#Or the one where a man has to agree to die at his wedding

[sandymybeloved]

School Reunion is probably one of the lightest episodes Sarah Jane appears in post 2005, pretty impressive for a character with their own children's TV show

[lovelytsunoda]

glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri

summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.

pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader

warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)

“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”

oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“but why?”

oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”

y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.

who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.

“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”

oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”

she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”

it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).

it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.

she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.

this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?

she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”

oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”

that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.

why on earth was she agreeing to this?

“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”

the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.

“oscar, what are you doing?”

he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”

god, this man was going to be the death of her.

————

she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.

from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.

she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.

they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.

"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.

oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.

"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"

"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.

she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.

"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.

my boyfriend oscar.

"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.

oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."

carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."

"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.

oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.

australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.

but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.

________

"you've got to be shitting me."

she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.

except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.

a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.

"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"

she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"

oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.

"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."

did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?

she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.

"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."

"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.

she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.

if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-

nope. we're not going there today.

she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?

when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?

he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.

all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?

wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.

he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.

it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.

he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.

the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.

he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.

he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.

and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.

“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.

she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.

“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”

“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”

they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.

"yes."

she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.

she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.

she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.

"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."

oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"

"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."

god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."

"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."

oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."

"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.

"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."

"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."

"i look forward to it."

oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.

"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.

she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.

"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."

she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.

in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.

"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.

it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.

"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."

he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."

he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.

-------

they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.

"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."

"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."

"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"

fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.

the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.

she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.

"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."

she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."

oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."

"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."

"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."

-------

the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.

that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.

but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.

oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.

"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."

oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"

y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."

oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"

all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.

y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.

sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.

"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."

"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."

the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.

"can i have this dance, my love?"

she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.

man, she could really get used to this.

get used to oscar.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.  

word count: 2,764 

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later 

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible. 

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose. 

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King. 

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King. 

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news. 

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought. 

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you. 

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor. 

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else. 

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong. 

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem. 

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that. 

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words? 

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said. 

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

[writingduhh]

Would love to see a Fake Dating trope with Schlatt if you want 👀

This trope has been rotting my brain 😮‍💨

YES I LOVE ITTTT! Sorry for the mega mega delay

Jschlatt || The Perfect Scam

Summary: When you need a date to your cousin's wedding, your best friend Schlatt suggests the perfect plan: fake dating. But what starts as a convenient arrangement soon spirals into something more. (fem reader)

You had never been more desperate for a date in your life. Your cousin’s wedding was this weekend, and the idea of showing up alone while your ex flaunted their new relationship made you want to hurl. Unfortunately, every attempt to find a plus-one had failed miserably, leaving you with only one option: suffer through it or... well, you didn’t know what else.

Schlatt, your best friend, wasn’t much help either. He was leaning back in his chair, sipping a beer with a lazy grin as you ranted about your predicament. “You could always just tell everyone you’re happily single,” he suggested with a shrug.

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “They’ll never believe that. My family is obsessed with relationships! It’s bad enough they’re already convinced I’ll die alone.

Schlatt chuckled, the sound rich and amused. “What you need is a fake boyfriend,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief. “Someone who can make your ex jealous and shut up your nosy relatives all in one go.”

You looked at him skeptically. “And where exactly am I supposed to find someone willing to do that on such short notice?”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You’re looking at him, sweetheart.”

The idea hit you like a ton of bricks. Schlatt... as your fake boyfriend? You couldn’t deny it made sense—he was charming, confident, and definitely knew how to play the part. But you also knew Schlatt, and the guy lived for chaos. Agreeing to this would be like handing him a golden ticket to mess with you for an entire weekend.

Yet, as you considered the alternative, Schlatt’s offer didn’t seem so bad. You sighed, the weight of the situation pressing on you. “Alright, Schlatt. You’re on. But no funny business, okay?”

He put a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind. Schlatt threw himself into the role with an enthusiasm that both amused and unsettled you. He insisted on practicing hand-holding, linking your arms whenever you were out in public, and even coming up with pet names that made your skin crawl—and secretly your heart flutter.

“Come on, babe, we’ve got to make this convincing,” Schlatt would tease, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. You’d roll your eyes but couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened at his touch.

The wedding day arrived too soon, and you found yourself standing outside the venue, nerves buzzing through you like electricity. Schlatt was beside you, looking more handsome than ever in his suit, his signature smirk in place.

“Ready to pull off the scam of the century?” he asked, offering you his arm.

You took it, your heart racing. “Let’s do this.”

Inside the venue, Schlatt played the perfect boyfriend. He was attentive, affectionate, and never missed a beat in making sure everyone saw just how ‘in love’ you two were. His hand rested on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, and his fingers would brush against yours in fleeting, yet charged, touches.

You approached your parents, and your mom’s eyes lit up when she saw you with Schlatt. “Oh my goodness, you brought someone!” she exclaimed, giving you both a warm smile. “And such a handsome young man too.”

“Mom,” you warned, already sensing her wheels turning.

Schlatt grinned, taking your mom’s hand and giving it a charming squeeze. “Mrs. [Your Last Name], the pleasure is all mine. I’ve been dying to meet the woman who raised such an incredible person.”

Your mom practically melted on the spot, while your dad gave Schlatt a once-over, trying to size him up. “So, how long have you two been together?” your dad asked, his tone casual but curious.

“Oh, it feels like forever,” Schlatt said smoothly, slipping his arm around your waist. “I knew [Your Name] was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

You shot Schlatt a look, trying to gauge if he was joking, but his expression was unreadable. Your dad raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “And what do you do for a living, Schlatt?”

Schlatt flashed a confident smile. “I run a few businesses here and there, nothing too fancy. Just enough to keep things interesting.” He winked at you, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your dad seemed satisfied enough, nodding slowly.

“Well, as long as you treat [Your Name] right,” your dad said, his tone firm.

“Like royalty,” Schlatt replied with a smirk. “You have my word.”

You were just starting to relax when you spotted your ex across the room, walking hand in hand with their new partner. They noticed you too, their eyes narrowing slightly as they took in Schlatt’s arm around you. Your heart sped up, the old insecurities bubbling to the surface.

Schlatt leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Showtime, babe.”

Before you could respond, Schlatt was guiding you toward your ex, his posture relaxed, but his grip on your waist firm. “Well, well, look who it is,” Schlatt drawled as you approached, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fancy running into you here.”

Your ex looked from you to Schlatt, their expression carefully neutral. “It’s been a while,” they said, their tone polite but with an edge.

“Yeah, it has,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “This is Schlatt, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Schlatt said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Your ex hesitated before shaking his hand, his grip just a tad too firm. “Likewise.”

Schlatt didn’t miss a beat, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, [Your Name] and I were just talking about how lucky we are to have found each other,” he said, his voice dripping with affection. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Your ex’s smile tightened, but they managed to keep their cool. “I’m glad you’re happy,” they said, though it sounded forced.

“Never been happier,” you replied, leaning into Schlatt, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. You weren’t sure if it was the wine or something else, but being in his arms felt... right.

Schlatt’s fingers traced patterns on your back as he spoke, his voice low and intimate. “We should be get back to the party, babe. Don’t want to miss our song.

You nodded, letting Schlatt lead you away. Once you were out of earshot, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You really laid it on thick back there,” you muttered, but there was no real bite in your words.

Schlatt just shrugged, his smile playful. “What can I say? I’m a man of my word. Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a softer tone, “it’s not hard pretending to be crazy about you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you hoped the dim lighting hid the blush creeping up your neck. Schlatt was always flirty, always joking, but something about the way he said that made your heart flutter.

The reception was in full swing by this point, the dance floor packed with couples swaying to the music. Schlatt kept you close, his hands resting on your hips as you danced together. The night had a dreamy quality to it, like you were floating on a cloud with Schlatt as your anchor.

“You’re a better dancer than I thought,” you teased, grinning up at him.

He chuckled, spinning you around before pulling you back into his chest. “I have my moments,” he replied, his tone light. “But you make it easy, you know.”

“Make what easy?”

“Being with you,” he said, his voice sincere. “I know this is just pretend, but... it feels real sometimes.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the honesty in his words. “It does, doesn’t it?” you admitted quietly.

The song slowed, and Schlatt’s gaze locked onto yours, something unspoken passing between you. The playful banter, the stolen glances, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he touched you—it all started to add up to something more.

“Schlatt,” you began, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say or how to say it, and the intensity of his gaze made it even harder to think straight.

Before you could figure it out, the moment was interrupted by your mom, who appeared out of nowhere, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You two are just the cutest!” she gushed, clasping her hands together. “I knew you’d find someone special, [Your Name]. And Schlatt, you’re such a gentleman. We’re so happy to have you in the family.”

You smiled awkwardly, trying to process her words. Family? This was fake, wasn’t it? But the way Schlatt’s hand tightened on your waist as your mom spoke made your heart do a funny little flip.

“Thank you, Mrs. [Your Last Name],” Schlatt replied smoothly. “I’m the lucky one, really. Your daughter is... she’s amazing.”

Your mom beamed, clearly charmed by him. “Well, I hope you both know you’re always welcome here.”

“Mom,” you started, but Schlatt cut you off with a gentle squeeze.

“We appreciate that,” Schlatt said, smiling down at you. “Right, babe?”

You could only nod, your thoughts a tangled mess. The line between what was real and what was fake had blurred beyond recognition, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep pretending.

As the night wore on, the reception began to wind down, and the guests slowly trickled out. You and Schlatt stepped outside for some fresh air, the cool breeze a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

“You were amazing tonight,” you said, turning to face Schlatt. “I can’t believe you pulled that off so well.”

He shrugged, his expression softer than usual. “Anything for you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you found yourself searching his eyes for any hint of a joke. But all you saw was... him. The Schlatt you’d always known, but also someone you hadn’t fully understood until now.

“Schlatt, I...” you began, but your voice trailed off, the words dying on your lips. You didn’t know how to say what you were feeling, how to admit that maybe—just maybe—this hadn’t been as fake as you’d thought.

Schlatt stepped closer, his hand reaching up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a tender caress. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and...”

“And?” you prompted, your heart racing in anticipation.

“And I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now,” he admitted, his eyes locking onto yours. “This weekend just made me realize it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. “Schlatt, I... I think I’ve been falling for you too,” you confessed, your voice shaky but sincere.

The tension between you was electric, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Schlatt leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but then the floodgates opened, and the kiss deepened, full of all the emotions you’d been holding back.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“That didn’t feel very fake,” you whispered , a small smile tugging at your lips.

Schlatt chuckled softly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your cheek. “That’s because it wasn’t,” he replied, his voice full of warmth. “I don’t want this to be fake anymore. I want us to be real.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “Me too.”

And just like that, what started as a pretend relationship had blossomed into something real, something that neither of you had expected but both of you wanted more than anything.

As you stood there in Schlatt’s arms, the night sky above you, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this weekend hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but in the end, it had turned out better than you could have ever imagined.

[gatitties]

Hello again my little butterfly 🦋✨

I came to place another order if that's ok! so, the scenario is a One Piece AU, where YN has an arranged marriage with Shanks, who is one of the richest men in town, but even so, YN decides to run away on her wedding day and throw herself off a bridge, but she can't, they find her and the family manages to bring her back to the wedding, Shanks is a man very much in love with YN, the moment he sees the sadness in YN's eyes when she walks up the aisle and puts the ring on her finger Shanks, he decides to conquer her and make her the happiest wife in the world! ( PS: Shanks is in a desperate situation when he learns that his beloved literally decided to throw herself off a bridge rather than stay with him, even little sad :( )

─Shanks x wife!reader

─Summary: you didn't want to be part of that ceremony, but you're not brave enough to run away either

─Warnings: slight mention of suicide attempt, modern AU

Oh hi hi love!! 🫶🏻🦋 you really like angst 😳

You ignored the perplexed looks of people, without stopping or thinking about a second option, you gripped the thin white fabric of your wedding dress harder so as not to trip over it, your shoes had long since disappeared so you could run more comfortably. You didn't want this, you didn't want to marry an unknown guy, no one thought about your feelings? It's not something your parents have the right to play with and you weren't going to let them ruin your life for financial convenience.

The moment adrenaline started to increase when you saw how you were now being persecuted, probably due to the absence in the ceremony that was taking place in the nearby church, you felt bad for the man you had been engaged to, since it wasn't his fault either and you didn't even know him enough to determine that he was a horrible person, but this decision was too hasty and you definitely didn't agree to this.

With your heart in your throat you ran until you tripped over your own sore feet, your breathing accelerated even more when you heard shouts of your name, taking courage again you stood up with a new impetus, although when you noticed how the distance between your pursuers was shortening more and more, your brain began to draw an extreme line in your thoughts.

Would it hurt? Could you die? Well, you were going to see for yourself what it felt like to jump off a bridge just to avoid facing an unwanted fate.

You quickly climbed onto the thick railing, stabilizing yourself standing on it, the next few seconds felt like a blur, like a part of memory that was difficult to remember, the fear of possible death and the indecision that comes with taking a long time to jump into the void made one of the guys chasing you caught you before you did something crazy.

The next thing you know after that, you were back in one of the private rooms of the church, being yelled at by your mother while your father looked on disapprovingly, you didn't care, nothing mattered to you at that moment, you let them go back to put on your makeup, you let them put new shoes on you and they changed the dirty surface fabric of your dress as if you were a doll, lifeless.

The ceremony returned to its course, Shanks waited awkwardly all this time at the altar, and when he saw you appear next to him his heart shattered, you weren't even looking at him, your eyes were lost somewhere far away in this unwanted reality, you lacked any kind of expression. He knew it, he knew how you felt, and yet he felt a little selfish for wanting to be your husband, for wanting to love you unconditionally, this marriage may be arranged, but he admired every drop of courage you poured out to prevent this event, every anger and every fierce response you gave to the first meetings between both families.

"Now… husband and wife, you can kiss each other."

You were both so absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely heard the priest's last words. Shanks was the first to step forward, holding your waist slowly as if he were asking permission and asking if it was okay to do so. You didn't move an inch, your eyes were still lost even when he sealed your fate with a cold kiss devoid of love, at least, lacking on your part.

Shanks knew it wouldn't be easy, that you weren't going to trust, that he wasn't going to receive tons of affection, even looks, he knew you were in a delicate state, after all, you'd rather almost kill yourself than get married.

You didn't bother with his emotions, you didn't bother to ask about his tastes, his hobbies or how his day had been, you just spent the days dead, repeating your routine, your life remained the same in a way, a few more numbers in the account. but in exchange of what? Your freedom and decision. You were hurt, you had been damaged by your own parents, your emotional wounds would not heal overnight and you would refuse to show a modicum of affection until you recovered.

Shanks knew that he would have to sleep alone for months, that an empty house would await him, that all his praise and gifts would be quickly discarded, but it doesn't matter, maybe you didn't look for him or you didn't want him, but as your husband, he would do everything he could to at least help you cope with the situation, he really loves you, but it won't be easy to win your affection because you never wanted this.

Your heart began to heal over time, it took a long time, you decided to completely break the relationship with your family, although before they were the only ones you could turn to, Shanks showed you that he would be there, that despite not being the husband that you chose as such, made you trust him, made you feel loved again.

He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't the most wonderful person in the world either, but he proved to be enough for you to stop feeling that emptiness inside your heart, step by step he managed to break the walls that you built around your emotions, Shanks turned out to be something unexpected in your life, someone you didn't think would be so important and he was able to grant some peace, some happiness back into your life.

Maybe you are not yet ready to accept that he is your husband, but you slowly began to meet someone you could voluntarily fall in love with.

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

imagine being forced to marry miggy because it's your canon event and like you both are now

bound by fake vows — miguel o'hara x reader

summary: do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? well, your real choice doesn't matter. choices aren't given to people, they're predetermined by the multiverse. you and miguel were resigned to married life after he discovered it was a canon event for the two of you to be married for... the multiverse only knows how long. not wanting to ruin innocent lives and destroy a whole universe, you accepted your fate and got married to him, but it didn't mean you had to pretend you were happy about it, about being with him. word count: 1,477

"do you take miguel o'hara to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the wedding officiant's voice rang in your head, the bright lights from the windows as the sunlight poured into the room as the witnesses to your marriage to this man looked on, not expecting you to say no because... because there was no way to say no. to them, miguel looked like he was extremely eager to marry you out of love, out of affection for you, like how any ordinary person would want to marry someone dear to them for. but he was only eager to marry you because the multiverse dictated it, you were to be his spouse, you were to make him your husband, and you'd be stuck with him until the multiverse decides it's had its share of fun from your suffering already.

this doesn't feel real. you must be dreaming, right?

it was like you drifted off to sleep and never woke up, like you were living out a dream while being fully conscious, fully awake and living. you were in your new home, and it didn't feel real, you were in a world that you recognized, but at the same time, would never recognize as one you belonged in. you felt like you were in a world that was completely foreign to you, a home that shouldn't be yours but just is now; the sheets and mattress underneath you didn't feel familiar, it felt soft yet rigid all at the same time. it was definitely not your bed, yet you didn't freak out, you knew exactly whose bed this was.

you thought you knew where you were, but you had the feeling your mind was purposefully repressing your recollection of what this place was to you from coming back up and surfacing to the front of your mind, to prevent you from reminding yourself who you were now. you sighed as you threw yourself back onto the bed, feeling the other side of the bed was still warm and thoroughly wrinkled up from tossing and turning the previous night. that warmth, you could tell, wasn't yours. that warmth belonged to the man who now made your life his, but certainly had no intention of making his life yours.

you tried to close your eyes to sleep, to shake off this nightmare of imprisonment, of you agreeing to lose the freedom you deserved and looked forward to your whole life. you gave up your freedom in hopes of saving your dimension from it collapsing in on itself, and you tried not to hate him for keeping you shackled with him for the rest of your days, when all you wanted to do was live your life and see where fate would take you. you had a whole life ahead of yourself, a whole future you wanted to build by yourself; you had to fight your way out of everything that ever hindered you from living out your life the way you wanted it to go, but of course, miguel had to ramble to you that you had to let go of it all to make sure nobody else gets hurt.

why was he telling you all this, why did it have to be you? could the multiverse not have picked anyone else, does the multiverse expect you two to agree and get married so nobody else has to die senselessly from your refusal? what happened to having a choice?

of course. the multiverse hated seeing you happy.

"if it makes you feel any better, i'll take care of everything for you from now on." he muttered to you as he escorted you in his car after the 'ceremony', and though you would've appreciated this small sliver of concern from him, you scorned it due to how dismissive your new husband seemed. he didn't even look at you a single moment in that who process of tying the knot, the knot that kept tied up and bound to him. you didn't feel the least bit embarrassed or guilty for barely giving an audible "i do," to the wedding officiator when you were asked if you'd take miguel as your husband.

all that ran in your mind was: why?

why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why? why?

why me? why him?

you promised yourself you wouldn't cry, you wouldn't choke on any tears, you wouldn't shed any tears as you let go of your autonomy that you fought hard for when you ran away from home, got yourself through college all by yourself, and scrounged enough money for yourself to leave your old life behind and swear never to let anyone, anyone, order you around and dictate how your life would be lived ever again.

but here you were, a new shiny ring on your right hand, one that matched the one on his left--the one he didn't care to wear after the ceremony and placed in his breast pocket because he complained it was 'too small'.

'he dares complain it's too small when he bought these both himself. what a clown.' you thought to yourself as you scowled at him, feeling a hot rumble of upcoming tears well up in your eyes, and a feeling of cold helplessness envelope around you; these conflicting emotions you were experiencing right now were enough to make you go insane. yes, you agreed to marry him, but why lie to yourself and say you were happy to marry him, that you loved him like no other man who entered your life and wanted to spend the rest of your days with him?

why marry the man who stole your freedom from you?

a silence fell upon you two as the tears came falling down upon your new dress, which wasn't at all anything like the dresses your friends donned on their happiest days. you dreamed of your happiest day being probably 5 or 10 years into the future, and yes, you weren't getting any younger, but what kind of life was this? was this even worth living, being reduced to the spouse of a man you merely consider as a colleague at best, a stranger at worst?

he looked over at you from the corner of his eye, his stoic expression unchanging as he darted his eyes from you to the road ahead of him. "...i didn't want this, either." he murmured as you began to sniffle. he didn't offer you any words or touch of comfort, he didn't feel qualified to give you any of that. who was he to you if not a captor, right? he roped you into this, and now, you were both paying the price. "but you let it dictate what would become of us." you whispered with a shiver in your voice as you sobbed.

miguel didn't quiver, he didn't evidently show you he felt guilty for his decision, for your decision to agree with him. he didn't speak to you for the duration of the car ride until he brought you to his home, where you will spend the rest of your life with... until the multiverse says otherwise.

you two were to share a room, unfortunately. though he promises you that he has zero intentions of touching you, he'd sleep on the couch if you wanted, but you couldn't bear to hear it. you headed up to the new room you were sleep in for the remainder of your life and slammed the door on him, with miguel sighing as he clicks his tongue, asking lyla to chill his beer for him as he sat back on the couch and leaned his head back before the AI alerted him his beer was now cold.

as miguel went to get his beer, he stared at his reflection from the glass. who was this sullen, melancholic man staring back at himself? a genius geneticist? an unknowing murderer of a whole universe he never belonged to? a revered and feared leader of a supreme society of spider folk? an overworked man who finds himself sleeping at his desk and waking up at the crack of dawn to back pains and a backlog of work? a husband?

whatever, it didn't matter, not anymore. as he opened his beer and took three gulps of it, he sighed as he looked up at the door of the room that used to be just his. he really hates what he has to do sometimes, but he's the only one who can do it. he knows you care, you don't want innocent lives and a whole universe to be destroyed because of you.

miguel just hates how you had to be dragged in to all of this, all of this chaos he never wanted anyone else to suffer with him.

a/n: might make a part 2 or smth, if tumblr makes this flop, part 2 is out the fucking window 😡

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[laurasimonsdaughter]

is there any aromantic themed folklore stories?

I think that very much depends on your personal definition. Of course there are plenty of folktales that do not include romance, but for me that usually isn't quite enough to consider them aromantic. For me the folk- and fairy tales that feel the most aromantic to me, are the ones where the plot makes me expect there will be a love interest along the way or a wedding at the end, but instead there is neither.

Here are the ones I've taken a personal liking to so far:

The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces

Source: Cape Verdian folktale, collected by E. Parsons from Antonio Soares Rosa in 1916-1917.

Content warnings: princess-shaming.

Character I read as aro: The hero.

Why: He answers a royal proclamation that states that whoever is able to find out how the princess wears out seven pairs of shoes every night can marry her and have half the kingdom. When he accomplishes this, however, he declines the marriage and returns home to build his mother a new house.

Read it: Full text online.

How The Devil Married Three Sisters

Source: Italian folktale, published by Widter and Wolf in 1866.

Content warnings: fairy tale violence, abusive spouse.

Character I read as aro: The youngest of the three sisters.

Why: While the first sister is pleased by her handsome suitor (the devil) and the second sister is also described as "wooed and won" by him, the third agrees to marriage only because he is rich. She proceeds to save her sisters, outsmarts the devil, and they all get away.

Read it: Full text online.

David Cotterson

Source: Danish fairy tale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: suicide contemplation, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The hero, David Cotterson.

Why: His biggest desire is to become a sailor and see the world. In his biggest adventure he defeats a seductive witch, saves a prince who has been cursed to be a dog. He then decided what he wants most of all is to got home to his loving parents, which he does.

Read it: Offline in this book, or my summary online.

The Squire’s Bride

Source: Norwegian folktale, collected by Asbjørnsen and Moe, published 1841-1844.

Content warning: attempted arranged marriage, attempted kidnapping.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, a farmers daughter.

Why: She's being courted by an old, rich squire. She rejects him, not for a better (kinder, younger) suitor, but simply because she doesn't want him. He doesn't back down so she humiliates him to teach him a lesson.

Read it: Full text online.

The Three Brothers

Source: German folktale, collected by the brothers Grimm, published 1857.

Content warning: ends with natural death.

Characters I read as aro: The protagonists, three brothers.

Why: Their father tasks them to learn a trade to show who deserves to inherit their family home. They become a master barber, blacksmith and swordsman, and the third inherits the house. But because they love each other so much they decide to share the house. They live happily and grow old together, after which all three die close together and are laid in the same grave.

Read it: Full text online.

Diarmaid and Grainne

Source: Celtic legend, Scottish variant collected by H. MacLean in 1859, from Alexander Macalister.

Content warning: tragedy, coercion, murder of protagonist.

Character I read as aro: The warrior Diarmaid.

Why: He has a love spot on his face, which he keeps hidden to prevent women from falling in love with him. Grainne (who is married to his lord Fionn) sees it and falls for him, but he refuses to go with her until she outsmarts him and places him under obligation to do so. He goes with her but they live in a house with separate beds. Grainne betrays Diarmaid for yet another man and Diarmaid ends up being killed by Fionn before he realises that Diarmaid has never touched his wife.

Read it: Full text online.

Slawa

Source: Romanian fairy tale, found in a German collection from 1977, sadly unsourced.

Content warning: attempted kidnapping, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, Slawa

Why: She is a poor young woman so beautiful that the cruel tsar wants to marry her. She keeps refusing and he gets violent, so she resorts to defeating him with magic (which she has because she was once a doll brought to life through the love of her parents), so she is free to go see the world.

Read it: You can download my translation here.

King Bear

Source: Danish folktale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: animal death.

Character I read as aro: One of the two protagonists, the eldest of two brothers.

Why: The older brother doesn't fully understand why his younger brother has fallen in love with an imprisoned princess, but helps him win her hand anyway. He stays happily at the royal court, but never marries himself.

Read it: Offline in this book.

And just because I still love them, I did write two literary fairy tales with aro protagonists myself some years ago:

The Man and the Mermaid, in which a man meets a mermaid after losing the woman he thought he wanted to marry.

The River Sprite, in which a woman helps a river sprite who is determined to repay her.

Hope there's something on this list that makes you happy!

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Mother!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Daughter Reader

Rhaenyra has always wanted a daughter, so when you came along, born a second child after Jacaerys, you can't imagine her happiness.

No one in the red keep could see Rhaenyra in the castle walking alone without you trailing behind her like a baby duckling, her hand holding your small one.

Your dragon hatched ever since you were a toddler, but Rhaenyra never allowed you to train it until your early teens, fearing that the beast might hurt you.

Instead she would take you riding with her on Syrax.

Rhaenyra would always coddle you, and if you cause trouble or do something wrong, she will stand up for you, and claim that her little girl is too innocent to commit such a thing.

Jace and Luke are the only ones allowed to be your playmates, as your mother doesn't want you anywhere near Alicent's children especially Aegon.

The Targaryen heiress, would get jealous if you spend time with Laenor, poor man, he would get an earful from her before going to bed about how he shouldn't talk to you about his adventures.

Ser Harwin, your own father, is also rarely allowed to spend time with you.

Yes, Rhaenyra fears that you might one day grow up, and go on your own 'adventures' therefore leaving her.

As you fair into a young lady, many ask for your hand in marriage.

But, she betrothed you to Jacaerys, throwing out of the window, her father's suggestion, to wed you to Aegon.

However, one day, you would have an outburst about her overprotective attitude toward you, after she caught you hanging out with Aemond.

"I can spend time with whoever I want and you can't stop me!"

That didn't go well, because Rhaenyra got upset with your attitude and locked you up in her quarters as a punishment.

Not only that, but your dragon got taken away from you.

In the end, you were forced to apologise just to earn back some freedom.

When your uncle usurpers your mother, and war breaks out after Lucerys' death, things became much worst.

She makes sure you don't go outside, and guards on your door all the time.

Daemon would agree that it is for your own safety.

Yet, the war causes you trauma to the point where you can't connect properly with anyone anymore.

Jace, Joffrey, Viserys (he did not die but you don't know that yet) and Daemon's deaths made you lose hope, even if your mother assured you and Aegon that things will be better.

But, it only got worst when all three of you got captured.

You were forced to watch your mother get eaten by Sunfyre as your younger brother hides in your embrace.

It seems like Aegon's attitude towards you is much worst then that of his older half sister.

"Dear niece, I think our marriage will only end this conflict"

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 11: map / word count: 755 cw:implied sexual content

The situation is this, in two days it's the wedding of his two best friends IN THE WORLD, which is wonderful and James is so excited for them after all they had to go through to get to this moment. He honestly loves them from the bottom of his heart, but maybe he would love them more if they hadn't decided to have the wedding IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOTHING. When they decided to have it in France since Sirius and his brother lived there with their uncle from the moment they ran away from their parents' house, the idea sounded sensational, but upon discovering the great little detail that it would be in a small rural village with zero signs in English, James slowly began to panic a little.

And here he is now, without a map since his phone lost all signal and internet access and subsequently ran out of battery, stuck in an old unheated rental car on a dirt road waiting for an endless flock of sheep to cross and not knowing a lick of French apart from "Bonjour" which won't help in this situation. Oh, and it's now pouring. Fantastic.

And you see, of course James has already considered going out and shooing the sheep out of the way, but contemplating he doesn't know where he's going, that wouldn't be good for the sheep who are probably just trying to get back to their pen, or anyone else. That's the only reason, of course it's not because he's afraid of the sheep. Definitely it isn't. 

When the daylight was almost completely gone and James was resigned to die waiting there (why do they need so many sheep in such a small town), a tapping on his window made him jump out of surprise at the thought that the sheep had finally agreed to hasten his death. A horse and its rider were standing by his window, but in order to see his face James had to roll down the pane and poke his head slightly out of the window.

"Vous avez besoin d'aide?" 

James had never regretted not speaking French as much as he did at this moment. The man on the horse looked like something straight out of a "Horse and Rider" magazine, but hotter. With his shiny black boots, wet shirt clinging to his body highlighting his strong arms and abs, and black curls accompanied by the most stunning pair of silver eyes James had ever seen in his life. So what if he wants this god to fold him in half? Sue him.

"Sorry, I don't speak French," James said sadly, putting an end to his fantasy.

"No problem, I just asked if you needed any help." replied the man on horseback in such a fluent way catching him off guard, but with a divinely thick accent. Fantasy resumed.

Oh, a deity had definitely decided to come down from Olympus to personally help James.

Later, inside the castle that Reg called home, and insisted on taking him because, and quoting him, "it's dangerous to drive around here so late at night, lots of wild animals", James emerged from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips, not expecting the silver-eyed man to be waiting for him with clean, dry clothes in the room. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the heat he felt as he was scanned up and down by that hungry gaze. So in a moment of enlightenment he remembered the only French phrase he knew.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?"

"God, if you weren't so hot I'd be feeling so much cringe right now."

James's prayers of being folded in half were answered that night.

The next morning, he awoke to feel the warmth on his right side move and Sirius's horrified screams.

Hold on. Rewind. 

Sirius? So he was able to find the address in the end?

"Really James? My baby brother? And this is why you weren't answering your phone? We thought you were dead!"

Oh, so it is “Reg” as in Regulus. Wow.

“I died and went to heaven.” 

And in the blink of an eye Sirius was on top of him trying to throttle him.

In the end, all the necessary explanations were given. Sirius wasn't happy at first to learn that Regulus and James could become more than a one-night stand, but he eventually accepted it and the wedding went off without a hitch.

James had never been so grateful for a flock of sheep before.

[emelinstriker]

Red Son ♤ Parental Guidance

Reader’s pregananant but only present towards the end btw

Now, I know DBK isn't actually a bad father. Like, we've all seen at least the scenes of him breaking out of the demon webs to get to him, as well as for example him catching his son after extracting the Samadhi Fire. Or even them just being generally wholesome as a family. Thing is, specific moments we see of DBK on his own where he cares about his son are only being seen by us, the viewer. Not his son. Red Son tries to impress his father just BECAUSE he thinks he needs to gain his father's love and attention. Which he technically already has. But he wouldn't fully understand that with the few encounters we've seen between him and his father. Which is why I'll be going off on the encounters we've seen of both. I love their general dynamic so much though hnfgnhfg

So i was like, 'what if I take the common insecurity about questioning if you'll be a good parent and add doubt on a grandparent's part to it?' So now is not only Red Son questioning shit, but also his dad in a mentioned way. And I really should start working more on stories where you're not married to the chosen character yet. I can't help it though, established married couples are easier to write hnfhngfggd

Also, I'm fully aware that I could keep the pronouns gender neutral on this one as well and just say you're afab, but I personally prefer using she/her pronouns when it comes to specifically pregnancy one-shots, so I'll be sticking with that.

ⓘ Reader is FEMALE

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

Red Son was actually quite confident about his capabilities in your relationship. Ever since you both agreed on having a child, and after hearing that you were finally pregnant, this man was over the moon. He was already coming up with an idea for a nursery made up out of his mechanical creations.

However, you suggested a nursery with less mechanical components and more wood, like a regular nursery. You two ended up with the compromise of a regular nursery, but with an advanced safety and security system because your husband didn't trust those pathetic mortal safety measurements. And also to ensure that the nursery wouldn't catch on fire since it's located in a castle surrounded by basically anything that can easily burn wood.

The first months of your pregnancy went by pretty smoothly, actually. Despite feeling like shit more often and your husband gaining a bit more respect for female hormones(, mainly due to you scaring him with your mood swings), Red Son was taking great care of you.

Your parents were filled with joy, but only to an extent. They were still a bit concerned about you being married to, and having a child with, the son of the Demon Bull King. That didn't hinder them from showing up at your wedding and meeting your husband's family though.

Red Son wasn't as anxious about their presence as you were, but he was still a little concerned about their safety. He really didn't like the potential outcome of your parents getting killed off in front of you during their visit. So he made sure to tell his parents beforehand not to try anything on any of the human guests. They both seemed chill about it and a bit amused.

And once the news of a potential half-demon spawn spread around the family, Princess Iron Fan was extremely happy about finally having a grandchild. The Demon Bull King however...

Well, it wasn't the idea of a grandchild that was making him show a bit of disapproval. Rather it was his son's relationship with a mortal human that was rubbing him the wrong way. Not only did it feel wrong to him that a puny human with barely any strengths would join his family tree, but you would also die so much sooner than any of the demons.

An immortal being in love with a mortal one was a recipe for a tale ending in heartbreak and despair, after all.

At least Princess Iron Fan was already immortal when he met her. You on the other hand were a simple human craving for noodles...

Actually, that's what you were craving the most in recent times due to your hormones. And so, Red Son would be seen at Pigsy's Noodles a lot more, which was surprising to MK and the gang.

They didn't question it much at first because he said that he's just bringing the order to someone close to him and didn't want to have MK deliver it. However, as he came in more and more, the others started to notice that he would always say the same thing. And it started to feel like he was getting those noodles for someone a lot more closer to him than he claimed.

So naturally, the others got curious.

MK told Monkey King about the red demon's strange behavior and the simian decided to chill with the gang for a day and see for himself. Red Son came in at roughly the same time every other day and would order online. So it wouldn't be hard to catch him picking up the order.

And as suspected, his order came in around the same time as usual. While Pigsy was preparing the demon's order, the others were thinking of who the guy was delivering all that food to. It couldn't be his parents as they had their own food in the kitchen. They probably didn't even know about the noodle shop. It was actually quite weird in general that he would specifically get noodles from Pigsy's instead of just letting one of his Bull Clones cook noodles for free. There had to be a reason.

A little over half an hour later, the bull demon arrived at the shop to pick up his wife's usual order, when he noticed another familiar face's presence sitting by the counter today.

The simian in a rather poor disguise, at least in the red demon's opinion, gave him a lazy wave at his entrance. "Sup, Bull Son." The other demon rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, approaching the counter.

"It's Red Son, you imbecile", he retorted with a scowl.

"Yeah yeah," Monkey King started as he used the same hand to wave dismissively. "Anyway, my buddies told me you come pick up noodles a lot recently. And I'd like to ask, why don't you just cook them up yourself in your kitchen?" Now it was the simian's turn to cross his arms as he turned towards his old friend's son.

Red Son huffed as he leaned across the counter to reach his order. "My wife asked for specifically noodles from this place. She said something about the quality here being incredible compared to what my family's kitchen offers." While talking, he opened the bag to check on the order as usual before nodding in approval.

The room went quiet and Red Son, confused, looked back up at everyone's surprised expressions.

"YOU'RE MARRIED??"

The group's shocked, and some excited, yells startled the fire user so much he almost dropped the bag that held your food. Once he recovered from their outbursts, he awkwardly coughed into his fist, a faint pink tint visible on his cheeks. "Uh, yeah, obviously. Did you guys not notice the ring I wear during any of the times I came here?!" He then put the bag he was holding back onto the counter before showing them the ring around his finger.

"Yer orderin' quite a lot of noodles for her, kid", Pigsy noted with a smirk. "Heh, I get that my cookin's great, but the amount yer usually orderin' for one person is... odd."

Red Son turned to face the pig with a prideful smirk of his own. "That's because she's eating for two and craves your noodles specifically. So you better feel honored that Red Son's wife even bothers asking for your cooking."

Silence.

...

" W H A T ? ? ?"

Red Son covered his ears this time before the group could potentially damage his hearing. Mei ran up to him and pulled him into a firm hug. "Why didn't you tell us?? THAT WOULD MAKE ME LIKE A FUTURE AUNT!" She then squealed in excitement. "RED BOY IS BECOMING A RED DAD!"

"Oh great, why not scream it louder and let the entire world hear about the news", he said sarcastically, trying to get out of her hold. But apparently Mei ignored the heavy sarcasm in his voice as she let go of him before proudly putting one arm around his shoulders.

She pulled out her phone from her pockets with a bright smile, "Great idea! I'll let my people know right away!"

But before she could turn on her livestream, Monkey King grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. He shook his head with a chuckle. "I don't think Bull Son over here would be comfortable with you showing off this moment to the whole world just yet. Besides," he started before turning to the other demon with a grin, "he hasn't even told us who his lucky lover is."

Mei's mouth shaped into an 'o' before slowly turning her head to face the now ticked off 'Red Boy'. She gave him an excited look he could easily read as 'Please tell us about her'. And so, rolling his eyes, he gave in because he knew the gang would keep pestering him about it if he just left.

He gave a brief description of you, how you two met, how you fell in love, as well as how you were faring these past months.

But there was one topic he seemed to be avoiding. And Sun Wukong knew.

"Quick question," he started as he crossed his arms again, "how did your parents react to your relationship?"

Red Son froze, his eyes widening just slightly, yet it was enough for the simian to take notice of. The Monkey King sighed as he shook his head. "Not all that positive, I guess."

The bull demon suddenly felt like avoiding eye contact while putting his hands in his pockets, leaning further back into the counter. "Tch, naturally."

MK's head perked up from the table at the chosen wording. "What do you mean 'naturally'? Is it normal in the Demon Bull Family to not be supportive of another's relationship?"

"It's not that", he responded as he took out one hand from his pockets to scratch his head a bit. "As I've already told you, my wife is a human. A mortal one at that. My mother was actually fine with the relationship, including the marriage. She was also extremely happy about getting a grandchild. My father on the other hand..."

He angrily looked down before sighing to avoid having another raging outburst over a simple memory. "Let's just say I'm having a hard time convincing him that this is my life and I chose to live with my lover's consequences of mortality myself. But, he did genuinely seem happy when I told him I'll be having my own child to raise soon. I guess his own fatherly senses decided to show up for once in a long while."

Tang hummed in thought. "To be honest, I'm quite surprised myself that you found a human lover, let alone one you wish to have a child with."

Red Son raised an annoyed eyebrow at the other man sitting on a stool. "What are you getting at?"

"It's just... surprising is all. After all, DBK himself wasn't the best role model as a father. Even in a lot of the stories of the past. Not only because he's been sealed away for so long, but also because we know what he's like with you in the current days", Tang pointed out, upsetting the already semi-heated demon.

"Are you implying that I'll be a bad father? Just because of my own father's past doings and constant absence in my past?" He stood strong for the first part, his ponytail turning halfway into flames for just a second. However, his walls started to slowly crack as the rest of his words left his mouth.

"Uh... I don't think Mr. Tang meant it like that exactly", Sandy's quiet yet rough voice commented from across the room as he raised one index finger. Tang nodded swiftly as he somewhat attempted to anxiously try gain distance between him and the demon... Which was very much difficult to achieve, considering he was on a stool without wheels. And aggressively jumping away from him would be too obvious. As such, all he could do was to lean back.

"There is a chance you might end up treating your child the same way your dad treats you", Monkey King added from his own seat. "After all, the saying 'like father, like son' can happen in certain scenarios."

They all noticed Red Son's hair starting to flare up in anger again, so MK decided to speak up before things could get out of hand. "W-Well, that doesn't necessarily mean it will happen! Right?" He then turned to his mentor, who simply shrugged in return, mumbling a small 'Dunno'.

"Why you little... HE WASN'T A BAD FATHER, OKAY?! Just because you can't comprehend how my family operates does not automatically mean-" He paused as something seemed to flash within his memory. "UGH!" His fist made contact the counter. It wasn't strong enough to leave any damage, which relieved Pigsy, but it still startled everyone except for the Monkey King. "I REFUSE TO DEAL WITH YOU PEASANTS RIGHT NOW!" Suddenly, his hair turned into a rather wild flame for a few seconds. The demon in red then forcefully took the bag of noodles and stormed off in a rage, slamming the shop's doors in the process.

The gang turned to the Monkey King with mixed expressions that ranged from 'Why did you have to say it like that?' to 'Could he actually become bad to his kid?' The retired hero just held his arms up in surrender, unsure of how to react. "What? I was just being honest", he said casually.

The shop owner rolled his eyes at the monkey. "Well, the noodles for sure are cold by now. But I guess the anger this guy produces at the moment might just be enough to heat 'em right back up."

What the gang wasn't aware of however was that Red Son's walls crumbled more and more the further he got away from the noodle shop. The doubt of being good enough as a father creeping in on his conscience. The demon grunted to try ignore the painful frustration building up within his chest, using his flames to transport himself back home.

Upon arrival, he decided to consult his mother about this matter. Just to... get advice.

Luckily, Princess Iron Fan was sitting by the dining table and was reading a book, until she noticed his entry. She placed a piece of paper as a bookmark between the pages she was reading before closing the book. "You seem troubled, son."

"...I'm actually just seeking insight, mother. A bit of guidance, if you will", he responded as he took a seat at the table, placing the bag of noodles in front of the seat next to him. At least his father wasn't here right now, so he wouldn't have to fear bringing up the topic as much. The black-haired woman hummed to signal him to continue.

He awkwardly coughed into his fist once again before finally popping the question. "Do you... Do you think I'd be a bad father to my unborn child?"

And just like the gang, his mother became quiet.

"...Okay, tell me who fed you this bullshit of a mindset."

That... was not the reaction he was expecting. Let alone hearing his mother curse, which she very rarely does. His eyes were wide open as his mouth was slightly agape. His mother wasn't joking either, he could tell by the raging fire in her eyes.

He shook his head quickly, flailing his arms around a little in panic. While he was upset with a certain monkey's phrasing, he did have a point on a fundamental level. "N-No, no, mother! Heh- It was just a civil conversation with some... friends about my marriage. At one point the topic came up of, uh, if I'll become more absent and negligent in raising my child like father-"

Princess Iron Fan slammed the book she was still holding onto the dining table, startling the young demon.

"Your father may have not been actively present your whole childhood, that is true. But, that did not stop him from loving you and caring about you." She sighed, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.

"If he didn't care about you, he would've just helped extract the Samadhi Fire from you without taking you back home. He would've disposed of you to make sure you would never become such a threat ever again."

"But he didn't", Red Son added, starting to connect the dots.

"Yes," she gave her son a worried glance, "so don't ever think he doesn't  care. He cares in his own way. And about being absent... Well, what could he even do when he was sealed away by that damned monkey." Her son scratched his head in thought.

She then gave him a warm smile. "You know, on the other hand... If you do need more parenting advice for when the child has already been born, you know where to find me. Because let's face it," she let out a small laugh at certain memories, "despite caring about you, your father truly sucked at actually taking care of you."

"What do you mean-"

She cut him off, giggling. "He set the kitchen on fire while heating up milk. He also somehow managed to lose one of your used diapers. I'm not joking when I say the smell came from practically everywhere." Red Son couldn't help but hold his face in his hands in embarrassment. Yet his mouth held a smile as he tried holding back his own laughter at the amusing story.

"Haha! Anyway, you know just as well as I do not to take your father's big bad bull façade to heart. If anything, you should take this as a lesson." She trailed the outline of her book with her finger, seemingly lost in thought. "Simply appearing as a bad parent to others should not be of your concern. What matters is that you are there for your child when they need you the most, to help them grow up healthy. But It's also important to give them free range to roam and choose how they wish to spend their own time."

Princess Iron Fan clenched her fists. "Those friends you spoke to simply do not seem to understand that we're more than bull demons. We're a family. Your friends are not the ones responsible for raising your child, after all. Others may give you advice and suggestions, but the way they handle things does not necessarily mean it's the way for you to handle things."

Red Son glanced down at the book in front of his mother as he spoke. "I see..." He then slowly stood up from his seat before bowing just slightly in respect. "Thank you for your time, mother. I'm... glad to have you here to help me", he said softly, giving her an embarrassed smile. She gave an amused one in return.

He grabbed ahold of the bag once more, but was stopped before he could leave the table. "One more thing, son." He glanced over at his mother, confused. "You better heat up those noodles properly before you deliver them to your wife. I'm speaking from experience when I say you will be dealing with a different kind of demon if you serve those cold to her." She gave him a knowing wink.

Red Son grumbled a little to himself, also fully aware of what you were like when he didn't meet your craving's standards. After all, that was the side of you he was actually scared of. He picked up the bag, but then put his hands underneath it before using his abilities to heat it up slowly. The bull demon then made his way down the hall to your shared quarters with a sigh.

His mother's words echoed in his mind as his body moved on autopilot. To be honest, he was still somewhat doubting himself. But the knowledge of his own father being flawed in taking care of him, yet still helping with whatever he could was kind of inspiring. The demon was so deep in thought that he almost walked past your bedroom door. But your faint voice from the other side of the door caught his attention. Apparently you were on the phone, talking to someone.

Your husband entered the room and you looked over to him from where you lay on the bed, noticing him with your noodles in his hands. The smile you gave him made it all seem worth it. You told your mother that you would talk to her later before hanging up and putting your phone on your nightstand.

"Welcome back, honey! Took you a while to return", you greeted him as he walked over to the bed.

He sat down before pulling you a little closer so he could kiss your temple. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was being verbally held hostage by the people at the shop." Your husband then used the same hand that pulled you closer and placed it on your round belly. "...Do you want to eat on the bed or use the desk?"

You tapped your chin in thought, but he knew you were faking it. He already knew your answer. "Hm, the baby and I feel like staying in bed right now. But..." You put your own hand on top his, staring at him lovingly. "We also want you to stay here with us."

Red Son blushed with a little smirk before his doubts came back to haunt him once more, turning his smirk into a frown as he avoided eye contact. Of course, you took quick notice of his sudden change in behavior. "What's bothering you, honey?" He sighed, circling his thumb over your skin.

"...Do you think I would make a good enough father?"

You were dumbfounded. "What kind of question is that? Of course you would be!" Your free hand found its way to his cheek, forcing him to turn back to face you. "Listen, I wouldn't have agreed to have a child with you if you wouldn't be. I know you're gonna be incredible with the baby. So don't doubt yourself." You gave him a quick peck on the lips since he was already turned to you.

"And by the way," you started with a smile, "even if you end up struggling with taking care of the baby, I'm here with you. Taking care of a child takes team effort, be it from two parents, friends or family. It's also my child too, therefore it's part of my responsibility as well. As long as you keep trying, and want to try support the child, that automatically makes you a great dad by default."

"For what it's worth," you leaned in and kissed his cheek, "I know for a fact that you'll be an amazing dad."

Your comforting words weren't exactly surprising, but the words coming from you was what he really needed the most right now. He huffed with a smile as he gently pulled you in for a hug, making sure you weren't uncomfortable with the position. "I love you so, so much you don't even know."

Your own smile only became brighter. "I actually believe I do... 'Cause I love you just as much. But, now that this topic's over, the baby and I would like to eat-" Suddenly, you felt a slight bit of movement coming from your belly. You gasped in delight before grabbing one of your husband's hands and placing it back on top of your belly, confusing him.

"Wait, what's happening?" Red Son didn't know why you placed his hand there until he felt it. It was a tiny kick.

"I'd like to believe the baby heard your woes and is trying to tell you how awesome of a dad you are... Either that, or that it wants to beat you up until you no longer have any doubts that you can raise it well", you commented. Your husband couldn't help but let out a laugh as a few tears started to gather in his eyes from the joy and relief he felt. He gave your belly a quick kiss.

"Thanks, little flame... I promise to give parenthood my all", he said before he looked back at you, now filled with confidence.

You grinned at his sudden change in mood before leaning over to grab the bag of noodles. You took one good look inside the box before determining with a frown, "...It's cold."

"...Fucking shit, not again..."

> Link to Masterlist <

♡ Part 2

[horanghater]

Like I Want You

Summary: Jihoon has one job on your wedding day, but he’s in denial and at the end of it all, he is simply a man.

▸ Pairing: Woozi x AFAB!reader ▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ (MINORS DNI) / angst, smut, pwp / ex2l If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age, you will be blocked upon interacting with this post. ▸ Warnings: infidelity, unprotected sex, creampie

▸ Word Count: 2.2k

▸ A/N: I’ve had this little idea from the moment I heard Giveon’s song by the same name ages ago, so it feels great to finally get it out. Big FAT thank yous and kisses to @wooahaeproductions for beta-ing and @shuadotcom for banner-ing!!! Part 2(ish) with Seungcheol can be found here!: Imported

The gentle clack of Jihoon’s dress shoes echoes down the hallway of the grand hotel as he makes his way to your suite. Even though the sound is all around him, it feels tinny and distant compared to the whirlwind of thoughts occupying his mind. All he has to do is deliver your phone, be the courier to prolong his friend’s - your groom’s - viewing of you in your dress a while longer while he prepares separately with his groomsmen. This is supposed to be different. The roles should be reversed. He should be waiting to see you walk down the aisle to him. It’s been years now, but Jihoon would wait a million more if it meant that you’d be back in his arms where you’re meant to be. Maybe if he waits another few minutes the impossible will happen and you’ll call the whole thing off, citing that you need to follow your heart. Maybe your heart would lead you to Jihoon so his could stop trailing behind each of your steps, always just out of reach. 

Jihoon shakes his head, attempting to banish the thoughts as he stops in front of your door. Your time as a couple has long gone and all he has to do is deliver your stupid phone. 

His entire body leadens as he knocks on your door lightly, knuckles rapping knock-kno-knock in the tune that the two of you have shared forever, even after the two of you agreed to be better as friends. 

You answer the door, smiling warmly seeing Jihoon on the other side. He stops breathing. No amount of daydreaming could have prepared him for this. Seeing you with your hair down, perfectly framing your face with a gorgeous veil flipped up is almost enough for him to die happy. Almost. Your dress suits you in every way, a perfect representation of your taste and elegance that Jihoon has always admired. 

You look every bit like the one who got away and Jihoon swallows loudly. He thinks his eyes are going to mist before your voice pulls him back to the present. “Earth to Hoonie?” you laugh gently, leaning further out of the doorway and into his personal space. “Is that my phone?”

“O-oh. Yeah, you left this in the other suite last night. Delivery.” He ignores the way your screen lights up to show you and your beau as he hands the device to you. You hum appreciatively as you take it, stepping back to show off the rest of your conspicuously empty room. “Thank you. Why don’t come sit for a bit? I’m sure you could use a break from groomsman duty, right?” Jihoon’s rooted to the spot as he inspects the view behind you. With the way the sun is coming in through the windows, it looks like you’re literally glowing. He tries not to linger too long on how you’re growing more ethereal by the second. “Where’s your party?”

You grab his arm and pull him in; it’s almost like he’s on skates the way he glides into the room under your touch. “I told the girls I’d be down in a bit. Just need some alone time before I go play hostess for the next 5 hours. Champagne? It was complimentary.” You’ve already crossed the room to start pouring yourself a glass when Jihoon finally regains motor control in the foyer. He should be pouring a glass for you in your shared honeymoon suite tonight after your wedding. 

“Jihoon.” This time your tone is much more serious.

He swears he wants to be with you here, now - not in his head. “Sorry, Y/N. I was somewhere else.” 

You scoff and take a long sip from your flute. “Yeah, I can tell. What’s up?” Even as you sit at the table for two in the center of the room and pat the other chair for him to join you, Jihoon can’t shake the nagging thought that this should be your room with him. Jihoon takes a seat beside you and sighs. “Hmm, just nerves, I guess.”

“You’re nervous? About what? Want to trade?”

Considerate as always, you’d poured a glass of champagne for Jihoon even when he hadn’t answered. He’s grateful for it now, taking a long swig himself. “Just don’t want to mess up your big day. It’s all about you, y’know?” 

“Aw,” you coo, ribbing your friend in the side. Your smile at him is so beautiful that it hurts to look at. “You’re sweet, Hoonie. It’s about me and him, though. Besides, how could you possibly mess anything up? You just gotta stand up there and look nice.” There’s a pause as you gaze at Jihoon…approvingly. Maybe he imagined that? “You always look nice anyways.”

Determined in his quest to keep his feelings to himself, Jihoon opts to just repeat himself. “It’s all about you.” 

Even though he can’t bring himself to keep looking at you, he’s resolute in his words. As far as his brain and heart were concerned, everything has always been about you. No amount of redirection, one-night-stands, or blind dates seemed to change that. For Jihoon, there’s only you.

There is only your long-gone warmth in the morning, your voice reverberating in his skull throughout the day, and the ghost of your touch at night.

Or the ghost of your touch right now. Jihoon thinks he’s imagining it at first, the gentle press of your foot on his thigh. But when you graze a little too close to a bulge you used to be so familiar with, he knows it’s real. You’re studying him silently as you move, face neutral but eyes dark.

You don’t say anything else until your eyes lock with his. “Can it really be all about me for just a few minutes? I just need– Just a little before I–” 

It shows just how desperate Jihoon is that a half second of want from you is all it takes for him to chug the rest of his champagne and bolt to close the distance between your lips. He doesn’t taste the alcohol, only the flavor of you that he wishes he could bottle forever. 

Your hands are absolutely everywhere: carding through his locks, raking over his biceps through his suit jacket, jamming themselves between his ass cheeks and the chair in an attempt to squeeze handfuls of him into your palms. When you nearly choke him out trying to yank his tie loose, Jihoon finally grabs your wrists. 

His heart is pounding miles a minute and he’s never been so sure of what he wanted, but– “Are you sure about this?” Your voice is as sincere as the day you told Jihoon you loved him years ago. “I’m sure.”

It’s that (or maybe the suspiciously strong champagne) phrase that dissolves the last ounce of self control that Jihoon has. He lets go of your wrists in favor of standing you up and bending you over your chair. His pants and boxers are pooled at his thighs in record time, but it feels like it takes ages to finally bunch the train of your dress up above your ass, leaving your legs and thonged core exposed. 

Jihoon wants to make this last an eternity. He could last an eternity to make you happy. But he knows that, sadly, your time is limited. There won’t be another chance after this and if the two of you are caught you’ll have problems much worse than a little timing. 

Pressing his cock against your ass teasingly, Jihoon leans over your back to press his two fingers into your mouth. Even years after your last encounter, you’re rehearsed enough to know to soak them well, tongue gliding feverishly along the digits. 

He’ll admit that he lets you salivate on him a little longer than is necessary, but he’s already sacrificing your relationship - shouldn’t he be allowed a tiny concession?  When he does pull away and look down at your folds, he’s ready to pass away again. Your pussy is as puffy as he remembers, your lips nearly devouring your thong as your essence glistens even through the fabric. What he would give to bend down and taste from the source, but you both know that Jihoon is incapable of pulling away from your cunt once he starts, so instead he purses his lips to add his own spit to the mix instead. As his fingers move your drenched thong to the side and slide into you, you’re even tighter than he remembers. Your pussy is a vice both figuratively and literally, threatening to trap his fingers there forever. Just the thought of that pressure on his dick is dizzying, but your impatient whine reminds him that he doesn’t have to keep thinking about it - he can just take. 

Jihoon presses in and up, curling experimentally until your whine reverses into a gasp and you push back against him eagerly. “T-there,” you breathe and he commits that sound, the feeling of you tightening around him to memory. Who is he to deny you on your wedding day? He sets a steady, deep pace, working his fingers into your favorite spot again and again as you wraith beneath him. Your wetness is starting to drip past his fingers and down to his wrist, seemingly endless. 

Your voice pitches higher, shaky as you try to warn him of your impending orgasm. Not that he needs it - your pussy greedily clamps down, almost pushing his fingers out with the pressure. A once distant memory of you falling apart is rewriting itself in the present and Jihoon quickly pulls out, just barely dragging you back from the edge of orgasm. Before you can complain at the loss, however, Jihoon uses your own juices to lube himself up and slowly ease his cock into your waiting slit. Fireworks burst in his peripheral as he feels your grip again for the first time in an eternity and he has to stop moving completely when you envelope him fully to push back his own end. Jihoon sears the image of you, wedding dress hiked up and fat cunt swallowing him whole into every crease in his brain. Even if you’re not marrying him, this view, miraculously, isn’t a dream. Any semblance of guilt is completely masked by the sight, melody, and scent of you you you.

Then he thrusts in earnest. It’s incredible how you welcome his cock in hungrily just like in days past, yet it almost feels like he doesn’t fit. The drawn out moan you let out beneath him assures otherwise, of course. So Jihoon bullies his way in again. And again. And again. He’s been addicted to you for years and this relapse is even better than the first time. 

Something in the back of Jihoon’s mind says that you both need to be careful of sweating too much to avoid questions, but before he knows it, he’s pinballing you hard and fast between his dick and the back of the chair. He can feel the perspiration rolling down his temple, but it’s too late now. You’re so close, which means he’s so close. Honestly, the total time Jihoon has spent battering your pussy today is embarrassing, but in this context it’s perfect. He’s spilling into you before he can even signal that he’s on the edge and apologizes by fucking you through it, oversensitivity be damned. His reward is an absolutely pornographic screech as you climax around him. The delicious, almost painful pressure of your gummy walls constrict around him, milking every ounce of love and cum from his balls. If you saw heaven when you came, then he saw the very beginnings of the universe. 

Jihoon returns to his body when your manicured nails reach back to push him away from you gingerly so you can stand up straight. He stumbles back apologetically, immediately turning to look for tissues to clean you up. Your hand encircles his wrist before there’s any success there. “Jihoon.” You’re almost too quiet to hear at all, but maybe that’s because Jihoon’s many many thoughts about this situation are roaring in full force again. “Thank you. I won’t forget this. I hope you don’t either.”

There’s no scenario where Jihoon could ever forget what it’s like to be with you – he’s tried. “Of course not, Y/N.” Given the way your orbs search his own with a glint of hopefulness, he doesn’t know what else to say that isn’t a confession of undying love, so he settles for a phrase that he’d surely kick himself for later. “Thank you for everything.” 

As he pulls from your grasp to tuck himself back into his pants, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Your groom - his friend - is wondering where he is, no doubt. Your bridesmaids can’t be far behind. Jihoon turns his attention back to you as you wad up a now-used napkin, grimacing as you pull your thong back up. If your mind is swirling the same way his is, you don’t show it. Your signature soft smile is back upon your lips as if the two of you haven’t committed something beautiful heinous. “Guess you should go, huh?” 

No, Jihoon will never regret being with you. Not in the past and not today. If anything, he just needs to do something about the remorse that nags at him for spilling his seed into you, but not his heart. 

[ike-garden2024]

Mirror Mirror 🪞

So I read this man’s route. The translated version provided by @aishangotome it was so good! There’s quite a few translations on their page. Go check it out!! 😄 It took me a couple days to process what I read because I binged the entire thing, including both endings 🤣 this is a mess of a post 🙈 the rest of this post will contain spoilers, if that’s not something you want to see please scroll away 😂 anyway thank you @aishangotome for your translation work! Now let’s talk about the man in question, Alfons

Warning ‼️ contains topics that may be uncomfortable to some including but not limited to: death, addictions, trauma, etc.

The tragic fate attached to his curse is exactly what I thought it would be, to be forgotten by everyone who knew him after he dies. I can only imagine how painful that is. Lots of people nearing death tend to talk about their memories a lot and often I’ve heard them say “I’ll be remembered for x,y,z”, Alfons can’t have that… well, not completely… I like that the writers added the part of Roger and Kate doing some research of people who were involved with someone who has the mirror curse. It opened up another avenue, the name and face may be forgotten but the impact the cursed one had on the other person is not. In fact it leaves the person with a sense of emptiness, like they’ve forgotten something important. While that can be painful, it also means that the life of the cursed one matters, they’re important. I can imagine that no one wants to leave their loved ones with that kind of pain, a pain that will never really heal over time because they’ll always be wondering what/who their forgetting and that could potentially lead to always trying to find answers. It can potentially drive a person crazy. Despite all that, I think I agree with Kate. All of that pain and suffering is worth it. Sure you end up making memories that you’ll eventually forget and you’ll forget the important person but, your body and emotions don’t forget, it’s still actively being felt. That’s why Alfons loving Kate means tearing her life to shreds, leaving unforgettable marks on her entire being. It’s also why he’d prefer to die after her, he genuinely doesn’t want to be forgotten by her. I think in the fake wedding event epilogue she says something about dying together 🤔 I can’t quite remember.

Moving on! The way he goes about using his abilities doesn’t strike me as “evil” necessarily. On his personal time I mean!! He’s certainly making criminals go mad as part of his judgement on them 😂 although it’s a bit twisted, the way he makes himself available for random people to use his power is a form of care. It’s not good to run away from the reality of a situation but many times people wish they could. That’s kind of where addictions and bad habits come from. But even if it’s not that extreme, reading a favorite book, watching a favorite show, playing a game, etc. are also ways to escape reality for a while. I like the way the character Alfons basically encompasses the idea of escapism. It’s an extreme version of something everyone does in their own way. I’ve always loved how writers have the ability to create a whole new world where you can just get lost in. It’s what inspires my career choice and seeing people’s reactions to anime, games, stories, etc. continues to motivate me. I’d love to help create a world one day for people to enjoy. Reading Alfons’s route weirdly motivated me more 😂 without moderation, anything can become an addiction, but it’s sometimes hard to create these moderations. Alfons always makes himself available, his free time is literally dedicated to sex addicts behind a bar and people in the east side(?) of London. Moderation is not in that man’s vocabulary 🤣 He can say it’s for entertainment all he wants but I think he’s somewhat genuinely concerned 😂 he’s like a drug though, have a small taste and you end up wanting more and more.

I don’t particularly like the man’s personality but I understand it a lot better now. I can somewhat respect it but thats it 🤣 His lifestyle choice truly is understandable after reading his story and the “why” behind it all pulls at my heart a bit. Honestly the way he found out about his curse and fate did not help at all 😂 like young Roger had absolutely no consideration when he dropped the info on him. To young Roger it was like “a new subject!” Damn, what if he would’ve turned out a little different had young Roger just gone about it a different way. I believe this is the reason they don’t get along(?) it’s my understanding at least. When the route comes out in English I’m looking forward to reading his side stories to get to know him even more. I definitely find him interesting from a writing perspective. Great character concept and execution!

AH! I forgot to touch on the Elbert/Alfons dynamic. They’re so cute 🥰 you can really tell they care for each other. With their silly bets, Alfons leaving Elbert a handwritten note, and just other things 🤭 it’s great

This is such a bad pile of notes, I apologize for any mistakes but I needed to get my thoughts down and out 😂 Thank you

[sunnytarg]

How would the yandere aegon I, daemon, maegor and aemond react if their beloved reader (wife) tried to commit suicide after the death of one of their children?🍃🍃 kisses 💋💋💋

Oo, a sad one. I don’t think I’ve done a sad one yet. Hope you enjoy! (Also, this one is much shorter than other ones I’ve written)

Tw: just read the request

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

Aegon is shocked when he finds out what his wife tried to do. He doesn’t want to change everyone’s life because of this. He misses his child but he wasn’t as involved in their life as his wife was. After all, he only agreed to give her a child because she wanted one of her own. He forbids his sons and his other wives to mention the child that passed and what his wife attempted to do.

He keeps her in her chambers because he can keep an eye on her. When she wants to leave her chambers he makes sure that he is always with her and he asks Visenya or Rhaenys to always be in her chambers with her when he’s not.

Aegon just hopes things go back to normal.

Maegor

When Maegor finds his beloved wife after she attempted to kill herself, he is beyond livid. He was angry at her for trying, he was angry at the servants that were around and didn’t notice, and most of all he was angry at the circumstances. After all, he lost a child as well. He had tried for years to have a child and after several wives and several years he finally had a son with his beloved wife only for him to die within two years.

He leaves his wife in her chambers as she weeps over her lost child and her failed attempt at joining him. He rounds all the servants and guards that were supposed to be around his wife then and kills them all by dragon fire. When that doesn’t soothe the anger running through his veins he rounds up all of the maesters in the red keep and questions them. He had heard whispers that people were plotting against him and it would seem likely a maester, a man who knew potions and sickness would kill his son. When he’s done and only a hand full of maesters remain alive he goes to find his wife. He finds her lying on her bed with their son's favorite stuffed animal in her hands. She doesn’t say anything to him as he lies beside her.

A moon goes by before he thinks enough time has passed. He is still grieving his dead child as he knows his wife still is but he can’t wait any longer. It took him several years to have one child and his beloved wife was the only one who managed to give him one. So when the moon is high in the sky he searches her out in her chambers and ruts into her until he spills his seed. She’s quiet the entire time and won’t look at him but for the first time since they’ve wed, this is t for either of their pleasure so when he takes her again only a few moments later he ignores her quiet weeping and imagines her round with their next child.

She’ll be happy once she can be a mother again.

Daemon

Daemon wished he could say he was surprised by what his beloved wife had attempted. He had tried to take matters into his own hands and try and prevent her from doing anything. He thought surrounding her with their other children were healthy and alive would, not necessarily cheer her up, but stop her from succumbing to her grief. He was wrong.

After the attempt, he decides the best course of action would be to keep their other children away from her for a little while. They were still very young and he didn’t want them to have these types of memories. His wife didn’t seem to notice when he stopped bringing them to visit her. She was just a shell of what she once was.

He took her on walks through the garden. Making sure to never be away from her side. From anyone else’s perspective they wouldn’t think much had changed, he was always beside his wife but this time instead of watching out for others who might try and take her from him, he now watched her. Afraid that she would try to do it again.

Eventually, he takes his wife and child to Dragonstone where they can be by themselves. He makes sure that his wife never leaves his sight and hopes that being away from the place where their child passed will help her heal.

Aemond

The loss of one of their children was a devastating blow to his whole family. His daughter was sunshine personified, and everyone adored the little girl, so he didn’t know how he would make it through when she passed of a fever.

He did, though. He knew he had to push through his grief for his other children and his wife. He knew that they were also hurting and that he had to be there for them. That’s why it came as a shock when he found his wife crying after his mother found her after she attempted to take her own life. He had thought they were healing. They all seemed like they were healing.

When he brought his wife back to their chambers, she wouldn’t utter a word to him or anyone else. It didn’t matter because he couldn’t find it in him to say anything to her. He understood her pain but couldn’t understand why she would do what she tried to do. He couldn’t deny that he was hurt and upset. Especially when they settled down for their evening meal and their other children tried to talk to their mother, only to get one-syllable responses.

When everyone had finally fallen asleep, he found himself by the window, staring out at the starry sky wondering why he and his other children weren’t enough for his wife. He pulled himself together for her and their children. Why couldn’t she? Did she not love him the way he loved her?

He couldn’t stop these questions from spiraling around in his head. Why wasn’t he and their living children enough for her?

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 32

chapter 51:

1. remus misses sirius and honestly they can make a person feel so fucking single, jesus christ

2. i like how remus is like “reg is james’…. boyfreind????? fiancé????? it would feel too disrespectful to ask atp”

3. “You can love Regulus, or anyone, so much you break the fucking scale, but…some people just don't know how to love themselves, and they have to learn that.” FUCKING PREACH REMUS

4. god, james is talking about how regulus thinks he doesn’t know how to love, when in reality, he loves so hard that he’s willing to die. and AHHHHH

5. 🧍🏻evan jumpscare

6. remus and james friendship >>>>>>>>>>>>

7. petition to reunite lily and remus

8. “Without a word of warning, [Pandora] brings Remus' hand to her mouth to press a quick, gentle kiss to the back of his fingers, then does the same thing to James. Remus feels his ears go hot, because he knows what that means, a Hallow gesture for deep admiration. No ones ever done that to him before, so he's a bit flustered by it, admittedly”

AWWWWW

9. “James, in love with a death eater. Who would have thought?” reading this line feels like such a jump scare. i’m the image of one of those really scared cats where their hair and tail is spiky

10. i’m honestly hoping that everyone can just make it to lily’s rescue. like plsss nobody else die. i love you all

11. “Sirius is currently complaining about the fact that he can't see the moon at night, tipping his head back and boldly requesting McGonagall personally to hang it in the sky just for him.” LMAOOO SIRIUS YOURE SO FUNNY AND I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT

12. “”He's my best friend," Sirius announces slowly, like Regulus is an idiot who can't understand basic concepts.

Regulus arches an eyebrow. "He's my fiancé."”

LMAOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY reg just took the words fiancé and fucking RAN with it

13. AWWW i love how excited sirius is for reg that he’s engaged to james!! he loves his brother so much!!

14. “Regulus huffs and rolls his eyes to the sky, literally begging for patience. "I said: would you marry me? He said: yes. Very simple. Asked, answered, engaged."

"You—" Sirius abruptly starts giggling, and Regulus stares at him blankly. "Oh, Regulus. Regulus. That's not—it's—okay, so you do realize that agreeing that you would get married is not the same as agreeing to get married, yeah?"

"No, I'm pretty sure they're the same," Regulus replies.”

i’m CACKLING

15. “Regulus bursts out. "I want you to keep being an idiot until you're old and ugly, and I want you to come to my fucking wedding!"” ☺️☺️ siblings

16. “"First of all, I would be old and beautiful," Sirius states firmly, holding up a finger. "I am going to be sexy until the day I die, even if I could live until a hundred. Second of all, I will be at the wedding. In spirit. Have it at night under my star. Or just—I don't know, slap a picture of me on a chair and—"”

😭😭😭 he knows he’s gonna be a hot old man. me also like, he’s so funny plss i love him

17. “Did [James] know he was engaged prior to Regulus announcing it when he sent the bagel? No. Is he going to protest it? Also no.” 😭😭

18. 😦😦 they were just talking about weddings and now reg is probably about to drown via crimson river. FUCK THIS

19. “People are born to live, and destined to die. Regulus doesn't care about destiny.” godDAMN

20. sirius helped him climb out with rope. they’re safe. it’s all good. i KNOW he has a pov but i was still so worried for him

21. 😧 my dear. flipping off the sky will NOT help you survive longer. they will just try to kill you more painfully.

22. 😭😭 not zar saying this was a lighter chapter cause he’s comparing it to the previous one. babes. reg’s worst nightmare just occurred again 😭😭

[dalekofchaos]

Injustice au:Batman's regime

Been thinking of an alternate Injustice where Batman goes bad and leads an authoritarian regime.

Instead of Joker nuking Metropolis and Superman killing Lois. What starts it off is Selina is pregnant and it's Bruce and Selina's wedding. Joker shoots Selina killing her and Bruce's unborn child. Joker leads them on a merry chase to Metropolis and then the nuke goes off in Arkham.

Bruce kills Joker.

Clark, in horror. "Bruce, what have you done"

Bruce, full of heartbreak and in a fit of rage. "What I should have done a long time ago"

Bruce regroups with the only surviving members of the Batfamily. Damian and Cassandra. And decides to do what he should've done a long time ago.

Bruce seeks out Ra's and Talia. Bruce finally gives in and agrees to lead the League Of Assassins. Bruce kills Ra's and takes the LOA for himself. Talia takes Diana's place as his lover and second in command.(while Diana thankfully isn't cartoonishly evil)

Batman is known as Khuffash(translates The Bat)

Art by Richard Quintero

Bruce's plans would be what Superman was in Injustice canon. Build a better world. Cleanse crime, end war and destroy everything Batman represented and make the Bat a symbol for the whole world to fear and if the Justice League dares to stop him, he will enforce his contingency plans on a world wide scale.

Bruce's regime council would be the following

Talia Al Ghul

Amanda Waller

Lex Luthor

Lady Shiva

Damian Wayne

Cassandra Cain

Huntress

Ocean Master

Raven

Cyborg

Villains implanted with suicide squad type bombs being enforced to follow the Regime

Bane

Solomon Grundy

Black Adam

Killer Frost

Sinestro

Deathstroke

He gives the Justice League a chance. Join him and help him bring justice and order to the world or die out with the cleansing fire.

The Justice League are the insurgency. They will stop their old friend or die trying.

Unbeknownst to Bruce, Barbara survived. She's been helping the Justice League with her Oracle network. Barbara broke through to Cassandra and Cassandra has been working on the inside out to save her father from himself.

And instead of Lex always working with the Justice League, it's Amanda Waller working with the League.

Bruce has Gotham rebuilt using the Wayne fortune and Arkham rebuilt set to imprison the Justice League.

Bruce imprisons almost all of the Justice League.

Clark causes a breakout and Barbara and Waller disable the bombs in the villains, thus causing the tide to shift against the regime.

Wonder Woman defeats Talia

Aquaman stops Orm.

Cassandra defeats Damian

Eventually the whole regime is neutralized, until it's just Bruce.

The villains have Bruce at their mercy and Bane breaks him. But to their misfortune, Bruce had planned for this and had a Lazarus Pit built in New Arkham. Bruce crawls into the Lazarus Pit. Game over. He destroys them one by one.

The final fight would be between Superman and Head of the Demon Batman.

Batman has Superman where he has him. And as he has his Kryptonite sword at Clark's throat, Bruce gives him TDKR speech

"I want you to remember, Clark…in all the years to come…in your most private moments…I want you to remember…my hand…at your throat…I want…you to remember…the one man who beat you.”

And then Cassandra stabs stops him. Together Clark and Cassandra take him down together.

Cassandra Wayne dedicates her life as the new Batman to clean up her father's mess and dedicating her life to making the bat to be a symbol of hope. While Damian swears revenge for his sister's treachery.

Bruce and his cohorts is kept in the bowels of new Arkham, being insured they will never escape, while Bruce vows to come back and finish what he started, while Clark vows he will be there to stop him.

[agentrouka-blog]

I actually don't understand Sansa trusting Dontos and his supposed friend to help her escape from kingslanding. How come Sansa never become suspicious of it? Plus Dontos giving her silver hairnet was also sounds dubious. I get that her priority was to escape the KL and from her abusers but it still make me confused. Also WF was in the hands of Grejoys later Boltons after her brothers death. So what was actually her plan even after if she reached WF? Do you think it's for plot purpose?

Well, I think her priority being escape is a pretty solid reason that can well stand on its own. She has no alternatives, and it's not like she is unaware of the fact that this is an uncertain risk. Dontos is stingy with information but he's her only hope for escape. She tries to take the alternative route through the Tyrells, which she deems safer! But that one doesn't work out, so she takes that barely calculable risk.

It's not so much that Sansa has a plan so much as she is simply that desperate to leave, plan or no plan.

These quote from the chapter where she agrees to the escape sum it up pretty well:

Oh, what am I doing? she asked herself as she dressed.  This is madness. [...] Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak. [...] Slowly, Sansa lowered the knife. Her head seemed terribly light, as if she were floating. This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard, but if I turn away will the chance ever come again? "How . . . how would you do it? Get me away?" [...] He swore. A solemn oath, before the gods. "Then . . . I will put myself in your hands, ser. [...]" (ACOK, Sansa II)

She's taking a fruit knife for the purposes of self-defense or suicide. She chooses to trust this man she saved from certain death, even without knowing where this will take her. Turns out he's paid off by Littlefinger, but, you know, she's twelve and shouldn't be dealing with any of this. It's not like she had good options otherwise.

"But . . . my lord, you said . . . you said we were sailing home." "And there it stands, miserable as it is. My ancestral home. It has no name, I fear. A great lord's seat ought to have a name, wouldn't you agree? Winterfell, the Eyrie, Riverrun, those are castles. Lord of Harrenhal now, that has a sweet ring to it, but what was I before? Lord of Sheepshit and Master of the Drearfort? It lacks a certain something." His grey-green eyes regarded her innocently. "You look distraught. Did you think we were making for Winterfell, sweetling? Winterfell has been taken, burned, and sacked. All those you knew and loved are dead. What northmen who have not fallen to the ironmen are warring amongst themselves. Even the Wall is under attack. Winterfell was the home of your childhood, Sansa, but you are no longer a child. You're a woman grown, and you need to make your own home." (ASOS, Sansa VI)

It's a setback, and not the last one facing her, but GRRM makes it clear that Winterfell remains on her mind. Her next move is to rebuild it from snow. She dwells repeatedly on how there is nowhere left for her to go, while in the Eyrie. But Littlefinger knows that the only way to keep her cooperative long-term post-Lysa is to make her this promise:

 . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. (AFFC, Alayne II)

So you could say, Sansa isn't yet one for making concrete plans. She's going with the options presented to her at this point, trying to make the best of it. But she knows where she wants to end up.