#Free Standing Flower Tower

[beloveds-embrace]

Until the Last Loop: Familiar Faces

(Days spent with them making new memories- a silent attempt at forging a new life before it will be ripped away once more)

Poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader

Part One

The castle breathed with life and the scent of burning tallow, but to you, it might as well have been a tomb. Its towering walls and narrow corridors, carved from cold stone and lined with faded tapestries, had grown too familiar over the cycles- prisons that wore different faces but caged you all the same, and you were the bird locked within it each life, merely with different feather each time.

You sung the same melody, regardless. A melody that would soon be snuffed out.

You moved through the halls like a shadow, your impending doom hanging over you like clock that never stopped ticking until its last moments. Servants parted for you without meeting your gaze, and although whispers followed in your wake, they no longer stung the way they once had. You had long since grown used to the weight of their words, their gazes full of pity and disdain. They had become just another layer of the endless loop, a reflection of your precarious standing with the royal lineage.

But the men- the four who trailed in your footsteps, sent by your father to report all your moves back to him with the excuse of protecting you- were different.

They were a presence you couldn’t shake, no matter how many lifetimes passed. Always close, always steady, their shadows filled the empty spaces others left behind. And unlike the others, they weren’t afraid to look at you.

In some lives, you despised them. What comfort could four men give you when all you wanted was your father’s love? Your people’s adoration? Friends your age? None whatsoever.

In other lives, you had been distant. You kept them at arms’ length, unwilling to even converse with them. They were of no use to your desperation to free yourself from this cursed cycle.

You’ve lost count of how many loops you’ve gone through. Even now, you do not know how it started; who started it. A cruel curse, that’s what it was, and you were its constant victim. It was inevitable, so why… keep away the only people willing to be near you?

And so this time, you let them close.

Soap was the first to slip past your walls, an unsurprising fact.

It was late when you found yourself sitting in the gardens, the air sharp with the chill of night. The roses were dying, their petals curling inward as frost crept along the edges, and you wondered- just for a moment- how many times you had seen them bloom and wither like this.

Too many times.

You were alone with him; no maid or lady-in-waiting was willing to accompany you, though rather than saying that, they jusy boldly lied and said they had prior arrangements to the king.

The king. Your father. It was always him. You wished he’d hate you a little less, just enough to not rob you of the care you’ll always long for like a child stumbling through the cold for a flicker of fire, of warmth.

Wistful dreams.

Soap sat down beside you without invitation, though his presence didn’t feel unwelcome. His easy smile was softer in the moonlight, and when he offered you his cloak, you didn’t refuse it.

“You look like you’re waitin’ for somethin’,” he said, voice low but steady, starting the conversation. By now, they’ve come to understand that you are… so different from whatever everyone said of you. You were quiet, your presence squeezed and molded into a tiny nook of the castle so easy to forget.

You didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch. The words came slower, heavier now- weighted by too many winters and too many deaths.

“I think it’s waiting for me,” you breathed out, fingers brushing the edge of the cloak. The flowers fluttered when a breeze blew by, bending in the directionaway from you; they pitied you, too, for not even they’d be placed upon your grave once you were dead. “… My end, I mean.”

Soap didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to deny it, either. He did not have any loyalty to the king or keeping his secrets; no mercenary would bother even if they’d lifk the king’s hand for his gold and coins.

Snakes, all of them. And yet- they were the ones who got to live, so the last laugh was theirs.

“Well,” he said instead, leaning back on his palms, “if it comes knockin’, ye just let me know. I’ll handle it.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

Soap didn’t leave right after that, like you expected.

He stayed, stretched out beside you on the stone bench like he had nowhere better to be, his broad shoulders relaxed but his eyes sharp as they roamed the shadows pooling in the corners of the garden. The scent of dying roses lingered in the air, sweet and cloying, and you wondered if he noticed the way your hands trembled when you smoothed the cloak over your lap.

If he did, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he tilted his head back and gazed at the stars, his voice softer when he spoke again.

“Ye know, my mum used to say the stars are just folk lookin’ down on us,” he said, accent curling thick around the words. “Watchin’, guidin’… makin’ sure we dinna wander too far off the path.”

You blinked at him. “And what if the path leads… nowhere?”

Soap turned his head to look at you then, eyes dark. “Then ye make yer own.”

It was such an earnest thing to say, so full of conviction that it made something in your chest twist painfully. You couldn’t tell him how many times you’d tried to do just that- tried to fight and claw your way toward a different ending, only to be dragged back to the start again.

Soap didn’t know. None of them did.

And yet, as you sat there with his warmth seeping through the cloak and his words lingering in the air like a promise, you found yourself wishing- just for a moment- that he was right.

That you could carve your way out of this nightmare and leave the endless cycle behind.

But that was foolish.

So instead, you leaned back against the bench and let your eyes drift shut, pretending not to notice the way Soap’s hand hovered near the dagger at his side, ready to draw at the first sign of danger.

Pretending you didn’t feel safer for it.

Ghost was harder to pin down. He lingered on the edges, silent as your grave, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

When the nightmares came- and they always did, another constant- you found him at your door. He never asked questions, never pried. He simply stood guard, silent, until the trembling stopped.

One night, when sleep refused to come after a day of listening to awful, false whispers of you, you found yourself seated on the rug in front of the hearth, staring into the flames. Ghost leaned against the wall, his mask a stark contrast against the flickering light.

“They won’t hurt you.” He said suddenly, rough and low.

You didn’t look at him. You watched the flickering fire, and was rewarded with whispers of the lives where you’d been burned at the stake. “They always do.”

“They won’t.”

And maybe it was foolish, but for once, you almost believed him.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest, eyes fixed on the flames as if they could burn away the memories pressing in from all sides.

Ghost didn’t move from his place against the wall. He was a silhouette in the firelight, broad shoulders and sharp angles, the hollow black of his mask turning him into something almost otherworldly.

You didn’t ask why he was there. He never explained himself, and you never pushed.

After a while, he broke the silence again.

“They’re scared of you.”

His voice was quiet, still rough like gravel, but it cut through the room as sharply as any blade.

You swallowed, your gaze still locked on the fire. You couldn’t look away. “No. They hate me.”

Ghost didn’t argue. He let the silence stretch, his eyes never leaving you.

You weren’t sure why that bothered you more than words would have.

“They’re scared,” he repeated finally, slower this time. Firmer. “And scared people do stupid things.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “Like cutting off my head?”

Ghost tilted his head, and something about the way he looked at you made your chest tighten.

“They won’t get the chance, princess.” He said, and there was something cold in his voice that sent a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him then, finally meeting his gaze. Or at least, what you thought was his gaze beneath the mask. It was impossible to tell, but you felt it- heavy, unflinching.

“You can’t stop it, Ghost.”

Ghost didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. “Watch me.”

The words shouldn’t have meant anything. They shouldn’t have mattered when you already knew how this would end- how it always ended. Those words were treacherous to whatever the king wanted and expected of him.

But as the fire crackled and the shadows danced along the walls, you let yourself believe him. Just for a little while.

Because Ghost wasn’t the kind of man who made promises.

And yet, when he spoke, it sounded like one.

… yet you knew, not all promises can be kept.

Gaz was gentler than the others. Thoughtful. Attentive in a way that made your chest ache, because it had been so long since anyone had looked at you without seeing the stain on your birthright first and you second.

He helped you practice with a dagger one afternoon, though you both knew it wouldn’t be of much use to you. The sharp clang of metal rang out against the training yard walls as he corrected your grip, his hands warm against yours.

When was the last time you’d been held like that?

Far too long ago. Far too many lives ago.

“Careful,” he said, guiding the blade down in a smooth arc. “Keep your stance steady.”

You frowned. “What does it matter?”

Gaz tilted his head, eyes searching yours. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

And wasn’t that the cruelest part? That no matter how many times you died, you always woke up again?

You didn’t answer, and Gaz didn’t press. Instead, he let you lean into him when the weight of it all grew too heavy, when the weight of more than just the training pressed down on you.

Gaz stayed close after that- close enough that you started to notice the small things.

The way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than they should, watching for signs of exhaustion or the fear you tried so hard to hide. The way his touch was always secure but never overbearing, grounding you without demanding more than you were willing to give.

He made you feel… safe.

It was dangerous.

Foolish.

But you let him stay anyway. You stayed with him anyway.

The dagger gleamed in the sunlight as you practiced another strike, the blade slicing cleanly through the air. Gaz nodded approvingly, stepping back just enough to give you space, though his presence was still a solid weight at your side.

“Better,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “You’re getting the hang of it, princess. Maybe you’ll give us a run of our money, eh?”

You lowered the blade, breathing hard as you wiped the sweat from your brow. You couldn’t find it within yourself to be humorous “I’m not sure it’ll matter in the end.”

Gaz frowned at that, stepping closer. “Don’t say that.”

You almost laughed. Almost. “You don’t understand.”

His hand came up then, gentle as he tilted your chin to face him. The look in his eyes knocked the breath from your lungs- steady and sure, like he was trying to hold you together with sheer force of will.

“Maybe I don’t,” he admitted, voice low. “But I do know this- every time you get back up, it matters.”

You didn’t realize you were trembling until his hand dropped to your shoulder, grounding you with the warmth of his touch.

“Don’t give up yet, princess,” he murmured, softer now. “Not on yourself.”

It was almost too much. Too kind. Too hopeful.

You wanted to tell him that hope had no place here- not in this endless loop of death and betrayal and grief. Not in this damned castle- but the words wouldn’t come, caught in your throat like fish in a net.

So instead, you let him take the dagger from your hands, let him press it back into its sheath before leading you toward the shade of the courtyard’s edge.

And when he sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, you didn’t pull away.

Because for once, it didn’t feel like a burden to be seen.

Price was the hardest to read.

He was steady, commanding- his presence filled the room like the smoke of chimneys, lingering long after he was gone. He carried himself like a man who had seen too much and lost too many, and sometimes, when he looked at you, you thought you saw the ghost of something more.

He didn’t speak often, but when he did, his words stayed with you.

“Do you ever wonder, princess,” he asked one evening, standing by the window with a wooden cup of mead in his hand. You didn’t know how he’d even snuck it in, but you weren’t going to snitch. “if we’re all just pieces on your father’s board?”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden question.

“All the time.” You said.

His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, and there was something unreadable in it.

You wanted to ask what he meant, why the sudden question, but he turned away before you could, leaving you to sit and stew with the thought.

And stew you did.

Because Price wasn’t wrong, was he?

You already knew your father had lied- about these mercenaries, their orders, everything.

They weren’t here to protect you. Not really.

No knights would take you, no nobles wanted you, and no one in the kingdom would lay down their sword for a bastard-born princess whose only crime was existing. Yet here they were, these hardened men, mercenaries paid in coin and silence, assigned to watch your every move.

Not guard you. Watch you.

Keep you until the day you were dragged to your death once more.

You’d known it the moment Price first stepped through your door, his eyes sweeping the room like he was cataloging exits instead of protecting them. The others were subtler- Soap with his easy charm, Ghost with his patient silence, Gaz with his careful words- but Price?

Price didn’t even try to hide it.

And maybe that was the worst part.

Because he didn’t look at you the way others did. He didn’t sneer, didn’t pity, didn’t hate. He looked at you like he was waiting.

Waiting for what?

For you to run? To slip up? To hand him the excuse he needed to drag you before your father in chains, so he could take the money and leave?

The thought made your stomach twist.

Because no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter- that the loop would end and begin again, and none of this would last- it still sank its claws into you.

And the next time Price caught you watching him from across the room, you didn’t look away.

Not at first.

He held your gaze, steady and unreadable, but there was no malice in it- no sharp edges or hidden teeth. Just something quiet. Something that almost felt like understanding.

When you finally turned away, you expected the weight of it to linger, to drag down your shoulders and settle in your chest like an unwelcome puff of smoke.

But it didn’t.

Instead, you felt the faintest flicker of warmth- barely there, fleeting as a dying ember- and hated how much you wanted to hold onto it.

Days turned to nights, and the hours slipped away like sand through your fingers. The loop pressed closer with every tick of the clock, and yet…

You didn’t feel so alone this time.

They were there- in the quiet moments, in the chaos, in the shadows of your worst fears- and though you knew it wouldn’t save you, you still let them stay.

Because this time, you didn’t have the strength to keep them away.

This time, you… wanted to have fond memories before your death.

Masterlist | Part Three

I hope everyone’s been enjoying this so far! Any guesses on why reader is in a time loop and who might be responsible? :3

[smileysuh]

send in the clowns

🌙 staring. Hyuck & Mark & Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “She’s not the reason we’re dressed as clowns,” Hyuck is quick to insist. He’s such a good liar. Jungwoo would almost believe it, if you hadn’t told him your Halloween clown plan. It’s no secret to you that your three frat friends all have crushes on you, so you’d decided to tell Jaehyun about wanting to fuck a clown, just to see who would actually follow through with the costume. You’d expected one, maybe two- but here are all three men, dressed as exactly what they are: clowns. And it’s obvious to Jungwoo that they think this is their own idea. As if you’re not the puppeteer behind this all. God, Jungwoo loves having you as a best friend, even if your bucket list includes a frat clown Halloween orgy with three of his best friends.

tw/cw. clown kink? orgy, foursome, unprotected sex, semi-inexperienced reader, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, cum eating, squirting, fingering, masturbation, guided masturbation, spanking, choking, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, cum/filling kink, praise, dirty talk, first time anal, cock warming, double penetration, triple penetration, multiple reader orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, deep throating, face grinding, etc… I pet names: (hers) barbie, babe, baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 10.6k

🍭 aus. Halloween, frat au, friends to lovers, Joker!Jae, Buggy!Mark, Pennywise!Hyuck, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm not sure I can even explain this one tbh

1: Mark

Mark loves drunk karaoke nights. He loves the way the alcohol calms him down, making his skin tingle and his lids feel heavy. He loves how easy it is to smile and laugh while his friends make fools of themselves. He loves watching Hyuck and Jungwoo be silly goofy chaos demons, choosing duets and ballads that make them sink to their knees and belt out songs so loud that they get noise complaints from other frat boys walking by their room. But most of all, Mark loves watching you sing, watching your hips sway to the music as you lose yourself in the energy.

It has taken a year of being friends with you before you opened up and started really relaxing with Mark and his frat brothers. Mark has enjoyed every moment of watching you bloom into the flower you are now. He’d thought you were cute when you first met, but these days, he thinks you’re one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever had the pleasure of getting to know.

He feels downright lucky, sitting on his bed, a beer in his hand, watching you stumble your way through a rap verse. Karaoke is never about being good at singing, although, Hyuck does often get a one-hundred-point score and boasts about it by running down the halls declaring himself the best singer in the frat. 

No, drunk karaoke is simply about friendship. It’s about the way Mark feels able to be truly himself when he’s with you, his roommate Hyuck, and his two other frat brothers Jaehyun and Jungwoo. You’re a fivesome Mark had never expected to feel so at home with, but now, he couldn’t imagine anything else.

It’s getting late, and your energy is rapidly deteriorating, especially as you finish up your song and collapse next to Mark on his bed. He knows you well enough to see that when Hyuck and Jungwoo complete their next duet, you’ll be heading back to your apartment across campus.

Mark does his best to appreciate the time he has left with you, scooting closer so your thighs are just touching. He offers you his beer but you shake your head, still trying to catch your breath from the excitement of getting a score of ninety-eight.

In the confines of Hyuck and Mark’s small room, the two most extroverted of the fivesome pour their hearts out into ‘Greased Lightning,’ complete with flamboyant choreography and more giggling than Mark’s tired abdomen can even handle. 

Even Jaehyun is laughing, standing by the window with a joint. His cheeks are flushed red, ears matching, and Mark swears he’s never seen Jaehyun as free as he is during nights like this. 

As the song finishes up, you let out a deep sigh, standing. “I should really be headed home.”

Mark rises to his feet, pulling you into a hug that never lasts long enough. “Thanks for coming,” he murmurs, offering you a small smile as he does his best to conceal just how much he enjoys your company.

“You guys know I never miss karaoke night,” you grin, sending him a wink before you head over to hug Jaehyun.

Mark watches the way his hyung’s eyes close as he holds you, his embrace lingering around your smaller form.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Jae,” you nod, pulling away before your gaze shifts to Hyuck. “And I’ll see you and Mark at the Halloween party tomorrow night.”

“Not if we see you first,” Hyuck teases, pulling you into a hug that looks a little too tight for Mark’s liking.

“God, you’re such clowns,” you laugh, pushing at Hyuck’s shoulders to prompt him to release you.

“Is that a song request?” Mark’s roommate asks, jumping on the chance to sing another. “I would crush Sinatra’s ‘Send In The Clowns.’” 

You simply roll your eyes, going to join Jungwoo at the door. “Goodnight, guys.”

Jungwoo has been your longest-standing friend since first year. He’s the one who introduced you to Mark, Hyuck and Jaehyun. He’s probably the only person in the room who doesn’t want to fuck you, and he’s the one you always walk home with- leaving the frats at night can be dangerous for a pretty girl like you, and your six-foot golden retriever bestie always insists on making sure you get back to your apartment safe.

With one last goodbye, you leave, and there’s a noticeable shift in the energy of the room. All three men let out small sighs, and Jaehyun turns to the window, clearly intent on watching you walk away. 

Hyuck, meanwhile, collapses onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “She’s great.”

“She is,” Mark agrees, sipping his beer. 

“You know, I’ve got a great idea,” Hyuck says dreamily.

“Let's hear it,” Jaehyun sighs, biting the bait while still looking out the window.

“I’m thinking- now don’t immediately shut this down, but I’m definitely thinking Halloween orgy.”

Mark chokes on his beer, sputtering and trying to clear his throat.

“Jesus, Mark, don’t die-” Hyuck sits up, staring at him while Jaehyun simply shakes his head with a smile. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, but why are you serious?” Mark asks, swallowing thickly. “Why do you think that’s a good idea?” 

“Not just a good idea, a great one,” Hyuck smirks. “Listen, we’ve all been into her for ages, and what's the one thing stopping us from making a move? Each other.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only thing stopping us,” Jaehyun muses. 

“She wants us,” Hyuck states.

“She does?” This is news to Mark.

“A hundred percent… like my karaoke score. I’m sure of it.” Hyuck nods to himself. “It’s in the body language.”

Jaehyun turns away from the window to asses Hyuck, crossing his arms over his chest. “What body language?”

“Just trust me.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “No.”

“Your loss, don’t join the orgy, Mark and I will show her a good time,” Hyuck’s eyes shift to the Canadian, “Won’t we, Mark?”

Mark’s throat goes dry. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this scenario. As roommates and best friends, he and Hyuck have shared girls before- this wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary…

“I mean…” Mark sighs.

“You’re both crazy,” Jaehyun insists. 

Hyuck scoffs loudly. “As if you don’t want to join!”

“I’m not saying I don’t, I’m just pointing out that there are multiple reasons none of us have taken a shot at her.” Mark appreciates Jaehyun’s level-headed thinking, it’s a sharp contrast to Hyuck’s chaos. The Hyung in the room is good at voicing what Mark isn’t able to. “If she’s not interested, you’ll ruin karaoke night. You’ll ruin the friendship. If she is interested, who’s to say she wants all of us? Most girls are monogamous- who’s to say she’d even want to be part of an orgy with three guys? Who’s to say we could all actually handle sharing, given who she is to us? Hyuck, can you honestly say you wouldn’t get jealous watching her suck Mark off?”

“Not if I was balls deep in her pussy,” Hyuck grins.

Jaehyun only sighs, rolling his eyes and shifting his attention out the window again. “This is a bad idea.”

2 : Jae

The only class Jaehyun arrives early to is the one he shares with you. He can’t help the feeling that rushes through him as he takes the amphitheater-style stairs two at a time, joining you in your seats at the back of the massive class. 

“Hey you,” you grin, already turning in your seat to smile at him.

“Hey.” He puts his bag down, also angling to look at you. “How’s it going?”

“Going good,” you nod, taking in his onesie. It’s Halloween, so you’d both agreed to come in Pokemon outfits, and Jaehyun feels a lot more comfortable than a few other students in more restrictive costume attire. “You look good as Charmander.”

“Thanks, Pikachu.” God, he likes you way too much. Sometimes it’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, hard to make conversation instead of just staring at your lips. “You know, I’m a little surprised you actually came as a Pokemon.”

“What?” You cock your head to the side. “Why? We promised we would!”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun shrugs. “I know you have that thing about clowns, guess I thought maybe you’d come as one today.”

“My thing about clowns,” you laugh, “says the clown.” You reach over, squishing his cheek, and it makes Jaehyun grin so hard it almost hurts.

“Tell me I’m wrong!”

You sigh. “Okay, you’re not. I like clowns a weird amount. But everyone has their kinks right?”

“I’ve always wondered what you like about clowns.”

You stare at him and Jaehyun leans back in his seat. He waits for you to elaborate, reaching up to play with the rim of his baseball cap.

“Honestly?” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know, there’s just something about the smile makeup maybe? The crazy aspect? I just feel like, when people dress up as clowns, it’s about having a good time. They can’t judge you because they’re the clown- it’s kind of freeing, a nice freeing energy, if that makes any sense.” 

“I suppose that makes sense,” Jaehyun admits. 

“Can I be extra honest with you about something?” you ask, scooting your chair closer and lowering your voice.

“Of course.” Jaehyun also moves closer, his knee butting against yours. You look so pretty, especially up close. There’s no way the Pikachu onesie should be hot, but you’ve gotten the buttons undone just enough that he can take a peek down at your bra at this short distance, and it makes him swallow thickly, trying to get a hold of himself.

“I’m this close,” you hold up two fingers almost touching, “to fucking anyone dressed as a clown at the frat party tonight.”

Jaehyun’s heart lurches abruptly in his chest. His mouth goes dry and his palms feel sweaty. He can only blink at you for a moment before he’s able to find his voice again. “R-really?” 

“Uh huh,” you nod, looking absolutely determined. 

“Anyone?” 

“Anyone.” 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun whispers, forcing his gaze forward. He has no idea how to play this situation- no idea how to act nonchalant about this. Jaehyun prides himself in being good in any situation, his technique is staying calm through breathing, but he can hardly take a breath right now. 

“Do you know anyone planning on dressing as a clown?” you ask.

“Uh…” he licks his lips, mind still reeling. “Maybe a couple of the guys.”

It’s a lie, and he feels bad saying it… but at the same time, he doesn’t want to shut the door on this opportunity. He knows at least two men who would dress as a clown at the drop of the hat upon hearing this information- and Jaehyun is quick to wonder if he could somehow go to the party as a clown without it being glaringly obvious that he wants to fuck you stupid.

“What did you say you’re going as again?” 

Jaehyun can hardly look at you. “I uh… hadn’t really decided yet.”

“Okay, Mister Secrets,” you tease. “Don’t tell me, I’ll find out tonight.”

The teacher enters the class, and Jaehyun shifts in his chair, trying to focus. 

It’s impossible to get what you’ve just said out of his head. In the corners of his mind, Jaehyun almost feels like it had been a challenge. He thinks about what Hyuck had said, about your body language- had this been you dropping a hint? 

Do you want him to fuck you?

3 : Hyuck

“Excuse me,” Ten’s voice makes Hyuck freeze, “what, exactly, are you doing?”

Hyuck and Mark slowly turn toward the angry frat boy standing at the door of his room. Ten looks pissed- and he has every right to be. 

Hyuck can see Mark open his mouth in the periphery of his vision, and it causes him to grab his friend's arm to silence him. “There you are!” Hyuck exclaims. “We were looking all over for you!”

Ten’s not convinced, and he raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your charm doesn’t work on me, Haechan. What are you two doing with my makeup?”

“Oh, this?” Hyuck looks down at the eye shadow pallet in his hands. “Funny story actually-”

Ten scoffs loudly. “Spit it out.”

“We need to borrow some makeup,” Mark states. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“You know, out of all the guys who could be stealing my eye shadow set, I never expected it to be you two losers.”

“We’ve got a very good explanation for this-” Hyuck begins, only for Mark to cut him off.

“We’re trying to be clowns for Halloween.”

“As if you need any makeup for that, you’re both already clowns,” Ten sasses. “Besides, I thought you guys were going to the party as superheroes or something.”

“We changed our minds,” Hyuck says simply.

“As if,” another eye roll from Ten. “What’s the real reason?”

“Well, y/n has this thing for clowns-” Mark mumbles.

“I should have known this was about y/n,” Ten sighs. “But wait, you’re both going to dress up as clowns and try to what? Fuck her on Halloween?”

“Well, Jae said that y/n said she’d fuck someone dressed as a clown tonight-”

Hyuck groans. Mark needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.

“So we’re talking about a full-on clown orgy?” Ten asks, and shockingly enough, as disgusted as he looks, he also seems almost impressed. “You two, Jae and y/n?”

“Jae might not join,” Hyuck is quick to point out, and in the corners of his mind, he sort of hopes he doesn’t. It will be annoying enough as it is vying with Mark for your attention, let alone Jaehyun too.

“Jae will a hundred percent be joining,” Ten sighs. “If you can convince her, that is.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mark asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Have you seen the way that guy looks at her? He’s whipped. But I guess all three of you look at her that way, maybe you don’t notice your friends doing the same thing.” Ten approaches them, taking the eyeshadow pallet from Hyuck. “I’ll help you with clown makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’ll have to do it right.”

“Really?” Mark beams. “Thank you!”

“You run and get Jaehyun, and I’ll start on Hyuck,” Ten says, looking his target up and down. “We’ll also have to decide which clowns you three are going as.”

“Can’t we just be generic clowns?” Hyuck asks, allowing Ten to lead him to sit on the bed.

The man from Thailand scoffs. “As if a ten out of ten like y/n is going to fuck just any clown, you three have to be recognizable.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

Ten grins slyly, reaching for his makeup kit. “I can think of a few clowns that girls wanna bang.”

4 : Jungwoo

“Hey Ten, I’m here for my…” Jungwoo pauses in the doorway, the word “glitter” leaving his lips as an afterthought while he stares at the scene in front of him.

Jaehyun is leaning by the window, a joint between his fingers. His purple outfit is jokeresque, but it’s his makeup that makes it clear who he is. With a white face, a jagged red overdrawn smile and dark eyes, he looks as stunning as Heath Ledger did in the role, but prettier, which isn’t that much of a shock considering this is Jaehyun.

Hyuck, meanwhile, is in a white shirt and jeans, his face done up in a matching cream shade. His nose and smile are red, with the colour on his lips curving up as slits through his eyes. His hair isn’t orange, just its normal shade of brown, but he’s a dead ringer for Pennywise, even without a good costume. 

Mark, meanwhile, is sitting on the bed. He’s not a clown that Jungwoo recognizes, especially not as Ten combs blue temporary dye through his bleach blonde hair. There’s something like white crossbones across his forehead, and he has the messiest red patch around his mouth, with blue slashes through his eyebrows and eyelids-

“Who is Mark supposed to be?” Jungwoo can’t help but ask, staring at his friend in confusion.

“I told you no one would know who I am!” Mark groans loudly, looking up at Ten.

“Do any of you even watch anime?” Ten sighs. “He’s Buggy The Clown from One Piece, there’s even a live-action of it on Netflix that came out two months ago- I swear, do you all live under a rock? I promise, if y/n actually likes clowns, she’ll know who Mark is.”

Ten’s words make Jungwoo realize what’s happening, and he lets out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest while he stares at his karaoke friends. “So that’s what this is about.”

“She’s not the reason we’re dressed as clowns,” Hyuck is quick to insist.

He’s such a good liar. Jungwoo would almost believe it, if you hadn’t told him your Halloween clown plan. It’s no secret to you that your three frat friends all have crushes on you, so you’d decided to tell Jaehyun about wanting to fuck a clown, just to see who would actually follow through with the costume. You’d expected one, maybe two- but here are all three men, dressed as exactly what they are: clowns. 

And it’s obvious to Jungwoo that they think this is their own idea. As if you’re not the puppeteer behind this all. God, Jungwoo loves having you as a best friend, even if your bucket list includes a frat clown Halloween orgy with three of his best friends. 

5 : Barbie

The first words that Jungwoo says to you when he meets you outside the frat are, “You’re going to die.”

“What do you mean?” you laugh, linking your arm with his as he helps you up the house steps, being mindful of your sparkly heels.

“Just wait till you see, I don’t want to spoil it for you,” your best friend grins.

“Did one of our boys dress up as a clown?” you ask, skin tingling at the prospect.

“Something like that.”

“Two?” Your heart is already beginning to thunder in your ribcage.

“I told you, I’m not telling!” The two of you enter the large frat living room and makeshift dance floor. Your eyes immediately scan the location, looking for clowns.

At first, you almost miss Mark, but as your gaze narrows in on the blue hair you realize your first clown is none other than your favorite Canadian. “That’s Mark?” you ask in shock, looking him up and down from twenty feet away.

“Yeah, he’s supposed to be Muggy or something-”

“Buggy,” you correct.

“At least you know what the fuck his costume is,” Jungwoo sighs. 

“That’s such an odd choice for him- I didn’t know any of you even watched One Piece.”

“Ten suggested it I think,” Jungwoo admits. 

“That’s why he looks so good!”

“I mean…” your best friend gives you some major side eye, “if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Then you notice who’s standing next to Mark. his back had been to you, but as he turns and scans the crowd, you catch Pennywise makeup and you practically shiver at the realization that it’s Hyuck.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, clinging to Jungwoo even tighter. “I got roommates.”

“You’re so weird,” Jungwoo laughs. “Wait, I uh… think someone wants to talk to you.” Your friend is looking over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Jaehyun standing there.

He looks as awkward as you’ve ever seen him, decked out as The Joker.

You can’t believe it. 

You’re three for three.

“Hey,” Jaehyun says, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “You look good.”

He’s scanning your Barbie costume, and you notice the way he tries to skip over your breasts… and fails. 

“You look good too,” you grin, already feeling a little overwhelmed with how many clowns are at the party. 

“I mean…” Jaehyun swallows thickly, “You said you like clowns-”

“I said more than that,” you tease.

“Okay, I’m getting a drink,” Jungwoo announces, unlinking your arms. “Have fun.”

“Don’t worry, I intend to,” you grin, watching him dart away before you turn your attention back to Jaehyun. You open your mouth, intent on flirting- on getting down to the business at hand, but before you can, someone grabs your forearm and you find Hyuck standing there.

He looks out of breath, and you realize he must have just run through the crowd to get to you, with Mark still trailing behind him by a few feet.

“You’re here!” Hyuck smirks. When he looks you up and down, he doesn’t bother hiding his attraction to you. “Nice dress.”

“Nice makeup,” you laugh, feeling like a kid in a candy store. 

“Well, we all know you’re a sucker for clowns.” It feels like a perfectly harmless statement, but by the way Hyuck’s smile widens, you can see the innuendo behind his words and it makes your stomach tie into knots. “Come on, Barbie,” his hand slips from your forearm to your wrist, and he tugs gently, “dance with us.”

 Your gaze shifts back at Jaehyun, he looks like he wants to say something- but you find yourself being dragged into the crowd.

Hyuck positions himself behind you, and Mark slots in front, hands finding your hips to steady you amongst the moving sea of bodies. “Hi,” he says, leaning in so you can hear him over the music.

“Hi, Buggy,” you grin, taking in the details of his makeup. Ten really did a number on him- you’ll have to thank him some time for making your dreams come true. 

“Thank God you know who I am,” Mark laughs, relief flooding his clowny features. 

Hyuck presses his body against your back, hands slipping around your waist- his breath on the nape of your neck cuts off any words you’d planned on saying to Mark, and it must be clear, because he leans in again, “Is this okay?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah, I think- I think I’m just surprised.”

“Why are you surprised?” Hyuck asks, his voice hoarse as you rub your ass back against him. 

“I mean- when I told Jaehyun I wanted to fuck a clown tonight, I expected one of you, maybe two, but not all three,” you admit.

“You can take all of us,” Hyuck says smoothly.

“If you want to,” Mark corrects. 

“Do you all want to?” you ask. “You’re not going to make me choose?”

“Mark and I are used to sharing,” Hyuck informs you. “I’m not sure about Jae.”

All three of you turn to look at the joker still standing off the dance floor, his gaze is fixed on you- God, it feels good to be pressed between Mark and Hyuck while Jaehyun watches. 

“How long…” Mark leans close again, and his lips brush over your ear, “How long have you known we’re all into you.”

“You’re not great at hiding it, Mark,” you laugh.

“And you really don’t have a favorite?” he asks, pulling away to look you deep in your eyes. 

“Do I seem like I have a favorite?” you counter.

“It’s obviously me,” Hyuck says loudly, pulling you back even tighter. “I’m everyone’s favourite.”

Mark ignores Hyuck, his gaze dipping down to your lips then back up. Even in a sea of bodies, with Hyuck rubbing against your ass, something about being pressed to Mark’s chest while he stares at you like this feels intimate. He’s so pretty, especially with the clown makeup and the blue hair- it gives him this dangerous edge, but below the layers of red, white and blue, this is still Mark, one of the softest men you’ve ever met.

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, reaching for Mark’s shoulders-

He practically smashes his mouth against yours, and you realize how eager he is by the way his tongue immediately swipes a lick at your lower lip. His fingers dig into your hips, tugging you closer and away from Hyuck-

A second mouth finds your skin, with Hyuck groaning against your throat. The sensation makes a shiver run through you, and you part your lips for Mark, who dips his tongue inside. 

You truly can’t believe your luck tonight. As you cling tighter to Mark, enjoying Hyuck’s rough hands on your body, you almost forget about Jaehyun- but as soon as he pops in your mind, you pull away from the roommates, turning to look for your Joker.

He’s no longer standing by the dance floor, he’s walking away, and your heart lurches in your chest.

“Jae-” you say, tugging away from Mark and Hyuck to chase after your favorite classmate. If you’re being really honest with yourself- you’d told Jae about wanting to fuck a clown because out of all three, he’s the one you could see yourself really going the distance with.

Jaehyun has two years on Mark, and three on Hyuck- he’s the most mature of the three karaoke fratboys you’ve been thirsting over. There’s something about him that’s always made you feel calm- in contrast to the chaos Hyuck brings, and the warm fuzzies Mark gives you.

You like them all in different ways, you suppose, and you can’t stand the idea of losing even one of them from your hook tonight.

“Jae!” you call again, louder this time as you follow him- catching up just as he makes it to the stairwell door. He turns to look at you, and you blink. “Where are you going?”

“Needed a stronger drink,” he muses, scanning your face. “You’ve got a little something, here-” he reaches, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb over your lips, “And here,” his fingers smooth across your neck.

“Oh-” you go to wipe at your skin, only to find white and red makeup on your hand. 

Mark and Hyuck have just caught up to you, and when you turn, you see their makeup all smudged around their mouths. God, you hadn’t thought about actually fucking a guy in clown paint- this is going to be messier than it already will be fucking three men.

“What’s going on?” Mark asks, looking worried.

“Just getting another drink,” Jae sighs, pulling his hand away from you.

“Can we come?” you question.

“Sure.” Jaehyun reaches down and interlocks your fingers, guiding you up the stairwell while Hyuck and Mark lurch to follow.

You can hear them, two steps behind you, but two becomes four, and they begin to whisper. You makeout the words “serious,” “fucked,” “crazy,” and “sober.” it sounds like an intense conversation, but your mind is more pleasantly occupied thinking about Jaehyun and the way he’s holding your hand.

“Are you enjoying the party?” you ask.

“I was.”

“Looked like you wanted to say something to me earlier,” you point out.

“Maybe I did. It’s out of my head now.”

You’re not sure you believe him, but you don’t press Jaehyun as you make it to his floor. He’s roommates with Jungwoo, and you know the route to their little shared room like the back of your hand. When you get to the door, Jaehyun takes out his key to unlock it before allowing you inside first.

You head toward the shelf they keep their booze, rifling through it for your drink of choice while Jaehyun comes to stand next to you, grabbing the Whiskey.

“How much are you two planning on drinking tonight?” Mark’s voice makes both you and Jaehyun turn to stare at the Canadian.

He looks serious, but it’s hard to take him seriously while dresses as Buggy the Clown.

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun lets out a small laugh.

“I uh…” Mark shuffles awkwardly as Hyuck closes the door behind them, locking you into Jaehyun’s room with your three clowns. “I just… are you two planning on getting drunk or…?”

“I just want a shot,” you explain, finding a tiny glass to fill.

“And I’m just doing a double,” Jaehyun says, pouring whiskey into his red solo cup.

“Since when are you two all about being sober?” you ask, lifting your gaze to assess the two clowns by the door while you raise your glass to your lips.

“We’re usually not,” Mark admits-

“But tonight, we have a good reason to be,” Hyuck finishes.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun sips his drink. “And what reason is that?”

“Well…” Mark’s ears are turning red, and it’s a funny contrast to his blue hair.

“Let’s not play around,” Hyuck sighs. “We all know why we’re here.”

All their eyes shift to you, and you quickly take your shot, grimacing at the taste. “Someone better spit it out,” you prompt, although, you already know where this is going. Mark and Hyuck had already broached the subject with you on the dance floor.

“Fine, I’ll just say it,” Hyuck throws his hands up in defeat. “Clown orgy.”

You let out a small laugh. “Clown orgy?”

“A foursome,” he clarifies. “You told Jaehyun you’d fuck someone dressed as a clown tonight, and you’ve got us three here, in a room, with the door locked. So let’s do this. Don’t pretend you weren’t ready to take your panties off on the dancefloor five minutes ago.”

“We have to talk about this first,” you sigh, looking over at Jaehyun. “They’ve already said they’d be up for it, but I don’t know how you feel yet.”

“I don’t really know how I feel either,” Jaehyun admits, taking another larger swig of his drink. 

“Maybe we need some ground rules?” you suggest.

“That would be nice,” Mark nods.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you want to say. “The first rule should be that no matter what happens tonight, we should stay friends. I don’t want to give up karaoke night or make things weird just because I’m attracted to all three of you.”

“That’s fair,” Jaehyun agrees. “What else?”

You consider it for a moment. Part of you wants to say no marking, but at the same time, you kind of hope they leave their brand on you- you want a reminder of tonight, however fleeting, signs of teeth grazing your skin, of hands on your ass and around your throat- 

“This isn’t really a rule but uh…” you swallow thickly, “I mean… I’ve told you guys before that none of the dudes I’ve slept with have ever made me cum.”

“Wait,” Hyuck’s smile drops. “Are you for real? I always thought that was a joke.”

“I’m being dead serious,” you admit, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment. “But I can make myself cum, so I know my body can get there-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Hyuck shakes his head, reaching out to put his hand over your mouth. “You’re telling us, that no guy has ever made you cum before?”

You nod.

Hyuck’s hand stays fixed over your lips and he simply stares at you for a few moments. You see Jaehyun and Mark exchange a look.

“Well, that changes tonight.” Hyuck’s hand drops to his side. “Get on the bed and show us how you like it.”

“Will you please get on the bed and show us what you like so we can learn your body better,” Mark corrects, flashing Hyuck a look that says ‘be gentle.’

“You guys want me to… touch myself in front of you?” 

“Here,” Jaehyun moves to his bed, sitting against the headboard and spreading his thighs, patting the spot between them. “Come sit with me.” 

You’re hesitant at first, but after taking a deep breath you move to join him, watching as he sets his drink down on the bedside table, giving you his full attention. You slip out of your heels, joining him without another thought.

It’s a little odd to sit back against Jaehyun’s warm chest. Even though you hug him often, this position isn’t one you’ve experienced with him- and the promise of what’s to come is heavy on your mind.

“Are you okay with this?” Jaehyun asks, his breath hot on the nape of your neck while you settle. 

You nod, licking your lips as your gaze shifts to Mark and Hyuck. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“If you want to stop, just tell us,” Jaehyun says softly. You feel him move closer, and then his lips are pressing to the side of your throat.

Your body reacts, a deep sigh escaping you as you tilt your head, giving Jaehyun more space while leaning back into his embrace. He’s so gentle, and it sets your skin alight with pleasurable tingles. His hands smooth down your bare arms, and when he smiles, you think it’s because he can feel your goosebumps.

“You’re sensitive, huh?” Hyuck asks, coming to sit on the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on you and Jaehyun.

“Very,” you admit.

Mark is staring at your chest, and when you look down, you find that your nipples have hardened. Your dress has a somewhat built in bra, so you hadn’t bothered with another layer, but now, your sensitive buds are pushing through the fabric, betraying just how much you’re enjoying Jaehyun’s touch.

Your legs are closed, but soon, Jaehyun’s hands are slipping down to your thighs, gently prompting you to spread yourself for the awaiting eyes of the younger frat boys at the foot of the bed. Hyuck and Mark are like dogs with their gaze focused on their favourite toy, Hyuck even licks his lips, staring at you with pupils blown from lust.

You’ve never seen clowns look this serious.

“Are you going to touch yourself for us, barbie? Or do you want me to do it for you?” Jaehyun asks, his lips teasing past your throat with each word.

“I can…” You swallow thickly, “I can show you, but… You’ll take over soon, right?”

“Anything you want,” he assures you.

You want them, and it’s taking every ounce of self control to stay focused on what Hyuck had asked you to do. You suppose there’s a good reason to show them what you like first, and you hope that by doing this, it will only build the tension. When you all finally snap, something tells you that these next few minutes will make a difference in how well they please you.

Your hand is shaky as you bring it to your core, panties exposed by the dress you’re wearing, which has slid up to reveal most of your subtle thighs. When you drag your fingers over your panty covered core, you find a wet patch, and it makes you bite at your lip, stifling a whimper.

“How’s it feel?” Mark asks. When you look up, you find he’s assessing your face, watching you carefully. You realize he’s actually concerned for you, and it only makes you wetter.

“Feels good,” you tell him, rubbing small circles over your clit while relaxing back against Jaehyun’s chest. 

The clown behind you has his hands on your thighs, but they shift up, to your hips, then your rib cage- you release a breathy moan when he cups your boobs, thumbs stroking over your nipples. Jaehyun’s lips are on your neck again, and each swipe of his tongue has your core practically throbbing.

You close your eyes, leaning back against Jaehyun, resting your head on his shoulder while you rub yourself even harder. Your knees are bent, feet flat on the bed, and you can’t help the way your hips buck toward your hand.

“Are you close already?” Hyuck asks, and you can pretty much hear him smirking.

You can only nod, focusing on the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. It’s incredibly erotic to be touching yourself while pressed to Jaehyun’s strong chest, to have Mark and Hyuck watching you-

The man behind you pinches your nipples through your dress and you cry out, core pulsing desperately. “Please,” you whimper, although, at this point, you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

Jaehyun’s hand slips down to join your own, cupping your smaller fingers and applying more pressure, helping you work your clit closer and closer to an orgasm-

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hips bucking toward his hand.

His mouth is hot on your neck, his other hand still worshiping your breast. It feels absolutely amazing- this is a position you’ve never been in before. You can feel Jaehyun’s cock straining against the small of your back, but he’s entirely focused on you. Your pleasure is what matters most, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“I’m gonna-” You can’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm washes over you like warm waves, pussy clamping down on nothing, convulsing desperately-

Something moves on the bed. All of the sudden your hand is being pushed away. Your panties are slipped to the side, and you open your eyes to see Mark laying between your thighs, his face pressing up to your pussy so he can lick a stripe at your wet folds. You release a strangled whimper when his tongue flicks by your sensitive clit, your walls still fluttering around nothing.

“Mark-” you whisper, reaching down to tangle your hand in his blue hair. You pull him even closer, shifting and opening your thighs wider for the man that begins to devour you. He licks up every drop of your orgasm, moaning loudly when his tongue dips in to stroke your weakly convulsing walls.

One orgasm has just dwindled out, but it’s clear Mark has the intention of giving you another.

Jaehyun’s hand wraps around your throat, squeezing gently at first, but when you grab his forearm, prompting him to go harder, he concedes. His fingers press on either side of your neck, impeding blood flow and making your head even dizzier.

Mark’s lips suction around your clit, and your body practically short circuits. You tighten your grip in his hair, making him groan, and the vibration through your clit has your legs shaking.

“You gonna cum again?” Hyuck asks, watching you from the foot of the bed. “Markie’s good with his mouth, isn’t he, barbie?”

“So good,” you whimper, grinding against Mark’s face as he brings you closer and closer to the edge with shocking speed.

Mark’s tongue circles your clit, tiny circles, like you’d done with your fingers. His pace is increasing, like yours had- He’d really taken what you’d shown them about your pleasure, and learned it.

Jaehyun’s still gripping your throat, swallowing is hard, but everything feels so good. 

Mark wraps his hands around your thighs and he pulls you further down the bed. Your head is now resting against Jaehyun’s chest, and he lets up on your neck, opting to grab your breasts. He pushes your dress down just far enough to release your sensitive nipples, and then he captures them between his fingers.

Jaehyun’s hips rut ever so slightly, his hard length dragging between your shoulder blades while you wiggle against him. Mark’s tongue dips into your pussy, nose rubbing your clit-

“Please-”

The clown between your thighs wraps his lips around your sensitive bud again, sucking as harshly as ever, and it’s the last bit of stimulus you need to fall over the edge.

You throw your head back against Jaehyun’s chest, eyes clenched shut. Your legs try to close around Mark but he holds them open, lewly lapping you through your high while you struggle and cry from how much pleasure is coursing through you.

Your abdomen almost hurts from how intense your orgasm is, and each convulsion of your walls reminds you how painfully empty you are. With three cocks in the room, you can’t believe you’ve already cum twice without being stuffed-

Can’t believe Mark made you cum with his mouth alone.

Your friends really know what they’re doing- and it’s a shock that Mark Lee, the sweetest boy you know, is an absolute menace with his tongue.

As you come down from your high, Mark pulls away from your pussy. You’re panting hard, and you look at him from under heavy lids. His makeup is a complete mess, and when you gaze down between your legs, you find your inner thighs coated in red, white and blue.

You can’t even bring yourself to care.

“So who are you fucking first, barbie?” Hyuck asks nonchalantly. 

You swallow thickly, mind racing. 

Mark’s the first guy to really make you cum, and your gaze shifts to him. You feel bad not choosing Jae, who is practically throbbing at your back, but Mark looks just as uncomfortable in his pants.

You don’t even have to say his name, it’s obvious who your choice is, and Hyuck sighs loudly.

“But…” you lick your lips, turning in Jaehyun’s embrace to meet his gaze, “I want you in my mouth too.”

He cups your jaw, kissing you for the first time. The only thing gentle about this is his hand on your face, but the kiss is hungry. His tongue invades you, and you shift in his arms, turning to face him. You’re on your knees, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while you press your chests together, needing to be closer to him.

His hands smooth down to your hips, and then you feel another set on your skin, pushing your dress up to your waist. Someone rubs against your pussy, then fingers hook in your panties to drag them down to your knees. 

“Condoms?” Mark asks.

You break your kiss from Jaehyun to shake your head, his lips eager against your cheek and throat. “I’ve got birth control, and I’m clean- are you guys all clean?”

“Dirty minds, clean cocks,” Hyuck assures you distantly. 

“Good,” you groan, reaching down to grasp Jaehyun’s thick length through his jeans. He groans loudly against your throat. 

Mark’s hand smooths against your back, and then you feel his bare cock at your enterance, teasing up and down your slit. He bumps by your clit and your legs shake with anticipation. “You’re dripping,” Mark tells you.

“So fuck me?” you suggest, feeling daring, and very needy. You’re tired of waiting, tired of pretending you don’t want to be split open on multiple fronts.

“Shit,” Jaehyun groans, pulling away from you so he can sit up on his knees, hands moving to his belt buckle. 

Mark slips the tip of his cock into your tight hole and you both groan at how easy it is. Your walls flutter around him as he pushes deeper and deeper, until his hips are flush with your ass. “Oh my God,” Mark practically whimpers, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so fucking good.”

Mark’s not the biggest cock you’ve ever had, but it fits just right inside of you. As he begins to thrust into you, his balls start to smack against your clit, which is still extremely sensitive from two orgasms. Your toes curl, and you practically begin to drool as Jaehyun finally gets his own dick out, immediately presenting it to you.

You waste no time wrapping a hand around him and bringing him to your mouth. You lick a stripe along the underside, earning a groan from the man above you, and when you wrap your lips around him, Jaehyun actually shivers.

“Holy shit, you look so good like this,” he tells you, reaching down to cup your head.

Mark thrusts particularly hard behind you, and it sends your mouth further onto Jaehyun’s cock, your throat clenching as he hits the back of it. 

“Fuck-” Jaehyun groans, tightening his grip on your hair.

You’ve never been spitroasted, never been in an Eiffel tower, but God, it feels good. 

Mark’s pace is building, his moans and whimpers like music to your ears while you try to focus half your attention on sucking off Jaehyun-

“Are you into anal?”

Of course Hyuck’s not about to just sit this out, and his question makes you groan. Jaehyun pulls you off his cock, watching intently as a string of saliva keeps your mouth connected to his throbbing length. You swallow thickly, licking your lips before you can answer. “I’ve never tried it,” you admit.

“We should try it tonight,” Hyuck insists. “Lots of girls cum super hard from a bit of anal.”

At this point, you’d agree to anything they suggest. It’s clear that the three men fucking you know what women like, and you’re willing to give yourself completely to them.

“Anything you want,” you say, voice shaky as you bring your lips back to Jaehyun’s cock, sinking down on him again.

“Fuck,” Mark groans loudly behind you. One of his hands moves from your hips, and then you feel a lubed up thumb begin to circle your other hole. Your pussy clenches tight around Mark, and he lets out another sound of appreciation. “Relax, barbie,” he tells you. “It will be better if you relax.”

You do your best to relax your entire body, and it prompts Jaehyun to begin fucking your face now that your throat is more open. Mark’s thrusts have slowed down a little, his attention transferred to the thumb teasing your virgin hole. 

You whimper as he presses the tip of his digit inside of you, working you open. It’s a foreign feeling, but as he begins to stimulate you, fucking you onto his cock, you realize Hyuck’s right about it feeling good.

Another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach. You don’t even know where to focus- Jaehyun sounds so pretty with his cock burried in your mouth, and Mark feels snug with your pussy clenching tightly around him, his thumb slowly thrusting in and out of your ass-

“Shit,” Mark moans loudly, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. “I’m gonna cum- this is way too hot- I can cum inside right? You want it inside?”

You let out a sound of affirmation, sucking harder on Jaehyun’s cock. Mark begins fucking you faster again, keeping his thumb burried in your ass while his balls hit your clit with each rough thrust of his hips. 

You’re gasping around Jaehyun’s length, muscles pulling tight as Mark works you closer and closer to the edge-

“Fuck, oh my God, shit, Barbie- Can you cum with me?” Mark’s free hand slips around your front, seeking out your clit-

There’s no way this man has his cock in your pussy, his thumb in your ass, and his fingers on your clit- Mark truly said lemme fuck this girl absolutely stupid- 

All you can do is whine, sounds muffled by each thrust of Jaehyun’s cock past your lips. You teeter on the edge, core clamping down on Mark-

“Shit, I’m cumming, fuck, cum with me, barbie, holy fuck-”

Mark’s words make you truly tip over the edge. Your entire body convulses and you pull off Jaehyun’s cock, gasping loudly while your other holes clench and unclench desperately around Mark. You rest against Jaehyun’s thigh, reaching up a weak hand to pump his cock through your orgasm, waves of pleasure nearly consuming you.

Mark’s thrusts slowly come to a stop, and you listen to him pant behind you, his breath trailing over your shoulders and making you shiver.

“My turn,” Hyuck announces.

Mark pulls out of your core and you whimper at the loss. You can already feel cum begining to drip out of you, a mix of yours and Mark’s. As much as you miss Mark in your wet, needy cunt, you kind of miss him in your ass too, and it’s a surprising feeling.

“Think you can take something bigger in here?” Hyuck asks, landing a gentle spank to your bum that has you whining desperately. 

You can only nod, blinking up at Jaehyun through teary lashes. “Can I fuck you too?”

Jaehyun’s lips part at the notion of double penetration, his cock twitching in your hand. “Yeah, anything you want.” 

It’s a quick shift for Jaehyun to lay down on his back, pulling you into a straddling position. You all remove your clothes, and then Jaehyun guides his cock to your wet hole, using the cum as lube, which makes it easy to slide into you. You both release groans when he bottoms out, and your hands find his chest.

You simply cock warm him for a moment, appreciating the stretch. He’s longer than Mark, maybe not as thick, but the tip of his dick hits a spot deep inside of you.

“Bend over,” Hyuck instructs, moving behind you. His hand is gentle on your shoulder as he pushes you down, and you take the opportunity to press your lips to Jaehyun’s, kissing him eagerly.

You roll your hips and Jaehyun groans beneath you, fingers digging into your thighs.

You hear Hyuck spit, and a moment later the feeling of something wet meets your back hole. Hyuck spreads open your cheeks with one hand, using the other to circle your tight ring of muscles with a finger. “Fuck, I can’t believe I get to be the first one inside you like this.”

“It was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” Jaehyun teases, and you know you’ve tested Hyuck’s patience by making him last to touch you.

“So worth it,” Hyuck agrees.

He sinks a finger into your hole and you moan loudly, burying your face against Jaehyun’s throat. “Relax,” he reminds you, smoothing a hand along your spine. “Hyuck’s good at this sort of thing.”

You have to admit, Hyuck does know what he’s doing. He toes the line between rough and gentle, as if he knows exactly what you’re able to take. He twists his hand so you can feel the ridges of his knuckles as he works open your ass, and soon he’s adding a second finger. “You’re a natural, barbie,” Hyuck praises you. 

Your core twitches and Jaehyun moans, throwing his head back against the pillow when you begin to kiss his throat. “She likes it,” Jaehyun announces.

“Most girls do, they just have to feel comfortable enough to open up,” Hyuck explains.

So he’s some sort of anal genius, apparently.

You honestly don’t even mind.

He works your ass expertly, and the feeling has you tingling with anticipation. If this is what two fingers feels like, you can’t even imagine having his whole cock.

“I hate to rush you,” Jaehyun says, “but… If we don’t start moving soon, I might die.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s ready for me,” Hyuck breathes, pulling his fingers out of your ass to land a smack against your skin, “isn’t that right, baby? All ready to be filled?”

You nod. “Please!” 

Hyuck spits on your hole again, but then you hear Mark say the word “lube” and you look to find him holding a bottle.

“How did you even know where to find this?” Hyuck asks, accepting the lube and popping open the cap to squirt a line on his cock.

“Most of us only use our bedside tables for one thing,” Mark breathes, meeting your gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” You lick your lips, eyes dipping to bulge forming in Mark’s jeans. 

“Are you looking at his cock, barbie?” Hyuck laughs, rubbing himself along your hole, getting you lubricated.

“Maybe.” Your skin heats with embarrassment.

“Is two cocks not enough?” Hyuck teases, landing another harsh smack to your ass.

“She wants the full experience,” Jaehyun smiles good naturedly below you. “Isn’t that right, barbie?”

“I just-” you swallow thickly. “How often do you end up in a foursome? It would be… irresponsible not to try it to the fullest, right?”

“Our little barbie likes being full,” Hyuck groans, sliding the tip of his cock into your ass. “Trust me, you’ll be full by the time this is all over.”

You can’t even respond, your mind much more pleasantly focused on the feeling of Hyuck splitting you open. You’re doing your best to breathe, to relax, but it’s a difficult feat as Hyuck sinks more and more of his thick cock into your virgin hole.

“Oh my God-” you whimper, tangling your fingers in the sheets. 

Jaehyun’s hand is smooth along your back, reassuring, and he draws your lips to his again. He eats up your sounds of pleasure as Hyuck bottoms out, releasing a deep groan. His fingers dig into your hips, and he allows you to get used to the feeling of being completely stuffed.

“Good?”

“So good,” you breathe.

“Can I start fucking you stupid now?” Hyuck asks. “Or do you need a moment?”

“Fuck me silly.” 

“Don’t mind if I fucking do.” Hyuck’s grip tightens on your hips, and his first thrust makes you cry out, gasping into Jaehyun’s mouth. The man below you lets out a grunt, the force of Hyuck’s motion pushing you further onto his own cock.

You feel Jaehyun adjust, anchoring himself so he can begin to fuck up into you. 

They’re holding you steady, hovering over Jaehyun so they can both be the ones moving to meet your holes. Skin slapping against skin, it’s an erratic sound as they both struggle to find a pace that works. You’re clawing at the bed when they both thrust at the same time, so Jaehyun adjusts again, pistoning into you as Hyuck draws back.

Now this feels like heaven. 

“Fuck,” you moan, burrying your face against Jaehyun’s throat. “I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum so fucking hard-”

“Do it,” Hyuck says, spanking you roughly.

Your entire body clamps down on them from the sting of the hit, and you gasp, teetering on the edge-

“Cum for us,” Jaehyun whispers, his lips teasing your ear. “We’ve got you.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and you explode- but instead of letting up, Hyuck fucks into you even harder. You let out a loud squeal, shivering with stimulation- The clown behind you laughs loudly.

“That’s it, squeeze our fucking cocks! Bet you want our cum so bad- barbie wants to be full, but not until you take all three.”

You lift your head from Jaehyun’s shoulder, body still convulsing around Hyuck and Jaehyun. Mark’s standing next to the bed, cock in hand. “You don’t have to,” he tells you weakly, fist gripped tight around his throbbing length, the head dripping with precum. 

“Come here,” you say, practically blind with lust. 

Shifting off of Jaehyun’s chest, you plant your hands on the bed, leaning over so you can accept Mark’s cock into your mouth.

He releases a strangled groan, immediately cupping the back of your head so he can begin to fuck into you. It’s not like you can move while held between Jaehyun and Hyuck, no, you’re simply a girl with three holes, getting fucked by three clowns.

You’ve cum three times? Four? You’re not even sure anymore. All you know is nothing has ever been like this, and nothing ever will be again.

It’s like you’ve been transported to an entirely other planet, where orgasming with men is easy and you’re just some needy cock whore desperate for cum.

“Fuck, you just got so tight from sucking on Mark,” Hyuck groans. “You really love our cocks, don’t you, barbie?”

You can only moan around Mark, hallowing your cheeks harder around his length, while he practically whimpers, fucking your throat even harder.

“I don’t know about you two,” Jaehyun breathes, “but I’m about to fucking bust.”

“Me too,” Mark grunts, tightening his grip on your hair.

“I can cum.”

You let out a meak groan of affirmation.

All four of you are going to cum together, and nothing has ever felt so right, so correct. 

“On three?” Hyuck suggests.

“On three,” Jaehyun agrees, reaching between your bodies to rub at your clit.

You practically scream, walls shuddering around the cocks pistoning relentlessly in your tight, abused holes.

“That’s it,” Jaehyun coaxes you. “Hold it just a little longer.”

“Three,” Hyuck lands the harshes smack of the night against your ass. “Two-”

“Fuck,” Mark grunts, “One!” 

The tension in your stomach snaps as Mark shoots his load down your throat. Your entire body feels practically numb, awash with waves of pleasure that blank out everything else in the entire world. 

You hear Jaehyun cuss loudly below you, fingers digging into your hips. Hyuck fills up your ass with his hot cum, groaning as loudly as you’ve ever heard from him while your walls contract with more force than you’ve ever experienced.

You’ve never orgasmed this hard. It’s completely all consuming, wracking you with shivers and something akin to sobs as you pull of Mark’s cock, gasping and burrying yourself against Jaehyun- which is when you realize his cock has slipped out of your core, and he’s jacking himself onto his chest, coating both your skin with white ropes.

“Fuck, barbie, you fucking squirted,” he groans. “Pushed me right out-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” you whimper, tears filling your eyes at how overstimulated you are.

“No, babe, that was hot as fuck,” Jaehyun assures you, finishing and pulling his hand away from his cock, cupping your face to pull your lips to his.

“I wanna see that again,” Hyuck says from behind you, pulling out of your ass only to release a sinful sound at the sight of both of your holes dripping-

“She’s done,” Jaehyun’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it so far, and he tucks you against his shoulder, stroking your hair.

“She can do one more, I wanna make her squirt-”

“No. She’s fucking crying, Hyuck. Give her some rest.”

“She’s crying?” Mark and Hyuck ask at the same time, but the latter sounds much more happy about it than the former.

“I’ve never cum that hard, or that many times,” you admit weakly. 

“Lemme get a towel,” Mark suggests immediately, and you can hear his soft footfalls as he runs across the room. 

“You did good, baby,” Hyuck tells you, stroking your back. “Took us all like a fucking champ.”

You can only shiver at his words, your pussy throbbing as an echo of the highs they’ve just provided you. 

“Here, can you sit up for us?” Mark asks.

Hands gently help you up, and you look down at Jaehyun’s body, shocked to find his skin glistening with squirt and cum. Jaehyun takes the towel from Mark. He starts by wiping at your face, “clown makeup,” he explains. Then he swipes the cloth along the front of your body, you shiver when he traces over your nipples. He cleans himself last, tossing the ruined fabric to the floor.

“I feel like we all still need a shower,” Jaehyun sighs. 

“In the middle of the Halloween party?” Mark’s eyes widen. “The bathrooms are full of people!” 

“And barbie probably can’t even walk,” Hyuck points out.

Your legs do feel shaky, even while sitting on top of Jaehyun.

“Mark, can you go grab us a few more towels from your room?” Jaehyun suggests. “Ten probably has makeup removing wipes-”

“We should just move to our room,” Hyuck interrupts.

“Like you said, barbie can’t even walk. We’re staying here.”

“Isn’t your bed ruined with cum?”

“Actually, most of he squirt landed on me,” Jaehyun says, looking at the bed sheets under him. “It’s fine here.”

“You’re being selfish,” Hyuck’s nose scrunches up with distaste. “Mark and I share a room, you’re here with Jungwoo, it’s two against one.”

Except, Mark has already left in search of towels, so at the moment, it’s one versus one. Without the Canadian’s support, Hyuck’s easily beaten by a harsh glare from Jaehyun.

“Well, I guess I’m sleeping here too,” Hyuck sighs.

“No you’re not, the bed hardly fits two.”

“Not my problem.” Hyuck shrugs, walking to Jaehyun’s closet to pull out some clean clothes. “It’s called aftercare Jae, cuddles come with the package.”

Jaehyun only groans helping you move to lay next to him. 

Hyuck practically jumps on the foot of the bed, looking up at you with a shit eating pennywise grin that’s completely smudged. “Did you have fun, babe?”

“The most fun,” you smile back, curling close to Jaehyun’s side.

“Best Halloween ever?” he suggests.

“A hundred percent,” you agree.

Your body is sore, and you’re more tired than you’ve been in a long time, but you feel comfortable. You always feel comfortable with these guys. Sure… you’re laying on a towel with cum dripping out of two holes, but… you still feel at peace.

Mark returns quickly, with more cloths and makeup remover. The boys help you out first, with Jaehyun cleaning your face while Hyuck deals with the cum and makeup between your legs. Mark finds you a spare set of sweats and a hoodie from Jaehyun’s closet, and soon you feel more comfortable than ever.

It’s kind of sad watching your friends take off their clown colours, but you’re sure you’ll have the memory of this etched into your brain forever, so that’s something you can lean on at least.

“How are you feeling now?” Mark asks, reaching for your hands to pull you up onto your feet.

Your legs are a little wobbly, but you’re doing okay, and you flash him a smile. “I think I’m alright.”

“Do you wanna run to the bathroom with me? I read somewhere that uti’s happen easier if you don’t uh…” Mark swallows thickly, skin turning a pretty shade of pink that contrasts the blue in his hair, “If you don’t you know, go to the bathroom after.”

He’s adorable, and so caring. When you agree, Hyuck jumps to his feet, and just like that, it becomes a group trip, with even Jaehyun tagging along.

The hallway on this floor is pretty clear, but you run into Jungwoo exiting the bathroom. He stops in his tracks, looking you up and down, then he begins to beam. “Looks like you guys had fun.”

“Stop it,” you push at his shoulder, skin heating with embarrassment. Sure, you’ve told him for a while that you’d love to partake in a clown orgy, but it’s another thing entirely to run into him after getting three holes stuffed by his best friends.

“Are you staying over tonight?” Jungwoo asks.

“Yeah, she’s with us,” Jaehyun responds, hand finding your hip to tug you closer as Hyuck and Mark enter the bathroom to wash the last pit of clownery off their skin. 

“As in… she’s staying in our room?” Your best friend’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, sleepover!”

“Hyuck and Mark are joining too,” Jaehyun sighs, tightening his grip on you.

Jungwoo’s smile grows. “Karaoke night!?” 

You and Jaehyun exchange a look and he laughs. “I’m not sure any of us have the energy for that, Woo.”

“Right, cuz you all just had hot nasty clown orgy sex. I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten laid so far.”

“You can still change that,” Jaehyun says, giving his roommate some much needed encouragement.

“Nah, it’s sleep over time,” Jungwoo grins. 

You love how excited he is to spend time with you and the three men you’ve just fucked. Jungwoo doesn’t have a care in the world- it’s a good sign. Maybe this little clown orgy really didn’t change much in the relationships, or at least, as a group it still feels like things are strong.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but something tells you that everything is going to work out.  

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Another year, another Halloween, another weird clown fic from user smileysuh

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  In the months you’ve been dating these three men, you’ve tried a lot of different sex positions. But you’ve never tried being stuffed full of cock while both of your tits get sucked on and your clit is played with… you should have tried this ages ago.

cw/ tw. Threesome, unprotected sex, breast worship, biting, Mark/Hyuck worshiping her breasts at the same time, cum/filling kink, douple penetration, blow job, oral, deep throating, overstimulation, pussy slapping, messy sex, painting her skin with makeup, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby, babe.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.5k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Jaehyun & Hyuck & Mark x afab!Reader  

bonus

“Why are we doing clown makeup again?” Mark asks, looking at the eye shadow pallet with distaste. “It’s a Valentine’s Day party, not Halloween.”

“Exactly,” Hyuck says, brushing crimson around his eyes. “It’s Valentine’s Day, which means she’s going to be more focused on Jaehyun. We have to do something to even the playing field- besides, it’s not full clown, it’s just… a few red hearts, a bit of makeup- you know how much our baby loves getting messy.”

“I guess you’re right,” Mark sighs. It’s been three and a half months since that first night you all fucked, and since then, they’ve learned a lot about you and your… tastes. You definitely like having your skin painted, in makeup as well as cum.

Hyuck’s gotten particularly good at clown makeup, and tonight, even Mark has to admit his roommate looks good. He’s gone for a lighter cream coloured base, with a red glittery heart around one eye, and his mouth done up in the same glittered scarlet colour- it’s clear to Mark that Hyuck intends on getting you nice and messy tonight.

Mark, on the other hand, isn’t very interested in makeup. Hyuck had insisted they do different colours, and after you’d revealed how much you liked his blue hair at Halloween, he’s since dyed his strands a soft, steely, sky shade. 

Instead of going full clown, Mark does a few glittery blue hearts along his cheekbone. He doesn’t mind if Jae gets to be the main attraction in his romanesque cupid outfit, it is his birthday afterall.

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@thebubsz

[plumbieyt]

Planting Plums Legacy Challenge by Plumbie and The Plum Family

Do you enjoy wholesome family gameplay, storytelling and the cosy side of The Sims 4? If so, the Planting Plums Legacy Challenge is for you.

My Inspiration For the Challenge:

My favourite aspect of The Sims is the family gameplay and all the stories that can arise from it. I love using the game as a vessel for telling stories, with that in mind, I thought I would create a legacy challenge built around all my favourite things in the game.

Each generation will have a focus on cosy and wholesome gameplay, primarily focusing on big families, but this doesn’t mean it will shy away from drama. It wouldn’t be realistic if I weren’t to include some sort of tension, so in each generation there will be conflicts but they will be mild and used in order to add depth to the family.

What Makes it Different:

One thing that separates this legacy challenge from the usual one is that I’ll be writing it one generation at a time. I’m doing this because I want to build this legacy with my community (the Plum family) on YouTube so that the Sims and stories will be a joint effort, making it a unique legacy due to the many inputs. It also means the story will grow organically, as it won’t necessarily be planned. This doesn’t mean you can’t take part in this legacy until we’ve reached the final generation because I’ve created the first generation, and we can play alongside as we grow the legacy.

The goal for this legacy challenge is to create a beautiful family that you’ll fall in love with and cherish all the members, even the troublesome ones. If this sounds like something you’d want to be part of, you can always comment, email or DM me your ideas for the legacy, as this is a community effort. So, let’s begin growing the family that will be known as the Plumtrees. 🌱🌸

General Rules & Packs Needed:

There won’t be any rules for this legacy challenge, as I want storytelling to be the focus point of it, but I’d recommend only using cheats if you absolutely need to use them, as sometimes, there is more fun and imagination in the limitations.

As of right now, you’ll need Cottage Living, Seasons and Get to Work. But if you don’t have these packs, feel free to adapt the challenge in your own way so that you can participate. Keep in mind the list of packs needed will grow bigger once the third generation is born.

Generation I: The Plum Seed

Some of your earliest memories were of running around your grandmother’s bakery, helping her bake all sorts of treats. You always said you’d take over her business when you were older, but sadly, when you were a child, she passed away, and your family couldn’t afford to keep the bakery.

As you became older, your passion shifted from baked goods to flowers. You found great comfort in creating all sorts of bouquets and writing down the different varieties of flowers, as they gave you the purpose you lost after your grandmother passed.

Growing up in a city meant nature was scarce; you spent time after school wandering around botanical gardens and finding wildflowers in the concrete, but this wasn’t enough, so the moment you became a young adult, you made the daring decision to move to an old cottage in Henford on Bagley.

Towering buildings and busy streets have been all you’ve ever known, so living in the sticks is going to take some getting used to, but as you stand on the doorstep of a new life, with baskets full of flowers, notebooks, baking ingredients and a dream to open a florist in the heart of the village, you feel that a slip in the mud won’t bother you a single bit.

Aspiration:

Best-selling Author: You want to write nonfiction books about your interest in flowers and bouquets to share your passion with the world.

Traits:

Love the Outdoors

Creative

Ambitious

Hobbies & Skills:

Baking

Gardening

Writing

Career:

Florist & Author: You own a florist business and sell your books.

To-Do's:

Move into a small cottage (it can be in any world, but preferably Henford or a countryside world)

Build from scratch a florist shop

Reach level 10 of the flower-arranging skill

Grow every type of flower in the game (or every flower in your game. For example, if you are missing a pack with a certain flower in it, you don't need to buy the pack just to grow that flower)

Reach level 5 of the writing skill

Write and publish 5 non-fiction books

Complete errands

[akixa]

FLOWER || GunxF!reader

Hahaha idk.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁˚⊱🪷⊰˚⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄, ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂

Your father is a close associate of Yamazaki Shingen, who is famously known as the "Demon Tiger" and leads the powerful Yamazaki Clan in Japan. As the trusted right-hand man of the Yamazaki syndicate vice president, your father often brings you along to their meetings. However, due to your young age, you are not permitted to be present in the room with them, as there are concerns about your safety. Upon arriving at Yamazaki's residence, you immediately sense the solemn and foreboding atmosphere that permeates the surroundings. You instinctively clutch onto your father's arm, feeling a sense of unease and fear every time you visit this place, particularly at the thought of encountering the president once more. The first time you laid eyes on him, you were overwhelmed with an intense desire to vanish, hoping to avoid ever seeing him again.

As you stand alone in a single room, eagerly awaiting your father to finish his meeting, you find yourself overcome with a sense of restlessness. In the past, you would have simply whiled away the time, but today is different. Boredom nags at you, urging you to break free from its grip. With a determined push, you slide open the door and step out into the quiet hallway, the sound of your footsteps echoing around you.

As you tread forward, you find yourself emerging into a lush backyard, enveloped in a sea of vibrant greenery. The gentle caress of the wind against your skin brings a sense of peace, grounding you in the present moment. With each step, you can feel the earth beneath you, the soft blades of grass bending under your feet as you explore the tranquil expanse of the yard.

As you strolled around, you caught a glimpse of the vice president engaged in a conversation with the man beside him. You swiftly ducked behind a towering tree, ensuring that you remained unnoticed. Peeking cautiously, you noticed they were still engrossed in their discussion, so you shifted your position to get a better view of what had captured their attention. To your surprise, you witnessed two brothers and a young boy engaging in a combat exercise. While you recognized the two brothers, the young boy was unfamiliar to you.

Perhaps he was a new trainee? You had never seen him before, not even during your initial visit. You observed him as he executed punches and kicks, while one of the brothers corrected his form. As the boy paused to catch his breath and wipe away his sweat, your eyes unexpectedly met. Startled, you quickly retreated behind the tree, hoping to remain unnoticed.

You let out a slow, heavy sigh and begin to walk away from where you were standing, deliberately avoiding the gaze of the boy who is still watching you from behind.

You find yourself in Yamazaki's residence once again, opting to stay put in the room while your father wraps up his meeting. Thankfully, you brought along a Kendama, a classic Japanese toy, to keep you occupied. The only issue is that you're not particularly skilled at it. After a few unsuccessful attempts, you set it aside and settle in to wait.

Suddenly, you pick up the sound of footsteps approaching from outside. You assume it must be your father, but how could the meeting have concluded so soon? The footsteps come to a halt outside your room, prompting you to grab the Kendama, ready to defend yourself. The door slides open slowly, revealing the boy from the previous day.

The room falls silent as the boy begins to question you, but you're uncertain about whether or not to respond. You don't know him and don't want to jeopardize your father's safety. You choose to remain silent as the boy moves closer, attempting to engage you in conversation. When you refuse to engage, he seems dejected.

While observing the boy, you notice his striking eyes. Such a odd eyes. As you study him, he notices the Kendama in your hand and inquires if you play. You nod and hand it over to him. To your surprise, he plays the game with remarkable skill, effortlessly executing various techniques. You're captivated and can't help but watch him play.

After some time, you finally introduce yourself, and he responds by introducing himself as Park Gun. You chat as he continues to play, and before you realize it, it's time to depart with your father. As you bid him farewell, you detect a trace of sadness in Park Gun's expression as he holds the Kendama in his hand. He quickly brushes it off and heads towards his mother's room.

After that day everything went downhill.

Few days later, your father went to meeting without you bringing to him. You ask him why you can't come along with him and he respond that the business is getting out of hand and for your safety you need to away from that place as he ruffle your messy hair making your worries for him go away before he leave you alone in your house.

You gaze at the window seeing the sakura tree start to loose their leaves. A sudden pang on your chest make you feel deep emotion. Confusing but you brush it off and just do your chores and do nothing once again. You wonder, will you see Gun again? Hopefully he will be fine. Hope so.

Years later. You feel sad that you didn't see Gun for years. Trying to convince your father you want to come along but he keep declining it and leave you. Now is your first time studying in daycare. Finally something entertain you while your father is gone. After daycare time, you and other start to walk towards to parents, except your father weren't there. He seem very busy that he don't have time to pick you up in daycare. You bid farewell to your teacher before you walk alone to home. During you walking adventure you notice a lutos lake on the way. You decided to go there and have peaceful moment all by yourself. You watch the water move the lily pad as the lutos flower floating around. While sitting on the wood of bridge you feel a water drop top of your head as you look up to see the sky is getting cloudy and yet you didn't bring umbrella with you. Good thing you see a huge Lilly pag near you and you grab to it making snap sound of separating the top from the root and hold it like umbrella while the clouds start to rain down to you.

Out of nowhere you feel someone is standing behind you watching at you. You turned to see Gun looking at you as he get wet from the rain.

“Why you standing there? Come over here.”

As you pull his hand towards you, you guide him to sit next to you, moving the lily pad to the middle so that Gun is also covered with you. You were overjoyed to see Gun today. Both of you just sat there, enjoying the peaceful scene of raindrops falling on the lake. Lost in the moment, you didn't notice Gun reaching into his sleeve to pull out a small flower, which he then gave to you.

“You know? Since the day you didn't come to visit. This flower reminds me of you. So innocent, pure, and pretty.”

Your eyes widen when he softly spoke at you. You look at the flowers on his arm, it those look pretty. A tint of red appeard on your cheek as you smile at him.

Your so glad that you went there in raining moment with Gun before you two not see each other again.

As a teenager, navigating through school has become increasingly challenging. Gun, a figure who was once prevalent in your life, has now become a rare sight, even to your own father. You have gained a deeper understanding of Gun through the conversations your father has with others, revealing that Gun is the son of the Yamazaki clan president and the future head of the Yamazaki family. His sole purpose is to avenge the humiliation his father endured at the hands of Garpyong Kim fist gang.

Pity.

It's a pity to see someone so young burdened with such responsibilities; he should be enjoying his youth like any other child his age. Fortunately, your father has made efforts to keep you away from anything associated with the Yamazaki clan. However, a challenge arises as you find yourself interacting with Gun whenever the opportunity presents itself, all while keeping this information hidden from your father.

Here you are on the street walking back to home. Deja vu? Kinda. You find yourself walking down a dimly lit alley, seeking solace from the cacophony of the outside world with your earphones in, lost in the depths of your phone's music list. Oblivious to your surroundings, you inadvertently step on something, or someone, causing you to jolt out of your reverie. As you look down, you are met with the sight of an unconscious body beneath your feet.

Startled, you quickly retreat, only to realize that the alley is littered with more prone figures, each bearing the brutal marks of a physical assault. The grim scene before you sends a shiver down your spine as you grapple with the harrowing realization of the danger that surrounds you.

“holy…” you whisper as slowly remove your earphones on you.

As you gazed at the scene in front of you, fear gripped you. Suddenly, a heavy rain began to pour down, and you realized that you had once again forgotten to bring an umbrella. As you hurriedly made your way through the area, being careful not to step on any of the unconscious bodies strewn across the ground, you caught sight of a pair of familiar eyes gazing up at the cloudy sky.

“Are you having a moment, Gun?” you approach him while you use both of your arm cover your head.

“moment? No, I'm just admiring the rain.”

“you will get sick ‘future head of Yamazaki’ ”

“stop talking nonsense and your the one who will get sick easily”

As you two continued to exchange bitter remarks and playful jabs, you reached into your bag and retrieved a towel. Gently, you began to wipe the blood from Gun's face as he leaned down, allowing you to reach his face more easily.

“you should stop whatever you doing, Gun… I don't care if this your phase or something but this is not fine at all.”

“Why?”

“You hurt others that lower to you and you shouldn't done that. You hurt them, you hurt yourself more.”

As you finishing up wiping his face to his neck. Once you done you feel a hand before your head and pull you toward just to feel a soft kiss on your forehead before it pull away. You look up to him just to see his eyes looking at you, eyes locked together in romantic trance. He walk away from you with small wave to bid farewell to you. He even put a small flower on your ear.

“go home. You will get sick”

“Your the one to talk!”

As his figure slowly fades from your sight. It's the last time you will see him before you and your father move away to Korea, leaving behind memories of the past. The thought of leaving him behind feels like a heavy weight pressing down on your heart. The raindrops mix with the tears on your cheeks as you realize that your childhood romance is coming to an end. New chapter to you will begin soon as you step in to the Korea.

Did you know? Gun have garden of you everytime he doesn't see you, he would go there and sat thinking you with him because [your favorite flowers] reminds him of you. :)

[witchofhimring]

Under the shadow of the Crown

Synopsis: Your life as Princess Baela's lady-in-waiting is ripped apart. Queen Rhaenyra decrees that you marry her younger half brother Aemond. Terrified, you are in no position to object. Such are the lives of those in the shadow of the crown.

Pairings: Aemond x Y/n

Part of my Dynasty of Blood AU series, built of this concept.

You had never payed attention to the second sulky son of Alicent Hightower. If fact you had not even come to mainland Westeros to marry him in the first place. Of course marriage had always been in the cards. As heir to Blackhalt, your families ancestral seat just off of The Reach. A great match had always been in store for you. Lord Cregan Stark and Jeoffrey Velaryon had both been put forth. Only Lord Stark's had been seriously considered as the third born son of Queen Rhaenyra was not yet ten. It was only a pity the eldest two of her boys were to be wed. Well, Lucerys and Rhaena had not been wed at the time you arrived at Kings Landing. Crowned Prince Jaecerys had already taken Baela Targaryen to wife by then. Your role, until it was time to take up the mantel of ladyship, was to serve the royal family and cultivate whatever ties you could.

You were placed in the service of Princess Baela. She was around your age, born within the same year. Admittedly you were more than a bit intimidated. Use to being the second highest ranking lady in the room it was strange to be standing in front of the third greatest lady in the land. Not only that but Baela rode a dragon. Her beauty was intimidating as well, with thick silver hair and wide violet eyes. Her skin was dark and smooth, the scars she obtained in battle only giving highlighting her features. Normally scars could not be considered pretty, but Baela seemed to wear them as one would their jewels. Clad in black and red the princess looked almost like one of those Valyrian gods. Not that you had ever met one before. But perhaps this was how they were depicted.

The two of you would forge a friendship. A combination of personal liking and ambition. However it was with Rhaena that you first became friends with. The younger of the two, Rhaena was less assuming compared to Baela. That did not mean, as many mistakened her for, a wilting flower. She simply preferred to be more guarded and taken to court etiquette more easily. The two of you had much in common, a love of fine dresses, music, poetry and an ability to connive when the situation so called for it. When you were free of duties the two of you would hide under the Weirwood and read poetry.

Two years passed and a new year was upon everyone. A New Years ball was to be arranged and it was up to a team of ladies (including yourself) to organize who was wearing what. It was already agreed upon that Baela would be wearing a high collared red gown with rubies sewn into it. Not that she knew it yet. The rest of you would wear colours representing your houses to show a symbol of unity. "I think everyone should wear a red ribbon to symbolize the princess." Rhaena pulled out a silver box from underneath a tall tower of various items. Let it not be said this was an easy job. A new years celebration was nothing to scoff at. Especially as this one would be a pre-celebration to the marriage of Rhaena to Lucerys. Rhaenyra's second son had been off to learn what it mean to be a lord. This had been to the great distress of Rhaenyra. But she finally relented, unusually, and allowed Daemon to teach her son everything there was to know about being Prince of Dragonstone. Now that he had experience and was a man it was high time Lucerys married.

"Oh dear." Lady Cassandra stifled a laugh as she held up a pair of ludicrously high heels. Lady Cerelle of Casterly Rock paled and looked to Rhaena. She would find no security in her look as Rhaena sighed. "Let me see." You took the pair from her hand and examined them. They were exquisite in design and any woman would be thrilled to have them. Except this was Baela who would likely be as friendly as Vhargar when it came to overly constraining dresses.

Rhaena sighed and slumped in her seat. She looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. "Baela is going to kill me." You looked up at her. "Why you?" Rhaena sat up and stooped down to gather loose fabric. "Because I was the one who commissioned Panella to make the dress. And I swear I told her to make the dress to Baela's tastes. But the Queen ordered her to make it luxurious as possible." Queen Rhaenyra was well known for her expensive tastes. Just a glance at her dresses was enough for anyone to know. This had worked in your favour when the Queen gifted you a dress of pink silk and pearls. You had yet to wear it but the dress was truly magnificent. However, at this moment, was it worth it if Baela ripped your head off?

Deliverance came in the form a knock. One of Dowager Queen Alicents handmaidens entered. She first curtsied to Rhaena and then turned to you. "Lady Y/n, the Queen Dowager has requested your presence." Getting up you bid the ladies farewell before leaving. Hopefully you would be kept away long enough to avoid Baela's terror.

Lady Alicent had settled in the Hands Tower, much to the annoyance of the actual hand Ser Corlys Velaryon. The moment you entered green clouded your vision. On the steps of a dais sat the women serving Alicent. They mostly hailed from the Reach and Westerlands. Sitting on a throne like chair was Alicent. She looked older than her thirty and four years, a statue of regality and sternness. Had you done something to incur her ire? There was nothing you could think of. So you curtsied, hoping that if she was upset a show of supplication (even if it irked you) might mollify her. To your surprise she smiled, or at least it looked like a smile. This unsettled you to a degree.

"Lady Y/n, the Queen, your father and myself have chosen a husband for you." Several things went through your mind, excitement, anxiety and hope. You had been endlessly curious as to who would become your husband and the future lord consort to Blackhalt. "You will be marrying my son Prince Aemond. Everything dropped out from beneath you. Not literally, but it felt like someone had just hurled you down a dark tunnel. Out of everyone why him!? You could not say Aemond was well known to you. Only the stories and the looks he gave anyone attached to his elder sisters house. As you were a member of Baela's household his dislike over spilled into you as well.

Was this your fathers idea? Or your mother, who despite not being the ruling lady held great sway. Always you had known you'd marry, such was the duty of every lord and lady. Never had you though as you did now, that this was all some great mistake.

You curtsied to the third most powerful woman in Westeros and said how honoured you were. An honour it may be, but not one you cherished.

"Absolutely not!" If one though Baela had been angry beforehand it was nothing to her tirade over Aemond taking one of her handmaidens. "My Princess, I can still serve you, surely." You held her hand in your own. In the greatest state of anxiety Baela hardly seemed to notice. Suddenly she bounded to her feet. Cerelle leapt back in fright and Cassandra rose to her feet. Baela seized your hand and headed out the door. She strode forward with such a great fury you nearly tripped. You could hear the other two following, also having difficulty in catching up. It was only when you entered a staircase lined with red tapestries did you realize where it was Baela was taking you. Before there was even time to protest Baela waved the guards aside and burst through the door. Queen Rhaenyra lounged on a plush chair, surrounded by her three youngest sons, little Princess Visenya and four ladies. As usual she was bedecked in the finest robes imaginable. Jeoffrey came to his feet and rushed towards Baela. Despite the animosity between Baela and her good-mother she was fond of her husbands siblings. Once they broke apart Jeoffrey rushed back to his mother. Tention filled the room was two Targaryen Princesses stared each other down. Baela may not be Queen yet, but she had enough spirit to outdo almost any other. Rhaenyra may have been older, but the fire dwelling within her blood was no less furious. Despite their differences they both had something starkly similar. They were the very blood of Old Valyria.

"Princess Baela. Please take a seat." Baela simply stood there, not budging. Nervously you stood there. While Baela might get away with this you may suffer the brunt of Rhaenyra's anger. She was quick to anger and slow to forgive. So you hung your head in hopes that she might consider you unworthy of her anger. "He who bends may rise again", it was a Greyjoy saying, yet your mother mentioned it had a great deal of merit.

Lady Cassandra quietly entered, paid her respects to the Queen, then stood there. "Lady Velaryon, please take my daughter to her room." Lasfy Velaryon, a cousin of Baela, rose and took the hand of little Visenya who had only recently celebrated her third name day. With some fussing the princess was spirited away. Rhaenyra waited until her daughters little footsteps disappeared. When Rhaenyra focused her attention back onto Baela she looked as gentle as a dragon. They said the Queen was quick to anger, slow to forgive. You prayed her anger did not fall on you.

"Your impertinence is noted, Baela. Remember I am Queen so watch your tongue." The subject of Queenship had always been a tense, provocative one. When King Laenor died the crown passed to his wife. At the time Prince Jacaerys was only ten and considered too young to rule. Fearing a war over regency as had happened in the time of King Jaehaerys they had the boys mother become Queen. It was all wrapped up in a neat little bow. No boy kings and the succession going down the natural path. Or it would be so if it were not for the face Rhaenyra's sons were not Laenor's. Whispers floated down the halls that it was the former Captain of the City Guard Ser Harwin Strong who had fathered the boy. If the succession had gone down the true legitimate line then it would have passed to Laena's line. Baela was Laena's eldest child. But Rhaenyra was quick. She married Laena's widower Daemon Targaryen and married their children together.

Baela, who should have been Queen, stood in front of her stepmother who was Queen. Veryone else shrunk back. Even little Jeoffrey. "I hear you mean to marry Y/n Blackhalt to Aemond." She practically spat out the last words. All these years later Baela was still smarting over the injustice of Aemond taking Vhaegar from her sister. The feeling was mutual. Aemond had hated the Velaryon girls ever since that terrible fight on Driftmark. After the funeral of Princess Laena Aemond had stuck out and claimed Vhaegar which had once belonged to Aegon, consort of Queen Visenya. Words were said and Baela punched Aemond. A brawl ensued and Aemond lost an eye. The relationship between the families of Viserys Targaryen's first and second wives had never been smooth. Rhaenyra was left imbittered after her lady-in-waiting Alicent married her father. The two had never reconciled. Or so you heard.

"I am aware. Myself, Lady Alicent and your father have all agreed to it." Baela puffed up. "As a lady in my service Y/n is under my care and therefore I should have been informed." "My brother is a prince of the realm. Lady Y/n should feel honoured." Rhaenyra's amethyst eyes then settled on you. Oh Gods no.

"Lady Y/n, what do you say?" This was possibly the worst situation you could be placed in. Either way you would offend someone. Your best friend and future Queen, or the current Queen. Your mothers lessons went through your head. What would she do in this situation? Feigning calm, you spoke. "My opinion hardly counts. I will do what is best for the realm." You prayed this appeased both Targaryens. Rhaenyra had a look of satisfaction on her face. Baela's you could not see.

"There we have it. Is there anything else you would like to add?" It was not because Baela had been calmed that she turned and left. You could see the tension in her shoulders and knew Baela only left to stop herself from doing something truly rash. She had let go of you and both you and Cassandra were forced to race behind. All the way to her room the three of you ran. Rhaena and Cerelle were still in Baela's room. Rhaena opened her mouth but Baela spoke first. Once inside she immediately rounded on you. "So you want to marry him!" The fury in her voice made you cower. Unable to speak, it took everything in you not to cry. "You betray me in front of the Queen! You! Are you truly my friend or will you open your legs to any many who will have you!" Everyone gasped. Cassandra dropped the pearls, Rhaena clasped a hand to her mouth and Cerelle had silently fled.

You could not even cry. Your fear was so intense you remained rooted to the spot, stuck dumb. By no means were you a coward. Under any other situation you would have defended your honour. But not only was Baela your friend, but a Princess and future Queen. Baela's furious person glowered at you. Trembling, you only just begun to think of anything to say when Baela turned on her feet and stormed out.

There was no air in your lungs. Or at least that was what it felt like. Everything seemed to be falling away leaving you in a deep sea of despair. One by one you imagined everything being taken away, leaving only burned friendships and a disgraced name. Baela shot you one last disgusted before turning on her heel and leaving. With a bang the door shut.

Everything swam before you. Darkness began to rise and suddenly you were swallowed by it. Fading voiced echoed and drifted further and further away. A dull pain echoed in your head.

Then everything was black.

Pain was the first to greet you. The sun nearly blinded you and the world came into blurry focus. Every movement was slow and it ached. The bed dipped slightly as a face hovered above yours. "Y/n?" You recognized Rhaena through her voice. Then another joined your view. With vision clearing you realized it was a Septa. A cold hand pressed against your burning forehead and she spoke. "Can you see?" The words that came out of you sounded strange, like someone was yelling across the great hall. "Yes. But faintly, I think?" Wincing you held up a hand. Your vision was clearing and almost perfect again. "Sit up if you can." A hand behind your back helped you up. Propped against pillows a cup was placed by your lips. Cold water wetted your parched throat. It made a world of difference. Your senses were clearing and the remains of grogginess disappeared. Unfortunately it also brought pain into sharper focus. Reaching behind you felt a bump.

"Thank the Gods that is all. It could have been so much worse." Cerelle was nervously chewing her fingernails. You noticed that Cassandra and Baela were missing. "Cassandra was summoned by Baela. But she is very worried." Said Rhaena noticing your mood. "Does the Princess know what happened?" "I don't know. Not unless Cassandra told her." Defeated, you laid back. Still coming out of a haze your thoughts darted here and there. All this information, Baela's anger, the betrothal and Queen Rhaenyra's animosity made you want to faint all over again.

Cerelle and Rhaena said nothing else as you lay back down. The three of you stayed in that room, the sun setting. All the while you wondered if this was the right decision.

You should have been happy at the choice of husband. Aemond was young, handsome and a prince. But on the morning of your wedding all you felt was dread. During the early hours of the morning you lay awake, Rhaena snoring a few inches away. As a princess-to-be you got new rooms in the Red Keep. These ones opened out onto the garden, a combination of roses and salt lingering on every surface. You would rather have been in the old rooms. At least Baela had been your friend back then, and Aemond had not been your betrothed. You missed those days were you were just Lady Blackhalt. After the wedding you would be sent back with Aemond to Blackhalt island. Away from the place which had been your home since childhood.

Everyone but you seemed happy. Only Rhaena seemed aware of your mood. Cassandra and Cerelle were with Baela, they would no longer be with you. And Baela...who knew. They washed you within an inch of your flesh. Scrubbed till it hurt they finally pulled you out and lathered on a sweet smelling cream. Every inch of you were fussed over by an army of women. When that was done they dressed you, a whole new ordeal. For the first time you wore the Targaryen black and red. The three headed dragon was sewn onto your bodice with rubies glittering on silk strings. For a moment you forgot every worry when looking in the mirror. Every move sent sparkles dancing around you, and as princess you would always have such gowns. At least that was one comfort.

The dress became a burden when it was time for the procession through King's Landing. They placed you on a chariot for all of the smallfolk to see. They called out to you, blessing you with good fortune and many children. You smiled and waved, ignoring the heat and painful corset. Yet to have so much adoration gave you a warm feeling. You tried to focus on that. White petals were thrown into the air. Several getting caught in your hair. Finally you arrived back at the Red Keep. The remaining court which had not come with you was waiting. Helped off, you were delivered into the arms of your father. Lord Blackhalt was a stranger to his daughter. Having barely seen him in years it felt strange to have him hand you off. Baela might as well have done the honours. Speaking of Baela she was there. It hurt when she barely looked at you. And after this you would likely hardly see her again.

They were now closing in from all sides. Walking into the Great Hall you felt all their eyes on you. 'From now on I will always be watched.' You thought. You would go from lady to princess. A member of the royal family. Waiting for you at the end was the High Septon and Queen Rhaenyra, looking on in satisfaction. You hated the queen, her satisfied look making you want to throw up down the stairs. How dare she act all pleased! And then you saw your betrothed. Aemond stood inches from his sister. His black leather made you want to shrink away. 'Don't you it.' The warning spurred you on.

Aemond's hand was calloused and cold. It was a shock compared to the heat of this morning. For the first time you looked Aempnd in the face. As a body you feared him, as a man you nearly ran. And now you would spend the rest of your life with him. His purple eye was hard to read. No expression passed his face. It was worse than showing anger, at least you would know what to expect. Right now you knew nothing. In truth despite the proximity for so many years you knew nothing about him. Always it had been the words of Baela and Rhaena which painted a picture. Now on your own there was a blank canvas.

'With this kiss I pledge my love.' Empty words. His lips were cold against your own ones. Your black and white cloak was whipped off, replaced by the Targaryen sigil. No longer Lady Y/n. Y/n Blackhalt, Princess of Westeros. You felt naked, unprotected. And now your girlhood was ended.

Notes: I just want to reiterate that this is not a story in the sense I will organize it into chapters. It will be a collection of one shots based off of scenarios. If anyone wants to further discuss these characters I am happy to do so!

About the characters: Cassandra is much nicer in this version. I suspect that the reason she was so bitter in Fire and Blood was because she went from a possible heiress to House Baratheon and promised to a prince, then promised to a King. Only she ended up married to a man well below her station. Personally I think she was definitely ambitious, but is less malicious in this version due to being Lady Baratheon by right. So she certainly has less to be bitter about.

Now, about the readers wedding. Because this is a world were women inherit the reader will keep her last name. But because she is marrying into the royal family she wears their colours. So that is why she wears the Targaryen cloak.

Rhaenyra does come off as cruel in this one-shot however she will get more development. Her actions are a combination of spite against Baela and to show her place as Queen. Baela resents Rhaenyra for taking the place she thinks is hers. I will at some point write a one-shot from Baela's point of view.

The other ideas I have in mind:

-Rhaenyra and the reader talking about their dead ancestors

-Baela and Daenerys (reader's daughter) talks about queenship

-Reader's friendship with Baela and Rhaena

-"Monarchs of Westeros" (part 1) Covering every monarch of Westeros in this AU from Visenya the First to Rhaenyra the Second.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Silent Nights and Bright Lights

Pairing: König x reader

Warnings: fluffy

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy Christmas with König

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The train screeched to a halt, steam curling through the frigid air as you stepped onto the snowy platform. The cold bit at your cheeks, a sharp reminder of just how far north you had traveled. The frosty air carried the scent of pine and chimney smoke, a strangely comforting combination.

You barely had time to adjust your scarf before you spotted him. König stood at the edge of the platform, towering over the other travelers. His broad frame was bundled in a thick coat, a gray scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. His dark eyes scanned the crowd, darting nervously from face to face until they landed on you.

His shoulders visibly relaxed, and he took a tentative step forward. In one hand, he clutched your bag, which looked laughably small compared to him. In the other, he held a single poinsettia in a small pot, the vibrant red standing out against the muted winter colors.

“Willkommen,” he said softly, his deep voice carrying just enough warmth to rival the hot chocolate you’d been craving.

Your heart swelled at his shy demeanor. “Hi, König,” you said, taking a step closer.

He hesitated for a moment, then extended the flower toward you, his gloved hand almost comically large against the delicate plant. “This... is for you,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were afraid you might laugh at the gesture.

Your breath hitched as you accepted it, your fingers brushing against his glove. “Thank you, König. It’s beautiful.”

His lips twitched into a shy smile, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Here,” he said, gesturing to your bag. “Let me.”

You tried to protest. “König, it’s fine. I can—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, his free hand already reaching for the strap. “You’ve traveled far. Relax, hmm?”

You relented with a laugh, watching as he effortlessly slung the bag over his shoulder. His touch lingered for a moment on the strap, as if ensuring it was secure, before he gestured toward the exit.

“Come,” he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “It is... much warmer in the car.”

The drive to the village was quiet but comfortable, the snow-draped landscape passing by like something out of a postcard. König occasionally glanced at you, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as if trying to focus on the road instead of you.

When you finally arrived, the sight took your breath away. The village was nestled in a valley, its rooftops covered in thick layers of snow. Strings of golden lights hung between the buildings, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Stalls lined the square, bustling with activity as vendors sold everything from handcrafted ornaments to steaming mugs of spiced wine.

König parked the car and stepped out, opening your door for you before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt.

“This is... my home,” he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and nervousness. “I hope you like it.”

You looked up at him, smiling. “It’s beautiful, König.”

His ears turned pink, and he gestured toward the market. “Come. There is much to see.”

The market was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and the occasional jingling of bells. König walked beside you, his presence steady and comforting as he pointed out different stalls.

“This one sells the best glühwein,” he said, nodding toward a stall with a steaming cauldron of spiced wine. “And there,” he added, pointing to a display of carved wooden toys, “my mother used to buy me something small every year.”

You followed his gaze, imagining a younger König, all long limbs and awkward smiles, clutching a little wooden train.

As you passed a stall selling delicate glass ornaments, König paused, his gaze lingering on one shaped like a snowflake. Without a word, he reached for it, carefully handing over a few euros before turning to you.

“For you,” he said softly, holding the ornament out in his palm. “It... reminded me of you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you accepted it, holding it close to your chest. “Thank you, König. It’s beautiful.”

Before he could respond, a loud gasp drew your attention.

“It’s Krampus!” a little boy exclaimed, hiding behind his mother’s leg.

König froze, his hand halfway to his scarf. You glanced up at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. His size and the faint shadow of his mask peeking out from under his scarf certainly could give someone the wrong idea.

“I... uh...” König scratched the back of his neck, his ears burning red.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, nudging him playfully. “You’re a little intimidating, sure, but you’re no Krampus.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a reluctant smile, and he shook his head. “Perhaps... no sledding today, then.”

The cabin was straight out of a storybook, its roof blanketed in snow and its windows glowing warmly. Inside, the air smelled of pine and cinnamon, and the soft crackle of a fire filled the cozy space.

König had already brought in a fresh tree, its branches stretching nearly to the ceiling. Together, you spent the evening decorating it, though it quickly became clear that König’s large hands were not meant for handling fragile ornaments.

When he accidentally crushed a tiny ceramic reindeer, he froze, his expression one of sheer panic. “Scheiße,” he muttered under his breath. “I... I am sorry.”

You laughed, picking up a glittering bauble. “It’s fine, König. Just stick to the garland, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes lighting up at your teasing. Carefully, he set to work draping the golden ribbon around the tree, pausing occasionally to glance over at you.

On Christmas morning, you woke to the smell of freshly baked pastries. You found König in the kitchen, his hands covered in flour as he carefully pulled a tray of strudels from the oven.

“I... tried,” he said sheepishly, holding up one of the slightly lopsided pastries.

You took a bite, grinning as the flaky crust melted on your tongue. “It’s perfect,” you said, meaning every word.

When it came time to exchange gifts, you handed him a neatly wrapped package. Inside was a hand-knit scarf in his favorite color.

“You made this?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

You nodded, and he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like a fortress. “Thank you, mein Schatz,” he murmured.

His gift to you was the snowflake ornament, now hanging proudly on the tree. “It reminded me of you,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Delicate, beautiful... and special.”

You smiled, your heart full. “Thank you, König. For everything.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Frohe Weihnachten,” he whispered.

Translation:

Merry Christmas, my treasure

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[genshinluvr]

Happily Ever After?

Pairings: Various Princes!Genshin Men x Royal!Isekai'd!Reader (Royal AU-ish)

Summary: There was a small kingdom on Teyvat where a king and queen kept their child locked in a tower for over two decades— the public and other kingdoms do not know what this royal Highness looks like, nor do they know much of this person. However, twenty-seven princes set off to free their royal Highness from their high-rise prison. Maybe you will finally get your happily ever after by finally getting your freedom.

Note: I was supposed to finish this fic last night and had it posted a while ago, but I didn't do that 🥹 I do plan on taking a break once a month instead of constantly posting like how I usually do. There's no specific "date" for these breaks, but it will be a once-a-month type of thing. Other than that, I'm not sure how I feel about this fic, but I hope you guys somewhat like it ;v; This fic is a little bit shorter than I expected it would be, but it's better than nothing— it's not a mini-fic. Yes, all Genshin men are princes no matter who they are and what age they are. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of

Word Count: 5.6k

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom ruled by a king and queen. The king and queen have a child, locked in a tower, never allowed to see the light of day. No one knew what the young royal looked like, nor did they know much of the child’s existence. Nor did they know why the king and queen kept them locked up. It could be for their protection, or the king and queen despise their child. While the kingdom was reminded of the existence of the king and queen’s child annually, the thought of the young royal was a fleeting thought. A little over two decades later, the tower where the child of the king and queen soon has many curious explorers try to climb up the structure to see the face of the mysterious royal. The same face no one is familiar with, the same face no one in the public eye has ever seen, and the same face twenty-seven men are curious to see. 

PRESENT DAY— Location: Unknown.

Twenty-seven men, also princes, crowd around the lone tower in a remote area of a small kingdom. The tower is far from the kingdom, far from civilization. It makes the men wonder how in the world the child of the king and queen is able to survive while kept far from humanity. The gray-bricked tower is fifty meters tall with purplish-pink barrel roof tiles. There is a singular window at the very top of the tower, accompanied by a balcony with a flower pot hanging from the ceiling. 

Prince Childe props his hands on his hips, staring at the balcony intently. “Well, gentlemen. Today is the day where we rescue the child of the king and queen of this small kingdom,” says Prince Childe, turning to look at the other men with determination. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Prince Gorou nervously asks, watching Prince Diluc pull a rope from a leather rucksack. 

The rope is long enough for the twenty-seven men to use as leverage to get to the window of the tower. Prince Diluc ties the rope and begins swinging the rope, scanning the towering building.

Prince Venti plops beside the leather rucksack, resting his head on the bag as he crosses his right leg over the other with wheat sticking from his lips. “Yer sure the rope is sturdy for the twenty-seven of us?” Prince Venti asks, chewing on the end of the wheat.

Prince Zhongli rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands beside Prince Diluc, helping the redhead secure the knot. “Twenty-six. You’re not coming with us,” Prince Zhongli states.

Prince Venti sits up, gazing at the brown-haired Prince incredulously. Prince Zhongli turns away and continues to assist Prince Diluc. Prince Venti stutters, getting off the ground and stomping toward Prince Zhongli.

Prince Xiao glares at Venti and lightly pushes Prince Venti away from Prince Zhongli. “You stay down here and make sure no one comes. That’s the only thing you’re useful for,” Prince Xiao states, rolling his eyes.

Not wanting to start any more problems, Prince Venti grumbles and walks back to the leather rucksack and plops down beside it. While the twenty-seven princes (yes, they are all princes. There are no kings, emperors, dukes, lords, sirs, etc.) collectively agree to save the king and queen’s unknown child, they cannot stand each other’s presence. Especially Prince Zhongli and Prince Venti— the two princes are from rival kingdoms. 

Many people may wonder why the princes are working together to climb the tower when most can’t stand each other. They all share the same agenda, and that is to rescue the poor young royal from the tower the king and queen have locked their kid up for most of their life. It makes the twenty-seven men wonder how you, the mysterious royal, survive without human contact for so long. Every man is aware of your existence, and they’re all curious about who you are and why your parents decide to keep you away from the public eye. It’s not easy to keep someone of a high profile away from the limelight for over two decades. 

Prince Ayato props his hands on his hips, staring at the rope with scrutiny. “Are you certain this rope is sturdy? It won’t rip if every one of us is climbing up the tower using this rope, will it?” asks Prince Ayato.

“We’ll be fine, Prince Ayato! Chillax, my bro! I know it seems scary, but as someone who has done this plenty of times, we’ll be okay!” Prince Itto says, roughly patting the refined Prince of Inazuma on the shoulders. 

Prince Ayato sighs, rolling his eyes before giving the tall prince a small smile. While Prince Itto and Prince Ayato aren’t as close, the two would meet up from time to time to have a beetle fight. It’s a small game the two would have with each other— mostly initiated by Prince Itto, the carefree prince who gets into a lot of trouble but is always off the hook due to being a prince. 

“How are we going to get this rope to hook around that balcony? With our weight combined, I don’t think the railing of the balcony stands a chance,” Prince Kaveh sighs, tapping his foot on the ground.

Prince Wriothesley laughs and steps forward. “Gentlemen, I got this! Leave this to me, Prince Wriothesley of Fontaine,” says Prince Wriothesley, grabbing the rope from Prince Diluc’s hands and beginning spinning the rope, aiming for the balcony. 

While the princes are outside trying to get the rope to latch onto the balcony, the door to the bedroom in the tower swings open. Enters a young royal, yawning and rubbing their eyes. There’s nothing else to do in the tower except to read and sleep. You look at the clock on the wall and roll your eyes. It’s only two in the afternoon, and you’re already forced to retreat to your bedroom by one of the servants your parents assigned. 

“I’m rotting away in my high-rise prison,” you mumble, plopping on your bed and hugging your pillow before flipping over on your back. 

You have been locked away in your tower for as long as you can remember. You rarely step out of the tower. You never walk around the castle your parents reside in. Heck, you never stepped foot in that damn castle! Most importantly, you have never communicated with anyone outside of your prison aside from your parents. Your parents— the king and queen— tried to reassure you they love you and that they’re doing this for your safety, but you don’t believe them.

You toss your pillow to the foot of your bed and close your eyes. “One day, my prince will rescue me from my tower,” you whisper, dozing off.

Meanwhile, outside the tower, the men cheer loudly when the rope latches onto the railing of the balcony. Prince Wriothesley tugs on the rope, testing its durability. Prince Cyno and Prince Albedo collectively pull at the rope, nodding with approval. 

“The rope is sturdy. It doesn’t seem like it will snap under intense pressure,” says Prince Albedo, dusting his hands.

Prince Cyno shields his eyes from the sun, looking at the other men. “Alright, gentlemen. Shall we rescue their royal highness from their tower?” asks Prince Cyno, the corners of his lips quirking up.

The men grab the rope, and Prince Diluc starts climbing up the rope, mentally praying to the Archons the rope wouldn’t snap under immense weight. After all, over twenty people are climbing up the rope— just as long as the rope doesn’t break, sending everyone tumbling to the ground. 

Prince Aether wipes the beads of sweat forming at the base of his hairline. “You guys are certain this rope isn’t going to snap?” asks Prince Aether, looking at the other men worriedly.

“Relax, Prince Aether! This is the sturdiest rope to exist in Teyvat. Do you really think the rope is going to snap that easily?” Prince Thoma asks, nudging Prince Aether lightly with his elbow. 

Prince Scaramouche rolls his eyes and climbs up the rope, making sure to listen for the sounds of tearing and snapping. So far, there aren’t any noises from the rope— thankfully. Prince Scaramouche wants to get this over with and find out who this mysterious royal highness is. The same royal highness the king and queen of whatever kingdom is hiding from the public eye. 

“Does anyone find it strange how the king and queen were able to keep the identity of the young royal highness hidden for so long? How was their identity not leaked?” Prince Kazuha asks, tightening his grip on the rope as he climbs up the tower. 

Prince Heizou shrugs. “It is strange. It’s impossible to keep your child out of the limelight as a public figure, especially if your child is part of the royal family. I understand if the young Highness is still young. However, it’s been a little over two decades, and no one has caught a glimpse of what the royal Highness looks like,” Prince Heizou mutters, stroking his chin.

The men proceed to climb up the tower, eyeing the rope around the balcony’s railing. The railing is somehow managing to hold up over twenty people climbing the tower. It’s both a relief and a worry how the fence has yet to break under a lot of weight. After what felt like two hours, Prince Diluc reached the balcony and climbed over it, sighing in relief. The balcony is surprisingly bigger than he expected. 

“Where do you think this leads to? Their royal Highness’s bedroom?” Prince Kaeya asks, dusting his clothes.

Prince Diluc crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Prince Kaeya. “Even if it does, do not put your hands on them,” Prince Diluc instructs sternly.

Prince Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Relax, Prince Diluc. None of us are interested in touching the mysterious royal Highness,” he says.

Prince Al Haitham grabs the door handle of the balcony entrance and slowly turns the knob. To his and everyone’s surprise, the door is unlocked. Prince Al Haitham cracks the door open and slowly enters the tower, the men tip-toeing behind him. The men collectively freeze when they realize they’re in your bedroom. The bedroom is furnished with elegant, luxury furniture. But despite the luxurious furniture around the room, the room looks barren. 

“Is that who I think it is?” Prince Tighnari whispers, gesturing toward the bed.

Prince Al Haitham takes a step closer to the bed and peeks at your face. Prince Al Haitham nods and turns to the others. “I believe this is their royal Highness the king and queen have been hiding for two decades,” Prince Al Haitham whispers.

The Princes walk around your spacious bedroom, looking around curiously. Bookshelves lined up against the wall, and a fireplace nestled between the two tall bookshelves. In the corner are a small vanity and an easel. The room is filled with many activities for you to keep yourself occupied while locked in a tower for two decades.

“What should we do? Wake them up?” Prince Pantalone asks, standing at the foot of your bed, staring down at your unconscious body.

Prince Dottore shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s best for us to wake them up from their slumber. It’ll freak them out and call for security,” Prince Dottore mutters, walking over to the door and pressing his ears against the wooden door.

The masked Prince grabs the doorhandle and twists it, only for it to become stuck. Prince Dottore furrows his eyebrows and looks at the doorknob. There’s no lock from the inside, and yet the door isn’t budging. Did they lock you in the room by any chance? Prince Dottore jiggles the doorknob to double-check, and he’s correct. The door is certainly locked from the outside, and even if you want to escape, there’s no way for you to leave the room aside through the balcony. 

Prince Capitano chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “I don’t think their royal Highness will be calling for security,” Prince Capitano comments, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall.

“I think we should give Their Royal Highness a kiss on the lips!” Prince Venti says, throwing his legs over the railing of the balcony and strutting into the room.

The men look at each other before looking over at the short Prince, who scans around the bedroom of the tower, whistling lowly. Prince Zhongli growls lowly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to remain calm and not explode. 

Prince Baizhu smiles at Prince Venti, tapping his fingers on his hips. “Prince Venti, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be watching and making sure there aren’t people approaching the tower?” Prince Baizhu asks.

“I knew we shouldn’t have invited him along with us. This dunce never listens when given orders,” Prince Dainsleif rolls his eyes.

Prince Venti gives the men a shit-eating grin, plops on the chair beside your bed, and stares at your sleeping face with awe. Prince Venti could stay outside and keep watch, but he doesn’t want to. Prince Pierro rubs the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, sharp exhale. The older man looks at Prince Venti, clenching his jaws.

“I am trying my best not to strangle you right now, Prince Venti,” Prince Pierro hisses.

Prince Neuvillette hums, closing his eyes. “Aren’t we all?” Prince Neuvillette chuckles bitterly, shaking his head.

Prince Venti smirks and sticks his tongue out at the other men in the room before peeking over at you. Your chest is rising and falling at a steady pace, letting him know you’re in deep sleep. While the men aren’t sure how long you have been asleep, they need to wake you up soon to rescue you from the tower. Prince Childe stands at the foot of your bed, hands propping on his hips as he stares at your face.

“They’re kind of cute! I can see why their parents locked them away in the tower for most of their life!” says the ginger-haired prince of Snezhnaya.

The men are surprised you have yet to wake up due to the amount of talking going on in your room. At first, they were whispering, but since some of them weren’t whispering, you didn’t bat an eye when each person spoke. 

Prince Itto scoffs. “Kind of? They’re very cute! I don’t know what you mean by ‘kind of,’” says Prince Itto, gesturing air quotes with both his index and middle fingers.

“How do we wake them up without freaking them out?” Prince Aether asks, scratching his head as he peeks from Prince Venti’s head.

There are many ways the twenty-seven princes can wake you up from your slumber. Either the normal way and that is to gently shake you from your sleep, or they can not wake you up. By that, one of the men can scoop you up in their arms and climb out the window with you! But the men aren’t sure how much of a heavy or light sleeper you are, so that can be a bit challenging. 

Prince Venti claps his hands, startling the others. “We can do it in a way every fairy tale book does it! Like Snow White, for example!” Venti exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug look.

Prince Neuvillette raises his eyebrows at Prince Venti, gazing at him skeptically. “Care to elaborate on that, Prince Venti?” asks the Fontainian prince. 

Prince Heizou raises his hand. “I believe he is referring to the famous kiss of life. While it happened in Snow White, it also happened in the fairy tale Sleeping Beauty,” Prince Heizou interjects. 

Kiss of life, huh? While it sounds romantic, it doesn’t seem to be the appropriate thing to do, given that you weren’t poisoned or cursed with eternal sleep until your true love kisses you, bringing you back to life. Plus, it’s not a good idea to kiss someone you met less than thirty minutes ago— especially when they’re sleeping.

Prince Zhongli glares at Prince Venti and Prince Heizou, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kissing someone without their consent and while unconscious is very distasteful. If you dare to touch them in such a way, I will bring hell on Teyvat,” Prince Zhongli thunders. 

Everyone in the room flinches when Prince Zhongli raises his voice at the two princes. The sound of blanket ruffling and a soft exhale causes every man to freeze in the room. Prince Al Haitham turns to see you moving around on your bed, groaning softly and rubbing your eyes. Prince Ayato sighs, running his hands through his hair. Bouncing with excitement, Prince Itto, Prince Childe, and Prince Venti lean over you.

Prince Ayato rolls his eyes. “Don’t lean over them like that. You’ll freak them out,” Prince Ayato hisses quietly. 

Unable to fall back asleep, you open your eyes to see three unfamiliar faces staring down at you. Your eyes widen, and you punch the closest person to you. Prince Venti yelps and backs away, clutching his nose, while Prince Itto and Prince Childe back away. You sit up and look at the unwanted guests with fear.

“Who are you people, and why are you in my room!?” You screech, holding your pillow in front of you, using it as a shield.

Prince Gorou shakes his head rapidly, waving his hands in front of him. “Please don’t scream! We’re here to rescue you!” Prince Gorou explains, peeking at the door to make sure no one hears what’s going on.

Your bottom lip quivers as you plop over to the side, hugging your pillow tightly. If this is how you die, then you accept your fate with open arms. You don’t want to die. You really don’t want to die, but if it means you’ll finally be free from your high-rise prison, then you accept your fate. 

Prince Kazuha clears his throat. “Your Highness, are you alright?” Prince Kazuha asks softly, debating if he should approach you or not, fearing he would scare you even more.

You bury your face into your pillow. “If you’re here to kill me, just do it! I accept my fate and am willing to let you all kill me like a pig in a slaughterhouse,” you say dramatically.

Your room plunges into a tense silence. You peek from your pillow to look at the intruders, waiting for their response. The men are shocked and a little offended that you assumed they would harm you. Prince Kaveh clears his throat to grab your attention and steps forward cautiously, not wanting to scare you. You sniffle and sit up, hugging your knees to your chest while gazing at the men warily. Prince Kaveh smiles at you, tucking his blond hair behind his ear.

Prince Kaveh kneels on one knee, placing his right hand over his heart. “Your Highness, we’re not here to kill you. We’re here to rescue you from your tower,” Prince Kaveh explains.

“Rescue me from my tower? How are you guys going to do that without getting caught?” You ask.

The men look away, rubbing the back of their necks. You blink at them and look over at your bedroom door. You slowly get off your bed and walk toward the door to test out the door handle. The doorknob doesn’t budge, letting you know they did not enter your room through the door like a normal person. 

“How did you—”

“We entered through your balcony,” Prince Xiao interrupts, pointing at the balcony door that’s wide open.

Prince Kaeya chuckles, adjusting the eyepatch. “Perhaps this is a reminder for everyone to lock your doors and windows,” says Prince Kaeya.

You shake your head and walk to the vanity, plopping on the stool and running your hands through your hair. You want to escape the tour with these strange men, but how are you going to do that without causing a scene? You can either leave with these men and never look back or remain at the tower, never see the light of day other than through the balcony window. Who are these men anyway?

Your parents made sure you don’t fall behind on your education— they hired the top university professors in the world to teach you many subjects, but they never mention other important figures. Well, those who are alive, of course. You take a deep breath and stand up, facing the twenty-something men. Wait, how many people are there? You start counting heads quietly, pointing at each man as you do.

Twenty-seven men stare at you while you count how many people there are in your room. After counting, you nod and clasp your hands together. “Alright, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves to one another. Judging by your attire, you all are important people,” you say.

Prince Diluc raises his eyebrows at you. “Do your parents not tell you who each of us are? Or about our regions and kingdoms?” asks Prince Diluc.

You squint at Prince Diluc, stroking your chin while shaking your head. Why would your parents tell you who these men are? Kingdoms and regions, huh? So not only are they important people, but they come from the kingdoms that rule the seven nations. Your parents could care less about informing you about the current reigning monarchs of each region because they assumed you wouldn’t meet anyone from the seven regions.

The men start introducing themselves and saying what regions and kingdoms they’re from while you try to remember the names of each face. After ten minutes, every man has introduced themselves to you, and now it’s your turn. You’re not sure what to say— do you even introduce yourself as a member of the royal family, or do you present yourself as who you are? I mean, you are part of the royal family, but you’re never seen with them, nor are you seen out in public because you’re not allowed to step foot out of the high-rise prison.

“Nice to meet you all. My name’s [YN],” you introduce yourself.

Prince Thoma gazes at you with wide eyes before looking at the others. “Your Highness, you’re not going to introduce yourself as—”

You shake your head. What’s the point of introducing yourself as the child of the king and queen? The men look at each other, not saying a word. It’s not like you don’t want to introduce yourself as the child of the king and queen. The public and other kingdoms have never seen your face, and if you were to introduce yourself as whatever title within the monarchy, people would assume you’re pretending to be something you’re not. 

You clear your throat. “Are we all going to stay here, or are we going to leave? I’m worried the servants are going to pop in to check on me only to see me with twenty-seven uninvited royal guests,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

The men nod and usher you toward the balcony. You peek over the balcony and see an uncomfortable drop. You turn to look at the others, propping your hands on your hips. There’s no way in hell you’re going to climb down this easily. You’re willing to leave, but if it has anything to do with heights, you’re not going to be on board with it. Maybe that’s why your parents put you in a high-rise prison instead of a dungeon. 

“Is there a problem, Your Highness?” Prince Dainsleif asks, peering over the balcony before looking at you with worry.

You nod hesitantly. “Yes, but I don’t think we have time to worry about my worries right now,” you say, reaching for the rope, only for Prince Albedo to snatch it from your hands.

Prince Albedo sighs and shakes his head. “Your Highness, if you’re not comfortable with climbing out the balcony and down the rope, we can have someone carry you down,” Prince Albedo suggests.

Not wanting to waste time, Prince Al Haitham scoops you in his arms and throws you over his shoulders before grabbing the rope and climbing over the railing of the balcony. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrap your arms around his torso tightly as Prince Al Haitham descends with you over his shoulders. The others follow after Prince Al Haitham climbs down the tower. Prince Tighnari closes the balcony door before making his way down the rope.

“Okay, so you have successfully rescued me from my tower…” You trail off, continuing to cling onto Prince Al Haitham’s waist. “What’s going to happen after this? Do I live as a regular citizen now? Do I live in someone else’s kingdom? Are you guys going to take me to my parents' kingdom?” You ask.

Once everyone made it down the tower, Prince Wriothesley yanks the rope from the railing before wrapping the rope and storing it in the leather rucksack. You wiggle your feet in the grass and pause, only to realize you don’t have shoes on, nor do you have shoes on your person. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” Prince Wriothesley asks, approaching you.

You press your lips into a thin line. You don’t want to be a burden if you tell them you don’t have shoes on— how could you forget to wear shoes? Then again, you rarely leave the tower, so shoes weren’t a necessity for you. 

“Did you forget something, Your Highness?” A suave voice asks.

You turn to see a shorter male leaning against the tower. You blink at the man and turn to the other princes behind you. There are twenty-seven of them, but who in the world is this man? Prince Cyno and Prince Baizhu trade looks before looking at the approaching man. The man pulls your shoes out of thin air before dropping down on one knee, helping you put your shoes on. The princes around you mutter to themselves while watching the man before you put your shoes on your feet before standing up. The man bows gracefully, tips his hat forward, and winks at you with a smirk.

“If it weren’t for me, you would be parading around the nation barefooted,” says the mysterious man.

Prince Cyno sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Prince Lyney, I did not expect to see you here,” says Prince Cyno.

Another prince? How many princes are there in Teyvat? Prince Lyney smiles at Prince Cyno and waves at him with a wide smile. At least you don’t have to worry about walking around barefooted. It’s still early in the afternoon, and your fate after leaving the castle remains a mystery. If your parents know you managed to escape the tower, who knows what they will do aside from having a search party for you. You love your parents, you really do! But you don’t see them as often as you see the servants at the tower.

“Where are we going to take their Highness,” asks Prince Scaramouche, crossing his arms over his chest.

The men fall silent and look at each other. You prop your hands on your hips and sigh. These men did not think this through. While it’s nice to be rescued, you don’t want to be seen outside of the tower if there isn’t a plan after the rescue portion of the plan. Even if the majority of the public has no idea what you look like, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Pantalone strokes his chin. “We’re going to take you to another nation. Far away from where your kingdom and tower reside—”

You cut him off. “And have you all decided on what nation I’m going to be smuggled into?” you ask.

“That we do not,” Dottore says, shaking his head.

You visibly deflate, sighing in defeat. You’re okay with being smuggled into any nation! However, these men not knowing what nation they wanted to smuggle you into is sort of a problem. 

Prince Tighnari smiles at you sympathetically and pats your head. “Do you have a preference?” asks Prince Tighnari.

You shake your head. “Not really, no,” you reply. You look around, making sure there’s no one listening in on your conversation. “Let’s get moving before one of the servants catches us out here.”

Prince Capitano, the masked (helmeted?) prince of an unknown nation, leads the way away from the tower. You look over your shoulders at your high-rise prison one last time before turning back around. You hope if your parents have a search party over your disappearance, they will never find you. 

Even if your parents know what you look like, the entire nation and the entirety of Teyvat have no idea what you look like. So, that makes you wonder how your parents are going to have a search party for you if the entirety of Teyvat (aside from a selected few) has no idea what you look like. To be honest, just thinking about it makes you a tad bit nervous about what’s going to happen in the future.

“Something on your mind, Your Highness?” asks Prince Capitano.

You shake your head and rub your temples. “No, no, not really. Although I am starting to get a headache,” you sigh.

You’re not lying when you say you’re starting to get a headache. The back of your head is throbbing, and it makes you want to drop everything and take a nap. Prince Baizhu steps up and points at the large tree in the distance.

“Get underneath the shade of the tree, and I’ll conduct a health check-up before we continue our journey,” Prince Baizhu instructs.

Prince Pierro scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the shade. It’s warm outside, but not uncomfortably warm. It's just warm enough for you to not overheat or break out in sweats. Prince Pierro sits you down at the base of the tree and has you lean against the tree trunk. You tilt your head back and look at your surroundings. There are so many trees around you that it shocks you— not because of the number of trees, but because your parents kept you in a locked tower with a few servants for most of your life, surrounded by nothing but vegetation.

Prince Baizhu does a small check-up on you, handing you a bottle of water from the rucksack Prince Diluc was carrying. The green-haired prince starts massaging your temples while you close your eyes with contentment. 

Prince Al Haitham looks around, making sure no one is following your group. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do the servants treat you at your tower?” asks the gray-haired prince.

You crack your eyes open and look at Prince Al Haitham. “They treat me okay. I’m not allowed to leave my room unless I need to use the bathroom. They bring food to my room along with medication if I’m sick,” you reply.

The men stare at you in disbelief. From what you told them, it doesn’t sound like a comfortable lifestyle for you. Yes, they didn’t mistreat you, but you weren’t allowed to leave your room unless it was necessary. Heck, you weren’t allowed to leave your bedroom to get food. The servants bring food to your room and leave, locking the door behind them.

Prince Pierro sighs, shaking his head. “Sounds like they’re treating you like a prisoner,” Prince Pierro mutters.

“Do you know why your parents keep you locked up in the tower by any chance?” Prince Gorou asks, sitting beside you.

You shake your head. “Aside from wanting to protect me, not really. Whenever I ask them, they would brush it off or change the conversation.”

Now that you think about it, you never knew the actual reason why they kept you locked up in the tower. Your parents wanted to keep you away from the limelight, and to protect you could be an excuse for something else. 

“Well, whatever their reason is, it’s not good enough. The best thing we can do is—” Prince Tighnari freezes, his ears twitching.

Prince Ayato looks at Prince Tighnari worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“I hear sirens from a distance,” Tighnari whispers.

Your eyes widen, and you push yourself off the ground. “Oh no,” you whisper. 

“The siren is coming from the tower,” Prince Zhongli mutters. 

You and the twenty-eight princes are in the middle of nowhere in the forest. As Prince Zhongli said, the only thing that could have sirens is the tower. Prince Zhongli grabs ahold of your wrist and carries you bridal style before running with the other princes in tow.

“What’s going to happen if we get caught? I can’t go back there! I refuse to go back to the tower,” you say, gripping the sleeves of Prince Zhongli’s coat tightly.

“We won’t get caught, Your Highness! We’ll make sure you don’t return to the tower,” says Prince Neuvillette.

You and the princes can’t possibly be caught, right? The only people (aside from you and the twenty-eight princes) are the servants. There aren’t guards around the tower unless it’s a monthly security check at the tower ordered by your parents. You can’t go back to the tower, you can’t! You refuse to go back there! The possibility of you returning to the tower is fifty-fifty, and if you were to be forced to return to your high-rise prison, chances are, the security is going to be tight, and you will be under constant surveillance. So much for a happily ever after.

Note: Before anyone makes a comment on certain characters being too old to be a prince (Pierro, Capitano, Zhongli, Venti, etc.)... mind you, Prince Charles exists, and that man did not become a king until his mother died. That man finally got the title of King in his 70s. Plus, I decided to make every man a prince because changing up titles is a little bit hard to keep up— especially when it involves almost 30 men. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist for my Genshin fics: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr, @asoulsreverie, @inapileofbooke

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[sinkovia]

The Coliseum

Gladiator Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Violence, blood, mention of death.

Masterlist

In the splendor of the royal box, you, the princess, watched with bated breath as the gladiatorial games unfolded below. Among the fierce warriors, one figure stood out to you. The way his eyes looked up at you with a mixture of admiration and longing made your heart yearn for him.

As Simon emerged victorious, you approached him with reverence, a crown of delicate flowers clasped gently in your hands. With adoration shining in your eyes, you lifted the floral adornment and placed it upon his head, a gesture of respect and admiration for his remarkable fight.

Your voice reached his ears like a soothing melody. "What is your name?" your words carrying a softness that made Simon's heart flutter within his chest.

"Simon," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he bowed his head in deference, feeling unworthy to be in the presence of such grace and beauty.

"You fought with honor, Simon, something I rarely see" your praise washed over him like a soothing balm to his weary soul. With gentle hands, you took a fragrant cloth and wiped away the traces of blood from his face, your touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. 

As a final act of gratitude and affection, one that filled his heart with warmth, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving him feeling as though he had been touched by an angel.

Simon was hesitant to entertain any feelings for you, knowing the risks involved in falling for the daughter of the king. He was a gladiator, a man bound by duty and honor, and the idea of getting involved with royalty seemed both reckless and forbidden.

However, you were always there to see him fight, sitting at the edge of your seat praying to the gods above to keep him safe. And every time he came out victorious you would be there placing a crown of flowers you had woven together on his head, smiling up at him, and placing a kiss upon his cheek.

Simon found himself drawn to you, the princess whose grace and kindness shone like a beacon in the darkness of the coliseum. Despite his initial reluctance to entangle himself with royalty, Simon couldn't deny the growing affection he felt for you, a love that bloomed quietly in the shadows, hidden from prying eyes.

Your meetings in secret became the highlight of his days, each stolen moment filled with whispered confessions and tender caresses. In your arms, he found solace from the brutality of the arena, his heart beating in rhythm with yours, bound by a love that defied all odds.

The shadows of secrecy could only conceal your love for so long. When your father discovered the truth of your forbidden romance, he devised a cruel plan to teach you a lesson.

Your father, driven by rage, forced Simon into a duel against the most formidable warrior in the land. Towering over Simon, the opponent loomed like a mountain, casting a shadow over the arena with his imposing stature.

With every ounce of strength and determination, Simon fought valiantly, his every move a testament to his unwavering love for you. But the odds were stacked against him, and despite his best efforts, he was ultimately overpowered by the brute force of his adversary. 

You watched in agony as Simon fell to the ground, his body battered and broken, while the deafening cheers of the crowd echoed in your ears like a cruel mockery of your grief. You cried out, your anguished scream piercing through the crowd. Ignoring your father's desperate attempts to restrain you, you broke free from his grasp and raced down to the arena, your heart breaking with each step.

In your grief-fueled rage, you lashed out, pushing aside anyone who dared stand in your way. With a single motion, you sent a soldier trying to restrain you tumbling down the steps, his neck snapping with a sickening crunch as his body rolled to the bottom.

When you reached the arena you grasped Simon's sword with trembling hands and as the warrior who had robbed you of your beloved raised his hands in triumph, basking in the cheers of the crowd, you plunged the sword deep into his back. The crowd erupted into shocked gasps as they witnessed the princess, their beloved royalty, committing a brazen act of violence before their eyes.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you collapsed beside Simon's lifeless form, the weight of grief and despair pressing heavily upon your heart. Tenderly, you cradled his face in your trembling hands, your fingertips tracing the contours of his features. Leaning forward, you pressed your lips softly against his, a final gesture of love and longing.

But as your lips met his the shocked gasps of the crowd echoed around you, their disapproval thick in the air. In that moment, you were acutely aware of the gaping divide between your station as royalty and Simon's humble existence as a gladiator. Yet, despite the scornful glares and muttering voices, you refused to let go of the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Among the spectators, your father let out a cry of anguish, his voice reverberating with fury and disbelief at the display unfolding before him.

As the king's guards advanced towards you, their expressions a mix of apprehension and determination, you knew that your fate was sealed. With resolve burning brightly within you, you reached for the small dagger strapped to your thigh, a gift from Simon for your protection.

With a steady hand and a resolve born of unwavering love, you drew the blade across your throat, the searing pain nothing to the agony within your heart.

As the crimson blood stained the pristine fabric of your gown, the collective gasps and cries of the onlookers reached a fever pitch, mingling with the anguished wails of your father. 

As your blood mixed with Simon's on the bloodstained earth of the arena, you knew that in death, you would find solace in the arms of your beloved, united for eternity in a love that transcended even the boundaries of mortality and the barriers of royalty and status.

[violentvaleska]

𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔

ᴛᴡᴏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵒʳ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ!ʟᴇᴠɪ × ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs, ᴀ ʙᴀɴϙᴜᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇᴛʀᴏᴛʜᴇᴅ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʟᴀᴄᴇ sᴡᴇᴇᴛʟʏ. ʏᴇᴛ ʟᴇᴠɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀʀsʜ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴsᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴡ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ. "ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏ sᴀɪɴᴛ."

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ғᴏᴜʀ ғɪᴠᴇ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @xiernia @fangsgrr

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴜғғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏs! sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡs ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴɪsʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴏᴏɴᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ɪ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ^^ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴀʀᴇɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀs ᴄᴀʟᴍ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ...

The palace rises before you, a masterpiece of stone and shadow, its jagged towers clawing at the heavens like silent sentinels of Eldia’s dominion. Sprawling gardens embrace the marble paths below, their symmetry a deliberate contrast to the wild vastness beyond the walls. Statues of past emperors stand as unyielding guardians, their cold, unseeing eyes carved with such precision that you almost feel their judgment as Emperor Levi leads you forward.

His stride is deliberate, sharp, the echo of his boots against the marble floor breaking the silence like a metronome of authority. He extends his arm to you at the gate; a gesture as distant as it is dutiful. You hesitate only for a moment before falling into step beside him, learning quickly to match his measured pace. Behind you follows Sasha and Reiner, both of them leading a casual conversation. Another, ridiculously tall man walks a few steps behind them. He appears to be a guard himself, Levis personal one that is.

“This palace.” Levi begins, his voice low, clipped, and as unyielding as the statues surrounding you.

“Is a fortress. Every archway, every hall serves a purpose. Security here is absolute. You’ll find no frivolous extravagance, only precision and function.”

Your gaze sweeps upward, drawn to the soaring vaulted ceilings, the intricate tapestries that narrate Eldia’s triumphs, and the chandeliers that pour golden light over polished stone. If this stark grandeur is “efficient” you can scarcely imagine what indulgence might look like in comparison.

“This-” Levi continues, gesturing to a corridor branching off to the right.

“-Is your wing. The Empress’s quarters. You’ll have your own staff, your own guard, and the privacy you’ll require. Use it wisely.”

There is something foreboding in his choice of words, though his tone leaves no room for curiosity. You glance briefly at Sasha, your maid, who offers a smile as if to reassure you that all will be well.

He moves on, leading you through a labyrinth of halls and rooms that whisper of restrained opulence. Finally, he stops before a pair of tall doors and pushes them open, unfolding the gardens before you.

They are a masterpiece of cultivated beauty; a labyrinth of roses, flowing fountains, and hedgerows carved with geometric precision. Yet amidst this calculated order, one element breaks free. At the center, an ancient elder tree towers above all, its gnarled branches stretching wide as though reaching for the heavens. Its delicate white blossoms glow even against the biting chill of winter, their tenacity a quiet rebellion against the cold.

You notice now the elderflower’s image embroidered onto your gown, stitched in silver thread as if to remind you of its importance. The national tree and flower, you think, its symbolism worn even by a stranger to this land.

“It is beautiful.” You whisper, unable to stop the awe from spilling into your voice.

Levi halts, his gaze following yours to the elder tree. For a fleeting moment, his expression softens, but the vulnerability vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“It’s a reminder.” He says, his voice an icicle cutting through your reverie.

“A reminder of what?” You ask, unable to stop yourself from marveling at the harmonious melding of human hands and nature’s chaos before you.

He hesitates. “My mother.”

The weight of his words shatters the fragile tranquility of the scene, replacing it with a somber chill. You’ve heard the stories; how his mother was struck down by an assassin, a pawn in the machinations of one of your father’s advisors. Grisha never encouraged that cruelty, though you know the man responsible for the command never got away with it either. The reminder hangs heavy between you, and your admiration for the garden withers into something bittersweet.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty.” You murmur, bowing your head. Your voice carries both sadness and shame, though you know any protest of your father’s innocence would be futile.

Levi’s gaze lingers on you for a moment too long. The storm in his silver eyes is unreadable, an amalgamation of grief, anger, and something softer that he seems determined to bury. Finally, he turns away, his expression hardening once more.

“Come.” He hums, his voice colder now. “There’s more to see.”

He doesn’t look back, and you follow in silence, unsure if he leads you through the palace or the unspoken battlefield between you.

The tour flows onward, drawing you deeper into the heart of Eldia’s grand fortress. Libraries spill over with ancient tomes, their spines etched with the wisdom of ages, the scent of parchment and ink heavy in the air. Grand halls stretch endlessly, their polished marble floors mirroring the wavering glow of torches. Outside, training grounds resound with the clash of steel as soldiers spar with flawless precision, their movements sharp and disciplined, like a deadly symphony in motion.

At every stop, Levi’s voice cuts through the air, outlining your duties as Empress with unyielding clarity.

“You’ll host foreign dignitaries here.” He says, gesturing to an immense hall where banners of Eldia hang like solemn witnesses.

“Your composure reflects the strength of the empire. Any sign of weakness, no matter how fleeting, will be seized upon.”

His words settle heavily over you, the weight of expectation pressing against your chest. It isn’t that you resist the responsibility, far from it. But his tone, so devoid of warmth, carves no space for error, no space for humanity.

Finally, you arrive at your quarters. The room greets you with a subdued elegance: deep green curtains drape from high windows, framing a view of the sprawling gardens below. The muted crackle of the fireplace fills the space, its gentle heat a reprieve from the chill that seems to follow Levi wherever he goes. The furnishings speak of restrained opulence, luxury tempered by purpose.

He halts in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you with a weight that seems heavier than the silence.

“Tonight-” He starts, his voice as precise as a blade.

“-There’s a dinner in your honor. The court will be watching, their judgment swift and unforgiving. Make an impression, but tread carefully. Too bold, and you risk their ire.”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can find the words, he calls sharply to your maid.

“Sasha.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

“Prepare her.”

Sasha dips into a graceful curtsy, her voice light but unwavering.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will take good care of her grace!”

“Stop calling her ‘your grace’ Sasha. The Princess of Marley is your ‘highness’.” Levi demands of her. Sasha blushes a deep red, instantly apologizing to her Emperor and you with a deep bow. Poor girl.

With a single nod, Levi pivots and strides away, his departure as abrupt as his arrival. The faint echo of his boots fades into the distance, leaving you alone with Sasha and the flickering warmth of the fire. The stillness in his absence is almost startling, as though the air itself relaxes the moment he is gone.

Sasha works with quiet precision, her deft fingers weaving your hair into an intricate braid that cascades like a waterfall of silk down your back. The gown selected for the evening is nothing short of breathtaking; a deep sapphire silk masterpiece, adorned with delicate silver crystals and embroidery that glisten like stardust against the heart-shaped neckline. It clings to you in a way that speaks of both elegance and authority, a garment meant for a woman of your stature.

Her craftsmanship is impeccable, yet the braid is unlike anything your beloved Pieck would have fashioned. Still, you find yourself appreciating the change. It complements the gown’s regal aura, framing your face in a way that feels strangely fitting for the role you must now play.

“You look stunning, your Highness.” Sasha says softly, her voice warm and genuine.

“Thank you.” You reply, offering her a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You have done beautifully.”

A blush rises to her cheeks, her pride unmistakable.

“I’ll be nearby during the dinner, should you need anything.” She assures you, her tone brimming with loyalty.

“And… if I may, don’t let them intimidate you. You belong here as much as anyone.”

Her words are meant as comfort, but they settle uneasily within you. How can you feel as though you belong when everything about this place feels foreign? The ornate halls, the unfamiliar faces, the stifling expectations, they all serve as reminders of how far you are from home. You nod silently, unwilling to voice your doubts. Sasha seems sincere, but trust is a luxury you cannot yet afford.

You glance at your reflection in the gilded mirror, the shimmering fabric of your gown catching the flickering light of the fire. For all the finery, you can’t help but feel like a stranger in borrowed splendor. The cruel stories of Eldia that shaped your childhood linger at the edges of your thoughts. What do you truly know of these people, aside from their disdainful gazes and whispered judgments?

The Emperor himself remains a mystery, a man carved from stone, his cold demeanor offering no glimpse into his thoughts. You are bound to him by duty, not choice, and though the weight of this alliance presses heavily on your shoulders, you know it will take far more than a gown in Eldian colors to win their favor.

Doubt gnaws at you. How can you prove your worth in a court where every glance feels like a test, where every word spoken is carefully weighed? You were never one for grand speeches or commanding rooms with your presence. From a young age, you avoided gatherings like these, preferring the solace of quiet moments over the scrutiny of others. Now, thrust into the center of this glittering web, you feel exposed.

No crown, no fine gown, no practiced smile can erase the perception they have of you; weak, timid, unfit to rule. And yet, here you stand, the Empress of Eldia in name, but far from accepted in truth. The thought of the Emperor’s expectations, his demand for strength and poise, only deepens the unease coiling in your chest. You know your role demands more than bearing his children or offering a warm smile. It requires a strength you’re not sure you possess.

Your thoughts drift to Princess Mikasa, the proud and formidable woman who is now bound to this court as you are. You wonder if she, too, feels the weight of this alliance pressing against her spirit. Her confidence seems unshakable, but there is something in her eyes, a flicker of unease, that mirrors your own struggles. Perhaps, beneath her composed exterior, she wrestles with the same uncertainties.

“Sasha.” You say suddenly, your voice quiet yet laced with a fragile hope.

“Do you think I could write to my family sometime?”

The words leave you before you can second-guess them, and you glance at her reflection in the mirror. Your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, the weight of the day finally pressing too hard to ignore.

“Of course, your Highness!” Sasha responds, her cheerful tone unwavering as though the answer were obvious.

“Anytime.”

Her reply is simple, yet it means everything. For a moment, your chest tightens, and you blink rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. The thought of reaching out to those you love, a connection to the world you left behind, feels like the first sliver of solace you’ve found in this strange and unyielding place.

“Thank you.” You murmur, the words barely above a whisper.

Sasha beams, oblivious to the depths of your gratitude, and returns to arranging the folds of your gown. You watch her in silence, her steady hands a comforting presence in a moment otherwise filled with turmoil.

The crackle of the fire fills the room, blending with the rhythmic hum of Sasha’s work. But the quiet does little to still your racing mind. You know the dinner ahead is not merely a celebration in your honor; it is a stage upon which you will be judged, every glance and word scrutinized by a court eager to find fault.

And somewhere within the vast expanse of this palace, the Emperor waits. Silent, exacting, and watchful. You wonder if he, too, weighs the risks and rewards of this alliance as carefully as you do. Or perhaps, for him, this is merely another move in a calculated game of power.

You take a steadying breath and rise from the seat, the heavy skirts of your gown whispering against the polished floor. Whatever awaits beyond these doors, you cannot falter. You may feel like a stranger here, but tonight, you must wear the mask of an Empress.

The banquet hall hums with an intoxicating energy as you enter, the space alive with the mingling of voices and the glittering elegance of the Eldian court. Nobles drift like shimmering specters, their laughter and whispered intrigues filling the air. Servants move gracefully among them, trays of wine and delicate hors d’oeuvres balancing as if by magic. Above it all, magnificent chandeliers cast a golden haze, their light spilling over polished floors that gleam like liquid gold. Tapestries hang from towering walls, weaving tales of Eldia’s triumphs in rich, vivid hues, and elderflowers, pale and ethereal, adore every table, their fragrance a faint, bittersweet reminder of tradition.

Levi sits at the head of the table, his posture as sharp and unyielding as the gaze he sweeps across the room. His small stature contrasts with the commanding presence of the man beside him, Commander Erwin Smith, whose calm, charismatic demeanor feels as heavy as steel. You know of him; your father’s correspondent and a trusted architect of this uneasy alliance. Smith was the one proposing the marriage to Levi, the one who gave him the idea to buy peace by you and Mikasa. His piercing blue eyes seem to see everything, even your hesitation as you cross the threshold.

Your every step toward the Emperor feels like a trial. Whispers ripple in your wake, each one a thorn against your composure. Some voices are cruel, their words cutting deep.

“How dare she wear our colors?” One spits.

“She looks…unique.” Another murmurs, the faintest lilt of disdain tainting the remark.

The walk to Levi’s side stretches endlessly, your presence like a flame drawing every gaze. Their judgment is suffocating, and you can’t help but wonder if Princess Mikasa endures the same venom in Marley.

Levi’s eyes meet yours briefly as you approach, his expression carved from stone. His gaze flicks over your gown; a silent appraisal that leaves you unsure if you pass his standards. With a curt gesture, he indicates the seat beside him. You exhale slowly and sink into the chair, hoping against hope for his attention, some sign of acknowledgment.

Instead, Levi leans toward Erwin, his voice a low murmur almost swallowed by the din.

“She’s too shy.” He remarks, his tone matter-of-fact, his silver gaze briefly cutting to you before returning to his advisor.

“Too emotional. She’ll struggle in court.”

Erwin chuckles softly, his amusement reflected in his calm demeanor.

“Perhaps you should engage with her, Levi. A little charm might go a long way.”

Levi frowns.

“I’m not here to charm her. She needs to adapt.”

Erwin smirks, swirling his wine.

“Adaptation works both ways, my friend. A marriage is a partnership, after all.” Not that Erwin would know anything about marriage. The only woman he ever felt a spark of interest in has run into the arms of another Lord Commander years ago.

Levi doesn’t reply, though his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before dropping back to his plate.

“Is the capital of Eldia to your liking, your Highness?” Erwin’s question startles you, and you flush under the weight of his attention.

“Mitras is wonderful, Lord Commander.” you reply, your voice shaky yet earnest.

“It is a truly astounding city.”

Erwin’s smile deepens, though his next words cut deeper than you expect. “It must be daunting, marrying into a court of devils. Surely, it is not what you dreamed of.”

“Oh- uh, no, it’s not like that…” You stammer, the words catching in your throat. His sharp amusement only heightens your discomfort.

Before you can falter further, a gentle hand settles on your shoulder. You turn to find a woman of quiet grace, her presence a balm to your frayed nerves. Her dark hair gleams under the candlelight, and her features carry the unmistakable traces of Mikasa’s lineage.

“Come now, Commander.” She says, her voice soothing and warm.

“The Princess is overwhelmed. Do not add to her burdens.”

You recognize her at once; Mikasa’s mother, a foreigner like yourself who must have endured her share of icy receptions. Her kindness feels genuine, her touch grounding you in the chaotic swirl of the banquet.

The two of you talk, her voice like a soft current carrying you away from the storm of judgment. She speaks of her children, her younger son Prince Yamato, and her daughter Mikasa, whose stoic strength she clearly admires. You notice Mikasa’s father nearby, a quiet man with a kind smile, though his eyes hold a glimmer of resentment toward Levi. It’s easy to see why.

As dinner ends, the guests scatter, some to the dance floor, others to corners thick with whispered conversations. Levi approaches, his presence a shadow that draws your attention. Without preamble, he offers his hand.

“I would like you to meet someone.” He says, his voice as cool and steady as ever.

You follow him, weaving through the room until you reach a young woman with golden hair, her delicate crown catching the light. Her white gown, accented with gold, radiates regal simplicity.

“Historia.” Levi says, his tone softening just enough to signal respect.

The queen’s eyes brighten as she smiles, dipping into a graceful bow.

“Your Majesty.” She greets, her voice light as a song.

Levi gestures toward you.

“This is the Princess of Marley.” He says. He hesitates for a breath before adding: “My betrothed.”

“Welcome!” Historia cheers warmly, her gaze meeting yours.

“You must feel overwhelmed.” You nod, grateful for her sincerity.

“I do.” You admit softly. She smiles knowingly. “I felt the same when I came to court. But you will find your footing. It just takes time.”

Levi drifts away, leaving you in the queen’s company. Her kindness seems to extend to you effortlessly, and for the first time, you feel a glimmer of hope. The daughters of lords soon join your conversation, their initial wariness melting as the evening progresses.

“Have you chosen a name yet, your Highness?” One of them, Lady Marie Louisa Dok, asks with genuine interest.

“A name?” You repeat, confused. Queen Historia steps in, her voice soft yet clear.

“In Eldia, queens and empresses take on new names as a symbol of their roles. My mother named me Krista, but I became Historia when I ascended the throne.”

The tradition feels both strange and symbolic, a shedding of the past to embrace the future.

“Popular names for Empresses are Maria, Rose, and Sina.” Lady Dok explains.

“But you could choose something more unique. A name that reflects your own story.”

You nod, a faint smile touching your lips.

“I’ll look into the history books tomorrow. Thank you for the suggestion.”

And for the first time that evening, you feel a small thread of connection, not just to the court, but to the history and traditions that you are now bound to.

The banquet winds down into soft murmurs and fading melodies as you excuse yourself, retreating to the sanctuary of your chambers. The day’s events weigh heavily on you, and the quiet solitude of your room feels like a balm to your frayed nerves. Though the conversations with Historia and her ladies were unexpectedly pleasant, the prospect of being alone offers a sense of relief.

You settle by the window, the moon casting its silvery glow over the sprawling gardens below. The faint laughter and music drifting from the banquet hall remind you of the life you’ve been thrust into, a world both foreign and suffocating. As your gaze lingers on the elder tree standing proud at the garden’s heart, your thoughts drift to the unsettling revelation of having to change your name. It feels like more than a tradition; it’s a shedding of identity, a quiet severing of everything you’ve known.

A knock disrupts your musings. Before you can respond, the door creaks open. The figure that steps inside is none other than Levi.

“Your Majesty.” You murmur, rising to greet him, unsure of the protocol for moments like this. He waves a hand, dismissing the formality with a quiet authority.

“Sit.” Hesitating briefly, you lower yourself onto the cushioned ottoman by the window. The tension in the room shifts when Reiner appears in the doorway, his expression taut with vigilance. Behind him, in the dim hallway, the imposing silhouette of Levi’s personal guard looms.

“Leave us.” Levi orders, his tone clipped. “You too, Mike.” Mike is the first to respond, saluting wordlessly and turning on his heel. Reiner lingers, his eyes flickering from you to the emperor, reluctant to abandon his post. But the unspoken finality in Levi’s command leaves no room for protest. With a stiff bow, your guard withdraws, the door clicking shut behind him.

Levi strides toward you, his movements deliberate, like a predator approaching its prey. He stops a few paces away, arms crossed, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“You handled yourself well tonight.” He begins, his voice low and measured.

“The daughters of my lords seemed fascinated by you. Foreigners always do have a way of capturing attention.” The comment, hovering somewhere between a compliment and an observation, takes you by surprise.

“Thank you.” You reply cautiously, unsure whether his words are genuine or strategic.

But Levi’s approval is short-lived. His gaze hardens as he continues, his tone sharper now. “Don’t mistake their curiosity for acceptance. There’s still much for you to learn.” The faint spark of warmth you’d felt quickly fades, replaced by the familiar chill of his critique. You bite back a retort, knowing it would do no good to argue.

“The court watches you.” He presses on, each word deliberate.

“Every gesture, every word is weighed and judged. You can’t afford to appear weak or uncertain. If you’re to survive here, you need to be stronger.” His words cut deep, yet they carry a truth you cannot ignore. The court’s scrutiny is relentless, and you have no choice but to rise to its demands.

“I will do my best.” You promise, your voice steadier than you feel.

Levi studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally speaks, there’s a trace of something softer in his tone, perhaps approval, or perhaps something else entirely.

“Good. Because failure isn’t an option. The futures of both our empires rest on what we build here.” His words linger in the air, heavy with implication. You nod, though a storm brews quietly within you.

Then, as if to soften the blow of his earlier harshness, Levi adds: “Consider your name carefully. Choose one tied to a former Empress or Queen, someone well-regarded. It could help with the court.” You’re about to thank him, but he turns toward the door. His hand lingers on the handle, and he pauses, glancing back at you. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, meet yours.

“And one more thing-” He speaks, his voice dropping into something almost intimate, yet disconcerting. “-I would prefer it if you didn’t choose one of the names tied to our three ‘holy’ walls. You’re no saint.” Before you can even process his words, he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. You sit frozen in the silence that follows, your thoughts spiraling. His parting remark churns in your mind, heavy with unspoken meaning.

What was that supposed to mean?

[sweet-honey-tears]

Advertising Hero

Makeup. P2

Part one

Tetsu, Shoji, Tokoyami, Aoyama x Reader

Hello, all my bubble bees. IM BACK -for a limited time only. As requested, we have another hero makeup! I did these while taking a break between work, and it was really enjoyable to do. I also can't get over the idea of Deku’s makeup being cosplay makeup—that boy definitely costplayed all might. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Reader wear dress and makeup, possibly suggestive if you squint.

“New Pro Hero makeup brands have been released to the public as of yesterday. And all I can say is it is no bullcrap branding. There seems to actually have been a lot of thought out into these product- cruelty free and safe. There even seems to be ointments in the makeup to help with skin… actual care was put into these products.”

-Vlogger

🩶 Tetsutetsu 🩶

Tetsu: Luid metallic eyeliner

Advertisement: The background was black, allowing all focus to be on you and Tetsu. You stood facing the camera, arms crossed and legs shoulder width apart, a power pose. The tight version of Tetsu’s hero costume was barely visible on your frame. The room was dark, minus the sliver of light that crept in to catch the liquid metallic linear that adorned your face; its mirror-like quality allowed the shape of Tetsu’s signature ‘mask’ to be seen. A mysterious, dangerously flirty smile played on your and testus lips as he ‘looked’ over his flexing arm, his eyes covered in shadow. Tetsu stood behind you, back to yours, as he flexed his arms, his quirk causing the tiny sliver of light to shine over each defined muscle in his bicep and catch on the points of his sharp white smile.

💪 Shoji 💪

Shoji: Wet Eye Liners - Water Activated Dry Liners Pallet

Advertisement: It was a sweet scene with a calming blue background. You and Shoji sat face to face as the camera caught your side angle, the warm lighting only causing the two of you to rest in your golden hour. You sat on your knees, leaning over to reach the towering man sitting before you. Shoji’s mask remained on, but it was clear from his eyes that he was smiling widely. Your hand held a small brush, a light blue pigment at the end of its bristles as if caught in mid-motion of painting on flowing hearts to his upper cheeks. Your own were adorned with small, beautiful pink flowers that reached the corner of your eyes. The open pallet played to the side, and its light colors were fully displayed to the camera. The label ‘inner calmness’ with all the color's names splayed open.

🖤 Tokoyami 🖤

Tokoyami: Gothic Eye Shadow Pallet and Black Lquid Linear

Advertisement: It was a dark mansion setting, with a dark background and an almost throne-like chair where you sat. Slightly leaned over to rest your chin on your palm, elbow resting on the armrest. You glanced over at the camera, a confidently dangerous grin on your dark-painted lips. Your hair was woven in a way that portrayed a crown, with silver strands woven in. Your eyeshadow was dark purple blended to black with a slight touch of a dark grey shimmer nestled between the two colors, a sharp glossy cat-eye cutting through the blended color. Tokoyami stood by your side, leaning against the relatively large chair. You both wore black; Tokoyami a suit and you a simple dress with a slight shimmering bottom to compliment the look.

✨ Aoyama ✨

Aoyama: Fine Body Glitter- Safe to put on eye lids

Advertises:You were standing on the red carpet with Aoyama, your arm resting on his as you turned to model for the many paparazzi. You stare at the camera, a large smile on your lips, a hand on your hip, and the other resting on Aoyama’s. Your strapless shimmering dress with elbow-length matching gloves complemented the shimmering body glitter on shoulders, eyelids, and even hair; which was elegantly pulled up. The lights of hundreds of cameras only made the sparkles more beautiful. Aoyama stood off your side, seeming perfectly fine not to be in the camera flash for once, his eyes glued to you.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Obscuary's monster catwalk

Obscuary ghouls as cats

Wc: ~700

Ed

The sleepiest chartreux ever. He is always on the cat tower or in his bed.

Maybe it's because he is older than the other two and you see the contrast, but when Rui and Lyca chase each other or play he prefers to lay in your lap and make biscuits.

He used to play fight with Rui but once he acted really hurt to go back to sleep and Rui now feels guilty and still licks him to ‘make up’ for it.

His laziness is such that if you make him walk to his food and not carry him there/ serve him closer he will act as if he has a limp or meow as if he was pained enough for you to feel sorry. Either you or the vet are sure if he is in any real pain but you give him supplements for his bones and joints either way. You do notice he doesn't meow sadly while walking until he sees you and starts the whole melodrama.

What gives him away is how quickly he jumps up the platforms on the wall when Lyca tries to play with him and how smug he looks down on him when he can just meows him to go down.

Either way he is so sensitive to your emotions! When you cry in bed he will hop on your chest and lick your tears. (totally not him liking the salt in them)

Just like Ren you have to control his screen time, he might not like playing but he does stay totally still and has his eyes wide when you put on a conspiracy theorist on the tablet or TV.

Rui

A blond American shorthair.

The sweetest cat that purrs and meows so sweetly and contorts his body trying to ask for cuddles and kisses but as soon as you step a little closer and attempt to catch him he starts sprinting to the hideout. It isn't only you, the few female cats that seemed interested in him made him retreat too.

No matter how many times you chime at him and even spritz him he keeps biting pieces of your plants and flowers and keeps them ‘hidden’ in his hideout.

He is such an innate hunter! And he always brings you his victims, still when he brings you a dead ladybug or bird his appearance is closer to that of an apologetic child than a prideful hunter. It's almost as if he wants you to fix his mistake and return the little thing's life.

He seems to meet up with Romeo and Haru every night on your dining table as they meow (principally Haru, he is such a whiny baby)

He has a habit of picking up small pieces of clothing like socks and underwear and bringing them to the laundry room, even if it's helpful to already have them on the floor when you go load the machine, he sometimes opens your drawers and grabs clean ones to feel he is doing something productive. He did put Ed there once when he was nasty enough for him to refuse to help groom him.

Lyca

A messy and stiff haired Lykoi.

He was a rescue found between wild dogs that you fostered but decided to keep as his forever family.He still has some dog-like mannerisms, like wagging his tail when happy.

He is in kitty confinement jail (cat carrier) until he stops swatting and hissing at you or his brothers. Luckily Subaru was brave enough to stand beside him until he calmed and he behaved enough for you to free him under parole.

The first few days, even though he wasn't hitting anyone, nobody dared to approach him unless Subaru was besides him.

Speaking of, Subaru is the one who took it upon himself to teach him how to behave like a cat again, teaching him how to groom himself and jump high, much to Ed's chagrin.

He likes to stalk Ed, wanting to imitate what he thinks is the leader of the pack. He even annoys him trying to fight him but he just huffs and climbs up furniture or up the cat tree.

Unlike Rui, he is good at hunting and proud of it. He might be one of the few, if not only, who will bring you dead rats to show off. Once you even got a baby bunny that luckily was still alive even if scared.

[merakiui]

everything is going to be okay.

yandere!trey clover x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, descriptions of unsettling imagery, derealization, implied drugging, descriptions of hyperdontia, descriptions of teeth falling out, non-graphic allusions to sexual assault, emotional manipulation, gaslighting note: 01110111011011110111010101101100011001000010000001101001001000000110110001101001011001010010000001110100011011110010000001111001011011110111010100111111

i. itchiness - the worst feeling in the world is knowing something is inside of you, and there’s nothing you can do to get it out.

A white rabbit blinks up at you with its beady, red eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A quiet breeze slithers through the field in which you currently stand, surrounded by lush greenery and colorful wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with botanical fingers. You watch rainbows sway, dewy petals fluttering like butterfly wings beating against a cloudless, cerulean sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through knee-high grass. You stagger after it, crushing flowers underfoot. Stems snap like spines, sturdy until smashed. You hear agony whispered in the wind: How could you? How could you? How could you?

Shrugging it off, you pursue the rabbit. The grass grows with every passing minute, thickening in abundance. It’s so tall it blocks your view of the sun, eclipsing your figure like a menacing shadow. You fight through it, your gaze pinned solely on the speck of white fur. Verdant blades brush your skin, soft like silk. Itchy like hair. Itchy like maggots wriggling in marrow.

Itchy.

You struggle through the infestation until, eventually, you burst through the grass. The other side is calmer here. When you glance back at the way you came, you find a wall of grass stretching up into the above. The wildflowers are nowhere to be seen, but you can hear them when you stick your head through the grass. They’re still weeping: Why? Why? Why? It’s not fair. We were so happy. You’ve stomped us out—ruined us. We’ll never grow back the same.

“You coming?”

You whirl at the sound of a familiar voice, scanning the field in search of him. Instead, the rabbit is just a few feet away. It tilts its head at you, ears pricked. You meet its scarlet stare.

Something tells you you’re better off waiting. There’s no point in chasing, but curiosity crawls into your cranium. You hurry ahead, single steps sliding into fast, frantic footfalls. The rabbit moves quickly, its little legs thumping against the ground. You run until your every breath squeezes your heart. Until your head is dizzy. Until you’re nauseous and panting.

You run all the way to the edge of a forest, the field falling away in patches, and you reach for the trees, fingers splayed. The rabbit is within your grasp.

You step with your right leg and crush a violet butterwort.

Pain shoots through your foot in a white-hot flash. The butterwort stabs through your sole, emerging from your flesh as if it’s simply a clay pot with soil for snuggling. You yank your leg away and roots are ripped from the ground with it, attached to the flower stuck in your foot. Warm blood trickles out. Green grass is stained rusty-red. It sweeps along your calf, a physical lullaby.

Itchy.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stumbling backwards. The root goes with you, an endless strand set deep into the ground. You tug, but the flower persists. It folds itself into a bow and wraps its petals around your foot in a parasitic hug. “Let go of me.”

At the edge of the forest, the rabbit remains. Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

You flop onto your side, breathing heavy and haggard. The pain is itchy. The blood is itchy. The flower is itchy. You grab at it with shaky fingers and attempt to pry it off. Trees tower overhead, bark bending forwards to loom like leering fiends. With all of your might, you yank the butterwort out. It comes free with a sickening snap, soil-speckled roots dragging through the hole in your foot.

Itchy.

Between the breeze and your devastated whimpers, you hear it—the withered wheezing of the earth beneath your body.

Suddenly, the trees have eyes. Suddenly, everything is alive.

Desperately, you stretch your arm towards the rabbit. It blinks at you. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then it turns and disappears into the forest beyond.

You roll over on your back just as more butterworts bloom from soil moistened with your blood. A garden germinates from flesh and bone.

You shut your eyes.

Itchy.

When you open them, you see a single blade of grass backdropped by a cumulus-spotted sky. He peers down at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight, and offers his hand.

“Nice day for a nap, isn’t it?” He smiles a boyish, lopsided grin.

You stare for another quiet second before closing your hand around his. “Trey…”

Right. Your friend, Trey, who offered to stay with you in the wake of…something. Something about companionship. Something about looking out for you during difficult times. Something about something. 

Was that it? What did he say again?

Words are a valuable thing for people like Trey. When strung together, they create stories and Trey is especially good at amazing others with sugared ambiguity.

You allow him to pull you up. When he moves to brush the grass clinging to your clothes, you jerk away. The two of you stare at each other for an abnormally long time.

A discordant note resounds within your head, a strangled cry from a pretty piano. The jarring crash of splintered glass. Looking at him now, in his green-and-white checkered jumper and boring, beige slacks, you feel…itchy. There’s a dull ache at the back of your throat. You think you might be coming down with a cold.

Spring is just starting to poke through the frost of winter. Even though today’s sunny and the weather is warmer than usual, there’s a frigid feeling in the air. A disconnect between seasons. That odd border between not-quite-winter and not-quite-spring.

“How long was I out for?”

Trey’s hand falls to his side. “Long enough to give the muffins time to cool.” He nods in the direction of the house, a quaint structure built at the edge of the forest. “I made your favorite.”

You brighten like candles lit in a birthday cake. Twenty of them, in fact, all arranged perfectly. It will take twenty more for you to overcome the tragedy of never having the chance to partake, for every slice was dragged onto the plate and devoured with haste. And all the while the flames flickered, burning wax down to tiny stumps.

Itchy.

Blueberry muffins are placed on a circular glass plate. The accompanying dome lid sits off to the side. You take one and turn it over in your hands. How does someone determine their favorite food? And when does that food stop becoming a preference? Memories attach themselves to everything: clothing, rooms, bodies. Even food. If something unsavory happens when indulging in a favorite, the memory soaks into the batter. The next time you encounter it, even if it’s in a dream, you avoid it. Not because the food has lost its flavor, but because the memory has corrupted the comfort of the gastronomic experience.

In a distant past, you think you liked blueberry muffins. Certainly at one point, right?

Still, you bring it to your lips and bite into spongy bliss.

Blood fills your mouth.

Trey’s initial placidity morphs into something disturbed. He moves to your side, to your aid, but you shove him away. The blueberry muffin lands on the table in a spoiled heap, crumbs scattering. You spit chunks of muffin into your palms. It feels like something’s lodged in your throat. A tiny porcelain hand pinching the skin of your esophagus in an unrelenting hold. A wad of something impossible to swallow. Like words or screams.

Crimson-tinged saliva dribbles past your lips. Lying in your hands, amidst bits of chewed muffin, is a sliver of skin.

“(Name)?”

Your name sounds wrong on his tongue.

“Hey, are you okay? Let me get you some water. Wait right there.”

Wrong. It’s wrong.

You stare at the flabby piece of skin. Your skin.

Trey returns with the aforementioned water. He pulls a chair out from the table. “Sit and have a drink. Not too fast. Slowly now.”

The rest of the muffin is swept away, destined for the rubbish bin. While you watch Trey clean up your mess, you sip at lukewarm water. Your tongue squirms in your mouth, searching for the space that’s now bleeding freely. You find it, almost like one finds the space where a missing tooth ought to be, and prod at it with your tongue. It’s raw and sensitive. Stinging slightly. You wince.

“Bit my cheek,” comes your reply when Trey walks over. He wipes his hands on a towel patterned with tulips. “Hurts.”

Trey frowns. Golden hues flick from the plate of muffins to your forlorn face. He lowers to his knees, peering up at you through his glasses. “Don’t eat so fast next time, all right? You could choke.”

“Tastes funny.”

“I can’t imagine it’s very appetizing. Blood and blueberry muffins… A crazy combo, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He chuckles. “Well.” He runs his hand through his hair. It reminds you of the grass and trees outside. Of a summer that has long since passed. “Nothing like a little scare to liven the afternoon. How’re you feeling?”

You set your half-empty glass on the table. “Better. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You wanna try another one? I promise the next one won’t have you biting your cheek.”

“I… I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”

“As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” Trey smiles. “I’ll make something softer for dinner. Any requests for the chef?”

You think back on all of your favorites and choose something you wouldn’t mind losing. “Lentil soup.”

After tonight, you’ll never enjoy the taste of that dish again.

Maybe that’s okay. Soups are easy to eat. Easy to slip special sentiments in.

Soup is what becomes of your brain when your body is too itchy.

ii. incessant - static is buzzing in your ears. buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. fluffy like bumblebees. sharp as a sting.

The elusive rabbit is looking at you again, red eyes boring into the back of your skull. You glance over your shoulder at it. A little bow fashioned from blades of grass is fastened around its neck. It nods in a new direction, urging you to follow. For a moment, you stand there and wait. Deep down in some forgotten corner of your stomach, you know you’ll never be able to catch the rabbit.

So you fall into step as it hops off to its destination.

Hedges line the horizon, boasting roses and thorns. The rabbit leads you all the way to the entrance of the maze. A xylophone rattles. You step forward. Another hedge rises from the ground up to trap you inside. With the rabbit out of sight and no other way around, you trek onwards into the maze.

The frequency at which xylophone chimes are registered and translated in your mind are muffled. At best, they’re almost silenced. At worst, they are static—piercing and grating in your ears.

Amidst so much static, Trey’s voice has always remained at the same pitch. An immutable intonation, one that fills the clouds with buoyant assurances: Just relax. You’re all right. I’ve got you.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him shout, but that makes sense. Grass only whistles and shivers in the breeze. It never screams. It’s soft and sweet—a wondrous embrace until it begins to feel itchy with time. Like a wool sweater. Like ants crawling in lines up your arms. Like cobwebs wrapped around your wrists.

The grass in your garden sounds more like static. Incessant, ear-splitting static. In your brain, bunching up like scribbles on paper, and falling in waterfalls from his mouth whenever he speaks.

It was static you heard when the grass cradled you in wispy tendrils.

Quiet at first, as if the world had been clicked off like a bad program on television, and then the static came seeping in. Rot was encroaching, grabbing at the rabbit and gutting it before your horrified eyes.

Somewhere within the maze, a jovial, uplifting song spills from a spinet. It puts you at ease, filling your soul with serenity.

Itchy dissonance. A rabbit split open, gooey innards tumbling free. Cotton fur tarnished. Lines running red.

Dead.

The spinet swells with rhythm. You’re walking yourself into corners, traveling in circles.

Incessant melodies, ringing in your ears like cicada shrieks.

The circle winds around and around. Where are you going? Hedges on either side, white roses blooming from comforting green. The deeper you delve, the darker they bloom. Mottled, petals wilting, white closes up and shrivels away.

Blotted black with tar, trailing in thick streaks.

Your feet pound against mossy meadows. You need to find the exit. It’s here and then there and then here again. It’s everywhere and then it’s nowhere. It’s here. Here. Here. Here. Here—

Now it’s there!

Static screeches. Blood trickles from your ears.

It hurts until it doesn’t. Until the static numbs everything and all that’s left is nothing. Blank and bitter, a wonderland set on mute.

The hedges breathe alongside you. It’s incessant, unintelligible static.

Frosting melts on cake. Pastels are sticky and spoiled. Candles droop.

A xylophone played in garbled glissando.

Quiet breaths. In and out. In and out. The grass whispers to you: “Hey, it’s fine. You trust me, right?”

In and out.

Out and in.

In and out.

Out. Out. Out. Incessant itchiness. Get it out.

Glass shatters. The rabbit’s heart, still beating faintly, is slit. 

That…didn’t just happen, did it?

It didn’t, right?

Grass is supposed to be soft and full of life when watered with love.

That didn’t just happen.

What happened?

The grass billows in a breeze. “You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

You’re not. You…are anything but fine.

What happened?

You run under an arch, past thinning hedges, over the threshold, and burst into the kitchen.

“Trey!”

He startles, almost dropping a bowl of cake batter. His glasses sit crooked on his face. It takes a moment for him to process your arrival. He sets the bowl on the countertop and turns fully to face you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His concern makes your skin prickle.

Itchy.

“Everything okay?”

Incessant.

“Why…” Your fingers curl around the doorframe. You gulp down a gasp. “Why are you here again?”

He gives you a weird look. “You said you needed my help—that you were having trouble getting up in the morning. Remember? Actually… Here. How about this? Do you want me to fix you a cup of chamomile? It’ll help with anxiety and insomnia.”

Your once rapid-moving world slows to a screeching halt. You said that? When? When did you say that? When the fuck did you say that?

“I…don’t remember saying that. Ever. I don’t think I invited you here either…”

Trey shakes his head, tutting softly. “I get it. It’s rough. I know.” He folds the spatula through the batter. Calmly. “But you’re exaggerating. I’m only here to help.”

Static. Incessant, itchy static. You blink owlishly at him, straining to hear over it.

“What?”

“I came over because you asked me to, and I’m staying to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.” You point towards the door. “I think… Trey, I think you need to leave.”

His arm, which had previously been moving in circles, falls still. He sets the bowl down again. “We’ve talked about this before, (Name).”

“I don’t remember.”

“All the more reason for me to stay, yeah?”

“No… No, that’s not—”

Trey smiles, his tone lighthearted. “Hey, relax. You’ll feel better after something sweet. It won’t take long for the cake to bake. Wait for a little longer. If you want, you can lick the spatula when I’m done—”

“I don’t want cake.”

“No? I remember you told me it was your favorite, though. Am I remembering wrong?”

Is he?

“It’s…gross.”

“Gross?” He chuckles sheepishly. “That bad, huh? Not a fan of my baking?”

You gaze past him at the batter in the bowl. Confetti cake. You look towards Trey again. “What was that?”

He opens his mouth, but you don’t hear the words.

Static.

Incessant, itchy static.

You track his lips, his eyes, his hands.

“What?”

Sound seeps in, crunchy but audible.

“…a joke,” he’s saying. “I was just joking.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Don’t worry about it. My feelings aren’t hurt. I know you enjoy my baking.”

The TV tunes into a nonexistent channel. Static buzzes on the screen.

Loud. Louder. So loud!

You can’t hear yourself think. Can’t hear your lungs wheeze. Can’t hear yourself speaking slowly as you stumble into the grass’s green embrace.

Incessant. You’ll go insane. Static. Incessant. Too much. You feel sick. Bile drags itself up your throat.

Loud. Loud. Loud. Impossibly, incessantly loud!

Your arm sweeps through the air. The bowl is flung across the room. Ceramic shatters. Batter spatters on the wall and kitchen tiles. You feel the dull ache in the aftermath. Trey’s speaking, but it’s just static. All-consuming. Buzzing like flies over birthday cake gone bad. Incessant.

And then the TV clicks off.

And then it’s quiet.

iii. insanity - over and over and over and over and over and over and over and and and and and and and andandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandandand01100001011100100110010100100000011110010110111101110101001000000110111101101011011000010111100100111111

Teeth. All thirty-two of them. Porcelain teeth. All forty-two of them.

They grow under your tongue and along the roof of your mouth in clusters. Insanity. It’s doing the same thing incessantly while anticipating different results. Insanity. It’s looking at too many teeth crammed where they shouldn’t be.

Opening your mouth as wide as it can go, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Your tongue runs along them. Smooth.

Teeth. All fifty-two of them. Hellish hyperdontia.

Grass is pesky when it gets in your mouth, reaching far with green fingers.

Flossing is important. If you forget, your gums will bleed and bleed, and then your mouth will be in for a world of pain. You’re smarter than this, so you need to keep up good dental hygiene. Brush and floss as you would, but not too hard or else you’ll break.

Insanity. It’s taking advice from butterworts and rabbits—from meadows tilled and filled with sin.

Teeth. Too many. Have you been flossing properly?

And then they’re at the back of your throat, sprouting from skin like the dainty heads of a dozen Frozen Charlottes. You stick your fingers down your throat to grab at one, but you can’t get hold of it. You cough. Teeth are closing up your esophagus. You look at your mouth and see a lamprey.

Insanity. It’s full of teeth.

You gag around them, heaving mouthfuls of air that struggle to reach your lungs. You feel teeth in there, too, growing in groups like an invasive species. You brace yourself against the sink, gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles sting. Your jaw is starting to feel sore.

Terrified, you find your reflection staring back with wide eyes. And then the first tooth comes loose. It falls into the basin of the sink with a pattering clink. You inhale through your nose, and that’s as much of your shock as you can express before more teeth follow suit. They shift out of your gums, one by one, until dozens of them are spilling out in calcium rain. Bent over the sink, you spit and spit. Tears threaten to pour from your eyes.

This can’t be happening.

You try to scream, to beg for it to stop, but the teeth keep coming. For every few that fall out, twenty more grow. It’s a cycle.

Insanity.

Incessant.

Itchy.

You sob helplessly, salt mingling with saliva and teeth.

When you look back at the mirror, you see blood stringing from empty gums.

The bathroom light flickers. Dizzying darkness. An unusual heat settles under your skin.

Itchy.

Incessant.

Insanity.

The bathroom light flickers. Blinding brightness. You’re still reeling. The heat won’t go away. Your eyelids are heavy. You feel sleepy, but it’s only early evening.

“Everything okay?”

You spy Trey in the mirror. His arm is propped against the doorframe as he leans in, half of his body shrouded in the shadows from the hall.

You swallow. It goes down smoothly. The teeth have retreated.

“T-Too much chamomile,” you grind out, reaching up to touch the column of your throat.

Teeth. All thirty-two of them.

The basin is empty. No teeth.

“How about a slice of bread? You’ve gotta eat something, (Name).”

“I’m not hungry.”

Your tongue traces all thirty-two of your teeth. They’re there, rooted firmly in your gums.

Trey frowns. “At least let me heat the leftover lentil. It’s liquid. You won’t bite your cheek again.”

“I might burn my tongue.”

“If you’re worried, I could feed you instead. Airplane it and everything.”

At your bewildered stare, Trey laughs and holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Joking.”

“Are you really here to help me?”

He lowers his arms. An uncanny cold fills the bathroom.

“Nothing is going to get you.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing here, (Name). You’re safe.” Trey glances down the hall for good measure. The hair on your neck rises, alert. “It’s in your head. You’re messing with yourself, you know, getting worked up over things that aren’t really there. I promise you’re okay. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

It’s not in your head. Of course not. It couldn’t be.

Right?

It’s not really in your head, is it?

You storm out of the bathroom, pushing past Trey in your impatience. He follows you soundlessly. Everything looks the same. The sofa. The wallpaper. The kitchen. The cracks and creaks. Nothing’s changed.

So is it in your head? What is it—the thing in your head? It’s itchy and incessant. It makes everyone gaze at you as if you’re insane.

If you could, you’d take a scalpel to your body and cut yourself out of your skin, put it through a long wash cycle, and hang it out to dry. Maybe then the thing would leave.

You stop at the front door, suddenly hesitant. Has it all been in your head? Are you going crazy? Is Trey right: There’s nothing here and you’re making everything up?

You wrench it open.

A black rabbit blinks up at you with its milky-white eyes. Its nose twitches. Once. Twice. Thrice. A loud gust slithers through the field in which you currently observe, surrounded by decaying greenery and wilted wildflowers. They sprawl endlessly, clawing at the horizon beyond with broken fingers. You watch monochrome tones sway, dried petals flaking off like scabs against a battered, bloodless sky.

You take one step towards the rabbit and it takes off in a sprint, bounding through—

The grass gathers you in a hug. It whispers strangely soothing static.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

iv. 01101001011101000010000001110111011000010111001100100000011000010110110001110111011000010111100101110011001000000111010001110010011001010111100100101110

[waytooinvested]

Fic: Small Problem...

A silly little story inspired by this adorable art by @art-by-ilaa19

.............

There was a low, sonorous BOOM, and before she had quite caught up with the fact that anything had gone wrong, Lena found herself sailing through the air as a blast ripped through the Tower. She braced herself for a painful impact, but by incredible good fortune the force threw her directly at the couch, where she landed with a small ‘oomph’ as the wind was knocked out of her.

She lay still for a couple of seconds, struggling to draw breath into her lungs, then fought her way free of the collapsed cushions to make sure her friends were safe and take stock of the damage.

As shocking as it was to be suddenly thrown several feet, the incident actually seemed to have been pretty minor – more a pulse of energy than an actual explosion, really, though it had apparently been enough to knock everyone off their feet.

Kelly and Alex were kneeling beside the bookcase they had hit comforting a crying Esme, though thankfully the little girl seemed to be more startled than actually hurt, having been caught and buffered from the falling books by her moms.

Nia had ended up on top of Brainy on the floor, but from the way they were now staring into each other’s eyes, Lena deduced that they were no worse for wear, and glanced away quickly before she started to feel like an intruder on the moment they were so clearly having.

J’onn was bemusedly brushing soil and flower petals out of his hair after a collision with a pot plant, but the plant had decidedly come off the worst and he seemed to be more or less fine, even with the fetching addition of a Michaelmas daisy tucked rakishly behind one ear.

And Kara was-

Not there.

Given her powers the girl of steel should have been barely ruffled by a force that hadn’t even blown out the windows, and yet one minute she had been standing by the work bench, and now she was… nowhere.

‘Kara?’ Lena stood up gingerly from her place on the couch and looked around, anxiety beginning to stir in her belly.

‘Did anyone see what happened to Kara?’

Distracted from their own minor disasters, everyone turned to look at her, then to glance around the room as if Kara might be simply hiding behind something.

‘You two were cosied up together over something before the blast hit. Didn’t you see where she went?’

Alex’s question would once have made Lena’s hackles rise, but she understood now that it was concerned, not accusatory, and she just shook her head, worry sinking its claws ever deeper with every second Kara failed to reappear.

‘Uuuuh… guys? Wherever Kara is, I think she left her clothes behind’.

Nia had finally managed to disentangle herself from Brainy, and was pointing at the heap of cloth that as yet had gone unnoticed beside the workbench.

‘Oh, that can’t be good…’

Without quite knowing how she had got there, Lena found herself kneeling over the crumpled supersuit, lifting it carefully as if Kara might somehow still be hiding inside it. The fabric was warm from her skin, and Lena had to resist to urge to bury her face in it to hide her tears. It felt like they had only just got Kara back from the phantom zone, and now she was just gone again? So suddenly, and without any warning that she had even been in danger.

‘Hello? Can anyone hear me?’

Lena froze.

The voice sounded muffled and very far away, but she had heard it. She was almost certain.

‘Kara? Is that you? Where are you?’

‘Lena? Thank Rao! I’m not sure, I’m trapped somewhere. Some kind of dungeon I think? It’s small and dark, and it smells weird. Can you get me out?’

‘Kara? It’s Alex, we’re all here. We can hear you, just, but we can’t see you. We’re going to work out where you are and get you out. Do you remember how you got there?’

They all held their breath as they listened for Kara’s next message, focusing hard to pick up the distant words.

‘I was in the Tower, then there was an explosion, and I fell. There was a sort of tunnel... I’m at the bottom of it now, but the entrance sealed up behind me’.

The others glanced at each other, all trying to puzzle out what sort of portal Kara might have gone through to end up where she had described and yet still be audible from the Tower. All but Lena, who, being closest, had picked up the direction of the voice. A sneaking suspicion was growing in her mind as she honed in on it and put the pieces together with what Kara had told them.

It couldn’t be… could it?

She rummaged through the layers of discarded supersuit until she reached the knee high boots, which had folded over on themselves without the support of Kara’s legs inside to hold them up. She picked up the left one and peered inside, down the long tunnel of red leather it created.

Nothing.

Feeling a little silly now with everyone staring at her with expressions ranging from baffled to bemused, she picked up the right, and was instantly met with a tiny yell of alarm.

‘Woah! The room’s moving!’

Ah hah.

Lena laid the boot out very carefully on its side, and help the top part open.

‘Kara? Has the tunnel open up again now?’

‘Yes! How did you know that?’

‘I just- well, you’ll see in a minute. Follow the light. But uhh… try not to be too alarmed when you get out. We’re going to fix this, okay?’

They all stared as, blinking against the comparative brightness of the room, a tiny figure emerged from the boot’s opening.

Esme let out a shriek of pure joy, tears entirely forgotten, and would have thrown herself across the room to scoop up her now doll-sized aunt had Kelly not put restraining arms around her.

‘No baby, you might hurt her by mistake. Lets stay back here a minute and let Aunt Lena do it, okay? Lots of big people around her might be a bit frightening for Aunt Kara right now’.

And the sudden loud yell had indeed seemed to startle Kara, making her flinch and dive back into the mouth of the boot. Lena lay down on her side so she could see inside, head level with the cave-like opening.

‘Hey, it’s alright Kara. You’re safe. We’re still in the tower. You seem to have… shrunk, somehow, but we’re going to figure out how to fix it, okay? I promise’.

She kept her voice quiet and coaxing, trying not to frighten Kara any further even as she struggled to wrap her own mind around what had just happened.

‘I… shrank?’

‘It does look that way. You’re inside your boot right now’.

Kara stared up at Lena, then around at the shadowy recesses of her refuge, and finally down at herself. She said something too quietly to pick up, though the tone was bordering on panicky, then she called out again, clearer now that she was no longer muffled by layers of leather.

‘Um… okay. So I have total faith that you’re gonna find a way to full-size me again, but in the mean time… does anyone have anything I can wear? I am… more naked than I realised’.

In the circumstances, Lena hadn’t quite taken in that part either until it was pointed out to her, but... yep. Kara was naked. Extremely, totally, life ruiningly naked. It was something she had fantasized about too many times to count through their years of as-yet-unacknowledged physical chemistry with each other, but if she was ever going to be lucky enough to get there for real, this was not how she had imagined it would go.

Lena averted her eyes quickly, her cheeks heating inconveniently in response, despite the fact that the situation was about as far from sexy as it could get, and Kara was at this moment only around four inches high.

‘Right, of course, I’ll find you something. Stay there a minute, okay?’

Finding miniature clothes on short notice was easier said than done, and in the end they had to settle for a kleenex, which Kara wrapped around herself toga-style, and secured with a hair elastic offered up by a still-delighted Esme. It was pink and sparkly, and had a plastic glitter butterfly ornament attached to it, but it was the best they could do at short notice.

Once she was dressed and had fully emerged from the boot, Lena held out her hand and Kara climbed gingerly up into it, hanging on grimly as she was lifted from the floor.

‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m just… a bit overwhelmed. I don’t think I like being tiny. Also… and this seems kind of insignificant compared to what just happened, but I’m really hungry’.

She sounded totally miserable, and Lena wished she could hug her friend, but she was afraid that wrapping a hand around her would feel more like being grabbed than hugged. She settled for laying a fingertip lightly on Kara’s shoulder in a gesture that, she hoped, would feel comforting rather than alarming.

‘We’re going to figure this out. But in the meantime, hungry is something I can help with’.

Cupping Kara in her hands so she wouldn’t fall, Lena carried her over to the table where various snacks were laid out to fuel them through what they had thought would be a typical day of work. Lena skimmed the various options quickly, before settling on the remains of an order of potstickers and placing Kara down very gently amongst them.

Kara’s squeal of delight was the loudest noise Lena had heard from her since she had been miniaturised, and she couldn’t help laughing as she watched her best friend launch herself at a dumpling that was almost as big as she was.

As she turned back to the others to begin the work of figuring out how to un-shrink Supergirl, she was pretty sure she heard a tiny cry of ‘BEST DAY EVER!’ from inside the box.

It looked like Kara might just have found some upsides to being pocket sized, after all.

[maybegays-blog]

Can u write sad Lady d angst i want to cry

Here you go 🙏🙏 Also I canT write angst to save my fucking life, sorry. I tried my best tho😢😢

Echoes Of Sacrifice

Warnings: Gore(?) Character death, murder, depressed Alcina.

—

As Ethan Winters ascended the winding staircase of Castle Dimitrescu that led to a secluded tower, his heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination.

He knew that somewhere within these ancient walls lay the key to ending the reign of the vampiric matriarch, The Dagger Of Death's Flowers. And he would stop at nothing to see his mission through to its bitter end.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, you trailed silently behind him, your own heart heavy with a sense of foreboding. Every step brought you closer to a confrontation that could shatter the fragile peace you had fought so hard to maintain. But you couldn't stand idly by and watch as Ethan plunged a dagger into your lady’s heart. Not when you knew the depth of her despair, the agony of her loss.

You pressed on, ascending the steps as the chill of the winter wind swept past you.

Your lady had warned you to stay back, but you couldn’t just stand by and watch that man kill your entire family.

Finally, the staircase came to an end, opening into a secluded tower bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. In the center of the room, a large coffin containing a decaying skeleton. Nestled within the skeleton’s arms, lay the dagger—the weapon capable of ending Alcina Dimitrescu's immortal reign.

But before Ethan could make his move, you stepped forward, your voice trembling with resolve. "Ethan, please," you pleaded, your words a desperate plea for reason. "This isn't the way. We can find another way to end this."

But Ethan's eyes burned with determination as he reached for the dagger, his fingers closing around its hilt with a fierce intensity. "I can't let her hurt anyone else," he growled, his voice laced with a steely resolve.

With a surge of adrenaline, you lunged forward, your hands grappling with Ethan's in a desperate struggle for control. The dagger glinted ominously in the moonlight as the two of you fought for possession, each movement a flurry of desperation and determination.

But despite your best efforts, Ethan's strength proved too great, and with a swift motion, he wrenched the dagger free from your grasp. Time seemed to stand still as the blade gleamed in the moonlight, its deadly edge poised to strike.

As Ethan gripped the dagger tightly in his hand, his eyes blazed with determination as. "You're standing in the way, of me and my daughter!" he spat, his voice thick with anger and resolve.

However, you refused to back down, your own voice trembling with emotion as you pleaded with him.

"Ethan, please," you begged once more, the desperation evident in your tone.

Ethan's gaze hardened as he raised the dagger, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. "I can't take any risks," he growled, his grip tightening on the weapon. "Not when my daughter's life is on the line."

"No!" you cried out, your voice a desperate plea as you lunged forward once more, your hands outstretched in a futile attempt to stop him. But it was too late.

With a sickening thud, the dagger found its mark, sinking deep into your chest with a cruel finality. Pain lanced through your body like a thousand fiery needles as you stumbled backwards, your vision swimming with darkness before you sunk to the ground with a loud cry.

Ethan didn't get any time to react as your fiancé stormed into the tower and saw you sitting on the floor, your form going limp, a primal roar of anguish tore from her throat. The man-thing quickly backed off as your lady rushed to your side, she dropped to her knees. She cradled you in her arms, tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," you managed weakly, your voice cracking with pain.

"No, my dear," Alcina whispered, her voice trembling with sorrow. "I should be the one apologizing. I have failed to protect you, my daughters, everything." Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving trails of mascara in their wake.

You reached out with trembling fingers, desperate to brush away the tears cascading down your lady's cheeks, her sorrow etched into every line of her face.

"Don't cry, m-m'lady," you whispered, your voice barely a tremulous murmur, weighted with your own heartache.

Your touch was a fleeting caress against her skin, a feeble attempt to soothe the anguish that threatened to consume her. But in that moment, as you gazed into her tear-filled eyes, you knew that your words were not enough to ease the pain that gnawed at her soul.

As she felt your breathing grow faint, panic surged through her.

"No, Y/n!" she cried out, desperation lacing her voice. "Stay with me. We can be together, marry, have children! Please."

Her voice rose, desperation lacing every syllable, as she pleaded with you to hear her final words, her heart breaking with each passing moment as your life slipped away from her grasp.

“I-“

As you attempted to respond to your lady's desperate pleas as best you could, a painful, bloody cough erupted from your lips, and you quickly covered your mouth with your elbow, earning more tears from your lady as she watched helplessly.

You yearned desperately for the chance to live another day, if only to be by her side for a little longer.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, 'Cina," you murmured, your voice fading away.

Your eyelids grew heavy, but you fought desperately against the urge to succumb to sleep, clinging to consciousness for her sake.

“I-I can’t…” You weakly held her hand.

But despite your best efforts, you could no longer hold on.

"I l-love you," you breathed out one last time, the words barely a whisper as darkness enveloped you.

As you went fully limp in her arms, your lady’s heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the tower as she held you close, her grip tightening as if trying to hold onto you forever.

Meanwhile, he stood by, a silent witness to the tragedy he had brought upon you all.

But as her teary eyes shifted to the figure of Ethan Winters, her eyes narrowed with a fierce resolve. She gently set your down before, with a single, fluid motion, she rose to her feet, her elegant form now radiating with a deadly grace.

"You will pay for this," she growled, her voice low and menacing as she advanced towards Ethan. Alcina's rage burned like a wildfire, driving her onwards with a relentless fury.

With a primal snarl, she lunged forward, her nails elongating into razor-sharp claws as she seized Ethan by the throat. Her other gloved hand wrapped around his neck as the scent of blood filled the air. She tightened her grip, her eyes blazing with a feral intensity.

"You thought you could defeat me?" she hissed, her voice dripping with contempt. "You thought you could take everything from me and walk away unscathed?"

Ethan, fueled by desperation and the relentless drive to protect his daughter, fought back with a ferocity born of desperation. With a surge of strength, he desperately tried to stab your fiancé with the dagger.

Yet, as the dagger pierced her flesh, it proved futile. Her skin swiftly regenerated, just as it had before, within mere seconds.

The last Dimitrescu's eyes widened in shock, her expression shifting into a mask of fury, a silent condemnation of the consequences wrought by Ethan's actions.

In that instant, a surge of realization swept through Ethan: the poison on the dagger had rubbed off onto you when he struck you.

Barely giving him time to process the gravity of his actions, with a swift motion, she tore open Ethan's chest, her fingers sinking into the soft flesh with a sickening squelch.

As Ethan's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, he gasped out, "Stop... please..."

She paid no heed to his pleas, her grip unyielding as she ripped his still-beating heart from his chest with a savage snarl. Blood sprayed across the tower, painting the walls in a macabre tapestry of crimson as Ethan's lifeless form crumpled to the ground.

With a triumphant light in her eyes, Alcina held Ethan's heart aloft, her eyes ablaze with a fierce satisfaction. "No one," she declared, her voice echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap, "no one will ever take my beloved from me again."

And as the echoes of her words faded into the silence, she turned her gaze to you, her heart heavy with sorrow.

He had already taken you, he had taken your life.

For though you were gone, your memory would live on within her, a beacon of light in a world consumed by darkness. Your lady could only sit beside your lifeless body, her heart breaking as she clung to your side, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, my sweet girl, why did you do this?" she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow and disbelief.

The days that followed were a bleak procession of solitude and sorrow for your fiancé. The once-grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu echoed with emptiness, each footstep a haunting reminder of the absence that weighed heavily on her heart.

Alcina retreated into the depths of her chambers, the shadows embracing her like old friends as she mourned the loss of you and her beloved daughters. The air grew heavy with the weight of her grief, each breath a struggle against the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume her as the maids watched their mistress slowly lose herself.

The grandeur of her surroundings felt hollow and meaningless, a cruel mockery of the life that had once thrived within these walls. The portraits of her daughters gazed down at her with empty eyes, their faces frozen in eternal beauty—a painful reminder of all that had been lost.

But it was the silence that was the most unbearable—the absence of your laughter, your voice, your presence. Each moment stretched out into eternity, each heartbeat a relentless march towards an uncertain future without you by her side.

In the depths of her despair, the dragoness found herself grappling with emotions she had long buried beneath a facade of strength and stoicism. She questioned her worth as a mother, as a ruler, as a woman burdened with the weight of centuries of loneliness and longing.

With each passing day, she vowed to honor your memory, to carry you with her always.

—

Masterlist

[ruthplaysthesims]

"Lately, I've been experiencing a recurring dream. Each time, I find myself awakening in a breathtaking landscape filled with cascading waterfalls. The sky remains a constant shade of orange, with soft lights filtering through the towering trees. The flowers there possess an indescribable beauty. As I explore this serene place, I notice the absence of any other souls except for myself and these exquisite butterflies with wings of crystal clarity. They are a marvel to behold. In these dreams, I am content, free from worries, immersed in joyous moments. Yet, the dream always concludes abruptly, with me standing before Aylin's lifeless form, evoking tears as I wake. I'm unsure of the dome's efficacy, but an unsettling sensation of being observed lingers. I must discuss this with Aunt Berta soon. For now, I'll diligently ensure everything is secured, longing for the companionship of my friends."

Raina A.

Beginning | << Prev | Next >>

[pamwritessometimes]

Roots in my dreamland

Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, mentions of being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

═════════ 𖤐🤍𖤐 ═════════

The wind howled through the towering trees, winter’s chill clinging to the air as Dean wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure why he kept on going on this path. There were no signs of danger, no clear trail to follow, yet something kept dragging him in. It felt ancient here, in this part of the forest, like time itself was buried in these moss-covered grounds.

The reports of strange occurrences in the area had led him here in the first place: people disappearing, then reappearing with no memory of where they’d been. Dean had taken it as another case, another monster to hunt… but what he found instead was something he didn’t understand, and certainly something he couldn’t really fight.

He had found her.

His steps slowed as he reached the edge of a small clearing. The pale light of the crescent moon covered everything in a soft, silvery glow, casting shadows on the ice frozen ground. And there she was, standing just beyond the oak trees, her figure nearly blending into the darkness of the brusque, winter night.

She looked at him as if she’d been waiting.

She always did.

Dean didn’t know her name. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what she was. Her skin glimmered, like the moonlight itself was part of her, and her eyes – deep and dark, just like the forest itself – held some sort of timelessness in them. Every time he saw her, he felt like something inside him was growing, something he couldn’t quite control.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he asked, his voice rough, soaked in frustration. “Every time I get close to leaving this place behind, I—” He broke off, his mind going momentarily frigid in the air. “I come back.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly as she took a cautious step toward him with her bare feet leaving no mark in the snow. She was now close enough that he could feel the soft glow of her skin radiating off her eternal warmness and the unusual flowers threaded in her locks. “Maybe it’s because you belong here more than you think.”

Dean’s chest tightened. Belong? He didn’t belong anywhere, least of all here in this strange, enchanted place. But he couldn’t deny that every time he saw her, a part of him felt like it was coming home.

“You need to let me go” he whispered, though his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost sad. “You can’t fight what’s already growing inside you.” she said quietly. Her hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek. The warmth of her touch like fire beneath his skin.

Dean stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “What is this?” he rasped with eyes wide, his hand instinctively catching hers, holding it against his face. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Why can’t I…?”

She smiled softly, but there was an edge of sorrow in her eyes. “You’ve planted your roots here” she whispered. “And so have I.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to believe that he was tied to this place — to her — but the truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. And he had his fair share of experience with those. Every time he tried to walk away, she pulled him back, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to break free.

“I– I can’t stay here. This…” He gestured to the forest around them, then to her. “This isn’t me.”

“I know.” she said simply. But she didn’t move away. She stood there, her eyes searching his, like she was waiting for him to make a choice he didn’t know how to make. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the people he was supposed to be saving. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep coming back. And yet…

“I don’t want to leave..” he admitted, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I can’t.”

She leaned into him then, her body soft and warm against his. Her fingers traced the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “Then don’t” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. He groaned, the weight of everything crashing over him at once. His responsibilities, the danger, the distance between their worlds (whatever her world was in the first place), none of it mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was her.

“I’m already in too deep” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’re in my head, in my damn dreams. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop coming back right here. To you. I can’t keep my distance from you.”

“I know” she said, her lips ghosting over his. “I feel it too.”

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his mouth was on hers, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm and so right, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about the consequences. Only the ethereal feeling of her silky skin against the palm of his hand and the velvet of her lips. She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in his hair as they stumbled back, their bodies melding together. He could feel the heat rising between them, the fire building in his chest as he lost himself in her…completely, utterly, involuntarily lost. 

They sank to the icy forest floor, the snowy moss cool beneath them as they tumbled into each other’s arms. Though, somehow, Dean didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel his skin being affected by winter’s brusque. Her hands trailed patterns over him, her touch so incredibly soft, almost like a ghost, but it magically made his body immune to the weather. He responded with equal vehemence, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting the woodsy warmth of her skin.

“Dean” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, but there was something else there too, something fragile, like she was holding back. “You need to–”

“No” he cut her off, his voice rough. “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to leave.”

Dean’s movements stilled, her words slicing through his hazy state of desire. She was right. He would have to leave. This, whatever the hell this was, couldn’t last. He didn’t belong in her world, and she didn’t belong in his.

But for now, he didn’t care.

“For tonight” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers, “Just– please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and after a long moment, she nodded as a sign of her silent agreement. They moved together again, slower this time, like they were savoring every moment, every touch, every warm glow of her hand on his skin. The world outside the forest faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the soft gleam of moonlight, the ancient trees standing tall silent around them.

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Dean kissed her lips slowly, his mind completely fogged by need. He didn’t know her, didn’t understand exactly what she was, but none of that mattered now. Not in this moment. Not when every part of him was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Just for tonight, he let himself get lost in her. His hands found their way to her soft, leaf-woven dress, fingers trailing along the strange fabric that did a sinfully poor job at hiding her curves. As he slid his hands down her waist, her lips parted in a heavenly moan, a testament of her sharing the same need as him. His fingers traced slow and purposeful patterns along her upper thigh, teasing her skin beneath the hem of her skirt (or whatever magical leaf-dress she was wearing). Their breath met halfway as she arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her otherworldly pulse beneath his lips. 

He leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around the pair. “I want you” he murmured. He really did. He had no idea how, why or who, to be frank, but he craved her.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to look into his emerald green orbs. It was just like the forest.  “Then take me” she whispered back.

With a slow movement, he pressed her back against the soft, icy moss. The world around them slowly faded as he kissed her again. Deeper this time… pouring all his desire into the action, savoring the taste of her lips, and the way her celestial presence made him feel. His hands explored her body, making it his goal to commit every little line to memory. He wanted to remember this. Her hands slid under his shirt, warm fingers dancing over his skin, fueling the fire in him. He could feel her heat radiating against him and he responded to that by deepening the kiss, wanting to wipe everything out of his memory, except for this.

His fingers were still under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer to her honey-soaked pussy. As he finally met her heat, she gasped, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, her body arching against him as an encouragement for him to continue. 

Dean met her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he saw none. He slowly slid his fingers deeper, feeling her sweet cunt envelop him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a low moan escaped her lips as he began to move his middle finger in and out. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he couldn’t help but murmur a breathless “You're incredible. So incredibly beautiful. So wet for me already.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he felt her walls clench around him, and eventually he found a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the forest around them. 

“Dean” she moaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”

Amidst hearing that, he captured her lips again, pouring every drop of his need into the kiss. 

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His own need had reached a fever pitch. His fingers slowly slipped out of her core, which earned a whine from her parted lips. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers worked at the button of his jeans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She was more than happy to help him, her hands quick and eager as she pushed his jeans down over his hips, his painfully hard length springing free from its confinements. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, not a single thing between them now.

Dean’s hand slid up her thigh, guiding himself to her pussy, and he hesitated for a brief second, meeting her gaze again. Again, there was no doubt in her eyes, only a quiet plea for him to close the distance between them finally. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her sloppy heat a few times before he finally began to ease himself in. He pushed into her slowly, inch by incredible inch, savoring the feel of her cunt hugging him so snug. The soft gasp that escaped her lips as he filled her  was enough to make his cock twitch inside of her. She was tight, and oh, so warm, and every inch of him ached with the need to move, but he forced himself to go slow, to feel every moment, every convulsion of her pussy.

Her hands gripped his back, nails biting into his skin as her hips rose to meet him, her body urging him deeper and deeper – despite his effort to stay calm just for a moment. The feeling of her wrapped around him was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting into her once more, harder this time, losing himself in the way she moved beneath him.

She moaned his name, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Dean’s pace quickened, his hips moving in time with hers, each thrust deeper, harder, rougher. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips finding his again as they moved together, the rhythm growing faster, more urgent. Every sound she made, every arch of her back, every gasp and moan spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge.

Dean’s hand slipped between them, finding her clit, and the moment he touched her there, she cried out, her body trembling underneath him as her release hit her, hard and fast.

“Dean, oh my— i’m going to—” and with that, her walls clenched around him, gushing all over his length. Threatening to slip out of her, because of the force of her release, he thrusted himself deeper. And then, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t—” and with a low groan, he followed her over the edge, his muscles tensing as his hot, white seed filled her, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to make his orgasm last as long as it is possible. 

For a long-long moment, neither of them dared to mov. Their bodies tangled together, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they came down from their highs. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses as they lay there, utterly spent.

They lay together in the quiet of the clearing, the warmth of their bodies cutting through the chilly air. Dean stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. His heart was still racing, his mind already starting to spin with what would come next. He still had no idea who she was. He still didn’t know if she was the one behind all those strange happenings around the area. 

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Then reality crept back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean blinked, once, twice, his body stiffening. The warmth that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by the biting cold of the winter air. He lifted his head, eyes squinting in confusion as his surroundings snapped back into focus. The enchanted glow, the surreal energy of the forest… all gone. Just the regular, old clearing. And there, standing at the edge of it, was Sam, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Dude” Sam started, his voice incredulous, “why the hell are you naked? It’s the middle of winter.”

Dean frowned, slowly realizing his current state. He glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was sprawled out on the cold, snowy moss, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. The warmth of her body and everything that had felt so real was now a distant memory. And yet… he swore it had happened.

“I…” Dean sat up, quickly gathering his clothes from the ground and putting them on, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. “I was, uh… investigating.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Investigating? Naked? In the freezing cold?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick, because I’ve been looking for you for an hour, man” Sam grumbled. “What happened? You were supposed to check out the weird stuff going on, not have some naked winter party.”

Dean’s gaze darted around the clearing. She was nowhere to be found, no sign of her leaf-woven dress, her touch, not even a trace of her pinewood scent. It was like she had never been there. The forest felt… ordinary now. The magic, the connection… they all seemed to have vanished with her.

“I’m not sure” Dean admitted, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs, the chill sinking into his bones now that reality was firmly back in place. “There was this… girl. I think.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe?”

“Girl?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up even higher.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while now… She was—” Dean gestured vaguely, trying to put words to what had just happened, but it felt harder and harder to grasp the details. “She was real, I think. Or… maybe she wasn’t. She could’ve been some kind of forest spirit. Or maybe I hit my head?” He shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “So you’re saying you’ve been seeing a girl, possibly not real, and decided to strip naked in the middle of the forest when you saw her once more?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, his frown deepening. “Okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“It is weird, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, motioning around them. “Do you see anyone else here? Anyone at all?”

Dean looked around the clearing again, trying to find any trace of her. There was nothing, just the trees, the snow, and the silent forest. No footprints, no clothes, no evidence that anyone other than him had been there at all. And yet, he could still feel her, the way her body had moved against his, the way her voice had whispered his name in the quiet of the night.

“I swear, it was real” Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I felt it.”

Sam sighed, getting Dean’s jacket from the ground and tossing it to him. “Whatever you felt, we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. We’ll figure it out later.”

Dean caught the jacket, wrapping it around himself with a huff. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, or if anything had happened at all, but there was still an ache in his chest, a feeling like he’d left something behind in that clearing. Or maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe the forest had cast some kind of spell on him, drawing him into some half-dream state where reality and fantasy blurred together. He wasn’t sure anymore. Was he— was he one of those victims he read about? But why does he remember it then? 

As he followed Sam out of the clearing, Dean glanced back one last time. The trees stood tall and silent, like keeping the secret of the girl’s presence. There was no sign of her. No shimmering figure stepping from the shadows, no soft voice calling him back.

But for just a second, he thought he saw something. — a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a faint, glowing shimmer in the air.

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe… just maybe… she'd been real after all.

Sam glanced over at him, frowning. “Dean, you okay? You look… weird.”

Dean smirked, pulling the jacket tighter around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wondering if I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

Sam groaned. “Probably. Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes before you start hallucinating snow fairy porn again.”

Dean chuckled, though his mind lingered on the thought. Snow fairies, huh? He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder — had it been real? Or had it just been a fever dream? He’d never know for sure. But either way… he wasn’t complaining.

"Next time, though" he muttered under his breath, "I’m bringing a blanket."

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Don’t even get me started. The crack fic muse made me do it. Not that I mind.🤭

Let me know what you think.

And have a nice day!🤍