#Forced Marriage AU

[aristocratic-otter]

Welp, I wasn't going to post today...but then I realized that the final chapter of Heart in the Well will go up before Sunday, and that'll render the excerpt I carefully picked out obsolete by then. So I scrambled to pick bits from my other stories just so I could post this one excerpt. Go me!

The good news about Heart being done? I've got a new WIP plotted out that I'm super excited about, but I wouldn't let myself write anything until one of my WIPs finished. So next week or the week after, you should see the first words from that fic, a very very angsty Watford era canon divergence.

In the mean time, thank you to : @monbons, @messofthejess, @rimeswithpurple, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress,

@nausikaaa, @youarenevertooold, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @j-nipper-95, and

@facewithoutheart for the tags over the last two weeks. I'm having so much fun reading and watching your stories and art. This is such an incredibly talented fandom, it's endlessly inspiring. Plus, I get to meet some of you soon when I see Rainbow in August!

Here's my teasers for this week:

Here’s one from each of my official WIPs

From Saving Simon Snow: 

I shake my head now, thinking about it. I’ll just have to keep close to Simon, or at least, as close as he’ll allow me. At least my vampire anatomy gives me an advantage there; I can listen to what’s happening with Simon from three rooms away (I won’t, unless it’s a matter of his safety. It’s a gross invasion of his privacy otherwise) (fortunately, I had to learn to tune out the chatter of my peers by my 2nd year at Watford, or I would have gone mad). 

From the Heart in the Well

He looks back at me and then frowns. “Well, come on then,” he says, impatiently. 

“Come on, what?” I say, exasperated. The water’s up to my breastbone now, and I’m starting to feel a little panicky, so my voice comes out higher pitched than I’d like. 

Now, he rolls his eyes. “I need your tie,” he says as if it were obvious. It was not obvious. “Take it off, please.” At that, I shiver a little. I never thought there’d be a day where Simon Snow would be telling me to take off my clothes.

From Snow Fox: Penny, learning you can’t go home again (especially if you’ve signed on with the Snow Fox)

I step onto the road and walk briskly towards the house I grew up in. I can tell when I’ve been noticed. Several heads swivel my direction, and the murmur of conversation in the camp ceases. I keep on as if I haven’t noticed however. As I draw closer, I nod distractedly at some of the boys nearer to my path. They don't nod back. They’re watching me with narrowed eyes and I shudder internally. What do they see when they look at me?

From TikTok Dancer: Quite a bit racier than what I usually post, but still Tumblr legal, I think

Years from now, if I, for some odd reason, try to explain how my first time having sex felt, I won’t be able to. There’s no describing it.  I’m planning to get a degree in words, for fuck’s sake, but right now, all language has left me, sailed back to England probably. I’m left with caveman grunts and desperate whines. Every particle of sensation in my body has gathered between my legs, and every atom of will I have left is devoted to an attempt to meld my body with his. I’ve almost succeeded–we’re nearly one creature now, moving in frantic, panting unison. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

I know he’s been looking for me. I know he’s probably forgiven my great sin. He shouldn’t. Forgiveness requires that the person who receives it is contrite, is sorry for what they’ve done. 

I’m not sorry. I’d do it again today, if the circumstances were the same. 

Even being estranged from the only person in this world that I care about is still better than the permanent separation that would result if we were rescued. 

I believe that we’ll be friends again someday. Some day when the pain in my chest and stomach have dulled. And that day is worth waiting for.

From Cupid’s Shield:

I’m left gaping at where he just stood. It’s suddenly clear to me how much of his vampire abilities Baz has been hiding, because I was looking right at him. 

I never saw him move. 

All I know is suddenly he’s above me, and my arms are above my head and prisoned to the bed by his hands clamped around my wrists. I’m so stunned that I don’t even struggle. 

His knees are on either side of my hips, and he’s staring down at me like I’m his next meal. 

From my COBB project:

I know I should be worrying over tomorrow, and what my team will face out there. And I will be worrying over that—tomorrow. Tonight, I’m far more worried about the hours ahead. Hours of, once again, sharing a room with the only man I’ve ever loved. A man who’s never looked at me as anything other than a posh prick. 

That’s my fault, of course. It could have been different, all those years ago, when we first met at Watford Uni. I was excited, back then, to meet my roommate. Excited, and nervous. I freely admit I’ve had a privileged upbringing, and this would be the first time I’d ever shared a room. 

My childhood was mostly lonely, so I didn’t mind the idea. I’d thought it’d be nice to always have someone nearby to talk to. 

Of course, everyone knows how that turned out.

As others have said recently, please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged and I'll take you off of my tag list. Unless I hear otherwise, I assume you're like me, and like to hear from people even if you're not feeling like sharing yourself.

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@Iamamythologicalcreature, @emeryhall, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon 

[foxwithapen]

"When Kamek told me I was gonna get married, I didn't think it'd be to you, twerp."

"Surprise?" Luigi waved his hands, before immediately turning away. What was he doing? Every moment he spent in this castle made him want to leave, but he had to stay strong. For Peach. For the kingdom.

Bowser huffed, turning his back to Luigi, and nearly smacking him with his tail. Luigi hoped it was on accident. "Whatever. You stay in your side of the castle, I'll stay in mine. We won't have to deal with each other until that damn wedding."

Luigi gulped, taking a few steps away from him; he didn't want to deal with Bowser normally, and especially not when he's angry. "O-okie dokie. Can do."

"Good. I'll have servants bring you food and stuff, so don't feel the need to wander out of this area. If I happen to run into you I might not be as hospitable as I am right now."

And with that, he left, slamming the large wooden door behind him, leaving Luigi alone.

Only then did Luigi's legs give out on him.

He sunk to the floor, shaking harder than he'd ever had before. Being that close to the Koopa King before always meant trouble, and even though he knew he was as safe as he could be, protected by the peace treaty, he couldn't help but break down.

He missed his brother. He hadn't realized he'd be so lonely here. Scared yeah, maybe even bored. But the room felt so vast, with more open space than he'd ever lived in before in his life.

At least it was a nice room...yeah, Luigi would give Bowser that at least. The walls were dark and imposing, and he couldn't tell whether it was too hot or too cold. But just the bedroom alone was bigger than any house he'd ever shared with Mario.

And it was all green too. He supposed that would make sense, since Bowser's quite green as well. But the color would always be a comfort to him.

He collapsed into the bed, his fear momentarily replaced by shock as he sunk into the mattress. It had to be one of the softest things he'd ever felt in his life. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like he was laying on a cloud, instead of trapped at Bowser's castle.

Luigi rolled over, his hand brushing against the luggage that he hadn't noticed had been piled against the bed. He thought he'd had brought too many things, but in this grand of a room it didn't seem like nearly enough. At least unpacking would provide him some sort of distraction.

His crisp dress shirts and pretty dresses Peach had given him didn't take up even one fourth of the closet space. In fact, it was almost a room of its own. He supposed it made sense that things were bigger here, since Bowser was so much larger than himself, and yet it didn't make sense that things were so...ornate. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, he did see the beauty of the room, different from how Peach's castle was but intrancing in its own way.

And in that room, days seemed to melt away as he started project after project, from reorganizing his things, to changing around the decorations he could actually lift on his own, eventually even pulling out the fabric he'd brought. He'd been watching the tailors back in the Mushroom Kingdom, even occasionally asking for quick lessons when he was able to work up enough courage. They made the prettiest suits and dresses, and Luigi couldn't help but long for the ability to make fancy outfits of his own.

And now, he finally had the time to work on that goal. He had the closet space for it too.

[dol-dee]

Avery really had to thank whichever little creep had spiked her wife’s drink

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Foreign Perception

TW: Bruises, scratches and fights mentioned

Words: 1.2k

He was sprawled out on the couch, dressed in a black, satin robe, the edges of it lined with a wine red trim. The sunlight illuminated half of his form, seeming to highlight his features; the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones and his sleek figure as well as the curves of the softer features of his face, of his raven hair, all drawn in golden ink.

"Ah, you've woken up," he remarked softly, the usual scratchiness of his morning voice missing, sounding silkier instead. He'd been awake for a while, it seemed, which was strange because he wasn't really a morning person.

Outwardly, he seemed immaculate, tousled hair slightly damp from a shower, his skin looking healthy and well cared for. The luxuriant garment fell slightly as he shifted himself, exposing his collarbones and the tips of his shoulders.

A closer look at him revealed details of a different nature, the ones the sunlight refused to cast its golden glow on. The bruise on his left cheek, an ugly shade of purple and swollen, the dark bags under his eyes, the partially split lip, and a long, fading scratch partially exposed where the fabric of his robe wasn't hiding skin.

"Lie down with me," he suggested, in the same gentle and yet commanding tone, "you look tired." He gestured to the empty space next to him, an almost expectant look in his eyes.

So she obliged, not so much lying down as sitting next to him, her movements a little slow. He smelled like strong, expensive cologne; some sort of smoky wood and an elegant mix of spices.

"Relax, I won't bite," he supplied, a very slight hint of amusement in his tone that one could only pick up by spending a considerable amount of time around him.

Tentatively, she leaned back until her head rested against his chest, letting her arms fall limp at her sides. When the villain showed no indications of discomfort or annoyance, she slackened her posture a bit more.

"That's more like it," the villain praised, no hint of his usual biting sarcasm present. Most of their previous exchanges had involved snide remarks falling off of his sharp tongue and her snapping back at him. Not now, it seemed.

He slowly moved his arm so that it was around one of her shoulders, letting out a soft sigh, a perfect mix of exhausted and utterly relaxed.

The villain was usually unapproachable, even in more casual clothing, with a cryptic resting face that loosely resembled a dark scowl and an unreadable expression in his eyes. He seemed to emant danger, like he carried a warning sign everywhere. Right now, however, he looked impossibly soft, no mask to hide behind.

This time, he layed down completely on the couch, tapping her shoulder lightly so that she would follow his example. The hero found herself being pulled into strong arms, the villain's embrace being surprisingly warm.

"Why are we doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite that, she half-wished to stroke a hand through the criminal's hair, settling only for pushing the loose strands out of his eyes.

"I'm not very sure, maybe it's just calmer, you know. Than what we do every day." He gently guided her fingers through his locks. "It's okay. I think I actually like it when you touch my hair," he said softly.

So she ran her fingers through the villain's hair, noticing how his breathing slowed, how he closed his eyes and involuntarily leaned into the touch.

He opened his eyes and started tracing patterns into her arm absentmindedly with the fingers of one hand, the other still holding her close to him. "You're extremely quiet, which is very unlike you, any reason why?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, Villain, I just don't have much to say. Maybe I talk too much, but I don't mind the quiet," she remarked, continuing to card her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

"I don't think you talk too much," he stage-whispered, smoothing down a wrinkle in her silken dress, his fingers toying with the embroidery on the skirt. It had been a birthday gift, another trademark of their weird, nonsensical to-hate-or-not-to-hate relationship.

"You? Of all people. I thought you hated it." She let a dry laugh make its way into her tone, disbelieving.

"I didn't appreciate being insulted," he replied, only slightly irritable, a glint of mirth visible in the emerald green eyes, "but it was pretty much a mutual thing, and I know people who talk too much, incessantly, but you're not one. It's not noise to me, maybe you talk more than I do, but you listen, so that's a good thing." His hand skirted down the side of her face, and he started tracing her cheekbones down to her jaw. There were small bruises scattered across her cheeks, a few old scars across her figure, and some newer scrapes from more recent fights, some of which, he came to realise, were his fault.

But again, it's not like she hadn't managed to leave any marks on him.

"You're pretty," he remarked before he could catch himself, "for someone who has to get into all these fights, a bit of a shame, really."

"Fighting crime's not a good enough reason to taint my beauty?" she asked, ironically drawing the shape of a scar on his chest with her fingers, blissfully cool against his skin.

"Not what I meant," he attested.

She simply laughed. "Easy. I'm messing with you. Want to know something a little crazy?" she questioned, now playing with the curls of his hair.

"Mhm."

"First time I saw you without a mask, as much as I despised you then, the first, unfiltered thought in my head was that you looked like someone from a perfume ad."

A rare, genuine smile graced the villain's lips. "This is the most oddly specific compliment I've ever received but I'll take it." He toyed with the strands of her hair, weaving his fingers down the length of it. "I don't think we're friends," he decided.

"No," she agreed, tugging a little at the roots of his hair.

"I don't think friends keep doing. . .whatever it is this is unannounced," the villain concluded.

"Being physically affectionate, yes."

"But you know we aren't lovers, either. Is this a side-effect of the whole marriage thing?"

"No, I don't think so," she answered, smoothing the criminal's stray hairs down, "I think we're something in between enemies and lovers. I also think we're both touch-starved, and this. . .this calms us both." She started rubbing a stiff knot in his neck, earning a few contented sighs and shivers from him.

His hand flitted to somewhere near her shoulder, delicately tracing patterns into the skin, increasing pressure sometimes when it seemed fit. Involuntarily, she nuzzled her head into the crook of the villain's neck, and soon his own head slumped forward.

They'd both fallen asleep, mortal enemies in each other's arms, feeling safer than they ever had before.

Few things can rival something as simple and primitive as a gentle touch. More powerful than what one would expect, a frivolous, sentimental luxury only to those who chose to be blind, to run away and hide behind walls of indifference covered in cracks and close to collapsing. Even those who consider it a foreign perception in their world come to realise its priceless value sooner than they would dare to expect.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @usernotfound000 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[medusapelagia]

Getting to know you (again)

And we are live!!!!

A HUGE thank you to my amazing artist @boybonebird who did some amazing pieces of art I can't wait for everyone to see! You can find the first one HERE!!! A big thank you to my betas @spookysnarkyem and @dame-zoom-a-lot that helped me a lot. Another thank you to the @steddiebb2024 mods and the entire Steddie BB server for their constant support...

... and here we go!

Read the first chapter on AO3

[andorerso]

i’m curious about the forced marriage fic 👀

so I once wrote a similar AU for a different ship and I was thinking about it after I got a comment on that fic, and I thought.... what if forced marriage but instead of the girl being forced into it, it was the man having no or little choice in the matter?

so basically this is a vaguely historical/fantasy AU where Cassian's the lord of a minor castle in a kingdom that's currently at war.... Cassian himself is no longer capable of fighting because of an injury he suffered years ago, but he sent most of his troops to aide the queen, leaving only an essential roaster of guards at his castle. thus he's pretty defenseless. which is why it's so worrying when Jyn, a well-known bandit with her own personal ragtag army, sets her sights on his castle.

she overtakes them easily and Cassian's thrown in the dungeon where he expects to be executed, but instead Jyn comes to him with an offer. marry her or face the executioner's blade. Cassian didn't expect that, and she clearly has a hidden agenda, otherwise why give him such a choice, but faced with no better options, he chooses the marriage, and they're quickly wed. Cassian begins plotting how to best take back his castle and get rid of Jyn, but they spend time together and grow closer, and he's shocked when he actually begins to realize she's not so awful.... but something about her is still strange, and he can't help feeling like it all has to do with the reason she wanted his castle in the first place. Cassian thinks if he can figure that out, he can finally solve the mystery of her...

[littleghoulghost]

Trying to get the writer's block to fuck off long enough to get the last two requests done for Little Ghoul. After that I have an idea for Fallout 3, it's one I've seen done a few times before, but I honestly love it so much. It's the forced marriage trope AU where Lone Wanderer doesn't leave the vault and the Overseer implements a program to ensure a next generation. Of course the Lone Wanderer HAS to be paired with Butch DeLoria. I honestly love him so much, he's such a trash panda.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you do Rafe’s reaction to reader being criticized by her parents in the forced marriage au?

At your defence || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: Ty for the request anon!! Sorry this took awhile 😭

Warnings: body shaming, baby pressure, ed is not implied whatsoever in this

Word count: 1,474

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"Ah, there they are," your mother beams, rising from her chair with a delighted smile. She moves swiftly toward Rafe, who holds your 7-month-old son, Leo, in his arms. You remain still, not even turning your head to greet them, a small defiance that doesn’t go unnoticed by your father as he sets his glass of scotch down with a faint clink.

You hear your mother’s cooing voice as she reaches Leo, her fussing over him overly enthusiastic. "Oh, hasn’t he just grown since the last time!" she gushes, taking Leo from Rafe’s arms and settling him onto her lap, her affection almost too much for you to bear in the moment. Your father offers nothing but a curt nod, maintaining his usual distant reserve.

Rafe’s presence draws closer. His hand, firm yet not unkind, comes to rest on your shoulder. The sensation causes you to look up, meeting his eyes just as he leans down to press a brief, familiar kiss on your cheek. It's a gesture you’ve grown used to—affectionate, yet tinged with a sense of routine rather than passion. His gentle smile is meant for show, a mask for the public image you both maintain especially in front of your parents.

As he sits down beside you, the warmth of his thigh presses against yours, his hand resting on your knee. You focus on Leo, who babbles away in your mother’s lap, a sweet, innocent sound that eases some of the weight on your chest. "Do you know what you're going to order?" Rafe’s voice is casual as he flicks through the menu, his tone suggesting the same routine formality that colours most of your conversations these days.

You glance at the menu half-heartedly, appetite distant. "Probably just a salad," you mutter, though the words feel hollow, like so many of your thoughts these days. Before you can dwell on it, your mother’s voice cuts through the room, bright and commanding as always. "Darlings, I'm hosting a gala next week. You must attend," she declares, not so much an invitation as an expectation.

You don’t bother to respond right away, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. "Of course we’ll be there," he answers smoothly, already accustomed to fulfilling the social obligations expected of you both. His answer is automatic, effortless, as if this was just another item on the long list of duties you both perform for the sake of appearances.

Great. Another event. You force a smile, knowing full well what it would entail—another night of pretending. Pretending to be the perfect wife, locked in a marriage that felt more like a performance than a partnership. Another evening of tight smiles, polite laughter, and meaningless conversations with socialites you’ve long grown bored of.

Rafe’s hand remains on your knee under the table, a subtle gesture of unity that contrasts the emotional distance. You glance sideways at him, wondering if he feels the same weariness, but his expression is unreadable, composed in the way he’s perfected over time. You’d both become skilled at it—this charade of happiness.

Your mother gently hands Leo over to you, his little arms immediately wrapping around your neck as if he’s missed your warmth. The sweet gesture brings a chuckle from your lips, a sound you rarely hear from yourself these days. Rafe notices, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches the two of you, the rare moment of peace settling briefly between the tension.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper to Leo, your hand softly patting his back as he squirms in your arms. His tiny fingers soon find your family crest necklace, grasping it with curiosity. It’s a simple, innocent action, yet it tugs at something deeper within you—a reminder of the weight that symbol carries, not just for you but for the life you're expected to live.

Your father calls for a waiter, the sound of his authoritative voice interrupting your thoughts. The orders are taken swiftly, and when it’s your turn, you manage to say, "I'll have the Nicoise salad, please—" before you're abruptly cut off by your mother’s sharp tone. "Oh, no," she interjects, her voice firm, slicing through the air.

You and Rafe exchange confused glances, both unsure of what she was going to say. Her stern eyes focus on you for a moment before she turns her attention back to the waiter, the smile on her lips tight and forced. "She will have the Club Sandwich, thank you," your mother says, closing her menu with a finality that leaves no room for argument. You stare at her, lips parted in disbelief, as the waiter politely retreats.

"That’s too much for me, I—" you begin, but she raises a hand, silencing you effortlessly, as if it were nothing. "You’ve gotten far too skinny, my dear," she remarks, her tone almost casual but laced with that familiar sting of judgement. "A body like that will surely not produce a healthy baby." The words fall from her mouth so easily, so thoughtlessly, that it takes a moment for them to truly sink in

Your chest tightens, the prickle of tears stinging your eyes, but you quickly look away, blinking them back before they can betray your emotions. "What is your chef feeding you? Perhaps I should overlook his menu," your mother continues, leaning forward slightly, her concern veiled by her need for control.

Instinctively, your eyes flicker toward Rafe, cursing yourself the moment you do. It’s a habit you’ve never quite broken—looking to him when your parents begin their critique, hoping for some sort of allyship. Your parents likely notices, and you hate that you’ve given them another tell. Rafe, to your surprise, responds with a tone of calm indifference.

"We both eat the same meals, all very nutritious, I can assure you. There’s no need for concern." His words are delivered with an air of boredom, as though he’s tired of the performance your family demands at every turn. "My wife is perfectly fine and healthy," he adds, his voice steady, almost detached. You lower your gaze, staring at the table in front of you, feeling an odd mixture of gratitude and discomfort at his defense.

Your mother’s hum lingers in the air, hovering between indifference and criticism, and that ambiguity leaves you restless. As the conversation continues around you, the voices blur into a distant hum. You stare blankly at the glass of water in front of you, losing yourself in thoughts that feel miles away from this table, from these expectations.

You don’t even notice Leo beginning to fuss in your lap until Rafe’s hand on your thigh gives a slight, firm squeeze, gently pulling you back to reality. You blink, looking up to find both of your parents' eyes trained on you, their disapproving expressions almost instinctual. Without a word, you begin to tend to Leo, but Rafe is quicker, reaching out with an effortless, "Here, let me take him."

Relieved, you let him lift Leo from your arms, watching as he settles the baby against his chest. Leo quiets almost immediately, and for a brief moment, the tension in the room seems to ease. Rafe's hand remains on your thigh, a subtle reassurance that grounds you amidst the weight of your family’s expectations.

When the meals arrive, you glance down at the sandwich before you—far too large for your diminished appetite. The sight of it makes your stomach turn, not out of hunger, but out of the pressure to conform. You can feel your mother’s watchful gaze, an invisible but palpable force, compelling you to start eating.

You take a bite, swallowing it down even though the taste barely registers. "Mind if I have some?" Rafe’s voice breaks through the silence, and you turn to him in surprise. He’s already reaching over, transferring some of your food onto his plate without hesitation, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Yeah, of course," you reply softly, watching as he begins eating from your plate. His casual gesture surprises you, but it also lightens the mood, if only slightly. A small smile tugs at your lips, grateful for his quiet way of easing the tension that lingers between you and your parents.

When it’s finally time to leave, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. Bidding your parents goodbye, you stare out at the perfectly manicured lawn, the scent of freshly cut grass filling the air. Leo is fast asleep in your arms, his little head resting peacefully against your chest.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance over at Rafe. He turns his head toward you, his expression softening. Without a word, he nods, moving his arm behind your head. You lean back against it, letting yourself rest against his warmth for a moment.

[coline7373]

"For Life and Light."

Pffffiuuuuu... I didn't thought I would finish it in time but I did! *fist pump*

Just in time to thank the @codywanfirstkissbingo 's mods for such lovely prompts and to wish everyone a very merry Christmas and/or Winter's Holidays!!!!!!!!!

Big love sent to everyone!!!

💖❄🎄💖🌞💖🎄❄💖

[marshmallowdarling]

John Price got the letter early dawn, up just before the sun rises. A habit he and his boys can’t seem to shake after being at war for years, even if they had time to ‘relax’ now. 

John’s arm lazily wrapped around Kyle’s waist as he peers over the younger man’s shoulder to look at the recruit assessment forms with the sound of Simon’s cooking behind them, and the smell makes his mouth water. Food, actual food without the fear of living off rations around the corner, all of them had packed a few more pounds but John told them it was good, healthy weight covering their muscles and fuelling their bodies. 

A knock on the door breaks the soft morning atmosphere and all the men tense up, Johnny even pops his head in the doorframe from around the corner where he was still brushing his teeth. 

John pats Kyle’s waist and gives the others a soft reassuring nod before heading to the door, the others can hear soft muffled voices before John comes back with a letter in his hands and the boys can see the unmistakeable golden imperial seal, one they were all too familiar with. 

All of them had spent hours talking after finding out about the wedding, but a Knight couldn’t refuse an order and an agreement had been put in place after. Keep you safe even through their own emotions.

A few days and a multiple meetings later the boys are trying to tidy up the house, keeping their weapons that were strewn in every room in only a few now to not seem intimidating. The manor had originally came with help but John had let them all go, wanting his own privacy and knowing his boys wanted that too. 

John thought he had more time, way more time since the King hadn’t said anything about the actual wedding date or day or meeting you or your family…. But then you show up at their door with an imperial knight, your bags next to you and a letter in your hands with the golden imperial golden seal and John can tell it’s a marriage certificate without even opening it. 

He snaps into work-mode, his brain going a million miles per hour but his body nods to the Knight and opens the door wider for you to step inside, picking up your heavy luggage like its nothing to bring in after you as he kicks the door closed behind him. 

✮✮✮✮

It’s weird at first for everybody, obviously, but the boys get a big surprise. They had all brainstormed various of ideas on what you would be like, maybe a pompous spoilt brat, or scared out of your mind living with four blood-stained men, or maybe you would fight back and make their life hell but… 

You don’t care…. You *don’t* seem to care about their reputation. Your polite enough, only taking as much as you need, making little conversation but keeping to yourself, seeing that they already had a system. 

They had tried to keep their secret around you, they really did. Not wanting to make you seem like an outsider and not wanting to feel your judgement but all of them get restless. 

Simon was training most of the time with his balaclava on always even thought he had been finally working on letting himself relax a bit after being retired before you came along. 

Kyle was at work pulling more over time, training the recruits harder and before to try and get his frustrations of keeping his emotions at bay out. 

Johnny was at the local blacksmith, forging the same piece of metal over and over again while zoned out, hitting the same piece of hot metal with a cross peen hammer with all of his force. Feeling so pent up he was going to burst. 

And John Price, their ‘General’ who had always seemed to be so collected in every situation for all of them, is hit the worst. Wanting to stay around to make sure you were okay and settling in and he never thought he was a needy man but *Gods* did he seem to have taken for granted the small touches and praised words they all would share, especially since he saw how much it affected *his* boys and everything in him screamed at him to go make sure they were okay. 

Until the secret gets out when you walk into the kitchen late at night, having drank all of the water on your bedside table, to see John on top of Simon. Not having seen Simon’s face with his Balaclava half rolled up to only reveal his lips since it was dark with one a small candle lit. 

John rushes and stumbles over his words to try and say something but Simon stays silent, just wrapping his arms tighter around his captain’s waist almost possessively.  “It’s fine, I don’t know why you think I would care. I already knew.” You say so casually it wipes John out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DID YOU GUYS LIKE IT?! I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY RAHHHHH AND I WILL FEED YOU MY RAMBLES IF YOU WANT!!!

Also this MIGHT turn into dark content later down the line so please be careful with my profile! Also its 1am, ignore any mistakes.

Tag list (omg look at me mom, ive made it) : @sheep-from-rad

[missmatchablossom]

A Palace Romance: Gojo x Reader Royalty AU

masterlist

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. when you finally come of age and move into his palace, the two of you are forced to spend time together. read along to watch the love unfold <3

a.n: welcome to my super fluffy gojo series! something sweet meant for you to read while you giggle and kick your feet <3

part I: a fated meeting

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741187890203197440/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-summary-you-are-a?source=share

part II: a midnight sweet

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741369546371366912/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part III: a cold warm evening

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/745410714328563712/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part IV: a heartfelt hug

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/746992704466092032/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part V: a confession

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/752028381986586624/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-part-v?source=share

part VI: a compliment

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/752693180393193472/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-part-vi?source=share

and more to come!

[aristocratic-otter]

We'll pretend it's still Sunday...somewhere in the world, maybe it is! I don't know, ask my friend @frjsti, I suck at time zones.

The fun thing about taking weeks to post is that I get to collect all of y'all's tags like Pokémon. It gives me a little thrill to add another name to my list of people to thank--caught another one! This one's an Ultra! (Do I sound like I know what I'm talking about? I don't. The only Pokémon I can ever remember is Pikachu).

So, here's who I've collected since last I posted:

Thank you to : @alexalexinii, @artsyunderstudy, @monbons, @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,

@blackberrysummerblog, @nausikaaa, @bookish-bogwitch, @iamamythologicalcreature, @emeryhall,

@rimeswithpurple, @larkral, @youarenevertooold, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon,

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @j-nipper-95

On with the snippets! Some of these honestly are a little out of date, since I've been collecting them for weeks and I've posted three chapters recently. But I'm sure y'all won't mind.

Also, did I count sentences? No, no I did not.

From Saving Simon Snow: 

I frown at her. “Souls are real? I thought mages weren’t religious.”

Penny waves a dismissive hand. “We’re not. The word soul is just a convenient way to describe the core of magic found in each mage.”

I frown harder. “Wait, then. I had no magic, so I shouldn’t have a ‘soul’ as you call it. Why did the spell work on me?”

It’s Penny’s turn to look troubled. “And Baz is a vampire and has no soul, so that doesn’t make sense either.”

“He has a soul!” I protest. “He has magic, doesn’t he?”

From the Heart in the Well

“But what are we to do about this?” I point to him and me and then to the now-six inches of water lapping around my ankles. 

Snow frowns. “Shit,” he mutters. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“When do you ever think?” I snap. It hasn’t been too cold, but now, soaked to the skin, I’m feeling the temperature. I rub my arms. They haven’t gone numb—my vampire nature doesn’t really permit me that sort of human response—but I remember what it feels like to go numb, from back before I was turned. So even if the cold can’t really harm me, it makes me feel more human to act as if it could. 

From Snow Fox: 

I run my hand over my face, trying to rub away the exhaustion that’s dogged me since I brought Baz home for the last time. I’ve not been able to sleep through the night since then; between missing his arms around me and stress over my many responsibilities, it’s no wonder that rest evades me. 

I don’t want to put Penny at risk. But she’s right–she’s the most likely person to be able to get in and get back out again. Every man in my troop, including Shepard, has featured on one of the redcoat’s wanted posters. Our images are plastered to every tree from Atlanta to Charleston. 

From TikTok Dancer: 

.He shrugs again. “Well, you’re beautiful.” He says it in a matter of fact way, like he’s saying the sky is blue, or oatmeal is what’s for breakfast. I feel that tug in my chest again. “How did you manage to stay a virgin so long? Or is it just that you usually bottom?”

“I’m a virgin,” I sigh, giving up any pretense of appearing sophisticated. This man manages to unravel every false front I try to put up. “Or, I was.”

He grins again. “I’m honored that you chose me then. Now, are you ready to go again?”

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

On top of a mound of cash and jewellery (had Davy robbed the coffers of everyone on the SS Watford after we were abandoned there?), I’m elated to find the old stereoscope that Davy amused us with, so long ago. And under it, an entire bag full of view cards. I frown. This is far more cards than I remember viewing, in that long ago time. Then I remember Davy sifting out several of the cards, and stowing them away. 

I’m immediately intrigued. I’m older now, not a child anymore, and I’m extremely curious to know what Davy considered to be “sinful shite,” not fit for my young eyes. 

From Cupid’s Shield:

I ate until my pants were too tight, and, for the first time I can remember, I didn’t even think I could manage a sour cherry scone. So I decided to skip Tea and go up to our room to sleep off my overindulgence.

Which is why I’m sprawled out on my back in bed, when our door is flung open so hard that the crash of it hitting the wall shakes the room. 

I sit up on my elbows and blink at the figure in the doorway. 

It’s Baz. Baz. And a glowing golden arrow is embedded in his back.

From my COBB project:

Simon, as team lead, doesn’t have one specific thing to do. Instead he’s buzzing anxiously around, inspecting everyone’s work and generally making a nuisance of himself, as he always does. Baz is about ready to pull his hair out if Simon asks him one more time “How’s the progress?” Or he might pull Simon’s hair out, and I wouldn’t blame him. 

Tags and cheers to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash,

@moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee,

@tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz,

@krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @facewithoutheart, @nightimedreamersghost, 

@thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather,

@ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt,

@cosmicalart,  @cutestkilla, @best--dress, @theearlgreymage

[foxwithapen]

"So...how did the meeting go, Princess?"

Peach sat down at the table, lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, me and Bowser's advisor reached an agreement."

"That's great!" Mario's smile quickly faded once he took another look at Peach. "È successo qualcosa? Why the long face?"

She sighed, not meeting either of the brothers' eyes. "The only way they would agreed to peace is through a diplomatic marriage."

"What?" Mario shouted, jumping up from his chair. "Princess, you can't be serious! That—that's what we've been fighting for this whole time—to save you!"

Peach's voice was firm as she rose from the table, finally meeting Mario's gaze with a determined intensity. "It's not an ideal situation, I know. But I don't want to send anyone else in my place to live in that dreadful kingdom. This is my duty, to keep everyone here safe. That's what I've been fighting for."

Mario's voice wobbled as he took Peach's hand; she was shaking just as much as he was. "I know, amore mio, but there has to be another way!"

"I'll go."

Luigi hadn't spoken the entire time, but the moment he spoke both heads swiveled towards him. Mario couldn't seem to register what he'd just heard.

"No! Bro, please, that isn't the solution." Mario looked over at Peach, waiting for her to back him up, but she stayed silent, her eyes locked on Luigi's who held the same determined fire as her own. "You—you can't seriously be considering this, princess!"

Peach acted like she hadn't even heard him. "I can't forbid you from going, Luigi. But I can advise you against it."

Luigi bowed his head, trying to hold back the fear he felt creeping up into his throat. Peach was giving him all the excuse he needed to back down, to stay safe at home with his brother. And yet... "I-I can go. You're needed here princess." His voice shook, but he'd never felt more sure of himself as he did right then.

"I won't let you Luigi. Please," Mario pleaded, his voice rising unsteadily. "I'll go instead, Peach. Let me."

Luigi turned to Mario before Peach could even get a word out. "No." The power behind his voice shocked everyone, but especially him. He didn't sound like himself. "You're always playing the hero, bro. For once, I want to do my part as well. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"You're not a little kid anymore..." Mario agreed, voice heavy with sadness. "But you'll always be my little brother. I can't lose you."

The air was tense, with neither brother willing to make the next move, until Luigi pulled his brother into a tight hug. Tears sting like fire down Luigi's cheeks. "You'll still see me, bro. Even Bowser won't be able to keep us apart."

When they finally let go of each other, Mario nodded in resignation, before leaving the room. Peach took his spot next to Luigi as she watched him leave. "You're brother's a stubborn man," she said fondly, "but he'll come around eventually."

"I know." Luigi wiped at his tears with his sleeve. "I-I will be able to see him again though, right?"

"Of course. We'll come see you, and you'll come see us. Once our kingdoms are allies... we'll hold celebrations and festivals for everyone to attend. We'll finally have peace." Her eyes were sparkling with some emotion Luigi couldn't fully understand. "You're a brave man, Luigi."

"What, no, me? I-to be honest, I'm scared, princess."

She smiled warmly. "I'd be more surprised if you weren't. But you're doing a great service to my kingdom, and I'll never be able to thank you enough."

"A cake of yours would be all the thanks I could ever need."

Her laugh cut through the tense air that had been building up in the room. "Until you have to leave, I'll make you all the baked goods you could ever want."

He laughed along too, because laughing felt so much nicer than the fear gnawing at his insides. "Thanks."

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Hey, that's what friends are for."

[sarahowritesostucky]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, non-con, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", mating, breeding, hate to strong affection, yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the alpha who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

Masterlist

Daddy's Home (Series teaser)

Episode 1: A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like Her Mommy

Episode 2: Taking Back What's His

Episode 3: The Lap of Luxury

Episode 4: Motherhood Suits You

Episode 5: Should've Done this Years Ago

Epilogue: A Storybook Romance Once Again

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" milashka = "cutie patootie" malen'kiy = "little one"  malyshka = "little girl" pchelka = "little bee"

@cjand10, @violetwinterwidow01, @ppbhquinn, @myfavbuckyfics, @liannafae, @sadsackssss, @timidquindim, @dakotali, @rayofdawnworld, @wintrsoldrluvr, @lindasweetie

[konigsblog]

more arranged marriage between reader and farmer!könig, please? 🌝❤️

tw: arranged marriage au, rape/non-con, forced impregnation and breeding. dead dove: do not eat. 18+ tell me if i missed anything. 🔞

your parents knew it was harsh to arrange a marriage with the farmer of the village, although, they cared more about his money and wealth and status around the village, how you'd be viewed as his pretty, little wife, respected and admired by those around you.

that's what they want you to believe — that it's for your own sake — but, a part of you is aware that they're doing this for könig's money, as he pays them to keep you by his side. for könig, this is everything he's wanted, whilst you avoid him like the plague and dismiss every attempt when he tries having sex with you.

farmer-könig spends ages on the field, harvesting the fruits and vegetables whilst you hide inside, ignoring your arranged husband. könig attempts to please you, to make you happy, but eventually, he's left without a choice but to take the old-fashioned route and have his way with you regardless...

he'd drug you, get you intoxicated enough where your mind is easily shaped and you're a pliant plaything for him to use for an hour or so, his obedient wife waiting on him, to be torn apart and pierced with his hung, musky cock. the smell of his sweat and musk was a scent you were all too familiar with, smelling it on him after he'd arrived home from the farm, sweat running down his forehead. you could smell it against his neck as he lowered himself onto you, his weight holding you down and the scent of alcohol coming from your breath.

his large and calloused hands began moving as he wasted no time at getting what he pleased and yearned for. könig's fingers ran up your back, unclasping your bra and removing it to see what he craved, the essence of your sweet arousal leaving könig insatiable and hungry. he couldn't wait any longer, as he gripped your breast firmly and began to suckle at your hardened nub, your nipple perky, hardening as he rolled his tongue around it. you mewled and moaned drunkenly, cunt leaving your panties wet, huffing and puffing with confusion, and your drunkenness leaving you exhausted and weak.

his other hand began to sink into your panties, and into your sopping wet hole. he could already feel how slick you were, along with how tight you were — he almost felt guilty for doing this, knowing you'd be aching and in agony the entire time — but, his dick weeped and twitched inside his boxers as he rolled his bulge against your clothed cunt. his lips popped off from your nipple, your eyes wide as the cold air against your sore nipple, causing goosebumps to spread along your body, and the wet sounds of your pleasure audible as he thrusted his calloused, thick fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers began to pull your panties down, revealing that glossy cunt that he longed for — that he dreamed and fantasised about. the slickness looked delicious to könig, who couldn't help but free his large cock from his boxers, springing out and hitting his lower, muscular abdomen as he began to push inside, one hand gripping his base and the other spreading your slit open for easy access. your folds latched onto him almost instantly, eyes wide with shock at the ache and pleasure between your thighs, the force of his meaty girth leaving tears rolling down your cheeks.

your chest rose and fell quickly, back arched at the throbbing sensation of his thick dick pushing deep inside of you. könig couldn't control himself as he felt himself grow and drool inside of you, tip leaking with pearly, milky beads of arousal, your eyes glistening with tears at the painful stretch and uneasiness. something was nagging you that this wasn't what you wanted, that something was wrong — yet, you ignored these messages and signals running through you, his hands on your wrist restraining you as he fucked himself hard into your hole, thrusts becoming merciless and sore, the tip nuzzling against your cervix.

tears ran down your face at the sight of your cunny swollen and stuffed with his hot, bulbous cock, heaving and looking around dizzily, feeling the sudden sensation of his tip spurting into you, weeping hot loads of his milky arousal into your pussy, with the hopes of impregnating you.

it's not as if you could stay away from him whilst pregnant; you would need guidance, support... everything was working the way he wanted it to go, and poor you, left defenceless, with his potent seed filling your cunt ‘til a bulge formed in your stomach. :(

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Sing For Me

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Singer Fem Reader

TW: kidnapping (mentioned), Yandere themes, minor Stockholm syndrome, and forced relationship

Fingers danced across the rosy nape of a gorgeous young woman. A smile crawled on the man’s scarred lips as the rough pads of his fingers ran across the leather collar around her pretty neck.

“You look as beautiful as always, (your name).” (Your name) didn’t even flinch when her captor pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. His chapped lips lingered on the spot for a what felt like an eternity before he withdrew with a satisfied hum. “So docile, so perfect.”

A single tear fell from her eye as her husband wrapped his strong arms around her and bent down to her height. His scarred face now in perfect view in the mirror, the rugged face that haunted her dreams and now existed in her reality. That face belonged to the man who stole her away in the night and locked her in a beautiful, gilded cage. His hands roughly clipped away her wings until she had no choice but to completely depend on him for survival. And that man was the one and only Hanayama Kaoru.

“It’s been so long since I’ve last heard your voice… won’t you sing for me?”