#the god thing with an arranged/forced marriage trope

[labellefleur-sauvage]

The Highland Fox and The English Rose

Summary:

Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.

As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englshwoman he’d never met. 

But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.

Read on AO3 Masterlist

XXX

Chapter 2: Oh tell me what was on yer road, ye roarin' Norlan' Wind

As far as weddings went, it wasn’t completely horrible.

Had Elain pictured something a bit more… illustrious whenever she daydreamed about her wedding as a child? Of course—what little girl, perhaps with the exception of Feyre, hadn’t been mentally planning their dream wedding since they were old enough to understand that marriage was the only fate that awaited them when they grew up? Elain had already decided on what flowers and dress she’d want at her wedding with Graysen before he’d even proposed.

Instead, as soon as Elain and her sisters arrived at the Clan Macpherson keep, sore after days of riding in a rough carriage, they were whisked into a side chamber of the aged castle, where a number of women immediately began dressing Elain in her wedding dress and fiddling with her hair.

“I didn’t realize we were in such a rush!” Elain gasped as a woman tightened her corset.

“I know, my dear,” her father sighed from across the room. Elain, Nesta and Feyre were hidden behind their dressing doors. “But you know these Scots—they have no patience for anything, and place no value in having any manners for guests.”

Elain gulped. And she was to marry a man like this?

“A word, my dear Elain.”

Elain nodded towards her sisters as she went to her father. He was dressed in a handsome new outfit: a dark burgundy suit jacket with shining gold buttons, slick black shoes and an impressive velvet black hat. She had never seen him wear anything so nice. Elain fingered her own gloves; silk, bought second hand, and already fraying around the edges.

“I just wanted to prepare you for your husband,” her father began gently. “He is… well… disfigured, to be blunt.”

“Oh,” Elain sighed, disappointed. “In what way?”

“He’s missing an eye and wears a horrible eyepatch. The side of his face is mangled as well.”

“What happened to him?”

Her father shrugged. “Who knows? Probably got in a drunken brawl, you know how these people are. Can’t go one day without nearly killing each other.”

Elain’s stomach dropped. 

“Don’t fret too much, my dear,” her father said soothingly, seeing her suddenly pale face. “I just wanted to warn you before you saw him and ran away screaming. I wouldn’t blame you, but, as Englishmen and women, we must always show benevolence and grace to those below us.”

“Of course Father,” Elain agreed quietly. This was true. As the daughter of a gentleman, she was duty bound to show kindness and compassion to others, even if they were savage Scots. 

And what was her Scot, her soon to be husband, like? Her sister’s words from the carriage ride, as well as her own knowledge and her father’s information, rattled through her brain as she was led towards the intimate chapel tucked away in the back of the castle. Elain’s hand gripped her father’s arm, a buoy in the tumultuous sea of her emotions.

Somehow, they were already standing outside the doors of the hall, waiting for their signal to enter. Elain wasn’t sure where the past few minutes had gone but then she heard her name being announced, and she was walking toward her future.

Elain’s first thought was that Lucien was much younger than what she was anticipating: her age, or only a few years older. She was relieved. Her second thought, on the heels of the first, was that her father greatly exaggerated his injury.

As Elain slowly walked down the aisle, her father at her side, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her soon to be husband. Without a doubt, Lucien was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall and lean, but held himself with such confidence and poise that Elain knew he must have hidden muscles under his attire. He had a thin face and one gorgeous brown eye, which was staring above Elain with as little emotion as possible.

His other eye—or where an eye should have been—was indeed covered by a brown eye patch, but neither the eyepatch nor the silver scars running down the side of his face detracted from his beauty. Instead, it just made him look wild and untamed in the best way possible. 

Perhaps his most distinguished feature, even more so than his missing eye, was his luscious red hair. Someone had braided a few small sections of his hair away from his face, and it only made him more handsome. Lucien’s hair was long, perhaps even longer than Elain’s own hair, and so smooth and soft looking she was instantly and irrationally jealous that a heathen like him would be blessed with hair so fine.

Elain wasn’t even aware of being given away by her father. She didn’t know where Feyre and Nesta were, and didn’t care to look for them. All she could see was her future husband.

Lucien wore a large piece of emerald green, cobalt and dark gray wool plaid, belted at his waist and hanging just above his knees so as to give Elain a small peak of the muscles in his legs. The rest of the fabric was pinned on a broad shoulder so it flowed down his back. A long sleeved, white shirt that complimented his hair and golden brown skin beautifully was under his great kilt. Tall leather boots covered his calves. Lucien perfunctorily offered his hand when she approached the dias.

She took his hand; his skin was warm, like an inferno was blazing just below the surface. Finally, he lowered his gaze towards her own. His countenance was still bland, but his eye contained such fire, such fury, that she momentarily lost her breath. His gaze dipped behind and he glared at something before he schooled his face into the same bored mask he had been wearing before.

Elain puzzled over the anger in his eye the entire ceremony until the priest, with an obvious cough, broke her out of her thoughts. She said her vows and “I do,” and suddenly, she was a married woman.

She was still thinking of her new husband hours later, seated at the high table on a dias in the castle’s great hall next to her husband—Lucien, she thought to herself. He hadn’t said a word to her yet and hadn’t even looked at her since their ceremony.

Elain looked down at her finger. Lucien had slipped a silver ring on her finger during the ceremony. The band was composed of two intertwining pieces of metal designed to look like tree branches, with small leaves and flowers branching off. It was elegantly simple, and more refined than Elain thought any Scotsman capable of providing. 

A single drum beat ripped through the air and silenced the few assembled people already sitting at the long tables throughout the cavernous room. The great wooden doors opened and the castle’s herald began announcing the lairds and lords who had been invited to the wedding.

Elain watched as a number of lairds entered the hall, each with their own distinct plaid and ornaments. Besides her, she felt Lucien tense up as more and more people entered, his mouth tight and his hand gripping the wooden armrest of his chair.

“Whatever ye do,” he whispered roughly to her, his deep voice sending chills down her spine, “doona talk to anyone here. Stick to yer sisters.”

She frowned. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to any of our guests?”

“They’re no’ our guests.”

“They’re here in your hall, celebrating our marriage!”

“The only reason they’re here,” Lucien gritted out, “is because there would be a war if we didna’ extend niceties to them and invite them. They are no’ our guests or our friends. Stay away from all of them—especially them.”

Elain looked to the two groups that Lucien pointed out. A tall, slim man with red hair the exact same shade as Lucien’s was sitting below their own table. He stared at Lucien with a cruel smirk on his face while Lucien steadfastly ignored him. The red haired man looked over at Elain. To her shock, he looked her up and down and winked at her. 

At the other side of the room, in the corner, a large contingent of people with dark hair and brown skin were settling into place. Their laird, a man with almost violet eyes, was staring towards the front of the hall, where her sisters sat at the table near her and Lucien’s. 

When everyone was seated, the herald swiftly made his way to the front of the hall. “Introducing,” he boomed, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”

The two of them awkwardly stood up. Elain suddenly felt adrift again as she looked out at hundreds of unfamiliar faces staring intently at her. Everyone was politely clapping, and there were some whoops and cheers from a nearby table, but she could feel the judgment radiating from the crowd. Narrowed eyes appraised her—her face, her appearance, her English-ness—and she knew she was left wanting. Elain tried to grasp Lucien’s hand, anything to prevent herself from drowning, but he shook her off, and they woodenly sat back down. 

Dinner passed in a haze—she had no appetite—and then tables were pushed to the sides of the hall to create a large mingling and dancing space. Several musicians set up in the front of the hall, and the rich sounds of a drum, fiddle and harp floated over the room.

“I’m going to turn about the room,” Lucien said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.” He didn’t give Elain a chance to argue her case as he swept across the hall.

Elain sighed as she watched Lucien retreat. Despite what she felt for him at the moment—annoyance, frustration—she couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over his strong body like she had done earlier that day. 

She shook herself. She wouldn’t be caught ogling Lucien at her own wedding. Slightly embarrassed and hoping no one saw her, she looked about the room.

Below her, Nesta was using all of her patience towards convincing Feyre to stay at the table and not join the crowd. She heard snippets of their whispered argument—“Who comes to a wedding and doesn’t dance or talk to people?” “Us, because we’re two single English women surrounded by a crowd of barbarous Scotsmen!” “But the men here are so handsome!”—and kept gazing about. 

She noticed her father wasn’t sitting with Feyre and Nesta—odd—but she saw Lucien talking excitedly with a regal woman with flaming hair and bright blue eyes. A tall man stood next to the woman, looking between Lucien and the woman and the rest of the room with a pair of sharp, calculating eyes.

A flair of jealousy washed over Elain. She didn’t know Lucien, and realized the weak bond of their marriage was the only thing holding them together. Despite that, she was unreasonably angry at the proud woman smiling at Lucien, and Lucien smiling and laughing back.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible if he wasn’t so handsome when he smiled, Elain thought bitterly. 

It took all of her willpower to rip her gaze away from her husband. He mentioned the various Lairds weren’t here as valued guests, but why invite them? She saw one of the Lairds—a hulking blonde man with a stern face—talking to a dark skinned Laird. The blonde man was casually stroking the head of an ax belted to his body as he regarded his fellow Laird. Elain shivered; the casual violence on display unnerved her.

Another Laird, pale, with hair so fair it looked white, sat stiffly with a blonde woman, surveying the room with glacier cold eyes. Elain studied the man. He looked foreign, even compared to the Scots around him.

“They say those from Clan MacDonnell are descended from the Norsemen from the East,” a quiet voice said behind Elain. “Kallias there certainly looks like he belongs on a longship raiding coastal villages, rather than journeying across the Wall to destroy English towns.”

Elain whipped around. The red haired man, the one Lucien told Elain to stay away from, was standing right behind her. He smirked at her but there was no warmth in his cold eyes.

“If the rumors are to be believed, y’ken,” the man went on. Elain stared in shock at the man. “I think the old Viking viciousness has long been bred out of the MacDonnell’s.”

Elain glanced around her. No one was paying her any attention. “Who are you?”

“Eris Vanserra, heir apparent to the Vanserra clan.”

Elain stared at him. He towered above her, with a hard, rugged face littered with small scars and cuts. His long, red hair hung behind him in a straight sheath. Like all the men in the hall, he wore a unique tartan kilt, belted around his waist and slung over a shoulder: various shades of brown, orange, red and yellow crossing in an intricate plaid pattern. A large sword was belted at his hip. Elain gulped. 

“I was hoping the new Laird would take the time to introduce us all to his lovely new bride, but obviously no one explained to him proper Scottish wedding etiquette,” Eris went on, his narrowed eyes looking Elain up and down like a piece of meat. “Eejit. I’m no’ surprised—I doona believe he has too many people here at the castle under his employ that would tell him what to do.”

Elain nervously looked around. She didn’t particularly care about obeying Lucien’s request to not talk to anyone, but she was also keenly aware that she was an Englishwoman surrounded by vicious Scottsmen and women. It seemed making polite conversation with Eris was the safest option. 

“Well, er, what does proper Scottish wedding etiquette entail?”

“Ye’d actually be introduced to all yer guests, rather than put on display like a prized coo.”

Elain gasped. “Excuse you! That’s completely inappropriate!”

Eris shrugged. “At least a prized coo could have gotten the Laird more money and use for this run down keep than whatever yer probably worth. I suppose yer passably attractive though.”

For perhaps the first time in her life, Elain snapped. “Fine words, coming from a backwards, barely literate brute skulking about in a skirt to harass women!” She snapped her mouth shut and looked at Eris in shock. She had never been so rude to anyone in her life.

She braced herself for a retaliatory strike in some form, but was surprised to hear Eris softly chuckle. “I suppose there’s a bit more fire to ye than I thought.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Doona apologize,” Eris interrupted her harshly, frowning. “A word of warning: yer no’ in sweet England anymore. Most people here will do anything to make yer life a living hell, just based on where yer from. Ye need to toughen up if ye want to survive.”

Elain stared at Eris. The words and phrases he used—living hell, toughen up, survive - rang in her ears. Perhaps Feyre had the right idea all along; maybe Elain should have let her sister whisk her away while she had the chance. The sinking feeling returned to her, but instead of drowning, she realized she had been swimming in shark infested waters the moment she stepped foot in the castle.  

But Elain needed this. She remembered the cautious excitement she’d felt on the journey here, when she realized that this marriage in this wild land could give her the freedoms she’d always lacked in England. If she needed to toughen up, as Eris put it, to thrive here in her new home, to fit in and discover her own interests and desires, then so be it.

And damn whatever her new husband had to say about it.

Elain took a deep breath. “Perhaps some of Clan MacDonnell’s fabled viciousness could help me now.”

Eris gave her a savage grin. “Now yer speaking like a true Scotswoman.”

“What else can I do to… acclimate to Scotland? Survive, as you put it?”

Eris stroked his jaw. “Speak yer mind plainly. Us Scots doona have time or patience for veiled niceties and double meanings.”

Elain frowned; that would be difficult. “Anything else?”

“Aye, get used to drinking. Anyone this far north should be able to drink their body weight in ale, men and women. Wouldna hurt to learn how to handle a dirk as well, just in case. And don’t be so… quiet. Ye’ve clearly got a great wit to ye, make sure to use it.”

“So I should just change everything about myself and how I was brought up, is that it?” Elain asked sarcastically. 

He shrugged. “Ye asked. Ye doona need to change everything about yourself to fit in, just sharpen your soft bits.”

Elain hummed thoughtfully. Perhaps she had judged the Scots too harshly. Yes, they seemed far too familiar with violence for her liking and spoke their mind far too much, but they were far away from the uncultured savages she had pictured. 

“Thank you for the advice, but who exactly are you?” Elain asked suspiciously. “And why are you even talking to me?”

“Aye, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”

Lucien emerged from behind a pillar, a murderous look on his face. Elain froze, terrified at her husband’s expression, though she relaxed slightly as Lucien stalked towards a still grinning Eris.

“Congratulations on yer happy nuptials, brother,” Eris said with relish, looking over at a fuming Lucien. “How sad Mother would be to see how yer treating yer new wife.”

Elain quickly looked between the two men. Now that he said it, Lucien and Eris were obviously related: they had the same red hair, brown eyes and lean, pointed faces. But Eris said he was from Clan Vanserra, and Lucien was Laird of Clan Macpherson—did Scots have a different definition of brother than the English?

“Brother?” Elain stuttered, looking at her husband. “This is your brother?”

“Unfortunately,” Lucien said, “and he was just leaving, weren’t ye?”

Eris walked up to Lucien and gave him a hard slap on the back. “Aye. I’ll let the happy couple become better acquainted.” Elain watched Eris lean down and whisper something in Lucien’s ear; whatever he said made Lucien glare at his brother.

“Get out,” he snarled.

Eris sent an ugly look back at Lucien, then he nodded at Elain before briskly walking away.

The party was still going on around them but it was just Elain and Lucien alone at the top of the hall. Lucien awkwardly cleared his throat. “Are ye alright? Did he… say anything to ye?”

“Er, not really, I suppose. We were just… talking.”

Lucien rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, good.”

Elain hummed back noncommittally, looking anywhere but the reddened face of her new husband. 

Lucien’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at her. “And why were ye talking to him?”

Elain scoffed. “He came to me and started the conversation. I could hardly tell him to go away.”

“Ye most certainly could have, and should.”

“Why do you even care who I talk to at my own wedding?”

“Because,” Lucien growled, “the people here—“

“Yes, yes,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Your brother already warned me that the people here hate me and that I’ll need to toughen up if I want to live here.”

He sighed. “People here don’t hate ye.”

“They don’t know anything about me other than my name and that I’m English,” Elain replied hotly. “Perhaps they’d know more if you bothered to do your duty and introduce me to anyone here.”

“It’s better for ye to not know any of the Lairds here by name, especially Eris and the Northern clans,” Lucien warned, gesturing to the dark haired guests he’d previously pointed out. “They're all dangerous.”

“At least Eris was willing to keep me company at my own wedding, unlike my husband!” Elain snapped. “You just left me alone and told me to keep my mouth shut, like a dog!”

Lucien’s face turned a shade of red not unlike his hair. “Maybe ye could do to learn a lesson from the dogs down at the stable—they’re never as loud or bother me as much as ye already are!”

Elain curled her lip. “Well, husband, unlike your dogs, I won’t blindly follow whatever orders you tell me!” Not giving him a chance to reply, Elain stormed out of the hall, uncaring of where she was going. 

Her beautiful Scottish husband was a complete ass. Just her luck that she’d be married to an overbearing Laird with apparent family issues and an attitude that rivaled Feyre’s. 

She slipped outside into a surprisingly manicured garden and sat on a stone bench. Gazing up at the moon, Elain reflected on what a truly terrible day it had been. From the rushed ceremony to the boring and disastrous reception and Lucien’s abysmal interest in her, she wasn’t sure what else could have gone wrong. 

Maybe Feyre had the right idea of it—maybe it would have been better to abandon the carriage on the way up and fight their way back home to avoid this sham of a marriage. Elain truly hadn’t been expecting much, but she hadn’t anticipated being compared to a dog on her wedding night.

“There you are. Needed a few minutes to yourself?” 

A soft rusting of skirts, and then Nesta sat down lightly on the stone bench next to her. 

Elain sighed, unsurprised to see her eldest sister. “Something like that. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More than it appears you are,” Nesta replied, looking at Elain out of the corner of her eye.

Elain chuckled bitterly. “Certainly not the wedding I imagined for myself.”

Nesta sighed, then wrapped an arm around Elain’s shoulder, bringing her close. They sat in silence for several moments, letting the cool night air linger on their faces.

“Did you come out here for a reason?” Elain asked some time later. 

Nesta winced. “To check on you… and get you ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“With Lucien.”

Elain blushed. Although her mother had passed away when she was younger, some kind aunts had explained what happened between a married man and woman on their wedding night.

“I’ll admit, I forgot about that.”

Nesta took her hand in a reassuring squeeze. “That’s understandable. Are you ready to come in?”

Is it too late to say no? Elain thought. Not just for the evening ahead, but all of it: living in Scotland, running a castle, and being married to a man who seemed completely at odds with her.

Elain sat up a bit straighter. There was nothing she could do about her marriage now. She needed to toughen up if she wanted to live in Scotland and find herself; this was just something she needed to do to get herself there.

“I’m ready,” Elain said with more conviction than she felt. Nesta led them inside to a large room filled with maids, and they all began preparing Elain for her first night as a married woman.

X

From the first moment his bride to be turned the corner into the little chapel, Lucien knew he was fucked. 

Elain was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A true English rose, with those giant brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and luscious hair cascading down her back in soft waves and framing her pretty heart shaped face perfectly. Her cheeks and lips were petal pink; he wondered where else on her body was that lovely shade of rose.

Likening her to a single rose was an insult to her beauty: the woman in front of him was more beautiful than the finest bouquet of wildflowers, more lovely than a crisp autumn morning in the Clan Vanserra woods, and breathtaking like plunging face first into a cool loch on the first day of spring.

She was petite—he doubted she graced his shoulder—with generous curves under her dress. Lucien bet his hands would fit perfectly in the dip of her waist, over her breasts, between her legs…

Lucien looked away from her and shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected to become stiff at his own wedding, and he willed his cock to stand down, thinking of anything that would divert the blood in his body elsewhere. He hadn’t been expecting much, really, but Elain Archeron was already somehow better than what he was expecting.

This woman didn’t deserve this, Lucien thought bitterly. Shackled to him, a man forced into marrying her because her father cared more about lining his pockets than the happiness of a daughter. It sickened him to know Mr. Archeron thought so poorly of his daughter; based on the small smiles she sent her father’s way, Lucien guessed Elain had no idea she had been sold like livestock to a cornered bidder. 

Lucien glared at the man responsible for all his misery, trying to convey all of his hatred into one eye. Mr. Archeron didn’t look upset at all by the proceedings, nor did he seem particularly bothered by the fact that his own clothes were nicer than that of all three of his daughter’s combined. 

After what felt like one prolonged heartbeat, Elain was in front of him. She took his offered hand with one of her own, and he finally lowered his gaze to her.

He tried to not let the anger he felt on her behalf show but knew, based on the slight widening of Elain’s eyes, that he wasn’t successful. Lucien spared one final glare towards Mr. Archeron then focused back on his wife. 

This near to her, Lucien could make out the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were an even more intense brown than he thought, pulling him in like a siren at sea. Elain blushed and looked away, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. 

She was as innocent as a fawn, and the realization hit him suddenly: she was going to be eaten alive here.

The Lairds of the Highlands were always plotting against one another, whether for more territory, better resources, or because they were bored on a particular Tuesday and thought starting a war with a neighboring Laird would help pass the time. Lucien, as the newest and one of the youngest Lairds in the Highlands, was already a target from neighboring leaders for the few bountiful lochs and fertile fields within his borders, not to mention the new trade routes that would benefit his clan. A new, young, pretty wife would make those Lairds even more envious. 

His stomach lurched. Just imagining Elain surrounded by the other Lairds and their cohorts, their malicious eyes gazing over his wife’s gentle face, their minds scheming to ruin her, made him sick. Some of the Lairds—Vassa, Tamlin—could be trusted more than others, but he felt cold with the idea of any of them getting near his wife. 

His wife who he now had to protect. All he could think, as the priest rattled on and on, was that his hands and brain were already full of one mission to save someone; how would he add shielding his delicate English wife to his already full plate?

He was still puzzling over that later, long after the ceremony had ended and the reception began. It only got worse when the lairds of the land began filing in with their retinues. 

There was Tamlin Stewart, hulking and brooding as ever. His lands were far to the south, and it comforted Lucien to see a friendly face at this farce of a wedding. They sent brief nods to each other across the hall before Lucien focused on the rest of the Lairds flowing in. 

Laird Tarquin Lamont, from the West Coast, entered next, followed by Kallias MacDonnell. Both of them had tentatively agreed to trading contracts and routes with Lucien—routes that his new father in law was going to exploit, he knew. Lucien couldn’t keep the scowl off his face.

To make matters worse, Lucien saw Eris stroll into the hall, wearing the familiar tartan pattern that Lucien had spent his entire life up until a few months ago wearing. His heart briefly ached, quickly replaced by rage when Rhysand Sinclair and his so called “inner court” sauntered into the hall. 

Finally their guests—Lucien could think of several words he’d rather use to describe the people occupying his hall at the moment—settled in. The castle’s portly herald rushed to the front of the hall. 

“Introducing,” his voice rang out, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”

The two of them awkwardly stood up. Lucien made sure to send steely gazes to the assembled Lairds before him, willing all the mutual anger and disdain he felt for most of them into his remaining eye. He felt a small fluttering by his hand; some of the frayed threads on the cuff of his well-worn shirt quickly mended before the ceremony must have come unraveled. Shaking his arm to dispel the loose threads, Lucien sat back down heavily with a final leer around the room. 

Lucien had little appetite, choosing instead to brood over his ale. He spared a glance at Elain. It seems she wasn’t fond of the food, as she pushed her potatoes around her plate. 

The firelight in the hall caught his glittering finger. His wedding band, a simple piece of iron no doubt thrifted by his new father-in-law, mocked him from its new place on his hand. It spoke of his future: tarnished, heavy, and bound to someone he didn’t want.

Lucien couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away from this stranger before he said something he’d regret. “I’m going to turn about the room,” he said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.” 

Elain may have tried to say something, but he didn’t wait to find out, leaving their table and walking directly towards Vassa and Jurian.

“Here comes the man of the hour himself,” Vassa said, an impressive eyebrow arching as she watched Lucien thunder up to the pair. “Yer looking far more upset on yer wedding day than any man should be.”

“Och, stop it,” Lucien snapped. “We all ken this is a joke of a wedding.”

“Joke or no’, ye just married one of the most bonnie lasses on either side of the wall. That alone would have any other man in this hall smiling from ear to ear.”

Lucien scowled, thinking the lairds assembled would do much more to his innocent English wife given the chance. “That lass is nothing but a burden and a liability—“

“As is the curse of women everywhere, hm?” Vassa asked, her lips turned down and that all too familiar fire lighting up her eyes. “Nothing but burdens for the men around them.”

Lucien deflated, Vassa’s words making his face redden. “I’m sorry. Yer right, of course. None of this is her fault. It’s that damned father of hers—!”

“Keep yer voice down!” Vassa scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm. No one else but Vassa could get away with that. “Ye’ll frighten Elain to death if a fight breaks out on yer wedding day!”

“A fight might be helpful,” Jurian said lightly, eyeing the different factions gathered under Lucien’s roof. “Let the lairds work out some of the tension between themselves.”

Lucien quirked an eyebrow at Jurian. As a former English military man who absconded from his home country the moment he laid eyes on Vassa Fraser, it was helpful to have an outside perspective on Scottish clan life. “Have ye been hearing things?”

“Rumors of Laird Sinclair tightening up roads and access into his territory, as well as stationing more men of fighting age near and around Sangravah.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. “Do ye think—?”

“No,” Jurian responded quickly. “I don’t think it has anything to do with… that. I’ve heard something valuable is hidden there, but I’ve no idea what.”

“How did he even manage to make it down here on such short notice?”

“No doubt that Spymaster of his heard some rumblings on the wind and informed him of a wedding that he should attend, to remind the rest of the Lairds of his presence,” Jurian sneered.

Lucien cursed. “What is that bastard planning? Why now?”

“Perhaps he’s planning something with the English crown again,” Vassa said darkly, shooting a dark glare towards Laird Rhysand Sinclair. “Allying with them in exchange for safety for him and his lands.”

The three of them exchanged dark glances. 

“Perhaps we should—“

“No,” Lucien interrupted Jurian, his voice tight. “I’ll have to breach Sinclair lands one way or the other; backroads on foot is still the fastest way.”

Jurian was silent for a moment, then shrugged, taking a sip of his ale. “Better you than me—I’d be hanged on site if the English or their agents catch me. Traitor to the crown and whatnot.”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Vassa crooned, lightly stroking the back of Jurian’s neck, “the only thing that will ever be around yer neck will be my plaid or my hands.”

“Ugh, not in public, you two,” Lucien groaned. “Heathens, both of ye!” As much as Lucien detested their public displays of affection, his own heart panged with jealousy. With his new marriage to Elain, the chances of him having that kind of easy familiarity with another person was slim. 

“Maybe once ye get to know yer bonny little wife a wee bit better she’ll be more than willing to do the same for ye,” Vassa said, with such an exaggerated grin and wink that Lucien couldn’t help laughing with her.

“Thank ye both for attending at such short notice,” Lucien said quietly. “It’s been… challenging, but having ye here has made it a bit better.”

“Wouldn’t miss our dearest friend’s wedding if the Gordans, Grahams and Grants were knocking at our doors,” Vassa said fondly, and for the first time in days, Lucien felt like not everything was falling apart around him.

“So, how’s that business with yer loch coming along?” Lucien asked, changing the subject to Vassa’s recent bird infested lake. 

This was how it should be, Lucien thought wistfully as he listened to Vassa complain about the aggressive birds tormenting her. No English wife, no horribly conniving father in law, no castle threatening to crumble around him at any day’s notice, and no one needing him to play the hero. Just relaxing at the Clan Fraser keep, talking and drinking with his friends, without a care in the world.

“How’s Eris doing?” Vassa asked suddenly, staring off into the distance.

Lucien frowned. “Er—not sure. I saw that he was here on Beron’s behalf but I didna exactly feel the need to talk to him.”

“Ah. Well, it seems he’s made a new friend in Elain.”

Whipping his head around, Lucien stared in open-mouthed horror as he watched, like time had slowed down to taunt him, his eldest snake of a brother talking to Elain, alone. To her credit, she wasn’t cowering like he expected she would, but seemed… thoughtful, if a bit annoyed at his presence. 

“Shite!” Lucien blurted out. “I have to go!”

Leaving a chuckling Vassa and Jurian behind him, he made his way back to the front of the hall, where Eris had drawn Elain into a corner. He heard Elain ask Eris who he was and why he was here, and Lucien was interested in the answer as well. “Yes, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”

Eris grinned unapologetically at Lucien, giving him some cockamamie answer about congratulating them on their marriage and their disappointed mother. Lucien saw red—for him to speak of their mother now…

Elain was certainly surprised to learn a relative of Lucien’s was at the wedding, her gaze comically darting between Lucien and Eris. He would almost laugh at her reaction if Lucien wasn’t so terrified of what Eris might have revealed to Elain. 

Eris finally excused himself after some not so gentle pushing from Lucien, but not before his older brother got the last word. “Include her in yer plans,” Eris hissed in Lucien’s ear. “She’s smarter than she looks—“

“Get out.”

Eris shot him a deep frown then left without another word. This couldn’t get any worse.

But it could, as Lucien got into an argument with his new wife. An argument, he reflected later while sitting at their table, alone, in which he had compared her to a dog. What was wrong with him?

The chair that Elain had sat in earlier moved back and Tamlin sat down with a heavy thud. He didn’t say anything to Lucien, but sat there drinking his ale and looking over the hall, still filled with laughter and dancing.

“Bit of a rough start to the marriage?” Tamlin asked. 

Lucien snorted into his cup. “To say the least. Damn England and everyone from it!”

“Well, they’re not all so bad,” Tamlin murmured. “What do ye think of Elain’s younger sister, Feyre?”

Lucien looked at Tamlin, astounded. He’d known Tamlin nearly his entire life, the Stewart’s land being south of Clan Vanserra’s. The family’s were always on friendly terms with one another. Like Lucien, Tamlin held no love for the English any more than he did.

“Uh, a bit… spirited, that one,” Lucien answered diplomatically. The eldest, Nesta, possessed a coldness that rivaled Kallias, and Feyre reminded him of Rhysand Sinclair himself with how devious, lethal and clever she appeared to be.

“She’s quite interesting, Feyre,” Tamlin went on, still looking about the room. “Had a good discussion on hunting techniques a little while ago.”

“Alright,” Lucien said, unsure why Tamlin was telling him this or why he decided to talk to Feyre in the first place. He had had enough talk of the English today, and didn’t want to hear one more word about them. “I’m going to talk to some of the others here.”

Tamlin grunted noncommittally and Lucien leapt to his feet. He didn’t have long to dwell on the odd conversation as he moved from table to table, talking with guests and working out the final details on a few of his new trade routes with some Lairds. 

“I’m ready for bed, Dougal,” Lucien said hours later. He stumbled out of the hall—he hadn’t realized how much he had drunk. All he needed, he thought to himself as Dougal helped him to his room, was a nice, peaceful sleep and a hearty breakfast in the morning.

“I got it from here Dougal, yer dismissed,” Lucien yawned, throwing open his bedroom door and slamming the door closed behind him.

Someone had lit dozens of candles around the room—odd, since he usually let the light of the moon bathe his room with light, rather than deal with the hassle of candles. And there was something moving on his bed—

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Sweet hell, woman!” Lucien shouted, stumbling backwards and nearly falling on his backside. “What are ye doing here?”

“This thing called ‘consummating the marriage’,” Elain sneered at him from the bed, his sheet pulled up to her chin as she sat up. “I was told that’s one of the few wedding customs we share.”

“Ach, hell,” Lucien groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s been a long night—“

“Have you been calling your guests all kinds of horrible names as well, or was that honor just reserved for me?”

“That was wrong of me,” Lucien began, leaning against his dresser for support. “I ken this…situation isn’t yer choice—“

“It’s not, but I’m—“ hiccup! ”—at least trying to make this work!”

“Have ye been drinking?” Lucien asked incredulously. 

“The maids may have given me something as they were preparing me,” Elain admitted. Lucien could see the light pink blush on her cheeks and she licked her lips. “Said it was to settle the nerves and make it easier for me.”

“No’ like this,” Lucien said wearily. “It’s no’ right, to take ye like that if yer no’ ready.”

She glared at him, standing up and taking the bedsheet with her. “Who says I’m not ready? I’m a grown, married woman—I can decide these things for myself now.”

“We haven’t had the best start, yer in a new land—yer overwhelmed—“

“Would someone who’s overwhelmed do this?” Elain asked, dropping the bedsheet so she stood completely naked in front of Lucien.

If he were a better man, Lucien would have turned away immediately, left the room and sent in a maid to make sure Elain slept comfortably and was safe. Hell, if he were the best type of man, he’d have left the room immediately when she admitted she had been plied with alcohol to make her endure their first coupling. 

Lucien was not a good man. He stared, empty-headed, at the sight of his naked wife’s beautiful body in the soft glow of the candle light. Her breasts were small and her nipples peaked, the same dusty rose gracing her cheeks. She was just as curvy as he knew she was, with a tiny waist his hands could grip as she bounced in his lap, her hips wide and perfect for his hands to plant themselves on when he fucked her on all fours, her thighs soft when she’d eventually wrap them around his waist as he pounded into her, or even better, clenched around his head when he buried his face in the brown curls between her legs. 

“Oh shite, yer naked,” Lucien stammered, closing his eyes and swiftly turning away, only to launch himself into his solid wood clothes chest. His forehead cracked against the wood and his knees hit the hard, stone floor with a thud and he rolled on his side, curled up pathetically on the ground.

“Lucien!” Elain called.

“Doona!” he gasped, screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to stand on shaky legs away from her. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he ran into a dresser and possibly concussed himself, his cock was standing at full mast under his kilt, the head of his length rubbing uncomfortably against the scratchy wool.

“Take my bed for the night,” he called out, reaching for the door handle. 

“Do you need—?”

“No!” Lucien growled with more force than even he was expecting. He turned his head to see Elain staring at him, wide eyed with shock that quickly morphed into a glare. “Ye’ve done enough for one night. Just… stay in here for the night. Please.”

Lucien thought he heard Elain mutter something under her breath but he didn’t wait to listen to hear. Wrenching the door open, he fled the room. He didn’t have a destination in mind—just far away from the woman who was now his wife, his future, his everything.

Perhaps if he ran far enough away, Lucien thought, he could outrun all of his problems.

[todofics]

Off The Market | 2/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you? 

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters 

♡  Author notes: Would anyone be interested in a tag list? I’ve never written on Tumblr before, so everything is new to me! Please let me know if you are, and I can start one for the next chapter :)

♡ 2.4k words/est. 15k words (chapter 2/6)ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡  MHA Masterlist ♡ Story Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡  Next

Your breath caught in your throat as Shoto’s unexpected proposal hung in the air, your ears tauntingly ringing from the stress of the uncertainty. Had you heard him correctly? 

“(Y/n)?” the dual-colored man asked, a hauntingly beautiful frown painted across his face as he waited for your answer. God, he was so unfair. 

“Allow you to court me?” you parroted, face warm again despite the cool summer breeze. Your eyes glanced down to where his strong hands held your own, unable to make eye contact with him; you feared you’d quickly give into his qualms if you did. His handsome looks could drive just about anyone to obey. 

Shoto coughed, clearing his throat as he steeled his resolve. “Yes, allow me to court you,” he repeated, shutting down any doubts you had about mishearing the man.

“My lord, and I ask this with the utmost respect, have you lost your mind?!” you managed to choke out, tone hushed as you were afraid that anyone inside could hear the ridiculous conversation. He continued to hold your hands, unwilling to let go. He knew that if he did, you’d simply run away from the conversation - a fate the future Duke would not allow. 

“I have given it long thought,” Shoto informed you, his tone steady and calm now. He had already made up his mind, his intentions resolute. “Allow me to court you - at least for the season.” Although the sentence was phrased as a question, the burning look in his eyes told you it was not. You looked away once again, mind reeling with apprehension. 

“My lord, I’m afraid you confuse me - for the season?” you ask, your heart pounding rapidly. It was as if the man didn’t know of the effects he had on women - yourself included. The man nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, only for the season,” the man reassured as if his plan was apparent. Shoto was never the best at explaining his inner musings, always leaving you guessing. “For the season, I will act as your intended - and you as mine. You know I do not wish to marry,” he explained as your expression shifted, your furrowed brows keying him into the workings of your own mind. 

You drew in a shaky breath, taking a moment to comprehend his words' meaning. “I know you have no prospects,” he pointed out bluntly - oh, what a way with words he had. You shot him a look but didn’t take the words to heart. Shoto had never been one to mince words. His honesty, while sometimes cutting, was one of the things you admired most about the man. 

“It’ll draw the attention of suitors for you and keep mine away.” It seemed he had given the arrangement thought; it made perfect sense. You had never dreamed of being a spinster, and Shoto knew that despite the lack of conversation surrounding your prospects. In your first season out, you had bashfully given your earnest attention to all potential suitors, dreaming of a future filled with private affections and little feet toddling around. Even if those men had all been chased away from intimidation surrounding your companionship with the half-and-half man, it was clear you weren’t uninterested in the thought of marriage. 

“I- Shoto,” you cut yourself off, still not used to formally addressing the man. “My lord, it’s just that…”

This time, the man interrupted your speech. He knew of your tendencies to overthink things - especially ones that were quite simple. “You will break off the engagement at the end of the season - it’ll prevent scandal toward you.” Your expression softened as the thumping of your heart slowed. His plan seemed to offer a solution to all the potential problems. If you were the one to break off the engagement, it’d leave the question of what was possibly wrong with him rather than you. It’d give you both exactly what you wanted.  

Still, the idea of the plan worried you, an unsettling feeling sinking into your stomach. As your lips parted to give the man an answer, the balcony door swung open.

“Shoto, mama is looking for you!” Your eyes shot over to the voice, then back to your still-connected hands. Unchaperoned and in close contact - two things that would surely lead to scandal. 

A gasp left the woman’s lips, a gloved hand moving up to cover her dropped jaw. Shoto finally released your hands, moving back a respectable distance as he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat before turning to face the owner of the voice. “Fuyumi, I’ll be over in just a minute,” he told her, the woman’s shocked expression transitioning into delight. Being close to Shoto often led to you interacting with the girl, and your time spent together, while usually short, was pleasant. She had always enjoyed your company. On the other hand, you were left wide-eyed at being caught in such a compromising position, the panic beginning to set in.

Shoto turned his attention back to you, your expression still not composed. A coy smile played on Fuyumi’s face as if she knew something you didn’t. You hoped she’d spare you the decency to leave this scandal unspoken. “We will continue this conversation tomorrow,” Shoto told you before following his sister, leaving you alone under the twinkling starlight. It seemed the world had made its decision for you.

The following day, you were rudely awakened by a loud knocking on your chambers. “My lady, my lady!” your maid chirped as she rapped on your doors, voice full of panic. You groaned, rolling over in bed, your eyes still heavy with sleep. What could drive your maid to wake you up with such alarm? The sun beamed through the curtains, its warmth pleasant against your bare skin. Sleep was simply calling your name. “My lady, you must rise! You have a caller waiting!”

Your eyes shot wide open, suddenly recalling your conversation with Shoto the night before. You didn’t think he’d really show up at your house! You threw off your fluffy blankets in a flurry, quickly throwing on a chemise. Hearing the commotion of your rise, your maid promptly let herself in, helping you lace your corset as you grabbed a simple pale muslin gown. You felt no need to impress the man despite his newly declared intentions. 

Arranging your hair in a delicate bun, you took one last look in the mirror, deciding it’d have to do for now. “My lady, is that outfit really alright?” your maid asked, eyeing you up and down - it had been so long since you had last received a caller (especially one of Shoto’s caliber). Your staff, aware of your long history with the Todoroki son, had long been rooting for your official pairing. You shot her a soft smile, appreciative of the apparent worry on her face. “I assure you, this is more than sufficient.”

The maid clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head as she rummaged through a nearby jewelry box. Taking out one of your finest pastes, she nodded in approval before holding the piece to your skin. “At least wear this,” she reasoned.

Sighing, you raised your hands in submission, “if you really see it as necessary.” there was no point in this effort - after all, his courtship was only a falsehood.  After putting on the jewels, your maid rushed you out the door and into the sitting room. 

As you entered the room, Shoto was already engaged in light conversation with your mama, the two snacking on pastries and tea. “(Y/n),” he rose, noticing your presence. Your mother shot you a scolding look, obviously disappointed at your long arrival time. Seasons without a caller or any prospects, and this is how you received him? She’d surely bring it up later, the thought of the conversation making you groan internally. 

“My lord,” you replied in kind, giving him a slight nod as you approached the table. By now, your mama had evacuated the area, sitting on the opposite side of the room. Her careful gaze analyzed the interaction, making you feel more self-conscious. Although you two typically had some sort of chaperone to protect your reputation, this time felt… different. The undertone of romantic intentions made your head swirl. Sure, his courtship was for a more beneficial resolution, but it was still a courtship nonetheless. 

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Shoto said, the start of a grin gracing his face, hinting towards a more teasing manner. 

You brush a delicately placed curl from your face, rolling your eyes at his playful words. Your friendship with the man had always been far more casual than typically allowed by your different standings, and his intentions to ‘court’ you did little to change that attitude despite your nerves. It would be best to attempt to maintain some normalcy, lest you draw suspicion towards the sudden change of nature between you two. In your eyes, portraying the courtship as a regular ”friends who simply grew too close” story would call for the least amount of scandal.

“You’ve arrived rather early, my lord,” you jested, pointing out his irregular calling time. It was only 10 AM, an hour earlier than most typical morning calls started. He hadn’t even written, the only warning of his arrival being his parting words the night before. “I was eager to see my future intended,” Shoto replied smoothly. His intended. Despite being unspoken before by the man, the words seemed to roll off his tongue as if they were natural. You knew he wasn’t seriously going to propose, but the words still stirred something within you, causing you to shift nervously in your seat. 

His lips upturned slyly, seemingly noting your nerves at the words. He couldn’t explain why, but a sense of satisfaction washed over the man. “I don’t recall agreeing to this arrangement,” you pointed out, voice wavering. You knew you had little choice in the matter - Fuyumi had already witnessed you alone, unchaperoned, and intimately close. Doing nothing else but portraying your situation as a courtship would surely lead to the leaking of scathing rumors. Fuyumi was kind, but some status still had to be upheld. 

“I don’t recall any disagreement either,” Shoto pointed out, hopeful you’d accept the proposal. Without you, he’d be forced into a loveless marriage - a fate he’d rather not succumb to. With a sigh, you readjusted your position, drinking a sip of tea as if in deep thought. He looked at you expectantly, eyes gazing into the depths of your soul as he waited for your answer. 

“I… I will do it,” you mustered out, your hands wavering as you set down the cup. If you were caught faking this, your reputation would be ruined, and you actually would be doomed to life as a spinster. 

Shoto frowned at the hesitation in your voice as he gently took your hand, his touch reminding you of the events from the night prior. “I do not mean to force your hand in the matter.”  

As much as Shoto despised the idea of his fate, he valued you far too much to force this upon you. Your heart swelled at the genuine care in his voice, your anxiety settling just a bit. Again, the thought of the unfairness of the situation flashed in your head. If Shoto wasn’t so obtuse, perhaps you actually could fall in love with him one day.  

You shook your head, erasing that thought - it’d never be possible. To Shoto, this action looked as if you were denying his worries. “I assure you, you aren’t forcing my hand in this matter - I am mature enough to make my own decisions.” If gossip were to besmirch your name - so be it. 

He let out a sigh, clearly relieved by your answer. This truly was to both of your benefits. “Not so fast,” you told him, still not entirely satisfied with the resolution of his proposal. “If we are to do this, there will be conditions.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously, waiting for you to finish the thought. “What kind of conditions?” You shot him an awkward smile, having thought it over the night before. Even if you hesitated, you mulled over everything before accepting Shoto’s offer. 

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat. “Behind closed doors, I want everything to be normal,” you told him. Even if your family would now be more meticulous about ensuring a chaperone, the idea of acting romantically in front of so few people failed to delight you. If this was simply an act, you wanted to maintain as much distance as possible from the man, protecting your heart. Besides, your families wouldn’t push the matter too much. Your mama, delighted with the mere idea of you finally having prospects, wouldn’t question the lack of intimacy. Perhaps you could play it off as fleeting shyness towards a first love. 

You continued with the terms, your face warming at the memory of last night as you looked down at his hands that grasped yours, “No need to grab me or anything like that either. We will act as if this is a proper courtship,” you scolded. The idea of being caught again caused a shiver to roll down your spine. 

He retracted his touch, putting his arms up defensively before laughing at your embarrassed expression. “I’m sorry,” he apologized half-heartedly, realizing you referenced the night before. “I promise I will act as if this is a proper courtship.” This promise brought a smile to your face - at least now, the relationship would be mostly without scandal. Rumors were sure to spread, but the attention on you would hopefully be positive. 

“Then I suppose we can close this deal out,” you told him, your intentions now steeled. Nothing could go wrong if he could follow through with these boundaries. Your heart would be safe from his charms, and he would be safe from the constant pursuance of desperate debutantes. Everything, in the end, would safely return to normal, with no one being none the wiser.

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Let's talk about Daemon Targaryen and his resentment of Rhea Royce and their marriage

*gif by @emilykaldwen (who is so brave for watching me scream about this)

I think so many people are happy to tie it all up neatly with a bow that says "he hated her because she wasn't a Targaryen and Daemon is a racist/blood purist." There is no question that Daemon is a very proud Targaryen, and that the Targaryens (and Velaryons, to a seemingly lesser degree) are blood purists, but to reduce Daemon down to this single fact is, in my unhumble opinion, incredibly lazy, and erases some of the more obvious and interesting things that I see frequently getting overlooked when it comes to his marriage with Rhea.

Daemon was knighted at 16 and basically immediately, Alysanne had arranged a marriage to Rhea Royce of Runestone. I would say, in part, it was because they were trusted vassal lords and that any children Daemon had with Rhea would have something to inherit due to his status as a second son (which we know is a major problem with the Targaryens, who had no plans for any kid that’s not inheriting the throne). But there is the flip side of that coin - Jaehaerys' I and Alysanne's child were dropping like flies, and it's made clear in the text that Daemon was more the Targaryen ideal than Viserys was, taking after their mother, Alyssa. "Maester Yandel said he was dashing, daring, and dangerous, but mercurial and quick to take offense. Archmaester Gyldayn wrote that Daemon was ambitious, impetuous, and moody, as charming as he was hot-tempered." He was strong. He was handsome. He was skilled with a sword and held in highish esteem for these things. And by this point, he was third in line for the throne (as Rhaenyra was a) a girl and b) an infant). And if we choose to follow the idea that Alysanne would attempt to have Rhaenys reinstated as heir, removing power and influence from other male Targaryens makes sense.

So he was essentially dragged into this marriage by his grandmother as a stop gap to any power or influence that he might attain being so close to the throne, when he was still a child (yes, I know 16 is considered adulthood in Westeros, but let's take a minute to remember the hormone soup our brains are at 16), and much like women of the time, was used as a way to shore up alliance/allegiance/military backing (let's ignore that the Vale was already locked into an alliance due to Aemma's marriage to Viserys). Daemon very solidly fits the “sold bride” trope that we see so much in ASOIAF (Sansa, Dany, etc). Now add into that the weird and fucked up incest bits and the Valyrian/Targaryen idea that if he had been a daughter, he would have been married to Viserys and not shipped off. He would not have been abandoned in this way had he been a daughter; his place within his family would have been secured, untouchable. He would not be alone.

So a beloved and revered member of their family ships him off to a strange place with zero Valyrian culture, which he had spent his entire life surrounded by and proud to be a part of, always told that Targaryens are closer to gods than men, to be the Lord Consort to a girl that he had never met, who seemed to feel the same disdain toward him that he later showed toward her. Within this universe, we see so many meta posts and fics where women/girls are forced into marriages they didn't want and the rightful resentment and anger that grows there, and we don't fault them for it. Why are we suddenly faulting Daemon for that same thing? At this point in his life, the guy is basically any other child bride, forced to consummate a marriage against his will in a strange place, removed entirely from his family.

Now this isn't to say that an idiot, angry, petulant 16 year old boy missed the big picture. With Caraxes at his side and any potential children inheriting Runestone, he could have absolutely taken Runestone and the Vale (which may have been what Alysanne intended). But he is an idiot, angry, petulant 16 year old boy who has been ripped from everything he knows, everyone he loves, and dumped into what he considers some backwater town and he's not fucking having it. Which says a lot about who he is. We see in both the show and the book that Daemon is fiercely loyal to House Targaryen, to his family, to the blood of the dragon. He craves that closeness, that proximity to them. Daemon is a lot of things, good and bad, and as GRRM likes to say, "an equal mix of dark and light."

The Dance of Dragons isn't just the house of the dragon tearing themselves apart, but a continuation of the stupidity and inaction of Jaehaerys I by Viserys. Everyone was let down by these men, and it resulted in the beginning of the end for their empire (we can dive into Valyrian/Targaryen supremacy another time). Daemon and Aemma were the start of it, the first of Viserys' victims. Then Rhaenyra and Alicent, Aegon and Helaena and Aemond and Daeron.

They failed everyone around them - Jaehaerys in his inaction in choosing a female heir under the appearances of keeping the realm placated and not disturbing the inherent misogyny of the lords of the realm, and Viserys for choosing not to understand his younger brother's emotional suffering nor protecting his daughter after he undid the tradition of male primogeniture for the Iron Throne (tradition, not law) and again when he didn't have oaths re-sworn to her after Aegon's birth and not codifying absolute primogeniture. 

As for Daemon, morally gray characters aren't for everyone, even as much as we like to pretend they are. And that's what Daemon is - he is, at his core, incredibly morally gray. There is nuance there, and it's important. You don't have to like every character. But you can at least try to have a base understanding of the nuance that makes them them, and not be lazy about it.

[ippipo]

Stage

Masterlist | Part 1

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Marriage is very confusing, especially arranged marriage. You both were here for a reason and you are benefitting from this marriage. Your ideas, being sinfully similar, didn't require much conversation.

You have done some fucked up shit in your life that still haunts you to this day. Maybe it was the neglect you faced as a child, you don't really know the cause. But all these mistakes were made in your teenage years and you are well aware that you would never do those things again. You're a healed person after all.

One thing remains the same. You can't trust easily. Over the past years, you've built up this empire of your feelings, guarded with the toughest walls and equipped with the strongest weapons. God forbid if you ever let it all crumble over one person.

There was a facade you always maintained. A cheerful facade. You act as if you're sunshine and daisies, tactfully deceiving those who ever interact with you into believing you only have the purest of intentions. Though, you don't have any ill intentions, but you're always ready for a kill, if they come too close.

Your emotions weren't foreign to you. No matter how aware you are of yourself, you still pretend that you rather not have these emotions. A cringy act. That's what your life has become. You molded yourself into this perfect persona for others to perceive you as they prefer that you no longer know what is you and what is not you.

Marrying Satoru was intriguing. You couldn't figure out what he really wanted. You didn't know what facade to keep. You were stuck in a spiral of personality molds that you could shape yourself into, but it never seemed to satisfy him. Almost as if he doesn't care.

So all you did was ignore him. You did what you usually do and moved on about your life. You did act emotional in order to make him pay more attention to you, which worked, but that was because he did it out of obligation, not instinct.

Disappointed with the lack of progress, you decided to give up the act all together. Now this seemed like a good opportunity for Satoru. He knew what this play was. He was so familiar with it, because he's one of the actors too.

Manipulation came to him like breathing, a second nature almost. He loved this play as much as you did. He loved the arranged marriage trope as much as you did. He loved wanting to make his life into a play where only he can control the characters as much as you did.

That's how both of you began. A single celled marriage. Mix and Max, tick and tock, beep and boop. Whatever ridiculous word pairings humans came up with. You never communicated verbally unless it was for food or meeting the in-laws.

You both communicated through actions. Like grunting while putting down the keys harshly on the desk at Satoru's desk, a sign that the trope of this particular scene was enemies to lovers forced into an arranged marriage.

He would play his part gracefully. Making you a cup of tea and placing it begrudgingly on the kitchen counter so you could hear the clink of the tea cup on the marble before slamming the door to go to work.

The next day, he would purposefully mess up your work files, displacing them and rearranging their order indicating that it was a scenario where you would say something hurtful to him, making him cry and realising too late that you hurt him, coming back home and apologizing with pure regret.

You would get the hint. However, since you both made an unspoken pact that you will never directly confront each other, you aggressively tear his most "cherished" shirt given to him by his drunkard friend, all while he was watching you with pain.

Then you come back from work with a gift and a sticky note on which you drew ':('. He would then walk past you, not so subtly smelling your hair, for the act of course, and make coffee for the both of you, indicating that the scenario was perfectly played out.

One time, you would send him a picture of him with his female coworker, followed by a text saying "I knew it." Nothing was actually happening. It was just an indication that the next act you were about to play was a scenario of misunderstanding.

He gets the message, and he plays his role well. He comes home later than usual, eats dinner outside for two days, makes sure to see you as little as possible so you would play your role of overthinking and hyperventilating.

You, on the other hand, make dinner for two, just for the act. Sleep on the couch while waiting for him, whilst the food on the kitchen counter runs cold, just for the act. You look at him with eyes of betrayal, for the act.

He would then come home early. Decorate the house and present you with all the love he has in store for your 1 year anniversary, making you realise he wasn't cheating. Then you both sleep on the same bed, close to each other by proximity, far apart in the heart, but close to love, only the love in the act.

This routine, however, became troublesome when you both were faced with real situations outside of your little amusing plays. But that was also the start of a bond between you and Satoru.

[phoenix--flying]

Is jason and alabaster a thing cuz alabaster who joined the ta to overthrow the gods, vowed to never bow to the olympians vs jason who tried his best at following the rules and did favours for the gods sounds kinda fun.

Also may i present an (sort of)arranged marriage au of them where after the ta was defeated and alabaster, instead of being banished by zeus, hera actually steps in and force him to be jason’s guard/protector/servant since she knows what she’s about to do. It doesn’t have to be a marriage necessarily but this au involves hera and I just want to spice it up. Sorry if this is incoherent, this truly came to me 10 minutes ago like a vision and boinked me in the head

oooo idk bro i just love rule follower x fuck the rules/i make my own rules and that is exactly what jason/alabaster seems like LMFAOOO

there is one work tagged jason/alabaster on ao3 and it's called Quintessence by amallpena, I have yet to read it but! It may be your cup of tea anon!

also i am snatching up this arranged marriage au hello i love that. as with many tropes, i have a love hate relationship with arranged marriage it needs to be done right or it sucks LMAO

But Alabaster Torrington, former general of Kronos/Saturn being the bodyguard/servant/betrothed to Jason Grace, son of Jupiter and Praetor of Camp Jupiter? thats some drama its good i love it and im here for it

this poses the question, however, does Alabaster remain at Camp Jupiter when Jason is brought to CHB? Or does he go with him and have to face the campers he fought against only a few months ago?

Both are full of flavour imo, because if he stays at CJ then you know PERCY but if he goes to CHB then theres Annabeth, Chris, Clarisse, all these faces of people who know him as an enemy, maybe even as someone they trusted, as Kronos' general, etc, etc. People he betrayed who probably blame him for a lot of their casualties. People he himself doesn't like, people he blames for his casualties. He left this camp because he didn't have a place in it, thats not going to change suddenly just because Hecate has a cabin because he betrayed the camp.

anyways

[vi-enti]

fic ask game DOES look fun...... maybe 🛳️, 😭 or 💖?

i did an extensive dive of my many ao3 bookmarks for this 🫡 sorry it took so long!

🛳️ A fic that brought you aboard a new ship

- A Different Dream by lady_ragnell! i am a big Merlin/Arthur fan (can you watch bbc’s merlin and NOT be?) but this came across my feed and i loved it so much. Merlin/Morgana kinda goes hard (she deserved better!) arranged/forced marriage trope kinda gets me ngl

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

- the first thing that comes to mind is an unreleased fic 🪱 by @hajihiko and i WILL be talking about it when it comes out. but for now: Iridescence by Milieu. god. GOD. it’s a lovecraftian horror stardew valley fic and it ripped my heart out not bc of the sad feels but bc of the horror. the underlying dread in every word. the knowledge that they’re doomed and you have to live with that knowledge. i sobbed. and then i sobbed again thinking about it later. it lives in your soul

💖 A drabble that made you want 100K more words

- Let Me In by GrossShapes! it’s technically komahina but to me personally it’s about a budding strong friendship between nagito, fuyuhiko, and kazuichi. give me more of that expand on that please let my boy have FRIENDS. every fic ever is like “nagito’s only relationship is hajime everyone else is just tolerant of him” WHY. love when a fic isn’t that so pls gimme more

[damagedintellect]

Trafalgar Law x reader

💌 Fake it till you make it: Chapter 6  💌  

Summary:  To avoid an arranged marriage set up by Doflamingo, Law needs to bring home a girlfriend during the Christmas break and you just so happen to be a theatre major in the same dorm at One Piece University. What could possibly go wrong?  

Tropes: College AU, Fake Dating, Idiots in love

💌 Word count: 4,335 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

The sun sat high in the sky, light flooding through the window. The events of last night slowly stirred through Law’s head as he woke up little by little. The light flashed annoyingly on his face as he could feel his head start to ache causing him to regret not drinking much water the night before. Although since he was forced to be around his family's clients for that long and his agreement with Doflamingo, he needed something to take the edge off of dealing with the blonde's bullshit. Besides, he didn't drink enough to truly embarrass himself; it's not like he would do anything he'd regret. If anything Law thinks when he’s inebriated he tends to do things he would have done anyways. He’s not a complete idiot. He snuggled back into the blankets trying to get the sun out of his eyes not wanting to get up just yet. That’s when he realized that it wasn’t the blanket he was nuzzling into. Flashbacks from last night played out in his head as he leisurely opened his eyes. He fucked up. Law was still stark naked pressed right up against (Y/N) spooning her with his arms pulling her closer to his chest. He didn’t know what to think about the hole that he dug for himself but this was not how he wanted to confront his feelings.

No matter how he looked at it, this was probably the worst thing he could have done. He cursed himself for thinking with his dick as he eventually untangled himself. What was he supposed to do now? The ride home was going to be extremely awkward and he was not looking forward to it. Does he bring up his romantic intentions or would that be weird. Like “(Y/N)-ya I know we just had sex and that was great also please be my real girlfriend.” He winced at his own delusion roasting his brain for the horrible choice of words. He got ready to take a shower as he looked at the desolate state the room was in. He contemplates waking (Y/N). It was already afternoon and he wanted to leave earlier since the roads were going to be crazy to deal with as it was new year’s day. "Great" Law thought to himself rolling his eyes. He messed up on all fronts because neither of them spent the down time yesterday packing. Now he remembers why he never bothered with having such infatuations. They were more trouble than they're worth.

—

Your back was cold but your face was warmed by the sun. It was the only thing keeping you from thinking about how much your head hurt. Actually scratch that everything hurt, your entire body was sore but it was a good kind of sore. Although your neck was killing you. You knew you would have to get up eventually. You really didn’t want to but if you and Law were going to leave at the time he wanted… your thoughts trail off as you bolt upright making yourself dizzy. OH GOD LAW! You had sex with Trafalgar Law. You scanned the room you were alone, still naked but alone. The whole room in a state of disarray as it all came back to you. You pulled the blanket over yourself not wanting to think about how embarrassingly horny you were last night. You’re never going to hear the end of it. You can see it now the whole car ride back is just going to be him teasing you about how badly you wanted him. You tried not to think about it as you collected your things and packed them away. You contemplate taking a shower but decide to get dressed instead. If you knew when Law got up maybe you would but you don’t want to keep him waiting. On the other hand he still had to pack. You don’t bother looking in a mirror as you thread your fingers through your hair heading down stairs.

It didn’t seem like anyone else was around although as you made your way to the kitchen you could hear voices. When you turned the corner you made eye contact with Law who was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He seemed to pause the conversation giving you a hard stare before his eyes lowered slightly. His face simmered red. Law covered the lower half of his face with his hand but didn’t look away from you. You blush lightly under his gaze giving him a quizzical look while Corazon gives you both a cheeky grin “At least now I know I won't have to beg for grandkids.” He laughed lightly to himself.

It occurs to you that he was referring to the hickeys on your neck and you blush harder. Law choked on his coffee and was lecturing Corazon that he can’t just say stuff like that. The blonde continued to laugh it off “Ah, young love. Law there’s no need to be embarrassed, she's your girlfriend for crying out loud.” Law cleared his throat putting his mug aside “I should start packing, it’s already later than I would have liked to leave.” He pulled his hat down when he walked past you but stopped to grab your arm taking you back upstairs with him. Neither of you spoke until you got into the room. Law didn’t let go of your wrist, both of you just staring at your hands. Trying to collect his thoughts he muttered “I’m sorry about him, I don't know why he said that.”

You laughed nervously in hindsight. You had to admit it was kind of funny if it wasn't directed at you. “I uh probably would have made a similar joke had it been my kid so don’t worry about it.” He eventually let go of your wrist and started gathering his things. You tried to make yourself busy by making the bed.

"Listen about last night-"

"I'm coming in," Law was interrupted by Doflamingo "Corazon said you were about to head off. I wanted to offer my assistance, it would be rude of me to not see you out." Doffy gestured to your bag but Law stepped in front of you. "I'm sure we can manage just fine." Doflamingo grinned smugly, "I insist.” You could see sparks fly with how intense their gaze on each other was. Honestly you don’t want to get involved but you know neither of them will back down. They’ve done this a few times over the week but Corazon was always there to snap them out of it. These silly boys and their mind games you swear. You bite the bullet and calmly take Law’s hand hoping he will stand down this once. “That would be lovely and I would like to thank you again for everything this past week. I know my arrival was on short notice.” you broke Law’s focus for a moment before he glared back at Doflamingo, backing down and letting the blonde take your bag. "Truly the pleasure was all mine. It's not everyday one manages to capture Law’s heart." Law would have rolled his eyes at the blonde but he'd rather just leave already. After checking the surroundings to make sure he didn’t miss anything Doffy ushered you both out of the room.

“Did you enjoy yourself while you were here, (Y/N)?” Doflamingo asked as you all walked down the stairs. Corazon joined you on your way to the car. “Oh, very much. It was a nice change of pace.” You gave Corazon one final hug and Doflamingo offered you his hand. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again, maybe even sooner than expected.” He threw a look at Law before turning around walking back to the manor. You wonder what that was all about as you got in the car.

You waited until you were a fair bit away from the manor before starting a conversation with Law. He seemed to be deep in thought and you don’t blame him. Doflamingo’s last words seemed rather cryptic in your opinion but you think that’s just how he is in general. While Corazon seems to be an open book with only everyone’s best in mind, his brother seemed to be the evil master manipulator. At least you kept your promise to Bepo.

"About the-"

"You know-"

You both spoke at the same time, Law glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road. "You can go first." He was almost relieved. He already tried to bring it up once and at this point he lost his train of thought. You shifted in your seat. "I was going to say I really did enjoy myself," you smiled at him. "This was a lot of fun. What were you gonna say?" You had a feeling you knew what it was. Obviously it was the elephant in the room. You don't know how you feel about it. You felt something for Law you really did and it seemed like he felt the same way but you can't deny that last night you both were drinking. You just don't want to be wrong and Law wasn't exactly the easiest to read.

"I was going to say that about yesterday, I apologize if I made you uncomfortable." Law cringed at his own words. He was having a hard time focusing partly because of Doflamingo's almost threatening send off and mostly because everyone was driving like ass. This is why he wanted to leave earlier but that was his own damn fault. Not to mention he wanted to have this conversation before they left but Doflamingo ruined that too and now he had to try and remember the speech he made before the interruption. This was not going as he planned. He just hopes he doesn't inadvertently make things worse.

He's worried he made you uncomfortable, does that mean he regrets it? Did that mean the flirting was unintentional? Did you somehow miss read the signs? You only had more questions or maybe you're overthinking. "I wasn't uncomfortable. Believe it or not I did mean what I said before coming here." It was true you were fine with it. Physical contact wasn't off putting to you in general and since it was Law you openly welcomed it, but he didn't know that.

Right, how could Law forget.

Come to think of it, maybe Law was wrong about his hunch. You being good at your job was starting to be a real pain in the ass. It didn't negate his romantic feelings but he might need more evidence before making a fool of himself. Although he should just peel off the band aid, he didn't. He would rather die alone than be wrong.

"I guess so, oh since you're paying me I really don’t care about personal boundaries. Holding hands, kissing, cuddles whatever is fine with me. I'm your girlfriend now so don't be shy." You looked at him over his expression, unreadable as ever. You grinned "Or do, you're pretty cute when you're flustered." You shot him a playful wink.

The rest of the drive was in stifling silence as you checked social media for the first time since leaving the dorms. You saw a flood of messages and pictures from the group chats showing what everyone else had been up too. It seemed like everyone was having a good time. Ace and Sabo had the most pictures shared usually of Luffy doing something stupid. Ussop sent some of him and Kaya playing in the snow. Sanji sent some of the mouth watering food he made, apparently Nami and Zoro were with him. Nami lived by Baratie in Sanji’s neck of the woods but apparently Zoro got lost on his way to Mihawk's and somehow ended up there by accident. Zoro later sent a selfy with Perona and Mihawks confirming he did eventually make it home. Chopper had taken a picture with the real Santa and no one had the heart to tell him otherwise. Robin and Franky sent a few selfies of their adventures. Lastly Brook sent a little jingle wishing everyone a happy festive season.

It was pretty late by the time you guys got back on campus. The school was fairly empty but you did see some people who stayed back. You followed Law into the dorms and wondered what the surgeon was thinking about. As you made your way inside it seemed pretty empty still though there was a coffee mug on the common room table you wondered if someone beat you guys back to the dorms or if someone forgot to put it away before they left. If you had to guess it was probably Robin. She wasn't planning on staying with Franky the whole break anyhow. The campus archives were like no other constantly acquiring new artifacts and literature. Lost in your thoughts you bumped into Law’s back wondering why he stopped but then you realized you both were already standing outside his dorm room.

“(Y/N)-ya, isn’t your room the other way?” he pointed down the hallway as you perked up, lightly blushing “Right! Yup, I forgot- I mean, I-I must still be tired.” you smacked your cheeks for emphasis trying to cover up the fact that you were embarrassed. You were about to walk away when Law stopped you. “In that case I might as well give this back.” He opened the door to his room, setting his bag on his bed as he opened it revealing Lil Law. You gasped dramatically, because of the events that transpired on the last night you completely forgot about him. You looked at the bear fondly and held him close. “I thought for sure you got rid of him!” Law scoffed looking away feeling his cheeks heating up. “I was going to believe me, but knowing you? I wouldn’t put it past you to go back to Dressrosa and make a new one just to spite me."

You laughed but you probably would do something similar given you had the resources and the time to do so. "There's no way I could make a new one since I'd need you to say my name again. That's why he's special." You pressed his Paw "Oi (Y/N)-ya" without thinking you kissed the bear on the nose forgetting you don't need to keep up an act. You and Law meet eyes for a split second before turning away. "I guess I should be going then." You wanted him to tell you to stay but instead you were met with an emotionless "Do what you want" and just as you feared everything was back to normal.

Law didn’t actually expect you to leave. Genuinely he thought you'd make up some excuse to stay. He almost regrets giving back his replacement so easily. He wanted to see what you would do given the chance. Which was kind of stupid on his part he knows that. There was no reason for you to stay; you had already fulfilled your part of the bargain. Law didn't want to admit it but sleeping next to you was some of the best sleep he's gotten all year. At least he could finally be alone with his thoughts and figure out where to go from here.

You were such an idiot. You should have just told him you were staying, said something cheesy like "What? You thought you could get rid of me that easily?" But as brave as you are, your anxiety got the better of you. It was so much easier when you didn't have any expectations of the outcome of your dimwitted flirty remarks and now it seems like a lost opportunity. You knew from day one this was going to be the outcome but it feels like you didn’t even try. You laid down cuddling with Lil Law. There had to be some way to break the ice, something you could do to get things back to how they were before the Gala. You could ask if he wanted to hang out but you guess you've kind of already done that the whole week. You could watch the Polar Express again, or not, you already did that and you fell asleep too. You ruffled your hair tossing and turning on your bed accidentally triggering an "Oi (Y/N)-ya" You froze, almost having a heart attack before realizing he wasn't in the room. This is why you liked theatre. Everything is scripted to the gesture there was no guesswork and even when there was it was contained in a character song that explained the next course of action.

—

It had been a week. A whole week, roughly the same amount of time you stayed in Dressrosa for and you hadn't seen Law since. You weren’t avoiding him per se but you also had been keeping busy. You had been putting in crazy hours at the studio keeping a strict conditioning regiment. You started off focusing on your technique but after an hour of ballet you decided you shouldn't push yourself that hard. Especially after a break. Alternatively it felt good to dance. It was very freeing to just throw on some music and let the feeling wash over you.

As more people came back to the dorms you would catch glimpses of Law passing through the common room. He wasn't looking so good the bags under his eyes were much darker than before and he seemed to zone out which wasn't something he ever made a habit of. Bepo tried asking you if anything happened while you were at Dressrosa but you'd deflect any details that involved you specifically. Shachi and Penguin were also astonished at Law’s new mannerisms. It wasn’t like the surgeon to be absent minded. Penguin asked you if you both got in a fight because of the way he reacts when they bring up your name. Apparently they wanted to go out with you for drinks the other night and Law almost fell out of his seat at the notion. Then again they also said they haven't seen him get any real sleep since they all returned to the dorms. You were worried but didn't know how to go about helping. Law doesn’t like being told what to do or being taken care of. The irony.

—

Unbeknownst to you, everyone else in the dorm Bepo, Shachi and Penguin were already planning an intervention. “They have been driving me crazy, we have to do something they keep avoiding each other and using me as the middleman.” Bepo lamented. He would do anything for Law but he couldn’t sit and watch any longer. They had the sneaking suspicion that you both had caught feelings for each other and refused to act on them. That was the only reasonable explanation at this point.

Shachi leaned back in his chair “Well what do we do we can’t just invite them both over and not tell the other. One way or another they’d find out and then refuse to come.”

Penguin thought it was brilliant “That’s perfect actually! I invite (Y/N) to go out for drinks or something and you guys ask Law if he wants to watch a movie and then I’ll say I need to get something from Bepo first and we lock them in the dorm.” He received quizzical looks from the others.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work.”

“It’ll work I swear,” Penguin hoped because if it didn't he was out of ideas. “It has to work.”

You were on your way back to your room after a much needed shower. Dancing for long periods of time makes you sweaty and gross even in the ac. That's when Penguin stopped and asked if you wanted to grab a drink with him. Apparently the girl you set him up with broke it off recently and he didn't want to be with the guys right now. Which was convenient for you all things considered you needed a drink. It was already pretty late in the day so you told him you could be ready in less than an hour. When you got back to your dorm you dried your hair and picked out something nice. Part of you wants to be reckless and go home with a stranger to get your mind off of Law. In all honesty you're fairly certain all you had to do was talk to him about it but for some reason it felt complicated but also like you had nothing to lose. Bottom line it was frustrating and usually you're really good at reading people. It's quite literally part of your job to analyze body language and interpret motivations. You wondered if you'd feel the same had you not gone to Dressrosa. What would you even say to him? "Oh the dangers of method acting, I fell in love with you Oops." You shake your head. No, you knew from the very beginning he was your type.

From your first encounter with the surgeon you're pretty sure he had your heart and not just your broken pen. The story you told in Dressrosa was a hundred percent true. That's how you technically met. The second time you saw the surgeon he was fighting off fangirls which is why you choose not to get involved. Now you wonder if you were always going to end up like this one way or another. Reminds you of how your parents met. You grit your teeth and smack yourself taking one last look in the mirror before messaging Penguin.

As you were about to leave he needed something from Bepo. He didn't specify what but you shrugged it off. They had pretty much been babysitting Law all week the absent mindedness could be rubbing off on them too. You followed behind pulling your phone out not paying attention as the door opened.

"(Y-Y/N)-ya?" You heard Law utter in disbelief. Glancing around you realized it was a bait and switch. "Shit." You tried to escape but Bepo pushed you further into the room as Penguin and Shachi secured the door. "Neither of you are leaving this room until you work out whatever is going on between you two!" They shouted from the other side of the door. You gestured at the door looking at Law who only shrugged having no hand in the set up. You sighed, putting your hand on your hip. "You guys do realize the door opens and locks from the inside right." There was a brief pause before the handle jiggled "If we hold the door what difference does it make. Now talk!"

You looked back at Law. He had his head in his hands most likely embarrassed by the loyalty of his friends. You sat next to him on the bed you might as well get this over with.

"So-"

"You're-"

You both looked at each other, both motioning for the other to say their piece. You frowned, this will get you nowhere. "No, I went first Last time and look where that got us." Law grumbled but you were right. "You're looking well" he said gesturing to your outfit. To be fair you were dressed to go out of course you looked nice. Law on the other hand looked like he hadn't left his room all week. "And you look like death"

"I haven't been getting much sleep" He paused, deciding whether or not it was a good idea to tell you more information "You're all I can think about."

"I can imagine. I mean you were always an insomniac-” you cut yourself off. It only now dawned on you what Law said “Wait what" you stare back in confusion. Did you hear him correctly?

It was now or never Law thought as he looked away. He didn’t want to face you. He didn’t want to see your reaction to his words. "I might have developed romantic feelings for you and trusting people and letting them in has never been my strong suit"

"Well, being honest with my emotions has never exactly been mine so I guess that makes two of us." You moved closer to put your head on his shoulder. Law tensed at the action. For smart people you guys sure are idiots. "I feel the same, by the way.” You laughed awkwardly. “You know just in case you were wondering.” Law sat up to look at you. When he had this conversation in his head that’s not what he expected you to say. You blinked back at him “What?”

Law narrowed his eyes at you “You like me” he said flatly. You didn’t understand what he wasn’t getting at “I do, why, is that hard to believe?” he rubbed his temples putting two and two together "Then why have you been avoiding me?"

You scoffed "I could say the same to you! I assumed it was all in my head because you didn't seem interested after we got back."

"Are you kidding me?! I spent the last three days of the trip actively flirting with you!"

"Yeah on a trip where we were in an established relationship!"

"I never flirt with anyone, it should have been really obvious!"

"Maybe if you were a better flirt I would have realized it sooner!" You argued back. That last comment had a little more bite to it than necessary. You think you might have actually struck a cord there "Seriously!" Law looked slightly offended crossing his arms. You laughed as you cupped his grumpy sleep deprived face "Just kiss your girlfriend already." You both leaned in feeling the familiar spark. As you were about to pull away he wrapped his arms around you trapping you in his embrace. You stayed like that for a while enjoying the hug before you realized his breath evened out and he was no longer responding to you. He was asleep.

—

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[yourworsttotebag]

I want to hear everything about this arranged marriage AU!!

The first time I tried to figure out how Evie would interact with all the companions I thought: oh, if she and Wyll are both nobility from Baldur's Gate and almost the same age - wouldn't they have probably met before? Wouldn't they have spent some time at fancy balls trying to size each other up? Maybe even flirting before both being like, "Oof, actually no fucking way." And then since they're both nobility my mind immediately went to some abstract cloud that said "arranged marriage" on it and basically, I think they'd both kind of hate it at first.

Now a lot of this is vibes based. Like - a lot, a lot. Why do they have to get married? Um, I don't know - I imagine Duke Ravengard needs...something. Why did I write Orin pretending to be Wyll? So she would mess with Evie and make her think Wyll wanted to be intimate with her, a thing I needed someone to do. Why is Orin messing with them like this? Um...I have no idea, someone had to.

But! I wanted to write some of these scenes out so I wouldn't lose them and then I wrote sort of a lot of them.

Wyll and Evie would probably both take this arrangement sort of hard and getting them on friendly terms would be a tough putt. Evie is well known in their circle as a Mean Girl and Wyll, who had probably dreamt a lot about true love, is suddenly married to a woman he barely knows and who doesn't seem to really like him. The early days would be a lot of Wyll tentatively reaching out and getting cold, short answers. When Wyll tries to talk to Evie before the wedding she's like, "Phew, yeah, it's pretty wild. Anyway, see you at the ceremony, I got stuff to do."

We all agree Wyll is a stand up, kind hearted dude but I think there's potential for him to also kind of screw up the early days of their relationship. Not being horrible or mean to Evie, but perhaps saying some things he doesn't quite realize are unkind. And it makes sense that he wouldn't be perfect! His whole idea of love and romance is all out of whack now, he's upset. It's not even close to what he expected and the difference is disorienting.

And I think Evie could be pretty hurt by his reaction! She knows Wyll isn't happy either and how would you feel is your spouse saw your marriage as a break down of their entire world view and you as a villain? Evie also wants someone to love and care for her, not someone who feels like they've been trapped with her. Part of Evie's cold shoulder is her just being herself and part of it is trying to shut down all these big feelings she's struggling with.

I think they'd need a kind of blow up argument about it before they could acknowledge being a little careless with each other's feelings and deciding to see if they can be friends. And over time you open up all these tasty little tropes like forced proximity, sharing a bed, trembling touches of hands, falling in love after getting married, yada, yada, yada, lots of vibes and vapor waves here. Wyll becoming a warlock question mark, question mark?

[God bless Ed Greenwood for this tidbit about half elves passing a token of their affection from their mouth INTO their new spouse's mouth AT the ceremony. I got a few hundred words out of that one.]

Can I put a read more under a read more because I need space for the "Problems" section lmao.

Problem #1) I don't really know what fancy people in a fantasy world do all day. Like Wyll and Evie start to become friendly while doing....what? How many balls can they reasonably attend? Part of Evie's problem before adventuring is that she's so bored with her life and I don't want the audience to be bored reading about her being bored. But like, the "becoming friends" section is vital so you believe it when they become attracted to each other.

Problem #2) The other characters from the game wouldn't be there! Would I have to create a whole pantheon of characters for Wyll and Evie to hang out with so every scene isn't just them talking at each other? That doesn't sound fun. Could I include their families enough that it FEELS like there's a big world around them? I guess Astarion and Shadowheart live in Baldur's Gate but could they appear in a way that doesn't feel like an episode of Frasier where Ted Danson shows up? (Frasier hive rise up)

Problem #3) I was picturing Evie and Wyll at their in-game ages, mid 20s, instead of the age Wyll was banished which I believe is 17. I thought the marital relationship between two ~18 year olds would be way different than two ~25 year olds and bringing sex into it made it feel really weird for them to be so young. Does Wyll's character get altered too much if he's in Baldur's Gate for another few years? What does it mean that he's not the Blade of Frontiers yet?

Idk, man. This is all the reason that drafts exist in the first place and also why I don't know if I could actually complete this. But it's fun to try. Maybe I'll think of something shorter and more fun soon.

[shadowqueenjude]

The fandom is so lucky to have you! We appreciate having you here and all that you contribute to it ❤️❤️

1. What brought you into the fandom?

2. What character(s) do you feel the most connected to and why?

3. Out of all of SJM’s books, which one means the most to you and why?

4. Out of all of the SJM couples (fanon, canon, endgame, etc) which one means the most to you and why?

Keep doing you ❤️

This is so sweet! It made my day🥹

1. I finished the ACOTAR series late 2023 and I was devastated to find out that it wasn’t completed! It’s soooooo hard waiting for the next installment in a series. I went through this with The Land of Stories and The Trials of Apollo too 😭😭😭. So yeah I searched online for Elucien/pro Lucien/anti IC content and I couldn’t find shit ANYWHERE. The only place I even saw some decent content was on Tumblr, so I started posting my analyses and rants and writing about ACOTAR and it turned out many people agreed with me! It was such a relief to finally find Lucien stans who also saw holes in SJM’s writing!

2. I resonate with Nesta the most. She’s just so relatable and human to me. First with the parental trauma (real), second with feeling like they’ve disappointed everybody because they weren’t able to do things that no teen girl should have to do, pushing people away because she’s afraid they’ll leave, spitting facts and everybody getting mad at you for it. And Nesta’s modesty: damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I’ll never forgive SJM for robbing her of her modesty, but it’s honestly reflective of how women like her are treated irl. My own family wants me to be more modest (i’m already pretty damn modest) while the outside world wants me to be less modest, and it’s really frustrating being put in a box like that and not being able to be yourself. Nesta’s hard shell soft interior is me-core.

3. I think by far SJM’s best book is Tower of Dawn. The worldbuilding, the romance, the plot, the chemistry between Chaol and Yrene (and Nesryn and Sartaq) was perfection. And Chaol being a genuinely flawed and human character in a world full of Fae feeling useless and learning to grapple with himself and find his purpose and a man who had always prided himself on his body learning to see that he is so much more than that, that he is as much a man with his wheelchair as he is without it, and Yrene, a character who rules by peace and healing, not violence and destruction, showing everybody how strong she is…well, it’s unlike so many of SJM’s books and she didn’t write it to be popular and tropey (Chaol is wildly unpopular in the TOG fandom) which is why it’s so good.

4. My favorite SJM couple that is already confirmed endgame is Elide and Lorcan from Throne of Glass. God, I love them. Elide, the cunning little witch with a limp and innocent eyes, showing just how strong she can be, wielding Lorcan’s axe (😍) and saving him on the battlefield. Manipulating everybody with a few choice words and a flutter of her eyes. Lorcan being utterly mesmerized from the start. Being a menstruation king and taking such good care of her during her periods. Washing her clothes, bringing her dinner…i mean he is so malewife. Elide being a canon ace queen who only engaged in sexual activities after she trusted and loved Lorcan so deeply that she would allow herself to be vulnerable with him. Elide being sassy as hell and Lorcan being into it. Another human, very real character who is a survivor and quite unlike any other character in the SJM-verse.

Aside from that, Ruhnlidia is 🔥 and amongst those which aren’t technically canon endgame yet, Elucien. The political couple. The fashion-forward couple. The charming couple. The regency couple. The brown-eyed couple. The nonviolent couple. They’re the only two who know they’re mates from the start. Arranged marriage forced proximity trope. The tension, the yearning, Lucien as a fucking male lead…gahhhhhhhwodnwksnaklahiknj

Anyway thanks for the ask!

[erenyuuta]

Ice & Fire - Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Glossary & Character List (contains spoilers)

Main Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Yuuta Okkotsu

Minor Pairings: Megumi Fushiguro x Rika Orimoto, Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto, Toji x OC, other pairings TBA for the sake of spoilers ❤️

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, smut, angst, fluff, a crossover between Attack On Titan and Jujutsu Kaisen, loosely influenced by Game of Thrones and Eragon. Crack taken seriously 😉

Series Summary: Yuuta Okkotsu, the kind-hearted firstborn prince of the kingdom of Nymeria, finds himself stranded on an island that had been thought to only exist in legend. It is there he meets the last of the Valyrians, a dragon-blood named Eren Jaeger. While their days on the island are happy, they can’t last forever. Yuuta has a duty as prince to his kingdom that he must fulfill, and it is this duty that ultimately tears them apart.

Content Warnings/Themes: BL/Yaoi, hybrids, monsters, magic and other supernatural elements, polytheism (gods, demons), infidelity, power imbalances & classism, period-typical misogyny & homophobia, warfare, graphic depictions of violence and death, brothels/sex work, explicit sexual content (blow job, anal sex, rimming, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, monsterfucking, knotting, foot play, heat cycles, 69, cum-eating, spit play, deep-throating, double penetration, sadism, masochism, blood consumption, use of weapons during sex, choking/asphyxiation kink, master/slave kink, handjob, drunk sex, orgy), dub-con, non-con, pregnancy, virginity loss, drugs (alcohol, smoking, poisons), traumatic backstories, mentions of torture/genocide/experimentation on people, unrequited love, arranged marriages, drowning, murder, suicide, yandere tropes, corruption arc, major character deaths

Co-written by Aleks from @alekstraszas and Kana from @ficsforeren/@sundaysundaes

The poster for this chapter was commissioned by Aleks from @/belvishaio on twitter

The Illusion of Love

It is sometime later during that first week of his training, when Eren, flocked by Megumi and Todo at his sides, makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. He typically never has reasons to go this way, as he’s still very much treated as if he were a high-ranking noble within Yuuta’s palace (at the prince’s insistence), but today, he comes along at Megumi’s request.

“Why are we going to help with the deliveries? Isn’t that something the servants would do?” Eren asks aloud.

“Well, yes, but yesterday the farmer mentioned that there would be an especially large delivery today, so he needs all the hands he can get,” Megumi replies.

Megumi doesn’t offer much more of an explanation; he’s a man of few words, as Eren has come to learn over the last few weeks. If it wasn’t for his behavior in the company of Princess Rika, Eren would wonder if Megumi ever spoke at all.

When they arrive outside the servants' quarters, stopping at the side of the palace in which the farmers and craftsmen make their deliveries, they see a tall young female servant carrying small carts of vegetables. She has long black hair that cascades over the plain cloth dress she wears, rosy pale skin, and eyes that shimmer a golden yellow. To anyone else above her station, she would have just been another servant girl who worked in the kitchens, as besides her cheery personality, nothing remotely unique stands out about her. But Eren is able to recognize her right away—if only because of Aoi Todo’s having taken a liking to her. Or rather, a borderline obsession.

“Lady Takada!” Todo calls out to her, and it is obvious by the way she hesitates and squints that his calling is unwelcome, not that he would understand the meaning of her gestures (or if he does, he ignores it). He rushes ahead of the men, and with his burly arms, quickly scoops up the crate she had been dragging toward the doorway. “You shouldn’t carry such heavy things. Let me take these for you, my lady.”

“Ah,” she smiles, though it looks rather forced, as she bows her head. “Thank you, Ser Todo.”

Todo is in such a rush to help her that he ignores the farmer who had been standing nearby offloading crates of seasonal fruits and vegetables. Takada takes a few cloth bags of persimmons from the cart brought by the farmer as she walks with Todo away from the group, bringing their handful of foods to the kitchens. She peeks into the bag and notes to herself with a smile that the persimmons are quite beautifully ripened, shining with their bright orange skins—the perfect fruit for the beginning of the fall season.

When Megumi and Eren arrive, trailing behind Todo, the farmer looks up in their direction. Recognition dawns on his features, a smile breaking out over his lips as his soft brown eyes lock onto Megumi.

“Fushiguro!” The farmer calls out. Eren’s never seen him before. He’s a young man, just a tad shorter than Megumi, with blonde spiky hair and distinctively tanned skin—the marking of a man who works in the sun. 

“Itadori,” Megumi greets the man. “Still need our help?”

“Yeah! The palace has ordered so much food since the prince returned. Is there a banquet happening or something?” he starts. Megumi shrugs as Yuuji points a thumb in the direction of the entrance. “By the way, who was that guy with Lady Takada just now?”

“Oh, Todo?” Megumi asks, disinterested. “He’s another one of the knights. He loses focus whenever Lady Takada’s around… He’s somehow convinced she will marry him.”

“Oh?” Yuuji’s eyebrows lift up in surprise. He speaks to Lady Takada often, as she works solely in the kitchens and assists in his deliveries, and has heard nothing of the sort. “She has never spoken of being betrothed.”

Megumi’s flatline expression doesn’t even waiver when he replies, “That’s because she’s not. She rejected him. Many times.”

Yuuji frowns as if Todo’s unsuccessful pursuit of love wounds him personally. “Poor guy.”

It is then that Yuuji’s eyes wander to Megumi’s side as he sets down the cart of goods he had in his arms. He notices Eren standing beside the knight, and his very first reaction is to be shocked at Eren’s stature.

“Who’s this big guy? I’ve never seen him before.” Yuuji asks, craning his neck to meet Eren’s gaze. Though Yuuji is a man of average height, Eren and Todo are more than a head above his stature, something he notices with both of them right away.

Eren replies to the farmer with his name, his voice surprisingly deep and his accent quite thick. He says nothing else—despite how he never seems to be able to shut his mouth around Yuuta, Eren is the opposite around strangers: observant, and rather quiet. He never knows how they may react to him, the only dragon the realm has ever known, so he nods and gives up nothing but his name.

Yuuji’s perplexed by his accent, his brows threading as he questions what he hears. “Are you from another kingdom? You don’t sound Nymerian. Wait!” Eren’s eyes widen while the farmer raises a hand, the dragon confused as Yuuji shouts. The farmer’s eyes sparkle with recognition. “You must be that… that… what did they call it?” He pauses for a moment as he squints, stroking his chin with a perplexed hand. 

Eren parts his lips, beginning to speak. “Drago—”

Yuuji suddenly clasps his hands together, finding the word he was searching for: “Lizard!”

Eren frowns. “Lizard?”

Megumi quickly clears his throat, stifling a laugh, as Yuuji gets more animated than ever. Though Megumi himself had thought the same thing upon first seeing Eren’s dragon form, he would never say the thought out loud.

“Yes! The whole village’s been talking about it!” Yuuji makes a gesture with his hands, flattening them out and pushing them through the air as if he were about to dive into a pool of water. “The massive green-eyed lizard-man that flew through the sky and brought home our prince! It’s amazing! My father, he saw you fly over our land with himself. You’ll have to fly again someday because I missed it and I wish to see it with my own eyes.”

“And where were you?” Megumi asks.

“On the toilet,” Yuuji shrugs.

Though it is not as if Eren is walking around advertising that he is a dragon, the nearby village spreads rumors faster than in a blink of an eye. Soldiers who come and go from the palace, the City Watch, servants, laymen—over the last few weeks, all of them have spoken the tale of the day a dragon swooped in from outside the realm with the missing prince on its back, only for it to transform into a man himself. Who else would this incredibly tall man, new to the infantry yet strong enough to be placed as the Lord Commander’s esquire, with an accent Yuuji had never heard of be, if not the dragon?

“I didn’t realize I was the talk of the town,” Eren says. “They’re all wrong though. I’m not a lizard. I’m a dragon. From Valyria.”

“Is that a village in the west or something?” Yuuji blinks.

Eren, annoyed, opens his mouth but Megumi speaks before Eren can utter a word, in an attempt to keep the peace. “Let’s just get everything inside, yeah? You can chat later.”

Despite Yuuji’s confusion and Eren’s glare, the three men lift the wooden crates of fruits and vegetables, carrying them over the threshold of the entryway and into the kitchens. It is there that they find Lady Takada and Ser Todo in the middle of a conversation, Todo with his big, burly shoulders sunken downward.

“I’m sorry, Ser,” she says, now with an audience. She bows her head apologetically. “But I’ve told you before… I’m already in love with someone, my lord.”

The maid moves on, leaving the awkward atmosphere in the kitchens as the men who had just walked in had to stumble upon Todo’s rejection. Todo, despite it not being the first time she's done so, has eyes dampened with tears as he faces his fellow knights. Eren and Megumi are used to such a sight, ignoring the conversation to stack their vegetable crates amongst the other items in the kitchens.

Yuuji, frozen at the sight of Todo’s rejection, catches Todo’s line of sight. At once, Todo calls to him with an accusatory finger, “You, farmer.”

“Y-Yes?” Yuuji looks panicked at once, the crates in his arms feeling heavier with Todo’s stare. Todo’s so much bigger than him, a fist to the face could knock him out cold.

“Lady Takada always says she’s in love with another man, yet she never says their name. What do you think? Do you think she means me?”

Megumi and Eren, from behind Todo and out of Todo’s sight, signal to Yuuji with their hands to nod and play along to Todo’s game, as they always do. But Yuuji, ever oblivious, ignores their gestures.

“No, man,” Yuuji replies, to Todo’s surprise and the other knights’ horror. “If it were you, you’d know it. I think you’re just going about this all wrong. It takes more than just a proposal to woo a lady.”

“What do you know about wooing a lady?” Megumi asks.

“Well—nothing, actually, since I’ve never tried. But if I were to try it would be with flowers and praise, prostrating myself before her like worshiping a goddess. You have to wonder if you are even worthy of her glance before thinking about asking for her hand in marriage!”

“What nonsense are you on abou—”

“Wow,” Todo gapes. “This farmer has to be an expert on women.” He grabs Yuuji’s hand, albeit way too tight, and gives it a shake so hard Yuuji's entire arm moves with it. “Tell me…”

Todo looks expectantly at Yuuji, waiting for him to fill in the gap. “Yuuji. Itadori Yuuji.”

“Itadori Yuuji, tell me. What is your ideal woman?”

Megumi, exasperated, slaps the heel of his palm against his face. Eren grumbles, “Not this again.”

Yuuji’s eyes light up as if he had pondered the answer to this question his entire life. His voice takes on a mystical quality as he answers, staring up at the ceiling wistfully. “A woman with eyes as blue as a cloudless sky and hair shining gold like the summer sun. Fair, smooth skin, like an angel had dropped down from the heavens. Oh, and best of all—a huge ass.”

“Gods, he’s helpless,” Megumi mutters.

“Amazing,” Todo utters, in pure unadulterated joy. “What a man of taste you are, Itadori Yuuji.”

“What do you lot know about women anyway?” A voice breaks through the small gathering forming in the kitchen, the source somewhere across the expansive room. When the men turn towards the sound, they see another knight of the same rank as Todo, Kinji Hakari, walking into the room with amusement prominent across his features. “If I had to wager, you’re all a bunch of virgins.”

“Not everyone wants to lose their virtue to a common whore in the Dryads, Ser Hakari,” Megumi replies instantly, a bite to his words. Though, with the flush on his cheeks, it seems as if his mind is somewhere else, or perhaps, with someone. “We’re busy enough as it is with training. Or at least, we should be.”

“Well in my case, I’m saving it for the day I meet a special lady. Women care about that, you know.” Yuuji says, his thumb pointed to the center of his chest, proud of his noble pursuit in saving himself for the day he meets the perfect woman. 

“I wonder if Lady Takada cares about that too,” Todo murmurs, mostly to himself.

Eren ventures to stay quiet this once. Though he has never done so with a woman, he is most certainly not a man of virtue. But he knows saying that out loud will reward him with too many questions he doesn’t wish to answer. 

“Listen to yourselves,” Hakari crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re talking like a bunch of pussies. Just down a pint in Tyrrosh, spend a couple of gold coins, and get it over with at the Dryads.” He wags a finger in Yuuji’s direction, “Women don’t care about virtue. Hell, the more experienced you are, the more you can please them. Doesn’t that sound more like pleasing a goddess, blondie?”

Both Todo and Yuuji marvel at Hakari’s words, as if he had just imparted the most harrowing of wisdom upon them. 

“And what’s the Lord of Tyrrosh’s son doing spending his off days in town when he could marry any noble lady he could wish for?” Megumi asks him. It is true that Hakari, being of noble blood, could have spent his days being an Earl or a Lord, pissing away his money and surrounding himself with luxuries instead of joining the infantry. And Megumi, who perhaps spends more time than he should pondering how his life would have turned out if he were of noble blood, has always wondered why Hakari would squander it.

Hakari brings a hand to the back of his head, scratching it as he mutters, “What are you, my father?” A round of laughter is heard amongst the men in the room before Hakari adds, his tone a bit more serious, “I wanted to be more than just some Lord wandering around Tyrrosh with nothing but my wealth.” He turns towards Megumi, his dark eyes meeting Megumi’s greens. “Maybe you’re too young to remember, but when Princess Yuuri was captured and murdered—that was the first time Nymeria had ever been attacked like that in hundreds of years. I was a teenager then but I couldn’t sit back and watch. I’m sure it was the same for you, Todo.”

Todo nods. “Though I’m from a smaller house, it was the same for me. Drican stealing our beautiful princess from right under our noses—despicable. I joined the infantry right away.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t all about impressing the ladies, then,” Yuuji muses.

“Well,” Hakari shrugs, a smile dancing across his lips. “Having the ladies fawn over us is a bonus.”

As Hakari, Todo, and Yuuji continue their chat, Eren is surprised out of his stupor to hear Megumi’s voice directed at him.

“You don’t believe all those things they say about impressing women with experience, do you, Eren?” It’s rare that Megumi is the one to initiate conversation—so rare Eren wonders if it’s the first time, even.

“Hmm… Well, if it’s someone you love—”

“W-who said anything about love?” Megumi huffs, a warmth crawling up his neck. Certainly, he was not entertaining any thoughts about love—or any person in particular, for that matter. He was only… curious… if all ladies had such sensibilities. There was definitely not a specific person who came to the forefront of his mind. At least, not one whom he would admit to thinking about even by the threat of a dagger to the neck. He adds, seeing Eren’s scrutinizing look, “It was simply a thought.”

Eren quirks a brow but doesn’t comment on Megumi’s floundering. “Is that not why you would want to bed someone? Because you love them?”

“Well… I guess, but not always,” Megumi gestures towards the other men in the room, who are currently speaking of one of Hakari’s many conquests. Anything to get Eren’s eyes off of his face which grows more flushed by the second. “Like Ser Hakari said, often these men do it just for pleasure."

“Well, in that case, perhaps they would prefer experience?” Eren shrugs. “I never really thought about doing anything like that. I’d only be interested in lying with someone I had feelings for.”

Megumi’s normally stoic look is replaced with one of genuine shock. “Really? Every soldier I’ve met always talks about women as if they were things to be conquered. I thought I was the strange one for not having an interest in their competitions.”

Eren shows Megumi an earnest smile. “I guess we’re alike in that way, then. It’s not something to be ashamed of. I think if there are feelings between you and the person you want to be with, it would be even more special if you were each other’s firsts. When you love someone, and they save that part of themselves for you, it’s—” Eren quickly realizes by the scrutinizing look in Megumi’s eyes that he may be getting carried away, and he stutters. “I-I just imagine it would be special to share that with the person you love.”

Megumi stays silent for a moment, absorbing Eren’s words. Then, “Eren… Do you—”

“Fushiguro! And the lizard-man!” Yuuji calls out from the doorway, waving an arm in the air to grab their attention. “There’s still some more food to bring to the kitchens. If you could lend a hand.”

“It’s dragon,” Eren grumbles, turning to the blond. Louder, he adds, “Just call me Eren!”

“Fine, Eren, if you would so kindly lend a hand,” Yuuji beckons him with a hand outside. Eren begins to move forward while Megumi finds himself staring at his back. For a moment he wonders just how would Eren know those types of feelings without having experienced them himself. And when he, too, resumes helping the farmer with the delivery, his mind wanders back to his princess, as it inevitably sometimes does. With a frown, he realizes that perhaps he may have a reason for understanding those feelings too.

***

It is one crisp autumn day, the greens of Nymeria’s lush landscape tinting shades of orange and brown as the fall settles in. Yuuta spends the afternoon with his advisors discussing matters of the realm. His dragon, as is typical of him when he is not training with the infantry, spends his time alone. Today, he opts to spend it in the solar. The room is large and open, with beautiful views of the scenery surrounding the palace—reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn. Warm sunlight pours in through the windows. Though this room is typically one of those spaces saved for the nobility of the palace, Yuuta has given his explicit permission for Eren’s presence. It is here that they often spend some time alone, and it is here that Eren feels most comforted in Yuuta’s absence.

Eren sits at a wooden table, seeds and berries spread before him on its surface. He smiles to himself as his companion for the afternoon—the small Valyrian bird that Yuuta had so affectionately named Vhagar—chirps away, picking at the seeds and taking apart the sweet berries with the tip of his black pointed beak.

“I stole them from the kitchen,” he snickers, pinching a berry between his fingers. “I know they aren’t as sweet as our kasta berries but I hope you like them, Vha—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Eren jolts in his seat, surprised to hear a soft feminine voice breaking through the quietude of the solar. When he looks in the voice’s direction, his eyes grow wide in surprise as he realizes he’s face-to-face with the princess. He stands from his seat immediately, as if he were a child caught doing something naughty. 

“Good afternoon, princess,” Eren says in greeting. His eyes quickly dip down to the table where Vhagar sits munching away at the seeds. Eren picks up the bird and hides it between his large palms. “I-I was just talking to myself.”

Rika giggles at his antics. She walks closer to his table, her soft lilac dress swaying with each step. She looks regal, as always,  with her long brown hair styled perfectly, and her dress ornamented with pins and beautifully stitched designs. A thin golden circlet rests on her crown just behind her bangs—a piece of jewelry to signify her status, as is custom.

“You don’t have to hide the little guy,” she says. “I’ve caught my brother talking to him too. You two spent a little too long on that island, didn’t you? Talking to birds as if they are people.”

Eren lets the bird back down to the table with a nervous laugh. “Perhaps.” As Rika comes up to stand beside him, he notices that she holds a book in her arms. “Are you here to read, Your Highness? I’m sorry if I am disturbing you.”

Rika’s smile is as charming as ever as she gestures for Eren to sit back down. Little does he know the way her heart leaps in her chest as she gets excited over the chance to finally speak to the dragon alone. She would not admit it aloud, but something about him has piqued her interest from the moment she met him. A mixture of his handsome looks and his strange mannerisms, perhaps. Or, maybe it is the fact that he is someone new to the kingdom, that she wishes to understand him, to be able to read him as easily as she can read about and understand the men in her romance novels. He’s different from all the men she’s met before—and different is interesting.

“Nonsense, Eren. Don’t worry about me. We can sit together, actually. I don’t mind.”

Eren nods, sitting back down in his seat. “Thank you, princess.”

They both sit beside each other, Rika settling comfortably into the chair as she opens the book over her lap. Eren, curious, opens his mouth to speak. “What kind of books do you read, princess?”

When she turns toward Eren, his big green eyes are so earnest and soft as he stares at her. She finds his questioning gaze really cute. Noblemen always look at her as if she were less than them, judgment and secrecy amongst other feelings radiating from them, but Eren naturally has such honest emotions in his stare. His mannerisms are incredibly endearing, even more so up close.

“U-um…” She stutters, lost in the childlike wonder held in his gaze. “I like to read a lot of romance stories… I hope that doesn’t sound too strange.”

“I wouldn’t have pinned you for a romantic, Your Highness.”

Rika quirks a brow. “And why’s that?”

“Your brother always speaks about relationships within the kingdom as if they are simply duty. It doesn’t sound like your people are very romantic.”

She giggles at his words. If any other man had spoken such a thing, it’d come across as an insult. But from Eren, it’s simply an observation. 

“Well, it is true that for people like me and my brother, we don’t have the luxury of falling in love with a person of our choosing,” Rika says it so matter-of-fact, but to Eren, hearing this fact repeated again and again always feels like a knife to the chest. “But I like to dream sometimes that one day things could be different. Reading novels feels like getting to play pretend for a little while. I think falling in love is beautiful. Even if you can’t be together, that feeling of loving another person, it’s what everyone hopes for, right? I mean… Perhaps it is just me…” She trails off, worried that she has been rambling to a man who wouldn’t care for such feeble emotions. But Eren only nods in agreement, his features expressing both understanding and sympathy.

“Does it always have to be that way? Duty over love?” Eren asks.

“I’m not sure if Yuuta has learned of this yet, but the young king of Seomor—Hajime—he recently took a commoner as his wife.” At this, Eren’s face melds into earnest surprise. Rika nods, “It wasn’t without opposition, of course. None of the nobles were happy about it. There were many noblewomen who could have married him. But he had fallen for one of the maids in the palace, and refused to take any other woman as his wife.”

“That sounds very courageous of him,” Eren replies.

“It was. He had to defy his council and reject many women’s hands to marry her. I attended their wedding last spring before I returned to Nymeria. They looked so happy as they spoke their vows. I’d never seen Hajime smile as much in all my years in Seomor than how much he did that day.” Rika smiles as she remembers the royal wedding of Hajime and his maid-turned-queen. “I wish that one day I could have that for myself… Commoner or not, I want to feel that kind of joy and love with someone.”

Eren’s eyes are trained on his fingers on the table, the fingertips brushing over one another to soothe the feelings that well up in his chest. He can’t help but remember just how happy he had been the day he had traded vows with Yuuta. Though he’s itching to say it aloud, he doesn’t. Instead, he simply says, “Yes. I wish that for you, princess. And for your brother.”

“I wish it for Yuuta too… But soon he will be crowned. I’m not sure if it can be helped, Eren. Since I won’t be the crowned heir anymore, I hope that maybe Yuuta will let me delay it for a while longer. He’s promised me he won’t force me to wed… Yuuta’s such a kind brother,” Rika smiles fondly. “I have hopes… Yuuta does not have much of a say in his betrothal but… there’s hope for me, I think.”

“What if your brother wanted to be like Hajime? To marry someone he shouldn’t?”

“Has he said anything like that to you?”

Eren averts his gaze from Rika’s as he lies. “No… I just… wonder…” His words fade as he looks at the table pensively.

“Hajime had to be strong-willed to do what he did. My brother, he has always been weak-hearted,” Rika replies. 

Eren frowns—he doesn’t think that Rika’s words are true at all. Eren feels as if he is the one who is weaker of the heart than Yuuta, knowing how easily he succumbs to his emotions.

She continues, “I would be surprised to hear of him defying our traditions like that, Eren.”

“I see…”

Rika reaches out toward Vhagar, smoothing one of her fingers over the soft feathers on the bird’s head. The bird chirps in delight at her touch. 

“You sound so saddened by my brother’s situation. Does it bother you?”

Eren scratches his cheek with one of his fingers, looking away to avoid her gaze once more. If there’s anything about the princess, it seems as if she always knows exactly what to say to make people nervous in her presence. At least, that is what Eren thinks, seeing how Megumi acts around her, and how he feels around her right now.

“He carries such a burden being the prince,” Eren replies. His long hair thankfully covers the heat that pools at the tips of his ears. He remembers how his mother used to often tell him that his ears would turn red when he’d lie. “I just wish for him to be happy…”

“You don’t have to be so sad for him, Eren. Yuuta is a kind man. There is no way that he wouldn’t feel love for his queen. Perhaps not at first… but he would. And any woman would love to have him as a husband. No matter who will be the Nymerian queen one day, they will cherish each other. I’m sure of it.”

Unbeknownst to her, her words only drive the knife deeper into his chest. “Right, of course. I’m sure they will.”

After a bout of silence, Rika says, “I don’t think I’ve told you before but… I’m glad my brother had your company all those years.” Eren straightens up, looking toward Rika with a curious stare. “These past six years I wondered if he was safe… or if he was even alive. I prayed for him every day.” Eren sees how her eyes waver, glistening with unshed tears at the memory. “I’m glad he’s alive but I am especially happy that he had someone like you there to care for him. Thank you for bringing him home, and for being his friend, too.”

All this time, the thought of returning to Nymeria from Valyria always made Eren full of regrets—there was nothing for him to gain from leaving the sanctuary of his island. If anything, all leaving had done was drive a wedge between him and his beloved. But seeing Rika’s emotions on display like this… Eren can see why Yuuta couldn’t stay with him in Valyria. Yuuta didn’t leave just because he felt he had to, but because there are so many people here who cared for him, and he couldn’t go on living on the island knowing that all these people worried for him. Rika would have lived her entire life thinking Yuuta was dead had they never left. The wound on her heart would have never healed, and the thought of being that selfish causes a pang of pain in Eren’s chest.

He reaches over and takes her hand into his palms. Rika, surprised, looks up at him with the softest of blushes tinting her skin. Eren is so warm, her palm feels as if it were being held over a fire. 

“I’m glad I was able to bring Yuuta back to you, princess,” Eren softly smiles. “He worried about you every day, too. I caught him praying often for your safety just as you prayed for him.”

She clears her throat, swallowing the feeling of worms crawling beneath her skin. She’d met many noblemen over the years, but never had a man caused her to feel so nervous. She looks down at his large hands, savoring their warmth.

“Thankfully, I spent the last six years in Seomor away from our father. There was fear that he would hurt us like he hurt my mother… but I was safe in Seomor.”

“Your mother… She was from Seomor, right?” Eren asks, remembering this fact when Rika speaks it aloud.

Rika’s other hand is wrapped around the spine of her book. She sets her novel down on the table. Eren releases her hand and she places both her hands over her lap as he watches her with interest. She idly smoothes down her dress—anything to keep her hands distracted from wanting to feel his warmth again. 

“Yes. My mother was a highborn lady from the kingdom of Seomor. It’s the westernmost kingdom in the realm, full of lush greenery and surrounded by beautiful beaches made of golden sand. My mother’s noble house is small—it’s a wonder my father chose to marry into it at all. But I like to think he simply married her because he loved her. My mother was quite beautiful and so kind to us. My brother, even though he looks so much like my father, he is a lot like my mother.” 

“Your brother used to say the opposite of you,” Eren recalls with a faint smile. “When he’d speak about you, he’d always say that you looked like your mother but you were way too bold like your father.”

Rika laughs. On instinct, she covers her lips with her hand—it’s more ladylike, she had been taught. 

Eren, because he had never spent time in the company of noblewomen, questions the gesture. “Why do you do that, princess?”

Rika blinks, confused. “Do what?”

“Cover your face when you laugh.” He leans in closer, and Rika’s breath hitches in her throat. “You shouldn’t hide it. Then no one can see your smile. It’s pretty.”

Rika’s stomach flips at the words, spoken with such sincerity. She immediately opts to deflect the conversation, to soothe her nerves and warming cheeks.

“H-has my brother taught you much about the other kingdoms at all? I-I can tell you a bit about each of them.”

Eren ponders the question, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, sometimes he would talk about them when we were in Valyria, but it was hard for me to picture them. The island was all I knew. I didn’t understand something as vast as a kingdom when all I knew were villages and forests.”

“Well, Nymeria is the kingdom farthest to the east. Then to the northwest is what was once Drican. It is part of our kingdom now after we won the war. To the southwest is Parryn, a kingdom ruled by the Yoshino clan. To the west of Parryn is Xentis, and to the west of Drican is Avahan. Avahan is ruled by the Kamo family. Xentis and its neighbor to the west, Themiscyra, are both ruled by the Zenin clan—each kingdom is ruled by one branch of the family. And to the south of Themiscyra is where my mother is from, Seomor. Their current king is the one who I mentioned before: Hajime Kashimo.”

Rika begins to fiddle with her braid as she speaks, her words tumbling out one after another in her nervousness as she rambled. Staring at the man beside her makes her stomach feel like it may cave in on itself, as if her chest is filled with nothing but warm air and butterflies. Mentally, she chastises herself at the word vomit that left her mouth. Swooning over a man feels very out of the ordinary for her, but perhaps it can’t be helped; the dragon is so different from other men she’s met before. His words never have any hidden meaning, nor does he have any motives to lie or use her. Everything he says—his feelings, his compliments—it’s all genuine from his heart.

Eren ruminates in silence for a moment before letting out a weak laugh. “Forgive me, princess, but it’ll be hard for me to remember all those names.”

“I know,” she giggles, relieved that Eren doesn’t seem to notice how he’s affecting her. “It takes time to learn them all. I’ve been studying my whole life to remember such things about the realm. Especially if I’ll have to wed a prince someday…”

Eren notices the way Rika’s smile falters toward the end of her words. He asks, “Have you met the princes from the other kingdoms yet?”

“I’ve met a lot of noblemen in Seomor but with my father’s reputation… I have yet to meet a man who offered to marry me. Well, except one. The prince of Parryn, Junpei Yoshino.”

“Did you not wish to marry him?” Eren asks Rika, surprised.

“I had met Junpei before but never with the intention to marry. Not until… Well, actually, it was just before the day that you and my brother returned. I’d always been curious about him, but once I spent more than a few minutes with him, I didn’t like him at all.” She scrunches up her nose at the memory, earning a chuckle from the dragon. “Lord Nanami had suggested the match in talks with Junpei’s father. They wanted to unite our kingdoms, since Parryn has always had a close relationship with Nymeria but… Junpei was quite… unapproachable, to put it lightly. If you and my brother hadn’t returned… I probably would’ve been preparing for a marriage ceremony as we speak.”

Rika seems so relieved once she says the last line, and Eren can’t help but smile. Eren had never had a younger sibling, and speaking with Rika now feels comforting, as if Yuuta’s younger sister were his own. Rika sees this smile, one that he displays just for her, and it makes her feel warm. Happy.

“I’m glad Yuuta’s return has made things better for you, princess. I hope that it will be as you say—that you’ll be able to marry whenever and whomever you wish.”

Silently, though every fiber of his being wishes to say it aloud, he hopes that it will be possible for Yuuta, too.

Rika is confused by the emotions she sees in his eyes. She doesn’t understand why he looks at her with both sadness yet longing. Is he wishing for that so wholeheartedly for her sake too? 

She agrees with a nod, encouraged by his words. “I do hope so too, Eren.”

***

The sounds of the Lord Commander’s boots clacking against the marble floors echo loudly off the walls with each step he takes down the familiar halls towards the emperor’s residence in the palace. The royal wing is nothing near strange territory for him—perhaps so familiar that he can paint each brick, each wooden panel, each piece of marble and tile from memory onto canvas if he ever so chose. Many moons ago, before all Nymeria’s infantry came to be under his command, these simple halls were the only kingdom he knew. Whether it was (reluctantly) gallivanting with the young prince in his youth, later trailing behind the emperor as his Sworn Protector, or even these days, with his regular visits to the emperor’s chambers as his Lord Commander, the steady, regular sound of leather soles against polished marble always sounds the same.

Most days the halls just before the king’s chambers are strictly traversed by servants and healers. Due to their fear of the Mad King and exaggerated, frightful rumors of his curse, the servants stay away from this area of the palace, scurrying like skittish mice being chased away by a predator whenever they are called upon to tend to the King. The sounds of Toji’s steps approaching the royal chambers rattle louder and louder in his ears as he approaches the heavy wooden door through the empty halls and passages, interrupting the stillness. The guards at the door, elite kingsguards under Toji’s command, nod and step aside for their commander, allowing Toji into the room.

“Good day, Lord Commander.” Toji is greeted by one of the healers with a curt, respectful nod as soon as he steps into the entryway, his heavy leather boots scraping against the wooden floorboards. 

“Maester,” Toji nods in return, a man of few words as always. His eyes quickly dart to the grand bed in the center of the room, his arms moving to remove the sword in its hilt at his side. He leaves it and its scabbard in a receptacle in the entryway as it is custom to shed his weapon when in the chambers of the king, hastily making his way across the room as the healer begins to scramble and clean up his potions and tools that were laid out at the side table.

At the king’s bedside is an armchair upholstered in dark velvety fabric trimmed with braided gold thread at its edges. The chair matches the long, opulently gold-trimmed curtains hung before each window as well as around the king’s bedposts, though now they are pulled back at the midsections with a golden rope, fringed at the end with long golden tassels. 

As Nymeria’s autumn season is beginning to show its head, the servants have lit the fireplace across from the king’s bed to keep the room warm, knowing that even with the bedsheets as thick as they are, the now frail king often suffers from chills. To the Lord Commander, the man as bulky and large-framed as he is, the room is just teetering on the edge of hot, with the scent of ginger and lycium—healing herbs—heavy in the air and deftly plugging his nose. He takes a seat in the armchair at Yuuki’s bedside regardless, prepared to weather the stifling atmosphere in order to spend this time with his closest friend.

When Toji settles into the seat and the healer scurries away, Toji finally allows his pale green eyes to take in the sight of his king: Yuuki’s laying down in bed, head propped up by feathered pillows, and his body covered with dark heavy bedsheets up to his collarbones. He’s asleep, eyes closed with dark hair framing his face, his pale lips just slightly agape. Yet, the man doesn’t snore—not anymore, not the same way that Toji used to tease him for in his youth whenever he’d catch the prince dozing away, avoiding his lessons. The Yuuki he knew back then… That cocky smile, his rosy complexion, his eagerness for sparring, jousting, and all things debauchery—that Yuuki is simply a memory, the man before him a ghost of the once so-called Gallant Prince. 

Although during the war and in the years after, Yuuki became someone whom the realm grew to fear, whom even his own subjects began to whisper rumors of madness and evil, it wasn’t always that way. Toji has known since the day he came to live in the Nymerian palace the extent of Yuuki’s kindness. Perhaps that is why, even now, Toji doesn’t feel any fear in his heart, not like the others do. He looks over at his king with a gaze heavy enough to drown in, the room in which they are both in now bringing back memories that the Lord Commander often wishes he could forget.

It was once in this very room, almost seven years ago now, that Toji saw for the first time the true extent of the spell—no, curse—that the witch had placed upon Yuuki. His descent into madness was sharp and swift; it had been no less than half a dozen months since the murder of Princess Yuuri that the Queen had followed her sister-in-law to the afterlife. Unlike Yuuri’s death, perpetrated by a foreign land bent on starting a war, Queen Haruka’s had been at the very hands of her loving husband, the king who sleeps just an arm’s reach from Toji now. Perhaps that night had been the only time that Toji had ever been afraid—not for himself, but for his king.

Yuuta, much too young to do anything but run away, had fearfully witnessed with his own two eyes the death of his mother at his father’s hands. And Toji, moments later, had seen the same fear in Yuuki’s eyes: the king’s own fear that one day he would do the same to his children. That night, as Haruka’s limp body still warmed the sheets of their bed, Yuuki’s mind, warped and damaged by the witch’s spell, knew that he was a danger to those around him. Nothing had made it more clear in his mind than the sight of his son and daughter cowering in their bedroom, hiding from him.

His first thought after his mind had cleared of the power-hungry state that it had been in, was ending his life before it could become any worse. He feared for those around him whom he cherished so dearly: his son, daughter, friends, and closest advisors. Hell, his entire kingdom. Who knows the depths of warfare and bloodshed that he would subject his kingdom to if he were willing to go as far as killing his beloved wife? He feared the monster that he had become in his quest to defeat Drican, and at that moment, had considered that the kingdom would be better off if his life were to end now before the spell could continue to rot away at his mind.

Yet, that night, before he could leave his kingdom behind to his Lord Hand and his children who were much too young to rule, Toji was there for him. Toji, his closest friend and most loyal knight, was there to convince Yuuki that they would find a cure for him. That he, even with the evil he had just committed, was worth fighting for. Though it was Toji who had always felt as if Yuuki had saved him, at that moment, it was Toji who had saved Yuuki. In the days after Yuuta and Rika were sent away, when word of Yuuta’s disappearance had reached the palace, it was Toji, along with the aid of their master of ships Lord Higuruma, who served as a rock for the king, grounding him and assuring him of Yuuta’s safe return, ensuring that Yuuki’s fragile mental state was quelled and the palace did not delve into chaos as they mounted searches by land and by sea. Amid the restoration of peace, and the loss of the kingdom’s first-born prince, Toji was there to support his king as his Lord Commander, but most importantly, as his closest friend.

Toji knows as well as Yuuki that the only reason Yuuki is still alive now, despite the toll that forbidden power took on his body, and despite the many thoughts (and attempts) that Yuuki had of taking his own life, is because of the affection Yuuki still holds for him, his family, and his kingdom. Even with his memory existing in fragments, and his body being so weak he can barely move from his bed, it is always so clear in his words and his actions that those he loves most exist at the forefront of his mind. Could a man deemed so evil by others really be the same man who still holds so much affection for them in his heart?

“Toji…”

Toji’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his eyes previously fixated contemplatively on the bedsheets just in front of him. His eyes meet Yuuki's, an ocean of deep blue waters, just as he had always remembered them to be. There was a time when they were so dark and tumultuous, like the crashing waves of a stormy sea but that was years ago, a time when Yuuki wasn’t himself. 

“My king,” Toji bows his head. Yuuki sends him a look that Toji knows all too well. Toji adds, in a softer voice, “Yuuki.”

Yuuki begins to shuffle in bed, moving to sit up from his laying down position. Toji instantly gets off the armchair, one of his arms looping around Yuuki’s back, gently lifting him. Yuuki can’t help but let out what sounds like a chuckle, defeated, letting his friend assist him with something as simple as moving around in his own bed. There have been many times in the past where Yuuki has voiced his distaste for this situation he is in—‘it’s as if I’ve become a man more than twice my age’ he’d once said. Yet today he chooses not to comment on it.

Instead, he starts by asking Toji about himself. With a palm laid over one of Toji’s arms, his touch so cold Toji stutters upon contact, he asks, “Toji… Are you well?”

“I should be the one to ask you.” Toji takes the king’s hand, so thin and frail now, into his own palms. “I’m fine, Your Highness. It is you we worry for. Are the healers helping you feel any better?”

Yuuki’s thin, pale lips curl upwards but his expression couldn’t be further from a smile. “You know I am afflicted with… something which cannot be healed, Toji.”

A stretch of silence passes, the king’s deep breaths causing his chest to rise and fall. Toji knows better than anyone that there is no way to break Yuuki’s curse—if there were, he would have found it long ago when the witch Nobara was still within his grasp. Perhaps it is a sense of hope—or an illusion of it, more likely—that has Toji wondering if anything the healers can do would improve the king’s condition. These past years of visiting the royal chambers have never borne any fruit in that regard. But perhaps Toji’s asking is part of the formality of it all, now—less out of hopeful thinking and more out of decorum.

“Well… You look well,” Toji lies, in hopes of lifting the king’s spirits. He studies Yuuki’s face as he speaks. Except for the pallor of his skin, and the length of his hair, the thinness of his body—he’s still very much the Yuuki he’s always known. “Your hair’s gotten a bit longer—are your servants not tending to it? Or are you trying to look more like your son? It doesn’t suit you.”

At that, Yuuki genuinely laughs. “Hmm… Perhaps the latter. The Grand Maester told me… that seeing Yuuta for the first time felt as if he were seeing an apparition… that of my younger self.”

Toji, remembering when he had seen Yuuta climb off the back of a dragon, knows exactly how that felt. “He was right. Your son has always looked like you, even as a child. But perhaps even more so now that he’s a man in his own right.”

“How is he? My son?” Yuuki asks, shuffling in bed to sit higher up against his headboard. Toji sits straighter, lifting a heavy boot to cross one ankle over the other. “He does not frequent my chambers… as much as I’d like him to.”

“You would have never guessed he was living on an island but a month ago. He’s smart, tactful even.” Yuuki grins then, relieved. “He’s already caught up on much of the politics and relationships with the other kingdoms in the realm, and he’s already acting on your behalf during meetings with your council. The prince is quite…” he pauses as he searches for the words. “Calm and level-headed, I’d say. Not like a certain little pig-headed prince I once knew.”

Yuuki chuckles—a laugh so thin you’d miss it if you weren’t familiar with his weakened gestures. 

“Of course… He is Haruka’s son, after all,” Yuuki murmurs, to which Toji shakes his head.

“You forget what a brilliant king you once were, Yuuki.” Yuuki blinks back at Toji’s words, listening intently. “I remember the day you told your queen just how much you cared for your family and your kingdom—and that you’d do anything for their prosperity. I think your son is just the same. He cares for our kingdom, much like you do.”

Yuuki’s gaze travels to his hands in his lap, his hands that in his mind are so disgustingly tainted with blood and all the evil things he’d done. But they were all done in the name of his kingdom. “I’m glad that… there is at least one man who still… thinks so highly of me…”

“Try not to let that big head of yours grow any bigger now.”

Yuuki turns toward Toji and sees fondness in his gaze. Toji’s always looked at him the same, no matter what they’d been through over the years, and the thought warms his heart immensely. Even if Toji never puts words to it, even if his words are laced with thin insults and sarcastic jabs, the look in his eyes has always been enough to reveal the truth.

“I often hope that… one day my son will have someone as devoted as you are, Toji…”

At his words, Toji crosses his arms over his chest, turning his face to hide the flames of embarrassment that begin to creep up his face. “I’m just speaking truthfully, Your Highness.”

Yuuki laughs entirely too hard at Toji’s flustering, enough that he has to pause to cough and clear his throat. Concern quickly takes over Toji’s features, but Yuuki simply holds up a shaky palm to quell the question poised on Toji’s tongue.

“You were never one… to be honest about your feelings… were you?”

Toji avoids the question. If it’s out of embarrassment, or out of fear of putting words to the feelings they’ve never discussed aloud, he wouldn’t dwell on it. “I do think your son has someone who will dedicate himself beyond just a knight’s oath. The dragon who brought him here, he’s been placed as my esquire. I’ve heard it for myself—that he says he is willing to die for the prince. He seems like he means it honestly.”

“Ah…” Yuuki smiles. Those words are not too far off from Toji’s vow, so many decades ago now. “Has he… taken the oath?”

“Not yet, but I think by the time of the ceremony, he’ll be ready.”

The ceremony, which looms over everyone’s mind these days, is a reference to Yuuta’s coronation ceremony as the crowned prince and Yuuki’s heir, which is set to occur in a few weeks’ time. It is at his ceremony, just like his father’s, that his set of kingsguards will be appointed. Any soldiers set to be promoted to knights will do so by being knighted by their newly crowned prince, as is custom. And though Eren has only been part of their infantry for a mere couple of weeks, his strength combined with his experience and his ‘special circumstances’, as previously discussed by the council, have left little room for doubt that he will be selected for the kingsguard. At least, that was the intention when the council had granted Eren permission to join the infantry at the last meeting.

“I wish I could be there… to see the ceremony…”

At this, Toji’s eyes widen in surprise. “What? Do you mean you won’t be in attendance?”

Yuuki gestures towards his lap, as if the answer was so obviously written across his body. “In this condition..?”

“But your subjects, the crowned princes and nobles of the realm—they’ll all be in attendance. You have to—”

“I won’t.” Yuuki’s words are stern, even with the weak timbre of his voice. Final. “What will they say… about the Mad King’s first public appearance since… since…” His words trail off, and Toji knows exactly what it is that Yuuki wishes to say. Since I killed my wife. “I don’t want… my son’s crown to be… tainted by my hands… I wish for him to be crowned… without me.”

“Yuuki…” Toji looks for any doubt in Yuuki’s eyes but finds none. This has to be something Yuuki has thought about for quite some time, as it is tradition for the current emperor to crown his heir. To forego this tradition… the guilt that Yuuki feels seems insurmountable. And Toji knows that Yuuki’s sins are not something that his words alone could erase, much less ease. He needs to earn forgiveness, not from him, but from his children whom he feels so strongly that he wronged.

“Wouldn’t it be better for him to understand you?” Toji tries to reason. “He was a kid back then. He doesn’t know why you took that spell. He’s naive still—he hasn’t learned anything of war. All of this… It was all because of this war. Because of that curse.” The last two words are spat out from behind gritted teeth.

“No, Toji… It was I who was too foolish… who ignored her warnings… who coveted power above all… It’s my fault… entirely my fault that this happened… that my children… hate me. I deserve it… for what I’ve done.”

“I think if he understood you, he would forgive you.” 

He hears Toji's words, yet, all Yuuki remembers is his first meeting with his son, how Yuuta had said that he didn’t know if he ever could forgive, much less forget what Yuuki had done. 

“I don’t expect his forgiveness… I just wish to absolve him of what I'd done… It is my wish, Toji… for Yuuta to become king… of his own right. Not in my shadow… it is what’s best for the kingdom… for him.”

A bout of silence passes, before Toji chuckles, breaking Yuuki from his wallowing reverie.

“What is it?” Yuuki asks.

“Good luck telling lazy bastard Nanami that he’ll have to be the one to crown your son.”

Yuuki join Toji in his mirth, laughing at the thought. Nanami, not one to perform unnecessary duties, would loathe having to be at the forefront of such a ceremony. Speaking of Nanami, Yuuki recalls a recent conversation he had had with the Lord Hand. Well, recent in his mind, which is clouded with misplaced memories. He says, “The Gods know that… Lord Nanami already has his hands full with my daughter… rejecting the hand from Crowned Prince Yoshino…”

Toji leans back against the chair, a sigh leaving his lips. Just the mention of the princess eases whatever thick air of tension had previously settled in the room when speaking of the coronation. Toji’s grateful for the change of subject. “Yes… I think perhaps the years away have made her forget her role in our kingdom. That, or the princess is simply as stubborn as a mule.”

“Is that so?” Yuuki shouldn’t be amused at the insult his daughter had unintentionally made at their neighbor and long-time trade partner, but he is. He, as the king, could force his hand; he could be enraged with his daughter for declining such an advantageous union. Instead, his eyes still sparkle with warmth. “Well… courting a woman is more interesting when… there is a challenge involved… I’ve always thought that… stubbornness can be charming.”

“I wonder where she got such a trait from,” Toji muses, his eyes wandering until they land upon Yuuki’s. It is not lost on him the way Yuuki’s lingering affection for his wife can still be heard in his voice, how it glimmers in his eyes.

Yuuki can’t help but smile faintly when their eyes meet. “Maybe she gets it from her mother.”

Toji chuckles softly. The sarcasm drips off his tongue when he replies, “Maybe.”

Yuuki suddenly becomes solemn again, his voice hushed as he asks, “Toji?”

“Yes?”

“You… and your son Megumi… protect her… She was lucky that Parryn had been… so gracious and forgiving. Another kingdom… they may not take such an insult lightly. She might have been too young to remember… just how dangerous these politics can be.”

Toji’s eyes widen at the King’s words. He knows, having experienced what tragedy had fallen upon the kingdom, why Yuuki says this to him. The last thing anyone in this kingdom would ever want is for Rika’s fate to be that of the late Princess Okkotsu.

“Of course, we will. The prince and the princess are both under my protection. So long as I am Lord Commander nothing will happen to them. I promise you.”

Toji’s words help quell the uneasy feeling in Yuuki’s chest—brewing, yet unexplainable. He smiles at his longtime friend as he lays back down against his bedding, weary from such long conversation. It’s a miracle Yuuki was as talkative as he just was, Toji thinks, resigning himself to the plush cushions of his chair. Yuuki’s eyelids grow heavy. His last words before he succumbs to exhaustion come out as a murmur: 

“Thank you, Toji.”

***

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[caliburn-the-sword]

winter thoughts up to chapter 14

frankly. not enough scarlet. but i only had the time to read a handful of chapters

iko is so dramatic and i love her. ik she's meant to be the fairy godmother figure, but honest to god with how much she wants to be human and imitates humans (like pretending to faint cause of kai) she honestly seems like a pinocchio type character here too

now that i'm playing association games of aligning characters with other characters, i realised that cinder is technically the huntsman from little red riding hood since she saved scarlet from getting eaten by wolf. since there is a huntsman in snow white as well, that makes me wonder if she might therefore play a similar role in winter's story. that would be very interesting

"I'm on your side," he said. "No matter what." this smells like foreshadowing that he will in fact NOT be on her side no matter what. through no fault of his own of course. levana brainwashing arc when???

LMAO WOLF KNOCKED HIM OUT COLD. favourite trope ever fr

completely agreed cinder. i love a man that's battered and bruised fr

NOOOO don't tell me that thorne is TRYING to make cress jealous. cringe. gross. i'm throwing up in my mouth in the middle of my studies of religion class

is it just me or is thorne flirting with kai?? that is frankly much more preferable since they're both adults to kaider or cresswell honestly

nevermind it's some weird alpha male bs they're trying to one up each other and make them feel insecure about their girls. so basically the whole percy/jason leader thing but w o r s e

why do i want to write an au where cinder grew up as princess selene and she and kai have an arranged marriage and enemies to lovers relationship. i need to stop coming up with fanfic ideas when i've got important exams coming up in 2 months. it's bad enough i even decided to binge this entire series in the first place LMAO (but also it's so worth it). i bet i could find hundreds of fics with this exact premise on ao3 so maybe i'll save myself the effort

yes kai pardon thorne for theft so that you can correctly try him for being a damn pedo

don't mind me immediately connecting the kai has stockholm syndrome joke to beauty and the beast and realising that between cinder and her glamour (the lunar glamour obviously being the beast part btw) then she and kai could also technically be beauty and the beast. forgive me it's the ouat instinct

thorne was SO real for pointing out that kai is a rich royal bastard. not to spread my republican agenda (reminder that i am aussie and when i say republican i mean fuck the brit monarchy not racist trump nonsense) but the eastern commonwealth should TOTALLY do away with kai and bring back democracy. that's why i disagree with the characters calling for his forced abdication because they're just gonna instate ANOTHER royal eventually instead of getting rid of that shit altogether. while we're at it, instead of retaking the throne cinder should DESTROY it and ALSO institute a democracy

damn didn't realise thorne was having sad boy hours about leaving his crew disbanding. me too because i HATE it when the found family breaks up

"most of them even call me Captain" iko and cress is only two people. i think thorne needs to go back to school and retake maths because that is NOT most

EWWWWWWWWWW JAIL FOR THORNE JAIL FOR A THOUSAND YEARS

winter is embroidering. i am emotional

help this jacinter scene was nice and super romantic until "There were times when she stood so close that he was amazed at his own ability to keep his hands to himself" WHAT???? rocking myself back and forth in my seat reminding myself figure of speech figure of speech figure of speech. YIKES

@eddisfargo @francforever @winterrhayle @winterpinetrees @shellyseashell

[vullcanica]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 - 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

slowburn or love at first sight (there's NOTHING better than months of plotting and rp coming to a head. you and a partner losing your shit like you didn't personally write the bastards making a first move. good stuff.)

fake dating or secret dating (both but something something realism. queer ships especially)

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers (enemies to best friends to also lovers. looking at you caro...)

oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence (alt rp like letters or texts has had me in a chokehold in the past. only one bed is a very basic forced interaction trope)

hurt/comfort or amnesia (the amount of dynamics i have based on this..)

fantasy au or modern au (i like AUs, sue me)

mutual pining or domestic bliss (one followed by the other)

smut or fluff (not that interested in writing smut (with a few exceptions) ngl to you, tenderness is where it's at)

canon-compliant or fix-it (i write mostly oc's 🤷)

reincarnation or character death (obv, with the amount of muses i have who are connected to undeath somehow. character deaths are too final and man, writing them as a fitting end to a narrative and a character is TOUGH. it's also contrary to popular belief, by and large, not the worst thing you could do to a muse. so as a tool for tragedy it's mid sometimes.)

kid fic or road trip fic (?? ...it's a fanfic tropes meme i'm filling out for roleplay. idk.)

arranged marriage or accidental marriage (purely because the former implies political dynamics which are always fun to explore)

college romance or middle-aged romance (god, let people be in love in their 50s. i don't just mean middle aged couples married for a few years, i mean older adults finding love. it's always such a hard hitter)

time travel or isolated together (the SUPERIOR version of only one bed, but make it forced co-existing. better yet? forced co-existing for the sake of survival)

neighbors or roommates (again. co-existence. more chances for shenanigans)

sci-fi au or magic au (i love robots/androids/cyborgs too much not to have a bias but lbr, most of my stuff on here is some flavour of fantasy because it's way easier for me. wish i wrote better sci-fi but alas.)

angst or crack (pure unadulterated pain is the main tenet i operate based on. trite bullshit is good too though)

apocalyptic or mundane (slice of life just be cute as hell sometimes)

Tagged by: @vhgr like a looong time ago, hii

Tagging: you !! steal it

[dark-roleplay-finder]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends!

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i don’t write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

Like this post and the asker will reach out!

[findyourrp]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends.

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i do not write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

.

[gojonanami]

this is my main issue with this idea right? thus remains my block on deciding since a lot of people seem to like the idea of cult leader! geto x reader arranged marriage because money can be secured either way — and I can’t think of a good reason why geto would do that when he doesn’t even like eating things made by “monkeys” I could see reader being forced into it due to fsmily and thinking of it as a win-win where she is married but doesn’t have to deal with the oversight of a husband but like?? I could see the power imbalance working out in some way — or maybe reader actually is a sorcerer so I am very torn 🫣

I agree...

I don't see it making much sense...

I think this is interesting:

https://www.tumblr.com/gojonanami/746056576561004544/dear-sab-perhaps-these-feelings-are-spurred-by-my?source=share

A powerful sorcerer unfamiliar with jujutsu?

And also, so many reasons for conflicts.

Old School vs New School jujutsu; family lineage vs no family lineage; imbedded in jujutsu society vs isolated from jujutsu society; etc. etc.

Also, I find royalty!arranged marriage with Suguru to be super interesting. I just think he fits that trope so well. I could imagine him being an emperor. Or even a guard and Reader having an arranged marriage with someone else, not him, but her heart belonging to Suguru or something...

no it’s so true — I’m literally so torn — I don’t know what to do because I love all of these ideas

the whole conflict between old and new jujutsu would be so interesting and fit so integrally into the plot of jjk — it would be so fun to explore this trope

but I could see that trope fit in a royalty au too!! oh my god yes I love forbidden love too 😭 I’m so conflicted

[bropunzeling]

Mm top 5 comfort/vacation reads?

Top five tropes (to write or to read or both!)

comfort reads:

the brothers sinister series by courtney milan! great little romance series, solid sex scenes (the one in the governess affair novella is actually literally to die for), a delightful cast of characters. courtney's books are always solidly rooted in a mix of period detail and thoughtful politics, and i like how everyone likes each other!

kj charles generally but probably specifically think of england and proper english. i love very few things more in life than murder mysteries. i especially love when people initially at odds fall in love during mystery solving. it warms the cockles of my heart.

protector of the small quartet by tamora pierce - all the tortall books are comfort reads to me but this is THEE comfort read for me. i love kel with my entire body! she is precious to me! tall and buff and even-tempered but as stubborn as a mule. she and dom should have kissed!!!

agatha christie - i powered through every single one of her books available at the start of the plague times. i love the poirot books but i think for general consistency miss marple ones are almost always more solid. miss marple herself is a great outsider detective and i think there's few enough books that agatha couldn't grow to be tired of her lmao

i just powered through the goblin emperor books by katherine addison (had read the first but not the next two) and those are great fantasy books! the lingo is admittedly a bit opaque and hard to parse at first, but once you're in you're in, and the stories are really about human decency and kindness (while also providing political machinations (book 1) and murder (2 and 3), which as we all know are very comforting to me lmao)

tropes (this was really hard lmao and is for sure not definitive):

soulbond/mark/etc aus - a well done soulbond au is my jam. my artisanal preserves. the questions it raises about free will and fate? about someone being meant for you? i think there's really fun angles about like, how even relationships with this extra something still aren't going to be easy and smooth. there's also the aspect of like, strong or weak bonds? romantic or platonic (lol)? can you hear inside someone's head? or do you just feel better around them? or do you just have their name or first words to you sitting on your skin? what happens if it's one sided? what happens if it's unrequited? what happens if you're not ready? what happens if one of you wants it more than the other? what if you fall for someone you're not meant to fall for? these themes are SO fun and i love to explore them.

historical or period aus - i love aus, so jot that down, but when an author clearly loves the historical period and has taken time and care? i am there with my spoon. ALSO codes of conduct and manners just create such fun restraints to force characters who would just fuck it out to do other things because they CAN'T just fuck it out due to SCANDAL

slow burn - none of that 7k shit. but like a proper slow burn? a "takes 10k before they physically touch" slow burn? a "we're 50k in and they might actually kiss oh god please let them kiss" slow burn? mmm!!!! mmmMMMMMMMMMM

break up/make up - the thing is. the thing is!!!!! i like when characters have a history. a past. when they were something really important to each other and then that was ruined and now due to fate and or author contrivance they have been tossed together once more. like a salad. and then! the airing of grievances! the bad decision sex! (oh, the bad decision sex). the realization that there are things you know about them that they haven't told anyone else. you were the one who was there. you're the one who knows!!! in some ways you still might know them best! but right now you are worse than strangers because you may never become acquainted! until suddenly perhaps??? unless??????

arranged marriage / woke up married / marriage of convenience - i am combining all of these because the fact is i love when people get married for stupid reasons (or reasons that are not because of their ~heartfelt feelings~) and then they fall in love with the person they married and have big ol' feelings about it. i'm sure this comes as a shock.