#and arranged political marriage fics

[tenebrous-academic]

Tragic news, I’m one nervous breakdown away from jumping back on my Kylux bullshit 😔

[esther-dot]

oh and I hope you don't mind (we can share my mood) 11k by @thkingslayer

“You make presumptions, your highness.” “I do not. I know how unwanted I am by you, Lady Sansa.” Her mouth opens as she struggles to find the words to tell him it isn’t true. She’s a lady. She would be nice if he would. She just wants— She just wants— -- When the king travels north, Sansa takes an immediate liking to Prince Aegon. She does not, however, want anything to do with her cousin Prince Jon—the brooding, dark haired, younger brother. She's quite sure he does not want anything to do with her also. And by the Old Gods and the New, she will not let him ruin her mood.

Dawn 19k

Like her mother before her, Sansa will do her duty. She will marry a man who is practically a stranger, mere days before he sets off for war.

All That Glitters 3k by @rumaan

Sansa is annoyed she has to give up a day with Prince Aegon to show his boring younger brother around Winterfell. Some alone time with Prince Jon makes her re-evaluate her opinion.

Sapphires and Salt 9k by @wendynerdwrites

The Princess to be is jilted, the unwanted prince rises

Salty Teens one, two, three by @blackholeofprocrastination

Sansa bursts into his solar in a swirl of skirts, her precious courtesies forgotten. Jon remains seated behind his desk, earning a scowl from his lady wife.  “What did you say to Jeyne?” she demands. “Nothing.”  It’s not entirely true, but he is still too furious to be cowed in his own damn solar.

Learning to fight, learning to Dance 1k by @myrish-lace-love

Lyanna Stark survives, and Jon and Aegon are half-brothers. Jon is in a hastily arranged marriage with Sansa Stark. They get on each other's nerves constantly during the day, but their nights are a different matter.

What a Disappointment 7k by @justadram

Sansa Stark and Jon Targaryen are married and neither of them is pleased about it. Set in a world where Rhaegar lives and Jon was raised in King's Landing as a legitimized bastard.

lights still shining in the room, you left me here 11k

Perhaps at one point, her marriage to Jon had become less of a sham. But with a history of three dead children between them, even the strongest of unions would break, let alone one as fragile as theirs. When Sansa tries to save herself, her actions lead to some interesting revelations.

Made New 3k

Sansa does not get the wedding night that she longed for and has to fix it

Tell the Ones That Need to know (We Are Headed North) 10k by @vixleonard

After years of confinement in the Red Keep with Ned prisoner in the black cells, the Dragon Queen comes. With the knowledge that Jon Snow is actually a Targaryen, she agrees to let the Starks return to Winterfell only if Jon marries one of the Stark daughters. Sansa volunteers so they can all go home. Soon she figures out being married to Jon isn't bad but it is complicated.

half a kingdom and a princess 2k by @misshoneywheeler

“Guess you’re stuck with me, old girl.” Old girl. He’s never called her that before. He’s never called her anything but Sansa and my lady, or sometimes Lady Stark, a title that gives them both discomfort as Lady Stark is still Sansa’s mother to each of them. Something in Sansa thrills at the strange endearment, though she should – and may – protest at being called such a thing. There’s just something so familiar in the words, in Jon’s soft affection as he says them. Something intimate and real.

A Convenient Inconvenience 4k

Once Daenerys takes the Iron Throne she knows the battle is only half over. Now that she has the throne she must keep it. Since she cannot have heirs of her own she names her new half-brother, the former Jon Snow, now Jon Targaryen, the Crown Prince. And a prince needs a princess which is where Sansa Stark comes in. The pair marry yet it takes months for Jon to realize that Sansa thinks of their relationship as more than just a duty.

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - POST CANON

[apinchofm]

But All Will Be Well 

post season 2, edwina sharma x prince friedrich, arranged marriage au

Edwina loved London, however. There was a part of her still hoping that she would make a match here. The friends she had thought she had made had not spoken to her much, aside from the odd quick pitying smile. But her mother was here and Kate would be there. The people she loved were in England. But would London love her in return again? — Edwina has always wanted to help her family and she can do that - in Berlin. Prince Friedrich was a good man, a broken man and yet, they managed to find a way to fit together.

[yutaan]

The first of two illustrations I did for the MDZS WIP Big Bang! I’m paired with the upcoming fic "If I Should Fall Behind" written by theladyscribe, in which Lan Wangji and Wen Qing enter an arranged marriage! 

���The wedding was not what he had imagined, on those rare occasions Lan Wangji thought of his marriage. Wen Qing stood at the top of the steps, red veil dancing lightly in the wind. Red and gold suited her: a crimson gash on the white marble. Her stance was rigid, as if she, too, would rather be anywhere other than here, fulfilling the wedding contract made between their clans some ten years ago. A small comfort that perhaps he was not alone in this. * A wedding, a war, a friendship, a home.”

The fic will be posted later this month! :D Please keep an eye out, lovelies!

[buckevantommy]

Arranged marriage and online friends au! 😊

Buck realises after two months of emailing back and forth that he doesn't actually know what Tommy looks like. And it's bugging him.

It's not like he wasn't aware of it before; Tommy has been a faceless presence across the digital void, features interchangeable with B-role actors and strangers on the street until Buck had given up trying to put someone else's likeness to someone unlike anyone he's ever met. Still technically hasn't.

After this long, he considers Tommy a friend. Buck just wishes he could put a face to the words.

There have been context clues helping piece together an image of what he might look like - brown hair (at least no one noticed the mud in my hair. I'll have to make sure to schedule time for a shower next time I want to take Annie for a jog in the park before a work event), defined muscles (not that lugging around spare car parts isn't its own workout, but I do have a standing appointment with my trainer to get to. I'm sorry I have to cut this short), tall (Granted, it's easier to get a good look at an engine when you have the height to bend over and not lose your footing) - but no descriptions and definitely no photos (unless you count the pics of his rescue dog Annie and a cameo appearance of his sneakers, which Buck wants to but they don't exactly fill in the blanks).

It probably doesn't matter. It's not like they're ever going to meet in person - Buck is on the west coast and Tommy's on eastern time. They can't just casually meet up for coffee when there's a dozen states between them.

He's not sure Tommy would even want to. Because while Tommy has tossed a few crumbs of his appearance Buck's way over the past eight and a half weeks, Tommy doesn't have to wonder about Buck in return. Because Buck had linked his insta account in his second email. It was the quickest way to show Tommy the state of his beloved Wrangler Renegade given he was at work and it was currently taking up space in Eddie's yard. Tommy sure knows his engines, even from photos that likely didn't show the whole story. With Bobby and Eddie's help (and with Chris being more help than Eddie) they managed to pinpoint the problem thanks to Tommy - something multiple mechanics couldn't nail down let alone fix, instead giving Buck the same excuse of how an old engine with that many miles was bound to give up the ghost sooner or later.

Buck took the jeep up the coast for the first time on his recent 48 off - the first time since his cross-country tour led him to the 118 and a few weeks in she'd stalled out and hadn't been the same since. But there was no sputtering, no chugging fits, no weird noises. Just miles of highway being eaten up under her wheels.

And he couldn't even picture the face of the person he wanted to thank. Maybe it was silly, or petty, but Buck couldn't shake his annoyance at Tommy having never sent him a photo of himself. He totally gets the anonymity of the internet, especially with forums, but he really thought they were becoming friends. Thought they'd keep emailing even if they managed to fix the Renegade.

He also hadn't heard from Tommy in over a week, so maybe that was adding to his irritation. And worry. As soon as they got her running smoothly, Buck posted a video of the jeep to insta and sent Tommy the link. He posted a few more pics of her on the road north and thanked him in the caption:

couldn't have done it without your help T 🌅🚙💻🛠️

Tommy knows how much this jeep means to him, and the more Buck thinks about it the more certain he is that the radio silence isn't like Tommy. He was looking forward to an update! It was the last thing he wrote: Keep me updated!, exclamation mark and all. Maybe he had to go away suddenly for work. Or his computer died. Or his email got hacked. Maybe something happened to him - he could be hurt, or sick, or worse. Maybe he read your emails and saw your posts and knows he fixed the problem so now he's done with you.

Buck stews in that thought longer than he should. It's not impossible, it just. Hurts. He likes Tommy. And screw distance - he wants to keep emailing and getting to know each other. Maybe Buck will get called out east for a nautral disaster (okay, not a great reason) or some kind of specialty training program. Or Tommy will travel out west for work.

Work which he's been pretty vague about, come to think of it. Buck doesn't actually know what he does - some kind of office-type job, going by the mentions of suits and gladhanding. Tommy knows Buck is a firefighter in L.A., but the nature of Tommy's work has been left mostly up to Buck's imagination. Maybe he's a special agent. Or a criminal. Or in witness protection. Or maybe the thought of a secretive existence helps soothe the ache of his abandonment issues; Tommy would reach out if he could but extenuating cirumstances are stopping him.

It happens to be a q-word shift which means no calls to distract him. Pocketing his phone, Buck sinks into the couch and turns on the tv desperate for something to take his mind off Tommy. Taylor Kelly is reporting from the studio these days, no longer chasing stories with a cameraman in a shady white van.

"..And now to political news. Vice President Kinard today announced the long-awaited engagement of his son to the eldest daughter of prominent Senator Olivia Ortiz. Thomas Kinard is the Vice President's only child, and the union is expected to strengthen ties.."

As Taylor talks, photos overlay on-screen: a professional family portrait complete with closed-mouth smiles; a young man - Thomas Kinard - in a khaki flightsuit standing in front of a military chopper; a college graduation gown.

"..Thomas Kinard minored in Mechanical Engineering.."

Another image: tall and broad and now with a mop of brown curls competing in a marathon and helping someone cross the finish line with their arm slung over his shoulders.

It's a minor detail. He doesn't even know why he notices. But Buck's eyes are drawn to his sneakers: Thomas is wearing a black pair with white half-trim and a reflective trapezoid on the heel. Not anything unusual, except that the guy he's helping is wearing a neon yellow pair that somehow didn't catch Buck's attention.

The next image shows an animal shelter and a small crowd of volunteers in candid and posed photos. In one of the candid shots, Thomas can be seen crouching to pet a familiar looking dog.. Annie.

No fucking way.

"..Tommy?"

doing this thing

[buddielibrary]

all the stones and kings of old

by extasiswings

Words: 36,036

Summary:

Edmundo Diaz, King of Calder, does not want a husband.

He had a wife, he has a son. He doesn’t need anyone to try and fill the void in his life Shannon left when she died—he is perfectly content with an empty bed, with Bobby and Athena advising him, with household staff taking care of Christopher when he can’t.

But. Apparently he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

(Theirs is not an auspicious start.)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Mutual Pining, idiots to lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Political Intrigue, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Soft Eddie Diaz

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Thank you @hgejfmw-hgejhsf - I’ve been tagged by others previously on here and thank you to those who have. This is my very first! Here goes!

This RWRB Concubine!AU is inspired by the blue veil from Mary & George, i.e. the piece of fabric that launched a thousand fics.

Odalisque

To his people, King Alexander is not just a ruler, but God himself on earth, and to Henry he is the universe. He is resplendent in his ceremonial garment - cream white trousers and a blue slash that matches Henry’s veil draped over his otherwise bare torso. He is the very image of male virility and regal power. He takes Henry’s breath away when he smiles his charming, dimpled smile, making Henry shiver and flush beneath his veil, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

Alexander. His Alexander, whom he had loved all his life despite the turbulence of their childhood. Alexander whom he has not been allowed to see since he was fifteen years old and began his seclusion, when he still raged against the inevitability. Alexander, who despite their physical distance and the rigours of purity demanded of Henry, had seduced him and who owned his heart so completely.

Henry is overwhelmed, and he stumbles but never falls. King Alexander springs to action to catch him, their hands easily finding their way to one another in a touch that is both inexorably electric and grounding. He hears the faint gasp of the crowd over the break in protocol, as King Alexander brings his hands up to his lips and kisses them reverently.

“You’re here, you’re finally here,” Alexander whispers, his voice struck with awe, only for Henry to hear. “My Henry.”

Very much a WIP. I started writing this fic as a mental break from the brutality of Rule Britannia, while playing with some of the same themes. Originally envisioned as a one-shot, this fic is looking more like my next multi chapter venture once Rule Britannia is complete. Can’t wait to get back to it!

Tagging @priincebutt @tailsbeth-writes @sparklepocalypse (though I know you don’t have power) and @zwiazdziarka and I also need more fandom friends to tag, so anyone else, please go ahead and tag yourself!

[coffee-and-geto]

so okay i'm basically (and unfortunately) back to school so implying less activity here and i'm deeply sorry :(

buuuuut

that doesn't mean no fics!! 🤭

anyway, if you don't see an os or smth, it'll be a drabble or whatever :)

i hope i can drop you guys my desperate nanami at a club fic this week, and i can't wait to write it!!

(i'm just lazy and i don't know how to start my only problem when i write the rest is usually easy)

see ya later on Sunday 🤍

[hangmanbradshaw]

Steph I want to ask about at least three wips because they are ALL intriguing but what got me was the question mark. "political marriage?" Tell me more please

Mo <3 You are WELCOME to ask about 3 if you want insane, maybe coherent responses. Ahhh political marriage? was this weird angsty idea I had one night out of nowhere and simply had to write part of it out. No clue what I'm going to do with it yet. Sometimes I do this and then it ends up morphing into another idea or being infused into another WIP like a frankenbaby but when the dialogue/idea is in my head I gotta write it? So anyways...here's a snippet?

Bradley gave him a look. “You know what I mean.” “What, love, romance, is that what you’re talking about?” Jake asked, eyebrows raised. Bradley stared at him, a silent confirmation. He said, incredulously, “That’s not us.” “It could be.” Jake blinked several times. “Bradshaw-“ “It could be us, if we tried. If we actually gave it a shot.” “This was always the…arrangement. Your ring on my finger, your dick in my ass every Friday, a smiling partner on your arm at work parties. We both knew the deal going in.” “It’s not enough.” Jake was sure his eyebrows must have been sky fucking high. “Pardon?” “No, not like that. I mean.” Bradley cut off, cursed. He closed his eyes and refocused then said, “I see those moments, sometimes, when the real you slips out. I just…I want to know that part of you.”

[thotpuppy]

WIP Wednesday

I am preparing to head to bed but @dear-massacre taggeed me and i wanted to participate but i couldn't decide which wip to share an excert from so i decided to say fuckit - i added 1k to my 2nd chapter of Addabge Dmaddiage (working title lol) so I'll give u guys a lil bit of that uwu

“You wished to see me?” he greets, entering the study. The servant, unseen, bows and exits. Stiles knows they’ll be waiting at the door, desperate to eavesdrop. His father sits at his desk, the old wood separating them a far shorter distance than Stiles is attempting to create. His father looks at him and he can see the old man’s heart breaking. “Stiles,” he pleads, frown lined in creases. Stiles can see that it pains him to do this, pains him more to feel the coldness Stiles is emanating, pushing out in an attempt to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Stiles purses his lips tightly before lowering his gaze and sighing. “Sorry,” he offers, suddenly meek. His father continues to watch him, but reclines slightly in his chair. “It’s alright, son,” he offers magnanimously. Stiles can’t help the small quirk of his lips. He’ll miss his father so much. “I take it you already suspect the reason behind my summons?” Stiles nods, once, solemn in its singularity. His father sighs. “You’re already sixteen,” he says, and his voice sounds almost wistful, if not for the edge of sovereignty that colors it, denoting this conversation as being kingly business. Stiles does not merely suspect the reason. He knows it.

m not gonna tag anyone because it is 9:44pm and i should have been in bed an hour ago but i wanted to talk abt it.

also - I'm working on a playlist! if u have a song suggestion that u think kinda matches these vibes i would love to hear plz send a link!

[esther-dot]

We Will Be the Walls of this House 27k @tornadodream

"She stood firm, her clutch steady against his forearm. 'You are my brother.' 'No,' he said, and his voice was gravelly. 'No, I am no brother of yours, Sansa Stark.'" The war has taken much from both of them. But when Jon Snow returns from the south as the new Region-King of the North, Sansa Stark knows that the best way to secure Winterfell for the both of them is a marriage that neither of them want, but the marriage that they both know that they need.

To Be Alone With You 10k @methedras

If he willed it, Sansa would make a Stark of Jon. One way or another.

I'm Holding You Closer Than Most Because You Are My Heaven 8k by @sansaswolfbits

Perhaps she deserves more than a man who loves another woman, but it's him she wants, so she'll take whatever part of him she can have. She's grown used to pretending, how hard can it be?

want me to love you in moderation? well don't you know, i wish i could 8k by @sansaswolfbits

He had Winterfell and Sansa, and everything that should have been Robb's, or Bran's or Rickon's, and now hers, and he couldn't even allow himself to enjoy it. The guilt was eating him up, tearing away pieces of him every single day and keeping him up at night. All of his brothers—who had never been his true brothers—had died so that he could be Lord of Winterfell, so that he could use the girl he'd once called sister to take everything that was hers for his own. Even with Jon it was just her claim he needed. But at least to him, Winterfell was more than a keep and a title. He understood what her home meant to her. They shared the same memories and suffered the same losses. Jon cared for her, but he didn't love her the way a man should love his lady wife.

Finding Love in the Strangest Places 50k

The Rebellion didn't happen till Next Gen: Arya was engaged to Joffery and eloped/was kidnapped by Aegon. Robb and his father Brandon went down to King's Landing and Mad King Rhaegar killed them. Now Jon has to marry Robb's betrothed Sansa Tully. Sansa had a crush on Robb and now has to marry his sullen younger brother before he goes off to war.

The Northern Crown 2k by @hkafterdark

They were married in the Godswood as the snow fell around them.

The Quiet Balance of Wolves 12k by @sevensneakyfoxes

Regardless of what may or may not linger between them, he knows exactly the horrible position he is putting Sansa in: her home and freedom for another interloper in her bed. Jon cannot put her through it again. “My brother knew that the blood of dragons needed to flow in the North, and despite his misguided attempts at creating a lineage, I am starting to understand why. Wolves and dragons were meant to balance each other." Jon is thoroughly sick of prophecies; blood is blood - spilt, it looks the same red on snow. -- Daenerys and Jon make a deal. Jon barters poorly.

Seasons of Wine 1k by @geekprincess26

Sansa still drinks wine only when she has to. Every so often, as the world changes at a dizzying pace around her and her cousin Jon, she has to.

Say Your Vows Against My Skin 8k by @madamebaggio

Jon had married Sansa to protect the North. At least, that was what she thought. Sansa had married Jon to be protected. At least, that was he thought. Their marriage might have started for political reasons, but they love each other. Now if they'd could only say that to each other... Fortunately, one night makes them realize they might've been missing something significant about their relationship.

Duty, Desire, or Love 2k by @damdamfino

Sansa’s duty as Queen is to give the King an heir. But what if that is the only reason Jon is so gentle and caring to her? Would everything change if she told him she was with child? What if she wanted to pretend…for just a little longer.

What Grows in Winter 3k by @orangeflavoryawp

“There are too many years ahead to think of the years before.” - Jon and Sansa. Through the years of a harsh winter, they tend their love.

The Songs Never Mentioned the Scars 2k by @azulaahai

Sansa could hear how naïve it sounded even as she thought it, but the only thing she could think was - not Jon. Jon would never. Jon, her sweet Jon, who's first words to her after their wedding in the godswood had been that Ghost was her wolf now as much as his (which was so adorable and silly that Sansa never failed to smile when she thought about it), who knew exactly what it meant to grow up a bastard - would that man start visiting a brothel without explanation?

time goes by go and i can't control my mind (just keep breathin') 10k by @ladyalice101

“She’s grieving," Arya says, "I’ve never seen her like this and I don’t think she should be alone, but I - . . . have you ever seen her so sad?” Jon’s face has pulled down, the lines etched across it deeper than she’s ever seen them, and there’s a true sorrow in his eyes. “Once or twice,” he answers quietly. “You’re right, she shouldn’t be alone." - We have sad Sansa being comforted by Jon, we have arranged marriage, we have pining, we have feasts, we have bed sharing! This one is just chock full of tropes friends.

Take Me To Wife 1k

When the liege-lords and bannermen to House Stark find out that their king is not who they thought he was, a solution is suggested in the hope of restoring peace among his subjects.

All My Days 74k by @kit-kat21

The night before, as Sansa oversaw the packing of her trunks – her chamber at Winterfell being emptied of her possessions to take to her new home with her – she had asked her brother to describe her soon-to-be husband because Robb hadn’t even supplied a sketch of the man. “Well, he’s… pretty,” Robb decided after a moment’s contemplation. “Pretty?” Sansa’s eyebrows both raised at that.

Put Your Hands on My Waist, Do It Softly 1k by @kitten1618x

The Great War has ended, and Jon and Sansa have wed, but a marriage of convenience has evolved to so much more. As the frigid winter winds whip about outside the walls of Winterfell, Jon suggests something new to take the chill off, testing the boundaries of Sansa's trust in him.

tongue-tied disservice 9k by @ava-rosier

Jon and Sansa are wedded and bedded for the good of the realm.

Strange Bedfellows 7k

Married at Daenerys' behest, Sansa and Jon take a chance and open up to one another on their wedding night.

forbidden fruit's in season 13k by @bravegentlestrong

Jon and Sansa get married. For political reasons. And heir producing purposes. They only have sex this much for the good of the realm. There is a 0% chance they're secretly in love. Alternatively titled "Newsflash, asshole! I've been in love with you this entire goddamn time!"

Jon Snow's 5 Infallible Steps to a Successful Marriage 1k by @azulaahai

By mutual agreement, Jon and Sansa do not share the lord’s bedchamber.

Beasts of Seasons 69k incomplete

She had prepared her words and her actions meticulously.She hadn’t prepared to actually see him. Or, Jon and Sansa reunite and things don't go according to plan, forcing Sansa to reevaluate her identity and her loyalties and forcing Jon to come back to himself. Post-ADWD, bookverse fic. Jon and Sansa reunite on campaign to win back Winterfell.

i could offer you a warm embrace 10k by @amymel86

Of course he wants to keep his newly earned grotesque covered. He’s seen it in the looking glass; a sightless milk-white eye surrounded by angry puckered red scarring from brow to temple. Jon is not a vain man, but no one wants to witness their king’s weaknesses, least of all his wife who had once dreamt that her husband should be a beautiful, fair-haired prince. Well now you have a half-blind brother king.

Hard times for Dreamers 4k by @comma-spice (this was posted in 2014)

She shouldn't feel saddened by his outward lack of affection. Outside of their separate chambers Jon was a good, dutiful husband. He tried to see the logic behind her requests, agreeing on the importance of Bran sitting with them during the morning petitions, and riding out to Wintertown to visit the smallfolk. They rarely fought, and when they did an easy compromise was often found. More importantly he was kind, which was something she had long come to accept as impossible in a husband. Sansa is Bran's Regent and she starts to suspect perhaps she and her husband have built their marriage on a misunderstanding.

time's been kind to you, my love 23k orphaned

Sansa knows her loyalties lie with the Northern independence. Robb might have forgotten her, but she hasn’t forgotten him. Married to Tyrion, beaten by Joffrey- she’s never allowed herself to forget. Sansa has Stark engraved deep into her blood and bone. She’s been a quiet girl for long enough: wolves are protective of their own, after all, and it’s time she lived up to that.

[Aged up Jon and Sansa, set in an universe where, on Jon’s fourteenth birthday, Ned tells him his true parentage and Jon goes to Essos instead of the Wall; upon hearing of Sansa’s predicament in King’s Landing, he returns with an army.]

and I'm like falling water, set me free 2k by @aflashofgreen

Sansa resents these childish dreams of hers she can’t let go of despite the years. She resents them as much as she cherishes them.

From a Flicker to a Glow 8k by @dresupi

In retrospect, it was stupid to think Joffrey Baratheon had ever intended to propose marriage, but Sansa Stark is often blinded by wolves in sheep's clothing, especially if they have very fine wool. Jon arrives to save her, reminding her of the knights in the stories she enjoyed as a girl, complete with a white horse and all. But is he only offering to save her because she needs saving? If so, will that be enough foundation upon which to build a marriage?

but you're the one that i want; is that really so wrong? 4k orphaned

In light of the North’s demand for a marriage alliance, Jon and Sansa have some long-harbored matters to discuss.

Fill the Earth 6k by @darkmagyk

Arya Stark is a simple girl with simple desires: a prosperous North, a safe family, a large pack. And that her favorite brother and only sister would get on with the heir making business. She cannot have a niece until they are properly bedded. But as always, Jon and Sansa are being difficult.

And the Geese Are Headed North 13k by @yekoc

In the dark and honest part of her that Sansa is no longer afraid of, she had thought that Jon would die, and she was no sadder than she was relieved. In the months that she ruled Winterfell while the great war of men and wights waged around them, she felt herself growing into her power, sinking her roots back deep into the Northern soil. She enjoyed it, ruling. She was good at it. And at night, she had a wide bed and a door that locked and she was never cold. If Jon died in the war, she would miss him like she missed Robb and Rickon and Bran. She wouldn’t miss her husband. Seeing him now, she notes the absence of the relief and joy that marked her first glimpse of him at Castle Black. Instead, she feels a too-familiar grief: my brother is gone.

PRE CANON - WESTERN- FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - SALTY TEENS - POST CANON

[twicearoundthesun]

[coven au]

Sana woke abruptly as the door to her chambers flew open. Panic cleared the sleep from her eyes immediately; she reached for Mina and pulled the girl towards her, towards the side of the bed furthest from the door –

“It’s me, it’s only me!” Momo’s voice was rushed, breathless. She’d run here. Sana heard the chamber door close and two locks deploy.

“What’s going on?” Mina’s voice was raspy with sleep. “Why do you sound so scared?”

“We have to run. Royal soldiers are here. They took your brother-”

“What!? Why!?” Mina stood from the bed.

Momo shook her head. “We have to go. Please, please pack a few things. My father will send men after us with more supplies to get us through a few weeks until this is sorted-.” She said, beginning to rifle through Sana’s wardrobe and toss thing in a bag. “We’ll stay at my uncle’s hunting cottage until this is over.”

“Momo, slow down! What’s going on!?” Sana couldn’t keep the fear from her voice.

“I’m not going anywhere without my brother.” Mina added, though hers wavered too.

“Mina.” Momo’s voice sounded pained. “They arrested him for possessing magic.”

“What? Possessing? The King – He knows my family has always had magic, Kai’s never used it, my dad is friends-”

“The King is dead.”

Sana’s mouth fell open.

“He was assassinated last night. The Prince commands the royal army. He –” Momo’s voice was thick with emotion as she paused. “They pulled Kai from our bed and arrested him.”

“The law is no magic can be practiced. He might have magic, but he’s never used it. Just like you two. He’s innocent.” Through the dim moonlight, Sana and Momo met eyes. Mina continued. “I’m sure my father is working to clear his name as we speak.”

“The new king sees anyone with the ability to use magic as a threat. I don’t think your father can clear this overnight, Mina.”

“Kai is not a threat!”

“Kai is an example!” Momo’s voice boomed as she finally lost her patience. Sana caught a familiar shine in her eyes as Momo grabbed Mina by the shoulders, making her look up. “Kai is an example. No one is safe, anyone with magical abilities – no matter how powerful, no matter if they’re buddies with the royal family and in line to be governor of the most powerful province in the stupid kingdom – is going to be hunted down and prosecuted. Okay?”

Mina didn’t say a word. Sana didn’t breathe.

“And I just – I have to get you two out of here. Before they come for all three of us, I need to get you two to safety while our parents work this out. So please, please get out of bed and pack your things.”

The door handle rattled. The three of them froze. Momo’s hand went to her belt, and Sana shuddered as she realized Kai’s sword shone from under her robes.

A sudden force bent the door, but it held strong. A ram. Whoever waited outside the door knew they’d need to take it by force.

A few seconds of stillness. Then, they jumped into action.

Momo began to push furniture against the doors. Sana pulled Mina to her, out of bed, to the window. She dug in the chest underneath it, pulling out the rescue ladder her father always insisted she knew the location of. Looped it around the cast iron chock hidden by the chest. Sana had always thought he was paranoid.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had come back with friends, and now even the furniture creaked under the force of them hitting it.

“GO!” Momo rushed towards them, and Sana climbed out quickly, urging Mina to follow. As she joined them on the window ledge, Sana watched Momo unleash an inferno, setting her room ablaze. Mina gasped. She’d never seen Momo use her power before.

CRACK!

Sana jumped, shaken from the memory by the sharp sound of an axe against wood. She heard a snicker.

“In your own little world there?” Momo smirked, drawing back to strike the stump again.

“Not anymore.” Sana mumbled. She watched Momo set up another piece of wood and step back. Her best friend was truly a sight; here Sana was, bundled to extremes in furs and cloaks while Momo wore nothing but simple pants and a sleeveless tunic. Her muscles stretched under her skin as she brought the axe up. The snow was beginning to come down harder, melting as it landed on her but clinging to Sana’s robes.

“What were you thinking about?”

“When you burnt all of my possessions to the ground.”

Momo tilted her head and split another log. “Was that the same night I saved your ass from certain death?”

“Hm, guess it was. Aren’t you cold?”

“Not in the slightest.” The axe came down again.

“Well, I’m cold.”

“Go in the tent.”

“I’m keeping you company.”

Momo only rolled her eyes and continued her work. Sana stood, opting to help out by passing Momo the whole pieces of wood for her to split. They didn’t say a word for a few minutes – until Momo’s stomach growled loud enough for Sana to hear while she was passing off a log.

“Wow.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Is there anything left to eat?”

A small pause. Another crack of the axe.

“No. I can go back out after the storm. Visibility’s only getting worse.”

Sana nodded. She would go scavenge later, though she knew not to expect much. They hadn’t had full stomachs since the first frost. They weren’t going to starve yet, but she didn’t know how much longer they could scrape by like this. While Momo made sure the cold itself wasn’t an immediate problem, the scarcity of food still seemed likely to kill them, eventually. She couldn’t bear it.

“This cold is worse than anything we’ve had before this.” Sana started the conversation for what felt like the fiftieth time. “We’re really getting into winter, now.”

Momo nodded slowly, focusing on her work. She knew what Sana would say next.

“We should reconsider moving on. Somewhere warmer, where food is easier to find.”

“If we leave the province, they’ll have a harder time finding us once they get this sorted. My father told us to stay within the borders.” The answer was almost practiced at this point. Momo took the next log from her hands.

“He also told you he’d have it worked out before the snowy season. It’s been silence from home for months now.”

There was no rebuttal to that, only a deep breath. The next log was split with intent, the two halves tumbling off the stump and far out of reach. She was ignoring the issue, shutting the conversation down once again.

“Momo.” Sana said, more sternly. “I don’t think anyone’s coming for us anymore. And – I know, that’s hard to admit. But I… I think we need to look out for ourselves now. It’s been almost a year since we left home, months since we left the hunting cottage… No one’s coming. We need to give ourselves the best chance at survival.”

“Our best chance of survival is here. As close to home as we can safely be.”

“Maybe at one point it was, but now – it’s time, we can’t stay and freeze. Food is getting impossible to find. The only news we’ve heard about the province capital… it isn’t looking good.”

“We have connections, immunity here. Leaving that would be stupid.” She said with a glare. Sana sneered.

“And what did those connections do when they took Mina’s brother to the gallows? Your betrothed, Momo.” She tensed, and Sana felt bad invoking him into the argument. But Momo needed to see that they wouldn’t be safe here. “He was killed because he was the governor’s son. You’re the one that told me that. There’s no use in staying here. There’s danger in it.”

“What about our families, Sana? Our home?” Fire burned in her eyes, almost literally. “You don’t want to be close to them? Ready to go back when this clears up?”

Sana’s heart hurt. “As long as the king sits on the throne, as long as this witch hunt is taking place… It isn’t going to clear up. You know that. We’re not going home. We have to admit that to ourselves.”

Momo didn’t answer, but the air filled with the faint smell of burning wood; she dropped the axe, the handle now scorched where she’d been gripping it with white knuckles. Her hands balled into fists at her sides.

The last time she’d seen Momo accidentally burn anything out of anger they’d been kids. But it was a difficult truth and she had been pushing it. She inched forward, until she was an arm’s length away. “Momo.”

The girl only shook her head, wiping away angry tears that Sana hadn’t noticed and then pressing her palms into her forehead with force.

“Hey.” Sana kept her voice soft. She gingerly put a hand on Momo’s back – she was warmer than usual to the touch. “Deep breaths. I’m... I’m sorry I brought Kai up. It’s been stressful lately and I pushed the issue.”

“But you’re right.” Momo’s voice cracked. “I don’t want to go further from home, but we’re dying, here. We’ve been starving for weeks. And now we have another mouth to feed. We don’t have enough food for us as it is. I… I should have left her in the forest.”

“You did the right thing, helping her.”

“I know I did. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I couldn’t leave her. She couldn’t have been older than Mina, and I just…”

“I would have done the same.” She ran her hand up and down her back. “You did the right thing.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t.”

“Leaving feels like admitting it’ll never go back to how it was.” Momo whispered, in such a defeated voice that Sana wished she could tell her she was wrong. She stayed quiet. “I don’t want to accept that we’ll never go home.”

“I know, Momo. But it’s going to be okay.”

“How can you be sure?”

Sana took a deep breath. She wiped some of the melted snow dripping down Momo’s face, and held her cheek.

“I can’t.” She rubbed her thumb over her cheekbone. “But as long as we have each other, we’ll be okay. Just like it’s always been. The dream team.”

“A third of the dream team is dead.” Momo whispered, tears finally spilling.

“And we have his baby sister. We swore to him we’d protect her, remember?”

“We were seven. We were protecting her from monsters under the bed, not... Not this. And she doesn’t want to leave, either.”

“We’ve always protected her, Momo. The last time she a suitor proposed to her, you lit his room on fire. We haven’t broken our promise yet. And I never intend to. ” Sana dusted off some snow. “So it’s time for us to move somewhere safer.”

Momo sighed. “I know... We’ll… We’ll talk to her. And the new kid. When they both wake up.”

Sana offered her a gentle smile. Momo only bit down on her bottom lip, turning back to the wood block and picking up her axe.

[whetstonefires]

Political arranged marriage

Okay so this is actually a challenge option! For 1) how likely am i to write this fic trope and 2) whom for.

Because see, it's an interesting topic to me broadly speaking, but as it's used in fandom it's primarily a romance vehicle. A contrived scenario to set up a pairing in a Situation. Specifically a situation involving forced intimacy and externally imposed sexual pressure.

And like. It's not that I'm incapable of enjoying that, if it's the right blorbos handled in a way that works for me, it's a structure you can run a lot of fun dramas in, but I don't have anything I particularly want to deliver in that line, either.

Statistically at this time I'm most likely to find myself writing one of these about wangxian, because 1) my brain is in a rut help i have never cared about a ship like this in my life and 2) there are SO MANY of these damn fics in this fandom (modao zushi/the untamed), and historically 'high concentration of trope i find mildly annoying' has a high rate of inspiring me to process my feelings by producing my own iteration of that thing.

The Thing about wangxian politically arranged marriage scenario in particular is that it's a direct inversion of the context shaping their relationship in the canon.

Arranged marriages for political purposes require both parties to be actively embedded in high-status formal social webs which very proactively sanction their official attachment, regardless of personal sentiments, and any ensuing relationship develops within the framework of not being free to part.

All of this is the exact opposite of their situation; they are deliberately the exact opposite of this.

Now, if you engage with the thematic inversion on some level in your fic that's good fun, but if you try to edge awkwardly around it it gets very stale very fast. If I hadn't seen anyone doing anything fun with this I'd probably have been possessed and produced something by now, but I have, so it's eh. We're fine. It's fine.

More generally, I'm absolutely likely to depict politically arranged marriages, in general, but I don't know that it counts as doing the trope because I'm chiefly fascinated by all the ways these relationships can develop that aren't particularly close matches for romance as we typically block it out.

You know the bit in Fiddler on the Roof where after all the drama around love-matches rather than relying on the matchmaker, the dad asks the mom if she loves him, after like 30 years in a normal, traditional arranged marriage? And after initial bewilderment, having never considered the question before, she finally says she supposes she does, and he says he supposes he loves her too. Compelling. I'm intrigued.

If I'm going to write a political arranged marriage as a central feature of a story it's going to be about the social construct of matrimony and how it's conceptualized within the society in question. Necessarily this means it will also be about gender. The household as a sociological unit. Power and property.

It will also, obviously, be about politics.

So I'm much more likely to wind up doing this as a subplot in original fiction than as the premise of a fic, basically, but now I admit I am tempted to go figure out a premise for a one-shot political marriage fic for wangxian that I would find inherently interesting. I am easily baited, what can I say.

Alternate answer: i'm brain stuck in mdzs so technically the correct answer to this is like 20% and Jin Zixuan/Jiang Yanli because they're this in canon already and i'm basic like that.

[manlyquail]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: RWBY Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long Characters: Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose (RWBY), Ilia Amitola, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black, Roman Torchwick Additional Tags: Bumbleby Week 2022 (RWBY), Bumbleby Week (RWBY), political wedding, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Minor Violence, Action & Romance Summary:

Yang Xiao Long and her sister Ruby Rose are both preparing for an upcoming political marriage between Atlesian and Mistrali grooms. As they fix their attire, they double check the weapons on hand, and as hired secret security for the event are required to keep their eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble. However, as Yang grows somewhat bored with the sea of posh Atlesians all dressed the same, a woman arrives with the Mistrali that catches her eye and her ear. As the two discuss the pros and cons of this type of wedding, something catches their eyes before an accident reveals that the identity of the other isn't quite what they'd thought.

-Prompt for Day 5, ‘Arranged / Political Marriage’.

[sirenalpha]

u ever read a romance fic that's like this is gonna be so dark so be careful if you read

but the romance which is the main focus of the fic is completely fluffy and generic?

it's like ok u tried some edgelord stuff on the side but ur fics not that dark it's cute

[risuola]

ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

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

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,�� he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

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

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe