew out his curls and got her hair cut, it had been so tangled and dirty. Now it fell around her breasts and had a more flattering cut.

He got Soarynn facials, massages, and all the creams and makeup she could ever want. If she was going to be his girl, she had to look the part. He taught her how to walk in heels, how to always be on her best behavior, to look people in the eye, to have manners.

She had to be perfect.

"Nothing wrong with keeping you properly clothed," he tells her before tying the strings off with a bow. "Now, for tonight I want you to be on your best behavior, and don't stray from my si-"

"From your side, I know," Soarynn huffs, walking back out into the hallway. Coriolanus is hot on her heels, she's not about to get an attitude with him. "I don't have time for any outbursts Soarynn," he reminds her, "people in the Capitol won't understand if you start behaving oddly." Soarynn makes it all the way to the living room before he latches onto her wrist and pulls her into him, she struggles but Coriolanus has always been much stronger than her, even if she has filled out a little more with her new Capitol diet.

"I don't wanna go Coriolanus," she whispers, trying to pry his arm off of her, "all those men do is look at me and act like I'm some shiny trophy." She is a trophy but she doesn't need to know that.

Coriolanus sighs, "Soarynn, I'm not asking you to come with me, I'm telling you that you're coming with me tonight, like it or not. Besides, lots of their wives will be there. You like them don't you?"

Since getting back to the Capitol, Coriolanus had been working extremely hard to reconnect with the higher elite. He was going to run for President in the next election and to do that and win, he needed connections. He befriended all sorts of wealthy men and politicians, knowing that it could only help his campaign.

Soarynn didn't really understand any of it, why he'd want to run for President. "You already have a nice fancy house," she'd said one night, the two of them sitting in their after-sex bliss. He had given her a squeeze and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, "Yes, but it's different. You'll see."

Soarynn looks down at the ground, her entire body somewhat deflates, "I don't like talkin' to them. They're so old and boring." Coriolanus has to withhold himself from wrapping a hand around her pretty little neck because the last thing he needs is for her to say something like that in front of the wrong person. "They're married to the most influential men in Panem," he reminds her, "and what did I say about properly enunciating your words?"

Getting that southern twang out of Soarynn's voice had been more than difficult. It wasn't even the accent that bothered him, but the vocabulary, the shortened words, the strange sayings. It all had to go and he'd been working hard with her to get it out of her system.

He didn't mind it as much when they were alone but in public was a different story. He had introduced her to an associate of his when they first arrived in the Capitol and Soarynn had horribly embarrassed him. She had attempted to compliment his associate's shoes and yet she found the most revolting words to do so.

After that, Coriolanus learned his lesson.

"You said to talk proper because the folks in the Capitol won't understand me," she mumbles. Coriolanus slips two fingers under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, "Yes I did. And I need you to be on your best behavior for me tonight, understand?" Soarynn's eye twitches but she nods, "Alright, I'll be on my best behavior."

꧁ ꧂

The President's Mansion is everything he could have imagined.

Coriolanus can't help but imagine what it'll look like when he's living here. He'll repaint the walls for sure, add some more marble statues in the gardens, maybe a greenhouse. "It's so big," Soarynn says in awe as she looks around. Coriolanus nods, they've only been granted access to certain parts of the Mansion and he already feels as though he could get lost at any moment. He spots a few of his old Academy friends and tugs Soarynn along with him, "I want you to meet some of my old friends."

Soarynn has nothing to do but nod and put on the pretty smile he's taught her before they reach Festus Creed and Felix Ravenstill. "Coriolanus Snow, what a rare sight to see," Festus teases. Coriolanus rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around Soarynn a little tighter. Festus is known to have wandering eyes along with wandering hands.

"I thought I might make an appearance," Coriolanus says nonchalantly. He won't tell them how excited he was when Soarynn walked into his study with a shiny envelope addressed to him. He normally didn't appreciate Soarynn coming into his study without permission but she had walked right in, holding out the envelope, "It looked real important," she had said. Indeed it was.

The boys aren't even trying to hide the fact that they're ogling Soarynn and Coriolanus would be a fool not to play that to his advantage, "Have I introduced you to Soarynn?" Felix's jaw is slightly slacked and Coriolanus is willing to bet that it's from the amount of cleavage Soarynn is showing tonight. Charity auction be damned, Coriolanus was going to make sure that everyone envied him and the pretty girl on his arm.

"I don't believe you have," Festus says, "I'm Festus Creed and I'm extremely talented in bed." Coriolanus can't stop the scoff from leaving his mouth at his friend's vulgar language but Soarynn laughs and leans her head on his shoulder, "I'm sure you've got a real talent," she replies.

Coriolanus knows that any well-behaved Capitol lady would be repulsed by Festus and his crude comments. They'd flinch and gasp but Soarynn doesn't. Even though she hasn't slept with anyone but him since arriving at the Capitol she's still numb to the idea of sleeping around. And it disgusts him. To see her so casually replying to comments such as the one Festus made, to laugh and tease him back. She should know better.

Although Coriolanus feels that once you've whored yourself out enough, comments like this won't even phase you.

You can take the whore out of the Districts, but you can't take the Districts out of the whore.

He shoots both Soarynn and Festus a look, "Why don't we keep the conversations civil?" He suggests, quieting both of them down. Felix looks somewhat uncomfortable and Coriolanus plays into it, "So Felix, is your uncle prepared for the Presidential race?" Felix sighs and rolls his eyes, "He won't shut up about it."

Coriolanus is hoping to overtake Felix's uncle so any inside information is crucial. "Is he nervous?" Soarynn asks, somewhat intrigued at the premise of being related to the President of Panem. Soarynn wasn't very political or involved with politics. She only really cared about the Mayor back in Twelve but that was such a small scale compared to the Capitol.

Felix shrugs, "Not nervous, he just..." His voice dies off and he seems to be lost in thought for a moment before shaking his head, "Never mind. He'll do fine, it's just another election to him."

Coriolanus nods and gives Felix a polite smile but he can't help but wonder what Felix was going to say. He needs to find out, get the inside scoop so he can win. But there's really no way to get that close to a Ravenstill, at least not without being creepy. Coriolanus cringes at the thought of cozying up to Felix, trying to win him over. Absolutely not. It's only effective when girls do it.

When. Girls. Do. It.

He looks down at the very pretty girl at his side, who is still so young, turning eighteen in a month, so vulnerable without him, completely dependent on him. She belongs to him.

"Excuse us," Coriolanus says before dragging Soarynn away from his friends which earns him a curious look from her but he ignores it, "Where're we goin'?" Coriolanus could lose it right then and there at her improper grammar but he brushes it under the rug, he'll have to be forgiving for this plan to work, to make Soarynn compliant. He finds a dark and empty hallway and pushes Soarynn up against the wall, his lips are on hers in an instant.

Soarynn moans into the kiss, her hands come up to grab his shoulders while he grabs her small waist. Coriolanus isn't too keen on public displays of affection, not when his image matters so much. But Soarynn has always got off on it. She's always been a slut.

"You look so pretty tonight," he whispers against her lips. She really does. Her hair has been curled and perfectly frames her face and her makeup is light and subtle, perfectly enhancing her natural features. Soarynn's always been pretty, but the District life managed to dull that natural charm. In the Capitol her skin is brighter, bouncier, her hair is thicker, her lashes longer. Thank goodness he brought her here.

Soarynn whimpers when his hands slide down to her ass and he squeezes it, "Tha...thank you Coriolanus," she whispers back. She's also much more sensitive in the Capitol. More responsive to his touch now that he's the only man who gets to fuck her tight little cunt every night.

He shoves his knee in between her legs and Soarynn gasps, grinding against it. Coriolanus chuckles, "Always a little slut for me huh? Even in the President's Mansion." He presses kisses up and down her neck, sucking on her sweet spots. He's careful to leave nothing behind, no one needs to know what they're doing. "I need you to do something for me," he says while kissing her jaw. Soarynn sighs and leans into his touch, the touch she's been so desperate for the entire week. With work and his campaign, Coriolanus has been more than busy the past couple of weeks and hasn't been properly taking care of his little District whore. She's more than eager to be fucked, which begs the question if she's willing to be fucked by anyone.

"Anything," she says and she means it too. He knows Soarynn will do anything to be fucked, to be touched, and maybe just maybe feel some sort of genuine connection. Even though she won't come outright and say it, he knows that she wants something more than sex. She wants to be loved. Soarynn had asked him about it when they first arrived, what the dynamic of their relationship would be like. She didn't want it to be like it used to be, where he sold her off to the highest bidder. "You're my girl," he had told her, "don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

But Soarynn had worried. He could see how she clung to words of praise like they were a lifeline to her. Without him, she was nothing. And Soarynn couldn't afford to be nothing.

He brings his lips right next to her ear and whispers the next eight words, "I want you to sleep with Felix Ravenstill."

She stills once those words register in her brain and she pulls away from his touch immediately. Coriolanus lets her move his hands off of her and take a step back, he can see the hurt in her eyes, the betrayal. "You...you said I wouldn't have to do that anymore," she says. Her voice is so fragile, so quiet and shaky. Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose, he needs this to go smoothly. He can't afford any loose ends.

He reaches out for her but she flinches, "Soarynn, it's to help me win, don't you want to help me? To be good for me? Be my good girl?" Soarynn's lip quivers and he can see her fighting the urge to cry, "I wanna be more than your girl Coriolanus," she says, "you can throw away a girl at any time. A wife is different." She's smarter than he's given her credit for.

Coriolanus looks down at the tiled floor, at his shiny black shoes, and nods, "Okay." Soarynn sniffles, shifting on her feet, "Okay? Okay, what?" Coriolanus looks back up at her, starting from her high heels and making his way up her slim body, admiring how the dress hugs her just right. Felix is going to love ripping it off of her.

"Okay, I'll make you my wife. If I win then we'll get married. It'll be a grand wedding and we'll have children and start a family, a new life together," he promises.

Soarynn eats it right up.

"What...what do I have to do?" She asks, looking so small and naive. Coriolanus grins, "Exactly what I tell you to do."

꧁ ꧂

He's a nervous wreck while he paces in his living room, watching the television screen for any updates.

He also keeps glancing at the front doors, waiting for Soarynn to get back from her very important night out. "Come on," he whispers, "hurry it up." He can't be too upset, sleeping with the President of Panem takes some time, but he's an impatient man.

It's all played out perfectly for him.

Soarynn has slept his way to the top. First, she sunk her claws into Felix Ravenstill that night at the charity auction. They snuck away to one of the many bedrooms and Soarynn came stumbling out the back entrance of the house a few hours later covered in bruises and other bodily fluids. Apparently, Festus had wanted in on the action but the job was done either way.

Then, she made her move on the President's security detail. Coriolanus knew those men wouldn't let her get too close without some convincing that she was a harmless little field mouse. Soarynn had been terrified at the prospect of sleeping with men who had guns on them at all times but Coriolanus was swift to remind her of her time spent on the Peacekeeper bases. "Those men would've fucked you with their guns and you would've liked it," he had hissed, grabbing her jaw and slamming her into the wall, "now stop being a whiny brat and do as I say."

There had been tears and new promises made, but in the end, she made it to Ravenstill.

From what Soarynn told him, Ravenstill was an old, boring man who partook in the most basic sex she's ever had. And Coriolanus was more than willing to take her word on it. Ravenstill did however get off on seeing other men have a turn on Soarynn, something Coriolanus didn't predict. She had come home in tears, a bruise on her cheek and blood between her legs. He had comforted her and washed her gently in the bath before swaddling her in the comfiest pajamas. "Only one more time," he whispered as she finally drifted off to sleep, "you'll only sleep with the President one more time." And he meant it. Soarynn would never sleep with the President of Panem again.

His attention is drawn to the doors when he hears them open and a disheveled-looking Soarynn appears. Her eyes immediately find him and he raises his eyebrows. Has she done it? She nods. Coriolanus breaks into a giant smile, and strides across the room and the foyer and scoops Soarynn up in his arms, listening to her squeal in delight, "Oh you're perfect," he tells her, "this is it Soarynn. You've done everything and now it's all done."

Soarynn is grinning like a wildcat and she giggles, "It was real scary watchin' him cough up all that blood. I had to act so surprised." Coriolanus chuckles as he sets her down on her feet, "I'm sure you were the perfect little actress. He's dead then?" Soarynn nods and bats her eyelashes up at him, "Dead as a doornail."

They celebrate big that night. Coriolanus makes love to Soarynn for the first time while the Capitol news plays in the background, informing them that President Ravenstill has succumbed to a sudden deadly illness and has passed away. The country will be in shambles but with Coriolanus tied neck and neck with Ravenstill in the election, it's no question who will take over.

"I love you," he grunts, fucking into her slow and steady. She looks beautiful under him, absolutely beautiful. "You'll be my perfect First Lady. Can't wait to fuck my children into you, watch you walk around all swollen with my heir, carrying the Snow name."

He can picture it now, their prosperous future. Their wedding, their children, and then, Soarynn's unfortunate death. Unforeseen of course but at the perfect time when the children are old enough to be looked after by a nanny and he can remarry without causing too much suspicion.

Soarynn smiles up at him before pressing her lips against his, "Snow lands on top," she whispers.

Snow certainly does land on top.

꧁ ꧂

"Coriolanus, what are your plans for Panem once you're sworn in as President?"

Coriolanus wishes he could tell all these reporters to fuck off with their stupid, basic questions but he just smiles through the pain. It's customary for the future President to have one press briefing before being sworn in. Today has been a long day of festivities leading up to his inauguration. He's less than an hour away from being President of Panem and he can taste it, taste the power.

He looks powerful. With his hair perfectly styled, the red rose pinned to his lapel. He glances to his right where his fiancé is standing, prim and proper. Once Ravenstill was out of the picture, Soarynn snapped into being the perfect Capitol lady for Coriolanus. If he knew this was what it took to get her in line, he would've killed the man ages ago. Coriolanus sleeps well knowing that he's managed to get Soarynn to do all his dirty work and has secured himself the perfect wife.

He can't afford any loose ends and eventually, Soarynn will have to go, but until then, Coriolanus plans on enjoying his perfect little wife and her tight little cunt until they're both of no use to him.

"I plan to get this nation into shape," he responds, "and to tighten the security on the Peacekeeper bases. I myself was a Peacekeeper and I was a witness to vermin slipping through the cracks one too many times." He can see Soarynn slightly flinch at the word 'vermin' but it's not his fault that she chose whoring as her profession. It was fine back then but now things need to change. He can't have any District rats swaying the opinions of his Peacekeepers.

The report nods and jots down his response and Coriolanus withholds a sigh of relief. He's finally done. Now, all he has to do is be sworn in. He's been waiting for this moment his whole life and it's finally happening.

Snow lands on top.

"Mr. Snow? Just one more question. I'm Sejanus Plinth from the Capitol Gazette."

Coriolanus who was about to step down from the podium, zeroes in on the outspoken voice, the same outspoken voice that caused him nothing but annoyance and being heavily inconvenienced.

Sejanus Plinth.

As District as they come, and nothing but a speck of dirt on his shiny leather shoes. It's no surprise that he chose journalism as his profession. He probably thinks he's going to "change the world" with his shabby little articles.

Coriolanus remembers ending him more than anything. Sejanus had everything he wanted. A family, money, and a higher status than the one Coriolanus used to possess. Now the tables have turned and he finally gets to look down on poor Sejanus Plinth who's so desperate to ask him single question. His response will probably earn Sejanus a small amount of money that he'll then use to try and help the less fortunate.

Coriolanus feels the cruel grin spreading across his lips as he nods at Sejanus, "Go ahead. I'm always willing to speak to the less fortunate." A wave of laughter passes through the crowd of reporters and Sejanus manages a somewhat professional smile.

"Is it true that you've been selling your fiancé out to influential men?"

Coriolanus feels his smile slightly waver but his face never falters, "Pardon? I...I don't quite understand what you're asking," he says with a light-hearted chuckle. There's a tension in the room and he can't quite get rid of it.

Sejanus tilts his head, "Is it true, that you have been selling your fiancé's body for the past years to move up in the world?" It's a simple question, Mr. Snow. According to my sources, you started sleeping with her when she was seventeen while you were serving as a Peacekeeper in District Twelve."

Coriolanus can't stop himself from turning to look at Soarynn who's staring right back at him, an expectant look on her face. She should look distraught, if his reputation's on the line, her's is too.

"I don't recall ever having any sexual relations with my fiancé when she was underage," he says, his voice firm. Sejanus gives him a teasing smile and Coriolanus can feel a pit beginning to form in his stomach.

"You sent her to partake in sexual interactions with Commanding Officer Hoff so you could bring her with you to District Two when you were reassigned as an Officer," Sejanus says, reading directly from the notes he's brought with him, "then in District Two you allowed Commanding Officer Potts to take advantage of her after he caught wind of you selling her out to higher ranking officers in hopes of you moving up in the ranks. Then you proceeded to sell her out to various Capitol men such as Felix Ravenstill, Festus Creed, and President Ravenstill who unfortunately passed away due to an "unknown illness" and my sources tell me that she often frequented the President's Mansion before he passed away."

There's an uneasiness in the room and people are beginning to whisper to one another and Coriolanus can feel it all slipping away. He glances to the door where he can see Felix and Festus attempting to leave but they're being held by security.

"Sexual slavery concerning a minor is a serious crime Mr. Snow, and so is murder, and I have evidence leading me to believe that you forced Miss Nightingale into poisoning the President so that you could win the election."

People are talking now, throwing around accusations and whispers. This is bad. Very, very bad. Every fucking news outlet in the country is in here getting this story. He watches as five Peacekeepers push their way through the crowd and he can only hope that they're coming to his rescue.

"Coriolanus Snow, you are under arrest under the premise of murder, participating in underage prostitution, and sexual coercion."

A camera flash goes off and everything is in slow motion. All the sounds around him are muffled as he's handcuffed and shoved towards the side of the stage. People are crying out for justice or for mercy. He can see Felix and Festus also being handcuffed shouting for him to do something.

But he can't. He's in shock.

Someone has to help him, someone has to tell the truth, well, not the truth, but enough of the truth so that he can get out of this. He looks to the one person who can help him, the one person who also happens to be responsible for all of this. Who waited for his big shining moment to take him down.

Soarynn.

She wears her most innocent smile, the same one she gives to all the men she's about to take advantage of. Sure, she'd sleep with anyone, but she'd also steal their watches, slip a few bills from their wallets, get them to help her out of a sticky situation.

He just always chose to ignore that.

Soarynn holds up her hands to the Peacekeepers and they surprisingly stop. Soarynn slowly walks over to Coriolanus until she's right in front of him. She's wearing red lipstick and has a rose tucked into her hair. Clear property of Coriolanus Snow. Soarynn reaches for the rose and pulls it from her hair, she brings it up to her nose and sniffs it, humming to herself as she closes her eyes.

"You hear that Coriolanus?"

All Coriolanus can hear are the shouts of everyone in the room. Of his life falling apart.

She opens her eyes before she crushes the rose in her hand, crumpled petals fall to the floor.

"It's the sound of Snow falling."

| Part 3. | Final Part |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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patrollingboston · 7 months

Note

Hi there! Could you write a fic where Soap comforts/tends for your wounds?

I WOULD DIE

thanks :)

Hope you enjoy!

Stitched Up // Soap x Reader fluff

I had just returned from a particularly rough mission, lesions spread all over my body in various shapes and sizes making every step painful. It was late at night and the base was empty, hallway lights flickered on and off as I trod my way through them to my room. My combat boots were caked in mud, my laces slung over the side causing a trip hazard for myself as if I wasn’t clumsy enough already.

My hand was held to the side of my torso, I received a gash during some hand-to-hand combat with an enemy who managed to get the jump on me. My teammate had dealt with it as best as they could but it would still require a trip to med bay, possibly the worst place in the base. The lights were so bright, the staff were all assholes with no empathy and the food tasted like it was leftovers from World War one. Hopefully it would just need a stitch or two and I could be on my way but they were so uptight I wouldn’t be surprised if they put me in a medically induced coma and gave me 4 weeks to live.

As I got to my room, I slumped my backpack down so relieved at the loss of a weeks’ worth of supplies strapped to my back. I decided to head to med bay straight away to get it over with, knowing me I would procrastinate it until I bled out.

As I was slowly making my way to the medical centre, I heard a couple of voices heading my way. I sighed knowing there was no way I could avoid conversation. As the voices got louder two men rounded the corner, I was pleased to see it was only Soap and Gaz two friends of mine.

“For real they sent him off for a bullshit reason, it was just- “

Their conversation stopped as their gaze ran from my boots up to my face. I removed my hand from my side showcasing the small patch of blood I was sporting to give a half-hearted wave and pathetic smile.

“You alright there F/N? What happened?”

Gaz spoke up, walking carefully towards me his eyes lingering on my torso. Soap following a few steps behind.

“Just got back from the mission from hell, I got to get this stitched.”

I say rubbing my eyes, my skin so dry from the dirt I had yet to wash off.

“Shit, Med Bay is shut for cleaning for the night, something about an inspection. It reopens in the morning. Price has a kit in his office, I could do it for you?”

Soap said his voice laced in concern. I cursed under my breathe, I was so tired I just wanted to take a hot shower and clean myself up and fall asleep for the next few days. Soap stood scanning my face trying to read it for an answer whilst Gaz stood beside him doing the same.

“You sure? I don’t want to interrupt whatever you two are up to.”

“Oh nah, we were just ranting about a footie match we watched earlier. Cmon’ lets get you sorted out.”

“I’ll catch you later Soap, feel better F/N.”

Gaz spoke before jogging down the hall towards the barracks.

Soap placed a gentle hand on my back guiding me towards Prices office.

“Old man never locks his office, don’t tell him I told you that.”

Soap chuckled as he pushed open the creaky door to Captain Prices office. I treaded inside before walking over to the leather sofa placed at the back of the office and slumping down against the worn cushions upon the sofa. Soap was rooting around Captain Price’s desk draws looking for his medical kit.

“Reeks of cigars in here.”

“Don’t know what else you’re expecting.”

He said solely focused on finding the medical kit.

“Ah hah, got it.”

He held it up with one arm shaking it a little, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Roll up your shirt, let’s see the damage.”

I obliged and rolled up the bottom of my shirt revealing my wounded side.

“Ooh tough one, aren’t you? Gonna leave a pretty badass scar F/N.”

He said with squinted eyes as he inspected the wound across my torso.

“I try to be, now stop trying to butter me up and get it over with.”

“Alright alright.”

Soap rolled his eyes before cleaning the gash with a wipe, it stung making me tense up and take a deep breathe.

“Fuck me.”

“Take me to dinner first.”

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, I have always admired how soap can make the best of situations. Only he could make me stifle a laugh whilst getting stitches in my stomach.

I sat there wincing at every stab of the needle hoping it would be over soon. Soap doing it definitely made me feel more relaxed than some random nurse. I trusted him and quite liked him despite his awful jokes and silly haircut.

“Almost done now lass, you want a sticker or a lollipop after?”

“I know you’re joking but after the week I’ve had, yes please.”

“Between you and me I got a parcel sent yesterday, got bags of sweets in it, fancy a movie at mine?”

I smiled and gently nodded, regardless of my exhaustion and need to be alone I could also use some comfort and right now he sounded like the best source of it.

“There.”

He patted my shoulder gently before rolling my shirt back down, he looked up at my tired, dirty face and gave a sympathetic smile before pushing on my knee to stand up and throwaway the rubbish.

“Good to go?”

“Yep.”

We walked out of prices office ensuring to leave no trace of us sneaking in. We roamed the hallways nattering about nothing and everything on the way back to the barracks.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fluff #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #captain price #gaz garrick

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 5 months

Text

What You Need

Note: woke up horny and making it everyone's problem.

Warnings: 18+! smut, mention of blood.

Pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

Wordcount: 1,8k

Summary: after confessing your feelings to Sihtric, you had to wait until he returned from battle to find out what you meant to him.

Masterlist

You had been in love with Sihtric for as long as you could remember, ever since you first saw him alongside Uhtred. Sihtric was always kind to you, as were Uhtred's other men, yet it was only the Dane who had caught your eye and captured your heart.

Due to their constant travelling across the country it was hard to peek Sihtric's interest in you, and so you could only wonder for the longest of time. You mainly met him briefly before and after battles, as you were the blacksmith's daughter and the warrior needed his weapons to be in the best condition. And except for that one night, many moons ago when you had met him in the tavern and shared a dance late at night, you never really had a private moment with him to confess your feelings.

And so your heart was crushed several years ago when you found out Sihtric had gotten married, and your longlasting wonder had been answered. You tried to move on, getting involved with other men as time progressed, but no relationship ever lasted as simply no man was the one you had been in love with ever since you were of age to wed.

So when you caught wind of Sihtric's divorce not too long ago, you were not letting him slip away once more, and you made your move. You met him again before he was to leave, to fight what would later be known as the battle of Tettenhall, as he stopped by the smithy to have his axe sharpened and ready for war. While your father worked the weapons, you led Sihtric with you behind the stables and confessed your feelings for him. He had been as excited as he had been surprised, and not been able to give a clear answer about what exactly you meant to him before he left. But the kiss you shared in secret that day was one you would never forget, and you waited anxiously for his return.

Sihtric returned, bruised and drenched in blood, a mixture of his own and of those he had slaughtered. He looked defeated, despite winning the battle, and you wanted nothing more than to run towards him and wrap him in your arms. But you still didn't know what you meant to him, and no one else was aware of your feelings for him either, so you only smiled faintly at him as he passed you. His dark mismatched eyes locked with yours, and he didn't need to use any words for you to know what he wanted and needed, and you followed him discreetly to his home.

Once there, you sat upon his wooden table while he sat on a chair in front of you, and you wetted some cloths to clean him up. You carefully removed the blood on the shaved side of his head, finding a wound as a partial source, and you tended to it. Sihtric was quiet as you took care of him, glad to be home safely again but his mind was still left on the battlefield, and you could tell. You removed the rings around his tattooed fingers and his arm braces, cleaning his hands and arms while checking for any wounds. But with the exception of some minor cuts and several large black and green coloured bruises, he seemed fine.

You then removed his leather belt and worked the laces of his blood stained leather armour, and Sihtric groaned softly when he moved his body to help you take it off. He then pulled his tunic off over his head and sat back left in only his undergarments, after he had taken off his boots as well. You washed his impressive and scarred torso, relieved to not find any more damage than had been previously done to him already.

Sihtric then asked you to brew him some tea to help soothe his aching muscles. And while you retreated to his kitchen, he cleaned his privates and his legs, feeling equally relieved that no threatening damage had been done to him, despite getting awfully close in reach with Death after he had fallen down during the fight. But he did not want to tell you about the incident, for he had made it out alive and that was the most important thing.

Sihtric knew you loved him, and he had always loved you too if he had to be honest. His marriage had been a happy one despite that truth, until he was abandoned by his wife. He never forgot about you, even though he knew little about you. But like you, he often fell asleep reminiscing about that night in the tavern, where you had shared a drink and danced together that one time only. But it was one of his happiest memories, and it was the memory that crossed his mind during the battle, while he had clutched his hands around his axe and had braced himself to depart to Valhalla right there.

It would have been an honourable death, and a peaceful one too, for the last thing on his mind would've been your smile and the way you had looked up into his eyes in the dimly lit and crowded tavern, his only regret being that he had never humped you.

You joined Sihtric as he sat on his floor, upon the softest and thickest furs while a fire in the hearth burned brightly in front of him. He had thrown a fur cloak around his shoulders, only to look somewhat presentable for you after he had washed himself.

'Do you ever get tired of it?' you asked after a lingering silence while he drank the hot brew you made him, 'the battles, I mean.'

'You get used to it,' Sihtric replied softly, 'and I enjoy it if I'm honest,' he paused, 'does that make me a bad person?'

'No,' you said, 'I think you are a good man, Sihtric. And you deserve good things.'

Sihtric smiled faintly as the crackling sound of the burning wood and the soft orange glow of fire made for a pleasant ambiance. His eyes looked beautiful as he gazed at you, the flames visibly dancing in them while a different sort of fire began to ignite within you both.

'Will you stay?' he then asked, his voice warm and smooth, 'stay the night?'

'If you wish for me to stay,' you smiled shyly.

'There's nothing I'd want more,' Sihtric said and snuck one arm around you, pulling you closer, 'did you know you always made my heart skip a beat whenever I saw you?'

'Really?' you laughed softly, then hummed, 'why did you never tell me?'

Sihtric shrugged, 'I didn't think I had a chance. I still don't think I have a chance.'

'You were the only one who ever had a chance.'

Sihtric looked at you, with a soft yet intense gaze. And suddenly his need for you, which had been kept hidden deep inside of him for many years, finally took over. He dropped the empty cup on the floor and grabbed your face, firmly but never bruisingly, and he kissed you in a way he had never kissed anyone before. The fire crackling sound faded as you both only heard the sound of your lips while you kissed passionately. You wanted him to forget the horrors he had endured and you wanted him to release the tension his body held, so you kissed him while you slowly pushed him to lay back on the furs.

You kissed your way down, nipping at his neck and shoulders, trailing your lips down over his muscular chest and hearing him struggle to steady his breath as you neared his already exposed and twitching cock. You'd been lusting over this man for far too long, so you weren't wasting any time now that you could finally have him. You placed one hand on his chest while you worked his length with your other, teasing with your lips while preparing him with your saliva which you used to wet him. Sihtric moaned softly as he pushed himself up his elbows, and you watched his head fall back while he smiled after you wrapped your lips around his cock.

You sucked him off greedily, taking pleasure out of his increasing moans which were almost pathetic while he desperately withheld from shoving his cock completely down your throat. You felt him twitch in your mouth with each stroke of your tongue, and you bopped your head sloppier and needier with each passing second. You desperately wanted to see him spill his seed, to feel him spill on your tongue and let it drip down from your swollen lips, you wanted to feel him spill over your face and your neck, and you wanted to feel his warm load spill all over your tits.

But you pulled away before he could climax, and without him needing to say the words, you hastily pulled the top of your dress down while he hiked up your skirt, and he pulled you on top of him with ease despite his aching body. You gasped when you sank down on his length, being stretched pleasantly, and he felt even better than you had imagined all those years. He placed his big and warm hands on your waist while you began to slowly ride him, only gently increasing your speed, wanting to savour this moment. Sihtric hummed, almost growled and moaned under his breath while he looked up at you with love intoxicated eyes, completely bewitched by you, your body and the way you rode him so sensually yet so filthy, better than any experienced whore he had ever been with.

'You,' he murmured, 'you're exactly what I need,' he paused as a sudden loud moan escaped his lips, 'you've always been exactly what I need.'

You moaned his name in a sweet whisper while taking his cock entirely, allowing him to bury deep inside of you while he spoke to you.

'Tell me,' he husked with ragged breaths, 'by the gods, tell me what you need, darling. I want to be everything that you ever need.'

'You,' you moaned as he took your hands and kissed them all over, 'I just need you, Sihtric, you're everything I need. Always.'

You continued to ride him, feeling his throbbing cock while he neared his high and he brought one hand to your cunt while his other firmly squeezed and massaged one of your breasts. He stimulated your core with his rough fingers while you bounced needily and rapidly on his cock, feeling your walls clench and the tension in your body grow tighter and tighter, until you couldn't take it anymore. You came on his cock only seconds before he spilled deep inside of you, riding out your high while Sihtric laid back with his hands behind his head, gazing up at you as you both slowly came down again.

He then wrapped you in his arms and covered you both under the furs, where he kissed you lovingly and swore to love and protect you if you would allow him. And you promised each other you would be everything each of you needed, for as long as you were both blessed to live.

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