#attempted arranged marriage
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wangxianficrecs · 3 months ago
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Catharsis by Starfell123
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Catharsis
by Starfell123
T, WIP, 7k, Wangxian
Summary: “Look, I know I’m probably foolish. I know that the chances of this not being a business-meeting are slim to none, but I need to know for sure. If Uncle Jiang wants to apologize, I’ll give him a chance to do so. If not, I want to tell him where to stick it in person.” Thirteen years after being thrown out by the Jiangs, Jiang Fengmian contacts Wei Wuxian and asks to meet. Wei Wuxian goes in the hopes of reconciling with his adopted family, but the circumstances he finds himself in wont allow that to happen. What will he do when his former guardian tries to arrange a marriage for him that will benefit the Jiang-sect? Kay's comments: This story felt very satisfying. Thirteen years after being kicked out by Madam Yu, Wei Wuxian is thriving. He's filthy rich, he's surrounded by people who love and support him, he has a successful company and now, Jiang Fengmian turns up because the Jiang Sect is struggling and thinks he can just marry Wei Wuxian off as though he's still part of the sect, because technically, he was never formally struck of the disciple rosters. Also, rest in pieces Madam Yu, she's not missed. Really loved how soft Wangxian were for each other. Excerpt: Now the Jin-sect was on the verge of collapse and several sects stood on the brink of financial ruin. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been all that interested in listening to the financial portion of the story - he let Qing-jie handle their money for a reason! - but he’d understood enough to know that things were BAD. “I am aware of the monetary issues most sects face in the wake of Jin Guangyao’s schemes. Have you found a way to save Yunmeng Jiang?” “Yes. The Lan-sect has offered to enter an alliance with us. An alliance based on marriage.” Jiang Fengmian gave him a significant look and Wei Wuxian’s thoughts started racing. A marriage alliance. Someone from the Jiang-sect was getting married to a Lan. Who…? He tried to mask his growing dread with a smile. “Oh, that’s so sweet! Did you call me here to invite me to Jiang Cheng’s wedding?” Jiang Fengmian grimaced. “Not exactly…” Before he had a chance to say anything else, the door opened to reveal two figures clad in white.
pov wei wuxian, modern setting, modern with magic, wei wuxian leaves the yunmeng jiang sect, attempted arranged marriage, bad parents jiang fengmian & yu ziyuan, somebody lives/not everybody dies, hurt/comfort, happy ending, genius wei wuxian, rich wei wuxian, families of choice
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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imhereformysciencefriends · 2 months ago
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Day 1: Fairytales and Myths
Tags: @loturaweek2024 Curses, fairy tale elements, Bearskin (the myth), political marriage but also for love sort of, magic, background Alfor/Melenor, background Keith/Shiro, betrothals, attempted kidnapping, rescue, Lotor’s generals are there
Read on AO3
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“You are fortunate,” mused the angry and spiteful druid while Lotor snarled up at him, ensnared in glowing purple chains made of magic and aether, “that the same magic you came here to steal from me does not allow me to kill you outright.”
Lotor thought, not for the first time, that it would be significantly more Galra to just put a knife in his gut than rely on their magic for literally everything. But if they were so wrapped up in their world of spells and power that they forgot their own fangs and claws that they were born with, well, Lotor wouldn’t be the one to remind them. This druid in specific seemed particularly filled with his own hubris.
A pelt, some heavy, thick-furred thing thumped down on his shoulders, and he shifted minutely from the weight.
“I curse you,” the druid said, voice going echoey with magic. “You shall not bathe for seven decaphoebes, nor cut your hair nor claws, you shall not cease to wear this pelt, nor sleep under one roof for more than a single night, and no one may travel with you for more than three quintents. Should you break any of these bindings, this curse will kill you.”
“And if I succeed, for seven decaphoebes?” Lotor asked, still snarling, still bearing his (small, Altean) fangs.
The druid was quiet.
“You must include a win-condition, witch. I know your magic’s rules.” He would not have risked infiltrating this place if he did not have a contingency plan for if he was caught, after all.
The druid made a snarling, growling, impatient noise.
“If you should last all seven decaphoebes, then the magic you seek will be yours. Now get out!”
Another rush of magic and Lotor found himself at the mouth of the small cave that hid the entrance to the druid’s lair. He grit his teeth and stood, shaking as though to dislodge the remnants of the purple magic.
Seven years.
More than he’d bargained for, but less than he was willing to pay for his goals. He already grew his hair long, and he was not one to frequently stay in one place for too long. That was doable.
The claws and bathing situation would be the most intolerable, he did not doubt.
Seven years.
He could do this.
In the first year: he could do this. He was centuries old and, if theories on how he aged were to be considered correct, he would have centuries more. Seven years would be nothing. A drop in a bucket. He used it to prepare, especially the first few months, when he smelled more or less tolerable. Any time it rained he spent as much time as he could in the water, knowing that washing in a river or stream would count. Magic was always fickle, and always skewed in favor of the worst. While he could still passably show his face in civilization, he stockpiled supplies enough to last him seven years, or near enough to it he could supplement when the time came.
In the second year: he had to leave Daibazaal. His country of origin was hardly a home, and hadn’t been since he was young and innocent and still so painfully naive. But he did know it, and he knew that all the many flora that thirsted for his blood and fauna that would chew on his bones could smell him for miles in each direction. He knew it intellectually, and he knew it viscerally, blood steaming across the pelt he wore and sliding down the blade he wrested free from the fresh carcass of a beast that wished to eat him. Oh, how he wished for a bath.
In the third year: he couldn’t do this. He could not bear this. He was not even halfway through and his own stench and fatigue were driving him insane. Being so constantly exposed to the elements was killing him, though the pelt was so thick and heavy it kept him plenty warm. And he was lonely. In the third year, Narti finally found him, Kova hissing and prowling just outside the edges of Lotor’s reach, recognizing him but also not. She wanted to help him, as best she could, but he explained the curse to her, the druid putting no binding on his tongue at least. She then offered to go kill the druid for him, and he insisted that she not, not until the witch’s power was his. She stated she would stay with him, despite her nose being even sharper than Lotor’s, and he reminded her that it could be for no more than three quintents, or the magic would kill him (and he doubted it would be instant, or painless).
She left with the promise to tell the others, and to bring back supplies for him. Just to drop off and then leave again. She promised she wouldn’t stay.
In the third year: Ezor found him, always best at finding things, and with her she brought Zethrid and Acxa. It was the best three days of these miserable three years, even with his companions wrinkling their noses at his scent the whole time.
In the fourth year: he left the billowing wilds that existed between Daibazaal, harsh and dangerous but inhabitable, and into Altea, the lush and verdant valleys beneath the billowing wilds’ mountains. Not to say that Altea did not come with its own dangers, no, just that they were more like the mountain creatures, not quite so capable of killing a lone wanderer as Daibazaal’s would have been.
In the fourth year:
Allura tied up her hair and shifted her hands, magic tickling as it turned her palms into suction cups. She descended from her room as only wayward princesses could, and hopped down onto the vibrantly green grass of the lawn with a little thrill of success.
With the tensions between Daibazaal and Altea on the rise once again, and all citizens from both countries feeling like a resumed war was all but a forgone conclusion, her parents had been increasingly strict with her. On a certain level, she understood, she was a princess after all, it was her job to understand.
On the other hand: she’d gone to the little brook with the little waterfall dozens upon dozens upon dozens of times, without any harm nor threat to her person. It was right next to the palace grounds, and she only ever managed to squeeze in an hour or two before her knights quit canoodling and came to find her anyway. She would be fine, just as she’d been fine every time before.
There was nowhere in all of Altea, in Allura’s opinion, that was a better place for magic than that little waterfall. Something about the place seemed almost to glow with magic, every drop of water and blade of grass and rustling leaf full to overflowing with rich mana. It drew her in, excited and comforted her, enthralled her and cleared her mind. Magic poured from her fingers like the water she lifted, guiding it to dance about her in a spiraling river floating suspended around her person, twirling slowly as she dragged the water about in lazy loops.
Even the sunlight here felt different, warm and yellow but not beating down on her, even in summer heat. It sparkled and twisted around her like the water did, slowly spinning and dancing across the shimmering surface, Allura’s skirts shallowly twirling around her calves, and she smiled and let her mind sink into the magic present here, imbuing everything.
It was that magic, present even in the twigs of a bush and the berries crushed underfoot, that alerted her that she was not alone.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t dare try to fight against near a dozen heavy boots. One moment she was smiling serenely, surrounded by glistening spirals of water, the next she was running so fast the water didn’t even have time to hit the ground before she burst through it. Shouts behind her, unmistakably Galra, and heavy footfall followed, but she didn’t dare look. She was fast.
But Galra were faster.
A giant, purple hand clamped over her mouth, a scream wrested from her too late and muffled by the flesh, and she hit the ground with a cry of pain, knees and palms skidding in the dirt.
“Grab her!”
She fought back, because of course she did. Princess trained in the art of diplomacy and regal bearing though she was, Allura was no weak fighter, and she was not one to cow in the face of unfair odds.
But they were unfair. She knocked two briefly unconscious, but she hadn’t brought her staff, not believing she’d need it, and these Galra were armored and armed, one opening a deep gash across the back of her leg, another finally getting his dagger pointed at her throat and compelling her to behave.
“You won’t kill me,” she spat, even as her preservation instincts forced her to obey.
“No. But you don’t need both eyes.”
She screamed a protest—she was submitting!—as he raised the dagger to plunge it into her eye, but then a dagger protruded from his own, sinking much deeper than just the eye. He toppled off her, dead, and the Galra turned on their new aggressor.
A beast, wilder than all imagining, lept from the foliage, its pelt hideous and bloodstained, matted with mud and dried viscera, its claws long as knives and yellow and flaking, silvery lengths of something dragging behind it as it fell upon its victims. The Galra shouted, united now against this beast, and Allura staggered to her feet, or tried to. The gash in her leg made fleeing nearly impossible, and she leaned against the tree as she watched the beast dispatch of the Galra, one by one by one, until there were none left alive to contest it.
Its yellow gaze fell upon her next, and she realized belatedly that she looked at no monster at all.
“You’re Altean!” she gasped, the man before her so deeply dirtied with various filth that she could not see even an inch of skin beneath the horrible mess, but his face was, poking out from the disgusting fur, unmistakably that of, well, a man. An Altean’s proud cheekbones and narrow jaw, eyes yellow as a Galra but silver hair (it was hair!) long and ripe with magic.
The man chuckled at her. “I suppose it only fair that you confused me for a beast.”
“Good sir, anyone would.” Sounds of armor—familiar, Altean—and rushed footfall came from the direction of the palace grounds. “Please, you are my savior, come into my home and be bathed and rewarded for your service.”
“I cannot bathe, princess,” he said, with every reverence of her subjects, “nor did I do this for a reward. I will leave.”
“You saved my life!” Allura insisted as Keith and Shiro burst into the clearing, swords drawn and lips flushed and kiss-bitten, confusion on their brows as they took stock of the dead Galra on the ground and the beast man their charge now argued with. “You would do me a great dishonor by not allowing me to repay you!”
The man seemed visibly to hesitate at that, and then acquiesced. “If for your honor only, princess. But I cannot remain.”
“At least stay the night,” she insisted, now half-frantic to have this strange man remain for any time at all, curiosity burning through her as fervently as the magic had only recently flowed.
“The night,” he agreed, bowing low, the mess of fur and hair and viscera and fresh blood shambling with his motion, “but no longer.”
The man spoke of precious little, despite Allura’s best attempts at interrogation. She learned not even his name. He would not allow any of her staff to bathe or groom him, though she noted that while his hair was dirty, it was remarkably untangled. He was certainly Altean, but his nails were more akin to claws. And of course, the yellow eyes.
At dinner, her parents hosted the man who’d saved their daughter’s life, because of course they did.
“Traditionally,” Queen Melenor remarked, though she was severe and stately in the way Allura knew she held herself when she discussed things she’d rather not, “the reward for saving a princess’s fool life from a band of murderous kidnappers would be that princess’s hand in marriage.”
Allura heard the man’s breath hitch, and for a brief moment, open want lined his filth-obscured features, before he shuttered again to something vaguely polite and unreadable.
“I could never ask for such a thing, being as I am.”
“Being as you are?” Allura said, sounding more accusatory than she’d meant. “A kind stranger who saved my life?”
“You have no proof of any kindness,” the man said, with a low chuckle that made her feel strange and hot.
“Only my life and well-being.”
“You speak as though you would wish to wed me.”
Allura’s mouth opened, then shut.
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps I would!” she said, drawing herself to full height while seated and glowering at the man, challenge in her tone.
“Allura,” her father scolded quietly, as he always did when her temper and stubbornness sent her headlong down paths her good sense would otherwise steer her clear from.
“...Allow me three years, then, princess,” the beast man said slowly, gaze never leaving hers. “I have matters I must attend, and am unable to remain here, nor take you with me. If, in three years, when I return, you still wish to wed me, we might discuss it then.”
Queen Melenor sighed, and Allura winced only briefly at the tone of her mother’s breath. Oh the lecture she’d receive once this man departed would be mighty. “You have more good sense than my daughter, it would seem. Please be made comfortable in our home, and if there is anything you wish for, merely ask it.”
“A grimoire, Your Majesty, if I may be bold enough to request it.”
“You’ve magic?” Allura asked, reaching out to touch the man’s face, where his Altean marks should be beneath the dirt, and rescinding her hand when he flinched from her.
“Call it a future investment.”
“Grimoires we have aplenty,” her father stated, “I’ll have one copied for you by the morrow.”
“My thanks.”
Allura, kept up late by her own desperately curious, gnawing thoughts, had to drag herself, bleary and miserable, from her bed to prevent from missing the stranger’s departure. She witnessed her father hand him a grimoire, and he bowed, first to the sovereign queen, then to the king, and then, lower, slower, with something like heat in his eyes, finally to the princess.
“Damn,” she mumbled when the stranger was gone, but comforted herself that at least, for the next three years, she’d have an easy dismissal of all talk of suitors.
In the fifth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a huntsman mistaking him for a beast.
In the sixth year: Lotor was nearly killed by a team of monster hunters, who he had to persuade with Narti’s coin to leave him be, paying higher than the village who’d hired them. He wandered elsewhere with faster purpose, after that, and committed himself to greater stealth. Narti was unbearably smug when next she delivered supplies, forcing more coin into the hands of a man who had no reliable use for it.
In the seventh year: Nearly killed again, by huntsmen and monster hunters both. But he was on his way out of Altea. On his way through the billowing wilds, climbing and descending that mountain. He’d memorized the grimoire, but kept hold of it, a baffling yet precious memory now tied to its cover and pages.
At the end of the seventh year: he returned to the small cave where he’d first found the druid. His time was up, or near enough to it, and the moment the magic was his he would take vengeance for the seven years of misery he’d suffered. There he found Narti, there he found Ezor, there he found Zethrid, there he found Acxa, still loyal to him after seven years of absence, and he counted such loyalty more precious than all the gold in all the world.
“First, we kill the druid,” he ordered, feeling the curse sizzle along his skin as it warped into a blessing. “Then I take a quiznacking bath.”
At the end of the third year of waiting:
Allura was forced by circumstance to put her curiosity for her betrothed-to-be on hold, as political upheaval shook the land.
Her father’s old ally finally declared war upon her mother’s country, and Altea raised its arms for bloodshed. But as they prepared their weapons and rallied their armies, another missive came: Emperor Zarkon was dead, long live the Emperor.
Lotor, former prince, son of Zarkon who Allura had never met, shame to his family line and whose mother was Altean, had bested his father in ritual combat, according to Galra custom and law, and had seized the throne. Altea continued to rally, not sure if the bastard son would hold the same temperament as his father, but the tension that had built between their lands hung now, most definitely confused in perplexed balance.
Then an official letter from the Emperor, validated by report after report from their scouts: Lotor was coming, not with an army, but with a diplomatic envoy, to speak to the royals of Altea face to face.
Her mother was stern and stately, poised and graceful and elegant, the sovereign of Altea, bearer of the Altean royal line, pride and jewel of their nation, its Queen.
Her father was tense and stiff, militant and grave, leader of their armies and father of the nation, sire of Altea’s heir and husband to their sovereign.
Allura wasn’t quite sure what she was. But she drew herself up, a shadow of her mother’s grace, stiffened her lip and brow, a mimic of her father’s gravity, and lifted her chin, a prideful stubbornness that was all hers.
Whatever the Emperor Lotor came here for, he would find it on Altea’s terms, or he would leave without it. Or, if it might make for a swifter path for peace, she would slaughter him in this very reception hall. She had her staff with her today.
The Galran procession arrived in waves, wargs and beastmasters first, towering Galra broad each as a mountain and bearing heavy shields second, four mismatched women each bearing the new royal crest and colors third, and in their center: Emperor Lotor.
He was the singularly most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Long, plaited, silver hair that nearly dragged the ground, Altean bones and Galran eyes, soft velvety purple fur so short it could pass for skin, pointed ears pierced with glinting gems in silver casings, and on his cheeks, two marks that glowed with powerful magic.
She shivered, feeling less certain of her ability to slaughter him where he stood, should he pose threat. His magic was enough, indeed, to rival her own, and she was famed throughout Altea for her prowess, her own marks pink and luminous.
“My thanks for hosting on such short notice,” the emperor began, seeming perfectly at ease surrounded by distinctly uneasy Altean guardsmen.
“Our thanks for your peaceful arrival. Are we too optimistic in hoping it may bode for a peaceful future between our nations?” Queen Melenor of Altea answered, staring down at him with regal coolness from the dias they three stood on.
“Not at all,” he assured with a smile. “I am as hopeful for such as you are.” A sigh escaped the whole room, tension palpably leaving. Allura was not exempt, tension loosening from her shoulders.
“Though I would start by returning what was borrowed. I know you gave it to me as a gift, but I would return it as a show of good faith.”
That piqued Allura’s curiosity. As far as she knew, her parents had never met the then-prince Lotor any more than she had. But as the emperor of Daibazaal approached, Allura’s breath caught in her throat.
He extended, to Alfor, a grimoire. The same grimoire her father had given her intended three years ago.
“You!” she gasped, rushing forward and grabbing him by the wrist, making his generals tense but ignoring them, staring instead at his yellow eyes.
“Me,” he agreed with a smile, staring at her with that same reverence he’d held three years ago. “I hope my appearance is more agreeable to you, now, than it was then, as I have little desire to return to such a state.”
“More than,” she said with a wild grin. “Please, come in and be hosted by us, I would have my betrothed explain to me how I may find him in such different states as this!”
“Well,” she heard her father murmur to her mother as she beckoned their guests inside, “I suppose a wedding is one way to end all this.”
And so it would be.
But first, they went to dinner.
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hellcifrogs · 1 year ago
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I don’t know if you wanna know, but since you’re making fusions, I just curious what you might think of Himawari. The canon Naruto Hinata kid.
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Because I love her. (I’ve never watched the anime but I’m chronically online and see her all over Instagram and I just love her cause shes adorable that is all.)
Obviously she looks more like what I imagined a NaruHina child would look like. But I will be FOREVER bitter about Hinata's children not having Hyuuga eyes!
She reminds me of kid Naruto though so that IS adorable, but I still don't know her enough to really have an opinion.
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leftythehelpingtankengine · 3 months ago
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Beauty, the Pea, and the Beast
Chapter 2: Oh Balls.
Word Count - 2k
Also available on AO3 & WattPad
Summary: In an attempt to provide aid to a runaway princess, Luigi gets himself mixed up in an arranged marriage to a prince of a neighboring kingdom, what he doesn’t know is that a certain evil king also plans on having the princess’ hand in marriage regardless of whether or not (s)he’s partial to it. Will he find a way out of this, or will he end up falling for one of them? (or both >;))
Content Warnings: none yet
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It had been about two months since Luigi had begun his stay at the princess’—well, his— castle until she returned. He and Toadette still weren’t on the best terms but she seemed genuine with her apologies and remorse. He would be able to forgive her in time, since then she’s been his rock and confidant. He adjusted well to the life of the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom, maybe even liked it. However, the most difficult part for him was shaking off his chronic nervousness about everything around him. 
Luigi was sitting in front of a grand mirror with Toadette showing Luigi different dresses for him to pick from for the Winter Solstice ball that was to be held after sundown. He was barely paying her any mind until Toadette spoke loudly, “Don’t fret Your Highness, you’ll do fine, you only need to look the part and occasionally converse with your guests. Why don’t you pick out which gown you’d like to wear for this evening?”
Luigi nodded, his nerves slightly eased, “You’re right, I would like to wear the blue and pink dress with long gloves and a shawl.” Luigi sighed, standing up and beginning the elaborate process of getting dressed.
Toadette was making the final adjustments to Luigi’s outfit when they heard a knock at the door, informing them it was nearly time for the guests to arrive. Toadette accompanied Luigi to the vast soon-to-be-filled room to sit on his throne until the first guests arrived. Not long after The doors opposite from him began to open and the guests came flooding in. He stood up as the first guests approached; lords and ladies from the Mushroom Kingdom. He stopped paying attention after the Royal family from the BeanBean Kingdom made their entrance. He finally understood why the Princess didn’t want to be here for this, it was terribly boring so far. 
He saw the room slowly fill up with people dancing and chatting around the edges, a gentle melody echoing and silencing their chatter. He envied them. He was taken out of his thoughts when all of the guests had been introduced, allowing him to sit down once more to eat and enjoy the party as much as he could.
Another hour had passed before the music was stopped and the announcer gained the attention of everyone once again.
“Thank you all for being here tonight for our Winter Solstice ball. In addition to the Solstice, we’re holding the ball in honor of the new happy couple! We’re thrilled to announce the marriage between our very own Princess Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom and-”
“The King of Koopas, King Bowser.” A large reptilian beast guffawed behind Luigi. 
Luigi stiffened, too frightened to react or even look back at him. Bowser took that as an opportunity to grab Luigi, toss him over his shoulder, and make a mad dash toward the nearest exit with minimal resistance, allowing him to disappear into the night.
Luigi snapped out of the shock and began yelling and fighting him to no avail. He continued for about ten minutes before giving up and letting out an irritated huff.
“Where are we going?” Luigi asked, his voice hoarse from screaming. He was doing the best he could to prop himself up, but settled for resting his head on his arm that’s now propped against Bowser’s back.
“Home, of course. We’re going to the docks first. I have a ship waiting for us.” Bowser explained, clearly pleased with himself.
Luigi sighed in defeat, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. There was no way he could get away from him between blowing his cover and his current attire. Between the heels and puffy fabric he wouldn’t be able to get far. Oh, and Toadette would kill him if something were to happen to the dress.
Bowser noticed Luigi’s change in demeanor. “Don’t act so disappointed Peaches, I told you that I would come back for you. Don’t worry it won’t be much longer until we reach the boat,” he said, failing to lighten the mood.
Luigi remained silent, ignoring his kidnapper, his head swirling with many thoughts and feelings— fear, contempt, exhaustion. The king was blissfully unaware of Luigi’s mental gymnastics and decided to continue, “I made sure to have someone get your little handmaiden— I know you’re very fond of her after all. I have also arranged for us to be housed in close quarters with one another-” 
At this point Luigi stopped listening, Toadette was in this with him now? He felt a little better knowing that he was not alone and would still have help maintaining the facade. He couldn’t get caught, especially not by King Boswer. Luigi shuddered, he didn’t want to think about what might happen if the Koopa King were to find out.
“Are you cold Princess?” Bowser paused, placing Luigi down, and taking off his coat to give to him, then offering his hand. Luigi put the coat around him and hesitated before taking his hand. He decided it would be better to try to stay on Bowser’s good side for the time being. 
For the first time Bowser and Luigi got a better look at one another and time seemed to stop for just a moment. This was the only time Luigi had seen Bowser outside of aiding his brother in keeping the peace between kingdoms. He was….handsome? Luigi could not tear his eyes away, what about him is so alluring? He was tall, strong, his hair the shade of the most passionate of fires, hands so large to-
“You look more radiant than normal Princess…” Bowser begins. “Even with your swollen nose, you look like a goddess on earth glowing in the light of the new winter moon.”
He was sincere, his eyes were wide and full of an emotion Luigi couldn’t seem to comprehend, as he was still staring helplessly, now flushed. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by rustling behind them. They both turn their heads towards the sound, releasing them from their shared enrapturement.
A bit more rustling occurred before a small figure emerged from the flora; a koopa blissfully unaware at the verbal assault awaiting him.
Bowser’s face contorts to unbridled rage. You could nearly see smoke as he exhaled before going absolutely ballistic, screaming at the koopa for interrupting, paying no mind to Luigi anymore.
Luigi recoiled, disgusted with Bowser now. Concluding that his moment of weakness was nothing more than the winter moonlight. Now fully in control of his thoughts and actions, he decided that now would be a good time to try to escape.
Luigi wasn’t sure which direction to run in but ultimately decided any direction away from the scene unfolding would be best.
Bowser had soon finished his verbal onslaught and took a deep breath to regain his composure. With a calm smile on his face, he turned back towards the Princess but quickly realized she was gone. Panic. Sheer panic flooded his senses.
Luigi had only been running for a few minutes at most however it felt like it had been hours. He would have kept running if he hadn’t tripped over his own foot and twisted his ankle. Luigi cried out and laid there for a second before looking around. His blood ran cold. In an unfortunate turn of events, the direction he chose led him to the very docks he was desperately trying to get away from.
He was quickly surrounded by members of Bowser’s court bombarding him with questions, making his head spin, until a voice roared above theirs, “WHERE IS SHE??”
Silence followed as the crowd backed away from Luigi who was sobbing at this point. Bowser’s face dropped and rushed over to Luigi. 
“Peaches?!? Are you okay? What happened?” Bowser’s face was painted with worry and concern.
In between sobs and sniffles Luigi cried, “You were yelling at that poor koopa, my dress is ruined, and I twisted my ankle in these ACCURSED HEELS-” More sobs wracked his form.
Bowser was completely taken aback, “I sincerely apologize Peaches, you’re never emotional so this must be important to you. I’ll have someone fix your dress and-”
Luigi was seeing red. Him? Emotional? He gritted his teeth together, “You listen here, Your Majesty-” Luigi tried to stand up. “I would love to see you go through a day as me without losing your temper at the slightest of inconveniences. You have no right to call ME emotional when you act like a spoiled toddler if something doesn’t go exactly as you had envisioned it.” He was truly riled up at this point, beyond thinking of the where consequences his current actions would lead him.  
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get something to eat and then return to my chambers for the night without you, since you so rudely took me before I could even taste the hors d'oeuvres at the ball.”
Bowser was completely shocked, but quickly smiled, “There's the Peach I know and adore. I’ll have everything arranged for you.”
Luigi scoffed as Bowser picked him up and carried him onto the ship. He took Luigi to his quarters where there was a physician and an attendant waiting for him.
“Your Majesties.” The physician bowed down to Luigi and Bowser. He then waved him off and set Luigi down on the settee against the wall.
“I need you two to check and tend to her ankle and bring her favorite dishes. Once that’s been done leave her be.” Bowser sternly instructed, standing tall.
They bowed to Bowser once more, causing him to turn around and leave, the attendant following not long after.
The physician brought a small table over towards Luigi so he could prop his leg up and allow them to examine his ankle.
It didn’t take the physician long to examine Luigi's now swollen ankle. Telling him that it was sprained and that he needed to stay off his feet for the next couple of weeks. They wrapped Luigi’s foot in a splint, then bid him a farewell, closing the door behind them.
Luigi looked at his foot, frustrated that he ruined any chance of escaping on his own. He couldn’t believe how badly he had messed up in such quick successions. Not fighting or running at the ball, finding a chance to escape and running in the wrong direction, which had caused him to be immobile for a few weeks minimum. He really had hit rock bottom at this point.
Luigi heard a knock at the door and the attendant from before came in with a large tray of food. He pulled a small table over to where Luigi was sitting and set the tray down. He bowed to him then left without a word.
As soon as the door clicked shut Luigi moved the entire table closer and noticed that Bowser had his cooks prepare a several course meal, which he wasted no time eating. Then he moved to the large bed with great care as to not injure himself further. 
Luigi was exhausted. His mind replayed the instances of the past evening as he laid down. Neither Princess Peach or Toadette had mentioned an arranged marriage to him, or even hinted at it. Could this be the reason why she had Luigi take her place? Had she found someone, or was this the final straw? Luigi couldn’t say, after all, he didn’t know who he was allegedly marrying. Obviously it wasn’t Bowser considering their past and the fact he literally made an event of him kidnapping the ‘princess’. 
Luigi put his hands over his face when his mind shifted to King Bowser. He was so embarrassed with his thoughts and shift in character. How could he have let himself feel that way about an ill-tempered tyrant, even if only for a moment. He couldn’t deny that Bowser was attractive, determined, and confident—all qualities Luigi admired on their own— but his treatment towards others was repulsive at best.  Luigi yawned, maybe he could change that… and with that final incoherent thought he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
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AN: hey yall there were some edits that were done after I had posted this initially, so i finally got around to adding them 10/30/24
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nostalgia-tblr · 1 year ago
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u know, once someone has pointed out the orientalism in most of fandom's depictions of jotun!loki you can never unsee it.
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yellow-faerie · 1 year ago
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How specifically does Lu Ten survive in the au?
The short answer: his betrothed.
The long answer: in this au, Lu Ten is betrothed at quite a young age to Makei, a noble woman's only daughter. They're both nonbenders, who both train separately to be equally deadly (Lu Ten under Piandao, and Makei under a retired Yuyan archer by the name of Izuki) and are probably each others only real friend at court, just due to the cutthroat nature of the court.
They both go to the siege of Ba Sing Se, probably a year into it, Lu Ten is an officer and Makei is a healer. They are very quickly disenfranchised with the whole idea of The War.
This is mostly because they were both very lonely children, Lu Ten moreso. When Lu was little, his mother was dead, his father was off at war more often than not and there were very few people who were consistently around him (Ursa would be around a bit but since Ozai does not want to be around him, even that's limited), but he made his loneliness better by basically saying that Winning The War will make it all better.
Newsflash: the war sucks and when fighting it begins to feel entirely pointless, and Lu Ten is very quickly like...oh. My childhood just sucked for No Reason.
(Listen, Iroh loved his son but I am of the firm belief that their relationship was not an easy one)
And then, Iroh dies on the front lines. Maybe Lu Ten should have been the one to die then - he certainly came close - but Makei is a skilled healer who makes sure he pulls through. But Lu Ten is neither the leader his father was nor someone who wants to be, and the siege is called off.
Still, he's angry and bitter and has a burning hatred for the war for taking his father from him in so many ways (and, later, when he's spent time among the earth kingdom, he'll be angry for them too), and when he returns to the palace, he does not exactly go along with everything Ozai has to say...
By which I mean he does multiple kidnappings but that's another post.
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green-mountain-goose · 2 months ago
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deadlyrose9086 · 1 year ago
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"Do try to make a good impression tonight,” Henry mutters under his breath.
Alex’s jaw clenches just for a moment before he wills himself to relax. “Only if you try to get that stick out of your ass.”
-
After two months - two dreadfully long, boring months - of being married to a man that seemingly does not want anything to do with him, Alex gets a tip that his husband is going to be the target of an assassination attempt. He deals with it about as well as you'd expect him to.
ft: light whump, rash decisions, and sex in a bath tub.
Language: English Words: 8,833 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 68 Kudos: 866 Bookmarks: 155 Hits: 8,716
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yohohonabottle · 11 days ago
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"Unexpected union" -Chapter directory (Reposted from A03)
|[ Canon-divergent but not too heavily ]| -> 🎶This fanfiction has playlists linked! ( I & II ) 🎶 -> 🕯️Back to my writing masterpost
—"Well..?"
—"You are supposed to be at the town square. Everyone is waiting for your arrival, the ceremony cannot begin without your presence." 
The Templar knight might as well have slapped him across the face with a fishtail.
—"Come again?"
—"Marital ceremony, sir Valen. You are getting married."
Out of all the things Valen had thought could happen today, getting married was not one of them. Who–When–How?? What???
-Or-
Poor captain Valen finds himself in a very interesting situation with more twists than a manhwa has.
⚠️ × This work has NSFW "missing pieces" linked to it. ×⚠️ -------------------------------------------------------------------------
[🕯Unexpected news & a surprise wedding🕯] Chapter 1 | Posted on 27.08 Chapter 2 | Posted on 27. 08 Chapter 3 | Posted on 27.08 [🌹🌻🌾An old tale & a new chapter🌹🌾🌻] ⚠️ Chapter 4 | Posted on 29.09 Chapter 5 | Posted on 04.09 (In progress..) Chapter 6 | Posted on --.-- (Coming soon...)
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kitwilsonsass · 6 months ago
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i'm so glad i saved the second half of this chapter for today because every page i'm like lmfao what the fuck is happe-
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greendragonqueen · 2 years ago
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"You know, it's a good thing Arthur doesn't know about us."
"Oh? And why's that?"
"Cause I'm pretty sure he'd execute me for what I'm about to do." With that, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips.
Morgana melted into his touch, his kiss, his warmth, with a smile. Just as she always had, just as she always will.
Although, despite mid kiss, she had to chuckle at his comment. It wasn't as if they hadn't been doing for hours now something that would no doubt get them into trouble if caught...
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starpros-sunshine · 1 year ago
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wait what’s going on in the fine climax event ??
If only I could tell you
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whenthegoldrays · 1 year ago
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No but one of these days I am going to write a LUTYN au where Yeon-kyung is the daughter of the Minister of War who helps keep Im's medical treatment of the servants a secret.
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you-have-been-frizzled · 2 years ago
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thank you @a-withered-old-rose for finding this for me
EVERYONE QUICK describe your oc story in the worst way possible
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leftythehelpingtankengine · 6 months ago
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The Princess, the Pea, and the Beast
Chapter 1: Grief
Word Count - 1.1k
Also available on AO3 & WattPad
Summary: In an attempt to provide aid to a runaway princess, Luigi gets himself mixed up in an arranged marriage to a prince of a neighboring kingdom, what he doesn’t know is that a certain evil king also plans on having the princess’ hand in marriage regardless of whether or not (s)he’s partial to it. Will he find a way out of this, or will he end up falling for one of them? (or both >;))
Content Warnings: none yet
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It took Luigi about half a day to reach the castle, the sun could be seen along the horizon peaking over soft, lush green hills that seemed to stretch on forever. His attention was on the castle ahead of him. Princess Peach and her handmaiden, Toadette, were already at the gate waiting for him. They wasted no time ushering him inside, leading him to an empty room. Peach walked to the center of the room while Toadette closed and locked the door behind them. 
“Alright Princess, I’m here, can you please, tell me what’s going on now?” Luigi said following the princess to the center of the room. 
“I need you to attend an upcoming ball for me, I must leave the kingdom posthaste. I’m needed elsewhere, some personal issues have arisen and can no longer be delayed. Toadette will help you make sure you’re well-prepared for the ball and any other situations that may occur in my absence. I will be writing you as soon as I arrive at my first stop, the Flower Kingdom, in Sarasa Land, as I promised to keep you and Toadette updated.”
“Princess, you’re still keeping us in the dark, why can nobody know about what we’re doing?”
She was nervous, so she took a second to think before responding, “Mario would try to stop me, he wouldn’t approve of it. I cannot risk anyone preventing me from doing what must be done. I apologize to both you and Toadette for being so vague, but please, trust me.”
Luigi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Going against his better judgment, he decided to trust her. He dropped his stuff onto the ground and turned towards Toadette who was now approaching him.
“Alright, what first?”
Toadette spoke up, “We need to get you fitted to Her Highness’ garments, we have also prepared a wig and a cover for the lower half of your face. Follow me, Sir Luigi, the Princess will wait here for when we’re finished.”
Toadette took him by the hand and hurriedly led Luigi to the Princess' chambers. The garments Luigi needed to try on were lying on the bed, seemingly prepared before Luigi’s arrival. Toadette instructs him to change into the chemise and she’ll take his old clothes to his other belongings and then lace his corset. Luigi went behind a dressing screen in the room and handed Toadette his clothes. 
He was left alone to think about what he’d gotten himself into, getting himself in the chemise and stockings. He was beyond embarrassed, he couldn’t bear looking at himself in the mirror on the opposite side of the dressing screen. He knew he would have to at some point but chose to wait until he was in the full disguise. Unfortunately for Luigi, Toadette returned motioning for him to sit and lift his arms. She made quick work getting the corset on him and then promptly lacing it. 
“So, what do you know about the ball, Toadette?” Luigi asked, breaking the silence.
“I know that it takes place on the Winter Solstice and it’s held in Her Highness’ honor. And… that we’re going to need to do something about that mustache…”
“Absolutely not, this is where I draw the line-”
“Sir Luigi we don’t have a choice, you can’t use a fan all the time to conceal the lower half of your face.” Toadette was stern.
“I want answers from the princess before we discuss this any further.” Luigi stood up and marched to the door, irritation and fear plastered to his face. 
Toadette chased after him, calling out in a vain attempt to get him to slow down or stop. Luigi threw open the doors to the Princess’ bedroom and found she was nowhere to be seen. His face paled and Toadette, panting behind him, was confused until she caught up to him.
“Oh… oh no.” Toadette gasped, her hands covering her mouth.
Luigi turned towards Toadette fighting tears, “Toadette. I’m done playing mind games with you tell me EVERYTHING.” Luigi’s voice cracked.
Toadette shrunk, “All I know is that since she was pulled aside and notified of the ball, she hasn’t been the same. I don’t know what about it has got her so worked up, she said the ball was celebrating the Winter Solstice, however, I doubt it now. I swear I know nothing more, she’s been unusually distant as of late. She was just here! She was here when I dropped off your clothes.” she sounded like she was one second away from crying.
Luigi frantically began looking for the belongings he had brought with him. Gone. All of it was gone.
Luigi is overcome with panic, “She deserted us… She-”
“Sir Luigi, we must get back to the fitting now that the princess is no longer here.” Toadette regained her composure, the gravity of the new situation donning on her.
Luigi did not attempt to resist and followed her to put on the rest of his new clothes. 
He looked at himself in the mirror while Toadette laced the back of the bodice and adjusted his wig. It was uncanny how much he resembled the princess.
“Sir Luigi, we must remove your mustache now. Do you know what they’ll do to us if they find out we let the real princess disappear?” Toadette’s tone is stern and serious.
“How are you going to explain the nose?” Luigi scoffed, folding his arms.
“We can say you were stung or bitten by something if anyone asks, now hold still, I don’t wish to nic your face.” She responded quickly.
It seems she had thought everything through, she turned him to face her and began to prep his face for shaving. Luigi was still fighting against it until she brought out a blade. He froze and she took the opportunity to shave his mustache off in two flicks of the wrist.
Luigi whipped around and began mourning once he saw a clean-shaven face staring back at him. He crumpled to the ground clutching his face, silent sobs racking his body.
“I do apologize, Sir Luigi, it had to be done. I’m hoping you will not have to do this for too long. The princess ordered me to make you look the most like her, including mustache removal.” Toadette apologized, her voice was sincere and remorseful. 
She took this as her cue to leave as Luigi didn’t respond. After hearing the door click shut, he couldn’t silence his sobs any longer. He moved to the bed, his crying filled the now empty room.
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AN: hey sorry its been so long I'm working on the requests and the next chap, ive been super sick and busy ;( I hope you all are having a great day/night <3
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ozzgin · 4 months ago
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Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut, NSFW!
I’m harping on that arranged marriage trope again, but imagine being kidnapped as a spouse for a monstrous demon lord who has a thing for humans. You’re not the first attempt, but the household servants have truly lost count on how many humans crossed their threshold. Some ran away, some were eaten alive: none of the poor, frail mortals could handle the grotesque creature and his equally terrifying temper.
They guide you to the sleeping chambers with a pitiful gaze. They expect to pick up your scattered body tomorrow morning and scrub the dried blood off the floors.
What no one took into consideration was that you’re a shameless monster fucker. One glance at the beastly husband, and you fumble to remove your clothes with trembling hands. This is going to be good, you tell yourself, face flushed in obvious arousal. His unholy majesty certainly didn’t expect you’d hop straight on his dick, no questions asked. Not that he’s complaining much; on the contrary, it takes mere seconds for him to become completely feral.
The next day, you peacefully sip on your tea, pretending not to notice the baffled stares of the servants. If that wasn’t shocking enough, their master walks in with a genuine smile on his face.
Who would’ve thought, all he needed was a good fuck.
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[More Monsters] | [Part 2]
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