#attempted arranged marriage

[wangxianficrecs]

Catharsis by Starfell123

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.)

[imhereformysciencefriends]

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

***

“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.

[hellcifrogs]

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.

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.

[nostalgia-tblr]

u know, once someone has pointed out the orientalism in most of fandom's depictions of jotun!loki you can never unsee it.

[yellow-faerie]

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.

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

Beauty, the Pea, and the Beast

Chapter 4: Check Please!

Word Count - 1.2k

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

“Bowser is humbly requesting the Princess’ presence in the room down the hall. He said you are also welcome to join if she so desires. What shall I tell him?”

“One moment please, the princess and I need to discuss this before she answers.” Toadette says before closing the door.

Toadette turns to Luigi, “Ultimately this is your choice, but I highly advise you don’t go.”

“Why not? I’ve been with him this entire time, I think I can handle myself fine with him.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about- I mean I was worried about that but-”

“I’m going to accept, I can’t just sit in here the whole time, who knows when Mario is going to rescue us, now if you’ll excuse me I’d like to get out of this and get myself cleaned up at the very least, I’m pretty sure there are leaves in my hair.” Luigi gestures to his wig.

Toadette did her best to hold her tongue but still let something slip.

“The princess would NEVER accept that request this quickly… I’ll help you clean up and get ready I suppose, would you also like me to accompany you?” Toadette asked, somewhat irritated.

“Thank you, I think it would be a better idea if I were to go alone.”

Toadette let out a frustrated sigh but didn’t push Luigi any further seeing as he isn’t going to listen to her. The air was tense as Toadette helped Luigi get the corset off and began picking out his next outfit, a simple puffy pale blue dress with a high collar and frilly long sleeves.

Toadette told the koopa at the door that the princess would be out shortly and has decided to join Bowser by herself, and to stay by the door so he can assist her once she’s ready.

By the time she was finished with everything Luigi was ready for Toadette to help with his corsets once again.

“How did they get you?” Luigi asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“How did they manage to get you here?”

“They got me when they sent most of the guards out to try to intercept you and Bowser.” Toadette said while tightening and tying the corset together.

“Well princess you’re ready for your… date.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Luigi scoffed and limped his way to the door, ignoring Toadette. He allowed the koopa who was outside the door to help him get down the hall. 

Once they approached the room where Bowser was waiting, the koopa ran over to open the doors revealing a large room barely illuminated by candles that were scattered around the room. There were some servants and guards around the perimeter of the room watching and waiting. In the center of the room there was a long narrow table decorated with various flowers, two sets of flatware, and more candles near the center. Bowser was seated at the end furthest from the door. When Luigi made eye contact with Bowser, he noticed the look of shock plastered to his face. Luigi quickly looked away, now both embarrassed and more irritated than before, took a seat at the other end of the table. 

Bowser regained his composure and made a gesture at the servants standing in the room causing them to practically run out of the room. 

“Well don’t you look stunning.” Bowser purred, he rested his arm and leaned over the table. A smug grin growing on his face. Ugh. Luigi wanted to slap that look off his face.

Luigi scoffed, not bothering to humor him any further.

“What’s wrong Peaches? Why so cold, isn’t this what you wanted? A date with the most handsome man in the land? Someone to have you on his arm, if only you smiled more–”

Luigi scowled, raised his finger and opened his mouth to say something when the doors burst open, an array of servants rushing in with countless different dishes. They hastily laid them on the table and served both Bowser and Luigi. Everything was going smoothly until one of the servants missed Luigi’s plate.

The servant apologized profusely to Luigi and Bowser saying that they will do better and it won’t happen again. They had dropped to their knees pleading for forgiveness before they felt a hand on their shoulder, and were promptly brought to their feet and turned around being met with Bowser looming over them. Bowser crouched down to be at eye-level with them, his hand still resting on their shoulder.

Bowser leaned closer to the trembling servant, whispering, the burning rage in his fiery eyes not matching his calm smile. “I told you, one more fuck up–” he points to the window, “Out you go.”

He lifted them up by the shoulder with ease, and strode towards the window, moved the curtain and held them outside. The servant was hysterical, yet Bowser said nothing. He looked down upon them, then let go.

Luigi stared at Bowser, his mouth wide open, he was utterly terrified. He felt as if there was glue sticking him to his seat. He wanted to do nothing more than run at that very moment.

Bowser dusted himself off, took a deep breath and turned back towards Luigi, now smiling.

“Anyways– what’s wrong Peaches? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Luigi said nothing. What could he say? This was completely INSANE behavior. He really hoped Mario would get him out of this mess as soon as possible.

Bowser interrupted Luigi’s thoughts. He sounded worried, “That guy? He’s fine, I swear, look!” He moved away from the window.

Luigi slowly and shakily stood up, approaching the window. He cautiously peered over the edge expecting the worst. He saw the servant looking back up at him from a trough, he looked wet and oh-so pathetic, limbs dangling over the edges. Luigi looked back at Bowser, mouth agape.

“See!? I told you! He’s FINE!” Bowser dramatically threw his arms towards the window.

“You could have KILLED him! Why would you do that?!” Luigi screamed, tears now threatening to fall.

Bowser recoiled, for once he had nothing to defend himself with. The princess had never seen him discipline anyone before, after all.

“The only reason why I accepted this—” Luigi gestured wildly to the table; “WHATEVER- was because I am absolutely STARVING. If I knew this was how you were going to treat both me and your staff then I would have told you to ROT in HELL.” Luigi was sobbing, his arms still resting on the window sill.

Bowser tried to approach Luigi and rested his hand on him, causing Luigi to flinch away and hiss, “Don’t you DARE touch me!”

Luigi limped away to the table, bracing himself, laughing, “Ha. To think I was going to hear you out mere minutes ago, hoping you were going to apologize.”

Luigi straightened up and hobbled his way to the door, turning around once he reached it, “You’re utterly inhuman.” Luigi stated, emotionless, before he walked through the doors, slamming them behind him.

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[green-mountain-goose]

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[deadlyrose9086]

"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

[yohohonabottle]

"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...)

[kitwilsonsass]

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-

[greendragonqueen]

"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...

[starpros-sunshine]

wait what’s going on in the fine climax event ??

If only I could tell you

[whenthegoldrays]

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.

[theorphicangel]

clingy bf!sukuna...who swears that he is anything but clingy until he meets you.

clingy to the point where he follows you to the bathroom, keeping you company whilst you take a bath or a shower.

'Sukuna get out.'

'No I gotta piss.'

'You said that fifteen minutes ago and you're still here.'

'Gotta make sure you don't drown or something, you would do some stupid shit like that.'

'Gee thanks.'

also bf!sukuna being clingy to the point where he hangs around the kitchen whilst you cook or clean, following you around just to piss you off.

sukuna being clingy to the point where if you even move an inch off the couch whilst watching a movie, he immediately pauses the screen and asks you where you're going

'to get the popcorn obviously'

'oh.'

but the most clingy version of sukuna is when you wake up early in the morning and attempt to get ready for work.

keyword: attempt

it's like fighting a whole big cat similar to ones that you see in the zoo, sukuna's warm body trapping you in place underneath the sheets.

'i'm not doing this again with you sukuna...'

'mhmmmm.'

'i'm serious' you pinch his tattooed skin yet there's no reaction.

'm' serious too babe.' he groans. His eyes are closed with his pink locks messily arranged. His two hands wrap around your waist with nothing but security. 'you're not leaving.'

'I have a job, a commitment.'

'Is our marriage not a commitment?'

'we're not married 'kuna.'

There's a pause and for a second you think that Sukuna has fallen back to sleep.

'yet.'

'what did you just say?!'

[ozzgin]

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.

[More Monsters] | [Part 2]

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

Beauty, the Pea, and the Beast

Chapter 3: Mario and the Round Table

Word Count - 1.8k

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

Back in the Mushroom Kingdom at Princess Peach’s castle, Mario stood at the head of a long table, surrounded by guards; the idle chattering throwing echoes around the conference room.

“Due to the absence of Sir Luigi we will have to proceed without him.” Mario spoke, causing the room to fall silent.

“Has anyone received any messages regarding my brother?” He spoke again in a vain attempt to learn anything about his whereabouts.

Only a few solemn shakes of heads and deafening silence followed. He didn’t want to show it but he was destroying himself over his brother’s disappearance. He refused to believe that Luigi had run away or that something had happened to him.

Mario took a deep breath, silencing his thoughts and focusing on the task at hand.

“We are here today to discuss the plans of finding our beloved princess to bring her home and reunite her with her fiance-”

Before Mario could finish, the doors burst open catching the attention of everyone in the room. A short figure could be seen striding into the conference room, making his way to Mario’s side.

“Your highness, I thought we discussed that you needn’t be here today-”

“WOE, WOE IS ME-” Prince Peasley cried, draping an arm over his forehead. 

“Sir Mario, how could you expect ME to stay on the side whilst my betrothed is being held captive by that repulsive BEAST- that repulsive KING OF BEASTS-” Prince Peasley was clutching his chest with his free hand.

“Your HIGHNESS-” Mario interjected, “I understand your worries and frustrations, however, this display of emotions is precisely why I thought it best for you to not attend. We must do our best not to panic. If you insist upon being here please take a moment to soothe yourself, while we discuss our next course of action.”

Prince Peasley looked like a wounded animal, clearly a harsh blow had been dealt to his ego. In one final vain attempt at getting the upper hand, opened his mouth and pointed at Mario.

“Well I never- how DARE you-”

“One more outburst, and I will have you escorted out of here, your highness. You may rule the Bean Bean Kingdom but in this room I am in charge.” Mario said through gritted teeth.

The knights around the table stared in awe at the scene before them. The prince was about to say something further but pursed his lips and huffed walking towards an empty seat.

Mario took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“As I was saying, we need to gather our troops to set out and rescue her majesty. They should be arriving at Bowser’s castle any day now. Does anyone have any ideas before I continue?”

Prince Peasley opened his mouth when a lone toad spoke,

“How about we send a small group to go in under cover and sneak her out and have another troop be a distraction?”

Mario nodded slowly, “Not bad, not bad at all, what else do we have?”

“I would suggest Toadette to be in charge of the undercover party, but due to her unexpected kidnapping I am offering to hire two mercenaries to lead instead-”

Prince Peasley leapt from his seat and jumped onto the table, completely disrupting the diorama of Bowser’s castle shouting,

“Then I shall lead the distraction and whisk the lovely princess off her feet while the beast is distracted!”

Mario shot him a look that could kill, “No, you will under no circumstances be joining us, it is far too dangerous for you to be there. It is in the best interest of both your kingdom and our kingdom that you stay here. I will lead the distraction group, he will be expecting me to be there.”

Prince Peasley pouted, sitting down on the table resting his head on his hand. 

“I will need you to be on your way, I fear you are not mentally well enough to stay, it is clear to me that this kidnapping has damaged your psyche.” Mario said, barely masking the relief in his voice.

Now completely dejected, Prince Peasley got off the table and sulked his way out of the room, the doors closing and locking behind him.

“Finally, now- without any more distractions-”

~~~~~~~

They had arrived at the castle, this was the first time Luigi had seen it from the front. He was in awe, it truly was as magnificent as it was daunting. The castle was surrounded by a large moat filled with lava that illuminated the ornate stone exterior. Luigi was just standing there mesmerized by every last detail.

“What is with you Peaches? You’re acting like you’ve never seen my glorious castle before. Are you sure that fall didn’t mess with your head at all?” 

Luigi looked away from the castle to Bowser and silently glared at him. Bowser noticed this and stopped talking.

The atmosphere for the rest of the walk was thick, permeating with awkward silence and the occasional sound of Luigi’s crutch hitting the carpet. Luigi was still admiring the castle’s interior, albeit less outwardly. The halls were adorned with paintings of Bowser and what Luigi assumed to be his relatives; he couldn’t help but admire the sublime quality each painting had. One painting had stuck out to him— a large painting of Bowser with a child that resembled him, was that his son?! Bowser has a SON?? 

How had he never heard- nay SEEN his son?

Luigi had directed his gaze towards the stone floor that was covered in a long red carpet trimmed with gold. He was embarrassed to say the least, what else did he not know about Bowser? More importantly, why didn’t the princess OR Toadette mention this beforehand— the possibility of this happening was there why didn’t they tell him-

“What’s on your mind Peaches?” Bowser asked carefully.

“My ankle is bothering me, that’s all.” He sighed.

“Well then, why don’t you allow me to carry you?”

Luigi paused, the offer was tempting, very tempting. However, he wasn’t desperate enough to sacrifice his dignity, not yet.

“Not unless there’s a massive staircase or something similar.” Luigi stated coldly.

“If you say so.” Bowser chuckled.

At this point they were rounding a corner revealing a large spiral staircase with an occasional window allowing light to flood in.

“...”

Bowser went to open his mouth to say something before Luigi cut him off.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything, just get me up the stairs.”

Bowser smirked before gently scooping Luigi up to carry him bridal style and began the ascent. The trek up the stairs was quiet as Luigi refused to say anything until he was on the ground again, how humiliating.

As they reached the top, where the stairs ended, a hallway lined with doors on either side began. Bowser took two steps into the hallway when Luigi was demanding to be put down.

“Alright, alright stop moving or I’ll drop you- NOT on purpose.”

Luigi relented as Bowser carefully placed him back onto the ground, then he used the crutch to begin hobbling again.

“We’re almost there Peaches, I would have changed your room to a room on the lower levels but I couldn’t get them up to your standards in time. I wasn’t anticipating an opening so soon. However, I digress. If you would like, I could begin getting one of the rooms on a lower floor ready for you.”

“That would be nice- What do you mean ‘an opening’?” 

“To bring you here, of course.”

Luigi was dumbfounded, did he seriously not view THIS as KIDNAPPING?!

“...oh…” Luigi couldn’t muster anything else.

“Ah! Here we are- behind this door is where you’ll be staying until the next room is ready.”

Bowser opened the door, ushering Luigi to go in front of him. As soon as Luigi looked into the room he saw a large ornate mirror sitting on a dresser, and the first thing that caught his attention was his own reflection. Specifically his nose, then where his mustache used to sit.

Luigi burst into tears, which quickly turned into full blown wailing. He dropped to the floor and put his face in his hands, barely muffling the sound of his sobs. Bowser froze for a moment before crouching down to Luigi’s level.

“Aw Peaches, is this about your nose again? I really think you look more beautiful with your [new] nose.”

Luigi wailed even louder than Bowser could have ever imagined… times 4. Bowser tensed further, completely lost as to what he should say to help calm the princess down.

“Peaches, why is this bothering you so much, were you cursed by a magician or something?-” Luigi, in between sobs, screamed at Bowser. “MY NOSE IS COMPLETELY NORMAL AND THAT IS NOT WHAT I AM UPSET ABOUT-”

Luigi’s voice cracked and he returned to sobbing into his hands.

“Then what’s got you so-”

“Ahem.” A familiar voice interrupted.

Luigi lifted his head and faced the source of the voice and found none other than Toadette surrounded by koopas. 

“King Bowser I can take things from here, I must kindly ask you to leave, now. All of you.” Toadette stated firmly.

Bowser nodded, gathered the koopas, and closed the door behind them.

Luigi had calmed down slightly after being reunited with Toadette.

“Luigi what happened to your dress? Why do you have a crutch? Are you okay?” Toadette rushed to his side helping up and got him situated on a chair.

“I twisted my ankle and got caught in a few bushes, other than that I think I’m okay.” Luigi sniffled.

“Then why are you crying so loudly? Did something else happen?” Toadette was concerned at this point, thinking he hit his head or worse.

“I’m still torn up about my mustache and my ankle is killing me-”

“Are you joking? The ankle I understand, I’ll have someone fetch something cold for it. But the mustache? STILL?! You’ll be able to grow it back once the princess returns.”

“Have you heard from her, or Mario?” Luigi said no longer crying at this point.

“Still nothing from the princess. As for Mario he was searching for you and even came to the castle to plan your rescue. I believe the meeting should have been held a day or so ago…”

“Mario is looking for me?”

“Of course he is. He came to the castle for you not to help us rescue the ‘princess’.”

“I didn’t think he’d notice this soon. I had written to him when I had arrived at the castle.”

“Regardless- He’s going to get us out of here, I don’t know when and I don’t know how but he will. We just have to be calm until then, and maybe try not to get injured and destroy our clothes.”

Luigi nodded, allowing himself to relax when there was a knock at the door. Toadette scowled before getting up and answering the door.

“Bowser is humbly requesting the Princess’ presence in the room down the hall. He said you are also welcome to join if she so desires. What shall I tell him?”

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