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betrayal

Beauty and the Thief [BL]

Tao Hua's life is fucking miserable, and that misery somehow earns him the title of "Village Disgrace." In order to cope with the awful treatment, he often retreats into words untold, dictated by the flip of a page. These worlds leave him with the dream of escaping this piece of shit town. To his utter dismay, his wish comes true, but not in the way all those fairytales promised. His saviour is a man he becomes enthralled with and whom he names “Lord No-Name.” This male lead is a touchy man with many faces. And for lack of a better word, Tao Hua can’t decide if he’s either the story’s love interest or villain. But the two share a common sentiment. This prince, alike Tao Hua, is also fucking miserable. But arguably worse! And instead of coping like a normal fucking person, he does the opposite. He doesn't escape. He doesn't cope. He just tries to fight against the already fated truth of his demise. 0/10, worst prince ever written. Misery aside, this fateful encounter will force Tao Hua to make a choice, leaving him with only one question: "What was one mean-spirited beast to a town of people who despise a beauty's entire existence?" ──── ୨୧ ──── Beauty and the Thief is a slow-burn, stop to smell the roses, type of novel. That being said, the roses are beautiful, and upon closer observation they’re less floral than once thought. It follows the POV of Tao Hua, as he tries to navigate his new life in a place that actually values him, and the prince of this story’s mood swings. ──── ୨୧ ──── !!!!Disclaimer!!!! EXTREMELY SLOW PACED! Character driven, before plot! This story borrows the premise of Beauty and the Beast, by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, relying heavily on the trope while also twisting it to smithereens. The beast element is exchanged for a power dynamic, and the curse differs from the original story. The narration borders on sarcastic and self-aware, while also targeting deeper topics. It often breaks the fourth wall as a stylistic choice. A lot of the work will be edited over time, but the bones will remain the same. Cover is temporary until I get the artist I'm commissioning finishes with my actual cover!
Meowssey · 29.5k Views

Mr. Grim Reaper doesn't smile [BL]

The tale of a grim reaper who hates humans and a human who fell in love with him. From a really young age, Asahi Sato had always been beside Akira's side. They grew up together and faced all hardships together. Akira thought their friendship would last a lifetime but he didn't expect his life to be cut so short by that very friend. Logically speaking, their friendship did last a lifetime but only for Akira. As if having a secret affair with Akira's fiance wasn't enough, Sato also went ahead and killed Akira in order to steal the company. For the first and the last time in his life, Akira felt what it was like to be betrayed by the one you trust the most and the feeling was certainly not that amusing. Even after death, when the Grim Reaper who was in charge of him gave him a wish, Akira didn't hesitate to waste that wish on Sato. "Help me solve my murder." "I want to understand where everything went wrong.” "I want to know why Sato suddenly turned on me and I want to know why my fiance joined him.” Unfortunately, for the poor fellow, the grim reaper in charge of him was not a man who liked to be troubled and it seemed that nobody had ever taught him how to smile. "Tch- So much extra work! Can't you just pass away in peace?" "..." Read on more to know how Akira uncovered the mysterious circumstances behind his death and begged God to change his beloved Grim reaper's fate. __________________________________________ I hope you enjoy!~ __________________________________________ BL||Romance||Grimreaper||Revenge||Fashion||CEO||Secondchance||Fantasy||Fluff||Mystery|| Art by: Cherlyswan.
Cherlyswan · 193.2k Views

Desired by the Famous Rake of Monclair

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT] Penelope Anderson, long past the age society deems “marriageable” and burdened by rumor, devotes herself to securing a perfect match for her younger sister after experiencing an unsuccessful courtship. Everything proceeds as planned until Lord Anthony Ravenport, a notorious rake she once met under scandalous circumstances, becomes her sister’s most promising suitor. Though Penelope knows he is dangerously unsuitable, his status makes him impossible to refuse. As tensions rise, so does an undeniable attraction between Penelope and Anthony, one that threatens to ruin not only her sister’s future, but the fragile reputation of their entire family. *** “Why do you despise me so much that you consider everything I do unworthy of your blessings!” he demanded, eyes bright with frustration and restrained fury. “Because you are unworthy of one!” she yelled back, her gaze holding the same frustration as his. “You’re unworthy to be a husband, unworthy of my sister, unworthy of love, unworthy of everything! Your presence is only making things worse for Franseca,” “And your presence isn’t?!” he spat back, his composure gradually dwindling as seconds passed. “Just because you think you’re better off unmarried doesn’t make her one. She shows interest in me as much as I do her!” “Oh, is that so?” She countered, mockery and disbelief laced in her tone. “I know men like you. And men like you thrive on pity and selfishness, believing women to be nothing else but breeders and assets! How dare you speak of interest when all you think of is what benefit my sister possesses!” “I know women like you,” he retorted, keeping his voice likewise. “Women whose conclusions are based on personal grudges. Women who are blinded by rage, envy, and jealousy, disguised under safety. Women whose hearts are hardened by grief and sorrow, and all they can think of is affecting other people’s lives!” “How dare you,” Penelope seethed, expression cold in fury and her gaze heated in cold rage. No one has ever talked to her the way he did, and it annoyed her to such an extent that she could barely recognize herself anymore. “Oh, are you pained?” he demanded, mockery plastered in his expression. They were so close, so improperly close that breath fanned against each other, eyes brightened in rage, chest rising and falling from such pressure. “You are… insufferable!” She spat. “And you’re… aggravating!” he returned, hot breath matching hers, as their chest rose and fell in exasperation. For a moment, the world revolved around heated glares and venomous expressions. Finally, those pair of grey eyes left the storm of dark-brown ones, descending on her lips that were only an inch away. Sensing his diverted attention, her breath stuttered in response, eyes descending against those inviting red lips. Her heart raced wildly, breath puffing furiously as she swallowed the lump down her throat, unconsciously wetting her lips. “S-Stay away… from my sister,” She said, words barely above a whisper. Her heart raced, echoing in her ears, causing her to feel dizzy. His eyes darkened. “You’ll be the end of me,” he whispered back, almost like a plea. And in the blink of an eye, his lips crashed against hers. *** PS: BASED ON HISTORICAL SETTINGS AND TIMELINE. #Slowburnromance #enemiestolovers A/N: There will be slow updates for now, until I conclude “Surrendered To The Lord Of Sin”. Although this is my entry for WSA 2026. Thank you for trying this out!
Ace_zza · 12.6k Views

The Last Oracle's Ember Crown

The black forges beneath Mount Ashen rang with hellish clamor as the Usurper Mordren forged the Ember Crown. Wrought from star-fallen iron and the screaming souls of a hundred slain kings, the relic burned with unnatural fire. Whosoever wore it could command the arcane arts of every realm: silence the ancient songs of the high elves, turn the hammers and axes of the mountain clans against their sworn lords, bend the tempests to his fury, and bind the very blood of men to his merciless will. The free houses of men, elves, dwarves, and halflings set aside their ancient grudges and rose as one in rebellion. At the bloody Battle of the Nine Keeps, amid rivers of steel and sorcery, the Crown was torn from Mordren’s brow. It was carried in triumph to the Arcane Citadel, sealed in the deepest vault, and guarded by the Grand Maester and wards woven in ages long forgotten. Yet Mordren did not die. Neither body nor spirit perished that day. He fled into the deepest shadows, his hatred a living flame, whispering promises of fire and vengeance upon the winds that carried his voice across the realm. Thus spoke the last Oracle of Eldergrove with her dying breath: “When the Ember Crown calls to a boy of no great house, the Company shall be sworn. One bearer, three bloodlines, four true hearts. They shall tread the long and bitter road of flame… or all sorcery, all kingdoms, and all hope shall fall into everlasting night.” Fourteen harsh winters passed.
AS_Riyadh · 4.7k Views