#solidifying her reputation?

[2deadkat]

Nothing is more disappointing then reading the book where we see actual physical evidence of petunia and Thea hanging out together, but it’s the worst one in the series and their interaction is just them failing the bechdel test. And a poor utilization of their characters…can’t say this is a fun discovery for yuriville but it is what it is…

Anyways uhhhh I hate Run for the Hills Geronimo, bad writing, bad utilisation of characters

[bi-writes]

a hand for a hand | knight!ghost x f!reader

in the year of our lord 1657, your king wields a weapon that cannot be reproduced. as your queen's lady-in-waiting, you steer clear of it, lest it cut you when it passes by. but duty and desire are rarely met in a man's world.

type: one-shot (6.5k)

cw: dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, mentions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, ghost is obsessed with your tits (18+)

It is not a secret that you are afraid of the king's men. There is a reason that they have a reputation of cruelty. Ravagers, conquerors, unruly and untamed–they train like dogs, and they live like them, too. By accident, you have wandered to where their barracks are, and if it wasn't for the happenstance of your king hearing your screams, they would've taken your virtue that night.

That one belongs to my wife, he had said, gripping you by the scruff of your neck. Spoil it, and I'll have your fuckin' heads. His queen had been much kinder when he returned you back inside, cradling your head in her lap and promising to have something fashioned for you to wear so none of his men would ever touch you again.

And they haven't. They do not bow to you, but they open the doors for you, move out of your way, try to keep their eyes off of the softness of your cleavage and the curve of your skirt. But there is one that does not, there is one that refuses, and this one you avoid the most.

You don't know him by any other name other than Ghost. The right hand of the king, his most trusted advisor and his most brutal of men. There are times when he barges into the throne room, his sword dragging along the stone floor and trailing blood in its path, and he tosses the head of the king's enemy onto the floor. You clutch onto the skirt of your queen's dress, tears welling up in your eyes, and when you look up, he is staring at you, heaving in the metal of his armor, and you look away as his men yell out proudly as they crowd the room.

His eyes are always on you when you are in his presence. They track you as you move behind your queen, follow you as you eat and drink and tend to her majesty's needs. He wanders the halls, and he observes you as if you are his next meal. And maybe you are–if he suddenly decided you would be his next conquest, you don't think a refusal is in order. Maybe that's the mercy he gives you; just the aggressiveness of his stare and his stare only, and not the strength of his hand or the cruelness of his demeanor.

There is always a party. Always a celebration for this brute. He is praised by politicians and priests alike, because he must be the hand of god, delivering whatever the king asks for when it is asked of him. He does not lose, all he comes back with is chests full of gold and new slashes to add to the growing collection on his skin. Sometimes you wonder if he puts them on himself. You wonder if he drags his dagger in a crooked line down the length of his arm, as if he is tallying his win, counting up to a number that already puts the men that came before him to shame.

He seems like the kind of man to do so–like the kind of man to do it even with the blood of his adversary still warm on the sharp edge of the blade, the kind to lick it clean when he's finished just to solidify the unease and the terror of the next man to have the unfortunate fate of ending up at the wrong end of his adrenaline.

He has no face. He has no name. And if he is coming for you, it's already too late; your fate has been sealed, and you should say your last rites. The only mercy he ever gives is that death is always quick. His sword is too sharp, and his hand is too heavy.

It is late in the evening when you hear it. There's screaming in the courtyard, yells and howls and cheers. You put down your hairbrush, getting up and padding to the window to look outside. The king's men are there, hundreds of them milling about and walking around. They share mead and wine, crusty bread in their muddy hands. They are bloody and bruised, but they are happy. They sing and chant, hold each other and crowd around fires. They left weeks ago, and they are back now, and you suspect it must be victory on account of their demeanor.

You are not surprised by this. They aren't kind, but it makes them good soldiers. They aren't afraid to die; it's a common idea in your culture that for a man to die in battle is the only way to true salvation, to actual ascension. You have always hated this idea. Boys become cruel, and men become unforgiving, and it is why you are so grateful to be her majesty's lady-in-waiting because it means she is your only duty and nothing more.

You are surprised by the knock on your door. You think about ignoring it, but then there is another knock, and then a familiar, low voice mutters, "Are you awake, my lady?"

You tie your robe and scurry. When you open up the door, you curtsy low and graceful, your eyes drawn to the floor as you tremble a little in the king's presence. You've never really spoken to him before, not without his queen at your side.

"Y-Yes, your majesty? I'm sorry for my appearance, I–"

"It's quite late," he says gently. "You don't have to apologize. Is it alright if I come in?"

You stand from your curtsy, blinking up at him. You think for a few moments before you nod, widening the door. He settles himself at the seat by the window, looking down into the courtyard. He has a hint of a smirk on his face as he looks down at his men, still singing.

"I have a request of you," he says finally. You take a seat at the edge of your bed, wringing your hands nervously in your lap. Whatever his request is, you don't know why he's putting it this way. You're not exactly allowed to refuse. "It is time for my most decorated men to receive their titles. They deserve it, after what they have done for me these past few years."

You swallow, "Yes, of course. You have such a fine army, your majesty. You must be...V-very proud."

He turns to face you, and he nods.

"These titles come with land. Money. Responsibility. And it comes with other things they might request," he explains. "One of these things can be a bride."

"They are most fortunate," you say softly, trying to smile. He stands, turning back to look down into the courtyard.

"You are to be wed tomorrow," he tells you. "I know you gave up much to accept your role at my wife's side, and for that, I have arranged for a sizable dowry on your behalf. Congratulations, my lady." he turns to smile at you. "By sunset, you are to be a duchess."

You're shaking when he goes. You clutch the sheets, sinking to your knees, and you cry. You cry because you know who asked for your hand. You know who wants you, you know who it is, because every time he comes back from war, he cannot take his eyes off of you. He eats you with his gaze, he violates you and has never even touched you, he takes from you, and you've never spoken to him, but you know it's him, you know it, you know it–

Your queen is ecstatic. She lends you diamonds to wear, and she fusses over the embroidered silk and cotton dress they've sewn for you overnight. She tells you she's so proud, that you will make such a beautiful bride and a beautiful duchess, and it takes all of your strength not to cry, to choke back your sobs. Your innocence will be gone by the next morning, you know this, and yet here she beams about colored fabric and your new, unwanted title and all of the duties you have never, ever wanted for yourself.

Marriage will be your prison, and you will never be free. You'll be hidden behind closed doors and forced to carry loud, chubby babies.

You are not the only bride that afternoon, but you feel like the most important. Your veil is the longest, your dress is the most intricate, and you are wearing the queen's diamonds. Not to mention, you are to become a duchess, and the rest will be lords and ladies, nothing more. You have always hated the hierarchy that society fits themselves into, but you've never despised it more than this moment.

He is waiting for you when you make it to the throne room. He wears his armor, polished and without blood, his face covered and his hood up to shadow his dark eyes. He wears his telltale insignia with pride, the skull motif of his belt gleaming and the paint of his mask fresh. He stands tall and menacing, a reaper in human skin, and you are so close to tears as you make your way to him. Your eyes find his, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You slip a delicate hand into his gloved one, letting the rough fabric warm you as he brings you to stand in front of him. He purrs, you think, a low rumble as his eyes look you up and down.

You are a prize. A trophy. Nothing more. A gift given for cutting the heads off of your king's foes, and that is all.

The ring on your finger is gold, and the ring you slip over his is silver. And then he gives you his first gift as your husband–a tiara, made of emerald and gold, and he slips your veil off to tuck it between the strands of your hair. The intricate pattern on the tiara matches the patterns along the iron of his armor, and you want to think of this as a gesture of good will, but you know it is given with possessive intent, a brand of ownership.

Because that is what this is. Not a ceremony of love, but an exchange, a transaction. You've been bought with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it.

But one day he will grow bored of me, and maybe then, I'll feel myself again.

He narrows his eyes, glares, and your lips part, trembling, you are terrified. His response is to growl with delight, his eyes falling to stare at the laces that hold in your cleavage. You observe this fact–the fact that you have things that other ladies do not. You are not tiny like them, not thin nor delicate. You are warm, soft, and the squeeze of your breasts in your dress draw him in.

You are a prisoner, now. But perhaps, if you play this game correctly, you can be in your ward's good graces. This is the hand you've been dealt; perhaps there is still a way to win if you steel your bluff.

The party is lively. There is music, gold coins tossed haphazardly on tables, so much dancing and enough food to stuff yourself for days. There is endless wine, and there are brides seated in laps, hungry new couples kissing and whispering soft nothings into each other's ears. The king blessed you all, told you to enjoy your new lives, your new titles, to make your country proud and raise pretty, fat babies.

You sit aways from him. You don't speak, just stare at your dinner plate, sipping wine absentmindedly as you think about the rest of your life and how miserable you will be. You think about the control you have never had, the choices you have never been given, and you wish so badly that you were a man.

Men simply ask for, and then they receive. Women simply hope that their eyes don't meet a flame too hot to handle.

His eyes bore into your head. When you catch his gaze every once in a while, all he does is tilt his head to the side and observe you. The beauty that you are, the woman that no one can have, the supple tits that belong to him, and the perfect cunt he knows that you have under the multitude of skirts you hide it under. Your skin glows, your hair is healthy, you will give him everything that he needs, that he craves.

You'll look so beautiful carrying his heir. You'll look so perfect when you begin to wear the dresses he will buy you, when you sleep in the bed in the house that he gives you, when you stand in the kitchen that he builds for you. Although, a woman like you deserves to do nothing but relax, be pampered, to lay down on a bed of furs as he eats your sweetness and fucks you stupid.

When the morning is early, you sneak out. You scurry to your bedroom, closing the door behind you for a moment of peace. You take a seat on your bed, the bed you aren't sure you will have for much longer, and you sit there and stare at your feet until the door opens.

You know who it is right away. Coming in unannounced, because now he is allowed to, because everything in this room now belongs to him, from the thread holding your dress together to the very breaths you take.

You sit up straight, turning your head. Ghost slips through, taking up the space by the door as it shuts behind him. You watch him as he stands poised just like the soldier he is, looking at you illuminated by nothing but candlelight. His gloved hands rest at his sides, but he squeezes them in and out of fists, clicking his tongue. You hear the leather of them move.

You have never spoken to him before. You've never heard him speak. You wonder if he really knows how to; you wonder if he has a voice or if he's been whittled down to nothing but the sounds that a loyal mutt makes. You know why he's here, you know why he's come. You can't tell him no, you don't think, but he doesn't move from his place, so you aren't completely sure of what he wants.

But you have an idea.

"Y'abhor me," he says finally. He speaks. You swallow. At least he isn't stupid. It's rare that you see a brute with brains. Although, with all the battles he has won, you know he doesn't lack intelligence. He is seasoned, worldly, knows how to convince the politicians and to rile up the uneducated men that kill for him. He must have a quick tongue and a strong vocabulary. A leader bred for killing, a man taught to know his audience and how to deliver a persuasive message.

But has he been taught to tame a cat? How to please a woman? How to love her, how to have her?

Love. What a silly dream.

"Not as much as I fear you," you admit. He hums, his eyes crinkling a little, as if he's smiling. You watch him carefully as he finally moves, rounding the bed before he stands in front of you.

"Wot is it y'r afraid of?" he asks. His voice comes low, from the bottom of his chest. You tilt your head up to look at him.

"That you'll hurt me," you whisper. He shrugs, shaking his head.

"A beaten wife is no good t'me," he tells you, very matter-of-fact. "Need strong heirs. Which means I need y'fed and happy."

"I'll never be happy."

He grips your chin, shutting you up. A part of you wishes he would be meaner. That he would be the angry, possessive Ghost that he truly is and show the kingdom that there is no part of him redeemable or salvageable. You want to sport his bruises and tell the queen he is an animal, but his touch is firm and nothing more. If anything, he's gentler than you expected him to be.

"We'll see about tha'."

Your eyes water, and you stiffen at his touch.

"I know who you are," your voice cracks. "I know what you do. You're a pillager. You take women, and you kill men."

He tilts his head to the side, smoothing his thumb along your bottom lip. You aren't wrong. Since he was small, most of what he has known has been the smell of blood in the air and the sound of screams when he shows up at their doors. He's never been particularly gentle when he ravages. He takes, takes, takes–it tastes good and strengthens his bones. It puts medals on his chest and pretty, thick women in his bed.

But you are no village in an unfortunate land. You are the gift that his king has given him. The forbidden treasure that he had his eye on since he saw you standing there beside his queen. Poised, elegant, graceful, timid, untouched, perfectly soft. Ghost has never known this kind of thing, and if you had been any other lady, he would have married you long ago, but he had to wait. He had to be patient, win and kill enough that his king could not refuse his request–no, his demand–to have you.

He did not do the king's bidding for the glory or for the honor. He did it so he could bite into you, so that even if you screamed, you belonged, and no one would care.

"Just a matter of war, dear wife. They matter little," Ghost mutters. "Let me look at ya..." he tilts your head side to side, observing you. He guides his hand down your throat, arching you back so he could trace his fingers along the swell of your breasts. He hums with approval, reaching lower and squeezing the fat of one breast with one big hand. His eyes flash, and he fondles the other.

You are surprised by the sensation. No one has ever touched you this way before. It feels...good. His hands are warm, even under all of that leather, and you find yourself feeling rather sensitive. You lean back a little on the palms of your hands, looking down. You watch as he traces a finger around your nipple, and you bite your lip when it pebbles under his touch. He uses both hands now, cupping both of them, growling. Ohhh–it feels so nice.

"Gonna be so nice when they're full," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "All for our babe."

You don't know what comes over you. You don't know why you do it, but you do. You lift your hand, gripping the edge of the laces that tie the front of your dress closed, and you pull. The weight of your breasts unravel the ribbons, and Ghost groans audibly when they spill out of your corset. There is a tickle that you feel, some sort of sick satisfaction, knowing that you've pleased him in some way.

"Tha'sit...My beautiful bride..." he smacks his lips together under his mask, as if he's hungry, "Tits of a fuckin' angel."

You squeeze your legs together. You know what it is to feel aroused, but this is different. You feel wet, so wet, as if it's wetting the skirt of your dress. You've never felt it this strong. You whimper a little, and he chuckles, so mean.

"Y'like tha', my bride?" he asks. He reaches up and cups your cheek, bringing your soft eyes to his. The praise, it itches you nicely. "Y'r m'prize, swee'eart. I killed over a thousand men, and y'are what m'reward is, did y'know tha'?" he hisses. "Cut the heart out of a man's chest, like a fuckin' pig, just to 'ave this cunt."

Why does it feel so good? Why are you getting wetter and wetter, why are you whining, why are you giving into it? Why do you want it so bad, why do you ache?

It hurts, it hurts–

"'s olright," he coos, so condescending. "Shhhh..." he puts a palm on your chest and pushes, making you lay back. You swallow, letting him put a finger between the laces of your corset and tug. It barely budges, fastened so carefully, and you gasp sharply when he uses two big hands and grunts, ripping your corset apart. You hear the crack of the whale bone give away under the strength of him, and it's a reminder of just how dangerous he is, how strong, and you know when he looks between your thighs, he'll find you wet and needy and captivated.

The corset comes loose, and he tugs, taking your skirts with it until you're naked underneath him. You want to feel shame, but you can't. You're so desperate, for whatever he will give you, and instead of covering yourself, you let your knees fall open. The groan he lets out makes you leak even more, and he watches with awe as your puffy hole pulses. He moves to shove his trousers down, but you stop him, putting a hand on the chest of his leather armor.

"Wait–" you meet his eyes. Your eyes flutter. "B-but...But I want..."

He eyes you curiously, narrowing them.

"Want wot?"

You swallow.

"I-I..." you reach down and slip your fingers gently through your folds. The squelch makes his eyes widen, and he's mesmerized by what he sees. "I want...Your mouth..."

He snickers, "Y'think a man will eat it so easy?" he raises a brow. "Doesn't work tha' way. Besides..." he shrugs. "I don't reveal m'face."

You sit up, blinking, smoothing your hands down his chest and tracing them along the hem of his trousers. His dark eyes follow you, and you realize he doesn't really say no. You need to remind him that you are not one of his men. You need to be kept happy, and he needs to give in, even if it hurts his fucking ego.

"Please?" you whisper, taking his hand and putting it back on your face, kissing the palm of his glove. Killed a thousand men to have me, so show me–show me, show me, show me. You nuzzle into it, giving him those eyes, and he stares for a long few moments. "Please..."

He sinks to his knees almost immediately. His armor stretches a little, the leather and metal moving rigidly with him. Your eyes widen a little at the position–the thing that he is knelt down in front of his wife, an act of submission.

"Turn around," he snaps. "On y'r knees."

You do as he says. You turn on the bed, your face squished against the cushions, and he yanks you back by your hips. You fist the sheets, sucking in a shaky breath, and your eyes squeeze shut when he puts two hands on your ass and spreads you wide. He plants a kiss on your folds from over the mask, and then you hear the shuffle of fabric before his warm tongue prods at your entrance.

He eats slow at first. Just drags his tongue through the slick there. He's exploring you, learning you. But then he is all-consuming. He hisses, gripping you by the thighs and suckling at your clit before tracing his name into the folds of your cunt. You can't help how wet you are–drooling, wetting his mask, crying so soft as he bobs his head and eats you, starving. He did not expect you to be so sweet, so soft. Every part of you is soft, and he associates the taste of you with the sound of your pleasure, and it's like a trigger. His brain ticks just the right way when he hears you moan for the first time. Not even battle quiets the tinnitus, but the ringing is nearly gone now.

He wonders if you're sent from heaven, even though he doesn't believe in it. But something had to have sent you, something had to have given you to him, because it's too much, it's too good, it's too real.

What he wants is in his hands, cumming on his tongue, crying because of his touch. Too real, too real, too real.

He pulls away. He smacks his lips gently, smirking, and then he pulls his mask back down. He stands up straight, watching you, still on your knees, squirming. He tuts, turning you onto your back easily. You're languid and a little breathless, and you giggle a little when you realize how easy it is for him to manhandle you, for him to move you. You've never felt very small, but he doesn't even strain, not even a little.

He's so scary, it makes you sick, but you can make this your own–you could make him love you, couldn't you? Someone this twisted, someone this insane, you could make him obsessed, you could drive him crazy, you could have the loyal dog you have always been yourself.

Killed a thousand men to have me, so I'll put you on your fucking knees.

It's what you're owed. For all the years of serving, for all the years of submission and pain and kneeling and curtsying, you're allowed to have something, you can have something, even if it's this monster of a man. He may have paid for you, but you won't let a thousand men die for nothing.

You will make him love you. You will make him love you. You will make him love you.

You sit up, a bit dazed. You're swimming in your own head, a little insane from the orgasm. You know what a man like him wants. You have doted on men like him all your life. You know what it is that arrogant people crave, what it is they desire, the things that keep them up at night, you know because you've soothed those fears all your life.

You just need to know how to make him purr. You need to know what clears the thoughts in his head.

"My husband," you whisper, meeting his eyes, and there's a little twitch in his eyes. He likes that title. "I–"

"Did y'like that, my bride?" he murmurs. "Your husband's mouth on y'r cunt, 'n now y'r singin' for me, eh?"

You bat your lashes, sliding your hands up his forearms. You drag your fingers over the sleeves of his armor, whimpering. The smell of leather is overwhelming, but you suppose you must get used to it. You have a feeling you'll be polishing it for the rest of your life.

"I've always been...Terrified of you," you whisper. "The way you come into court...The way you fight...Seeing you in all those places, you have always scared me..." he hums, his eyes intrigued. He smooths his hands up your thighs, gripping onto your waist as he tugs you closer to him. "But, I..." you reach for his shoulders, pulling on him until he bends, leans over you, crowds your space and shadows you like the eclipse he truly is. "I-I want more..."

He chuckles, "I know y'do," he echos. "Could see it in y'r eyes, darling girl," he sighs. "A pretty face like this one...Wasted on her majesty."

"I don't think we're allowed to say that."

"I deliver entire countries at john's feet, I'll say wot I bloody please," he snaps. You just blink up at him, before smiling a little.

This disgusting, murderous, possessive, immoral, treacherous piece of shit that is your husband is really the most beautiful man you've ever set your eyes on. Strong, resilient, unable to be killed, adored by his king and his men alike. He is everything a man is supposed to be, but nothing like how a gentleman should behave. He is built for war, built to take, so how can you get this nasty thing to love you?

Ghost does not seem the kind of man to bend to the desires of ordinary men. He may want to fuck you, but he has self-control. He may enjoy the praise of his men, but he doesn't require it. He may ache for the soft press of a woman, but he is self-sufficient and easily deterred.

So you do what servant women do best. You appease, because at the end of the day, Ghost is still a man, and men are all the same.

"A baby..." you whisper, holding onto the backs of his hands firmly. You dig your nails into the skin there, arching your back to get closer to him. He growls under the mask, metal biting into your soft skin as he grips you even tighter. "Want a baby..."

He cackles, so mean, and he leans down to kiss along your ear, down your throat, biting at the supple skin through the mask. He's still got all of his armor on, he hasn't shed one lick of his gear, but you cling to it like a parasite. He is one with it, and you realize this now, his second skin made of durable steel and patent animal skin, singed at the edges. He's such a fine soldier, too strong for his own good, too rough around all his edges to be anything but a masochist, but he's yours. He belongs to you as much as you belong to him, and it isn't until he slides the warmth of his length through your folds that you realize this, too.

You reach up with trembling hands, high enough to cup his masked face. He flinches, nearly throwing you off, but you shush him gently, cooing softly as you nuzzle your nose against his.

"I'm sorry," you whisper there. It's so intimate, this position, and you know that he has never let anyone touch him this way by the feeling of his body under your hands, stiff and unable to move. You roll your hips gently, up against his, and you let out a soft keen at the squelch of your slick against his cock. "It's...It's everything I didn't know I wanted..."

He grunts, metal creaking as his nostrils flare.

"I don't understand," he murmurs. Affection, it's so unfamiliar that it startles him. That someone can be kind to him, something other than a hard hand and an impossible order, it's not something he knows, and he's not sure how he feels about it. His instinct tells him to distance himself, but his cock guides him closer.

"You," you whine. "So big–" you reach down between your bodies, pumping his cock gently. Your fingers barely meet around his girth, a true testament to his size, he lacks this largeness nowhere. "–there's nothing to be afraid of, is there?"

Ghost snarls a little, gripping your thighs tight and securing them around his waist. You lock your ankles around his hips, pulling, and he hums as the head of his cock sinks into you easily.

"Naughty lil' girl," he laughs, standing straight as his thighs meet your ass. You whine, your back bowing like a taut string, and he slides his tongue over his teeth with a menacing click. "Not a virgin, are ya?"

"I-I am," you gasp, clawing at his forearms, and he hisses when you clench.

"Mm. Not a stranger t'this feelin' then, aye?"

You shake your head, and he nods, hoisting your legs up and over his shoulders as he gives you a firm thrust.

"Good," he mutters. "Don't much feel like pettin' ya."

And he doesn't. He's a menace. He snarls like a beast under his armor, his gloves squeezing your plush thighs as he pounds into you with no words to soften the blow. He isn't gentle by any means–he gives, and he expects you to take, and your legs shake as you try and crawl away from him. He doesn't let you–his fingers spread around your waist and he tugs, spearing you back onto his cock before he leans over you and starts putting his back into it.

Despite the roughness, he looks down at you, eyes focused on yours, and he doesn't look away. Your arms flail a little until you reach up and wrap them around his neck for stability, but it only draws his face close to yours. Your hand falls to grip his jaw, and he leans into it just enough that you know you have him.

"You'll make such a good little babe," he grunts, groaning when you tighten just that much. He's securing his place, making room inside of you so you can take even more. "Cunt was made to bear m'children, m'lady..."

"That so?" you squeak, and he smiles under the mask–you're falling apart on his cock, a good girl, just for him, just like you always are. "Have to finish what you started for that to happen, don't you?"

"Fuckin' brat–" Ghost snaps, but he presses his face to yours, needing to be closer, needing to have you, needing to make you his from the inside-out. A ring is not enough, no, he has to bind you to him forever by making you bear his kin. He will give you many, he's going to keep you fat and beautiful and pregnant, and his children will know that their father hungered for their mother so much that he destroyed a generation of men to covet one of his own.

Ghost has known since the first moment he laid his eyes on you that you would be it. You had to be his wife, no one else would suffice, because no one else could bear the weight of his name the way you would be able to. No one else would be able to carry his babies without dying, no one else could make the sun fall and the moon rise and the fire wane just long enough for him to feel human again, no one.

You start to think the same. You've never felt this way, so out of your body and so aware of it all at once. You're floating–you're somewhere else, you think. There's a pleasure so searing, that you can barely breathe. His cock is deep, touching places inside of you your fingers could never dream to reach, and there's a place that he touches sometimes that makes your eyes blur and your mouth make the most pathetic whining sound. You're crying, begging, asking him for more, please–! Nnghh–please!

He's never had a woman so wet. He has always had them for his own pleasure. He has never paid attention to what they feel or tried to make it nice for anyone but himself, but he knows he will never want it the same ever again. There's something so satisfying about the heavy plat, plat, plat that his cock makes every time his hips meet yours. He can feel his trousers sticking to his thick thighs, knows that there must be some thick, creamy slick coating his length and sticking to your skin that he suddenly wants to scoop up with his tongue and savor the tang of his bride, his wife, his pretty, pretty girl–tha's it, just right, like tha'–

"I...I-I–!" it's more intense than you've ever felt it. A crescendo of pleasure that is starting to grow in your belly, an unwavering warmth that he keeps flooding you with, so good that you can't stop crying for it. You're sputtering, drooling, clawing at the hood around his back because it's so fucking close, it's right there, it's mine, you're mine, mine, mine–

"Fuckin' hell–" Ghost groans, cradling your head against his chest as he stills his hips against yours and fills you nice and warm. You go cross-eyed, you think, shaking as you latch your mouth onto his masked jaw and suck. You need to put your mouth around something, need to fill it with the taste of him. He doesn't move, body heavy and suffocating over you, but you don't tell him to move and make no effort to push him off.

You think you want this. You think you want him to keep you here, just like this, underneath him, full of him, drooling from more than just your mouth from a fucking too good and the promise of something more.

He moves to take a seat on the bed, and you chase after him. You keep your arms around his neck, shuffle into his lap, and he chuckles under his breath as he wraps one big arm around you and tugs you close to him.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be bound to someone like this. Maybe it isn't so bad to belong, maybe it isn't so bad to be wanted this way, maybe it isn't the most unfortunate thing to not have the autonomy of yourself anymore in favor of being this thing's wife.

You slide your hand down his chest before smoothing it over one masked cheek. His eyes close for a moment, and he leans into it for just long enough that you recognize the gesture as one of need. Ghost aches, too–maybe not for the same thing you ache for, but he aches, and maybe it's for this.

Something gentle. Something soft. Something to bury himself into because the flames have burnt too hot for too long, and the voices in his head give him no reprieve. His hands are too dirty, too unclean, and you think maybe that's why he doesn't take his gloves off anymore–there is no cleaning agent enough for the blood caked under his fingernails.

He's more human this way. Less beast, more man, but you see that flicker of humanity disappear entirely when he sees the trickle of his cum slipping onto the fine sheets of your bed.

What a waste. What a loss. He has to fuck you again.

He will never be bored of me, I don't think. Ghost will want me forever–even when we are dead, because he cannot die, because he's already rotting inside.

You don't seem to mind your new position. No kneeling, no curtsying–your duty is on your back and on your side and on your stomach, presented for your husband, just for his pleasure, just for your own.

In all your life, you have never wanted this. You endured the burden of serving because you were at least needed this way. Marriage to you looked akin to death; when the veils fell over girl's faces, you never saw them again. They would be confined to their houses, made to spread their legs, forced to carry children they didn't want and die the slow death of giving their husbands everything they wanted while their dreams were buried alongside them.

Your dream is freedom. It always has been. Your dream is to do as you please, to go where you want to go, to say the things you want to say. There is an understanding here that you have, an opportunity that you could not see before. Before you had Ghost, you saw him as the thing in your way. He was the quicksand that would pull you under, the tide that sunk the earth, the dog that guarded his bone. But you know now, you understand, that Ghost doesn't have to be the wall in your way.

He is more animal than man, and in that fact alone, you feel power in your toes and something hungry knocking at the bone of your ribs, just waiting to come out.

Ghost will hold the sword. And you will hold the leash.

NEXT

[mask-of-anubis]

100% thought this was talking about when he accidentally kissed Piper and not when Patricia was a whole ass sinner lol

“eddie should have noticed that wasn’t patricia!!!” the same eddie who saw jerome on the verge of a panic attack being dragged out of the kitchen by a man claiming to be his uncle, and decided that it was just a ‘brit’ thing?

[snapscube]

I FINISHED TURNABOUT BIG TOP! Which means here is my updated autopsy report ranking for cases and characters!

Both have actually shifted around quite a bit so you may find it an interesting update. I'll explain some of my current thoughts on the new placements as well as my thoughts on 2-3 in general below a break if ur curious.

Okay so first thing let's just address the elephant in the room: We have an all new category on the character ranking!! One that I sure wish I didn't have to include but unfortunately Big Top made some... very Interesting decisions with specific characters. It would be one thing if this content was featured and then addressed, but it was particularly off-putting and frustrating to me that everything was played entirely straight?? So yeah. New lowest of the low category for a couple freaks who are actively courting a 16 year old!!!! yayyyyyy

OTHERWISE, I do have to say.... I was really pleasantly surprised at 2-3 as a case. I can say now I completely understand people having a distaste for it especially in regards to the unsavory age gaps, but literally..... almost everything else in this case was well put together and generally on-par with the quality of the rest of the series? As an overall package I actually still find Turnabout Samurai infinitely more dull. Like, maybe it's just because the lead-up to actually playing it was so uniquely frustrating for me and forcibly lowered my expectations by a ton, but there was so much good shit in Big Top. Maya, in particular, is in top form during this case. She is so fucking funny. I loved almost every word that came out of her mouth and it really solidified her top spot in the character ranking for me at present. But past that, I think the second half of this case is EXTREMELY strong compared to its opening half. I'll admit during the first trial section I was getting kinda tired with it and finding it hard to care given how much I just do not root for Max, so I had tentatively placed it at bottom of C tier. But then once von Karma arrives in the investigation section and then Acro's storyline enters the equation I really think it finds its footing. I actually found the last few scenes of the trial very emotionally effective, especially Acro's breakdown at the witness stand and mentioning how he couldn't follow through with taking his own life to escape his crime due to his desire to see his brother wake up. Like... I legitimately teared up.

And FURTHERMORE.... von Karma. Oh my god. I don't know if I'm picking up on anything here, nor do I want to know until I maybe see it for myself, but something about her conduct in the final trial really spoke to me. I feel like a surface read makes it apparent that she's just as frustrated as she is because she's losing the case to Wright again, and I do think that's a huge factor still to her reaction... but I don't know, I felt something else with her. Particularly when it came to her reaction towards Acro's attempted murder of Regina. I felt like she came across as PARTICULARLY disgusted towards that revelation and towards her own client in a way that subtly humanized her and had me just CHUCKLING AND CHORTLING in evil anticipation towards potential character arcs. I really hope I've grasped onto something here because... I love her so much. I love the idea that in spite of her reputation we're still gonna get to see this spark of humanity light up. AHHHHH.

Okay. Anyway. In summary:

I understand why people have a distaste for Big Top now, but it does not change the fact that I desperately wish I had been given the chance to experience the story myself going into it without that baggage. It genuinely did not help my experience in the slightest to just have that cloud of expectation over it and it is generally irritating that I couldn't even bring up that I was playing it without people jokingly apologizing to me or telling me that I wouldn't be able to handle it or whatever. Really not a great vibe.

As a case, it has a couple MAJOR, GLARING points of discomfort but I'm still really glad I gave it a chance and was able to find a lot of good in it anyway. It inspired me to unfortunately lower some of my other rankings because this is what I kind of consider a more middle-of-the-road quality for the series now. Solid B tier. I have played much worse.

Maya Fey is a god damn treasure.

As for some of the other character shifts, particularly in relation to some of the characters who got bumped from S to A rank, that's less because I decided I like them less now than I did when I first ranked them and more that I decided my initial interpretation of my feelings was incongruent in some cases. Like, for example I LOVE Mia I really do she's great, but in no way at this current time is she on the same level as Maya or Lana for me. So I just needed to adjust the ratios a bit.

Anyway, I'll be back eventually with posts about the next case and the last one of AA2! :3 I hear it's pretttyyy long but pretttyyy damn GOOD. Can't wait.

[miueo]

𐙚 my little idol ♥︎．。．:*･° chap ii ✿

ᰔᩚ      ︶ྀི    debut ; salty & sweet .

summary : you're currently in a new girl group underneath jyp entertainment ! your group is performing well on charts, you have a stable fanbase, and many bops to listen to! you try your best to avoid dating scandals for the sake of your reputation and status but it's all ruined by a very popular group of boys.

pairings : ot8!skz ♡ femidol!reader !

warnings : heavy on smut, sexualization & objectification, perversion, obsession, taboo / dark concepts (for some members, not all !) , mental physical / health issues (depression, anxiety, etc.), coercion, unsolicited pictures, more to be announced.

notes : i am having so much fun writing this and creating ideas for this. you have no fucking idea.

taglist : @p0eticjust1c3 @yunjinswifee @sky00ung @pinkdranks @bloominhos @mi-mi-mu @nasiaisan @kitkat1sstuff @hyunjinhoexxx @theinsanebish

selected song for fic : chapter playlist ✿ !!

the day of 4ura’s debut had finally arrived, a culmination of years of hard work, dreams, and relentless dedication. the air buzzed with excitement as fans gathered, eagerly anticipating the first glimpse of jyp entertainment’s newest girl group. their debut album, “feel,” promised a unique blend of songs that showcased their diverse talents, with the title track “salty & sweet” leading the charge.

the album, a carefully curated collection, included tracks like “nobody knows”, “underwater”, “diorama”, “colouring”, “candy crush”, “bamboleo”, “rewind”, and “perfect 10”. each song was chosen to highlight the group’s vocal prowess, dynamic choreography, and unique charm.

❁

as the lights dimmed and the intro to “salty & sweet” began, y/n, olivia, minjeong, and autumn took their places on stage. the music pulsed through the speakers, and the girls moved with a synchronicity that spoke of countless hours spent perfecting their performance. y/n’s voice soared, carrying the emotional weight of the song, while olivia’s electrifying dance moves captivated the audience. minjeong’s presence was mesmerizing, her visual appeal enhancing the performance, and autumn’s powerful rap delivery added an edge that completed the group’s dynamic sound.

throughout the performance, the emotions were palpable. y/n’s eyes shone with determination and a touch of nervous excitement, while olivia’s energy was infectious, drawing the audience into the performance. minjeong’s grace and confidence radiated, and autumn’s intensity underscored the group’s commitment to making a lasting impression.

as the final notes of “salty & sweet” echoed in the venue, the audience erupted into applause. the girls exchanged relieved and elated glances, the weight of their debut moment lifting as they soaked in the adoration of their new fans. backstage, the atmosphere was electric with celebration and a sense of accomplishment.

❁

while they were catching their breath and reveling in the afterglow of their successful debut, they ran into the members of stray kids. bang chan, the leader of stray kids, approached y/n with a warm smile.

“hey, y/n!! you guys did fucking insane. this is probably one of the best debut stages of our generation..” bang chan said, his voice full of genuine admiration.

y/n, still slightly breathless, smiled back as her cheeks heated up slightly. “thank you so much, chan! it means a lot coming from you.”

bang chan nodded, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. “you all really brought the energy and emotion to the stage. i could tell how much heart you put into it.”

y/n felt a surge of pride and gratitude. “we really wanted to make a strong impression. it’s been a long journey to get here.”

bang chan chuckled. “trust me, i know the feeling. but you guys nailed it. welcome to the family, 4ura.”

with that, the stray kids members offered their congratulations and words of encouragement, further solidifying the camaraderie within the jyp family. as y/n and her groupmates basked in the support of their peers, they knew this was just the beginning of an incredible journey. with their debut performance behind them and the world at their feet, 4ura was ready to take on the k-pop world, one stage at a time.

as the initial excitement of their debut began to settle, y/n found herself lingering on bang chan’s words of encouragement. she had always admired stray kids for their relentless work ethic, musical versatility, and the genuine camaraderie they shared both on and off stage. bang chan, in particular, stood out to her as a figure of leadership and creativity, someone she deeply respected.

as the group continued mingling with the stray kids members, y/n couldn’t help but feel a growing desire to get to know them better. she admired their ability to stay grounded despite their success and often looked to them as role models during her trainee days. now, standing in the same room, she felt an opportunity to bridge the gap between admiration and friendship.

gathering her courage, y/n approached bang chan once more. “chan, i wanted to say again how much your support means to me and the group. i’ve been a huge fan of stray kids since my trainee days. your music and the way you lead the group… it’s really inspiring.”

bang chan smiled, clearly touched by her words. “thank you, y/n. that means a lot. we all started somewhere, and seeing new groups like 4ura debut with such passion is a reminder of why we do what we do.”

feeling a surge of confidence, y/n took a deep breath and continued, “i was wondering, since we’re labelmates and all, if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime? maybe we could grab coffee or something in the building? i’d love to learn more about your experiences and get to know you and the other members better.”

bang chan’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “that sounds great! i’m sure the other guys would love to join too. we could definitely use a break and some good company. how about tomorrow afternoon? there’s a great café in the building that we often hang out at.”

y/n’s heart raced with excitement and relief. “tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect. I’ll let the girls know too. thanks, chan!”

as they wrapped up their conversation, y/n felt a renewed sense of anticipation. the chance to bond with bang chan and the other stray kids members was an unexpected but welcome opportunity. she hoped that these small moments of connection would pave the way for lasting friendships within the jyp family.

with a successful debut and the promise of new friendships on the horizon, y/n felt ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures lay ahead. the support and camaraderie within jyp entertainment were already proving to be invaluable, and she looked forward to growing not just as an artist, but as part of a larger, supportive community.

❁

the next afternoon, the jyp building buzzed with its usual energy, but for y/n, the anticipation of meeting stray kids for coffee added an extra layer of excitement. as she and her groupmates, olivia, minjeong, and autumn, made their way to the café, they chatted about the debut and the positive feedback they had received.

when they arrived, they saw bang chan and a few stray kids members already seated, waving them over with welcoming smiles. y/n’s heart skipped a beat as she spotted chan, his easygoing demeanor putting her at ease.

“hey, guys!” chan greeted them warmly. “glad you could make it. these are han, felix, and changbin.”

after exchanging introductions and settling into their seats, the conversation flowed naturally. they discussed everything from their training days to favorite foods, laughing and sharing stories. as the afternoon progressed, y/n found herself drawn to chan’s infectious energy and genuine interest in their debut experience.

at one point, as the others were engaged in a lively discussion about dance routines, chan turned to y/n. “so, y/n, how are you feeling after the debut? must be quite a whirlwind, huh?”

y/n nodded, her eyes sparkling. “it’s been amazing, but also overwhelming. there’s so much to take in. but having supportive colleagues like you makes it all feel a bit easier.”

chan’s gaze softened. “i’m glad to hear that. You did an incredible job. your vocals were just… wow.”

y/n felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. “thank you, chan. that means a lot coming from you.”

chan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “you know, i was really impressed with how you handled the stage. it’s not easy to command an audience like that on your first try.”

their eyes locked, and y/n felt a flutter in her stomach. “thanks, chan. i’ve always looked up to you and the guys. your performances are always so captivating.”

a mischievous glint appeared in chan’s eyes. “well, if you ever want some tips or just hang out more, you’re always welcome to drop by my studio. in fact, i was planning to work on some new music later tonight. want to join me?”

y/n’s heart raced at the invitation. “i’d love that. what time?”

chan smiled, a hint of playfulness in his expression. “how about 9 pm? i’ll be there. we can grab some snacks and see where the night takes us.”

“sounds perfect,” y/n replied, her voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within her.

the rest of the coffee meet-up continued with lighthearted banter and shared laughter, but y/n’s thoughts kept drifting to the upcoming studio session. as they parted ways, chan gave her a quick, reassuring wink, solidifying the connection they had made.

❁

later that night, y/n arrived at the studio at 9 PM sharp. the building was quieter now, the usual hustle and bustle replaced by a serene stillness. she knocked softly on the studio door, and it opened to reveal chan, who greeted her with a warm smile.

“hey, y/n. come on in,” he said, stepping aside to let her enter. the studio was cozy, filled with various instruments, sound equipment, and a few personal touches that made it uniquely Chan’s space.

“wow, this place is amazing,” y/n said, looking around in awe.

“thanks,” Chan replied, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “it’s my little creative haven. make yourself comfortable.”

they settled in, and chan began showing y/n some of the tracks he was working on. as they chatted about music and life, the atmosphere grew more relaxed and intimate.

“you know, i’ve always wanted to collaborate with someone as talented as you,” chan said, his tone sincere.

y/n felt a warmth spread through her. “that means a lot, chan. i’ve always admired your work. this feels like a dream.”

“well, let’s make it a reality,” chan replied, his eyes twinkling. “how about we start with some melodies and see where it takes us?”

they spent the next few hours lost in music, their creative energies blending seamlessly. between takes and discussions, their conversations grew more personal, filled with laughter and shared stories.

❁

as the night deepened, the cozy ambiance of chan’s studio, coupled with the soothing melodies they were creating, began to take its toll on y/n. she stifled a yawn, trying to stay focused on the lyrics they were working on. chan noticed and chuckled softly.

“feeling tired?” he asked gently, his voice a comforting murmur.

y/n shook her head slightly, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “a little. it’s been a long day, but i don’t want to stop just yet.”

chan smiled, appreciating her determination. “how about we take a short break? i can make us some coffee.”

“that sounds great,” y/n replied, grateful for the suggestion.

as chan moved to the small kitchenette in the corner of the studio, y/n leaned back on the plush couch, closing her eyes for just a moment. the soft hum of the equipment and the faint melodies still playing lulled her into a state of relaxation.

by the time chan returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, he found y/n fast asleep, her head resting against the back of the couch, her breathing steady and peaceful. he set the mugs down quietly, a soft smile spreading across his face as he watched her.

“guess you really were tired,” he whispered to himself, not wanting to wake her.

❁

in the darkness of the space, y/n fluttered her eyes open, the clock saying 4 am. still feeling drowsy and exhausted from being constantly occupied with her group’s debut, she looked over at chan’s sleeping body and a sudden flare of lust gleamed in her large seraphic eyes.

quietly, y/n slinked at the foot of the couch, biting her bottom lip while pulling down chan’s pants and trunks altogether. the mere view made the y/n’s mouth water as her body shook in anticipation.

with quivering lips, y/n started licking and coating the chan’s length with her saliva, getting themselves excited as well. her eyes peered up as they carefully engulfed chan’s hardening member and started to bob their head slowly.

feeling already wet, y/n started to touch herself, emitting some feeble moans against the shaft. soon out of breath and yearning for something more, y/n panted as quietly as possible with their head resting on chan’s thigh.

“who told you to stop?” y/n, the girl who froze like a deer in headlights and then looked up at chan’s smirking face. “you wanted to ride my cock like a slut, didn't you. you couldn't even wait for me to wake up, huh. or maybe you find my sleeping face hot?”

gulping at chan’s harsh, husky voice, y/n then started licking the tip of the throbbing length. a yelp escaped their lips when the dom suddenly pushed their head down till the shaft reached the back of their throat. “now you finish what you started.”

y/n gagged softly around chan’s cock, pulling away swiftly before stroking his length up and down with her delicate hands.

“ugh.. i need you in me so bad!!” y/n cried out as she got back up, sitting herself down on his lap before pulling her skirt up, moving her cotton white panties aside exposing her soaked cunt.

chan chuckles maliciously, grabbing his phone and hitting the record button on his phone.

“show the people how much of a fucking slut you are. your fans could never imagine how much of a whore you are for attention like this..” he breathes out behind the camera.

y/n slowly sat herself down on his cock. he had the perfect amount of girth and length, it felt so delicious in her little tummy.

chan grabs her body and slams her back against the leather couch, he kept his phone in his hand as he thrusts into her slippery cunt at an animalistic pace.

a little y/n, fucked dumb laid beneath her senior almost like a doll. high pitched screams and whimpers escaped her mouth as she arched her back against the couch; and seeing them as such was pure achievement for chan.

their hips slammed forward consistently, rough thrusts unstopping despite y/n’s state — in fact, the very view only encouraged chan to treat them more belligerently.

chan watched how the female idol’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, almost as if she was lifeless. she was in euphoria. she had been dreaming about this moment.

it was utter entertainment for chan knowing his admirer was too immersed in their pleasure and too dumb to talk back, taking the very opportunity to spit on them and degrade them while filming every moment.

“i can’t wait to see what more you have in that little pretty mind of yours, my little idol.”

[folkloresthings]

TOLERATE IT / FA14.

in which the older sister of lando norris finds herself teetering dangerously towards the precipice of her brother’s, significantly older, colleague.

( fernando alonso x norris!reader )

track one: gold rush. track two: delicate. track three: labyrinth. track four: false god. track five: happiness. track six: the 1. track seven: daylight. track eight: lover.

✩⡱ warnings: age gap! reader is 25, fernando is 41.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by lance_stroll, f1, and 682,947 others

lando.jpg day 41. dinner with the drivers and a special guest.

view all 300,923 comments

lewishamilton nice

yourusername i’m an honorary f1 driver now

⤷ mclaren you can replace lando

⤷ lando.jpg hello????

user not y/n sitting between alonso and carlos instead of next to lando 😭😭😭😭

⤷ yourusername they smell nicer

fernandoalo_official great pics! saving them now

TWITTER.

IMESSAGE.

the screen goes black as you lock your phone, a sigh settling in your chest at your little brother’s overprotectiveness. when you tuck it back in your bag, your gaze flickers up to fernando’s. he’s hovering with a knowing sort of smile, making you laugh bashfully. you were just outside of your apartment block, his car parked on the street. he’d insisted on walking you to the door, and since the street was quiet there was no fear of being caught, not like you were at your departure in the restaurant. in fact, the midnight quiet was peaceful, the sky dark and the air cold.

“thank you for driving me home,” your voice carries quietly, hands knitting by your side. despite the heels that were irritating your ankles, you felt awfully small under his warm eyes. you knew of his reputation with women, his ability to flirt and wrap a girl around his finger. you weren’t the kind to fall for such actions, but when he smiled at you, you empathised with every woman before you.

“you’re welcome,” his smooth spanish accent warmed the shivers along your bare shoulders. fernando obviously noticed, gaze flickering to the bare skin. “you looked very beautiful tonight.”

biting back a smile, your head dips to look at your feet, hoping to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks. but before you could melt into a puddle on the step, fernando’s thumb and finger caught your chin. freezing, you let his delicate touch raise your head up again, until your sights met and the breath was knocked from your chest.

you thought he was going to kiss you. he’d been flirting all night long, sitting next to you at dinner and brushing his hand over your arm everytime he turned towards you. but he didn’t — not yet, anyway. he only held you there, the rough pad of his thumb carressing your cheek, letting himself look at you for as long as he needed.

but you were sure you would pass out if you let him do so any longer, clearing your throat and stepping away from such an intoxicating touch. “goodnight, fernando.”

he stared at you, somehow more handsome in the shadowed light. he wanted more, you could see it in his eyes, but whether that more was of good intentions, you couldn’t tell. “goodnight, pretty girl.”

he turned on his heel, descending the step towards the street, and you suddenly felt yourself turn cold. the air nipped at your skin again, without him near to keep you warm. the battle inside your head was raging, pulling between sense and feeling.

“wait,” you called feebly, and he was turned around before you could even finish the word. you rocked a little on your heels, fiddling with the keys in your hands. his hopeful eyes only solidified your decision, a coy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “do you, maybe, want to come up for a drink?”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen, and 7,921 others

yourusername home is where the heart is ❤️‍🩹

view all 3,704 comments

carlossainz55 loved seeing my favourite norris 🤩

carmenmmundt mojito date again soon!!!

⤷ yourusername YES!

user y/n giving us the lando content we deserve

fernandoalo_official london 🤍

⤷ user a wild nando appears

landonorris since when do you drink red wine???

writers note: london boy but it’s london girl and it’s fernando singing it

[bluebasie]

Giyuu Tomioka's kindness deserves some more recognition!!

Am I the only one who hates when people interpret Giyuu Tomioka from KNY as some kind of unfeeling and mean person with the personality of a rock when so many scenes with him clearly show how much of a thoughtful, kind, and empathetic character he is??

His introduction scene is already an example of this when he (a person who has been slaying demons for 8 years and has a deep hatred for them) decides to spare a demon just because he saw Tanjiro and Nezuko’s bond and decided to give them a chance. I’m sure most everyone in the KNY fandom recognizes this, but I don’t think some people REALLY understand the implications of this action. The moment he decides to spare Nezuko he essentially becomes a traitor to the demon slayer corps which, by the rules or the corps, qualifies him for execution. Tomioka quite literally gave up his life and pride to spare a pair of siblings he didn't know just to give them a fair chance in a world that is clearly unfair. There's also the fact that after knocking Nezuko out in the first episode, even though he didn't have to, he put Nezuko’s robe back on to keep her warm, wiped the blood off of her face, and gave her a muzzle. Keep in mind though that demons can't get sick from the cold or anything and the cut would have healed itself. Tomioka put the robe on and wiped the blood purely for her comfort. 

Going back to the fact that Tomioka put his whole life on the line for these siblings, It’s not like he just abandoned them when they got caught. He fully stood with them when the Kamado siblings were brought before the hashira. Again this moment was actually HUGE even though his status as a ‘traitor’ lasted only two episodes. In the moment of the trial he essentially knew there was a good chance he would be executed but also, he knew that his pride/reputation was gone from his peers. (Pride was very important in Japan during this time period) One could argue that Tomioka already wasn't regarded well among the hashira but at least he was at least a little respected, but, as a traitor, you lose ALL respect. One could also argue that Tomioka didn't really care about his life and honestly, I could agree to that statement but there is one thing that overrules both of these points. His loyalty towards Ubuyashiki. It's well known that the Master is well regarded among the hashira and even the master being disappointed in one of them would be terrible for them. Imagine how bad it must be for one of the Hashira if Ubuyashiki had a full on disdain towards one of them. Tomioka was fully ready to take the chance of being deemed a traitor by Ubuyashiki by coming to the Hashira meeting to vouch for Tanjiro instead of running away or something. 

Then there is how Tomioka acted as a child. There isn't much shown about how he was before spiraling into a more isolated lifestyle after sabito’s death but from what we can see, His parents died when he was really young and he grew up with his older sister, Tsukato. His sister hid him from a demon when they were attacked to spare him and overcome by guilt, he blamed himself for her death and believed he should have died. This is one of the first examples of his self-deprecating thoughts after losing a person close to him and we can see them again when Sabito dies and also when Tanjirou ‘dies’. This shows how hard losses hit him to the point of causing himself to devoid himself of emotion because of the sheer amount of sadness his relationship's deaths brought him. The fact that he still wears Sabito and Tsukato’s haoris together as a memento for 8 years just solidifies it for me

There's also a few scenes post war that i’d like to mention such as the scene where Tomioka openly cries over Tanjiros death and exclaims that he’s failed him before apologizing to Nezuko. This scene also shows his tendency to put burdens unto himself in order to let others be happy. He also rejects help from the kakushi to sit beside Tanjiro and only after he confirms Tanjiro is alright does he allow himself to relax. Then there is the mention from the fan book that while Giyuu was in a coma after the war Nezuko fixed Tomioka’s haori that was previously shred to pieces during the war because she knew his haori meant a lot to him. Once he woke up and found out that she had fixed his haori and visited him every night, he was so moved that he sent a large multitude of gifts to her. It is also shown that after the war he allows himself to be happier and smile more. He is VERY clearly not emotionless.

The last thing I want to mention is his relationships over the manga with his fellow hashira. His friendship with shinobu may seem one-sided, Tomioka definitely cares for her wellbeing which can be seen when he asks Tanjiro about her during the Soba scene and in the fanbook where the hashira opinions of each other shows that he notices her fake smile. Tomioka knew shinobu’s sister Kanae so I’m sure he relates to shinobu about their common grief towards their deceased older sisters. Then There is the Uzui family which befriended Tomioka after the war and after Uzui’s first child was born, Giyuu was allowed to hold them. This could mean that after the war Tomioka opened up more, so the Uzui’s were able to notice Tomioka’s thoughtfulness. Then of course there are the Shinazugawa scenes. The infamous ohagi scene, where Giyuu gets so happy that he knows Sanemi’s favorite food so then he can like him rather than hate him that he flashes one of the three smiles he ever shows in the manga. There’s also the small speech he gives Kiriya at the final pillar meeting where he talks about how his father would be proud of him and how grateful they are to the Ubuyashiki family which ended up bringing Kiriya to tears before sharing another smile with Sanemi.

It is very clear that Giyuu Tomioka cares heavily for Justice and for those he is close to the point where his main character story is about his guilt to those he failed and about his feelings and connections with others so please please please stop portraying him as insensitive, mean, and emotionless!!!

Tanjiro, Nezuko, and Giyuu are Siblings fr

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :)

Had to add this pic lol

[biteofcherry]

A promise that won't be upheld

part of Venomous Vows series in collaboration with @jamneuromain

mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: Your first impression of Ari isn't exactly a bad one, but it solidifies your decision to never have anything to do with him.

warnings: mafia!Ari Levinson; mob!Ari Levinson; soft dark!Ari Levinson;

Author's Note: This is sort of prelude to everything that happens. If you read the thread that started it all (and which is the core of what happens later), you will understand the title of this ficlet - why exactly this promise won't uphold 😏🤭

The sense of power doesn’t thrum through your veins as you cut across the lavish floors of the club, even though people part aside to let you through; neither it pulses as you take the spiral staircase to the VIP upper floors, where curious and hungry gazes glance your way, but no one dared to approach. 

At least not yet. Your father’s name is enough to keep most in line, but there is always someone who would be either too dumb or too drunk to make a move on you. The fact you could get rid of him with the mere mention of your last name didn’t give you a sense of power, either.

It’s the moment when you stepped down the narrow corridor that changed from lacquered black into burnt wood panels, which finally gave way into a beautiful oasis. 

Here, in the private garden sprawling above the city, you feel that rush. 

It’s not just a VIP area. To be allowed here is to be the inner circle. The very few who your father trusted. 

Or to be a monster equally influential as him.

Ari Levinson isn’t a close associate of your father. He doesn’t belong to the inner circle. He doesn’t belong to anyone, but the hell pit alone. 

But he’s here tonight. Exchanging who knows what false politeness and cutthroat deals with your father. 

You know he’s highly intelligent, brutally fast and decisive. Father wouldn’t sit down with anyone who didn’t deserve their position of power. But he’s not the kind of man you want to spend any minute with. 

Especially not on your birthday.

“I’d ask if he’s a stripper, but I’m not yet drunk enough for playing a dumb bimbo,” your friend chuckles next to you. 

She likes to play those games, especially with the dark and dangerous crowd - whom she proves to be idiots led by dicks. She’d almost cross a boundary, but make it so cute that the most ruthless of enforcers and mob soldiers were turning smitten and protective. 

Figures she’d set her sights on Levinson. Danger always lures her. On top of that, his looks also grab full female attention.

“That one is better to be left alone.” Averting your gaze from him, you turn and walk over to the further side of the roof garden, where garlands of lights are hung above a table set for a small group of people. 

Unlike your best friend, you’re not interested in poking the dragon. 

Or to even look at him too long, in case the devil snatches your soul somehow.

You prefer your partners to be more controllable. Lawyers, who have the brains and enough cockiness to make it spicy, but won’t get an upper hand over you. Mob boys who are in the higher ranks, but didn’t display alpha male behavior. CEOs who are too busy with their own empires to be hungry for having power over you. 

“He has to be a really big deal, if you’re saying that,” your friend muses, taking a seat beside you.

And he is.

Ari Levinson isn’t a man you’d want to find yourself near. Not only because of his reputation of being a ruthless and lethal leader. But because he’s not easy to control. He never would be. 

He’s a man who grips the reins of any interaction right away, twisting and pulling and lashing with a crop until any mare submits to him fully. He’s like that in business, but you have no doubt he’d be the same in any relationship.  

“Ladies.”

A voice smooth and rich as the last sips of thick, hot chocolate, resounds unexpectedly behind you. Startling you. 

When you turn, the devil himself is standing right there. His expression is neutral, void of any mischief, or malice. 

So damn controlled. To the tiniest muscle in his handsome face. 

“Mr. Levinson.” You greet him politely, hiding your annoyance at the fact you can’t read anything off his face, or his body language.

His body - impressively broad and thick, while still holding a jungle’s predator’s grace to it - isn’t stiff in discomfort, nor is it alert for a threat. It isn’t fully relaxed either. Somehow he’s perfectly balanced and in tune with his surroundings.

Yeah, definitely a man to stay away from, if you want to maintain your goal of always being in control.

Even if a small part of you wants to stretch along that body and rub your softness everywhere where he is hard.

“Wanted to pay my respects and wish you a happy birthday,” Levinson inclines his head your way. 

“Thank you.” It calms you, realizing it’s just a typical show of manners, which the mafia world puts such emphasis on while not batting an eye at killing. It’s quite comical. 

“I must admit, I’m surprised.” He adds, his tone for the first time betraying some kind of emotion.

Amusement?

“A mafia princess’ birthday being so modest? No party for hundreds of people and social media pictures? You must be setting new standards.” 

He doesn’t laugh, nor smirk, but you notice the way his blue eyes spark. It’s a short, fleeting thing, but it’s enough to grate on your nerves. It’s also enough to have your friend snort. Because of course she made nearly the same comment a few days ago, when you mentioned you just want a nice dinner and a few glasses of wine, not to party all night long.

Not only because you have enough noise and masses on a daily basis as you manage hotels and the party side of casinos - the legal front for the very illegal things your father runs. 

But because, as he called you, a mafia princess is never just a person of the evening for genuine celebration. 

You’re not naive or dumb to not know that those types of parties are a means to be shown around like a prized auction item to lure the highest bidders. Your father loves you, but you’re aware at some point he will arrange your marriage.

You want to spare yourself at least the whole circus of potential husbands, or their representatives, watching you and assessing your worth. 

“I’m not a college student on a spring break, nor a spoiled teen on a sweet sixteen.” You roll your eyes, not voicing the real reasons for the small celebration. 

Which was a tiny victory on your part, because your father couldn’t exactly show you off and wait for offers while it was only him, your friend and two cousins you were still waiting for. 

“No, you’re not.” Levinson agrees, his voice dropping an octave lower.

His eyes stay on your face, but it somehow feels as if he just dragged his gaze down your body in the most inappropriate way. You feel a warm tingle awakening beneath your skin.

“I wish you all a lovely evening. Once again, happy birthday,” he rolls your name on his tongue and his lips curve in a teasing smile.

“May it be a memorable one.”

You watch him turn and leave, moving with the confidence of a predator who knows the jungle holds no secrets from him. 

But he’s not reckless or stupidly cocky, you think. He’s simply (annoyingly) aware of his power. Which makes him all the more dangerous to be around. 

You make a promise to never find yourself in his orbit for longer than necessary. 

[perfectsunlight]

[30] I, CARRION (ICARIAN)

warnings: heavy themes (depression, suicidal thoughts, emotional distress, family conflict, intense feelings of isolation) and public scrutiny.

DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

jennie had always been afraid of falling. nothing good came from such an act. falling in love, falling out with friends, falling from fame. it was an act that symbolized the moment one became weak, vulnerable, and at the mercy of the world around them. and jennie kim had always prided herself on being anything but weak.

she had built her life, her career, and her reputation by standing firm. she had learned how to hold herself together when everyone else was falling apart. she knew how to stay on top—how to be untouchable. her world was one of carefully managed control, where every detail was scrutinized, planned, and executed to perfection. but the truth was, beneath that polished exterior, jennie was terrified of the one thing she couldn’t control: losing the people she loved.

falling, to jennie, wasn’t just a physical act. it was emotional, mental—it was the slow, creeping descent into something deeper and darker than she could manage. she had seen it happen too many times, to too many people. friends who had lost themselves in the chaos of fame. relationships that had crumbled under the weight of expectation. but nothing scared jennie more than the idea of falling away from the one person who mattered most.

ivory.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

becoming a mother had changed everything for jennie. it wasn’t a decision she had made lightly. in fact, when she first found out she was pregnant, fear had consumed her like nothing she had ever known. she could handle the demands of being an idol, the grueling schedules, the intense scrutiny, the endless pressure to be perfect. but being a mother? that felt like a fall she wasn’t prepared for.

and yet, when ivory was born, it wasn’t fear that overwhelmed jennie—it was love. a love so intense, so consuming, that it redefined everything she thought she knew about herself. ivory became the center of jennie’s universe, the only person who could truly make her feel both grounded and weightless at the same time.

but with that love came a new kind of fear. 

jennie knew the demands of her life—the constant traveling, the public persona, the secrecy—would one day take its toll. ivory wouldn’t always be a child, oblivious to the world outside their small, hidden bubble. eventually, she would ask questions. she would want to know why jennie had kept their life a secret. she would wonder about her father, about the world jennie had shielded her from. and jennie feared that when that day came, ivory wouldn’t understand. she would see jennie not as a protective mother, but as someone who had kept her in the dark, someone who had hidden too much for too long.

i feel lighter than i have in so much time

i've crossed the border line of weightless

the more jennie thinks back, the more she concluded that this burning bridge started when her daughter was just a child. it started when jane would hide from her mother, the small habit becoming a sort of game between the two.

it began with those playful moments of hide-and-seek, when little ivory would giggle, darting away to find the best hiding spots—behind the sofa, beneath the dining room table, or even in the small space behind the curtain, her laughter ringing like chimes in the air. for jennie, it was a cherished game, one that solidified their bond and filled their home with warmth and joy.

“you know i’ll always catch you,” the idol had whispered to her daughter, her voice a playful mix of mock seriousness and warmth as she tried to pull a squirming toddler closer to her. the corners of her lips curled up in a smile, an expression of love that glimmered in her eyes like the soft glow of a sunset. ivory’s innocent laughter was a melody that echoed through the house, drowning out the worries of the outside world, the pressures of fame, and the relentless pace of her career.

in those moments, time felt suspended, and the burdens of life faded into the background. jennie had reveled in their little universe, a sanctuary built on shared secrets and unbreakable trust. they were a team, navigating the unpredictable waters of life together, her daughter’s tiny hand always reaching for hers, trusting that jennie would guide her through every storm.

but as the years slipped by, that innocence began to wane, replaced by the turbulent tides of adolescence. the once-cherished game transformed into a battleground of wills, where jennie found herself no longer seeking out her daughter’s hiding spots, but instead chasing shadows. each giggle that faded into the distance now felt like a reminder of what was lost, a haunting echo of the connection they once shared.

the playful laughter turned into hesitant sighs, and the hide-and-seek evolved into secrets tucked away in the corners of her daughter’s heart. where once she had run to jennie with open arms, she now retreated into her own world, a realm filled with friendships and experiences that jennie could only glimpse from afar. 

but jennie knew she had to be an idol first, she always had to be. but her heart ached to simply just be a mother.

one deep breath out from the sky

i've reached a rarer height now that i can confirm

all our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world

ivory was the perfect baby girl. she always had been, even when she cried and kept jieun and jennie up for hours.

those late nights, filled with the sounds of wailing, never diminished the beauty of her daughter. each cry was a reminder of ivory’s fierce spirit, a testament to the life she brought into their home. the way she scrunched her little nose in displeasure or how her tiny fists waved in frustration were moments that painted a picture of pure innocence.

jennie often found herself mesmerized by the sight of ivory’s delicate fingers wrapping around her own, as if they were meant to fit together. even during the toughest nights, when exhaustion clawed at her, jennie would look down at her daughter and see perfection—the way ivory’s lashes fluttered softly as she finally drifted to sleep, or the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest, filling jennie’s heart with a warmth that made every sleepless night worth it.

yet, amidst the laughter and joy, there lingered an undeniable weight in jennie's heart. she missed so much—missed first steps and the excitement of new words, the way ivory would proudly show her the drawings made in preschool, her fingers smudged with paint. with every missed moment, a piece of jennie’s soul felt like it was slipping away, replaced by guilt and longing.

but every time ivory saw her, she would run with open arms, too innocent to understand the world of obligations and the pressures that pulled her mother away. “mommy!” ivory would cry out, her voice bright as sunlight, wrapping her little arms around jennie’s waist. those moments made jennie’s heart swell, yet the ache of missed opportunities would linger like a shadow. 

how could her little girl forgive her for being absent during so many pivotal moments? how could she bear the thought of her daughter feeling alone when all she wanted was her mother close by? would she hate her when she was older?

however, despite it all, jennie would never forget the way ivory had changed her, even if she couldn't see it yet for herself. because it wasn’t just her experience and the industry that shaped her.

it was also ivory.

and though i burn how could i fall?

when i am lifted by every word you say to me

jennie remembered the day her daughter saved her life. 

it was the darkest time of her life, the media tearing every piece of her limb from limb. she had done her best, she had tried to kill them with kindness, but her mind had suffered far too much.  each headline was a knife, each article a reminder of her failures, her struggles, the weight of expectations pressing down on her.

it was late one evening, and the rain had poured down in sheets, mirroring the turmoil in her heart. she had found herself standing on the edge of the balcony, feeling the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. the city sprawled beneath her, a maze of lights that felt as distant as her hopes. the thought of jumping had crossed her mind—a moment of reckless abandon that almost felt liberating.

she hated falling, but maybe this time it would be freeing.

droplets of water soaked through her clothes, clinging to her shivering body. whether she shook from fear, the cold, or from crying, she couldn't tell. all she knew was that she was exhausted. she was tired of feeling like this. it would be so easy, so quick to just end it all. her members would be fine, the company wouldn’t suffer much of a loss. her mother would grieve and move on, and her daughter would be taken care of regardless. jennie was a bad idol, a bad person, and a bad mother. there was nothing left for her to try and be good at anymore. a lull of thunder groaned in the distance, the rain not letting up one bit. jennie’s clothes still hung off her form like wet rags, her body just as numb as her mind. with a deep breath, she made her decision. she took one step forward, than another, and then she was at the edge of the railing. her hands gripped the wet metal bar, feeling how easy her grip slipped. they could make it look like an accident. it would be a bit easier to digest for people that way.

but just as jennie prepared to let go of her anguish, a bright, cheerful voice broke through the raging storm outside and inside her mind.

“found you!”

startled, jennie turned slowly, her heart racing as she caught sight of a small figure emerging from the curtains of the doorway leading to the balcony. ivory, only five years old, stood there, beginning to become wet from the rain, her cheeks flushed with excitement. she was soaking wet but beaming, her eyes the same as her mother’s beaming with innocence.

“ivory,” jennie’s voice trembled as she stepped away from the edge, her heart pounding not just from fear but perhaps relief as well. “what are you doing out here?” she whispered, trying to comprehend how her daughter had found her. jieun had been sending the small girl home from school with a personal driver.

but this was jennie’s house, not her mother’s. that could only mean ivory had asked the driver to take her home to her, not to jieun.

jennie’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at ivory, the little girl’s presence pulling her back from the precipice of despair. the warmth radiating from her daughter felt like a lifeline, grounding her in the chaotic storm of her emotions.

“i found you!” the girl repeated with glee, the innocence in her tone cutting through the weight of jennie’s sorrow. in that moment, the world outside faded, and all she could see was her daughter—the embodiment of everything she loved, everything worth fighting for.

but as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the crushing weight of jennie’s anguish. tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over as she dropped to her knees, unable to hold back the flood any longer. the sheer relief of seeing ivory, of having her here and safe, overwhelmed her senses.

“valentine,” jennie choked out, her voice trembling as she fell to her knees and pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace. she clutched the small girl tightly, burying her face in the soft fabric of her daughter’s damp clothes, feeling the warmth of her small body against her own. “oh, my sweet girl,” she sobbed, the tears flowing freely now, each one a testament to the fear she had felt just moments before.

jane wrapped her tiny arms around jennie’s neck, the innocence in her embrace radiating a comfort that began to mend the pieces of jennie’s shattered heart. “i thought you were hiding from me!” ivory exclaimed, her voice still light, filled with the joy of the game. 

“i’m here, sweetheart,” the idol admitted, her heart aching as she held her daughter closer. the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little, but the fear remained, echoing in the back of her mind. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

ivory tilted her head, her brows furrowing with confusion. “why are you crying, mommy?” the young girl asked, her dark pigtails soaking with water and her face covered in droplets that reflected light like diamonds.

jennie felt a rush of conflicting emotions. her heart swelled with love, yet the fear of losing her daughter loomed like a dark cloud. “i’m just scared,” she whispered in reply, doing her best to try and not cry even more in front of her daughter.

but all the little girl did was smile up at her mother, the rain not causing her emotions to falter. “but i'm here, you don't have to be scared.” she pulled the idol in closer, and jennie never cried harder in her life.

if anything could fall at all, it's the world

that falls away from me

it had been two weeks since the incident happened and jennie had been fighting tooth and nail with her lawyers to sue those who dragged her daughter in the headlines. she didn’t care what they said about her. the idol didn’t care what they called her, or what they thought of her. all that mattered was ivory—all that had ever mattered was ivory. 

the thought of her daughter’s name being dragged through the mud ignited a fire within jennie, one that eclipsed her own anguish. she was ready to battle, ready to shield her child from the cruel world outside, a world that had become increasingly invasive and toxic. the whispers of judgment and disdain only fueled her determination.

no amount of scrutiny or scandal could diminish her devotion as a mother.

at night, she would lie awake, her mind racing with the words she would throw at the media, the statements her lawyers would issue. she replayed the interviews, the snippets of hurtful commentary, the careless remarks that had turned ivory into fodder for sensational headlines. it made her sick to think that people could be so cruel, so callous about a child who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

during the days, she stayed busy, ensuring that every detail was managed, every angle covered. meetings, phone calls, legal documents—they all became her lifeline, a distraction from the gnawing worry that threatened to consume her. she felt like a warrior, fighting against an army of nameless faces and faceless voices, all bent on destroying the one thing that mattered most to her.

but in the quiet moments, when the chaos of the day settled, the weight of it all would come crashing down. in those stillness-filled nights, she couldn’t help but wonder how ivory was coping with the backlash. was she scared? confused? had she eaten?

“we need a statement from you,” her manager hesitantly brought up during their next meeting. “you haven’t confirmed your relationship to her yet. i think it is best if you say something officially.”

jennie felt a surge of frustration rise within her, an emotion too powerful to suppress. she stood in the dimly lit conference room, the soft hum of fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare on the glossy table that reflected her tense expression. dressed in a tailored black blazer that hugged her form and paired with fitted trousers, she exuded an air of professionalism, yet the sharp edges of her attire did little to mask the storm brewing within her.

“no.” the word sliced through the air, sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care. “this isn’t about me. it’s about ivory. i won’t put her in front of cameras until she’s ready. if she wants to make a statement, that’s her call.”

her manager frowned, shifting uneasily in his chair, the weight of their conversation heavy between them. he adjusted his tie, a nervous habit she’d come to recognize. “but the media won’t wait. the speculation is damaging. we need to control the narrative.”

“control?” she scoffed, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. the room felt constricting, the walls closing in as she thought about the tabloids ripping apart her daughter's innocence. “what control do we really have? we’re dealing with people who don’t care about the truth—only the drama. i won’t pressure her into speaking before she’s ready.”

she took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where rain streaked down like tears on glass. the dreary weather outside matched her mood, but she steeled herself, focusing on the task at hand. “i want to protect her innocence. if the girl chooses to speak, i’ll support her. but this decision has to come from her—not us. i won’t let them twist her words.”

silence enveloped the room, heavy with tension, as her manager hesitated, contemplating the implications of her words. “but jennie—”

“no,” she interrupted, her voice firm and unwavering, echoing off the stark walls. “i won’t make a statement without her consent. she’s been through enough. i want her to know she controls her narrative.”

her manager sighed, recognizing the resolve in her eyes—the fierce determination that set her apart from the fleeting glances of the world outside. “alright, but we need to prepare for the backlash.”

“let them come,” the idol replied without missing a beat, her voice steadying as a flicker of maternal instinct surged within her. “i’ll take whatever hits they throw. as long as none of them hit ivory.”

you have me floatin' like a feather on the sea

while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath

jane had always been jennie’s strength. in her highest highs and her lowest lows, her daughter was always her anchor. each milestone in her career, every award and fashion show, was often celebrated with ivory in mind. every time jennie was whisked away for a new brand ambassadorship or invited to walk the runway, she meticulously picked out souvenirs that reminded her of the little girl waiting at home.

the delicate silk scarves from paris, the glittering hairpins from milan, the brightly colored baubles from tokyo—each item was a token of love, meant to fill the void of her absence. but soon, jennie started to notice a disheartening change. the excitement in ivory’s eyes dulled with each new gift, her small hands less eager to unwrap the carefully packaged tokens.

when the idol had moved into her own house, the distance between them became painfully clear. the new home was supposed to be a fresh start, a sanctuary filled with light and dreams. yet, as she unpacked boxes in the empty living room, reality settled heavily on her chest—ivory wasn’t going to be coming with her. her daughter would remain with jieun, it was safer that way. but even she knew it wasn’t just about safety, she had used that excuse too many times to believe it.

the day she officially moved out was the day everything changed. 

as she stood in her new kitchen, surrounded by gleaming appliances and fresh paint, the echo of ivory’s sharp voice felt like a distant memory. that morning, jennie had sat down and explained to her daughter what was going to happen. jane was only 8 at the time, and she was already becoming extremely aware of the absence of her mother.

it was also when the small girl began to stop calling her “mom.”

“why don’t you want to be with me?” jane had asked bluntly, small hands balled into fists as she watched her mother taping another box shut. the innocence in her eyes pierced through jennie’s heart like a dagger. it was a simple question, but the weight of it felt insurmountable.

“i do want to be with you, sweetheart,” the idol replied, forcing a smile that felt strained and hollow. “but this is what’s best for both of us right now. you’ll be safe with grandma, and i’ll be here working hard so i can give you all the nice things you deserve.”

“but i don’t want things,” the small brunette insisted, her voice rising with frustration. “i want you.”

the sharpness of the truth stung like cold water, and in that moment, jennie felt the walls she had built around herself begin to crack. she wanted to scream that she wished she could be with her every moment, but the words died on her lips. instead, she knelt down to her daughter’s level, trying to steady her trembling hands as she brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her forehead.

“i know it’s hard, but i promise, we’ll make this work. i’ll visit you all the time, and we can have fun together. we can make new memories.” the rehearsed phrases felt empty in the air between them, but she hoped they would comfort the little girl.

but even jennie knew her daughter had heard those empty promises too many times.

ivory’s eyes, devoid of any real emotion, searched her mother’s face for reassurance, but instead, they found uncertainty. the moment hung heavy, and as ivory blinked back her tears, jennie realized just how fragile their bond had become.

“i don’t believe you,” ivory finally whispered, her voice small but fierce. but as jennie watched her turn away, something deep within her cracked open, and the reality of her choices loomed larger than ever.

and she finally realized that her daughter was slowly slipping away from her.

once i had wondered what was holdin' up the ground

but i can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down

each of the pinks had taken turns coming over, but tonight, it was just rosé sitting across from jennie. the glow of the candles flickered softly on the coffee table, casting dancing shadows against the walls of the stylish parisian apartment. the faint scent of vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of the bustling city outside, a stark reminder of the world that felt both close and distant.

“what’s she like?” rosie asked gently, her tone laced with genuine curiosity as she observed jennie’s hunched figure on the plush couch, wrapped in an oversized hoodie that swallowed her whole. it was a cozy look, a comforting barrier against the chill of the night.

jennie’s gaze drifted to the candles, the flames reflecting the turmoil in her heart. there were so many words to describe her, and yet none of them were fitting enough. ivory was and always would be indescribable. “she’s everything.” the older girl whispered, trying to piece together her words. “she’s like poetry i’ll never fully understand. sometimes she’s the softest verse, the kind that makes you feel warm without realizing it, and other times she’s like the sharpest line, the one that cuts right through you.”

ivory had always been a melody jennie couldn’t stop humming. even when the world was too loud, when the pressures of fame felt like they were closing in, it was her daughter who reminded her what really mattered. how ironic was it? that the person who was her entire world was also the one holding it up. jennie had always known that getting to the top came at the expense of being there for ivory. she had built her empire on sacrifices, and the largest one was her absence from the moments that should have mattered most. each red carpet, each endorsement, each sold-out arena—they were the milestones of her career, but they were also the milestones of ivory’s quiet solitude.

it was upon her daughter’s small, unsteady shoulders that jennie’s world sat. the weight of it all pressed down on the girl, and jennie had given her the world and left ivory alone to hold it up.

leave it now, i am sky-bound

if you need to, darling, lean your weight to me

jennie didn’t know how many times she had called her daughter over the past weeks. ivory was eighteen now, legally an adult, but she would always be jennie’s little girl, no matter how much time passed. and that made it worse—because jennie knew her daughter was still too young to bear the weight of everything being thrown at her.

every unanswered call felt like another crack in the fragile bond between them. she had seen her daughter grow into this fiercely independent young woman, strong and capable, but jennie couldn’t shake the sense that she was crumbling beneath the pressure. the media, relentless as always, had turned their full attention to ivory. speculation, rumors, accusations—all aimed at her daughter, dissecting her life in the cruelest of ways.

jennie had faced that kind of scrutiny before; it came with the territory of being a global icon. but this was different. this was ivory, and jennie had no control over it. no way to protect her. all she could do was wait, hoping—praying—that her daughter would reach out.

the silence was suffocating. she had sent dozens of messages, her fingers flying across the screen in moments of desperation. ivory didn’t respond. not to her, not to jieun. her daughter was mia—not physically, they knew she was safe somewhere—but emotionally, she was unreachable. the longer the silence stretched on, the more jennie’s worry turned to fear.

what was she thinking? how was she handling the constant barrage of headlines, the ruthless commentary from strangers who had no idea what her life was really like? was she struggling alone, feeling abandoned? the thought of her daughter enduring all of this on her own made jennie feel physically sick. she had built her career on being strong, untouchable, but nothing could prepare her for the helplessness she felt now.

late at night, the older woman would find herself staring at her phone, willing it to light up with a message from ivory. she couldn’t sleep, her mind running through all the worst-case scenarios. what if ivory didn’t want to speak to her anymore? what if this silence was her way of pushing jennie out for good? it was a thought that haunted her, even though she didn’t want to believe it.

jennie had always been the one in control—the one with the answers, the one who made decisions. but now, she was at the mercy of her daughter’s silence. all she could do was wait, and it was tearing her apart.

we'll float away, but if we fall

i only pray, don't fall away from me

“have you talked to her?” the idol whispered aimlessly, leaning against the sofa cushion with her head propped on her elbow. jieun glanced over her shoulder, staring at her daughter. the older woman’s gaze softened as she took in jennie’s tired form, slouched on the sofa, her face half-hidden in the dim light. jennie looked like a shadow of herself—hollow-eyed, her usual resilience cracked and exposed, like glass splintered under the weight of her worry. she wasn’t the jennie kim that everyone knew—the one who faced cameras with a certain glint in her eye, who made the world bend to her will. 

no, this was someone far different—this was a mother, unraveling at the seams of her sanity.

jieun sighed softly, crossing the room with measured steps, each footfall silent against the plush carpet. she’d watched jennie navigate the peaks and valleys of fame, but never had she seen her like this. this wasn’t the guarded idol, the woman who could withstand scrutiny and judgment with a steely front. jennie was exposed, raw, with her vulnerability wrapped around her like a second skin.

“she’s safe,” jieun said gently, kneeling down beside the sofa, her voice as calm as she could manage. “you know she’s safe.”

jennie’s lips tightened as she looked away, her eyes lingering on her phone as if expecting it to vibrate at any second. she lost count of how many times she had kept checking her phone throughout the days. it was not completely out of her daughter’s character to be radio silent, but this type of silence felt far more dangerous. it was the kind of quiet that echoed loudly in her maternal mind, amplifying every worry and fear she tried to suppress.

“but she’s alone,” she murmured, voice thin and cracked. “again.” her biggest regret as a mother was being absent for so long in her daughter’s life. it was a regret that gnawed at her like a relentless hunger, an ache that twisted and turned, reminding her of every moment lost. 

the idol knew her mother would only understand somewhat, given she did help raise the girl in her absence. but jennie was her mother. ivory was hers. what if this silence meant something more? what if it signified that jane was falling away from her, slipping through her fingers like sand?

the rain pounded against the window, a steady rhythm that mirrored jennie’s racing heartbeat. outside, the world was drenched, streets shimmering with reflections of streetlights and the distant glow of the city. it was beautiful but also haunting, reminding her of every moment she had taken for granted—every hug, every laugh, every late-night conversation that now felt like a lifetime ago.

jennie’s voice was barely a whisper, more to herself than to her mother. 

“i just wish she would come home.”

i do not have wings, love, i never will

soarin' over a world you are carryin'

jennie remembered the last time her daughter called her “mom.”

she was in la for a quick trip with her members, the sun dipping low in the sky and painting the horizon in hues of orange and pink. laughter echoed around her as they wandered through the bustling streets of venice beach, the salty air mingling with the scent of fried food from nearby stands. she and her members were meant to be celebrating, living in the moment, but all jennie could think about was how far she was from her daughter.

as they strolled along the boardwalk, her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from the moment. she pulled it out, her heart racing at the sight of ivory’s name flashing on the screen. but just as quickly, the excitement turned to dread; she hesitated, caught between the urge to answer and the noise of her friends. the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it all felt so vibrant, so alive, and yet, it felt hollow without her daughter accompanying it.

finally, she silenced the phone, promising herself she would call her back in a minute. yet, in that minute, the moment turned into hours. the sun sank beneath the horizon, and by the time jennie returned to her hotel room, the buzzing of her phone had stopped. she pulled it out again, her heart heavy, and saw a voicemail notification blinking at her. she didn’t need to listen to know what it was—a stab of guilt pierced her heart.

after she settled onto the plush hotel bed, she pressed play, her stomach twisting as ivory’s familiar voice filled the room.

“hi,” ivory’s tone was soft, almost shy, like she was uncertain of how to navigate this unspoken chasm that had grown between them. “i don’t really know why i’m calling.” jennie felt a lump in her throat as she listened. this wasn’t the vibrant teenager she usually heard, full of life and excitement; this was a girl grappling with the shadows of her mother’s absence. there was a pause, the silence on the line heavy and stretching on as if ivory was wrestling with words that refused to come. 

 ivory spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she feared saying it too loudly might shatter whatever fragile hope she held.

“i miss you,” she murmured. “i mean, i know you’re busy. and i know it’s important… but i just” her words trailed off, dissolving into silence once more. there was a rawness in her voice, a longing that felt like it had been buried for too long, like it had clawed its way up from deep inside her, desperate to be heard. “i did something today. um…”

another beat of silence passed by before the younger girl let out a muffled chuckle, and the unmistakable sound of a sniffle.

“i don’t know what i’m saying.” jane added, her vulnerability in her voice hitting jennie like a punch to the gut. “i’m sorry for bothering you. have fun, mom.” the voicemail ended with a soft click, leaving jennie sitting in stunned silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her. 

later on, she would find out from jieun that was the day her daughter had gotten into hybe. and once again, jennie was halfway across the world for it.

jennie remembered the way she went to the bathroom and sobbed on the edge of the tub, fighting the urge to throw up. everything she had worked for, everything she’d sacrificed—it all felt so hollow in that moment, sitting on the cold tile floor of some high rise hotel in the city of angels.

what kind of mother was she? 

the thought echoed in her mind, relentless and unyielding. jennie gripped the edge of the tub as if it could anchor her, her fingers shades of her daughter’s name with the effort to keep herself steady. she had spent years building an image, carving a path to success and fame, but now, all of it felt like dust slipping through her fingers. she was idolized by millions, praised for her talent, but in the one role that mattered most, she felt like a stranger.

her daughter had achieved something extraordinary, something she would have been so proud of—and jennie hadn’t even been there to pick up the phone, let alone celebrate. she could only imagine ivory standing alone, phone pressed to her ear, hoping to hear her mother’s voice, only to be met with silence.

she’d missed it. she’d missed everything.

jennie’s vision blurred with fresh tears, and she buried her face in her hands, biting back a sob. she could picture every missed moment, every time she’d told ivory she’d make it up to her, every night she’d kissed her through a screen, promising it was only temporary. but her baby girl had grown up in the gaps jennie had left, filling in the spaces with memories jennie would never share. 

if these heights should bring my fall

let me be your own

icarian carrion

part of jennie always knew she wasn’t invincible. she could conquer stages, face the world’s scrutiny, but when it came to protecting jane, she felt utterly powerless. it was a thought that twisted in her gut, reminding her that no matter how much she wanted to shield her daughter from the storm, she was just one woman against an unforgiving world. still, the fierce love she held for ivory ignited a fire within her. 

she would die trying to keep her daughter safe, even if it meant battling the very system that had once elevated her to the highest heights.

the idol leaned back in the plush leather seat of the car, her eyes vacant as she stared out at the blurred lights of the city. the soft hum of the engine was drowned out by the relentless patter of the rain, but it was a comfort compared to the storm brewing in her heart. just as she closed her eyes to escape her thoughts, her phone buzzed insistently in her lap.

she glanced down, the dim light illuminating the screen, and her breath hitched in her throat. the headlines pierced through the fog of her despair.

"IVORY DENIES ANY RELATION TO RUMORED MOTHER, JENNIE."

“LE SSEREAFIM MEMBER IVORY DENIES FAMILY TIES WITH BLACKPINK’S JENNIE.”

“JENNIE KIM—NOT A MOTHER AFTER ALL?”

jennie couldn’t believe the words she was reading. she read the different headlines over and over, trying to understand what was happening right now. her heart sank even further as she read the quote beneath one of them:

“in a recent statement, ivory kim has publicly denied any familial ties to the renowned idol jennie, stating, ‘i am my own person and have nothing to do with her public image or lifestyle.’”

a bitter chill coursed through her veins as the weight of those words settled in. the world was watching, and her daughter was choosing to distance herself from her mother. it felt like an emotional dagger, the kind that twisted and turned, severing the bonds they had fought so hard to forge.

if the wind turns, if i hit a squall

allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

“why would you say that?” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. the denial felt like a rejection of everything they had built together, a painful erasure of their connection. she quickly checked her recent call history, tapping on her daughter’s name once again for the nth time. the idol fought the urge to scream when she heard the dial tone go immediately to voicemail. just then, the driver turned onto a familiar street, the sleek glass building of her office looming ahead. the car slowed, and jennie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and determination. the sleek façade of her workplace, usually a source of pride, now felt like a battleground, a place where she would have to face the raging storm outside.

as the car came to a stop, she could hear the distant shouts and the clicking of cameras, the cacophony of the paparazzi waiting to pounce on her the moment she stepped outside. she felt sick. she wanted to tell the driver to turn around and drive straight to the hybe building. but she couldn’t. 

with a heavy sigh, she adjusted her sunglasses, the dark designer lenses serving as a shield against the world. she took a moment to gather her thoughts, feeling the weight of her daughter’s words pressing down on her chest. she quickly wiped the corners of her eyes with the ends of her sleeves before steeling herself for the hell awaiting her.

taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and stepped out into the pouring rain. the cold droplets hit her like a thousand tiny needles, but she welcomed the sensation, using it to mask the tears threatening to escape. she could feel the cameras flashing, the questions being shouted, but all she could think about was ivory.

“jennie! what do you have to say about ivory’s statement?” one reporter shouted, shoving a microphone in her direction.

"did you pay her to say that?” another voice rang out, sharper than the rest, slicing through the crowd's cacophony and echoing in jennie's mind like a jagged wound being reopened. "where is your official statement?" someone else demanded, and the barrage of voices grew relentless, questions stabbing through the heavy rain, flashes sparking like bursts of lightning even through her tinted lenses.

the idol’s fingers curled into fists as she fought back the impulse to scream, to plead with them to understand that this was more than just a story to her. her skin felt raw, scraped by the flashing cameras and the biting cold, as if each shout and accusation stripped another layer from her, laying bare the ache she tried so hard to hide. but she couldn’t break down here—not in front of the world, not with ivory's fragile truth hanging between them, vulnerable to this voracious hunger for scandal.

she swallowed hard, pushing the tears down, forcing herself to lift her chin. each step she took toward the building was heavy, as though she were dragging the weight of her guilt and grief alongside her. it felt like walking through a storm without shelter, the rain mingling with her tears, each ounce of water a reminder of the distance that had grown between her and her daughter—a distance she’d allowed to widen.

ivory’s innocence, her future, was on the line, and jennie would do whatever it took to protect her, even if it meant facing this battle alone. she could bear the cruelty, the invasion, the unyielding scrutiny if it meant her daughter didn’t have to. this was her responsibility. her burden. and if it came to it, jennie would willingly take every accusation, every whispered insult, if it meant jane could live without this shadow hanging over her.

she had no delusions about the battle ahead, but she would face it—she would endure every cost, every scar, if it meant shielding ivory from this storm. even if it destroyed her, jennie would be her daughter’s armor, her shield.

even if it meant her daughter denied her as a mother, the same way jennie had done for years, she would still keep trying. she would always be a mother, no matter what.

and if that meant she had to fight until there was nothing left of her, then so be it. she’d die trying.

if i should fall, on that day

i only pray, don't fall away from me

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CLOSED.

[daisyswift3]

A Summary of the 🎃 Messages--The Overarching Story

So I just realized sth abt the 🎃 messages while listening to ttpd—they’re in chronological order!! I am going to try to give a summary of these messages and explain why I believe this. This album has made 99% of her songs, mvs, metaphors, and symbols make perfect sense. There were always some things like getaway car, cruel summer, and the palm trees in rep era that I could never quite figure out but now it's all crystal clear. It's like ttpd is the last piece of the puzzle needed to make everything fall right into place and to see the whole messy complicated story. One thing I want you to take note of as you read this summary is how incredibly consistent Taylor is w her use of metaphors and symbols. This makes solving the puzzle that is her music more like solving a cypher that you can know you solved correctly bc all the symbols will fit together perfectly just like a secret code. Once you understand what one symbol represents you now know what it means every time you see it. Every word or phrase she uses is intentional and there's not a single easter egg that's out of place. You'll notice in ttpd there are several words and phrases that are repeated bc she wants us to know that certain songs are related. 🎃 anon said there would be many connections and foretellings in the messages that we could find if we held them to the light in the coming unfoldings, and boy they were not wrong. So w/out further ado let's get into it (just a warning though this will be pretty lengthy so grab your favorite drink, some snacks, and get comfy).

1st message: The first one starts right before rep era when her rep started going down and she started feuding w her record label. These are the obstacles she didn’t see coming that made her slam on the (getaway bike) brakes (which were cut so she had to use her foot to slow down) and not come out. The "heel damaged" could be a reference to Achilles' heel since this was a weak spot she didn't see or it could be a reference to Jesus' heel being bruised in the 1st ever biblical prophecy (see this post for more on that). This was her first big pivot and change of plans. Many ppl have theorized that TS6 was originally going to be a different album--perhaps lover/daylight--but kimye and BMR got in the way of that. This would explain why she wears an outfit w palm trees on it while cutting the wings off her TS6 jet. She spray paints "reputation" on it which seems to indicate it was a haphazard last minute change of plans (x). Plus the endgame mv has palm trees and shows Miami, Florida (which I think is related to Florida!!! but I'll have to get to that another time) connecting it to "Island breeze and lights down low, no one has to know...In the middle of the night in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you so I take my time." Miami is the paradise where her endgame happens. This all seems to indicate she was ready for "daylight" or "paradise" during rep era but had to pivot.

The Prophecy: “Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, Oh but it’s gone again"

2nd message: This is abt the lover rollout that started in spring of 2019 -> "The time draws near, springtime sunshine causing small drips and fractures." The ice castle likely represents the lover house (her music empire, past eras, and closet) since she burns it down w a match just like she does in the eras tour visuals and midnights -> "You strike a match and blow the smoke toward the structure that shelters and protects you. Suddenly, you hear a crack, a crunch, a whoosh. There is a sudden give beneath you, and you tumble through the broken, melting hole in your palace." The ivy reference (spring breaks loose, the time is near) just solidifies my theory that ivy is a song abt an eventual kaylor reunion that will happen before she burns all the files and deserts all her past lives (eras).

Lover era was her second big pivot. I believe she knew there was a very good chance Scott B would sell her masters all the way back in rep era hence why she says "I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone, devils roll the dice" (see this post for more on that). "However, in this suddenness you find yourself still somehow underprepared, kicking yourself for the time you squandered by wallowing in the seeming endlessness of your predicament" -> Her being unprepared to come out along w the mastersheist is what caused her to miss her 2nd opportunity to come out. She was so caught off guard that it made her indecisive. And so she played it safe and stayed in the closet -> "Our coming of age has come and gone, suddenly this summer it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near." Remember how I said Taylor is very consistent w her use of metaphors? Well I made a post a while back explaining how folkmore represents the seasons bc summer = daylight and winter = closeting and folkmore was Taylor trying to come to terms w her 2nd failed coming out hence the grey and beige ("I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige"); so that means the ice castle = winter = closeting and springtime sunshine = almost daylight = almost being out of the closet (and spring was also the time when the lover rollout started so it has a more literal 2nd meaning to it as well).

The Albatross: "So I crossed my thoughtless heart spread my wings like a parachute, I'm the albatross, I swept in at the rescue." [I think there's a good chance this song is abt Scoots so it makes sense the parachute metaphor, which relates to her masters and failed coming out, would be used in this song]

The Bolter: "By all accounts, she almost drowned when she was 6 in frigid water...It feels like the time she fell through the ice then came out alive." ['Long story short I survived']

3rd message: This is abt the mastersheist (diamond heist) during the summer of 2019. It parallels the I Can See You mv exactly (see this post). In hindsight it now makes perfect sense why 1989 tv didn't have any mvs--bc the Fortnight mv is a direct continuation of the ICSY mv! Before the Fortnight mv, the ICSY mv was the most recent one. She didn't want anything between those 2 mvs so that it was obvious they were directly related. Her losing her masters and her 2nd opportunity at daylight is what drove her to insanity and caused her to end up in the asylum -> "I find the artifacts, cried over a hat...I trace the evidence" // "And so I enter into evidence my tarnished coat of arms, etc" | "Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away?"

"Mere feet away from the light of freedom...Your getaway bike begins to leave without you, sparks flying as the tires try and fail to slow down for you. You have frozen in this moment of indecision" // "It was the great escape, the prison break, the light of freedom on my face...he was runnin' after us, I was screamin', 'Go, go, go!'" -> There are 2 getaway car mentions in this message which emphasizes its importance. This is likely for a few reasons: 1) To explain what the song getaway car was actually abt--her feud w BMR, not the beards 2) To show that message 1 and 3 are related; the getaway bike is mentioned in both since both are abt her masters 3) To show that the lover era pivot was actually just history repeating itself; this is what Cassandra and the Prophecy are abt.

Cassandra (notice the piano melody from mad woman): “So they set my life in flames, I regret to say do you believe me now? ['If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too']…They knew, they knew, they knew the whole time that I was onto somethin', [She knew there was a good chance her masters would be sold as shown in cruel summer] The family, the pure greed, the Christian chorus line" ['Now he sits on his thrown in his palace of bones praying to his greed']

Fortnight: "I was supposed to be sent away But they forgot to come and get me I was a functioning alcoholic 'Til nobody noticed my new aesthetic [Her fans didn't notice the shift from rainbows and pastels to black mourning clothes during the lover era] All of this to say I hope you're okay But you're the reason [The you in the song is Taylor; she's the reason she decided to stay in the closet] And no one here's to blame But what about your quiet treason?" [Taylor's indecisiveness is what led her to not come out the 2nd time]

loml (This is from Karlie's pov): "Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry...You shit-talked me under the table talking rings [Paper Rings] and talking cradles, [Lover mv] I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all, [They were so close to daylight]...It was legendary, It was momentary ['I touch you (daylight/sunshine) for only a fortnight']...Our field of dreams engulfed in fire" ['So they set my life in flames']

Florida!!!: "Little did you know your home's really only a town you're just a guest in, ['I touch you (daylight/sunshine) for only a fortnight'; 'And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign'] So you work your life away just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin" [Taylor did all this masterminding and planning just to end up still stuck in the closet and bearding and only being able to see her lover in stolen private moments]

Fresh Out the Slammer: "Another [cruel] summer, taking cover, rolling thunder, he don't understand me"

The Bolter: "But it always ends up with a town car speeding" [getaway car]

Peter: "Forgive me Peter, my lost fearless leader, in closets like cedar preserved from when we were just kids, Is it something I did?" [Peter is herself; 'I'd be a fearless leader' and the fearless album; 'closets' is obvious]

How Did It End?: "We were blind to unforeseen circumstances, We learned the right steps to different dances, and fell victim to interlopers' glances, Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?...It's happening again" [This is the 2nd time she's lost the opportunity to come out]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: "I'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague" [They're in love w each other but can't be together in public; 'Break my soul in 2 looking for you but you're right here']

Down Bad: "For a moment [a fortnight] I knew cosmic love, now I'm down bad crying at the gym...'Fuck it if I can't have him I might just die it would make no difference'" ['You (Taylor) told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I (Karlie) ever leave']

5th message: Out of all the messages this is the one I'm the most uncertain abt. But I think it is possibly about JA leaving before his contract was up. "You are in a kitchen. Not your kitchen, of course. Your kitchen is soft and cozy and sacred. THIS kitchen is hard and cold and purely functional" -> This is not the sacred kitchen from Cornelia Street that she shares w her lover, this is a PR stunting kitchen that's a false imitation of the real domestic bliss she has. A few yrs ago kaylors were talking abt how Karlie has a kitchen that she only uses for PR/social media purposes so pumpkin anon could've been trying to remind us of that. These 3 messages from flag 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 anon make me think the breakup happened sooner than planned.

The July 29 message wasn’t meant to be posted until Oct 8 since it was hinting at the Toe breakup happening 5 months later in mid March, 2023.

The Nov 23 message mentions a “shift of footing” which we all agreed meant Toe 🦶 was over. The Dec 5 message w “the need to flex is sometimes necessary” directly following the Toe breakup message is what really makes me think it wasn’t planned. They had to pivot/flex but “other milestones are resolute” meaning the endgame is still the same—K and T will still reunite and both will be out of the closet at a certain time. Plus there’s the “…” at the end of the Nov 23 message which also indicates the Dec 5 one is a direct continuation of that message.

To add more credibility to this theory, RFI and SIG also have ellipses. RFI always seemed like it was supposed to be a direct continuation of SIG bc SIG sets up the “chess game” w her and her lover doing magic and pulling the wool over everyone's eyes, and RFI is when this chess game officially begins, "baby let the games begin."

Some other kaylors said they thought “the need to flex” meant that she wanted to give anti hero more time on the charts so she was flexing or showing off. But I think it makes more sense for it to be related to London Boy himself and not having him as a beard since that’s the whole purpose of having the 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 flag. I could be wrong though.

So Long, London: “Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away…Holding tight to your quiet resentment…Every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there” [This may mean that JA kept trying to break free from the contract and Taylor kept trying to convince him to stay but it didn’t work]. "My spine split from carrying us up the hill, Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill" ['They are bowing out, leaving you with double the workload, now half burnt and smoking. Their duties weren’t finished, and yet there is nothing you can do to make them stay. Shaken by this loss, chaos descends upon the team. Most roll up their sleeves to work harder']. "And my friends said it isn't right to be scared, every day of a love affair" [There were several blind items talking abt how JA was hooking up w men in a very unsubtle way; this could be what the 'cheating husband' mentions in ttpd are abt]. “Two graves, one gun” [Makes me think of a smoking gun which could be what the 'smell of smoke' in the message was alluding to. Maybe JA threatened to reveal her secrets if she didn't let him go and he had the smoking gun evidence to do so which was the recipe card. 'This time is different. Because you know this person actually has the means to share the secret menu, and that they have enough proof to make the waiting guests believe them.' -> I mean if anyone could convince the general public it would be the man who was supposed to be her boyfriend for 6 yrs]. “And you say I abandoned the ship but I was going down w it, my white knuckle dying grip” ['But you have never been one to lay your armor down. When you fail, you fail gloriously. When you go, you go kicking and screaming']. "I didn't opt in to be your odd man out" [She didn't want to be his beard just like he didn't want to be hers; and odd man out is a game that's played w 3 ppl where the odd man is the loser who's eliminated bc he didn't have a match]. "I founded the club she's heard great things about" [The Tortured Man Club -> The Tortured Poets Department that she's chairman of]

7th message: This message is all abt the domestic bliss she has away from the public eye. She has worked so hard to make sure her secrets are safe by building a tall impenetrable fence. However, she chooses to intentionally blow a dandelion full of secrets--perhaps ttpd is the dandelion w all the songs being the florets or secrets. There is one floret in particular that she’s worried abt—my guess is it’s Robin since it’s so damning if you know what to look for. Plus the song Robin parallels this message perfectly and evokes the same imagery. And to add even more credibility to this theory, the lyric vid for Robin has dandelion florets in the background. See these posts: (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x). "You are walking through your yard. It's one of your favorite places, all sprawling garden rows" -> Betty's garden; "your wife waters flowers," etc. "There are daisies - so many daisies - in every shade of your rainbow"--I don't think I even need to explain this. "Your lover and your fresh baked buns are safe. (The buns, of course, are in the oven turning golden as you speak. It's an old family recipe, jotted lovingly on a recipe card.)" -> The recipe card is perhaps a picture or some other sort of smoking gun evidence of Taylor's family and it connects the 5th and 7th messages together. And the meaning of "buns in the oven" is pretty obvious. "Golden" refers to Karlie.

Robin: "Higher and higher, wilder and lighter" [This may be a double entendre--not only is she encouraging this child to bounce higher on his trampoline or swing higher, she is also encouraging the dandelion floret (the song Robin) to fly higher and go out into the world after she blows on it]

The Albatross: "Wild winds are death to the candle...One bad seed kills the garden" [This may be connected to the dandelion metaphor and I believe there are many layers to these lyrics; wild winds can carry the dandelion seeds into other ppl's yards; if Taylor's secret gets out this can destroy the domestic bliss she has i.e. kill her metaphorical garden or candle; 'love's a fragile little flame it can burn out']

I Hate It Here: "I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind people need a key to get to, the only one is mine" [There is only one way to get into this garden since a tall impenetrable fence surrounds it; there are other layers in these lyrics as well like the escapism aspect of it]

But Daddy I Love Him: "I'm having his baby, no I'm not but you should see your faces" [Bc it's Karlie that had the babies]

8th message: This entire message parallels the Bolter. I believe this is abt Taylor finally choosing her lover over her reputation and choosing to intentionally destroy it in order to meet her lover down at the bottom like 🌋 anon mentioned. This may be the purpose of the whole Ratty debacle—to tarnish her image (by jumping into shark infested waters) so that when kaylor are together in public again her fans won’t be able to hate on KK w/out being hypocrites bc Taylor has already done all the things she knows they’ll accuse KK of, like being connected to someone who’s quite problematic. I believe this takes place from May 2023-now since this is when MH and her started “dating.” The use of all lowercase in the 🌋 messages may be a reference to the reputation album title to indicate that this is going to be a repeat of rep era but this time the damage to her rep will be intentional. I find it very interesting that the Feb 20th 🌋 message is the only one that has a word capitalized and the word that's capitalized is "Gold." This is in contrast to "fools gold" which is not capitalized or colored.

The self-loathing is palpable in Taylor's music (x) and it is displayed heavily in this message as well. I think it's possible the "enemy" is actually just Taylor herself or her public persona to be more exact. She is her own worst enemy; the Anti Hero mv illustrates this. She's the one that spreads the dandelions in message 7 which is what the enemy does in this message; she's the bear, and in the Bolter she (real Taylor) tames the bear (Taylor the brand). I believe TSMWEL could possibly be abt herself as well. I mean TSMWEL literally has "TS" in the track title. The clean version of the Bolter has the line "Then she'll call him a bore" which parallels TSMWEL, "You said normal girls were boring." It's as if real Taylor is doing an UNO reverse on Taylor the brand by treating her public persona the same way she treated real Taylor for years. This is very reminiscent of the Archer, "I've been the archer I've been the prey." I think TSMWEL, while it is abt herself, is simultaneously abt Scott B. And the reason for this relates back to what I said abt the 2nd and 3rd 🎃 messages--she blames both Scott AND herself for her failed coming out. The mastersheist threw her for a loop, yes, but she could've still come out anyway were it not for her indecisiveness. And I haven't have time to fully analyze MBOBHFT yet but I think it's similar where it can either be read from Karlie's perspective to Taylor after the 2019 failed coming out or from Taylor's perspective to Scott B/the industry.

The Bolter: "But as she was leaving, it felt like breathing, ['When I was drowning that's when I could finally breathe'] All her fuckin' lives flashed before her eyes...He [the 'enemy'] was a cad, wanted her bad just like any good trophy hunter and she liked the way it tastes taming a bear, making him care watching him jump then pulling him under" [This connects to the 10th message: 'You limp over uneven ground, smiling at the pain of the shark bite with each excruciating step - replaying the satisfying splash as you finally chose her over the world. As you grabbed the enemy and dove into the infested waters']

loml: "The coward claimed he was a lion" ['You’re a selfish asshole. So much of your fear is your own. You wince at your cowardice like it is a gaping wound. You so often find yourself unable to meet your own eyes. You scramble into shadows like a black cat. Scared, even, of being scared...You are a coward, but you are not a fool']

I Hate It Here: "I was a debutant in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside" [In another life she already came out but in this one she's too scared to even leave her house let alone come out]

The Tortured Poets Department (This is from Karlie's pov): "You're in self-sabotage mode throwing spikes down on the road"

9th message: This message is abt her finishing her 11th album, the last chapter of her 11 part story, and then sending it out into the world like a message in a bottle (the Manuscript). So I'm assuming this would take place on April 19, 2024, the release date of ttpd. "You are sitting on a beach, cold and windswept. The sea is dark and angry before you." -> This may be the same beach and sea from the folkmore era. "The sun sets in muted colors." -> Describing the sunset colors as muted is quite interesting since sunsets typically have very vivid colors; this makes me think it's related to the eras tour visuals during the transition from august to illicit affairs (which I explained the meaning of in this post), and the folkmore color palette was mainly muted colors. "You finish scrawling on the parchment. Your pen dries up as you reach the end of a story in 11 parts." // "Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen," "my veins of pitch black ink." She is sick of having to dilute her truth through metaphors and allegories which is why she is a tortured poet -> "Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die." Plus there's the "parchment" which she mentioned many times during her eras tour speeches which relates it to the folkmore era (x)(x)(x). "And now it is just a matter of time. The dripping of candle wax. The ticking of a clock." -> (x).

I recommend reading this post which explains how the Manuscript, ATW short film, message in a bottle, the story of us, and 4th, 9th, and 10th 🎃 messages are related. Many ppl pointed out that the Manuscript lyric vid looks like a movie script, and she's been referencing films and books a lot recently which makes me think there's a good chance she's going to release a film and book abt her coming out story. The 9th message and the lyrics in the Manuscript make it clear that Taylor's discography as a whole IS the manuscript i.e. it's the author's (Taylor's) draft of her story that is getting ready to be published. In academia, a manuscript is a draft of your research that you send in to be peer reviewed and if it's accepted it then becomes a published academic article.

The Manuscript: "And the years passed like scenes of a show, the professor said to write what you know, [She's equating her life to a story w the different eras being different scenes or chapters] The only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores, [message in a bottle; 'It may wash up on a sunny beach in Florida, or a rocky shore in the northwest'] Now and then I reread the manuscript but the story isn't mine anymore" ['Once you blow a dandelion, you never get it back. It isn’t yours anymore']

The Bolter: "But she's got the best stories"

10th message: This is a direct continuation of the 8th message and takes place right before she comes out of the closet (the wooden door in the woods). So this would take place after her rep has already been destroyed which I don’t think we’ve gotten to yet. My guess is that things will start ramping up in the next few months. She may start being papped w all her previous beards looking happy w them or sth similar which is all she’d need to do to show that the relationships were all fake and she’s been lying this whole time. This may be the “chaos” that 🫚 anon was referring to (see this post). This lines up with the blood moon glitch vinyl, representing chaos and disruption, being the 2nd quarter of the yr according to the midnights clock (4-6 or April-June, 2024). Plus many ppl think BDILH is abt MH--and Taylor meant for this to happen bc this album is full of red herrings--and in that song she says "He (MH) was chaos" so this might be a hint that the bearding shenanigans are gonna ramp up. Of course things are already plenty chaotic now w everyone thinking ttpd is abt 3 different men, one of which is pretty problematic, so perhaps this is all ginger was referring to. Taylor calling herself "the Bolter" has 2 meanings: 1) She is a coward who often runs away from danger 2) The 2nd more positive interpretation is that she knows "when it's time to go." I think it's very telling that ITTG is the last track on the deluxe edition of evermore and comes right after RWYLM, a song abt being stuck in the closet after the 2019 failed coming out. She's saying that she's not going to stay there forever(more).

The Bolter: "But none of it is changing that the chariot is waiting, ['The story of 2 princesses. No place for a prince'; the Cinderella metaphor (x)] Hearts are hers for the breaking, There's escape in escaping...Ended with the slam of a [closet] door but she's got the best stories, You can be sure that as she was leaving it felt like freedom" [The 6/21/2020 ♠️ riddle spells out 'They Are Free']

11th message: This message takes place after midnight at 3am on Nov 1 after she’s gone through the wooden door. In this post I explain how 3am connects to the witching hr or devil's hr. The fact that this takes place right after Halloween is quite significant since it is a day dedicated to remembering the dead, and death and ghosts are a big theme in ttpd. This symbolizes how after Taylor kills her old self (by dragging her into shark infested waters), she will resurrect as a new version of herself and leave the past behind her. And in doing these things, she will finally be able to go back to her figurative home, her cabin, that she was exiled from. -> "I think I've seen this film before so I'm leaving out the side door," "And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step...I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be for evermore." "The flame🕯️ finally🕯️flickers🌬️OUT" -> The match that started the "goddamn blaze in the dark" is no longer needed now that the lover house (her closet) has burned down, so the flame flickers out. This metaphor shows up in Peter as well, "But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light," where the light dying represents the woman losing hope that a coming out will happen. Notice in this message from present anon that "Goodbye" has a capital letter G which I believe links it to "Gold" in the volcano message that was mentioned earlier. This may indicate that Karlie is the woman/neighbor holding the light and waiting for Taylor's return home. The Dec 26th 🌋 message is likely from Karlie's pov in this case.

Fresh Out the Slammer: "Now pretty baby I'm runnin back home to you, Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to...But it's gonna be alright I did my time...Get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge, [the burning of the lover house] As I said in my letters [the anon messages this corner of the internet has been receiving? Could also just represent her songs] now that I know better I will never lose my baby again...Swirled you into all of my poems ['My mind turns your life into folklore (literally and figuratively)']...To the house where you still wait up and that porch light [jack-o-lantern] gleams" [see this post abt the porch]

The Alchemy (This is from Karlie's pov): "What if I told you I'm back?...I haven't come around in so long, but I'm coming back so strong, ['But I come back stronger than a 90's trend'] Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me"

imgonnagetyouback: "Push the reset button we're becoming something new...Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you, Bygones will be bygone eras fading into gray, We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game...I'm gonna get you back"

[yourmomsawh0r3]

the garden

anthony bridgerton x female reader

The ballroom glittered with candlelight and the murmur of polite conversation filled the air. Y/N moved through the crowd with grace, a vision in her deep purple gown. Tonight's ball was one of the grandest of the season, hosted by the Bridgertons themselves, and every eligible lady and gentleman of the ton was in attendance. The eldest Bridgerton, Anthony, had a reputation that preceded him a rake through and through, with a notorious string of mistresses, the latest being the opera singer, Sienna Rosso.

Anthony Bridgerton stood near the entrance, greeting guests with practiced charm. As he glanced across the room, his eyes landed on Y/N. She walked in with an air of confidence, her gown a striking shade of deep purple that accentuated her every feature. His heart skipped a beat, an unusual reaction for a man known for his composure.

He found himself wondering what she might smell like tonight. Lilacs, perhaps, he mused. It seemed to suit her, a delicate yet captivating fragrance. As she moved through the crowd, her eyes caught his, and he felt a strange pull, as if the room had suddenly become smaller and she was the only one in it.

Y/N found herself in the company of her friends, who were eagerly discussing the night's prospects. Despite the glittering environment and charming faces, Y/N’s thoughts were clouded. She had seen Anthony Bridgerton earlier in the evening, his eyes lingering a bit too long on several ladies. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her a few nights ago, and she had followed him, only to see him disappearing into a house that was clearly not his own. The scandalous whispers about Sienna Rosso had turned out to be true, and it only solidified Y/N's opinion of him as a rake.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Anthony Bridgerton appeared at her side, bowing with impeccable manners. "Miss Y/N," he greeted, his eyes warm but guarded.

"Lord Bridgerton," she replied coolly, offering him the barest of curtsies.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" he asked, his tone smooth.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Of course."

As they moved to the dance floor and began to waltz, Anthony’s grip was firm but not overbearing. "I believe we have not had the pleasure of a conversation before tonight, Miss Y/N."

"That is correct," she said, her eyes not meeting his. "Though one hears enough in the drawing rooms of the ton."

Anthony raised an eyebrow, clearly catching her meaning. "One must not believe everything one hears," he said lightly, though his eyes sharpened.

"Indeed," Y/N replied, not bothering to mask her sarcasm.

The dance passed with strained civility, and when it ended, they parted with polite nods. But throughout the evening, Y/N found her gaze drifting towards Anthony, and more often than not, he was watching her too. She told herself it was merely curiosity.

The weeks that followed were filled with similar encounters. They argued over trivial matters at every gathering, each encounter leaving Y/N more convinced of Anthony’s rakish nature and Anthony more intrigued by the spirited woman who seemed immune to his charms.

One evening, Y/N was standing alone on the terrace, enjoying a moment of solitude, when she heard footsteps. She turned to see Anthony approaching. "Miss Y/N," he said, his voice softer than usual.

"Lord Bridgerton," she acknowledged, her tone guarded.

"Why do you despise me so?" he asked bluntly, stepping closer.

Y/N’s eyes flashed. "You think very highly of yourself if you believe I spend my time despising you, my lord."

Anthony’s mouth twitched. "I think you are avoiding the question."

Y/N took a deep breath. "I saw you. With Sienna Rosso. Late at night."

Anthony’s expression hardened. "You were following me?"

"Purely by chance," she lied. "And what I saw only confirmed what I had heard."

"Perhaps you did not see the entire story," he said, his voice tight. "Sienna and I are no longer... involved."

"Oh, how convenient," she said, turning away.

Anthony stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. "Believe what you will, Miss Y/N. But I assure you, I am not the man you think I am."

She wanted to argue, but the intensity in his eyes made her pause. Before she could find her words, she turned and fled into the garden, needing space to clear her tumultuous thoughts.

The night air was cool and the garden was quiet, a stark contrast to the noisy ballroom. She wandered deeper into the maze of hedges and flowers, her anger and confusion bubbling to the surface. When she heard footsteps behind her, she spun around, ready to berate whoever had followed her.

Anthony stood there, breathing heavily as if he had run. "Y/N," he said, his voice raw. "Please, listen to me."

She shook her head, tears of frustration prickling her eyes. "Why do you care what I think?"

"Because I care about you," he said, stepping closer. "More than I can explain."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then, driven by a force neither of them could control, Anthony closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was fueled by weeks of frustration, misunderstandings, and an undeniable attraction. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders, and she kissed him back with equal fervor.

The world seemed to fall away as they lost themselves in each other. Anthony’s hands were in her hair, pulling her closer, and Y/N felt a fire ignite within her. They stumbled backwards until Y/N’s back hit a tree, and Anthony’s lips moved to her neck, trailing kisses that made her shiver.

Their breathing was heavy, and for a moment, they simply held each other, the intensity of their emotions leaving them both stunned. Anthony pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough. "I want you to know, I am serious about you. I want more than just this."

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked into his eyes, seeing sincerity and vulnerability that she had never expected. "I... I believe you," she whispered back, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He kissed her again, softer this time, and she felt herself melt into him. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s arms under the starlit sky, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The garden became their refuge, a place where arguments turned to understanding, and dislike blossomed into a love neither had anticipated. And when they returned to the ballroom, hand in hand, it was clear to everyone that Anthony Bridgerton had finally met his match.

As they made their way through the crowd, Anthony pulled Y/N close and whispered in her ear, "We need to talk to my mother."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. They found Violet Bridgerton near the refreshment table, her eyes lighting up as she saw them together.

"Mother," Anthony began, his voice steady. "I have an announcement to make."

Violet turned, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight of her son and Y/N together. "Anthony, what is it?"

Anthony squeezed Y/N’s hand and looked at his mother with a proud smile. "Miss Y/N has agreed to become my wife. We are engaged."

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then Violet’s face broke into a delighted smile, and she embraced them both. "Oh, Anthony! Y/N! This is wonderful news! I am so thrilled for you both."

The room erupted in applause as word of their engagement spread. Friends and family came forward to offer their congratulations, and Y/N felt overwhelmed by the warmth and acceptance she received from the Bridgerton family.

As the night wore on, Anthony and Y/N found themselves alone again, standing at the edge of the ballroom. He looked at her with a mixture of love and amazement. "I never thought I would find someone like you, Y/N. You have changed my life in ways I cannot even begin to describe."

She smiled, her heart full. "And you have changed mine, Anthony. I cannot wait to start our life together."

After the party, they went to Bridgerton House to formally announce their engagement to the rest of the family. The Bridgertons welcomed Y/N with open arms, and the house was filled with laughter and joy as they celebrated the upcoming union.

Violet took Y/N aside at one point, her eyes shining with happiness. "You are going to make a wonderful addition to this family, Y/N. I can see how much you and Anthony love each other, and I am so happy for you both."

Y/N felt tears of gratitude prick her eyes as she hugged Violet. "Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. Your support means the world to me."

As the night drew to a close, Anthony and Y/N found a quiet moment together, looking out over the grounds of Bridgerton House. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "This is just the beginning, Y/N. We have a lifetime of adventures ahead of us."

She leaned into him, feeling a profound sense of peace and contentment. "I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else, Anthony."

With the moonlight casting a gentle glow over them, they stood together, knowing that they had found something truly special. Their journey had been unexpected and filled with challenges, but it had led them to a love

[gingernut1314]

Confidence: Zoro

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Summary: You have never been defeated. No man or woman to have ever partaken in your challenge have come out victorious, only further solidifying your reputation. That is, until Zoro comes wandering into the bar you have set up your latest challenge in. You're confidence and his inability to back down from a challenge has Zoro feeling rather--weird toward you. A weird feeling that has him staying around you longer than he knows he should.

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, heavy alcohol use, mild talk of age difference (everyone in this fic is 18+), smut (dom x dom, p in v, hand job, fingering), very, very mild anime spoilers, Zoro not knowing what emotions he's feeling for 6K+ words

Word Count: 6.9K (Oops--my hand slipped)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Zoro soooo please be nice to me 🫣 I tried my best lol. And you already know I'm sorry about the word count--this whole mini-series was born from an inability to control the word vomit I type down, so the same thing happened here 😬 This is the 2nd part in the requested 'Confidence' series and I hope you all enjoy!!!

↞ to Confidence Masterlist and original request | to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

“She has never been defeated. No man or woman alive can best her.”

“She’s as strong as a man.”

“No--as strong as ten men.”

“Ten--” A scoff, “try a hundred men.” 

These were the whispered and bewildered words of the patrons of the bar Zoro had wondered his way into. Words that piqued his interest as he made his way towards the bar, eyeing the gathered crowd of men just off to the side. An interest that was stifled when a mug of beer was placed in front of him--beer he’d been itching to have since he hoped off the Merry and onto the docks

Just when he had taken that first, refreshing sip of the wheaty drink, his name floated amongst the whispering. His name, his recent bounty, and his skill--skill they bet would take down whoever you were.

And Zoro was completely uninterested, a deep sigh huffing through his nose as he took another large, gulping drink. This would mean he would have to leave the bar he had just found. Leave because his name would only gather unwanted attention to him and his crew who had been trying to avoid attention of any sort.

You tucked a handful of berries into your pocket as the man before you cradled his arm, which you had so unfortunately snapped. Had just readied yourself to take on the next man who sat eagerly down in front of you when you caught a flash of green hair--of three swords strapped safely to a hip.

Roronoa Zoro.

He was a man you had heard rumors of throughout your travels through the Blue Seas. For an ex-bounty hunter, alleged demon, and holder of a hefty bounty he looked awfully--young to have gained all those titles and glory. Titles and glory that come with hard work--years of training. Years after tortuous years you had undergone to get to the level of skill you had achieved. 

You were proud of your achievements and no man, young or old, would make you feel any less…but it didn’t stop you from needing to challenge him. To test your power against his and see if he could finally beat you after all these years.

“A man carrying that many swords,” You called, silencing the crowd who gasped collectively, parting to allow you a better view of the pirate who was making his way out of the bar, “must be making up for something rather…small--weak.” 

Zoro stopped in his retreat, unwittingly taking the bait you had thrown at him

He turned his eyes, which were as dark as the night sea, onto you, looking like your remark hadn’t affected him--a remark you’ve known to throw many a man into a wild rage.

“Hardly.” He huffed on a blink. He watched you grab the man who sat before you by the scruff of his shirt and throw him out of his chair, sending him rolling onto the floor and nearly knocking over another who got in his way. Watched you gesture toward the now-empty seat before you.

“Then prove it, pretty boy.” You said, confidence and ego dripping from your every word. Dripping from the way you held yourself to the way you kept your features in that of cool, collected, confidence. It was a confidence and ego that called to Zoro’s own--called to it in a way he could not ignore as he usually would.

You smirked as he made his way over, sitting down in his seat--sitting down in his seat in a proficient way that anyone else in this room would have thought normal. But it was far from normal. You saw it for what it was--a call to his true abilities.

“How will I do that?” He asked you dryly. You placed your elbow on the worn, wooden table and raised your hand to silently let him know to take it. The famed swordsmen did no such thing, only eyeing it. “An arm wrestle? That is hardly a challenge.” He all but scoffed at you. 

“Oh? Scared?” You teased, making the man narrow his eyes the slightest bit at you. “Thought you weren’t making up for something?” Zoro grasped your hand in his, steadying his elbow just a little ways before your own. 

Zoro noted your hand was strong and calloused just any decent sword wields would be--but it also sported elaborately painted nails in a beautiful shade of purple with gold detailing. 

He liked those colors was the next thought that crossed his mind before he could shut it down.

“If I win?” He asked, knowing better than to take your bait twice. Your eyes lit with excitement as a chuckle spilled from your lips. A chuckle that took him utterly off guard.

“If you win, I’ll buy you a drink and let you do as you wish to me. Whether that be death, a task needing to be fulfilled, berry, or a quick fuck in the alley. You’re choice.” Zoro’s gaze fluttered over you again. Confidence--such confidence that had their hooks buried deep in his flesh. Hooks he knew he needed to rid himself of before something bad came his way. 

“You buy me a drink and show me to the docks.” You nodded at the fair wager. “And if you win?” You let your eyes wander over the swordsman’s body--over his strong stronger, calm features, and lips that you could tell were just full enough to be perfectly kissable. 

“If I win, you buy me a drink and give me one of your earrings.” You said eyeing the three, golden earrings dangling from his ear. Ones that had hardly moved as he walked over to you. Hardly moved as he sat and took your hand in his own. It was all call to the skill you were about to pit yourself against. 

Your response surprised Zoro. He’d taken on many challenges and won many duels, but never once had someone asked him such a thing. Such a strange request.

It only made those hooks dig deeper.

“I agree to your terms.” He said, readying himself to take you on.

“And I do yours.” You spoke on honey-dripped tones that had few men around the room huffing in flusteredness. 

Berry was passed around as bets were made. Whispered words laid just under the surface of the silence which had fallen over the bar. Whisper about who would win, how they would win, and what in all the gods’ names was Zoro thinking for just asking you for directions and a drink.

Zoro and you gave each other a brief nod before your challenge began.

You knew in an instant he had earned his bounty as such power bore down onto your arm--power that had your excitement whirl around in your chest, a laugh you couldn’t control spilling from your lips.

Zoro knew just as quickly that you had earned the reputation he had heard whispered around the bar. Knew that you weren’t worth ten men--not even a hundred. You were worth a thousand. 

But Zoro was, unfortunately for you, worth two thousand men. 

Arms shook, sweat pooled and dripped down brows, the wooden table whined and shook until--

Your arm budged. Budged and struggled to regain what little space you had lost. Another cheerful laugh flew from your breathy lips. 

A laugh that had Zoro’s chest feeling all--weird. 

Why were you laughing? You were losing?

Another inch was lost to you. And then another and-- 

The table snapped in two beneath the power roaring around the two of you. You were pulled from your seat and all but into the lap of the man you had nearly lost to.

You cursed, angered at the cut-off challenge only to find a deep, rumbling chuckle spill from Zoro’s lips. A chuckle you instantly liked and wanted to hear more of. A chuckle that rumbled through you as Zoro leaned in close, his breath brushing against your cheeks in a way that had your body heating.

“Let's get that drink.”

You both ordered a round for the other. A round that turned into two, then three, then four, until it was turning into another full-on challenge. One the patrons around the bar fed into by buying you both shots and drinks. 

Berry once again flowed. Bets were made and whispering dealings on who would win floated around the now music-filled bar. 

Zoro finished his eighth beer when he turned to find you finishing off your own eighth, flashing him a smug grin that had that strange feeling stirring in his gut.

“Slowing down?” You teased him, grabbing for your fourth shot given to you by one of the men sitting closest to you. 

“Hardly.” Zoro scoffed, ordering himself the same shot you had been given. “Just let me know when you need a break, princess.” He said in that dry wit he teased you with. 

“Princess--I like that. I think if I win, instead of buying me a drink, you’ll have to only refer to me as a princess.” Zoro raised his shot glass for you to click yours against. The liquid warmed your throat as it flowed downward, a warmth that spread through your body again when your eyes caught sight of the swordman’s strong throat bob on his swallow. 

“Fine. I still want a drink. But you’ll buy me a bottle of sake instead. A nice bottle of sake. Top shelf.” You nodded, pushing your empty shot glass away and replacing it with your ninth beer. Zoro was quick to follow. 

“Of course. Only the best for the great Roronoa Zoro.” 

You two had five more beers, two more shots, and a tiny cup of cheap sake before most of the partons left for the night, defeated. The bar closed soon after the last handful left and you two were kicked out, ending your second challenge before it truly began. 

“What bar closes before one?” Zoro gruffed as you two walked through the all-but-deserted streets of the port town. Only a few drunken men stumbled home, singing off-tune shanties and relieving themselves against the sides of buildings. 

“The kind whose clientele should have gone home an hour ago.” You huffed, placing a hand on the sword at your side absentmindedly. “I will show you to the docks. I assume your captain is waiting for you.” Zoro eyed you again like he wasn’t sure what to make of you. “Tell me…how did the mighty hunter become the prey?” 

“I am still plenty the hunter.” He said with that smugness that mirrored your own.

“Oh of course. A 60 million berry bounty doesn’t come from just laying down and being complicated.” You said, all but purring his way. It had that feeling in Zoro’s gut fizzing again. Made him want to challenge you again--over and over until a victor was found. 

“You tell me since you seem to know so much about me already.” You huffed, turning your face away from Zoro. He watched the moonlight make your eyes sparkle--watched your painted fingernails tap over the hilt of the sword at your side. One he could tell from the hilt was of strange make and good caliber. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Roronoa Zoro. Your name has been whispered in the wind for a long time now. Your face now posted everywhere one can find space.” You said pointing towards the nearest building, where a few wanted posters had been plastered onto. 

Sure enough, there was Zoro’s face and bounty just next to Luffy’s goofy grin. 

“Stories of what you did in Alabasta are told in many a bar I’ve conducted my challenges in. I have good ears. Nothing more.” He almost would have believed you had the corner of your mouth not twitched. Had your painted nails not tapped over the hilt of your sword again.

“Who are you then? Bounty hunter? Marine? Pirate?” Zoro’s gut clenched as you turned your gaze back onto him. A gaze that pierced through him like a dagger. You chuckled. A chuckle that tickled at Zoro’s ears in a pleasant way that had his gut unclenching, only to clench up again like some fist. 

“I am merely looking for the one who will finally win my challenge.” Zoro wanted to know more. It was almost like a need to know who you were. Had you been a pirate once? A bounty hunter, just as he had? Who had trained you and how long would you be able to hold out against Zoro’s own blades? 

And it was all very--weird. Weird that you were making him feel all strange inside--making him want more of that feeling. 

You came to a stop at the entrance to the docks, Zoro stopping with you, his eyes hardly leaving your features. 

“I am sure you will be able to find your way back to your ship from here?” Zoro huffed, scanning over the docks, easily spotting the ram's head of the Merry just a little ways away. “Then it has been an honor to challenge you. May our paths cross again.” You said with a small bow of your head before starting off in the opposite direction of the Merry. 

“We haven’t finished the challenge yet.” You paused, looking back to Zoro with a small smirk.

“I have more sake on my ship if you wish to continue there. I doubt any bar for miles will be open.” Zoro scanned over your features once more. Over your body which you held so confidently.

He shouldn’t. Not when everyone in this town and the next knew what his face looked like--what Luffy’s face looked like. 

He needed to get his crew out of here before the Marines came sniffing around…but your smugness and ego and confidence were pulling at Zoro in a way he had only felt once before towards Dracule Mihawk, but this--you were different than the great swordsmen. You with your shining eyes and painted nails adorning his favorite colors of purple and gold. 

He should go. Leave you and your challenge…but Zoro had never been known to make good decisions before.

And he never backed down from a challenge. 

“Sake it is.” 

Your ship was tiny compared to the Merry, but seeing as it was a vessel manned by one person, it made sense. It was cozy and filled with trinket after trinket. Swords, daggers, and all sorts of weapons hung on the walls. Rings, necklaces, and all sorts of treasure sat on shelves blocked off by glass--and was that a finger bone sitting next to a golden goblet? 

Zoro came to realize these were trophies from your wins. Trophies his earring would surely join if you won against him--which he thoroughly doubted. 

You requested that he remove his boots before fully entering the inner workings of your vessel, just as you had. He obeyed the request without questions, not wanting to disrespect your hospitality. 

He watched you move around the small kitchen area, pulling two, wooden o-choko cups from the cabinet and then grabbing a bottle of sake from the fridge. 

“Let’s make this fun.” You said, sitting down at the kitchen table, gesturing with your hand holding the sake bottle for him to join you. “I have three more bottles after this one. Every time we finish a bottle and a victor hasn’t been granted, then we get to ask the other a question and you have to answer.” 

Zoro hesitated at your request. He knew better than to share details of his life with anyone. Hell, his own crew hardly knew much about his past…but he came this far. Had already boarded your ship and accepted your hospitality, he couldn’t leave now. 

And he couldn’t refuse the offer of free sake. 

“Only four bottles? Please, that’s nothing.” Zoro said sitting down across from you, taking one of the wooden cups and holding it out in sign to fill it. You poured the liquid into Zoro’s cup before passing the bottle to him, repeating the process but with your own cup. When both cups were filled, you lightly touched your cups together before taking that first sip of the fruity, apple-hinted sake you had purchased just the other day. 

“If you're that eager for me to ask you a question, then might as well just skip right to the chase.” Zoro huffed in something like mock amusement.

“Get to drinking, princess.” 

You both sat, sipping on your sake and passing the bottle back and forth to refill each other's cups. You both made idle, yet engrossing chit-chat about different types of swords and their capabilities before you finished that first bottle of sake. 

“Tell me your name.” Zoro requested as his first question.

“I feel like that is a waste of a perfectly good question.” You mused, rising from your seat to grab the second bottle of sake stored in your fridge. 

“You have to answer, remember? Your rules.” You chuckled, filling Zoro’s cup with the freshly open bottle of sake. But you told him, family name and all. A name Zoro repeated low and slow, rolling it over his tongue as his brow furrowed in thought. 

“Sounds familiar.” 

“I can assure you, it’s not.” Zoro let it go with a casual shrug as he took the sake from you and filled your cup. You both clicked glasses and took your first sip. Your eyes scanned over his chest, which his shirt hung open to expose. “How did you get that scar? Pretty nasty.” 

Zoro took another sip from his glass, watching you closely. Scars were seen by most as failures--as defeats. Gods’ know how many times you had scarred one of the men who had challenged you just to see the devatated look on their faces. 

“I challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel. Lost.” He said simply like it was hardly a big deal. He said it simply even when that name shot through you like a hot iron. A name that had your anger rising in your chest.

Zoro took note of the anger that flashed through you at the mention of Mihawk. An anger that looked more like wrath than mere anger. He wondered what that was for? What had happened to make you hate the man so much…maybe that would be one of his questions. 

“Why--” Zoro cut you off with a shake of his head. 

“Keep drinking, Y/N, and if you make it, you can ask.” You huffed and continued to sip on your sake. 

The second bottle was finished much quicker than the first, mainly because you had been chugging your cups like an utter fool so you could ask your question. 

“Sake is meant to be enjoyed you know.” Zoro gruffed at you as you stood. 

“Ask your question.” You commanded. Zoro blinked his eyes at you, amusement flashing in them as you opened the fridge door. 

He liked your anger. It was fun to tease out of you.

“What’s with the finger?” He asked, shoving a thumb over his shoulder. That seriousness and anger that had overcome you banked the slightest bit at his question. You’re shining eyes gleamed in excitement at its mention. 

“My first trophy. He lost his challenge to me and instead of paying up the berry I had asked for, he tried to kill me. Took his hands for it.” You mused, eyes unfocusing as you remembered back. “Lost them both along my travels. His pinky is the only thing that remains.” You said, wiggling your pinkie at Zoro who laughed. A laugh that was hardly above a chuckle, but a laugh all the same.

It was--stunning. And hardy and fit him so well. One you wanted to hear again and again.

“What a pity.” You shrugged as you sat back down across from the swordsmen. 

“Why challenge Mihawk?” You asked, pouring Zoro more sake. He found that seriousness began to seep back into your features. “That man walks with death herself. She shadows him--sponsors him like some god would their chosen champion.” Zoro took the bottle from you and returned the favor. 

“Because I made a promise to someone a long time ago that I would become the world’s greatest swordsman. Mihawk is the holder of that title. I thought I would win. I was wrong.” He said simply yet again. 

Said it so simply--too simply, like he hadn’t gone up against Dracule Mihawk and left the encounter alive. Went up against the hawk-eyed Warlord, who had hadn’t always been as such. Who had once hunted those very marines he now served. Marines he had slaughtered regardless of who their deaths might hurt. Zoro had walked away from that true demon alive and was playing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“I do enjoy myself a man with a vow,” You said, trying to lighten your mood, before clinking your cup with Zoro’s. “And a death wish.” Zoro held your eyes as you took a sip of your sake and he a sip from his. Eyes that dug into him deeper than any had before. 

“Any swordsman worth their weight in the steal they carry has one.” 

“I’ll keep drinking to that.” 

You both finished the third bottle in the span of half an hour. A bottle that merely had you feeling full rather than anything more fun. You found you were able to withstand the effects of alcohol the more you learned how to control your body in ways others never would. Ways Zoro seemed to understand as well. 

“What are you? Truly.” Zoro asked as you pulled the last chilled bottle of sake from the fridge. 

“I am nothing now but a lone traveler…” You said shutting the fridge door with your hip. A movement you saw Zoro track with those deep, dark eyes of his. “but in a past life one might have found me selling teas in my mother's shop.” 

Zoro watched closely as you sat down before him, something like pain flashing through your eyes. A pain he himself had felt once before. “Until death knocked on my door and changed that.” Your voice dipped dangerously low as you poured sake into Zoro’s cup before passing the bottle to him. “Then I did a quick stint as a pirate.” Zoro filled your cup, placing the bottle in the middle of the table.

“That’s how I know you. You had a bounty.” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Had. A long time ago.” You huffed, “Why the three swords?” You asked, changing the topic and pulling that calm and collected mask back on. Zoro’s hand came to rest on the three swords at his side when brought to their attention once more.

“My vow--I made it to a friend.” He said, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to tell you of his childhood friend. At least just vaguely. It wouldn’t hurt when you had told him just as vaguely of your pain. “When she died I was gifted her sword. I then crafted the Three Sword Style which I have been perfecting ever since.”

The fourth bottle was finished off just as you two had gotten halfway through discussing the ways you both had trained in swordplay, which took a pause as you poured the last half of the sake into Zoro’s cup.

“Why seek out defeat?” He asked, taking the bottle from your hand. His fingers curled around yours, holding them there as he leaned forward. Fingers that all but made your skin sizzle like you were touching fire. You slide your hand out from under his, trying to forget about the feeling of it against yours. “You are the strongest woman I have ever come across. Why look for your skills to be diminished?”

“Why seek out fame?” You asked back on a near snap, which the pirate hardly seemed to pay mind to your tone. “Why seek out titles that are only words to be spoken? Why seek out a title that will only have silly little boys, like yourself, hunt after you and inevitably kill you?” 

Zoro blinked at you. He ignored your jab at him once again. A jab that was only meant to rile him to anger. He was collected enough to not take your bait for a third time that night.

“I have a death wish, remember.” He said, taking his cup in his hand, leaning in closer than he needed to fill your cup. “Your turn.” He said with that gruffing voice. A voice that had your body growing warm. A warmth completely unrelated to all the alcohol you had drank. 

“Because I’m tired of winning.” Zoro watched you raise your cup for it to be filled. He watched your eyes as he filled your cup. Eyes that shined brightly yet held a dullness to them that called to that exhaustion you claimed. He placed the sake bottle down and raised his cup for the last cheers of the night.

“Are you sure you’re not ready to tap out?” Zoro asked, keeping his cup just out of reach of yours. Asked in that dry humor of his that had you narrowing your eyes at him.

“Hardly. Are you?” Zoro chuckled. A chuckle you paused your riling emotions to listen to. To memorize dispute only having just met the man. 

A man who could beat you despite your continued challenges. You knew he could--had felt it during your first challenge. You were big enough to admit defeat when it came time for it. When someone truly earned it. And Zoro had earned it…but you couldn’t help but want to keep his company a little while longer. 

“Hardly.” And your cups met each other in a gentle kiss before you both took that first, last sip. “What now?” He asked, leaning back in his seat heavily.

“I don’t know.” You said on a shrug, taking another sip as you leaned your forearms on the table. “A drawl?” The room fell quiet--a quiet that lasted all of two seconds before the both of you were laughing at such an absurd idea. 

“I didn’t know you to make jokes,” Zoro said as his laughter evened out. 

“Oh, I’m sure I have pulled a chuckle or two from you tonight,” Zoro smirked, sipping his sake. “This table is sturdy enough. We could try arm wrestling once more?” He eyed you long and slow. Eyes that danced over your face and down your neck. 

“Finish your drink and then we can resume your first challenge.” You smiled, excited as you set on sipping your sake faster than you knew it should be sipped. But you couldn’t help it. Not when you were eager to get back under that power that rolled off him in waves. To press your own power against it and feel it wane against his fire. 

 You both slammed your cups to the table and had your hands clasped together hardly a minute later. It seemed you both were eager to complete this challenge. 

Zoro gazed into your eyes and you gazed into his on a pause. A pause and a nod of the head before the challenge resumed. 

Once again, you were reminded of his power. Of how good it felt to feel your strength weaken against his. 

Arms shook, brows beaded with sweat, and heat pooled in your abdomen. A heat no man had been able to stir for a long, long time. No man had been worth its sizzling flames. 

A little noise spilled from your lips. A noise that had Zoro’s attention pulling from your shining eyes to your lips. Lips that hung parted on that small noise that had that weird feeling grow and thrash about in his abdomen. 

“Fuck.” He cursed on a deep rumble that had you clenching your thighs together against the frustration building in you. 

“Fuck, Zoro--win.” You all but begged the swordsmen, whose teeth were clenched so tight you thought they might fracture under the pressure. “Win, win, please.” You continued. 

Despite your pleas for him to win against you, you hardly gave up your hold on his hand. Hardly gave into his power. You fought against it, just as he fought against yours. A fight that your arm had just begun to yield under when Zoro cursed yet again. 

Zoro couldn’t focus. Not when you were making those little noises and begging him to dominate you. Couldn’t focus when you looked just as bright as your eyes--when your painted nails were pressed flush against the back of his hand. Not when that weird feeling wanted him to win against you in another way. 

The alcohol. It was the alcohol making him feel this--needful for you. 

He knew that wasn’t it. Knew he was hardly even tipsy. He knew he had felt this way as he had drunk his first beer. 

“Fuck it.” He hissed, reaching across the table to grab your cheeks in his free hand. You sucked in a breath as he all but pulled you across the table, lips pressing harshly against yours. You fought back against his lips in a fiery kiss that any outside might have thought looked more like two dogs mauling at each other's faces than any true kiss. 

But it was a kiss you felt your body ignite against--that you could taste the sweet, fruity sake you had drank on his tongue and lips. One that made your pussy throb and your limbs grow fuzzy as you climbed onto the table, knocking over the empty sake bottle as you crawled over it. 

He all but pulled you off the table into his lap where you moved so you could straddle his waist and press your kiss down onto him. 

Hands grabbed at clothes and relieved the other of their shirts, which were tossed to the ground before lips were rapidly moving against the others. Your hands smoothed over his hard-earned, muscle-lined chest, feeling the slight raise of the scar Mihawk had given him.  

Zoro’s calloused hands moved from where they grasped your hips upwards, sending goosebumps rising along your skin. 

He felt a scar along your hip bone, one that cut up your side, and another he felt just under the edge of your bra. But never once did he feel a scar on your back. 

You were a true swordsman. A true warrior. 

It had him grabbing you tighter. Had him hosting you up as he stood before pinning you on the table, fingers unbuckling your belt and unbuttoning your pants.

Zoro yanked your pants down your legs, trailing hot, opened-mouth kisses along your scarred skin making a huffing moan escape your lips. You ran your fingers through his green hair before grabbing for your pants which he wasn’t pulling off fast enough. 

You yanked them off, grabbing him back against you and claiming his lips harshly as you rose off the table onto your feet. 

Zoro’s back hit the wall, making the swords and other various weapons rattle upon impact. You wasted no time in going for his belt, which fell away from his hips under the weight of his three swords. 

They had just fallen to the floor with a dulled clatter when Zoro was turning you so that he could slam you against the wall, throwing his skillful power into you which had you moaning in gleeful pleasure. A throwing star, which had been hanging just beside your head, fell to the ground and embedded itself in the wood there. 

You wanted him to do that again. To move you despite your own power fighting against him. 

Your hands grabbed for Zoro’s pants again as his hands grabbed for the clasp of your bra, which he fumbled with and found he couldn’t figure out the mechanics of. One last harsh kiss was given to Zoro before you pushed him away, going for the clasp behind your back. 

“Pants.” You grit at him. He huffed at your commanding tone, but did so regardless of his want to ignore it. 

His breath hitched in his throat as you threw your bra off, your breasts falling from their confines and making his mouth water at their heft. You yanked your underwear off just as Zoro had finished pulling his pants off, leaving you both bare to one another. 

Your eyes scanned over his body shamelessly. Scanned over the scars he bore--the large one cutting across his chest, another smaller one on his shoulder, and two more rounding his ankles. Scanned over the sheer amount of strength that radiated off him that you needed to grab and feel against you all over again. Scanned over his cock, which twitched in the open air, precome already spilling for its tip.

Zoro looked over your body just as you did. A body that was strong--well-honed muscles built throughout it from the years of training he knew you had gone through. Muscle that did nothing but enhance your utter femininity. From your hair to your shining eyes to that shade of purple he found your toenails were painted as well. 

Zoro thought you might have been the prettiest thing he had ever laid eyes on. 

You were grabbing at Zoro just as he was grabbing at you. Lips caressing in that harsh manner that had your abdomen burning. Bare bodies pushed and pulled and felted at the other in a way that had your head spinning. 

You slammed Zoro into the door that led to your chambers, his teeth finding your neck in a pinching bite that was sure to leave a bruise as your lips pulled away long enough to open it. You shoved Zoro through the open doorway, his hands grabbing for your arms to pull you with him. 

He used the momentum of your shove to switch positions with you, lips claiming yours as he guided you back toward your bed. When the backs of your legs hit the frame, you climbed onto the plush mattress before he could shove you down, not wanting to give your position up quite yet. A position you wanted him to fight you for. He climbed in after you, lips hardly leaving the others.

That push and pull began again. You tugged at Zoro who tugged right back. It was a continuation of the challenge you had been waging to see who would come out on top--literally now. 

Your fingers brushed down his strong stomach before wrapping around his hard cock, pumping him nice and slow in a way that had him hissing out a breath. You watched his brows furrow under your admissions--watched as the corner of his lip twitched in a near snarl as your thumb passed over his dripping head. Your touch spurred his hips into motion--thrusting into your hand with each pass of your thumb. 

“I think I like this type of wrestling much better, don’t you?” You teased, tightening your grip just that much more around him. His fingers dug into your skin. Dug hard enough you were sure it would leave a mark. You wanted it to leave a mark. “I think I like the idea of having you come all undone first, looking so, so pretty.”  

His hips halted their mindless thrust, eyes narrowing down at the smugness that had filtered into your bright gaze. 

“Is that--” He hissed, finding your hand stilling working him in a way that was tortuous. “Is that a challenge?” You smirked. 

“Should it be?” You continued to tease, eyes fluttered to look at his parted lips which huffing breaths floated out of. 

“Same rewards?” He asked, making you nod.

“If that’s all you still wish for, then yes.” You lulled, leaning up to brush your lips against his. “But I think you’ll find it a harder challenge to win then--” You sucked in a shaky breath when a finger dipped into your needy folds. A finger that had found your clit in seconds and was applying just the right amount of pressure and type of touch to have your hips moving to get closer to such pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” He huffingly teased back, pressing your chest flush against his as a shit-eating grin plastered itself onto his kiss-puffed lips. Your hand paused its working of Zoro’s cock at the sudden sparks he sent shooting through you. “What were you saying?” 

“How--how did you--fuck,” You cursed, grabbing hold of his shoulder for balance. Jolt after jolt of pleasure rushes up your body. Pleasure you had only even been able to fully give yourself. 

“I think,” He gruffed brushing his lips against your ear, making a shiver rush up your spine. “That I’m going to have you coming all undone for me, Y/N, and then enjoy myself the best sake this little island has to offer.” His gruffing voice rang in your ear.

“In your dreams.” You huffed, swallowing a moan that wanted to escape. 

Zoro grunted as you resumed moving your hand up and down the length of his velvety cock. A movement that had Zoro stopping the circling of your clit only so he could shove your thighs open wider, all so he could sink a finger into your dripping pussy--and then another. He curled and pressed them into that spongy spot up in you that had stars flying across your vision--stars that grew in number when his thumb found your clit once more. 

Huffs and pants and grunts and cut-off moans between near-violent kisses filled the space as you fought to get each other off--to get the other to lose the challenge you had been trying to finish the whole night. 

You pulled away once more when Zoro gave a deep-chested moan. A moan that had his brows knitting together and his hips jerking against your hand as if to pull away because--oh yes.

“It’s okay, pretty boy. It’s okay. You can come for me. Yes, yes, please come for me.” You comforted, placing a gentle kiss on his flushed cheek and picking your pace up just that much faster. “So strong. So powerful. Come on my hand and let me taste just how--” Your words were cut off as Zoro pulled his fingers out of you only for them to wrap around your throat in a tight hold. A hold that nearly had you coming right then and there. 

He pinned you to the bed, your hand slipping from his cock in the process. But it didn’t stop you from wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing your dripping, needy pussy against his twitching and as equally needy cock. 

“You talk too much.” He hissed, the hand not pinning you to the bed running down your body so that he could reach for his swollen cock. “I’m gonna make you come so hard around me you won’t remember how to speak.”

“Yes--please.” You panted out as he pressed the tip of his cock against your fluttering entrance. A pant that turned into your own deep-chested moan as he sunk himself into you, inch by glorious inch. A moan was met with Zoro’s grunts as he bottomed out in you, your pussy flexing around him as it worked to accommodate his size. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up enough to claim his rough kiss once more as his hips began to move his cock within you. 

His pace gradually began to quicken. A pace that grew so brutal, that tears brimmed in your eyes at the pleasure he pounded into you. And when his thumb found your clit again--oh gods you knew you might not win out against him. 

And as lust and pleasure fogged your brain, you found you wanted him to win. Just as you had wanted him to win against every other challenge you threw his way that night. 

“Zoro--oh fuck, Zoro keep going. Please, please, please.” You begged against his panting mouth. He kept up his wicked pace, the sinfully wet sounds of your pussy getting utterly destroyed filling your ears and adding to the pleasure that was rolling through you. 

Sweat slicked over skin, bodies buzzed and shook, lips moved frantically and hungrily. And that release your body begged for built and built and built and you had just began to tip over the edge. Your finish just a breath away--hot ribbons of come shot into you.

Zoro had come just seconds before your pussy was clenching around his twitching cock. Just seconds before you were moaning his name and holding him close as you’re finish rushed through you. His solid body fell on top of yours, chests full of uneven and choppy breath. 

“You win.” He huffed into your neck. You sighed deeply, running your fingers through his green hair. 

“I was only teasing--” Zoro pulled his face away so he could look into your eyes. Deep, dark eyes that never looked away from your face as he unhooked an earring from his ear lobe, holding it out for you to take. 

“You win, princess. Fair is fair.” You gently took the gold earring from his hand, brushing your knuckles over his cheek. A touch the swordsmen leaned into, his lips leaving a burning kiss to your writs. “Put it next to the finger.” You laughed, leaning forward and placing the softest kiss of the night to those lips of his. Lips that kissed you back just as soft--slow. A kiss that had your heart beating against your ribs.

“Just for you, pretty boy.”

Tags: @lostfirefly

[storm-angel989]

Hi, could I have a meeting between Velvette’s new girlfriend and Vox and Val? (With Vox acting like Vel’s overprotective dad?) I think that would be pretty funny

This is an OLD request (AND DON'T WORRY THERE ARE STILL MORE OLD REQUESTS SITTING IN MY INBOX)

But the muses finally struck! I hope it was worth the wait!

Velvette could see the anxiety scrawled across her pretty face. 

“Don’t worry,” she said as comfortingly as Velvette could possibly manage. “They’re going to love you.”

“Valentino and Vox are literally the most famous overlords in hell, and I’m meeting them,” she squeaked in protest. 

Velvette rolled her eyes but kissed her cheek. 

“If it makes you feel better, reader, you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought home.” 

Velvette didn’t think she could turn anymore red. And rightly so- Velvette didn’t get her reputation as a cold hearted bitch for no reason. Cycle after cycle of girls came and went- never for long. But when reader crossed her stage for the first time six months ago, something about her felt…different. 

Of course she had met Valentino when she first arrived- after all, Velvette sourced all her models directly from him. But with the proper nutrition, a healthy diet and a good skincare routine, Valentinos hunch that she would glow up proved to be correct. 

Two weeks. One dinner date and the first time Velvette ever let another woman pin her down against the bed later, their relationship was solidified. Valentino knew of course from the moment she told him reader would be kept in a separate apartment, a private space typically reserved for the most promising of the candidates. 

But Vox….ugh, Vox would be a different story. The last time Velvette had her heart broken- the death of a sinner during an extermination, Vox had been the one to hold her. To comfort her and buy her ice cream. Valentino had been there too- but his emotional bank account for sadness at that point in his life was next to zero. He just couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just move on. 

But Vox did. 

Slowly, he was the one who helped put the pieces that made up Velvette back together. He was the one who encouraged her to start dating again. He was the one who hugged her tight when the nights grew dark, and the shoulder to cry on when she drank too much. 

She wondered what his reaction would be when she brought reader home? 

Velvette pressed the elevator button and turned to reader. 

“Just play it cool. They’re basically like any other demon, but they’re my family. Okay? So just…you know, be cool.” 

Reader nodded as they stepped together into the elevator and rode the short ride to the top of the V tower. The elevator pinged and Velvette took a deep breath as they stepped out together into the V tower.

“Welcome! Welcome, reader, to our humble home,” Vox announced as he stepped out from the kitchen.

Velvette winced as he took off his signature kiss the chef <3  apron and walked over to greet them. He took readers hand and firmly shook it. “So you’re the girl who stole our Vel’s heart, hm?”

“Vox,” Velvette hissed. 

“No, no its okay Vel, Mr. Vox I am a huge fan!” reader gushed. “I didn’t know you cooked!”

Velvette bit back a smile. She knew she shouldn’t have been worried. After all, compliments and conversations were readers speciality. 

“Ooo, Vel, is this your new lover?” Valentino cooed as he strode out from his bedroom. He took readers hand and kissed it. “Lovely specimen, tell me…where did you find such a beautiful…”

“Cut it out, Val, I-”

“Oh, no, Vel! Mr. Valentino, its so nice to meet you. I’ve seen all your films! I mean, the ones you star in of course,” reader said excitedly.

“Ah, I like this one Velvette,” Valentino smirked as he released her hand. “About time you brought home someone with taste.”

“Speaking of, dinner is ready! Come sit,” Vox pointed towards their rarely used dining room. 

Inwardly, Velvette cringed. But as the meal moved on, she found herself starting to relax. Sure, Vox and Valentino were their usually selves, but nothing extraordinary. 

At least, not until dessert.

“So, tell me, reader, how exactly do you plan on breaking my dear Velvette’s heart?” Vox asked casually.

Velvette choked on the sip of wine she had just taken. She opened her mouth as if to scold Vox, but quieted with a look from her reader. 

“Vel? You’re planning on sharing your heart? Shit, I thought I was just here to be a sex toy,” reader said sarcastically. “Thanks for wrecking the surprise, Mr. Vox.”

Valentino burst out in laughter and Vox gave her a mortified look. Velvette grinned and leaned over to reader. 

“And that right there is exactly why I brought you home,” she said with a kiss.

[yujinslovr]

DAY 10 : gp!chaewon and minju x fem!reader

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

CW: double penetration, dub con?, degradation, creampie, oral, lmk if there's anything else!

word count: 3,514

a/n: 8.397 inches long, 3.95 inches wide, salmon pink tip (#fa8076 to be exact), warm beige shaft (#ddbd9e) trimmed, and curves to the left slightly

kim chaewon and kim minju, everyone on campus knew of them, the famous kim's. the two girls had been childhood friends and were the campus crushes, the soccer captain and co-captain. they were both known as players in and out of the field, breaking hearts was nothing but a game to them. they got away with anything and everything they did, they were the pride of the school, their amazing skill in the field leading the school to endless victories. after graduation, the duo was set to go into the national leagues. not only were they insanely hot, their bodies toned due to the constant practice that was required in order to excel in their sport, but their parents were also the main funders of the school. they both came from some of the most prestigious families in all of south korea. due to their parents funding and their insane soccer skills, the both of them would get away with anything and everything. showing up to class was an option for them, all they needed to say was they were practicing and they’d get away scot free. 

chaewon and minju had never been denied by anyone, they had everyone begging to be with them. when chaewon saw you sitting on a couch at one of the parties yena hosted, she was stunned by your beauty. she had never seen you before, but she’d make sure to get to know you in more ways than ones. she confidently approached you and slid an arm over your shoulders gaining your attention. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” chaewon said in her usual confident tone. 

You shrugged her arm off, “maybe I want to be alone.” 

chaewon knew girls of your kind, a smirk spread across her face, knowing you were just playing hard to get. “I think i can change your mind on that.” chaewon said in a smug tone. “i’m kim chaewon.” she said, holding her hand out for you to shake. 

“i know.” everyone knew the famous kim chaewon, her along with her best friend kim minju had their faces plastered all over campus. it was practically impossible to not know the name, seeing as not only was she the biggest person on campus, but her family was also one of the biggest in south korea, you’d have to live under a rock to not know her. along with her name came her reputation, she was famous for playing with girls’ hearts and you did not want to be added to her list of fucks.

“can i get your name, pretty?” she said with a chuckle at your words, you knowing her only solidified her thought that you wanted her. 

“look, i'm really not interested and i’d appreciate it if you left me alone.” you said in your calmest voice, not trying to sound like a bitch but also quickly getting annoyed.

chaewon didn’t let your words affect her, she knew you wanted her, everyone did. “look-” she clearly mocked. “i know girls like you, and i understand your little game of back and forth but frankly I'm getting a bit bored. what do you say we go back to my place and you can get what you really want.” chaewon’s hand found its place on your upper thigh, giving it a little squeeze to emphasize her words. 

“wow, you’re such a fucking douche.” and with that you stood up silently fuming as you walked out of the house. you wish you could’ve punched her right then and there but you didn't want to cause a scene and you’d definitely get bodied. so you chose the smarter option, and decided to walk back to your dorm which was luckily not that far of a walk.

chaewon stayed where she was on the couch, fuming on the inside in embarrassment. she had never been rejected and she wasn't about to let you be her first, she’d make sure to get you. minju, who had witnessed the whole thing from a distance, came over laughing at chaewon. “wow, did i really just witness kim chaewon getting rejected?” 

“shut up.” chaewon sneered, her pride hurt at the fact that you really rejected her. 

“I think you might be losing your charm.” minju said in a chuckle, still not over the fact that chaewon really got rejected. “let's make a bet actually, i think I'm interested in her too. lets see who can get in her pants first.” 

and with that it started

you didn't know how, but somehow both of the famous kims seemed to have gotten your schedule. ever since you left that party a couple weeks ago the duo had not left you alone, both of them constantly throwing pick up lines and just trying to woo you in general. it was honestly so annoying and bothersome, the two were waiting outside of your every class and would constantly be following you around. you tried to reject them, but they just didn't seem to get the memo. hell, you even reported them to the office for harassment yet as expected the school didn't do anything, at most giving them a small ‘don't do it again’.

today was the homecoming game, and you were originally going to stay in your dorm room, and maybe watch a movie. but you had reluctantly been dragged out of your dorm by your best (and only) friend wonyoung. her girlfriend was on the team and so she obviously went to all the games, but since this was the last one of the semester and against SMU, one of your schools biggest competitors, she wanted you to be there with her. 

you had never been interested in sports before, so you didn't really understand all that was happening. but you understood that the game was very intense, judging by the scores displayed on the jumbotron, SMU was very very close in score, and you could see how stressed out minju and chaewon looked. they had never lost a game a day in their life and they werent gonna start now. you didn't think you’d originally be very interested in what was going on in the game, you assumed you’d be using your phone throughout the whole game. now that you were actually at the game and watching, you couldn't seem to remove your eyes from the field, thoroughly invested in the game. you were sitting at the edge of your seat, your legs jumping up and down. 

it was during halftime, when everyone took a break that minju noticed you, she went up to chaewon, pointing in your direction. chaewon’s eyes widened, just like minju’s did when she saw you, the both of them shocked to see that you came. it was like seeing you lit something in both of them, after making eye contact and winking at you the duo were on fire, quickly largening the score difference. everytime chaewon made a shot, she’d send you a look, as if boasting yet still asking for her reward. 

before you knew it, the game had ended. minju and chaewon both being the stars of the night, for saving the team from having their first loss. wonyoung had asked you if you could wait outside the locker rooms with her until yujin came out so you all could walk back together. you had been reluctant at first, not wanting to bump into minju or chaewon but wonyoung kept on begging saying that it would be easier since you all lived in the same building. not being able to deny wonyoung’s pout, you now found yourself outside the locker rooms hiding behind wonyoung. 

“God, how much longer will she take?!” you let out exasperated, you had seen probably half the team leave yet yujin was nowhere to be found. 

“she’ll come out any minute, and you're acting like you have better things to be doing.” 

“actually-” you cut yourself off when yujin walked out, minju and chaewon in tow. “god dammit.” you whispered under your breath. 

minju and chaewon had their signature smirks on when they saw you waiting outside. “waiting on us darling?” chaewon said, inching closer and closer to you as you walked backwards. 

“you and yujin can go, we got y/n covered.” minju said, looking at wonyoung as yujin went to pull her away.

you sent a pleading look to wonyoung hoping she wouldn't leave you alone, but wonyoung apparently didn't get the message and instead sent you two thumbs up and a wink. you could strangle wonyoung right now for leaving you between these two douches. 

“look, i was just waiting with wonyoung for yujin, and i’d appreciate it if-” you cut yourself off with a yelp as you felt minju throw you over her shoulder, carrying you inside the locker room. “w-wait what are you guys doing?” 

“well, i mean we just won the homecoming game. don't we deserve a reward?” chaewon said, minju pushing you to your knees in front of chaewon. 

they both pulled down their sweats, revealing their massive cocks. your eyes widened as you switched between looking at minju and chaewon, you had heard the rumors, but seeing it in person you could tell the rumors didn't do them justice. you definitely didn't want to be added to their list of bodies, but seeing chaewon’s cock in front of you, the angry red tip leaking precum you couldn't help but want it. chaewon let out a chuckle at the look on your face, tapping her tip on your lips and smearing your lips with her precum. no matter how much you wanted it, you refused to give her the satisfaction, instead choosing to keep your lips shut, a glint of defiance in your eyes.

with a grunt, chaewon pushed past your closed lips and forcefully entered your mouth. you swirled your tongue around the meat in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to suck. the salty taste of her precum filled your taste buds, it wasn't the good kind of salty but for some reason it had you craving for more. you took your time with her, your hand gripping what wouldn't fit into your mouth while you bobbed your head up and down chaewon’s length. your hand simultaneously found minju’s cock, you rubbed her tip, smearing the precum that was there, giving minju a hand job while you sucked chaewon off. 

minju started to thrust her hips, meeting your hand while chaewon did the same thing, tightening her grip in your hair as she thrusted her hips into your mouth. “f-fuck baby, i always knew you wanted me.” your response couldn't be anything more than muffled moans and gags. the overwhelming feeling of chaewon’s thick cock filling up your mouth was more than enough to bring you to tears. you could feel your jaw grow sore as chaewon used your mouth like a fleshlight. the constant grunts chaewon would let out as she slammed her hips into your face almost felt like a reward, her noises turning you on to no end “f-fuck!” and with one last thrust into your mouth she bottomed out, not stopping till your nose was squished against her pelvis. you could feel the warm semen shooting out into the deepest parts of your mouth. the slightly bitter yet sweet taste filled your senses and you couldn't help but wonder how minju would taste. 

after finishing in your mouth, chaewon moved from in front of you and you dropped your hand that was working minju as she came to stand in front of you. your mouth opening in almost instinct as minju stood in front of you, her cock pointing at you, the tip beading with precum. you couldn't take your eyes off of her, she was a bit longer than chaewon but less girthy. 

minju’s hands tangled themselves in your hair, keeping your head still so that she could thrust in easily. your jaw was sore, and so was the back of your throat from the constant abuse, yet you couldn't seem to pull away. if anything you found yourself wanting more, hollowing out your cheeks as you tasted all of her. “a-always knew you wanted us, this is all sluts like you want.” she grunted out, her balls slapping into your chin with every thrust. chaewon stood to the side, her dick not staying down for long at the sight of minju fucking your face. 

chaewon went up behind you, minju pulling out of your mouth after sharing a look with chaewon. chaewon manhandled you onto the bench in the locker room, standing behind you while minju took her place in front of you. minju shared a look with chaewon, rubbing and slapping her wet cock on your face. minju’s other hand suddenly gripped your hair, pulling your head up to look at her, smirking at your state. your own spit mixed with her precum was spread across your face, your mascara was smudged and so was your lipstick. “mm, such a dirty whore for me aren't you?” not letting you give a response, minju shot chaewon a look and then at the same time minju bottomed out in your mouth while chaewon did the same in your cunt. 

your eyes widened, the feeling of chaewon filling you to the brink with no prep whatsoever had you gasping for air, air which you couldn't inhale seeing as minju was all the way in your mouth. your chokes on minju’s dick became more intense, but she didn't care, not one bit. you were here for her pleasure, she didn't care about what happened to you. she eventually did retract her long fucking cock from your mouth, allowing you not more than a second to inhale before she was back in. 

the vibration of your moans on minju’s dick had her blissed out, her head was thrown back and you couldn't seem to rip your eyes from the sight. you knew they were hot, you had eyes, but seeing minju with her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, and sweat rolling down her neck you couldn't help but be astonished at her beauty. it was all almost too much for you, the way chaewon pounded into you, hitting parts you didn't even think reachable. it was all too much for you to handle, the built up pressure in your lower stomach finally releasing itself. 

if this was any other time, you might’ve been embarrassed for releasing so quick, but minju pulling out of your mouth and painting your face with her cum had you too distracted. the warm sticky fluid covered your face as minju jerked herself off in front of your face. your head was being held up by minju, one hand in your hair and one on herself. not being able to help yourself, you reached a hand up and swiped a finger over your cheek, collecting her cum and sticking it in your mouth. you hummed around your fingers at the taste, instantly craving more; had you known minju tasted this good, you long would’ve given yourself up. 

“what a fucking whore, cant get enough can you? i bet a whore like you would love to be filled up by us daily, have your useless holes put to use.” minju’s degradation was turning you on way more than it should’ve, no longer denying their words but instead nodding rapidly at minju’s words. 

it didn't take long for chaewon to cum either, her following closely after minju. pulling out just to marvel at the sight of your cunt clenching around nothing, her semen dripping out in white globs. despite having just cum, the two soccer players couldn't seem to get it down, the sight of you all ruined for them having a big effect on them. 

minju left from in front of you, going behind you to join chaewon. words weren’t needed for the duo, a simple glance saying everything that needed to be said. minju’s cock was already soaked in your spit, but just to be safe, she reached down to your cunt and scooped some of your cum mixed with chaewon’s and slathered her cock with it. chaewon picked you up, sitting down on the bench and then placing you on top of her, while simultaneously sinking herself back into your snatch. 

minju stayed standing until chaewon shot her a look, lifting you up a bit and spreading your ass cheeks open. you let out a small confused squeak at the action, but still didn't think much of it. not until you felt minju’s tip prodding at your asshole, you weren’t given so much as a heads up before minju shoved herself into the tight ring of muscle. you had taken only a couple people there before, but none of them even came close to not only minju’s length but also her girth. 

the feeling of both minju and chaewon’s monster fucking cocks in you was most definitely too much. you dont think you’ve ever felt this full, you could feel the both of them moving in and out of you. when chaewon would pull out minju would plunge herself in, not giving you even a moment without being full of cock. your hands were clawing at chaewon’s back as you repeatedly moaned out their names, almost like a mantra. you could feel it, it had barely even been a few minutes yet you had never been more sure of this feeling. you tried your best to hold out, but it was just too much the constant full feeling, the way they made sure that not a crevice was left untouched was too much. the feeling of minju reaching around you to grope your breasts was the frosting on the cake. with the feeling of minju twisting your nipple in between her fingers and you could feel the knot in your lower stomach snapping. you came with a high pitched moan, creamy rings of your cum shaping themselves around chaewon’s length. 

the minute you came down from your high, the immediate pain of overstimulation hitting full force. you tried to push yourself off of chaewon, mumbling out ‘wait’, but both minju and chaewon did not care “what happened baby? too much?” chaewon said, her eyes doused in lust, the small glint of faux innocence barely showing in the ocean of lust. 

“t-t’ much… p-please, ‘t hurts..” you mumbled out, tears streaming down your face, the overstimulation too much for you.

“too bad, me ‘n wonnie still haven’t gotten off. maybe if your whore pussy didnt cream so soon this wouldn't be happening..” minju said, you could practically see her mocking pout. 

you could feel a wave of humiliation wash over you at her words. though you weren’t allowed to indulge in your humiliation, as you felt a finger hook itself in your cunt stretching it open as chaewon stilled. your eyebrows furrowed, to fucked out to even begin to understand what was about to happen. It was then that you felt minju shove her whole cock into your already full snatch. “MMPH— i-it hurts! t-too much!” 

you could see the grin on chaewon’s face, satisfied at what they were doing to you and your reaction. “y’know, if you just hadn’t played hard to get this wouldn't be happening, it’s your punishment for even thinking you could reject me. chaewon said, pulling out and pushing herself back in, barely giving you a minute to adjust. 

“f-fuck you’re suffocating me.” minju groaned out, kneading your ass as she finally started to move.  

the fullness you were now feeling, was something much different from how it felt before. you felt as if you were being stretched to your absolute breaking point, as if the two of them were splitting you open. the feeling mixed with how overstimulated you were sent you into overdrive, leaning down to muffle your moans by biting into chaewon’s shoulder. you were sure you drew blood with how hard you were biting, the faint metallic taste in your mouth proof of that. yet you couldn't seem to let that thought sit for even a second, the overstimulation morphing into overwhelming pleasure. 

all the voices and noises seemed to blur out, the only thing you could focus on being the amazing feeling of being split open by two of the biggest cocks you’d ever seen. you had never felt anything this intense. the warm feeling of chaewon shooting her load into you closely followed by minju was your breaking point. everything was just too much, the feeling of finally letting go of the intense built up pressure in your lower stomach was euphoric. 

“holy fucking shit.” you could faintly hear chaewon’s voice as she looked at the mess you had made all over her and minju.

you felt chaewon’s soft hands rubbing your back while minju whispered sweet nothings into your ear trying to calm you down. that was the last thing you felt before losing your consciousness, the exhaustion of all that you had done catching up with you.

[jaystardust]

‎ ☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ˚.ᵎ UNVEIL

Pairing: Park Jay x reader

Genre: bad boy, strangers to lovers, angst, blackmailing, suggestive, kind of Gossip Girl universe themed, apparition of Yeonjun (txt)

Warnings: blackmailing, making out, angst, betrayal (tell me if I forget something)

Summary: Enigma, Hybe High's anonymous gossip queen, finds her carefully crafted world threatened by the arrival of Park Jay, a rebellious kind of bad boy. a web of blackmail and stolen glances leads them down a thrilling path of forbidden desire, risking Enigma's online persona and a chance at real love.

Word count: 6.5K

--------------------------------------------------------

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and Prada perfume mingled in the air, a potent signature of your mornings at Hybe High. You weren't royalty, but reputation was everything at this elite private school, and yours was meticulously crafted. 

You were Enigma, the mastermind behind the anonymous blog, Unveil. A digital oracle dispensing juicy gossip about the student body with a scathing wit that left its targets squirming. 

This year, however, the tea had gone cold. The usual suspects – the president's son's gambling problem, the head cheerleader's secret nose job – held no allure. You craved a real scandal, something to reignite the blog's fire and solidify your position as the school's unseen puppeteer.

Then came Park Jay, the new transfer student who arrived shrouded in a veil of mystery. He wasn't your typical Hybe High royalty. Clad in a worn leather jacket and ripped jeans, his indifference to the school's social hierarchy was as refreshing as it was infuriating.

However, digging up dirt on Jay proved impossible. He was a ghost, his past shrouded in mystery as thick as the expensive perfume that clung to you. Frustration gnawed at you, a familiar itch that Unveil usually scratched. But this time, it was different. This time, the frustration was laced with a strange fascination for the boy who didn't seem to care about the social games everyone else played.

One gloomy afternoon, as you hunched over your laptop in the library, a shadow fell over your screen. You looked up to find Jay, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Enigma, I presume?" His voice was a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. How? How did he know? You scrambled to mask your surprise, forcing a nonchalant shrug.

"And who might you be, Sherlock Holmes?" you retorted, trying to sound flippant.

"Just someone who appreciates a good secret," he said, his gaze unwavering. "And who wouldn't want to leverage it?"

The blood drained from your face. Leverage? This couldn't be happening. Your mind raced, desperately searching for an escape route. He leaned closer, his voice a husky whisper.

"How about you do a few little things for me, Enigma," he purred, "and I keep your little blog a secret?"

The world tilted on its axis. This wasn't how the game was supposed to be played. You were the puppet master, not the marionette. Yet, there you were, trapped in his gaze, the weight of your secret a suffocating burden.

"What kind of things?" you managed to croak.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Homework, errands, maybe even something a little… humiliating." His eyes glinted with a challenge, daring you to defy him.

You hated him. You hated the way he made your carefully constructed world crumble around you. But more than that, you hated the strange thrill that danced along your nerve endings. This was a game you didn't know the rules of, a game that was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.

In the end, you agreed. You couldn't risk exposure. Unveil was your lifeblood, your shield, and the thought of losing it was unbearable.

The weight of Park Jay settled on your shoulders like a leaden cloak. You, Enigma, the queen of gossip on Unveil, were now a prisoner of your own creation.  The evidence he held was a leash that kept you tethered to his whims. You weren't a captive in the physical sense, but your freedom of speech, your very identity as Enigma, was held, hostage.

Becoming Jay's shadow began subtly. A whispered request for a double-shot espresso from the overpriced cafe across the street during your first-period break. A casual mention of "forgotten" notes in trigonometry class, with a knowing smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. You complied, your stomach churning with a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of obligation.

The whispers started then, too. Furtive glances followed you as you delivered the steaming coffee cup to Park Jay's table, a tableau that felt staged, and surreal.  "Y/n, errand girl for Park Jay?" the hallway echoed with unspoken questions. The indignity of it all fueled a simmering anger within you.

But the tasks escalated. One afternoon, you found yourself hunched over his desk during your lunch break, surrounded by textbooks and loose-leaf papers spilling like a chaotic waterfall. 

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting your workspace in a harsh spotlight. You were translating a French poem for his literature class, lines blurring before your eyes as the indignity of the situation gnawed at you. This wasn't just running errands anymore; it was academic servitude.

"This," you finally muttered, slamming the textbook shut with a force that sent papers scattering across the floor, "is getting ridiculous."

Jay, sprawled lazily in his chair, finally looked up.  A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, a challenge that ignited a spark within you. "Is it?" he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher. "Or are you secretly enjoying the attention, Enigma?"

You straightened in your chair, glaring at him with defiance. "Attention?" you scoffed, the word laced with venom. "I'd rather clean the toilets with a toothbrush than be seen cavorting with you in public."

His amusement morphed into a full-blown laugh, rich and intoxicating. The sound filled the room, washing over you like a wave, and for a moment, you forgot the anger simmering beneath the surface. He stopped abruptly, his gaze locking with yours, the laughter fading to a smoldering intensity. "Don't lie, Enigma," he said, his voice a husky whisper. "You find me fascinating."

The heat that rose to your cheeks was a betrayal. You scoffed again, but this time, it lacked conviction. He was right, of course. Park Jay was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, a puzzle you couldn't resist solving. His disregard for the social hierarchy, and his rebellious streak – it was a stark contrast to the entitled drones who populated Hybe High. 

He was a constant thorn in your side, a danger that sparked a rebellious fire within you. You hated being under his thumb, yet there was an undeniable allure to the challenge he presented. Jay was a storm brewing beneath the surface, and you, once the master of information, were now caught in its eye.

--

Days bled into weeks, the initial awkward tension between you and Jay morphing into a strange, symbiotic dance. Resentment, once a simmering ember, cooled into a begrudging respect fueled by your growing realization that his intellect mirrored your own.

Witty remarks became heated debates that spilled over lunches, dissecting the intricacies of literature, or anything that threatened to break the charged silence simmering between you. 

Discussions that began in hushed tones over hastily consumed sandwiches would morph into stolen moments after school, the library your refuge from the watchful eyes and gossiping tongues of Hybe High.

One particularly dreary afternoon, rain lashed against the library windows, a relentless drumbeat mirroring the disquiet in your heart. You found yourselves huddled under the awning, a shared haven from the downpour.

The library lights cast a warm, honeyed glow on Jay's face, highlighting the sharp angles and the unexpected vulnerability that flickered in his eyes.

"You know," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a tremor through you, "blackmailing someone isn't exactly how I envisioned my first semester at Hybe High."

You snorted, a humorless sound escaping your lips. "Being someone's secret errand girl wasn't exactly on my top ten either."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. "So, Enigma," he continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "is there anything you crave from me besides the assurance of keeping your little blog a secret?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. This wasn't part of the bargain. You hadn't signed up for emotional entanglements, for the way your heart would stutter a frantic rhythm in his presence, or the jolt that shot through you when his fingers brushed against yours while passing a textbook.

Yet, here you were, caught in the captivating pull of his gaze, a prisoner of your own traitorous emotions.

"I, uh…" you stammered, cheeks burning under the harsh glare of his scrutiny.  "What makes you think I want anything from you?"

His smile was a knowing one, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "The way your eyes linger on me a beat too long when you think I'm not looking. The way your cheeks bloom a charming shade of pink whenever I unleash a particularly witty remark."

He was right, of course. You had tried, oh how you had tried, to maintain the facade of the detached blogger, the anonymous voice of truth. But the walls you'd so meticulously constructed around your heart were crumbling under the relentless assault of his undeniable charm.

Suddenly, the air crackled with a tension that transcended words. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "Unless," his voice dipped to a husky whisper, "you'd prefer I ensure your secret's safety… in another way."

Before you could even register the audacity of his suggestion, his lips were on yours. The kiss was an electrifying collision, a tangle of pent-up emotions and unspoken desires. He tasted of rain and peppermint, a heady mix that sent a jolt through your system.  

Your initial resistance crumbled like sandcastles under a tidal wave, and you melted into his touch, a desperate need washing over you.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, his touch igniting a fire deep within you. The kiss deepened, a desperate exploration that spoke volumes more than words ever could. It was a whirlwind of stolen breaths and tangled limbs, a moment of raw passion that felt forbidden and exhilarating all at once.

Just as abruptly as it started, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. His eyes held a dark intensity you hadn't seen before.

"This changes things, Enigma," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"Changes what?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He stared at you for a long moment, a battle of emotions playing out in his gaze. A beat of silence followed, and then, with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine, he added, "See you tomorrow, Enigma. Don't forget – French poem, due first thing."

He turned and walked away, leaving you reeling in the wake of his touch. Your heart thumped against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You had just crossed a line, a line you never thought you'd even consider.

The guilt gnawed at you like a persistent pest. Here you were, the anonymous blogger who reveled in wielding information and controlling the narrative, now entangled with the boy who held your secret hostage. 

But amidst the turmoil, a flicker of something else bloomed – a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this forced partnership could lead to something more. 

Something exhilarating, something terrifying, and something that felt like a story far more captivating than anything you'd ever written for Unveil. This wasn't just a stolen kiss under a library awning; it was a turning point, a page ripped from a yet-to-be-written chapter.

The following day, French class was a blur. You sat there, the poem forgotten on your desk, replaying the kiss over and over again in your mind. Each stolen glance from Jay across the room sent a jolt through you, a secret language only the two of you could understand. 

The power dynamic had shifted. The fear of exposure was still there, a cold serpent coiling in your gut, but it was overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of… possibility.

After class, you lingered by your locker, pretending to rummage through your bag. His voice, nonchalant yet laced with a hint of amusement, broke the silence. "Ready for round two, Enigma?"

You met his gaze, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Just call me Juliet, yearning for her forbidden Romeo."

He chuckled a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Careful, Enigma," he drawled, leaning closer so only you could hear. "This game we're playing could have unforeseen consequences."

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you. This wasn't just about blackmail anymore; it was about a secret shared, a line crossed, and the exhilarating uncertainty of what came next.

"Consequences?" you echoed, feigning innocence. "What consequences could there be, besides detention and disapproving stares?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, a hint of something dangerous glinting in his eyes. 

"Let's just say, Enigma," he said, his voice a low murmur, "the consequences could be very interesting indeed."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you breathless and a little bit scared. But more than fear, you felt a surge of excitement, a sense of being swept up in a whirlwind of your creation. 

You, the anonymous blogger, were now a player in the game, and the lines between truth and deception, love and hate, were about to become beautifully blurred.

The story you were living was far more captivating than anything you could have ever written, and you couldn't wait to see where the next chapter took you and Park Jay.

--

The next few hours were a whirlwind of stolen glances, cryptic messages disguised as homework assignments and a constant battle within yourself.

You should have been furious, plotting elaborate revenge schemes against the infuriating boy who had manipulated you into his web. But as you watched him across the crowded hallways, a strange warmth bloomed in your chest, a flicker of affection that defied logic.

You were drawn to his sharp wit, his rebellious spirit – qualities that felt like a refreshing splash of color in the beige monotony of Hybe High. Yet, the memory of the stolen kiss lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the precariousness of your situation.

Then, it happened. On this exact same day you discovered that your secret wasn't so safe anymore.

Lunch break buzzed with the usual pre-weekend chatter as you sequestered yourself in a corner booth, laptop humming with the final touches of a particularly scathing post for Unveil. The target? A particularly arrogant senior named Yeonjun, whose inflated ego needed a good public deflation.

Just as you were about to unleash your literary vitriol, a shadow fell over your keyboard. Your blood ran cold. Park Jay stood beside you, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He didn't have to say a word. The look in his eyes, a mix of amusement and something you couldn't quite decipher, was a dead giveaway.

Panic clawed at your throat. You scrambled to shut down your laptop, fingers fumbling like a startled cat. But a gaggle of students, including the aforementioned Yeonjun, had already gathered around you, lured in by the commotion.

"What's going on here?" the senior demanded, his voice dripping with entitlement, his gaze flitting between you and the now-ex-blackmailer.

Jay's smile widened, devoid of any warmth. "Just enjoying a little private reading session, wouldn't you say, Enigma?" His voice echoed in the cafeteria, each syllable dripping with calculated malice.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The air crackled with shock and disbelief. You felt exposed, raw, like a butterfly pinned beneath a collector's gaze.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the cruel grin spreading across Yeonjun's face. You wanted to lash out, to scream at Jay for his betrayal, but the words wouldn't come. Shame and humiliation choked them back.

Yeonjun, his relief barely concealed beneath a mask of fury, snatched your laptop before you could react. He flipped it open, revealing the unfinished blog post – a glaring accusation aimed squarely at him. A cruel laugh erupted from his lips, echoing cruelly in the stunned silence.

"So, this is Enigma”, he sneered, brandishing the laptop like a trophy. "The anonymous coward who's been making a fool of everyone."

He turned his gaze back to you, eyes filled with malicious glee. "Well, Enigma," he said, his voice dripping with venom, "it looks like your reign of terror is over."

The whispers started as a low hum, growing into a cacophony of accusations and judgments. You felt like a hunted animal, cornered and exposed. The world you'd so meticulously built around yourself crumbled to dust.

Jay, however, remained strangely detached. He watched the spectacle unfold with a blank expression, a hint of something akin to amusement lurking in his eyes.

It was that amusement that stung the most, a final betrayal that ignited a spark of defiance within you. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "You said everything changes," you whispered, your voice surprisingly steady. "Seems like you were right."

Without another word, you snatched your bag and pushed past the crowd, the weight of everyone's stares heavy on your back. You fled the cafeteria, tears finally spilling down your cheeks, a mixture of anger, hurt, and a strange sense of liberation.

Jay's betrayal had shattered your carefully crafted facade, but it had also freed you from the prison you'd built around yourself. The journey ahead would be far from easy, facing the school's judgment as your true identity was revealed.

But as you walked away from the cafeteria, a newfound determination hardened your resolve.

You wouldn't let Park Jay, or anyone else, control your narrative anymore. You would weather this storm, pick up the pieces of your shattered reputation, and emerge stronger, a different person, perhaps, but a person nonetheless.

And who knew, maybe in the process, you'd even find a way to turn the tables on Jay. After all, the story was far from over.

--

As the days passed monstrously slowly, the fallout from the cafeteria incident was immense. You became the subject of relentless gossip, your once-admired anonymity a distant memory. 

Yeonjun, fueled by his newfound power, used your blog posts to turn the tables on his rivals, creating a wave of chaos within the school's social hierarchy. The whispers followed you like a swarm of angry bees, stinging at your ears and filling you with a bitter mix of shame and anger.

You mostly kept to yourself, seeking refuge in the library and the solace of fictional worlds. Yet, despite the isolation, you noticed a shift within yourself. You weren't consumed by self-pity or anger. Instead, a quiet strength bloomed within you. It was a resilience born of necessity, a determination to rise above the ashes of your shattered reputation.

One day, while browsing the library stacks, you stumbled upon Jay. He was sitting at a corner table, meticulously reading a book on philosophy. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a strange mix of anger and a lingering curiosity. He shouldn't be here, not after what he'd done. He should be basking in his victory, reveling in the chaos he'd unleashed.

He looked up as you approached, his expression unreadable. No trace of regret seemed to flicker in his eyes, only a cool indifference that ignited a fresh wave of anger within you.

"Shouldn't you be writing your next scathing article, Enigma?" he said, his voice devoid of warmth. The mockery in his tone cut like a knife, a reminder of the manipulative boy who had used you for his own gain.

"I'm done with that life," you said, your voice firm, laced with a newfound steel. "And with you." You met his gaze head-on, no longer the scared, cornered girl from the cafeteria.

"Oh?" An eyebrow shot up. "Then why are you here?" His voice held a hint of amusement, a cruel edge that grated on your nerves.

You hesitated for a moment, then squared your shoulders. "Because," you said, holding his gaze, "I want to understand why you did it." You needed to know, not out of forgiveness, but out of a desperate need for closure.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a cocky smile that did little to mask the tension building in his jaw. "Is this where we confess our undying love, stripped bare by the power of truth?"

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be drawn into his games. "Hardly. I just want an explanation. What was the point of all this?" The betrayal burned in your gut, a constant ache that demanded answers.

He sighed, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. "Let's just say," he began, leaning back in his chair, "my situation at Hybe High is a bit more complicated than it appears." He didn't elaborate, but in his guarded eyes, you saw a flicker of something akin to vulnerability. 

Perhaps, there was more to his story, more to his motives, than you initially thought.

"Fine," you said after a beat of silence. "But don't expect my forgiveness just yet." You wouldn't let him manipulate you again, not without a fight.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Fair enough," he conceded. "But perhaps we can start with a truce? No more manipulations, no more secrets. Just… two people trying to navigate the wreckage of this whole mess."

A truce. The word hung in the air, a flimsy offering in the face of his betrayal. There was a raw honesty in his gaze, but trust wouldn't come easy, not after the way he'd thrown you under the bus. He'd used you, exposed you, and left you to pick up the pieces of your shattered reputation.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "A truce?" you repeated, the word tasting like ash in your mouth. "You think after everything, a simple truce is enough? You get to walk away unscathed, while I face the consequences of your actions?"

"No," he countered, his voice firm. "I messed up. Big time. But I'm not the only one who can fix this." His words hung in the air, a plea for some kind of partnership, but the betrayal still stung too raw.

"Then fix it," you spat, your voice shaking with barely contained anger. "Fix the mess you created. Pick up the pieces of my reputation that you so carelessly shattered. Then, maybe, we can talk about a truce."

The challenge hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown at his feet. His face hardened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features

A tense silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of his betrayal and the defiance simmering in your eyes. Jay clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the worn armrest of the chair.

"You want me to fix it?" he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. "You want me to navigate the school's social minefield, clean up the mess you made stirring the pot anonymously?"

"Isn't that what you wanted all along?" you countered, your voice sharp. "To control the narrative, to use me as your puppet master? Well, now you can face the consequences of pulling the strings."

He scoffed, a sound devoid of humor. "Easy for you to say. You can walk away from this, disappear back into the shadows. But me? I can't just vanish."

The vulnerability in his voice, a stark contrast to his usual arrogance, gave you pause. Perhaps there was more to his story, a secret that held him captive at Hybe High. But the hurt and anger were still fresh, a wall you weren't ready to tear down just yet.

"Then figure it out," you said, your voice softening slightly. "That's the price you pay for playing with fire, Park Jay. You get burned." 

Turning away from him, you started to walk away, leaving him sitting at the table, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

"Wait," he called out after you, his voice laced with desperation. You stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What?" you asked, your voice flat.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "There's more to this," he confessed. "More to my situation than I can explain right now. But trust me, it's not what you think."

You considered his words, the weight of his secret hanging heavy in the air. Part of you wanted to believe him, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you. But the other part, the part that still ached from his betrayal, remained wary.

"Then prove it," you said finally, turning back to face him. "Show me that you're not just another manipulative player. Show me there's a way out of this mess, for both of us."

A flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice steady. "But it won't be easy. It'll require… a different kind of partnership."

Intrigued despite yourself, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "A different kind of partnership?"

He leaned forward, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "One where we use your words, my information, and maybe a little bit of chaos to rewrite the narrative, together." 

The challenge in his voice was laced with a hint of something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way to turn the tables on their betrayers, to reclaim your voice and expose the truth, all while forging an alliance as unexpected as it was thrilling.

"Alright, Park," you said, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into."

The truce might be off the table, but a new game had just begun. A game where revenge and redemption intertwined, and the lines between enemy and ally blurred. And as you locked eyes with Park Jay, a sense of anticipation buzzed in the air.

The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but one thing was certain: the story of Enigma was far from over.

--

Weeks bled into months, the dust of the exposé settling over Hybe High like a shroud. You weren't the untouchable gossip queen anymore, the fear and thrill of anonymous takedowns a distant memory. But a different kind of power simmered beneath the surface. 

People saw you, the face behind the Voice of the Unheard, and that honesty felt far more liberating than fleeting popularity. It was a power borne of vulnerability, a shared connection with the students who finally saw themselves reflected in your words.

Your relationship with Jay remained a complex puzzle, a Rubik's Cube of guarded glances and unspoken truths. The initial distrust still lingered a guarded tension that crackled between you whenever you brushed shoulders in the crowded hallways. Yet, beneath it, a hesitant camaraderie had begun to take root. 

Shared late nights fueled by brainstorming sessions revealed a surprising depth to him. You discovered a mutual love for the way words could paint vivid landscapes and ignite emotions, a passion for literature that transcended the walls of the stuffy library.

But most unexpectedly, you found a fierce passion for social justice burning just as brightly within him.

One afternoon, hunched over worn library texts researching the history of student activism, you found yourselves locked in a heated debate. The topic? The ethics of anonymity.

"People deserve the truth, unfiltered," you argued, your voice ringing with conviction, the memory of Yeonjun's smug face fueling your passion. "Anonymity shields those in power, leaving the vulnerable even more exposed."

"But at what cost?" Jay countered, his gaze sharp, challenging you to see the other side. "Sometimes, anonymity is the only shield for the vulnerable. It allows them to speak their truth without fear of reprisal."

His words struck a chord. Maybe Unveil wouldn't be a platform for petty gossip anymore. Maybe it could be a weapon wielded in the name of justice, a voice for those too afraid to speak, those silenced by fear or social hierarchy.

A slow smile played on your lips, a hint of a plan forming in your mind. "So, Park," you said, testing the waters, "partners in truth?"

He returned the smile, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes, the playful glint that sometimes replaced the guarded facade. "Partners in truth it is, Enigma."

"But with one condition," you added, leaning closer, your voice a low murmur, the scent of old paper and forgotten knowledge filling the air.

He raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air.

"No more blackmail," you stated firmly, the sting of betrayal still a fresh memory. "This time, we fight together, on equal footing. Collaboration, not manipulation."

"Deal," he replied, a thrill coursing through you as your hands brushed for a fleeting moment. The spark of shared purpose ignited something deep within you, a sense of hope you hadn't dared to feel in a long time.

This new chapter, this partnership with Jay, felt exhilarating. It was a chance to rewrite the narrative, not just for yourselves, but for every unheard voice within Hybe High's walls.

The school, once a symbol of conformity and stifling authority, now held the potential for change.

The first salvo of the revamped Unveil targeted the archaic dress code, a system that blatantly favored students of wealth. Armed with interviews from disgruntled students who felt ostracized for not fitting the mold, and research on the psychological impact of such regulations, you crafted a compelling piece that ignited the student body.

The response was electric. Comments flooded the forum, sparking debates that reached the ears of the administration. Buoyed by this success, you and Jay tackled a series of issues – the exorbitant cost of textbooks that burdened families, the lack of mental health resources leaving students drowning in silent struggles, and the rampant cheating culture fostered by the relentless pressure to succeed.

Each meticulously researched and written piece ignited a firestorm of student activism, forcing the school to acknowledge and address the long-ignored problems. Through it all, your partnership with Jay deepened. 

The initial spark of curiosity had blossomed into a genuine friendship, one built on mutual respect, shared ideals, and a healthy dose of playful banter.

You discovered a side of him you hadn't expected – a fierce loyalty that extended beyond his carefully constructed persona, and a genuine desire to use his privilege to help those less fortunate, to dismantle the very system that had once benefited him.

Together, you were the Voice of the Unheard wielding the power of words to rewrite the narrative of Hybe High, one story at a time. The road ahead wouldn't be easy.

Powerful forces still held sway, determined to maintain the status quo. But for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. You weren't alone. You had him, and with him, the unwavering belief that change, however gradual, was possible.

–

One crisp autumn morning, as you sat huddled over your laptops in your usual library corner, a charged silence crackled between you. You glanced up from your screen, catching Jay's gaze linger on you a beat too long. A slow smile tugged at his lips, sending a familiar warmth fluttering through your chest.

"Being a partner in truth with Enigma isn't exactly how I envisioned spending my senior year," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. 

It wasn't just the words, but the way he said them, a hint of something deeper, something unspoken, lingering beneath the surface.

You mirrored his smile, a playful glint in your eyes that masked the tangled mess of emotions churning inside you. "And getting blackmailed by Park Jay wasn't exactly on my bucket list either," you countered, the memory of his betrayal still a fresh wound.

He chuckled a rich sound that sent a jolt through you. "But somehow," he continued, his eyes locking with yours, "it all worked out in the end… maybe."

The last word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Before you could decipher the meaning, the library door swung open with a bang, shattering the fragile peace.

Yeonjun stood there, a smug smirk plastered on his face, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

"There you two are!" he boomed, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Skipping class again? Looks like someone's got a lot of explaining to do."

A surge of defiance coursed through you. "Actually," you said, your voice firm, "we're working on something rather important. Something that might actually benefit the school, unlike your… extracurricular activities."

Yeonjun's smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features. Jay leaned closer, his voice a dangerous murmur that sent chills down your spine. "And if I were you, Yeonjun," he said, "I wouldn't push your luck. We have a few stories about you that might be of interest to the student body."

The threat hung heavy in the air. Yeonjun's face flushed red, and he stammered a few incoherent words before retreating with a defeated slump. You watched him go, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. 

The tables had truly turned. Unveil wasn't just a blog anymore; it was a force for positive change, all thanks to your unlikely partnership with the boy who had once held your secret hostage.

As you turned back to your laptop, Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "So," he said, a hint of something more flickering in his gaze, "ready to tackle the next injustice, y/n?"

You swallowed, the sudden shift in the atmosphere making your heart pound a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "Always, Jay," you managed, a secret thrill dancing in your chest. "Always."

The future stretched before you, an open book waiting to be written. But in that electric moment, the words on the screen seemed insignificant compared to the unspoken tension simmering between you and the boy who had become your unlikely ally.

The silence returned, thick and heavy with unspoken desires. Jay's gaze held yours, a storm brewing beneath the surface. You felt the warmth creep up your neck, a blush mirroring his. The air crackled with an energy you couldn't explain.

"Maybe Unveil isn't the only thing that needs a revamp," he murmured, his voice husky and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden stillness. He leaned closer, his breath warm on your cheek. The familiar scent of peppermint mingled with something new – a musk that sent shivers down your spine.

"There's something I've wanted to do ever since that stolen kiss in the library," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

You inhaled sharply, the memory of that electrifying moment flooding back. The defiance, the spark, the raw emotion – that stolen kiss had ignited a flicker within you that you hadn't dared to acknowledge.

He didn't wait for your answer. His hand cupped your face, his touch sending a jolt through you. The library, once a refuge, now felt charged with a dangerous tension. He tilted your head up, his eyes searching yours.

Despair battled desire in his gaze. "This might be crazy," he admitted, his voice a rough rumble, "but I can't keep pretending anymore."

His confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing. The dam within you broke. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss.

This was different from the one fueled by defiance and adrenaline. This kiss was desperate, raw, and filled with a yearning that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. 

His lips were firm, and demanding, yet held a tenderness that surprised you. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, the scent of his cologne a heady mix.

The world dissolved around you. There was only the frantic press of his body against yours, the frantic beat of your hearts, the intoxicating taste of him. You explored each other with a hungry urgency, the pent-up emotions of weeks finally finding release.

He pulled away abruptly, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze roaming your face like a famished man surveying a feast.

"We should stop," he muttered, his voice thick with restraint. "This isn't the time, not here."

You traced a finger across his lips, a silent plea mirroring the turmoil in your own heart. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Not yet."

He surrendered to your unspoken request, pulling you closer once more. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, an exploration filled with tenderness.

His hands roamed your back, sending shivers down your spine. You melted into his touch, a delicious sense of surrender washing over you.

Just as you were about to get lost entirely, the library door creaked open again, shattering the spell. A young couple, oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded, snuck in, searching for a quiet corner.

Jay cleared his throat, a sheepish grin on his face. "Looks like we have an audience."

You blushed furiously, burying your face in your hands. Despite the interruption, the tension remained an unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air.

"We should probably get back to work," you mumbled, gathering your scattered laptop and papers.

Jay helped you up, his hand lingering on yours a moment too long. A silent promise flickered in his eyes. The rest of the afternoon flew by in a blur. You barely registered the words on the screen, your mind replaying the kiss over and over again.

As you packed your bag to leave, he approached you. "So," he said, his voice a low rumble, "about that revamped Unveil…"

You met his gaze, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Thinking of a more… hands-on approach to exposing injustice?"

He winked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Maybe. But perhaps there are other kinds of stories we could write together as well. Ones that don't involve the student body."

Your heart skipped a beat. The thrill of the forbidden, the intensity of his touch – it was intoxicating, and you knew the risks. But the memory of his kiss, the vulnerability in his eyes, whispered a different story.

"Maybe we can," you whispered, the thrill of the unknown dancing in your chest. "Maybe we can write a story no one will see coming, not even us."

You walked out of the library together, not just partners in truth, but partners in a different kind of adventure, one fueled by desire and the promise of something new, something exhilarating, something that felt like the start of a story even more exciting than the one you were writing for Unveil. 

The crisp autumn air felt electric as you walked side-by-side, the weight of unspoken desires and a shared secret creating a bond as powerful as any exposé.

The road ahead was uncertain, filled with potential consequences, but you weren't facing it alone. And with him, the exhilarating certainty that the most captivating story of all was just beginning.

A/N: hope that you liked it! i really like to associate enhypen members with that kind of Gossip Girl universe. should i do it for future work for other members? don’t hesitate to give me some feedback 🌷

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

7: The Summer Days (series masterlist)

summary: 3 weeks after you found out about everything, it seems as if the world became memory lane, numbing everything you felt. But maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: minimal use of Y/N, neglect, depression, making out, suggestiveness, death, underage drinking, rudeness, breaking down mentally and physically, talks about mother and fatherhood, italics are memories/flashbacks

wc: 6.7k+

a/n: i told you i didn’t forget about this series 🤞i also just finished reading the actual book early this july, so it was such an eye opener on how the characters really are

It’s been three weeks since you last saw Coriolanus and cut him out of your life; It’s been two weeks since you graduated high school with his diploma in tow with your own; It’s been exactly one whole week of feeling completely numb to all emotion. You tried to let yourself embrace the pain and truth, but it seemed that you would rather become immune to the truth than face it.

At first, your father encouraged you to take time to heal and think about your situation — how it could affect the Lovett reputation. Then he got tired of constantly dealing with a daughter that got heartbroken by a Snow, a cheater nonetheless. He gave up all attempts to help and understand you. Instead, he indulged himself in handling your future engagement with Festus Creed, roping you along.

You were to be engaged in mid-August, merely a little less than a month away. When you heard of the plans, it only solidified the armor coating your heart and the numbness you felt. Being numb was better than feeling the pain inflicted upon you during the Hunger Games.

“Have you talked to Festus yet?” Clemensia spoke carefully, taking a small sip from her tea.

“About what?” You practically whispered with how softly you were speaking. It occurred to you that you hadn’t spoken more than a few words a day toward others, making your frown deepen.

Clemensia sighed and pulled your hands into her own, rubbing the back of your hands soothingly. “About all of this. I know you didn’t want this, yet it seems like you’re too… Indifferent about the engagement.”

“I don’t get how being engaged and eventually married to Festus would make everything better or worse.” You pull your hands out of her hold. The lack of physical affection made you recoil from any you were to receive. “I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” She glanced at your fidgeting hands and back up to your dulled eyes. It clicked in her head when you tried reaching up to mess with a charm that was missing.

You had lost your light in the world. You lost your silver rose.

She remembered the exact moment when you knew you were utterly in love with Coriolanus. It was a memory she believed was a core part of your life.

“Why are you all smiley?” Clemensia raised her brow at you, watching the exact moment when your eyes practically became hearts.

You became warm at the sight and strong gaze before meeting Clemensia’s eyes instead. “What?”

“Did Coryo arrive?”

“I—“ You try to search for a better excuse for your behavior before finding none, hanging your head low in shame. “Yes.”

Without much thought, Clemensia nudged your arm. “You’re so in love with him.”

Your eyes widen in surprise at her words. Were you in love with Coriolanus? You had only been dating for a couple of months, but you had known each other since childhood.

“I think I am.” You recount many memories where you never wanted to leave his side, all ending with the same feeling.

“You… What? Where are you going?” She rushed out, following you through the mass of students crowding the house. “You’re gonna tell him? Right now?”

“I mean, why not?” You shrugged. You didn’t think it mattered too much when you said it — especially when you both knew you had some kind of strong feeling pulling at your heartstrings. “Plus, I’m a little tipsy already.”

Clemensia’s mouth dropped in shock. You were so sweet and innocent before Coriolanus got to you. Well, more or less already impure from the books you read and spoke about with her.

You managed to slip right in front of Coriolanus, gaining another smile from the blonde. “Hey, beautiful. I was wondering when I could get to spend some time with you tonight.”

“Well, I’m here.” You lace a hand with him, thumbing the pulse point near his wrist. “And a bit tipsy.”

“How much have you had?” He dropped a hand toward your waist — pulling you close when a group of people ran behind.

“Just a tiny bit.” You pinch together your fingers with little space in between. “I’m not overly drunk or anything.”

Coriolanus hummed as he tilted your head up. He saw your glazed eyes, but he knew you hadn't been drinking so much. He pressed a light kiss on your lips, feeling your smile.

“Can I tell you something?” You whisper with full confidence. He grinned and nodded, waiting for you to continue. “I think I love you.”

His eyes widened, searching yours for any other reason you would say such a thing but truth. “You think?”

You tilt your head, “Well, no.” Coriolanus deflated at your response, trying to show no emotion through his facial features. You look between his eyes before frowning, cupping his cheek. “I’m not saying I don’t love you, Coryo. I’m saying ‘No, I don’t think I love you.’ I know I love you.”

He lets a breath of relief out, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Scared me for a second, beautiful.”

“Why?”

“Because I have loved you since the day I understood what feelings were.” He pulled you in for a mind-searing kiss, taking your breath and heart away.

“Oh, Y/N,” Clemensia murmured, holding you to her chest as you numbly let her.

Despite the affection, you felt the heartache from deep within you. It needed to be replaced with something else. Something that could help you recover from the damage and loss.

Wandering the halls of your home was something that you began doing a lot more often since Coriolanus left.

The Lovett Manor held so many memories in your lifetime. From the day you were born to the second the war ended. Each and every memory either good or bad is filled with distinct feelings and secrets only those residing long enough would know of.

Your memory of the Manor was written on the back of your hand, each and every detail embedded in your mind. You knew how many different sets of stairs there were, and how many different times you read the books in the private library. Yet as your hand brushed against the chipped paint of your old nursery and room, memories were faint, like a whisper in the wind.

“Mama?” You whisper, small hands clutching her soft ones. “Don’t leave yet.”

She smiled tenderly at you, tucking pieces of your hair behind your ears and encasing the stuffed bunny in your arms. “You have to sleep, baby.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Of what?” She ran her fingers down your cheeks, rubbing as you tried to find the words to express yourself. “Take your time, it’s alright.”

“I’m scared that you’ll leave me and never come back.” You sniffle, crawling into her lap. “I’m scared I’ll never see you again.”

“I’m right here,” She kissed the top of your head, pointing at your heart. “And I’ll always be there, even if you don’t see me.” She rocked you back and forth, “You’ll always have my love with you… I promise that even if you don’t see Mama, I’ll be watching over you. Like an invisible string.”

“You promise?” You hold your small pinky out, peering up into her loving eyes,

“I promise.” She intertwines her pinky with yours, kissing her thumb to lock it. “Now go to bed, sleepyhead. I love you.”

“I love you more—“

“Miss?” Em knocked on the doorframe of the nursery, causing you to flinch and drop the pink bunny onto the dusted floor. “Sorry to bother you, but Miss Snow is here to see you.”

“I’ll be down in a second, thank you.” You mumble, making up your old bed just as your mother did and tucking the bunny underneath the covers. You missed her dearly. Even the heavens knew how much she meant to you, yet they took her away at such a young age. She would know what to make of your situation. She would beg your father not to marry you off to Festus. She would help you through your heartbreak.

Yet she was gone. But you knew she was there to watch and protect you — tugging at the invisible string.

“Tigris,” You attempted a smile that seemed strained at the least, sitting across from her. She was dressed in her finest, making you question what exactly you were needed for. “Is there anything I can help you with? Would you like some tea?”

She shook her head and politely declined, clasping her hands together. “Oh no, I’ve just come to speak with you — If that’s alright.”

“Of course.” You signal for the Avoxes and your handmaid to leave the room. Silence occupied the space before the blonde spoke again, seemingly less confident than she appeared to be.

“How have you been holding up since… Well, everything.” She waved her hand in the air, recounting the many events that have followed the Hunger Games. Tigris watched you subtly flinch at the implied mention of the games. She knew how they — The tenth annual Hunger Games — were being erased from Panem, hoping it would fade as a mistake and a nightmare. She pursed her lips together, “I know I haven’t been checking in with you, but so many things are happening back at home and it’s just a lot.”

“Don’t stress about me. I’ve been… Coping, for a lack of better words.” You reach for your necklace to find it missing for the nth time since you’ve returned it to its buyer. “I’ve learned to accept my losses with the little dignity I have left. My days are boring and dull, but I’m sure the engagement will liven something up.”

You know the engagement won’t help the least, but why worry Tigris even more?

She widened her eyes in surprise, “Your father is still making you marry Festus?”

“It’ll boost the family name.” You say with sarcasm — the first real emotion you’ve shown in days.

“Y/N…”

“Tigris, if you’ve come to sympathize with me, it’s not needed. I’m doing as well as I can under my circumstances.” You suddenly snap toward the blonde, feeling like it was a ruse to get some kind of emotion out of you.

She opened her mouth to speak but shut it, giving you a turned-down smile. “I’m afraid this conversation has gone in a different direction.” Standing, she nods in respect before quickly adding, “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always come and find me. Grandma’am and I are more than happy to have you over. And I know it may seem a tad bit weird, but you’re family to us.”

Your gardens were another place you loved dearly. From the hedge maze encasing the fountain in the center to the rows and rows of flowers, each and every one blooming during a different season; It was truly a sight to behold.

As of recently, you found solace in the garden. Of course, you weren’t allowed out of the house without your trusted handmaid, but it still felt nice to just be out where it felt like all your issues were resolved and gone.

Honestly, it felt like you were four again. It felt like you were running through the gardens with no care as to how the world would be when you got older.

Your parents invited the Snows over for dinner, meaning you and Coriolanus were left with your governesses — who made sure you were well-spoken for your age — until dinner started. While your parents were conversing around the gardens, you took it upon yourself to rid the boredom you both felt.

You blew out a hot breath, furrowing your brows in frustration. Pushing yourself up from the plaid blanket, you offer your hand to the blonde boy — tilting your head. “Follow me?”

With almost no hesitation, Coriolanus intertwined your hands together as you both ran away from your two governesses. Your giggles filled the air when you saw they made zero attempts to chase after the two of you. You both raced through the gardens, making twists and turns until you were out of breath.

“Where are we going?” Coriolanus squeezed your hand, following your every turn. When he received no response, he urged you to stop moving, halting his running. “Hello?”

You shush him, releasing his hand to hold onto the railing while pointing toward the setting sun. You push up on the tip of your toes and smile at the many colors painted in the sky. “Look! Isn’t it beautiful?”

Coriolanus was not expecting you to show him the sunset. He’d seen the sunset multiple times, why is it suddenly so special? He shrugged, “I guess.”

Yet you were entranced with the setting sun despite his lack of energy in response. You smiled wide as the wind blew through your unruly hair, “I know it’s beautiful, Coryo.” You turn your head and face him with your splitting grin, light brightening your eyes. “Everything in the sky is beautiful.”

“Like you.” Coriolanus slipped out before shoving a hand in front of his mouth. He watched you step down from the railing, confusion taking over your gaze.

“Me?” You murmur, picking at the bracelet around your wrist. “I’m not nearly as beautiful as my mother, or your mother, for that fact.”

He continued to keep his mouth shut, still shocked at his response.

“Whatever.” You sigh as you lean against the railing once more, repeatedly tugging at the bracelet. “I still think the sky is quite beautiful compared to most things.”

Coriolanus finally shrugged the shock off, moving to stand beside you. “I think you have the sky beat, beautiful.”

You shake your head at the memories flooding your mind. Those memories were too long ago for you to believe Coriolanus still loved you after the stunt he pulled. Taking the cream envelope from your dress pocket, you peel it open, smiling when you recognize Sejanus’ handwriting.

Dearest Flower,

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was recruiting for the peacekeepers until the day I had to leave. But, I do know something that can help you release all the pain without harming yourself mentally. I have a friend in the Capitol who can teach you all you need to know to release the pain about this… Let’s say, dilemma, you have. He lives near the bakery we always visited after school. If you have any questions about it, please write! I already miss your annoying voice. And don’t forget to update me every week!

From District 12,

Sejanus Plinth

P.S. His name is Phineas Miller.

“Wait, rewind.” Clemensia followed you through the Capitol’s square, ever bustling with many of the Capitol’s elite members. “We’re going to the bakery to meet with a guy Sejanus told you about?”

“I trust Sejanus.” You affirm as you push the bakery door open, bell jingling above the both of you. “If Sejanus trusts this Phineas guy, then I trust him too.”

She gave you a look of disbelief, “You realize how dangerous that is right? You could be walking into the arms of a murderer?”

You turn your head away from her and roll your eyes. Weren’t all Capitol students now considered murderers for mentoring students to their deaths? Besides, it’s not like the guy you were going to meet up with was a murderer right? He works part-time at the bakery for Panem’s sake.

“How about you find us a table and I’ll get some pastries for us.” You almost demand as she stalks off to find a table closest to the exit. Shaking your head at her, you glance over the bakery once more.

It had been a while since you’ve gone to this particular bakery, but nothing really changed other than popularity. The pastries looked the same, the rooming looked the same; so you were quite surprised when Sejanus told you the guy was found near here.

“Coryo, you don’t have to buy me the sweets—“

“But I want to.” He cuts you off before placing a soft kiss on your lips when he watches your mood turn sour. “Love you.”

You return the kiss, although begrudgingly. “Love you too.”

“Are you two done? We still have a project to complete.” Felix called out to you, causing the both of you to whip around and glare at the boy. He put his hands up and slowly turned back to Festus and Livia — the pair laughing at his own consequence.

Coriolanus points out the pastries you wanted toward the worker, squeezing your hand every time you tried to interrupt him. You were nervous as you knew how expensive this was going to be, but he was just too stubborn to listen to you.

“Never get between a girl and her sweet, right?” The cashier rang Coriolanus up, tilting his head in your direction.

You shrug and incline yourself closer to the blonde to your left. “Depends if you’re talking about the one currently paying for the food or the actual sweets itself.”

“Touché.” He handed you the containers, giving you a customer service grin.

Glancing down at his name tag before Coriolanus whisks you away with kisses to your temple, you find his name to be—

“Oh, you’re Phineas!” You exclaim at the male working the counter, causing him to give you a weird look. “Sorry, I just had a memory appear and you were in it… Sorry.” You cleared your throat, slowly walking up to the cash register.

“How can I help you?” Phineas wiped the flour off his hands, raising his eyebrows at you. You opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off, snapping his fingers in your direction. “You’re the girl who has a taste for sugary sweets and that scary boyfriend.”

You feel your face contort in displeasure, “Sure, but—“

“Where is he by the way? Isn’t he usually attached to you in some way or form?”

“Do I owe you an explanation? I barely know you.” You tap your fingers on the marble counter. You didn’t think he would be this nosy, but here you were. And you didn’t expect him to remember who you were either…

He shakes his head at you, “Okay okay, how can I help you?”

“Sejanus said I could talk to you? He said that you could help me with a mental exercise or something.” You mutter out, pretending to be interested in the sweets presented in the glass casing.

Phineas’ eyes widened with surprise, “I know I’m being quite annoying, but I didn’t expect you to be the girl Sejanus was talking about.”

“And why is that?”

“Nothing, but will that be all?” He rang you up, making you tilt your head in confusion.

You eye the pastries and back up to his fascinated gaze. Of course, he would pick the same ones Coriolanus picked out for you. “I guess.”

“Great, I’ll see you in a week in the gym next door!” He cheerfully handed you the container, moving on to the line of customers behind you.

“I— What?”

Disappointment was etched onto your face as you let your handmaid dress you. Your father said you were to promenade with Festus today in the parks. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, but you were just told this morning, so your mood was more than unkind to those surrounding you.

“Must you tighten it so much?” You grunt as the corset gets pulled harder by Em. “I can barely breathe.”

“Sorry, Miss Lovett. It’s over now.” She ties the back before brushing down the floral sundress that adorned your body. “Will you need me to pick jewelry out or—“

“Thank you, that will be all.” You quickly speak, stepping down from the small stand where the mirror stands. “I’ll call for you when needed.”

She gave you a worrisome look before nodding in respect, shutting the door as she left your room. You purse your lips in frustration the second the door shuts. How could your father drop this on you all of a sudden? You were meant to stop by the Snow’s new place early in the morning to offer a basket of goods and needs, but your plans had now been pushed to late in the evening or tomorrow, which irritated you.

You swiftly snap on a pair of earrings and a golf bracelet, ditching the urge to find a necklace to wear. Glancing at the mirror one last time, you smoothed down the creases you left when digging through your jewelry and tucked stray strands of your hair away. You huffed as you thumbed your wrist, averting your eyes to the top left of the mirror. You don’t know why you still had the photo hanging, but you couldn’t take it down if you tried. It hurt to take it off.

“What did Professor Sickle say again? We only need 10 to 15 minutes in the sun? Or that we need at least 10,000 steps per day?” You wave your hand in the air with no intention of actually recalling what the gym professor said several days ago. “Because I think we’re well past the average.”

“I think I always have been,” Coriolanus spoke with an amused grin, earning a slap to the chest from you. “What? I do a lot of walking, you know this.”

You raise a brow while shaking your head. How could you ever hate Coriolanus Snow? He’s the perfect combination of everything you want and more. It was just a bonus that you knew him long before the war started.

“I can’t believe you said that.” You murmur in amusement, standing back when children run past the both of you — Kites and stuffed animals in tow.

Coriolanus watched your eyes light up at the sight of mothers and their children playing together. He knew how much you missed your own mother despite everything that happened; He also missed his own mother. He continued to observe you when a young girl — seemingly around the age of four — came up to you holding a flower.

“Is this for me?” You lean down and take the rose delicately when she nods shyly. “Well, I think it’s gorgeous, almost as pretty as you are!”

“Are you a princess?” The young girl asked with a curious gaze and reached to feel the silk you wore that day.

You smile and fully crouch down to speak with her, tucking a strand piece of hair behind her ear. “If you say I am, then yes, I am a princess.”

Coriolanus practically melted at the sight of you with children. You adored them, making him wonder how you would be if you decided to have children of your own someday. Perhaps with him…

“Really?” She lit up and held your hands in her own small ones. The young girl was practically bursting with joy, causing your heart to squeeze with happiness. She turned to look at her mother, “Mommy, I found a real-life princess!”

“That’s amazing, baby.” She scooped her child back into her arms and balanced her on her hip. “Sorry about her, we just read a book together about fairytales.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem.” You take Coriolanus’ hand as you get up, dusting your dress off with a small grin. “I’m glad she has an amazing imagination and such a gorgeous smile.”

“Is that your prince?” She pointed at Coriolanus with a shy smile — hiding her face in her mother’s neck when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“He sure is, isn’t he pretty?”

Coriolanus gave a curt nod in their direction with his pearly whites on display, only reaffirming the young girl’s allegations. He leaned into the child, whispering a secret. “Between you and me, I think the princess is much prettier than I am.”

The little girl giggled, “You’re both pretty.”

“Now what are you telling her, Coryo?” You lean in as well, eyeing the both of them with faux suspicion.

He put his index finger up to his lips, earning another laugh from the young girl. You press a kiss to his cheek as you both lean back, waving goodbye to the girl and her mother. Watching the little girl leave, you felt for your necklace, twisting it around with slight excitement.

“You know, you’re going to be a great mama one day,” Coriolanus whispered by your ear as you continued your stroll around the park, hands intertwined once more.

You blush profusely at the thought of raising a child, nevertheless Coriolanus’ child. “Well, you would be a great father.” You peck his lips, smiling when he chased after them when pulling away.

Later that day you were approached by a photographer from the same park, handing you a print of the photo he took of you and Coriolanus after you interacted with the young girl. You thanked him, pointing out the bright smiles on your faces to your partner as he listened intently to you.

“Y/N?” Festus lightly tapped on your hand, causing you to blink your thoughts out of your head and focus back on the conversation. “Are you alright?”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, “Yeah, sorry, just got inside my own mind.”

“You know, I don’t want this as much as you do.” He fiddled with the box in his jacket pocket, watching you give him a curious look. “And I’m sorry your father moved it up without telling you, so I won’t make it a spectacle for them.”

“Festus, no…” You tilt your head down as you feel the tears spring up in your eyes. This wasn’t how your father told you the whole engagement was planned, and it truly hurt how he defied your wishes of waiting a little longer for the proposal.

Festus handed you the ring and pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you let your tears fall onto his pressed suit. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You let yourself cry in the embrace of Festus. Despite his normally irritating behavior, he was one of your closest friends — and you seriously needed some time to think about what your future would look like. After a few minutes, you cried all your tears and let Festus take you home. He offered a few words to your father before bidding you a ‘good night.’

That night — and the next few nights — you fiddled with the engagement ring adorning your finger while crying to sleep, begging the numbness to come back. You trapped yourself inside your bedroom, only letting Em enter and leave. You ate minimally and answered in short sentences. It was only when you realized you had to visit Phineas that you left your room.

“Miss Lovett, your father—“

“—Will not care what I do as long as I leave my room.” You stop walking, pausing your handmaid’s steps as well. “You and our driver may pick me up in about an hour or later.”

“Do you not want company, Miss?” She caught your arm before you entered the gym — an old, rundown one she might add. “This place doesn’t seem like anywhere you should be.”

You tilt your head and silently ask her to leave you alone. “Em, I’m simply meeting someone who can help me. Sejanus referred me to him.”

She reluctantly let go of your arm, frowning at your stubbornness. “We’ll pick you up in exactly one hour, do you understand?”

You nodded and pushed open the creaking door, wincing when it slammed shut. The inside of the gym was a surprise, considering the outside was old. Everything inside was new or slightly used. Many people were conversing while working out, making you wonder how exactly you were going to find Phineas. Luckily your panic was short-lived as he approached you first.

“Hey, you actually showed up.” He grinned, this time dusting chalk off his hands. “Welcome to the Capitol’s Gym.”

You pull an unamused smile, glancing back at your outfit and then back to what Phineas was wearing. “I feel like I’m underdressed here.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. I’ll just be testing what you know today anyway.” He guided you further into the gym and chuckled at how you gave everything a curious glimpse.

“Phineas—“

“Call me Finn. Every time someone says Phineas I feel like I’m getting lectured.” He tugged a black shirt on and took a swig of water.

You raise a brow but don’t question it, “Okay, Finn, what do you mean by ‘what I know?’ Sejanus didn’t really clarify what you would be doing to help me, per se.”

He gave you a toothy grin, “How well can you box?”

Safe to say you were in shock at the question.

For the next hour, Finn gave you a rundown of how your training every week was going to go. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you would work with him on boxing techniques and basic self-discipline. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you would work on exercises with the different machines and items, still coached by Finn.

He also taught you the basic skills after you discussed your schedule. He taught you different stances, jabs, and tricks in the ring. Eventually, the exhaustion got to you, refusing to go through another round of Finn blocking your every jab.

“I didn’t need to know that about you.” You wipe the sweat off your brow, catching the bottled water from him.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me for a while and you won’t do any of the talking, so here we are.” He shrugged and rolled his shoulders. “You’re not bad for a first-time boxer, you’ll get good within time.” Finn catches the shine of your engagement ring for the first time, a look of surprise taking over his face. “Did blondie propose to you?”

“What?” You stand up straight and harden your look at the male in front of you.

“You have a ring on your finger.” He points out the obvious, tilting his head to the side.

You frown at the observation, “It’s not— He and I broke up before graduation.” Finn dropped his jaw in shock before shutting it back up when you glared. “During the Hunger Games, my father concocted a deal with the Creeds. So I’m stuck with Festus.” You spin the ring on your finger, hating the feeling. “He’s not horrible, but I just wish my father would let me be for once.” You shrug, reaching for a necklace that was missing. “But everything is about the Lovett appearance.”

Two more weeks passed since that conversation and you finally had the reins of boxing. It was a way to mentally recover from the pain Coriolanus and your father left you with. You also got closer to Finn during those two weeks. It was easy to get along with him when you ignored all his nosy inquiries. You learned that he had multiple little jobs, intriguing you in the best way possible. This led to you explaining — to a very pouty Finn — why you had to leave your session with him earlier.

“Okay, but you wanted to come in today. I asked you a week ago about this.” Finn walked by your side as you slung your gym bag over your shoulder.

“Yes, I know that.” You avoid the questioning looks from bystanders in the gym. “But I haven’t visited Tigris in forever, and I have to visit or she’ll come to my house. Unannounced. Again.”

Finn raises his brow, “You say that like it’s a bad thing your ex’s cousin wants to visit you.”

“Ha ha.” You push the door open, wind rushing through the sundress that you had in handy. “I already called earlier to tell her we were going to bake together and talk about what’s happening—“

“You should totally bring some of those pastries over for me tomorrow, sweets.” He leaned against the brick wall, waving at your driver as they were suddenly well acquainted over the past few weeks.

You narrow your eyes at the male, getting a toothy grin back. “Whatever, Finn. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave you a wave as you drove away toward the Snows’ new place. Tigris said that she would meet you at the front of the building, which caused you to delve into more confusion. Although you knew about their situation, you didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. According to the gossip being spread amongst the Capitol Elites, they were sent to live with a man named Pluribus, who apparently also knew about their poverty.

Even after all these years with the Snows, you still knew nothing much about that.

Your mind pretty much consisted of the same thoughts until — what you assumed was since Tigris was standing outside — their new place came into view. You traded your gym bag for your bag of goodies and ingredients for baking, thanking your driver before stepping out. Immediately, Tigris walked over to help you, giving you a small smile.

“I hope you’re up to make chocolate muffins. Grandma’am has been dying to have some.” The blonde guided you over to their flat, almost causing you to go into cardiac arrest when you saw the place. Even their old penthouse was better than this place.

For once, you and Coriolanus were alone in the Snow penthouse. Tigris was out for work late and Grandma’am was tending to her rooftop garden, which could take hours; not that the both of you were complaining. At first, you and Coriolanus were making a batch of cookies for his family. But it slowly became apparent that you both couldn’t focus on that task. Simply because Coriolanus was absolutely smitten with you.

You grinned into the kiss when Coriolanus pulled you up onto the wooden table, letting him slot himself in between your legs.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He squeezed your hip before nipping your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. “I don’t think I say that enough.”

You pull apart from him, slightly tugging at his blonde locks to get him to listen. “You say it a lot more than you think you do, Coryo.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He plants kisses on your neck, sucking softly on your sensitive spot — one he found a while ago and always used it against you.

You quietly shifted yourself against him, doing your best to stay still and hushed. “Coryo…”

“Mm?” He trailed his kisses lower, making you feel like your skin was on fire.

“I don’t think we should do this right now— Coriolanus!” You grip onto his back as—

“Coryo?” Tigris called out from the hall before freezing and whipping back around. “Never mind!”

You flush red at Tigris’ comment, quickly jumping off the creaking table and steadying yourself in Coriolanus’ arms. He quickly adjusted himself while you fixed his and your outfit.

“Beautiful—“

“Not a word.” You put a finger up to silence him, washing the dishes you used to make the cookies.

It was clear after that incident that you and Coriolanus were no longer allowed to be home alone anymore; Even if Grandma’am constantly questioned why.

You suddenly registered Grandma’am’s voice, causing you to blush at the memory that reappeared. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

The older woman shook her head, “You might have to ask Tigris about that mixture, sweetheart. I think she forgot a step in the muffin recipe.”

Glancing down at the bowl in your hands, you scrunch your nose at the lumps — thanking Grandma’am before carrying it over to where Tigris went to grab something.

“Tigris? I need your help with something. I don’t think I made this the right way.” You frown at the mixing bowl in your arms and show her. The lumps were following the rest of the batter down, making you grimace. When she didn’t answer, you glanced up at her, freezing when you met a pair of blue eyes that made your knees weak. You spun the ring on your finger, “Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know—“

“It’s just Coryo.” She gave you a sad smile, nodding when her cousin spoke to her.

You purse your lips and wander back into the kitchen, arms tighter around the mixing bowl. Not what you were expecting when you visited the Snow residence.

To say you came running to Finn’s place a week after your visit with no rhyme or reason was a lie. Where else could you go? You knew he was up at this hour, but he would question your motives for appearing at his house with no other explanation except for your needing to let off some steam.

“You come here in the middle of the night to what? Just brush up on some skills?” Finn blocked your punches, small grunts leaving his mouth at your intensity.

“Sure.” You sucker punch him in the stomach, causing him to recoil. All in all, you did come to polish up certain points in your boxing classes, but you couldn’t bear the weight of the news you received earlier — plus your small interaction with Coriolanus.

“A letter for you, Miss.” Em handed you the cream envelope, making you smile.

You thought Sejanus forgot about writing to you after weeks of zero contact. Swiftly, you peel the wax seal off and unfold the letter, eyes dragging across the perfect cursive.

That wasn’t Sejanus’ handwriting. You froze in horror at the last few sentences, your heart hammering against your chest. Sejanus was gone? No, he was fine when he last mailed you… Despite that being weeks ago. There was no way he was gone and taken away from the world.

“Miss?” Em called out to you, watching silent tears fall.

“Hey!” Phineas snapped his fingers in front of your dazed gaze. “What happened?”

“Sejanus is dead.” You choke out, finally letting the exhaustion and pain take over your body. You collapsed in his arms, sobs echoing through the gym. Gone was the numbness you succumbed to. The pain engulfs you like waves crashing down onto the sandy shoreline.

He stroked your hair — doing his best to soothe you. “I know, I know… You’ll be fine.” Finn continued to murmur small reassurances toward you, every so often checking in to make sure you were well enough to move up and out of the rink.

Eventually, you calmed down enough to stop the immense sobbing. But it didn’t stop the need for mourning and finding out the truth about Sejanus’ death.

“Hey, did we find information on the death?” You interrupt Finn’s rant about the bakery refusing him to give food out to the homeless and hungry.

He hummed, handing you the notebook. “According to some District Twelve officers, he was involved with rebels who then betrayed him to get back to the Capitol. But these could just be rumors, there’s no confirmation about anything.”

You quickly scan through the data Finn collected from the different sources, noting that they all had one thing in common. However, one officer reported something different. “Well we knew Sejanus was a rebel already, but what’s this about a peacekeeper betraying him and turning him into the Capitol authorities?”

Finn glanced at the page you were pointing at before shrugging, “That’s from a guy who’s always drunk during the weekends. Not a reliable source.”

“Then why write it?” You cock your head to the side with a lopsided grin.

“To make my job seem important, sweets.” He snatched the book from your hands and tossed it on the desk. “Besides, we have more pressing matters about this plan of yours now.”

“Are we confirming it was a rebel betrayal then?”

“Based on the information? Yes.”

Tapping your fingers on the cup of your hot chocolate, you bit your lip in thought. What did Finn say about the next rebel collision…? You shook your head and continued to write what your plans were for the rest of the week. You had to stop by the orphanage, visit the modiste for your dress fitting, and—

“Snow.” A barista called out in the cafe, causing you to snap your head up. Of course, you Tigris was here. She frequently visited this cafe with you this summer, so you scanned the store but ended up locking eyes with the only other Snow physically capable of making their way over to the cafe.

You watched his eyes flit down to your hand, causing you to tuck your hand underneath your planner and focus back on your planner.

When the fuck did Coriolanus come back from peacekeeping?

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