#marriage law trope

[sugarlywhispers]

among all the drabbles and one-shots i have to finish, i'm thinking on writing a fic with marriage law trope, but i don't know how many of mha characters, so if you feel like voting, do it🤍

[gossamerorigins]

I wonder if the popularity of time-travel do-over narratives (Marry My Husband, Perfect Marriage Revenge, a million other webtoons) is connected to gender expectations. The heroines live mild-mannered, passive, compliant lives, and are rewarded with utter disaster. Their second chance do-over lets them justify aggressive, unfeminine behavior.

Time-travel murder victim defies her murderous mother-in-law? YOU GO GIRL. Regular heroine defies mother-in-law? Maybe give going-along a chance?

Reincarnated heroine maneuvers to improve her husband's political standing? If she doesn't, the kingdom falls. Regular heroine? Chill out, schemer.

Hm.

[lonlonranching]

just went back to link’s zelda’s house in hateno... girl really said your weapons arent home decor

[gayofthefae]

You know what’s really gonna change now that Eddie and Buck are both single? 

It must be such a relief for them both that they can go back to just...using their keys to each other’s places freely, being there when they get home if they want, coming in like Eddie did in 301 to get them out of the house. Just to be able to think “I wanna see him” and get in their car and drive over without worrying about it being weird or intruding if their girlfriend is there. 

Because they’ve likely only been coming over when invited for a while now for that reason. Not because they feel like they wouldn’t be wanted any time before, just because now, the biggest risk again is that they’re out of those and they’d have to wait until they get back. That’s gonna be nice for them.

And that’s what’s gonna remind them of what they are to each other too. Because it’s not explicit, but it is a little more in the right direction for them to be self aware of the fact that they spend so much time together and want to spend so much time together that, like Taylor at Buck’s loft before she moved in, ‘they’re basically living together’.

If they have the opportunity to go back to that, how it was in season 3 as well as when we saw it ourselves more in 4, they’ll be able to notice that the only reason they don’t, or didn’t, spend 24/7 together is because they didn’t have the opportunity. And how they don’t wanna leave. They stay later; they have a harder time saying goodnight. And eventually, they can notice that they don’t want to have to go to sleep or wake up without each other. All that does is takes up gas because they’re just gonna immediately go to each other anyways.

In season 4A, they were moving towards something. But I don’t think it was that they were getting progressively closer. I think they were there. They had a system. Maybe even a consistent schedule of whose to go to after work today. Alternating, what game to play with Chris this week, etc. They had an established routine revolving around one another. All they were hurdling towards was awareness.

As long as they’re able to do what they want like that, they’ll do it every day. Of course they will. They’ll fall into a rhythm. And, because nothing is stopping them, they’ll stay like that. It’ll become just...their life. And noticing that they’ve built a life together is the first step towards understanding what that means.

From there, they can realize that they’re happy that way; that they like it when them being together is the baseline, with all other events of going out with/over to friends’ being branches off of each other until they come back - until they come back home; that relationships had been, to put it bluntly, obstacles to this life with one another; that they don’t want their life together to change - and that means not dating. And that seems to mean that they want this life with each other forever, seemingly instead of the previous marriage ideal. And what does that mean to want one another in place of a romantic partner? And then oh, they are so close we’re shouting at our TVs.

And honestly, that is the thing I’m curious about. How they’re gonna do it. How they’re gonna realize. Because they can get still very far with nothing “proving” romantic. And I guess that’s where all that self reflection comes into play. Because Buck isn’t gonna get it just from knowing what he wants in a partner, even if it’s an ever more specific description of Eddie, if he’s still oblivious to considering men. 

So maybe this is where the predicted Eddie-initiation comes in. He’s gotta start it off, get the ball rolling, has to, by continuing to self reflect as he has been doing. And based on what we’ve seen of therapized-Eddie, I trust him to. He knows he’s repressed. And he seems to understand that you don’t know what you don’t know. And hopefully, that will lead him to question everything, even seemingly “just in case” things he may be sure of like his sexuality. If he can take everything and really consider it, he’ll run into some things that are still as he always believed, but he’ll also be able to open that door and open his eyes to Buck. And he can do what he wants for himself. And he can bring this newfound knowledge to Buck. And I honestly don’t think Buck would have even thought of it, we’ll see, but I don’t. But as soon as they’re both open to the idea, it makes so much sense. And they can go from there. And we’re there.

These posts are always way longer than I intend them to me but I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them. I originally just meant to say “they can use their keys again” but then it got me thinking and the ball a-rolling :).

[kyliafanfiction]

I really do love a good marriage law fic, but so many of them feel so contrived. Only a small handful manage to write a law that both makes sense as something an actual government might pass, and get Dramione together.

[ofhouseadama]

today's thought: post-canon cardassian marriage law fic

[maeglinyedi]

I've uploaded three more podfics to my new YT podfic channel.

Learning How to Lose

Happily Ever After

A Reflection of Yourself

I also made a TikTok for my podfics before realizing that you can only upload 10 minute vids there. Most of my stuff is longer than that. The chapters of my WIPs are 5k words or longer, which makes for podfics between 30 and 40 minutes per chapter or more. I am not going to break every chapter up into 4 or 5 ten minute videos. That's far too much time wasted that I could be spent writing.

So I'm only posting vids shorter than 10 minutes to TikTok here: maeglinpodfics

All my podfics will be posted on my YT channel, so subscribe if you don't want to miss any updates:

[acciotheomione]

Bittersweet Genesis by danceintheashes

Hermione’s efforts to repeal the marriage law aren’t entirely down to her husband, but ending their wedded misery would be a definite plus.

Theo’s usually quick on the uptake…except when it comes to his feelings for a certain curly-haired thorn in his side. By now, he’s dug himself a hole so deep he might not deserve a second chance.

Good thing he can be persuasive.

Link to AO3

AO3 tags below the break

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship(s): Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott

Additional Tag(s): POV Alternating, marriage law, Enemies to Lovers, Theo is a Little Shit, Minor Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Light Bondage, Possessive Theodore Nott, Person of Color Hermione Granger, Researcher Hermione Granger, Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Britpicked

[asktheheirofslytherin]

ooh, a fun one~ what if Voldemort himself was subjected to the law? would his spouse disappear under 'mysterious' circumstances or would they simply become a pawn in their plan?

or better yet would they actually love the dark lord?

Hm. I suppose it could come about that I would look hypocritical if I did not take a spouse. In some ways this could likely be avoided, considering Bella is known to be my chosen companion and that she has borne me a child.

If it were a world without Delphini I may very well have decided to impregnate Bella on purpose in order to fulfill the intent behind the law without having to wed. I could also take a spouse for political reasons. In a world without Bella I would absolutely feel the need to take a spouse for political reasons in this circumstance.

I would not want children in that case, but I certainly would not kill them. The whole point of keeping a spouse is to keep them around, killing them would be an inexcusable loophole - and as I would never marry anyone unworthy, it would also mean killing an asset. What a waste.

No, I would not harm them, and would indeed protect them to the degree stipulated in a marriage. A marriage is a contract, an exchange of obligations, and I am a man of my word. So I suppose you might consider them a pawn, yes. As to their feelings towards me, that is dependent on them and their circumstances. I suppose them developing a romantic attachment to me would be...useful.

[kadwrites]

young love | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; a person from your past makes an appearance.

warnings ; arranged marriage!trope , fem!reader , idk what the hell is happening , SLOW burn

a/n ; i promise that i have a plot but i keep getting side tracked????

-

"what the fuck are ya doing here?" you pull the front door shut

"hello to ya too."

you look at him again , brows raised "what brought ya here hmm?"

"ya didn't even invite me to your engagement party." he looks down at you, his voice teasing

"oh i'm sorry" you let out a small outraged laugh "i didn't know that inviting your ex boyfriend was an engagement tradition."

"aren't ya glad to see me?" he gives you a sly smile

"what brought ya here?" you grit your teeth , looking up at him

"i came here for ya."

"for me?"

"to save ya."

"from what?" your patience is thinning

"well i couldn't let ya get married to someone like 'im could i?" he chuckles "not after the love we had for eachother."

"jeremy." you pinch the bridge of your nose "that was years ago," you try to not raise your voice "do ya even know who i'm marrying?"

"oh i do."

"ya do?" you laugh "and ya thought trying to convince his fiancée to run away is a good idea?"

"you're making a mistake."

you just look up at him, laughing. "jeremy, ya slept with your sister in law, i don't think you're qualified to give me any kind of guidance."

"i'm a changed man" he leans down to whisper to you

"no you're not!" you let out an angry breath , trying to compose yourself "what do ya think tommy shelby would do if he found out you're here? hmm?" you hiss at him

"i love ya." he looks at you, his eyes bore into yours , inching closer

"oh my god" you put a hand over your face, turning,

"i do, i can't let ya go" he hand touches your arm

"oh my fucking god!" your voice becomes high pitched , your eyes opened wide "why are ya still talking? do ya want to get killed?" you whisper angrily, keeping your voice down

"i can't let ya do this" he begs , he pleads

"yes ya can, ya just walk away" your hands wave at the door

"did ya not hear what 'appened to his first wife?" his nostrils flare in frustration

your jaw slacks , you feel as if your eyes would bulge out of their sockets

"do ya know what would 'appen to ya if he heard ya say this?" your voice is low.

he closes his eyes, licking his lips before speaking "look..."

"no" you raise a hand , stopping him before he could get another word in "i don't particularly like ya, but i'm telling ya this as a favor for old times sake" you point at the door "leave , and never come back"

"i'm not leaving ya."

"this isn't a joke, jeremy" you can't help the angry chuckles that keep coming out of you "this is probably the stupidest decision you've ever made."

"do ya want to marry 'im?" his eyes scan your face, studying you

"this is none of your concern." infuriated wouldn't even begin to describe what you felt, "what i do with my life is none of your fucking concern"

"i know ya , this is not something ya would do."

"ya said it yourself, you're a changed man now" you try to explain, "we're different, ya and i are so different now, we are not the same kids we used to be. this isn't what it used to be."

he doesn't say anything else in return, he walks out, shutting the door loudly behind him

you have a hand over your forehead , pacing around the living room, renee is still in her place, watching.

"you brought him here didn't you?" your mother stood in the living room with her hand on her hips, looking you up and down

"mum ... please stop." you stop in your tracks , frustrated "how would i bring 'im here? with telekinesis? i didn't even know he still lives in birmingham for fuck's sake."

she comes closer , gabbing your shoulders "we need to forget this, never speak of it in front of tommy"

"what if he comes back again?" you start to panic "what if he does something worse than this?"

she closes her eyes at the possibility, she doesn't answer.

"this is just what i fucking needed" you turn, plopping down on the sofa

"jeremy is a sweet boy... he wouldn't do anything, would he?" your mum picks at her cuticles nervously ,

you look up with a raised brow "he fucked his brother's wife while we were dating, his brother who by the way raised 'im." you rub at your temple "his moral compass is as useless as that brain of his."

"god, now i know why i always hated him."

"and yet ya wanted us to get married at 17."

"well i didn't want him to knock you up."

"so ya tried to talk me into marrying 'im?" your mother's logic made your head spin faster than it already was "ya know what, forget i asked that" you wave a hand

"what are ya going to do now?" renee finally speaks,

you and your mother look at each other, before looking at renee

"i don't know.." you mumble "i 'ave to go see 'im today, to talk about the wedding venues" you groan, the stress of it all comes back to her

"okay" renee gets up, and sits next to you "ya just act normal, ya get this done, ya forget about it for today and then tomorrow ya try thinking about solutions."

you smile when you step into his office, your hands clasped in front of you, and he's on his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"why do ya look like that?"

"like what?"

"ya're too happy to see me."

you raise a brow "ya don't want me smiling at ya?"

"ya look possessed." he deadpanned, exhaling a cloud of smoke, his thumb scratching lightly at his lips, hiding his smile

you kiss your teeth, "i hope ya choke in your sleep." you walk up the chair and sit down

he chuckles, looking at you with his head tilted slightly "you'll miss me?"

"believe me , i won't."

"what's wrong?"

your brows pinch together "nothing is wrong"

"really?"

"yes."

"you're a very bad liar."

"i'm just ... tired" you shrugged, your voice squeaked

it's not that you're not used to lying, it's that you have a hard time lying to him

"how's your mum?"

a genuine amused smile pains over your lips, "she's good"

"who told ya?" he nods at you

"who told me what?"

"that i talked with your mother" he continues "was it your two nosy friends?"

"hey hey hey" you put a hand up "don't insult my friends"

"they are nosy, it's the truth"

-

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[seeingivy]

king of my heart

satoru gojo x f!reader 

maybe satoru gojo, the man you were arranged to marry by your very annoying parents, was the one you were waiting for all along

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: arranged marriage trope, megumi + tsumiki kiddos, annoying parents, mentions of drinking + prom/highschool LOL

an: taylor swift satoru gojo propoganda returns. 

- 

You hold the vase of tulips in your hands, your palms sweating against the glass secured in his hands. You sincerely hope your anxiousness doesn’t make you drop the flowers before you can hand them to Mrs. Gojo. That would be a disaster. 

Your parents are behind you, locking up your car and fussing over your outfit. Your mother had picked out a pale, baby blue dress for you, a modest cut but flattering your best features (according to her) - your hips, shoulders, collarbones. She’d given you a sparkling silver necklace to match, to draw attention to you. You silently wonder when she became such a conniver, hand picking your best traits to put on display for the Gojo family. 

Your father’s mimicking her motions, taming down your stray hairs. You had braided the front pieces of your hairs just behind your ears and curled the rest of your loose hair to perfection. Your mothers request, of course. He’s less anal than her about the entire affair, but you don’t miss his nervous twitching as you walk up to the door. 

The only person you can stand is your little brother, Saiki, who's been rolling his eyes since we started driving here. He thinks the entire proceeding is archaic, which it is, and has vehemently been making his disapproval known. He would keep it going, but there was talk of grounding on the table, which silenced him all together. 

The four of you gather on the steps of the Gojo's mansion. You prepare yourself, mentally running through the steps your mother had drilled into you since you started meeting potential suitors a few months ago. Polite nod to the husband, hand the flowers and press a kiss to the wife, a shy smile to the suitor. 

The three of them are crowded at the door, Satoru Gojo towering over the two of them. You’d heard of him before, your mother mentioning that their family was one of the most esteemed business owners in our entire social circle. She had never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, which killed her every night (you’re sure of it), until now. A mutual friend had mentioned the Gojo family was looking for their daughter in law to “perfect their set” and your mother was all too willing to offer you up on a silver platter. 

You do as your told. You knew you would have to anyway and struggling was useless. Plus, you’d sworn off love as of late anyways. This is what you were primed for - that shiny medical degree, your private pediatric practice - they’re all sparkly little gimmicks meant for this. A selling point. 

The door opens and you start. First, a polite nod to Mr. Gojo, who gives you a chill with his stare. His eyes are void of warmth, the cerulean blues staring back into your eyes. His hands are cold when you press them together to shake, the same cold gaze being exchanged with your parents over the back of your shoulder. 

Second, flowers and a sweet kiss to Mrs. Gojo. She dotes over the tulips, in a polite way, before dismissing them away to the servants you didn’t notice standing against the wall. You thank the servant for taking the vase, giving a warm smile before pressing a kiss to Mrs. Gojo’s cheek. Ice cold. 

Third, a shy smile to the suitor. Whatever the fuck that means. You meet his gaze, half obscured by the sunglasses he was wearing indoors. He’s dressed in a buttoned up white shirt, the sleeves rolled past his forearms. The slacks are pressed to perfection, his shoes shined so well you could use them as a mirror. You give him a smile, which he halfheartedly returns. It seems he’s more interested in talking to Saiki than you. 

The seven of you walk down the length of the hall, the table set up with white lilies and silver tablemats. Mrs. Gojo turns to Satoru, insisting that he take you and Saiki on a tour. Satoru nods, begrudgingly, before gesturing to you and Saiki to follow him up the stairs. 

When you reach the top of the stairs, Satoru turns to a painting on the left, a painted portrait of his family when he was way younger. They all have solemn looks on their face, Satoru’s hinting on the borderline of irritation and boredom. Before Satoru can start his riveting spiel, Saiki interrupts him. 

“Are you really going to make us do a real tour? Do you have video games or something till we have to go back?” 

You dig your hand into his shoulder, bending down to his height and squeezing slightly. 

“Saiki. Be nice.” 

“Mom’s not nearby, you know?” 

“She has superhuman, x-ray vision, Saiki. I bet she can see you from here.” 

The two of you laugh and you ruffle his hair before you stand up again. You pat down the pleats of your dress, drying your palms against the fabric, as you turn back to Satoru. 

“We don’t actually have to do a tour if you don’t want to. I have Mario Kart in my room.” 

You and Saiki shoot him glimmering smiles, following him down the length of the hallway. He opens his bedroom door for you, the room the exact opposite of the perfectly proper, museum like decor downside. 

His walls are navy blue and littered in posters and pictures. You can see his diploma hung up on the wall, right next to a poster for the Spongebob movie. 

“I’m shocked they even let you do this.” 

“They didn’t, Y/N. I just did it anyway.” 

You nod at his words, turning your neck back to the walls. Saiki and Satoru sit on the floor, legs crossed, playing the game as you take a moment at each section, observing all the pictures. He has what seems like twenty or thirty pictures of his friends - sleeping in class, sitting by a lake, studying in a library. You don’t miss the multiple pictures of the girl with dark hair, a scar pressed against her nose. Especially the one of him kissing her cheek. 

The other picture that stands out is a picture of Satoru himself, from when he was younger. The picture was clearly taken from above, an exasperated look pressed on little Satoru’s face. You can’t help but think he looks sad, lonely in the picture and commit it to memory. Your parents were more irritating than most, but Saiki got you through. 

You settle down onto the floor next to them, Saiki handing his controller as you start to play. 

“One more round and we should head back.” 

You nod, playing the game, the pictures rattling around in your head. 

- 

The dinner is horrible, obviously. You were seated in between Satoru and his father, with Saiki exiled all the way at the end of the table. You shoot him glances every few seconds, trying your best not to smile at his very clear distaste for it all. 

You can sense the dynamics fitting into your mind, observing every little thing to better understand what you were getting into. After all, the Gojo’s were going to be your family in a few months, whether you liked it or not. 

Satoru has a clear distaste for his parents. His father, more than his mother. You can just tell by the way they look at each other. You think back to the picture, the one of him when he was younger, and can’t help but wonder if his father took it. 

After dinner, your parents and Satoru’s convince force the two of you to take a walk along the garden, alone. You nod, preparing yourself for what was coming. A moonlit walk, pleasantries, and a ring secured on your finger by the end of the walk. 

The two of you walk in silence, a respectable distance between the two of you. You can smell his cologne as you walk next to him, the breeze in the air making the hair on your arms stand up. 

You press your hands across your arms, entering the gazebo with Satoru. The two of you take a seat on the bench in the middle, keeping a respectable distance. 

“Y/N.” 

“Can I say something first?” 

He nods, leaning over the bench to meet your eyes. The only light in the gazebo is from the tiny, sparking fairy lights around the interior, the moon shining through the openings on the side. You can’t help but wonder if things were different, that this might have been the happiest moment of your life. 

“I would like to be married by name. I figure you have a girlfriend, that girl from the pictures in your room with the scar on her nose, and that’s fine. I’d just like to keep it up for images to satisfy both of our parents, since I figure yours are as relentless as mine.” 

The two of you sit in silence, the words hanging in the air. You focus on the lilies growing by the edge of the opening, wilting in the air of the night. 

“You’d be okay with that?” 

“I was never expecting us to fall in love. We just have to do what we’re asked, keep our own lives outside of it.” 

He nods, the silence returning. You can see the gears moving in his head, considering your offer. After a few minutes, he removes a dark green box from his pocket, sliding it over to your side of the bench. You open the box to find a sparkling, modest cut diamond secured around a gold band. 

You take it into your hand, taking out the diamond ring and placing it on your ring finger. You stick your hand out, staring at the sparkling ring on your finger. 

He shoots you a genuine smile, shaking his hand in yours. Deal. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem, Satoru.”

He secures his hand in your own as the two of you walk back down the path. Your parents are all too delighted, everyone pressing warm kisses to your cheek as they take your hand in their own. 

The business deal is set. Your parents deal with each other and yours with Satoru. You can feel Saiki’s hand shaking in yours, trying to hide his upsetness at you. You reach down to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at him as the four of you head back home. 

You and Satoru are married by the end of the month. 

- 

“I have a secret.” 

You’re currently standing in Satoru’s driveway, your driveway now, with your boxes lined up on the sidewalk. Your parents had insisted that you move in with him, now that you were married. You had to oblige. 

All in all, your marriage with Satoru was pleasant. You guys went out to dinner every night, exchanging pleasantries over an expensive meal Satoru bought you. The two of you often shared jokes, trying to ease the tension. He updated you on his relationship with the girl, Utahime was her name, and you talked to him about work. You find out that his relationship is anything but stable, the two of them fighting like it was breathing. He likes to hear about your coworkers, the patients you saw that day, how you like the workplace. 

It felt more like hanging out with a friend, but there was always an invisible, silent wall between the two of you. You were married. You had to have kids together. Grow old together. He doesn’t talk about it. Neither do you. You’ll breach that when you get there.  

“What’s your secret, Satoru?” 

“I have kids.” 

“If there’s a zoo animal inside that house, I’ll run you over with my car.” 

Satoru loves to prank you. You get irritated with him very easily, which you’re aware goads him on even more, but you can’t help it. He’s an idiot. 

But this time, he places his hands on your shoulder, squeezing twice. His sunglasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt, his usually obscured eyes peering into yours. No sign of a joke in them. You gesture to the steps on the porch, the two of you sitting down against them. 

“You’re a manwhore? You got a girl pregnant and then had to raise it by yourself?”

“Obviously. The woes of a single father.” 

You laugh, leaning your neck back. The sunlight is sprinkling onto your skin through the leaves, the beams kissing your skin. It’s a nice feeling, the breeze tickling the wisps of your hair. You can feel Satoru staring at you through the corner of your eyes and you turn your head to the side to look at him. 

“Their dad passed away. I took them in after, just because I didn’t want them to be alone. Their names are Megumi and Tsumiki, they’re five and eight. I really hope you like kids, they’re really well-behaved.” 

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“You’re kidding right? Did you just ask me if I like kids?” 

“Well yeah, you’re going to be living with them, I was just wondering.”

“Do you ever listen to me when I talk? Do you even know what I do for a job?” 

“Um…”

You burst out laughing, the tears rolling through your eyes. 

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. I’m a pediatrician. Like a baby doctor. Like I full on go to work everyday and see children all day.” 

He pushes you over, grumbling about how you were still laughing at him, about how it was an honest mistake to make. When your tears subside, he reaches his hand out to you, pulling you up to enter the room. The two of you shuffle the boxes to the edge of the door and pad into the foyer. Satoru grabs your hand, pulling you in to meet Tsumiki and Megumi. 

Tsumiki extends her hand, introducing herself politely to you. You bend down, reaching in your pocket for the lollipops you always had in hand, and don’t miss the glowing smile when you hand it to her. You turn to your side to look at Satoru, whose rolling his eyes at you. 

At the sight of Megumi, you can tell he doesn’t look quite right. His face is flushed pink, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. He can barely keep his head up, eyes wavering at the sight of you. You reach down, pressing your hand against his forehead. 

“Satoru. He’s sick.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Satoru, I’m a doctor. Do you have anything on hand?” 

At the sound of your words, Satoru enters into a full blown panic, grabbing basically any medicine and blanket he had in the nearby vicinity. You examine him, asking his sister how long he had been feeling this way, laying him down on his back and administering the medications Satoru had brought you. 

When things settle down, with Megumi’s eyes fluttering open and Tsumiki running her hands through his hair,  you join Satoru in the kitchen behind them. He’s nervously watching the two of them from the back, his eyes still pinched in worry. 

You link your arm through his own, preparing the parent pep talk you give your patients every day. 

“It’s okay, Satoru. Kids get sick all the time.” 

He nods, his eyes still fixed on Megumi. 

“It was a good thing I was here, really. He’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

Megumi speaks up from the couch, his grumpy voice permeating the air. 

“Satoru would have killed me if you weren’t here” 

You turn your head to face Satoru, expecting to find annoyance pressed on his face. Instead, he’s broken out into a full smile, shaking your hands in his and thanking you profusely. 

“That’s a good sign?” 

“Kid always loves to give me attitude. If he’s well enough to make a dig at me, he’s perfectly fine.”  

“Can’t blame the kid. I would do it too.” 

“First, I get an malevolent kid and then a malevolent wife? No breaks for Satoru Gojo.” 

“Woe is you.” 

You roll your eyes, joining Megumi back at his side to take his vital signs again. The two of you share a knowing look, ignoring Satoru’s joking pouts and comments in the back. 

You can’t help but smile at the two of them, their soft hands clasped in each other as they fall asleep on the couch after a few minutes. After a few minutes, you and Satoru carry them back to their beds, giving each other a high five before heading to your own rooms. 

Maybe it won’t be so bad. 

- 

Satoru comes home late one Friday, well past Tsumiki and Megumi’s bed times. You had to shower and tuck both of them into bed by yourself, which was irritating. 

Satoru reserved Friday nights for Utahime, the two of them going on a secret date somewhere in the city. You had met her once, establishing that you had no intentions of doing anything with her boyfriend, which she was all but understanding of. 

You figure that she must love him so much that she’s willing to look past it. You get it, you’d do the same if you were her. 

If you were in love. In general. Not in love with Satoru, obviously. 

He trails in, ten minutes past midnight to find you sprawled against the couch. You’re wrapped in three blankets, your head poking out of your little cocoon. 

“You know what sucks? You got some tonight and I got to tuck two kids into bed.” 

He trails to the kitchen counter, no stupid remark in response. You get up from your tiny fort, padding into the kitchen where Satoru is standing. He’s eating a box of macaroons, pushing the last one towards you to eat. 

The two of you are leaning over the counter, the silence palpable. 

“You okay, Toru? Where’s my usual back talk?” 

“Mhm. Kind of broke up with Utahime. Don’t feel like it today.” 

You push yourself onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The two of you are the same level now, facing opposite directions. You lean your head against his shoulder, linking your hand with his and pressing twice. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Want to talk about it?” 

“She just got upset that I got married, that's all. Didn’t really understand that it was something I had to do. Said I was doing a little bit too much for her to make up for it and she met someone else.” 

You nod, the two of you sitting in silence. You stay that way for a while, your head against his shoulder, your hand in his. You’re rubbing small circles into the side of his hand, your fingers tingling at the contact. 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm?”

“I understand.” 

“You do?” 

“When I got my heart broken, all I could think about was how I wanted it to be him so bad. He meant everything to me and I’d do anything to be the one next to him.” 

“Heartbroken? You never told me that.” 

“Yeah. It was a few years ago. He didn’t feel the same about me as I did about him.I]” 

“Did you date anyone after?” 

“I waited for someone, the person who was meant for me. I kind of gave up as time went on, swearing off of it all together. It’s partially why I struck the deal I did with you. If I was going to be forced to marry someone, he could at least be someone nice, a friend I could keep.” 

He sits quietly, pondering your words. He’s leaned his head against yours, the two of you sitting quietly. The only sound is your breaths, inhaling and exhaling in sync. 

“You think I’m nice?” 

“I’m not soothing your ego.” 

“Rude. I’m wounded Y/N.” 

You poke the side of his cheek, rolling your eyes at him. You move closer into his embrace, now tangled in his arms. You can hear him whispering against your hair, his lips against your forehead. 

“Did it hurt? When he left?” 

“Yeah. But, someone told me something and it’s always stuck with me since then. I guess I was trying really hard to make it work, but things like this always sort themselves on their own.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The right people were always going to stay. If Utahime and Getou were the right people, they’d still be here, Satoru.” 

The two of you stay that way for a while, pressed against each other. Tsumiki and Megumi trail in at the sound of Satoru’s voice, pressing themselves against your legs. 

You all sleep together in Satoru’s bed that night. You ignore the stinging in your chest at the thought of Satoru hurting. 

 - 

You can feel your phone buzzing on the counter, as you tuck the last bit of flowers into Tsumiki’s hair. 

toru: hurry up 

toru: this kid is gonna shit his pants and i think im scaring him

you: omfg don’t tell me you gave the poor kid a pep talk 

toru: kind of. told him id throttle him if tsumiki doesn’t come back from the dance with a smile on her face. 

you: satoru gojo, i will hurt you. leave the poor baby alone. 

Tsumiki turns around, her pale pink dress falling to her sides. You hear Satoru’s footsteps down the hallway, glaring at him as he joins you two at the door of the bathroom. 

“Don’t tell me you left him alone at the dinner table.” 

“Megumi is there. He’s staring him down real good.” 

You and Tsumiki glare at Satoru and you turn back to Tsumiki to give her the final touches. You press your shiny pink lip gloss in her little hands, settling her hair down as you stand up. You and Satoru move out of the hallway, about to find your way back to the room, but Tsumiki stops you in your wake. 

Her hand is pressed against yours, pulling you down. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, Miss Miki. What’s up?” 

“Do you think I’m pretty, Y/N?” 

“What? Of course, I do Tsumiki. You look lovely. I’m sure Ethan will love it.” 

She gives you a shy smile, her eyes wavering on uneasiness. 

“You’re very pretty, Tsumiki. I love your dress and your eyes are all sparkly the way you like. Just have fun out there okay? If you’re not having fun with Ethan, you can always have fun with your friends instead.” 

She nods, pressing her body against your frame. You squeeze her tight in your frame, Satoru eyeing the two of you on the ground. 

“Thanks for always being here, Y/N. I love you.” 

Tsumiki lets you go, running off into the kitchen where Ethan is very shyly handing her the little corsage he bought her for the dance. You turn to Satoru, the two of you watching him in the kitchen. 

“She loves me.” 

“Are you dense? You do know Tsumiki and Megumi both love you right?” 

“I don’t know, I wasn’t entirely sure of it. I figured they might, but I never thought they’d actually say it to me.” 

You pull out your camera, snapping pictures of Tsumiki and Ethan as they press their little flowers to each other’s clothes. Ethan’s parents are waiting in the driveway. They’re driving them to the dance and you and Satoru will be picking them up. 

You follow them into the driveway, waving goodbyes as the car makes its way down the road. 

“Did you like school dances, Y/N?” 

“I never really went, Satoru. No one ever asked me.” 

“What? Not even Prom?” 

You shake your head, facing away from him as you pull out the dinner the two of you were going to eat. Ice cream. Satoru’s idea, obviously. 

“Why didn’t you go?” 

“It’s kind of stupid, Satoru.” 

“Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“You’re keeping secrets? From your husband? Who is he?” 

You laugh, playfully pushing him. He gives you a smile, locking his fingers with yours. 

“Cmon, tell daddy. I won’t make fun.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m filing for divorce.” 

“As if.” 

You look down at your hands, his pale, nimble fingers interlocked with yours. 

“It’s just stupid. I wanted to go really badly, have my whole special moment. A guy who asks me to the dance, brings me a corsage, matches the color of my dress, and we dance while drinking cheap beer out of solo cups. But no one wanted to do it with me.” 

He turns his head to the side, staring down at you. 

“Forget it. You’re dumbass was probably Prom King for all I know. You wouldn’t get it.” 

You lean against the counter, digging your spoon right into the center of the tub of ice cream, rather angrily, reliving the stupid, pitiful feeling of your teen years. 

“I was Prom King.” 

“Of course.” 

“Hey. I’m sorry you didn’t get your moment, Y/N.” 

“I’m glad Tsumiki has someone to do it with. You know, make her feel special, like she’s only girl in the room and all that.” 

He presses his forehead against yours, reaching for your spoon to eat some of the ice cream with you. You swat his hand away, which he pouts at. 

“It was still a good day. Tsumiki said she loves me.” 

“I thought you were kidding about that. Did you really not know that we love you?” 

“We?” 

“Y/N. You know I love you right?” 

You shrug your shoulders, staring at his blue eyes. He cups your face in his hands, squishing your face. 

“As smart as you are, you’re really stupid sometimes you know that? How could I not love my wife?” 

“You’re stupid.” 

 - 

You pick up your phone, shooting a text underneath your desk.

you: satoru.

lanky ass mf: yes, oh beloved wife of mine?

you: sleep in the sewage, you gutter rat.

you: I forgot my white coat and my badge at home, can you pLS PLS PLS DROP IT OFF AT THE OFFICE I NEED IT

lanky ass mf: first you call me a gutter rat and then ask me for a favor?

lanky ass mf: no I love you? no light of my life, king of my heart, body, and soul?

you: I will skin you where you stand. PLS JUST BRING WHAT I ASKED

lanky ass mf: ask nicely and i’ll drop it off on the way to work.

you: oh beloved, dear old husband of mine. everyday, my love for you grows exponentially. if you could please spare me some kindness out of your cold, pitiful heart of yours and bring me my white coat in my badge, it would be much appreciated sweet thing

lanky ass mf: i’ll ignore the insult that you threw in there and bring it over in ten, oh lovely wife of mine.

you: ty satoru :DDD

lanky ass mf: ur welcome, sexy :’)

you: wanted: y/n l/n wanted for the vicious, gruesome murder of satoru gojo.

“lanky ass mf disliked your message”

You set down your phone, burying your head in your hands. The practice had been busier as of late, a viral bug passing around all of your patients. And on top of that, you had left your white coat and your badge - which you needed to round - at home. You can feel the tension headache setting in your forehead, bringing your fingers to your temple to soothe it down.

Tsumiki had a field trip today. Satoru dropped her off bright and early but she forgot her permission slip at home. You had to rush over to the school, nearly running onto the school bus to get Tsumiki’s slip in on time.

As promised, Satoru prances in twenty minutes later, your whitecoat and badge in his right hand and a bouquet of tulips in his left hand.

Asshole. You had framed a photo of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki from your birthday and placed it on your desk. The three of them planned a surprise dinner for your birthday and you loved the pictures so much you just had to frame one for your office.

The problem was that ever since then, all your coworkers could talk about is how handsome your husband was. WIth his white hair, sparkling blue eyes - all they could go on about was how beautiful he looked and how cute your kids were. Multiple of them had asked you how he was in bed, which you ignored. Obviously.

You had mentioned it to Satoru in passing, which you’re sure prompted the tulips in his hand. And you know that egomaniac was about to have a field day.

He comes to your side, not missing the shining smiles on your coworkers faces, as he places the tulips in front of you. He beckons you to stand up, holding your white coat open for you to pull your arms in.

You give him a glare as you pull it on and Satoru clips your badge to the pocket.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo.”

“I love you, sweet pea.”

You can hear your coworkers cooing quietly behind you, walking up to dote on Satoru for bringing you flowers. You can feel him drinking up the attention, giving everyone charming smiles as he secures his arm around your waist.

“Imagine if I told them all you had a girlfriend when you married me.” you whisper in his ear.

He frowns, prodding his fingers into your forehead.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Satoru places the flowers at the head of your desk, dropping a glass box filled with the noodles you had last night for dinner. He leans over the counter, whispering at you as you fill out the charts for the day.

“Take a break for lunch later and eat this. I’m tired of you coming home hangry and taking it out on me.”

You take the box from him, rolling your eyes before shooting him a smile.

“Thank you, Toru. I appreciate it.”

He smiles at your words, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead before running out of the office. Asshole.

You look down at the tupperware, a sticky note pressed on top.

eat up silly wife - satoru <3

You take the post-it off, pressing it against the frame holding the picture.

- 

“Why did your parents want to meet us again?” 

You and Satoru are currently standing on the porch of his parents house, dressed up for the occasion. Satoru’s wearing a buttoned up white shirt, rolled up to his forearms again. He’s wearing a light green tie, intending to match the green, silk dress you had decided to wear. 

He asked you to look your best, because he was going to ask his parents for something really important. He said bringing you would be his best bet, so that they feel more inclined to say yes at the perfect sight of the two of you. 

“I thought your parents were in Bali. Did they come back early?” 

“Yeah. They hated the animals so they came back.” 

“The what?” 

Satoru reaches forward, ringing the doorbell. The door is opened immediately, the servants answering the door. You wave hello to them all, making your way to the garden where Satoru was leading you. 

His hand is clasped in yours, firmly, as he leads you to the back gazebo. He takes you to the direct center, where the two of you had first made your deal, and turns to face you. 

“So.” 

“So.” 

“My parents aren’t here.” 

“I gathered that.” 

“Don’t talk back.” 

He reaches towards the back of the gazebo, pulling out a plastic box. In the box, there’s a matching corsage and boutonniere, pink flowers surrounded by baby’s breath. You take the box in your hand, meeting his gaze. 

“You never got to have your moment. Figured I’d give it to you now.” 

You smile, opening the plastic box. Satoru takes the corsage out first, securing it against your wrist. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles as he does so. You avoid the blood rushing to your cheeks as you take the rest of the flowers out of the box. 

You pin the boutonniere against his shirt, smiling at him. You’re unsure when Tsumiki and Megumi joined you, but the flash of Tsumiki’s camera catches you off guard. You give the two of them a smile and they run off hand in hand, leaving the two of you alone again. 

“Like it?” 

“Love it. They’re very pretty, Satoru. Thank you.” 

He reaches back, pulling out a little juke box. He presses play, Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud playing out of the speaker. 

“Did you really pick this song?” 

“You wanted your moment. That includes dancing to a cheesy, Ed Sheeran song.” 

“You could have left that part out.” 

He grabs your hands, placing them around his neck as he secures his own around your waist. 

“Nope. Giving you the most authentic, real moment I can.” 

The two of you sway, laughing into each other's neck as the song goes on. The song transitions, Taylor Swift’s Sweet Nothing blasting out of the little speaker. You press yourself against his chest, the two of you hugging as you dance in the moonlight. 

“I’ve got one more thing for you.” 

He reaches out, pulling out a little plastic tiara for you. He secures it on top of your head, pressing your hair down. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“You’re Prom Queen!” 

You press yourself against him again, your cheeks burning against his chest. 

“You’re stupid, Satoru.” 

“You love it.” 

You do love it. The tiara, the dancing, him. You love him. 

The two of you return to swaying, your faces a few feet away from each others. You stare into his glimmering eyes, smiling at him. He returns your smile, rolling his eyes at your cheesiness. 

“You don’t have a crown.” 

“Yeah. Figured if I got to be Prom King and you didn’t during high school, then you get to be Prom Queen right now and I don’t. Even it out.” 

“Boo.” 

“It’s okay. I know I’m the king of your heart anyways.” 

You feel your chest clench, his words sinking into your chest. 

“You are.” 

“What?” 

“The king of my heart. Body and soul, all that cheesy stuff you say.” 

“Don’t lead me on. That’s cruel, even for you little lady.” 

You stop swaying, bringing your hands down to his. 

“I’m being serious. You’re special to me. I was waiting for someone all my life, who made me feel special. That person is you.” 

He’s staring into your eyes, the shock spreading across his face. 

“You don’t have to feel the same way as me. It’s okay.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You’re caught off guard, his hands pulling you closer. 

“Toru.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Do you love me?” 

“You’re impossible. I just kissed you.”

“I don’t know. I was a little confused, I guess.” 

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my sweet, sweet girl.” 

You can feel yourself blushing at his words, trying to fight the doubt settling in your mind. 

“Utahime?” 

“I thought about what you said. And I realized that the only person who stays by my side is you - through an arranged marriage, two kids I sprung on you, and a literal girlfriend. The right person was you, just took me a second to realize.” 

The two of you stand in silence, the lights flickering above you. 

“Satoru?” 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

“Can you kiss me again?” 

He’s all too happy to oblige. He lifts you up, slotting his mouth against yours again. You can feel his hands shaking against your face, his lips desperately pressed around yours. 

“Calm down. I’m right here.” 

“Cut me some slack. I’ve been waiting to kiss my wife for months now.” 

You feel Tsumiki and Megumi return to your side, the two of them sporting cheeky grins at the two of you. Megumi presses something into the small of you hand and you feel for it in your fingers realizing what it was. 

A ring. 

“Toru.” 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

He’s cradling your face and you can’t help but feel like this was going to be the happiest moment of your life. Your face in his hands, your kids hugging you against your legs, smiling at each other. 

You hold the ring out, balancing it between your fingers. 

“Marry me?” 

You slip the ring onto his finger, the two of you walking out of the garden hand in hand like you did the first time. 

- 

part two based on enchanted linked here

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

[devilfic]

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat @yehet-moi-ohorat @bluestuesday

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part one)

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: yeah soo... I think I have some kind of obsession with this trope. And I have never ever seen any azriel x reader forced marriage fics, so I decided to write one myself. But I could be wrong and there are fics out there that I haven't seen, in which case, please let me know about them. (Also, because we do not know who azzie's father was and if he was a camp Lord, for the sake of this fic, lets pretend that he was, indeed, a camp lord.)

Tw: Forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so please let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n poured the imaginary tea in the cups set on the low table in front of her, talking to Mister Fluffkins about the weather. He was her daughter's husband, or she pretended that he was. Her daughter, Alisa, was her favourite doll, who was going to be married today.

"I hope there was no troubles while on the way here?" She asked as she set down the teacup and turned towards her other toys.

Before Mister Fluffkins could answer though, Y/n's mother walked in, crouching in front of Y/n, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just asking Mister Fluffkins about his travels today. Do you want some tea?"

"No dear. I just wanted to tell you that a friend of father is coming here today with his son. I want you to try and become his friend, as he has none. Okay?"

"Okay mother." The little girl turned away and settled down opposite her to be son in law, sipping her imaginary tea. Excited that she'll be making a new friend today. Maybe he can play with her. He could be Alisa's father, and they would be one big and happy family.

As little Y/n was busy musing about her new friend, she lost track of time, and soon they had arrived. The door opened once again and her mother stepped inside, Y/n stood. A small boy, probably her age or older, stepped in behind her, his hands clasped together nervously. His eyes flitted around the room, his hair dishevelled and messy. He looked too thin to be healthy.

Y/n mother nudged him forward, and he hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another.

"I'm Y/n. What is your name?" She asked when he was standing in front of her.

"Az– Azriel."

"Let's be friends." She said, before practically shoving him in the chair next to Mister Fluffkins and pouring him some tea. "It's tea. Drink, you'll like it."

He blinked. "There's nothing there."

"Obviously. We're playing, I can't use real tea."

Her mother had laughed, walking away. It took some time for Azriel to get accustomed to playing with her, but when he did, he enjoyed it, cherishing this rare moment of happiness. And though he was quite odd, saying he had never played anything in his life, Y/n didn't mind.

But then both of their father's stepped in, as if in a hurry. Azriel's father yelled at him to be quick and clasp her hand, and Y/n decided she didn't like this man. He was too loud.

Y/n's father was looking sadly at her when the bad man told him to make haste. They made Y/n and Azriel hold hands, guiding them through it.

"Listen girl, I want you to say I agree to everything he says, understand?" Y/n nodded, afraid of his father. "Now," he began saying to Azriel, "repeat after me. I will marry you, when I see you after we come of age. Say it." Azriel looked scared, but repeated nonetheless. And she mumbled a I agree after him before a pain shot down her left ring finger and she wrenched it from Azriel's grasp, tears pooling in her eyes. At that exact moment, the door slammed open and her mother stumbled in, gasping and clutching at her head.

"No..." She stared at her husband angrily with tears in her eyes.

Y/n didn't understand, but it wasn't as if she could question the adults. Because, even though her father didn't hate her, he didn't like her very much either, hitting her whenever she got too loud. But he wasn't bad, atleast Y/n didn't think so.

Maybe when her older siblings came home from school, she would ask them about it.

•○🌑○•

As she stared at the rain droplets pelting the window of her room, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that day. It had been almost five centuries since then.

Asking her siblings about it had yielded no information, after all, they were kids too.

But now she knew.

Azriel's father had fame and control over the camp they had once lived in. Her father wanted to be in the good graces of the Lord and also the recently vacated position of the second most powerful person, the camp Lord's second in command. Azriel's father was giving Y/n's father what he wanted in exchange for her marriage to his bastard son.

Who had run away.

But she couldn't fault him for that, knowing what his father was like. She knew Azriel fairly well, considering she met him a few more times after the day they had been promised to each other. The last time they met, he had finally told Y/n that his father kept him in a dungeon. Then he left. They could have been called friends once, but now, Y/n didn't even know if he was alive or rotting somewhere. But, even after all these centuries, Y/n still cares for that tiny, skinny, timid boy with disheveled hair, who would get extremely happy if provided with one small act of kindness.

But she also couldn't stop the tiny kernel of resentment that bloomed in her, because, after he had run away, his father had decided that he no longer wanted to share the power when he wasn't getting anything out of it, kicking their family out of the camp. Her father had gone nearly crazy.

Her sister, Velda, had been in a similar situation as Y/n, having been forced to marry one of the more prized warriors. But she didn't have to make a promise for it, as the warrior wanted to marry her. Y/n had been forced to promise herself to Azriel because his father somehow knew that he couldn't marry Azriel forcefully.

She would have been married too, if not for the mark on the second last finger of her left hand, encircling it like a ring. Every day she woke up with a pot of dead and hope in her stomach. Dread, for if Azriel came to take her, she would be forced to marry him, but if he didn't, she'd have to ensure her father's taunts, as if it was somehow her fault Azriel escaped. Those taunts, which had increased since her mother's death, haunted her at night.

Hope, for if he came, maybe she'll be able to have the life she always dreamed of, and that Azriel would still be the boy she had befriended. And if he didn't, she won't have to leave.

Her father had waited all these years in hopes that Azriel would come to get his bride. But he was tired of waiting, it seemed. And so, today, she and her father they would be visiting Hewn City, in his hopes that the High Lord could find her husband.

•○🌑○•

The Hewn City was hauntingly beautiful. That's all Y/n could describe it as.

They were waiting on the side, her father conversing with someone named Keir while she stared at everything she could get her sights on in awe.

The doors to the court room suddenly opened, everyone falling silent as the High Lord and the Lady, with the little heir in her arms, walked in, with their Inner Circle, as they were called. Y/n kept her eyes downcast, hiding behind her father. Her neck prickles, as if someone was staring at her, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with.

Soon, everyone dropped to their knees, rising when the High Lord commanded. After a few people conversed with him, her father stepped forward, her following, still staring at the ground. He bowed, and she curtsied.

But then, when a shiver wound down her spine, she lifted her eyes.

She had to take a step back, her jaw dropping.

Because, staring at her were wide, hazel eyes.

She stared and stared, hoping she was dreaming and hoping that she wasn't. Because those eyes, she would never forget.

Azriel.

Her father bowed, turning away, and she shook her head at Azriel, slightly. He dipped his chin and looked away.

But when Y/n tried to step away, a sharp pain shot through her chest and left hand, a scream tearing from her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her hand to her chest. One glance at the dais told her that Azriel had fallen to his knees as well, and everyone was silent, looking between the two of them.

She looked at her father, the confusion in his eyes clearing and a wicked smile blooming on his face.

"Finally."

•○🌑○•

Part 2

[spiralsublime]

imelda was from the get go supposed to be the femme fatale but that makes her quick marriage to lance even more important to me

the femme fatale is often characterized as a someone that draws the detective into a mess of shit that usually gives “self destructive”, and originally this is set up to be hunch as her connecting detective but LANCE MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE

hunch has his own arc, the detective taking himself more seriously, a detective who makes himself known and finally gets proper recognition. meeting imelda didn’t ruin his life, nor does he revolve around her storywise.

so imelda hits all other femme fatale beats and doesnt Need a male counterpart but we also get TROPES!! she, a wanted woman who is known to the police as a mad-woman who turned from an honest life to crime, meets a police captain (basically stand in chief of police currently) and immediately smooth talks circles around him. lance questions his boss, his job, and his life to chase after this sudden Excitement that he hadn’t allowed himself. literally, brennan says that lance has never felt so Alive.

imelda, the true version of femme fatale, finds her cynical and disillusioned “right side of the law” man, lance, and immediately they run together. then we learn that lance’s concerns is the reason that copper is so easily found in mentopolis doubling down on the “morally ambiguous” trope. she doesnt look at lance and go, actually dont be so wary of everyone, she (because she is impulse and because of how aware she is of the situation they are in) connects to him on his need to just Act.

imelda pulse is such a good femme fatale character and her moment with lance has lived in my head all this week. i cant wait to see how fast this marriage falls out once elias is no longer in that all or nothing space, though trauma, maybe they will stick together for a little longer than any of us are ready for.

[fanaticsnail]

Sapsorrow Chapter 7

Masterlist Here, Sapsorrow Masterlist Here

Word Count: 8,800+

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

(Image Source)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Thank you for your patience, I had this chapter beta-read twice. Thank you to @since-im-already-here and @vespidphoenix for their kindness in volunteering to do that for me! Such love and appreciation for you both.

Song Suggestions: Casper's Lullaby,

Their Wedding Serendade: Turning Page - Sleeping At Last

“I will not marry him.” 

Her voice held such sorrow, but her cries fell on deaf ears as her governess began to tug her hair into place with the rough scrape of a bone comb. Thrown onto her hands, pale gloves thrust up to her elbows by the hands of her ladies maids; her shoulder straps readjusted to float down her forearms like beams of radiant moonlight. 

“He has heard your demands, and seen them done. You are his princess...”—her governess’ voice paused while she shook her head to rid her eyes of her own tears—“...and now you are his bride. You bound yourself to him the moment you placed that damned band over your unity finger.” The small quiver in her tone had the princess’ eyes spilling over with a fresh stream of hot tears. 

Immediately springing to her feet and snatching her hair out of the firm grip of her ladies maid, she flung herself against the corner of the room. Her face was littered with tears, her eyes swollen and lip bruised from the force of her teeth clamping on them. 

“My princess,” the governess spoke, her hands quivering as they reached out in an anxiety induced panic, “You have been training your whole life to marry royalty. This was a title you were born to bear. You are to be queen of your lands, ruler of your home country. With your union to the king-.”

“-I will not marry him!” She beat her gloved hands against the wall, her enclosed fists almost shattering her bones atop the cobblestone walls. Sobs rocked her shoulders, her wails echoing throughout the hallway and flooded the ceremony space with her grief. Attendees held a similar somber expression, along with royal subjects celebrating with glee at the prospect of a new queen. 

“My lady,” the governess’ voice shook as she stepped closer to the shaking princess and placed her hand over her shaking shoulder, “My lady, please.” 

The bloodshot eyes of the royal princess snapped up to her with a cold and frightening stare. 

“What would you have me do, my governess? Wed this man who is more than twice my age? Dine with this man, consummate a union with this man? A man who already rules over these lands as king? A man who i-is-...” 

Her eyes fluttered closed as a fresh surge of tears fell from her darkened orbs. 

“A man who is my father?” 

The princess rounded on her ladies in waiting, her eyes now incandescent with helpless rage. “What would you do?” she continued. “What would any of you do, were you in my place? The law of the land binds me to this ring. I have become plagued by an unnatural and grotesque curse-.”  Her voice halted in her throat, plagued by her own revelation. 

That is exactly what this was. This was a curse. 

A curse on her soul to bind her in matrimony to her own flesh and blood. Where other children dreamed of fairytale romance, being spirited away into the arms of a lover, she was bound by fate to this ring. 

The princess’s gaze landed on a pot of water hanging in the fireplace. As she walked in that direction, her eyes never leaving it, the water went from simmering to bubbling to boiling over. Hardening her resolve, she grasped the iron handle and removed it from its place above the fire. 

“My lady! What are you-,” the calls of her ladies in waiting were silenced by a single look from  the governess. 

The princess’ sobs began to crack and cackle into maniacal and sinister laughter. 

“I will curse you. I will curse all of you,” she booms, casting the glove from her left hand to reveal a violet ring encrusted with an array of several stones bound within a thick band. Nine stones of unique colors danced within the light, their forms melded into a large central stone in the middle. The green hue of moss overshadowed the radiance of the smaller stones, the thick band dwarfing her unity finger. 

“If you are thinking of casting it into the fire, my lady,” the governess stepped closer, her hands held with palms facing outwards in defense, “The damage is already done. You are bound to marry him, there is nothing you can do.” 

The princess flung the band from her finger and threw the object into the iron pot. 

“In that hopelessness, I shall thee bind,” she intones in a hundred voices, at once of the deepest bass and highest soprano. The attendees within her chambers stepped back, some thrust onto their knees under the powerful boom of her voice. 

“Whosoever shall find, claim or attune to these crafts, their souls shall be cursed under the plague of unity,” she continued, her hair shifting in colors and tones to several shades closer to death, “May their suffering feed my heart with gladness and life, as my suffering brings gladness onto thee.” 

“-My lady,” the governess spoke, her eyes widening in fear as she witnessed the princess wither beneath her curses, “My lady, please-.”

“-And as my yearning for a love true and just shall never be quenched,” the princess’ voice hitched, her own tone dominant within the vocal strands of external forces, “I will allow the wearer to place a plague of conditions on their heart the moment the craft is thrust upon them.” 

Her hair whipped in the unnatural wind, the ring now smelting down into a lava of molten gold. The gems began dancing within the pale light as smoke poured from them in hues darker than night.

“Should their conditions never be completed,” the princess continued, her heart swelling with vicious rage, “I will claim their souls and bind them to my own in eternal suffering a year from the day it begins.” She ripped a fistful of her vibrant hair, placing it within the concoction alongside her tears. 

The ladies in waiting, the maids, and the governess clutched their hearts and covered their screams with their hands as the clouds of smoke spread through the chambers. 

“My lady!” The governess shrieked, “Princess, please! You do not know what it is you are making. This unnatural phylactery has no place in the lands of the living. My princess-.”

“Your Queen,” her voice boomed, her pupil-less gaze snapping over to her governess. Her face contorted into an unnatural and cool gray tone, her vibrant hair lifeless in hue while whipping around her face within waves of spectral ocean. 

“My queen,” the governess repeated, bowing her head to the royal witch. Her hue returned to her, the gold simmering down as she poured the liquid onto the coals below the surface. An unnatural steam rose within the flames, the vapors smelling of metallic blood mixed with the sweetness of honey. 

“I-I just-...” the princess wailed in defeat, her shoulders slouched, “-I just wanted to find love, governess. I wanted so desperately to find peace with a spouse of my own choosing. I wanted a partner to court me; to woo me, to cherish me. I never wanted-.”

“Sapsorrow, your king awaits you,” A voice called from behind the door, interrupting the unnatural scene within. As the ladies glanced nervously between the princess and  the door, the final words of the princess’ confession bound all but one stone within nine rings, leaving the central moss agate laying dormant, as if awaiting a final command. 

“I just wanted a love that was truly mine.”

- 

The echo of those final words plagued your mind, dancing as the concept of time began to mould from the past and spring you into your future. The repetition of ‘truly mine’ rotated and stirred within your slumber, breaking the peace you had once found for yourself beneath your bedsheets. You catapulted from your huddled pile of blankets into an upright position; your damp hair clung to your brow and sweat stuck your nightdress to your body. Your plagued slumber left you with more questions than answers. 

Had the spectre wanted you to see that image? Did she have control over your mind, did your attunement to the moss agate ring bind to you? Drawing your right hand up to your face, you rotated your thumb and index finger over your temples to rid yourself of the nightmare that seemed to persist each time you lay down to slumber. 

A light rap at your door had you jolting from your thoughts, snapping your head towards the wall and hastily making your way over to the interruption. 

“Governess!” A hushed feminine whisper called to you, “Governess, can I come in?” Perona continued her polite rapping, the drum of her knuckles gathering up rapidity against the wood in an anxious thump. You sighed, shaking your head and allowing a small smile to dance over your features. 

Collecting the iron handle beneath your hands, you open the door and immediately become overwhelmed by the embrace of your pink-haired pupil. She squealed into your ear, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet as she attempted to twirl you. 

“You are getting married to Mihawk today!” Her voice squeaked with high-pitched enthusiasm, “Have you tried on your dresses? Have you written your vows? Did you read his letter yet? Have you thought about your perfume? How are you doing your hair? Are you doing it in three different styles for the three different outfits?” 

The sheer rapidity of her questions had you unable to find an anchor to hold them. You fluttered your eyelashes shut, shaking your head hastily and attempting to wrap your mind around her flurry of words.

“Of course you haven’t read his letter yet, I still have it! I am scatterbrained today, my lady. I can barely contain all of the excitement!” She continued, breaking away her contact from you and thrusting a wax-sealed envelope into your hands. 

“Perona-?” You began, your voice halting as she danced past you into your chambers and staring at the two mannequins in the corner of your bedroom beside your changing shield. Her voice caught in her throat, all air relinquished from ballooning her lungs. You turned to face her, holding the envelope close to your chest as a warmer smile drew itself to your features. 

“O-Oh-... Oh m-my-...” Perona’s words found no harbour against her lips, all thoughts became silenced within her mind as she hovered over to the dresses. You allowed a warm giggle to rise within your throat at her fawning over the objects. 

“Do you like them?” You asked her, cocking your head over to the right hand side to find a better angle to read her face. 

“They are beautiful, my lady,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards the sleeve of Sir Crocodile’s creation and halting before her digits found purchase, “Can I touch them-?”

“-Don’t you dare, Perona,” A gruff, masculine voice called from the corner of the room. You snapped your face over to the doorway, noticing Zoro donned in lengthy tan sleeping trousers and a dark yukata hanging limply at the front. 

“Zoro!” You gasped, drawing your chemise closer to contain your form from his eyes, “It is one thing having Perona in my personal suite, but another to have a young gentleman while I’m clad in my nightdress.” Zoro shook his head, his wolfy grin taunting you beneath his down tilted head. 

“Would you change your tune if I said I have wine?” Zoro’s brow quirked up, revealing a green bottle from behind his back with a small, nonchalant shrug. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head and removing your arms from concealing your chemise from vision. 

“Have you got a saber tucked somewhere on your person, Zoro?” You quirked your own brow up in question. Zoro laughed, turning away from his lean to reveal three swords clinging limply against his hip. 

“You can take your pick, my lady,” he shrugged, his hand lying on the hilt of his favoured blade. You opened your arms to him, gesturing for him to enter your suite with an elaborate flurry of motions. 

“Then by all means, my green-haired pupil,” you mixed your tone somewhere balanced between absolute sarcasm and unwithheld appreciation, “Welcome to my humble abode. Shall we begin by getting ourselves ready for the ceremony, or having a drink before breakfast?” 

Zoro answered wordlessly with a small smirk. Withdrawing the white blade from within its scabbard to claim the cork from the top of the wine bottle, and unlatching the wax by severing the rim with his sword. He reached towards your small dining table, upturning three of the four teacups from their place atop their saucers and pouring the amber liquid to the brim. 

“You gonna open your letter?” he asked, nodding to the envelope clutched within your hands and reminding you of its presence, “We’ll do a small cheers and give you a bit of privacy to read it.”

“I hope you are both planning on giving Mihawk a similar wake-up call,” you laughed, reaching forward and claiming a teacup from Zoro’s outstretched grasp. Zoro chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his own teacup to clash the rim with your own.

“Oh, he’s been up for hours,” Zoro confessed, Perona giggling as he handed her her own teacup, “He’s been brooding in the ceremony space: hovering over the decor and pacing, last time I checked.” Perona struck the corner of her teacup against Zoro’s before meeting the edge with your own. Your brows furrowed, glancing from the corner of your eye outside your bedroom window to seek out the elevation of the sun. 

“How many hours remain between now and the ceremony?” you asked Perona with a partial anxious quiver depicted within. Perona stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against yours in a small gesture of comfort. 

“You’ve got two hours, my lady,” she whispered, prompting your heart to nearly stop beating and your breath to halt in your lungs, “That’s why I thought to wake you-.”

“-And why I thought to bring you booze,” Zoro added, throwing back his teacup and downing the contents in one heaping gulp, “Just to take the edge off.” Your hands stuttered, taking a small sip of the wine within your cup before setting it back down. 

“I thank you both for your thoughtfulness, my dears,” you gave them a small downturned smile, your brows triangulating in the center of your forehead, “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time getting to know you as my pupils-.” 

“You’re going to be our lady now, my lady,” Perona added to your thoughts, “No longer just our governess, but something akin to an adoptive mother beside Mihawk as our apprehensive father.” Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the thought of becoming unified not only to a spouse today, but upholding a promise to chaperone the two wards at a place of higher standing.

“Don’t think too hard about it, my lady,” Zoro reassured, his brow furrowing down. Placing his mug down on the table, he reached his hands up to clasp your shoulders beneath his heavy-handed grip, “You’ve already got so much goin’ on in your head, just know-,'' his breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He was bewitched by the charm of your melancholy and apprehensive expression, your doubts begin to spiral behind your eyes. 

‘You are not good enough for this role. This is not your place. This is not a role you were born to play. This was a role that always belonged to someone of higher standing; someone of higher class-.’

“-Know we would be proud to have you as our lady, not just a governess hired to serve a role,” Zoro continued, collecting your chin beneath his fingertips to hold your gaze with his own. Perona stepped her body closer to you, weaving her arms around your waist and hastily drawing her cheek to press against your back. 

“I can hear her too, my lady,” Perona whispered into your back, prompting you to break your eyes away from Zoros to glance over your shoulder. Perona’s large, dark eyes looked up at you with sorrow and understanding held within her orbs, promises of empathy propelling her utterances, “And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.”

Heart swelling at her utterances, your eyes began to pool over with gladness. The mist of your eyes clouded your vision as Perona continued to sing her praises into you. 

“I love you, my lady,” Perona hushed, her eyes beginning to dance with her own emotion. Her lip quivered, looking up into your eyes with true adoration and love at you, “We both do, don’t we Zoro?” At the sound of his name, Zoro’s breath caught itself within his mouth for the second time. 

You trailed your eyes back over to his, breaking away from your contact with Perona, and meeting his hazelnut orbs with your own once more. No whisper of a word, nor utterance fled his lips; all emotion depicted in the slight shudder of his eye and quirk up of his lips. Sighing out, you drew your arms around Zoro’s waist, turning your head to feel his heartbeat below his warm chest. Perona continued to nuzzle against your back as Zoro’s hands on your shoulders snaked over your back and pulled you both closer to him. 

“I am so glad to have met you both, dears,” you whispered, scrunching your eyes shut and deeply inhaling your insecurities, exhaling your worries into the air as they held you firmly. 

“Zoro, you need a bath. You stink, and I can smell you from here,” Perona called over your shoulder, “I pity your proximity, my lady. He’s probably spilling that musky smell onto you, meaning we’ll have to bath you too- My lady! We’re running out of time!” Perona immediately broke away from the embrace, tugging at your hips to break from Zoro’s grip and leading you to the changing shield.

“You: bath,” Perona ordered, pointing her finger at Zoro, “And you,” she snapped her eyes over to you, “Moon-dress first, right?” You sighed, nodding your dismissal of Zoro with a light smile. Zoro grunted a cough, adjusting his waistband around his yukata, and nodded in return before exiting your chambers. He halted at the table, collecting the half-drunk wine bottle by the neck, before heading through the door and latching it again with a small click.

“My lady, the moon first?” Perona asked once more, taking your attention from the door to gaze into her eyes. You nodded in confirmation, prompting her to shove you behind your changing screen to rid your body of its night chemise. You folded the chemise over the door of the screen, as the variety of items presented themselves to you in order from lesser to grander. 

“Perona, sweetheart,” you called to her, your voice holding an anxious laugh, “There is far too much material here for me to continue thrusting this onto my body.” Perona laughed in response, walking over to the screen and peeking over the top of the wooden frame. She inhaled deeply, a small squeak propelling her inhale. Her brows rose in excitement, her eyes upturning in glee at the first part of the assembly of the moon dress. 

The bodice of the dress clung to your breasts, an ovular shape wisping in layers of tulle and smoothed satin to draw over the midpoint of your shoulders. Trailing down from its seamless layers, your back was joined with an elaborate assortment of ridges and latches. Upon investigating it initially, you were unsure of why such items were joined in bands of silver, onyx and gold to its back until it hit you.

This was truly the moon. 

The silvery hue of the beams, the mystery of fluttered blues and pale whites cascading from end to end; all bound by circular divots of darkened onyx and quartz to resemble faces and craters atop the lunar surface. The many layers of skirts laid a train ending in the same ovular shape as the neckline atop your chest. 

“O-Oh, my g-goodness,” Perona’s voice managed to stutter out, her soul mirrored within her expression of youthful adoration and excitement, “You look so beautiful, my lady. As luminescent and radiant as the moon in peak of nightful.” You sighed with your smile, brows upturning and weight falling away from your shoulders. 

You gave Perona a small twirl, the material pooling and drifting as effortlessly as warm mercury over cool stone. She gave you a small applause and a small jittery cry of joy before ushering you over to sit at your vanity. Glancing up at your features, the illumination of the dress mixed perfectly with the tone of your skin and hair.The task had been executed flawlessly. 

“Now then, my lady,” she said, shaking her head and clapping her hands, “I am going to leave you to get yourself primed, painted and dressed with the jewellery-,” Her eyes widened, “-Jewellery, my lady! I have to get the jewellery!” She hastily turned back around and fled to the door, flinging it wide and immediately cowering away from a large, balled fist descending to where wood once was. 

You recognised the scent first, the smell of cigar tobacco and ashen smoke wafting into your chambers mixing with the expensive and earthy cologne of the hulking and boorish-.

“-Sir Crocodile,” you uttered as you began to rise from your vanity. Turning to face him, the intimidating aura of the hulking man hung behind the threshold of your door. 

“My lady,” he nodded his head in response, his head ducking below the frame to meet the purple hue of his eyes with your own, “May I enter your space?” Perona sucked in a breath, darting her eyes between the man at the door and you in your bridal dress in a small panic. Without turning his head, Sir Crocodile’s eyes met with Perona’s through the corner of his narrowed gaze.

“I harbour no ill intent with your mistress, little mouse,” Perona pouted at his words, prompting the twitch of his smirk to pull at the corner of his lips. He cleared his voice, removing the cigar from his lips and extinguishing the flame atop the stone wall beside the door frame; an action prompting your lips to curl in a small snarl. 

“As I were the means to provide you with such a dress,” his sinister smirk drew up to his cheeks, the huff of cigar smoke pooling from his lips, “I desired to be the first to see you in your radiancy. How are you enjoying your daw' alqamar-,” he shook his head in reprimand for his verbal linguistic slip, “-Your moonlight, my lady?” 

Several thoughts lingered in your mind: a reprimand for using your wall to douse the burnt end of his cigar, asking him to leave your space to continue dressing yourself for your wedding, thanking him for the skill that designed and crafted the garment over your body. Elevating to your feet and walking over to the door frame with precision and grace, you halted your movement and dipped into a low stooped curtsey.

“Sir Crocodile,” you spoke in a low and stern tone, “I would offer my praises and my gratitude to you presently,” your tone twitched in subtle agitation as you rose to your feet, “But I am a bride, and my groom is awaiting me.” Crocodile hummed through his nose, his smirk continuing to hold against his lips as he stared down at you. He took a moment to stare at your bodice, his brow twitching as he cocked his head.

After taking a moment's pause, his eyes softened to a point almost unavailable to an untrained eye. 

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he offered in a hushed whisper, “That dress was made for you by my means,” he stooped lower, remaining outside the threshold but hovering closer to you in proximity, “And you wear it as it you were born to don such a garment.”

At those final words, both Perona and Sir Crocodile left you in your solace to prepare yourself for your wedding ceremony. As you applied the final stroke of paint to dance atop your lips, from the corner of your eye; you spotted the parchment paper sealed with a wax stamp not dissimilar to the letter of summons from Mihawk those months ago. 

Placing down your lip-paint brush, you reached for the letter and unfolded the crease and snapping the small seal holding it closed. Immediately, your eyes widened at its contents:

“My Beloved Wife,

In light of harbouring no such secrets between us; I have written the vows I desired to forge with you, and present them to you before we meet for the first time as husband and wife.” 

You halted your reading, the swell of emotion elevating your heart to a risen drumbeat of both adoration and anticipation. Quickly reading through the customs he wished to claim over the ceremony, your smile broke your sorrow as you truly witnessed how much thought he placed into each declaration and decree. So many elements, so many customs you were learning held meaning for your husband to be; you found yourself awestruck.

“I have no such means for communication with you before we meet to truly know if you agree with the terms. 

But know this, 

I appreciated you for your skill as a governess to our wards, I found myself smiling at your playfulness as my Lost-Lady, and I am looking forward to the future that we will find ourselves forging; unified as one. 

My darling, I do

I will.

And I will always love you. 

Dracule Mihawk ~ Your Devoted Husband.”

A small drop soaked the page, swelling the signature lovingly scrolled ink into the bottom of the page, smudging its words. Shocked, you rose your hand to your cheek to find a damp trail of tears falling against your cheeks; completely unaware of when you had begun to cry. A small laugh flung from your lips, prompting you to sniff and shake your head before setting to the task of reapplying your paints and perfumes to the highest quality. 

The final step was placing the cascading veil atop your hair and covering your eyes, sheer in material appearing to illuminate pale blue under the lights. In your hand, you clutched your bouquet of lilies, roses, and baubles of babies’ breath. Nestled into the arrangement peered throughout were small wisps of blue forget-me-nots, a small nod to your prior filterless encounter with your Farm-Hand and you as his Lost-Lady. 

The halls were littered with similar flowers, illuminating the area with bulbs of roses, flurries of jasmines and hiding within the scattered arrangements: the same innocent and small forget-me-nots in clusters joined with twine. Although walking alone, you felt the presence of all guests loitering within the ceremonial space of Castle Kuraigana to propel you. 

Murmurs of hushed voices, small conversations resonated within the halls and beyond had your heart beating with irregular jumps in anticipation for what awaits you behind the large, closed doors. You sucked in a breath, the trail of your moonlight dress dancing along the lengthy hallway for each movement of your feet. 

‘You are truly going through with this, are you? Joining yourself to a role that you have no place in unifying with-.’

“-Sapsorrow,” your hushed voice rang into the air, the atmosphere cooling at the immediate utterance of her name. Whispers and hushed hums alerted you of her presence standing beside you in her spectral regality. 

“You dare speak my name, Governess?” the voice to your side answered you, your spine and follicles standing in tingles at her tone. You rolled your neck on your shoulders, twitching your hands by your side to rid it of your anxiety as you turned to face the spirit haunting you.

Her hollowed eyes framing her pupil-less gaze found your face, her sinister smile resting comfortably against her lips. Hair swiping in a wind not present as she moved, her dress pooling at her feet like a flag within water. She was a horror to behold, but there was a deep melancholy reflected in her eyes. 

“Queen Sapsorrow,” you stooped low, bowing yourself almost to the floor with your humility, “I express my gratitude to you.” You heard her spectral voice hitch in her unnatural throat, her animosity fleeing from her in the wake of curiosity. Before she opened her mouth to speak her taunts to you, you spoke once more as you rose to your feet. 

“I have no parents; no father, nor mother,” you confessed to her, your eyes depicting your honesty through each word spoken, “No family to call my own, until this very moment.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out your hand to bare your right palm to her. 

“I was alone in this world, drifting from place to place and finding purpose as a governess - an excellent governess,” you corrected yourself with a smile. Her uneasy and cautious expression unwavering for each parting moment you held her hostage with your words. 

“You are the reason I am here, and I will forever be grateful to the future you had bound to me,” She clicked her tongue at you, scrunching her nose to reveal her snarl at you. You hardened your resolve and continued, “Two wards: a man akin to a roguish son, alongside a beautiful and delightful daughter. In this unity: I have found a love that is truly mine,” you concluded, a warmer smile drawing up to reveal your teeth to her in a kind smile. 

Sapsorrow’s eyes widened, her unbeaten heart fluttering and reigniting within her chest at hearing her own words reflected from the lips of another.

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk?” you offered her, stepping closer to her and continuing to hold your hand elevated to the front of you.

“Excuse me?” Her spectral voice called, her tone somewhere between offended and bewildered at such an offering. 

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk, Sapsorrow?” you again offered, gesturing to her spectral hand with your forehead, “From what I know of your history in the tale once told to me, you deserve your own happy ending. Walk with me, and I will be glad to share mine.” 

“You think my curse ends with just you?” Her form faded from vision, her voice reverberating in the hall outside of the ceremony with you, “Oh, I have eight more curses to awaken, you arrogant woman-.” Her voice held source from all corners of the hallway, “-Nine if you account for the clause that stupid tall blonde placed upon the band lying around that inked doctor’s neck!” 

Her sinister cackle broke her sentence, unnerving you more than the words she was speaking,“I shall start with those who aided you in completing your conditions; the easiest of the three to ensnare will be the Crocodile, for I know where his ring lay-.” 

Your breath hitched at her confession, her own words halting as she attempted to stuff them back into her undead lips. A rough spectral sigh drifted within the walls, her face once again revealed to your eyes. She looked softer, almost human now. Her hair was less wild, her face less horrifying, and her eyes soft and baring pupils within them behind her thick and lengthy eyelashes. The was truly beautiful, her sorrow depicted alongside an unfamiliar warmth in her undeath. 

“I will allow your happiness to lie only with you, Lady of Kuraigana. You deserve peace today,” she confessed, a warm smile rising to her lips as she leant forward to take your hand, “Enjoy the time you have with your love.” She stepped forward, pressing her left hand against your offered right, a tingle dancing against your skin at the contact. 

“This is where I leave you,” she confessed, floating backwards slowly towards the high ceilings, “But I will be watching your future closely.”

“Thank you, Sapsorrow,” you offered your gratuity by slinking down to another low bow. Halting her final exit by the upper window, she turned once more and glanced at the corner of her eye at you and smirked through the left hand corner of her lips. 

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” her small laugh propelled one of your own to dance alongside hers, “If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas,” her beauty once again faded into the horrifying spectre you had initially seen her as, “I do not.”

Her spectral body disappeared from the window, a swell in orchestral melody commencing as soon as she departed from the space. You were once again drawn to this single moment, your heart beating now in anxiety of what your future held for you. 

You were to become Lady of Kuraigana, bound to one of the former warlords of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman as your beau, the Lord of this land you were now to call home. As you began to step towards the threshold of the door, the wooden barriers were pulled back by members of staff to reveal the attendees within. At the end of the ornately decorated row, your gaze immediately found linked with the honeyed hue of your beloved. 

Flowers lined the pews within the large room, candles alight with warm flames to illuminate the shadowy row. All eyes snapped to you, gasps fleeing from their lips as they took in your incredible beauty dressed in an arrangement as radiant as the moon. You could audibly hear the smirk from the hulking Sir Crocodile, as praises of your dress were flung into the air with their comments and sighs. 

The music swelled, a small smile drawing up to your face as you propelled yourself forward while clutching your bouquet close to your naval. You thanked your veil from shielding your nerves from prying eyes, a small blush dusting your cheeks as you shamelessly raked your eyes over the body of your intended.

His shirt was dipped into a deep ‘V’, tasteful frills decorating the hemline against his collarbone and neck. His overcoat lay open black in colour with the softest shade of mauve within the inner shield. Dark, leather pants were clasped by a golden buckle decorating his waist, the outer frame of his thighs supporting embellished embroidery in the similar mauve decorating his overcoat. Atop his head, his signature hat with his puffed, white feather dancing behind the broad brim and shielding his curled locks beneath it. 

In all your time spent with Dracule Mihawk, you could safely assume you had a grasp on how to read the subtle changes in his stoic face. His lips were barely parted, his eyes only slightly widened and his face only a single shade away from his regular hue with the dusting of the palest pink. Once again, the thought hit you like a puff of cautious wind: you were to wed Lord Dracule Mihawk, become his wife and he your husband. 

If his words to you were left unread and unwritten, you would have no doubt plaguing your mind at this very moment of one thing. Lord Dracule Mihawk was hopelessly, truly and deeply in love with you. 

As you approached the final steps towards him, you slowly turned to view Perona standing to the side of the aisle, noticing Zoro standing beside your intended: both holding similar expressions mirroring your own. You had all been awaiting this moment with the greatest anticipation: from the moment your accidental hands toyed with the moss agate ring, to the knowledge the curse bound you now by fate. 

Mihawk opened his mouth, watching as you slowly placed your bouquet he had affectionately crafted for you within Perona’s outstretched and awaiting hands. The officiant gave you a soft smile, turning to address the large number of attendees scattered amongst the pews in their most formal attire. 

“Valued and adored guests here gathered,” she began, her arms gesturing outwards in a warm embellished wave, “On behalf of the Lord and Lady to be of Kuraigana, I would bid thee welcome to witness the unification of two souls in matrimony.” Mihawk had yet to tear his eyes off you, paying attention to all words spoken by the woman in front of you, but hypnotised by your presence at his side. 

“There are a few elements to witness performed here. We are to leave no stone unturned nor phrase unuttered in their bonds forming,” she continued, turning away and gathering a larger twin candles within her hands and holding them to the side of her body, “Lord Dracule, you may reveal your wife from beneath her shroud, so we may witness her declarations departing from her lips.” 

Mihawk rose his hands to your collar bones, his fingertips pinching the sheer material within his thumb, index and tall finger and hastily withdrawing the shield from your face. He allowed himself the luxury of the backs of his hands brushing with your cheeks as he flung the sheer fabric over your hair, a shaken breath escaping your lips at his tender touch. 

As your eyes met without filter between you, his expression finally revealed more to you than a subtle tick and twitch. The air was sucked from his lungs, his eyes softening as he found his body drawing closer to you almost against his will. You smiled up at him, adoring this new and unrefined experience of adoration dancing over his face. 

“I present you with two candles,” the attendee informed you, placing them out in a gesture for you to take them from her hands, “I shall alight the wick of Lord Dracule's, and he will speak his actions and their meaning aloud.” She lit his wick, gesturing for you to turn to face one another with your candles extended in the middle of your bodies.

“With this flame,” Mihawk uttered in full clarity, “I vow to light your way through all darkness that plagues you.” He extended the flamed tip to ignite your candle in front of you. 

“Under its light,” you uttered with a small bow to him, “I trust you to guide me.” A small sniff from Perona, attempting as she would to halt her emotions from expressing themselves, had a similar experience rising in Zoro behind Mihawk. The two wards witnessing their Lord and Lady now unifying themselves in matrimony finally began to find harbour within their hearts in each passing moment and gesture. 

Taking the candles from you and placing them within their designated dishes on the table and elevating a silver goblet and accompanying decanter. She poured the crimson liquid within the spherical container, offering to place the cool stem within your fingertips. 

“Your cup may never empty,” you expressed, offering to your swordsman the container, rotating the object twice within your hands first and bowing your head low, “For I will be the wine that fills it.” His fingers brushed over yours, grasping them and taking them with him as he elevated the wine to his lips. He continued holding his hands over yours as he offered the goblet up to your own lips. 

“May I be the wine that fills your cup,” his smile twitched at the corner as he added, “And may you always be satisfied with the contents that replenishes you.” A small blush rose to your cheeks as your eyes never broke from Mihawks. He elevated the wine to your lips, allowing for a small sip to pass from your lips. The celebrant reclaimed the goblet from your hands and placed it beside the lit candles, rising now a tray with two cubes of sticky honeycomb atop the surface. 

“This may get a little messy, bear with us everyone,” the attendee expressed, drawing a small teetered chuckle and rise of giggle from your guests. Mihawk allowed the softness to be depicted in his face at the small giggle that fell from your lips, both claiming the sticky cubic piece of honeycomb into your fingers. 

“I shall serve you in all the ways you require,” you both spoke in unison, “And may the honeycomb taste sweeter coming from my hand.” You both placed the sticky cubes within each other’s awaiting mouths, both laughing at the mess atop your fingertips. Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits. 

Small whistles and flirtatious commentary fell from the lips of the Red-Hair pirates, hooting and hollering in their support of such an unbridled expression of lust within the ceremony. Another rise of laughter occurred between you as you retracted your fingertips from each other’s mouths. The attendee placed the tray beside the goblet and returned with two thin sheets of material and offered them to Zoro and Perona. 

Perona reached forward and gathered the material within her hands, Zoro apprehensively doing the same with no frame of reference as to why he was doing so. 

“The two wards under the care of Dracule Mihawk will present the ties to bind you, solidifying their positions in upholding you within your commitment to one another as your chosen witnesses,” Mihawk turned away from you, as you did him, to gather the material within the hands of the wards behind you. 

“May our bond continue to grow all the years you choose to remain with us in unity, Perona,” you whispered to her, prompting her to smile through her tears that began to fall as soon as your vows commenced.

“I will stay as long as you’ll have me, my lady,” she confessed in a similar tone, offering the sash for you to take into your arms. 

Although you both were too wrapped to hear the conversation occurring behind you, Zoro and Mihawk had a similar moment parting between them.

“Although you are destined to earn my title as ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’ in single combat, I am proud to call you a son under my familial name, Zoro,” He uttered with a small twitched smirk and narrowed eyes. 

“I will hold both such titles with honour, Lord Mihawk,” he reached forward, his arms containing the sash and prompting both Mihawk and you to return in facing one another. 

“May this knot you tie demonstrate to those present here the symbol of your unity,” the attendee uttered to you, prompting a skillful dance of fingertips brushing and hands clasping one another to tie the two sheets into a single knot in the centre. You and Mihawk both presented the unified material to the celebrant, who collected it from you by the knot in the centre. She placed the knot beside the dish containing the small syrupy honeycomb remnants, raising a box containing two bands of gold within. 

“My lady, you may raise your hand to place the ring atop your beau’s unity finger and relay your vows onto him,” she gestured for you to claim the larger band within the box, elevating it to his left hand and hovering it over his fingertip.

“My beloved,” you began, glancing from his hand to dart your focus between his two honey-coloured eyes, “These are the vows of promise I swear unto you, unifying us in marriage.” He awaited expectantly his breath hitching once more as you relayed your confession of love onto him.

“I will never possess you, for you belong to none but yourself,” you smiled at him, beginning the descent of his ring slowly over his finger, “I cannot command you, for you are free.” Shimmying the object over his first knuckle, you continued to relay your vows.

“I pledge to you that your name be the one I cry into the night,” your smile cracked at the corner of your face at a small stifled squeak from Perona, “And may mine be the smile that greets you the morning after.” You slid the ring over his final knuckle, securing it to the base of his finger before interweaving your fingertips with his. 

“May this ring be a symbol of my devotion to you, unifying us as one to all those who view it,” you concluded. Finally meeting his eyes once more, his glazed over eyes held such softness for you it felt too intimate for his public persona. He firmly squeezed your right hand within his left before unweaving his fingertips from yours and collecting your ring from the box presented by the attendant. 

“My beloved,” he began, clasping your left hand with his right, and elevating his left hand to hover the golden band above your left finger; his own new band catching your eyes as it danced in the light, “These are the promises I swear onto you through my vows of devotion.” He slid the ring slowly over your fingertip, his eyes never breaking away from your own as he presented his words.

“I will never command nor possess you,” he ushered the ring over your first knuckle, “For your will belongs to you alone.” Sliding the ring over your second knuckle, he continued to relay his vows slowly onto you. 

“I pledge your name to be cried from my lips in the night, and my smile-...” his right hand gently squeezed your fingertips as his smile drew up onto his face, “-be what greets you on the morrow beside you.” Perona stifled another squeal behind her unoccupied hand clapping over her lips, prompting a smile to break over your own lips. 

“May this band unify us in matrimony, and be a beacon of my promise to all who view it,” Mihawk concluded, immediately stooping his lips to press a chaste kiss atop your knuckles, much to the detest of the celebrant. She clicked her tongue to reprimand him, shaking her head with a smile of her own. 

“Given your lips can’t hold their restraint, my lord,” her warning tone playfully reprimanded him, “I will now allow for the lord and lady to solidify their unity in the sharing of their first kiss as husband and wife. You may both collect each other and seal your covenant with words left unspoken. You may now share your lips with one another.” 

Mihawk immediately began his descent, cradling your jaw beneath his left hand and shepherding you towards him with his lips parted in anticipation. You hastily drew your own left hand up to his right cheek, your right hand finding purchase on his waist and anchoring yourself to him as he finally pressed his lips onto your own. 

His lips were slow in movement, savouring the sweet taste of sugary honeycomb mixing with the bitter wine presented to each other earlier. He gasped into your mouth, opening it to deepen the unity between you by presenting a small flick of his tongue into you. His nose brushed with your own, his hand on your jaw fell immediately to your waist and clutched you firmly against his waist. Brows furrowed in unbridled passion, the world around you fled from memory at each press of his lips against your own. 

You slid your hand up to clasp his shoulder, a small squeak fleeing from your mouth into his as he turned your body in a low dip towards the guests in their seats in the pew. This action drew you away from your lustful hypnosis, the applause and cheers of your guests gleefully erupting into the air. He hastily drew your body back upwards with the flitter of your luxurious dress pooling behind you. 

“I am now delighted to pronounce, through this seal of unity,” the celebrant concluded her presentation, “The Lord and Lady Dracule of Kuraigana. Celebrate and uphold them, and may jovial celebrations continue into the night with merriment.” Mihawk clasped your hand and placed it into the crook of his left elbow, beginning his ushering of you to flee with him from the ceremony space to continue into your reception. 

Several of your guests greeted you both with their offerings of congratulations and affirmations, Red-Hair Shanks prying your husband away from your arms with his arm hooking over his shoulders and ushering him into a warm embrace. You made eye contact with the first mate of the Red-Hair pirates, who offered you a polite smile and the nod of his head; both of which you returned with actions mirroring his own. 

However, as soon as you became distracted by the embraces falling to your now husband, your elevated mood of joy was immediately halted as a floating and severed gloved hand clapped over your lips. You could not offer a hum of protest, nor a scream as your body was pried away from Mihawk’s and into the hallway outside of the ceremony space. 

“All part of the plan, Starlight,” a soft, nasally voice reaffirmed you in your ear. You turned your head to meet with the face of the flashy-fool himself, his face painted to the highest quality. His hand rejoined his forearm with a small suctioned ‘pop’.

“I’m gonna take my hand away from your face now, alright? You gotta be quiet and listen to what I’m ‘bout to tell you,” He nodded, his eyes serious with no room for joking. You nodded in return, prompting a smile to rise to his lips. 

“I’ve done some reading,” Buggy informed you, his tone apprehensive and nervous, “And there’s a custom in Kuraigana regarding weddings that sounds way too fun to be left out of ol’ Hawkie’s.” 

“And what may that be, sir Buggy D Clown?” Your frown deepened the longer Buggy kept you away from your new husband. He chuckled at your apprehension, a sly smile now developing further in elevation. 

“You are to be dressed in a new gown, no longer a bride but a wife under his name,” he confirmed with a nod, your understanding reflected in your own nod. “As your new dress is placed onto your body, you’re a new woman. And as a new woman,” his eyes twinkled with mischief, “Your groom has to woo you to win back your favor.” 

“What are you saying, sir?” you narrowed your eyes, and threw him an accusatory and pointed look. 

“What I’m saying, Starlight,” he continued, linking his arms with yours and beginning to shepherd you further away from your celebration, “Is that I’m going to kidnap you and dress you in your starlight gown,” he grimaced a small grin, “I may have had a couple of my crew break in and steal the mannequin earlier,” he quickly uttered before waving his hand in front of him to halt your protests, “And he has to humble himself and perform a skill worthy enough to win your favour.” 

Your bewilderment was pictured over your face, looking from his eyes and apprehensively allowing him to draw you to the peer. 

“What type of skill, Buggy?” you asked him, your curiosity peaked the longer the clown explained himself.

“Could be anything, Starlight,” he shrugged, his playful smirk pulling wider. His eyes twinkled, the paint falling within the crows feet beneath the blue and white hues, “He could dance, sing, recite poetry, he could even juggle. It truly doesn’t matter as long as you’re impressed and successfully wooed.”

You took the moment to study him. From his painted face, to his beautiful assortment of a red and yellow diamond patterned vest, to his tanned leather pants, and all the way back up to his hair braided and styled away from falling in front of his eyes. He threw his best grin at you, his lips curling in an apprehensive and crooked smile. You shook your head, stepping closer to him. 

“Does Mihawk know about this?” You uttered quietly, your dress shifting behind you in your haste. He sighed out a shuddered laugh of dark glee.

“Oh, I’m certain Red-Hair is filling him in right about-...” he trailed off, thinking long and hard about his answer. As soon as your feet found the wood of Buggy’s ship, the anchor rising and sails drawn down by his crew, he gestured to the doors of Castle Kuraigana in the distance.

“-Now.”

[victoriartdrawings]

Jetara fake marriage fic trope canon abcsjkzm

Bonus: Brother in law Sokka roasting