#and like don't even get me started on the child bride thing like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaiser1ns · 1 month ago

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i told you, didn't i? time is nothing but a construct, an easy thing to manipulate but we'll start with the living dead or the walking dead, call it however you like, my little puppet! everything is more fun when its uʍop-ǝpısdn. hope you will enjoy being stuck between the physical and spiritual realm. remember, reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram. buy gold, bye!

𝗷𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗵𝗶!𝘀𝘂𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

THE CORPSE'S BRIDEㄑword count :: 6121 ▿ finding a red envelope with money often symbolizes marriage, but sometimes luck is just on your side as you pick it up in the city center. what you didn't know is that you accepted а marriage proposal. and this is how the suo family tricked you, a living woman into becoming the ghost bride of their deceased son.

CHOOSE ANOTHER DIMENSION IN WEIRDMAGEDDON

“You are a disgrace to our family.”

Every day it was the same old tune, like a broken bamboo flute that had worn out its melody. You’d hear it as soon as you stepped through the front door, sometimes even before. “How come the gods have cursed me with such a daughter?” your mother’s voice carried over the sounds of her stitching, accompanied by the echo of your father’s disapproving grunt. They acted like they were personally offended that you were still breathing.

Yes, yes … The unmarried daughter. You knew the script so well by now, you could predict every insult before it left their mouths. There was no getting out unless someone asked for your hand in marriage. It was already getting more than annoying, you wake up wondering when there will be a wedding and go to sleep thinking about how you want everything to end. If you had been born a boy, it would have been much easier for you, but apparently, the all-mighty gods want you to suffer.

“Are you in this house again?” Even though you were the one coming home from the market, laden with bags of food you’d bought with your own money. Not that they ever thanked you, for making dinner and serving delicious meals on their plates. The most gratitude you got was a side-eye from your mother as she sewed something, muttering to herself as she added the finishing touches to the red and gold dress.

You froze. Red and gold? No, no, no.

“What are you staring at?” She snapped, her needle pausing mid-stitch on a piece of crimson fabric that shined bright by the house lights. “This is your wedding dress if you ever manage to get a husband.” her tone was as sharp as the needle in her hand when she returned to her sewing, sighing at the fact that you were still here.

This wasn’t your first marriage guilt trip. Ever since your two older sisters had gotten married off, the pressure was on you. Sometimes you genuinely considered just disappearing poof and you are gone. Then you could haunt them forever, appearing in their dreams and turning them into nightmares.

“Mother, do you need me to do anything else?” you asked, hoping to escape even for a little while. Her eyes narrowed, the needle suddenly looking more like a weapon in her hand. “Go fetch some water from the well, and get something sweet for your father.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing the wooden bucket, you made your way to the center of the village. It was quiet for once, no bustling crowds or nosey elders asking why you weren't married yet. You mimicked your mother's nagging voice under your breath, lowering the bucket down into the well.

"Your sister is already expecting her first child, and you still don't even have a husband, blah blah blah..."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on the rope. The weight of it felt so familiar to your life, dragging downwards, just like your mother's hopes. And then, something bright caught your eye, a splash of crimson against the dull stone. You squinted. There, floating near the bucket, was a red envelope.

“Finally!" you muttered, quick to glance over your shoulder. It was an unspoken rule — finders, keepers. Maybe the universe had finally tossed you a bone. You bent down, fingers brushing the envelope's edge, and a chill ran through you, despite the sun hanging lazily overhead. Red envelopes were usually given for weddings. Could this be a sign? A stroke of luck for your otherwise underwhelming love life?

But the moment your fingers touched the envelope’s contents, the air shifted and the wind seemed to whisper your name—in a voice that wasn’t yours.

You looked around. No one was there. Strange.

Opening it like it was your last meal on this earth you couldn't believe your eyes. "Gold!" you whispered. The crisp smell of paper money filled the air, your fingers trembling slightly as you counted it. Your mind raced with possibilities—finally moving out, finally escaping the daily nagging, finally—wait.

Inside the envelope was a small, folded piece of parchment. It was old, the edges colored in yellow, and as you opened it, your heart sank. There was a lock of someone's hair, it was a slightly reddish brown with a small note tied to it. The words on the paper weren’t a blessing. They weren’t even good news. The name next to “groom” was unfamiliar: Suo Hayato.

Heart pounded fast as you pieced it together. You hadn’t just found some stray money. You’d accepted a proposal—a ghost marriage proposal. There are beliefs that if an unmarried boy is not married in the afterlife, his spirit could bring misfortune or illness to the living family members, pushing families to find a bride for him and one way to do that is to leave a red envelope, tricking the girl into thinking it has money. Because even in death, a person is not seen as complete without a partner. It also ties into beliefs about spirits and the afterlife, where the dead might reach out to the living to resolve unfinished matters.

Slowly your gaze slid back to the red envelope. An intricate pattern was etched into the surface, symbols you didn’t recognize. The kind of symbols your grandmother used to warn you about, eyes wide and voice hushed.

"Do not touch what belongs to the dead," she'd always said, but how exactly would you know that something belongs to someone who is not here anymore?

You cursed under your breath. Well, great. It was too late to back out. The Suo family had tricked you into becoming the ghost bride of their dead son. A gust of wind blew through the well, carrying with it a low, chilling hum. You swore you could hear that voice again, whispering softly in your ear, "Thank you for accepting me."

That gentle voice, with that honeyed sound, made you shiver as your hands began to shake. That couldn't be true, it wasn't real. You just accepted an invitation to your own wedding and of course, no one alive would want you, of course, it would have to be someone dead. Quickly taking the overflowing water bucket you hid the letter in your clothes. You would think about it later, you were running late and would be scolded more than usual. The dead boy would wait a little longer, there was nowhere for him to run.

You go home as quickly as possible, the strange feeling of someone watching you still hasn’t left you. Your mother was done with sewing the dress, but she was nowhere to be found as you placed the bucket in the kitchen. Then you found her and your father in the garden talking, sitting between the statues of the ancient dragons that you and your father used to play among when you were little. When they loved their daughter and engagement did not destroy the relationship between a girl and her parents.

"I don't want our daughter to be treated like that. But this is what we should do." hiding behind the wall you were shocked by her words, eyes wide and tears started to form in your eyes. You never expected to hear such a thing from her as you wiped your tears and heard your father. "To keep this image of a perfect family. I hope someone asks for her hand soon because she won't live in this home any longer." Of course, traditionally, girls who did not marry were regarded as a threat to the entire family and were not allowed to continue living at home. Suddenly the letter fell out from inside your robe. You are practically married now and maybe tonight you will pay your husband a visit in the graveyards.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? You hadn’t asked for this. But there it was—a contract, a promise, an unholy bond.

Fingers trembling, you snatched up the letter that had fallen and shoved it deeper into your robes, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe this could be your way out. If the Suo family’s dead son had claimed you, then at least no living man could. You thought back to the voice, that soft murmur, almost too tender for something no longer living. But could you trust a voice that came from the dark?

Your parents' voices faded into the distance as you hurried to your room. The dress, a crimson red with delicate embroidery, hung neatly on the wooden frame, waiting for you. Its beauty felt like a mockery now, knowing your parents had likely sewn it for some stranger. You brushed your fingertips over the fabric, the reality of your situation sinking deeper. This dress would never be worn for a joyous occasion. Not for you.

As the evening sun began to set, you glanced out the window toward the distant graveyards. The lanterns lining the street flickered eerily against the walls. A strange pull began to take hold, like an invisible red string tugging you toward the resting place of the stranger you were about to marry.

But still, you were curious, who is this husband of yours? How old is he because that was important ... you didn't want to marry some 50-year-old grandpa. It wouldn't be your first time sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep because right now, the urge to go and find his grave surpassed even the heavenly world. It was time to meet him, the one who had called out to you, to see if this strange and unnatural union could be undone. Or maybe you were bound forever.

You could still feel his presence—the weight of it lingering in every step you took as you made your way through the empty streets. The moon hung low in the sky painting everything in its silver glow. The silence around you was oppressive, broken only by the sound of your sandals against the dirt path.

The closer you got to the graveyards, the colder it became. The wind picked up again, swirling around you, bringing the chills. You almost turned back to go home, but the thought of your parents, of being cast out from your home, pushed you forward.

Finally, you arrived at the gates of the cemetery. The iron bars stood tall and ominous before you, half-covered in creeping vines. Beyond them lay the rows of graves, their headstones arrayed like one great army. You swallowed hard, hesitating for just a moment, before pushing the gate open.

Your feet carried you towards the Suo family’s burial plot and the further you ventured in, the more you felt that presence intensify. It was suffocating, wrapping itself around you like a veil. And then, there it was—a single grave, marked with the name of your husband.

The earth before it looked freshly disturbed as if something—or someone—had been moving beneath the soil. You stopped, breath hitching, your body frozen in place. It had been dug up, there was dirt everywhere, and by the light of the lantern, you could see that the dug up was deep, to say the least. You put a hand over your mouth in complete shock. There was no one in the coffin. How come there was no one? Your breathing became heavier, the warm air coming out of your mouth suddenly turned cold, your eyes wide with complete fear when you heard noises near you. It could be someone passing by, a bird, or ... a rabbit.

A little white bunny, with a color just like the moon reflecting the yin energy. But will it bring you good fortune and peace in a place like this? Why did everything suddenly just turn into a scary fairy tale and why did you have to be the main character? You and the small animal looked at each other, its red eyes shining brighter than the lantern next to your face until suddenly it ran away when you tried to approach it.

And then, you heard it again—that voice. But this time, it wasn’t a whisper.

"Welcome, my bride."

The voice came behind you.

Swallowing hard your body shook, more than before as you couldn’t move. You stood in one pose, like a statue until you heard footsteps approaching. Spinning around, heart pounding in your chest, you screamed as loud as your lungs allowed. The sight before you was more horrifying than anything you could have imagined—a boy, or what had once been a boy, stood there, grinning at you. You instinctively threw your lamp in defense, the small flame flickering in the air and for a moment you thought the fire would pass through him like a ghost. But the impact was real. It struck his chest and clattered to the ground.

“W-what? Stay away from me or I will … I will–” You stammered, your mind racing. He wasn’t just a ghost, but a corpse. A jiangshi, a walking dead boy. Panicked, you glanced at the disturbed grave behind him, a confirmation that Suo Hayato had indeed risen from the dead.

But something was strange. His pale skin didn’t have any signs of decay, no silver hue like the stories warned, no moss clinging to his rotten flesh. He looked almost normal, almost alive. His brown hair hung loosely over his face, parted to one side and his singular eye or his living eye, watched you and made you feel the goosebumps. The other eye was covered by a leather eyepatch, which only gave you an unsettling feeling. A pair of yellow tassel earrings, with red gems like the rabbit’s eyes swung with his movements. And there was the black hat, a yellow talisman attached to it, though the paper was blank.

“Please, do not fear me,” he said, voice still sweet and calm despite the terror bubbling inside you. “You woke me up from my slumber for our wedding. My parents always wished for me to marry, but you see … “ His words trailed off as he lifted the talisman from his hat, his grin widening as if trying to comfort you. “I died before I could tell them who I truly wanted.”

You let out another scream, louder this time. The absurdity of his casual tone while he stood there, very much undead, with his smile flattering for a second and his single eye widening slightly because he had expected as much. You backed up until you were pressed against the cold stone of another gravestone. This couldn't be happening. He was dead, he should be dead, and yet here he was, speaking to you as this is just another day.

“I-I don’t want this! I don’t want to marry a dead man!” you shouted, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your footing, knees weakening beneath you. All of a sudden, the weight of what was happening crushed you down. You didn’t want to die anymore. Not like this, not as some undead bride in a nightmare you hadn’t asked for.

The boy, Hayato, tilted his head, his smile now almost sorrowful. “I am not here to harm you. I was brought back for this, to fulfill my parents’ wishes.” you caught a glimpse of the boy he might have been before death took him. “I can’t bear to see you afraid of me. I never wanted this either, but you were the one who took the red envelope my mother left.”

You paused, trying to steady your breath, eyes darting between his face and the talisman he held. The numerous stories of jiangshi that your grandmother told you—these creatures were said to drain the life force from the living, feeding on their energy until nothing remained. Was that why he was here? To suck away what little life you had left? To take you down into the grave with him?

“I won’t let you drain me,” you blurted out, your voice shaking but your defense rising despite the fair. “I’m not ready to die yet!”

Hayato’s eye widened, and then a deep sigh escaped his lips. He stepped closer, too close for your liking as you flinched. But instead of attacking, he let the yellow paper fall over his face again. “I am not here to drain you. I was raised … incomplete. Not fully dead, not fully alive,” he explained, lowering his gaze to meet yours. “I simply wanted to meet you.”

“But you are a jiangshi,” you whispered, blinking as your eyes were fixed on him as if watching for any sudden movement.

“Yes,” he admitted, his smile fading completely now, replaced with sadness. “But I did not ask for this fate any more than you happened to be my bride.”

His words sank in, making you rethink everything. He was just a strange boy who stood between life and death. His pale face, his empty eye socket beneath the patch, the talisman that should have controlled him but didn’t—he was terrifying, yes, but also…trapped.

“Then what do you want from me?” you asked, and as much you wanted to run, to escape something kept you rooted in place.

Hayato hesitated, then looked up, meeting your gaze with that single eye of his. "I want what I was denied in life. A chance to choose for myself. And maybe..." He paused, and the tiniest hint of hope flickered in his gaze. "Maybe to experience love."

Your heart was still racing, unsure of whether you should trust him—or if you even had a choice at all.

“Just accept him already, young lady! I want to sleep when it's dead silence.” someone's female voice called but there was absolutely no one near you and you started to look around. "I'm down here, but you have time until you join us." The woman's voice came from leaning against her tombstone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, ma’am." Your breath hitched, and your gaze landed on a nearby tombstone. The name etched into the stone was worn, nearly faded, but still there. A woman’s ghostly form leaned casually against it, translucent and calm. You were talking to dead people now. Wonderful.

Just because you decided you'd be rich from a dumb envelope, and what did it turn out to be? You live between these two worlds as much as your husband. "Ah, the boy of the Suo family. They finally found you a bride."

This time it was a deep male voice as you both looked in that direction. It was coming from a tall, ghostly figure standing just behind another tombstone. "Good choice! I know the women in her family are unearthly beautiful!” You didn't know how to take that, a compliment you'd never received before. Hayato looked at you while you were still looking down at the ground, the moon illuminating everything above you.

His eye filled with something like... affection. He waited patiently for your response because it wasn’t easy to just accept a marriage proposal, a ghost one at that.

The dead were already speaking to you as if you were one of them, and perhaps you were—caught between their world and the one you had known your whole life. Maybe you didn’t want to die, but living in this strange in-between place was better than being cast aside by the living. You took a deep breath and slowly nodded.

"I... I accept," you whispered, almost to yourself, then met Hayato's gaze. "But I need to go home first." He smiled, the kind of soft smile that made you forget for a moment that he was no longer alive. "Of course. I will wait for you."

You turned, leaving the graveyard behind, though the voices of the dead still whispered in your ears, their conversations muffled by the distance. The walk home was quieter than before, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching from the shadows, but you knew that the light would appear again.

A week passed when you gathered courage and told your parents everything. You showed the envelope, explaining what had happened—how the Suo family had chosen you, how you had unknowingly accepted the fate of being a ghost bride, and how his spirit had come back to claim you. By not telling them, however, that your husband is somehow alive. You expected anger, disbelief, or perhaps even outrage. But instead, your parents stood in silence.

Your mother was the first to break the stillness. She took your hands in hers, her grip trembling slightly, but a small smile appeared on her face. "You... you will be married?" she whispered as if daring to hope this strange, supernatural fate might finally be your salvation.

Your father, though pale with shock, slowly nodded. "This is... unexpected," he muttered. "But if it means you will be safe, and the Suo family is satisfied, then this is for the best."

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mother rushed to answer it, and there they were, the Suo family—Hayato’s parents. His mother, a graceful woman draped in mourning clothes, approached you with a smile that held both grief and relief.

"You have given my son peace," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "For so long, his spirit was restless. He didn’t even tell us who he wanted to marry. But now, he has found his bride, and he can be at peace. Our family is forever grateful."

Feeling as if you were floating between two realities—the living and the dead, bound by an agreement you hadn’t fully understood. But now, there was no turning back. This was your life now. This was real. It wasn’t some bad dream. You were truly a bride—if only to a ghost. Or rather, what remained of it.

The dress your mother finished sewing would be wrapped around your body soon. At least that's what you heard from the conversation of the adults in the great dining room. How did it all happen so fast? You could believe that Hayato told his mother in her dream. You could talk to the spirits of dead people after all.

You were walking in the big yard of your house when you heard a light tapping, small and gentle steps and in the middle of the garden was the white bunny from yesterday and immediately rushed towards the animal. It started running and you followed. Why does this rabbit appear out of nowhere? Are the gods giving you a sign to escape your fate as a normal human? Most probably, yes.

It stopped in front of the family temple where you honored your ancestors but for some reason, you hadn't been here in a few weeks because you were always doing work around and outside the house. You saw the rabbit jump up the steps and stand in the center of the temple, surrounded by tombstones but it hopped in front of your grandmother’s stone. Asking her for help won't hurt, you missed being here, finding peace in this beautiful place especially since your grandma never judged you.

Lighting the candles and incense, you kneel down, hoping for guidance from your ancestors. Please, if you can hear me. I need your help and advice. I need to know what's the best thing to do. You stood there holding your hands in an attempt to get an answer. You could see and talk to the dead, and that must include your family too. Suddenly the heat from the candle went out and you snapped your eyes open to see several of the stones with their names begin to glow and the rabbit was still sitting in front of your grandmother's table stone.

Images appeared from the blue glow, rather the spirits of your ancestors as they sat over their stones, and you looked to the one of your grandmother's, and as a finale, her spirit appeared last, and the white bunny jumped into your lap.

“So this is our ghost bride? She is too beautiful to be buried alive.” a woman called out, and you believe this is your grandmother who lived 120 years ago, as she waved a fan in front of her face. “A ghost bride? She took that from you.” Next to her was a man, dressed in warrior armor as his arms were crossed like he was judging you.

“Said the man who denied getting married because he was already married to the war.” waving her fan slowly but you could still catch her sly smile in a teasing tone before the warrior opened his mouth and someone cut him off.

“A wedding is a wedding. Don't fight over the happiness of someone so young, either.” you knew that voice as you looked at the spirit next to your grandmother it was your grandfather. Your eyes watered when you saw them again. Hugging the bunny with one hand, you got up, and with the other, you tried to touch them, but failed. They were just ghosts, they weren't like Hayato because their debts and wishes had been fulfilled. “My sweet child, I wish I could hug you as well.”

You wanted to ask how you could even see them, but that was a stupid question from the person who was about to marry a dead man. Of course, you could see them because the moment you touched the envelope the physical and spiritual realm merged into one.

“Grandma, why does this have to happen to me?” your voice trembled as the words spilled out, heavy with the confusion and heartache that had been building for days. Becoming a ghost bride... it wasn't something you could ever have imagined for yourself.

Your grandmother looked at you with that soft and reassuring smile. "Everything happens for a reason, my dear," she said, but did everything have to have a reason or was it another joke of fate? "The gods have chosen you, and so has the Moon goddess. You have everyone's blessing, even though you may not experience love the way you dreamed... I know, without a doubt, that the boy loves you deeply."

You stared at her, disbelief washing over you. "How do you even know if a dead boy can feel anything? His heart stopped... How could he possibly love?"

Your grandmother laughed at your innocence, the sound warm and comforting, like a lullaby from long ago. "You don't have to be alive to love. Love isn't confined by life or death. It’s a bond that exists between souls. The red thread that connects you two may be invisible, sometimes tangled, but it will always lead you to the right person, living or dead."

Her words settled into your heart, but still, a tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled with the weight of it all. As you wiped your eyes, you heard the soft crunch of footsteps behind you. The spirits of your family turned, their eyes full of knowing as they gazed toward the garden.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, your dead husband-to-be, wandering quietly through the garden, stepping into the light from the backyard’s small door.

"See now, my dear," your grandmother whispered, her voice lingering like an echo. "Love always finds a way."

You turned to speak to her again, but they were gone—the spirits of your family had vanished, leaving you alone in the garden. Without hesitation, you rushed towards Suo as the bunny stayed at the temple, your heart drawn to him in a way that defied all reason. Everything is happening too fast to be true.

Anger. Confusion. Fear. His presence in the garden felt too sudden. And yet, there he was, standing under the bright daylight with that same eye smile you remembered from the last time you saw him, but now you can see him more clearly.

"My beloved, I have wondered to whe—"

"Are you crazy?" you hissed, cutting him off with a whisper-yell as you looked around anxiously. "You can't just show up out of nowhere! What if my—no, your parents see you?"

Your heart was racing now, not just from the shock of his sudden appearance, but from the fear of what would happen if someone else saw him too. Suo’s presence, while comforting to you, was a ghostly impossibility to the living. People would panic, or worse, think you'd lost your mind.

He, however, seemed completely unfazed by your panic. His gaze was soft, patient even, as if he had expected this reaction. Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with a strange warmth that startled you. The sudden contact made you tense up, your breath catching in your throat.

"Only you can see me, my love," he said quietly, his voice gentle as you blinked, processing his words. Only you can see me. It made sense now, why the spirits of your ancestors had appeared without anyone else knowing, why Suo could walk into the garden without causing a stir. But still, the way the words "my love" slipped from his mouth—it felt both sweet and unnerving.

You gulped, suddenly unsure of how to respond. "My love?" It was all you could manage to say, trying to reconcile the person before you with the man you were supposed to marry in death.

Suo’s smile didn’t waver. It softened, his gaze steady as if there was no question in his mind. "Yes," he said simply. "You are my love. You have always been."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to protest, to ask how he could say such a thing when your relationship had never truly begun, but the truth was undeniable—he had come back for you. Whether by fate or the pull of the spirit realm, you were bound to him, and he to you.

And for the first time since all of this began, you didn’t know whether to feel relieved or afraid.

Suo’s hands held yours gently, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles in a way that made your heart race. His touch was warm, so real, despite everything about this moment feeling so impossible. You searched his eyes for answers, trying to make sense of the emotions and memories, but nothing came.

He noticed your confusion, and his smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment. "I know you probably don't remember me," he began softly, his voice laced with a bittersweetness, "since you moved houses."

He paused, glancing down for a second as though gathering his courage before meeting your eyes again. "But we used to play together as kids. You were the wife, I was the husband... and my dog was our child." He chuckled softly at the memory, but you could hear the longing hidden by the humor.

Your breath hitched as scenes of long-forgotten memories began to appear. The boy... the boy you used to play with every day, laughing under the summer sun, pretending to be grown-ups before life pulled you apart. You had moved after a terrible storm destroyed your home, making you move out to your sister's home for a while and your own house had been renovated during that time. It was chaotic, and in the midst of it, the boy who once filled your days with laughter had simply faded into the background of your life.

"I..." You shook your head, confusion washing over you. "You were the one who gave me a lantern with a special message inside when we were kids?"

Suo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "After you moved out, I was desperate to find you. I did, but you never spared me a glance. You were always so busy with chores, with life... and I was just a boy standing on the sidelines, watching."

His hands tightened around yours as he gently pulled you closer. "But apparently, I couldn’t stop thinking about you... even in the afterlife."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his confession sinking in. All this time, he had been holding onto memories of you, even as death claimed him. His wish, left unfulfilled in life, had somehow bound you two together in the strangest, most unexpected way.

He glanced at your family temple, where the spirits of your loved ones seemed to smile warmly at him. Even the white bunny was jumping around as if in celebration, as though the universe itself had conspired to reunite you two.

“So please give me a chance. I promise you that in the next life, whichever one of our many to come…I will always find you and love you.” you could feel it, you could see it, that he is really into you. Despite his interest in you all this time, it was strange to you that someone liked you, he saw you as more than the girl who did the dirty work of her parents.

But was it as easy as it sounded? To love him the way he loves you. In a week you had already seen it all and knew that there is no way to escape fate no matter what you do, no matter what life you live because what is written for you will happen unless you want to write your own story.

The boy you had left behind when life pulled you away. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized that, you had always been connected despite the years and the distance.

"I remember you now," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "You were always there... and I forgot." A pang of guilt struck you, but Suo’s gentle smile reassured you that you hadn't done anything wrong.

"You didn’t forget," he said softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "Life just happened. But we were always meant to find each other again.”

The idea of destiny suddenly feels more real than ever before. It was as if fate had tied this entire journey tightly, leading you back to him—even in death. You couldn't deny it anymore. You were bound to him, not just by circumstance, but by something deeper that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to unfold like the lantern lights during a festival.

Suo leaned in slowly, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” He asked but your heart raced, your hands trembling as his lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, as you couldn’t tell him yes. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, one that sealed the connection between your two worlds, between your souls. In that tender moment, everything seemed to make sense, and the talisman on Suo's hat glowed faintly, the word "爱" (love) appearing under the bright sun with that striking crimson color.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your face was burning as you couldn’t see but were sure that you were redder than the color red. "I can’t believe my first kiss was with a zombie," you said, still holding onto his hands.

He chuckled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. How that was even possible when his blood circulation should have been stopped, you didn’t know—after all, he wasn’t technically alive but you found yourself not caring anymore. Why should you care when the person in front of you really loves you and proves it? It was him. That was all that mattered.

"Well," he said, smiling down at you and squeezing your hands "here I am, having my first kiss with a living person." You both laughed, hands intertwined, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the garden. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to marry someone like him, it would be more interesting, especially since you have to balance two worlds now. You had nothing to lose, but you wanted to spend more time alone with him, to remember the boy who was once a part of your life and now will be with you forever.

Remember the dead even when they appear for you with a marriage proposal. Because there is something to see and hear, but mostly to feel. And he felt too alive when you started running towards the exit of the garden as he looked back to see the spirits of your family cheering and dancing with joy and your grandmother looked at him with that warm smile she only showed to you. Suo would be curious how his family would react if they too would hold a banquet in the world of the dead because…

“You are a blessing to my family.”

WEIRDMAGEDDON VICTIMS :: @maruflix @heartkaji @17020 @stunies @y2kuromi @seneon @littleplantfreak @meidiary and special thanks to @kiurona for suggesting the idea and working with me and @nyxypoo for doing a beat read

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

Text

Is That How You Remember It? | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) finds some discrepancies in the story of how they first met that Tommy tells their children…so she decides to give her own rendition of the story.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff and one (1) bad word

Word Count: 2671

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this request! It was so fun to cococt backstories for Tommy and his bride, but of course I didn’t do it alone. Thanks so much to @mrs-bellingham and this lovely anon who answered my call to help and gave me amazing ideas of how they first met! I couldn’t have written this story this well without you. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"What are we doing in here, eh?" Tommy asked his two daughters as he entered the front sitting room, where some of their toys were also stored.

"Daddy!" the two little girls exclaimed in unison, rising from the floor so that they could run over to him for a hug. Tommy crouched down as they stopped in front of him, giving each of them a hug.

"We're playing family!" Anna, the six year old answered, a beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah! And Anna let me be the mummy this time!" Josephine, the four year old, chimed in, her smile matching her sister's.

"I'm practicing taking turns," Anna said proudly and Tommy nodded, happy that his daughter was trying to do what he and (Y/N) had advised her to. Too many needless arguments had happened over who got to be the mummy of the family every time this game was played.

"Where is your mum?" Tommy asked then, knowing that at least one of the girls had to have known where (Y/N) was at.

"Mummy's upstairs with Theo," Josephine answered, mentioning their baby brother.

"She's trying to get him to sleep, and she said that we don't have to today because we're playing nicely," Anna informed him of what their mother had said.

"We're big girls now!" Josephine grinned.

"You most certainly are," Tommy nodded, smiling at his children.

"Can you come play with us, daddy?" Anna asked, showing him the best puppy dog pout that she could pull.

He thought about her proposal for a moment. There were surely piles of papers stacked upon his desk, waiting for him to read through. But he'd just gotten home for the office, where he'd spent the most of his morning and early afternoon working nonstop on things that needed to be completed. Work could wait, he decided...he needed to spend some time with his family.

"Daddy?" Josephine asked, the young child getting impatient with the waiting.

"I'll play with you," he nodded, answering both of the girls' questions, making them squeal in response before they each grabbed one of his hands and pulled him to where they'd been playing with their dolls.

Tommy sat on the floor with them, accepting the doll they offered and fell right into playing the game they'd been engaged in before he came home. The girls loved that he got so invested in the game, even making voices for the several dolls they'd handed him along the way. He was always all of the other characters that their two favorite dolls would meet.

They played and played, losing track of time before the girls started bickering with each other, fighting over who got to do what and be the hero of the story they were acting out. Those creative differences ended with the girls sitting on the couch with Tommy in the middle so that they could have some space from each other.

"Can you tell us a story, daddy?" Anna asked as she got comfortable tucked into her father's side.

"What story do you want?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at her.

"Tell the story of how you met mumma!" Josephine exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.

"You want to hear that?" Tommy checked, looking between both of the girls, who were nodding their heads profusely. "Ok," he nodded, taking a deep breath as he got himself ready to recount how he met his lovely wife, (Y/N).

Both of the girls got comfortable, Josephine hugging onto one of the couch's pillows and Anna staying tucked into Tommy's side with her head resting on his bicep.

"I met your mum when I was going to eat dinner at a restaurant..." he started off, glancing between his daughters again to see that they were still interested in where the story was going to go.

"Were you there with anyone?" Anna interjected with a question.

"Yeah, was uncle Arthur with you?" Josephine followed with her own.

Tommy chuckled, knowing how this story was going to be told. The girls always seemed to turn certain storytimes into a mini question and answer session. He didn't mind it though...he always thought of it as them being intrigued in the story he was telling. "No, I was there by myself. I had wanted to get some food. But then I saw your mum before I could sit down at one of the empty tables. She was sitting by herself so I walked over to her and introduced myself to her..."

"Was it love at first sight?" Anna asked, a wide smile on her face.

"I'd say it was for me," Tommy admitted, not caring about sounding like a softy in front of his girls.

"That's so sweet, daddy!" Anna exclaimed, hugging onto his arm.

"Your mum was beautiful," Tommy laughed slightly to himself as he admitted it, "and she looked sad sitting by herself, so I slid into the empty chair and told her 'we'd better not let this dinner go to waste' after asking her what the problem was," he recounted more of the memory.

"And what did mummy say?" Josephine eagerly asked for more details.

"She told me that she was supposed to meet another boy, but that boy didn't show up and she was sad because of it."

"Well I'm happy that you're my daddy instead of that boy...he doesn't sound nice because he was mean to mummy," Anna stated, a scowl now present on her face.

"I'm happy that boy wasn't there either, because I wouldn't have met your mother had she not been sitting by herself," Tommy agreed with her daughter, his smile returning.

"Is that how you remember it?" (Y/N)'s voice came from the archway to the room, making the three sitting on the couch turn to see her leaning against the wall.

"Mummy!" Josephine exclaimed the second she noticed who was speaking, "mummy come sit over here! Daddy's telling us the story of how you met!"

Tommy swallowed as his eyes connected with his wife's. He could tell by the grin on her face that she wasn't going to let the recounting of his story stand as the first time they met.

"Daddy's telling you a story of how we met, but it wasn't the first time we met," (Y/N) stated as she walked over to where her family was sitting.

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, a perplexed expression present on her face as she watched her mum sit down on the chair situated next to the couch.

"The dinner was the second time your dad and I met," she explained, smiling as Josephine slid off of the couch and clambered up onto her lap. "I could tell you of the first time we met," she added, her smile turning into a mischievous grin.

"Love..." Tommy trailed off in a warning tone, raising his eyebrows as his eyes connected with hers. Seeing this only made (Y/N)'s grin grow, and he sighed at the sight of it, knowing that there was no changing her mind now.

"Tell us, mummy!" Anna exclaimed, excitement present in her voice as Josephine added her own agreement to her big sister's words.

(Y/N) sent Tommy a smug grin, one that he rolled his eyes at, before she began telling the story, "so when your daddy and I were younger, for one summer we both worked at the same, big property that had bunches of horses on it. While your daddy was out with the horses, I was helping the lady of the house with whatever she needed done..."

"Like how Miss Jane and Miss Bea help out here?" Anna chimed into the story with a curious question, mentioning the two, younger maids whose main jobs were to make sure that Arrow House was kept tidy.

"Yes, much like what they do," (Y/N) nodded before continuing with her story, "the man of the house used to allow his workers access to the stables so that they could ride the horses on certain evenings...he was a very kind man, one who many enjoyed working for..."

Tommy interjected into the story then with a snort, making (Y/N)'s eyes find him. She knew he was scoffing at her remembrance of their boss, but she saw nothing wrong in the man. Tommy, of course, had a different type of relationship with him, one that included him getting thrown off of the estate along with another worker before the summer was finished because he fought said worker due to him mistreating the horses. The girls wouldn't hear that part of the story as well.

"This night happened to be the first that I went to. Some of the other ladies who worked with me in the house got me to come out and join the other staff for the evening. It turns out they were using the horses to have impromptu races, and..."

"Daddy was one of the racers on the horses?" Josephine finished off her mother's sentence, looking up at (Y/N) with complete awe.

(Y/N) laughed softly at her daughter's eagerness to learn more before she nodded her head, "yes, dad was one of the riders."

"And that's how you met?" Anna asked, a similar awestruck expression on her face. She shared her father's love for horses, so to hear that the whimsical beasts were involved in her parents' meeting made her extremely excited.

"Yes..."

"And that's the end of the story, my loves," Tommy cut (Y/N) off before she could finish her sentence, starting to stand from the couch.

"Oh, not quite," (Y/N) said before he could get very far, her grin growing as she re-gained the attention of the children.

"What else happened, mummy?" Josephine asked for the details.

"Yeah, did daddy pull you onto the horse and you went for a ride together?" Anna jumped in with a question of her own, stars practically present in her eyes now.

"He didn't exactly pull me onto the horse..." (Y/N) trailed off, suppressing a giggle as she looked over to Tommy, who now had a deadpan expression on his face. She was now going to tell the part that he wished he could erase from time. "Your dad was racing one of the other workers and the race finished super closely. He stopped his horse right next to where I was standing and sent me a smile...I didn't know who he was, so I just smiled back at him, but I did think that he was cute..."

"Eww!!!" both of the girls exclaimed in unison at their mother's comment.

"Boys have cooties, mummy!" Anna exclaimed with a look of disgust present on her face.

"Yeah, but daddy doesn't have cooties, Anna...just boys that we don't know have cooties," Josephine jumped in, applying her four year old logic to the situation.

"You're absolutely right, Josie," Tommy agreed with his daughter, a proud grin on his face. What he'd been telling her was working. If he could get his way, she wouldn't be marrying until she was thirty...both of his girls wouldn't for that matter; they were his everything and he was going to protect them with his life. Them along with their mother and younger brother.

"Can you keep telling the story, mummy?" Anna asked, wanting to hear more of how her parents first met, "was daddy really nice to you?"

"Well he didn't exactly get the chance to talk to me..." (Y/N) trailed off again, stifling more giggles and glancing at Tommy before continuing, "his foot got stuck in the stirrup when he went to get off the horse and he fell right into the puddle of mud in front of me," she told the girls of their father's embarrassing moment, making them shriek with laughter.

"That's cause I was only used to riding bloody bareback until then," Tommy grumbled, a pout on his face.

"You got all covered in mud, daddy, didn't you?!" Anna excitedly asked, turning to look at Tommy for his input.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hold his frown, and he tipped his head to each side as a smile formed on his face. He was truly buying time until he could cope with his bruised ego before facing the little girls’ teasing. "I wasn't that covered...your mum still knew who I was," he answered them, defending his pride.

"I had to ask someone who you were," (Y/N) admitted with a grin, enjoying the grilling that he was getting from his own two kids. Tommy shot her a playful glare, one that dissolved into a grin seconds later. Sure, it was embarrassing at the time, but looking back on it made him realize how funny the situation actually was. "But then you saved me the next time you saw me at the restaurant, and it was all history from there," she brought them back to the original story that Tommy had told them, her teasing grin softening into a fond smile.

"Mummy, that's such a cute story," Josephine said once the family's laughter had subsided. She had the most adorable look on her face, one that warmed (Y/N)'s heart immediately.

"It is, isn't it?" she agreed with her daughter before looking over at Tommy again.

—

Tommy was already in bed, reading over the day's newspaper, when (Y/N) entered the master bedroom from the attached bath. "Ready for bed?" he asked her, pulling the glasses off of the bridge of his nose as he admired her body that was now covered in a silk slip.

"I am," she nodded, sending him a smile as she moved to her side of the bed and pulled the covers back so that she could climb in under them.

Tommy set the newspaper and glasses down on his nightstand before he slid down lower on the bed.

"The girls really seemed to enjoy that story today," (Y/N) remarked as she scooted over to her husband's side.

Tommy allowed her to, slipping his arm underneath her so that he could pull her body closer to his. "They did," he agreed with her statement, thinking back to the excited looks on both of the girls' faces. Silence fell between them then as they settled in for sleep. "I won that fuckin' race," Tommy remarked out of nowhere, the sound of his voice making it apparent that that part of the story had been on his mind for some time.

(Y/N) sat up slightly on the bed so that she'd be able to see him. The second she looked at his face, her neutral expression cracked and she erupted into a fit of giggles. Tommy sent her a look that asked 'what's so funny?', which made her try to curtail her laughter so that she could answer him. "If telling yourself that'll help your ego, love, keep on with it," she said, patting him on the chest as her laughter kicked up again.

Tommy rolled his eyes at his wife's antics, shaking his head slightly as he let her have her moment. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her. Hearing that story reminded him of how unbelievably lucky he was to have stumbled upon her at the restaurant a few months after his embarrassing first attempt to get to know her. "I still got you in the end, didn't I?" he asked her, his words making her focus on him again.

"You did," she grinned, leaning in to kiss him.

"Then I've won more than that race had to offer," he mumbled against her lips before kissing them again. His words made her giggle, her laughter getting trapped as she continued kissing him.

They fell asleep with smiles on their faces that night, slipping into the bliss that surrounded both the memories of their first meeting, and the anticipation of making many more memories together.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

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melancholymetropolis · 8 months ago

Text

Exchange pt. II

plot: In which Gojo makes a late night phone call to his wife.

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Second Chance; Hurt with Comfort

warnings: unedited (mostly). This is the fluffiest fluff I have written in the while. TEASING. Gojo is a comedian. SWEARING. use of AAVE (y/n is black as hell. wears a bonnet and everything). longing. Argument (no name calling). RAISED VOICES. sad boi gojo. guilty reader. get ready for the feels.

song association: Don't by Bryson Tiller

a/n: ya girl has some good news!

w.c: 3.0k

part(s): Part I

Upon shutting off the apartment’s showerhead, I could hear my phone buzzing in the distance. I wrapped my towel around my body and took swift strides back to the bedroom. Lifting my glasses off my nightstand, I placed them on my face before picking up the device. Instead of it being a friend from overseas, not understanding the time difference, it was an idiot who understood it very well.

Gojo: pssss

Gojo: wifey. . .

Gojo: are you up??????

Y/N: It’s almost midnight. What could you possibly want?

Several moments after the message was sent, the phone started to ring.

Gojo was calling.

I rolled my eyes at the sentiment. Ever since our lunch several days before, the taller gentleman was borderline clingy. He texted me at any free moment of the day, asking me what I was doing and when I was free for our next hangout session. I’d always blow him off. Telling him I had a prior engagement with someone else. I would say that the bride needed me to help her with Honeymoon stuff or the Maid of Honor misplaced her work and I needed to help her look for it. I would use any and every excuse in order to avoid speaking to him for longer than I needed to. It was clear that Gojo intended to make up for lost time while I was in Japan. He took his proposal to hang out very seriously and wanted me to fulfill my end of the bargain. Part of me almost felt bad from blowing him. Gojo was mostly harmless in his delivery and didn’t pose any real threat to my lifestyle. He seemed to be very forgiving with my excuses and never pressed me for blowing him off. The only thing he ever did was send almost a dozen crying emojis and claim I was abandoning our child. Apparently we were having a little girl, which he named her Naomi.

Even though the white haired man was beyond ridiculous, he never failed to make me laugh.

I reached toward the nightstand for my wireless earbuds and connected them to the device. I placed one in my right ear and accepted the call.

“Sweetheart!!!” Gojo whined on the other line. “What took you so long to answer the phone? I could’ve died on the other line!”

“But are you dead?” I replied, rising from my seat on the bed.

“That’s not the point!” He exclaimed. “And besides, what are you doing right now anyway?”

I walked over to the vanity mirror and lifted my leg on the low bench. I twisted the lid from the cocoa butter and scooped some in my hands. “Well, I just got out of the shower and have started my skincare routine. Why?” I warmed the cream between my palms and started to glide it down my leg.

“How do you feel about going on a food run?”

“Right now?” I scooped more product into my palm.

“Yup!”

I switched legs and massaged the butter into my skin. The guilt of blowing him off was eating away at my being. Gojo seemed to be making a genuine effort to get to know me and I was shutting him off. I was never usually the person to deny someone’s efforts and often cheered for a job done well. As much as I wanted to treat him like everyone else, I realized I couldn’t; because he wasn’t like anyone else. He was my husband, at least on paper. From what I could tell, he was pretty kind and patient with me, despite his idiotic tendencies. Those feelings from Vegas started to reappear once again. They always came back harder the longer I shoved them down.

I started to rub the butter on my arms. “Let me guess, you’re having pregnancy cravings? Want me to buy you some pickles and ice cream?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of katsu sandos,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But ice cream sounds nice. Hold the pickles.”

I shook my head with a smile. “Okay, pregnant lady. If I do this, you better not expect anything from me to get dressed up for you. It’s too late for that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You are getting yoga pants and a goddamned sweatshirt. Better be lucky I am not wearing my bonnet outside.”

“Damn, you aren’t?” He pretended to sound shocked. “Now I gotta take mine off and fix my baby hairs.”

Explosive laughter erupted from my being and I felt myself hold onto the vanity to steady myself. “Gojo, what the hell do you know about baby hairs?”

“I know enough,” he conceded. “I am trying to do all my research now, so Naomi can have all the flyest hairstyles on the playground.”

“Gojo, get the hell off my phone with this mess,” I giggled. “You are too much.”

“I am just enough for you, baby. Don’t you forget it.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “I’ll text you the address to my apartment. Hurry your ass up before I change my mind.”

“Okay. Love you, boo!”

“Imma beat your ass.”

My eyes flickered to Gojo’s right hand. It rested on the arm rest between us and started to flex repeatedly. The silence between us was comfortable. It cuddled against our awkward bodies and almost became a second skin. This was the first time we were truly alone together in the past six months. There were no waiters asking for our order or any wandering eyes gazing upon us from the wedding party. It was simply just him and I; in a car, driving to god knows where, in the middle of the night. There was so much that could be said in that moment. So much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I wasn’t ready and I had the feeling he felt the same way. It was easy to mask emotions in a crowd. It was easy to tell a joke to break tension and get a laugh out of company. Yet, it was extremely hard to be open with anyone you deemed dear. His eyes flickered over to me with such longing it made my heart ache. Those feelings from Vegas were flickering up once again and I tried to ignore them.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said with a smirk. “You look like a completely different person.”

I nervously readjusted the thick frames on my face. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“In a sexy way,” he answered, earning a scuff out of me. “I feel like this would be a bad time to mention I have a glasses kink.”

Laughter bubbled out of me and I found myself shaking my head. “You are unbelievable.”

“I am being so serious right now. Those glasses are doing things to me,” his eyes flickered over to me. “You are seducing with those thick frames and I am trying my best to behave.”

“Oh god, please stop,” I giggled. “How can I be seducing you in some leggings and a sweatshirt?”

“Baby, you could be wearing a plastic bag and I would rip that thing off with my teeth,” he replied with a wide smile. “You are gorgeous, sweetheart, and I will remind you of that every chance I get.”

My eyes flickered down to his lone right hand on the arm rest. The palm was soft pink and wide. There were callouses across pads of the fingers, almost like he played some sort of stringed instrument. Before I could stop myself, I felt my hand fall into his grasp. Electric sparks pulsed through my body as we touched. His grip on my hand tightened and his thumb rubbed against my knuckles. He pulled my hand gently to his lips and gave my fingers a kiss. A sweet smile fell on my lips at the embrace. My mind easing to a calm that wasn't there before.

Unlike any other union I had prior, Gojo didn't give me butterflies or bring a blush to my cheeks. He gave me a sense of ease that no one else had presented. In all my other relationships before him, platonic or romantic, someone had always wanted something from me. I had to fit a mold to solidify our relationship. I had to be the perfect daughter for my parents. The unpaid therapist for my friends. The forgiving partner to my ex lover. The cut throat divorce lawyer. I always had to fulfill a label and my personhood was seen as a performance to them. I was never simply Y/N. I could never truly exist amongst them.

That had been before I met Gojo.

He seemed to like me as I am. Actually, he encouraged me to authentically express myself. He didn't take it personally when I snapped at him. He was offended when I was coarse with him at the wedding, he simply adjusted his approach. Instead of being so direct, he became playful. Non-threatening. He was slowly making me feel comfortable around him. Easing the thick tension between us. The fear that I originally felt in the beginning had clouded my judgment. I couldn’t think clearly.

Sure, being married to a stranger is scary. There is a lot that could go wrong. However, if all had gone right in Vegas, and if we didn't live in two completely different countries, we'd probably be dating already. Gojo would have most likely met my friends. Spent a night at my condo. Made me breakfast the night after our sleepover. He probably would have invited me to his place the next weekend.

We'd already been 6 months in a sickly sweet relationship.

Would I have loved him by now?

“What's that look?” His husky voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. “I don't like that look. What's wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, I just…” I trailed off, turning away from his gaze. “Just thinking is all.”

He hummed, unamused, and squeezed my hand again. “You don’t have to hide your thoughts from me, Y/N. I am a big boy, I can handle the heat.” Gojo kissed my fingers again. “And besides, in order to get through it, we have to talk about it.”

A shaky sigh slipped from my lips and I wiggled my hand from his grasp. I wrapped both arms around myself and turned my body away from him. My eyes quirked at the twinkling street lights and billboards of Osaka. My skin was bathed in a crimson light that directly reflected the internal wound that bled into my foul mood. There was a war happening within my head and I could barely present him with the cause of it. At least, not the true cause. There were so many things that I wanted to say, secrets that I wanted to tell him. However, I knew it was too soon. He was still a stranger. A man that I met a little more than a few times in the last couple of months. A friend of a friend— an acquaintance. It would be too easy for him to leave me if he knew the truth. The whole truth. It was the thing that made me leave my hometown and start over. The thing that made me cut my parents off and change my name. The thing that I shoved so far down that I ripped me apart when it reopened.

The car came to an eased halt and pulled into an empty space in front of the restaurant. The open sign was flickering on and off, a marketing ploy. It wanted to draw people in to observe its beautiful open concept kitchen and glorious display of fresh ingredients. The tactic must’ve been a successful one, since the place was nearly packed at half past midnight. By the smile on their faces, I know the passengers were more than happy with their purchase. It made me want to try it.

A warm hand gripped my knee and gave it a firm squeeze. I felt my body tense from the pressure. I slowly turned to face the car’s driver. There was a noticeable frown situated on his face and a terrible look of worry situated between his brows. My silence had not made him happy. Not one bit.

His hand slipped into mine and he brought his knuckles to mouth for a kiss.

“Whatever you need to say or ask, I am right here,” he said quietly. “I will remain here for as long as you need me to be. You’ll always have my support.”

His bright blue eyes were poured into me; like hot water in a teacup. He was moments away from drinking me in.

A releasing a trembling sigh, I finally asked the question that had been on my mind since our lunch date.

“Why do you want me to remain your wife if our marriage was a mistake?”

At that moment, I watched his eyes dim. Their bright, exhilarating, electric blue faded to a gloomy navy that shook me to my core. Pain contorted his features into an expression I didn’t recognize. He had never expected those words to come out of mouth. Not after all the time we spent together. Not after the pact we made to at least “hang out”. Not after I made the first step to ignite an embrace just moments before. Reaching out for his hand had broken the stalemate between us. We were no longer adults navigating unknown territory, who were scared of the word “marriage”. It symbolized the potential for something else. It made room for something new to blossom between us. The beginnings of a new love story were on the horizon, at least before I called our union a “mistake”.

The painful look was still on his face when he spoke moments later.

“Our marriage is not a mistake,” he said just above a whisper. “Accidental, yes. It is no mistake.”

I waited a moment for him to explain.

“Mistake insinuates regret for said action; whereas an accident is an unlikely outcome. It has far less of a negative connotation than a goddamn “mistake”.”

He spat out the word like it was poison. His voice gradually rose with each word until it reached its normal volume. The pain on his face had shifted to a soft look of anger. He looked insulted that I would even use that word to describe our union. Utterly appalled that I would think he’d regret our marriage.

“I just. . .” He cut himself off, ripping his gaze from my face. “Do you really think I would want to hang out with you if I thought this marriage was a mistake?”

“Well. . . no”

“Do you think I'm some conservative wannabe that frowns upon divorce?” His eyes fell back on me, anger causing his brows to lower. “That I am trying to trap you and keep you hidden away from prying eyes?”

“Of course not!” I conceded.

“Then, what is it?” He snapped. “Because I’m really trying here. I get that this situation is not ideal for you, but I am trying my best to make it work, Y/N. It just seems like you don’t even care about me or what we had during that weekend in Vegas. You are so ready to give it up and leave everything behind. Leave me behind. Like everyone else.”

The last three words were quieter than a whisper. Somber and true. It made my heart ache and my mind buzz with worry. The little pieces that Gojo Saturo fed me about his life started to all make sense. He was the only child and the first in his whole generation to achieve a very specific goal. Power. What that power was— I had no idea. He didn’t go into detail, but I knew it was something he wore with pride. However, I knew that he wore it with regret as well. There was a weight on his shoulders that only he could carry. It seemed as though he was carrying the responsibilities of his whole family with him everywhere he went. He never had a break with his duties; they consumed his every waking moment. It made it hard for him to mingle, to date, to llsimply exist without a group of people breathing down his neck. The relationships he had made outside of his family never lasted, from what I could gather from his last sentiment. They stole too much of his attention for him to create anything meaningful with them. Just like a flower lacking water, the relationships would wither and eventually die; which left Saturo back at square one. Alone. Miserable. Unhappy.

A deep sigh erupted from his being as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. That was not okay and completely unlcalled for. Please forgive me, sweetheart.”

Without much of second thought, I found myself unbuckling my seatbelt and leaning toward him in my seat. My long arms encased around his slumped form and held him tightly. I felt his body immediately tense underneath my embrace. His limbs were stiff and unmoving, while his breath remained caught in his throat. He was not breathing. I squeezed him even tighter, forcing him to take a deep breath from the constraint. His body melted in my arms moments later. He pivoted his body towards the passenger seat and wiggled his arms from his side. Gojo raised the muscular limbs and engulfed me in what I could only describe as a bear hung. He held me as though I were meant to disappear at any given moment. As if someone would steal me away from this. From him. At that moment, I felt like I meant everything to him. As if I were his entire world. It made my soul weep.

A series of buzzing erupted from the glove compartment. A message flashed on the car's dashboard:

Order: 2333

Ready for pick up! Come to the takeout window with this text message.

"Your phone is buzzing," I said, lowering my head back to his shoulder.

He hummed in response.

"Our order is ready."

Gojo's arms wrapped around me tighter. "Can we. . . Can we stay like this? Just a little bit longer?"

I felt my body melt into his touch. "Of course."

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a/n: ya bitch got into grad school! which is why i haven't been posting!!! trying to figure out the financial aid situation, but it looks like we are going back to school in the fall! also, please please please tell me if you are feeling this series. i have another one in mind, but i am on the fence. also, let me know if you would like to be on the official taglist for this series!

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TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse

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cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 5

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Serious Injury

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Stop moping.”

“Excuse me,” Rhys garbled out, looking up from where he had been staring at the same roll of parchment for at least an hour.

He had not been moping. He had been…regretting his life choices that had brought him to that moment.

Feyre looked less than amused, though her face had softened. She didn’t look utterly furious with him, which was a step up from Morrigan, who had nearly taken a bite out of him.

Granted, he probably deserved that. He also deserved the cold indifference that Amren had shown or the fact that Feyre had been ignoring him…that Cassian was fucking furious with him and that Azriel hated him.

“Stop moping around,” Feyre repeated herself. “You big Illyrian Baby,” she added with a small quirk on her lips. That was something at least.”

“My brother hates me,” Rhys gave back, his voice quiet.

Azriel hated him. He had only tried to do the right thing and still, he had…only messed it up even further. It shouldn’t even surprise him anymore.

“He loves you,” Feyre disagreed. “But Rhys, you really didn’t make that easy on either of them,” his mate said pointedly, coming to sit on his lap. It was a piece of peace that he didn’t really deserve right now. Not really. Not like that.

“Feyre Darling…” he started but Feyre silenced him with one look.

“You hurt Azriel really badly by saying things to him that were not at all thought out,” she told him pointedly. “You didn’t take his feelings seriously and you also took a choice away from him and away from Elain. And worst of all…you never even apologised for it, because you didn’t even think you were in the wrong, Rhys.”

He didn’t think he was.

“You never even tried to fix it,” Feyre said the worst thing of it all.

He didn’t. Not really.

“I tried to get him angry. I figured that would help,” he admitted. “It used to.”

“When you were children?” Feyre asked. He nodded.

“Sometimes he got so angry and didn’t talk, the only way to get him to talk was to badger him long enough that he threw the first punch,” Rhys admitted quietly. “And then keep at it until he was absolutely exhausted…sometimes then, he started talking.”

“Well, that worked for a child. You haven’t been that in 500 years,” Feyre said drily. “It’s an abscess. And you have let that wound fester under the surface for nearly three years, Rhys.”

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to fix it, when Cassian told me to keep away from him and from Azriel…and when Azriel’s mate is out for blood.”

“Well, for an abscess you would typically need to lance it,” Feyre said drily. “You know, poke a needle in it…let all the pus drain out.”

This just sounded horrible.”

“Give it a little time,” Feyre said finally. “And about that mate of his…Oriana Fireborn,” she said with some amusement. “So what happened to your favourite jacket?” Feyre teased him and he sighed.

“You don’t want to know,” he told her and Feyre just grinned at him.

“Don’t I?” she teased him. “How bad could it be, Rhys?”

Bad.

“I was young and stupid,” he finally said with a sigh. “And I didn’t listen to Amren…And I got it in my head that…Oriana’s sister would make a good bride,” he admitted with a grimace.

Enya. The Healer. Not Titania, the heiress, but the middle sister. Beautiful, Educated, Magically Powerful…she had ticked all the boxes he had once upon a time had for the Lady of the Night Court.

“Shut up,” Feyre said and started laughing, much to his bemusement. “You flirted with her sister and she wasn’t having it, was she?” she asked and Rhys sighed.

“I was turned down flat,” he complained and Feyre just continued to giggle.

“So what did you do?” she asked, trying to keep her laughing under control and he scowled.

“Well, I figured that she was going to fall for my charms,” he explained, trying to hold onto the shreds of his dignity.

“Let me guess, she didn’t?” Feyre asked and he just sighed.

“She definitely didn’t,” he said with a sigh. “So I, in my incredible wisdom thought that…well. If the middle sister wasn’t an option…maybe the youngest could be,” he recounted with a grimace.

If Enya had turned him down flat, Oriana Fireborn had been worse.

“Her response to my flirting was to put my favourite jacket on fire in the middle of dinner. And when that was done, she started on my trousers.”

Feyre was laughing so hard that she had started to cry, holding onto his shoulder.

At least somebody was finding the whole episode entertaining.

Amren definitely hadn’t thought it was funny, especially because Adara hadn’t been very amused by her two youngest daughter’s antics.

Or his for that matter.

“Well, I mean, at least you got to keep your hair,” Feyre finally said. “Cassian wasn’t that lucky.”

Rhys thought with a grimace at Cassian's hair that he had finally shorn off because that was the only way to deal with the uneven singed edges. A hand came up to self-consciously touch his raven-black waves.

“Though maybe don’t tell Azriel that you tried to make his mate your wife,” Feyre added. “I don’t think he is gonna like that very much.”

Yeah, he also doubted that.

“Just let the first wave of anger subside. And then start with an apology.”

That seemed reasonable.

The problem was only that Rhysand wasn't always reasonable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel listened.

Mostly at least. With the help of the shadows and lots of potions…and soft kisses, with her crawling into his lap so that he wasn’t going to strain any muscles…she got him to stay in the bed for the next day.

She had straddled him again after breakfast, letting his hands gently touch her waist, brush against her ribs that were still twinging with every second movement and was kissing him like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they had. Maybe they did have all the time in the world.

For a moment at least it felt like that, with soft kisses being pressed to her face, being peppered against her skin, her hands buried in his hair.

She would have liked to continue down that road, if she didn’t feel her ward ping with something.

She had reworked her warning net, adding bits and pieces and fixing the burnt-out stones.

And currently, it was telling her that there was somebody that that had never been there before.

“Somebody is there,” she told Azriel.”

“Cassian and Nesta,” he answered, immediately, obviously having had a shadow on the lookout. “He’s a horrible mother hen,” he told her with a sigh as she moved off his lap with a laugh.

“I don’t know, it’s cute that he checks on you every day,” Oriana disagreed. “He loves you.”

“He does,” Azriel agreed softly.

“I’ll let them in. I don’t think Cassian is ready to lose any more hair,” she quipped as she gained her feet, hearing Azriel chuckle lightly as she left the house and walked towards the ward boundary.

There was Cassian, waiting, behind him a female, tall, light brown hair braided into a cron on her head. And Oriana smiled softly as she recognised her and her own handiwork in the pins that kept the braids in place.

“Good Morning,” she greeted them, holding out a hand for Cassian.

“Good Morning,” Cassian responded, clasping her hand in his, surprised as she pulled him towards her and through the ward.

“Did you change it?” he wondered. She just shrugged, before she offered her hand to his companion. “Oriana.” She introduced herself.

“Nesta.” There was recognition in these silver eyes as she stepped through the ward, shivering slightly.

“I never…felt anything like that,” Nesta admitted.

Cassian’s mate. Azriel had told her about her. But even if he hadn’t, she would remember the young woman from somewhere else. Still, that didn’t matter right now.

“That’s good because I invented it yesterday,” she quipped drily. “Thank the cauldron, you are here, I am running out of ways to keep Azriel busy.” She turned towards Cassian.

“I am surprised you have managed to keep him in one place this young,” Cassian admitted drily.

“I am quite creative at making threats,” she said drily, making Cassian laugh.

She turned to the kitchen, leaving Nesta and Cassian to say hello to Azriel but she wasn’t surprised at all as she turned towards the meatballs she was making that Nesta had come back into the kitchen, hesitantly standing at the edge.

“I remember you,” she said quietly and Oriana smiled softly.

“I remember you too,” she agreed. From a few years ago and a night in a music hall. She had pissed off a guy that was going to take advantage of a very drunk Nesta and had then delivered her to her home because Oriana could never quite manage to leave good enough alone.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really you. The name was the same but…” Nesta trailed off. “Thank you,” she thanked her. “For that night.”

“Did it get better?” she asked Nesta, lifting up her gaze to look into her grey eyes.

“Yes. Some,” she admitted. “He helps.” A sharp nod in the direction of her bedroom, where Oriana could see Azriel and Cassian talking in low tones. If she concentrated, she would be able to pick up on that.

“I can understand that,” she agreed. Azriel also helped. In a lot of ways that she never even thought he would. It was so easy to just be herself with him, to not need to be anybody different. Ever.

“You love Azriel?” Nesta asked quietly. “He’s…He’s a good man. A good friend.”

“He’s my mate,” Oriana responded, forming another meatball.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Nesta said with a shrug. “Do you love him?” she insisted.

“I do,” Oriana answered truthfully. “I love him. I loved him from the moment I first saw him at that market in Verlairs because he was my mate, but I fell in love with him, because it’s Azriel. And he may never believe that he is a good male, but he is a righteous one. And I have learned that that is worth much more,” she said quietly.

Nesta seemed to turn her words around in her mind for a little while like she wasn’t quite sure what to think about it. Oriana finished her meatballs, not bothering to light the fire on the stove as she made it roar with a flick of her wrist.

“Is that a Tartera thing or…” Nesta asked suddenly and Oriana looked up as she put her meatballs in the oven.

“It’s a me thing,” she said, as she washed her hands and then dried them. “My father came from the Autumn Court. Tartera are fireproof but they can’t control it. I can do both,” she explained with a shrug.

“Do you have silver flames?” Nesta asked suddenly and Oriana mustered her. Azriel had mentioned something like that to her, though she didn’t know the full story.

“No, I don’t,” she answered honestly. “I can control magical fire to some extent, though that can still hurt me, just like every other Tartera.”

Nesta seemed to take that at face value.

"Cassian said that you made the hairpins,” Nesta said suddenly. “Thank you. They are quite…”

“Beautiful and deadly,” Oriana ended the sentence with some amusement. “It’s good that you found use for them. There is nothing worse than making something that nobody can find a use in,” she said thoughtfully. Every time she melted down a piece, it broke a little bit of her heart, even when she could make it even better.

Still. It was something that she had created with her own two hands and her own magic.

“You have a jewellery shop down in the Rainbow?” Nesta asked and Oriana nodded.

“Yes, I do. I used to be an Enchantress, but I fell out of love with that…so I left the mountain…and took up my creed in Velaris. Now…Since I met Azriel, I went back to my roots. I was never somebody who forged weapons. But I was the one you went to when you needed protection ,” Oriana explained, fiddling with her tea towel. “That was always my goal, what I strived for.”

Nesta seemed to mull that over in her head.

“I need to know, did you make anything enchanted for Azriel?” she asked Oriana, sounding definitely amused.

“I made him new armour,” she admitted. “But he wanted to test that before actually using it.”

“Don’t let Cassian hear that, he hounded Az for weeks about the siphons,” Nesta said with a laugh, the sound like tinkling bells. Oriana grinned.

“I made some for him. You two can take them back with you if you want to.” Nesta nodded, before she grew serious, one hand reaching up to touch the hairpins.

“Sometimes I forget how…many different things you can be in this world,” she admitted quietly and Oriana sighed softly.

How weird their world must be to a female who spent most of her life in the human world? That was still so young. Oriana had lived for nearly 2 centuries before Nesta had ever been born. She was just a few years older than Althea was, her niece.

“Every time I invent something new, I am in awe at magic,” Oriana said quietly. “And that’s something I have done for centuries. You are still so young. And you didn’t even grow up in this world.”

“How old are you?” Nesta wondered.

“225 years this year,” Oriana answered honestly. “Though to be honest, I stopped really counting some time after I turned 100…I got married when I was 18. He died a few months before we celebrated our 80th wedding anniversary.”

Nesta stared at her. “You know how weird that sounds to somebody like me?” she asked weakly. Oriana couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she agreed, as she pulled her meatball from the oven, pulling out spices to make the sauce.

“You know he’s not usually that bad,” Nesta said suddenly. “Rhysand, I mean,” she clarified at Oriana’s look. “He’s an asshole, definitely, but he tends to mean well,” she said quietly. “And I am also the last person you would ever expect to defend him. I don’t particularly like him, but… he wants the best for his people.”

Right.

“Ah.”

The noise must have made it very obvious that she didn’t agree but Nesta cocked her head to the side as Oriana added spices to her pan.

“You don’t think so?” she asked, sounding curious. Like she had never even thought about it. Maybe she hadn’t. She hadn’t been born into this world. She hadn’t been surrounded by it by centuries. But then, maybe she hadn’t already grown jaded to it.

“You know…I…I am not completely High Fae,” Oriana said quietly. “I am a half-breed. Half Tartera, Half High Fae. I belong to both societies and to neither in a sense,” she explained. “I grew up sitting at my grandmother’s council table in the mountain. We are a smaller society than the Night Court at large by far,” she warned Nesta. “That means, that I am very much aware that the way, my grandmother governs can’t be replicated on a grand scale. My grandmother knows every Tartera in the mountain. She knows who they love, who they hate, who they want to be. She knows all of that. Rhysand can’t know that. How should he?”

“But…Hewn City,” Oriana said with a sigh.

“Yes?” Nesta asked, sounding curious.

“Do you think Hewn City is fair? To it’s inhabitants? I don’t mean the old faes that chose to stay there. They made their choice. They can live with the consequences. But every child that is born in that place, every girl that is married off to a male that treats her like dirt…they didn’t choose that. Innocent children are born there every day and their parents and families prejudices poison them until they are just like them . Of course, they are. Why should they have a different opinion? They never even knew a different way of life,” Oriana said fiercely. “It’s not fair to the children.”

Nesta stared at her, swallowing.

“You…you have thought about this,” Nesta said quietly. Oriana nodded.

“I am not saying the mountain is perfect. It’s not. We are far from that. Arranged marriages happen there, my own was…but children are seen as incredibly important and must be protected at all costs. If you willingly choose not to have them…no Tartera will understand that. My sister never married. She gets to hear about that every damn day. As do both my brothers. And our justice system is harsh. Capital punishment is used…more freely than it…should. We don’t have a stomach for war, but we had a harsh walk to that realization.”

“Still. As a Fae…all you have is time. Once you have your first century under your belt, all the time you have…you can spend it thinking. And you start to have opinions about everything,” she said drily. “Not just serious political ones but also about what kind of Fireale is superior. The better-tasting one or the one that gets you drunk faster? Is there a better way to forge silver? Opals just don’t look good with marigold yellow and I much prefer working with yellow gold over rose gold. See? A wealth of opinions.”

Nesta looked at her like she had lost her mind for a moment.

She opened her mouth to respond but then Oriana felt her warding snap, like the maw of a waiting bloodhound.

“We got a visitor,” she said drily, putting out the oven with a wave of her hand.

She could feel who it was.

Still, the sight of an Illyrian half suspended in midair like a fly in amber made her grin.

Her warding net had become visible, a glowing golden dome surrounding the Lakehouse.

“Oriana Fireborn.”

“Rhysand.”

#My writing #Acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #A Court of Gold and Shadows #I breathe flames each time I talk

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midnight-mourning · 1 month ago

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DCA Promptober Day 11: Naptime

Y'all had your fun, now it's back to business. This goes from 0 to 100 real fast so please pay attention to the content warning, also adding a read more just in case.

Word count: 956

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, child death, reader descresion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It's naptime, and you're not asleep.

Oh, how you would be if you could. How you so desperately wish that you could. You stand no chance at reaching the light switch. No chance at saving the day. The only thing you can do is sit crowded in a hidden corner of the play structure with the few kids you could grab. Like a coward. Arms tightly around them to try and shield them as best you can from the danger lurking outside.

You think, hope, pray, that some of them are actually asleep out there. That they didn't get woken up by the screams of the children who happened to wake up. The others though, god the others, you can't, you won't-these kids need you. Need you to be brave, need you to protect them. You don't think you can.

One of them makes a small whimper, you near silently shush her, pulling her more into your chest so if she sobs, it'll be muffled. She clings to you tightly, and you suppress a wince. The wound across your chest thankfully isn't deep, but it hurt, and you had no way to stop the bleeding currently.

You had felt your entire world shut down at that moment. Witness everything come plummeting down so suddenly. Instead of not being able to look away from a car crash, you were experiencing the crash. And it hurt.

You blame yourself, even if someone else would argue it's not your fault. You didn't know. Hell, you don't think even Sun knew. Is he even okay? Is he gone too? Not until it happened. Not until you turned off the lights.

"Alright," You turn, watching as Moon appears, "Everybody's down for the count, they're pretty exhausted from freeze tag so we should have an easy go of it. In the meantime, I found my copy of The Princess Bride, I say we find a good vantage point and get a couple chapters in. What do you say to that?"

No response. He just stares at you.

This has been happening sometimes lately, you think it may just be a delay in the switch. You know he's been self-conscious about it, so you try to make light of it.

You make a radio noise with your mouth, "Cht. Earth to Moon-man. This is mission control, requesting cuddles and story-time while on the job. Do you copy?"

Something clicks.

"Ye-yes, yes, let's... do that," He shakes his head, seeming, groggy.

You giggle quietly, "Are you sure you don't need a nap, sleepy head?"

It takes another second, you swear you see his optics flash another color before he shakes his head again, chuckling.

"Not at all," He offers his hand to you, "Shall we?"

You grin to yourself, doing your best to contain your excitement. You've been waiting for ages to get into this book with him. Not to mention spending unrestricted one-on-one time.

You take it, feeling a rush once the two of you start flying through the air.

From there, things are good. Great even. You and Moon are able to get through the prologue and first chapter or so. The problem arises when suddenly, the power goes out to the rest of the Plex.

You look up, instinctively putting a hand on the arm Moon has around you, "What's going on?"

"I'm, not sure."

The sudden lack of noise rouses one of the kids, he sits up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.

"Ah, shoot, Morgan's up. Here, help me down and I'll-" You're suddenly cold as Moon abruptly stands up, jumping down from the play structure without a word.

Confused, you follow after him, taking a nearby slide.

You walk over to where he towers over the boy-not his usual routine for these things that should have been your first clue-and get there in time to overhear;

"It's past your bedtime."

That's, not his usual voice. Well, it is. But there's something off about it.

Morgan notices too, he looks a bit frightened by the gravely sound.

Moon's faceplate tilts to the side, "Naughty children must be punished."

It's then that you think to look down to his hand where, when did he get claws. Why would Moon ever need claws, that kind of upgrade is only for Monty or Freddy-

He's raising his hand, Morgan is cowering. You need to move.

Without thinking, you dash in between the two, arms out wide to shield the child behind you.

Moon hesitates, stuttering, glitching, but his hands slices across your chest all the same.

Morgan screams, you hiss at the pain. Moon suddenly disappears into the dark above the Daycare. And kids start to wake up.

Everything from there is a blur. You remembering panicking, trying to calm down crying kids. your chest being on fire, and then everything suddenly getting ten times worse.

You still don't know what's going on out there. Out in the rest of the Plex. You don't know why no one has come to check on you all, come to save you, nobody's going to save you, just done something. But you have no way of reaching out. No way of getting out of here either. For now, you have to survive. You have to. You have to try.

You become aware of someone looking at you before you actually see the light crawl across the floor before landing on you and the backs of the kids.

Your grip becomes firmer, face more determined, as the sound of bells gets closer and closer. You take a deep breath, and steel your gaze to look at him.

Red eyes face yours on the other side of the plastic cage.

It's naptime. And you're not asleep.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Wow man, I was uh, yeah I don't know where this came from. Oof. Angst AND horror. My b guys. ANYWHO Three promptobers in a day, my writing brain is BACK baby (it has been gone for several weeks bc of sinusitis, but I'll talk about that more in the CS ch. 35 update) The other promptobers I've done are here if you haven't seen them already. The previous ones haven’t been as intense horror-wise as this so if you're looking for something a little chiller I would suggest giving them a try. Thanks for reading!

#my brain really chose violence with this one #my goodness #and by violence I mean in the story AND against you all #sorry that just seems to happen when I'm eepy #3 PROMPTOBERS 1 AUTHOR 1 DAY BABYYYY #part of day 9 was done yesterday but besides that #all done in the same 24 hour span 😤😤😤#and now I SLEEP #dcatober24 #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #dca fic #x reader #cw injury #cw blood

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mybworlds · 3 months ago

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Chapter 6: Dirty talk

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI | W.C.: 3.8k

Summary: Your life sounds perfect: you live with a perfect man, you live in your dream house, you do the job you love, you don't miss anything, except love and passion.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, reader is a photographer, reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to, unspecified age gap, Joel and reader are two cheaters, for a while. Smut, use of pet names, dirty talk, masturbation, unprotected PiV but the first time, creampies, comeplay, oral (both f and m recieving), exhibitionism, size kink, personal use of an unspecified sex toy. No outbreak here. Let me know if I missed anything!

Masterlist

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Taglist @harriedandharassed

"A little to the right, perfect," you say before taking another photograph.

You're in the middle of a photo shoot for another wedding and you're instructing the bride on what poses to take-not too serious, not too smiling, kissing, looking at each other.

Your life has resumed with some regularity, but there is something new. You and Joel talk almost every day.

You are aware that exchanging messages does not imply anything, in short he sends very trivial messages such as how are you, everything okay, your day is full and things like that.

Anything compromising and which is definitely good.

When he texts you, you inevitably think about the two intimate moments you spent with him and at the same time his life, you understand why he only seeks these kinds of encounters.

He has suffered so much and now he tries to hide any kind of feeling with just sex.

You do not share this choice of his, but you understand it.

It is definitely easier to live this way.

And, you?

Do you also want to live like this? One apparent perfect life and another hidden one with a man who won't commit? It would perhaps be a good compromise if you were like that too.

As you take pictures of the newlyweds, a man and a woman of about forty-five or forty-six, you think that you once even thought about marriage to Patrick. That thought crossed your mind five years ago, before you two quarreled and before you began to have strong doubts about your relationship. For five years you and your partner were fine, common ideas, common values, both of you busy with work, neither of you wanted a child, then you started to think about what it would be like to get married and have a child with him, with the man you loved, and you talked to him about it.

A marriage is planned together and a child is made in two, you thought.

When you talked to Patrick about it, he almost slumped down on your couch in the living room resting his elbows on his thighs and ran his hands through his hair, then looked up at you and with a smile you will never forget said, "How the fuck do you think of that!" you remember that his smile and those words froze you. You did not speak to each other for almost a week despite sharing the same house. One would come into the house when the other went out, you ate and slept in different rooms, not even a glance, nothing.

Eventually, you decided to start taking the pill, you told him the excuse of your period, but you actually did it for him so when he approaches you and wants to make love, he doesn't have to be afraid that you might get pregnant and about the wedding you never talked about it again.

"Well, we're done." you announce causing the newlyweds to relax as they exchange a complicit smile and a light kiss while clasping hands tightly "Let's continue later by the cake."

"Well," she says, "please help yourself to the buffet." she invites you by pointing to the corner designated for refreshments.

After thanking her, you make your way to the buffet and grab a non-alcoholic pineapple cocktail and a plate with some food, then sit aside on a corner of the terrace chosen by the bride and groom. You are surrounded by the scent of hundreds of roses, you sigh.

As you drink, you get a message from Joel.

Joel Miller [07:43 p.m.]

Are you alone?

You [07:43 P.M.]

No, I'm at a wedding. Photoshoot.

Joel Miller [07:44 P.M.]

You remember the last one?

You remember it, the images of you and him in that room come back to your mind.

You [07:45 P.M.]

Yes.

Joel Miller [07:45 P.M.]

Unforgettable.

He sends another message after a while.

Joel Miller [07:46 P.M.]

You really needed me that day.

You stare at the cell phone screen for a few minutes, he's still texting.

Joel Miller [07:49 P.M.]

You still need me . . . even though it's wrong.

It is. It's wrong. Toward Patrick, toward what you always thought you were.

You [07:52 P.M.]

There is no point in telling us that it won't happen again. We both know that there will be another time and another time again, so why deny it? I feel guilty, but I don't hide the fact that I loved every single moment with you.

A more compromising message can't be.

You [07:53 P.M.]

Not pretending to be remorseful and not writing to me is wrong because I don't think I tied you down somewhere and did it all by myself.

Maybe you went a little overboard . . .

Joel Miller [07:54 P.M.]

Would you want me tied up? How perverse you are . .

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, you didn't mean that. . .

Joel Miller [07:54 P.M.]

It would be fun to tie you up and see how you react. I can almost see you or hear you pleading.

You swallow opening your eyes wide open, fuck. . .

Joel Miller [07:55 P.M.]

And you can see yourself?

You look up from your phone, everyone around you is dancing, laughing, joking, raising their glasses. You, on the other hand, find yourself imagining yourself in a semi-dark room lit by dozens of scented candles, you are tied to the bed and he is on top of you caressing you inch by inch.

You shiver and feel your arousal build up between your briefs, oh . . .

Joel Miller [07:56 P.M.]

Where has your imagination taken you? I'm curious . .

Then I'll tell you what I'm thinking about.

You [07:57 P.M.]

Miller, how perverse you are!

You send this first message, but then the idea of writing these kinds of messages tantalizes you and so you respond.

You [07:57 P.M.]

We are both naked in bed, I am tied to the bed and you are kissing and licking every little part of me.

You're doomed if Patrick reads these messages!

Good thing you have the unlock code on your phone.

Miller responds immediately.

Joel Miller [07:58 P.M.]

And I'm supposed to be the pervert? You lil brat. . .

Mh, would you like me to tie you to the bed? How are you belly up or belly down?

I'm trying to imagine you, and if I concentrate well, I can even see the shivers rippling through your skin, I can hear your sighs and prayers for more.

You are so fucking soft.

You try hard not to react to what he is writing to you, but it is impossible now.

You get up and walk away. You go to the bathroom and lock yourself in.

You are on fire. Your skin is for real sprinkled with chills.

Joel has written to you again.

Joel Miller [07:59 P.M.]

I wish for real I had you under me right now.

I feel between my lips your hard nipples, you're wiggling under me and asking for more and more.

You cover your eyes for a moment and your mind takes you back to exactly where you imagined you were, Joel holds you in his arms in this pleasurable grip, you even feel his tongue on your breasts, a soft moan escapes you.

Joel Miller [08:00 P.M.]

Can you feel me?

With one hand I'm tasting your pussy….

"Oh, Christ." you moan softly.

Joel Miller [08:00 P.M.]

You're soaked.

You really are, you've never had these kinds of conversations, but you can almost feel his hand poking between your legs, you bite your lower lip softly closing your eyes and leaning your head against the cold wall.

Joel Miller [08:02 P.M.]

You are already about to come, but I stop.

You read this message and instinctively your hand drops between your folds, a moan escapes you. Fortunately, you are alone.

With your other hand you struggle to respond to his messages.

You [08:04 P.M.]

I feel you . . . I see you . . your cock can't wait to be squeezed between my folds.

Joel Miller [08:05 P.M.]

Baby girl, how I want you.

I wish I was between your legs.

You [08:05 P.M.]

Then, take me. Now.

Joel Miller [08:05 P.M.]

Oh, you're so tight, so warm . . .

Your fingers are massaging you rhythmically, you have to resort to all your self-control not to moan uncomfortably, you don't want to be caught pleasuring yourself alone in a public bathroom.

"Joel," you moan softly when you are now close to your orgasm, you just repeat his name louder and louder, louder and louder then your orgasm explodes and for a moment your vision blurs.

"Fuck," you groan staying in that position for a while, then you find the strength to pick up the phone again and answer him.

You [08:09 P.M.]

Miller, as soon as I finish, I want to see you.

Even at midnight or in the middle of the night, but I want to see you.

Joel Miller [08:10 P.M.]

You owe me an orgasm.

I'll be waiting for you.

This is my address.

Joel gives you his address and that gives you enough energy to get out of the bathroom and do as fast as you can, take as many pictures as you can. You may have put some anxiety in the bride and groom, but you have your own needs and priorities too.

It is almost 1 a.m. when you reach Joel's house. His house is a two-story house, not too far from downtown, is very large for one man only, you find yourself thinking just before you knock on his door. You knock on his door and he greets you with only his boxers on, his hair tousled, and a crooked smile on his face.

"Come," he says moving to let you in, you enter and see his house for the first time. You let your gaze wander and see mostly wooden furnishings, a guitar leaning under a half-open window, lots of small wood carvings immediately jumps out at you, then your attention shifts to the man's hands that are on your shoulders, they are as delicate as feathers and that is enough to make you shiver.

"I didn't think you'd respond to those messages," he tells you, taking you denim jacket off from your shoulders and leaving you in just the black top. His beard tickles your skin behind your ear, then your neck and shoulders, first on one side and then the other.

"If you write me such things, I answer. Even though it was the first time." you respond by closing your eyes and finding his hands and intertwining your fingers tightly.

"The first time? Well, not bad." he comments without stopping to tease your neck and behind your ear in a slowly and gentle caress "You owe me an orgasm," he adds reminding you of what he had written to you a few hours ago.

"That's why I'm here," you reply, smiling and turning to face him.

"Really? I thought you were here to chat or something."

You shake your head, "Ssst," you say as you slowly and softly place your lips on his and let your hands slip into his dark curls and pressing yourself against him, you then let your lips wander down to his neck partly covered with a thin layer of hair, you feel him holding his breath as you find yourself smiling.

"Do you enjoy driving me crazy?" he asks you, trying to slip off your top, but you block his hands by entwining your fingers again.

"It seems to me that you've already had enough fun this afternoon provoking me, don't you think?" you tell him kissing his shoulder blades savoring every inch of his skin "Where is your room?" you ask him loosening the grip of his hands and reaching for the elastic band of his boxers.

"Upstairs." he answers you holding his breath.

You enjoy stroking his thick mace a few times, then you pull away and find him with his eyes closed and a tense expression contracting his face, he opens his eyes and you find his dark irises peering back at you for a long time, you kiss him slowly and then go to his bedroom.

You are on him and seeing him completely surrendered to your caresses and kisses makes you feel powerful.

He looks at you with wide eyes and parted lips as he sees you descend on his erection inch by inch, when he is completely buried inside you, you close your eyes and a sigh escapes you. His hands are on your hips, "You're so tight, so wet fo' me," he tells you, just increasing his grip on your hips as you gasp "I can feel you all the way up here." you coo placing a hand on your stomach.

"It's so much to take and you do it beautifully," he comments causing you to open your eyes and find yourself eyes to eyes, he smiles at you finding your hands and squeezing again. In a slow motion you rise from on top of him causing his intimacy to come almost all the way out of your pussy and then climb back up just as slowly, you find yourself both moaning softly.

You are almost about to come when your phone rings and you stop shaking, the ringtone invades the room and you have to make almost a superhuman effort to remember that it is in the pocket of your jeans there at the end of the bed, Joel is still inside you when you answer the phone. It's Patrick.

"Shit!" you exclaim.

Joel stares at you questioningly, you show him the name on the screen, and he throws his head back on the pillow.

"Hey," you reply.

"Where are you?"

"Around," you answer evasively.

"At this hour?"

"Yes, it went long," you reply, deglutinating.

"Boring as a ceremony?" he asks you.

A gasp escapes your lips as Joel begins to move under you resuming a slow pace.

"Oh . . ." your eyes wide open as you look toward Joel who gives you a crooked smile.

Bastard.

"Are you taking the stairs?" Patrick asks you.

"Wh - what?" you stammer feeling the contractions of your next orgasm ready to overwhelm you.

"Are you taking the stairs?"

"Yes. Yes, the - the stairs. Ah, yes! Ah. . The stairs. Um . . . oh! Patrick, can I . . talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Aren't you going to ask me about the meeting?"

The cell phone slips out of your hands, ending up on the mattress as you place your hands on Joel's chest, which is continuing to move beneath you with increasing rhythm.

"Oh, fuck . . ." you curse, reaching for the phone "Sorry, um, if it's not . . . ah, if it's not urgent we'll talk in the morning, good night."

You don't wait for Patrick's good night because you immediately end the call and take to pushing yourself against him as well, while he lays his hands on your hips holding you still and ready to receive him.

"It feels so good," you comment gasping.

"Your pussy is made for my cock," he replies breathlessly as well.

You hide your head in the crook of his neck as both of you go at each other thrusts until your orgasm explodes and you scream each other's name.

Even after your breaths settle, you remain with your head buried in his neck and your hands in his curls, he wraps both arms around your back.

"Best orgasm of my life," he comments in your ear.

"Are we even?" you ask him, gently kissing his neck.

He nods as you are about to move from on top of him, but he increases his grip "Stay like that a little longer." he tells you kissing one shoulder softly "I like feeling you full of me."

You giggle, "All right, whatever."

You still shiver and feel the contractions of your orgasm . . . after a while you lift yourself up letting him out from inside you and you are about to leave, about to put your clothes back on. You are sure that since you are having just sex encounters he doesn't want you to sleep with him; instead, he grabs your wrist gently in his hand "Stay," he tells you lifting the sheet to accommodate you down there too.

You take a long look at his face, "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

He nods, "Yes, come."

You don't fight, you slip under the sheet lying next to him with your back to him and feeling him move behind you and wrapping an arm around you to hold you tightly to him.

"Didn't you tell me you didn't want serious relationships?" you ask him after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes."

"Didn't you tell me you just wanted to get laid?" you ask him again after a while.

He doesn't answer you, you turn to him, find him with his eyes closed and lips parted, you smile shaking your head; then, you close the light and let his breathing and strong grip make you feel protected and take you to the world of dreams.

The next day when you wake up, he is no longer beside you. For a moment you think he's left you a note somewhere telling you to make yourself at home, but that he doesn't want to find you when he gets back, or something like that, but there's none of that in his room.

You get dressed and then go downstairs and find him intent on pouring coffee into what you imagine is his cup, you see him sipping his coffee very slowly, and you hear him moan occasionally. You smile. You don't even remember when you watched Patrick eat breakfast, you look down and find yourself wondering if you didn't get it all wrong, maybe . . .

"Hey, g' morning!" he greets you addressing you with a big smile as you approach him returning the greeting "How did you sleep?" he asks.

"Oddly well," you reply "coffee?"

"Yes, here use this," he says handing you another clean cup "why oddly?"

"I usually can't sleep in a bed that's not my own," you reply, shrugging your shoulders barely and then pouring your coffee into the cup Joel gave you.

"Mine is special," he jokes, you sip your coffee and a small smile appears on your face.

"Sure," you say looking at him and realizing that he's looking at you, too, "I didn't think . . in short, that you would wanted to share your bed with me," you admit.

"As a matter of fact, neither did I. You know, it's the first time for me too in a long time. You know what I mean." you nod "We had a good time, this time too." you nod again sipping your coffee a few more times and then putting your cup down in the sink and crossing your arms.

His sentence resonates inside you, resonates almost like a warning, like a wake-up call.

"I'd better go now," you say as you lower your gaze and head for the door, not sure what to say or how to comment on his last sentence because you know he's right, you've had a good time, but it's not something that can be followed.

Joel whispers your name as he follows you toward the door, you turn and find yourselves locked in a long silent embrace. He has his nose hidden in your hair, you have your face in the crook of his neck. You breathe in each other's scent, then look up into his eyes and greet him after stroking his face in passing.

When you are on the street, away from the residential area where Joel lives, you slow your pace to a stop. What you're doing doesn't make sense. You're going back to your fake perfect life, to your fake perfect man, but what's the point? You know Joel doesn't want a serious relationship and that's fine, but what about you? Do you want to pretend you're in a stable relationship, while behind his back you're cheating on him by fucking someone else?

You go back, this time at a brisk pace. You hurry up the stairs to his house and knock on his door, he opens a few moments later, he doesn't even have time to say your name that you pounce on his lips pushing him inside the house.

You close the door with your shoes and wrap your arms around his neck, he is only surprised for a few moments by your impetuous return, but then he surrounds your torso with his arms places his hands under your buttocks and lifts you up. You encircle his torso with your legs as he carries you into his living room, onto his couch. Being crushed under his body, oh what a delicious feeling.

Can you ever get enough?

You undress at the speed of light, then you move to him. You never loved being on, but with him . . that's different, too. This way you have the sensation of feeling his cock all the way down your throat, and then mounting him makes you feel so hard. You grab his already throbbing erection and let him dig inside you slowly, "Fuck!" you exclaim in unison as you recline your head, you backwards and him on the pillow, "mmhm," you moan leaning toward him placing a kiss on his lips and then starting to move. You move slowly on him savoring the contractions of your cunt and his cock, moaning continuously "You're so big," you moan squeezing your eyes shut as he encourages you between sighs like "You ride me so well," or says in a choked voice other phrases like "The way you squeeze my cock no one does" or "Ride me faster" and you obey, leaning forward slightly toward his face and speeding up your thrusts. The angle changes, the speed increases, and you find yourself moaning even more "Fuck, Joel," you meow as you feel your teary eyes "you make me feel so good, so good," you moan more and more uncontrollably.

"You just love this cock, you've come back on purpose to mount me like the good fucking girl you are," he says laying his hands behind your buttocks as he comes to meet your thrusts increasing the force and making you see stars behind your eyelids.

The sloshing sound between your bodies grows louder and louder, "Harder," he encourages you by giving you a light smack on the buttock, and you increase until you find yourself crying out and abandoning yourself completely against him as he continues to move hard in and out of you, then he lets out a cry by wrapping his arms around you.

You are sweaty and without strength, he lays a kiss on your cheek as you place your head on his chest and lift your eyes to his face. You hear his heart beating fast and it is a sound you are beginning to like, you smile. You feel like a fool because you know that all this will never lead to anything more between you, you close your eyes feeling only the beating of his heart, when you feel one of his fingers caressing your lower lip and you open your eyes again finding his dark eyes fixed on you, you say nothing, you just enjoy the sweet and delicate feeling of his finger caressing your mouth, your nose, your profile, your cheeks.

It's at that moment that you realize you are screwed and can no longer do without each other . . .

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fantasyandromancelover · 5 months ago

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Princess Bride quotes that I think would suit Hazbin characters.

Alastor: I mean, once word leaks out that a demon has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time.

Charlie: You mock my pain!

Alastor: Life is pain highness. Anyone says different is selling something.

Charlie: You mocked me once. Never do it again! I died that day! And you can die too for all I care!

Alastor: As you wish my dear.

Sir Pentious: You never said anything about killing anyone.

Adam: I've hired you to help me start a war. That's a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition.

Sir Pentious: I just don't think it's right, killing an innocent girl.

Adam: Am I going mad or did the word "think" escape your lips? You were not hired for your brains, you reptilian land mass!

Angel: That Adam, he can fuss.

Sir Pentious: Fuss, fuss, I think he likes to scream at us.

Angel: Probably he means no harm.

Sir Pentious: He really very short on the charm.

Angel: Oh, you've a great gift for rhyme.

Sir Pentious: Yes, some of the time.

Adam: Enough of that!

Angel: Are there rocks ahead?

Sir Pentious: If there are, we’ll all be dead.

Adam: No more rhymes now! I mean it!

Sir Pentious: Anyone want a peanut?

Adam: Ahhhhh!

Adam: Inconceivable!

Angel: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Vox: Surrender!

Alastor: You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.

Husk: That’s s not what he said. He distinctly said "to blave." And, as we all know, "to blave" means "to bluff." So you're probably playing cards, and he cheated.

Rosie: Liar! LIAR!

Husk: Get back witch!

Rosie: I’m not a witch! I’m your wife but after what you just said, I’m not even sure if I want to be that anymore!

Husk: You never had it so good!

Alastor: Give us the gate key.

Tom: I have no gate key.

Angel: Pentious tear his arms off.

Tom: Oh you mean this gate key.

Angel: Hello, my name is Angel Dust. You killed my friend. Prepare to die.

Angel: Offer me money.

Valentino: Yes!

Angel: Power, too, promise me that.

Valentino: All that I have and more. Please...

Angel: Offer me anything I ask for.

Valentino: Anything you want...

Angel: I want my friend back, you son of a bitch!

Vox: To the death!

Alastor: No. To the pain.

Vox: I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase.

Alastor: I'll explain. And I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you junkyard faced buffoon. To the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet, below the ankles, then your hands at the wrists, next your nose.

Vox: And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly the last time, a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight.

Alastor: I wasn’t finished. The next thing you lose will be your left eye, followed by your right.

Vox: And then my ears, I understand. Let's get on with it.

Alastor: Wrong! Your ears you keep and let me tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God, what is that thing?" will echo in your perfect ears. That is what "to the pain" means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.

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alicentsultana · 8 months ago

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Omfg I was scrolling down this hell site and there is this annon and user talking about how

"Alicent wasn't a victim of marital rape".

There is a scene of her fucking dissociating while he once again makes her pregnant.

She is a child bride.

She is a child taking care of child.

You don't have to scream, complain, struggle against the act for it to be considered rape. The same way women in real life still don't do it because they are being threatened, are suffering of paralyzing fear and/or are trapped in a system that if they say anything or act against their aggressors they would be killed.

Don't get me started on the tiktok trend (idk if it really is a trend, I don't use tiktok, but there was enough videos of it so I believe it is a trend) about women simulating conversations they had with aunts/mother/grandmas about how they were persecuted by current husbands, how they didn't want to marry or have children, how they father's didn't protect and practically sold them to the guy following them after work/school, how they have to have sex with only a short period after birth etc.

You liking Alicent or not, you're denying something that happened to her, fiction or not, would you deny it in real life too?

And we have to talk about Aegon and the girl he raped in the series.

She did what she could have done for that girl at that time period - tell her it wasn't her fault, support her in some way that was sensible, because nothing would put be a proper punishment for her son, the same way it wouldn't punish her husband, Daemon or any other powerful men in the series. But even she acknowledged what happened, that girl was a servant, if she says no or any other thing she would lose her job or die.

Alicent did it, while no one would acknowledge what happened to her.

Like Alyssa, mother of Viserys and Daemon, a tomboy, whose mother influenced her in some way to accept since early she would marry her brother, whose Maesters claim she loved being pregnant and go through birth, her, a tomboy who acted more like a man than a woman, it's literally like Arya Stark would love to be pregnant as stated by @greenbloods.

Wake up girls, w a k e u p.

#pro team green #alicent hightower #hotd #team green #aegon ii targaryen #hotd critical

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

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The Viper's Bride - ch 13

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Fluff, support, love, and surprises. Summary: Margaery learns the truth about what Raeden means to you, and it leads to an unexpected conversation. Notes: Listen, I just think Margaery needs a hug and some time to chill, okay?

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

The days blend into weeks and the trial continues to drag on. Luncheons with Queen Margaery blur together, dinners at your own table in your chamber make way every evening to hours in bed. The idea of being anywhere besides the comfort of your lovers’ arms each night is now impossible, although all four of you do not always sleep in one bed. It is more frequent, though, and always a comfort.

“Are you sure you wish for me to join?” Every day when Margaery extends the invitation to Raeden to join you for the midday meal, he asks you. Not wishing to impose, even though the request is from the queen.

“Of course.” He always asks, and your reply is always the same. Raeden’s company is always wanted for you and Ellaria, but apparently also for the queen.

“I did not know if there were things you wished to discuss privately.” He murmurs softly, feeling proud when you wrap your arm around his.

“Anything I could say privately, can be said with you present,” you remind him gently. Since the revelation of having more than one soulmate, you had promised your lovers that you would never keep a secret from them again. It had made you wholly uncomfortable and upset to do so.

“Just so,” Margaery agrees, motioning to the table that has been laid, indicating the three of you should sit. “We are all friends, are we not?”

“It is an honor to be considered a friend, your highness.” Raeden doesn’t understand why Margaery seems so interested in him eating with her, but he has enjoyed getting to know the younger woman.

“Hopefully it is not a consideration that is one sided.” She sits at the round table in her customary chair and wine is poured immediately.

The young man who serves each luncheon is under the impression you do not much enjoy wine and has begun to serve you sweetened lemon juice with water added, which seems to be more to your taste. In fact, wine was the first thing to start tasting bitter and undesirable since you found yourself with child. Ellaria had laughed and said children were like that – that you lost taste for things and gained taste for others because of them.

“Thank you, as always, for so graciously hosting us.” Raeden tells her with a small smile after taking a sip of his wine. Despite the two enchanting soulmates he possesses, there is something about the widowed queen that is easy to be around.

“It is a comfort to have such steadfast company,” She admits, her smiles having changed over the weeks from painted on, to weak, and soft and true. “I have you both to thank for that.” Ellaria is always a welcome presence as well, but Margaery understands the older woman has no taste for politics and the trial specifically. It is a distaste that she shares, though she cannot afford to express it.

“The company is always marvelous with the Princess.” He acknowledges, sending you a small smile and reaching for a piece of fruit that you have been craving ravenously the past few days.

“I would call you a flatterer except I appreciate the compliment.” Your own smile is relaxed, and you anticipate the fresh-looking apricot with gratitude. “Raeden is never insincere,” you assure the queen. “It is one of his virtues.”

“There is no merit to being insincere.” He defends with a small shrug. “If you cannot trust a man’s word, you cannot trust him.”

"That is not, unfortunately, the type of opinion one normally hears from noblemen." Margaery acknowledges as dishes of meat, vegetables, and fresh rolls are unveiled on the table before them. "What shall we talk about today?"

“I think that the two lovely ladies I have the privilege of dining with should choose.” He decides with a wink. “Anything you would like.”

"I cannot say that I have very much new to speak of," you hum, still playing the news of your pregnancy very close to your vest. No one knows beyond your small family and the maester, who has graciously been admitting you to the Citadel once weekly at Oberyn's request to make sure your health stays at its peak. "Perhaps you will be willing to speak of something older, then?" Margarey sits up in her seat while her plate is filled on her behalf, used to the ceremony although she dislikes being treated like a doll. Not being allowed to do anything for herself is immensely taxing on the mind. "You speak so well of each other, yet I know nothing of your bond beside the fact that Lord Raeden was once your guard, during his time serving your father."

The question is one that was loaded, and Raeden looks towards you to see you if you unwilling to tell the truth. If you were, he would say nothing, but there is a small nod when he catches your eye and he realizes that the fear of what people will think is now a thing of the past. Perhaps your mother’s departure from King’s Landing and your earnest conversations with your father have made it so. However, he thinks it has a lot to do with your marriage to Oberyn and his complete acceptance of the situation. “The strange truth is, your highness, the princess is my soulmate.”

Whatever she might have been expecting, that is certainly not it, and Margaery's glass nearly cracks at how hard she sets it down on the table. "Gods above," she murmurs, looking between you both with wide eyes. "Truly?"

"Truly." When you nod you also reach for Raeden's hand, placing yours on top of his on the table. "We have been fortunate to be able to hold on to each other through despite many challenges."

A million different questions roll through her brain at once as she sees your joined hands. Wondering if she was being tricked as some elaborate plot, but there is obvious affection for each other in your gazes. “I— does the Prince know?” She asks quietly, lowering her voice and leaning in.

"He has known since before we were married." You nod, interested to note that she seemed genuinely concerned. As though the happiness of those involved was a priority, which would be a welcome thing if it turns out to be true.

“That is….” She shakes her head gently. “Wonderful. I have heard that the prince is open in many ways but the fact that he is accepting of your soulmate?” She sighs softly. “You are blessed by the Seven.”

"I cannot deny it." It would be a terrible lie to claim otherwise, and you have no desire to do so. "To love my husband and my soulmate equally is a blessing that I had never looked for but am very glad to have found."

"You love the prince?" She seems shocked by that admission and her eyes dart over to Raeden's to see if there is any jealousy. None are found in his dark orbs and she is equally intrigued by such a thing.

“Very much.” And the freedom to feel that in your bones without hesitation — to accept it as you always accepted your love for Raeden — is something wonderful. “Of course it is not common to love more than one person at once. But it can be done, and it can be gloriously fulfilling.”

"Yes." Margaery would not disagree with such a thing; she knows that the heart and what you are supposed to want are sometimes conflicting things. It was why she had been willing to share her first husband. "And the Prince's lover?" Ellaria has become dear to her, but she does not quite understand the dynamic.

Oberyn and Ellaria are not shy or secretive about their relationship or what they are to each other, so when Raeden sits up in his chair a little straighter he does not feel as if he is betraying anyone’s confidence. “Soulmates as well,” he tells the queen.

“I was lucky to find myself betrothed to a man who also understood not being able to marry the person he loves.” You know this, and yet it is the happiest part of the unfortunate way you came together. “Fortunately for Ellaria, she did not wish to be princess and I was well prepared for the duty.”

"I see." She takes a sip of her wine and mulls over the information that you have just given her. It would be likely that whoever married Lord Raeden in the future, to establish his house, would have to be accepting of sharing her husband. Despite men doing as they wish for centuries, it did not mean that women had accept it quietly.

“This is not what you expected to hear, I think?” Her manner makes that obvious, and you sit up to your plate with interest as well as hunger.

Raeden finishes pealing and slicing the fruit, sliding it onto your plate and smiling when you hum. "It is an odd thing to hear from anyone, my love." He reminds you. "Especially from nobility and even more so from the Princess of Dorne."

“Perhaps.” You can agree to that, and pick up a slice of fruit eagerly. “But friends are honest, are they not?”

Margaery hums in agreement and she nods. "Do you...may I come to your chambers tonight to discuss our honesty?" She asks with a raised brow.

You exchange a small glance with Raeden but you both know the answer. It does not bear discussion, though you will be returning to the trial chambers early to tell Oberyn and sending a message back to Ellaria. “Certainly,” you answer with authority, and admittedly you are intrigued. She has not yet discussed any plans with Oberyn but apparently the time has come. “We would be honored.”

"Thank you." She bows her head towards the both of you with a relieved smile. "I will not come right after the end of the day's trial. I think we all should need a brief rest from the testimony."

“It has been a trying time,” Raeden agrees as you all begin to eat. “Hopefully the end is now in sight and the entire ordeal can be out to rest with justice.”

"Yes, justice." She knows as well as you and Raeden that the Lannisters would never allow anything but the outcome they wanted, even with Oberyn as a judge.

“We can hope.” Raeden says again, knowing that is all it is.

"Have you and the prince decided when you will leave for Dorne?" She asks curiously. "As soon as the trial is over? Or will you stay for the next royal affair?"

“His commitment to the Small Council will be at an end with the trial and he is anxious to be home again.” In fact, you are anxious for it too, but because of your pregnancy. You hate to think what traveling by sea would be like in another few months of time. “And there is the establishment of Lord Raeden’s new House to attend to.” You beam at him, happy to not have to mark your pride in him or joy at his elevation.

“I have a feeling that your house will prosper.” She tells Raeden with a smile. “You are more noble than most men who carry lesser titles.”

“It is a great deal of work to begin a noble house. I admit I had little idea of the details necessary to tend to.” He sips his wine and eats politely, always with one eye on you and the other on the queen. “But I am equal to the task, and your Grace’s kindness is most appreciated.”

“Perhaps my house would be able to aid in some small way.” She offers. “Since you have been so kind to me. My father recently mentioned that he has noticed that I am less mournful, the credit was given to my wonderful companions.”

“Any aid from House Tyrell would lend immense credibility to the future of House Sunstone.” Having mulled it over in his mind, Raeden had eventually decided on the new name Oberyn suggested second. Dragonstone had sounded presumptuous to him the more he thought about it.

“Sunstone?” She blinks and then a true, bright smile blossoms on her face. “I must say that I am envious of such a beautiful name. I own a sunstone ring that is quite precious to me.”

“The good fortune of being able to forge my own path comes with the prince’s grace.” He knows that. He understands the debt and does not mind paying it two hundred times over if it means he can bring honor to his family and to Dorne. “But I am sure your treasured ring is as stunning as its owner.” Paying a compliment to a beautiful woman, especially one who has been good company to both of you and particularly kind to him, is an easy task for Raeden. Very easy indeed.

Margaery pauses for a moment, surprised that there isn’t even the tiniest hint of jealousy that crosses your face and she bestows a pleased smile on both of you. Picking up her cup and lifting it. “To House Sunstone, May it prosper under the Dornish sun.”

“I will drink to that every time,” you agree, raising your own glass in proud salute.

Raeden’s eyes flash and glitter, both deeply proud and deeply pleased, when he raises his glass to you and the queen in return. His blessings have been innumerable and she could not be more grateful. “My thanks to you both,” he acknowledges, his smile genuine. “With such support as this, I cannot see a future for House Sunstone that is not as bright as its namesake.”

******

For some reason, Raeden is nervous as he escorts you back to the rooms. There’s an idea that has been running through his mind since that luncheon and he doesn’t know what you or Ellaria would think about it. Even though he had spoken to Oberyn about it vaguely, it would affect you two most of all.

“You seem distracted, my love.” As he pushes open the door to your chambers, you frown slightly. Oberyn should be a few minutes behind you and Ellaria will be waiting inside, so this moment is only for you and Raeden. “Is the trial weighing on you?”

“No.” He knows that he needs to talk to you. The honesty that has been promised demands it. “I have been thinking about the future of my house.”

“A matter far dearer to our hearts.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “What can I do to help you?”

“To remember that I love you, regardless of who I marry.” He murmurs softly.

"I have no doubt of that." Stopping in the doorway, you turn and take both of his hands, squeezing them as you look up at him. "She will have to be a strong and clever woman, and especially kind-hearted in order to deserve you, but I know you will choose well. Whoever she is, she will be very lucky." The hurt you once harbored over knowing that your marriages could never be to each other has healed. If your betrothal had turned out so wonderfully, did it not also follow that Raeden might also choose a woman who turned out to be just as joyful a choice?

“I hope you continue to think so.” He murmurs softly as Ellaria comes out of the bedroom to greet you both.

"Good evening, my loves." She moves to both of you together, putting out her arms in welcome. "How did the trial fair today?"

“It was interesting.” Raeden snorts. “The evidence against Lord Tyrion is flimsy at best.”

“Unfortunately, that does not seem to matter to Lord Tywin,” you tut sympathetically and accept the embrace happily. “What have you done with your day today, love?”

“Leyth went with me to the marketplace.” Ellaria bestows kisses on both of you and brings you inside to settle in front of the fire. “We obtained our dinner from the Dornish vendor that Oberyn loves so much, after wandering around and amusing ourselves with trinkets for a while.”

“Then Queen Margarey will be in for a treat at dinner tonight.” Raeden lifts your hand to kiss the back of it before reaching for Ellaria’s. The offer to dine with you had come naturally when she had asked to come speak with you tonight. Returning the hospitality of someone who has been so kind would not cause tongues to wag, although they still talk just because of the proximity to Oberyn.

“Yes, I think so.” Ellaria had perhaps gone slightly overboard in her ordering with the combination of impressing the queen and feeding your increased appetite on her mind, but that does not matter. “Is Oberyn still in meetings? They seem to want him for everything the longer this business goes on.”

“He is only about ten minutes behind us.” Raeden assures her. He had wished to stay back to learn some information from Lord Varys and his little birdies.

“Then come and have a drink and sit with me while we wait.” There is always wine, of course, and also teas and tisanes for you to enjoy now that your tastes are changing.

He looks to you, knowing you might prefer to lay down for a few moments. “My love.”

"Enjoy yourselves, loves." You nudge them together and stretch, offering them a soft smile. "I will lay down for a few minutes with my eyes closed, enjoying the sound of absolutely no one arguing nearby."

“Rest, my love.” He murmurs, watching as you stand and walk towards the bedroom that Ellaria had just exited.

"How was your luncheon?" Ellaria pours wine for both of them and brings Raeden to sit down in front of the fire.

“It was very enlightening.” He admits, accepting the cup and when he sits down, he pulls her into his lap.

"How so?" There is not any need to coax her into further action, and Ellaria readily trails kisses along his neck and jaw.

“She is very eager to be rid of this keep, King’s Landing, all of it.” He tells her, tilting his head back and sighing softly.

"Who could ever want to stay in this place?" It is distasteful, cold, and unfriendly, and Ellaria will be glad to leave it behind as well. The only thing worth staying for is her lovers.

“I do not know why anyone would.” He chuckles and tilts forward so he can look at his second soulmate and lover. “I wish to ask you a question.”

She pauses, drawing away from him and looking into his eyes to find determination in his dark orbs. “Anything, my love.”

“What do you think about a marriage offer to Margarey?” He asks her softly. “I know you have no desire to marry, you have made that clear, and I need a wife to give me sons and daughters.” He knows she would give him a child if she is able, but he doesn’t want to risk her health if it is too taxing on her body.

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Her head tilts in curiosity and she runs her nails soothingly over his scalp. He would not all such a question flippantly, and surely he would have weighed the pros and cons heavily before even bringing it up to anyone in their complex relationship.

“Since the luncheon with the queen today.” He confesses quietly. “It just seems as if there was a moment where I knew she would accept my relationships with you and her.” He nods towards the doorway. “She knows that she is my soulmate and is fascinated by the acceptance.”

“There is always danger in accepting new faces into a situation like ours,” Ellaria admits with a sadness that says she knows this firsthand.

“I can imagine.” He nods seriously and sighs. “I can only ask that she accept and if she cannot, then she would not be the wife for me.”

“Do not be discouraged if your first choice is not realized.” She murmurs, not wanting him to find himself upset if Margaery will be unable to keep jealousy at bay.

“I want you and our love to be involved in the decision.” He insists. “She will be in both your lives.”

"And Oberyn's." She reminds him, but she nods. "I do not envy the life Margaery Tyrell has had to live, but I certainly find her to be clever and beautiful." Leaning down, Ellaria presses a kiss to Raeden's lips as the door to their chambers creaks open. "I would not be upset to see more of her if she was your choice."

“Gods curse this trial.” Oberyn groans as he comes through the door and immediately starts to shuck his broadcoat as he walks over to the couple in the front of the fire to kiss his soulmate.

"Does it vex you so terribly, lover?" Ellaria asks before sinking in his kiss without moving an inch from Raeden's lap.

Oberyn has no issue with the other man being a part of the kiss and his tongue slides against his lips in their journey into Ellaria’s mouth. Kissing her thoroughly before he turns and brushes his nose against the other man’s.

His lack of answer and determined kiss say that yes, it does vex him, and the three of them tangle in each other to let the kiss linger until Oberyn is ready to pull away himself.

“Now I am feeling more relaxed.” He huffs, his fingers reaching out and stroking Raeden’s jaw and then Ellaria’s. “You always relax me.”

"We love you, too," Ellaria hums, her own fingers running down the prince's broad chest. "Leyth and I ordered our dinner to be delivered from the vendor you discovered in the marketplace and the princess is resting," she reports after another soft kiss. "I think they told you already that we are having a guest tonight?"

“Yes.” Oberyn’s eyes slide back to Raeden’s. “Have you broached the subject?”

"Just now." The younger man nods slightly. "With Ellaria first."

His brow ticks up curiously and he sits down next to Raeden and strokes his lover’s thigh as she sits on his lap. “And what do you think of the idea, my sun?”

"It is intriguing," she admits, holding Raeden's hand in hers as she lays back against Oberyn's chest. "Her political navigation cannot be matched, and that will be most valuable."

“That was my thinking as well. The alliance with Highgarden and the Tyrells would serve Raeden well, as well as legitimize his offspring beyond all protests.”

"And she finds our valiant knight very handsome." Ellaria acknowledges, her fingers tangled in his and holding his hand tenderly. "Of course she does. She has eyes."

“What do you think?” He asks softly. “I cannot imagine you kicking her out of bed if she decided to join us.”

"No." Shaking her head, she makes an animated frown and waves one hand freely. "I would certainly not. Young, beautiful, and curious? She will be a quick learner."

Oberyn grins and leans in to bite his lover’s chin. “I knew she would interest you.” His eyes sparkle towards Raeden. “Or would you want to keep your lady wife to yourself, Lord Sunstone?” He teases playfully.

"That is her decision," Raeden acknowledges with a huffed half-laugh. He knows the prince is teasing him, but his answer is honest. "But there is one more person to consult before the discuss is had." He nods his head toward the closed door that has so far kept you ignorant of the topic. "I do not know if it helps or hurts that they have become true friends."

“I think that it would help.” Oberyn offers, having learned the way your mind works very well over the past weeks. “Go and talk to her, make sure she knows you would not proceed without her blessing.”

"I would never." Moving Ellaria over to Oberyn's lap fully, Raeden gives each of them a kiss before pushing himself up to standing. "For the sake of transparency..." he looks down at the pair. "I have both of your blessings for this idea, if I decide to move forward with it?"

Oberyn nods. “Of course you have my blessing, it is a smart move.” He tells the younger man before he leans in to kiss Ellaria’s jaw. “Lover? What is your answer?” He doesn’t speak for her, knowing that the marks on her skin bind her to Raeden in a way that he does not have.

"It is a clever choice," she agrees, nodding her approval. "I will be proud for you if it works out, lover. If it does not, then she was not the right choice after all."

“Thank you.” He smiles at both of them, bolstered by their approval. “Now I should ask my other soulmate.” He hums, removing his boots before he moves silently towards the door.

The sun has gone down since you laid your head on the pillow of the bed you usually sleep in – though who you share it with now changes regularly. When the door opens it brings you out of the depths of your mind and you turn your head to see who has come in. "Raeden," you hum his name happily. "Are you come to beckon me into dinner, or to cuddle for a while?"

“Cuddle.” His jacket is in his hands and he drapes it over a chair before he climbs into the bed with you. “And talk, if you are agreeable to it.”

"Always, my love." As soon as he is on the bed you turn to face him and burrow into his side with a happy purr. "What is it you have a mind to talk about?"

Raeden wraps his arms around you with a happy groan, aware that he is very fortunate to be able to hold you like this at all. Perhaps he is being selfish, wanting to establish his house. “My house. My future wife.”

"Oh?" That has your ears perking and your eyes widening. The feeling of your heart in your throat is surprisingly less violent than you would have expected from this topic but it is more tinged with worry. Worry that he might have trouble finding a suitable choice who would not also endeavor to take him away from you. "Have you...made a decision?"

“I have not spoken to her about it, because you, Oberyn and Ellaria are my priority.” He assures you, squeezing you slightly and then rubbing his hand up and down your back. “If you do not approve, I will say nothing at all.”

"But you have found someone worthy of asking." It is not entirely surprising, considering you are all living at the very center of Westeros society, but still you bite your lip. It is not necessarily surprising, but it is still an enormous step forward for him.

“I have an idea.” He stresses. “One that has me reaching well above my station even as a Lord.”

It takes only a moment for your mind to race through the options with that clue in mind, and you end up with even wider eyes than before as you lean up on your elbow in his arms. "Margaery..." you breathe, looking at him in surprise. "Truly?"

It is marvelous how your mind is quick, piecing everything together. “You think that it would be a grave mistake?”

Sitting up a little straighter, you shake your head and lay your hand on his cheek. "On the contrary, my love. I think it is impossibly clever of you. She is acquainted with our situation, has a keen mind for politics, and is looking for a solution to her own situation."

“That is analytical and practical.” He leans into your touch, his warm brown eyes begging you for your opinion. “How would you feel about it personally. Spending time with Margaery and knowing that she would also carry my children, help me establish my house?”

For weeks now you had been trying to detach yourself from the idea. To think of it as something for the distant future. But that is simply not true. Raeden's House is here, and it is now, and he will need a wife to help it grow and to keep him steady. He will need someone who understands how to play the game of nobles and will be able to bear him many children. "I think she is my friend, as surprising as that is to say." Especially since the very first day that you had met her, you thought that her presence in your life would be nothing more than a passing curiosity. It has been nearly two months now and you have come to dearly enjoy the time that you spend walking, reading, or talking with the young widow. "But I know that she does not think she has much future as a bride, despite how dearly she wishes to be a mother. So I advise you that the conversation may not go the way that you think at first."

“I know that she is a higher station, that her prospects should be better than a new lord, but it would also be easier on her reputation than being found in bed with your husband.” He offers.

“She wants to be a wife,” you promise him, not realizing that your voice has gone soft with understanding. The walks that you have taken with Margaery Baratheon — who still considers herself Margaery Tyrell in her heart — have been much more revealing than you could ever have anticipated. “She wants to be a mother. And I know that she would relish the chance to make a decision about her life on her own for once. Not what her father would do, or what her grandmother orchestrates, but simply what Margaery herself desires.”

“I understand.” Raeden nods solemnly. “I will not speak a word of this to her if you wish it.” He promises. “You and Ellaria and Oberyn are my first concerns, your feelings are of high importance in this matter.” He chuckles quietly. “You will choose my wife, approve her, or I will not take one.”

“A vastly different arrangement than we had when I was married,” you chuckle softly. “I approve of the choice, my love, as long as you like her and it is not simply a political decision.”

“It is not. I think she would accept your place in my life, and Ellaria and Oberyn’s.” He confesses.

"I think she would, too." Your hand strays from his jaw, moving to his shoulder to pull him close to you. "I think it would bring more happiness than we suspect, and perhaps even sooner than we might expect." You have always known that it could not be you – for too many reasons at different times in your life you have known it. But this? If it cannot be you, and it will not be Ellaria, let it be someone you all can trust.

“I love you.” He promises you softly. “That will never change. Until my dying breath my soul is a part of yours, my body as well. My heart has been yours since we met.”

"And I love you in precisely the same way." It is not just a promise, but a statement of truth. Something that is an immovable part of your very existence in this world. "You are as much myself as I am, and I am a part of you."

“I do not want to take this step without your approval.” He admits. “I care more about your happiness than anything else.”

“I will be beside you at every turn.” Nuzzled into his side, you breathe in his reassuring presence and feel the warmth of him fill you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

“Of that I have no doubt.” He murmurs softly, continuing to stroke your back. “If no one will accept our situation, I will remain unwed.”

“You cannot,” you remind him quietly, though it pains you to your core to admit it. “Or your house will die before it can begin.”

He sighs softly, wanting to remind you that his house was never supposed to be before your husband. He doesn’t though, he knows you are right, he must marry. “Then we will make sure that my wife is the right one for our group.”

“I think Margaery is a wise choice,” you admit, knowing what self-doubt his sighs betray. It had taken him a long time to show you that side of himself but since he has you have done everything to build him back up in return for his shows of vulnerability. “Will you speak to her tonight?”

“I was thinking about it.” He admits. “As long as you approve. See if she would rather elope with me rather than completely ruin her reputation.”

Taking the sharp line of his jaw in your hands again, you smile and hold his eyes. This is not an easy conversation for either of you to have — considering you had dreamed in your hearts of being able to find a way to be together — but it is by far the best outcome in many ways. “I approve,” you tell him unequivocally. “Margaery has been my unexpected friend in all of this. I would be glad if she could be given a choice in her own life, and if you could have all the advantages possible for your house and your happiness for the years to come.”

“I love you.” He promises you, smiling in relief. “I love you down to your very soul and I am so grateful that you are my soulmate.”

“As I love you.” There is not anyone else in all the world you would rather be tied to by fate or love or any other matter, and the fact that you have both Raeden and Oberyn to share an equal kind of love from your own heart remains extraordinary. “We should join the others, my love. Margaery will be here soon and it promises to be a most interesting meal.”

“We should not lay here too long.” He agrees, although he leans in to kiss you softly. “We will find out if she would like to be a part of our lives.”

“You say the words but make no move to go.” Of course, you do not either. You would much rather lay here and kiss him, if you are honest.

“If I am truthful, I would rather spend the night in bed with my beautiful soulmate.” He confesses.

“After,” you promise him, sighing when he kisses along your neck. “First we must determine if you are to be a groom soon.”

“I wish it was you.” He whispers softly. “Or Ellaria.”

“Do you not like Margaery?” The idea that he might marry purely for politics bothers you immensely and you pull back from him with a frown. “If you cannot find affection for her, my love, then you should not even entertain the idea.”

“I like her.” He tells you. “She is beautiful and witty, kind and smart.” He sighs, stroking your cheek gently. “I just imagined marrying my soulmate. It is hard to swallow that I now have two and cannot marry either one.”

“You could marry Ellaria.” Although your voice is gentle there is sadness to it, and you swallow another sigh. “But she would not be happy as a lady, and I think you would not be happy to let go of the chance to do good as a lord.”

“She does not want it.” He reveals. “She and I spoke of it after the second set of marks appeared.” He chuckles. “She told me she did not marry a prince, and she would not marry me.”

“If the law allowed, I would marry you both,” you promise him, kissing his shirt over his heart.

“Still my favorite woman.” He teases, ducking his head down and pressing his lips to yours. “How are you feeling, love?”

“My head ached this afternoon, but that could have been the trial.” The attempt at a joke is half-hearted, but you both smile a little wider. “And I have been ravenous for days. I cannot think how fast a child grows in its mother’s womb, but it seems to require far more food than I ever thought a little baby could.”

“A little princess.” The idea that it will be another girl has taken root with all of them, and he also knows that you wish for one. His hand slides down and cups your stomach protectively. “If you are hungry, then our meal will not come soon enough.”

“Come, my love.” With another kiss, you are shifting on the mattress. “This is to be a very important meal.”

“Yes it will.” He huffs, following after you with the same slight grumble he has when he has to leave your embrace.

Through the doors into the main chamber, Oberyn and Ellaria are sitting in front of a window with their arms around each other when you and Raeden come in from the other room. Their expectant look makes you shoot a sly smile in Raeden's direction. "I take it I was the last to hear of your plan?"

“You were tired.” He pouts slightly, sending you a beseeching look.

"Apparently growing a baby is hard work." You wink and make your way over to the tray where Leyth has left a pot of the tea you have been favoring the week.

“I found myself equally exhausted when I was carrying my first and third.” Ellaria nods and smiles indulgently at you. “Oberyn would find me sleeping at the dinner table sometimes.”

“I will not be surprised if I follow that example.” The endearing image earns Ellaria a kiss, however, and you temporarily abandon your teapot to bestow it upon her.

She chuckles and nods. “Why do you think Oberyn has ordered pillows to be set at the tables while we eat?” She teases.

It takes you a moment, but when you examine the dining table that has been laid out for all of you with every possible accoutrement besides food — there are numerous pillows laid nearby that you simply had not noticed before. “It is a most thoughtful gesture, husband. You have been looking out for me in ways I have not even been aware of.”

“Star, that is my job.” He purrs, smirking at you and winking. Since the announcement of your pregnancy, he has been doting and he knows it will only get worse as your time gets closer and you are visibly pregnant.

“You have many jobs, I think, your Grace.” The widowed queen stands in the doorway of your chambers with a smile on her face. “Forgive me for being a few minutes early. I was eager for good company.”

Looking over at the queen, his hand is still on his lover’s thigh and he grins. “Lady Baratheon, or queen?” He shrugs slightly. “Whatever your title, we always welcome beautiful guests, come. Would you like some tea? Wine?”

“Amongst friends, might I ask to be just Margaery?” She nods in thanks to the offer of wine, knowing that she has come here tonight to rather insert herself into the situation of all of the people here. Informality seems best, especially since what she has asked Prince Oberyn to do for her – to her, with her – will snatch her from a place of royalty forever.

“Margaery.” The name drips from Ellaria’s tongue like honeyed wine as she turns to kiss her lover and stands, slowly meandering over to the wine to fill a cup for the queen. She winks at you playfully and nudges your shoulder. “Pour your tea, Princess.”

“You all seem to be in high spirits tonight.” And Margaery desperately hopes that that is genuine and not out of delight at her predicament. While she might feel her friendship with you is genuine, she still finds Prince Oberyn to be an unknown entity, while Lord Raeden and Ellaria seem sometimes inscrutable.

“Of course it is.” Oberyn slouches down into his chair a bit more and lifts his cup to his lips. “We are celebrating. What we are celebrating remains to the seen.”

“Sit, Margaery, please.” You offer her the seat beside where you usually set yourself and tut in your husband’s direction. “I will go and tell Leyth we are ready for our meal.”

Your husband chuckles and watches the queen as she sits down and sips her wine. Discreetly looking around the common area of the chambers. “Dornish.” He tells her, lifting the cup to indicate he means the wine. “Superior to the swill that Cersei gulps down.”

“Dornish wine is very fine.” Renly had preferred it, so Margaery knows the taste well enough. It’s actually a bit comforting in an odd way. Something familiar. “Thank you for allowing me to press in on you like this. I know I am not everyone’s favourite dinner guest at present.”

“No thanks needed.” Raeden interjects, sending you a smile as he sits down beside you. “You will find that the prince is very accommodating when his interest is captured.”

“Is that so?” She looks to the faces around the room with curiosity, only to be met mostly with more curiosity in return. “Then for once I count myself lucky to be considered a curiosity.”

“Tell me.” Oberyn starts. “Would you leave the North behind if you could?”

“That is not altogether an easy question,” Margaery admits. The table fills one by one as Oberyn and Ellaria join and Leyth appears with platters of food delivered by the Dornish stall in the marketplace. “I suppose if I had a very good reason to, then yes.”

“Very good.” He will accept that answer at its face value. “And what of sex? Are you prudish? I do not think so, but I must ask.”

“I—” She glances at Leyth to take stock of the girl but your maid pays the conversation no mind whatsoever – just finishes setting out trays and exits the room after checking that everything is as it should be. “I do not think so,” she admits, sounding more uncertain than she would like. “But I admit I have only a small frame of reference.”

“Not pure, good.” He chuckles at her bewildered expression. This was not the conversation she was expecting but it was raw, honest. What Oberyn was hoping for. “And your soulmate? Have you found them?”

“They died.” She fidgets in her seat, looking much younger than she normally holds herself. She looks – self-conscious and bewildered – her own age. A young woman on the edge of uncertainty. “When I was a girl. I had a mark on my belly for years and then one day it was gone.”

“You poor dear.” Ellaria tuts and reaches out to touch the Queen’s knee as she sits back down with Oberyn. “I am very sorry.”

“It could have been worse,” Margaery acknowledges. “I could have known them.” An old thought creeps through her mind that she banishes with a small shake of her head and a painted-on smile. “It is not all so terrible. Or so difficult.”

“Perhaps you will be gifted with another soulmate.” Ellaria offers kindly, knowing that most nobility never get to be with their soulmate, but she couldn’t see Raeden denying her the connection given his own circumstances.

“That would be a rare gift.” One that Margaery tended not to let herself dream about, if she could help it. There is no benefit to letting her imagination run away with her. So instead she smiles as plates begin to fill and finds herself relieved and relaxed at the idea that she will get to choose her own delicacies tonight. She did not bring her maid deliberately, so there was no one to fix her plate on her behalf.

“Would you like me to serve you, Margaery?” Raeden turns towards the younger woman with a smile. “You can direct what you wish to eat?”

“Believe it or not, I am delighted to see to myself for once.” It almost makes her blush, though, for the situation being unusual and the offer being reasonable and kind. The food on the table looks and smells Dornish which means it is new to her, but that is somehow also an unlooked for delight rather than anything else. “As I am sure the princess understands, it is a rare chance that ladies of our situation are able to choose anything for ourselves. Food included.”

“Indulge, then,” you encourage, offering your friend a smile. “Choose only what you like and give yourself a taste for Dornish spices. I promise you will not be disappointed.”

“If there is something that does not agree with you, simply choose something else.” Oberyn instructs her. “You will not offend anyone here.”

“Growing up, the food at Highgarden always had herbs and roots for flavoring, but this smells so very different. I am intrigued,” she admits with a small laugh, then changes the subject as everyone begins to fill their plates in earnest. “I trust, now that the day is at an end, everyone is in higher spirits?”

“We are normally in high spirits when we can spend the evening together, it is very pleasurable.” Raeden doesn’t mention that it is spent having pleasure, but his eyes slide over to you and Ellaria with a fair amount of heat.

“Yes.” You clear your throat in the most ladylike way possible and Ellaria grins broadly. “To be in the company of those we hold dear is very pleasurable indeed.”

Margaery feels like there is an undercurrent to the comment but she doesn’t question it. “So,” she murmurs once the plates are full and Leyth slides discreetly out of the room to wait until she is called. “Your servants, they can be trusted with this?”

“Entirely,” you promise her, knowing that the matter she came to discuss and what will be presented to her are two separate things. “Their discretion and their loyalty is complete.” Something that would be obvious if news of what had happened with your mother had ever gotten out — but because of Leyth and Cal’s impregnable loyalty, not a word had been uttered to anyone.

“It is rare that such loyalty is inspired, and it is a credit to your character.” She praises. It is rare the noble that garners much respect and loyalty from their servants, having seen the worst of them.

“It is a credit to Oberyn, and to choice,” you offer, not wanting to downplay your husband’s kindness to those he employees but also knowing that freedom of choice – to select one’s path in any way at all – was taken from Leyth and Cal in a way that was far too cruel.

“Whoever is responsible, it is a blessing to be surrounded by that kind of integrity.” She smiles as she scoops up the first bite of her food to try.

Margaery hums in delight, blissfully unaware of the four sets of eyes currently trained on her as she takes her first bites of Dornish delicacies. The roasted meats, stewed vegetables, creamy dips, and highly spiced sauces are all delicious and an indulgence they partake of often. The Red Keep’s kitchens are not equipped to create the masterpieces that Oberyn prefers so he – or one of you – will routinely order from the gentleman at the marketplace that you discovered on your walk with Oberyn.

“Delicious, is it not?” You ask, when she closes her eyes in a dreamy expression.

“It is divine.” She moans, aware that it is not ladylike but sure that no one at the table would mind. “The flavors are so…robust. I could eat this every day.”

The small smirk on your lips is pure amusement as you glance up at your husband. Ellaria’s eyes flash as well and there is a silent laugh shared between the three of you at the table. “Would that please you?” You ask conversationally. “This food came from a very talented man in the marketplace, and it is just a sampling of what Dornish delicacies can be tasted.”

“It is better than any feast displayed in the Red Keep’s dining hall.” She tells you honestly, “You must show me this vendor before you leave.”

“I will,” you promise her, managing not to give anything away by not glancing at Raeden. “Do you expect to stay in the keep long after your…plan goes into action?”

“If Cersei does not have me killed, I expect to be thrown out like the morning’s chamber pot.” Margaery jokes weakly.

“I wonder—” Raeden sits up a little taller at the table, feeling this to be his cue. “If you have considered every avenue available to solve your problem.”

“Sort of throwing myself from the tower, I believe so.” She frowns, turning towards Raeden. “Have you some idea? You are a clever man; you have taught me that during our luncheons.”

“I will take that as the highest compliment.” And an encouragement, that she thinks well of him and is not just abusing herself with his presence or inviting him out of pity. “There are other people a beautiful young noblewoman could marry, if she chose. Surely a different husband is preferable to death?”

She sighs softly, setting her fork down. “All the men who would wish to marry me are not very noble men.” She confesses. “Someone like Petyr Baelish would be the type to offer for me with the scandal an elopement would cause, for I would have to marry and bed hastily.” She smiles and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Do you know of someone?”

Her hand is delicate. Small on his and warm, and perhaps a little uncertain though it does not tremble. “Perhaps,” Raeden nods and sets down his wine glass in turn. “What would you say if I offered myself?”

Her eyes widen and she snatches her hand back as her head swings towards you. She is not disgusted, her heart jumps in fact, but she respects you. “I— you have a soulmate here.” She gasps. “You—” she finds that you are not upset, in fact, you are obviously anticipating an answer. “You don’t mind?”

“What right do I have to dictate Raeden’s life when I have a husband and a growing family of my own?” You ask her seriously, knowing that news of your pregnancy has also not made it beyond your immediate household. On Oberyn’s advice, you had not made an announcement at court yet. That would wait until you were starting to show. “I do not wish to see you hurt, Margaery. You have been a wonderful and unexpected friend to me and to see you so desperate wounds me in ways I cannot express. If you can acceptance our situation, and the love we all have for each other, and think that you could be happy with a good, clever man just beginning his own House — then I do not mind at all. In fact, I urge you to accept.”

“You—” she’s speechless and for a moment tears swarm her vision at the prospect of freedom from this red tomb and life beyond the reach of the Lannisters. “So please tell me what I need to accept so I can decide.” She begs, wishing she could hug you.

“Firstly, that I will not give up my soulmates.” Raeden puts both of his hands on the table, offering her comfort but leaving it up to her if she chooses to accept it. “Each of us here has two soulmates, as rare as that is. I am blessed to be attached to both of these women and I will not turn away for them from any reason.”

“T-Two soulmates?” She had been reaching for her cup and nearly knocks it over in surprise as her head snaps up. Barely sloshing a large drop of the Dornish red onto her hand, she doesn’t notice as she stares at the four of you, mouth gaped open.

“It is rare, but it is true.” You confirm with a nod, understanding her shock completely. “I bare Raeden’s marks as well as Oberyn’s.”

“And Ellaria?” She looks at the other woman. “You wear Oberyn’s and Raeden’s marks?” She asks, wanting to confirm.

"I do," she nods and laces her fingers through Oberyn's. "And though I do not share marks with the princess, we do share a bed more than occasionally."

“Do you and the prince share a bed?” Margaery asks Raeden, wondering how the dynamic works. Does everyone share?

"We have not yet." He adds yet carefully, knowing that he fully intends to, and likely soon. "Would it bother you if we did?"

“No— um...” she chews her lip. “Renly was eager to bed both me and my brother, so I understand.” She explains, toying with her wine cup. “I do not have any bother with that. But you will bed me?”

It is a fair question, even if Raeden feels temporarily wounded at the idea that he would offer marriage to a woman and then not treat her as his wife. "In order to grow House Sunstone, I will need legitimate heirs," he reminds her gently. There is nothing patronizing in his tone, it is only facts and kindness. "So yes, I would intend to bed you."

“Would I have other lovers?” She asks, looking around the room, “All of you?”

That makes Raeden smile, and he glances around the table before looking back at her. "If you wish it. No one here would turn you away."

“Truly?” She’s shocked by that. While many people boast of wanting lovers, very few actually take them. At least the women she knows.

"We would not expect it of you," you clarify quickly. "But if you wished to take other lovers, it would be entirely unjust of Raeden to forbid it while having three other lovers himself."

“You enjoy it?” She asks curiously. “Being with a woman? I have never had a chance to experience it.”

"My first lover was a woman." Confident and comfortable with the memory of Brynna's place in your life, you can assure Margaery in this completely. "It can be a wonderful and extremely pleasurable experience."

“And you wish me to join your little group?” She asks seriously. “As a lady wife to Lord Sunstone and potential lover to all of you? A preverbal fifth wheel?”

"We have all discussed it." Raeden artfully leaves out the fact that – in one case – the discussion only happened just before she arrived. Instead he focuses on the positive. And on the offer he is making. "If you would like to be a part of this group...this odd little family that we have...we are offering you the chance to be a part of it. If you desired nothing beyond my own bed and never shared pleasure with your dear friend, with Oberyn, or with Ellaria, that would be entirely up to you." He turns now, offering his hands to Margaery again and looking into her eyes. They really are stunning now that he has a chance to look deeper. "Rather than shatter your reputation and put your life on the line, would you consider an elopement? It will eliminate the problem of your father's arrangement with the Lannisters and take you far away from King's Landing." He smirks slightly, looking over at the food on the table before his smirk blooms into a full smile. "And you will have all the Dornish delicacies you like in Sunspear."

Her fingers slide against his palm as her laughter blooms. Joyous and relieved. “I accept.” She decides instantly. “If nothing more than a lifetime of food such as this.” She jokes before she squeezes his fingers. “If we elope and my marriage is actually consummated, the dowry the Lannisters are planning to line their coffers with is yours, Lord Sunstone.”

"And as Dornish subjects, you answer to the princes and princesses of that realm, rather than to Cersei Lannister." It is a deeply added benefit, and now will be the second time you have exploited that loophole to help get people you care about away from imminent harm. Looking to Oberyn, Raeden holds tight to Margaery's hands. "Do you think Maester Rhodestone would mind a late night visit?"

“If you wish to do this tonight, we will finish our dinner and make for the Citadel.” He tells Margaery. “The same maester who married myself and the princess would oversee your vows and make sure they are registered.”

Though her hand is in Raeden's, you place one of your own gently on her shoulder and squeeze. "The speed is out of concern for your safety, my dear. It is the same reason that Oberyn and I wed so quickly. Because Raeden was my sworn guard and his life was in danger."

“What happened?” She asks, tilting her head curiously and wanting to know what could possibly threaten this kind and handsome man.

"My mother threatened to spread a vicious lie that would most likely have ended in his execution." You shake your head sadly. "I did what I had to do to keep my soulmate safe. And found myself the luckiest woman in the world when I began to know more of the husband I had made vows to. I think – I hope – you will consider yourself equally as lucky as you get to know Raeden."

“I hope that this does not affect our relationship.” She murmurs quietly. “I have come to view you as one of my dearest friends. A true friend. That is so hard to come by.”

"A true friend can be more valuable than gold." You readily agree. "The only thing that would change would be if we decided to share a bed. And that would be a way to bring us closer."

She has been curious about that. Biting her lip and nodding. “It would be an experience.” She admits. “I am not pure and I would like to live my life to the fullest.”

You can feel a bloom of warmth in your cheeks and do not even turn your head to Ellaria, knowing what she will say. Her stunning smirk surely says I knew it like only she can. “I can assure you that no one here is pure in the sense that you mean.”

“I understand if you wish to wait until I bleed, but I can swear to the Gods I have not been with anyone since before I married Joffrey.” Margaery promises.

“Well, when was the last time you bled?” Ellaria pauses with a bite of roast meat and bread halfway to her mouth and quirks an eyebrow. She knows the answer - the maids know everything and Leyth has good ears – but she wants to see how genuine Margaery is being tonight.

“I bled the week after Joffrey’s funeral.” She admits, squirming slightly since she is unused to speaking of such things in front of men. It’s not that she is embarrassed, just unaccustomed to men around talks of women’s things.

“Then there seems little need to wait.” Raeden nods when Ellaria seems to accept the answer and resume her dinner casually, but he looks back to Margaery with concern. “Unless you want more time to think over the offer?”

“There is not much time to wait.” She answers honestly. “I had come to beg that the prince be discovered in my bed by morning,” she confesses. “They wish to announce my marriage to Tommen after Lord Tyrion has been executed.”

“Then the longest we will wait is after our supper.” Knowing that Rhodestone is now fond enough of your group to receive the lot of you even at an odd time, Raeden is certain they will be allowed into the Citadel no matter what time they arrive. Perhaps it will all one day make a charming or romantic story. Instead of being a true matter of life and death twice over.

Oberyn scoffs slightly, aware that the trial has been a farce, but it is made even more obvious by her comment. “You will be wedded and bedded before the sun rises.” He promises. “Our maid will discover your blood on Lord Sunstone’s sheets.” Even if he must provide his own blood, he will make sure proof is undeniable.

“We will stand beside you tomorrow, and every day afterward,” you promise her, knowing that your roles are about to reverse. With you the princess and her the lady, nothing would change, though. As Margaery pointed out herself, true friendships are difficult to come by.

It is rare, she knows this. Her own family crawled back to the Lannisters after Renly died, her body as a pawn. Now, Mace would be unable to use her to better himself again, and she believes her grandmother would approve. “So this is now our wedding feast.” She says, lifting her cup. “To House Sunstone, May it grow strong and prosperous in Dorne.”

“Here here.” You approve of that most heartily and raise your cup to salute her and Raeden with one hand. The sadness – the melancholy – the bracing discomfort you expected to feel when Raeden finally married is nowhere in sight. His future is secure in the hands of a woman that you not only know well but enjoy, and his legacy will grow from the vines of the House that they sew together. The injustice of being denied each other’s love does not exist. Margaery accepts it just as the rest of you all have. She will be safe and they will persevere together. In time, there will be so many less important things to fret over. And you will all have the luxury of fretting, because you have survived.

Dinner ends up being a lighthearted, jovial affair. Turning into more of a celebration than anything else and by the time that the food has been eaten, Margaery is almost eager to make Raeden her Lord husband. He is a good man, she can see that from the way that he treats you and Ellaria, and Oberyn. Two soulmates. She can’t even fathom that, but he had shown her marks from both you and Ellaria, proving it to be true. Oberyn has been kind, flirtatious as well and she wonders if her first night in these chambers will be with everyone. Experiencing the orgies that Oberyn is famous for.

******

“You should wear this.” The cloak that you hold out to drape over Margaery’s shoulders is one of your own. Nondescript but comfortable and attractive, the piece will not mark her as Margaery Tyrell, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but as just another noble lady walking with her party. “Keep the hood up while we are in the carriage. The last thing we want is to be stopped or mobbed on the way to having you married.”

“Is this how you felt when you married Oberyn?” She asks quietly. “Afraid you might be discovered before the vows could be said?” Her stomach knots up in fear that could happen, her slight chance at freedom ruined.

"I was terrified," you agree, though your face is much more serene now. "At any moment my mother could have been sending the keep's guard after us. I literally begged Oberyn to marry me."

“It does not seem like he regrets that decision.” Margaery looks over at Oberyn as the group walks towards the carriage.

“Regret would be the last word I would use to describe my marriage to the Princess.” He reaches for your hand and lifts it to his lips.

"I love you, too." The words have come easy since the first nice that you managed to say them, and you press your own lips to the back of Oberyn's hand in turn before accepting his help up into the carriage. The five of you will be cramped inside but you will manage. It is more important that you not be identified on your way to the Citadel than that you be able to spread out.

“Once you are wed, we will return to our rooms.” Oberyn tells the group as the carriage starts to move once you are all loaded up. “While I do not know how luxurious your chambers are, it would be better if you stayed with us on your wedding night.”

"Once the wedding is complete, my lord's chambers are mine anyway," Margaery points out with a nod of agreement. "I have no doubt that my father would have overwhelming questions when I returned. This will be better. Safer."

“Yes.” He nods in agreement. “Tomorrow, Raeden and I will inform your father.”

"It will not be good news to him." Although the more she sits with the idea and rolls it over in her mind, Margaery might actually be looking forward to this third marriage.

“No matter his feelings, it will be a successful marriage.” Oberyn predicts with a smile. “It will last longer than the other two.”

"It would be very difficult not to last longer than the second." Even as she says it, Margaery chews her lip. Her weeks have been filled with a magnitude of worries, not the least of which is the concern that if something should happen to her third husband then she might seclude herself somewhere untouchable for fear of being the unwitting cause of their demise. A jinx.

“Yes, it would.” Oberyn chuckles and looks to you for a moment before he leans over and whispers to you.

A silent nod and a kiss for your husband are the end of the communication for now, and you tuck a smile in the corner of your mouth as the carriage pulls through King's Landing. As troubling as your time in this city has been at points, it has also been rewarding and joyous on many occasions. Tonight, you hope will be one more moment of celebration.

******

Margaery takes a deep breath then the carriage finally rolls to a stop and Raeden looks over, reaching out with a smile as he takes her hand. “Perhaps you can guide me through this.” He whispers softly. “I have never been a husband, so you should instruct me on what to do.” He means it as a comfort, knowing she must be worried about another marriage.

"Try not to die." Margaery advises wryly, letting her fingers curl around his after a moment's hesitation. The carriage door swings open to let them all out and once more the group is on the move.

He chuckles as he hops out of the carriage first, turning to assist the ladies out. “Do not fear, I wish to die a very old man with my numerous children surrounding me.”

“From several mothers, if you are lucky.” Ellaria hums as she gets out of the carriage behind them.

Raeden turns to look at Margaery. “You would not object, would you? A child with my soulmates?”

“Before tonight I would have said that I objected to it most strongly,” she admits, looking around the group before her eyes meet Raeden’s again. “But to see love is something genuine, and I cannot find it in myself to object to a child that will be loved.”

“Believe me,” Oberyn chuckles. “All our children will be loved in our family. Which is what we are. One odd family.”

“A large, odd, loving family,” you agree before ringing the bell at the Citadel’s door. “Come. Let us have you two married.”

This time when the door is opened, a different face peers out at the group. A confused frown on the chubby cheeks of the younger man. “Yes?”

“Would you kindly inform Maester Rhodestone that the Prince and Princess of Dorne and their party are in need of his assistance?” Haste does not mean you have to be impolite, but it is essential to get your group inside so Margaery is not recognized. You have lent her a cloak, not a potion of invisibility.

“I will be back.” He informs you, stepping back to allow you into the Citadel. “Wait here.”

"Thank you." The five of you file into the foyer and almost sigh with relief as the door shuts behind you.

“We should have brought the book back.” Oberyn snaps his fingers, a smirk on his lips as he winks at you.

"If only we had not been in such a hurry." The twist of your mouth matches his smirk and you lean into his side.

"How careless of us." Ellaria agrees with a chuckle.

Raeden chuckles, leaning in to whisper in Margaery’s ear when she frowns in confusion. “The Princess borrowed a book from the maesters on soulmates when the second set of marks appeared on her skin.”

"When was it?" She still cannot quite believe the reality of having two soulmates, but the proof is irrefutable. She has seen the marks.

“Just a few weeks ago.” He tells her. “Ellaria and I did not know what to do when our own marks showed up. Afraid of what the Princess would think. But our fears were unfounded.”

"Your soulmate is very kind." Margaery's eyes glance over to you, and then past you to Ellaria, and she smiles. "They both are. You are very lucky."

“We are all lucky.” Raeden tells you quietly. “If you are blessed by the Seven to have another soulmate, they will be welcomed.” He tells his future wife. “I would not keep such an important person from you.”

“Let us hope that, if they do appear, they are as kind and as stalwart as the companions we have now.” Margaery has no illusions about her own worthiness as a political pawn - in that she is very powerful as one – but soulmates come from personal worth and that is an entirely different matter. One that she is not willing to let herself drown in now for fear of the melancholy it will bring.

“We do not know why some of us have marks and others do not.” Oberyn tells her. “But I personally believe that just because you do not share marks does not mean you cannot share your heart with someone.”

“The gods chose who could share my soul,” Margaery nods, finding that for all his reputation, Prince Oberyn is full of wisdom and not only instinct. “But I choose to whom I give my heart.”

“Precisely.” He hums, sending her a tiny wink as the rattling of chains signifies that a maester is returning.

“My favourite visitors,” Rhodestone chuckles at the sight of your group. “To what do I owe the pleasure so late on this night?”

“I have come once again to beg a favor.” Oberyn takes charge and steps forward. “Another marriage than needs to be made in haste.”

“I see.” Rhodestone surveys the group, standing before the five of you with interest and a characteristically expressive countenance. “The match is made freely? All parties are consenting?”

“We are, Maester.” Raeden steps forward and captures Margaery’s hand in his. “We desperately wish to be married and must make it so before the opportunity is lost.”

“Forgive me if I do not bow, your Grace. This old back does not cooperate as it once did.” Maester Rhodestone surveys the couple – their tightly joined hands and anxious postures, their forced smiles and their rounded shoulders. “I take it there is no time to waste?” He asks, sensing that – like last time – there is more to this haste than meets the eye.

“None.” Margaery insists. “Please know that I am willingly consenting to marrying this man and must do so immediately.”

“Then I see we have no time to waste.” He is not a man for politics or intrigue, though he understands both, and decides it is not in his best interest to ask questions. Instead, he waves for all of you to follow and chuckles under his breath. “This way, this way…although I suspect you remember from the last marriage.”

Margaery reaches out for your hand instinctively, even though she has gone through her vows twice now, this time is even more daunting. This time she is going against the political wishes of her father and making her own choice, forging her own destiny and she has only your obvious happiness to guide her.

“Breathe,” you remind her quietly. “All will be well.” And, with a much softer tone in your already hushed voice. “You have chosen a good man, Margaery. I promise you. He will protect and cherish you.”

“It is not my future I am worried for.” She admits quietly, her heart racing as she envisions letting all of you down, or worse, hurting you.

“We are a family now.” Holding tight to her hand, you offer her the most reassuring smile you are able, and continue walking together. “We look after each other. All of us.”

“Due to your marriage to my wife’s soulmate,” Oberyn adds quietly. “You will have very strong ties to House Martell.” He knows she is not worried about that, but it can be a comfort. “All of Dorne will be eager to come to House Sunstone’s aid if needed.”

“And my father’s House may be far away, but they will send aid if we should ever require it. We have friends who will help us.” Though you all hope that day will never come, it is necessary to be prepared for. Especially when there is so much at stake.

“Then all we can hope is that our union creates a happy home.” Raeden murmurs quietly. “I wish to fill the halls of whatever home with have with laughter, children and one day – love.”

Margaery seems positively flustered at such an optimistic picture of life ahead, and is blushing profusely between you and Raeden when you offer him a smile. “I have something for you both. And I hope that you will accept it with all the good intent it is given.” On one of your fingers, there is an intricate sunstone and bronze ring that Raeden himself had picked out at the market a week ago. He had settled on the new name for his House and presented it to you as a way to tell the group. Slipping it from your finger now, you take Raeden’s hand and place it in his palm. “Ellaria presented me with a ring that Oberyn had given her just before we were going to be married,” you explain to Margaery softly. “Now a ring from Raeden will leave my finger to grace yours. I pray it brings you happiness.”

Her gasp is soft, expression almost startled as she stares at the ring and then you. “Are you sure?” She asks quietly. It is a beautiful ring and yet she doesn’t know if she should accept.

“Very sure.” Even as you close his fingers around the trinket, Raeden looks as if he might be moved to tears, and you squeeze his hand tight. “One day perhaps you will pass on a ring to another bride, and we will make it a tradition.”

“It would make a lovely tradition. The first jewels in the Sunstone house.” She leans over and kisses your cheek. “I will cherish it, like I cherish your friendship.”

“Come.” Smile beaming at both of them, you motion to where the Maester, Oberyn, and Ellaria have gotten ahead of you. “Let us see you married and then we will all remember how to breathe a little easier.”

Now, when the moment has arrived, there is no fear. A sense of calm washes over the woman who was queen in name twice and never in reality. Now she will be Lady Sunstone and that is a brighter future than she might have every had as Margaery Tyrell.

______

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

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Sentimental | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by @midnightswithdearkatytspb

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before.

Warnings: just a bunch of pre-wedding fluff, mention of a death of a minor character

Word Count: 2227

A/N: it’s been a bit since I’ve written a daughter!reader story….I hope this one makes sense, and I’m sorry if I got a little too sappy on it haha. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Right, love...you're all finished," Polly said to her grand niece as she finished doing up the final button on the younger woman's wedding dress.

"Thanks, aunt Pol," (Y/N) smiled, taking one last look at herself in the mirror before she turned to face the older woman. "Can you believe the day is finally here?" she asked, a giddy smile present on her face.

Though she was an aunt by blood, Polly Gray was more so like a mother in the eyes of (Y/N) Shelby. The woman who held the title of mother in (Y/N)'s life passed away shortly after childbirth due to the complications and conditions she found herself in. The Shelby's took little (Y/N) in, raising her in their tight knit family. Polly stepped up the most to help, feeling thankful for this opportunity after her son and daughter had been taken away months earlier.

Tommy, (Y/N)'s father, was thankful for his aunt taking it upon herself to fill the void that his daughter had, a void that he knew she would feel for the rest of her life. He wouldn't have been able to come out and ask for the help, and so he was grateful that Polly knew he needed it. Hell, he was young himself - only being a few days shy of twenty when his daughter entered the world. But now this child needed him, and he was going to do everything that he could to give her the world.

Even though her father married, and then re-married, (Y/N) stayed close with Polly, thankful that she had her as a constant in her otherwise rapidly changing life. She couldn't imagine any other person helping her get ready for her wedding.

"I can," Polly answered, looking at the young woman before she pulled her into her body for a hug. "You've grown into such a beautiful, young woman, and I already know you'll make the best bride," she whispered into (Y/N)'s ear, her words making (Y/N) hug onto her even tighter.

"You're already the most beautiful bride," another voice that came from the dressing room's door made the two women seperate.

"Aunt Ada!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her eyes lighting up once they fell on the woman in the doorway, "come in quickly, before James sees me!" she waved her aunt in, worried that her soon-to-be husband would be lurking in the hallways.

"Don't worry about that," Ada brushed her off, entering the room and closing the door as she spoke, "I'm pretty sure the cheering that I heard from his dressing room means that he won't be leaving it any time soon...until it's time to walk down the aisle, that is," she added, a grin forming on her face. (Y/N) shook her head, rolling her eyes at her aunt's words. "I have something for you," Ada announced then, lifting up the small box she was holding, "two things, actually,"

"What are they?" (Y/N) asked, eagerness present in her voice as she watched Ada open up the box she'd brought.

"The first is the veil that I promised you..." Ada started off, working on taking the piece of fabric out of the box while she was talking, "I know you mentioned you wanted the floral accents on it as well, so I tried hard to add as many as I could while I was making it," she explained as she handed it over to (Y/N), letting the younger woman unfold it so that she could take all of it in.

"It's absolutely beautiful, aunt Ada! Thank you so much!" she gasped once she was able to look at it in its entirety. (Y/N) knew that she needed to have her aunt make her veil for her from the moment she found out about her crafty side. Seeing it now, she was sure that she'd never put her eyes on a veil as beautiful as this one.

"Shall we put it on?" Polly suggested, making (Y/N) turn to look at her. All that the younger woman was able to respond with was a giddy nod, but it was enough for the older two women to begin working on making sure that it was properly pinned to her head. "It’ll be draped over your face once you're ready to walk down the aisle," Polly added once they'd finished making sure that it was sitting correctly.

"It's beautiful," (Y/N) swooned, turning around to look at herself in the mirror again, admiring the full wedding look.

"I have something else too," Ada spoke again, drawing attention to her as she went about opening the bag that she had with her.

"Ada you didn't have to..." (Y/N) trailed off, overwhelmed by the amount of love she was being shown.

"I brought you the 'something new', so I decided that I'd also bring you the 'something old' too," she started off, producing a pair of older-looking, nude colored heels from her bag, "do you remember these?" she asked the younger woman then, an excited look forming on her face as she waited intently for a response.

(Y/N) just about gasped when she saw the shoes. "No...those can't be..." she trailed off, at a loss for words at the moment.

"They are," Ada confirmed, her grin growing, "the exact shoes that you literally begged me to wear when you were younger."

"I can't believe you still have them!" (Y/N) was still in disbelief.

"I nearly spent a day rooting for them in my closet," Ada remarked with a laugh as the women moved over to the couches so that (Y/N) could try them on. "I knew I had to find them though," she added, waiting anxiously to see her niece try them on.

"Do you think they'll fit?" (Y/N) questioned, slightly hesitant to slip her feet into them.

"Guess there's only one way to find out," Ada answered, nodding at the shoes then.

She was right. (Y/N) looked between the two women before she slipped her feet into the shoes, holding her breath while she did it. She only let it out when she found that they fit practically perfectly on her feet.

"How are they?" Polly questioned.

"Perfect," (Y/N) responded, a wide smile present on her face as she looked at the other women again. "I can't believe you're letting me use these, aunt Ada," she then turned to the brown haired woman sitting next to her.

"I couldn't think of anyone better to have them," Ada smiled back, wrapping her arms around (Y/N) in a tight hug. "Don't mess up the make up!" she exclaimed once they pulled away, quickly reaching for some tissue so that she could dry (Y/N)'s eyes.

"This seems to be the perfect time to give you this as well..." Polly began, coming over to where (Y/N) was standing with something in her hands.

"Oh no not you now too, Pol!" (Y/N) blubbered, completely overwhelmed with emotion at the moment.

Polly didn't listen to her and instead opened her hand to reveal a bracelet that had blue gemstones encased between the gold band.

"Something blue?" (Y/N) questioned, looking from the bracelet back to her great aunt, her eyes already watering again. Polly only nodded, a smile present on her face as she came closer to (Y/N). The younger woman knew what to do, holding out her wrist so that her aunt could clasp the bracelet onto it. "It's absolutely beautiful, Polly," she whispered, too overcome by emotion to fully trust her voice at the moment. "Thank you, both, so, so much," she added, looking at both Polly and Ada, who each sent smiles back.

"Now you're ready to be married," Ada commented, glancing over at the clock then, "and it's just about time for the ceremony to start."

"It is time," another voice broke into the conversation, making the three women look over at the doorway.

"How long have you been here, Thomas?" Polly questioned, eyeing her nephew as she wondered when he managed to slip into the room without them noticing.

"Long enough," he gave one of his usual, ambiguous answers, but this time there was no hint of the impatience that he usually spoke it with. No, today Tommy Shelby was standing in the doorway smiling.

"Are you ready, (Y/N)?" Polly turned to (Y/N) to check.

"I am," (Y/N) gave an assured nod, a smile present on her face as she looked back at her father.

"Pol, you and I should head out and make sure our seats are still open," Ada stated, placing her hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze before she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door.

"It's going to be wonderful," Polly whispered to (Y/N), pulling her in for one last hug before she went and joined her niece at the door. She whispered something to Tommy, something that (Y/N) couldn't hear, before she and Ada exited the dressing room.

"Ready?" Tommy asked (Y/N) once they were alone.

"Ready as I'll ever be," (Y/N) answered, letting out a breath then as the excited jitters started to build up in her stomach. A smile returned to her features as she walked over to her father. "Let's go," she said, nodding her head as she spoke.

"I have one last thing to give to you," Tommy stated, making her stop in her tracks.

"What's that, dad?" she asked, her brows furrowing together.

"I've been wearing this since the day that she left..." he started off, undoing the top button of his dress shirt so that he'd have an easier time taking off the gold necklace he was wearing. When he did get it off, (Y/N) saw that there was a locket on it as well. "This was my mum's. The flower on the front represents strength. The pictures on the inside are worn out, but the flower's still present, so I wear it for strength," he shared some details behind the necklace he wore everyday, holding it out for her to see it better. "I want you to wear it today," he finished his statement with a suggestion, one that (Y/N) was quickly nodding in agreement too. She'd never seen him be so sentimental about something before, and so she was honored to be able to borrow and wear it for the day.

Tommy smiled at her answer before he moved over and clasped the necklace around her neck. "It's pretty, dad," she commented as she got an even better look at the intricately designed locket.

"Your grandmum had good taste," he answered her, his words making her look up to see that he was trying hard to keep the tears back.

"If you start crying, I'll start crying," she told him, her words making him chuckle.

"I won't," he promised her.

A smile formed on (Y/N)'s face and she glanced down at the locket one last time before closing the gap and hugging her father tightly. "Thank you, dad," she whispered, trying her best to hold her tears back as he held onto her equally as tight.

"It's time," one of the ushers entered the room to announce.

"Ready?" Tommy asked his daughter as they pulled away from each other.

"So ready," she answered with a wide smile. "You ready?" she turned the question back onto him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered with a smile of his own, one that (Y/N) wished she could take a picture of and keep forever. She'd never seen her father smile so much.

"Let's go then," (Y/N) nodded, walking to the door with her father by her side.

They were led to where the doors that opened to the main room of the church were. As they got closer, (Y/N) could hear the music that was being played as everyone prepared for her entrance. The butterflies started fluttering like crazy as she and Tommy stopped at the closed doors. In just moments, she'd be brought down the aisle to the man who would be her husband.

Tommy couldn't help but look at his daughter as they waited for the signal to go. He still couldn't believe that today was her wedding day, and that in just a few moments he'd be walking her down the aisle. James was a good man (he'd made sure of that) a man who had promised to take care of (Y/N) until his last day. As much as he didn't want to let her go, he knew he had to. She'd grown up right in front of him and become a young woman, who he was so immensely proud of.

"Ready, dad?" his daughter's question pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he used the same answer that he'd given her in the dressing room, his response making her giggle.

"Don't let me fall," she whispered to him then, taking his outstretched arm, wrapping hers around it.

"Never," he promised her, sending her a wink and a small smile before the doors opened and they took their first step down the aisle.

MASTERLIST

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pruneunfair · 26 days ago

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Ranking all the OI I read. Part 1: the lesser.

It'll be like my tier list except with added stories from the haven't read yet section and of course my opinions.

Since Tumblr only allows 30 images per post and a daily pass based on how many pictures can be posted at all. I'll be posting this list through multiple parts starting with the worst. Get ready because there's gonna be a lot of negativity right now.

Starting with the tier I like to call "Absolute dog shit." Terrible plots, gross content being glamourized and little to no potential at all.

honestly picking the worst of the worst was hard cause there's so many to choose from.. and I think the title of the absolute worst doesn't go to Remarried empress or Today the villainess has fun again..

Its this one: beware of the brothers

I really can't say I was surprised 😭. I mean.. look at the damn title. The FL gets adopted into the family because she looks like the ML's dead sister and it just.. escalates into step-bro love. "But it's not related by blood-" still incest and even if they didn't grow up together, WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO FUCK SOMEONE WHO LOOKS LIKE YOUR DEAD SIBLING!?

The order of slave breeding

Yes this is an actual manhwa.. I genuinely wanna know why the author just looked at themselves in the mirror and said "Yes this is a good idea." As the title suggests.. it's about a slave merchant for a FL and her slaves falling in love with her and as if it couldn't be uncomfortable enough it is one of the few manhwa with a dark skinned ML. I don't care how many times they'll offer excues for the lead I don't fw slavery being used as a romance device in media.

I belong to house Castillo

Technically I didn't read all of it, I just read the spoilers for the rest of the chapters but to be fair, I just got finished cursing myself by reading stepbro fantasies and master/slave ships, I'm not trying to give my FBI agent a reason to search my hard drives. It's a basic and cliché found family where the FL Estelle is sold by her mother to her father and the ML is a 17 year old who basically grooms her..why? Because raising your love interest is the "only" way to make a story stand out amongst the other generic found family tales.

I tamed my ex husband's mad dog.

More cases of grooming except this time it's the FL as the perpetrator. ML looks like he's 8 but he's apparently 16.. so we got a groomer protagonist in the form of Reinhardt who also neglects her first child and favors her second child she had with her victim with the excuse of not wanting to care for her son being that he looks like her toxic ex. Lady what? That boy deserves his own villain arc holy shit.

No more turning a blind eye.

This one really dissapointed me 😔. The cover looked stunning, the artstyle while a little off was still eye catching and the title sounded promising. Nah this is a hunk of junk that had a gentrification plot for some reason.. and you were supposed to sympathize with the guy who wanted to render hundreds of people homeless to make room for art galleries or whatever it was they wanted?

The dragon kings bride

I already knew this one was probably gonna suck judging by the title. First off it treats dark skinned people like barbarians, the ML Hakan meets Lucina when she's a child, Lucina is threatened with death if she doesn't marry him and you can probably guess where it goes. Like I said I don't really have a right to be shocked but it still goes on the list for its weird obsession with Lucina being so tiny that having sex with Hakan could kill her along with a not so hidden pregnancy fetish.

I became the tyrants secretary.

Its just workplace sexual harassment, theres not much to it. Cannot stand the ML who is a basic garbage human and Rosalyn is a block of wood when it comes to personality. She wants to do all these things but she has no spine and no will to actually do them but at the same time shes so good at everything on a whim. I usually don't mind a clueless FL but Jesus christ! She makes Adrien Agreste look smarter!

The villains savior

Gotta say the artstyle is really pretty and the FLs design is so cute. Everything else though is pretty bad. The point is basically the lead Ezlay is trying to essentially "fix" the ML as the title suggest. A lot of people dislike this one because Ezlay is very emotional and cries too much but that's honestly the least of the issues here. Now to be fair, Aseph is a villain so it's expected that he's gonna suck but that doesn't mean Ezlay needs to have the personality of a rock either, it's not that she cries a lot that annoys me, she's literally just a male fantasy personified. All she is absolute patience and acceptance for what Aseph does to point of enabling that toxic behavior.

Now we enter manhwas that are horrificly awful, not much difference except these ones have a bigger grain of potential

Lucia

This one got a lot of hate tiktok so naturally I had to read it and yeah, it was pretty bad. The artstyle though just.. I'm sorry but Lucia's face is literally just 👁 👄 👁 and thats not even mentioning the ML Hugo. It's really crinegy and it tries to fill that void with poorly made smut. The plot is also really and I mean REALLY dead set on 1950s values for women and the relationship between Lucia's and Hugo is downright toxic. In fact I don't even think there's a plot.. it's just porn. The only reason it's not in dogshit tier is that it's so iconic for being awful that it deserves to be higher up.

When the villainess is in love.

Okay all I can give this one is that Libertia has a better character design than Lucia. She's a mary sue but at this point that's a lot of leads nowadays so it's not a total shock but this is definitely a case where the story would be so much better if it was the actual Libertia as the protagonist instead of a carbon copy of the ogfl taking over. The worst part though is the fashion and I normally do not care about how dresses look in OI as long as they at least look good and fit the setting.. and dear God a lot of those dresses are nightmares to look at. Thankfully I had heard the novel was better.

Today the villainess has fun again

not a fan of the protagonist. Reilynn is really insufferable to follow since she's basically just an entitled asshole who thinks that just because she got transmigrated as the wealthiest woman in the land that she must be in the right because she's not like Iris who is a basic pick me girl. Beyond the fact that watching her throw money at people to get past an obstacle without effort she's also heavily written as a pedo because out of her options which had 2 green flags her age, she chooses the slave she bought who acts and looks like a 10 year old boy with attachment issues.

Try begging

what is with Solche and their weird obsession with rapist male leads? It's somehow worse then cry or better yet beg. Basically the FL Sally/Grace is a spy and when the ML Leon finds out.. he basically tortures her and SA's her multiple times and somehow they fall in love. Do with that what you will, the only slack I will kind of give Try begging is that it at least warns you of what your getting into beforehand. I really hate that Solches writing actually has so much potential to be amazing yet they use their talents to make rape fetish content. I want to know why manhwa tiktok likes this so much, they're all about girl code until a rapist looks hot (Leon isn't even hot, hes mad ugly)

Abandoned empress

Ah yes, good ol abandoned empress, the manhwa communities favorite punching bag so it's only right it lands here. For all the writers out there if your making a character you'd want the readers to support as the love interest you typically would give them an interesting personality and to tone down anything you think is too much for a healthy relationship. Abandoned empress decides to do the opposite of that and even after scenes of Ruve abusing his wife Aristia by cheating on her, beating her, SA'ing her, killing her dad, and causing her to miscarry so you would naturally think "okay clearly Ruve is the antagonist." But instead they pulled some bullshit "but he's not doing it anymore because he was poisoned in the last timeline!"... what!? Were there any new writers by any chance because how did we go from a abusive monster to a misunderstood Lil guy? I would say more but I think everyone already agreed a long time ago Abandoned empress is ass.

Revenge on the real one

the protag is essentially those villainesses in regression stories that cause the heroines initial downfall. I was already aware of what would happen before I even read and let me tell you it was accurate. The protagonist Helga is AWFUL. The torture she puts Hillian through is overkill and at this point Hillian deserves her own regression story to stand up to Helga because my girl was not that bad for her sister to ruin her life because of a stupid tragic origin story. The worst part is the Helga fans I see on places like tiktok who just don't want to admit their FL is a bad person. "Oh but Helga past was so sad! It's not her fault she's like this." Don't mean she has to banish her sister from her own nation when Hillian was innocent.

Villain Dukes precious one.

I really dislike the reincarnated as a baby trope and I can only ever tolerate it when it's just for a few little chapters. They always feel like those weird ass Elsagate videos with embarrassing humor to come across as funny and this one is no different. Even after the FL grows up the plot is still bland and cringe inducing. I don't have a lot to say about this one other then it is weird as hell. Apparently it also got a little incest-y so no thanks!

Poisonous Lily

While the characters looked basic in terms of design the title sounded intriguing. Unfortunately the translation is horrible, they can't even get the whole Lily flower theme right on the tapas version by giving her tulips to carry on her wedding. The dialog is..interesting to say the least. I won't lose it too much though on this one though since I'm pretty sure this is a lower level book trying to make it out in a sea of over advertised manhwa

I thought my time was up.

You know those porn/no plot tags on ao3? That's basically ITMTWU in a nutshell. Within only 20 chapters, the male lead Asrahan is already obsessed with Lariette after chapters of her violating his personal space to force a relationship between them. The whole magic plot is pushed to the side, Asrahans curse isn't allowed to be an actual rotting flesh curse like it's described as cause he's still gotta be pretty, and the rest of the plot is basically just soft core porn and fanservice that does little to actually move whatever is left of the plot.

For my derelict favorite.

The. Hypocrisy. How is this book gonna make the entire message about deconstructing main character centered morality and then almost immediately backpeddaling with justifying Hestia for attacking a woman who doesn't know her for rejecting her favorite man and proceeding to just ruin her day whenever she can. Hestia would say "im not like other girls." Hestia would be an avid fan of those trust fund baby GMV. Hestia would put her hair in a messy bun, shit on whatever is popular and act like she's making a statement . Even calling her Hestia feels like straight up disrespectful to the real goddess of the hearth who funnily enough is known as one of the most chill Greek gods.

Marry my husband

now Marry my husband is not insanely problematic wheras it's just cliché, predictable and in general pretty bad. It is a fast food manhwa designed to fulfill the classic top boss takes good care of you fantasy so naturally a lot is put on hold to showcase the sweet relationship between the central characters and almost everyone needs to have a lover. It's so bad it's actually kinda funny because the villains are so cartoonishly evil for office workers. Sumin is out here speaking in 3rd person, dressing in clothes found in the little kid section of Walmart and makes comical comments about her desire to ruin Jiwons life, Minhwan is basically a borderline discord mod who casually killed jiwon in the first timeline and goes "Oh well." and there's this random ugly old man who's name I can't remember who's the only one interested in Sumin till the end because he basically wants em younger without the risk of going to federal prison.

Remarried empress

I don't think i need to explain much at this point, if you know my account then you already know how I feel about remarried empress. Season 1 was pretty good though.

Divorcing my tyrant husband

I think we all know at this point that's whenever a title has the word "divorce" 9/10 of the time there is never going to be divorce and it'll devolve into the FL changing her mind and staying with her trashy ex husband because he now decided that Robelia wasn't like other girls and left his mistress in the dust. The plot kinda started getting out of hand when Robelias love interests expanded to one of her obsessed slaves and a Duke to prove that Alexandros was the better option. The villian Aisha is a joke who gets her ass handed to her over and over because "damsel woman always bad." and the art starts to lose its touch. I usually don't mind when artstyle changes but dear God do some of these characters look a Lil fugly.

Cry or better yet beg.

The final story that is in the awful section, why? Because it has the most lost potential. As terrible as this CoHo equivalent is, it details the very realistic parts of being a mistress to a nobleman. In most other stories, the mistress is an evil wench who could easily back out but in cry or better yet beg, Layla is unable to escape Matthias's abuse because it could risk her uncles job. There's a lot to this manhwa and novel that could've made a tragic story about a girl trapped in an abusive relationship with little help, the art is gorgeous and the characters for the most part were well written. It's a real shame that it turned out to be a rape apologist work instead.

next up are the mediocre manhwas, finally there will a little more positivity.

The villainess is a marionette

its.so.boring! This one was hyped up all over the place on Instagram and tiktok and the art looked stunning so I gave it a shot. This is definitely one of those stories that only got popular because of its art in my opinion because the plot is so confusing. Events are happening left and right, the pacing goes from too fast to too slow, characters personalities and traits keep warping, and while this might just be the result of poor adaptation her brother comes across as incestuous a couple of times. while Cayena isn't the worst FL, she's a mary sue by all definitions. Sorry but it's a bunch of jumbled wires. The reason it earns a spot in "it's okay" is because I heard the novel like usual is better so it might not be the fault of the original author

I was the male leads ex

It wasn't bad just boring but a little less boring then the former I'll give it that. The artstyle looked prettier in the beginning so that was kind of sad to see it change in later chapters. What drew me to keep reading was the chance that the ogfl Julianna may not be evil but even a potential love interest. So I got excited and apparently there's the idea that Julianna is actually her brother in disguise which.. would just ruin it tbh, there goes any chance at a ogfl being a human being and not a plot device. Not a huge fan of Erica or really any of the love interests.

From maid to queen

This is the newest of the lineup I read and it was actually interesting for once to see a new story where the MC was the concubine. First off the maids feel less like women employed to do the chores of the palace and more like the cartel 😭, in early chapters whenever Urania is aiming to be the concubine, being lazy with her job or getting comfortable with a powerful man in general they're already out with sticks ready to ruin her day and they even try to kill her. Lot of people don't like that Urania isn't a girls girl but honestly I can't blame her for wanting more out of life then poverty, where she comes across as stupid is that she's still wanting that role even after it got her killed last time. I think that it could work though since it shows that urania is more human and not a perfect goddess of a woman however that does not make up for the shit world building (like what the hell was that mushroom that could turn into a perfect still corpse of you 💀)

The villainess maker.

Ill admit I'm a little harsh on this one on my tier list. The plot still isn't great but there are so much worse out there so it ended up moving up on the list due to default. The plot is mostly just bland and generic down to all the characters and the tropes. Ayla is a girlboss in the villainesses body, Charlotte is a super "revolutionary" kind girl turned wicked wench and the ML is another "touch her and I'll kill you" type. What i will give the Villainess maker is the distinct artstyle. It's not as stylized and while it does get lazy at the end it still is very recognizable.

Abellas dessert shop.

Its another extremely underrated manhwa that's another isekai about a wronged woman looking to move on from her shitty fiancé and start a dessert shop. Ngl the moments where Abella is forced to put on a kind face despite her cheating fiancé or her ex friend popping in is definitely relatable especially in the workforce. Still a little bland but wholesome.

I didn't mean to seduce the male lead.

Eleanor is the FL hired to convince the ML to accept women into his life with the hopes that he will fall in love with the ogfl Irene. Tbh this one can get very icky with how it tries to force the notion that you must fall in love but the guy just instantly falls in love with Eleanor so.. I guess that's a little better? Regardless though i will not fault this manhwa too much because unfortunately the author died before the story was over so it deserves a little slack since it never got the chance to be more. Rest in peace author.

Who made me a princess.

Ill be straight with this now: it's Mid. Objectively the story isn't too terrible and I do find Athy a good protagonist not to mention my love for Jennete but everything else is pretty "meh." Not a huge fan of Claude from his design to his personality, the ML is another case of a grown as immortal meeting his wife when she's still a child (theres a little credit ill admit for Athy being mentally a grown woman but that doesnt stop me from thinking its uncomfortable to acknowledge) It can be cute sometimes and I'll give it that but I don't think I'll ever reread it, just not for me.

Actually I was the real one

Good god this was such a bastardization of the original novel. With that said I'll admit i was still entertained reading it since you could say that the novel wouldn't be an instant cheat sheet to learn what was gonna happen. Still it could've at least tried to be a loyal adaptation. They give Keira 2 options to choose as a love interest when she had none in the source material, Zeke is pushed to the side and the maids honestly get on my nerves with their one note personalities. They also seem to forget that Cosette is literally being possessed by a demon he'll bent on destroying humanity (which she succeeded in the first time) because what was built up as an amazing antagonist is just a joke now. The only other redeeming factors are that in the Manhwa Cosette is still alive and the whole elemental plot stays constant. Despite my complaints on the adaptation it is still a interesting read but the novel will always beat it no matter what.

I know it sounds like I'm just being a negative Nancy with all of these and I'm sorry for being so negative but the next part will be more positive.

Next time on part 2 will be the decent stories.

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howlingday · 1 year ago

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Juniper Belladina

I would like to preface this by apologizing for the... less than stellar recreation you'll read. The chapter of Bond in the Spy x Family story is so very, VERY long and there's so much going on that I don't think I could effectively redo it with RWBY characters. If any of you want to give it a shot, go for it. Learn from my failures. Anywho, here's the story of Bond starring Juniper as Bond.

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Jaune: Oh, wow! Look at this adoption fair! It's a shame Blake couldn't take us here herself.

Penny: Papa! Don't blame Mama! She can't help it if she has to take big- DOGGIES! OOH! AND KITTIES! BUNNIES!

Jaune: Penny! Don't run off! I don't want to lose you in the crowd! ...Again!

Jaune: Penny, I want you to give me your word.

Penny: Huh? How do I do that?

Jaune: Make me a promise. Promise me you won't run out of my sight.

Penny: Okay, Papa. I promise.

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Penny: Huh?

Juniper: (Sniffs)

Penny: Whoa... You're a big bunny...

Juniper: (Flicks ear)

===========================

Jaune: (Laughs)

Blake: (Titters)

Penny: (Giggles)

===========================

Penny: (Thinking) Huh? Was... Was that us? Did I just read your mind?.

Juniper: (Flinches, Gallops off)

Penny: (Looks at distracted Jaune) Maybe... Maybe it'll be okay to leave... just for a few minutes.

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Penny: (Riding on top of Juniper) That- That was so scary! I didn't think we would be able to get out of there! But... how did you know that would happen? Can... Can you see the future?

Juniper: (Huffs)

Penny: She's just like me. She has a super-power, too!. And she... She's running so fast! This is so exciting!.

Penny: LET'S GO! BACK TO PAPA!

Roman: Huh?

Penny: ...

Roman: ...Well, that was easy.

Penny: WHY ARE WE BACK WHERE WE STARTED?!.

Roman: Alright, kid. Game's over. Neo, take care of her, (Raises leash) I've got the jackalope.

Neo: (Reaches for Penny)

Neo: (Spins into the ground)

Jaune: I'LL MAKE YOU REGRET TRYING TO TAKE MY DAUGHTER, YOU CHILD-STEALING PERVERTS!

Roman: Wha..?

Jaune: SHE'S NOBODY'S CHILD-BRIDE!

Roman: What the hell are you- Forget it! (Snaps fingers) Sic 'im!

Jaune: (Dog growls at him)

Jaune: (Dog yipes away)

Penny: P-PAPA!

Jaune: Don't cry, Penny. The mean doggy ran away now.

Penny: (Crying because scared of Papa)

Roman: (Dragging Neo away) Forget it! I'm done with you people! Keep the jackalope!

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

Blake: What... is that?

Penny: It's a rabbit!

Jaune: A jackalope, to be specific. They're a very rare breed.

Blake: ...It's the size of a horse. I don't think we can- Ack!

Juniper: (Nuzzling Blake)

Blake: Fine! Fine! Just get off me! (Sighs) How did you even find this thing?

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

Blake: Ugh... Sounds like such a mess... I'm sorry I couldn't have been there to help you, considering my... condition.

Jaune: It's no problem, really! Everything worked out just fine!

Blake: Maybe, but that wouldn't have happened if Penny didn't wander off on her own again. Speaking of, PENNY!

Penny: (Flinches)

Blake: I've already warned you about wandering off! You could have hurt, or even killed!

Penny: (About to cry)

Blake: (Hugs Penny) They didn't hurt you, did they?

Penny: No, because the bunny protected me!

Blake: (Thinking) This rabbit clearly isn't normal, but...

Blake: (Strokes Juniper's neck) Thank you for keeping my family safe.

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

Blake: Penny, it's time to go home.

Penny: Okay~!

Jaune: Where are your gloves?

Penny: I... I don't know, (Glove falls by her) Huh?

Juniper: (Looking down at Penny)

Penny: Thank you~! (Picks up glove) Where's my other glove?

Juniper: (Runs off, Comes back carrying an entire bush)

Blake: What in the-?!

Juniper: (Shakes bush in antlers, Glove falls out)

Jaune: I never thought I'd see a rabbit carrying an entire juniper bush!

Blake: Saying it's a rabbit is already a bit of a stretch.

Penny: Joo-Nih-Per... Juniper! I'll name you Juniper!

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

Penny: (Dumps rabbit feed into bowl) Okay, Juniper! Time to eat!

Juniper: (Eats food)

Penny: (Takes pellet of food, Eats it) ...Eh. I've had better, and I've had worse.

Juniper: (Groans)

Penny: Oh! Do you have to potty? You can go pee over here! But only here. Papa likes it neat, so he'll get mad if you- Oh, you're pooping.

Penny: Okay, it's time for cartoons!

Blake: You're supposed to be studying, Penny. You better be ready by the time I'm done in the bathroom.

One bathtime later...

Jaune: (Whispering) Blake! Blake, come look!

Blake: Hm?

Jaune: They're so tired from playing all day, they fell asleep like this!

Penny: (Snuggled into Juniper)

Juniper: (Curled around Penny)

Blake: ...Maybe I'll give her a pass for tonight.

Jaune: Please, could you~?.

#rwby #rwby au #knightshade #jaune arc #blake belladonna #penny polendina #juniper #spy x family #roman torchwick #neopolitan

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vxqyz · 10 months ago

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"To the Night we Wed." TrueformSukuna x inexperienced!fem!reader Heian era AU, 4.1k words

A/N: I've never written a fic before and I've never written anything professionally on tumblr... please forgive me if it's not formatted as you're used too! I have no photos to add or how to correctly break the paragraphs/storyline up. Also, there's a part where it goes into depth abt the wedding..! Don't mind it, I added it to make it seem more legit if you get what i mean. @sukunamylovexoxo thank you for listening to me complain while I wrote this :)!

Warning: smut in detail!! minors plz dni! hateful father, and strange language, just in case you don't like either of those!

You are a girl in the Heian era who recently came of age from an honored clan of powerful sorcerers. Unfortunately for you, your cursed energy is extremely low, however not low enough for you to have gained a heavenly pact. You are extremely useless to your clan, being born a woman already ruined your chances at making it far in life. Your father and the head of the clan, your grandfather, were known for marrying off the women if they were anywhere near as useless as you. On your 19th birthday, your wedding night, a monstrous man was sitting on the bed waiting for you.

It was a day like any other day, simply learning more calligraphy and practicing your handwriting. There wasn’t much more for you to do besides clean and look pretty. you knew everyone in your clan, besides your younger and older sisters, hated you. You were a disgrace to them. Your father came from a long line of powerful sorcerers with extremely high amounts of cursed energy, your mother was an average woman with an average amount of cursed energy from a neighboring clan. It was shocking how a single child could diminish a clan’s reputation.

you heard a knock on your thin door. “Excuse me, y/n, your father wishes to speak with you…” It was one of the housemaids. Your father was coming to you? Every morning you’d greet him and receive nothing back. What could be so important? “Please, come in.” you timidly responded, putting away your calligraphy equipment. The door slid open, and your father slowly entered your room. He made a disgusted face- as if looking at you was bad for his health. It hurt. “Hello, y/n.” He coldly greeted you. You understand you’re useless to him, but he could at least pretend he loved you. “I was talking to your grandfather about you and what to do with you. He suggested that we marry you off.” He paused. “I accepted the offer,” He mentioned with indifference. “You’re getting married in two weeks.” Married? In two weeks? You could feel your heart shatter. “Ah…” you quietly let out. “Who will I be wed to?” You were trying to keep a smile on your face. You think he knew it was a front. “His name is Ryomen Sukuna. I’m surprised. Out of all your sisters, he picked you.” He scoffed as he turned around. “I expect you to start working on your appearance. I wouldn’t want to marry a pig like you.” He left your room. This was the way your conversations would usually go, however rare they were. He couldn’t help but insult you. You were left alone with your thoughts as soon as he left your room. You turned eighteen last year. In two weeks, it would be your birthday. Your father didn’t know that, of course. Out of your five sisters and two brothers, it was hard to keep track of birth dates. But you knew he never bothered to remember yours.

–

Your daily routine usually consisted of waking up at 5:00 in the morning and getting out of bed to eat the breakfast your maid had prepared for you. This week was different. You woke up at 4:50 and noticed your breakfast wasn’t at your side. You were a little bit shocked, even when you woke up as early as 4:15, there would still be breakfast ready for you. You got up and decided it would be best not to think about it, after all, you have more important things to do. Your father was so sure that no one would want you as their bride, that he refused to allow the maids to teach you how to be a proper wife. He recently ordered about five of our maids to teach you the correct way to address your soon to be husband, wifely duties, and activities such as washing clothes and cleaning. This was something you weren’t looking forward to. you were previously refused such education since your father treated you like the plague. He had no intention of allowing you to touch anything that didn’t belong to you, believing you would take away his or your siblings' cursed energy. It was a ridiculous and irrational fear that made you realize you would always be hated by him.

As you were changing out of your sleeping attire, you heard your father’s footsteps walking towards your room. You hear a slight knock. “Please wait a moment!” You blurt out, and quickly return to changing into your daily dress, a simple kimono-esque outfit. “You may come in.” you reassure him. He slowly opens the door and stays about 15 feet away from you. “Ryomen Sukuna will be visiting you today.” He said in a professional way- an uncommon tone. “Be ready in three hours. I expect you to look the best you can.” He closed your door and walked away. Your future husband? Is he truly that eager to meet his wife-to-be?

–

It was half past seven, twenty minutes before Sukuna was supposed to meet you. Your maids had dressed you in a somewhat formal kimono, more flashy than your daily clothes, but less fancy than a ceremonial outfit. Your silky hair had been done into a lovely bun with unique flowers tied into it. You looked beautiful. You patiently sat on your knees waiting in the main room of your family’s home. The open space terrified you. Large pillars holding up the roof on each side of you, beautiful paintings on each wall and tatami mats below you. You felt nauseous. It’s probably because I'm anxious about meeting Sukuna. You rationalize with yourself. You let your thoughts run wild- what type of man could he be? A stoic man with a large frame? A diligent sorcerer focused on the wellbeing of his clan? Or maybe an old man simply moving from wife to wife? Your head was starting to hurt. All of this thinking only stressed you out.

Minutes pass, and your anxiety is increasing. You could feel yourself growing tired, this waiting has made you quite bored. As you’re slowly drifting to sleep, you hear the sound of a door opening- is he here? You quickly open your eyes and sit up straight. Your father rushed to greet him- blocking Sukuna from your view. However, you could see short pink hair, sleeves, and a spear. This was confusing. Who walks around with a spear? You ask yourself, still unable to see all of Sukuna. After about thirty seconds of frantic voices, your father moves to the side of him. You’re greeted with a large man, at least seven feet tall. You quickly move your eyes around to investigate him more- and see a strange thing on his face. Is that wood..? With eyes on it? You pondered, unable to remove your gaze from him. The eyes blink. A wave of fear is shot throughout your whole body. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before you return to examine him. You see increasingly concerning things- he has four eyes. On the right side, his face consists of a strange wooden textured… second face? And on the left, a normal human face- ignoring the fourth eye. You move your eyes down to recognize he’s not wearing a shirt- that's when you notice his markings. Previously, you were too appalled by everything else to see the markings on his face. He had markings on his chest too. You noticed he was wearing baggy pants, tightened around his waist with a black ribbon. You couldn’t see his arms- they were covered by the large and loose top he was wearing.

You finally stopped inspecting him and stood up. He walked over to you where a low table sat in between the both of you, with a beautiful tea set laying in the middle. You bow as a form of respect and sit back down. He doesn’t say anything and takes a seat. Upon closer scrutiny, you notice his arms are abnormally thick. This concerned you. The more you looked at him, the more terrified you became. As you were sitting there and waiting for anyone to speak, you ascertained that he has four arms. Four arms… four… arms..? You panicked. At this point, you couldn’t stop shaking. Your whole body was having a reaction of pure terror. This man is a monster. A simple glance at him could cause anyone to convulse and pass away. “H-Hello, Ryomen Sukuna… It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say with a shaky voice, your attempt at sounding smooth proved fruitless. He slowly looked up at you. The roles were reversed. Instead of your eyes on him, his eyes were scanning you- everywhere. “The painting your father showed me wasn’t accurate.” He finally growled, sounding a bit disappointed. You could feel your heart squeeze- even your future husband doesn’t like you.

You could feel his red eyes staring at you, your face flushed from the overwhelming emotions you’re experiencing. Your father, who was in the room with you and sitting on your side of the table, decided to speak up. “So, Ryomen Sukuna, I apologize for not asking you earlier, But is there a reason you chose y/n instead of my five other daughters?” He inquired, basically rubbing it in your face that you were the worst choice. You glanced upwards with a slight smile, and noticed Sukuna was shaking his head. “I chose y/n purely because I wanted to.” He said bluntly. He was so straight forward. Your father looked like he wanted to attack him. “Any particular reason?” He prodded Sukuna. You had a feeling that wasn’t the best idea, considering how fierce he looked. Sukuna let out a sigh and stared at your father as if he was planning out your father’s murder in his head. He adjusted himself and sat in a more comfortable position. “She looked pretty in the painting.” He once again bluntly responded with a dull expression. “So does this mean she doesn’t look as beautiful as you were expecting her to?” Your father questioned, basically on the edge of his seat. He couldn’t take this anticipation. He wanted Sukuna to admit that you’re hideous. “No. Although the painting isn’t accurate to her actual appearance, she’s still beautiful.” He says with a straight face, almost like what he said was scripted. You looked over to see your father’s face. He looked extremely angry.

After your first meeting with Sukuna, the next week was extremely dull. You were constantly learning new things about being a wife, and the possibilities of copulation. Since you were always kept in the house, never being allowed to leave the courtyard, you didn’t know much about relationships. Besides familial connections, you haven’t been exposed to much else. You never got to see what marriage is like due to your mother’s death shortly after giving birth to you. Even then, none of your siblings got married off as quickly as you did, so you were too young to understand what marriage was anyway. Your maids were kind enough to share their experiences with their husbands, letting you know what each of them liked. You felt happy that they were teaching you all of this important information, but you didn’t think they knew you were getting married to an anomaly like Sukuna. One week away from your wedding day.

–

Each day was passing slower than the next. The sun rose at 4:00 in the morning and you awoke an hour later. You would space out during your lessons, only thinking about Sukuna. You hated to admit it but- he was attractive. Albeit his second set of everything, he still had qualities that made him extremely handsome. His eyes, on the left side of his face, were stunning. They were a lovely red, not too saturated that they looked like rubies, but not too dark that they looked dark brown. They were a perfect mix of light and dark- like the color of blood. Each time he stared at you at your first interaction was filled with a certain type of yearning. You couldn’t understand what he wanted, but you could tell he wanted something. His muscles were chiseled and firm, as if he had no body fat whatsoever, and his tall frame made you feel a certain emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You loved his beautiful hair, a lovely pink that could only be found on tulips. And his markings, his lovely markings. Those are what intrigued you the most- after his four arms, four eyes and two faces, you just couldn’t understand how they were on him. Were they ink? Was he born with them? He drove you crazy, there were so many things you didn’t know about him.

Days passed and your birthday finally arrived. You feel you’ve learned enough, and you’re prepared to be a dutiful wife. Maids are all around you, getting you dressed in an intricate and traditional gown. It was strikingly red- just like his eyes. You felt a strange sensation in your lower stomach, a fluttering phenomenon. This has been happening to you recently whenever you thought of Sukuna, and it confused you. But it made you feel warm inside, a comforting sensation, so you were fine with the occasional flutter-feeling. While in your room, you could hear the chaos outside. Your younger siblings were eagerly awaiting to see you in your gown, and your two older sisters were helping you. This was the one time your father allowed your siblings to be near you. You considered this to be the happiest and most eventful day of your life. Although your siblings were excited, your father wasn’t. He was making sure that your wedding wasn’t as extravagant as your other siblings’ weddings were. Despite the fact you were marrying Ryomen Sukuna, a rumored mass murderer, which you had no idea about, your father only cared about making your life a little bit worse each second.

After going through all of the formalities of a wedding, such as greeting guests, paintings, and feasting, it was time for the actual ceremony. You were sitting in a room with Sukuna in your extremely beautiful kimono, while he was wearing a black kimono- however, nothing was covering his chest. You were observing your family walk onto the isle on the left side, each of them taking a seat on the left side. At the same time, you noticed no one was walking on the left side- the side Sukuna’s family was supposed to walk on. You were confused, and wanted to ask him, but decided it’d be best if you didn’t question it. Once your family is finally sitting down, a lovely shinto maiden comes into the room. “Y/n, Sukuna, please follow me and allow me to lead you in.” She said with a polite smile and a bow. You get up and slowly follow her, with Sukuna to the right of you. Once you’ve reached the entrance, a priest calls upon the benevolent spirits to bless and purify you and Sukuna. Sukuna makes a faint scoff and ignores the priest's actions. After the priest purifies both of you, he starts a ritual prayer to announce to the deities that he seeks protection and blessing for the both of you. Your family stands and bows. After everyone is seated, you and Sukuna complete the sankon-no-gi, despite his reluctance. A shinto maiden enters the room and performs a dance as an offering to the gods. Once she’s completed the dance, you and Sukuna make your way to the altar where you will read your vows. His vows sound fake and heartless, but you add your name to the end to show that your vows are both ‘heartfelt’. After offering the Tamagushi to the gods, you and Sukuna exchange rings. Your ring is a lovely silver with diamonds encased in it, and a dazzling ruby right in the middle. Sukuna’s ring is a normal silver ring with streaks of ruby. It’s hard to imagine how these were made. Finally, you complete the last few steps of the ceremony. Your father and Sukuna both pushed for no after party, no sort of casual party, since the only attendees would be your family. At this point, the wedding is over, you and Sukuna are ushered to your room. You couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable.

–

Sukuna walks into your room first, his arms crossed. You slowly follow him and shut the door behind you. Once you turn around, you see Sukuna sitting on your bed. It’s that feeling again. After hearing all of your maids’ stories with their husbands, you couldn’t help but imagine such actions with Sukuna. You felt an unfamiliar throbbing in between your thighs. You couldn’t understand what was happening to you. Sukuna just stared at you for a while. “Come here.” He said with a bit of a commanding tone. You practically waddle over to him- not only is the Kimono difficult to walk in, this strange sensation makes you want to avoid rubbing your legs together. Sukuna easily slips off his kimono, revealing his four arms and his magnificent markings that make your heart race. He leans over and wraps you in his arms. It’s warm. He looks up at you. You recognize that look. He wants something, and you think you know what that something is. You slowly embrace his hug and sit there for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your mind is racing about what to say. You can’t properly convey what you’re feeling, and nor can you act on your desires. The most you can do is hug him at this very moment. Eventually, he lets go. You’re confused for a split second until he easily throws you onto the bed. You were still in your kimono, so movement was difficult for you. Sukuna didn’t care, he tore it off of you, thankfully without actually ripping it. You were exposed. Your makeshift bra that didn’t look too fancy, only functional, and your panties, average and nothing too extraordinary, were the only things left covering you. You hid your face with your hands out of pure embarrassment. You didn’t know how to react.

Despite your relatively useless attempts at self defense against humiliation, Sukuna grabs your hands and puts them over your head. His hands were abnormally large, just like everything else about him. He was scanning you all over, your slim figure, your hips, your covered but obviously perfect breasts. He still had three arms he could use. This time, he actually tore off your bra and panties. You were laying on your bed, fully exposed to a man you just met two weeks ago and just got married to. You could see the sweat forming everywhere on Sukuna. Neither of you spoke any words. Not only were you too afraid, you just didn’t know what to say. Sukuna, on the other hand, was too focused on trying not to hurt your much smaller body. He kept biting his lower lip, most likely as a way to keep himself in check. Watching him like this made the throbbing return again. You could feel some sort of liquid seeping out of you ever so slowly. You noticed an unfamiliar bulge on the lower half of Sukuna. Out of pure curiosity you picked up your leg and poked it with your foot. His face changed with little delay. It looked a bit like he was in pain… You didn’t understand. You didn’t have much time to react before he dove his face onto yours, his mouth on your mouth. Is this kissing? One of the maids mentioned it. You didn’t know why, but… it filled you with a sort of satisfaction you’ve never felt before. You tried reciprocating the kiss, only for you to be an absolute amateur. Sukuna pulls away and takes a few deep breaths. “You’re horrible at this.” He whispered with a whine, regretting the fact that he pulled away from you. He instantly went back to kissing you, despite your lack of experience. Your hands were still above your head, so you had nothing you could do to defend yourself from any possible moves Sukuna might make. He started to softly grope your breasts, eventually evolving into him using two more hands to play with your nipples. You couldn’t think properly, this was too much stimulation for you. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, so to you, Sukuna was extremely skilled. He still had one free hand just resting on your hips. While he was greedily kissing you, as if you’d run away, his hand slithered closer between your thighs. He starts to rub where the throbbing originated. You practically started melting. You didn’t know how Sukuna was holding up, but you assumed he wasn’t feeling anywhere near as good as you were. And your assumption was correct. Along with the greedy face chewing, he was hard, and he could barely stand it anymore.

He pulled away and quit rubbing you, using that hand to pull out- something you’ve never seen in your life. It was sort of scary, but before you could oppose anything, he shoved it inside of you, causing you to let out a loud moan of pain and.. Pleasure? Your ears start to ring ever so slightly, and Sukuna starts mumbling, intermittently interrupted with panting. You maneuver your head around to see what he was doing, and noticed- there were two? Two of those ungodly things? Your head was spinning, but for some ridiculous reason, it made you want him even more. All of the stories your maids told you were running through your head right now. But you were confused about one thing- why he wasn’t moving. You were concerned for him, this monster, but you needed to know if he was ok. “S-Sukuna..” You cautiously address. You could barely talk, you felt.. full. “Are you ok..?” you asked with a concerned look on your face. He doesn’t answer you. He just stares at you, heavily breathing with eyes he could barely keep open. He lets go of your wrists and puts two hands underneath your back, pulling you to his chest. He was still inside of you, this time slowly moving. You could feel it hit as deep as when he shoved it in. Each thrust of his made your mind go blank. You could hear him praising you, something along the lines of: “You’re holding up so well for being a virgin..” That was an unfamiliar word. He continued to thrust into you, each thrust getting more and more frantic as time went by. He let go of you and put your back on the bed once more, allowing him to move much more easily. He was going in a relatively rhythmic way, increasing his speed over time. “Fuck…” He moaned, pushing his dick deeper inside you with each movement. He was desperate for you. He’s acting like he’s been abstaining from doing such acts with a concubine for months, preparing for you. Could that be the case? Could he have wanted you for that long? You shake away the thought and focus only on the current events. His breathing was sporadic, you could tell he couldn’t handle these feelings for much longer. Though you could barely keep your eyes open, his powerful movements prevented you from properly looking at him, you got glances of his face. It was contorted in a way, but you could tell he was enjoying himself. Two of his hands were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you. He continued to babble incoherent nonsense. You could tell he was close to this epitome of pleasure- something you could feel yourself. Every passing second you felt the build up, only for you to reach the climax when Sukuna allowed you to. Moments later Sukuna’s movements became less and less rhythmic. You could feel a warm sensation inside of you- your body slightly seizing up from the intense feeling you were receiving. Throughout that pure sensation of ecstasy, you felt a hot liquid shoot inside of you. You were slightly puzzled but had a more important thing to focus on. You slowly opened your eyes to Sukuna leaning over you, just staring at you… again. I suppose he doesn’t have a way with words… you thought to yourself. “...Good.” Sukuna muttered, still catching his breath from the rigorous activity you were both performing earlier. “R-Repeat that, please?” You calmly asked, tilting your head to the side to represent your confusion. “You did good.” verbatim, just this time audible. He pulled himself out of you and got up from the bed. He grabbed his ‘kimono’ and his pants, got dressed, and left. You laid there on the mattress, sweaty and uncomfortable. You felt dirty.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #heian era #true form sukuna

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