#it's a story with many layers and i think it would be better on the second read around because once all the questions are answered

[itsabouttimex2]

I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC OR PAIRING.

Nathan and Ruben share a bond more powerful than most; mutual understanding through past experiences no one should ever have to go through, and through past actions so horrible they cannot be spoken of. Their grief and the blood on their hands binds them to the STEM technology they created, which has alienated them from the rest of the world— but they give each other the comfort they have both longed for so desperately for years, and that is all they need. They are each other's counterpart; you cannot imagine one without the other, like two sides of the same coin. Through their pain, their grief, their desire, and their regret, they have become one.

anna akhmatova, the guest // bones; equinox // 'i won't become' by kim jakobsson // agustín gómez-arcos, the carnivorous lamb // by oxy // achilles come down; gang of youths // czeslaw milosz, from 'new and collected poems: 1931-2001' // 'extended ambience portrait from a resonant biostructure' and 'migraine tenfold times ten' by daniel vega // a little death; the neighbourhood // marina tsvetaeva, from 'poem of the end' // by drummnist // katie maria, winter // 'nocturne in black and gold the falling rocket' by james abbott mcneill whistler // micah nemerever, these violent delights // body language; we are fury // 'the penitent' by emil melmoth // chelsea dingman, from 'of those who can't afford to be gentle'

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[icewindandboringhorror]

this is not the exact one I watched but I saw one of these "dish scape" things at someone's house who actually has TV (like they pay for dish/cable instead of just watching stuff online) and I think they're meant to be relaxing atmospheric stuff that you mostly ignore, but I sat there for 35 minutes watching absolutely engrossed.. further proof that I genuinely think my brain is incapable of experiencing boredom lol..

[glowingreverie]

.

[inkskinned]

she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

[letmeinimafairy]

The making of painted stones

Well, a few times I was asked to show the process of miniature paintings on stones, and here is my first attempt to capture and explain it. Warning - I only have my phone's camera at my disposal, so the quality is not very good.

Firstly - an idea for the image. Every stone has something in its pattern that can be a starting point for developing an imagery. The stone I picked for this one is a beautiful Picasso jasper, and in this case I was looking for a stone for a specific idea I've already had in mind. Spontaneous improvisation dictated by the stone's pattern is also great but I decided to pick something more definitive for better illustrating the process.

This jasper's pattern already has outlines that can be developed into a landscape without painting it over too much. I don't like it when stones are just mindlessly covered by slapping a random image on it, ignoring the colours, textures and patterns.

Here's the idea - ruins of an amphitheatre overgrown with red gladioluses. I know, I know, but I'm very interested in the initial mystical sacrificial background of gladiators. So here it is, arena covered in red, swords in the sand, but it's finally quiet.

Before we start, a stone must be varnished - minerals are porous, and lacquer smoothes its surface. I paint with tempera - most artists who work in lacquer miniatures use oils, but tempera allows quicker process, which is important for me. I'm autistic and my executive dysfunction makes working with oils difficult - my sudden bursts of activity won't match with drying timings and such. So, tempera for me.

Starting with sketching the outlines of the ruins and painting our light source, the sun and red clouds. I'm trying to work with a palette that the stone already has and make the painting as harmonious as possible.

Erasing auxiliary lines as we continue.

Done with the first layer - the walls and the sky. After the paint dries, I apply varnish (I use Novol clearcoat, car varnish - it's very durable). There can be as many layers as you need.

Now - the flowers and details.

After the painting is finished, it'll need several layers of varnish. And some fine sandpaper (1500) in-between the finishing layers for better grip.

And here it is! time to think abou a necklace for this one.

I'm not sure how useful I can be and what aspects you would like to know, so feel free to ask. I'm not sure I can make a good enough video with my current phone, so this'll have to wait. I tried to skip all the musings about ideas and finding stories, but whatever. And the time needed for work - I don't know. There was a month-long pause in the making of this one, due to a couple of emergencies that knocked me down for some time, and it's not easy for me in general due to my mental state - sometimes I can make a painting in two days, sometimes it takes years, nothing is certain with me, especially now. But well, here's what I do.

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think that, as a literary device, Finnick’s story is one of the most effective ones I have ever read.

When you think of victims of sex-related crimes, you so rarely think of a man.

In our modern society, we more often imagine women to be victims of such crimes. Beautiful women who are battered and bruised, their eyes holding that faraway gleam of pain and trauma. Sex-related violence against women is such a common occurrence that it is difficult to find a woman who doesn’t have intimate knowledge about it. Perhaps not every woman has been raped but every woman knows at least one who has. As young girls, we’re told so many things to try and prevent rape. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Be careful of what you wear. Don’t drink alcohol. Fight them off. And yet, if you did everything right and still fail at protecting yourself, just give in. Better raped than dead. Come home to your family and friends hurt and bruised but alive.

And it is this message that Finnick, a man, lives by.

Better taken advantage of, bruised and hurt, than dead. Better you than your parents or your siblings or Mags or Annie. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

And, the thing is, we didn’t have to hear this story from him. We could have heard it from Cashmere.

In his propo to the Capitol, Finnick reveals that attractive Victors are pimped out by President Snow to the residents of the Capitol. One such Victor is Cashmere.

Knowing this layer of her story makes Cashmere the picture perfect victim. A woman who is repeatedly described as beautiful. She is a typical description of what a rape victim is. Suzanne could have used her character instead of Finnick’s to portray an instance so familiar to so many women and yet, she didn’t.

She chose Finnick. And I think the reason why she did that is because hearing it from Cashmere would have made the story fall flat.

Would we have blinked an eye had it been Cashmere who revealed the horrors of being a Victor? Would we have felt anything other than a vague sense of sympathy? I don’t think so. Like so many women before her, Cashmere’s story is so familiar to us that it no longer leaves that bitter taste in our mouths. We, as a society, have been so deeply desensitized to this plight that we no longer feel the same indignation we used to feel. Instead we are resigned to our fate. Cashemere isn’t the first victim of rape and she won’t be the last.

Yet to hear it from Finnick had us shocked. Finnick? A man? Attractive, to be sure, but he is at the prime of his life and yet he is a victim? Finnick, who can wield a trident so effectively he became the youngest Victor in the 75 years the Hunger Games operated, was raped? Finnick, who has literally killed people with his bare hands, was prostituted? Finnick, who cracked jokes about killing people was whored out by President Snow?

It is absurd! It is a bizarre and strange! It has to be untrue!

And yet it’s not.

Finnick being representative of that particular storyline was effective at reminding us of what it means to be victimized like that. And using Finnick, a man, instead of Cashmere, a woman, reminded us of why we have to be rightfully angry and upset about such things instead of resigned to our fates.

Suzanne Collins is an absolute literary genius.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

You’ve bewitched me

Summary: A war lasting three years became heavy on the front lines. Many people died and lost their homes from the actions of one kingdom. But to end the war, both kingdoms agreed to seal an alliance through an arranged marriage. Caught in a loveless marriage with the crown prince, a whirlwind of emotions blasts through foreign land as you try to make your life in the enemy kingdom bearable.

Warnings: slow-burn. Leon is a piece of dick in the beginning. angst. eventual smut. arranged marriage. reader is a princess and Leon is the crown prince. enemies to lovers (i think?). inaccurate historical information. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Word Count: 11,222

A/N: sorry for not posting in a while, life’s been a bit tough but I’m back better than ever. I want to make this a mini serious (like probably three chapters) but I’ll see how this goes.

[pt.2][pt.3]

“I just can’t say goodnight” — Cosmic, Red Velvet

The Three-Year War was the start of a new era. An era in which two rival kingdoms finally join together in an allegiance. But the memory of how the war began was one that all too many remembered deeply.

It started with a small fight between the two kings over a land of territory that was unowned to either kingdom. Your father, the king of the Kingdom of the Coast, had found a mine in which gold was discovered. Immense amounts of gold hidden beneath the layers of rock called for his attention, which also called the attention of another king.

The Kingdom of the West noticed some strange activity in between the borders of both kingdoms, and the king sent a small army to figure out what was going on. Much to his surprise, the soldiers found citizens of the kingdom of the coast roaming close to the border that separated the two kingdoms and were immediately drawn to the defensive. The two kingdoms hated each other, although not a surprising fact. Both sides argued about who gets to own the mine, debates and meetings sparked between both kings, both claiming the mine was their right.

You didn’t know the full story, as princess of your kingdom, your duty didn’t lie with politics and war. Your duties were much different. When the king left the castle to join in on the war, you sat by the window hopelessly waiting for his return, and he did return, he came back with news of marriage.

And so here you are, on a carriage ride to the Kingdom of the West, foreign lands filled the view of the carriage window but that wasn’t what you focused on. Your thoughts circled back to when your father came back and broke the news of your sudden engagement.

“You are to not argue with the king!” your father said as he slammed his fists against his desk in frustration, “You will get married to the Crown Prince of the West Kingdom whether you like it or not. It is not your duty to argue, it is your duty to obey.”

Even though you knew you had no say in the marriage, you still sought freedom in choosing who to be wedded to. Mother has told you stories about how she had the chance to choose her husband among many suitors, and for years you believed you’d go through the same thing. Only for your hopes to be crushed in the midst of a war.

Upon arriving at the castle of the West Kingdom, you felt a bit unnerved. You were an enemy on foreign land, you had the disadvantage, one that you believed would make you suffer.

“Your Royal Highness, we’ve arrived,” said the servant driving the carriage. As you stepped out of the carriage, you saw a line of servants and maids lined up on the sides of the entrance, along with the royal family.

“Ah, you’re here,” said the king of the West Kingdom as he bowed at you, “Welcome, I hope the journey was not too tiring.”

You knew he only spoke out of respect but there was an underlying emotion that made you believe he didn’t mean it, “Your Majesty,” you said as you curtsied the king, right before you turned your attention to the young man next to him, his son.

His son stood tall, eyes boring into yours with judgment and even resentment. But he didn’t say anything, only bowing along with his father. His icy blue eyes held hatred, one that he had no shame in hiding. His blonde hair was neatly slicked back as his attire screamed rich and royal.

“This is my son, Crown Prince Leon,” the king said before he snapped his fingers and a maid came up to help you with your bags, “Come right in, my servants will show you to your chambers and then we’ll attend dinner.”

The king turned around to leave, wasting no second in going back inside the palace, all while his son glared at you before he followed right behind his father. For a welcome, it definitely went better than you had thought.

Your chambers were exquisite and quite extravagant, very different from home. Curtains hung from the ceiling over the bed, the very big bed. The windows were big enough to see just outside the gardens and training grounds. The room itself was like any other royal room, excessive decorations adorned the walls but it wasn’t something you weren’t used to.

“Your Royal Highness, we are your ladies-in-waiting, it is our honor to make your acquaintance,” a woman said as she bowed her head at you, followed by two other women behind her. You simply nodded and returned the bow, “Pleasured to make your acquaintance,” you replied softly.

“Let us help you prepare for dinner, the king does not like waiting,” she said right before the three of them started to work diligently on helping you into new clothes.

-

Dinner with the king and his son was a bit awkward. The table was silent, a contrast to how your family ate during dinner. Maybe it was because it was just Leon and the king, but even then it was too quiet.

“So, princess,” the king started as he sipped from his wine cup, “how are you liking the palace?”

“It’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” you replied.

The king chuckled, almost as if he knew his castle was beautiful, “Yes, yes, quite the vision for a foreigner,” he said.

“An enemy,” Leon suddenly spoke up for the first time today, “She’s not a foreigner, she’s the enemy,” his tone was bitter and cold. His hands gripping his silverware tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The king stiffened slightly before he downed his wine and set the cup back down, all while staring into the abyss.

“Son,” the king said in a quiet mutter but loud enough for you to hear, “the war is over. She’s going to be your wife, show some respect.”

But Leon didn’t like that. He slammed his silverware down against the table, servants turning their heads to look at Leon as he glared at you, “She’s anything but my wife. She’s a murderer and an enemy. I will not show my respect,” he said right before he stood up and stormed out of the dining hall. The king sighed after the doors slammed closed and you could only stare down at your plate.

“I apologize for my son–he,” the king said as he tried to come up with an excuse for his son’s behavior, only to not be able to say anything else for the remainder of dinner. It was clear that feelings of hatred still lingered from the war even though the war allegedly ended.

“Have a goodnight, princess,” he muttered before he stood up and also left the dining hall, leaving you alone with your half eaten plate.

This was your life from now on. A loveless marriage in a castle where you’re hated by everyone.

-

Months passed after your first day in the palace and not one had it been an easy one for you. Leon avoided you altogether and wouldn’t dare be in the same room as you, he wanted you to know his hatred for you and your kingdom. It became pointless trying to talk to him when you saw him in the halls as he’d turn around and walk in the direction he came from. Or if he was feeling bold, he’d walk right past you without acknowledging you. He loathed you.

Leon’s schedule was busy, as the heir of the throne and son of the current king, he had to manage some of the duties that came with that role. However, he wasn’t always busy, he only locked himself in his study and stuffed himself in tomorrow’s work to avoid you. His hatred ran deep and rooted in a dark place at the bottom of his heart. But he did have an outlet; sword training.

Many days and many nights he’d spend his time outside in the training grounds to let out all his pent up anger. And this only made you feel more alone.

When it was the day of the wedding, both families met together in a church. It was supposed to be a good day for you, weddings were supposed to be a blessing, but this one seemed like a curse. Both kings were delighted as this meant that they were now allies. It was a bit weird seeing your father and Leon’s father get along like childhood friends but there was nothing you could do. Both kingdoms were now united and the war has officially been declared to be over.

Leon, however, didn’t kiss you on the altar. He only gave you a nod, but hey, it was something different from the usual glares.

So now, here you were, in your shared chambers sitting on your vanity stool as you brushed your hair. It was nighttime and Leon had yet to come to bed. He’s always done this. Even though you were now husband and wife, he did everything he could to establish a barrier with you. He’d sleep on the couch near the fireplace as you slept alone on the bed, he’d purposefully wake up earlier as to not greet you in the morning, and he’d come back late at night to not see you awake.

He was a cruel and cold man who wanted nothing with you. You were just about to make your way to the bed when the door suddenly opened. Leon didn’t even spare a glance at you as he made his way to the couch, sitting down and ruffling his hair as he sighed heavily. You stared at him from the reflection of your vanity mirror, watching as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the backrest of the couch. He looked exhausted and if you were in any other circumstances, you’d ask what was wrong. But unfortunately, you knew it would be useless.

The man hated you and there was nothing you could do to change his mind.

“I heard you were making plans to change the garden,” he suddenly said, his eyes still closed as he spoke to you in his distant tone. You turned around on your stool to face him, “Yes, I wanted to replace a few flowers,” you replied softly.

Leon let out a dry scoff before he opened his eyes and looked at you, “And you didn’t consult me about it?” he asked coldly. He stood up to his full height and walked over to you, standing at a distance as he also loathed the idea of touching you.

“You think you can go behind my back and change the place however you want?” he asked lowly as he glared down at you, “I am the Crown Prince, I don’t care if the gardens lie under your duties, you consult me first. Do you understand?”

“Yes but–”

“Do not defy me,” he muttered as he took a step closer to you, “You think you can waltz in here and change everything without ever checking with me?” he then scoffed humorlessly and smirked in a mocking manner, “That’s what your people ever seem to do. You take and you take until you’re full, and forget about everyone else, don’t you?”

“Well, let me tell you something, princess,” he said your title out of spite, “You’re nothing but my wife here. You may be the future queen but you still have to obey me first. Whatever I say goes, and if I want the damn garden to stay that way then it will stay that way,” he muttered with an edge of threat in his tone.

He continued to glare at you, eyes boring into yours with so much resentment. And all you could was nod at him, “Yes, Your Highness,” you replied weakly in a whisper. Leon stared at you for a few seconds longer before he scoffed and walked back to the couch, not wanting to be bothered by you anymore.

-

The next day was busy for you, as future queen of the kingdom, there were a few things you needed to learn about the West Kingdom.

“Again,” the teacher said in a neutral tone as you sat in the library with books stacked on the table, “It’s not too hard to understand.”

You sighed frustratingly, you’ve been reading the same chapter for thirty minutes and you couldn't understand, “Easy for you to say, you’ve been living here your whole life. I’ve been here for three months and I still don’t understand how this kingdom works.”

“Princess, if I may be so bold,” he said as he looked at you, “you’re a smart lady, you understood everything thus far, what’s preventing you from understanding this minor detail?”

You knew what the teacher was insinuating, he thinks you’re distracted. And you know how he feels about distractions, with another sigh you spoke in a much quieter tone, “I just… I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.

“Do you now?” he asked quietly as he seemed to be observing and analyzing your behavior.

“Yes, I do,” you replied a bit more firmly, even though you didn’t mean to come off as defensive, you couldn’t help but feel that way. It was as if Leon had conditioned you to stay that way during your stay.

Everyone in the palace, the servants and the maids, were well aware of Leon’s mistreatment towards you. He wasn’t one to shy away from letting everyone of his hatred for you. Some pitied you but they wouldn’t dare go against Leon as he was the crown prince.

“It’s the crown prince, isn’t he?” The teacher said bluntly and almost unimpressed. You, however, felt a bit surprised. Were you that obvious?

“How do you know?” You muttered softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who doesn’t know? All you two ever do is argue, well it’s mostly him, but you get my point.

Shame is what you felt upon his answer. Was that how everyone saw the relationship between you and Leon? You were supposed to be husband and wife, a beacon of peace between two kingdoms and yet, you were more apart than the Atlantic sea.

“I just—I don’t know,” you muttered, “it’s like everything I do angers him. I tried to be kind to him and show respect but all he does is shut me down and pretend I don’t even exist.”

“He hasn’t even said a single kind word to me,” you continued as the teacher remained silent, “I know he didn’t ask for this, but I also didn’t. I just wish he could understand *me*.”

There was a silence that overtook between you and the teacher, as if he was contemplating what to say, “The crown prince has been through a lot,” he said after a few moments of silence, “all he needs is time and he’ll come around, eventually.”

“Eventually,” you repeated under your breath. It may have only been three months but you’d hoped that he would at least be a bit kinder to you. Much to your dismay, you knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

After your studies, you roamed around the castle, trying to familiarize yourself with the structure. It was a bid castle, bigger than your own castle back home. Oh how you missed home.

You missed your bed, your friends, your family, the food they’d serve—you missed everything. Here, you were alone with a husband who hates you.

As you were about to make turn around the corner of the hall, someone’s hand suddenly covered your mouth as you felt them move you to pin you against the wall. It was a knight.

Your eyes widened but the knight held you firmly in place with one hand on your mouth and the other on your waist. Your heart was beating fast and your chest heaved up and down. Your maids walked on without you.

“Shh, princess,” the knight murmured in a sultry tone, “we don’t want to cause a scene, now do we?” You quickly shook your head ‘no’ terrified that he would do something to you.

The knight smirked and held you firmly in place against the wall, loving how scared of him you looked.

“Such a pretty thing…” His hand on your waist started to wander, his fingers brushing over your corset.

“I’ve wanted you for a while now….”

He moved closer to speak into your ear, his hand on your mouth moving to your hair to hold a fistful of it, while the other hand continued to wander.

“Let me go,” you whispered and closed your eyes tightly shut as you felt him hold your hair in a fist, ruining your hairstyle while his other hand roamed your corset.

Your hands gripped the wall, you were beyond terrified. How dare he lay his hands on a married woman—a married princess.

The knight didn’t listen to your pleas, continuing to keep you pinned against the wall, his hands now grabbing your hips.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips now against your neck, “I want you all to myself.”

The knight started to undo some of the laces at the back of your corset. Your eyes widened slightly as you your hands quickly traveled to hold your corset up against your breasts to ensure that it wouldn’t fall.

“What are you doing—stop,” you ordered the knight.

The knight continued to undo the laces, the smirk on his face only growing as you tried to hold your corset up.

“Shh, don’t be like that, princess,” He murmured, his lips still against your neck as his hand moved to your wrists, “Let me do this…”

He started to loosen your corset, his hand then moving to squeeze your hip. He was too busy to notice Leon and the king, who were walking down the other side of the hall.

The laces of your corset were fully undone, the strings hanging down your back as you held the material up your chest, “My husband is the heir to the throne, he’ll have you decapitated if he sees you,” you threatened.

But you didn’t know if Leon would even do that for you. Leon hated you, he despised you to the point where he ignored your existence on a daily basis.

The knight simply smirked against your neck, his hands starting to wander and exploring your body.

“I doubt the crown prince would care,” he replied huskily, his hand cupping your breast through the fabric, “He doesn’t love you.”

As the king and Leon continued down the hall, Leon suddenly froze, a look of anger immediately appearing on his face. His anger grew as he saw you in the knight’s embrace. His father had no reaction, but Leon was pissed.

He walked down the hall quickly to you and the knight, staring at you with a hard glare. Leon’s jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to all the loose laces of your corset.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The king angrily exclaimed as he and Leon walked over to the knight.

You looked over at the King and Leon from behind the knight and felt even more worse. You felt embarrassed and ashamed of being seen like this. So you directed your attention to the floor as you tried not to cry.

The knight froze when he heard the king and Leon’s footsteps and voices, his hands freezing and the smirk on his face falling.

He quickly removed his hands from you, stepping away and quickly bowing in the king’s presence.

“Your majesty,” he said in a hurry, sweat forming on his forehead.

Leon stood behind his father, his eyes locked on you, taking in your appearance. His mind was a mixture of anger and disgust, seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew.

When the knight took his hands off of you and took a step back, you fell down to the floor and held your corset up as to not expose yourself further.

You still avoided all their gazes, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t want any of this to happen to you.

“What were you thinking?!” The king started to reprimand the knight, “How dare you disrespect the lady of the house like that?!”

Leon’s eyes were locked on your face. He was angry. No. Enraged. Furious. Watching the knight touch you, the man’s hands on your body, groping you, made his blood boil.

He hated you. He hated you so much. But no one could touch you like that. You’re his wife. His property.

The king continued to yell at the knight, while Leon walked over to you and knelt down in front of you.

“Once we go back home, I’ll make sure you to punish you,” the king said the knight in a harsh tone, “Let’s go.”

He then looked down at you and Leon before he started to walk away with his knight trailing behind him. The moment it was just Leon and you in the hall, you could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted.

He couldn’t believe it. The sight of the knight’s hands on you, his lips on your neck, his hands cupping your breast… it made him see red.

He hated you. He despised you. But you were his. His wife. No one else was supposed to touch you like that.

Your maids were frantically looking for you and then they found you on the floor with Leon kneeling in front of you.

“My Lady,” one of them said as they ran over to both of you. They slowly helped you up, covering you body as they held you corset up, “Oh my,” another said under her breath.

My maids looked at Leon and bowed at him, “Excuse us, Your Highness,” one said before they started to drag you to your shared chambers. Leon stood up and watched as your maids hurried over to you, their eyes widening at your appearance.

For a moment, he considered whether or not to have the knight killed for what he did. He hated you. But you were his, and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He wouldn’t ever let another man touch you like that. But he also wouldn’t ever let anyone disrespect him like that.

The maids took you to your shared quarters where they helped you out of your dress and into your nightdress, getting you ready for sleep since it was already quite dark outside. Once you were dressed for the night, your maids left your quarters.

It was late at night. Leon went to his study to finish up some paperwork, before finally heading to yours and his shared quarters.

He was still enraged over what happened. The thought of the knight touching you, his hands on your body… it had Leon seeing red.

But why? Why did it anger him so much? It was because you were his wife and no one else was allowed to touch you. Not because he loved you, or even cared for you. Because you were his property.

When he was done with his paperwork, Leon entered the quarters, and immediately spotted you at the vanity desk. He still couldn’t get the sight of your appearance from what happened. Seeing you with your laces undone and your corset askew, the knight’s hands all over your body… it angered him for some unknown reason.

He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the room as he stalked over to you. Your eyes widened and you visibly flinched when he suddenly slammed the door behind him.

“What happened,” he asked coldly, his voice low and harsh as he continued to approach you.

“What?” You muttered under your breath in mild shock.

But then you realized what he wanted, he wanted you to explain the whole thing. You swallowed dryly as you looked up at him, “I was walking with my maids until someone pulled me back and…” you muttered. Even talking about it made you uncomfortable.

Leon’s anger towards you made me uncomfortable, especially because you didn’t understand why he was so angry. His kingdom won the war yet he still saw you as his enemy, “But I tried to fight him off and I told him to stop. I even said you’d decapitate him but he didn’t listen.”

Leon’s anger only grew as he heard you recall what happened, that knight’s hands all over you while you tried to fight him off. The thought of it only made him even more enraged. How dare he touch you like that, and in the halls like that.

“Stupid woman,” he said scathingly, his deep voice full of disdain for you, “Of course he didn’t listen, he clearly didn’t care about what I’d do to him.”

You furrowed my brows and parted your lips as he called you that, Stupid woman.

It repeated in your mind several times, which caused your eyes to water. Did he think you enjoyed being harassed like that? You looked down at the floor, what else would you expect from Leon if it wasn’t going to be harsh words.

Leon’s eyes darkened at the sight of your watery eyes. He didn’t care if he offended or hurt you, as he saw you as nothing more than an obstacle.

“Clearly he thought you were some whore,” he continued, his words harsh and cold, “What else would he think? It’s not the first time something like this has happened, after all.”

He looked at you, a scornful look in his eyes. He hated you, but the thought of another man’s hands on you, it ignited a fire within him.

You looked back up at him in shock, did he just call you a whore? You were a princess, born and raised to be graceful and elegant and he reduces you to a whore? You felt disrespected.

“It is the first time a man has laid their hands on me,” you quickly argued back as you stood up, a tear rolling down your cheek, you’ve had enough of him, “You won’t even touch me. We haven’t even tried for an heir like your father wanted!”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as you spoke. You had a point, a very valid point. But he wouldn’t admit that.

“Don’t expect me to actually want to touch you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust, “You’re just the price I had to pay to stop the war. I’ll have heirs, but they won’t be yours. I’ll never allow my children to share your blood.”

He took a step closer to you, his eyes cold and hard. A scoff escaped your lips, “You’re calling me a whore when you just admitted you’d have heirs with other women?” You said in disbelief.

“You are a selfish bastard, your heart is brittle and rotten,” you whispered harshly to him as another tear rolled down.

Leon’s eyes darkened at your words. Selfish bastard. He knew that’s what you thought of him, but hearing you actually admit it angered him. But not as much as the thought of having heirs with you.

“You’re the one who’s delusional,” he spat, “You’re not worthy enough to have my heirs or the title of queen. That’s the only reason I’ll be lying with other women.”

He took another step closer, his jaw clenching. He loathed you. Hated you.

Him admitting that hurt you beyond belief. It was like something in you and you gave up. Hearing him not just say that he’ll lay with other women but that you were useless as well hurt.

You looked at him with pain in your eyes, your jaw clenched as you tried to hold back your tears, “Fine,” you whispered in a resigned tone.

“Go ahead. Sleep around with other women,” you muttered, “Just don’t complain when your name gets brought up in a brothel for being their number one customer.”

You gave up. He hated you beyond repair and nothing you could do could change that. So you simply just decided to stop. The mere thought of him being with other women hurt more than you thought it would. All my life you’ve been taught and raised to be the fitting queen by his side. What purpose did you have now?

Leon was caught off guard by your resigned tone and the look in your eyes. He wasn’t expecting you to give up like this. He expected more of a fight from you.

“I will,” he said firmly, his eyes still cold and hard, “In fact, I’ll start tonight.”

His words stung. He wanted heirs, but not from his “arranged” wife, you. He could only imagine the children you could raise together, but he could never allow himself to even think about it.

Your heart broke even more. Tonight? Your mouth gaped open but you quickly closed it and remained silent as your eyes watered. You couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” you whispered, “Go on. I won’t stop you,” you turned around and went over to your bed.

You sat down on the edge, taking off your shoes. Then you blew out your candle and laid down on the bed, bringing the covers up to your chin and closed your eyes. You did not want to cry but why does it feel like you are?

Leon could simply only watch you. He expected you to get angry and lash out at him, but instead, you simply accepted it.

The sight of you on the bed, pulling the covers up to your chin with tears in your eyes, stirred something in him. But he forced it down. He hated you. He’d always hate you.

“I won’t be coming back here tonight,” he said coldly, his voice harsh and emotionless, as he turned and headed for the door.

Leon could hear your soft whimpers as he headed towards the door, but he ignored them. He didn’t care if you were crying or not. He didn’t care how hurt you were because of him. All he cared about was himself.

Even though he felt something stir in him when he saw you on the bed, crying and upset, he forced it down. He continued to ignore it as he opened the door and left. He wouldn’t come back tonight. He was going to find a woman he actually liked. One that wasn’t you.

Leon walked away from the quarters. He headed out of the palace and out into the town.

Tonight, he was going to visit the taverns to find a woman to spend the night with. The thought of you was still in the back of his mind, but he pushed it down, determined to have a distraction from the thoughts of you crying in bed alone.

He could have a woman or two in a tavern, and that would distract him. Perhaps when he returned, you’d be asleep and he wouldn’t have to think about you at all.

The nearest tavern was full of women lingering around in skimpy gowns, obviously known as the hookers that attracted attention to the business.

But amidst all the women, could he really just forget about you? The hurt in you eyes, your bottom lip slightly trembling whenever you’d cry, or the way your eyes would look like a wounded puppy? Could he really find a distraction from that gnawing feeling at his chest with a woman who’d forget him next thing in the morning?

He was the crown prince, everyone wanted a piece of him, but no one dared. The women looked at him, but didn’t approach him. In their eyes, he too high up in the ranks. Leon could feel the eyes of the women in the tavern on him as he entered.

But he couldn’t have you, even though you were his wife. That was the problem. He could be with any woman, but he would never allow himself to allow you to get close to him because he hated you.

But as he continued to look around, Leon began to falter. He began to grow frustrated. Because every woman he looked at, he found himself comparing to you.

The women were no match for you, and as much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was true. You were beautiful and gracious, and the women in the tavern could never compare.

He grew frustrated by this realization. He was the crown prince. He could have any woman he wanted, yet no one here seemed worthy of him. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes still scanning the crowd of drunken soldiers and whores. None of them compared to you, and he hated knowing that.

Leon had spent hours in the tavern, but he found no one who could compare to you. It was infuriating. No matter who he looked at, you were the one he kept thinking about.

As the night continued to drag on, Leon began to think it was time to return to the castle. It was getting late, and the longer he was away, the more he would think about you. With a grumble, he left the tavern and headed back towards the castle.

Leon entered the castle, still feeling frustrated and annoyed. He had wasted hours at the tavern, only to come back to the castle empty-handed.

The halls were quiet as he made his way down, heading to the quarters he shared with you. He knew you were asleep this late, and the thought of you being fast asleep in bed annoyed him, but not as much as the thought of seeing you crying.

When he pushed open the door to your shared quarters, his eyes landed on you. You were asleep, your hair fanned out over the pillow, looking beautiful even in your sleep. He mentally cursed himself for thinking you were attractive.

Leon shut the door behind him, watching you sleep for a few moments. He couldn't deny how beautiful you looked, even in your sleep. Your hair was spread out on the pillow, and the way the moonlight hit your face, it was beautiful.

But Leon quickly squashed that thought. He hated you, he despised you. He could never find anything about you beautiful or attractive, no matter what.

He walked over to the bed, looking down at you as you slept soundly, unbothered by his arrival. Leon couldn't help but watch you as you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your back. You looked beautiful, even with tear stains on your cheeks, presumably from crying after he left for the tavern.

He should've been thinking about the women he met at the tavern. He should've been comparing them to you, wanting to hurt you by going on about how much more beautiful they were. But Leon found himself unable to do that. He couldn't compare you to the tavern whores. In his eyes, none of them came close to your beauty.

He hated you, but not even he could deny that you were the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Leon let out a quiet sigh, looking to the couch by the fireplace. He would be on the couch, and nothing more. He would never sleep in the bed with you.

When morning rolled up, your maids came into the room to help get ready for the day. All while you didn’t spare Leon a glance. His words deeply hurt you and you had given up on him.

He was free to do what he wanted, not like you had a say in the first place, his servants came into the room to help get dressed for the day as well.

“Your Highness,” one of your maids said as she started to do your hair as you sat on your vanity stool, “The gardener is here to help you renovate the garden.”

“Ah,” you replied to her, “I forgot to cancel the renovation plans. I’ll meet him downstairs,” The maid nodded and continued with your hair. When she was done helping you, you made your way out of the room and towards the lobby of the castle.

Once you reached downstairs with your maids behind you, you spoke French to the gardener since he was French, “Bonjour, je suis désolé mais j’ai peur de devoir annuler les plans pour le jardin.”

Leon’s servants, once he was dressed, started to follow him downstairs as he also had business to do. Or maybe training. Who knew what his schedule was.

The French gardener looked at you in surprise as you spoke to him in perfect French. He didn't expect you to speak the language, but it was a pleasant surprise nevertheless. Your maids were also quite surprised to hear you were fluent in another language, you must’ve learned foreign languages back home.

"Ah, Bonjour," he replied with a smile, "Ce n’est pas grave, Votre Altesse, je pourrais toujours vous donner mes conseils pour l’avenir si vous le souhaitez.”

Leon's servants followed him as he made his way downstairs, his ears perked and listening to the conversation between you and the gardener. He wasn’t aware you could speak another language so fluently.

You nodded, figuring that some advice wouldn’t hurt anyone. You started to walk towards the gardens with your maids behind you as the gardener walked next to you.

Once you reached outside, you spoke to the gardener, in French, about how you wanted to change some of the flowers and replace them with better ones.

“My Lord,” one of his servants said to Leon, “the grounds are ready for you to practice sword fighting, Your instructor is waiting.”

He grunted in response to his servant, "Very well. I shall head there now," He was about to turn and walk away when he suddenly changed his mind.

"Actually," he said to the servant, "I shall go outside first," The servant's brow furrowed in confusion, but Leon ignored him. He began walking outside instead, heading towards the garden area, seemingly wanting to follow you.

As Leon walked towards the garden area, his servants followed behind him. Some were confused and others surprised at the sudden change of plans.

“Je veux me débarrasser des tournesols, ils bloquent les roses de l'autre côté du buisson,” you said to the gardener, unaware of Leon approaching the garden area, “Pouvez-vous remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines?”

The French gardener nodded at your suggestion, "Bien sûr. Nous pouvons certainement remplacer les tournesols par des pivoines. Elles seront de bien meilleures plantes en cette période de l'année."

The gardener began to think, "Peut-être devrions-nous aussi semer des jacinthes pour ajouter un peu de variété."

As the gardener spoke, Leon continued to walk towards the garden area. His eyes narrowed as he heard the sound of you and the gardener speaking in French. He was feeling suspicious.

“My Lord,” one of Leon’s servants followed behind him, “Shall we introduce you to the gardener? He came all this way from France.”

Leon grunted in response to his servant, his gaze still focused on you and the gardener. The way you smiled at the gardener made his blood boil.

As you both continued to speak in French, his servants looked at each other, some looking confused while others looked amused. They knew of his hatred for you, and they could tell that he was irritated by you speaking to the gardener.

Finally, Leon came to a stop a few feet behind you, his arms crossed over his chest. He remained silent, listening to the conversation between you and the gardener.

You hadn’t noticed Leon behind you but your maids, however, did notice and they glanced at the servants with a nervous expression, one that said ‘what is he doing here?’. It seemed that Leon’s irritation and anger was evident.

“Your Highness,” your maids said as they curtsied. The greeting making you a bit stiff as you turned and noticed Leon. You looked up at him, confused and a bit surprised. But the pain in your heart was still present. You followed after your maids, also curtsying Leon.

Leon's expression darkened as you both turned around to face him. His eyes were hard as they met yours, the irritation and anger written all over his face.

His servants stood quietly behind him, their eyes flickering between Leon and you, unsure of what to do. They could feel the tension in the air, and they could sense their master's anger.

"What are you doing?" Leon asked, his voice low and cold. He glanced at the gardener before looking back at you, his gaze unwavering.

You knew Leon was angry, everyone could tell, even the French gardener. It was as if anger just radiated off of him, “I was just seeking advice,” you said as you looked up at Leon.

“This is Augustus,” you said to Leon, “He’s a good friend of my brother who’s well-versed in gardening. I called for him to help,” you explained in a gentle voice. You would’ve sent him back to France but Leon didn’t really give you time to cancel plans so suddenly.

Leon's eyes narrowed as you explained why you called the gardener. His jaw clenched tightly, and his servants could see his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Why did you not consult me before calling for this gardener?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation. His eyes flicked to the gardener, Augustus, before returning to you, “I thought I told you to consult me before you went off and made choices of your own.”

"What other plans do you have for the garden?" he continued, his gaze never leaving yours.

You glanced at my maids, seeing their nervous expression before you looked back at Leon. You could already feel the argument coming tonight.

“I wanted to get rid of the sunflowers as well as the weeds and replace them with peonies and hyacinths,” you replied.

“Some of your gardeners have been having trouble taming the weeds so I thought I could help find the root of the problem,” you mumbled softly.

As you spoke, Leon's jaw clenched even tighter. He couldn't believe you hadn't asked for his permission before making plans to change the garden.

"And you thought it was appropriate to invite a friend of your brother's to help without consulting me?" he snapped, his tone cold and biting. His eyes narrowed again as you continued, "What makes you think the problem can be solved so easily? You think you know better than my gardeners?"

Your eyes widened slightly as he snapped at you. You furrowed your brow and opened your mouth to defend yourself but ultimately decided against it. No matter what you say, he’ll just get more mad.

So, in resignation, you sighed and shook your head before you lowered your head, “No, Your Highness,” you said.

Leon's eyes narrowed further as you lowered your head, your submission fueling his anger. He loathed the fact that you so easily backed down, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at your compliance.

"Exactly," he sneered, "You know nothing about gardening. Leave it to the professionals. And next time you plan something, consult me first."

Leon glanced at the gardener, who had been listening in awkwardly. He felt a pang of annoyance at the man's presence.

“My lord,” one of Leon’s servants stood next to him, “we should go back. The instructor is waiting,” he kindly reminded Leon of his sword practice. Leon's eyes flicked over to his servant, a flicker of annoyance passing through them. He wasn't finished speaking to you, but the reminder about his practice session couldn't be ignored.

He gave his servant a terse nod before turning back to you, his expression hardening once more, "This conversation isn't over," he said, his voice low and cold. He shot one final glare at the gardener before turning and walking away, his servants following behind him. He knew the argument was going to continue later.

You knew the conversation was far from over, hell, you even thought he’d make you pay for it. And that was something you dreaded. Once he was gone, you turned to look at your maids.

“Escort the young boy to his carriage,” you said before you looked at the gardener, “Je m'excuse pour ce que vous avez vu, ce fut un plaisir de vous avoir ici.”

The gardener nodded at you, a sympathetic expression on his face. He had seen plenty of couple's disagreements before, but this one seemed particularly intense.

"Ce n'tait pas de votre faute," he said, his voice soft, "Je suis tout de même heureux de vous avoir rencontrée."

You felt bad that about the whole thing. You glanced at your maids and nodded at them, signaling them to take the young gardener away while you remained on the garden.

As Leon practiced on the training ground, his mind was still on the incident in the garden. Your insistence on changing the garden, your lack of asking him for permission, and the way you had spoken to the gardener all boiled his blood.

He couldn't believe that you had invited the gardener without telling him first. Who did you think you were? And the way you had looked so timid, lowering your head in submission like that. It made his blood boil even more.

He swung his sword harder, channeling his anger into his training.

Later. Later, he would deal with you.

For the rest of the day, you spent your time in the library reading and learning about Leon’s kingdom. There was so little that you could do now that Leon was angry at you yet again.

As you sat on a table near a window, you could see Leon practicing on the tracking grounds with other soldiers. The sun was beaming down on them, the sounds of their swords clanking being heard even from the second floor where you were.

You sighed, why did he have to be so rude to you? His kingdom won the war. Shouldn’t that make him happy? But you didn’t want to think about it. You redirected your gaze down towards your book and continued reading.

Some of the soldiers were sitting down, taking a break from their training as they watched Leon train with another soldier.

“Don’t he look more…tense?” One soldier said to the other. The other narrowed his eyes and tried to study Leon before he shook his head, “Huh…I don’t see it.”

“My lord—“ said the soldier Leon was training with, “We must take a break, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Leon ignored the soldier's pleas, his eyes focused on the sword in his hand.

"I don't need a break," he snapped, his voice harsh. No matter how hard he trained, he couldn't shake his annoyance with you. He lunged forward with his sword, aiming a blow at the soldier, who quickly blocked it. The clash of steel on steel echoed through the training grounds.

“Wait,” said the other soldier, “No, yeah, he’s tense,” the two soldiers sitting down nodded as they observed Leon going all out on his training.

The soldier started to block Leon’s blows but did not aim any at Leon. It was dangerous training with someone with so much anger. And that was until the soldier’s sword flew out of his hands and fell on the floor, a victory for Leon.

The two soldiers on the bench clapped and cheered for Leon, “Good work, my lord,” one said. The soldiers of his castle were good friends with Leon. Sometimes they’d go out for drinks after winning a battle.

Leon panted heavily as he stood over the soldier whose sword had been knocked out of his hand. His eyes were still hard and anger burned in them. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm before glancing at the two soldiers who had been watching. He grunted in acknowledgment of their praise but didn’t smile. He dropped his own sword on the ground with a clatter and started walking towards the side of the training grounds. He needed a break.

One of the soldiers tossed Leon a water pouch as the other spoke to the soldier on the floor, “For a rookie, you did pretty good. Not amazing. But good,” he said with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut it, Andrews,” the rookie soldier said as Andrews simply laughed, his laugh echoing out on the training grounds. Andrews was a much older and experienced soldier, the guy next to him, Kyle, was also experienced. But they were both loyal.

Leon stopped for a moment, lifting the water pouch to his lips and taking a long drink. The water cooled his body, but it didn’t do anything to cool his anger.

His eyes flickered up to the castle, seeing your figure sitting at the window. He gritted his teeth, his gaze turning cold. You were the reason he was so angry in the first place.

He handed the water pouch back to the soldiers before turning and walking towards the castle, striding with purpose.

It was time to confront you.

Leon walked angrily through the halls of the castle, his boots thudding loudly against the marble floor. The servants who walked past him quickly scurried out of his way, intimidated by his intense glare. He didn't bother making eye contact with them as he walked.

He made his way towards the library, his mind set on confronting you. You couldn’t just go around making decisions on your own. He was the king, and he would show you your place. Without knocking, he pushed open the door to the library.

You looked up at the sound of the doors being slammed opened and saw Leon. You quickly put your pencil down and stood up, “My lord,” you said in a surprised tone as your eyes widened slightly.

You started fixing your dress as it reached the floor. The dress was a simple yellow dress that was tight from your waist and chest. It wasn’t a corset but the dress did hug your breasts nicely. The sleeves reached your elbows and the fabric was made of silk. Then you walked to stand in front of him with the table behind you. Your hands clasped together in front of you as you looked up at him.

Even in heels, he stood taller than you. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. He hated you and his words from last night still lingered in your mind. Of how he’d rather sleep with other women and have heirs with them than with you.

Leon stalked towards you, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of anger and annoyance. He looked at your dress, taking in your form, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your chest before he met your eyes again. He could feel himself getting more annoyed just from looking at you. He wanted to yell at you, to reprimand you, to make you understand your place as his wife.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice tense and low.

You nodded slowly, “Alright,” you muttered, “what do you want to talk about?”

Leon clenched his fists at his sides, trying to control his anger, "You had no right to invite that gardener to the castle without my permission. Who do you think you are, making decisions like that without consulting me?"

“I didn’t mean to offend you like that,” you tried to defend yourself, your tone quiet and timid, “I thought I could make my own choices since the gardens fall under my duties as lady of the house.”

He took a step closer, his voice low and menacing, "You need to learn your place, princess. You're my wife, nothing more. You don't make decisions here, I do."

You looked up at him as he stepped closer. His reminder once again being cruel. You were nothing else than just a pawn to him. Something to help get closer to the crown so he’d be king.

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning over your form again, before he continued, "And another thing...”

“What other thing, my lord,” you muttered and furrowed your brows confused. But, something in you took control and you were getting angry as well, “Did you find a whore last night?” You suddenly asked.

Leon stiffened, his eyes narrowing at your words. He hadn't expected you to bring up the topic of his nighttime activities.

"Yes, I did," he lied, his voice hard, "Why do you ask?"

There was a bitter undertone to his words. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he hadn't been able to go through with his plans to find a woman at the tavern. Every woman he saw paled in comparison to you, and the thought of bedding someone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Because whatever you do also affects me,” you muttered and looked up at him with a firm expression.

“Your actions have consequences and I do not want you to squander my reputation. I am a noble lady, not the wife of a man who won’t stop sharing himself to the whores of the night,” you said through gritted teeth. You hated his words. You hated *him.*

Leon's expression darkened at your words, his jaw clenching at being reprimanded by you.

"You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do," he snapped, "I'll do as I please, and who I please. And it is none of your concern."

He took another step closer, his height towering over you, "You're my wife, that's all. You don't have the right to make decisions, and you certainly don't have the right to shame me for pursuing other...pleasures."

“Don’t you realize what might happen if your father knows that you’ve been having sex with random women and that you bring home an illegitimate son into your family?” You said as you looked up at him with furrowed brows, how could he be so selfish?

“I will not shame you and I am not telling you what to do. Just do things with the consequences in mind,” you muttered as your gaze slowly fell down.

Leon rolled his eyes at your words, his irritation only growing.

"I'm not stupid," he snapped, "I know what the consequences could be to my actions, but I also know that I am a grown man who can make his own decisions. And what would you know about consequences? You've never had to make a hard decision in your life."

He took another step closer, his chest almost touching yours as he leaned in, his voice low, "I'd watch your tone if I were you. Remember your place."

You watched as he took a step closer, his chest so close to yours but you didn’t focus on that. You held my ground, looking up at him.

“Why?” You muttered, “What are you going to do if I don’t watch my tone? I’m only trying to look out after you. After us.”

He may hate you, and he may have a reason why. But you didn’t want his actions to drag you down as well.

"I appreciate your concern," he said, his voice sarcastic, "But I don't need you to look out for me. I can handle myself."

He took a step closer, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, "And if you don't start watching your tone, you might find yourself with a sore arse."

You furrowed your brow and stared in disbelief and fear. Was he seriously going to put his hands on you?

“A sore arse? Do you hear yourself?” You mumbled. He was getting too close. For a moment you were confused because he’d never touch you and yet here he was. Telling you he was going to spank you.

“You dare lay your hands on me?” You muttered, “What would the people think if they found out that you…that you…”

You inhaled and looked at him, “Your people will be displeased if they hear that you lay your hands on your wife,” you muttered.

Leon's expression darkened as you challenged him, his jaw clenching. He didn't like being threatened by you, not one bit.

"And who do you think the people would believe?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, "Me, the future king, or you, the useless princess who serves no purpose other than to warm my bed at night."

You narrowed your eyes at him, to hear that words come from his mouth was hurting. Especially since he’s been treating you as if you were nothing.

“I won’t bother you,” you whispered, it seemed that no matter what you say he’d still find something to be angry at you about. It was pointless talking to him.

Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw the pain in your eyes, but he quickly steeled himself, refusing to show any signs of compassion.

"Good," he said coldly, "Because you're already a nuisance as it is."

He took a step back, putting some distance between you and him, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Just stay out of my way," he said, his voice still cold, "And try not to make my life even more difficult than it already is."

You nodded and curtsied before you took my books from the table and left the library. You didn’t want him to see you cry, not after last night and not after this morning. It seemed as if he only ever made you cry.

You walked the halls of the castle with your books in your arms, your heels echoing in the air as you maneuvered to your shared quarters. Tears blurred your vision.

Once you entered our room, you closed the door behind you and put your books on your vanity desk before you plopped down on your bed. The bed that only you slept in. You stuffed your face in one of the pillows and just let it all out.

Curse this kingdom. Curse the war. Curse your father for giving you to Leon, a heartless man. You hated everything.

Leon watched you as you walked away, a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight of your tears as the library door closed behind you. He knew that he was being harsh with you, but he had to be. He couldn't let himself get close to you, no matter how much the part of him that wanted to comfort you grew.

He clenched his jaw and pushed down the guilt, reminding himself of the pain that you represented. The pain of the war, the pain of their families' deaths.

He turned and walked away, heading back towards the training fields.

As he entered the training grounds, Andrews noticed Leon’s conflicted expression, “Now that’s a face I haven’t seen since the war,” he pointed out as he blocked one of Leon’s attacks with his sword.

Leon grunted as Andrews blocked his attack, his expression hardening once again as he lunged forward with a flurry of attacks.

"Shut up," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm just a bit distracted, that's all."

He slashed at Andrews with his sword, the blade narrowly missing the other man's shoulder. Leon's moves were a bit more sloppy than usual, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. Andrews, being one of Leon’s most loyal friends, knew something else was wrong with Leon. But he wasn’t going to spell it out for him.

“If you say so,” he muttered before he blocked another one of Leon’s attacks, followed by a strike against Leon’s side. Andrews was very good at fighting, being older and the captain of the castle’s defense allowed him to be the best.

Leon hissed as Andrews' sword hit his side, the impact knocking the air out of him. He stumbled back, his hand going to his side as he regained his breath, annoyance replacing the guilt he had been feeling.

"You bastard," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Andrews. He lunged forward once again, this time going on the offensive as he swung his sword towards Andrews' chest.

Andrews raised a brow and moved to the side before he swiped his leg under Leon’s feet, watching as he fell down on the floor.

Then, Andrews knelt down and offered him a hand to stand up, “You fight with too much emotion. What’s going on?” He spoke firmly. He pulled Leon up on his feet, walking back towards the side bench and tossed Leon a water pouch.

Leon grumbled as he caught the water pouch and taking a deep draught from it. He sat down on the bench next to Andrews, his hands resting on his knees as he looked at the ground.

"It's... complicated," he said finally, his voice low.

He paused, not wanting to admit what he was feeling, but he knew Andrews wouldn't give up that easily. He was a stubborn bastard.

After taking a swig from his own water pouch, Andrews rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward as he glanced at Leon.

“Complicated?” he muttered as he straightened up and took another swig. He then put his pouch down on the bench and looked back at Leon.

“It’s only complicated if you give it too much thought,” Andrews said.

Leon let out a scoff, rolling his eyes.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, "You're not the one who married someone you're supposed to hate."

He clenched his jaw, his hands gripping his knees tightly. The memory of your tear-streaked face came back to him, and he felt that damn pang of guilt again.

"You don't know what it's like," he said, his voice low and bitter.

Andrews hummed and nodded slowly, “Supposed to,” he repeated in a mutter before he turned his head to look at the other soldiers sparring.

“I don’t know what it’s like to be married to someone I hate,” Andrews spoke after a few seconds of silence, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t understand what it’s like to see it.”

“The lady…” he spoke slowly, “I’ve only ever met her once back when she first moved in,” Andrews chuckled at the memory, “Poor lady was lost roaming around the castle she ended up here and nearly got her head caught off.”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at the memory as well. He himself hadn’t been there when you had wandered into the training grounds, but he had heard all about it from the knights.

“Yeah, she’s not exactly the most observant,” he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of affection, though he quickly bit down on his tongue to stop himself. He looked up at Andrews, his expression turning slightly bitter again.

"What are you getting at?" he asked, his voice guarded.

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “What I’m trying to say is,” he muttered softly, “the princess came from far away, ripped from her home and she obviously doesn’t know things about this place.”

“You can’t expect her to know everything. She’s…alone,” he muttered and looked back at the knights sparring, “Put yourself in her shoes. You’re being wedded to someone from the enemy kingdom and you’re being sent to foreign terrain where you know absolutely nothing about. And turns out your partner hates you and you don’t even know why, see what I’m trying to say?”

“She didn’t start the war but she helped you finish it. That’s a sacrifice not many are willing to make,” Andrews said before he took a swig of his water pouch.

Leon's jaw clenched as he listened to Andrews.

He knew what he was saying was true, but it was easier said than done. His resentment towards you ran deep, and even though he knew you weren't responsible for the war, he couldn't help but feel resentment towards you by association.

"I know," he mumbled, his voice low, "But it's not that simple. It's not just about the war. It's about everything."

He paused, his grip on his knees tightening, "It's about our families. The people we lost. It's all...complicated."

“And no one says it’ll ever be easy,” Andrews continued, “but you haven’t given her a chance to adapt. She doesn’t have anyone. She’s alone in a place where she’s hated, it’s a surprise she’s made it this long without begging her father to go back home.”

Andrews sighed and looked at Leon, “No one is telling you to forgive and forget. The war was scarring and many lives were lost. But to blame it all on the lady who doesn’t know a thing about swords seems very wrong to me.”

He then put his hand on Leon’s shoulder in a friendly manner, “At the end of the day, she isn’t your enemy. She never will be and she can’t. She’s here.”

Leon let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew, deep down, that Andrews was right. You hadn't started the war, and you had no control over the actions of the king. But the feelings of anger and resentment towards you were still there, rooted deep within him. He couldn't just turn them off, no matter how much he wanted to.

He looked over at Andrews, his expression conflicted, "What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice low.

Andrews hummed, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your anger overnight. It wasn’t possible but it also didn’t mean that you’d never get rid of it.

“Do what’s right. Start by seeing her for who she is and not just a person from her kingdom. She’s her own person just like how you are more than just the crown prince,” Andrews said, he was always a good friend. Wise and always knew what to say to Leon.

“It won’t be easy,” Andrews said before he stood up and stretched, “it takes time but it’ll be worth it.”

Leon clenched his jaw, his eyes staring down at the ground as Andrews spoke. He knew his friend was right, but it was easier said than done.

"I'll try," he mumbled finally, his voice strained.

He stood up, his shoulders feeling heavy with the weight of his thoughts. He knew he needed to push down those negative feelings and start seeing you for who you were.

As Andrews stretched, Leon looked at him, "Thanks, Andrews," he muttered, "For always being a pain in my ass."

Andrews chuckled and gently bumped Leon’s shoulder, “The price to pay when you’re friends with me, eh?”

For the rest of the evening, training went well. The sun had started to set, and you were walking around the halls of the castle by yourself, admiring the paintings on the walls.

It wouldn’t be easy, like Andrews said, but it was better to start seeing you in your own light instead of just generalizing you. You didn’t know a thing about swords and fighting, much less about war.

[even-disco-baby]

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s expression is difficult to place as he ponders the mural.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — “TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD— FOR NEW PEOPLE. IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.”

INLAND EMPIRE — Right on.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — What a slogan! So many layers in so few words. Perfectly crafted to grab one’s attention and keep hold of it for long after you’ve passed by. You wish you’d thought of it.

“Truer words were never spoken.”

“What a fuckin’ bummer, am I right?”

“Not bad, but I like the one we painted in Martinaise better.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “You mean, the one *you* painted,” he says pointedly. “I had nothing to do with that.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He did like your mural. He’s just never gonna admit it. He’s too committed to the bit.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — The words seem to tower over you as you and your partner take them in. Once again, you can’t help but wonder how the Belles Lettres managed to paint this monstrously massive mural without being seen.

VISUAL CALCULUS — Surely there must have been scaffolding involved, or some kind of machinery.

LOGIC — They were seen. Just not by anyone who would disturb their work, or sell them out to the police. Which, if the results of the vote are anything to go by, would be most of the people of Jamrock.

“What do you think about the part about true love, Kim?”

“What do you think about the part about the middle class, Kim?”

“Did you know there was a vote on whether or not to remove the mural?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “We did hear about it back at 57,” he admits. “It’s rare for your district to organize a vote like that. Or any district, for that matter…”

He frowns slightly, peering up at the embracing couple. “I’ll admit, when I heard about it, I had no idea how *big* this thing was. I’m surprised that they voted to keep it. You must be able to see it for miles…”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Eight stories loud, painted over the corpse of a failed real estate venture. A reminder, a call to action, and a threat, all rolled into one. Constant and inescapable. Oh, yeah. *This* is good stuff.

EMPATHY — It makes the lieutenant uncomfortable.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s the point.

YOU — “How would you have voted?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I wouldn’t have,” he says drily. “I didn’t live here.”

“All right, fair enough.” (Drop the subject)

“Cmon, Kim. If you *did* live here, which side would you be on?” (Press him)

KIM KITSURAGI — “I don’t know that it’s about taking sides…” His sentence trails as he considers the mural.

PERCEPTION (Sight) — He glances at you for the briefest of moments, and then away. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to do it.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Success] — You make him uncomfortable in much the same way that the mural does. Representative of truths that he doesn’t know what to make of.

There was a time when he dreamt of things like true love. And heroic deeds, and brilliant discoveries, and aerostatic pilots. A home that belonged to him. A table laden with food and crowded with people. The future and the past were polar opposites in his eyes— one a painful collage of loneliness and ostracization, the other a blank canvas, and all the more beautiful for it. It could be anything.

It did not take long for the present to beat it all out of him. And then he blinked, and he was forty-three and alone, having spent twenty years of his life on stubbornness and spite, trying to prove himself to people who didn’t and still don’t care, at the expense of the people that he should have cared for. And he realized it was too late for him.

YOU — Too late for what…?

EMPATHY — To do or be anything different.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…I don’t know,” he finally says. His voice is level, but quiet. “But I can understand why people wanted it to remain.”

He tears his gaze away from the mural at last and looks at you. “What about you? How did you vote?”

YOU — “I can’t remember.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He grimaces slightly. “Right. Sorry…”

“But I think I would have voted for it to go.”

“But I think I would have voted for it to stay.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “That doesn’t surprise me,” he sighs. “I’m sure the part about wreaking havoc on the middle class especially appealed to you.”

“You know it, comrade.”

“No, it was the part about true love being dead.”

“No, it was the part about new people.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you strangely. “…Oh? What do you make of it?”

“There’s no such thing as new people. We’re all the same, and we’ll always be the same, walking in the same old circles.”

“Fuck the new people and their new world that we’ll never get to see.”

“I think anyone can become a new person if they try. It’s a call to action.”

“Even if it’s too late for us to be new, I think we can still change. And we can still love each other.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something… and then nothing. His lips purse slightly.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] — It’s hard to say what he thinks of your little thesis. Matters of love are tough on him.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] — But you get the feeling that *something* is happening within the lieutenant. There’s a crack in the dam that’s widening every day, and he knows it. He’s afraid to let it happen, but he’s equally powerless to stop it.

INLAND EMPIRE — You’re afraid, too. You’re both the same brand of coward.

VOLITION — You’re both a lot of things that you don’t have to be. It’s too late to have never been them. But it’s not too late to stop.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Stopping is precisely what he’s afraid of. He wonders what of himself will be left if he ceases to be *this.*

That’s selfish. We’re both so selfish.

It would be better if we ceased to be anything at all.

Whatever is left, I’ll still love him.

INLAND EMPIRE — How do you know he *wants* your love?

YOU — I don’t know. But he has it, anyway.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — A cold wind rushes past you, sending a chill deep into your bones. Unconsciously, you both step closer to each other. Seeking warmth.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures III | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

Part One | Part Two |

MASTERLIST

Requests are open!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25 @cauliflowercounty @mamawiggers1980 @catsinacottage @targaryen-madness @juliskopf

Warnings: group sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism

Feyd-Rautha’s holy birthday lasted a full week. All of Giedi Prime celebrated their na-Baron, and for the nobility, that meant several long days of feasting, gladiatorial spectacles, and pro-House Harkonnen propaganda.

Within the walls of the palace, yet another banquet was being prepared, all of the extra chairs already placed at the long table in the dining hall. All of the important guests would be present for this last great feast before they began their journeys home in the coming days, and, upon Feyd-Rautha's request--demand, really--you and your fellow concubines were to be in attendance.

"Do we often receive these dinner summons?" you asked, facing yourself in a mirror as a servant ran a razor over your scalp. Though you had received two rounds of Harkonnen beauty treatments intended to halt hair growth entirely, you had woken up that morning with a soft layer of peach fuzz atop your head. After a fair amount of taunting from Feyd-Rautha, whose ego seemed to be running particularly rampant after so many days of celebration, an attendant from the Baron’s spa had come to take care of the problem, rubbing you in more Harkonnen chemicals while the others prepared themselves for the day.

“On occasion,” Yarina hissed, smoothing a beauty cream over her brow.

“I prefer feasting here, with Feyd,” Issa said, sounding annoyed. “There are always many eyes on us in the dining hall.”

“I enjoy watching the other Houses,” Yarina said. “Sometimes there is even a Bene Gesserit.”

You hummed in thought as the spa attendant finished with you, bowed, and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She likely feared you; after all, Feyd’s concubines had been known to bite, especially when hungry. Only the day before you had watched as Yarina snapped her sharp teeth at the Baron’s mentat when he walked too close, and you had heard stories of Feyd-Rautha returning to his chambers to find that she and Issa had slaughtered a servant. Once, supposedly, they had even killed a would-be assassin they had sniffed out, though the remains were far too mutilated for anyone to determine the offender’s House or origins.

“Do you recall how I spoke of my former House allying with House Harkonnen?” You asked, turning to look at the others in their seats.

They both perked up at the question.

“They will be in attendance?” Yarina asked with a grin.

“I assume so,” you said. “Perhaps we will see them today.”

Issa twisted in her seat to better face you, the motion fluid and languid. “Perhaps Feyd will serve them to us on a platter.”

The two bared their teeth at each other in delight, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever grow to become so ravenous. When they weren’t concerned with Feyd-Rautha, their cravings always turned to food, and they sometimes acted as though they were starving. You knew that couldn’t be the case; they ate at least two full meals a day, oftentimes three, with snacks sprinkled in throughout. This week, thanks to all of the feasting, they were surely not actually hungry…but they spoke of it more frequently than ever, eyeing the fresh corpses the ba-Baron left in his wake and hissing whenever he told them no.

“I think it is likely we will be asked to sit and eat quietly,” you said, testing the waters with your statement. “Don’t you? There will be so many important guests.”

“Not important to me,” Issa turned back around as she continued her beauty rituals, seeming uninterested now.

You sat and watched the two of them and wondered what they may have been like before falling into Feyd-Rautha’s service. Had they been the daughters of Harkonnen nobility, living in the palace and watching the na-Baron in the arena every other week? Perhaps they had known him in their youth, or at least Yarina had. You recalled that she had been with him the longest, though you did not know by what margin she surpassed Issa. Had they been Harkonnen celebrities? Models, perhaps? Feyd preferred to remain in the palace, and so you had never spent much time venturing forth into the capital city. Perhaps their images had been all over Giedi Prime, advertising synthetic food products. Perhaps they had both been the daughters of families with spice fortunes, or perhaps they, like you, had once been in the employ of noblewomen, and had found their way into Feyd-Rautha’s lap.

Or, you thought with a shudder, perhaps they had come from the Bene Tleilax, and they were simply some of their tamer genetically modified products. You had glimpsed the creatures kept as pets by the Baron, strange, mutated things that scurried about on too many spider-legs yet understood human speech. If Vladimir could purchase such things, then perhaps Feyd had purchased modified Harkonnen women for his own collection…though, you knew Giedi Prime itself hosted scientists and beauticians capable of making the changes Yarina and Issa sported, because they had made them to you.

You found yourself favoring the model theory, though it left room for improvement. Feyd’s darlings had a lust for human flesh that you had yet to see in any other Harkonnen. Even Feyd-Rautha didn’t partake in the same way. He ingested blood, most often yours, and you had seen him eat the prepared organ here or there, but they all acted as if you needed to consume them. You wondered if there would be lungs at this final feast.

You enjoyed lung.

As the others finished in front of the mirror, you stood, moving to the rack of clothing reserved for you. You did not know who created the dresses you wore, only that they were likely highly respected and revered. You regularly received new ensembles, and they were always simple—black, industrial, synthetic garments that matched the others’. Shortly after Feyd -Rautha took you in, you had been measured by a tailor’s assistant, a box of clothing arriving in your chambers the following morning. You often dressed yourself, but for special occasions, servants cleaned and laid your dresses out for you, and you had become rather pampered after a week of this.

Now, you stood facing a black dress, its shiny material soft and rubbery to the touch. A fair portion of the bodice was a thin, flesh-toned mesh, making it appear that the black, synthetic material of the dress only covered two thin lines stretching from your waist and up over your breasts. The skirt was long and opaque, and simple black slippers sat on the floor beneath where it hung.

You reached for it and slipped it over your head, enjoying the feeling of the stretchy fabric on your bare skin. It was smooth and without any blemishes, just the way House Harkonnen liked their things to be. Looking at your reflection now, you felt streamlined, welcoming the way the dress hugged you, the garment clinging as if it had been painted on.

Issa and Yarina had been gifted matching gowns, and when they had both finished their beauty rituals, a servant helped them dress. You should have requested—demanded—the assistance as well, you realized, but old habits died hard, and there were some things you didn’t think would ever come second nature. You were still too used to being the one summoned to help with the stately garments of your former mistress, and you continuously had to remind yourself now that you were one of the highest-ranking women on all of Giedi Prime.

“How do I look?” Yarina asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

“Divine,” Issa hissed with a grin, showing her teeth in a way that was anything but heavenly.

Yarina returned it, then looked to you. You agreed with Issa, lips stretching into a too-wide smile, before the three of you devolved into a fit of unholy giggling, the servants wincing as your shrieking laughter pierced their eardrums.

“I do so enjoy these events,” Yarina sighed, making her way towards the doorway.

“Why is that?” You asked, following.

You walked out into the main room in which Feyd’s bed sat, passing it as you trailed behind her, Issa behind you. You all three retired to the lounge area, sitting on the smooth black couches as a servant poured three glasses of a dark, viscous drink.

“The guests are fascinating,” Yarina said as she waved a hand, dismissing all of the servants. “Issa doesn’t think so. But I do.”

They quickly fled the room, shoulders hunched as they stared down at their feet. You had seen more and more of them all week, a result of the na-Baron’s birthday festivities. They were being worked round the clock, you surmised, and they were probably able to thanks to the chemical stimulants the Harkonnens so loved.

“Before I came here, i attended many dinners that my mistress hosted for the other Great Houses,” you said. “Or, I suppose, I helped her prepare for them, and was occasionally allowed to sit in. I was never so important there as I am here.”

“You’re very important,” Issa hissed, the sound coming out gentler than normal. “To us.”

“And all of Giedi Prime,” Yarina ran the back of her knuckles over your arm.

“And Feyd,” Issa added.

“What about Feyd?” A rough voice asked as the door slid open.

Your heart jumped in elation as Feyd-Rautha strode into the room. He stopped in front of the sitting area, looking over the three of you with dark eyes. He did this often; you knew he would spend hours watching you if he could, and he sometimes did, memorizing every curve, taking note of what he liked best and what he wished to change. Some of it had surprised you, and in some ways, he was far less demanding than men on other planets, including the one you had come from. In other areas, though, he was very specific, and you sometimes wondered why. He had his tastes, you supposed, and he had the means to indulge, unlike many others. You were his precious toy, a doll to be played with and modified as he pleased.

“We’ve missed you,” Issa purred, standing.

You followed suit. You would have crawled to him if you had to, but it was never a race, nor was it a struggle. You moved at the same pace as the others, and when you reached him, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, just as he did theirs, though his hand found its way to your waist as he draped himself over you in what could have been considered an embrace.

“I’ve missed you as well, m’darlings,” he murmured as he kissed you once more before letting go and moving on to Yarina.

“Do you like our dresses?” You asked.

As he leaned back, you felt his eyes rake over you. Then, he smirked, and you found yourself wishing to feel his lips upon you once more.

“Beautiful.”

And you knew he meant it, because he always did.

-0-

A servant fetched you when it was time, though Feyd seemed determined to make all four of you fashionably late, as he was too busy holding your hips down as you straddled his face to be bothered with leaving in a timely manner. Eventually, however, he had had his fill, and you were trying to ignore the slickness between your thighs as you followed him out of the suite.

The corridors were abuzz with activity, Harkonnen aristocrats and visitors alike pausing to watch as you passed. You heard whispers and saw hands shielding mouths as if that would keep their words from reaching your ears, and even if it could, you already knew what they were saying. They’d been exchanging the same shocked, starstruck expressions the entire week, their eyes glued to you as if trying to memorize every pore, every flex, every muscle. You had mostly grown used to the scrutiny of the public eye on Giedi Prime, and your skin no longer crawled when the hungry gazes of the aristocracy raked over it. your newfound celebrity fit like a glove, it seemed.

The dining hall was nearly full when you finally reached it, most of the long table’s place setting s occupied. It was rare that you ate within these walls, Feyd often preferring to take his meals in his chambers rather than with his uncle; he had never given any explicit explanation as to why, but you had always imagined he preferred the peace and time away from the Baron.

The banquet hall’s longest table, reserved for these special feasts and meetings, played host to a variety of foods, some of which you did not recognize even after all of your time living amongst House Harkonnen. You did spy, however, a platter of kidneys near another of livers, two organs you had grown increasingly familiar with as of late. They both sat before three empty chairs positioned near one end of the long, metal table, and you recognized them to be places set for yourself and your companions.

“Your na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” a voice announced as you followed Feyd further into the room.

The dinner guests all stood quickly while the slaves lining the walls stared at the floor. The air was tense, as it so often was within the Baron’s walls, though Baron Harkonnen himself appeared to be rather at ease; he did not deign to rise for his nephew, choosing instead to slouch in his chair and spread his arms wide in a celebratory gesture.

“Finally, you join us, nephew,” came his voice like wet stones grinding over each other.

Though you could not see Feyd-Rautha’s expression from your position behind him, you imagined the glower you knew to be there. He had been cross with his uncle all week, ever since the incident with the not-drugged Atreides slave in the arena. You could not blame him for his disdain—Vladimir Harkonnen’s gaze still made your skin crawl whenever you felt those beady eyes upon you.

Without a word, Feyd walked to the chair nearest the door, directly across the long table from the Baron, who sat at its head. You followed in line, making for the third and furthest open seat from his with the expectation that Issa and Yarina would occupy the two closer to the na-Baron, indicating their seniority. You were surprised when they both fluidly sidestepped past you, positioning you at Feyd’s right hand while they took the two further seats, conspiracy shimmering in their huge black eyes. There was no time to question them, however; the moment Feyd-Rautha reached forward and drank from his wine cup, the spell of silence was broken and the feasting began.

The Baron spoke to his nearby mentat about something too boring for you to care to attempt to listen in on, and soon, the guests began conversing amongst themselves, the huge banquet hall filled with the low, echoing murmur of their voices. As you looked around at them, you recognized the fashions of a few Great Houses and wondered if you had once played host to these very same people on your home planet. You recognized thinly-veiled mannerisms of unnerved yet fascinated tourists, some of them trying their best to avoid insulting the greatly-feared Feyd-Rautha at his own birthday feast. Their eyes had a tendency to wander, even this early into dinner, and you watched as a few of them glanced over to him while conversing with their fellows only to quickly look away once more.

You noticed how they all seemed to be avoiding looking at you, their eyes seeming to skip past your corner of the table on their way to and from the na-Baron. In your peripheral vision, you could see that Issa and Yarina had yet to move, their silverware and metal drinking cups untouched as they, too, surveyed the room. You briefly thought of the story of how they had sniffed out the assassin, and you wondered if they were attempting to do the same now. If they were, it put a damper on your plan to speak to them; you certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt their work if there truly was someone nefarious afoot. Or at least, someone more nefarious than the average Harkonnen nobility.

As you looked down the table, you spied several intriguing figures—A veiled woman stood out, her food disappearing behind her covering. You recognized her to be Bene Gesserit, a witch whom you could never hope to understand, if she was anything like the ones you had encountered in your previous home. While you could not see her face, you imagined that she was watching the room much in the same way you were, though you were certain her thoughts were far more secretive and far more conniving than your benign observations.

Nearer to the Baron, you spied Feyd’s older brother, Glossu Rabban, the Count of Lankiveil, the rainy planet Feyd-Rautha had been born on. You had often wondered if Feyd remembered his true home…though it was incredibly difficult to imagine him residing anywhere else, when he so perfectly matched Giedi Prime’s harshness.

Glossu seemed happy to be seated near to his uncle. You could hear him laughing loudly, tearing into his food as he soaked up the attention his brother’s guests were obliged to pay him. The former governor of Arrakis still harbored a bruised ego after control of the spice-planet had been plucked out of House Harkonnen’s grasp, and you found it a bit difficult to believe that you were supposed to be afraid of him. Everyone called him Beast Rabban, and perhaps you had simply spent too much time around his younger brother to buy into the nickname.

As your eyes traveled back down the opposite side of the table, you recognized the textiles of your home planet and let your gaze linger. Had you really once worn clothing like that? So many layers of warm, knit fabric that would smother you beneath Giedi Prime’s sun? You had grown so used to the fashion of House Harkonnen and the stretchy, rubbery material you so often wore now that the thought of being weighed down by such heavy clothing made your chest feel tight. The dark blues and greens of your former home looked strange to you now, and as your eyes trailed upwards to the faces of the nobles who wore them, you found that you nearly didn’t recognize them.

There they sat, the Lord and Lady, the heads of your former House. She wore her hair long, and as you studied it, you remembered how it felt to brush every night and every morning, for she would never stoop so low as to maintain it herself. He bore a naive, jovial expression, that of a man who thought himself surrounded by nothing less than friends, a man who believed he could buy anything and anyone though his House was far from the richest or most powerful. To his credit, the people nearest to him enjoyed his company, laughing and smiling at his words. What he lacked in true power he made up for in charisma.

“Is that them?” Yarina hissed below the sound of conversation.

“Yes,” you replied, finally tearing your eyes away from your former masters to survey the food in your immediate vicinity.

“Hmph.” She scoffed.

“Unimpressed?” You asked.

“Highly.”

You heard a snort of amusement to your left and glanced in its direction. Feyd-Rautha was slumped back in his chair, cup in one hand while the other supported his chin as he leaned his elbow on the chair’s arm.

“Unimpressed, indeed.” He murmured, then leaned in and passed his goblet to you. “You may need this more than I, darlin’.”

Conversation around your end of the table lulled as the dinner guests paused to watch the na-Baron’s gesture. They had all been keeping one eye on him, you surmised, speaking with their peers whilst nervously watching for any change in his behavior. His movement drew their attention and soon their gazes were fixed upon you, intense, judgmental curiosity burning into you as you steeled yourself and accepted the wine.

“Thank you, Feyd.” You said in your best Issa imitation.

Feyd offered a smirk and reached for you, his hand lingering beneath your chin as his thumb brushed your cheek while you drank. The wine—if it could even be called as such—was thick, and you recognized it to be a mixture of blood and an as yet unknown liquid that made its appearance in Harkonnen cuisine regularly. It contained spice, you knew; you could taste it, a hot, somewhat savory tinge that sent a tingle down your spine.

“Of course.” He squeezed the back of your neck for a moment, something he often did absentmindedly, and took the goblet back.

Still aware of the guests’ gazes, you turned your attention to your food. Plucking a kidney off a platter, you chewed it slowly, eyes remaining on the table as you listened to the conversation pick back up.

“From where did you acquire your concubines, na-Baron?” Someone asked.

You glanced up at Feyd to see him watching a man across from you. He seemed to be deciding whether he wanted to play nice or demand an execution take place, his jaw set as his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It was his holy birthday, though, and nearly the end of the celebrations, and you watched as he chose the more peaceful, talkative route.

“My darlings find their way to me on their own.” He said.

“How so, na-Baron?”

“He purchases them!” Baron Vladimir interrupted from the other end of the table, laughing loudly in a way that was not entirely free of mocking.

All heads swiveled to face him, yours included. Yarina hissed quietly, a noise of distaste. If she were any nearer to the Baron, you’d have been afraid that he would have heard and immediately demanded she be disposed of…but there, so close to Feyd, she was safe. And so were you. 

Feyd-Rautha glared at his uncle, who continued.

“My nephew is a man who knows what he wants,” Vladimir said. “Nothing will deter him—and nothing is too good for my heir. That is why when he interrupts trade negotiations to demand a new plaything be included in the deal, I oblige.”

Feyd’s expression was purely sour, his cheeks hollowing as his jaw clenched. When he spoke, you heard the restraint in his voice. “And I am ever thankful, Uncle.”

The Baron gave a nod, clearly pleased with himself, and as conversation began anew your eyes drifted to the rulers of your former planet. They seemed unable to choose how they should feel—you spied smugness in their expressions alongside confusion and mild alarm. Were they suddenly worried now? Concerned for the well-being of the handmaiden they had sold without so much as a second thought? You watched as they shared an uncertain look with each other before they forced smiles onto their faces once more.

You heard a quiet hmph to your right and realized that Issa and Yarina had also been watching them, their nearly identical faces parallel to your own. Would your previous keepers even be able to tell you apart from them? Had it been so long and had you changed so much that they’d be unable to choose you from a lineup?

“You may pursue them later,” Feyd rasped, cutting into a piece of meat. “Eat now, darlings.”

Issa hummed, the sound more akin to a purr, and you obliged as well, plucking a rare lung off of a platter and chewing it thoughtfully. The conversation around you blended into dull, white noise, and as always, your focus was more on Feyd-Rautha than anywhere else.

He conversed with his guests and you occasionally felt his leg or foot brush against yours beneath the table, a reminder that he was there. You ate in silence, sometimes sharing a glance with Issa and Yarina when something stood out in the sea of voices. You could tell they were more interested in the Bene Gesserit than anyone else in attendance, their black eyes fixated on the woman they could not even see behind the veil. Why they cared so much, you did not know…so you left them to it and tried to enjoy your first large banquet on Giedi Prime.

After a final course of black, bloody desserts, dinner concluded. Feyd-Rautha left the room first and you followed closely behind, hot on his heels as he strode out into the corridor. The Baron was next to leave, surrounded by his guard, and you hovered behind Feyd as his uncle said a final happy birthday before floating away in the direction of his private spa.

Feyd-Rautha glared after him, fists clenched at his sides. “I should kill him.”

The bold statement alarmed you, but the others remained calm.

“He will not taste good,” Issa hissed, leaning her chin on his shoulder as her hands spread over his chest from behind. “So much meat, gone to waste…”

Feyd still stared at his uncle’s shadow as it retreated around a corner. “He does not deserve to be eaten.”

“Why do you wish to kill him, Feyd?” You asked, stepping out to face him and gazing at him with big, black eyes.

The na-Baron’s head snapped around to look at you, and there he saw you for what you were; his newest, freshest, most naive concubine, whose home planet was half a galaxy away and who had nothing but him and his other darlings now. Though you had settled in well and called Giedi Prime your home now, he was reminded that you were not truly Harkonnen, and you might never be.

“Do you wish to speak with your former owners?” He asked, changing the subject.

You frowned at the attempted diversion, but took the bait nonetheless and considered his question. Did you wish to see them? In the time you had spent away, you had changed considerably, not only physically but mentally as well. Harkonnen customs were less and less strange by the day, and your memories of your old home felt odd and dreamlike now. What would you gain from revisiting the people from that life? Did you desire closure? Or were you beginning to lean towards speaking with them because a part of you was still angry about their abandonment of you, and you wanted them to see what had become of the handmaiden they left behind on Giedi Prime?

“I do, Feyd.”

“…then we will call on them tonight.” He decided, taking your hand and pressing a kiss that was smooth as a sharpened blade to the back of it.

“How exciting,” Issa hissed as the four of you made your way to the na-Baron’s royal chambers.

“We have never had such an opportunity,” Yarina said, eyes alight with mischief.

“Did you see their faces at the feast?” Issa laughed, taking your hand and twisting your fingers together with hers. “They did not know how to feel, knowing what happened to you.”

“I will not accept their pity,” you growled. “I do not need it, when my life is so much better now.”

“Pity?” Yarina asked, taking your other hand in hers. “Why should they pity you?”

You mulled your next words over, unsure of what to say. Not wanting to offend them nor Feyd-Rautha, you spoke carefully. “Because of how they must see me, through their eyes.”

The harpies seemed genuinely confused, looking at each other with tilted heads.

“They must see me as a slave,” you continued.

“Are there no concubines on their planet?” Issa asked. “Do they not know what it means to be one?”

“No, they…they are married and I do not remember any concubines there,” you said, now thoroughly confused by their confusion.

“…oh, pet,” Feyd-Rautha twisted his head back to look at you, pausing in his journey back to his rooms. “…you truly do not understand, do you?”

“What? What do I not understand?” You asked, looking between him and the others.

“Call yourself what you will,” he said, raising a hand to cup the side of your neck in a possessive way, “concubine. Pet. Darling. But you are mine, whatever you are. You bear no crown, but any heir you give me would be legitimate. You belong to a Great House with wealth and power far beyond that of your old masters’, and now, in the eyes of House Harkonnen and the Imperium, you are far more important than them.”

“I…am?” You asked.

“Of course,” Yarina laid a hand on your shoulder.

“It is nost pity they will feel towards you,” Issa said. “It is fear.”

-0-

Feyd-Rautha gave the Lord and Lady of your home planet precisely ten Giedi Prime minutes to prepare themselves before the four of you arrived at their guest room. You could imagine them scrambling, forever obsessed with their image and always wanting to impress the greater Houses. At this time of night, the Lady would have already been changing into her robes for sleeping, and once upon a time, you would have been the one dressing her for this seemingly impromptu visit. Tonight, you were assisted by your own servant, who dressed you in another smooth black dress that clung to you like a second skin.

As your arrival was announced by one of the guards at the door, it slid open to reveal plain living chambers. You recalled the rooms in the guest wing from your brief time staying in your own, when what had been intended as a brief visit to Giedi Prime became a permanent move. The walls were bare, the furniture sparse, and the suite’s inhabitants looked sorely out of place amongst the brushed steel and industrial trimmings.

They appeared flustered, dressed in heavy, opulent evening wear. It would be strange to host anyone so late in the day, and downright shocking to receive the na-Baron himself, someone who could—and should—have demanded they come to him and not the other way round. Yet there stood Feyd-Rautha with his entourage, hands folded neatly behind his back, knives sheathed at his sides. You stood behind his right shoulder, facing the people you once served, looking at them through different eyes. They seemed so strange to you now, so foreign; you could barely remember how it felt to braid hair like theirs, or handle the textiles they wore. You had grown used to the Harkonnen customs that surrounded you, and the ways of your own birth house had become entirely alien.

“Na-Baron, this is quite a surprise!” The Lord said nervously as he rose from his seat.

“The feast was positively divine,” the Lady added, standing as well.

“To what do we owe such an honor?”

Feyd-Rautha simply watched them for a long moment, looking on as they quickly grew uncomfortable beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“We are not here to speak about the feast.” He finally said.

“O-oh?” The Lord stammered. “Please, how may we be of assistance, na-Baron?”

“You recall the pet I obtained from you.” Feyd said bluntly.

“The handmaiden?” The Lady asked, glancing away from him to look at his companions. “Yes, of course.”

“It was an honor to supply a servant to the esteemed na-Baron of House Harkonnen,” the Lord added. “Would you like more? We have several with us—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha interrupted with a glare. “I have no need for more.”

You felt your heart swell with a smug pride.

“I came to show what’s been done with your former slave,” he said.

“Oh, no, na-Baron, we of our House do not keep slaves—“

“Shh,” the Lady hissed sharply, silencing her husband as Feyd-Rautha stepped aside to reveal his darlings in full.

You stood between the others, watching from your place in line as the Lord and Lady looked at each other uneasily. When their eyes turned to you, there almost seemed to be a spark of recognition there…but when they saw Issa and Yarina, it faded, and you realized they had no clue which one was you.

“Surely she is not here with us,” the Lord said, glancing to the na-Baron.

“Harkonnen beauty treatments,” Feyd said, grinning and revealing his black teeth. “And my own strict regimen.”

“And how have you been…enjoying her?” The Lady asked.

“Ask her yourself.”

Her eyes passed over you twice. “Is that you, my dear?”

Issa hissed.

The Lady looked even more uncomfortable, and it was then that you chose to take pity on her and stepped forward.

“I must admit, I am a bit disappointed,” you said, facing her evenly. “We used to spend so much time together, after all.”

“There you are!” She exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest in melodramatic relief. “Tell me, how do you fare? It has been so difficult finding a new handmaiden of your caliber. Good help can be so tricky, you understand.”

She looked to the na-Baron as if he could relate. He offered nothing but a slight grimace in return.

“When I was informed that I was to stay on Giedi Prime, I thought the world was ending.” You admitted. “Everything I had ever known was suddenly so far away, completely out of my grasp…and I was left in the care of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a man whose reputation precedes him throughout the galaxy.”

“It was just business, you understand,” the Lord said.

“Business?” You asked, looking to him with your black, unblinking eyes.

“Well…yes,” he shifted uncomfortably.

“Darling, we would never have given you up for anything less than your worth,” the Lady said.

You wanted to recoil, but you held firm, your voice even when you spoke. “Only the na-Baron may call me that.”

“I beg your pardon?” She scoffed.

Issa and Yarina hissed quietly.

“Feyd-Rautha is the only one permitted to call me that.” You repeated.

“Call you what?”

“Darlin’…are you certain you do not want them dead?” Feyd interjected, one of his knives suddenly unsheathed.

The Lord and Lady both suddenly paled.

“Th-there’s no need for that!” The Lord stammered quickly. “My wife meant no harm, na-Baron—“

“Do not apologize to me.” Feyd-Rautha growled. “Apologize to her.”

The Lady looked as if she would rather drink the black sludge in the Harkonnen spa. “Na-Baron, she is a handmaiden—“

“I am a concubine,” you said sternly, mustering as much confidence as you could in that moment. “And you are a guest in my home.” You stepped forward to face her more evenly, staring at her. In the past, she had always seemed larger than life, and though you knew much more of her personal life than most on her planet, she has always been glamorous and untouchable. Now, you saw that she was simply a woman—much in the same way that your lovely Feyd was simply a man.

“Remind them to fear you,” you heard Yarina hiss quietly from behind you.

“I’m hungry…” Issa whined.

“Patience,” Feyd-Rautha muttered.

“I am the reason we are here now,” you said to the Lady. “It was my choice to come to this room and face you.”

“Why, then?” She asked, holding her chin high as she looked down her nose at you.

“So that you might see what became of the servant girl you left behind.”

“Am i to feel ashamed, then?” She asked. “We did what we felt was right.”

“You sold me.”

“Tell me, then, are you not happy here?”

“I am.” You admitted. “And I do not doubt you have lost no sleep over me. I suppose I chose to come here to see you again…to look you in the eye as an equal and ask myself why I ever thought you were my superior.”

Her face twisted then as she tried to hold herself back. Had you spoken to her in such a way while in her service, you no doubt would have received a lashing—but now, with Feyd-Rautha and two ravenous harpies mere steps away, she didn’t dare touch you.

“You were the final thing connecting me to my old life,” you said. “A part of me wanted to find out if I would miss it. If seeing you again would provoke some sort of longing inside me. But…I am very pleased to find that I feel nothing of the kind.”

“Then what is next, Lady Harkonnen?” She asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I will have your tongue served on a platter if you do not learn to hold it.” 

She blinked in shock.

“I once thought you to be some great and noble creature,” you wrinkled your nose. “But you are only a person. How silly i once was, to have ever feared you, when you should be the one who fears me.”

You turned your back on her then, returning to Feyd-Rautha. He stood with the others, testing his blade’s sharpness with his own fingertips out of boredom.

“Finished?” He asked.

“We are done here,” you replied.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smearing dark blood over your skin. “Let us leave.”

You felt your former mistress watching you as you fell in behind him and exited the room, and you could imagine her anger and confusion. You had no doubt given her too much to dwell on for the night, but your own heart felt a bit lighter now, and any doubts you may have had that Giedi Prime was truly your home had been thoroughly snuffed out.

“I wanted to taste them,” Issa hissed.

“Exotic food is so difficult to come by…” Yarina sighed, taking your arm in hers.

“Harder to kill leaders of the Great Houses,” Feyd glanced over his shoulder. “There are more questions asked.”

“Killing them would not have solved anything,” you said.

“It would have solved my hunger.” Issa said.

“We will find you fresh lungs,” Feyd grinned. “A snack, before bed.”

You saw her return the grin, her sharp, black teeth glistening in the low light of the corridor. When she looked to you excitedly, you found her joy to be infectious, and smiled back at her.

-0-

“Feyd?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you join me in the bath?”

He looked to where the others were sleeping in his bed, a tangle of limbs, both covered in bite marks the same as you. “You do not wish to sleep?”

“Not yet,” you said, standing before him.

He offered you as sympathetic a look as he was capable of and stood, placing a hand on the back of your neck as he steered you to his personal spa room.

The door slid open to reveal the steamy bath, always prepared and heated so that it may be used at any hour. There were no Harkonnen slaves lingering near the walls, leaving the two of you alone together for the first time that day. While Issa and Yarina slept peacefully, you slipped into the oily black pool, aided by Feyd, who joined you not long after.

He sat against the wall and pulled you into his lap, sighing and closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Something troubles you.”

You turned, resting your cheek on his chest as you gazed up at him. “I have been…curious about something you said this evening.”

He cracked an eye open to look at you. “Tell me.”

“Do you desire an heir?”

“I must secure my legacy,” he answered simply.

“Then why have you not yet?”

Both eyes were open now as you looked at you. “What do you mean, pet?”

“If you want an heir, why do you not have one?” You asked.

“They cannot conceive.”

His words were plain, and yet they struck you.

“Issa and Yarina?”

He nodded once. “Many of those on Giedi Prime are not fertile. They are no exception.”

“Oh…”

“Do not pity them. They have little interest in the entire ordeal.”

“Then how does House Harkonnen reproduce, if fertility is such a problem?”

“Treatments,” he shrugged slightly. “Many infants are too weak to live. We do not have large families. Only the strongest can survive on this planet.”

“Like you?”

“Yes.” He said smugly. “And my heirs.”

“So you do want them.”

“Will you give them to me?”

You pushed back against his chest to stare at him. “Me?”

“Yes.” He said as if it were obvious. “Who else?”

“A wife, perhaps?”

“I do not want one.”

“What if you must marry for politics?”

“Then she will be a lonely wife. You three are all I want.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and pulled you back against his chest. “You will give me an heir. In time.

“Yes, Feyd,” you sighed, pleased with your new distinction amongst your companions. “I will.”

“You know I care for you.”

“Yes.”

“I would kill for you.”

“I have seen you do it.”

“Not only for fresh food,” he said. “For any reason. I would have killed your former owners. I wanted to.”

“I thought you said it was more complicated?” You teased.

“It is. But I would have done it.”

You smiled as you melted against him. “I know you would have, Feyd. And one day, perhaps I will kill for you.”

He smirked. “I have no doubt you will, darling. Now…relax with me.”

He leaned his head back once more and sighed, and you closed your eyes, content within the warmth of the oil and blood.

[laws-long-ass-sword]

The thing that makes me crazy about Law's backstory in particular is that Corazon wasn't some saint, even if Law thinks of him that way, he beat the Donquixote children for years. And when Corazon took Law away, he begged Corazon to stop, that he was wasting the last months of his life, retraumatizing Law over and over by bringing him to hospitals Law knew wouldn't treat him, and he was right! Corazon didn't listen because of his selfish need to see that this little boy lives, no matter how realistic it actually was and how much he knew it was hurting him. But through sheer chance and the force of Corazon's determination, he does find a way to cure Law's illness.

We see Corazon put on this act of smiling and acting goofy, something I have to assume is against his usual nature, because it's a show for the kid, to make him feel better.

What's crazy is that Law asks Corazon if he's part of the Marines, because soldiers killed his family, his schoolmates, and his entire people, Corazon says no, and Law knows he's lying, but he smiles anyway. And when Corazon is bleeding on the snow, he apologizes for this deception to Doflamingo, but he really is apologizing to Law, but Law doesn't NEED an apology.

The way that Law's legs shook so bad when he approached Virgo, because of how scared he was of the Marines, how he sobbed and begged for help, but he leads Corazon to his murder anyway.

The way we see it sink in for Corazon that he's going to die here. He smiles, because if he's dying for this kid, then that's alright.

The way that Law dedicates his Entire adult life to Corazon, a man who showed Law love and compassion for just a handful of months. From his tattoos, to his crew name, to his righteous death, it's all for Corazon. How even though Corazon could not fire a single shot at his brother, Law believes Corazon would want to Law to avenge him. Law simply cannot comprehend that Corazon sacrificed himself for Law because he loved him unconditionally, as a parent would love a child. Law believes there has to be a Reason why. It's only after his talk with Sengoku he finally is able to understand the full scope of Corazon's love for him. For Law to kill himself for Corazon and not even understand he was loved...

Something interesting here I would like to note too, is that Law obviously blames himself for Dressrosa's fall into Doflamingo's hands, but at the same time, he doesn't seem to care that he'd be bringing hell upon the country if his plan worked. How paradoxical. We see Law put on a show of confidence and control that crumbles immediately the moment The Birdcage is raised. Law is paralyzed through most of the rest of the arc in sheer terror. Though, I am very fond of his audacity, with Doflamingo's gun pressed up against his head, "Bring back Corazon right now, and lick the asshole of every citizen of this country."

There are just so many layers of tragedy in Law's story it makes me want to wail at the sky. The fact that Corazon saw Doflamingo in Law, and in saving Law he could somehow retroactively save his brother, who he hated. And how he wasn't necessarily wrong, because what kind of person comes out of the Flevence genocide? But as Law puts it, "he gave me my heart."

[thebettybook]

(Chapter 1) A Spin on an Enchanted Tale

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, fem!reader, Gabriella O’Hara

Chapter 1 summary: My Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader AU inspired by Disney’s Enchanted (2007). Reader (a princess cosplayer in their late 20s) meets Miguel O’Hara (a 31-year-old single dad who doesn’t believe in fairy tales) and his adorable five-year-old daughter Gabriella O’Hara on a night in Nueva York

Warnings: A fluff story with just a sprinkle of Miguel angst

Spanish used (I used SpanishDict): Papá (Dad); Por el amor de Dios (For the love of God); Dulce sueños, mi solecita (Sweet dreams, my lovely sunshine); Tres leches cake (Sponge cake soaked in three different types of milk)

Chapters: Ch 1 {below} | Ch 2 | Ch 2.5 | Ch 3 {in progress}

“And they lived happily ever after.”

That was the phrase you could always count on at the end of each and every one of your favorite fairy tales.

That was the ending phrase that marked new beginnings, and so far, your “new beginning” seemed like it had already ended.

You let out a sigh, shifting against the metal bench you sat on. It was only about an hour or two since you were kicked out of your apartment; your landlady was tired of you being behind on rent.

To be fair, it wasn’t really your fault (as you tried to justify to yourself). An aspiring fantasy cosplay designer in their late 20s who wanted to create princess gowns, you moved to Nueva York to learn from the best of fashion houses that specialized in haute couture.

As with moving to any major city with bright optimism would go, you found yourself rejected by every fashion house you could find and turned to part-time work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties.

Even though you loved your work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties, the lack of pay from the job led you to this exact moment: sitting on a bench in full princess wedding cosplay and a suitcase carrying all of your belongings (a few day outfits in dire need of a good wash, your sewing machine, and a bundle of fabric scraps and accessories you kept with you at all times) parked next to you.

Ok, maybe it was your fault for thinking you could “make it” in a big city, as if you were in a movie or something.

At least no one was gawking at you. Nueva Yorkers were far too busy rushing into the many restaurants and shops around you or too busy looking at their phones to notice a “princess” in their midst.

Endless layers of ivory tulle pooled around you, shifting against each other as you lifted your feet a bit in front of you to make sure the dirt on the Nueva York streets didn’t soil your gown.

Your fingers picked up one puff sleeve larger than the size of your head that began to droop down your shoulder. If you weren’t kicked out of your apartment, you would have admired your handiwork on the gown—a white puff-sleeved wedding dress with a bustier corset and full floor-length skirt outlined with ruby lines.

You found the dress at a thrift store the day you moved to Nueva York and brought home to spruce it up, and had finally gotten the chance to wear the gown earlier today for a job at a child’s birthday party where you were requested to be the child’s favorite princess in a wedding gown. Your coworker, who was supposed to show up as the prince in his wedding attire, didn’t even come.

Despite that, you made sure the child had a fun party by putting on your best impression of the princess character and singing the character’s songs to the best of your ability along with the child.

A sad smile graced your lips for the first time tonight. You always believed that magic could be found in situations of the unexpected, but right now it was hard to find even a speck of magic to make you feel better.

A groan escaped from your lips as your tiara began to slip, too. The gold tiara nestled on top of your head, gleaming against the Nueva York moonlight with beaded ivory flowers you hot-glued onto the tiara, weighed on your head—heavy with all the questions that began to swirl in your mind.

I’ll have to call my boss tomorrow. How do I tell her I’m basically homeless now?

What do I do now? Where do I go?

You didn’t have any friends in Nueva York you could call about your current situation. Sure, you were friendly with your party princess coworkers, but you all didn’t contact each other much outside of work. Thus, staying with a friend wasn’t an option for you.

Your hands made their way up to your head, plucking off the tiara. You held it in your hands, gliding your fingers over the beaded flowers of the tiara.

The irony of being dressed like a princess in a wedding gown about to ride off into the sunset—or in your case, moonlight—to “happily ever after”—

“Are you a princess?” A voice so small, yet filled with such curiosity and wonder, interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes flew up from your tiara to the owner of the voice. The voice matched its owner—a little girl who stared at you with awe.

She didn’t look older than six, and seemed to be into soccer, as you saw from her lavender soccer uniform, waves of dark-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and black-and-white soccer cleats. She also had the same look most children from the parties you worked at did—her warm brown eyes widened and her mouth on the brim of beaming the sunniest of smiles at seeing you like you were a dream come true.

You couldn’t help but offer her a smile; even if your day wasn’t going great, you could at least make someone else’s day great.

“I suppose you could call me that,” you let out a twinkling laughter—one that you learned to perfect for your princess performances. “I’m Princess Y/N.”

“I knew it!” The little girl’s eyes shined like stars—something you’ve never seen in your time in Nueva York. “You’re so pretty, and your tiara is really pretty, too!”

Your lips broke into the most genuine smile you’ve had all day. “You think so?” You held the tiara out so that the little girl could see it better. “Wanna know a secret?”

The little girl nodded, her ponytail swishing behind her.

“I made it myself,” you revealed in a loud whisper, the back of your hand to the side of your lips.

“How?!” The girl’s eyes brimmed with even more curiosity. “I didn’t know princesses could make their own tiaras!”

“Princesses can do or make anything they want,” you winked, making the little girl giggle. “Whether that’s wearing a tiara from the castle’s treasury or sprucing up a $5 one with some paint and a hot-glue gun.”

As the child marveled at your tiara, you scanned your surroundings for any parent or guardian that the girl might’ve belonged to. To your slightly-frantic dismay, the people around you and the little girl just keep walking.

“Little one, could you please tell me your name? And if you have a mom or dad or guardian nearby?” you offered the child a kind smile. If you didn’t find the girl’s parent or guardian and the girl was lost, you decided that you would help the girl and call the police.

She nodded, her eyes moving up from your tiara to you. “I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabi. I don’t have a mom, but I have a—”

“Gabriella!” A man’s voice, ringing with worry, called out to the little girl. The thuds of his footsteps grew in volume as he ran towards the two of you and cut through some pedestrians who shot him annoyed glares before resuming their walks.

“Papá!” Gabriella ran towards the man, who immediately scooped her up in a hug.

“I was so worried I lost you,” the man’s voice was only filled with immense relief. He towered over most of the pedestrians around the three of you. While he was tall (probably over 6 ft tall), you couldn’t see his face clearly as he buried his face in the crook of Gabriella’s neck.

Gabriella managed to wiggle her way out of her father’s tight grasp. “I wasn’t lost, I was talking to Princess Y/N!” Gabriella turned around in her father’s arms to smile and point at you.

At the mention of your name, the man’s head snapped up. Your breath hitched; from the way his dark-brown hair swept back and curled at the nape of his neck to highlight his chiseled cheekbones and jaw to the biceps that bulged under his cerulean blazer and white dress shirt, he was nothing short of handsome. The warmth in his hickory orbs at the sight of Gabriella only made him more handsome in your eyes. Truly, he put every prince cosplayer you’ve ever worked with to shame.

Despite the sharp lines under his eyes, Gabriella’s father looked like he was in his early 30s. Before you could introduce yourself or assure him that his child was safe all along, his thick, dark brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at you. The warmth in his eyes grew cold with suspicion as he scanned you from head-to-toe. You didn’t seem like a threat, but as a father, he had to ensure his child’s safety.

“I was going to call the police if I couldn’t find her parents or guardians,” you couldn’t help but let out in a rush, feeling the need to explain yourself as he continued to eye you.

After what felt like an eternity of his eyes on you, and after him coming to the silent conclusion that you were telling the truth, Gabriella’s father set her down and took her hand in his. He stepped forward, extending his free hand to you.

“Thank you for looking after my daughter,” he gazed down at you, his frown lines softening as he offered you a half-smile. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

“Of course,” you brought your hand toward his. He didn’t hesitate to give you a firm handshake. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m a princess cosplayer for children’s birthday parties, so before you think I’m some criminal trying to kidnap children or something here, I just got kicked out of my apartment right after coming back from a job in this getup.”

Gabriella’s father’s–Miguel’s–smile vanished, his brows knitting together. “Why’d you get kicked out?” His accusatory tone indicated that he wondered if you got kicked out of your apartment for any suspicious reasons on your part.

You fought the urge to let out a sigh of frustration. You had a long day, and you didn’t appreciate being interrogated by this frustratingly-handsome man, but you also understood his concern since he almost lost his daughter.

“I got kicked out because I was behind on rent,” you turned your face away from him in an effort to hide any hint of embarrassment on your face. “Being a princess cosplayer for children’s parties doesn’t exactly help pay bills. After I got kicked out, I ended up sitting here and Gabriella came up to me.”

“Ah,” Miguel paused and pursed his lips, not really sure what to say to make a stranger (a stranger he now deemed as a harmless stranger) feel better. “I’m…sorry you got kicked out.”

“Thanks,” you turn your face back towards him, now being the one to give him a half-smile. Your eyes then flitted down to your and his hands, realizing he didn’t let go of your hand till now. Miguel’s eyes followed yours before retracting his hand with an awkward chuckle. In a poor effort to make things less awkward, you echoed with an awkward laugh of your own.

You were both too preoccupied with this interaction of pure awkwardness to notice Gabriella’s movements. The top of her head barely reached Miguel’s knees as she switched her gaze from her father, to you, and then to your hand in his. A grin a mile wide lit up on her face at the two of you, the wheels in her five-year-old brain turning.

“Papá,” she began. At his daughter’s voice, Miguel instantly turned his attention back to her and kneeled down to face her at eye level.

“I’m glad you’re safe, but what did I say about running off by yourself and talking to strangers?” You noticed that Miguel’s voice was nothing but soft and gentle every time he talked with Gabriella.

Gabriella clasped her hands behind her back. “That I shouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to the princess. But I won’t go away by myself anymore, pinky promise.”

She held out her right pinky in front of her, making her all the more adorable. Miguel only had a soft smile as he linked his own right pinky with Gabriella’s.

You eased down on the bench in silence, your half-smile growing as you watched the way Miguel gently swiped away a stray eyelash from Gabriella’s cheek with the back of his thumb.

You could tell he was having a hard time kneeling down with his tall stature and all by the way he shifted his feet behind him. But you also noticed that he kept kneeling down to appear somewhat at eye and height level with Gabriella so that he could foster healthy discussions between the two of them as parent and child. Even though you just met him, you could tell Miguel was a great dad and that he loved Gabriella more than anything.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Warmth flooded Miguel’s eyes, pooling gold flecks of honey into his hickory irises. “Let’s go home, say ‘goodbye’ to the princess.”

To your and his surprise, Gabriella shook her head furiously, her ponytail swishing from side-to-side. “No!”

“‘No’?” Miguel raised his eyebrows.

“Princess Y/N doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Gabi pointed at your suitcase, jutting her bottom lip forward to convey a pout. You were shocked she even noticed your suitcase; kids were more perceptive than you thought.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, little one,” you waved your hand, mustering the best and brightest princess smile you could put on. “I’m just waiting for my prince to arrive on his horse. Should be aaaany minute now.”

Miguel’s gaze moved from Gabriella, to your suitcase, to you. He didn’t know whether to stare at you to wonder if you were being serious about the prince and horse (and considering that this was Nueva York, he shouldn’t be too surprised), or whether to smile at the fact that you were trying to keep up your princess act for his daughter.

“My dad’s better than any prince,” Gabi took Miguel’s large hand in an effort to drag him closer to you before turning her head to gaze up at Miguel. “Papá, can the princess please stay with us? We have a ton of rooms at home.”

“No, no, it’s ok—,” you began, shaking your head as furiously as Gabriella earlier.

“—Gabi,” Miguel interrupted you, his tone a bit more firm this time. His gaze set on your gown. “We can’t just take in a stranger.”

Miguel’s hands rested on his hips. He couldn’t help but eye you from head-to-toe again, as if he was trying to detect any threats you might have kept hidden from him.

You met him with a raised brow and crossed your arms in front of your torso, trying to appear nonchalant and ignore the heat growing on your cheeks at the fact that his eyes were on you again.

“But you always tell me that it’s important to help others,” Gabriella put her hands on her hips, comically trying to mimic her father. “And I wanna help my best friend Princess Y/N.”

Miguel’s gaze dropped from yours as he turned to his daughter faster than lightning. “What? I thought I was your best friend,” he mumbled. You let out a snort of amusement as you heard Miguel sound genuinely hurt.

“You can be my best friend again if you let Princess Y/N stay with us,” Gabriella ran over to your side, sitting next to you on the bench.

She wrapped her hands around your arm and clung to your side despite the layers of tulle from your gown that tried to push her away. “I don’t want Princess Y/N to be cold and outside by herself,” Gabriella whispered as she nuzzled her face against your arm, making you want to shed tears right then and there.

“Gabi, I’ll be ok,” you tried your best to muster a smile and appear brave for Gabriella. However, you knew you weren’t being too convincing, and the subtle crack in your voice stemming from your fear of the unknown was something you didn’t miss.

Miguel didn’t miss it either as he let out a huff mixed with annoyance at the situation and sympathy for you. His daughter was just as stubborn as he could be, but she also had a point.

As a gentleman through and through, Miguel didn’t feel right with the thought of leaving a lady like you out alone on the streets of Nueva York in the middle of the night (even if he didn’t question that you could defend yourself). What kind of example would he be setting for Gabriella if he just took her home and left you here?

“…Alright, you can stay with us if you’d like,” Miguel let out with a sigh. “And you can stay with us while we help you find another place in Nueva York to live.”

Your eyes widened at his decision, and your mouth opened instinctively to say “No, thank you,” but before you could do so, Gabi ran back to her father and into his arms.

“You’re the best, Papá!” Gabi’s statement made Miguel beam brighter than the Nueva York moon as he scooped her up. If you weren’t so shocked by his proposal, you would’ve laughed at how endearing he was with his daughter.

The two O’Haras then looked at you while you tried to weigh your options, but you only had two:

1. Stay with this little family you knew nothing about

Or

2. Stay out on the streets until you could contact your boss (which would be tomorrow because you felt unprofessional at the thought of calling your boss after work hours).

“…If it’s not a bother, I would love to take you up on that offer,” you shot Miguel a smile that no doubt displayed all your nerves at the thought of staying at a stranger’s place, even though he was the one who just offered a stranger to stay at his place.

“You’re coming home with us!” Gabriella raised her hands in the hair before scrambling down from Miguel’s arms. Before you could blink, she took your right hand and tugged on it so you could stand up.

“I suppose I am,” you chuckled, letting yourself be led by the child. As you stood up, you used your left hand to smooth the front of your gown’s skirt. You then turned to your suitcase, only to see Miguel approaching it.

“I got it, if that’s ok with you,” Miguel tipped his head to the direction of your suitcase.

You nodded, letting yourself be led forward by Gabriella to the direction of wherever you assumed would be her and Miguel’s home.

“Thank you. Not just for that, but for letting me stay at your place,” you turned to Miguel as he held your suitcase’s handle with his right hand. “I haven’t met many kind people in Nueva York since I moved here.”

“It’s Nueva York, not exactly the place for fairy tales,” Miguel’s sarcasm slipped out with ease without thinking. He then turned his face away from you when he realized that he forgot you were literally dressed as a princess. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” you shot him a rueful smile as the two of you fell into the rhythm of walking next to each other with Gabriella skipping between you two. With one of her hands in your right hand, Gabriella took Miguel’s left hand in her free hand. “I learned that the hard way.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Miguel replied with more sincerity this time. He didn’t follow up with anything more to say, and the two of you walked past a few streets in awkward silence, the beeps! of Nueva York taxis and Gabriella’s upbeat humming filling the silence.

“We don’t need to take a taxi?” You spoke up, trying to start a light conversation with Miguel.

“Our place is just a few minutes from here,” Miguel answered, his gaze set straight ahead. “I was actually taking Gabi to get ice cream not too far from our place after we came home from her game.”

“Yeah! We were gonna get ice cream!” Gabriella’s eyes lit up even more at the mention of ice cream. “‘Cuz I scored a goal today! Wait, Papá, where’s my ice cream?”

“I didn’t know I was in the presence of a soccer star,” you grinned down at Gabriella, who smiled toothily up at you at being called a “soccer star.”

Despite fatigue from a long day of work seeping into Miguel’s bones, his lips couldn’t help but falter from their default straight line into a small smile at seeing Gabriella be so happy—more so than usual—in your presence.

“Well, you ran off, so I had to find you and didn’t get us any ice cream,” Miguel raised an eyebrow down at Gabriella, but his smile and tone indicated his light teasing. “We can get ice cream tomorrow.”

“Yay!” Gabriella raised her hands in the air, swinging your and Miguel’s hands that held hers forward. She then spotted what you assumed to be her and Miguel’s building, and broke away from the two of you to run up ahead.

“Por el amor de Dios,” Miguel muttered under his breath, stopping in his tracks and leaving your suitcase next to you. “Why does she have to run so fast?”

Without another word, he sprinted after Gabriella. You were surprised Miguel could run fast, but you figured that it made sense since he was so built.

Your gaze then panned from Miguel catching up with Gabriella and scooping her up with ease to the building before the three of you.

The building was easily the tallest apartment complex in Nueva York—a cylindrical tower with state-of-the-art glass architecture.

“Wait…,” your voice trailed off, your chin tipped up as your eyes could barely find the tip of the tower. You walked toward Gabriella and Miguel while hauling your suitcase behind you. “Where are we?”

“We’re home!” Gabriella answered in Miguel’s arms as he stood at the glass door entrance. “Papá and I live at the very top!”

Your eyes couldn’t help but bug. “Miguel, is it ok if I ask what you do for a living?”

“I work in research,” Miguel chose not to elaborate, making him sound like a secretive spy in a movie without meaning to. His broad back was to you as he used his free hand to place a card against the building’s recognition panel. It beeped green, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were breaking into a top secret government building.

“Papá’s the king of his job!” Gabriella chimed with adorable pride for her father as the building’s double doors swished open.

You could only assume “king of his job” meant Miguel was either the CEO of his workplace or he held an equally (if not more) high position, but you decided it wiser to not ask any more questions for the time being as you followed Miguel and Gabriella to the elevator.

The elevator, like the rest of the building, was cylindrical, and spacious enough that you guessed it could probably hold 300 people at a time.

Once inside, Miguel tapped a code into a panel, which you assumed was for accessing his and Gabriella’s home. Your shock at everything only increased when the elevator ascended past 50 floors.

50…60…90…

Gabriella yawned when the elevator passed 90 floors, prompting Miguel to rub her back as she snuggled her face against his shoulder. It wasn’t long before she was out like a light, snoozing in her father’s arms.

“Dulce sueños, mi solecita,” Miguel pressed a kiss on the side of Gabriella’s head. A yawn unleashed from him after he pulled back from Gabriella at the same time you let out your own yawn.

Your eyes met his, and this time Miguel gave you a kinder, more sincere smile as he found it funny that the two of you yawned at the same time.

Ding! The elevator chimed once it reached the 99th floor, the top floor of the building. You tried to brace yourself for whatever the 99th floor would reveal of Gabriella and Miguel’s home, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you.

Their penthouse gleamed in all its glory, from the marbled flooring to the ivory spiral staircase in the left corner. To the right of the penthouse was a massive kitchen with a sleek silver stove and a matching fridge, island, and cabinets.

The walls were a simple white which only added to the elegance of the entire penthouse. You noticed that instead of expensive paintings that usual penthouses would have, the walls of this penthouse were decorated with Gabriella’s various crayon drawings and framed pictures of Gabriella and Miguel from her birth till now.

Your eyes were captivated especially by those framed pictures, but before you could step into the penthouse, you turned to Miguel.

“Shoes off?” you whispered, not wanting to wake Gabriella. He answered you with a nod.

You shuffled off your [your favorite color] sneakers, placing them on a three-tiered shoe rack by the elevator door as Miguel did the same with his burgundy dress shoes and Gabriella’s soccer cleats.

“I didn’t know princesses wore sneakers,” Miguel’s voice was so quiet that you couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing.

“This princess does,” you straightened up, grinning as if you were revealing a corporate secret. “Especially if she has to run after children all day. Though I only wear sneakers when I get to wear long gowns like these that hide my shoes. Wouldn’t want to ruin the magic for the children.”

“We can’t have that, now, could we,” Miguel flashed you a tiny grin, revealing his pearly whites. “If children realized princesses wore sneakers and not glass slippers, that could mean the end of the multiverse.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Miguel’s attempt to engage with you in light teasing and chatter. “Multiverse, huh? Are you into comic books or superheroes or something?”

He merely shrugged his free shoulder as if to appear cool and not “nerdy.” “I like science.” Before you could ask Miguel more about what comic books he liked, Gabriella stirred in his arms.

Miguel wheeled your suitcase to you with his free hand. “I’m going to set Gabriella down in her room,” he whispered in an even more hushed tone. You had to stop yourself from chuckling; he just didn’t seem like the type of person who whispered often. “Make yourself at home in the meantime.”

He made a beeline for the spiral staircase, going up to where you assumed were all the penthouse’s bedrooms.

You knew he said “make yourself at home” out of customary politeness as a host, but you found it difficult to instantly “make yourself at home” in such a grand place.

Not knowing where to sit or where you could sit, you took a step toward a wall lined with framed pictures of Gabriella as a baby.

Some photos were in black and white, some were in full color. A smile bloomed on your face at how cute Gabriella looked as a baby, her smile in the pictures just as infectious then as it was now.

You also noticed, however, that Gabriella’s biological mother wasn’t in the picture—in any picture on the walls, to be exact. There didn’t seem to be a partner in Miguel’s life either, from the way all the family pictures on the walls—whether they were selfies taken by Miguel or pictures taken by someone else—only had him and Gabriella in them.

Your nosy mind couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Gabriella was adopted or conceived via surrogate. The first theory, you crossed out of your mind since Gabriella looked too much like Miguel to be adopted.

Before you could come up with other theories, Miguel descended the spiral staircase and made his way over to you with a neatly-folded bundle of clothes in his hands. He stopped next to you and followed your gaze to one of the pictures.

“I took that one on Gabi’s first birthday,” a soft smile on his face as he nodded to a framed picture of a baby Gabriella laughing at the camera despite having globs of cake and frosting on her face and on the teeny swirls of her wavy brown hair. “That was the first time I ever made tres leches cake, and I’d say she loved it.”

You grinned at the picture, before biting your bottom lip in hesitation. “May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

Miguel simply nodded, his eyes roaming the various pictures of Gabriella. “Has it always…been just you and Gabriella?” you kept your eyes forward. “Sorry, I know it’s a personal question.”

You turned your face towards Miguel, whose eyes set on a black-and-white picture of a sleeping newborn baby Gabriella, swaddled in a blanket and bald head covered with a cap.

Various emotions flickered in Miguel’s eyes which you could only guess to be sorrow, pain, confusion—not at Gabriella in the picture, but at whatever or whoever was related to that picture.

“It has,” Miguel answered simply and all-too-quickly, the edge in his tone indicating that he didn’t want to talk about the subject more.

He blinked, as if telling himself to forget whatever or whoever he was thinking about, and turned his attention back to the bundle of clothes in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure if you had any clothes to wear in the meantime, so I grabbed a couple of old shirts and pants from my closet,” Miguel’s voice sounded more normal now. “I don’t think we’re the same size, but you can keep these and use them as you see fit.”

“Thank you,” you took the bundle of t-shirts, dress shirts, and sweatpants from Miguel’s hands. You were sure they were a couple sizes larger than your own based on Miguel’s figure, but the gears were already turning in your brain on how you could sew and upcycle some of these.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Miguel began walking to the direction of the stairs once more, his long and fast strides making it difficult for you to keep up with him.

You followed him up the stairs to a spacious floor with around five rooms and more walls framed with Gabriella’s drawings and pictures of Miguel and Gabriella.

“That room is my office, and the other one is for storage,” Miguel pointed to two rooms to the right at the end of the hallway. “That’s Gabriella’s room and my room’s next to her’s.” He pointed to two rooms on the left at the other end of the hallway.

“And this will be your room for the time being,” he led you to the room in the middle next to his room. “It’s our guest room.”

He opened the door to reveal a neat room with a queen-sized bed with a bedside table, and desk near the window area. The entire room matched the sleek aesthetic of the penthouse, from the silver bedside table to the matching desk.

You rolled your suitcase onto the polished wood-tiled floor of the bedroom, noticing a private bathroom just a few feet away from the bed. The whole room felt more like a hotel room than any bedroom you’ve ever been in.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me,” Miguel stood at the door, his hands naturally resting on his hips. “Our laundry room is downstairs next to the kitchen if you need to use it tomorrow.”

“Thanks again,” you turned your attention away from the desk to Miguel, giving him a smile you hoped that conveyed your immense gratitude.

Miguel simply nodded and turned his back, ready to leave.

You couldn’t help but wonder and worry if he was mad or something at you asking him that question earlier. You also finally noticed the shadows of gray that filled the lines of stress and fatigue under his eyes.

Whether such stress and fatigue was from his mysterious job or from almost losing Gabriella tonight, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that you wanted to tell him the words on the tip of your tongue—maybe to prove to him you weren’t a bad person trying to take advantage of his and his daughter’s kindness, or maybe because you just wanted to say the following:

“Good night, Miguel. I hope you sleep well.”

Miguel stopped in his tracks before turning his face back towards you. “What?” Your statement shocked him; it had been a while since someone other than Gabriella wished him a good night’s rest, and it had been an even longer while since he actually had a good night’s rest.

“I said ‘good night’?” You cocked your head to the side, worrying if you said something wrong again. “And that I hope you sleep well?”

“…Night,” Miguel mumbled, turning his back to you once more, his hand resting on the door knob. “I hope you sleep well, too.”

The door knob clicked after Miguel ducked his head below the head of the doorframe and made his way out of the room.

You stared at the closed door for a few seconds before making your way over to the closet. It was roomy and empty, with only hangers in it. You carefully peeled your gown off your body and hung it on a hanger.

The gown took up a good quarter of the closet’s space from its sheer size alone, but you had a garment bag in your suitcase you could use.

Putting the gown in a garment bag and taking a bath will have to wait till tomorrow. You didn’t fight the urge to let out a yawn. Sleep. I need sleep.

You didn’t even think twice about putting on an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants from Miguel—both oversized on you—until you stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

I sure don’t look like a princess now. You let out a chuckle before brushing your teeth.

It wasn’t until you set your tiara (you didn’t realize you were still wearing it) down on the bedside table and settled into your new bed that your mind wanted to keep you awake with various thoughts.

I’m wearing a stranger’s shirt and pants. A very handsome stranger. And I’m sleeping in his house.

Wait, that sounds wrong. You shook your head before turning to rest your head on the other side of the plush pillow.

I probably shouldn’t have asked him earlier about whether it was just him and Gabi.

I don’t want to bother Miguel any more than I already have.

Before you could let more intrusive thoughts swim in your mind, another yawn escaped from your lips.

I won’t stay here long.

I’ll figure my life out tomorrow and be out of here before we all know it…

— — — — —

The same time you drifted off into dreamland, Miguel stared up at the ceiling of his own bedroom next door.

It had been a long day for him, from almost losing Gabriella to taking in a woman who dressed up as a princess for a living.

Did I just let a stranger into my house?

Shock.

…

She won’t stay here long. We’ll be back to our own lives as soon as possible.

And with that, Miguel nodded to himself. Logically, or at least logically to him, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to find a new place for you to stay in Nueva York.

Miguel was someone who despised the unexpected—he was used to being in control so he could know what would happen next. So that his daughter could be safe. So that he could feel safe.

Gabriella randomly running away from him at the ice cream shop was unexpected. And you…you were definitely unexpected. While Gabriella liked you and you seemed like a nice enough person, a smidge of distrust for you gnawed at Miguel’s mind.

However, it was your words that bugged him more.

“I hope you sleep well.” Can’t she tell I barely get any sleep?

He let out a puff of air through his nose, only to be surprised by a yawn that followed. It wasn’t long before his eyelids began to droop.

Despite everything that happened today, little did Miguel know that he was going to get better sleep tonight than he did in ages.

🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, Miguel gives you a 🍓 :D. I’m gonna make a separate post with more of my author’s notes on this fic later but for now I’m eepy :’)

🍓 Tag list: @allysunny, @charms-cat, @tymns, @tayleighuh, @moyo5653, @sizeablysized, @deputy-videogamer, @marvelofcourse, @flordelalunas, @thethirdyo, @sleepingghoule444, @eyes-stuff. If you would like to be added to the tag list for upcoming chapters, please comment or reblog below :)

Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Miguel content? Check out my masterlist.

[shot-of-truth]

Sex Drive*

summary: basically just a threesome with luke and mgk that has been sitting in my drafts for about two years.. yes I'm horrible.

warnings: everything filthy; breeding, degradation, slapping, choking, double penetration, squirting.. the lot, you know?

word count: 8k of pure filth

Luke knew Colson long before they signed with Interscope records but he can not recall ever talking to him. What he knew though was that this man never failed to put on an amazing show and even better parties, according to their mutual friend Ashley. He heard about many of his positive traits and he tried to remember them while the lanky dude with about a hundred tattoos downed his fourth shot of tequila for that night. His best friend was a big fan of his music, that much he recalled, always blasting his newest album Hotel Diablo in the car and singing along loudly. Luke even overheard her talking about Colson releasing a vibrator as part of his Valentines Day merch, he wasn’t sure if she ever bought it… which wouldn’t surprise him though. The lead singer eyes the tall rapper talking to a few girls on the other side of the room and questions himself whether or not he should start a conversation with him, for the sake of Fleur. Luke’s christmas party is in less than a week and he just knows that Fleur would be the happiest girl on earth if he invited him. So that’s what he does, after his drink is finished he makes his way over to the man that is about as tall as he is and introduces himself.

He mentally thanks himself for deciding to come to Interscope’s Christmas party as both of them lose themselves in a chat about music and their shared love for pop punk, especially Blink-182.

That was the story of how Luke’s friendship with Colson, in the industry known as Machine Gun Kelly, started. You could leave it at that if it wasn’t for Luke’s infamous christmas party that he threw at his house every year, which Colson was invited to… of course. And that was where he met Fleur.

With her brown skin and braided hair she made her way through the hallway, carrying a few bottles of liquor that she seemed to have brought from her car. “Let me help you!” Luke spoke quickly, taking two bottles of rosé from her before kissing her cheek and telling her to make herself comfortable, which shouldn’t be too hard since she basically already lives at his place.

Colson watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes, leaning against the wall and picking his beer up for a sip. The girl that just walked in is drop dead gorgeous, in his eyes at least. He loves the way her dress hugs her curves and he absolutely fucking adores when she throws her head back to laugh at something Luke said. He picks up that she’s not wearing a bra, her nipples visible through the fabric… he swears he didn’t mean to stare, he just randomly notices. He’s a lot taller than her and it makes his cock swell just a little bit as he imagines all the dirty things he could do to her. Keeping his composure though, he walks over to his girl of the night, setting the beer down on the table and greeting her with a simple “hi!” If he didn’t look close enough he wouldn’t even have seen the excitement on her face as she looks up into his eyes. “Oh look who Luke invited..” She smirks, bringing the sparkling wine to her lips, her red lipstick leaving a stain on the glass. 

“Actually… now I’m really glad I came.” He shoots back, taking her hand and shaking it. “Colson.” He speaks, not letting her hand go until she tells him “Fleur”. After hearing her name he can’t help but think that she really does smell like a flower, like daisies actually… a soft smell, like a warm Spring day. 

It does get better though, half an hour later when both of them are lost in the crowd together, her body pressed against his, he can make out her coconut body wash under the thin layer of sweat on her neck. His hands are on her waist and he guides her to the beat, fingers digging into the flesh beneath her shirt. He feels her ass press against his crotch and he just knows that she is doing it on purpose. He leans his head down to plant a quick kiss to her neck, a satisfying sigh leaving her mouth. “We got two options, Colson. You either follow me now or I’ll find a room and a way to get myself off like I do with my vibrator.” Straight forward, no bullshit. Her hands brush against his crotch and she throws him a kiss before disappearing, leaving Colson a horny and drunken mess in the middle of the living room. Without thinking twice he finishes his drink and follows her until she opens a door at the end of the hallway and waits for him to step inside. When he does, she’s lying down on the bed, a seductive smile on her lips, just waiting for him to come over and fuck her brains out. Colson has other plans as he quietly closes the door and exhales, leaning against it and licking his lips. He watches her every move with hungry eyes, images of him filling her mouth with his cock prominent on his mind. But he’s got time tonight… more than enough. He is going to make her beg. Still leaning against the door, he moves his fingers, motioning for her to come over. His arms crossed on his chest, his gaze is fixated on her walking over to him. 

The size difference makes her heart race and she looks up into Colson’s magnificent eyes, a wave of heat taking over her body when he presses his lips to hers, testing the limits. He tastes like beer and her taste reminds him of the disgustingly sweet watermelon vodka. Fleur is standing on her tippy toes and she’s grabbing onto his shirt, Colson’s teeth lightly biting down onto her bottom lip, waiting for her to open up. Tongue licking into her mouth, he huffs quietly, squeezing her butt while he’s at it. While the two of them are making out against the wall, hands all over each other, Colson pushes his left leg forward. The fabric of his jeans meets her panties and if it wasn’t so dark he would have been able to see her mouth opening and forming an o-shape. Fleur hopes he can’t feel the damp spot on her panties against his leg, hopes she doesn’t make a mess on his ripped jeans. But when her lover for the night stares at her, breathing heavily for a few seconds before mumbling a low “fuck” and connecting their lips for a needy kiss again, all her worries are gone. Large hands still on her ass, he pulls her forward with such force she collides with his hard chest, her barely covered pussy sliding against his leg. 

He then gets a loud moan out of her, dick straining against his briefs. “Wanna be a good girl for me and get yourself off on my thigh? Wanna beg for it, slut?” Colson’s voice is needy, sexy and raw but his eyes show curiosity, as if he wants to ask her: is this okay? Do you really want to do this? Her knees almost give in when Colson calls her a slut, the humiliation having a strangely unexpected effect on her, panties now drenched in arousal. And Colson feels it, god does he love it. “Please… wanna use your thigh..” This is so fucking filthy and taboo, begging for her favorite singer to let her grind against his tattooed leg. Just when Fleur thought it could not get any better, he bites her earlobe and whispers: “want you to call me daddy if we’re gonna do it properly… know it gets you off, so… try again.” From what she can make his look out it looks challenging, he wants to see her crack, wants nothing more than for her to fall right into euphoria because of him. All of this already feels too good to be true but when she moans “daddy please… need your thigh” he breaks and pushes his leg up, right against her clit while holding her in place with his strong arms. Her moans are music to his ears while both of them start grinding against each other, rolling away from the door and onto the wall, him slowly feeling a wet patch forming on his blue jeans. 

Both of them are so caught up in one another, bodies tangled together, sounds of pleasure falling from their lips, they don’t even notice the door opening and a perplexed Luke standing in the hallway. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks helpless, red stained shirt that used to be white clinging to his body. “Fuck I’m… shit..” he stammers, catching Colson’s attention. Luke’s heart feels like it’s going a million miles an hour when he locks eyes with his best friend being held up by one of his co-workers… if you can call him that. He hates that he gets hard just from looking at her messy hair and smudged make-up. But what he hates the most is that the size difference between the two of them makes him break into a sweat, imagining if she’d also look this small on his lap. Right now Luke is really fucking thankful for the lack of lighting in his room because he’s certain they would have both seen his bulge. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, trying not to look at her exposed lace thong that is now visible since her dress has ridden up. “I just… new shirt..” His voice comes out dry and he mentally facepalms himself for not being able to bring out a normal sentence as he points at the wine-stain on his shirt. “Come in… close the door.” Colson orders, surprising both him and Fleur. A new thought formed in his head just a few seconds ago, something even more filthy than making her beg for his cock. He wants to see her beg for two cocks, he wants her to be absolutely fucking wrecked by the end of the night. Kells has never been one to share his girls but right now he just could not give a single fuck, unable to form a coherent thought. The younger one hurries to close the door and make his way over to his closet, pulling out a random shirt. He’s unaware of the four eyes watching him as he takes off his dirty shirt, Fleur having climbed down from Colson’s lap and sneaking over to her best friend. His skin is kind of sweaty and hot but she doesn’t mind when reaching her hand out to trace her nails down his back, examining his broad shoulders. The girl immediately picked up where this was going when Colson pressed his hard on against her tummy the moment Luke had closed the door. He wanted this and she wanted Luke, young, innocent Luke, as well as the rapper with his dominant attitude.

The two of them could not be more different if they tried, Colson’s skin splattered with ink while Luke’s remained pure and creamy white. Their personalities are completely different but the thought of Luke having a kinky side to him that she doesn’t know about makes her stomach twirl and do backflips. Colson does not have Luke’s broad shoulders but he’s just as tall as the 22 year old, the two of them easily towering over Fleur. 

All of them notice the dim light in the corner of the room that Luke turned on when looking for his shirt. It illustrates his skin when Fleur touches him, goosebumps rising on his arms. “Stay.” She whispers, fingertips on his bare back, caressing him. His eyes are closed while he rubs them, certain he’s had one too many this night because this can’t be happening. It’s simply not possible that Fleur is hugging him from behind now, arms wrapped around his torso. Before he can process what’s happening, she has him turned around, curls dangling in his face. He nervously looks over to Colson and sees him taking his shirt off, the tattoos looking like a second skin. What he also notices is that the other guy in the room does not have an ounce of body fat, he’s like a fucking spaghetti noodle. And it makes Luke feel a little bit insecure, being exposed to both of them. It’s all gone from his mind when she kisses his collarbone while standing on her tippy toes, she can’t get higher than this. Her lips are so soft and it makes Luke’s knees buckle just the slightest bit, especially when she kisses down towards his nipples, flicking her tongue over the right one. Her wet muscle dances over his skin, down to his belly button and she can taste the red wine on his skin, which someone had splashed over his shirt just a few minutes ago. 

At this point she is kneeling on the floor in front of him, knees digging into the soft carpet, marvelous eyes digging into his as she gazes up at him through her eyelids. Luke could swear he forgets how to breathe that very moment because now he can definitely sense where this is going and he clearly fucking likes it. “You little whore… got Luke all hard and now you’re being a fucking tease? I don’t think that’s nice at all.” Colson’s voice catches both of them off guard, he is a lot closer than he was just a minute ago, standing behind Fleur. She just licks her lips and tries not to let Luke see how turned on she is from being treated with little to no respect from the older man… so pathetic. Suddenly he grabs her hair with just a bit of force and pulls it, making him look up to her. “Fucking answer me when I talk to you, toy.” His voice is dripping with lust and he sounds dangerous, his gaze though is examining her body language to make sure she’s alright. “Yes daddy.. I- I’ll make it up… to him.” Luke is fucking shocked when he sees her smiling after mouthing the word ‘daddy’ with a bittersweet voice, his jaw falling open, cock thickening even more. He needs attention and he needs it there. Even though he is not so sure if he’d be able to contain himself now that he has his gorgeous best friend on her knees for him and his friend calling her a slut. He keeps quiet. Before Fleur can process it, Colson is bending down and grabbing her jaw, making her whine. “You better.” Colson says calmly and then he slaps her cheek, not too hard but enough to make the slap echo through Luke’s bedroom. “Mouth open” he then instructs, Fleur obeying him. Before any of them can comprehend what he‘s trying to do, he has collected some saliva and he‘s spitting it right into Fleur‘s awaiting mouth. 

It‘s only when Luke whines quietly, being so fucking turned on it hurts, that both of his friends are reminded of his presence. Colson wants to speak for him, wants to tell the gorgeous woman with the braids in her hair to take Luke‘s cock into her mouth already when Luke speaks, his voice laced with neediness. “Will you take my cock into your mouth, babygirl? Be a good girl for us?” He swears he doesn’t think straight when his thumb reaches out and caresses the sore skin on her cheek that Colson slapped a minute prior. Fleur presses her thighs together to get some sort of friction because now she’s basically dripping down her legs. There’s something about Colson being rough with her, demanding and dominant, but Luke praising her and calling her babygirl and good girl. Maybe that’s just what she needs, someone pushing her limits and someone else reassuring her. Her best friend opens his fly, pushing his jeans down just a bit, she waits impatiently. He’s wearing briefs and Fleur can see the outline of his dick, painfully hard. “Give it a kiss, lovie.” Luke mumbles, playing with her hair. So that’s what she does, she kisses him through his boxers, her tongue wetting the fabric, licking over his head where she swears she can taste just a little bit of pre-cum. Fleur’s hands slowly pull Luke’s briefs down, cock springing free. He’s hard and heavy and he hisses when it hits the rather cold air. 

“Get naked.” Colson orders from the bed, palming himself through his pants, watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes. The woman wants to reach for the hem of her dress when Luke already pulls it off of her, careful as to not rip it. She pulls her drenched thong off of her legs and before she can stop herself, she throws it over on the bed, next to Colson’s head, a cheeky smile on her face. He grabs it immediately, an animalistic growl leaving his lips. “God you fucking whore… dripping for both our cocks?” He doesn’t expect an answer when he lies down on the bed, sniffing her panties. Fleur instead looks up to Luke, his skin red. His dick is about an inch away from her face, average in size but rather thick. The veins running up his shaft are downright sinful, not to mention his pretty pink head. She wraps her hand around it, her tongue licking over his balls, a quiet moan coming from Luke. She never thought she’d be in this position, on her knees for her best friend. Luke on the other hand fantasized about this many times before, preferably in the middle of the night, with his slicked up cock fucking in and out of his fist. 

She collects his pre-cum and lubes up his dick with it, slowly jerking him off while putting his balls in her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. Luke thinks she looks content, batting her eyelashes at him. So he moans, a devilish combination with her slurping sounds and her fingers moving around his wet cock. It’s so fucking hot, not just metaphorically. To Fleur it feels like the temperature has risen to around 100° Fahrenheit since Luke has entered the room, her hair slightly sweaty as the curly haired man carefully gathers it in his hands so it wouldn’t fall in her face and get in her way. She listens closely and hears Colson moaning quietly while she kisses the head of Luke’s cock. Trying not to think about her glistening pussy being on full display to Colson, she licks Luke’s pretty dick up and down, his body reacting immediately. He fists her hair tighter when she finally takes him in, her warm, wet mouth engulfing him… and Luke has a hard time not cumming on the spot, thinking about what her pussy would feel like if her mouth is already heaven on earth. A pornographic moan leaves his mouth and Kells can’t help but smile, excited for what this night has in store for him and the others. The gagging sounds coming from the beautiful girl kneeling on the floor, combined with her spitting on Luke’s cock every now and then make the rapper throb. She has him so fucking deep in her throat, Luke just has to pull her away after a few minutes and kiss her forehead, out of breath. Tears are streaming down her face while she sniffles and gives him the cutest smile someone could give after taking a dick down their throat. His stomach almost does back-flips from her simple gesture, his thumb wiping her tears away and a whisper leaving his mouth: “So good to me, baby… took me so well, I loved it.” He holds on for a second, thumb swiping over her bottom lip, her warm mouth allowing him in. “Think she deserves a reward, am I right Kells?”

His shy smile turns into a confident smirk as he watches Colson get up from his previous position and walk over to the two of them. Before Fleur can even register what is happening, he is kneeling down behind them, licking a stripe up her soaking pussy, all the way from her clit to her entrance, her legs almost giving up and making her drop to the ground but Luke catches her, holds her hair and presses his lips to hers. Fleur’s eyes are shut in pleasure, little mewls escaping her slightly opened mouth, going over right into Luke. Colson is gripping her hips so tight that she’s sure she will find his handprints on them later in the night when she’s all by herself again, eyeing herself in the massive bathroom mirror. His tongue softly presses against her clit, face buried between her legs as he gets a taste of her. Luke can see that his friend is hard behind her, boxers pulled down to his ankles. 

Colson’s fingers find her entrance after eating her out for a good five minutes and he slowly inserts one finger, examining her reaction as she throws her head back, mouth opening. He’s sitting down behind her, one hand slowly pleasuring her, other one pulling her back by her hair so she’s settling down on his lap. The younger man has a smirk on his lips as he sits down in front of his best friend and loosely wraps his hand around her throat, making her teary eyes look up at him. He kisses her softly before licking his thumb and slowly bringing it to her clit, earning a soft sigh from her. The combination from both Colson and Luke pleasuring her is too much for Fleur, nails digging into Luke’s shoulder, trying to hold on to something as her body shakes. “What a dirty fucking whore.” Colson mumbles in her ear, right as he lets go of her hair and slaps her rosy cheek. Once, twice.

In her hazy mind, she notices Colson’s fingers disappearing and Luke’s slowly rubbing over her clit, slowly sending her over the edge and making her let out a pornographic moan, legs shaking. It feels like heaven to her. “Yeah, let go baby… sound so pretty when you cum for us… such a good girl.” In her overstimulated mind she notices lips on her neck, kissing and nibbling on that sweet spot that leaves her legs shaking as she’s coming down from her high. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees Kells still stroking himself behind her, hand on her hip. “Mind if I have a taste?” He asks the older one, as if Fleur isn’t even present, as if she has no say in this… and it turns her on so much. “All yours, man,” Kells smirks and steps back a little, leaving enough room for the singer to get behind his best friend and trace his finger over her soft thighs. A shiver runs down her spine and she jerks away from him at first, the sensitivity of her first orgasm still washing over her. “Aw baby, know you’re so sensitive… but I’m dying to taste you, need to have you right now.” With that, Luke picks her up and gently throws her on the bed that Colson is already sitting on. He’s fully naked now and for a quick moment Luke checks out all his tattoos that seem like a second layer of skin. “Lu, please…” His best friend is slowly grinding against nothing, her pussy so fucking wet in front of him, she’s almost dripping onto his bedsheets. 

The sound of her breathy moans and pleas has his dick impossibly harder between his legs, throbbing for her… but she has to wait, cause Luke reaaally loves hearing her beg, he decides. “Please what?” He mocks her, slowly settling between her thighs, rubbing the inside of it. “N-need you.” A slap echoes through the room, before Colson speaks. “Speak up bitch, how is Luke supposed to know what you n-n-need when you can’t even form a proper sentence, huh?” His big hand rubs the slightly sore skin on her cheek and she swears she has never been more turned on in her entire life, Luke still kissing right next to where she needs him the most, teasing the shit out of her. “So fucking pathetic, you didn’t even get our cocks yet and you’re still fucking dripping for us…so cock drunk you can’t even speak properly.” Luke settles down on the bed finally, placing her legs over his shoulders before kissing the inside of her thigh again. His blue eyes look up at Fleur, tears of frustration in her eyes and it has him concerned for a teeny tiny bit until she reaches her breaking point and blurts out: “Lick me Lu, pleaaaase.” He dives in immediately, like a starved man eating his first meal in a long time, devours her pussy. His hands hold her legs open and his tongue laps up all her juices, while she’s fisting the duvet behind her, arching her back in the most sinful way. Everything feels so fucking good right now and when she looks for just a second she sees Luke grinding against his sheets while he sucks on her little bundle of nerves. On top of that, he fucking moans against her, the vibrations making her let out a loud scream.

She’s close already, can feel her second orgasm of the night creeping up somewhere deep inside of her. Absentmindedly, her hands tangle in Luke’s hair and give it a hard thug and she expected everything but the fucking whimper that came out of his mouth, telling her, without any words, to do it again and again and again… so she does, fisting his hair and rocking her hips against him while he sucks on her clit, so hard it has stars dancing in front of her eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He licks her through her orgasm, moaning loudly as well. He doesn’t stop until she’s whining, crying and shaking for him to stop. Kells is still sitting behind them, hand in Fleurs hair while he strokes himself lazily. 

She’s coming down slowly, breathing heavily and looking for the two men in the room with her. “How do you want us?” Kells asks, suddenly next to her. Fleur is dizzy, needy and aching to finally be filled. Trying to articulate a sentence, to let both of them know that they could do whatever the fuck they want to her as long as their hands don’t leave her sweaty hot skin, she fails miserably. The only thought prominent on her mind right now being her idol and her best friends using her body in downright filthy ways, at the same time, in whichever way they choose. Soft lips close in on her nipple, the sudden cold wetness a contrast to her hot skin. With her eyes slowly opening, Fleur notices Luke to her right, his fingers stroking his rock hard cock while Kells on her left side is desperately trying to draw her attention back to him by digging his hands into her side, grabbing her hard as he sucks on her most sensitive spot. 

“Poor baby, look fucked she is Luke.. maybe we should just leave. Think we’ve been super generous today, haven’t we? Two orgasms should be plenty.” His tone suggests that Colson does not plan on being anywhere near done with his new prized possession, Fleur however, in her fucked out state, does not seem too okay with the possibility of not getting what she was singing up for all along. “Nooo, please sir.” Her voice comes out raspy, an aftermath of swallowing down Luke’s dick not too long ago. A quiet “need more” follows right after, hands reaching out to Kells and Luke on either side of her. The two singers immediately make eye contact as a soft chuckle forms on the younger one's lips. “Aren’t you a little selfish, baby?” His usually honeysweet voice seems to be dripping with evil intentions. “You only take, take, take… look at Kells. Have you touched him at all tonight, huh? Bet he’s been dying to stuff you with his cock all night and you have just given him zero attention.” Knowing looks are being exchanged between the two males, as if they have done this sort of thing a million times before. “Honestly Luke, why am I even asking? Pretty sure Fleur is gonna be a good little slut for us and take us however we want her.” 

It’s dark in the room, however the rapper does not miss the shiver that runs through Fleur’s body at his words. He waits for a signal, anything to let him know he was wrong about his assumption and nothing follows except the quietest moan… he’s done for. Crashing his lips onto hers like it’s the last thing he would ever fucking do in his life, Colson takes control again, pressing Fleurs tiny body deeper into the mattress. The little whispers between the two men go unnoticed by her, so does Luke grabbing certain objects from his nightstand. “Look at me.” She watches Kells rip open a condom with his teeth before taking a first closer look at his massive dick resting between her thighs, the last bit of dominance that was still within her slowly withering away. What the fuck did she get herself into here? “I can’t wait to fuck that tight little pussy, ruin it for everyone but us.” “Next time you even think about going over to Matt’s house, I bet you’ll only be thinking about this. Will just get disappointed by everyone but us, will forever think about this-” Luke drags the last word out with his hands around her throat. Him bringing up the hookup with one of their mutual friends stings and she is about to say something before catching herself again. She is at their mercy and scolding her best friend right now when he has been nothing but an angel to her all night does not seem fair to her, not even in the headspace she is in right now. 

Not with the stickiness of her two previous orgasms and her momenteral arousal slicking up her thighs and sore entrance. Contracting her pussy around the cool air in Luke’s room, she would not dare disobey any of them right now, just needing to be filled. Having waited so long for the past hour, she closes her eyes in anticipation, goosebumps decorating her brown skin. “Babydoll, look at daddy when he stuffs you with his cock,” Luke whispers, hand slowly stroking his dick and watching the scenario in front of him play out. His other hand holds Fleurs head up, wrapped around her throat so the woman can easily watch as the second man in the room pushes forward, engulfing himself in her wet heat. 

The moan that leaves her lips is straight-up pornographic- loud, needy and echoing around the room. So erotic that Kells loses himself in it, the sound going straight to his aching dick that is being gripped by Fleurs tight cunt like a viper grabs her victim. Ready to devour him and so deliciously full of him, none of them notice they are holding their breath until he breathes out “Holy shit, god. You feel so fucking tight.” Gushing around him it’s like he can feel her heartbeat even through the condom as he gives his first thrust deep into her. “That’s it, baby. Taking him so well,” Luke whispers into her ear, simultaneously wiping the tears that run down her cheek away. Fleur feels so positively full with Kells’ head bumping directly into her cervix and giving her that sweet sting she knew she’d feel as soon as she laid eyes on him. She can’t control the tears of pleasure that stream from her eyes as he sets a brutal pace while Luke holds her fragile body in place. It feels as if there are hands all over her body, touching her, feeling her, pleasuring her. 

She’s floating somewhere up there, she’s sure of it as Colson suddenly stills all the way inside of her to catch his breath, dick throbbing. Her legs wrapped around his waist shake, pulling him in closer. She doesn’t mean to, never ever, but with everything going on right in front of her she doesn’t realize Luke leaves his spot. Doesn’t realize he hands Colson the bottle of lube, who slowly pulls out of her. “Ride me, angel.” Luke demands from next to her, laying down on his mattress. “Yes sir.” Fleur replies, just needing that feeling of being full again. Her entire body aches from the previous orgasms, her thighs burning as she swings her leg over Luke’s muscular thighs, straddling him quickly. “Keep calling me sir and we might just fill up that pretty little pussy, darling.” An involuntary moan slips past her lips at the thought, her wet lips slowly sliding over Luke’s erection that pressed up against his stomach. He hisses and throws his head back the same moment Kells gathers Fleurs hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls on it- enough to make it sting and inevitably enough to get her attention. “You better stop teasing right fucking now and sit on his dick, do you understand me?” 

Luke’s hands dig into her hips, making sure to leave marks that will be visible to anyone that tries to touch their little brat for the next few days. The thought makes his heart race, both in anticipation and anxiety… remains of him, her best fucking friend, and Colson being on her body as another guy enjoys her the way they are doing right now. All his senses are on high alert, skin feeling on fire as Fleur positions him against her entrance and slowly sinks down on his cock, juices coating him and pooling around his base. In his fucked out state he just now realizes he never thought of grabbing a condom and he wants to say something, it’s a thought slowly making its way from the back of his mind to the front, threatening to spill past his lips until- 

“Fuck Luke…” It’s not the pet name she’s been using all night, it’s not for Kells’ enjoyment, it’s only meant for him as his dick pulses inside of her wet, warm cunt. His best friend gasps, hands tangling in the singers damp curls and it feels like heaven to him, so snug around him he can feel her fucking heartbeat against his dick. “M-Move, flower.” Colsons lips capture hers as she slowly starts moving, making sure to go all the way up until he almost slips out, teasing him, before sliding back down on his thick erection. All those years of them being friends and she just now asks herself why the hell they haven’t done this sooner? When he looks so ethereal below her. The curls, the full, plump lips of his, everything about him screaming angelic. Whereas the man next to her with his fully tattooed body and mean demeanor gets her off just the same, his hand now grabbing her neck as he settles in behind her. The pace she settles for is slow, almost torture for the blonde on the bottom who just feels like he needs more. More of her wetness coating his dick, more of the moans she tries to stifle everytime he’s deep inside her. The good friend act, the fucking soft act he’s kept up all evening is wearing thin but what finally pushes him over the edge is when she chuckles, almost fucking laughs at him shuddering when she lets his dick almost slip out and the cool air hits his sensitive tip. 

Her face is buried in his neck, not being able to read his facial expression. Colson however grins to himself, visibly noticing Luke’s whole demeanor change. In one swift motion, Luke pulls Fleur down until she’s flush against him, his dick pressing hard against her cervix. A loud moan echoes through the room, thighs trembling against him. She tries to move away from him, her best friend being too fucking deep inside of her but both Luke and Colson are keeping her in place. “I’ve fucking had it with you. If you wanna act like a brat I will fuck you like one.” “You’re too nice for that.” And she almost instantly regrets it the moment the six words leave her mouth. Based on the expression on Luke’s face she knew he wasn’t playing from the beginning but now she’s really in for it and she’s almost positive Colson and Luke will both ensure she afeels pleasure like she’s never felt it before. 

“See, babygirl. We were gonna be nice, you know…” Luke’s voice is dangerously calm and it has her on edge. She opens her mouth to say something but just the shake of his head makes her decide against it. And suddenly she hates how obedient she is in his lap, dick still filling her to the brim. He sits up, face now inches away from hers and she can make out his darkened eyes. You could hear a pin drop in the room right now, the atmosphere tense. One sound, a cap being popped open behind her makes her aware of the other person in the room being much closer than she thought he was, wanting to turn around but Luke captures her face with his right hand. “Eyes on me.” A whine builds up in her throat, her hips slowly grinding against him because it’s painful how wet and desperate she is at this point. She wishes Luke would just fuck her, do something, anything and she wishes Colson would let her suck his dick while Luke pounds into her. “We were gonna be nice and take you one at a time. Didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed… but baby, tell me. What’s the point of having two dicks in the same room as you if you don’t have both of them inside of you at the same time?”

It’s like her heart skips a beat as her mind drifts to places she’s never explored before. She wants to tell him no, that’s too much. She could barely handle Colson abusing her little pussy, how was she supposed to take both of them at the same time? But Fleur looks at Luke and behind his hard expression his eyes soften a little. He’s her best friend who has known her for years. Why would he do anything to her he knew she couldn’t handle? Luke’s got some dark thoughts that he plans on executing within the next hour but he’s not a monster, far from it actually. Meanwhile Colson settles in behind her, softly kissing her neck all the way from her ear down to her shoulders as his hot breath fans over her skin. His tattooed arm wraps around her and grabs her left boob, teeth slightly sinking into her collarbone. If it wasn’t for this short distraction she surely would have noticed his head nudging her hole, about to press in, right next to Luke’s dick already inside of her. He hisses next to her ear, a guttural groan following immediately after once he pushes in, her pussy impossibly tighter this time. “O-oh my ffuuu-“ It dies in her throat, not that she could have said more anyways as Luke pulls his best friend down, kissing her passionately and pulling her flush against his chest so it’s easier for Colson to reach deeper.

He’s nestled right in there, stilling for a second before Luke pushes up, hands holding Fleur in place by her ass so he can move alongside his new, tall friend. “Holy fucking shit, that feels good,” Kells breathes out quietly. “Isn’t that little pussy squeezing us so tight, Luke?” He sounds completely fucked, his head pressing right against that spot that has their girl of the night seeing stars. She can’t think straight, pain and pleasure overtaking every other sensation she could be feeling that very moment. But Luke is holding her so tight and whispering sweet nothings in her ear, kissing her head and pushing her hair to the side so it would not interfere with her breathing. “Best one I ever had, Kells. Such a good little whore for us, aren’t you baby?” It’s more like a rhetorical question since he knows his best friend is too far gone to answer with anything but a lewd moan anyways. One hand presses down on her stomach, almost making her cum right then and there. They establish a diabolic rhythm, one of them pulling back while the other drives themselves deeper and deeper into her dripping cunt over and over again. It’s excruciating and Fleur feels like she’s on fire, her orgasm building and building as she’s being fucked at a slow pace but with determination from both of them. It’s like their hands are all over her and she probably couldn’t tell which ones belong to who, just that someone feels her shake and sob against the younger ones chest and decides to rub the swollen bud between her legs, dripping wet. Right where she wanted it the most this entire time. “Gonna cum on our cocks, huh? Doesn’t it feel so fucking good to actually be properly fucked?” It’s like Luke can’t control what he says, his best friends pussy and Colson rubbing against him making it way harder not to cum on the spot. But he needs to hold on, desperately needs to see the look on her face when she cums first. “Y-yes sir.. yes daddy.. please please l-let me.” Fleur whimpers, so fucking close and just waiting for their permission to tip right over the edge. A harsh smack being delivered to her left asscheek by Colson is exactly what does it in combination with their dicks hitting her cervix once again, his thumb still rubbing circles over her and Luke stilling inside of her, digging her nails into her waist. 

Her pussy pulsing and squeezing him is almost enough for him to shoot his load into her, and a lot of it. Calming himself down, he breathes in and out heavily, trying so hard not to think about the way her eyes squeeze shut and- wetness coating his thighs? A dark chuckle follows from behind, followed by Colson pulling out of her slowly, his dick still rock hard. “Did you just fucking squirt on us baby? Made a proper mess on Luke’s damn bed, didn’t you?” Luke lifts her up gently, sliding out of her- much to her dismay which she lets him know with a quiet whine, suddenly feeling so empty. “I’m sorry bro, but I need to taste her.. am dying to stuff my face in that cunt and taste how fucking sweet she is.” Colson lets them know, more directed at Luke than Fleur. “No, I c-can’t… sens-sensitive.” She tries to argue but to no avail, Colson’s mind is made up. “Shhh princess, Kells just wants a little taste.” He turns her around on him, her backside now against his chest while the rapper kneels down between both their legs. The moment his tongue comes in contact with her clit she’s thrashing around on top of him, trying to get away from the tall man who has his face buried in her pussy, lapping up her juices. Luke holds her in place, kisses her head and inhales the scent of her freshly washed hair while watching the scenario in front of him unfold. While he is glad for this little distraction to recover for a minute or two, his dick is still painfully hard and throbbing, Fleurs ass moving against it not making it much better. 

Stars dance in front of her eyes as the woman tries to control her breathing, too overwhelmed with Colson sucking and moaning against her. “If you don’t stop fucking moving, Luke and I will coax another five orgasms out of you, I don’t give a damn if that means we’ll be here all fucking night.” His tone is mean, demanding and almost threatening. “If I wanna taste our pussy, you will let me.” With that he is back to devouring her, nails digging into her soft thighs and leaving marks behind. What scares her the most is not another orgasm, it’s the fact that the orgasm is being delivered by no one other than her favorite singer who already made her explode on his dick before. And if she does that again in his face, she might as well just dig her own grave. Little does Fleur know that is just what he has been trying to achieve all along, fingers slipping inside of her and expertly finding her sweet spot. Her soft cries of overstimulation mix with the wet slurping sounds of his mouth, sucking and licking all over her. “Can feel you squeezing my finger, you wanna make a mess all over daddy again?” He speaks, breath fanning over her oh so sensitive clit. “N-no Ke-Kells, I-” Instantly a quick slap is being delivered to her thigh, the sting traveling up to her already sensitive pussy. “That’s not my name. Try again.” And she is so close, the muscles in her lower abdomen contracting as she grinds against Kells’ face, just wanting that one final push that he delivers with his mouth closing around her most sensitive area and his ring- and middle finger curling inside her. “Daddy!” It hits Fleur like a train, ears ringing, muscles spasming and liquid gushing out of her once again. Over the bed, over his fingers, over Luke, over Kells’ face. Helping her ride out her orgasm, the older man of the two kisses her thighs softly, rubbing the rest of her arousal all over pussy

“I know you’re so sensitive right now baby, I get it. But I think Kells and I really really wanna fill you up. Gonna let us use that pretty cunt one last time? Been dying to cum in you.” Hazy eyes stare up at him and even though it feels hard for her to move, four orgasms really taking a toll on the poor girl, she nods. That’s what she has been fantasizing about all night, since Luke walked into the room to discard his wine stained shirt, leaving all his girls and the few girls lusting over him out in his living room. “Need to hear you say it, lovie.” He’s gentle this time. His tip, covered in precum, nudging against her opening and just waiting for her verbal confirmation. “Need you Lu… need you Kells.” It’s barely a whisper but Luke lets it slide, coating himself in her arousal once more before pushing in from below her, Fleurs back still against his chest.

Kells wraps his hand around her neck, gently now, making her watch his long, hard dick sliding into her for the last time that night. He comes to think that she looks so tiny like this, sandwiched between the two skinny 6’3 tall men, the thought alone bringing him close to filling her up like he’s been wanting to for hours. It does not help that he can see their outlines, a slight bulge in her lower belly from the two cocks stretching her out. He thinks he’s done for, losing the rhythm he settled in with Luke, breathing quickening. “Gonna fuck that cum so deep into you.” He growls, tightening his hold on her neck. Fleur tries to reply, tries to focus on the pleasure of him still being inside of her but nothing is working anymore. Everything hurts in a good way and she knows that there is no way she’s going back out to that party later. She knows that this time they really can’t force another orgasm out of her fragile body, not that she needs it. Fleur just needs to feel their cum inside of her, dripping out of her, the soreness for the next few days, all of it. Even Luke is barely holding on by a thread, stilling inside of her and just letting his coworker push in past him, rubbing so deliciously against both of them. “Holy shit. Gonna put our babies inside of you, baby, yeah? You want that?” Luke has no idea what came over him but it seems to be affecting her when she clenches around them and lets out a pornographic moan.

Luke cums first, having edged himself all night, and coats her walls with spurts of cum, seemingly never ending. The whine that leaves his mouth is downright sinful and so so hot to her ears as it mixes with Colsons sounds of pleasure. “Fuck fuck fuck” He breathes out loudly, releasing right after and burying himself in her to the hilt. Thick ribbons of cum fill up her vagina, an evidence of both of them actually being there… an evidence that she actually just fucked her idol and best friend at the same time. For a short period of time she registers nothing until a warm, wet cloth brings her back to reality, both of them kneeling down between her thighs and staring at her with a worried expression. “There you are love… did so well for us. Took us like a champ, we’re so proud of you.” Luke presses a soft kiss to her nose as the other man wipes off the residue of them from her thighs. “Gonna kick everyone out,” he mumbles, more to Kells than to her. “You staying with her?” It’s supposed to be a question but the way he words it leaves no option for no.

The second Luke puts on his pants and a fresh shirt, Colson pulls the blanket over her naked frame, letting her cuddle into his side. 

“Sleep. We’ll be there when you wake up.” 

[scarlettohairdye]

Home Ownership Was a Mistake

This is for @trickybonmot, who may or may not use some of these stories in a fic.

Okay. So.

In the year of our lord 2010, my wife and I were lucky enough to be gifted $20k by my parents, which in those days (given it was a historically low point for real estate prices in Seattle) was enough for a down payment on a house. It was an astounding confluence of luck and privilege that led to us being homeowners, because if they gave us the same money now it would go precisely nowhere.

Anyway, it was not enough money for a large house, or a fancy house. We looked at a lot of places, only some of which were move-in ready (and one of which was absolutely just a tear-down) and eventually settled on our current place, which is a 1910 bungalow with a detached garage that was finished and turned into a studio.

Was it the most aesthetically pleasing house when we bought it? No. The walls were white, the carpet was light beige, and the paint had seen better days. That said, it was move-in ready and the owner was pretty desperate to sell, so we took it!

The inspector let us know that some of the wiring was still the old knob-and-tube, so we'd want that updated sooner rather than later, but it looked pretty good. About half the outlets were grounded, so it didn't stop us from plugging in three-prong appliances. We just had to use more extension cords than maybe we'd prefer.

The Electrical

The first big house thing we paid for was to have the entire place rewired. Our circuit breaker was a mystery, we didn't have enough outlets, and we were tired of being stuck with specific layouts of our stuff due to the lack of grounded outlets. We were expecting about half the wiring to be up to code, and the rest would need an update.

Spoiler alert: HAHAHAHAHAHA.

The rewiring took about a week, and every morning the electrician sat down with us and told us what new fire trap he'd uncovered.

"Yeah, so the knob and tube wiring going to the lights in the ceiling? Knob and tube gets hot when it's running, and yours is under three layers of insulation."

"You know how you thought your outlets were grounded? They weren't, actually, the ground wire just went elsewhere into the house and wasn't connected to anything."

"So there's wiring in your crawlspace? Whoever put that in nailed some sheets of wood paneling over it, so we had to rip the wood paneling out to access it."

I think the job was about $15k when it was done, we had many many more outlets, and our house was no longer one bad day from lighting itself on fire. Victory, I guess?

The Studio Window

This was leaking a bit, and we knew it was leaking when we moved in. (South facing walls get all the weather in our region.) We were not handy enough to replace it ourselves at the time and we also didn't have money because I got laid off shortly after we bought the house and was making my living doing costume commissions. Solution: Trade costuming work to an acquaintance who did carpentry.

The window, we discovered, was not so much a finished window as it was a single sheet of glass sandwiched between some boards.

Badly.

The carpenter was not entirely she that she was qualified for the job, but she did manage to remove the single sheet of glass and replace it with a window that was insulated and actually capable of opening. She used caulk around it. It was way better than we had before. Maybe someday we'll have both studio windows replaced by a contractor who actually does windows, but this is not that day!

The Siding

The cedar shingles were no longer cutting it at a certain point, so we had the house resided. (Houses are money pits, in case you didn't know.) This was a $30k job (MONEY PIT!) and had several layers of badness.

Bad: Our house had no insulation. It was cedar shingles over the original siding, with nothing in between that original siding and our INTERIOR WALLS. There was occasionally a newspaper. Our PM asked if we wanted insulation? And we said yes, please!!! We did not have a lot of time to think about insulation or research the best type, so it's just sheets of the pink fiberglass stuff in there, but it exists and we have it now!

Worse: Underneath our laundry room was a horrorshow. The laundry room is an addition that was added to our house probably sometime in the 50s? And, uh...

Well, the siding guys pulled off the siding, took a look at what was under it, and immediately called the project manager. The project manager came out, took a look, and then called us. He said that the siding guys thought it really needed to be reinforced and stabilized before they re-sided it, which is very fair, because I think the people who built it originally were drunk when they did it. It was a fucking Wild West cowboy construction situation under there.

Yes, you heard that right: A LOAD-BEARING SHINGLE.

Our project manager also informed us that the siding guys couldn't do the reinforcement, because they're just siding guys. They don't do structural. This is very fair.

It also needed to be done by Monday so we could stay on schedule for the siding work.

We learned this on Friday.

I immediately called my general contractor dad and got his voicemail, because (I remembered belatedly) he was in Mexico getting dental surgery. There was absolutely no way we could get another contractor out to do the work over a single weekend.

It was up to us.

My wife and I (mostly my wife) went HAM on it. We rented big jacks from the tool library to prop the laundry room up while we replaced one of the entirely rotten support poles. One of the big telephone poles was so wrecked with dry rot we could kick it out of place. (It didn't even touch the BIG ROCK that was supposed to be its foundation!!! It was floating!!!) Several of the joists were also fucked, so we ran new joists alongside them and married them together. My wife dug holes while crouched in a 4' high space, filled the holes with gravel, compacted it by putting a piece of wood on top of it and hitting it with a mallet, and then installed an entire additional support system from 4x4s and deck blocks. She actually attached the support system TO THE FUCKING HOUSE, which was a big improvement from the way it was originally held on by vibes and paint.

Here's a tasty little before and after:

(Yeah, see how that visible joist at the front just... stops at the far left? There's a new joist right behind it now.)

This was completed with resounding cries of, "Good enough!" and "It's better than it was before!" The siding guys thought it was fine and sided over it. Someday hopefully we will be able to afford to tear the whole thing down and rebuild it with a properly poured foundation, but in the meantime the spin cycle on the washing machine no longer shakes the whole house. Victory?!

Ridiculous: The purple paint saga. My wife and I are lesbians who tend toward maximalism in our decoration style. Construction companies find this baffling. We paid extra to our siding company to get the extended color choices (if you order the siding with the color baked in it lasts longer, but you're limited to a particular range of colors) and spoiler alert: 90% of them are boring as fuck. We basically paid extra to have access to 400 shades of white and 400 more shades of beige. There were like three saturated colors in the whole book. Pathetic.

Anyway, we chose the one nice teal that was available and decided we'd paint the door purple, since all the purple colors were gray at best. The project manager then forgot to put in our order, and when he remembered he'd forgotten, ordering our siding through his company would have pushed back the start time by six weeks. We could still make the original start time if we ordered through a different company doing the same thing, though!

Me, immediately: And we wouldn't be restricted to your color palette, right? Him: Yeah, they can do custom colors. Me, slapping down a color card called "Fully Purple": MAKE IT PURPLE.

Bless this man, he went to the siding company and asked for Fully Purple. They told him they couldn't do that color, and also is he sure anyone wants this color? He called them on the phone and informed them yes, we did want that color, and also that he'd worked for them and he knew damn well they could do that color, they'd just have to custom mix it, so they needed to do their fucking jobs. Suitably chastened, they finally sent us a sample of the siding, and it was... okay. It was purple for sure, but a little de-saturated. Not the purple of our hearts.

I asked if they'd actually started manufacturing our siding yet or just sent the color sample. The project manager confirmed they hadn't, and if we ordered this imperfectly-purple siding now, it would be several weeks before we could get started.

"We're gonna paint," I decided, and our project manager put in the orders.

The paint store called him and said, "Hey, are you sure you want this color?" Yes, he assured them, that's the right color.

The guys doing the painting opened up the can and then called him and said, "Are you sure this color?" and he told them yes! They want that color!

At this point I told him he should just start responding with, "They're lesbians!!! Yes! They want the purple! They're lesbians!!!"

Eventually we cleared every hurdle god and the construction industry put in front of us, and now our house is Fully Purple.

It also has insulation, wiring that won't kill us, and a laundry room that hopefully won't collapse anytime soon. We got a heat pump installed that took shockingly little time and worked immediately, and our next project will be having the roof redone. Check back in to find out what fresh horror awaits us then! I think it'll be a second roof under our existing roof made of lead and asbestos tiles, probably!

[doctorbeth]

A Romper Room Doll

Sometimes patients have had many and serious surgeries before they come to the hospital. Such was the case with this purple checked doll. She had been recovered at some point in the 80s, but now, as her person wrote "I think at this point, every area is a problem area." Here are her diagnosis photos:

And this is what she would have looked like originally (it isn't her, it's a twin):

Fortunately, I knew we could match her checks quite closely, but not her dress. Her person was fine with that though, she could have her own fashion sense. :-) We agreed that the doll would come to the hospital and I would remove her old layers, then add stuffing as needed, recover her, give her new hair, reembroider her smile, replace her button nose and eyes, and then give her a new dress. No spa for the doll.

Surgery proceeded and in due course, she was feeling much better and ready to make some fashion choices:

(her person's reaction was "Oh my gosh she is beautiful!!! She is exactly the same, just a much better version. Absolutely perfect! I am so glad I found you! ")

There were many fabrics to choose from (we were keeping the dress style the same). Velours and calicos and hearts:

White with pink dots (a flannel) was the chosen fabric. Soon, she was sporting her new dress and ready to fly home:

Her person wrote:

She is soooooo cute! Perfect, perfect, perfect! I love the dress. At first I wasn’t going to have you make it, but I’m sure glad I did. You’ve gone above and beyond the expectations I had!

But that wasn't the end of the story... the doll returned home just after Thanksgiving and her person wrote again:

I wanted you to know that I received my doll the day after thanksgiving. The pictures you sent were one thing, but when I saw her in person, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The details! The stitching! The extra little touches! When I had her recovered so many years ago, I could have cried. I think I actually did cry. She wasn’t my doll anymore and she looked like she would fall apart again. Not only have you restored to to what she originally was, you have also made her look indestructible. You are like a fairy godmother. The world needs more special people in it like you! I honestly can’t say thank you enough.

And one last note... when I started making dolls, I made lots of fairy godmothers, because I thought everyone should have a fairy godmother -- I even had it as the logo for the dolls I made! So for someone to say what I do is "like a fairy godmother"... well it's one of the nicest things anyone could ever say.

I hope all of you have your dreams come true... with or without fairy godmothers.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

TWST Cast Mid-Effort Snacks They Make

Listen I'm no wizard in the kitchen but I think I can make some half decent snacks. That being said, this post is long, does not have accurate measurements for half of it, bc why the hell would I actually write stuff down I Totally Don't Forget Things All The Time.

Also like. mid-effort snacks. You know, you're not just Opening a bag of chips but you are going to need. At least a microwave. (also, using minimal dishes possible nobody wants to clean up). This is all stuff I've made or at least eaten, myself, lmk if you try it or if I missed a vital detail LMAO

ANYWAYS if this post is popular enough I'll share some like. Actual recipes as well, the Culinary Crucible thingy finally came in and I feel INSPIRED, some of these have little uhh like 'justification' or story behind them some don't bc I feel like it's obvious. GTAT refers to the section at the end, I got tired of writing it out over and over again sldkjhklsjdf ---------------------------------------------------

Heartslaybul

Riddle - (Dark) Chocolate Strawberry Bark

Materials and Ingredients: - Parchment paper - Cutting board/cookie tray - Microwave-safe bowl - Knife - Strawberries (it's okay if they're overripe, as long as you can still cut them safely) - (Dark) Chocolate chips or Nutella, your choice - Peanut butter - Sweetened condensed milk (scm) - Plastic container - Freezer

Instructions:

Cut your parchment paper to about the size of a cookie sheet, but really it depends on how many strawberries you're using (I do not remember how many I used, I think it was like 8, you do not need many, especially if you cut them really thin) and put on top of cutting board/cookie sheet. A flexible cutting board is best, but it's whatever fits in your freezer.

Destem your strawberries and slice them thinly while they're standing upright. Like the part you destemmed is against the parchment paper. (or cutting board but y'know. Why Dirty It). Place them laying down on the parchment paper as close to each other as possible. I found like. Fitting the triangle shapes together like teeth was the easiest way but something else might work better for you. Dice one or two strawberries and set aside.

In a bowl, measure out about a cup of chocolate. If it seems like too much, you can just. eat it ig or dip leftover strawberries into it like I did. If it's not enough, babe just add more it's okay lmao. If you're using chocolate chips, add some sort of fat before you microwave (any oil, lard/Crisco, butter, margarine, etc.) in fifteen second intervals. (if you don't have a microwave, there are instructions under 'General tips and tricks' to hopefully help!). If you're using Nutella, just pop that bad boy in there for fifteen second intervals. In both cases, mix in between intervals until it's kind of runny.

Pour chocolate evenly over the strawberries, at least enough to cover them completely from the top/fill any gaps that are present. Wash the bowl, and repeat the process with peanut butter.

This is optional I really like chocolate and think it's more aesthetically pleasing than peanut butter, but peanut butter doesn't harden as well as chocolate does to bind the strawberry layer together so I couldn't put it first. I did another layer of chocolate on top, but it was thinner than the original one.

Sprinkle diced strawberries on top, and drizzle SCM to your hearts content. (Any leftover SCM needs to be put into a separate container and can stay in your fridge for up to 3 weeks).

Freeze it. It's just faster this way and helps the peanut butter out. I left mine in there for a day, but I think it's okay after like an hour, idk, you decide.

Snap/cut your bark into smaller pieces, use the parchment paper to help line whatever container you're going to use and store your treat in there. I enjoyed these treats best frozen or on top of vanilla ice cream, but they do need to be kept at least refrigerated. Fair warning, if you're a slow eater, these will get messy if you wait too long slkdjfhlkjsdfsdf recommend you eat with a fork.

THE REST ARE UNDER THE CUT WOOT WOOT (Riddle's is easily one of the higher effort ones, so do not be dismayed! There are some on this list with only 2 ingredients, I just talk a lot LMAO)

Trey - Tanghulu No baking required, still satisfies his sweet tooth.

Materials and Ingredients: - Stove (someone said you can use a microwave, IIIIII don't Like That for this, but I'm sure you can) - Fruit (doesn't really matter what kind. I used kiwis, strawberries, and grapefruit.) - White sugar - Water - Bowl of ice water - Fork (skewers are better but I didn't have any, and toothpicks...don't fw toothpicks for this okay??) - Parchment paper\Plate (you just need to make sure it's hardened BEFORE you put the fruit on it kdfjhsfjkd)

Instructions:

Ensure your fruit is washed/dried, peeled or otherwise "ready to eat" before starting

Use a 2:1 sugar to water ratio and put it in a pot. (So 2 cups of sugar to 1 cup of water, or a more likely amount you'll actually use up is 1 cup of sugar to 1/2 cup of water)

Heat on medium and watch closely, it's not suggested you mix it, I did, just by swirling the pot to make sure all the sugar was in the water, but then I left it alone. You'll see it starting to change colour to yellow-y rather than clear. Use a spoon/fork to dip into the sugar mixture and then immediately into the bowl of ice water. If it appears stringy or is still soft and sticky to touch, it's not ready yet. Keep boiling until your test drop solidifies on contact/within seconds of being in the ice water.

Turn the heat down slightly and use your fork or skewer to poke your fruit, and dip carefully into sugar mixture. Immediately, (but carefully) place your sugar covered fruit into the ice bowl. Once you take it out, it should only take a moment to harden before you place it on a plate/parchment paper.

Intended to be eaten immediately, does not store very well. Check 'general tips and tricks' for how to clean the pot/fork

Cater - Spicy Garlic Cheese Bread

Materials and Ingredients: - French Bread (works the best, but you can use whatever bread you have on hand) or premade garlic bread - Butter/Margarine - Salad herbs (like the premade mix or whatever, other seasonings optional) - (Shredded) Cheese - Jalapenos - Other toppings + hot sauce (optional) - Bowl - Spoon - Microwave - Oven

Instructions:

If using premade garlic bread, skip to step 3. Otherwise, get your bowl and chunk of butter (if using french bread, I would say about a half cup) and pop it in the microwave just long enough to get it soft, but not melted. Measure salad herbs with your heart and mix with a spoon.

Cut your bread in half and slather that son of a bitch in butter, having worked in a bakery I know that premade garlic bread literally gets a Handful of "butter" (it's margarine) that just gets. Slathered onto half of a day-old French bread loaf. (Safeway. Looking at you.) If you want to try putting on some BBQ sauce or tomato sauce now would be your time to add it. If you are adding sauce, a little less butter is recommended otherwise it will get Soggy

Put on as much cheese as you want. Whatever cheese you want. I'm not the boss of you.

Throw on jalapenos and any other toppings you want. (red onions, bell peppers, make it a meal with some chicken or something idk)

Broil on high until It Looks Right, as in the cheese is melted and golden brown in some areas (assuming it's marble cheese), or wrap in aluminum foil (risky with The Cheese) and bake at 350 F for like 10 minutes (I still recommend baking over broiling but it's your choice bestie)

Drizzle with hot sauce if you want/any other condiments.

French bread is pretty big, so cut into smaller pieces and share with friends/family/your neighbour/ whatever or full send it or you can try to store it, I think once it's cooled, a plastic bag would be the best bet for storage, and only for a day or two before your bread gets Sad.

Deuce - Ants on a Log He used to love it when his mom would send him to school with these.

Materials and Ingredients: - Cutting board (unless you would like to be a heathen like me) - Knife - Celery - Peanut butter - Raisins/Chocolate chips/Cereal/whatever you want

Instructions:

Decide if you even want to bother cutting your celery, you can leave it whole if you really want.

If you want to cut your celery, cut it according to taste or break that motherfucker with your bare hands just to hear it snap and get that little bit of Emotion and satisfaction out of it. Not recommended if you want bite sized pieces. Generally only cut in a way that keeps the 'sides' of the celery in tact, like you should have a little 'dip' to put peanut butter in, but its ok if its not comfortable to eat it that way and you need to cut it vertically as well, nbd, BUT DON'T CUT IT THAT WAY YET it's so much harder to get the peanut butter on.

Use a butter knife to add peanut butter to your celery. It should fill the little valley in between the sides of the stalk. **Now would be the time to cut again if you want Planks if you know what I mean

Add your toppings, be it raisins, chocolate chips, etc. along the peanut butter to represent the ants slkdjhflksjdf

Ace - Oreo Mug Cake His brother showed him once and he didn't stop since.

Materials and Ingredients: - Oreos - Milk - Fork - Microwave safe mug - Microwave - Whipped Cream (optional)

Instructions:

Get your mug.

Throw 4-6 Oreos in. (4 for an 8 ounce mug, more for a bigger one) and soak in 1 less tablespoon of milk than the amount of cookies you put in. (so 3 tbs for an 8 ounce mug)

The longer you soak them, the easier it is to crush them and break them up, it should become kind of cakey texture already

Pop that bad boy in the microwave for a minute, and in 20 second intervals after that as necessary. Its not like it matters if it's 'raw' though.

Let it cool until you can handle the mug comfortably, add whipped cream or other toppings and enjoy!

Savanaclaw

Leona - Bacon Wrapped Sausages

Materials and Ingredients: - Baking dish (should have some depth to it) - Parchment paper - Cocktail sausages - Bacon - Scissors/Knife - Toothpicks - Brown sugar (optional) - Oven

Instructions:

Cut your bacon in half

Preheat your oven to 350 F. Roll up cocktail sausage in half a rasher of bacon and secure in place with a toothpick.

Place parchment paper in/on baking dish and place the rolls inside

Once you've prepared as many as you'd like, you can sprinkle brown sugar on top.

Bake for about an hour

Ruggie - Elote Loco (Mexican street corn/ 'crazy corn')

Materials and Ingredients: - Canned corn - Mayo - Lemon/Lime - Salt - Pepper - Cayenne - Bowl

Instructions:

Drain your corn can, then add corn to your bowl

Literally. Add everything else according to taste. Heat if you want to, or put in the fridge to eat cold. (I like it cold).

Jack - Fruit Leather (this is a higher-effort, more time-consuming recipe)

Materials and Ingredients - Cutting board (not optional this time :/) - Knife/Corer (if applicable) - Stove - Large saucepan - Water - Blender/Potato Masher - Lemon/Sugar/Cinnamon/Nutmeg, Etc. (optional, but recommended) - Parchment paper - Baking tray - Oven - Pizza cutter (makes things easier, not necessary)

Instructions:

Prepare your fruit. (Wash, peel, destem, core them, remove pits, etc.)

Chop into chunks, and simmer in 1/2 cup of water for every 4 cups of fruit while covered for 10-20 minutes, or until fruit is cooked. You can mash by hand or just go ahead and transfer everything to a blender, but you will have to transfer back into the pot after.

Taste, and add sugar/lemon/spices according to your preference.

Simmer and stir until everything is mixed in completely and the puree has thickened. (5-10 minutes)

Preheat oven to 140 F (check GTAT at the end for troubleshooting). Puree thoroughly in a blender/food processor.

Line baking tray and pour puree evenly onto it, it should be about 1/4 inch thick. Bake for 8-12 hours.

Use pizza cutter to cut into smaller pieces. You can cut the parchment paper underneath and roll the pieces accordingly to store.

This is a more labour intensive snack, BUT it keeps for sooo long. It can keep at room temp in ziploc bag for a month. In the fridge for 6 months. In the freezer for a year. Also a really good way to use overripe fruit.

Octavinelle

Azul - Funnel Cakes >:D (I had to look up a recipe to base the measurements off of, I did not memorize this, but I changed a few things when I Actually Made them)

Materials and Ingredients: - Stove - Large pan - Oil (Vegetable oil, but I think coconut or sunflower oil should work too if you have certain restrictions) - 1/4 cup Milk - 1 Egg - 1 tbsp Water - Splash of Vanilla extract (splash is generally between a 1/4 tsp and 1 tsp To Me) - White sugar (to taste) - 3/4 tsp Baking powder - Pinch of Salt - 1/2 cup Flour - Powdered sugar (to taste) - Cinnamon (to taste) - Plate - Paper towel - Large measuring cup - Fork or tongs - Other toppings (optional)

Instructions:

Throw all the Wet ingredients into the large measuring cup and whisk

Add sugar, cinnamon, salt, and baking powder, whisk until combined

Add oil to pan and start heating on medium, it should be about an inch deep to deep fry. Add flour to measuring cup and whisk until smooth.

(Refer to GTAT at the end to know when oil is hot enough). Use the measuring cup to drizzle the batter in a line around the pan and overlap as desired. Honestly, the thicker the lines the better imo. Cook for 2 minutes until golden brown, then flip and repeat.

Once cooked, move carefully to plate with paper towel to soak up the oil, and add powdered sugar on top. Add other toppings as desired.

Jade - Roasted Chickpeas Easy protein to bring on a hike

Materials and Ingredients: - Can of chickpeas - Baking tray - Parchment paper - Olive oil - Seasoning as you wish (Personal recommendation: garlic powder, salt, paprika, pepper and a little cayenne) - Oven

Instructions:

Line a baking tray with parchment paper and preheat your oven to 400 F.

Drain your can of chickpeas, rinse, then drain again. Try and dry them out a bit before you season them, either leaving them in a colinder or letting them sit out on paper towels or a cloth...or on the tray if you've got time to kill. **If you don't like the feeling of oil on your hands, you might have an extra dish to wash but thats okay. Add your chickpeas to a glass bowl before the next step.

Transfer chickpeas to the tray (if you're not using the bowl) and coat with a generous amount of oil. Add seasonings as you wish, then mix with your hands (or a spoon if you're using the bowl, then transfer to the tray.)

Bake for 20-30 minutes, shaking the pan gently about every 10 minutes to help rotate the chickpeas. Once they're golden brown and crunchy, they're done.

Best eaten straight away, but you can keep them in container for a few days.

Floyd - Trail Mix (AKA the ADHD snack Ever imo)

Materials and Ingredients - Anything you got in your pantry that already kinda qualifies as a snack food - Something to put it in (bag or bowl/container with a lid is preferable) - My favourite mix to make is granola, cranberries, raisins, and chocolate chips

Instructions

Grab your materials

If you're using something that should probably cut up, (like fruit by the foot or something idk) just rip it and throw it in the Container.

Mix everything in a bowl or bag. Use more of your Favourite Ingredient than everything else, then close your storage thing.

Shake that motherfucker

Put everything back (or do this As You Add it so you're left with nothing to clean up at the end)

Scarabia

Kalim - The Forbidden (I made this when I was like 6 for a week straight after school, I DO NOT recommend) He came up with this as a midnight snack and didn't want to bother Jamil.

Materials and Ingredients - Microwave - Microwave safe bowl - Chocolate chips - Mini marshmallows - Fork - A very high tolerance for Texture and Sweetness

Instructions:

Put chocolate chips and marshmallows in the bowl

Microwave for 15 second intervals, mixing with your fork in between.

When it becomes a sticky amalgamation from hell and looks like a dung beetle would be proud of it, it's done.

Jamil - Fattoush He saves the leftovers of the dishes he makes for Kalim throughout the day in order to make some version of Fattoush

Materials and Ingredients: - Cutting board - Knife + Pizza cutter (not necessary, but fun) - Lettuce - Tomato - Cucumber - Radishes - Pita bread - Pan - Stove - Olive oil - Salt + pepper - Bowl x 2 - Glass measuring cup - Lemon juice - Garlic powder, dried mint, and sumac (you don't have to use these) - (I like adding Granny smith apples and goat or feta cheese, but it's not traditional)

Instructions:

Cut up your veggies like you would for any salad and throw em in a bowl

Use the pizza cutter to slice pita bread into smaller, bite sized pieces.

Fry the pieces with a little bit of olive oil, salt and pepper, then set aside in a different bowl so they stay Crunchy

In the glass measuring cup use about 2 tbsp of lemon juice, add some garlic powder, dried mint, salt, pepper, sumac, and whisk.

Slowly stream in about 3 tbsp of olive oil and whisk continuously until it combines. (this might take a while to emulsify, yes you can use a hand mixer on low if you want)

Drizzle dressing over your salad portion, and add pita chips as you wish

Pomefiore

Vil - Parfait He let the French man into his life, also this is bougie parfait, you don't have to follow this exactly lmao, this is just how I used to make it for my mom

Materials and Ingredients - Cutting board + knife - Grapes, red and green if possible - Granola - Blueberries (they can be frozen) - Cherries, cored/halved except one (can also be frozen) - Yogurt (I prefer vanilla for this stuff, Vil probably uses plain Greek yogurt and some honey for sweetness) - A wine glass, otherwise just a clear glass makes it look best, but it doesnt really matter - Spoon

Instructions:

Dice those grapes as small or large as you like, mine are generally the size of like. The eraser end of a pencil. Set aside.

Get your glass and gently spoon yogurt into the bottom, up by about 2 inches. If you have the patience, gently arrange the blueberries into a 1 berry layer. If not, just grab less than a handful of blueberries and put them on top of the yogurt.

Add another inch of yogurt to completely cover the berry layer, and add a thin layer of granola. Cover completely with yogurt again, using another inch-2 inches to do so

Again, if you have the patience, you can arrange your cherry halves into a nice circle to completely cover the yogurt layer. If not, do the same thing as the blueberries.

Cover with another inch-two inches of yogurt. Add a thicker band of granola this time, and top with yogurt once more, to nearly the top of the glass.

Add your whole cherry to the middle of the parfait, and add the mix of diced grapes around it. ** if you used frozen fruit, let it thaw for a couple minutes so you can see the colour bleed into the yogurt a bit bc it looks cool. I'm the boss of you for this one rule because I'm right about it sdlkjfhsldjkf

Rook - Maakouda A guilty pleasure of his. He remembers them fondly from home. Works best with leftover mashed potatoes.

Materials and Ingredients: - Mashed potatoes (if you don't have left overs, just boil chunked potatoes in lightly salted water. Once they're soft, drain them, use a handmixer to mix, add some butter/whipping cream, season as you wish (garlic powder, salad herbs, salt, pepper), add shredded cheese if you want idc. Once everything is mixed you got yourself. Mashies.) - Egg - Garlic, Parsley, Cumin, Tumeric, Salt, Pepper - Flour in a bowl - Oil - Pan - Stove** - you can use an air-fryer for this if you want - Slotted spoon/tongs/fork - Plate w/ paper towel

Instructions:

For every 2 cups of mashed potatoes, you will add one egg, but don't do it yet. Add seasoning to your mashed potatoes first so you can taste and adjust the flavour as necessary, THEN add your egg(s).

Start heating oil, (about 2 inches) in a pan at medium heat. While you wait for it to get to temperature, (Look at GTAT to know when the oil is hot enough) roll your potato mixture into small balls and roll in flour

Fry until golden. Remove from oil using your utensil of choice and let it drain on the paper towel

Repeat until all the "batter" is used up

Epel - Dulce de Leche + Apple Slices Ruggie showed it to him

Materials and Ingredients - Sweetened Condensed Milk (if you don't just have dulce de leche on hand) - Apples (Granny Smith recommended) - Two glass baking pans, one larger than the other - Water - Oven

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 425 F

Pour SCM into smaller glass pan, cover with foil

Place smaller glass pan into larger glass pan. Fill the larger glass pan with as much water as necessary to cover the level of SCM in the smaller pan

Throw it in the oven for like 2 hours and monitor periodically to refill with water if necessary. Keep cooking until it's the colour golden brown you want

Once it's to colour, remove from oven carefully, remove foil, and remove from larger glass pan carefully.

Once cool enough, store in glass jar if possible, or wait longer and store it in a plastic container.

Cut up apple and whatever is left in the pan, scrape it out with the apple and eat it lmaooo unless you have a silicone spatula ain't no way you getting all that caramel out of the pan. Serve yourself more as necessary lmao

Ignihyde

Idia - Worms and Dirt Baybeeeeeeee The far less healthy version of a parfait

Materials and Ingredients: - Crushed Oreos (Oreos + double bagged ziploc bags and you Gamer Rage sldfhlskdjfhlsj) - Whipped Cream - (If making from scratch, you'll need whipping cream, vanilla, and powdered sugar + hand mixer. Just throw ingredients in to taste and mix) - Chocolate pudding - Gummy worms - Rolling pin (optional) - Mixing bowl (glass or metal preferable) - Spatula - (Clear) Glass

Instructions:

Crush the Oreo's by any means necessary. Obliterate them.

Pack the Oreo remains into the bottom of your cup

Mix your whipped cream with the chocolate pudding using the spatula to fold it into each other until it Tastes Right. That is subjective, so if you Like it and it's Brown you Did It.

Spoon/plap how much of your chocolate mousse you'd like into your cup. Throw in a couple gummy worms, add more oreo corpse if you want then fill to the top with chocolate mousse.

Top with more oreo ashes and more gummy worms

Leftover mousse is pretty versatile if you have it with fruit or make more worms and dirt, but it only keeps for a day or two in the fridge

Ortho - :(

Diasomnia

Malleus - "Snow Cone"

Materials and Ingredients: - Rage - Double or triple ziploc bags - Ice - Hot water - Grenadine, Maple syrup, Lime and salt, something else (Choose ONE per serving or embrace Lilia's energy and regret it) - A bowl + spoon

Instructions:

Double/triple bag ice

Run bags under hot water for a few minutes to help melt the ice a little bit (assuming you don't have already very small pieces of ice)

Crush the ice via brute force (its a good work out) OR I GUESS you could use a BLENDER but where's the fun in that

Get rid of any extra water and serve very finely crushed ice in a bowl

Top with your desired flavouring to taste

Lilia -

REDACTED

Silver - Refried Beans Another Ruggie special lmao I love him so much

Materials and Ingredients: - Canned black beans - Salsa (optional) - Chicken bouillon - Oil - Pan/Stove - Wooden spoon/potato masher - Chips or some sort of bread

Instructions:

Drain a little more than half of the Bean Juice

Over medium heat, add a little bit of oil to the pan, (enough to cover the bottom), and add the Beans

As it heats up and the remaining Bean Juice starts to bubble, add chicken bouillon and salsa to taste.

Mash the beans while they cook to mix in flavouring and to get beans to the right consistency. They'll be done when there's no liquid left sloshing around, but you can decide how Dry you want your beans

Add beans on top of tortilla chips, sprinkle cheese on top and call it done, throw some in a burrito or on top of salad, lightly toast some bread, put some mayo on it and add the beans, do what you want <3

Sebek - Salmon Croquettes

Materials and Ingredients: - Canned salmon - Diced bell peppers (choose your favourite colours)**go to GTAT for other substitutions and notes - Diced red onion - Egg (if you don't have any just add more mayo) - Worcestershire sauce - Mayo - Garlic powder, salt, pepper, paprika, other seasonings (your choice) -Bowl - Flour - Panko (optional, or substitute bread crumbs) - Oil - Stove/Pan - Tongs (you can try to use a fork but it won't always work lol) - Plate w/paper towel

Instructions:

Prepare your veggies, and drain salmon

Mix in with canned salmon, and add mayo, Worcestershire, and seasonings to taste. Add just a tiny bit more than you think you should in regards to spices because when you throw the flour in, it'll 'dilute' the flavour a bit

Lightly beat 1 egg for every 5 ounces of salmon (should be on the can) and add to mixture, using hands or wooden spoon to mix.

Add just enough flour and breadcrumbs to the mixture that it doesn't stick to your hands.

Set up your pan with oil, (just enough to cover the bottom), over medium heat and make little 'patties' out of your mix.

Fry your patties until golden brown (2-3 minutes) on both sides.

Remove from heat and place on plate to drain.

Staff

Crowley - Fuckit Fudge (AKA Rocky Road Fudge)

Materials and Ingredients: - Parchment paper - Cake pan - 2 cups Chocolate chips - SCM (14 oz = 1 3/4 cups, should be on the can) - 1/4 cup Butter - Vanilla - Marshmallows - Almonds - Anything else you want (just be aware you'll have to add more chocolate and you'll likely have to cut down on the other fillings as well) - Glass bowl - Spatula - Microwave/Double boiler (GTAT tells you how to make one) - Patience

Instructions:

Melt chocolate chips, SCM, and butter (about 90 seconds in the microwave)

While it's melting, set up your cake pan with parchment paper

Add a splash of vanilla extract and mix with spatula until smooth

Stir add-ins into mixture, and pour into cake pan carefully

Make sure mixture is spread evenly, and refrigerate until it solidifies (depends on how deep you made the fudge)

Cut into chunks and serve. Stores well in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.

Trein - Raspberry Cordial Not a 'snack' but like if the Shaftlands are known for ruby berries I feel like this is close enough. It's from Anne of Green Gables, shhh its soooo good

Materials and Ingredients - Raspberries (GASP can you believe it) - Lemon/lemon juice - White sugar - Water - Sparkling water/Ginger Ale works too. Sprite is a stretch. - Pot/Stove - Fine mesh strainer - Pitcher - Ladle - Glass measuring cup

Instructions:

We're making a raspberry syrup, so you can use fresh, overripe or frozen raspberries. For every cup of raspberries, use just under a half cup of sugar, (3 cups of raspberries = 1 1/4 cups of sugar), and put both into a pot/saucepan.

Cook on medium/high heat and mash with like. the bottom of a ladle or something. It'll take like 20 minutes to have it cooked down to a liquid.

Strain into the measuring cup. If there are still seeds or pulp, strain again. Squeeze lemon into it in small amounts and taste as you go until you get the flavour You Want. This is your syrup. At this point, if you want to save some to use for other recipes or something, set some aside.

Boil the water (Use one cup more of water than you did of raspberries) and add it to the pitcher with your raspberry syrup. Mix, then let it chill in the fridge. ** if you would like to use sparkling water/lemonade or ginger ale instead, you'll just have to mix for longer is all, don't heat those

Serve and garnish with lemon or mint.

Crewel - Carrot Salad idk man I'm running out of steam and ideas lmaoooo

Materials and Ingredients: - Carrots, peeled - Grater - Bowl - Lemon, salt, cayenne - Fork

Instructions:

Grate your carrots into the bowl you're gonna eat out of

Squeeze your shredded carrots to get rid of the extra Juice (look at GTAT)

Add lemon/lime, salt and cayenne according to taste, and mix with fork

Tastes best chilled, eat immediately

Vargas - Deviled Eggs

Materials and Ingredients: - Saucepan/pot + Stove - Water - Eggs - Mayo - Salt, pepper, paprika, cayenne - Bowl + fork - Lime juice (optional) - Knife and cutting board - Bowl with ice water

Instructions:

Choose how many eggs you're gonna want to make, idk, maybe 6? Put them in the pot and gently fill with just enough water to cover them. Add salt and lemon juice (GTAT) to the water and heat on medium

Prepare your bowl with ice water. Let your eggs boil for about 8 minutes before draining the water and running them under cold water until they're cool enough to handle for a few seconds to put in the ice bath

Wait until your eggs are cold enough to handle for you to crack the egg shells off. I love using my hands but if it's easier to put it in a container with a lid and shake it gently, go ahead, just shake it enough to break the shell in a way you can remove it.

Once all your eggs are shelled, cut them in half the long way, (be careful they are Slippery)

Remove the yolks gently without ripping the egg white. Generally, you can just use your fingers or turn the egg upside down orrr very gently push the yolk out from behind into the bowl.

Add mayo and seasonings at your discretion. (if it feels like it's missing something, you can try adding diced pickles/pickle juice, bacon bits, dill, or mustard.) Mash together with the fork until smooth, or if you're using a lot of eggs you can use a hand mixer. Mixture should be creamy.

Gently spoon the mixture back into the egg whites. Any leftover mixture will be great on sandwiches!

Sam - Sausage Bites

Materials and Ingredients: - 1 Pillsbury OG Crescent Roll dough - Sausage of your choice, cut into 1 inch pieces (unless it's cocktail sausages, leave them as is) - 1 Egg + 1tbsp for an egg wash - Baking sheet + parchment paper (oven) - Flour - Pizza cutter (more fun than a knife) - Plate w/ paper towel - Sauce: 1/2 cup Mayo, 1 tbsp mustard, 1 tbsp ketchup + Cajun seasoning to your hearts content or a simple chipotle mayo works too

Instructions:

Make your sauce, throw it in the fridge to cool, set your oven to 350 F.

Lightly flour your counter and spread out the Pillsbury dough. Cut each triangle into 3 smaller triangles. Place sausage on wide end of the triangle and wrap it to make kind of like. A donut around it.

Place on baking sheet and add egg wash. I don't have a basting brush so I kinda wing it with whatever bright idea strikes me first. Usually I just end up using my fingers lol

Bake for 15 minutes, until pastry is golden brown

Once done, place on plate and allow to cool. Add toothpicks if you'd like, and serve with your dip.

Others (BONUS, come on guys I'm pretending like this is something people actually want to read LMAO)

Jack T. - Vanilla Latte Bars

Materials and Ingredients: - Coffee beans - Vanilla - Pitted dates - Rolled oats - Food processor - Cake pan + parchment paper

Instructions:

For every cup of oats, match with pitted dates + 1/2 a cup. (2 cups oats = 2 1/2 cups of dates). For every cup of oats, add a 1/8 cup of coffee beans. (2 cups oats = 1/4 cup coffee beans). Add vanilla with your heart. Everything goes in the food processor and gets blended.

Pinch the 'dough' between your fingers. If it doesn't crumble, it's ready. If it does, add a splash of warm water, blend again, and repeat until the dough holds it's shape.

Press mixture into cake pan evenly and refrigerate

Cut and serve once hardened

Che'nya - Cheez-whiz, pickle and mini-marshmallow sandwich Oh, context? Yeah my dad said this was his childhood snack and I wanted to be like him when I was like 5. Do not recommend. But I also don't like processed cheese.

Materials and Ingredients - White bread, Wonder bread is ideal - Cheez-whiz - Sweet pickles, sliced - Multi coloured mini marshmallows - A psych assessment

Instructions:

You don't get help with this. You know what you're doing.

Falena - Chicharrones (Like. Pork bites.)

Materials and Ingredients: - Cutting board + knife - Pork cutlet (I only need to feed myself, so a huge cut of meat isn't necessary - Salt - Baking tray + parchment paper (oven)

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Cut your pork cut into ~1 inch cubes, or smaller. Place on baking sheet and use a generous amount of salt to season. Mix with your hands.

Cook until you can easily pull the pork apart

I like to use a little lemon, a little homemade tortilla and some crema to eat them, but just lemon or using them to top nachos works too

Cheka - Poor Man's Horchata He just likes it more because he can set it up mostly by himself, and he can share it without worrying about nut allergies.

Materials and Ingredients - Pitcher - Water - White sugar - Oats - Vanilla - Cinnamon - Ice - Wooden spoon

Instructions:

For every cup of oats, add half a cup of sugar into pitcher (or cup for a personal serving)

Bring 3/4 full with water and add ice to bring it as high as you are comfortable stirring.

Add remaining ingredients to taste, and add sugar/water/oats as necessary

Najma - Mango with Tajin

Materials and Ingredients - Cutting board and knife - Mango - Tajin - Bowl

Instructions:

Cut your mango however you like. I typically cube my Haden mangoes, but Ataulfo I do the grid thing and pop it up

Add Tajin to your preference. If you don't have Tajin, use lime, salt and cayenne.

Neige (and the dwarves) - Tarte Soleil (higher effort snack) It's easy to share and 'sun tart' feels fitting

Materials and Ingredients: - 2 puff pastries, cut into equal size circles - Egg for wash, like Sam's - Black and white sesame seeds, (Optional) - Garlic butter (softened butter w/ garlic powder, salt, lemon and parsley to taste) - Baking sheet + parchment paper (oven) - Water - Cup/Glass - Knife

Instructions:

Cut your puff pastry so it's just small enough to fit on your baking sheet. Leave one on the sheet and put the other in the fridge for now. Preheat your oven to 350 F.

Spread the garlic butter on the circle, leaving about a half inch untouched all the way around the circle. Place in the fridge for 5 minutes to set.

Dab the edges of the crust with water and set the other puff pastry on top, gently pressing the edges together (not squishing)

Put the glass smack dab in the middle, or at least best you can, and upside down. (Do not Press.) Use your knife to cut away from the glass and make a bunch of 'rays' (easiest way is to quarter the dough, then cut each quarter into sixths.)

Remove the glass and gently press where your 'ray' meets the circle the glass made to prevent it from ripping as you twist it. Repeat for every 'ray'

Egg wash, (just like Sam's), sprinkle sesame seeds and bake until golden brown (30-35 minutes)

Let it cool, transfer to serving plate, and rip off the rays to eat.

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

GENERAL TIPS AND TRICKS

If you need to melt chocolate and don't have a microwave (been there love, I know), you can use a small pot with water in it, I would say about a third of the pot is good, and a glass bowl big enough to sit on top of it. Boil that motherfucker and melt chocolate in the glass bowl, this is basically a poor man's double boiler

To clean melted sugar from the pot, there's a couple ways to go about it. I can't relax when I know there are dishes still waiting for me, so I used my kettle to boil more water, poured it into the pot, mixed it around with the fork I used, and most of it dissolved. I poured it down the sink, then used a sponge, soap and brute force to get the rest of it out. The other option is similar, where you just add fresh water to what's left of the sugar mixture, let it sit overnight, boil it again, and then dump it. (don't use cold water it will harden against the pot and be even more difficult to clean)

Some oven's don't go that low, I think the other common lowest temp is 170 F. That's okay! You can use a pair of metal tongs to keep your oven slightly ajar, just check in on it every once in a while. I use the same trick when I make meringue cookies and it works perfectly. Makes it wonderful during winter, but in summer make sure you don't overheat love <3.

You'll know the oil is hot enough to deep fry if you 1. put the back end of a wooden spoon in the oil and bubbles form around it, or 2. drop a small bit of the batter/flour in and it starts bubbling.

If you don't like bell peppers, you can shred carrots or zucchini, just make sure you squeeze and drain out the water first. You can do this with a cheese cloth or just your hands and pouring the water/juice out of the bowl over the sink. The dryer you can get it the better.

Adding lemon juice to the water helps separate the shell from the egg

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

I did this shit in like 8 hours gooooooooooooooooooooooooood I hope it doesn't flop. But if it does, I hope whoever it does reach, enjoys it, I had fun making it.