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ja3yun · 2 months

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Royal Sacrifice | S.JY

prince!jake x maid!fem reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, heartbreak, my attempt to write posh-ish, anti-monarchy vibes throughout, mentions of violence, petnames (my love, sweetheart), not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.1k synopsis: your secret relationship with prince jaeyun is all you could have dreamed of, however, you're rudely awakened when your lover tells you some devastating news.

part 2 a/n: surprise! you're all sick of me i know, but i wanted to post this before it sat in my drafts too long and i overthought to the point of never posting it </3 i changed up my writing style a little to fit the aesthetic of it all and idk if it worked but enjoy anyway! also, this is for the people asking me to post more jake <3

"Tonight demands nothing short of perfection from each and every one of you. Not a single mishap or slip-up will be tolerated. Should I catch so much as a hair or button out of place, rest assured, I will personally request your head." The Chamberlain's voice, firm and commanding, spreads through the grand corridor, her gaze penetrating the maids and footmen.

As she paced back and forth, the bright torch cast a soft glow against the polished marble floors, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into its surface. Each uniform was meticulously inspected, and every seam and crease was subjected to intense scrutiny. The weight of the impending event hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation.

Tonight, within the confines of the castle walls, the royals and social elite would congregate for the year's largest gala. It was an exhibit of greatness, with the chosen guests flaunting their rank and power.

For the last seven months, you have wandered the castle's hallways as an insignificant maid to the Royal family of Glengyre. Your hands were battered from hours of labour and your spirit dwindled to the hardships of the job, but you had to do it.

You weren’t exactly invited into the castle, in fact, you had snuck your way in through the war tunnels underneath and begged the head housekeeper, Miss Son, to place you on her team.

Being born into a working-class household, you were all too familiar with the misery of poverty. With your parents absent and your siblings relying on your meagre earnings from the bakery, you carried the burden of duty from an early age. Survival had been your main priority, with every move controlled by the never-ending search for food and security; this was the job you needed.

Once you convinced Miss Son to give you a position, you were mindful to keep a low profile, sticking to your duties and never causing trouble. You dare not even breathe too loud next to the monarchy, each of them vicious and gruel in their own ways.

Yet amidst the icy family, there existed one beacon of warmth and compassion - Prince Jaeyun, the only heir to the throne.

He was the kindest man you had ever met, his values and ideals so drastically different from his fathers; all he ever wanted was peace and equality for the kingdom of Glengyre. His opinions echoed your own, his vision for the kingdom a testament to his noble character.

Everyone adored him, captivated by those puppy dog eyes and his wide, wholesome smile. Jaeyun had a magnetic charm that drew people to him effortlessly.

And yet, amidst the throngs of admirers, he reserved his heart only for you.

Jaeyun was familiar with all the staff, each face and name etched into his memory. So, when you suddenly appeared to clean the Library, he took immediate notice of you.

“I don’t believe we have met,” Jaeyun bows his head slightly to you, causing confusion to spread over your face. Men of his status shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone show you this level of respect, “Has The Chamberlain begun to hire new staff for that god-awful ball already?” he chuckles.

You’re transfixed by his question and his beauty, it’s not every day a Prince speaks to you, let alone so casually.

With this being your first job at such a level, you don’t know what to do. Typically, all maids get training and lessons on how to approach any member of the Royal Court, however, due to the nature of your employment, that part was skipped.

Jaeyun raises a brow, “Miss, are you alright? You look dreadfully pale,” he shows concern for you, even when he has no need to.

Quickly, you bow, “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I-I have been here for a while. Perhaps I have just blended into the background,” you offer as an explanation.

“A woman as beautiful as you could never blend in with this dreary decor” he smiles, holding out his hand, “Can I push you for your name?”

He waits expectantly, his palm outstretched as it waits for you to place your delicate hand into his. You didn’t need training to know you should never touch a member of the Royal Family, so you stay stagnant.

Noticing your apprehension, Jaeyun smiles and reaches his hand down to grab yours. You don’t want to say you felt a spark as soon as his hand graced yours but between you both, you could easily power up the castle generators.

He feels it too, the pull you had on him has been cemented by this moment, “I’m Prince Jaeyun,” leaning down he kisses your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you as he does so.

The Prince is mesmerising.

“Y/N, Your Highness. My name is Y/N,” your voice is wavering as your body is shaken by his act. You aren’t scared of him, you’re just shocked by his kindness.

“Y/N…a name as breathtaking as its owner.”

Since that day, Jaeyun hasn’t left your side, his presence constant as he finds any excuse to be in the room you’re working in, his conversations tailored to draw out your thoughts and passions.

To him, your background was irrelevant; he saw the depth of your character and your mind's brilliance. Every exchange deepened his admiration for you, weaving an unbreakable bond between you both.

Secret notes and clandestine meetings became the norm, each encounter is a stolen moment of shared laughter and intimate conversation. Jaeyun was captivated by your wisdom and fascinated by your unique perspective on the world.

In your second month at the castle, on the moonlit balcony of his bed chambers, he kissed you, declaring his love for you in the same breath. From that moment on, he was not just a prince but your prince, devoted entirely to you.

The Chamberlain gives you all one final check before sending you out, her excitement palpable as she practically squeals, "Places everyone, this is a big night!"

As far as you and the rest of your team are concerned, tonight is just another ball, one hosted nearly every month. But The Chamberlain's demeanour suggests otherwise - someone vastly important must be attending. The air crackles with anticipation, and whispers ripple through the servant ranks, speculating on the identity of the esteemed guest.

As you all fall into line at the entrance, you wait for the party to begin.

The sight of everyone's extravagant gowns and suits is awe-inspiring. Each guest seems to sparkle, adorned in riches that could feed your family for years. It serves as a striking reminder of the kingdom's vast disparities. Meanwhile, the servants stand in their modest uniforms, hardly visible amid the sea of finery.

It irks you to know that these people, who all have some power in ruling your home, could not care less about the people within it.

“You two, come with me,” The Chamberlain beckons you and the girl beside you to follow her, snapping her fingers as she hurries you along to the kitchen.

With little instruction, she thrusts a tray full of champagne into your hands. “Once empty, you come right back. I do not want to see one moment where you are not serving some form of beverage. Understood?”

“Yes, Madam Chamberlain,” you both say in unison as you bow and make your way to the Great Hall. The palace is now teeming with people from all corners of the kingdom, the room resonating with laughter and chatter. You'd find it enjoyable if you deemed any of these people tolerable. Drinks disappear and reappear from your silver tray, and not a single word of gratitude is uttered.

Finally, the Royal family enters the hall, with the King standing strongly at the front and his Queen elegantly alongside him, their presence commanding attention as they survey the gathering with royal poise, looking for the most important person in the room beside themselves.

However, Jaeyun is not like the others. Amidst the pomp and its beauty, his sight is drawn to a person considerably less notable.

In an instant, his attention falls on you, a delicate smile gracing his lips as he lifts his brow in discrete acknowledgement, a silent greeting in a noisy environment. The difficulties of being in a secret relationship with someone so far above your social status weigh hard; even in the same area, being seen with Jaeyun is a luxury you cannot afford.

Excusing himself from his family, he greets people on his way over to you, captivating the whole room as he does so. To everyone else, he appears to be merely working the room, exchanging pleasantries with ease, but you, standing in quiet anticipation, know better.

In that moment, it's as if the entire hall fades away, leaving only you and Jaeyun in your own private world. He moves closer, each step filled with purpose, each smile and gesture meant only for you.

As he approaches, his every move exudes royalty. It’s impossible to deny that Jaeyun was born to be king.

"Can I take one of these to lighten your workload?” Jaeyun asks with a playful glint in his eyes, already reaching for a flute of champagne.

You dip your head in a respectful curtsy, mindful not to spill the drinks as you balance the tray precariously. Miss Son's strict instructions echo in your mind - no engaging with royalty at events, let your body speak for your tongue.

But sometimes, Jaeyun takes that directive too literally.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jaeyun says, his voice low and intimate. You hear a collective sigh from some nearby girls, their attention momentarily diverted from their own conversations to admire the Prince and his effortless charm.

Walking to stand next to you, his arm brushes yours as he looks in the opposite direction to you, he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “Should I tell them I’m happily taken or would you like to put them in their place after hours?” his tone is laced with playful mischief.

“I would much rather occupy my time after hours with someone else,” you reply with a smirk, keeping your head facing forward to maintain composure.

You can't see it, but you feel the shift in Jaeyun's expression, a flicker of excitement, a hint of anticipation. His eyes dart briefly to yours, a silent exchange of mischief passing between you.

“Well, tell him he’s the luckiest man in the world,” Jaeyun responds, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doesn’t he already know that?” you retort, a lively glint dancing in your eyes.

Jaeyun's hand lightly grazes your back, “Believe me, he will never forget,” he says wistfully as he turns away, seamlessly slipping back into his role of mingling with the guests. The lingering warmth of his touch leaves you breathless, your heart pounding with excitement at the thought that despite the separation now, he will be tangled in your body and soul later on.

The rowdy girls behind you giggle, their voices rising over the bustle of the hall as they discuss the Prince's past escapades with their cousins and sisters, whispering about how they hope they could spend just one night with him.

Jaeyun's reputation spread beyond the castle gates. He was renowned as a charming playboy, a Casanova whose dalliances sparked chatter across the kingdom. Every week, a new maiden appeared, talking about their alleged "hot affair" with the heir. It was enough to make anyone apprehensive, and you were no different. You maintained your guard up at first, rejecting his advances, refusing to become just another conquest in his succession of women.

But the more you spoke with him, as you shared moments and secrets in the quiet corners of the palace, you came to realise that the instant flurry of admiration you felt was not one-sided. Jaeyun's heart beats for you and you alone.

You discovered in him a love that went beyond gossip and whispers, a love based on trust and understanding. With that realisation, your reservations vanished, replaced by a deep assurance that Jaeyun was yours, and you were his, now and forever - or for as long as you could keep this illicit affair going.

The bell sounds, its loud chime cutting through the murmurs and whispers of the gathered guests, signalling you and the others to proceed to the main door of the castle.

"May I please introduce King James and Queen Elizabeth of the Lethamhill Kingdom, and their daughter, Princess Mia," the Master of Ceremonies declares, his voice full of power.

The announcement strikes like a thunderbolt, bringing the audience to a profound silence. Nobody had expected the arrival of the Royals of Lethamhill and the astonishment is evident as you look around to see a sea of stunned faces. Whispers spread like wildfire across the crowd as each visitor grapples with the implications of this unexpected situation.

Lethamhill and Glengyre are currently involved in delicate discussions about the possible unification of the kingdoms, a topic of enormous political importance. According to what Jaeyun has told you, these conversations have been stressful, with no definite agreement reached so far. The presence of the Lethamhill Royals at this gathering signifies a historic point between the two kingdoms.

The struggle between the two kingdoms has caused irreparable destruction, including starvation, poverty, sickness, and a staggering loss of life. It would take something genuinely extraordinary for both parties to put aside their differences and work together in peace.

Your eyes meet Jaeyun’s across the room, and you can see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his composed facade at the sudden intrusion. Yet, even as anger flashes in his eyes, you can sense the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

No one knows quite how to react to this unexpected turn of events, each guest grappling with their own thoughts and fears as they await the next move from the Lethamhills.

“Please, do not stop on our account, continue the festivities,” King James proclaims, his voice carrying a jovial tone, a vibrant smile gracing his features.

As the party continues and dinner is served, guests settle into their assigned seats, laughter and conversation filling the air as they merrily drink the castle dry. Surprisingly, the presence of the Lethamhill Royals doesn't disrupt the flow of the event, instead, it seems to enhance it. Many see this as a reconciliation party now, eagerly awaiting the announcement that could potentially solidify peace between the two kingdoms.

Your role for the evening is clear: shut up and stand to the side, only interacting if called upon. It's undoubtedly the most tedious part of the night. Being on your feet for hours on end, catering to the whims of the guests is exhausting enough but enduring the occasional push or intentional spillage of drinks on your uniform from some of the more unruly guests adds insult to injury.

The other worst part of the evening was the sight of Princess Mia draped all over your lover, her hands roaming possessively over his chest and arms as if they were hers to claim. Each touch felt like a dagger to your heart, stirring a tumultuous mix of jealousy and hurt within you.

Jaeyun attempted to gently remove her, pushing her away with as much politeness as he could but she stubbornly refused to listen. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to you with a sympathy, silently communicating his regret at the situation and how you must be feeling. He would never wish for you to be hurt.

Telepathically, you reassure him that it's okay, that you understand and trust him implicitly. After all, it's not his fault that another woman - a tall, beautiful, rich, and powerful woman at that - feels entitled to touch him. His efforts to remove himself from the situation already speak volumes, and you take some solace in his unwavering loyalty.

But despite your attempts to rationalise, the bitterness lingers, a bitter pill that's difficult to swallow.

Standing on the sidelines affords you the opportunity to observe the dynamics of the entire top table, not just Jaeyun. The Kings engage in whispered conversations and the Queens gossip amongst themselves. It's as if no blood had ever been shed between their kingdoms.

The casual camaraderie displayed by those responsible for the devastating conflicts between their kingdoms makes you sick to your stomach. How can they be so chummy, so nonchalant, when their irresponsible fighting has caused so much pain and suffering to countless lives? It's a reminder of the callousness of those in power, their indifference to the consequences of their actions leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Suddenly, you see your King rise and tap Jaeyun on the shoulder, ushering him into an undisclosed location. The urgency of the gesture sends a ripple of apprehension through you, and you can only presume that he is finally letting Jaeyun in on the reason for the Lethamhills' unexpected presence.

“Why do you suppose they are here, Y/N?” Heejin, the girl to your right, asks in a hushed breath, her voice tinged with concern.

“I can’t say for certain, but I fear it won’t be for the champagne and escalope,” you reply, turning to face her, your expression mirroring her worry.

And when Jaeyun re-enters the hall, you know that your apprehension was not unfounded. His face is devoid of the charismatic expression he had worn for most of the night.

The king wears a stern expression, clearly unamused with whatever his son has to say in rebuttal to his conversation.

Something is deeply wrong

You scream at him with your eyes, silently urging him to look at you, but he doesn't, his gaze fixed straight ahead. It's clear that whatever transpired in that conversation has deeply unsettled him, and you ache to know what happened.

“Excuse me, Miss Son, but may I please go to the lavatory?” you ask your head maid, hoping to slip away unnoticed. Her disdainful scoff is the only response, urging you to return quickly.

With a bow of gratitude, you glide towards the exit, silently willing Jaeyun to notice your movements and follow you. Your eyes briefly meet his, and he nods, understanding your need for a private conversation.

You arrive at your usual secret spot - the Council Chamber - a place where every decision is made and policies are signed. It's a room steeped in history and power, but also secrecy and intimacy. Old men come here to dictate the fate of the kingdom they supposedly love.

Jaeyun recommended this particular room as a defiant ‘fuck you’ against societal norms of hierarchy and privilege. It's ironic, considering he's made love to you on every surface of the place, turning his statement from metaphorical to literal.

Tracing your fingers over the spine of the old book laid on the desk, the door swings open suddenly, causing your heart to race with surprise. You quickly straighten up, trying to compose yourself as Jaeyun strides into the room.

“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asks softly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he approaches you.

You shake your head, “No, not at all,” you say trying to ease yourself, straightening your uniform and brushing the dust off your front. He always laughed when you tidied yourself for his presence, a habit when you’re faced with Royalty. You’re hardly unacquainted, the portraits hanging on the room walls can testify to that.

Finally reaching you, Jaeyun's hands find their way to your hips as he traps you between him and the oak desk. His eyes glance behind you to see what you were looking at, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Ah, the old laws that have kept this country from falling apart. To be lived and breathed by,” Jaeyun's voice carries a mix of sarcasm and despair.

“Laws that keep the rich rich and the poor poor,” you respond bitterly, your thoughts drifting back to your family and friends struggling back home.

Jaeyun's hands move up to your back, offering a reassuring rub. “I hate it too, Y/N,” he admits, his heart heavy with the weight of his people's suffering under his father's rule. He hugs you tighter, a silent reassurance of his solidarity and commitment to change, commitment to you.

Leaning back, he strokes your face adoringly with his middle finger, “You look so delicate tonight,” his voice conveying his love for you. Even dressed in rags, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

“More delicate than Princess Mia?” You don’t mean it to come across as bitter, yet, it does.

Jaeyun shakes his head disapprovingly, a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes, “My darling love, are you jealous?”

“She is ravishing,” you reply. Princess Mia is everything you are not, it wouldn’t be misplaced for you to be slightly envious of her. You know the Princess could have anyone she desires, and if circumstances were different in which Jaeyun wasn’t hopelessly in love with you, she could probably have him too. That information would unsettle any lover to know.

Jaeyun places a feather-light kiss on your forehead, “She doesn’t hold a flame to your light, Y/N,” he says with such genuine love that you might believe him if you weren’t clad in a spilt-on uniform and tired eyes that reflect the brutality of being a measly servant.

But Jaeyun would never see you that way.

His lips swoop down to yours, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss, planting his deal of assurance on your lips. The way his mouth is melting into your own is enough to make your knees lose their strength. Jaeyun’s thumb rubs your hips tenderly as he deepens the kiss, trying to make the taste of you last the rest of the night.

Pulling back for a breath, you recollect yourself, smiling at him happily but as you gaze into his eyes you see something sorrowful hiding behind him. It wasn’t until this moment you forgot why you even snuck away to see him in the first place.

“The King seemed displeased,” you state the obvious, hoping he will enlighten you somewhat to the reason for the private discussion.

“He is an idiot, nothing more,” he spits back, eyes avoiding yours as if he’s scared of you suddenly. You have never seen him so angry yet sullen.

Reaching your cold palm to his warm cheek, you begin to pry further, “Jaeyun-”

Your query is cut short by his lips once again enveloping yours, the intensity of his kiss a silent plea for you to cease your questioning. It's unlike Jaeyun to keep secrets from you; usually, even the most classified information finds its way past his lips and into your ears. So naturally, his reluctance to share the details of his conversation with the King sets off alarm bells in your mind.

But as his touches grow more insistent, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your neck and his fingers daringly inching up your skirt, your thoughts become increasingly muddled. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You hate that he won’t confide in you, that he's keeping you in the dark about something so significant. Yet, at this moment, you find yourself unable - and unwilling - to complain. Not when every touch, every caress, sends sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

“Jaeyun, I don’t have time,” you manage to groan out amidst a wave of pleasure, the urgency of the situation gnawing at the back of your mind. Miss Son could come looking for you at any moment, and you've already pushed your luck by leaving your duties unattended. There's simply no way you can disappear for long enough to satisfy Jaeyun's desires.

But he seems determined to ignore your protests, his fervour only intensifying as he continues to explore every inch of your body. In this stolen moment of passion, time seems to stand still, the outside world fading into insignificance as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of your forbidden.

With each caress, each whispered endearment, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his affection.

But as much as you crave the blissfulness of his embrace, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the consequences of your actions. You can't afford to be caught in such a compromising position, not when the stakes are so high and the dangers so real. Just down the hallway is a room full of people who would kill either of you for this affair.

"Jaeyun, we can't," you finally manage to gasp out, your voice tinged with desperation as you push against his chest, trying to put some distance between you. "Someone could walk in at any moment."

For a fleeting moment, Jaeyun's passion seems to falter, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. But then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

"I don't care," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever."

The tone of his voice dings your attention, it’s pleading and needy which would be normal if his words didn’t waver, lip quivering slightly. The conversation with his father had affected him more than you know, and he dared not confess what it was regarding.

With a sense of urgency in his veins, Jaeyun hoists you onto the desk, his hands promptly pushing your skirt up and yanking down your underwear, revealing your core to him in all its delicious glory. His breath stops in his throat at the sight, and his need for you becomes stronger than ever.

He licks his lips hungrily, wishing he could taste you, savouring the wetness that gleams between your thighs like morning dew. He wants to drink you in and lose himself in your folds.

But time is not on his side, he knows this, nonetheless, the throbbing between his thighs, the thumping want for release, is too strong to ignore. He was so desperate for you to suck in his cock with your heat, he didn’t think he had the restraint to wait for it any longer.

His need for you is mirrored in your face and body as you edge yourself closer to the end of the desk, spreading your legs as he undoes his ivory dress trousers and lets his shaft spring free of its constraint.

“Can I please?” he asks softly but with urgency, the tip of his member already primed to enter you, the question just a matter of formality at this point.

“Please, Jaeyun, have me,” you whisper into his mouth and with a low groan of need, Jaeyun surrenders to his instincts, his desire overwhelming as he slips inside you with effortless ease. No matter how many times he makes love to you, the sensation of being so intimately connected to you never fails to amaze him. It's as if you were made perfectly for each other, two souls destined to intertwine. He thanks God every day for bringing you to his side.

His thrusts are pointed, to make this quick while also giving you both the release you desperately needed. Your tight pussy grasps every inch of him deliciously, accommodating his size yet giving him just enough resistance to squeeze the tip of his cock.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, you anchor yourself to him as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. You moan loudly through your bitten lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet; he was pounding into you so good you just can’t help the noises leaving your mouth, completely rending you dumb to his touch.

The sound of your gasps and mewls fills the air, a symphony of pleasure that drives Jaeyun wild with desire. Each cry, each whimper, only serves to fuel his drive, pushing him further into the depths of ecstasy as he loses himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together as one.

Arching your back leaves the nape of your neck exposed, inviting Jaeyun to sink into it with his teeth, easily leaving a red mark. It’s the first time he has ever done something like this, to leave physical marks on your body that aren’t the bruises from his tight grip; those were easy to hide, but this one wouldn’t be.

“Ah, Jaeyun, what are you doing?” your bated breath whisps past his ear yet he doesn’t hear you, lost in the feeling of fucking you silly. He sucks and licks at the base of your throat, possessed by his need to claim you as his.

“My love,” he brings his face up to lock your eyes together once more, his cock hammering into you still with force, “Tell me you'll be mine forever," he begs, his words hanging in the air between you like an urgent vow. The intensity of his stare and the sheer emotion in his speech leave you breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you try to find the words to answer.

Tears fill his lashline, and his eyes are unexpectedly vulnerable. In that moment, you can see the depth of his love for you and also his sudden fear that he might lose you. The sudden change in emotion takes you by surprise, your Jaeyun who is usually confident and strong in moments like this is now yearning for confirmation of your love.

"Yes, Jaeyun," you say, your voice barely audible as you completely yield to him, "I'll be yours forever,” It’s a truthful answer, the only one who you can see yourself being with for the rest of your life, long or short, is him. Your Prince Jaeyun.

He shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, seemingly shaking his internal thoughts out of his brain to make way for your reassuring ones. “I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t…I won’t,” he rambles, the rhythm of his thrusts depleting, signifying that he’s close to the edge.

To distract him from his inner monologue, you cradle his face, kissing all over his lips and cheeks. If you can do one thing for him, it’s to instil in him the fact that you will always be his love, until death do you part.

“Y/N, my sweet love,” he whispers sadly, “Don’t let me go,” his plea is muffled by his lips kissing your palms.

You have no idea what could cause this sudden cast of doubt in his mind.

Jaeyun’s right hand moves to your sensitive nub, circling it with his thumb as he tries to coax you to completion. His hips buck sloppily, overwhelmed with the raw emotion and need to cum inside of you.

The bubbling heat between your tummy and pussy consumes you, the climax Jaeyun has worked so hard out of you finally spilling over his shaft and down yourself. Your legs shake violently as he continues to rub your clit in earnest.

The way your body contracts and walls clench around him also sends him to the brink, his seed filling you up quickly, each spurt dripping down your canal and onto your inner garments. The Prince keeps himself stuffed inside you as he pants, unsure of when he will finally be done.

Resting his head on your shoulder, he breathes out softly, trying to calm his panting and heart rate down. He knows he shouldn’t have asked you to stay with him forever, to promise to love him for eternity, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to hear it almost more than he needed to find his release.

With a final kiss on your lips, he removes himself from you, retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket to catch the cum falling from you. While he does so, you can see his mind shouting so loud you could almost hear it, or maybe it was just because you are both so attuned to one another.

You have to find out what is happening and why he is acting so strangely.

As Jaeyun tucks himself back in and discards his handkerchief, you watch him closely, your heart heavy with concern. There's a weight in the air, a silent tension that hangs between you like a thick fog, and you can't help but feel the ache of his unspoken fears.

Jumping off the desk, you fix your underwear and approach him slowly, your movements deliberate as you reach out to straighten his jacket. Your touch is gentle, “Please, Jaeyun,” you implore softly, your voice barely a whisper as you search his eyes for answers, "Let me in. What are your worries?"

But Jaeyun remains silent, his gaze averted as he avoids your questioning eyes. You can see the pain etched into every line of his face, the fear and uncertainty that threaten to consume him whole. And yet, he can't bring himself to speak the words that weigh so heavily on his soul, scared that if he does. It’ll all be too real.

You can sense his hesitation, his reluctance to confront the truth that lies buried deep within him. But you refuse to give up, determined to stand by his side no matter what challenges may come your way.

Gently, you place a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet yours as you speak from the depths of your heart. "Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice filled with love and understanding. "You don't have to face this alone. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. I promise."

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” he begins, voice trembling, “the King has put me in a predicament I cannot get out of,” he leans into your touch, craving your comfort.

Tilting your head, you stroke your thumb over the flushed apple of his cheeks, “What are you talking about?” you ask nervously.

Swallowing the thickness of his turmoil, he speaks lowly, “He has arranged my marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill.”

As Jaeyun reveals the truth of his arranged marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill, a heavy silence descends upon the room. Your heart sinks at the revelation, a knot of pain and disappointment tightening in your chest. This isn't the news you wanted to hear, the realisation crashing down on you like a wave of icy water.

"Oh..." The word escapes your lips, your mind reeling with the implications of Jaeyun's confession. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that your secret love is soon belong to another, bound by duty and obligation.

Retracting your hand from his face, you take a step back, the distance between you a painful reminder of the barriers between you. But before you can retreat any further, Jaeyun reaches out to stop you, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

“My beautiful girl, I told him no,” he implores desperately, hoping you don’t think that he didn’t fight against this preposterous idea, “How could I ever marry her when my true love is already by my side?”

His words offer you a sense of relief, however, you know the King wouldn’t let him away with a simple ‘no’ in regards to this marriage, “I surmise he did not take it well?”

"Of course, he didn't," Jaeyun's voice is bitter and cold, his body tensing as he recalls the conversation with his father. "If I do not marry her, the proposed treaty between our kingdoms will be broken, and there will be conflict."

He was the glue to bond the kingdoms, it was all on him to marry this woman he didn’t know in the name of unification. He is being used as a pawn in this game of power and manipulation and it makes you wonder whether Princess Mia is also going through the same distress, although, with how she was groping Jaeyun earlier, you doubt it.

“A conflict, you mean a war?” you dare ask.

He nods shallowly, remorse etched in his features, “And our King has made it perfectly clear that I will be on the front line.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, the pain of it like a dagger to your chest. How could the King do this to Jaeyun, to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb in a game of politics and manipulation? It's cruel, it's unjust, and it's utterly heartbreaking.

"Your father cannot do that," you say slowly, your mind reeling with the enormity of the situation. "It's... it's unthinkable."

But Jaeyun shakes his head, his expression filled with bitterness and resentment. "That man is no father of mine," he declares, his voice filled with anger and defiance.

Opposite to his anger is your sadness, eyes leaking salty tears at the thought of losing your love. No matter the choice Jaeyun makes, he will never be yours. That is something you should have known from the beginning of your relationship.

You and him can never live in love or peace, it will always end in heartache and loss.

The Prince sees your sobs and pulls you in, circling his arms around you tightly, “My love, please don’t shed tears, I hate to see you cry like this.” he mutters into your hair, kissing the crown of your head gently.

But how could you not cry? You’ve just in this instant lost the love of your life.

The room is so silent all you can hear is the raucous laughter and music echoing from the grand hall. It gives you the opportunity to think about how the war would pause all laughter for every citizen of Glengyre, how the only sound you will hear is guns and screams of those desperately seeking escape and safety. You cannot allow that to happen.

“Marry her.”

“Excuse me?” Jaeyun pulls away, disgusted that you would even dream of proposing such an idea. He was yours and only yours, he wouldn’t even dream of lying with another.

You know that you must make him see reason, that there may be no other choice if you are to prevent the looming catastrophe that threatens to tear your world apart.

"It is the only noble thing to do, Jaeyun," you insist, your voice trembling with emotion, "We cannot allow our love to stand in the way of peace, of saving those people from the horrors of war. If marrying Princess Mia is what it takes to prevent bloodshed, then it is a sacrifice we must make.”

He doesn’t register your words, only hearing his heartbreak at the thought of you not being by his side, “But I will lose you, it will be impossible to be together if I marry her,” he begs you with his eyes to change your mind.

“You will lose me either way, Jaeyun,” you release yourself from his grasp, taking a step back to create the inevitable distance that is about to become your reality, “The people of this kingdom need you, Jaeyun. You are the only one that can make a difference to those less fortunate,” you begin, your eyes locked onto him as you portray the seriousness of your words, “If you go to war then there is a certainty you will die and you are no use to the cause of change if you are dead.”

The words get stuck in your throat, the idea of uttering such horror makes you feel sick to your stomach but the lives of hundreds must take priority over your love, no matter how painful.

"But-" he begins, his voice tinged with desperation.

"You cannot be selfish, Jaeyun," you interrupt firmly, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes. "I couldn't look at you the same if you sacrificed the welfare of our people for the sake of our love."

The truth of your words lands heavily between you, a painful reminder of the sacrifices that must be made in the name of duty and honour. And though your heart may ache with the prospect of losing him, you know that it is a sacrifice you must be willing to make.

Jaeyun ponders your words, recognising that you are correct: his people are his primary concern. He wishes he could do more to keep your relationship alive, to make you his Queen. As he stands before you, staring at you with loving eyes, he wishes you were the ruler of Glengyre, for your qualities and ideals already shine as if you are.

Suddenly, the bellow of your name echoes the castle halls, Miss Son shouting erratically to find you. It brings Jaeyun to realise that his fantasies of you being his queen are just that - fantasies.

Clasping your face in his big hands, he shakes his head, signifying his defiance to the idea but succumbing to his duties, accepting this fate, “I will always love you, and I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Even if it’s in another lifetime,” he whispers the words onto your face, sealing them with a final kiss, his tongue now craving to remember you for a lifetime, rather than just a night.

You curtly nod, trying to bottle the emotions you are feeling, scared that if even one drop overflows, you will take back everything you have just said, sacrificing the people you love for the man you love. You could never win in this situation, and neither could Jaeyun.

“I love you too, my sweetheart,” you confess for the last time.

Miss Son’s footprints are right outside the door, putting your own feet into action as you leave Jaeyun to return to your post as a maid, the delusions that you could ever be with Jaeyun for a lifetime are crumbling away with each patter of your feet on the marble floor.

“Ah, there you are! What on earth are you doing in the Council Chamber?” she shouts at you while still being mindful of the guests only a hallway away.

You bow, offering no explanation and slip back into your role, smoothing yourself down to seem presentable. The togetherness of your exterior is the complete opposite of the shattering of your interior, your heart shattered in fragments as you stand back, overlooking the people you made an eternal sacrifice for. And none of them would ever care. The promise you made to love Jaeyun forever is the only peace of your heart left in place.

Jaeyun comes back into the hall a few moments later, poised and stoic, the only change in his face is when he looks at his father with an angry glare and a nod to follow, much to the delight of the King.

Abruptly, the King stands, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed guests. I have some exciting news to share!”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen angst #enha angst #enhypen fluff #jake smut #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes

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thatrandomblogsays · 5 months

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Me: *reading a post that makes the joke “Peeta dropped the baby bomb, Gale drops bombs on babies”* haha good one

Also me: you’re missing the point! You’re missing the point! YOURE MISSING THE POINT! He grew up starving. His best friend almost died of hunger. Most of his people live in poverty. He watched children die in a bloodbath every year for the capital’s entertainment. The girl he loved went into the games. Was tortured by the capitol. His district was bombed out of existence. Nearly everyone he knew was killed. Their only crime was being fed up of being hungry and oppressed and sharing the same district as Katniss. All those innocent people. Murdered. He had to take refuge in a district that was bombed out of existence and forced to live underground. Of course he joined the war effort. Of course he designed unethical bombs and battle tactics. He wanted revenge. He wanted the capitol to have a taste of their own medicine. He wanted the rebellion to succeed. And tell me you could live through what he did, and that no part of you would be screaming for Justice and vengeance. Gale is you. You are Gale. He represents a part of feelings and actions that reside within us, even if you don’t act on it.

“But he killed prim!” Exactly! Gale loved prim. She was a second family to her. He looked after Katniss’ family. He saved them from the district 12 bombings. He loved her. He never would’ve put her in danger. He never would’ve put in order for a bombing if it would kill Prim. But coin would. And did. She took what was meant to be a tool of Gale’s righteous revenge for all the suffering he and his people suffered through, only for someone in power to take it and use it to kill someone he loved.

There’s some many lessons to take. We can’t control the things we create. War spares no one. Even justifiable rage and actions can end up rebounding and hurting those you love instead of your targets.

“He drops bombs on babies” is too simplistic of a takeaway and does a disservice to the story and Gale.

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doberbutts · 3 months

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Recently Youtube's algorithm really wants me to watch Schindler's List and I never had so the other night I sat down and actually watched it.

Having a lot of thoughts about it but a major one I keep coming back to is how even an immensely and deeply flawed human being can go against "just following orders" and instead put in the work to actually help.

It may never be fully enough. It may never save as many as you'd hoped. But when you have a choice to either follow orders or save your fellow humans in front of you, I hope you choose the latter.

Schindler died in poverty. He was not a renown war hero nor was he at all famous or widely beloved. But he saw that he could help, even in some small way, and so he helped.

He was a Nazi who saw what the Nazis were doing to Jews and said no more. Enough. If I can even spare those under my charge, maybe a few extras, then at least I will have tried to do something about this.

I think a lot of people do not fancy this type of activism. It is messy, dangerous, and often completely thankless. Schindler survived as long as he did after the war due to those he saved helping him with donations. He was not popular in his hometown due to his association with Nazis, he was not popular in Germany, he was not popular in Argentina. His businesses all failed. His wife left him. A movie about his deeds was released several years after his death, where he would receive none of the benefits. He went to prison multiple times for simply refusing to hate Jews.

I think a lot of people like to think they're activists, but are sorely unprepared for doing this type of work, and then in truth become activists in name only. This is hard work. But without him, another thousand or so people would be on that death toll.

He took his position of extreme power- a Nazi owning a factory almost entirely operated by Jews, making oodles of money off that cheap slave labor- and said you know what? No. I'm not doing that. I can't save everyone, but as long as they are within my factory, you will not kill my workers. As long as I'm here you aren't harming one hair on the head of any Jew under my care. You're not sending or keeping them in Auschwitz. You're not randomly executing them for entertainment. They're people. You're not murdering them.

"Just following orders" they say. But they didn't have to. They could have helped. They could have did what he did, look around and say "what the fuck am I doing here", and stop. He did. They could have. They didn't.

#I think it's also intereating that he did not do it out of compassion at first #he did it because it was smart capitalism #jewish labor was super cheap and they were desperate to be considered fit to work because otherwise execution was waiting for them #only after the cleansing of the ghetto did he say whoa okay holy shit yeah no I'm not doing this anymore #that's also true of the real man the movie is about #I also think it's interesting that not everyone he saved thinks he was a good person #but even still despite his flaws they respect and admire what he did for them #his motives were not always pure #but the fact of the matter is that when he saw what was happening he chose to act against it #he did not shrug and saw welp orders are orders #nor did he succumb to hopelessness when it became difficult to keep up what he was doing

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yourtongzhihazel · 26 days

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why do you support china

TL;DR,

As the daughter of a family of peasants on both sides, I would simply not exist if it was not for Mao Zedong and the communist party. My grandfather on my mom's side was the only person in his village to attend high school. My maternal grandparents became PLA medics then full on doctors. My grandfather on my dad's side was illiterate until the 50s, after which time, he became a local librarian. Every single senior citizen in the PRC has stories of the horror, war, death, starvation, poverty that Chinese people suffered for centuries, amplified by the century of humiliation. There's not a single farmer left in my family. They are artists. Teachers. Engineers. Physicists. Musicians. Doctors. Programmers. The oldest pictures in my family's collection are a set of prints from the 60's, after cameras came to the peasantry. In my very own lifetime, I saw Pudong, on the east bank of the Huangpu river which splits Shanghai in two, go from just the Oriental Pearl and a collection of buildings to the skyscraper metropolis it is today. When I was born, there was not a single kilometer of true HSR. In 22 years, they have built 45,000 kilometers of HSR, a number which is still growing. In 2021, the PRC completed the historical task of eliminating extreme poverty in the entire country. There are millions of families like mine living in the PRC, from Urumqi to Harbin.

In 1991, the Soviet Union was illegally and forcefully dismantled, a process which culminated in the constitutional crisis of 1993. Similar processes of primitive accumulation occurred in former Eastern Block countries, from East Germany to Bulgaria. State assets were stolen for cents on the dollar. Quality of life, especially average lifespan, dropped significantly and so dramatically that it took former Soviet countries 3 decades or more just to recover to pre-dissolution numbers; some still haven't. Pensioners lost their pensions and were forced to sell scrap and empty bottles just to survive. Those who had state jobs were laid off. Social welfare programs were cut back or eliminated entirely. Children were forced into prostitution or trafficked. Now the constituent republics which made up the USSR engage in petty regional wars to the detriment of all of their citizens. The Soviet Union was a country just shy of 300 million people. Over 1.4 BILLION people live in the PRC right now. Economic shock therapy of which the former USSR went through would be an unmitigated humanitarian disaster on a scale perhaps never seen on the planet.

The Communist Party of China has brought about unimaginable good to Chinese people. It took a backwaters, "sick man of Asia" and turned it into the 2nd strongest nation currently on the planet all within a single lifespan. The PRC is the most successful socialist project still around and should be a magnificent source of lessons to learn from, both the good and the bad. However, this is not to say the the PRC should be emulated or copied. Rather, communists should analyze their own material conditions and class make up and apply the lessons of the PRC as they see fit for their own countries.

#mmp #Hazel's press releases

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wilwheaton · 8 months

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Frederick Douglass, who was born into Southern slavery, described the South as “a little nation by itself, having its own language, its own rules, regulations, and customs.” Fewer than 2000 families — six-tenths of one percent of the Southern population — owned more than 50 enslaved people and ruled the oligarchy that we call the Confederacy with an iron fist. The 75 percent of white people in the South during that era who did not own any enslaved persons generally lived in deep poverty. Women had no rights, queer people were routinely tortured and murdered, education for both enslaved Africans and poor whites was generally outlawed, religious attendance was often mandated, and hunger and disease stalked all but those in the families of the two thousand morbidly rich planter dynasties. Modern-day Red states are doing their best to recreate that old Confederacy, right down to state Senator Kathy Chism’s new effort to return the Confederate battle flag to Mississippi's state flag. Ron DeSantis and Mike Pence have both emphasized their presidential pledges to restore the names of murderous Civil War traitors to American military bases, celebrating their armed defense of the “values” of the Old South. Today’s version of yesteryear’s plantation owners are called CEOs, hedge and vulture fund managers, and the morbidly rich. They use the power of political bribery given them by five corrupt Republicans on the Supreme Court — with Clarence Thomas’ tie-breaking Citizens United vote on behalf of his sugar daddy Harlan Crow — to lord over their Red states, regardless of the will of those states’ citizens.

Why are red state 'welfare queen' oligarchs allowed to mooch off of blue states?

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wajjs · 12 days

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Argentina has THE BEST public University of the entire south american region. Our current disaster of a president decided to reduce funding on said University. Now we don't know if all the colleges will be able to stay open after this first semester.

The college of Medicine can only remain open this semester by closing down lifts (it has 16+ floors), turning off any kind of heating (we're entering winter season) and turning off most artificial lights.

Students have to walk in semi-darkness to get to their classrooms. Access to classrooms is already limited because of the lifts being closed down and only people in wheelchairs will be allowed to use them. If you have any other kind of disability, well, tough luck.

And this is just the college of Medicine. This is just the tip of the iceberg, the first bit of news in regards to our University that is surfacing after this disgrace of a president declared war on intellectuals and the arts.

Yet you have fanatics consumed by hatred who say this is okay. They celebrate poverty, but they also punish it. If you're poor, you don't deserve education. If you're poor, you don't deserve access to the arts. If you're poor, you don't deserve anything. Your whole life should be dedicated to working so that maybe one day you will stop being poor. You won't ever stop being poor because the system is rigged against you, but you should sacrifice your whole life to try and not be poor anyway.

These fanatics celebrate suffering, not realizing they're screwing themselves up, too.

I'm sad for my own country. I want to say that I want to leave. But even when everything is being systematically broken down and destroyed, I want to stay. There IS beauty here. There IS hope.

But first and foremost:

Con la UBA ayer, hoy, y siempre.

#blob post #argentina #argentina politics #argieposting #argblr #anti milei #politics #international politics #> for the usa folks

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holybibly · 2 months

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Heyy if your dark hours are still open…👀👀 would you mind sharing your thoughts about yandere Ateez concubine harem…? Or perhaps any harem that you can think of because I’m very much into this topic🤭🤭🤭

You know what? Today I wanted to be affectionate with you, damn bunnies, and spoil you with tenderness and sweets, but you just provoked my dark side with all these requests, didn't you?

So change of plan, bunnies; we're going down the dark and rough road. I love yandere's concubines, Ateez. God, can we think of anything more seductive and more dangerous than that? From now on, you should send me such requests more often, bunnies. Feed this demon within me.

You entered the palace as the wife of the new emperor. His fourth wife. His glittering war trophy.

When war came, your world was changed beyond recognition. Flames and ashes consumed the luxury and grandeur of the palaces, and the jewels turned to dust, leaving only you, the Ice Princess of the Northern Mountains.

Your life was made of crystal and your heart was made of ice stronger than diamonds, and it was this cold and lunar beauty that caused you to be forcibly married.

Yes, you may have entered the palace as the Emperor's wife. But you were a nobody within the high walls of the palace, just a sad reflection of past your greatness.

Everyone knew that the Emperor had a large harem, not counting the three older wives, but what really surprised you was that it was not only made up of girls, but of young men as well. There were eight of them. Each one more beautiful than the last, each one unique and unrepeatable.

Until one fateful night, you had never met them or seen them in person. It was a lunar festival, and you were its queen. Dressed in silk and the finest translucent tulle, as if kissed by the moon goddess herself, you sparkled and attracted the attention of everyone around you. Everybody, but not your husband. He didn't even look at you, brushed you aside as if you were an annoying mosquito, and sent you off to talk and smile at the guests while he went off to fuck another beautiful concubine.

And then, for the first time in your life, you had a meeting with the concubines of his other harem. And your world was turned upside down for the second time in your life.

It was love at first sight, a fire that burned through his veins and poisoned his mind. And it was all because of you. It was your fault that Wooyoung couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't laugh, and couldn't live. All of a sudden, his whole world was reduced to you and your heavenly, icy beauty. He passionately wanted to melt that ice, make you beg, squirm, and moan as he fucked you unconscious and painfully, filling you with his sperm and marking you as his property.

The only thing Wooyoung ever had in his life was his beauty. He grew up in poverty, living on scraps of food and the small amount of money he was able to pick up from the dirt. That is, until the day the current emperor, who was still a prince at the time, came upon him in one of the alleys, on the run from his guards. Wooyoung's dark fox eyes captivated him at once, and as if he had fallen under his spell, the emperor brought him back to the palace to be his concubine.

Wooyoung was a greedy concubine; there was always something that was not enough for him. He wanted to swim in luxury, to drown in gold and silk, to have diamonds, and to own the whole damn world. The best should be his, and so it was; the emperor gave him everything and more that Wooyoung had a desire for. And now you were in his sights. He wanted you so much that it ate him up from within and almost drove him mad, greedily and viciously, in the most horrible way in the world.

Yes, Wooyoung was greedy, and if he had to kill the Emperor to get you, he wasn't going to think twice about doing it.

One look at you could bring him to his knees. He would crawl to you like a pet if you commanded him to, and that desire was stronger than the hatred he felt for the whole of the world. You could tame his wild temper, and Mingi would want nothing more than for you to straddle him and ride his cock day and night, tearing the skin from his back and shoulders, choking him, and biting him until his will was broken. Mingi was uncontrollable and capricious, passion and fire raging in him, burning everything in his path, but your element was ice, burning him harder than hell itself.

Once upon a time, Mingi was a warrior, one of the great generals of his country, until the war came and destroyed his entire life. It took everything from him—his will, his family, his home. Yes, the war had taken everything from him except for the poisonous rage and the dark, vicious passion that was boiling in his veins. He was brought to the palace in chains like a slave, and that very night the Emperor took him by force and made him one of his concubines. This only made him bitterer.

Mingi was venomous and aggressive, biting and scratching until he bled, but you, you did something to him—you forced him into submission by your very presence, without him even knowing it. The wild, unbridled storm inside of him became the icy surface of the lake, soothing and healing. And Mingi wanted peace. He wanted the touch of your icy hands on his heated skin and cold kisses on his lips. He wanted you.

What is passion if not a flame that is a destroyer of all things on its way to its goal? And Mingi was full of fire to burn this damn palace to the ground to take possession of you.

He was sin clothed in a human body, debauchery and lust embodied in an image of heavenly beauty. The whole of Seonghwa's life had been nothing more than a constant stream of sex and an endless series of lovers. He could not get rid of this feeling; it was like frost on his skin. This constant, painful need was scratching him from the inside out. But when he saw you, all his thoughts were focused on you—on your pure, untouched skin that he wanted to lick and bite, on your slim waist that he wanted to squeeze as he fucked you continuously. On those red, seductive lips that would be simply amazing when wrapped around his dick. It was you he wanted, and for the first time in his life, Seonghwa wanted you to be the one. He didn't want anyone else, only you.

Before he entered the palace, he was one of the most sought-after whores in the brothel, famous for his devilish beauty and his languid, cat-like gaze. There was a line of people waiting for him, and Seonghwa was more than happy to accept them all. He was insatiable, wanting to fuck anywhere and anytime, trying the most sinful and unusual things. He was a real slut. But when the emperor heard about Seonghwa and visited his brothel one day, everything changed. Suddenly, he was no longer just a whore; he became Imeretar's concubine.

Seonghwa's hunger could not be quenched, and one partner would never be able to cope with it. But here you are, pure and radiant like an angel, beckoning him with your immaculate beauty. You were stronger than his dark, insatiable demon of lust. He wanted to corrupt you, to make you like him, and to make you dependent on him, just as he had become dependent on thinking about you.

It is said that whores don't know how to love, but they know how to desire. And there was enough darkness in Seonghwa to consume and destroy the world; to possess your purity and chastity. Then let the world be plunged into darkness until you are alone with him.

Yeosang had never been interested in anything at all. The world was too boring and dangerous for him. He could never care less about it. If he could, he would stay safe and comfortable in his bed for the rest of his life. You were different—distant and cold, but with an inexplicable thirst to live. You wanted to see all the things around you, to experience the cultures and the art. The world was interesting to you, and that was a source of irritation to Yeosang.

Everything about you was fragile and exquisite, and the fact that you didn't see it was what made Yeosang so angry. Don't you see, little butterfly, the world is terrible and dangerous. You would be much better off with him in his bed, far away from anything that could harm you in any way. Perhaps you would finally understand that you shouldn't run away from the safety and comfort of his bed if he were to break you. If that helped, Yeosang would want to destroy you and fuck your little curious brain until you thought only of him. He would spend hours warming you with his dick, days kissing your cold lips, and smothering you with his attention and love.

Yeosang was always aware that one day he would be part of the emperor's household. He had been prepared for this since he was a child, pampered and protected from the whole world, so that there would not be a trace of dirt on his silky, snow-white skin. Always waiting for the Emperor to visit his chambers and warm his soft bed, albeit temporarily. Yeosang almost never left his room, but like all concubines, he had to attend the Moon Festival. And that's when he saw his fragile butterfly. And like everything beautiful in this world, you were too easy to break. Yeosang wanted to protect you, hide you between his sheets, and shower you with care.

Yes, beautiful things broke easily, sometimes too easily—delicate butterfly wings, flower petals, crystal jewelry. But Yeosang wanted to see how the most beautiful thing in the world—human life—broke.

He wanted to eat you alive. Sinking his teeth into you and never letting you go, you awakened in him this wild, all-consuming hunger that he could not satisfy with anything else. You were the most delicious dish of all, and your taste was his only desire. San had always been a little insatiable, wanting more attention, wanting to love more, wanting to more sex, wanting everything this world had to offer him. It was never enough. You walked past him without even looking in his direction, the trail of your perfume settling on his skin and seeping into his body, poisoning him as you went. He wanted you to pay attention to him, to smile at him, to love him, to touch him. Oh, he would never let you go, he would fill you with his cum over and over again, and it wouldn't be enough for his taste. If he could, his dick would be in your pretty pussy all the time, so warm and delicious. He was in desperate need of you, he was hungry for you, and this hunger was all-encompassing.

Ever since he was a child, San had had a voracious appetite, always in need of a bigger and sweeter bite to temporarily fill the emptiness inside him that was growing with him. He had everything he could ever wish for; he had grown up in a loving and wealthy family with titles, but the dark hunger that plagued him was terrible. No matter what it was, he was always in need of more. So one day, when the emperor asked if he wanted to join his harem, San didn't hesitate to accept, but the hunger didn't go away.

You were the most delicious forbidden fruit of them all, and San was desperate to sink his teeth into you. He could almost feel the heavenly sweetness of you on his tongue, and it was driving him wild.

The sky could crash and burn all around him, and he wouldn't care, as long as you could fill him up and satisfy him.

There was no one in this world who could ever be like him. There was no one like Hongjoong. There was no limit to his pride and his greatness, and any praise You never praised him, you never sought his attention, and you were never enchanted by his sharp mind, his sweet voice, or his beauty, which could only be rivalled by the devil himself. And Hongjoong hated it. He hated how much he wanted your attention and your love. He wanted you to worship him, idolise him, and devote your whole life to him. He had to have you in all ways, even if those ways were darker than the night itself.Hongjoong wanted to see you in his golden bed, stretched out on the silk, while he was ravaging your body. He wanted to hear the endless moaning of his name as his cock tore apart the little cunt that was yours. He was in need of it, so much so that his whole body ached.

Hongjoong was a trophy of war, just like you. He was a real prince, who was supposed to be a king one day. His ego knew no bounds, and he was cruel and daring. Of course, the whole of the palace was conquered by the magnificent prince dressed in gold - all of them, except for you.

Yes, Hongjoong was a true prince, and one day he would overthrow the emperor and take his rightful throne, and like every emperor, he had to have his empress. You may not see him now, but the day will come when Hongjoong will be the only sunshine that illuminates your life. And he couldn't wait for it.

Yunho has never been the victim of jealousy. He has always been the recipient of praise and adoration, a constant reminder of how much he is loved. Yunho had no idea how jealousy could be. Or so he thought, at least.

That night, when he saw you in the light of the moon, he had hatred for the whole damn world. How dare he look at what belonged to him? He envied all those who could speak to you so freely; he envied all those who could pronounce your name; he envied his emperor, who did not appreciate your beauty and who humiliated you. Damn it, Yunho was jealous of the very air you were breathing. He desperately wanted to be him—to live inside you and melt into your skin. He wanted to melt into you without a trace.He would have loved to take you to his bed, to kiss every inch of your skin, to fuck you long and slow, and to shower you with compliments and praise. He would like to have you in his arms all the time, writhing and moaning with desire and need. For him, you are the only thing he needs in his life.

Yunho used to be just a servant in the palace. But he caught the Emperor's eye. That very night, he entered the emperor's chambers as his new concubine. Yunho knew about the others; he knew that he was not the only one, but that never bothered him; he was able to share the attention of the emperor. Except you. You were his own, and even the world was not worthy of seeing you.

It would be so easy to have the entire palace blinded, so that no one else but Yunho would have to see your celestial beauty.

Jongho was a man too proud for his own good. In his mind, it was beneath his dignity to pay attention to others and smile sweetly at them. Jongho was the spoiled, arrogant son of one of the most important palace officials, and when his father had the chance to get close to the emperor, he naturally gave him to the harem. But even so, he still considered himself to be better than everyone else, even Hongjoong, who was a prince in his own right.

Jongho was the one who first saw you, quite by chance, when he visited his father on the night you were appointed as the emperor's fourth wife. The Emperor was a real fool not to see how brilliant and magnificent you were—a real crown jewel. You were a symbol of power, strength, and might, an enslaved princess of a once great country, and a black flame of desire flared up in Jongho—he wanted to own you completely.

He wanted you for himself—your thoughts, your will, your body, and your life. He wanted you to sit by his side, to be covered with jewels, and to bear his children. It was easy for him to imagine his hand wrapped around your fragile throat as he fucked you into the mattress, you begging and moaning for him, wanting to be filled with his cum.

Fueled by his selfish desires, his fixation on you became increasingly harmful and dangerous.

Out of all the trophies in the world, there was nothing that was more attractive to Jongho than you. And on the way to what he wanted, murder was never a serious matter for him.

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frankenkyle19 · 2 months

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Necklaces and Potato Chips

Coriolanus Snow x Female reader (smut)

warnings/description: smut; oral (m and f receiving), kissing, Virgin!Coryo. Reader and Coryo are both 18 in this. Mentions of Coriolanus’ poverty, etc.

Word count: 3.4k

Coriolanus Snow was never much of a gentle man. He was poised and perfect. There was never any room to make mistakes around him, because even if he didn’t specifically point it out, he somehow always knew. And would relentlessly tease you for it.

You saw right through him though. His carefully crafted exterior, hiding underneath it a fragile ego that was nearly a decade in mending. After the war and the death of his father, the Snow family had nearly no money to their name. They lived up in their penthouse, worn and falling apart from the war.

Not even a pot to piss in.

You’d never told anyone that you’d overheard Dean Casca Highbottom speaking to Coriolanus in such a way, and seeing the fear in Coriolanus’ eyes. It clicked. It was all true. He wasn’t eating steak for breakfast. He didn’t have maids waiting on his hand and foot. Hell, you’d seen the way his outfit frayed at the edges from countless washings. He couldn’t afford a new one.

At first the revelation rocked you to the core. He’d kept up appearances so well… but for what? For high social standing? To avoid the gossip? Yes.

Your own family wasn’t filthy rich. Nothing like the Plinth family, who it seemed everyone but you despised. But your family was living comfortably in the Capitol, in a modest but neatly decorated apartment that made you feel secure.

You didn’t show you knew. You didn’t look at Coriolanus like he was anything less than. Why would you? You’d never understood the needless drama and gossip that surrounded the kids at the academy. It was unbearable at times. You had to be perfect 24/7 so your name was kept out of people’s mouths, and even then that wasn’t guaranteed to work. Sejanus Plinth was a great example. His family, originally from District 2, came over during the war when his father had sided with the Capitol and helped them subdue the other Districts. Traitor much? At least that’s what Sejanus had called him the few times you’d spoken with him. Been the only one to give the poor boy any attention. Coriolanus had as well, but you could tell from the look in his eyes he was less than happy about it.

Coriolanus had always been around. He was at nearly all your birthday parties throughout your childhood, until about when you turned thirteen. Then he just… stopped going. Maybe because he didn’t have a gift to bring. Not that you cared, but because apparently everyone else did even though it was none of their business.

You just let it go, glancing his way in the hall every now and then. Only sometimes he would look back.

Until your sixteenth birthday party. Suddenly he just… appeared. You were having it in the mess hall at the academy on a Saturday afternoon. You weren’t even sure how your mother and father had booked it, but you didn’t ask. You’d learned by now not to ask lots of questions.

But when you saw that blond head of curls bobbing through the crowd, you had several dozen questions that you needed answered lest you go insane. Why? Why after three years had he suddenly decided to show up?

You hoped that he’d at least be able to enjoy the food, maybe even sneak some home to his family. Maybe that could be arranged. You felt bad for them, but not in a babying way. Just a genuine person who felt bad for another’s misfortune that was no fault of their own.

You don’t pursue him. Didn’t make your way over to him. You didn’t want to scare him off. He’d come to you if and when he was ready.

And he had. He’d come up and given you a shy greeting, wishing you a happy birthday in a voice much too meek for the Coriolanus Snow.

He’d also left you with a little wrapped gift and the second he gave it to you, he practically bolted. Left the party and you didn’t seem him till the next Monday in clases.

You’d waited till you’d gotten home to open the gift, and inside of the carefully wrapped paper was a necklace. A beautiful sparkling necklace. You had no idea where he’d gotten it from, but it looked almost antique, a red shining…. No it couldn’t be. A red ruby? But you knew there was no way they could afford that. So you’d come to the conclusion that either he’d stolen it, or he’d gotten it from his grandmother, or kept it after his mother passed away. It made your heart clench.

You wore it every day since and everyone ooo’d and ahh’d over it, asking where you’d gotten it, but you never told. You weren’t sure if he’d wanted everyone to know. With the way he quickly scurried away after giving it to you, your guess was no, he didn’t.

He was at your seventeenth birthday party as well, though he hadn’t brought a gift that time and he only wished you a quick happy birthday before disappearing into the crowd of people. Weird. He was so weird.

The two of you spoke here and there until your eighteenth birthday. He’d turned eighteen just a few weeks to a month before you, and just like the last two years, he came to your party. It was a smaller party this time around. Your father and mother had insisted on going all out. You only turn eighteen once, but you’d refused. You didn’t want a bunch of people. Didn’t want to have to worry so hard about keeping up an appearance.

Coriolanus, once again kept his distance from you, even with the smaller group of people, but he stayed for the whole party. You’d always made it a point to let him come to you, when he was comfortable. Like trying to gain a feral animal's trust.

As the party began to subside and everyone began to leave, you tried to make your way over to the blue eyed boy. You’d just reached him when he was at the food table set up before he turned and walked away.

This time around the party had been at your family’s apartment, reason for the much smaller group of people. You furrowed your brows as you followed him down the dimly lit hallway. He paused outside of your bedroom door before walking in. What the fuck?

You followed him, listening outside the door after he’d closed it, ear pressed against the wood. Really you should have burst in there. Should have yelled at him and asked him just what the hell he was doing in your bedroom.

Until you heard a little sigh, a release of breath before the crunch of a chip, and then another. He must have stuffed some of the the refreshments into his pockets before scurrying off somewhere to eat them in peace. Your heart broke for him. Broke for the young boy you used to see sitting alone at lunch at the academy. Who only had superficial friends. Never anyone who truly liked him for who he was.

You stayed with your ear pressed against the door for a while, debating on what to do when you saw someone making their way down the dark hall. You couldn’t make it out but it looked like your father. Shit. If he saw Coriolanus in your room he’d flip out, totally get the wrong idea.

So, without much thought at all, you reached for the doorknob and shoved your way quickly into your room before closing the door behind you. You heaved a breath out, facing the door before you whipped around and faced the man that was, for some reason, in your room.

His blue eyes were wide, chip crumbs on his lips, a chip in his hand as he looked at you with the saddest eyes ever. Fuck, he’d been caught.

His mind began to reel. God, he could only imagine the gossip that would start from this. It would be all over for him. He’d die of embarrassment he was sure of it.

But you didn’t instantly run out to tell everyone how you’d found him. You stayed planted in front of him, looking him over. He wore an off white dress shirt and a little black vest that fit his chest snug. Had he always been this pretty? Had his eyes always been so blue?

He cleared his throat, stuffing the chip back into his pocket as he reached for the doorknob over your shoulder. He was trying to run. Just like he always did.

You grabbed his arm before he could reach the knob and you held his bicep with your hand, squeezing just tight enough so he knew you weren’t letting him leave. Not like that.

“I-“ He started, looking at you with a panicked expression. A dear in headlights if you will. It was, again, sad to see. He was always so put together and seeing him with the beginnings of tears in his ocean blue eyes made your expression soften.

Your free hand reached up to wipe the chip crumbs from the corners of his mouth but Coriolanus must have thought that you were going to slap him or something with the way he flinched. This poor boy…

“Coriolanus…” you said gently, cupping his cheek with your hand and leaving it there. He seemed to lean into your touch the slightest bit, closing his eyes as he let out a shaky sigh.

“Yeah?” He responded, blue eyes peering down at you. He was waiting for the ball to drop. For you to yell at him. To hit him and kick him.

“Why are you in my room?”

“I didn’t know it was your room- I’m sorry- I just… I wanted a few more chips before I left but I’d already eaten enough to almost be suspicious and I didn’t want anyone to see. I’m really sorry-'' hearing an apology from Coriolanus Snow’s mouth was a weird thing. It didn’t seem to belong there. He seemed so unapologetic.

“Coriolanus-“ you sighed, giving him a sympathetic look that had him shaking his head and pulling away from your touch, standing up to his full height.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He started, embarrassment covering his features as he turned away from you.

You followed him. He wasn’t getting out of this that easily. Hell no. Not after all the years of confusion he’d given you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and he tensed once more, but for this time it seemed to be a different reason. The air around the two of you changed. Electrified. Currents of energy spun around you, danced in circles, growing stronger by the second. All this time. All these years. Had it all led up to this?

Coriolanus turned around, most likely to apologize again but you caught him by surprise, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It was just like you’d imagined it. Warm, soft, electric. He was stunned into shock for several seconds before he melted into it, closing his eyes and kissing back. There was a hunger behind his kisses, one that showed desperation. A need for this. He’d wanted this just as long as you’d have, if not longer. More pieces of the puzzle fit together at that moment. All those years.. All those parties. He was trying to get your attention but he didn’t know how. He was trying…

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him, your lips molding together. A need overtook you in that moment and as the kiss got more heated, your hands found their way to his belt that held his black slacks up, and you brushed your fingers against his bulge.

He pulled back with a shocked noise in the back of his throat, chest rising and falling heavily as he looked down at you.

“I’ve never-“ he started breathlessly as he watched you, almost warily.

Oh. He was a virgin… You weren’t. You’d lost your virginity to Festus Creed some time last year. It was very uneventful but you still had more experience than Coriolanus. Something about that made you clench your thighs together. You wanted to ruin him.

“Coriolanus…” you cooed, your hands coming to rest on the loops of his belt, but slowly, giving him time to pull away if he really did decide he didn’t want this.

“Let me? I can make you feel so good…” Your tone had dropped, and Coriolanus swore your eyes darkened as you stared at him.

He thought about it for several moments before he gave a sheepish nod. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself, but he had been fantasizing about you for so long now…

“Yes…” He breathed. “Yes I want that..”

A few more seconds of silence before you two fell into even more bruising kisses. Despite how much taller he was compared to you, you were able to lead him to your bed very easily, pushing him back onto it before crawling over him.

Your hands were everywhere and Coriolanus was overwhelmed as he tossed his head back into the pillows. The pillows that smelled like you.

“I don’t want to go all the way…” he blurted out, cheeks flushed.

You looked up at him, giving him a gentle smile. “Of course. You let me know if I’m doing too much and we stop.” You said firmly so he understood.

Your hands came to his belt and slowly began to undo it before sliding it from the loops on his dress pants.

He sat up and helped you kick off his too tight, too small pants with a huff before he laid back, now only in his black boxers. He strained against them and your mouth watered a bit, not even having seen his cock yet.

“Going to use my mouth on you, pretty boy. Going to make this the best night of your life,” Your finger slid under his waistband and before he even knew it, you were pulling his underwear down his legs and his cock sprang free, slapping against his lower stomach.

For how frail he looked, he was packing. He was longer than he was thick, and the idea of him inside you made you a bit dizzy. But not tonight. He’d said he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, causing his eyes to go wide and his hips to buck up into the touch. He was nearly searing in your hand, drops of pre-cum leaking steadily from the tip.

He was in heaven, eyes closed, head tossed back, and when he felt you press a kiss to his tip, a tiny little whine left his parted lips.

“Shh my sweet thing, it’s okay, giving you all the love you need. You’ve got such a pretty cock,” you accentuated your words with a few more kisses to the tip, his pre-cum coating your lips before you licked it off.

Coriolanus moaned softly, eyes open as he looked down at you. He twitched in your hand, legs trembling beneath you as he waited for your next move.

Your lips wrapped around him and he waited for you to take him deeper in your mouth, but you stayed just at the tip, suckling gently on him. He was so fucking sensitive that it almost hurt from how good it felt.

“Fuck,” He cursed, and that’s how you knew he was loving this. In all your years, you’d never heard him curse.

You made sure to keep eye contact with him, letting your tongue roll over the tip, collecting the beads of liquid that fell.

Finally, after you really got him whining, you took him further into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose and hollowing your cheeks as he arched his back up off the bed.

Your throat seized around him and you nearly gagged, having to pull back just a bit. Your throat was already scratchy from it and you could only imagine just how sore it would be tomorrow after deep-throating him. But that’s all it was. Imagining. Because without any warning he came down your throat with a choked groan, tummy tensing.

You swallowed his release with a slight grimace, easing him through his release before pulling off of him.

He had a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleepy for several moments before he finally managed to peel his eyes open and look down at you with a fucked out expression, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Jesus…” he murmured, sitting up on his elbows to look at you. He looked you over, still completely clothed and an idea came to his mind.

“Can I do that to you too?” You wanted to tease him a bit. Suck your dick? No Coriolanus couldn’t do that because you didn’t have one. Silly. But you didn’t say that, you just nodded your head as you looked at him.

“If you want to, yeah. Of course sweetheart. Anything you want.”

Anything.

What a dangerous word.

In an instant he had you flipped and was pulling your little skirt down your legs right along with your panties. You crossed your legs shyly but Coriolanus wasn’t having that as he used his hands to part them, sliding in between them and getting comfortable.

“How do I…?” He asked, looking between your eyes and your dripping cunt.

You too one of his hands and brought it to your core. He gasped at the warmth and the wetness of it. You helped him run his fingers across your folds, dipping into you just a bit before pulling back.

Soon though he grew bored of that and dipped his head down, inches away from your core. He really was going to eat you out… you were surprised.

He surged forward that last little bit, his mouth connecting with your clit, sending a shockwave up you.

He closed his eyes, well, more like they rolled into the back of his head once he properly tasted you. And then he was off, lapping at your folds, getting really messy with it. He needed almost no guidance. It was like he was born to eat pussy.

“Fuck, Coriolanus- Coryo-“ He really seemed to like that with the way he moaned against your core, beginning to fuck you with his pretty pink tongue.

You already felt extremely close and you weren’t sure if it was because he was good at what he was doing, or if you’d just been needing this for so long that anything felt good.

“Oh fuck Coryo, I’m going to come if you keep that up- good boy, that’s it-“ You hissed out in pleasure, head thrown back. Your fingers carded into his hair and he let out a little whine as you tugged on his blond curls.

He felt the way your body tensed and he knew you were close. That did wonders to boost his ego, and he really doubled down on eating you out, tongue fucking you hard now, his nose brushing your clit.

You came hard on his tongue, practically grinding up against his face, and he let you, too pussy drunk to complain. Not that he ever would. He never realized how much he enjoyed this.

He kept at it until you were whining and pushing him away. He himself let out a little disgruntled whine, obviously upset that he had to stop, before you pulled him up to cuddle next to you.

The two of you were still half dressed, shaking and recovering from your releases.

Coryo watched you with a smile on his lips that were still coated in your slick.

“Jesus, coryo. Clean yourself off.” You shook your head with a laugh before you gasped when he surged toward and kissed you once more. You cupped his cheek and kissed back after a moment, grinning against him.

He pulled back for a moment and reached for your neck. You gave him a confused look before you saw him take your necklace chain in his hand, looking it over. The necklace. You’d almost forgotten. You’d worn it every single day since he’d gifted it to you.

“Stay here tonight?” You asked with a soft smile. You didn’t care what your parents said. You were an adult now, and hell, they didn’t even need to know that Coriolanus was here.

He gave a quizzical look before he seemed to realize you were being serious and then he nodded.

“I’d like that. A lot.”

And that was how you ended up on Coriolanus Snow’s arm. The only person who he truly trusted outside of his family.

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo smut #the hunger games

671 notes · View notes

writers-hes · 9 months

Text

Toy Horses Outside the Brothel

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps)

A/N: This is dedicated to @runnning-outof-time ! Thank you for giving me guidelines and for reading my work before anybody else did. You’re amazing and I wish I could write Tommy as good as you do.

Want to be tagged? navigation | main master lists | PROTECTION MASTERLIST

BIRMINGHAM, 1900:

Tommy first met her when his father took him to the docks. Arthur Shelby Sr. told impressionable young Tommy that there were kids he could play with by the docks. Tommy agreed, wanting to impress his father. On the way there, right outside of what looked like a house with many rooms, was her.

You were lonely and something in Tommy told him to play with you instead. Besides, the boys were too big around the docks. Arthur Shelby left him right outside the establishment and threw a shilling to you. You picked it up, stuffed it in your pocket, and looked at him.

He smiled at you widely, a tooth missing from his mouth and extended his hand towards you.

“I’m Tommy,” he said. You reciprocate the gesture, telling him your name and shaking his hand. You were more reserved, Tommy noticed. He was so used to the ruckus in their house that he expected every child to be as energetic as them. “Why did my father give you money?”

“He wants me to play with you while he’s inside,” you said. “I don’t have many toys but…I do have this,” you said, showing him your wooden horse toy. They were your prized possession, one of the few gifts that your father sent when he promised the world to your mother.

“Oh! I love horses,” he said. “Do you? I like watching horses,”

“Yes,” you replied. “My mother said that my father owned many. I’ve never met him though. Where do you watch horses?”

“That’s alright. Fathers hit kids. See?” he said, showing you a bruise on his side quickly. “My mother puts ice on it and it tickles. We watch it in the races. My mum takes me for my birthdays. She usednto ride a white horse before. She told me. Do you go to school?”

“No,” you shook your head. “But my mum taught me how to read and how to write. Sometimes, Big Johnny teaches me arithmetic. One plus one equals two,”

“You’re smart. Who’s Big Johnny?”

You hummed, making the wooden horse gallop on the murky ground. People in the house all told you that you were. If only poor Mary Magdalene had the means to send you to school. If only. You stop your movements and move your toy towards Tommy.

“Here,” you said. “Big Johnny is the man who runs this place. He’s kind,”

“You won’t have a toy,” he replied.

“It’s okay. I have more but they’re in my mama’s room. My father sent them. Sorry if it’s dirty,”

“Thanks,” he said. It’s the first time anyone has ever given him something without asking for it. He keeps it with him; keeps the memory of a girl who watched him intently while he played with a toy horse. That’s why when his father exited the house, with less money in his pocket, Tommy asked if he could come again next time.

When the house closed, you ran to your mother’s room. You usually had to stay out until five in the morning, sleeping on the sacks right in front of the brothel until your mother woke you up. She’s been seeing less men these days…always cooped up in her room, asking for you. She didn’t mind if you stained her bed with sweat and grease. She’d ask how your day was and you told him about Tommy, the boy you met earlier.

“I’m glad you have a friend,” she coughed into her white handkerchief. The blood stain was normal now. You were worried at first, but your mother told you to never tell anyone. You just never knew how serious it all was when you slipped once. You were talking to Big Johnny; he was teaching you how to subtract.

“If I help you, are you going to pay me?” you asked, perched on his lap. He had been the only father figure in your life. He’d help your mum surprise you for your birthdays and give you some money every now and then.

“Pay you? You’re robbing me,” he kids. “What do you need the money for?”

“I’m planning to buy mum a present. A nice handkerchief,” you said. “The one she has has blood—“

“What is it, bug?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, smiling sickly sweet.

“You have to tell me,” he replied. “It’s your—your safety,”

It was your turn to look confused.

“But mum told me to never tell anyone,” you whispered, heart racing. What did he mean by it? “Why would I not be safe? I’m safe. I have mum with me,”

Big Johnny ran his hand through his hair, then his chin. You knew that it was a sign of his agitation, so you relented.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered. “But mum has been coughing up blood for a while. She said it’s fine. You won’t take her from me right, Johnny?”

“Fuck, kid,” he sighed, stressed at the sudden turn out of events. “No more arithmetic today, okay? I’ll go talk to your mum. Just go outside or play or whatever,”

“Is everything okay?” you asked, panic rising in your throat. It constricts while you keep yourself from crying. “Mum will be so mad at me! Please don’t tell on me,”

“Do you know why she’s coughing up blood?” he asked, his voice serious. He knew that you had to be talked to in his “adult voice” for you to listen. You knew that he needed to be stern for you to listen.

“N-no…” your hair falls messily as you shake your head, picking on your nail beds.

“She’s sick, bug,” he said. “If we don’t do anything about it, you could get sick too. The two of you might die,” he explained. “Look, kid…you have a bright future ahead of you, alright?”

“What will you do?” you asked. “You can’t take her from me! Please, Johnny. My mum is all I have,” you cried, tears started flowing once the first one dropped.

Johnny couldn’t do anything else. He relented but locked your mother in her room. Whenever you went in, he made sure you had some face mask on to protect yourself. You only saw her for a few minutes every day. Parting her was painful and Johnny had to console you while you cried. He gave up his bunk and slept in his workspace so you won’t have to sleep with your mum.

A week later, your mum died of lung cancer.

It was too late, the doctor explained. Johnny let you stay in his bunk, never mind the fact that he had no space for himself now. He didn’t mind. You were his top priority. How is he going to raise a child in a brothel?

Your mother always told you that as long as you were with her, you would never be lonely. There was no burial, just her body being thrown and burned with the rest of Birmingham’s garbage. It made you wonder what your body would be like dead. You decided to never end up like her, one way or another you were getting out.

Tommy continued to visit you, but he knew that you were different now. It has only been a week and you’ve grown up so fast. When he arrived, a box of your toy horses was prepared for him.

“What’s this for?” he asked, eyes brightening up at the sight of the box. His father threw a shilling your way again.

“It’s for you. I don’t want to play anymore,” you said. “I kept one white horse for me but you can have them.”

“Why not?” he asked, galloping the toy you gave him last week. “Thank you. I don’t have my own. I always have to share with Arthur, John and Ada.”

“My mom died…you were my first friend and you never met her,” you said, tears falling on the ground. “I’ve been living in Big Johnny’s room,”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “My Aunt Pol says that friends are there for each other. I’m…I’m your friend,”

You smiled a teary smile, appreciating the underlying message behind his words. He’ll be there for you. But until when?

BIRMINGHAM, 1905

Fifteen, you were fifteen. You haven’t even turned fifteen for a week and you were working. The owner of the house told Big Johnny that if you wanted to keep living there, you would have to work too. Johnny had no place for himself, no house—his money all went to you. Your clothes, the books you’ve read, the food you ate. He'll get you a cake with a candle along with a pound for special occasions. If you were lucky, some of the girls would give you something. Tommy’s dad stopped coming and so was the shilling you got.

He stayed, though. He’d talk to you about school and how he wanted to leave.

“You’re lucky you’re in school,” you said, watching Tommy smoke a cigarette. You were never a fan if them, seeing as your mother died of fucking lung cancer. “You have to stay,”

“I’m not built for it though. They’re all so boring,” he said, blowing the smoke away. “If only I could work like you. Why are you dressed so nicely anyway?”

“The owner told me to work,” you shrugged, pulling the strap of your dress back on your shoulder. “Johnny asked the boss if I could help him with the girls and management, but he said no. Wanted me to work because it will bring more money in,” you bitterly replied. “I want to go to school but the fucking boss wanted me to present myself as a Cherry Girl. You wanna know what that is?”

“What?”

“A fucking virgin.” you shrugged. “Said many men will pay for someone like me. Today’s my first night and Johnny cried a little bit when he saw me. I’d kill and die to go to school, Tom.”

“Shit, love, I’m sorry. I was being insensitive,” he offered. “Hm, maybe you’ll bag one rich man you know? Some rich bloke from London and he’ll take you. Besides, at least you smell nice,”

“This shit is awful,” you countered, sighing. You blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “Fuck, I said I wasn’t going to cry tonight.”

“Hey,” he said, sitting closer to you. He wraps your arm around you and lets you stay there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll stay in school and do well, okay? I’ll study so hard; I’ll take you out of here. Let you live in a mansion with lots of space to run in. Fuck, I’m sorry, love,”

“It’s not your fault, Tommy,” was your weak reply. “I’m just…I told myself that I would never be like my mother and now, I am,”

“You’re not her,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.m, never mind if the grease and sweat of his clothes mixed with your perfume. “You’re not her.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1906

“Fuck, Tom. You can’t stay here while I’m working,” you scolded. You were lying, you appreciated the fact that Tommy was here. He’ll wait until you finish your shift, until you meet your quota. It was always quick, though. You had a rich patron that covered your every living expense.

“My patron’s coming,” you told him, and he tenses. He remembered the way you cried to him after your first ever shift last year. How some old fuck didn’t even bother. He finished and threw you some coins. He remembered his rage when you told him about this new guy. He’s quite scary but he pays the most, you said. “He doesn’t like seeing me with other men,”

“I’m a man now?” he quips, a smirk on his lips. “It’s not like I can afford it. I’m broke. Besides, I’ll act like a bodyguard, yeah? All I ask for payment is a day out with you. Aunt Poll is cooking something on Sunday. Want you to eat something that’s not whatever is being cooked here. We can go on a picnic. I met a girl who worked at this mansion, and they have lots of flowers in the garden. Shit you’ll like,”

You offered him a slight smile, nodding.

“Will your aunt be okay with…me eating your food?” you asked. Tommy took notice of how insecurity laced your voice. His suggestions of meeting his family have always been met with resistance. He understood. Although Polly has been insisting on meeting the girl he’s been spending his time with, he couldn’t risk his father recognising you and then, treating you like trash.

“Of course. She’s been more annoying. Told my mum about the girl I’m seeing,” he said. “I’ll be the first boy to take you out, hm?”

“Shut up,” was your only reply.

Sunday comes and you asked your boss for a day off.

That day, Tommy took you to the garden with Polly’s chicken stew and his mum’s fig cake. Tommy didn’t let you work, he set down the food and opened the containers.

“The best meal you’ll ever have,” he said while you sat. “I should’ve done this earlier. What have you been eating?”

“I’m lucky enough to be fed. Johnny gets me some food out of the brothel sometimes.” you said. “Thanks for taking me here. I love it.”

“I knew it,” he said, spooning out your portion and giving it to you.

“I want to have a house with lots of flowers. Different coloured blooms all year round.” you said.

“The caretaker of the garden says that we can pick some flowers. Do you want to take some home?” he asked. You nodded, a flush on your face. How could someone not love him?

BIRMINGHAM, 1908

“How have you been my angel?” he asked, twirling your hair in between your fingers. “Can’t believe I missed you last week,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder. You giggled. “I was in London and all I could think of was you,”

“I’ve never been to London,” you told him. “Are you going to take me there?” you asked, wide-eyed. He’s been your patron since you reached 18. He was quite younger than your usual customers. He always came to visit when you were seventeen but never looked at you. As if that made it better.

“You haven’t?” he asked. “I’ll take you there, Angel. I’ll show you the whole world. Hm?”

“You will?” you asked, faux excitement in your voice. He loved this; you knew. He loved that you were a fragile little bird in need of saving. He loved that you’d listen to him talk about his father. He’s the sappy kind. He liked to hold hands, talk, and make love. He’s paid you more than anyone else and gave you a hefty allowance. Big Johnny didn’t have to think about your safety anymore. “I want to go to the city! Buy everything that I see and just…breathe a different air,” you said.

“Fuck, baby, I’ll take you there and buy you everything you ever lay your eyes on. I’m not fucking around. I’ll take you there,”

“You will?” you asked. “I don’t like the idea of you leaving me. Did you know that? Sometimes, when you leave, I have to lock myself in my room and refuse everyone,” you lied. You locked yourself in because your quota was already met. You were just saying these things to keep him coming back. A little bit of pretending never hurt you. It meant a bigger tip, more money.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said. “You’re my hero…”

Somehow, you didn’t find yourself lying when you told him. You felt dirty, you felt like your mother when she thought your father would give her the world. But Simon paid big money to have you alone for multiple nights a week. No other customers were to ask for services.

“I’m your hero, alright…you’re my little bird. I’m dead set on taking you with me to London. Once I get my inheritance, I’ll show you the world and get you out of these slums.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1909

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” Tommy said. You were well enough to have your own place somewhere near the docks now. Johnny had given you some furniture that the house wasn’t using anymore, helping you fix the tables and the chairs that you would be using. You didn’t have to live at the brothel anymore and it was all thanks to Simon.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tommy,” you chuckled. “Do you like my place?” Tommy looked around, flowerpots littered your house.

“I’m serious.” he asked. “I’ll have you safe in Small Heath,”

“And my job? What will pay for this place? I finally have enough space for my flowers.” you asked. “I can’t just leave. Come on, you have to see the view on my balcony.”

You dragged Tommy’s hand to the balcony to show him the view. You were a little far from the docks now but from your balcony you can see it. The blue water, the usual chaos…you were smiling so freely, so beautifully. Tommy stills, unspoken words lingering in the air. You could realise it too…you’ve been realising it slowly. The world was in your hands. You could seize it if you wanted it. It fills Tommy with determination. It pumps through his veins, and it rings in his ears. Determination, consistency, and power. Three things to play with the world…three things that he’ll have. He could get you a bigger house. If he played right, he could have it all.

“This is why I got this place,” you said. “I mean, there were others but the view of the docks…I used to think everything about it was so ugly, you know? So grey, so evil…so grotesque but from the vantage point, everything is different,” a soft smile played on your lips when you let go of Tommy’s hand. He already missed your touch. “I can’t leave my job now because I wouldn’t have this,”

“I’ll work for it,” he says proudly.

“Tom, I know you’re not happy with how I earn money. Fuck, I’m not happy too. I hate that job. I know you hate it when I turn down your offer. But I have nothing else. You have to support your siblings. Don’t you get it? We’re all whores, Tom. We just sell different parts of ourselves. Mine just so happens to be my body.”

It enrages him and you could see it. See his face fall apart, how his jaw ticked.

“I’ll do it.” he said. “I’ll fucking do it. You think I’m fucking around when I tell you that I’ll protect you? I will. I’ll make a name for myself and protect you. I’ll fucking protect you; I swear on my life.”

“I know you will, Tom,” you said, inching closer. “But can’t you just be happy for me? This once?”

“We could add a little chair right here,” he relented. How could he ever tell you how much he hated himself for not being enough right now? “I’ll bring some of Polly’s flowers. You’d let me stay here?”

“Only if you’re being nice,”

“What if I’m too tired to make the trip back to Small Heath? Can I stay here?” he asked.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “But only if you have food for me or something,”

“Or something? You’re not letting me stay for free? I’m your best mate,” he chuckled. “I mooch off you all the time,”

“You have more than I do. It’s time for me to mooch off on you,”

“Yeah? Well, I want yours,” he said. “I’m glad though…that you don’t have to live there anymore. You’re safer here,”

“Thank you, Tom,” you smiled, sitting by the railing of your balcony. “I’m glad too.”

“I’ll make sure you’re protected,” he promises.

“How?”

“I’ll protect you.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1910

Tommy gave you the number of his telephone years ago. You were shaking, something bad had happened and you didn’t know who else to turn to. Big Johnny was too busy breaking up fights in the bar beside the brothel. You walked home shakily. Tommy called the brothel earlier to tell you that he couldn’t make it tonight because of some gang business. It was fine, of course. So, you went to the market to buy some supplies. You just didn’t know that he would be there.

You were waiting for someone to pick up the phone, biting your perfectly manicured nails.

“Who’s calling?” a woman asked from the other line. Her tone was snippy, and you knew she meant business.

“Hi,” you cleared your throat. “I’m looking for Tommy Shelby?”

“Who is this?” she asked, confused as to why a woman would suddenly call Tommy in such a manner. She was used to Tommy’s girls calling, an embarrassment usually hinted when they spoke. But this new girl had no shame.

“I’m a friend of Tommy’s,”

“Tommy has many girlfriends. You’re going to have to be specific,” she said, intrigued.

“Oh, of course,” you said. You told her your name. “Is he there?”

“Tommy!” you could hear her voice call. “Some girl is on the phone for you!”

“What, Poll?” he asked, scowling.

“Pick up the phone, Tom. Your friend is asking for you,” she said, passing the phone to him. She didn’t leave the room immediately, sitting on the nearby chair instead to listen in.

“Tommy Shelby,” he says, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Tommy,” you whispered. “He was there…he was there.”

“Who, love?” Tommy asked. Polly noticed how his voice softened, how his stance relaxed. “Do you need me there?”

“He was one of my customers before,” you forced out. “He was always…rude and rough,” you choked. “I hate this fucking job, Tommy. I fucking hate it and he treated me like an object today just because he paid for my services years ago,” you sobbed. “I’m sorry. I know you were busy but I fucking hate it,”

“Shh…it’s okay, love. It’s okay. I’m going over there, and you could tell me,” he said. “Will that be alright?”

“I—yes,” you nodded, wiping your tears hastily. “I got some of your favourite fruit from the market today. Didn’t know you have an expensive taste,”

He chuckled softly.

“I’ll see you, alright?” he asked. “Keep the doors locked. I have my copy,”

“Okay, Tommy. Stay safe for me?” you asked.

“Of course.” Tommy put down the phone until he heard you end the line. He sighed and went to go get his coat until he saw Polly with an eyebrow raised. “Fuck, I didn’t see you there,”

“Who would? You were too lovestruck to notice anything,” she teased. “That’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”

“We’re friends, Pol,” he clarified.

“She’s the girl from the docks, then?” she asked. Tommy nodded. “Fuck, that’s rough. She’s a whore,”

“Don’t,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Don’t call her that. I’m trying to build something for all of us, Pol. For her. She hates her job…she fucking hates it and I can’t do anything about it,”

“You don’t have to save her, Tom. You can’t save everyone,” she said but she knew that Tommy was stubborn. Everything that she’ll say will fall on deaf ears.

“It’s all her,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll get her out of there if it’s the last thing I do.”

The walk to your place was unnerving. Thoughts swarmed in his head. If he only had it in him to murder the man who dared to look at you. He’s never made peace with how you earned your money, but he still happily showed up after every shift. You never talk about your customers, and he didn’t like to ask.

“Tommy, you’re here,” you greeted. He could see how swollen your eyes were; how red they were.

“Of course, I am,” he replied. “Are you okay?” He hangs his coat on the coat rack and walks towards the couch where you were seated.

“I am now,” you sniffed. “I’m sorry for making you worry but this job…people reduce me to such an object. I didn’t even know his name, you know?”

“I know, love.” he said, his heart beating inside his chest. What was it? What was the beating?

“Tommy, I’m going to make a request. It’s absurd and we haven’t done it yet…”

“What?” he whispered, unsure.

“Can-can you hold me?” you asked. “You don’t have to but…I have no semblance of what it’s like to be loved anymore. I want to pretend. At least for tonight, somebody out there loves me.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” he said. “You’re my friend. Of course, I love you.”

You only smiled, snuggling closer to Tommy. You were his friend…only a friend. How else would he look at you differently? You still had to pretend because the love that he was willing to give was not the love that you were looking for.

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

Multiple knocks on your door woke you up. Someone was screaming your name outside and you felt yourself panic. You took the gun that Tommy gifted you last year and crept down the stairs. You opened the door slowly to reveal two men—one older and one younger. The younger one had a smirk playing on his lips while the other looked panicked.

“Who are you?” you asked, tightening the gun behind your back.

“Arthur Shelby,” the one with the beard replied. You nodded. “I’m Tommy’s older brother. This is John,”

“Where…where’s Tommy?”

“He asked us to come get you,” John replied. “We mean no harm.”

“What happened to him?” you asked. “Come in,”

The brothers entered your house and watched you lay your gun on the table. An unspoken threat.

“Tommy’s not in a good place,” Arthur replied. “Well, he’s asking for you. He’s having these…episodes. I don’t fucking know what thr fuck they’re called but sometimes, he calls for you when he shuts down,”

“It's even worse today,” John added. “Our mother died,”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” you said, offering a small smile. “Will you let me dress better? I’ll come with you,”

You met the brothers outside of your house, your gun secured on your skirt.

“Are you Tommy’s whore?” John asked as you walked.

“John!”

“I’m not his fucking whore,”

“So, why is he always at the brothel by the docks?” he pressed.

“We met when we were kids. Your dad used to visit the brothel with him,” you shrugged. “I never understood why your father took him there all the time. It’s a dangerous place,”

“Why were you there?”

“My mother worked there. I was born there. I grew up there,” you shrugged. “Tommy was my only friend growing up. Your father stopped coming but Tommy still managed to show up,”

“I see,” Arthur replied. “You’re the girl who gave him toy horses when we were kids, then. He never let us touch them. Even now, he has them lined up on his wall,”

“Yeah, I was. I gave it to him a week after my mother died,” you recalled.

“I’m sorry for calling you his whore,” John said. He realised now that your relationship with Tommy was deeper. It was more meaningful than he realised.

“It’s okay,” you let out a small smile. “It’s a fair assumption,”

Minutes of silence passed by, and your group stopped in Watery Lane. You’ve never been in his house before; you never had the time to do so. You were also quite ashamed to show yourself. How could you prove that you weren’t after Tommy’s money if that's exactly what you are after men?

The door of the house opens, and you assume it was Polly. The same woman who you talked to on the telephone before.

“He’s in his room upstairs. Last door to the left,” she said.

“Thank you,” you rushed to where Tommy was. You didn’t bother to stay and eavesdrop. You were there for Tommy. You knocked on his door slightly.

“Stay the fuck away from my door or I will kill you,” he shouted. You cracked the door open slightly.

“It’s me, Tom,” you said. He rose from his bed and rushed towards you, flinging his arms around you. He pulled you closer. “Hi,”

“She’s dead,” he murmurs against your hair. “My mum’s dead. My dad left. I didn’t even like him, you know? He always hit the three of us. I thought it would be better if he just fucking left but my mum died because he left. Now, I don’t have her.”

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you said. You knew he was still struggling after his father left many months ago. He was shaking in your arms, trying to grasp you tightly. Trying to be closer. “I’m so sorry,”

“I…I don’t know what to do,” he said. “You never got to meet her. She’d love you; you know?”

“That makes us even,” you saw a small smile on his lips. “I’m here now, Tom. You could rest,”

“You’ll still be here when I wake up?” he asked meekly, like a child.

“I’ll be here,” you nod, caressing his cheek softly. He nods, yawning after he evened out his breathing.

“Shit, love. I’m so tired,” he yawned again. “Let’s both go to sleep. We deserve it. I’ll see you when I’m awake?” he asked, adjusting your position on his small bed.

“I’ll see you,” you confirmed, snuggling closer to him.

“Tommy’s playing a dangerous game,” Polly commented from downstairs. It has been met with no resistance.

BIRMINGHAM, 1914

“Good afternoon, Pol,” you smiled. You were invited for Sunday dinner, and you decided to bring cake from the bakery that Tommy liked. You’ve only met them last year, but you’ve become such an integral part of their family that people knew you were closely associated with them. Even Simon.

“Oh, you didn’t have to bring cake,” she said. “We’d rather you spend it somewhere,”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I wanted to do something nice,”

“Keeping Tommy levelheaded is nice enough. Seriously, what did you do?” Ada asked, chopping the vegetables. She was reluctant at first but now, she couldn’t go a week without ranting to you. Girls’ night is what she called them.

“I don’t know,” you chuckled. “May I help?”

“If you could kindly chop the carrots, please,” Polly said. You set yourself and rolled your sleeves, peeling the carrots first. “Tommy and the boys went out for a while. They said it was some business with the Blinders. While they’re out, how are you?”

“Oh,” you nodded. “Me?”

“Of course. Ada has been talking my ear off about some guy she’s so secretive about,” she scoffed.

“I’ve been working less,” you confessed. “I’m helping out on the counter. Helping Big Johnny with the money and the accounts. I work a few times a week now. Simon’s been frequenting the brothel and well, you know what Simon does. It helps that he doesn’t stay long. The brothel pays me for my assistance. I can buy you cake every week now,”

“Don’t do that. Finn will be spoiled rotten,” Ada says. “Besides, you deserve nice things for yourself, you know,”

“I know but I can’t help it,” you said with a soft smile. “I like doing nice things for you,”

The boys soon come through the door, spilling with laughter. Tommy makes a beeline towards you as soon as he spots you.

“How was the afternoon?” you asked, bumping your hips with him.

“It was good,” he said. “Finn got into a fight with some kids, and we had to deal with it.”

“Is Finn okay? I brought cake.”

“Just a bruised ego,” he chuckled. My favourite?”

“Of course,” you said. “But let’s pretend that it’s for Finn, alright?”

“It’s always for Finn,” he groans. “He has you wrapped around his finger,”

“He does. He’s such a charming kid,” you praised. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Taking a bath before dinner. You have me for now,” Tommy said. “Can I sleep at your house later?” he asks in a softer tone. He’s been sleeping at your place ever since last year. He said you make him sleep better.

“You know it’s never a problem,” you said. His presence made you feel safe. He made you feel secure. “Will we leave together?”

“Yes. I’d like to sleep as soon as possible,” he says, dropping his forhead on your shoulder. You only chuckled. “I’m so tired. So, so tired,”

“Who are they fooling?” Ada asked in whispers. “Are we sure they’re best mates?”

“They’ve insisted on it for years,” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t think they’re aware,”

“I don’t think so either,” John says. “But Tommy throws a fit whenever she has to meet that Simon prick. Calls him a rich bastard.”

“He is a rich bastard,” Ada nodded. “She says he just came into his inheritance. Ammunitions,”

“Shit. She hit the jackpot, then,” John commented. “Wonder how that’s gonna go?”

“There’s nothing to wonder, John,” Arthur says. John could only nod his head.

You stumbled inside your house around half past midnight. You were both quite tipsy, having drank Pol’s stocks of wine. The Shelby Company Ltd. has been gaining more popularity now, along with the Blinders. Hell, Tommy even posted two Blinders to guard you. “For when I’m not around,” he said.

“Pol’s going to kill me for giving Finn too much cake,” you giggled, leaning on him.

“I reckon you’re banned from Sunday dinners,” Tommy jokes, taking his shoes off. He takes note of how you’re dressed today. “You know you can remove all the fucking things on your body right? Rouge…the jewels. Where’d you get them? Is the rich bastard buttering you up?”

“I like it. Dressing up makes me happy,” you frowned. “I’m allowed to like nice things, right?”

“Right,” his jaw ticked. It should be him who's giving you these gifts…showing you a lavish life. He hated it. “Later?”

“Later,” you nodded. “When I’m banned from Sunday dinners, you wouldn’t let me be left out, right?”

“‘Course not,” he shrugged, pulling you to your bedroom like he owned the place. You didn’t mind. You were happy to see that he was comfortable in your home. “You’re my best girl.”

“That’s what you say to your horses,”

“You’ve got really good horse sense and you’re always on your high horse,” he says, peeling his coat away. He was rummaging in your chest now, looking for clothes he might have left until he settled on a simple white shirt and pyjama pants.

“Yeah, yeah. You and your horse wordplay.” You entered the bathroom to dress down. Just like Tommy, you settled in his shirt and pants. They were more comfortable than singlets and you certainly didn’t want to make Tommy uncomfortable.

He was already waiting for you on the bed when you came back. He pats the space beside him. You obliged. You were looking into each other’s eyes with small smiles, Tommy’s finger trailing down your arm absentmindedly.

“I…” words died in his throat before he could get them out. “I…”

“What is it, Tom? Are you okay?”

“I’ll get you out of here,” he rasps. “I’ll get you out of there and I won’t let you work a day in your life anymore.”

“Tommy,” you sighed. “I can’t—can’t leave this job. It’s all I have,” He tightens his arms around you, afraid that you’ll ask him to let go.

“I know but once I come back from the war—“

“The war?” you asked, removing his arms around you. “War?”

“We enlisted,” he clarifies, trying to gauge your reaction. “Once I come back, I’ll be so fucking rich. I’ll have you. I’ll keep you and you won’t have to lift a finger. We’ll live in a mansion and have servants. Just like what we used to talk about,”

“Tommy, you’re going to war?” you asked, standing from the bed. His eyes watched you settle down shakily on the single chair by the bed. “Fuck. You’re going to war. You’re going to leave me,”

“No, love. Come on, I—“ he grunts, sitting up from his relaxed position.

“It’s war, Tommy! They change people…I don’t want to lose you; do you not get that? Are you not happy here? Is that why you're throwing your life away?”

“I’m not throwing my life away,” he says, a frown. “We’ll be drafted one way or another because we’re poor. Might as well do it now than be forced. Some of my men will still watch over you every now and then. They’ll still make sure that you’re safe. We’ll send letters. Alright?”

“Letters,” you scoffed. “And what if the letters stopped coming?”

“Don’t say that, please,” he begs. “I’m doing this for all of us. The business will be handled by Polly and when I’m back, I’ll make it even bigger. Alright? You have to trust me,” You didn’t even want to ask about the business. You didn’t want to ask why more men wore peaky caps. You didn’t want to ask what the Shelby Company Ltd. really was. Not now.

“I know you will, Tom,” you said. “But I’m scared. For the first time since I’ve known you, you won’t be here. I’m scared,”

Tommy lays his hand on your shoulder. Words he couldn’t say lingered in the air. I’ll marry you once I step foot in England. He didn’t know what else to say; didn’t know if there was still something to say. So, he kneels before you and makes you look at him. You were crying. So afraid, so alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“When will you be leaving?”

“I have two more days,” he says. “Will I still see you?”

“Yes, of course,” you said. “You’ll come back for me?”

“Of course. I have a picture of you already in my pocket. I have to make sure to come back to you,” he said. “and everyone else, of course.”

He fishes a necklace from his pocket, his mother’s locket.

“Here,” he said, showing it to you. It was one of the last pieces of jewellery she owned. “Mum gave it to me. You know I’ve always worn it. I want you to wear it now. Think of it as a loan, yeah? You’ll give it back once we see each other again,”

“Tommy, I—“

“I want you to accept it. I want you to see you wear it now. I want to see you wear it before I leave. But most of all I want for us to stay the same,” he says, holding you and kissing your hair softly. You couldn’t push him away. You’ve longed for this your whole life. To be held, to feel loved. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“I’m sorry. So, so, so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think you’re wasting your life away,” you cleared your throat. “I’m so—I’m so proud of you and your bravery. I’m so proud of you but I can’t be fucking happy for you. I don’t want to wake up every day knowing that you’re not here. I don’t want to have to guess if you were alive or not.”

“I am,” he promises. “I’ll be alive. I’ll come back as your Tommy. Just…wait for me, alright?”

You clung onto Tommy two days later by the train. He whispered that he would come back. He said that he will make sure of it. He breathes in the smell of your hair—roses. He envelopes you in his arms once more and turns to leave, never looking back. You knew, in your hysterics, that if he comes back from the war, the same old Tommy you used to know would never be.

PART 2 PART 3

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shellby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #hurt/comfort #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby angst #cillian murphy

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radio-charlie · 7 months

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Just try looking for a positive story on China any day of the week in any of the leading global media outlets. Apart from reports in January about the Lunar New Year, there will hardly be any, and these too are likely to have a negative spin. It would appear there is a confidential memo circulating within Western media groups that guides reporters and editors to ensure there cannot be any positive news arising from a country with 1.3 billion people.

Typically, the negative stories adhere to three core ideas, which inform the unspoken guidelines within these press rooms when it comes to reporting on China.

First is the belief that China is a threat to the world and that this belief must be relentlessly reinforced at every available opportunity. How and why China is a threat is never explored; such is the deep-rooted and almost religious nature of the belief. Sound arguments do not matter. The basic tenets of good journalism are ignored when it comes to a China story. There is no need to explain or give evidence of why China is a global threat.

Left ignored is the plentiful evidence that shows China is not a global threat – even if one can point to mistakes and overreach in certain areas. China has not invaded any country in decades, or imposed sanctions that have devasted the lives of millions in poor countries, unlike the West, led by the United States.

Second is that China must be linked to every possible global event that affects the West. This provides an opportunity for the West to bash China while simultaneously burnishing its own credentials as the supposed arbiters of what is right and wrong in international relations. From the pandemic to the Russia-Ukraine war to carbon emissions; from rising sea levels to the scramble for rare earths; from the building of infrastructure in Africa to the production of vaccines – there must be an angle to demonize the country and instill fear in Western nations (and beyond).

Indeed, media outlets are reverting to the “yellow peril” of the late 1800s. There is no subtle and nuanced approach to instilling fear like this. It is full-on and very often blatantly racist – but it is now acceptable for one to be racist about the Chinese in Western media, despite the fact that Black-White relations are very carefully described.

The third part of this phenomenon, which is surprisingly not challenged by liberal readers of mainstream media, is the sentiment that everything must be done – even illegal and unfair methods – to arrest the rise of China. Never mind the rights of hundreds of millions of Chinese to have a better life after a century of poverty and deprivation.

#written by an indian-malaysian no less #i'm surprised as usually the people (regardless of ethnicity) who write for such publications #and who write this well and soundly #do so for NATO-friendly purposes. hopefully the tide will shift further soon

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toomanythoughts4myhead · 4 months

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Woven from the same thread

[Part 2] [Masterlist]

Summary: Coriolanus Snow hungers for control, what will happen when he gives up it up for his own good? What will happen when he finaly meets his match?

Pairing: Sub!Coriolanus Snow x Dom!reader

Warnings: gaslight, gatekeeper, girl boss; dumbification; Coriolanus Snow, mentioned of death and bombings, manipulations.

A/N: purely an excuse to write for submissive Coriolanus. I love me a controlling obsessive man, but I love him more on his knees crying.

Coriolanus Snow who decided getting a cute rich girlfriend would help him in life. He wouldn't love her, he'd discard her immediately the moment he managed to get into university with the plinth prize or if he simply found someone better.

Coriolanus Snow who saw you and your sweet smile and charming innocent eyes and decided that you were going to be his personal piggy bank.

Coriolanus Snow who tries charming you with pretty words and gentlemanly actions, providing as much as he can muster with his unexistable budget. An occasional white rose or a pretty origami would be thrown your way, but that's as far as he could afford to go.

Coriolanus Snow who realizes too late you are a snake like him.

Coriolanus Snow who gapes in horror at you in your lavish room at your parent's penthouse after you reveal it all to him. Telling him how you saw his thinning frame and hollow cheeks, the acidy breath from hunger and the lack of presents or money spent on you had given him away. It was all a hypothesis but his reacting confirmed it.

Coriolanus Snow who is frozen in place, his deepest fear of getting closer to someone and having them find out of his poverty hidden in plain sight made his pale skin loose all semblence of color.

Coriolanus Snow who is on the verge of dropping on his knees and begging(he should) but you run a hand along his jaw and propose a deal. He is the smartest boy in the Academy, presentable and well mannered, he will continue to be your boyfriend and you will keep your mouth shut and wallet open for him as long as he plays by your whistle. It was left unspoken that if he stepped out of line you would air his dirty laundry with no hesitation.

Coriolanus Snow who becomes your personal dog, no matter how much he hates it. You wrote him a check to buy his family some food and pay his rent, as a starting sum, with one of your credit cards.

Having a pretty smart boyfriend was a dream come true for you. Having said boy and holding an unimaginable power over his every move was all you ever wanted. You and him shared the same poison, the same thirst for power, you knew that. But he hadn't, and that is what brought him to his demise.

He lost the battle. He lost the war.

Coriolanus Snow who does all the stereotypical "perfect boyfriend" things. He carries your books, opens the doors for you, pulls your chair out, kisses your forehead sweetly and holds your hand. He was perfect, at performing in public at least. Behind closed doors he still had his bite, no matter how good he could act his ego got the best of him.

You would break him soon enough

You started it small.

Phase 1:

Giving him small commands first in public, where he couldn't let his bravado fall. Telling him to wait for you, to not move, to lift that, do that, etc. Later you did it when there were people of your age or older around. Clearly showing off the power you had over Coriolanus, he had to obey you, his families apartment depended on it. He wanted to snap and not do it, to show he is in fact his own master, but how will he explain to granma' am and Tigris that they had to live on the street because his girlfriend/sugar mommy was too bossy?

Coriolanus Snow who was left to marinate in his own embarrassment in silence, feeling all eyes on him as people's perception of him change. From a proud heir to one of the most important business for the Capitol to a lovesick boyfriend who was his girlfriends servant, with a smile on his face worst of all. He was starting to get used to it. This had been going on for months now, the habit was starting to get rooted deeply.

Phase 2:

It was still a small jump but you started to give him shorter orders, one word commands, expecting him to know what to do- and he did. You'd say "open" and any door would be trust wide open and held for you. You'd say "hold" and thrust whatever you are holding to him without a spare glance. Maybe in the past he would have thrown the expensive purse or books while looking you dead in the eyes like a statement but now he simply waited for you patiently.

Coriolanus Snow who actually threw your books in a fit of rage once and ended up penniless for a month. He had to come to your house timidly after receiving no calls on the private phone you had bought him and no reply as he blew up your line.(he could only call your number and couldn't add or remove it. who else did he need to contact?)

Coriolanus who had to face greater humiliation than what he was used to, as he walked across the private party thrown by your parents, looking for you. The pitiful looks he got wobbling around in his academy uniform, even outside school as he asked around for you. People must have seen him as a kicked puppy, looking for his owner. It wasn't completely false.

Coriolanus Snow who found you in a secret room pointed to him by your mother who had cooed at him pitifully, used to seeing him waddle after you almost daily. You were sitting on large chair behind a wooden desk, looking over some documents. Your gaze snapped to him as he entereed, the faint yellow light from the lamp illuminated his face and made the miserable look in his eyes and blush in his cheeks ever more evident.

He had gotten to eat so good, first class meals, you'd even send a private chef over to his house to cook for him when he was especially good. He had gotten greedy and now going back to slurping bean juice felt unimaginable.

"Your rent is looking ever the higher. Its not looking good."

He hadn't(didnt) want to think about this as he slept on a cold matress, their heating had run out. He missed the taste of luxury. He would do anything to get it back.

"I made a mistake, y/n."

He knew he should do more. He knew you'd like to see him beg and squirm but he didn't think he could handle any more of this if he did. He had felt so much pressure, so such stress to find some food, to worry about rent, to hide the eyebags under his eyes, the humiliation from tonight was almost too much.

"Come here, Coriolanus."

Your voice rang out cold and commanding, but never demanding. You had too much power over him to demand. You pulled the chair back and it's wheels creaked, you put a hand on your thigh in a wordless command. Coriolanus wobbled a bit shakily, trying to maintain some form of dignity as he walked to you. He came to a halt between your legs, looking down at you and creating a shadow over your form. It should have made him feel better, to be in one way on top, but it didn't, he couldn't delude himself anymore, he knew he had no control.

What had you done to him?

"Kneel"

It took him a few seconds but he dropped slowly to his knees, one leg at a time until he was at eyelevel with your knees, sitting on his hinges, since he knew he'd be down here for a while. He stared stubbornly into your eyes, his pale blue eyes shone almost angelically paired with his pink lips. Your pretty puppy, it almsot made you smile. It almost made you forgive him, almost.

"You disobeyed me, Coriolanus. I told you there would be consequences."

"I know, y/n, i know, i wont do it again. I promise."

"I dont believe you."

You say and pick the document you had been reviewing before. You bring them close enough so he can read them too. They were charts and documents of increasing rent money for the apartment building his penthouse was in, the wages of the workers where Tigris worked, a paper with the retirement money his grandma got, paper with the money the country gave him as a compensation since he had lost both of his parents. All the money that his family got and had to spend.

Coriolanus who skims the papers but even the breif look of the numbers told him what he already knew.

He had no future without you. The Hunger games had gotten canceled this year since the death of Felix, the presidents son, the Plinth prize had gotten withdrawn. He had nothing, he could do nothing.

"I gave you everything, Coriolanus. Was your pride worth your future?"

He feels his gaze get hazy, the panic was starting to set in. He had come here to get you back, sure that he would be able to do it, but now he could almost taste your rejection. He was starting to get scared and panicked. He needed you.

"It wasnt- it isnt. Y/n, I made a mistake, plase forgive me. I wont do it again."

He shuffles closer to you subconsciously, looking up at you as his voice grew hoarse. His pride long gone, thrown out the moment he saw the consequences. You place a soft hand on his hair, gripping it gently and he feels the golden ring on your finger, the one with your family's crest made from pure gold, rest heavily on his scalp. You tilt his face up to look at you.

"Beg. Show me how sorry you are."

His mouth opened immediately, no hesitation to beg for you. Maybe he should feel shame to be thrust into this position but all he felt was hope. If you were willing to hear him out it means there is some chance he could get you back.

"Im sorry, y/n, im so sorry. I was stupid, i was greedy, i was arrogant. I wont do it again. Im yours, please"

He hadn't realized he had started crying until his tears pooled and fell, warm and salty, against his lips and on the material of the chair, his long blond lashes clump togetger and his lips redden, the tear streaks down his cheeks and neck glisten in the light and he looks like a painting.

You decide you like him like this best, begging at your feet and crying for your love.

You coo at him sympatheticly even as a smile tugs the corners of your lips. You caress his beautiful locks of hair and wipe his tears away only to lick your fingers.

"My poor baby, no need to cry. Im here now, you remembered where you belong, its okay now, you are okay now."

His breath grows labored and his face twists in pain as more tears follow, he burries his face into the bare skin of your inner thighs and sobs loudly. All the stress had caught up with him. The responsibilities, the fear, the hunger, the thought that he'd lose his anchor, the thought he'd lose you.

Your guidance, your attention, your love. He didn't need to worry anymore, he didn't need to fret and plot to stay at the top, simply being known as your lover was enough. You were the second richest family in Panem, after the President. Coriolanus held much more power than he ever had on his own. People respected him more and he got the cushiony life he had always dreamt of.

He was safe.

His family was safe.

You let him cry, cooing calming words of reassurance as you caress the nape of his neck and the curls of his hair. His big shaky hands envelope your thighs and he holds onto them for dear life.

You knew he would come crawling back once he saw that you meant business and weren't bluffing. It had taken him longer and you respect his resilience but he had funaly come to his senses and back into your arms. A part of you felt a pang of empathy for him, for the poor boy underneath all the masks and facades he had on to survive in this world. You knew when it came down to it he would have murdered him, to remain the shell of the person he is. You don't feel bad for Snow. You felt bad for Coriolanus.

Poor, caring, driven Coriolanus, who might have been good if not for the poison and hunger and fear he had been forced to shoulder.

But you are here now, so he wouldn't have to worry anymore. He can be good. You'll make sure he is your good boy.

Phase 0:

Coriolanus is a smart boy, he probably could predict all the steps of manipulation you had come up with, what he probably hadn't anticipated were the rewards. The additional money, delicious food, new clothes, you'd even found a better job for Tigris (not good enough to pay for the rent ofc). The small touches you'd offered him and the lack of discrimination against his poverty. You'd treated him good and given him a lot.

How could a boy who's only had things taken from him begin to expect anything else? The mentality of take or lose had kept him alive this long, but maybe you wanted to give. He had shared with you in a night of vulnerabilities about his family. How his mother and unborn sister died, hiw his father died, how he was left with only his grandma and Tigris almost broke to survive.

Coriolanus had a lot of potential to be your loyalest dog or biggest enemy depending on how you let him flourish.

That's why you had bought him a phone to call only you, made him dependant only on you, talked with your parents and together you'd managed to cancel the Hunger games, throwing all the district tributes back in their homes, far far away. Especially Lucy Gray, the songbird who was on her way to charm Coriolanus. How you'd agreed the money from the plinth prize should be used on fixing the damage done by the rebelion bombings.

Coriolanus wasn't a good person.

You were simply better at being bad.

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